Angel Falls, NY was officially named back in 1803. The town began not unlike many others, by a few small families living close enough to one another that some entrepreneur decided to set up a shop in between homes and make a small profit by trading and selling goods. In the case of Angel Falls, it was a young man by the name of Judiah Branshire that set up a small blacksmith shop and bartered merchandise in exchange for various commodities. One family may be in need of horseshoes for instance and would come to Judiah and trade the horseshoes for corn. Another family might need corn and trade for hogs. Eventually enough passerbys took notice and settled nearby so as to always have things available to them that they would need. It didn’t take long for other entrepreneurs to join in alongside Judiah and soon there was a liquor store, a hotel, and a bank. It had always been said that Angel Falls got its name from the small waterfalls that flowed down the Raquette River downtown. There are others who claim the name came about after a bad case of smallpox wiped out a generation of children. They called the children their angels and because they had “fallen”, they named the town accordingly.
Sheriff Watley had lived here all his life. His father was a sheriff and although he had always had dreams of going off to college and making family history by being the first to earn a college degree, he couldn’t settle in on anything and after picking up a job at the station part time, he eventually was consumed and grew into the role. He loved the job anyway. He could understand why his dad had done it. It was a damn good feeling to be able to help so many people. He had built a reputation just like his father of being tough but compassionate. Angel Falls was his playground. He knew a lot of folks and they all seemed like family to him. The crime was about what you would expect in any small town. Most of the calls were for domestic disputes, bar fights, or petty theft. Sometimes there would be a big drug bust, but usually things were pretty quiet.
Sheriff Watley was driving down the road, thinking about the graffiti on the bridge. Kids. He thought. Will they ever change? Better to be patching up some graffiti than cleaning up after a drive by. Sometimes you just have to be thankful for the small crime. The sheriff stopped suddenly. In the road up ahead was the same truck from the night before with the door open. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He said under his breath. He just sat there staring for a moment trying to understand. Is somebody fucking with me? A guy wouldn’t just sleepwalk to the same spot in the woods twice in a row…would he? He shook his head and pulled off to the side and placed the car in park. He picked up the CB and called it in.
“Base,” he said.
“This is base, watcha got James? Over.” The sound of Leah’s voice filled the car.
“You on duty tonight Leah? I thought it was your night off. Over.” Sheriff Watley said.
“It wouldn’t be a night off If I couldn’t harass you now would it? Sara’s kid’s got a touch of the flu so I’m fillin in for her tonight. Watcha got sweetie? Over.”
“Well, I’m out here on Cherry Blossom again. Over.”
“That graffiti thing? I thought you took care of that last night. Did them boys get it prettied back up already? Over.”
The sheriff looked down and then back up shaking his head. “I got a little distracted last night remember? Over.”
“Oh yeah, the sleepwalker right? How’d that go anyway? Over.”
“Well, let’s just say I’m getting distracted again. Over.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Is that old boy out there again? Over.”
“Well, his truck is here in the road again. So, I’m going to assume it’s him. Unless his wife has decided to give it a shot. I’m going to check it out. I should check in in about ten. Over.”
“K. Be careful James. This is getting kind of creepy. Over.” Leah’s voice echoed in the car.
Tell me about it. The sheriff thought as he put on his hat and stepped out of the car.
Chapter 7
The night air was cool and moist. There was a slight wind blowing gently across the sheriff’s pant legs as he began his trek across the ditch and into the woods. He wasn’t entirely sure the guy would be in the same spot, but he figured he would check there first. He held his Maglite with his left hand and unsnapped his holster with his right. He kept his hand near his weapon as he made his way through the woods. Even though Angel Falls wasn’t a big crime town, his father had always taught him to error on the side of caution because even the most innocent situations can turn on you in an instant. One thing he had learned from watching the news in the bigger cities is that often you only get one chance to make a mistake and keeping your guard down is always a mistake. This guy must really have a medical problem. This was going to seem like dejavu. What is his wife going to say this time? She didn’t seem very happy last time. Hell, the sheriff thought, if my wife caught me out sleepwalking a couple of times, she’d handcuff me to the bed. The sheriff thought he might just suggest that to her this time. He could just hear himself now; ma'am, I think it would be wise to invest in some handcuffs for your husband at night. Of course his luck, she would do it and then there’d be a fire and he’d die because he couldn’t escape. And who would she blame? The sheriff who was only trying to help. But truth be told, the guy was going to be in more danger driving while asleep or getting hypothermia and dying alone in the woods. The sheriff kept walking and soon he could hear the sound of flinging dirt like the night before. He tightened his hand down near his gun and moved toward the sound.
