by Josh Olsen
Chapter 30
Jason opened the door to the photo lab.
Still reading in the dim glow of the dark room, Ray looked up, his glasses hung limply on his nose, a book sat unfurled on the desk.
He looked up at the Sheriff, unamused, he pushed his glasses back up, the heavy frames constantly sliding down his long nose.
Seeing Jason, he folded the crinkled pages of his book shut, careful to save his place. He looked up at Jason.
”Come to make another mess?" he asked annoyed. He took the glasses off, setting them down on his book, rubbing the sore notches on the bridge of his nose.
The book, fraying outward radically from use, caused the glass to slide down the cover, falling off the table. Ray lunged for the falling glasses, missing, he jammed his finger into the side of the desk.
Jason managed to catch the glasses just before they hit the floor, dusting them off on his jacket, he extended his arm out, handing them to Ray.
"Look Ray," Jason started, "I'm sorry, things got out of hand earlier," Jason said, his meek tone as authentic as he could produce. He would need to sell it if he wanted Ray's help, he was a quiet man, but he didn't hesitate to let you know you had pissed him off, and could hold a grudge like no one else.
"Oh, you’re sorry," Ray said, his voice heavy with sarcasm and annoyance.
He paused, fogging his glasses and cleaning them, he continued. "You ask for my opinion and you lose your shit. What the hell was that about anyway?"
Jason thought back, the tension still simmered deep within. What he wouldn't give to hear the sound of Grease Hair's skull splitting underneath his fist.
Clearing his throat, he turned back to Ray, "There was a lot happening that day, you know that Ray. Going against Sanders Corp.? You know me, I'm the last person who would do that, let alone ask someone else to.”
Placing his glasses back on, Ray sat quiet for a moment, silently pondering.
Jason continued, "Look Ray, I can sit here and apologize all day, I'm here because, I think you might be right." Jason winced at his own words, his suspicions, minor though they may be, he still flinched at the sound of his own foolishness.
Ray looked up, puzzled, "The bear? You think it was a bear? he said, examining Jason’s expression through the thick frames of his worn, scratched glasses.
"Not a bear Ray, I....." Jason thought over his words in his mind, the sheer foolishness of what he was saying, caused him to shake his own head.
"I..I don't know Ray, I think there’s something…something out there." his voice trailed off.
Ray raised an eyebrow, "Something? What, like Bigfoot?" Ray chuckled to himself as he sat back in his chair. The old wood creaked as he laughed, ”Have you finally lost it Sheriff?”
Jason scowled back at Ray, "No, you jackass, I've got two victims that have both said they were attacked in the woods, and Sanders swooping in like they did? You can't tell me you believe that was a normal visit Ray, come on, you’re smarter than that."
"Victims? Who? That boy who went missing in the woods? A boy? A tourist nonetheless?” Ray scoffed.
“Some boy's panicked stories? That’s what you want me to buy?” Ray asked, his voice doubtful, almost mocking.
"Elroy Becker," Jason said
"What?" Ray asked, intrigued.
"We've got Elroy over at the hospital right now and he's all sorts of torn up.” Jason replied.
Whatever intrigue had inhabited Ray's face now faded away. ”Since when is that news? Everyone knows that drunk Everett is always beating on him." Ray said, his arms folded, unconvinced.
"That's the thing," Jason said, gesturing towards the door. He leaned in closer to Ray, "We've scoured the whole town for that asshole Everett, and he's nowhere to be seen. His house, the bar, the alley, nowhere. And here's the thing." Jason leaned in further, his voice shrinking to a near whisper.
"The Doc says Elroy's got someone else's blood all over him."
"Oh god," Ray leaned back, "You don't think?"
Jason stopped Ray quickly, "No I don't, and neither should you, Elroy ain't got the stones to kill anyone, you know that and I know that."
"I don't know Sheriff, it seems to me all your “evidence” here can be explained away if you look hard enough.” Ray furrowed his brow, standing up. “You sure your alright?" Ray said, examining Jason closely, "When's the last time you got a full night's sleep? These short days can do a number on a your head."
Jason sighed, shaking his head as he rubbed his tired, closed eyes.
"Look Ray," he said, looking back up.
"I didn't come here to convince you, I came here because I need your help." Jason reached into the bag he held at his side, producing the old, torn coat. "This is the coat of that boy who went missing out in the woods, see these?" Jason said, holding the coat up, letting the dim red bulb filter through the gaping holes in the garment.
"Oh my God.” Ray said, quickly getting to his feet, grabbing the coat from Jason he examined it, "What in God's name...." Ray said to himself, his voice trailing off.
