I shook my head. "I'm about a million miles from okay."
"Those teeth marks?"
I nodded, feeling nauseous. "Yes, Sheriff, the pattern's identical to the scars around my waist. And no, I have no clue why I'm still alive."
"Ye'll help us find it then?"
I nodded, sucking in several deep breaths, fighting to keep my breakfast down. "I'll help you, only let's keep it between us for now. Folklore's one thing, but you've got an apex predator that's gone on a rampage."
'Agreed."
Waves pounded the shoreline, causing us to turn. Another research vessel was slowly rumbling by, three tourist boats following in its wake.
Holmstrom spit. "This place is turnin' intae a bloody zoo. The A82's backed up from Drumnadrochit tae Inverness wi' campers, an' God knows whit it'll be like when word of this latest killin' spreads."
I nodded. "Worse, the Loch's becoming jammed with sonar buoys."
"The judge gave ye the opportunity tae run things. It's no' too late."
"It's not my style."
"Whit's yer plan then?"
"First, I need to finish my own investigation of the Loch. You can help by giving me access to your crime lab."
"Crime lab? Whit for?"
I reached into my backpack, handing him the plastic bags holding the swabs of blood. "Have these analyzed. I need to know if they're animal or human."
"Done. How can I reach ye?"
"I'll reach you. Give me your cell number.
He handed me a business card. "My mobile phone's on the back, it's always on." He gazed out at the Loch, then looked me in the eye. "Guess I wis one o' those that laughed… ye know, after hearin' you were afraid tae get near the water an' all. But after seein' that body, well… I can't say I blame ye."
"Analyze those samples, Sheriff. I'll be in touch."
True showed up thirty minutes later, cursing up a storm about all the traffic around Loch Ness. The good news was the lodge was booked solid, the bad being his father now needed him back in Drumnadrochit by early evening. He agreed to accompany me along the eastern bank until his sister picked him up later by boat.
Things were looking up for Brandy as well. She had doubled her tours and tripled her prices, and still the Nessie III was sold out for the remainder of the week.
The monster craze was alive and well, and the Highland locals were cashing in on what was shaping up to be a record-setting tourist season.
By noon, word of the latest attack had spread across Great Britain like wildfire. By then, True and I had arrived in Inverfarigaig, a village of homes scattered among managed forests of spruce and Douglas fir. As in Foyers, the rocky embankments of Inverfarigaig were clogged with thrill-seekers, their cameras and zoom lenses mounted on tripods, their camcorders and binoculars scanning every wave and shadow that skirted the surface of Loch Ness. Vans and campers, parked along General Wade's Military Road, lined the single lane tarmac clear to Dores, and many a tourist could be seen standing on their car roofs to gain a better vantage.
It was a "braw day" on the Loch, the sky high and blue, free of cloud cover, and the approaching summer beat down upon us unmercifully.
Seeking a break from the sun, we followed a footpath into the Farigaig Forest, its heavy canopy embracing us in cooler temperatures. Diverting from the path, we followed the twisting banks of a brook as it trickled down the mountain side. A carpet of moss was spotted with bluebells, foxgloves, and other wildflowers, and the scents and sounds soothed my spent nerves.
I didn't see the squirrel as much as I tripped over it.
The forests of the Great Glen are populated with red squirrels, fast creatures that feed on seeds, chestnuts, and pine nuts. This one was lying on its side by the creek, its tiny chest heaving as it gasped each labored breath.
As we watched, the suffering animal seized and died.
True bent down to give it a nudge. "Poor wee thing—"
"Don't touch it!" Setting down my backpack, I retrieved a pair of rubber gloves, a jar, and a plastic specimen bag. "Remember what I said yesterday about the Loch's food chain? This might be an important clue. Take this jar and fill it with water from the brook, while I bag our little friend here."
We collected the specimens, then continued following the stream as it backtracked up a steep terrain slick with vegetation and heavy in jagged rocks. Along the way we found more dead animals, including a half dozen osprey and a peregrine. True stumbled upon a burrow and was immediately attacked by a fox, the agitated creature circling and growling as it snapped at his boots. We managed to chase it away, but only after resorting to striking it several times with a stick.
"I've never seen a fox act like that before. Dae ye think it wis rabid?"
"Maybe. But I suspect there's something else going on, something that's affecting this whole ecosystem. Come on, let's keep climbing."
Another half mile's ascent and the forest opened up below us, revealing a breathtaking view of Loch Ness. We climbed up to the summit, then took a well-earned respite on a public bench.
"Zack, can I ask ye a question?"
"Ask."
"Whit made ye change yer mind aboot goin' after the creature?"
Reaching down, I picked a wildflower, absentmindedly pulling apart its petals. "When Brandy was hurting herself, why do you think she was doing it?"
"Doctor said it wis 'cause she wis angry."
"Maybe I'm angry too."
"Angry at whit?"
"For the longest time, I was angry at Angus. It was because of him that I took off in that rowboat. Now I'm more angry at myself, at having to deal with this whole damn thing."
"It's no' your fault ye were attacked. That wis fate."
"I don't believe in fate. Fate's like folklore, it's an excuse for an unexplainable circumstance. I believe in science, in dealing with reality. It's why I'm angry with myself. Had I dealt with my own reality seventeen years ago, I wouldn't be in this mess today."
"Ye were only nine, how can ye blame yersel'? Look at whit ye've been through. Two drownings now, an' still ye've survived."
"You call this surviving? I'm afraid of the water, and I wake up every night screaming."
"Dreams or no', ye're still alive, which is mair than that laddie back there can say. It wis fate that saved ye seventeen years ago, jist like it wis fate that led ye tae become a marine biologist."
"Meaning what?"
"Meanin', if anyone's destined tae figure oot whit this ancient creature is, it's you, Zachary Wallace."
"Well, I don't know about fate, but I do know about science, and science tells me this monster's not an ancient creature, at least not a plesiosaur. I think it's something else entirely, most likely a hybrid of a species that's been inhabiting Loch Ness for a long time."
"Like Angus's Guivre?"
"I don't know, but I know someone who does."
"Zack, please, dinnae start in again on my auld man."
"Just listen. This morning I saw three men, all cloaked in dark tunics, and they were carrying something in a burlap sack, something that was bleeding. I collected swaths of the blood, the sheriff's having them analyzed."
"Good. Then we can ease yer suspicions aboot my faither, once an' for a'."
The sound of a boat's horn drifted up to us from below.
"That'll be Brandy. How aboot I talk her intae picking ye up on the return trip. If ye ask me, I think it's yer destiny tae get back intae her guid graces."
"I hope I live that long."
"She usually circles back past Tor Point around dusk. Try tae make it there by then."
He waved, then bounded down the path.
I watched him disappear into the forest, my mind drifting back to the image of Justin Wagner's remains.
Seventeen years ago I had survived a similar attack. Had I done something to lure the creature up from the depths? And what had I done, consciously or unconsciously, to prevent it from devouring me?