“Beneath, and Los Angeles are the keywords there.”
“What about last year when we were down in Australia for that rogue Yowie? That was nice.”
“If you call being bitten by a dingo nice. I mean, seriously. Would it really hurt one of these things to, say, show up in Bermuda or maybe Saint Martin?”
“There’s no pleasing some people,” Derek said with a smile before turning serious again. “Hello, what’s this?”
Near the far end of the dingy little town, tucked back from the road, Derek spied a small, one story structure. It didn’t seem any more remarkable than anything else they’d seen so far. What caught his eye, however, was the old hand-painted sign out in front of it. It depicted a faded image of a winged creature and had the words “Devil Museum” printed above it.
“Even the worst dung heap on the planet is going to have at least one tourist trap.” Despite his complaints, Francis pulled in to the gravel lot and parked the large SUV. “Think they’ll have anything useful in there?”
“Doubt it,” Derek replied as the other man shut off the engine. “From the look of the place, I’m half surprised it isn’t condemned. But you never know. Blind squirrel theory and all. Grab the gear. Worst case, maybe we can get some usable footage. It sure as hell looks like they could use whatever publicity we can give them.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Francis took a few minutes to film the nearly empty street. If not for the working traffic lights and a few small stores displaying neon “Open” signs, one might have thought they were in an abandoned ghost town.
“Kinda creepy.”
“It’s the middle of the day,” Derek said. “Kids are in school and their parents are at work. I bet this place is hopping on the weekends.” He smiled and added, “Or at least limping. How’s it look?”
“I think that’s good for now. Let me get a shot of that sign and then we can go in.”
Derek waited for him to do so, then they both walked toward the front entrance. “And now for the moment of discovery.” He turned the handle of the door, firmly expecting to find it locked. It wasn’t. A bell jingled overhead as it opened.
“Think the Smithsonian should be worried?” Francis whispered.
They found themselves in a large, open space. A modest number of display cases and photos lined the walls. Before they could do much in the way of examining them, a man stepped in from a back room and approached them.
“My apologies for the delay,” he replied in a slightly guarded voice. “The museum also functions as my home. I was in the back enjoying some afternoon TV.”
“That’s ... no problem at all,” Derek replied, forcing himself not to stare.
The proprietor was tall, thin, and appeared to be middle-aged, but it was his face that caught Derek’s attention. He had a crooked nose, a protruding brow, and an overly pronounced underbite which gave his face a decisively off-balance appearance.
The man walked up to them. “Admission is two dollars per person.”
“Not a problem.” Derek pulled out his wallet and extracted a bill. “Sorry. I only have a twenty.”
“I’m a little short on change,” the man replied. “However, donations are both welcome and tax deductible.”
Derek smiled and handed the money over. “Of course. Always happy to help out a local business.”
“Much appreciated.” The admissions fee quickly disappeared into the man’s pocket, almost as if he were afraid Derek might change his mind. He made to turn toward the displays, but then stopped and glanced toward Francis, who was preparing to turn his camera on again.
The man held up a hand. “I am afraid there is no photography allowed. Video, too. Some of the artifacts here are unique, and we would prefer visitors come see them in person rather than on some website.”
“We?” Derek asked.
“My wife, Sarah, and I.”
“I can do a wide shot,” Francis offered. “Nothing zoomed in. Just enough to tantalize people. Our audience would probably like it. We’re from...”
“I know who you are,” the man replied. “Dr. ... Jenner and his crew, was it?” Derek raised an eyebrow, but the man quickly added, “I saw the governor’s press conference. We have a satellite dish on the roof.”
“Ah. Then you know we’re here to do some research for our show.”
“Yes,” the man replied. “Although I can’t lie and say I actually watch it.”
“No offense taken.”
“However, if I can be of any service in helping you fine gentlemen educate yourselves, I am happy to.”
“Excellent. Then...”
“But I am afraid the no photography rule is non-negotiable.”
Derek paused for a moment, then turned to Francis and nodded. The big man powered down the camera and lowered it to his side.
“Thank you kindly,” the man replied, then held out a hand. “My name is Ezekiel Lesterfield. I’m the proprietor of this establishment dedicated to the history of our fine town.”