"Still think it's a bear?" Jason asked, allowing Ray to study it, taking satisfaction from the fact that he might not be going as crazy as he had thought.
"I don't know about those people in the hotel," Ray paused, laying the coat out on the desk. "But whatever did this, was not any animal I've ever heard of in these mountains."
"You sure Ray? Sure this can't be explained away?" Jason said, wanting no doubts, no doubts left in the back of his mind, gnawing at him. "What if say...that boy's brother did this.
Troubled young kid, dysfunctional family, gets picked on a little too much by his brother, stabs him out the woods and makes up a story."
Jason's tone evolved from rhetorical to inquisitive as he heard himself say these words out loud. Now that he heard himself say it, he didn't know why he had never even so much as considered it. But before he could think any further, Ray interrupted his sudden epiphany.
"Not possible," Ray said, now measuring the tears in the coat with a tape measure.
"What do you mean? Jason asked, walking over to the desk.
"Well these are from puncture wounds. The blood obviously, and the fabric is ripped inward. But none of them are the same size, unless that kid brought a whole butcher shop out with him in those woods." Ray said, quickly jotting down some notes.
Jason looked at the coat closer, trying to make out Ray's frantically scribbled handwriting on the yellow notepad.
"That would indicate an animal attack, gored by claws. But these are too clean, too precise, unlike anything I have ever seen or read about.” Ray said, almost as if he was thinking out loud, shocked at his own words as they left his mouth.
"Ray," Jason belted out.
Ray snapped out of his trance, his head still spinning quietly.
"I came here because need to know if I can somehow connect these two incidents, the hotel and this one, do you still have those photos we developed?"
Ray nodded, his mind working far too quickly to manage any words.
“Would you be able to, I don’t know….to compare those marks on the wall at the suite with these here?" Jason asked, his thick finger pressing down on the coat, the flakes of dried blood cracking.
"Well it could be possible," Ray said, thinking. "But I'd need to know the dimensions of this wall, otherwise it could be anyone's guess, and I'm sure Sanders already tore that whole room out."
Jason thought for a moment, "I've got it," he said, pulling his badge from his coat. "Here, Ray, take this, go to that same level, all the rooms in that block are pretty much the same design, I've been up there for enough domestic disturbance calls that I probably damn near know the layout of every room in that place. Take this badge up and have them let you in a vacant room. We're far enough out in the season that there should at least be 1 or 2. That would get you the measurements right?" Jason asked, eyeing Ray's face, frantically waiting for a response.
"I..." Ray stammered, thinking to himse
lf. "Yeah...that could work." he said taking the badge from Jason's outreaching hand.
"Great," Jason said, turning to leave, he stuffed the coat back in the bag, hiding it under Ray's desk.
"Sheriff," Ray spoke up.
"Yeah?" Jason asked, his back still to Ray.
"Be careful who you trust." Ray said sternly.
"What?" Jason asked, looking back, walking towards Ray.
"One of your officers, Billings, he's working with Sanders, that much I do know, I don't know how many others."
Jason stood staring angrily. Silent, he thought over this new information, he had had his suspicions, but the confirmation hit him deep.
Ray waited for another episode out of Jason, surely one that would lead to him cleaning up his stuff once more, but nothing happened.
Jason simply said, "Thanks Ray, radio me when you have something. I need to go talk to Elroy"
"One more thing Sheriff, Whatever did this-," Ray said, pointing to the bag, "It punched clean through. Clean through in one strike. If there is something out there, it’s big, damn big. Pissed off too. Take care of your family Sheriff, stay safe."
"Same to you Ray," Jason said. He turned opening the door, quietly he said to himself, "Same to you.”
Chapter 31
Jason opened the old creaking double doors to the hospital. Alivia at the reception desk caught his eye immediately. Her arms held closely to her, trying to retain whatever warmth they could manage. Her thick, plush sweater hung over her thin, feminine fingers. A magazine lay folded out on the desk, absorbed in her tabloid, she hadn’t noticed Jason come in.
For a moment, Jason considered warning her, telling her to stay in her house, stay safe.
Quietly, he pondered his motive for this, was it merely him warning another human being of danger, keeping another life safe?
Why?
He reassured himself of this, but something gnawed at him something deeper in the recesses of his mind. Could he be that sure? Was it because of some ulterior motive? Self reassurance seeking only worsened his doubt of himself and his mind. Of course he didn’t love her, didn’t want Alivia. He had a wife that he loved, two kids that were his world. He didn’t want anything in his life that could destroy, decimate even, his entire life and everyone in it. But a fraction of thought in the back of his mind said that on the loneliest of nights, the fights, the yelling, sometimes he would drift away, think of the solace, the comfort that only the warmth of this beautiful woman held at his side would create.
