Chapter Five
John leaned against the open door frame of the barn as he watched the taillights fade away in the distance. "So why do we have the pleasure of standing here in the cold? I've got seniority and you are the highest ranking detective on the force, Frank. Those two wannabe's should be the ones freezing their butts off, not us!" He turned his head to see Frank leaning against the stall door, tapping away at the screen on his phone. "Still not talking to me? So that's the way it's going to be?" He pushed away from the door frame and turned to the inside of the barn.
He tried to hide the shock when he turned to see little Jacob and Emily standing there, his little hand resting in hers. Both emitted a haunting glow as they stared at him. John jerked his head to see Frank still focused on his phone and paying no attention to him or his ghostly friends.
"Mr. John?" John looked down at Jacob and could see the fear and desperate concern in his eyes. John wanted to tell them that somehow everything was going to be alright. But he was held speechless knowing that if he were to verbalize his thoughts Frank would know that he was, in fact, insane.
"He's coming, Mr. John. The man that you are looking for is coming here," Jacob said. "And I know who he is. I remember now." John shrugged his shoulders as he nodded his head towards his partner, wanting the boy to continue without him needing to actually make that request. "His name is Jack, Mr. John. He used to be my mother's boyfriend. When Emily said that the other man called him Chief, the memory came flooding back."
"I'm going to stretch my legs, Frank." John said as he started moving toward the back of the barn. When he arrived at the spot of Emily's death, he stopped and turned around, nearly crawling out of his skin when he turned and realized just how close his ghostly friends had followed. John leaned forward and spoke to Jacob. "What happened, Jacob?"
"I saw him do something really, really bad a few days ago."
"What was that?"
"You know that crazy guy that is always down on Main Street? I think everyone called him Mooch."
"Yeah I know him. I busted him for possession on several occasions before we found his body in a ditch."
"I was walking down the railroad tracks and I saw Jack talking to him," Jacob said.
"Somehow I am not surprised."
"Well, when I got close, I heard Jack yelling at him. I got scared and decided to hide," Jacob said as he lowered his head. "And that is when it happened. I saw Jack stab Mooch. I've never seen anything so awful before, Mr. John. He just kept stabbing him. I know that I should have stayed in my hiding spot, but I was so scared. I couldn't stay there any longer, so I started to run."
"Did he see you?"
"Yes, sir. He saw me and chased me. But I guess he was more worried about someone finding Mooch, so he stopped. I thought that everything was okay. And when he came into my backyard and offered me the candy, I thought it was his way of telling me that everything was okay."
"And the candy is the last thing that you remember?"
"Yeah, that's right. But I am scared again, Mr. John. I tell you, he is coming back. He is coming back here to look for the lighter you found."
"And just how do you know this?"
"It's one of the advantages of being dead, I guess. When I was forced to remember what happened to me, my spirit must have left this place. I don't know how I did it, but I ended up in his truck. And he was really mad. He kept cussing himself for losing the lighter. He knows that it's the only real thing tying him to the murders."
"What about the ring?"
"That won't do you any good, Mr. John. It was a gift that he had planned on giving my mom before she broke up with him."
John nodded his head as he took a deep breath. "You don't have to worry, Jacob, everything will be alright. If he does come back here, we can catch him red-handed."
"I don't know," Jacob mumbled. "He seemed really mad and I don't think he is quite right up there in the chicken coop," he said, pointing to his head.
"Don't worry, I think we can handle it." John said, "He won't be the first thug with an attitude that we have dealt with."
John flinched a second later as he heard Frank yell out in surprise. John spun around to see his partner pressed hard against the wall, Jack's fingers clenching his throat. John bolted forward, praying that he could cover the span in time to assist his partner. Fear riddled his body, not able to imagine losing his partner this way. Jack searched frantically for something behind his back as he fought to hold the detective against the wall.
"No!" John screamed as the man pulled the revolver free from behind his belt. John fell to his knees, skidding to a stop as he shoved his hands over his ears, the sound of the gunshot deafening. His heart racing, he forced his eyes open, afraid of the truth that he was sure to see.