The sheriff could make out the form again as he lit up the man with his flashlight. Once again the guy was out in a white t-shirt and tan briefs. He was on his knees again clawing at the dirt and muttering something under his breath as he flung the dirt to either side. The sheriff stood watching in dismay. The guy was digging frantically. What was he saying? It sounded like Myah. Mayeeah? No that wasn’t it either. Some more dirt was thrown back hard and landed on the leaves. The sheriff looked around the woods with his light. The man continued to dig and mumble something. His speed picked up and with it his voice. “Maria.” That’s what he said. Maria. The sheriff made a coughing sound to try and get his attention. The man continued digging like he wasn’t aware of the sheriff’s presence. The sheriff looked around again and then back at the man. This was going to be awkward. Not only was he going to have to explain to the guy's wife that he was out digging in the woods in his underwear again, but he was chanting another girl’s name as well. This should be interesting. I guess the girl’s number on the bridge will have to stay public for a while longer. He thought. He was just about to holler at the guy when he noticed that the guy had actually dug down quite a ways into the dirt. He had clawed nearly a circle about two feet out and about a foot deep. He was trying to go deeper but a root or something kept catching on his hand and flapping around. Every time he would reach out and attempt to claw at the dirt, his right hand would come back clawing at the root and dirt would only go flying on his left side. The sheriff moved in closer and lit up the hole with his flashlight. The root that was stopping him from going any deeper was thick and bounced around every time the man tried to claw at it. The sheriff leaned down low for a better look and suddenly fell over backwards in shock. He quickly picked himself up and drew his gun at the same time. He blinked his eyes in disbelief and traced the root back one more time with his eyes to make sure. His eyes confirmed what he thought he saw. Right next to the guy's legs, attached to the root which was not a root but was a human arm attached to a small hand. “Oh my God! Oh my God! What the fuck!” The sheriff said to himself. He stood back, the gun still drawn on the man digging. A breeze brushed up against him and he heard the man say “Maria” again. He swore he could hear it in the wind. The sheriff pointed the gun at the man and said “Mr. Bander.” No response. “Mr. Bander, I need you to stand up and put your hands on top of your head.” Still no response. The sheriff fired the gun in the air and then pointed it back at Michael. The man stopped digging like he had the previous night and sat still for a moment. He b
egan to look around trying to gather his bearings when he looked toward the sheriff and was blinded by the light. He put his right hand up in front of his face to try and keep from being blinded.
“Sheriff?” He said
“Mr. Bander, I need you to put your hands on your head and stand up real slow.” The sheriff said in his stern voice, trying hard not to let the panic going on in his body to come through into his voice and show any sign of weakness.
“Oh man…” Michael looked around. “Not again! You’re not going to put me in handcuffs again are you Sheriff?” Michael put his hands up and tried standing up. In the process, he stepped on the arm and he fell backward into the dirt. “What the…what the heck was that?” He held up his hand in front of his face trying to keep the light out of his eyes. He tried standing up again.
“Sir, I need you to stand up and keep your hands where I can see them.” The sheriff repeated. He kept the light in the man’s face to keep him blinded. It’s much more difficult to attack when you can’t see what you are attacking.
Michael stood up and put his hands on his head. “I’m sorry Officer. I must have come out in my sleep again. I…I don’t understand what’s going on. My wife has scheduled an appointment at the doctor’s office for a sleep study next week. You’re not going to put me in cuffs again are you?” Michael asked.
“Turn around and face that tree.” The sheriff said and jerked the flashlight toward a tree and back.
“Seriously. I’ll go with you, this really isn’t necessary.” Michael pleaded but turned toward the tree anyway.
The sheriff needed his handcuffs but both hands were full. His left held the flashlight and his right held his gun. He tucked the flashlight under his arm. The sheriff quickly pulled the handcuffs off his belt and grabbed the flashlight again. The sheriff stood there for a moment. He wasn’t going to be able to cuff him; the guy was too big and could turn around and get the advantage. Instead he tossed the cuffs next to Michael’s feet. “Pick up the cuffs and put them on behind your back.” The sheriff said.
Michael looked down at the cuffs and then over his shoulder at the light. “Seriously? We really have to do this? It’s just sleepwalking man. I’m not going to attack you.”
“Put the handcuffs on!” The sheriff said sternly.
Michael took a long breath and bent and picked up the cuffs and put them on behind his back. The sheriff stepped toward Michael and put the flashlight under his arm again, long enough to clamp the cuffs down extra tight.
“Goddamn it! That hurts! What the hell are you doing?” Michael yelled. His skin was being pinched in the cuffs.
The sheriff grabbed the flashlight from between his knees and took a step back. He ignored Michael’s shout of pain and grabbed the CB on his shirt collar. “Base.” He spoke into the CB.
“Base. Over.”
“I’ve got a 187. Send backup to Cherry Blossom. I repeat I’ve got a 187. Suspect in custody. Send back up right away. Over.”
There was a moment of silence. 187 was code for murder and wasn’t used very often in Angel Falls. Leah came back on audibly shook up. “Confirmed. Back up on the way. Over.”
Michael turned around toward the sheriff. “What’s a…”
“Turn back around sir!” The sheriff yelled.
Michael just stood there mouth open. “I don’t under…”
“Sir, turn around now or I will shoot!” The sheriff said again.
Michael couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He turned back toward the tree and mumbled under his breath. “God. You’d shoot me for sleepwalking? What the hell?”
