Secrets of Ugly Creek Read Free Page B

Although the idea wasn’t unpleasant. “I’m holding on to him for my photographer.” Ace was my photographer at the moment. It wasn’t a lie.
    “He’s cute.” McFain’s expression grew serious. “It’s a waste of time for Capitol Spy Weekly to send a reporter to do a story on me doing a documentary on a little town in Tennessee.”
    “It’s interesting because this is such a different type of thing than you’ve done before.”
    He chuckled, but there was no humor in his eyes. “What, you think, I’ll find some deep dark secret here in Ugly Creek?”
    A touch of fear skittered up my spine, and I fought to keep my expression bland. “Is that what you’re here for?”
    “No.”
    Just then Ace came trucking over. “I’m Ace Ellison, photographer. Sorry about the dog, he’s mine.” He had a leash in one hand and reached for Gizmo with the other. “I rescue animals when I’m not taking pictures.”
    Ace attached the dog to the leash, then leaned down to pull a camera out of his bag.
    I heard, “Get down!” just before a stone the size of a man’s fist smacked into a nearby tree.
    Before I could figure out what was happening, I was on the grass and Gibson McFain was on top of me, protecting me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Ace was down too, and was holding Gizmo close to him.
    For a moment, I thought the danger was over, but then another stone hit the chair McFain was standing in front of seconds before. I put my head down and waited for the next flying rock. But nothing happened. We waited.
    Mac pulled out his cell and called nine-one-one, and we waited some more.
    By the time the sheriff got there, the three of us were carefully getting to our feet. Deputies spread out and checked the area but found nothing but a mass of footprints impossible to sort out.
    “There was that protesting little guy from earlier,” McFain pointed out.
    “Duffy’s a hothead sometimes,” the sheriff said, “but he wouldn’t hurt anybody.”
    Personally, I wasn’t so sure anybody was trying to hurt us. Whoever lobbed those suckers didn’t land ’em anywhere near a person. A tree. A chair. Then they took off. “I think somebody just wanted to scare Mr. McFain.”
    McFain’s features tightened. “I’m not scared. I’m angry.”
    “Whoever it was, they’re gone now,” the sheriff said. “I’ll talk to Duffy and some other folks. Maybe we can put a face to this little fiasco.”
    “I’d appreciate it.” McFain turned to Ace and me. “I believe it would be prudent to conduct this interview at the bed and breakfast where I’m staying.”
    “I’ll take Gizmo home and meet you there.” Ace grabbed the little ball of fur and headed out.
    “Are you all right?”
    I’m sure the surprise at his concern showed in my eyes when I looked at Gibson McFain. “Fine, thank you.”
    “Let’s get out of here before something else happens.” He put a hand on my lower back, and warm chills shot through me. Who’d have thought Mr. Hollywood was a gentleman?
    As I walked with him toward our cars, something occurred to me. The voice warning us to get down didn’t sound like either Ace or Gibson McFain. “Nope, couldn’t be,” I muttered.
    “Did you say something?”
    “Just wondering who could be throwing rocks,” I said.
    “You and me both.” We reached my car, and he walked on toward his.
    As I drove away, I considered the possibility that a dog could talk. It was a crazy idea, but then this was Ugly Creek. Home of the impossible.
    ****
    I waited until I saw Ace heading toward the door of the B&B before I got out of my car and followed. The last thing I wanted right now was to be alone with Gibson McFain.
    Rosemary’s Bed and Breakfast was decorated with soft colors and homey furnishings. I immediately felt comfortable, which was obviously the point. McFain and Ace were talking in the huge front room when I walked in.
    McFain smiled and I smiled back, then scolded myself for being so nice to a guy