The man loosened his grip on Frank's throat and took a step back. He tried to raise his gun, but his trembling hand chose not to respond. The firearm slipped from his hand and hit the floor only a second before Jack's knees buckled. John let out a long sigh and grinned from ear to ear as he looked at Frank. His partner stood there with his snub-nosed .38 gripped tightly in his hand, a small tendril of smoke snaking its way from the barrel as Jack slumped to the floor.
"You got him!" John said as he hurried to his feet. You got the one that we have been after," he said with the excitement of a child. Frank just shoved himself away from the wall and made his way over to Jack. With a flip of his shoe, he shoved the killer's gun out of reach before he knelt at his side.
"So, I bet you didn't think that it would end like this did you?" Franks brow furrowed as he saw the strange expression wash over Jack's face, one of curiosity, confusion and finally, fear. Frank had seen the look before, in the eyes of those that were standing at deaths door. But at this instant, John understood the reaction better than Frank ever would. John knew that the fear in the man's eyes came from seeing the spirits of those that he had murdered hovering over him like hungry wolves.
"Get them away from me!" Jack screamed as he swatted at the air. John couldn't help but smile as he stood back and watched the numbers grow. In his mind he counted each one, and in time, the ghostly remains of each of the people that Jack had murdered arrived. Every one of them was eager to escort him to his final destination.
"Get who away from you, Jack? It's just the two of us here." John's brow furrowed as he heard his partners remarks. I love ya, Frank, but you need to learn to share the glory, man!
"Can't you see them?" Jack screamed, sending blood spittle into the air as he choked on his words.
"It's obvious that you are in shock." Frank said as he pulled the digital recorder from his suit jacket. He pressed the red button and asked. "So why did you kill Jacob, and this girl? Why did you have to take their lives?"
Jack forced himself up on his elbows and coughed twice before licking the blood away from his lips and then smiling. "Because they were getting in my way, pig! I couldn't let any of them live. I was so close..." his said, his voice trailing off.
"Close to what?" Jack demanded.
Jack opened his eyes wide and stared boldly at Frank. "I had connections. I had some important men coming down from up north. I was going to be rich, I was going to be in control!"
"Control of what, drugs?" Frank asked, shaking his head.
"Yeah, and the money!"
Frank nodded his head in a sarcastic gesture. "You were already as good as dead, Jack. Once they got their feet wet, yours would have been set in concrete."
"Whatever, man. I did what I had to do. They all died because they got in my way." Jack said as his eyes darted about, catching glimpses of those that wanted and needed revenge. "Can you please make them stop?" he screamed as he swung his hands through the air.
Frank eased back and spoke in a calm voice. "Just try and relax. I don't know what you will be facing on the other side, but I am pretty sure that you are about to find out. And I hope that it is a thousand times worse for you than it was for those that you murdere
d."
Get away from me! Stop it! Please, don't. Please just let me be!" Jack pleaded as tears began to stream down his face.
For an instant, John wondered why he wasn't feeling sorry for the man lying on the barn floor. But as he watched the ghostly apparitions swarming his body, he was reminded how cruel this man had been, each one returning the act of violence that Jack had used to end their lives — a woman dressed like a prostitute hovered over him, plunging a translucent knife into his chest while a man stood at his head, taking great aim with his golf club. They were just two of the many vengeful spirits. From the shadows, the ghost of a man approached, swinging an axe while his lips blew a silent tune.
As Jack's screams intensified, and Frank stood to his feet, John turned to his right to see his two ghostly friends standing at his side. Both wearing sincere smiles as they looked at him. "We did it, Mr. John, we did it," Jacob bragged.
Almost three hours later, the barn was nearly empty. The officers had returned and done their jobs and the coroner had retrieved the bodies. John knew that he would never forget what he witnessed when he saw the coroners van leave the premises, a trail of apparitions floating above, diving in and out of the back of the vehicle. With each plunging spirit, Jack's ghost cried out in fear.
Frank squinted his eyes against the bright lights and answered the reporter's questions. John stood at a distance with a smile on his face. They had been successful at solving the biggest case that they had ever seen in their little town of Springbrook. He let out a long sigh, knowing that he could now leave the force without any guilt.
