Purgatory Creek

by C. E. Nelson

  Palm drove into the parking lot of the park. The lone overhead light struggled to penetrate the moisture-laden air making the lot appear as the foggy night in an old English horror film. He sat looking at what he could see of the park in front of him, just able to make out the dark skeleton of a swing set.

  Fatigue settled in, the caffeine no longer seeming to be able to fight it back. He needed to sleep. Wanted to go home and go to bed. Just for an hour or two. He put his head back on his headrest and closed his eyes. Five minutes. That was all he needed.

  Palm was startled awake by a sharp rap at his window. A light flashed in his eyes and then moved away.

  “You OK, old man?”

  Grace. It was Grace. Palm pushed his door open and swung his feet out. Sat on the edge of his seat. “Must have dozed off.”

  “Happens. You search this area yet?”

  Palm tried to remember. He didn’t think he had. “No. Not yet. You find anything?”

  “Zilch, unless you count three deer we spooked. Scared the shit out of me.”

  “OK. Let’s take a quick look around here and then go back to Creekside. Knock on some doors.” Palm stood, his body sore. Bent his back to try to work out a kink and then pulled his phone from his pocket. Almost 4:30. He looked up to see the skies had cleared. Stars being chased away by just the first hint of morning.

  Michael woke with a start. As he slept he had stretched, his right foot pushing a pole enough that it tumbled to the floor from where it leaned on the wall, making a loud clanging noise as it did. The boy had no idea where he was. He sat up on the pads and looked around the inside of the shed seeing monsters peering at him from the dark of the interior. Monsters coming to get him. Michael screamed.

  He screamed until he was out of breath. Chest heaving, tears ran down his cheeks. He felt the dinosaur in his arm, pulled tight against him and looked down at the toy. Then his gaze was captured by a glint of something to his right. In the dim light he could make out the knife and picked it up. Felt safer now but remembered the night before. Remembered how angry his father was. How his father was going to take his toy. The toy the girl had given him.

  He looked at the dinosaur again. He had wanted the toy for a long time, for what seemed to be forever. The little girl had it, but she wouldn’t give it to him. He asked her if he could hold it when he had seen her with it at the park a long time ago, but she refused. She seemed to know how much he coveted the toy. That she would never get it back.

  This made Michael angry. He was much bigger than the girl, and he could just take the toy. But that would not be right. His mother had told him he could not just take things, he had to ask. He had taken a toy rocket from a store one time. His mother had seen it when they got home. She made him go back in the store and say he was sorry. Give the rocket back. He did not want to give the rocket back, he wanted to keep it. He had been very angry.

  Like he was with the girl. And he did not take the dinosaur from her then. The next evening Michael had gone to play in his fort after his mother got home from work. She let him do that, so she could have some time to unwind, usually with a glass of wine. But Michael was to go no further than his fort. And he was to come in when called.

  Michael went to his fort, playing with the toys he had stored there in his secret place, but all he could think of was the dinosaur. He wanted the dinosaur. Michael hurried down the trail to the park, stopping at the end of the trail where it came out of the tall grass and onto the park land. The girl was there. From where he stood he could see the girl playing in the sandbox, toy in hand. And then she put it down.

  She moved to the other side of the sandbox, playing with a toy shovel and another girl there. Michael could see the dinosaur laying on the ground. He could take it now. He had taken a step out of the weeds when the girl stood and walked back to where she had been. She picked up the dinosaur. Michael had missed his chance.

  But then she was running toward him. Michael thought she had maybe seen him, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was chasing a bunny. The rabbit saw Michael, stopped, and then darted to the left, into the woods. Michael watched the rabbit disappear and then turned back to see the girl standing in front of him.

  “Did you see the bunny?” she asked.

  “It went this way,” replied Michael as he pointed down the trail towards his fort. “I’ll show you.” He turned and walked down the trail and into the woods. The girl was close behind.

  Chapter 42

  Daniel sat up, rubbing the back of his head. There was a large bump there, and it was sticky to the touch. He looked at his hand. Blood. Trask was still out but making noise. He was half on the stairs, his legs on either side of Daniel’s.

  Daniel blinked rapidly, trying to wake himself. He held his forehead, trying to soothe the pain that seemed to be bubbling beneath his skull. Lots of pain. Needed something for the pain. He stood, dizzy, and leaned against the door frame, trying to get some balance. Hand on the wall, he staggered down the hall to the bathroom, found aspirin, and shook five from the bottle. Tossed them all in his mouth at once and then stuck his mouth under the faucet to wash them down. The bitter taste nearly had his stomach reject the pills, but he held them down.

  Water still running, he leaned over the sink again and turned his head to the side, splashing cold water on the back of his head. The water felt good, soothing, and he kept at it, the water dripping red into the sink. Shut off the water, and still bent over, pulled a hand towel from the rack next to the sink. He gently patted his head, occasionally looking at the towel to see the blood, finally just holding the towel to his head as he studied himself in the mirror. Trask moaned.

