Jules left Jericho on the front steps of the police station, off to fix the signage on the hardware store.  He sat down against the glass door to the lobby, tilted his head back, and dozed in the morning mist to pass the time until Edie showed.  As he began to drift off, the door opened and pushed him out of the way.

“Jerry?” Tanner asked, “you look like shit.”

Jericho grunted.

“What happened to you?” Tanner stooped down and scooped Jericho off the ground, “come on.  Get inside.”

“Thanks, officer,” Jericho mumbled.

“You’re lucky I was on night watch, I bet the boss would have left you there ‘til open,” Tanner joked, setting Jericho down in a chair in the break room, “but really, what happened to you?  Last I heard, our local crazy was out looking for UFOs in the woods.  Wasn’t expecting you back for at least a week.”

“They miss me that much at Janie’s already?” Jericho’s voice cracked against his dry throat, “can I get some water?”

“Oh, yeah.” Tanner filled a mug with tap water and handed it to him.

Jericho downed it and cleared his throat.  “I saw something in the woods.”

“What, at a distance?” Tanner stopped smiling when Jericho didn’t react.

“It attacked me,” Jericho said, “and an elk, poor thing.”

“What did?” Tanner hovered, his broad shoulders blocking the door in a protective gesture, as though whatever chased Jericho out of the woods might have followed him home.

“I don’t fucking know,” Jericho shoved his tangled hair out of his eyes, “I don’t know what it was.”

Tanner grabbed a napkin and a pen off the counter.  “Well, can you describe it?  With tourist season ‘round the corner, we can’t have something chasing folks off the trails.”

“Big.  Not a black bear, bigger than that.  Y’know, Yellowstone sized.  Brownish, patchy fur like a mangy dog or coyote or something.  White skin.  Eyes green in the dark when I caught it in the light.  Big.  Hit it with bear spray and it screamed like a man.” Jericho winced and leaned back in the chair.

Tanner stared at him.

“I told you I didn’t know what it was,” he rubbed his tired eyes, “It crashed into my tent and I ran down into the ravine.  Followed the creek back down to the road and walked until someone picked me up.”

“That… sounds… like… A rabid bear?” Tanner offered, tapping his pen on the napkin.

Jericho sighed.  “Sure, Tanner.”

“You want some coffee?  I’ll give you a ride home when the day crew gets here at eight,” Tanner offered.

Jericho nodded, resting his head in his hands.  “I oughta talk to the sheriff ‘bout it, right?”

Tanner set the coffee maker running.  “Yeah, probably.  I’m worried you’ll spook him, I like the guy.  Hate to see him leave.”

Jericho shrugged.  He dozed off and awoke from his brief nap to a steaming mug of coffee on the table next to him.  He picked it up and sipped it black, letting the bitter taste coax him awake.  Tanner cursed in the hall and something thumped onto the linoleum floor.  Jericho leaned back in the chair and rested his eyes while he listened to Tanner shuffling around.

The coffee was cold in his hands by the time Tanner returned.  Jericho stretched.

“Sheriff’s here, wants to talk to you before you go,” Tanner said, “I’m headed out, but he said he’d give you a ride home.”

Jericho grunted, shuffling out of the break room and across the hall to the sheriff’s office.  The name plate still read Foreman.  He wondered what the old man was up to.  Maybe golfing in Florida?  Fishing seaside in Maine?  Reading in his bungalow in Phoenix?  Somewhere warm and far from here, he was certain.

Sheriff Vitale chewed on the end of his pen.  His brow furrowed in focus as he read through an incident report on his desk.  The folder Jericho gave him sat off to one side, a couple photos stacked on top for consideration.

“Sheriff?” Jericho leaned against the open door.

Sheriff Vitale’s eyes flicked up at him.  He straightened up and set his pen down, beckoning Jericho over.  “Mr. Kahlid, sit down.  If what Tanner told me is true, then you’ve been on your feet for long enough already.”

Jericho pulled the chair from the corner of the room and sat across the desk from the sheriff.

“I’d like to take your statement, then I’ll give you a ride home.  What happened out there?  Tanner said you saw a bear.” Sheriff Vitale turned on the tape recorder and set it on the desk between them.  He rolled his chair next to Jericho, both of them facing the tape recorder, “Incident Report 201-84, statement of Jericho Kahlid taken May 23, regarding a wild animal attack,”  then nodded at Jericho, cueing him to begin.

