“I’ve heard.” Her face looked like she was talking to a used car salesman, skepticism etched deep into her forehead and cheeks.

  “What you may not have heard of… seen, rather, is these.” He reached across the table and separated the copies of the two cave drawings from the stack.

  Katelyn examined them closely, the humor lines smoothing away, lips tightening into a thin red line. “What’s so special about these?”

  “Cave drawings found almost a hundred miles apart, with creation dates estimated at around a hundred years apart.”

  Her eyebrows went up. “So two independent drawings by different clans came up with the same image?”

  Alex nodded.

  “Why now?”

  “Now you hit on the real point. The Attawandaron believed, and so did my father, that the creature lives on a sixty-six-year cicada-like life cycle, spending most of its time underground and only emerging onto the surface once.”

  “Sixty-six years?”

  Alex nodded. “That’s what this stuff is.” He spread out the remaining sheets of paper like cards. “All kinds of strange occurrences in 1953, and if you go back further, 1887.” He reached into his pocket and caressed his father’s penny.

  Katelyn picked up one of the sheets of paper. “Who are these men?”

  The photocopy of an old photo showed three men standing on the dry riverbed amongst the cranes and equipment, the chain-link fence marking the lip of the falls cutting through the center of the photo like a crease. Dark silhouettes stood on the observation platform in the background. “My dad, his partner Dom, and the dewatering superintendent Pat Cranson. It was taken their last day on the job.”

  “You know how all this sounds, right?”

  He waited.

  “I’d think you were completely batshit if it wasn’t for recent events.”

  A tremor of angst and excitement pulsed through Alex. “Events? Plural? I was on the scene yesterday. What don’t I know?”

  “That may be too large a topic for us here tonight, but concerning this discussion…” She sighed, emptied her brew, and poured them both another. She sipped, staring at the table. “You can’t say a word to anyone. If it gets out…”

  Alex said nothing.

  “One of the men working at the Canadian power plant is missing. Was doing a routine inspection of their dam, and woosh. Gone.”

  “Security cameras show anything?”

  “That’s where it gets interesting. Border Patrol has seized the footage, but I spoke with a guy who spoke with a guy who’d seen it. Nothing definite, but a stinger tail was mentioned, the thing described as large, lobster-like.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  “Total poo, and there’s more.” She leaned in as if everyone in the place was listening in on their conversation, and she wasn’t wrong. Alex felt the crowd around them watching, pausing in their conversations. Someone had even lowered the music, or at least it seemed like it to Alex. “Three unrecovered bodies already this season.”

  Alex knew many folks went over the falls. It was a preferred method for those looking to go out with a bang, but most corpses were found and recovered. “Not that crazy.”

  “What’s crazy is they found one of the women’s legs, and her family claims there’s no way she’s a suicide. She took a walk along the river and just disappeared. Then her leg washes up on the stones downriver of the Maid of the Mist station.”

  “And this is all on the down-low because of the tourists?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I want to know what you think. This all sounds nuts like you said, but you can’t deny the evidence is mounting. Mounting toward what I have no idea, but to deny the growing shit pile is a sure way to get lathered up in crap.”

  She said nothing, her eyes gleaming in the half-light.

  “Read those articles.” He padded the papers as he took a sip of beer. “Thursday night I’m meeting with Dr. Silverfish from the university. Showing her dad’s stuff.”

  She nodded.

  Alex told her about the strange readings the scientists were getting, sensors showing movement beneath the falls, but for the moment left out his field trip to the reservoir and his plan to return.

  “That’s worrisome for many reasons.” Alex knew Katelyn understood better than most that the falls could collapse into step rapids at any point, and that would be the end of Niagara Falls as a tourist attraction, or at least it would sever its limbs.

  “What I keep coming back to… my training, really, is the lack of a visual ID,” Katelyn said. “What did your father say when he was asked straightaway if he saw the beast?”

  Alex felt the warmth of shame leak through him like a sickness. “He always admitted he didn’t actually see it, but he claimed he felt it, like static electricity in the air before a storm or how time slows before an accident. All that, coupled with the roar and other sounds, the explosion, the smell, the soldiers.” He could almost see the gears of Katelyn’s trained police mind sifting his words, tossing anything that couldn’t be supported with hard evidence.

  She frowned and finished her beer. When Alex went to refill it, she placed a hand over her mug. “I’m going to get going,” she said.

  Alex waited.

  “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued, but you have to know there’s not enough here for me to bring to my lieutenant.”

  He nodded, though he wasn’t sure anymore if he agreed. Going through everything again, putting the facts in order, had driven home points he’d pushed aside in the past. He said, “So where does that leave us?”

  “I’ll ask around and see what I can dig up about the deaths and give you a call.” She smiled, then sucked it back.

  Alex smiled back. He couldn’t deny there was still heat between them, and Katelyn must have felt it also because she pulled out her fire extinguisher. “Time for me to hit the road. It was good to see you, Alex.”

  He nodded but didn’t get up.

  “Drop me a line if you learn anything new, O.K.?”

  He nodded again.