  Daniel dropped the towel in the sink and walked back to the steps. He was a little steadier now. He looked down at Trask; the man moving his head slightly, making noises. How long had he been out? Daniel glanced to his right, to the window that faced the creek, faced east. It was covered with the same film that Daniel had put on all his windows, allowing light in but blocking all visibility of any light inside the home from outside. There was some light there. The sun wasn’t up yet, but it would be in less than an hour. Trask would be conscious soon. Needed to hurry.

  They found nothing at the park. The two cops that had gone north called to say that they had nothing to report. Palm and Grace stood shoulder-to-shoulder looking at the creek. Sun not yet up, the surface of the water coal black. Palm was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Tried to put some thoughts together but gave up. Looked over at Grace.

  “We need a break. What do you say we grab a couple of hours of sleep?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Maybe a shower too. You could use it.”

  Grace couldn’t work up a smile. Too tired.

  “Maybe Cheryl Little will be awake by then. Maybe give us something.”

  “Sounds good. What time?”

  “7:30. At the Little’s.”

  Grace looked at his watch. “How about 8:30?”

  Dave and Melanie sat in her car, one house down from Daniel’s. They were finishing the last of their cold coffee. Their search of the street and the neighboring streets had turned up no sign of Don’s car.

  “What now, Sherlock?” asked Dave.

  “I don’t know. I thought for sure that he would be here.”

  “Maybe he is.”

  “No car. No lights on in the house. I don’t think so.” Jenkins finished her coffee, setting the cup in the holder between them. “Maybe he just went home and crashed.”

  “What about your notes?”

  “He could have just ignored them. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s blown off a message I left for him.”

  “Phone message maybe. But these were hand-written notes. And I can tell you that I don’t think Don would ignore a message from you now. You’re a priority for him, Mel.”

  Tired eyes looked at Trask’s face. She wanted to believe him. “So, what do you suggest?”

  Dave looked at Daniel’s house. “Let’s g
o take a look.”

  They got out of the car and walked along the street. There was a hint of light on the other side of the houses, but it was dark here under the trees lining the street. They moved along, flashlights down, stopping at the end of Daniel’s driveway. Security signs stood on posts on either side of the driveway. A sweep of Trask’s light revealed another sign by the front steps and on the far side of the yard.

  “Guy likes his privacy.”

  “Yeah. I suppose the cops will be here as soon as we step on his yard,” said Jenkins.

  Trask didn’t respond. His flashlight was pointed at the end of the driveway, and he walked in the street, standing directly in the driveway's center, splashing his beam across the driveway.

  “What?”

  “Look at this. Car tracks.”

  Jenkins could see the tracks turning from the street and down one side of the driveway. Her light followed the tracks to the garage door where they disappeared. “Yeah, so?”

  “These are new.”

  “OK? So maybe Daniel went out?”

  “I don’t think so. The tracks head in the wrong direction from how you would get out of the area. In fact, they look to me like they came onto the driveway from the street and then into the garage.”

  “We need to look in his garage,” said Jenkins.

  “What about the alarm?”

  “I’m OK with some more cops. Let’s go.”

  They walked along the side of the driveway in the wet grass, watching the house for any sign of light as they went, listening for any alarm. There were two small crank-out windows on the side of the garage, both shut tight. Trask shined his flashlight into the first and then walked to the second doing the same. The light only bounced back at him.

  “He’s got some kind of coating or something on these windows. Light can’t get through. Maybe there’s a door in back.”

  Jenkins followed Trask around the corner of the garage. The ground sloped away slightly toward the creek along the garage. Trask’s light found treated timber steps up to a door behind the garage. He walked up, tried the handle, found it locked, and then flashed his light at the window. The result was the same as the windows on the side.

  “Can’t see in here either. Door’s locked.” Trask stepped down off the steps and moved further down the slope, away from the house, so he could see the entire back of the house. No lights visible but now he was guessing that even if there were lights on in the house they wouldn’t be able to see them. Still, there did not seem to be any sign anyone knew of their presence. Yet.

  “We got to get a look in there,” said Trask after he walked back up the slope.

  “What do you suggest?”

  “I think we should test his alarm system. Hold this.” He handed Melanie his flashlight.

  “OK. And we do that by…”

  Dave walked up the steps to the door and took off his t-shirt.

  “You’re going to run naked around his house?”

  Trask wrapped his shirt around his elbow, turned sideways, and put his elbow through the window pane closest to the door handle. “Flashlight,” he said as he extended his arm. Jenkins handed him the light and Trask bent, shining it through the broken window. He could see two vehicles inside, but there was a shelf directly to the right of the door blocking his vision, making it impossible to see if one of the vehicles belonged to his brother.

  He stood straight, handing Mel his flashlight again, before he put his shirt back on. “You hear anything?”

  Jenkins turned her head. “Nope.”

  “Maybe all those signs were for show. I can’t see if Don’s car is one of the vehicles in there or not. I have to go in.” He hesitated. “Um, Mel, if you don’t want to do this, I understand.”

  There was no hesitation. “Let’s go.”

