Nature of Darkness

by Robert W. Stephens

  Penfield and Angela stayed out of the way as the FBI made the final arrangements to take Marcus Carter from the psychiatric facility. Penfield had seen Granier look at him and Angela a few times, but he hadn’t challenged their presence yet.

  Angela turned to Penfield.

  “We’ve gone past our three days. You know this isn’t going to end well.”

  “What choice do we have?” Penfield asked.

  “None. That’s what scares me,” Angela said, and she nodded toward Penfield’s car. “Come on, let’s go back to your vehicle. I don’t want Marcus to see me when they bring him out.”

  They waited in Penfield’s car for another hour. Angela reclined her seat and closed her eyes. Penfield didn’t think she was going to sleep. Rather he suspected she was going over the case piece by piece like he had the night before.

  Finally, the FBI team emerged with Marcus in restraints, both around his wrists and his ankles. They shuffled him to one of the black SUVs. After he’d been secured inside the car, McMahon walked over to Penfield and Angela. Penfield rolled down the car window, but McMahon looked right past him to Angela.

  “Marcus wasn’t leaving without you. That bought both of you a ride to the party. I have seats for you in the rear SUV. I think it would be better if you drove with us.”

  “Sounds good,” Angela said.

  “I also have body armor for both of you. We don’t know how this is going down,” McMahon said.

  Penfield and Angela got out of their car and walked to the vehicle at the rear of the column of SUVs. They climbed into the backseat and saw two FBI agents they didn’t know in the front. Penfield nodded to them both, but no words were spoken.

  About an hour into the drive, Penfield turned to Angela.

  “I think he’s taking us to Gloucester,” Penfield said, referring to an area on the Virginia Peninsula that was bordered by the York River and the Chesapeake Bay.

  “A lot of land without a lot of residents. She could be hidden anywhere,” Angela said.

  “What’s your best guess? Is she there?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean this case doesn’t play out there. Marcus is planning something big. He’s too smart and too methodical to take us on a simple joy ride,” Angela said.

  The convoy arrived in Gloucester about thirty minutes later. They made their way down the busy Route 17 before turning off well before the Coleman Bridge, which spanned the York River between Gloucester Point and Yorktown.

  They drove down a two-lane road for several miles before making a half a dozen more turns down much narrower roads. The last road was so narrow in parts that any potential oncoming traffic would have to pull off the road to allow the FBI to pass.

  Finally, they arrived at a secluded farm. The convoy pulled onto a dirt driveway that took them directly through a large, overgrown field. The lead SUV, which Penfield assumed carried Granier, McMahon, and Marcus, stopped at a white wooden farmhouse that was in desperate need of repair. The other SUVs parked behind the lead.

  Penfield and Angela climbed out. The driver of their vehicle popped the trunk and provided them both with Kevlar vests. Angela slipped hers on like it was everyday wear. She bent over and removed a small 9mm handgun that had been strapped to her ankle.

  “Where did you pick that up?” Penfield said.

  “Don’t ask.”

  Penfield opened his jacket and removed his Sig Sauer p320 compact pistol.

  “Sig Sauer. Nice,” Angela said.

  “Tried and true. Let’s hope we don’t have to use it.”

  Penfield and Angela stayed far behind the group of agents. They were close enough, though, to see Marcus point east across the field. Granier motioned for Marcus to take the lead and the FBI team advanced.

  They walked for several minutes until the overgrown field transitioned to one that was mostly dirt and small rocks with no discernable cover. The wind whipped up the dust that covered the field. Penfield looked in all directions. The field was bordered by thick woods that could easily conceal someone.

  “This isn’t good,” Penfield said to Angela.

  “We’re sitting ducks out here. He’s led us into a potential massacre.”

  Granier must have sensed the danger too for Penfield saw him grab Marcus by the shoulder and stop him. Penfield and Angela moved closer so they could hear the conversation.

  “Where is she, Marcus? There’s nothing around here,” Granier said.

  “She’s underground,” Marcus said.

  “Where? Is there a marker around here?” McMahon asked.

  “Angela!” Marcus yelled, and he looked through the group of agents until he spotted her beside Penfield.

  Granier yanked at Marcus’ shoulder again to get his attention.

  “This isn’t about Angela. Where is Jenna?” he asked.

  “We’re a few minutes away, but first I need to speak to Angela,” Marcus said.

  Penfield looked around the field. It spread for at least fifty yards in every direction before running into the woods. Jenna could be buried anywhere if she was even here.

  “No more games,” McMahon said to Marcus.

  He removed his service weapon and pressed the barrel against Marcus’ head.

  “McMahon!” Granier yelled.

  McMahon ignored him.

  Angela walked closer to the group.

  “Wait,” she said.

  She stepped beside McMahon and Marcus.

  “Where is she, Marcus? I know you don’t want to hurt Jenna. This isn’t about her. This is about you and me,” Angela continued.

  Marcus stared at Angela for several long moments. He tried to raise his hand to her face, but McMahon pushed it away.

  “I’ll be with you always, and when you die, I’ll be with your son and his son after that, until all of your days are ended,” Marcus said.

  A shot rang out a second later and Agent Porter fell.