“A pleasure, Mr. Lesterfield.” Derek shook his hand, noting the man’s grip was slick and clammy. He quickly dismissed that, though, as another detail caught his attention. Lesterfield? For some reason that sounded familiar. “This is my cameraman, Frank LaCroix.”
“Is that French?” Ezekiel asked.
“Canadian,” the big man replied. “Got Canuck blood in my veins, especially during hockey season.”
If Ezekiel found Francis’s joke to be funny, he didn’t show it. “Will the rest of your colleagues be joining us? I seem to recall there being four. A man and a young woman.”
There was something about his tone Derek didn’t like, but he pushed it aside. It was most likely a combination of his over-protectiveness of Danni, combined with their host’s somewhat ungainly appearance. He mentally chided himself for it. It wasn’t fair of him to be judgmental. “Not today. They’re busy with other aspects of the investigation.”
“I see.”
“But they’ll be with us for our night hunt,” Francis added.
“Night hunt?”
“Yeah, it’s for the show. We go out and conduct a full field investigation once it gets dark. Set up trap cameras, sound lures, that sort of thing.”
“And you’ll be doing this investigation in the woods around Shilough?”
“We usually don’t divulge that in advance,” Derek said, throwing a look Francis’s way. “It can be dangerous for anyone who doesn’t know what they’re doing and could also compromise any evidence we find.”
“Of course. I merely asked out of curiosity. Be forewarned, though. The woods can be a treacherous place at night.”
“Like we don’t already know...” Francis began.
“As we’re well aware,” Derek interrupted his teammate. No point in being overly snippy with the locals. “But we’re still scouting potential locations. After this, we’re going to drive down to Leeds Point and consider...”
Now it was Ezekiel’s turn to interrupt. “A waste of time, I can assure you. A tourist trap, nothing more.”
“Oh?” Derek asked, inwardly amused at the irony.
“The story of Mother Leeds is the most popular telling of the legend, but it is little more than an old wives’ tale. Sadly, it is a myth that allows the greedy merchants at Leeds Point to profit while we sit here in relative obscurity.”
“We typically don’t take legends like that at face value, anyway.”
“That is not to say the so-called devil was not real, but as with so many things, the true story has been perverted over the years. One might go so far as to claim it was stolen by them.”
“Do tell,” Derek replied, letting the proprietor lead them into the museum.
♦ ♦ ♦
“As you can see, the legend of the Jersey Devil originated much closer to Shilough than Leeds Point.”
To say that Derek was less than impressed by the old newsprint within the museum’s few glass cases was an understatement. Yellow journalism at its best, proclaimin
g the fantastical, no doubt while ignoring the real issues of the day.
“So then how did Leeds Point get all the credit?” Francis asked, looking at an old flyer offering a reward for the devil’s capture.
“Simple. Shilough has always been a relatively close-knit community. We keep to ourselves and do not seek to profit off our legends.”
“Says the guy running the museum.”
Ezekiel grinned, showing crooked yellow teeth. “This museum’s purpose is merely to preserve the truth, as well as provide a modest income for my family. You’ll note the lack of a gift shop, which we would certainly have if we were willing to compromise our ethics.”
Derek chuckled. “He’s got a point, Frank.”
“Besides,” Ezekiel said, “after my ancestor exorcised the beast, there was little need for us to seek publicity. Let the folks over in Leeds keep their silly legends.”
Derek finally remembered what Danni had told them on the way down. That’s why this guy’s name sounded so familiar. “So the exorcism actually happened?”
That seemed to perk Ezekiel’s interest. “You’ve heard of it?”
“We would be remiss in our jobs if we didn’t conduct proper research.”
“I’m impressed. Most who come this way purporting to be so-called devil hunters are nothing of the sort. All they know about the Barrens is what anyone who performs five minutes of cursory research would, and most of that are lies. The Leeds legend, the Kallikak family, the Philadelphia hoax.”
“They used an actual painted kangaroo for that one, didn’t they?” Derek asked.
“Yes,” Ezekiel replied, the humor draining from his face. “Made quite the killing before anyone thought to take a closer look. We don’t have much use for those types around here.” He led them to a series of framed photos on the wall. “Here he is. My great-great grandfather, Jedediah.”
Derek stared at the first picture. It depicted a mature, stern-looking man standing in the center. A world-weary woman was by his side. Surrounding them was a large group of boys and young men. However, it wasn’t so much the image itself that stood out, but the appearance of all those in it.