  On the drive home, marinating in beer and lost love, his life seemed like a disaster. When he pulled into his driveway Lilly’s car was there. It was 10:19 PM. She’d gotten off early and had come home to an empty house, no note. There went his Husband of the Year title.

  He killed the engine and slinked to the front door like a murderer taking his last steps to the electric chair, and he didn’t get a “Hi, babe” or a “Yo” when he entered the Weston casa. The TV droned in the living room, and he followed the blue glow and found Lilly sprawled on the couch, still in her scrubs, a half-eaten burger on the coffee table.

  “Hey,” Alex said. “Got off early?”

  “Yup.” She didn’t ask where he’d been, which just stoked the need to tell her.

  He considered going to bed, keeping his secret, but though that was the easy path now, it was akin to hiking into the Grand Canyon. Hiking out was much harder. “Can I grab you anything?”

  “Nope.”

  “Never guess who I ran into tonight at The Barrell.” She didn’t take her eyes off the T.V. Could she already know? “Katelyn is back in town. Working for Niagara State Park.”

  Lilly’s eyes shifted from the T.V. to him like a snake that’s seen a rodent. “Just ran into her, huh?”

  He nodded, three years of marriage clogging his throat.

  “How is she?”

  “Great,” he blurted way too fast.

  Her eyes narrowed and she licked her lips.

  “You know, same as us. Bored with work, which was why she asked for a transfer back home.”

  “She married?”

  There it was. “No.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “Really.” Her eyes shifted to his hand where there was no wedding ring.

  “She said congratulations on our wedding, and she looks forward to meeting you.”

  Lilly sat up, collected her half-eaten burger, and pushed to her feet. “I’m heading in. I’ve got a day shift tomorrow, but I should be home for dinner.”

  It was always “should” because if the hospital needed her, Alex played second fiddle. But he said nothing as she retreated upstairs.

  Alex sat alone for a long time, the moon arcing across the sky, the beer painting all kinds of insane fantasies and horrors. He couldn’t help thinking of Katelyn, how hot she looked. When he felt himself getting aroused, he went to bed.

  9

  Alex woke to the sound of a submarine diving, and the hollow trill of his cell as it vibrated on his nightstand. He sensed Lilly wasn’t in bed, and her absence was confirmed as he forced open his crusty eyes. He grabbed his phone and saw it was 8:51 AM and a picture of Celeste flashed on the screen. He tapped accept call as he leaned off the bed and drew back the shade blacking out his bedroom window. It was gray and overcast, and a rainy mist hung over Niagara.

  “Yo,” Alex said.

  “What are you thinking today?”

  “Wasn’t.” He grabbed his laptop from where it leaned against the bedframe and opened it. He brought up weather.com and scanned the satellite images as he waited for the Mists Edge River Tours reservation system to come up.

  “I’ve got the numbers here,” Celeste said.

  “Looks like the weather will get better as the day goes on. What’ve we got?”

  “There was a bunch of cancels on the answering service for the early boat. Only eight left.”

  “Can we fit them in on the other two?”

  “Aye, aye.”

  “Cool. I’ll pay you for all three tours. Make the calls. You know what to say. Much better experience in clearer weather, less chance of the river being shut down, yada, yada.”

  “10-4. See you after lunch?”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He clicked off and closed the laptop. He didn’t know what he was going to do when Celeste graduated. He’d considered offering her partnership, but he couldn’t afford it and she’d say no anyway. He’d floated a few trial balloons, even said they could do echo tours up on the lake. Lake Ontario was home to an abundance of wildlife. He even offered to donate a portion of their profits to wildlife charities. No interest. The kid was driven and wouldn’t be swayed. He wished he’d had more ambition than to rip around on the river when he’d been her age.

  Alex was eager to get out on the river and look for… what exactly? What did he expect? That the creature would float alongside the boat like a dolphin, looking to play? He had no clue what he was looking for, but he knew he had to try because there was literally nothing else to do. His mind experienced a momentary interruption of inputs, and he looked at his phone. New stimuli. Constant new stimuli.

  The cell showed a missed call from Wahanu at 7:19 AM. The post opened at 7 AM to catch the drip of morning business that represented half a usual day’s sales. Old-timers still dropped in for coffee, frozen bait, and such.

  Alex rolled onto his back and listened to the house creak and the gentle rain massage the windows. There was no activity in the kitchen, none of the telltale aromas of breakfast being prepared. He glanced at Lilly’s makeup table and the stool that sat before it. His wife normally kept the next day’s set of clean scrubs on that stool, and since the seat was free of clothing, he had to assume his wife had already gone to work.

  A spider worked its way across the ceiling, pausing when it was directly over Alex as if expecting him to vault to his feet brandishing a shoe. He called back Wahanu. It was unlike the man to call him and given the hour it had to be something at least semi-important.

  “Alex?” His father’s old friend sounded shaken.

  “Yeah. What’s up? Everything O.K.?”

  “Yes, fine.” Wahanu’s voice became a whisper. “Had visitors today, a G-man... and woman.”

  His grumbling stomach turned sour, acid bubbling up his throat.

  “Agents Dixon and Perry.”

  Alex waited, worry rattling his bones, imaginary maggots burrowing from the pores of his skin.