  “Angela!” Penfield yelled, but she’d already dropped to the ground.

  A second shot was fired, and Marcus was hit in the abdomen, just below his Kevlar. Penfield crawled on his belly to Angela and McMahon, expecting a barrage of bullets to rain down on them. But the only shots that came were from the FBI agents returning fire at the woods.

  Penfield watched as Angela rolled Marcus over so that he was facing her. She partially lifted the bottom of his vest to examine the wound in his stomach. When she pulled her hand away, Penfield saw that it was covered in crimson.

  “Protect our son, Angela. It wants him and it won’t ever stop,” Marcus said.

  Penfield turned to see McMahon checking Porter. It appeared that the round had struck her in her Kevlar, but Penfield didn’t know if it had made its way through the body armor.

  “It’s okay, Carly. You’re going to be okay,” McMahon said.

  When Penfield turned back to Angela, he saw that she’d placed Marcus’ head on her lap. She was crying.

  31

  The Child

  Penfield helped carry Marcus out of the field, but Marcus was pronounced dead when they got back to the vehicles. Penfield looked at the body for a long time. He didn’t even recognize the man he’d once been friends with.

  By the time Penfield got back to the dirt field where Marcus had been shot, FBI agents had already located the shooter’s weapon. It was left behind a rotting log, which had probably been used to steady the rifle during the shot. Penfield recognized the weapon. It was a Browning X-Bolt Hell’s Canyon Long Range rifle. He’d shot one a few times before and found it to be accurate and reliable.

  The agents also found several tire tracks about one hundred yards from where the Browning had been left. Penfield guessed it was probably a well-used location for hunters to park their trucks. There was the distinct possibility, though, that the shooter had used a boat for his getaway.

  Gloucester was surrounded by water and it was often faster to use the waterways versus the roads. Regardless of how the shooter had arrived, he was long gone by no
w. They’d been outplayed and outmaneuvered.

  Penfield walked over to Porter to check on her. Another agent had probably helped her remove her Kevlar, which was placed on the ground beside her. Penfield saw her touch her torso and wince. The impact of the single high velocity round against her vest had probably broken a rib or two. She’d survive, but she’d be sore as hell for weeks.

  “She wasn’t a target,” Angela said.

  Penfield turned and saw her looking at Porter.

  “She was simply in the way. The shooter couldn’t get a good aim at Marcus with her standing there,” Angela continued.

  “I’m sorry. I know how much he meant to you at one time.”

  “That’s not why I’m upset,” Angela said, but Penfield knew it was a lie. “What the hell do we do now? Marcus was our only chance to find Jenna, and we’re out of time.”

  It was a valid question and the most important one. Penfield also knew she’d used it to change the subject from the pain he knew she was feeling. She’d loved Marcus and there was a part of Penfield that believed love could never truly go away.

  “What did Marcus say to you right before he was shot? It sounded like he said he would be with your son and his son after that.”

  “I have no idea. It made no sense,” Angela said, and then she walked away.

  Penfield watched as she walked about ten yards and then stopped. She stared at the woods where the shooter had been.

  This had all been Marcus’ plan, Penfield thought. He’d known he was marching to his death before he’d even left his cell. With his murder, he’d gained a freedom of sorts – both a freedom from Central State, but more importantly, a freedom from the madness that had haunted him for years.

  Penfield wondered if the killings would stop with Marcus’ death. He questioned if this had been the master plan from the beginning. If that was the case, then Jenna McMahon had very little time left since she’d already served her purpose. Perhaps she was already dead, and her finger left at the last crime scene had only served as the final motivation to push the Attorney General’s office into action to permit Marcus to leave the facility.

  McMahon would know that too. He would also know that it was only a matter of time before he and Granier would be called to the Washington D.C. headquarters and asked to explain how Marcus had been killed under their watch.

  Marcus had led them into a trap and McMahon had followed him willingly. They all had. McMahon’s fear of losing his daughter had caused him to be reckless. Penfield knew how lucky they’d been that no one else had died in that field.

  Penfield was about to walk toward Angela when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He removed it and looked at the display. He recognized the number as belonging to Henry Atwater. He answered the call.

  “Hello.”

  “Alex, we need to meet.”

  Penfield’s prophetic streak continued as McMahon and Granier were summoned to Washington less than thirty minutes after Marcus’ death. Penfield was convinced McMahon would be removed from the case entirely. He and Angela were on their own since he assumed that they would no longer be asked to help the FBI, especially if Agent Granier remained in charge.

  Angela had made Granier’s shit list and Penfield knew his name was on there too. McMahon had been his only advocate, and with Penfield’s connection to Marcus now useless, there would be no shortage of agents who would be anxious to show Penfield the door. As far as he was concerned, Henry Atwater was his only hope of finding Jenna.

  After arriving at Central State by taxi, Penfield and Angela climbed back into his sedan for the drive north to Richmond. Penfield offered to drop Angela off at the hotel, but her curiosity won out, and she said she wanted to come along for the visit to see Henry Atwater. Penfield filled her in on the details of his relationship with Atwater, including Atwater’s help with solving some of his more complicated cases.