“So, is this his ... flock?”
“No,” Ezekiel said. “That’s his family. The woman next to him is his wife, Sarah. All the rest are their children. My ancestor was blessed with a large family – eighteen sons and a daughter.”
“That’s a lot of boys.”
“As it has always been with my family. At least nine out of ten of the children born to my bloodline are male, perhaps more.”
Derek looked closer and spied the lone girl. She was a tiny, frightened-looking thing surrounded on either side by a pair of hulking brothers who had their arms around her. He supposed it was meant to be a protective, brotherly gesture, but in the image captured, it appeared more like jealous hoarding on their part.
Again, that could have been due to the unpleasant appearance of those captured in the image. Damned ugly family. I can see where our host gets it from.
He glanced toward Francis and could see the big man was probably thinking the same thing.
Derek immediately felt guilty about it. He wasn’t normally one to judge by looks alone. Still, there was something off about the photo, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“Seventeen,” Francis said, drawing Derek’s thoughts back to the present.
Ezekiel turned to him. “Excuse me?”
“There’s only seventeen kids, sons anyway, in the photo.”
Ezekiel smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So there is. I am told that one of his children, Abram, was quite sickly. He was often bed-ridden, under the care of his sister, Sarah. No doubt this photo was taken during such a time.”
“Sarah?” Derek asked, remembering what the man had said about his wife. “Seems to be a lot of that going around lately.”
He’d meant it as a joke, but Ezekiel’s gaze held little humor in it. “It’s a fine name for a woman. A good, God-fearing name. There are far too many strumpets in this world. Whores of Babylon, all of them. Doesn’t seem anyone remembers a woman’s rightful place anymore.”
Derek was suddenly glad he’d left Danni behind. Not only was Ezekiel’s comment sure to infuriate her, but he was getting a strange vibe from the man. Not to mention, something about Jedediah’s picture was still nagging at him.
“So, about that exorcism,” Francis said after a beat.
The intensity left Ezekiel’s eyes as if he suddenly remembered he was their guide. “Ah, yes. I’m happy to tell you all about it.”
CHAPTER 13
Ezekiel’s tale of the exorcism matched fairly closely with what Danni’s research had revealed, but there were additional details that had apparently been left out of the official account.
According to his story, the creature known as the Jersey Devil had rampaged the area in the years leading up to the exorcism, but the number of those affected appeared higher than that officially reported.
Whether it was true or the man was simply exaggerating to make the story seem more dramatic, though, Derek didn’t ask.
The creature had struck some of the other towns bordering the forest, enough so that outside police help began to arrive in Shilough, something the small, close-knit community apparently did not appreciate. To Derek it sounded like something out of a cliché drifter story, in which a luckless hitchhiker wandered into a town that didn’t care much for strangers.
Aside from that, it appeared the two stories matched fairly closely. The exorcism itself was more of a day-long party of religious fervor by the townsfolk. When it was over, the sightings and disappearances died down.
Definitely a case of power of suggestion if ever he’d heard one, albeit it was a temporary balm, as devil sightings began to rise again in the decades that followed.
As for the missing persons, there was no way of knowing what had actually happened to them. But the preacher’s warning to stay away from the more dangerous sections of the Pine Barrens almost certainly contributed to a decline in such mysterious disappearances.
In short, there wasn’t anything to convince him the devil was any more real than when they’d first arrived. Still, Derek couldn’t shake a strange feeling in the back of his mind as he and Francis excused themselves from the museum and turned to leave. They walked out the door, thanking Ezekiel for his time and letting it close behind them.
“What do you think, Frank?”
“I would’ve handed over that twenty just to get away from that guy.”
“Not going to argue with you there.”
“You can’t tell me,” the bigger man joked, “that he doesn’t have a van parked around back with a sign on it reading ‘Free Candy.’”
“Be nice. I can’t imagine business is brisk even on the best of...”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Huh?” Derek turned to find his cameraman pointing.
“Looks like we have company.”
Derek glanced toward the direction of their SUV. He’d been expecting to find that their security detail had finally caught up to them. Instead, he saw a somewhat familiar-looking woman leaning against the side of their vehicle, apparently waiting for their return. “Is that...?”
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