“Oh my God! Are you telling us this isn’t the only jar?”
“This is what I’m trying to find out, Mrs. Coby.” He noted the way her face blanched and felt a twinge of pity. “I do know this can’t be the only one, because when Willie handed this one over, according to Simmons, both he and Butch backed up.”
“Why would they do that?” Julie’s brows knitted together as she glanced over at him.
“Because the contents smelled of decomposition. This,” he held the jar up for them all to see, “contains a dead baby. Yes, it’s going to smell. Even though the person who put it in the jar had the forethought to add formaldehyde to preserve it.”
“I think I am going to throw up,” Rita murmured, pulling a Kleenex from her purse to hold it to her mouth.
“Take a few deep breaths, Mrs. Coby. It’ll help.”
“So what are you planning on doing with this information, Detective Jenkins?” Bill asked.
“I’m going to be straight up with you folks. For years I’ve wanted to get enough irrefutable evidence against the Prescott woman to put her away. I think she has been doing illegal abortions for a lot of years out at that house and has killed a lot of innocent babies in the process.”
“You know this could just be a rumor going around about that place,” Dave said, his brown eyes deliberately turned away from the jar.
“Does this,” he snatched the jar up from the desk to hold it before them again, “look like a rumor to you? Your boys could help us put all the rumors to rest. If they say the Prescott Mansion is where they got this,” he tapped the jar with a pen he had poised in his hand, “and that there were more than just this one, we can get a search warrant and go over that house inch by inch!“
“And if the boys do admit that that house is where they got the jar,” Dave patted Julie’s shoulder gently as he heard her sharp intake of breath, “what is going to happen to them legally?”
“If they admit that the jar came from the Prescott house, I give you my word, they will not have any charges pressed against them.”
“And your word will be in writing?” Dave interjected.
Jenkins nodded.
“That’s good enough for me,” Bill said, getting to his feet. “Do the rest of you agree?”
“If I see it in writing, then we’ll bring the boys in and they can tell you what you want to know,” Dave said, his brows lifted in question of the two women watching him.
Jenkins lowered the pen he had been holding to the stack of papers he had before him on the desk.
“One more thing,” Julie Coby sat forward in her chair, “can you promise us that your supervisor will go along with you giving the boys immunity from prosecution?”
“I can promise you this without a doubt in my mind, Mrs. Coby.”
***
Willie tried not to think about what was going on at the police station with their parents and the detective. The thought of being locked away with other kids who really were guilty of doing bad things against society kept running through his mind.
“Do you think our parents will rat us out, Willie?”
“Not really. Our dads love us, and besides, our moms won’t allow them to tell something that could send us to juvie.”
“Do you think the witch knows what’s going on?”
“Let’s not talk about her right now. My stomach’s tight enough without bringing her into the ‘what-ifs.’”
“I know the police can protect people who testify against bad people, but how can they protect someone from a witch who can turn herself into something that ain’t even human?” Butch walked back and forth in front of the couch.
“What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about the witch right now’ don’t you get, Butch?” Willie came forward, his hands balled into fists and ready to fight.
Butch threw up his hands. “All right, we won’t talk about her.”
Willie flopped down on the couch again, his anger at Butch’s mention of the old woman still very much a part of him.
“I guess we’ll know before long what’s gonna happen. They’ve been gone over an hour now. Shouldn’t take that long to find out where we’re gonna live for the next year or two.”
“Damn it, Butch, you gotta be one of the most annoying assholes God ever breathed life into.” Willie jumped up off the couch and without stopping to weigh the consequences smacked Butch a hard blow to the side of his face. “Why can’t you just shut the fuck up?”
Butch let out a roar of anger and jumped full force into the middle of Willie’s chest, knocking him to the floor. “I can’t shut the fuck up because I’m scared shitless! Did you ever think of that, Willie?”
Grabbing a handful of Butch’s hair, Willie pulled him closer latching onto one of his ears.
“Owww! Willie! Bastard, let go of my ear!”
The shrill ringing of the phone had both boys rolling to their feet.
“It’s your phone; I think you should be the one to answer it.” He put a hand up to his ear, his eyes still filled with fury.
“Back off!” Willie held out a hand. “This could be Mom and Dad.” With a shaking hand, he picked up the phone. “Hello.”
A high pitched cackle screamed over the phone lines making Willie drop the receiver and back up, his face drained of color.
“I heard her! I heard her!” Butch’s eyes were wide with terror.
“She knows what’s going on. She knows we’re getting ready to talk to the cops!”
“She’s gonna come here and kill us, Willie!” Butch screeched.
“We gotta call Mom and Dad and tell them what’s going on!”
Butch grabbed the phone to start punching in numbers. Taking a deep breath, he put the receiver to his ear, hoping against hope he heard the number being dialed and not the eerie laughter of the old woman.
“Hang up the phone, Butch.” Willie slapped him on the arm. “They’re home.”