  They entered the Church Hill section of Richmond and Penfield made the final turn onto Atwater’s street. He parked in front of the house and turned off the engine.

  “A word of warning. Henry can be a bit…strange,” Penfield said.

  “Strange interesting or strange scary?”

  Penfield shrugged his shoulders.

  “I guess that depends on who’s looking at him.”

  “I have a feeling I may regret this,” Angela said, and she got out of the car.

  Atwater must have been on the lookout for them for he opened the house door as they stepped onto the front porch.

  “Thank you for coming, Alex,” Atwater said.

  “This is...” Penfield started, but he didn’t know what Angela wanted to be called.

  Angela extended her hand to Atwater.

  “I’m Angela Darden. I used to be partners with Marcus Carter. That’s my connection to this case.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Darden,” Atwater said.

  He stepped back and allowed them to enter. Atwater led them into the living room in the rear of the house. He went to drag another chair in for Angela, but Penfield grabbed it for him. The three sat by the large window.

  “Are you aware that Mrs. McMahon came to see me?” Atwater asked.

  “Cameron came here?” Penfield asked.

  Atwater nodded.

  “She wanted my help in locating her daughter. She was told about my effort in finding you when you were a boy.”

  “You said you needed to meet with me. You must have seen something then,” Penfield said.

  “I saw a man looking into a mirror, but his face was a blur. There’s something else. The young woman, Jenna McMahon, she’s still alive.”

  “So, you have seen her?” Penfield asked.

  “She’s under the ground,” Atwater said.

  “Under the ground? Wouldn’t that imply that she’s been murdered, and her body buried?” Angela asked.

  “She may have been buried. I don’t know. I suspect it’s more likely a room under the ground, like a basement. Either way, she is not his concern now. You are,” Atwater said as he looked at Angela.

  “I was. I’m not any longer,” Angela said.

  “What do you mean?” Atwater asked.

  “Marcus Carter is dead. He was shot and killed today when he was supposedly taking us to find Jenna. It was a ruse. She was nowhere to be found,” Angela said.

  Atwater said nothing. He stared out the window for several moments. Penfield saw Angela turn and look at him.

  “There’s something else you’re still not telling us, Henry,” Penfield guessed since he knew Atwater better than he was willing to admit.

  “I see the pieces, but I don’t know how they fit together,” Atwater said, and he turned back to Angela. “It wants you, but I don’t know why.”

  “It? Why did you use that word?” Angela asked.

  “Because it’s not human. It’s what took your former partner. I saw it when I met Marcus at Central State. If Marcus Carter died, then it’s because it wanted him to be dead,” Atwater said.

  “That’s not an answer to my question. Why does it want me?” Angela asked.

  “Forgive me for being so forward. I have no wish to embarrass you, but were you Marcus Carter’s lover?” Atwater asked.

  Penfield watched as Angela held Atwater’s gaze. He expected her to respond with anger like she had when Agent Porter had questioned her. Angela surprised him, though.

  “We were partners, then friends, then for a brief time we were something more.”

  “You have a child with him,” Atwater said more than asked.

  “I do. Did Alex tell you?”

  “No, Alex would not betray your confidence. I have an answer to your question, Ms. Darden. It wants you because you will bring it to your son.”

  “My son is just a child. What could it possibly want with a boy?” Angela asked.

  “I’ll be with you always, and when you die, I’ll be with your son and his son after that, until all of your days are ended,” Penfield said.

&nbs
p; Atwater turned to him.

  “Where did you hear that?” the old man asked.

  Penfield ignored the question. He turned to Angela.

  “You have heard that before, haven’t you?”

  Angela didn’t immediately respond.

  Then she said, “Yes, but I didn’t hear it. I read it.”

  “The journal,” Penfield said, and then he explained the journal’s existence to Atwater and Angela’s recent trip to Rome to have it translated again.

  “Who wrote the journal?” Atwater asked.

  “That’s still a bit of a mystery. I believe Marcus’ grandfather, David Lombardi, wrote it, but there’s some confusion as to whether he would have had the skills necessary to write it in that language.”

  “Have you seen videos of people speaking languages they shouldn’t know? This wouldn’t be the first time something like this has happened,” Atwater said.

  “You’re saying Marcus was possessed. I mean that’s what we’re really talking about here, isn’t it?” Angela asked.

  “Yes, I saw an emaciated Marcus Carter rip a metal ring with four steel bolts out of a table with his bare hands. He didn’t do that on his own,” Atwater said.

  “And I was a cop for almost twenty years. I saw people do all kinds of things they shouldn’t have been able to do, yet it still happened. And it didn’t mean some supernatural force had control of them,” Angela said.

  Penfield understood where Angela’s skepticism was coming from. He also wasn’t sure what he thought. Yes, he’d seen the dark shadow standing behind Marcus, as Atwater had, but Penfield wasn’t one hundred percent ready to confirm exactly what it was.

  He realized that was one of the main differences between him and Atwater. The old man was quick to believe, whereas Penfield still kept one foot firmly planted in the harsh reality of his former experience as a police officer. There was no reason to believe some evil force existed when humans were corrupt enough to commit all kinds of depraved sins on their own.