  Trask reached through the window, undid the lock on the door, and then pulled his arm out. Turned the handle and pushed the door slowly open.

  Chapter 43

  Trevor Cousins sat at the kitchen table. Had a cup of coffee between his hands. He was watching the world wake up. A squirrel jumped between branches of a tree, and two rabbits made their way across his lawn. None of it registered with him.

  Cousins could not remember the last time he had been up this early. He was tired. He was afraid. The palm of his hand gently stroked the red spot on his cheek. The area was sore, tender. His kid had hit him there, backhanded him. Cousins had bristled, pulling his own hand back to return the blow when the kid had pulled a gun.

  “Don’t even think about it, old man.”

  That’s what he had said. And then the two of them had just laughed. Cousins didn’t know Blake even had a gun. Wondered about the younger kid. Things were getting out of hand. Were out of hand.

  His wife had left him five years earlier. He had hit her. More than once. He missed her now, wished she was here to help. He needed help. But she wouldn’t come back. Not ever, she had said. Said the boys were just like him. Self-centered bullies. And she had been right.

  It had been OK for the first year or so, the boys had been in some trouble at school, got kicked off the bus, but nothing he couldn’t handle. But then he had lost his job. Out of the blue. Foreman said the whole company was going belly-up and shutting down. He heard the owner had screwed up a couple of big bids, and had taken a good chunk of money out, but it didn’t matter. There was no work to be found. Word was out in the industry about him, about his temper, and there was no one willing to give him a chance.

  When his unemployment ran out, there was no way he could pay the mortgage, the rest of the bills, and feed the boys. He had no savings. Cousins told the boys they were going to have to sell the house and move. Cousins distinctly remembered Blake looking at Mike and then at him.

  Blake said they didn’t want to move, and that they could make some money so they could stay. Cousins thanked them but said he didn’t think that was a solution. Blake asked him how much he needed. Cousins had added up roughly the amount in his head, added some on top and told him, thinking it would bring the kid back to reality. It didn’t. Blake asked him when he needed the money.

  And that month it started rolling in. Five thousand in the first month increasing to over ten thousand a month now. He guessed they had been making some before because they produced the money he needed that first month right away. Asked them where they got it, but they refused to say. But he knew. He smelled the dope in their room when they were at school, found a little in their dresser, and decided to let it go. But this was something else. They weren’t making this kind of money selling dope.

  He had confronted them about it later, threatened them, he had been bigger than them then, and they had confessed. They were dealing at the middle school. But when he pressed them about where they were getting the stuff, they clammed up. Nothing he could do would get them to talk.

  He warned them how dangerous dealing could be. How they could end up in jail. How their distributor could easily decide that they weren’t doing enough and get someone else – after killing them. But the boys weren’t phased. Said they knew what they were doing. Cousins had finally given in. The money kept flowing in and he did not need to work. He had made them promise that there would be no dealing at the house and that their supplier would never come to the house either, and so far, they had kept that promise.

  But now Cousins was worried. Why did they need a gun? And where did it come from? He guessed their distributor, but he didn’t know. The only thing that could happen with a gun was that someone was going to get shot. Someone was going to get killed. Cousins found he wasn’t so much worried that it might be him as he was that it would be one or both of the boys. He loved them. They were what kept him going. He did not want to lose them.

  As Cousins sipped his coffee, he thought about what he should do. Weighed the possibility of calling the police. The boys were still young. Maybe they could be helped? Maybe. And what about him? The cops would never believe that he didn’t know about what the b
oys were doing. He’d handled all the money. It was all cash, but he was sure they’d track it back to him. No, he’d be arrested too. Probably put in prison, leaving the boys in foster care when they got through whatever program the law would decide was their fate. Or would his wife take them back? No, he didn’t think so. If they were too far gone when she left, well, she’d never touch them now.

  Cousins looked down to see that his cup was empty. Got up and walked to the counter where the coffee maker sat. Poured himself another cup. It was Sunday morning. The boys would sleep in, giving him more time to think. He needed more time.

  Arnold Daniel had just enough time. He wasn’t sure he was going to make it, but he had. Just to be certain he had taped Trask’s ankles and wrists and put a strip of tape over the man’s mouth, but it hadn’t been necessary. He had slid Trask down the tiled hallway and into the last room on the left. Trask’s room.

  The room wasn’t large, 10’ x 10’, but Daniel was proud of it. In the room's center was a metal chair bolted to the floor. It looked almost like a throne with a high back and wide arms, all galvanized steel. Daniel had built it himself, bolting the thing together. The steel had holes at regular intervals that made it easy to cut and bolt. When the chair was complete, he had considered attaching metal bands to the arms and high on the back like he had seen in some old horror movies. He would then clamp and lock the bands over the occupant’s wrists and around the neck. But in the end, he decided he wasn’t sure where Trask’s wrists and neck would be once he sat in the chair, so he decided to go with duct tape for the wrists and wire he could run through the back of the chair and around the neck, twisting it on the back of the chair to tighten it.