He watched Frank handle the reporters with ease, thinking that if Frank hadn't turned out to be such a good cop, he could have been a successful actor. He shook his head as he turned around, wanting to say one last goodbye to his ghostly friends, and to thank them. He knew that without their help, more people would have died. But when he turned around, he found that he was alone — no shimmering lights or even a fading mist. They were gone.
The ride back into town was quiet, both men letting the relief sink in and trying to accept its reality. Frank eased the car into his driveway and said, "I know it's late, but I need a cup of coffee."
"Yeah, I could use one too," John said.
John followed Frank down the long sidewalk and up the two steps to the front entrance, waiting patiently for him to unlock the door. He couldn't wait to feel the warmth of Frank's house and the hot bitter sweetness of a cup of coffee. Frank stepped in and John followed, stepping out of the way to allow Frank to close the door.
"Honey, is that you?" came a familiar voice.
"Yeah, Annette, it's me."
"Are you all right?" she asked as she rounded the corner, pulling her robe tight.
"I couldn't be better," he said as he wrapped her in his arms and held her tight.
"Does this mean there is good news?" she asked with an apprehensive tone.
Frank stepped back and with a smile that beamed, he said, "I did it, Annette, I got him."
Annette's eyes shot wide. "You mean?"
"That's exactly what I mean," he said as he patted her arm and then stepped away, taking only a few steps before stopping in front of the wall decorated with photos. As he gingerly reached up and touched his fingers to a photo, he said, "I got the guy that killed my uncle John."
John felt his throat go dry and his knees go weak. "What did you just say?" he managed to spit out. He tried to blink the blurred vision from his eyes as he stepped forward. "What did you say, Frank?" he asked even louder. And when he didn't get a response he stopped directly in front of Annette and begged, "What did he just say Annette? Please, what did he just say?"
Annette wiped the tear from her eye as she turned away from John as if he weren't even there and moved to her husband. She stopped at his side and placed her hand on his back, gently rubbing it. "I know he is proud of you, Frank. And it's almost Thanksgiving, Babe. This year, we can really celebrate what we are thankful for."
"Seriously, what is going on here? What are you two talking about?" John begged as he took a step closer to the wall. His world began to spin and a tear rolled down his cheek when he recognized the photo. He felt his body shiver as he turned around. He didn't want to look at the picture. He didn't want to admit what it meant. He fought back the urge to vomit as the dates printed on the photo flashed through his mind. 1964-2013 was printed just below his photo.
"Mr. John?"
John looked up in disbelief to see little Jacob and Emily standing there before him. "I don't understand." he mumbled.
"I know Mr. John. But there isn't anything to be afraid of."
"But I can't be."
"I know that it seems strange, Mr. John. But it's true."
"How could I have not known?"
"Do you remember when you asked me why I was sticking around?"
"Yes, Jacob, I remember."
"I didn't tell you everything when I said that I told them I had something I had to do. After I died," he hesitated for a moment, searching John's eyes for understanding. "They actually sent me back to help you."
"Help me solve the case?"
"Kinda, I guess, but there was a bigger reason."
"Please, just tell me, Jacob?" John pleaded.
"To help you understand." Jacob said. "About a year and a half ago, you got a call to come to my house. And you came alone. You thought that it was just something to do with my mother and you thought that you could handle it. But that isn't really what happened. It was Jack. He knew that you were close to busting his drug ring. So he waited down the road—"
"And he made his car look like it had broken down," John said as he reached for the wall to brace himself, his knees becoming even weaker.
"Do you remember now?" Jacob asked.
John closed his eyes and nodded his head, "I remember," he said, placing his hand to his chest and applying pressure, as if trying to erase a forgotten pain. "He shot me in the chest before I had time to react." His voice trembling, he asked. "What now?"
"Just listen, John, just listen in your heart."
John forced himself to stand tall as he wiped the tears from his face. He turned and looked over his shoulder. "There has to be a way for me to let him know how proud I am of him. There has to be a way that I can tell them how much I love them."
"Just look at them, John," Emily said. "You are getting to see something that I wasn't able to. It's obvious that they love you very much."
"But..."
"Just listen, John. It will be the most beautiful thing you have ever heard," Jacob said as he grasped John's hand.
Murder, Mayhem, Monsters, and Mistletoe Page 22