“Thank God.” He dropped the receiver back into the cradle. “When we tell them what just happened, they’ll have to believe us about that old bitch!”
“Yeah, they’ll have to believe us now!”
At the same time, they both looked at one another. Willie found his voice first.
“Why do they have to believe us? We don’t have any proof to show them.”
“They’ll believe us because we’re their boys, and parents always believe their kids.” Tears trickled down his face to mingle with the blood from his wounds. He did nothing to stop them.
“Butch, if they don’t believe us when we tell them what she can do, then we’re in big trouble.” Willie draped an arm around Butch’s frail shoulders, needing to feel the touch of another human being. “You better go wash the blood off your face before they come in. We don’t want them passing out before we hear what they found out.”
“Yeah, I was going to anyway.”
“I’m sorry I punched you in the face and bit your ear, Butch.”
“Aw, it don’t hurt none. At least the old bitch did something worthwhile. She scared me so bad, I’m numb.”
“The only one who’s gonna believe us is Donna. She’s gonna have to convince everyone else how much danger we’re in.”
“Do you think she’ll do it, Butch?”
“If she can’t, then we’re gonna be living at the mansion with the ghost kids.”
“Hey, instead of just giving up after we find out what happened at the police station, why don’t we walk down to the church and tell Father Hannity what’s going on? Ain’t priests suppose to be able to save us from evil?”
“I’ve always heard they are.” His young face brightened with renewed hope. “Now, if our parents can keep us out of prison, maybe our luck’ll hold, and Father Hannity can keep us outta hell.”
Chapter Twelve
Butch woke to the low growl of his best friend, Samurai.
“Go back to sleep, Sami,” he told him his voice sluggish with sleep. “It’s just the wind scraping the tree branch against the window.”
He flipped over on his stomach to go back to sleep.
The little dog nudged him, pawing at his shoulder to get his attention.
“Damn it, Sami, I told you there’s nothing out there. Lay down and go to sleep before I throw your ass out in the hall.”
Sami refused to be put off in his need for attention, scratching in earnest on Butch’s bare arm.
“That does it, you no nose little shit.” He sat up in bed and throwing back the covers grabbed the dog up in his arms as his legs hit the floor.
Sami snarled, struggling to get free.
“What is wrong with you?” Butch walked with him over to the window. “Look out there.” He held him up to see out. “There is nothin’ out there!”
Butch placed the dog on the floor. “Now thanks to you, I gotta take a piss.”
Sami jumped up on the window seat, growling and scratching, his small feet going faster and faster as he scratched on the window.
“Damn it, I said…” His breath caught in his throat as he saw what Sami saw: the face of the old woman pressed against the window and staring in at him.
The long scream bolted from his throat as one long nail scratched on the pane. Then, to his horror, he saw the window lift all by itself.
Sami threw his small body headlong against Butch’s chest.
Clutching the little dog tightly, he turned and ran out of the room.
“Donna! Donna, wake up.” He threw Sami on the bed beside his sister. When his whispers drew no response, he shook her roughly. “Donna, damn it, wake up!”
“What the hell are you doing in my room?” she sat up and, seeing Sami, knocked him off the bed. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want this little rodent on my bed?”
“The old woman’s in my room!” he screeched. “She made my window open all by itself, and she’s coming in my room to kill me.”
“Oh stop! Your room’s on the second floor! She can’t climb a tree!”
“Come and look for yourself if you don’t believe me!”
Donna motioned for him to turn around as she pulled her oversized t-shirt down into place before getting to her feet.
From his new position, he could see into the hallway.
“Shit!” He spied a dark shadow silhouetted on the wall creeping toward Donna’s room. “She’s coming down the hall way!”
“Like hell she is!” Donna knocked Butch out of the way as she sped toward her bedroom door.
When she saw the shadow coming up the hallway, she kept stomping forward, her anger at seeing her younger brother scared out of his wits giving her the courage she needed.
“You need to get the hell out of here, you crazy bitch! We’re children of God and protected with the White Light of the Holy Spirit! You need to go back to hell where you came from!”
The shadow stopped, dissolving into a black mist and retreating back down the hall until it faded through Butch’s bedroom door.
Butch ran forward to throw his arms around Donna’s waist. “Oh my God! I can’t believe you did that!” He reached down, picking up Sami, who refused to be ignored. “Donna, she could have killed you. Weren’t you scared?”
“No, but I am now.” She slid to the floor, dragging Butch with her.
“Where did you get so brave?”
“It’s called pissed off courage,” she whispered. “When I saw how scared she had you, I just felt this numbing coldness come over me until I couldn’t feel anything except red hot rage.”
In spite of what just happened, Butch felt a laugh bubble up from his throat. “I know one thing for damn sure.”
“What’s that?” she murmured, letting him help her to her feet.
“You won’t ever hear me mouth off to you again. If you could best the old witch, you could turn me into a pile of yesterday’s shit!”
“Just remember that,” she told him, keeping her arm draped over his shoulder.
