The Secrets That Found Me
Welcome to Big Bend, where the population is officially 1,300—or so we think, depending on how you count the nosy raccoons. My name’s Ralph Mendoza-Klein, and I’ve got the badge to prove I’m the Sheriff of this quaint Wisconsin town. But let me tell you, being Sheriff is just about the most ordinary thing in my life these days.
You see, Big Bend has its share of secrets—the kind you won’t find on any census. Witches brewing potions at the farmer’s market, werewolves prowling the woods beyond Otter Lake, and some species that defy explanation altogether, like our town librarian, who seems to know a little too much about the phases of the moon. I didn’t mean to uncover any of it, but you’d be amazed how quickly life changes when you stumble into a world that was never meant for you. Trust me, my life hasn’t been the same since.
It all started one crisp October morning. Tourist season was winding down, and the hustle and bustle of both car and foot traffic had slowed to a crawl. Just a few weeks earlier, we had proudly inaugurated our brand-new hospital trauma center, already buzzing with activity as the busiest facility for miles around.
That morning, like clockwork, I stopped by Chubby’s Café to refill my trusty coffee thermos. Marsha, the café’s owner and one of my old high school classmates, was ready for me—as always. With a sly smile, she handed me a brown paper bag with a freshly made bagel slathered in rich Wisconsin cream cheese. Marsha, always keeping tabs on me, had taken it upon herself to ban donuts from my diet and insist on a healthier breakfast. It’s her way of looking out for me, whether I like it or not.
In Big Bend, that’s just how things are. Most folks here grew up together, went to school together, and built their families right here. It’s the kind of place where neighbors look out for one another—not because they have to, but because it’s simply what we do. But even in a town this tight-knit, I’ve learned that some secrets can stretch deeper than the roots we share… and those secrets have a way of finding you.”
Did I mention I still live in the house I grew up in? Yep, I inherited the place after our parents passed. My two sisters and my fatal car jacking felon baby brother (the black sheep of the family) wanted nothing to do with the house, so I bought them all out—clean and simple. Truth be told, we weren’t exactly a tight-knit family, so parting ways wasn’t a burden. No skin off my back, as they say.
As I stepped out of Chubby’s Café and headed toward my cruiser, the quiet morning shattered in an instant. A mint-condition 1962 Buick Skylark came barreling down Main Street, its engine roaring as it sped past at what had to be 55 mph in a 35 mph zone. My adrenaline surged as I rushed to my cruiser, flipping on the lights and pulling out onto the road in pursuit.
The Skylark didn’t slow down—it seemed to be heading somewhere with purpose. As we approached the edge of town, the car veered sharply onto the road leading to the hospital trauma center. My instincts told me this wasn’t just reckless driving; something was wrong.
The car screeched to a halt at the emergency entrance, and before I could even park, the driver—a woman, pale and visibly shaken—stumbled out, clutching her arm, which was bleeding heavily. She hurried to the passenger side and pulled out a young child, limp and injured, with blood staining their clothes.
I jumped out of my cruiser and ran to help, calling for the ER staff as I reached them. ‘Hang on,’ I said, steadying the woman as she struggled to carry the child. The trauma center doors flew open, and a team of nurses rushed out with a stretcher. The woman’s eyes met mine, filled with desperation and gratitude, as we guided them inside.
In that moment, the urgency of her drive made perfect sense. She wasn’t running from anything—she was racing against time to save her child.”
As the stretcher disappeared into the trauma center, one of the nurses froze mid-step, her expression shifting from urgency to shock. She looked up at the injured woman and stammered, ‘Dr. Briggs? What… what are you doing here? We weren’t expecting you until next week!’
The woman—Dr. Briggs—grimaced, cradling her injured arm, but her focus remained on the child being wheeled away. ‘Plans changed,’ she muttered through clenched teeth. ‘It’s a long story, but right now, you need to save her.’
Dr. Briggs was no ordinary physician; she was a renowned all-around surgeon—a master of pediatric, trauma, and general surgery, and the kind of doctor people spoke about with reverence. The nurse’s shock wasn’t misplaced. Seeing her here, injured and frantic, was like watching the rock-solid foundation of the medical world crack.
The nurse nodded quickly and rushed after the team working on the child. I stood there, caught in the whirlwind of activity, trying to piece it all together. Dr. Briggs wasn’t just any doctor—she was practically a legend. Whatever had brought her here, bleeding and with an injured child in tow, was bound to be a story that Big Bend wouldn’t forget anytime soon.
Dr. Briggs wasn’t supposed to arrive in Big Bend until next week, but she’d come early to get her bearings, settle into the house assigned by the hospital, and maybe explore the town’s charm. By mid-afternoon, with the October sun casting long shadows across the trees, she decided to stretch her legs on the forest hiking trails she’d heard the locals rave about.
The tranquility of the trail didn’t last. A blood-curdling scream pierced the air, sending a chill down her spine. She sprinted toward the sound, branches snagging at her clothes, until she burst into a clearing. There, in the dappled light, a massive wolf was looming over a young child, teeth bared and growling low.