Jericho sucked in a deep breath.  “I was hiking Pinyon Ridge, started out a day ago ‘round seven in the morning.  I don’t use the main trailhead, I like the back route the hunter’s trail takes.  Don’t see many people along it, so I was alone.  It’s supposed to be a week-long trip: two days’ walk in, two days out following Kippling Creek back to town.  The trail dips down into the valley at certain points for access to water.  I told Dora --”

“Dora who?” Sheriff Vitale interrupted.

“Doreen Wallace, she owns Janie’s Diner, works as the night barkeep.  You haven’t been down to the bar yet?”

Sheriff Vitale shook his head.  “I have not.”

“You should introduce yourself when you get the chance.  She knows everything that happens here, it’s good to have her on your side.  Tell her Jerry sent ya,” Jericho stretched his aching neck, “anyway, Dora knew where I was going and when I was supposed to be back.  Everything went fine until ‘bout lunch.  I was watching some elk in the valley when some kind of animal came out of nowhere and killed one.”

“Did you bring weapons?” Sheriff Vitale asked.

Jericho tapped the thigh holster.  “I had my gun and a can of bear spray.”

“Did you use them?” Sheriff Vitale’s eyes lingered on Jericho’s thigh.

“Used the bear spray, lost the can though.” Jericho crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair..

“Can you describe the animal?” Sheriff Vitale prompted, eyes flicking away to the pack of Lucky Strikes on his desk.

“Well, I thought it was a bear.  It looked starved and maybe like it had mange.  The fur it did have was a weird texture, I think.  I don’t know, I saw it from a distance in the daytime but I kind of… felt it when it attacked me at camp that night.  It was bigger than a black bear and sounded like… I don’t know what it sounded like,” Jericho cradled his head in his hands, “sorry, Sheriff, it’s been a long night.”

“That’s fine, just do your best,” Sheriff Vitale comforted.

“It screamed like a man when I used the bear spray.  I didn’t stick around, just ran down to the creek and followed it to the road,” Jericho studied his feet, “Must have lost my scent in the river,” he met Sheriff Vitale’s dark eyes, “I get it if you don’t believe me.  Hardly believe it myself, and I’m known for, y’know, believing shit.”

Sheriff Vitale nodded, eyes steady and patient. Bolstered, Jericho continued recounting the attack as well as his exhaustion-addled brain could.  When he was done, the sheriff switched off the tape recorder.

“If it’s any consolation, Mr. Kahlid, I do believe you,” the sheriff said, standing up from his desk, “you strike me as an experienced hiker, you’ve got extensive knowledge of the area.  I have no idea what you saw -- an escaped exotic pet, maybe?  Got one of those calls in Chicago, someone’s escaped chimpanzee killed a kid.  Do you know any folks out here who keep exotics like that?”

Jericho shook his head no.  “Way bigger than a chimp.”

“Gorilla?” the sheriff offered.

Jericho shook his head again.

“Grizzly bear?” the sheriff smiled.

Jericho thought about it, comparing the stature of the beast in his mind to the massive brown bears of Yellowstone and Katmai.  He shrugged.  “Maybe.”

“Well, if you have plans to retrieve your camping gear, let me know.  I’d like to see the site of the attack myself and come to my own conclusions.” He offered Jericho his hand.

Jericho took, Sheriff Vitale pulling him to his feet.  His head spun and he steadied himself on the sheriff’s chest.  Sheriff Vitale grabbed his shoulder to keep him from falling, his firm grip sending a little shock of electricity through Jericho’s body.  

“Are you sure?” Jericho breathed, blood flushing to his ears, “I mean, that sounds like a job for the forest service.”

“I like to come to my own conclusions, see the scene for myself.  Maybe it is just some big ass bear,” Sheriff Vitale nodded at him, “I’ll call in a ranger to back us up if that makes you feel better.”

Jericho shuffled his feet.  “I don’t know, Sheriff.”

“You can call me Sinclair, Mr. Kahlid,” the sheriff said.  He offered his hand to Jericho.

“Jericho,” he replied, shaking Sinclair’s hand, “just call me Jerry, Sinclair.”

“Will you let me take you home, Jerry?” Sheriff Vitale asked, still grasping Jericho’s hand.

Jericho’s heart caught in his throat.  “What?”

Sinclair coughed.  He released Jericho and took a step back, smoothing down the fabric of his suit.  “Can I drive you home?  In the cruiser.”

A twinge of disappointment tugged at Jericho.  “Oh.  Yeah, I’d appreciate that.”