  “They were asking questions about the myths, the cycle. Asked if anyone else had come poking around.”

  “What did you say?” The last thing he wanted was to get tangled up with the feds.

  “I told them the truth. It’s the feds. You know how they are? They only ask questions they know the answers to, and I didn’t see why I should lie. You and Dr. Silverfish haven’t done anything wrong.”

  At least that was true. Alex let out a long breath, a tremor running through him. Wahanu was right. “I know… it’s just…” he said. All Alex saw was the bright white light of his father’s train, roaring from the past, and he was tied to the tracks. “They leave cards?”

  “One did, the guy, Agent Dixon.”

  “Give me his information.”

  “Alex, I’m thinking they’re going to find you.”

  “The number?” Wahanu gave Alex the number and the two agreed to keep each other up to date.

  Morning gave way to noon, and the rain transformed into a cloudy mist that hung ten feet above the ground like a blanket, but the thick fog lifted as Alex made his way along Lower River Road to the dock. It was 12:37 PM when he pulled into the lot, and though he was early, there were already several tourists waiting under the awning behind the building. He saw Celeste’s white Nissan, but not Javon’s old, rusted Ford pickup. He did see Kris’s mother’s Lexus, so maybe he had his schedule mixed up. Another thing he’d have to deal with when Celeste graduated.

  The team of three got everyone paid up, onboard, and buckled in without incident, and the tour started on an up note when a handicapped guest in a wheelchair described to Alex how much she’d been looking forward to the trip. It gave him hope when he saw people rising above their circumstances, but it also made him feel like shit. As he watched the woman struggle to get her chair into position and strapped in, saw the determination in her eyes, he realized he had no real problems at all. None worth bitching about, anyway.

  Celeste’s eyes went wide, and she smiled sardonically when Alex talked to the tourists beyond his required line, which he rarely did, assuring them that the view would improve once they were out on the river. Without the sun's glare, the huge white snarling mounds of whitewater and eddying black pools looked even more foreboding, their power strengthened by shadows and churning water.

  Alex went through the motions, the boat was twisting and swaying in the Niagara Whirlpool, tiny whitecaps breaking on the hull, trees packing the shoreline.

  Celeste threw open the bulkhead door and the thunder of the river and the falls filled the pilothouse.

  “Everything OK?” He’d been in a daze, the swirling water sleep-inducing.

  She squeezed into the wheelhouse and shut the door. Celeste didn’t answer right away, but instead pulled a set of binoculars from where they hung by a lanyard from the trim tabs control knob.

  Alex watched with amusement as she pressed the binoculars to her eyes, her gaze shifting as the boat listed and rocked.

  The Mists Edge had reached the center of the whirlpool and was spinning like a top, the tourists shrieking and taking pictures, the wind spraying river water over the boat, the mist dappled with color.

  Celeste handed him the binoculars as she pointed. “Over by Whirlpool Beach.”

  Alex chuckled. The area was called a beach, but that was like calling a house cat a tiger. They were in the same family, but that’s where the resemblance ended. He took the field glasses and examined the beach, which was on the Canadian side and was nothing more than a rocky spit that made the forest beyond look like it had a mouth filled with teeth. He panned the binoculars back and forth, scanning the river’s surface.

  “I don’t see anything unusual,” he said.

  “Bring us in closer,” Celeste said.

  Alex complied, and he eased down the boat’s throttle control arm and the vessel fought from the swirling current of the whirlpool toward the western shore. When the boat was cutting through the water at a steady five knots, he peered through the binoculars again.

  Dirty white foam ran in uneven lines across the undulating water, but there was something there amidst the flotsam and jetsam. The depth finder beeped as the water depth fell below five feet. Alex jerked the control arm into neutral and let the current pull the vessel back to the center of the whirlpool, worry climbing from his stomach and setting up camp in the back of his throat.

  “You see what I mean?”

  “Nasty shit caught in an eddy? So what?”

  “You asked me to tell you if I saw anything out of the ordinary.”

  Alex waited.

  “Whatever the hell that is over there, it’s not normal.”

  They finished the 2 PM run, and on the final tour of the day Alex entered the whirlpool extra slow, engines in neutral as he used the momentum of the river to pilot the boat toward the western shore and the beach. A scent like a dead animal baking in the sun leaked into the pilothouse and many of the tourists covered their noses and made faces like they’d smelled another person’s shit.

  A knot of whitewater rolled against the current, breaking through whitecaps as it came at the boat. Alex pulled his phone, his first instinct to get a photo.

  One of the tourists shrieked, and Alex put his phone away. What the hell was he thinking? He had a boatload of tourists that were his responsibility. He twisted the wheel and cranked the electric motors, the pumps sucking water, the boat leaping from the twisting whirlpool.

  Celeste stuck her head into the cabin. “You saw that, right?”

  “I don’t know what I saw.”

  She pursed her lips.

  “I’m coming back after we drop the tourists. You up for it?”

  Celeste nodded.

  Alex kept the boat in the mists for as short a time as possible, and on the way back to the dock he took the quickest route. The tourists were already looking at their phones, thinking about the next ‘thing’, so he felt little guilt.