His mind raced. Was this really how he thought how he felt? Of course not, he yelled in his mind, trying to drown out the gnawing, incessant words of the doubt his mind persistently put forth. He wanted, needed himself to be the good guy, the crippling self doubt that ate away at his conscious, his peace of mind, could all be washed away if he could live a good life, could be a good man. But the fears of what he might do, if he should falter, crippled him with self doubt and anxiety any moment he lay too still to be able to think.
Snapping out of his daze, his introspective fear and doubt, he looked up to see that Alivia was staring at him, a concerned look born on her face.
“Everything alright Sheriff?” her soft, breathy voice brushed over his ears. Every word seemed to exit on the wings of a gentle exhale.
Jason nodded, walking forward without saying anything. If he stayed away, there would be no doubt, no second guessing. He shook away these foolish thoughts, snapping back into reality. There were far more pressing matters than his private wallowing in self pity and doubt. He cringed and hated himself for being so foolish, so juvenile. Seeing the Doc, he took the opportunity to allow himself to occupy his mind with something, anything, something other than this foolishness.
“Hey Doc,” Jason started, but he stopped, something was off.
“What had I come in here for again Goddammit?!” Jason thought to himself, he hated the doubt, the second guessing. He was old but he wasn’t slipping, not yet, he was fine, just fine.
“Oh, hello Sheriff,” James said, turning around. Peeling off his latex gloves with an audible, “Snap!” He balled them up and discarded them into a nearby waste basket.
“I am sorry, I know you were hoping to question the patient. But I had to send him home,” James said, not bothering to look up at Jason, strolling over to his desk, he kicked his feet up and started fumbling with his pipe.
Jason, still trying to get his mind back in order, stammered for a minute.
“Patient?…Elroy? You sent Elroy home? What the fuck for?! You said he needed fingers amputated, and you “just decided” to send him home?” Jason shouted out in utter confusion, stammering with his words.
The Doc shrugged as he lit his pipe, “Hew wu prfc…..” The pipe muffled his words, shaking his head, he pulled the old wood pipe from his mouth, thin wispy smoke rising upward.
“He was perfectly stable, no sense in keeping him here. As for the fingers, yes they did come off, but that man was an army medic, so I gave him a bottle of painkillers and the necessary bandages and sent him on his way.” Casually, James went back to puffing on his pipe, feet kicked back in utter contentment.
Jason stared at the Doc dumbfounded, he couldn’t imagine in any scenario where anyone who had just had a surgery done would be casually sent on their way. He opened his mouth to reason with James, ready to let fly an onslaught of obscenities, of his anger that he had held in, the frustration he couldn’t deal with. But, he stopped himself, he knew where Elroy was and James wasn’t of much use anyway. Turning to leave, he stopped.
“Wait, Doc, where’s Clark?” he said, turning his head as he scanned the room.
“Oh!” The Doc exclaimed, standing up, he pulled the pipe from his mouth. “I was meaning to tell you that. He collapsed after you left, before I could do anything he stormed out, someone needs to go check on him Sheriff. But I can’t leave.”
Jason’s stomach swirled, his chest an acidic pit of anxiety.
“Oh Shit.” he hissed out under his breath, turning, he jogged out the door, he burst through the heavy double doors out into the snow that still fell heavily from the white sky.
Outside, Jason fumbled with the keys to his jeep, cursing himself as they fluttered from his clumsy hands, spiraling downward into the soft powdered snow.
Searching frantically, he scoured the snow with his hands blindly, every passing minute seemed like an hour. Jason’s hands at last produced the keys from the mass of white. Holding them in his hands, he took his time, shaking the dry, cold powder, that clung to his keys and his freezing hands.
His wheels spinning angrily in the slush and ice, he raced down the road. He told himself it was nothing, wanted to believe it was nothing, but the past made him doubt every word his mind produced. Nervously, he told himself it made sense to go to Clark’s house, after all Elroy’s cabin was just a few house’s down from Clark’s. He’d just go check on a citizen in his town, after all, a good Sheriff takes care of his people. Nodding to himself, he swallowed his lie, staving off the pressing, bitter anxiety that demanded to be dealt with.
No reason to fear, he said to himself, nothing out of the ordinary. But the screech of his wheels as he nearly slid into Clark’s front yard convinced him otherwise. Bursting from the cab of his Jeep, he trudged through the snow in long, panicked strides.
Wildly, he pounded on Clark’s door, he wouldn’t let this happen again, not again.
“Clark!” he shouted, his cold hands begging for him to stop the percussive frenzy he was unleashing on the warped wooden door. “Are you in there Clark?!” “It’s me Jason, open the door Clark!”