Instinct kicked in, but not the kind most people would expect. Dr. Briggs dropped the branch she’d reflexively grabbed and took a deep breath. She hadn’t relied on her powers in years, not since she vowed to leave that life behind—but there was no time to hesitate. Whispering an incantation under her breath, she extended her palm. The air around her shimmered faintly as an unseen force surged forward, slamming into the wolf like an invisible wave.
The creature yelped, momentarily stunned, before rounding on her. Its eyes glowed unnaturally, betraying that this was no ordinary wolf. It lunged, but Dr. Briggs raised her arm, summoning a barrier that deflected the attack. The wolf staggered back, snarling, but its movements grew sluggish as she chanted softly, her voice steady despite the danger. Whatever dark force had driven the creature began to ebb, and with a final snarl, it retreated into the shadows of the forest.
Dr. Briggs turned her attention to the child, who was trembling but conscious, their arms and legs marked with scratches and bites. She cradled the child gently, ignoring the sharp pain radiating from her own injured arm, where the wolf had grazed her before retreating. Summoning every ounce of strength, she carried the child back to her car and sped toward the trauma center, her mind racing as fast as her heart.
That’s how she ended up here in front of me, visibly injured but resolute. Her story was hard to believe, but the fear in her eyes and the wounds on her arm told me she was holding back a truth far stranger than what she’d revealed. As the hospital staff worked on her injuries, I couldn’t help but wonder: just who—or what—was Dr. Briggs? And what had really happened in those woods?
Something about Dr. Briggs didn’t sit right with me—not the story she told, not the way she’d showed up injured with that child in tow, and especially not the way she’d avoided my questions. So, after leaving the trauma center, I went back to the station and pulled her name up in the system, half-expecting to find nothing more than a pristine résumé. Instead, what I found sent a shiver down my spine.
‘Trudy Briggs,’ the search results read. The name hit me like a freight train. Not “Dr. Briggs,” the all-around surgeon. Not a stranger at all. But Trudy Briggs, a name I hadn’t heard in years. My mind raced, sifting through memories of high school dances, study sessions in the library, and afternoons by Otter Lake. Trudy, the girl I’d had a massive crush on—hell, I might even have loved her in that clueless way a teenager can—but she’d vanished right after graduation. No goodbyes, no explanations. Just gone, like a wisp of smoke.
Seeing her name attached to the confident, mysterious woman I’d just met felt surreal. Where had she been all these years? And why, after more than two decades, was she suddenly back in Big Bend? My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I tried to decide whether to dig deeper. The questions gnawed at me. What had happened to her? And why had she never reached out—not even to me, someone who’d cared for her all those years ago?
But this wasn’t just about the past anymore. Trudy—or rather, Dr. Briggs—was clearly wrapped up in something far bigger than old high school reunions. The incident in the woods, the wolf attack, her inexplicable calm under pressure... it all pointed to secrets that had nothing to do with prom dates or teenage crushes. And somehow, I had a sinking feeling those secrets weren’t going to stay buried for long
As I stared at the screen, the name Trudy Briggs glaring back at me, I couldn’t help but let out a humorless chuckle. Of all the people to show up in Big Bend after twenty years, it had to be the one person I thought I’d never see again. It’s not every day your high school crush barrels back into town driving a mint-condition Buick Skylark, dodging speeding tickets, and casually fending off wild animals in the woods.
I leaned back in my chair, the memories flooding in despite myself. Trudy had been the kind of girl who could silence a room just by walking in—not because she tried but because she was effortlessly magnetic. Smart, funny, a little sarcastic… and entirely out of my league. She was the homecoming queen; I was the guy trying to figure out how to ask her to prom without passing out. And then, just like that, she disappeared after graduation—no explanations, no goodbyes. One day she was here, the next… gone.
Until now, apparently.
Of course, this wasn’t just some lighthearted reunion. Trudy—Dr. Briggs, as she was now known—had shown up in Big Bend with more baggage than the Greyhound bus station. Injured, secretive, and apparently a wolf-fighting force to be reckoned with. And that wasn’t even the strangest part. Something about her had changed since high school. Sure, she still had that sharp gaze and quiet confidence, but there was something else beneath the surface. Something... otherworldly.
I decided to dig deeper. If Trudy Briggs thought she could waltz back into town with a new name, supernatural powers, and a history I knew nothing about, she underestimated how bored a small-town Sheriff could get in the off-season. I pulled up her file and scanned through the bare-bones information. Degrees, accolades, medical board certifications—impressive stuff, but nothing that explained the wolf incident or why she seemed so uneasy when we talked.
Then I noticed it: an old, faded record attached to her file. A property deed for a cabin in the woods just outside Big Bend, transferred to her name over two decades ago. She’d owned it since the year she disappeared. My heart skipped a beat as I realized she hadn’t just come back to Big Bend—she’d never really left. Whatever had driven her away all those years ago hadn’t just brought her back; it had kept her tethered here the whole time.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was standing on the edge of something big—something I wasn’t sure I wanted to uncover. But one thing was clear: Trudy Briggs wasn’t just here to save lives at the trauma center. She was here for something else entirely. And knowing my luck, I’d probably be dragged into it before long
