Jason sat cooling his heels down at the sheriff's office. For the last two hours, he'd been locked in an interrogation room so small that he barely had space to think. The walls were painted a dingy beige— the color of eggnog. A video camera hung in the corner. The red recording light was on. Not handcuffed to the table, Jason was free to move around, but he remained shivering in his chair with his arms wrapped tightly around his chest. He was probably still in shock, though the thin jailhouse jumpsuit didn't offer much warmth, especially after being held at the crime scene while they took his initial statement.

In addition to his clothes, the deputies had taken his gun and knife as well as samples of his hair, saliva, and blood. They claimed to have warrants for everything, but he hadn't asked to see them. Why? He'd watched plenty of TV. They'd get everything from him eventually— if they really wanted it. Besides, if he was cooperative, maybe the detectives could quickly rule him out, and they could start the hunt for the real killer.

The monster.

A cold cup of coffee sat on the table in front of him. Jason wished it was still hot. He'd drink it now to warm his insides, but an hour ago, he couldn't stomach the beverage. It had tasted stale and bitter, so he'd only taken a sip to wash down his dinner— a Snickers bar from the vending machine down the hall. The sugary snack hadn't tasted great either, but he hadn't eaten since lunch, so he'd forced the candy bar down to keep his stomach from eating itself.

Just when he'd thought they'd forgotten about him, the door opened. A stout detective entered the room. He was alone. His black hair had streaks of grey above his ears. A bright gold watch adorned his hairy wrist. Jason didn't know him. He'd gone to school with a few of the younger deputies— which had saved him from a handful of speeding tickets, but a murder investigation was a completely different matter. He wondered if they'd left him in here to stew in his own juices, hoping he'd confess quickly. Fat lot of good that would do. He wasn't stupid. He wasn't confessing to nothing. Not the illegal hunting. Not the stuff he'd stolen from work to sell on the internet. And especially not murder. He was a victim too.

He still couldn't believe Derek was dead. To maintain his sanity, he'd pushed the image of his dead cousin out of his head. Jason didn't want his last memory of his cousin to be one with his face frozen mid-scream and his stomach ripped open. No way. Derek had been his best friend. Jason would sooner lose his horny wife than Derek.

The detective fell into the seat across from Jason. Clearing his throat, he said, "I apologize for keeping you waiting, Mr. Higgins. I'm Sheriff Detective Joseph Ruby."

"Yeah. No problem."

"Do you want anything? Need to use the bathroom?"

"A fresh cup of coffee would be nice."

"Sure." Ruby knocked on the door behind him. "Anything else?"

"A jacket?"

"Sorry about that. We do keep it cold in here. Trying to save the taxpayer's money. You were read your rights, correct?"

"Yes."

No one answered the detective's knock. Jason hoped someone did. And soon. He really wanted that coffee. The jacket too.

Ruby asked, "And you understood your rights?"

"I told Kenny I did."

"Kenny?"

"Kenneth Spears. The deputy that was at the scene. We've known each other since pee-wee baseball. He drove me to the station here. Is someone going to get Derek's truck back to his house?"

"Don't worry about that. We'll take care of it."

"Yeah, ok. So tell me, since you took all my stuff, I suppose you think I did it."

Detective Ruby folded his fingers together, resting his elbows on the table. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Why don't we start at the beginning? In your words, what happened tonight?"

Gathering his thoughts, Jason responded, "Umm . . . Derek and I were hunting in my father's field. He got a beautiful buck right at sundown. He took his time field-dressing it since he wanted it mounted, and we were about to drag it out when we were attacked by a monster."

"Interesting. You know we didn't find a deer at the scene. Just some blood and gore. Can you explain that?"

"Well, I don't know why not. Derek shot one. I swear."

"Ok. Let's move on. So you say you saw a monster too? Can you describe it?"

Jason sat forward in his seat. He knew he'd sound insane, but there was no other way. He'd just have to come out with it. "Yeah. It was big. Really tall. And hairy. It looked to be half-man and half-goat."

"Goat? That's the story you want to go with?"

"Yes. Because it's the truth."

The detective nodded solemnly. "Come on, Jason. Why not say it was the Michigan Dogman? At least some people believe in that folktale."

"Look— I know it sounds crazy, but I know what I saw. It was a giant goat. It had horns. Sharp ones. And it could talk. Not well, but I could understand it good enough. It let me live after I answered its questions."

"And in your initial statement, you said it used those horns to kill Derek Higgins, correct?"

It didn't look like anyone was going to bring him a fresh coffee. Or a jacket. Where was Deputy Kenny when he needed him?

Sighing, Jason said, "Well, actually, I think he was killed when it broke his neck, but Derek would've died from the gut wound eventually."

"So it was a mercy killing at that point?"

"I guess."

"And how was Derek's neck broken?"

"The thing did it with its hands."

"You're telling me this monster had hands and could talk, but it had horns and looked like a goat?"

"Yeah. Like I said, it was half-man and half-goat. Or some other kind of animal with horns."

The detective leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. "You have to admit your story sounds pretty far-fetched."

"I know. But it's the truth. I swear. Did your forensic team see the giant hoofprints from the monster? They had to be all over the place."

"No. They only found bootprints from you and your cousin, along with a lot of deer tracks."

"Its prints should've been bigger than a deer. The thing was huge. Bigger than me. A lot bigger." Jason pounded his fist on the table.

"Sorry. Why don't you tell me about the phone call you received from your wife tonight?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Humor me."

"Umm . . . Ok? She called me while Derek was cutting open the buck."

"Why?"

"Why? To check-in. To see where I was. When I'd be home. Stuff like that."

Ruby nodded. "Did she ask about Derek?"

"Maybe. I don't remember," Jason growled. The detective's questions were annoying. And pointless. He pounded his fist on the table again. "But that's not important. What's important is that you guys find that monster before it kills someone else."

"I'll be the judge of what's important. And what I find very important is that your wife and cousin were having an affair."

"A what?"

"I said an affair."