“I think we’re a little bit beyond sleepwalking.” The sheriff said.
“I don’t understand. What does that mean? And why’d you call for backup?”
“Who’s the girl?” The sheriff asked sternly.
“What girl?” Michael asked still facing the tree.
“Well that sure as fuck looks like a girl’s hand to me unless you know something I don’t asshole.”
“Wha..” Michael turned his head and followed the flashlight beam toward the ground. He didn’t see it at first. There were scrape marks in the dirt where he’d been digging. He could feel the dirt packed under his nails. He had made a small crater in the dirt but no more than about a foot deep. He followed the shape of the hole upward until he saw it. Right there at the far left a hand hung out from the dirt. It was dirty but the skin looked soft and the protruding nails with orange fingernail polish indicated that it was indeed likely a girl. A dead girl. A dead girl that he dug up. The implications hit him and his face grew pale. He turned and vomited.
“Get back against the tree.” The sheriff shouted. Michael was leaning over and vomiting. He stayed where he was at until he had finished and leaned back against the tree resting his head on it.
Michael mumbled something under his breath about this being a dream. He rapped his head against the tree a few times hoping it would jar him awake but no luck.
They stood there quietly for what seemed like an eternity. Michael, with his head against the tree mumbling to himself and the sheriff with his gun and light pointed at Michael.
“So who is the girl?” The sheriff asked again while scanning for his backup. He wished they would hurry up and get here. There was no response. “We’re going to find out one way or another so you may as well tell us. Who is she? Girlfriend? Hooker? What?” Still no response. “You know a lesser cop would just shoot you now and save the trouble of having to feed you in prison. Who the fuck is she?”
“I don’t know.” Michael said. “I don’t even know how I got here.”
“Right. You just happened to sleepwalk to a random place in the woods next to your house where there just happens to be a dead girl?” Flashing lights appeared through the woods as cars began to arrive. The sheriff flashed his light in the direction signaling their location and then put it back on Michael. “Well, I guess we’ll find out one way or another. I hope they fry your ass.”
More cars pulled up and soon there were lights and voices all around. Michael was tired, shaky and confused. Cold. He could barely stand up. He felt embarrassed to be out here in the woods in his briefs, surrounded by strangers, and next to a dead girl. He began to feel like he was going to throw up again.
A bald officer approached the sheriff, flashlight trained down on the girls arm. “Jesus Christ. What have we got here James?” The bald officer was Frank Calhoun. He was about 6’2”, two hundred fifty pounds of muscle. And an asshole. The sheriff wasn’t fond of him but he was happy for the backup.
“Did they wake you up Frank?” The sheriff asked.
“Not quite. The old lady was about to give me a piece of ass when I got the call. Can’t say I’m very happy about it. This the perp?” Frank turned his light on Michael who was still leaning against the tree in nothing but a t-shirt and briefs.
“Found’em out here last night digging. He claimed to be asleep. You know. Sleepwalking. Not sure I believe that now. He won’t say who the girl is.” The sheriff said.
“That right asshole?” Frank spit some chew on the ground to the left of Michael. Michael didn’t say anything. “Oh, I’ll bet I can get him to talk. Give me about five minutes alone with this asshole. He’ll tell us everything we need to know.”
“Frank. Don’t go fucking this up. He’s nailed to the wall dead to rights. You go leav'n bruises on him and he’ll say he was beat into confessing and walk. So just let him be. I’m sure Detective James will get it out of him. He always does.” More people arrived with lights and soon there were voices all over. Everyone seemed to be either looking at the body or at Michael. Soon they began taping off the crime scene.
Frank approached the sheriff again. "Hey James, Gary and I are going to escort him to the station. We’d like to ask him a few questions on the way. Figured you’d want to stay here and see this through.” Gary was standing next to him. He was thin, ugly, and had only been on the force a couple of years. He didn’t say anything
. He just stood there staring at Michael and chewing his gum.
“Ya, I’ll want to try and I.D. the vic and get some info to the detective. Then I’ve got to go talk to the wife. Like I said, don’t fuck this up. We can’t have bruises showing up on him. Take him straight to the station. Got it?”
Frank spit again. “Ya, ya, I got it. He won’t have a mark on’em. You got my word.” Frank said.
“Then get him out of here before you fuck up my crime scene with all your goddam spitting.” The sheriff said.
The two officers trodded off toward Michael, muttering something about the sheriff being an asshole. The sheriff ignored it and turned back toward the body. Some of the CSI team had already begun their work. There was a young CSI wearing glasses and slightly balding taking pictures and working around the crime scene in a counterclockwise direction. Two others were canvassing the area with flashlights. They were at arm’s length moving side by side in the same direction working the area like a grid.
“What have we got here James?” A rough voice came from behind the sheriff. Detective James appeared on his right and looked down toward the girl. “What do we know?”
The sheriff looked toward the detective and then back toward the girl. “Well…about midnight last night I came across the perp’s truck sitting vacant in the road. His name’s Michael Bander. Frank and Gary just took off with him. Did you see him?”
Over Her Dead Body Page 6