“Where we going? Downstairs?” He glanced at her as they headed toward the landing.
“No, we’re gonna wake Mom and Dad and tell them what just happened.”
“Good luck. They’re not gonna believe us. Especially Dad.”
“They’ll believe us because I’m not gonna stop talking until they do.” She rapped lightly on their parents’ bedroom door.
Rita pulled the door wide. “What’s going on? Is one of you sick?”
“Somewhat, but that ain’t why we want the two of you to wake up.”
“What the hell’s going on?” Bill called out sleepily.
“We’re gonna go downstairs.”
“All right, we’ll be along in a few minutes.”
Walking out to the kitchen, Donna opened the refrigerator and reached for the gallon of milk.
“I’m gonna make some hot chocolate. Want some?”
“Yeah, it makes me feel good inside.” Butch leaned against the counter. “Might as well make enough for everyone. I think it goes without saying we all need to get calmed down.”
When they were all seated in the living room, Bill was the first to speak up. “All right, we’re up drinking hot chocolate at three in the morning. You two better have a good reason for it.
“What I’m gonna tell you will take some real faith that we’re not making this up.”
“If you tell me you woke my ass up in the middle of the night—knowing I have to go to work later—to talk about that old woman, you’re going to get my foot up your ass!” He sat forward in his chair.
“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do.” She held up a hand as he made ready to speak. “Something just happened that you need to know about.”
Rita set her cup down on the saucer. “What happened, Donna?”
“The old witch came here to kill me,” Butch told them.
“God damn it, Butch I don’t want to hear anymore about that old woman! She can’t hurt you! For Christ’s sake, all you would have to do is run. She couldn’t catch you. She’s too damn old!”
“She can hurt him, Dad.” Donna got up from her chair to sit by Butch on the couch. “I didn’t believe him either until I saw what she can do with my own eyes.”
“Now you’re going to feed into this bullshit too!”
“Bill, I want to hear what is going on. Neither of our kids is a liar, so I would appreciate it if you would shut up and let them talk.”
Donna chanced a quick glance to where her father sat staring at her mother as though he were finding it hard to believe she had said what she said. Then, taking a deep breath, she told them what all had happened.
“If she can come here and let herself into our own house, there is no telling what she might be capable of doing.”
“This is very frightening,” Rita whispered.
Bill sat in his chair and remained quiet.
“Bill, don’t you have anything to say about all this?”
“I was thinking of a story I heard back some years ago about another family who had something just like this happen to them.”
“Hold on, Dad,” Donna said. “I want to get us some more hot chocolate. Butch,” she said before going to the kitchen, “would you mind going with me? I really don’t feel like being by myself right now.”
Butch rose from the couch and joined her on her way out of the room.
“Bill, are you serious? You actually heard a story about something similar to what the kids just told us?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“How come you never told me about this before?”
“I didn’t tell you, Rita, because, to tell you the truth, I didn’t believe it.”
“And now you do?”
“Hell yes, I do. Donna just told us almost word for word the same thing that I heard happened to Fran and Eddie down the road.”
“Why would someone stay in a house where something like this was going on?”
“Probably because they’ve lived there for years?”
“I guess I can understand that. I wouldn’t want to lose our house,”
she said and then grew silent as Donna and Butch came back into the room.
“I hope you don’t mind, Mom, but I put the hot chocolate in one of your tea pots. I really don’t want to keep going to the kitchen. For some reason it’s giving me the creeps.”
“Does Sami have a problem with going into the kitchen?” Bill asked.
“Yeah, but I thought it was just because he’s still skittish from what happened earlier.”
“I’m going to tell you both something I hadn’t planned on telling until this came about.”
“You’re starting to scare me, Bill.” Rita wrapped her bulky robe around her and drew her bent legs up beside her on the couch.
“Sometimes it’s good to be scared. It makes you more aware of what’s going on around you.” Bill settled himself back in his chair.
With their minds on what they were about to hear, all but one missed the dark mist floating toward the kitchen door.
Sami whimpered and then jumped up on Butch’s lap, needing the warmth and protection of his best friend.
Chapter Thirteen
The wind howled through the trees, stirring the leaves covering the vast lawn lifting them into the air, before allowing them to scatter back across the grass.
The old woman stooped and withered with age, pulled her thick shawl around her frail shoulders, and wished she had dressed in a warmer wrap against the chilled night.
She could see a faint outline silhouetted against the pale light of the full moon. The outline grew stronger until it took on the misty figures of young children.
They gathered around her, watching and waiting, to see what she would do next.
With her gnarled hands, she shooed them back into the shadows. Her heart beating at a faster pace as it always did when the children made their presence known.
“You have no right to accuse me of hurting you. I’m not the one who killed you.”
They simply stood watching her, then, one by one, walked toward her, their piercing gaze never leaving hers.
“Get back,” she whispered, moving away only to have them follow. “You know, I can make you sorry for not obeying me. Do you want that?”
One young boy stepped forward. “Why do you always want to hurt us?”
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