I quickly opened my gift. It was a copy of the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Player’s Handbook. Even though I figured I was getting it, it was still awesome to actually hold it in my hands. I smelled it. I love the smell of books. “Thank you!” I said, smiling. “This is great!”
“Did I get the right one?” my mother asked, looking like her head was pounding. Her voice sounded lost because she woke up too early.
“Totally! This is super neat! Thank you!”
Carry’s gift turned out to be clothes of some sort. She seemed to like it, but I would feel ripped off. Who wants clothes for Christmas?
My next gift turned out to be a Magic 8 Ball. That was kind of cool. I asked it whether or not Dewey was going to get plutonium for Christmas, shook it up, and read: “VERY DOUBTFUL.”
“Wow!” I said. “It even works!”
Then I opened a lava lamp for one of the bedside tables in my room. It sat there all bubbly and purple, slowly dripping lava around and around. It reminded me of Slime, my favorite comic book character.
Then Uncle Henry passed me a fairly long, narrow box covered with shiny silver paper and tied with a red ribbon. This one felt different than the rest. Maybe because the paper was so nice or that someone had taken time to wrap it so pretty. It just felt like a lot of effort had been spent on it. I opened it with care, not the way I usually did by just ripping into the paper. At the end, I came to a blank white box. Setting it in my lap, I pulled off the top.
I couldn’t believe what I was looking at.
I lifted my eyes to my mother. “Is this . . . ?”
“Six months ago you wanted a sword so bad you made me feel awful for not gettin’ you one. Well, I was eavesdropping on your little game the other day and heard your character uses one of these.”
I gently pulled it out. “Is it real?”
“Better be for what I paid for it. And yes, it’s real. Be very careful with it. I bought it at a huntin’ store.”
“Shh,” Uncle Henry said. “Santa’s elves made it. They can make anything.”
“You’ve got the wrong guy,” I said. “Go down the street six houses.”
I couldn’t believe it. I had my very own real, honest-to-goodness bow, and farther down in the box was a quiver and six arrows. The arrows were beautiful, with multicolored feathers on their ends.
“I don’t know what to say,” I said.
“Just tell me you won’t kill anyone. These arrows have blunt tips, but they’ll still do a lot of damage to someone if you hit ’em hard enough.”
“I’ll be super careful, I promise.” I couldn’t believe it.
“I thought it might get you boys outside for a while,” my mother said.
There were two more gifts for me under the tree. I could pretty much guess what they were, but I acted surprised when I opened them anyway. One was the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: Monster Manual and the other was the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: Dungeon Masters Guide.
“Looks like you got a lot of reading to do,” Uncle Henry said.
“That’s what the game’s all ’bout,” I replied. “Reading. There is no board. You just read and imagine stuff.”
“I’d never understand it. Well, pardner, that’s it for you, I’m afraid. Oh, except for this.”
He handed me the gift from him. It felt like a big round pillow, and turned out to be an archery target. It had white with concentric rings on it and a small wooden stand. “Thanks, Uncle Henry!” I said. “Now I can become a great archer!”
Uncle Henry gave Carry a small camera. She seemed pretty happy with it.
My mother opened my present for her. I spent a long time looking for just that perfect special item. I wanted to buy her a new gun, but they wouldn’t sell it to me. My mother also hadn’t given me enough money for a gun, so I bought her a knife sharpener instead.
“Thanks, Abe. Now I can make sure all our knives are good and sharp.”
“It’s almost as good as a new gun. That’s what I wanted to get you, but at least with these, you can still use knives to kill people.”
“Yes,” she said. “But we don’t. Do y’all like what you got?”
“Do I? I have to call Dewey!” I said, and ran for the phone.
“Whoa!” my mother yelled. “Hold up there a minute.”
“What?”
“It’s twenty minutes after six. Don’t phone anyone at that time unless it’s an emergency. At least wait ’til seven. Preferably eight. Normal people sleep in a bit later than we do, and nobody calls anyone at this hour.”
Right at that moment, the phone rang. I quickly answered it. It was Dewey.
“What did you get?” he asked excitedly.
“All three Advanced D and D books and, get this, a real bow and arrows. Like one used for hunting.”
“Neat! But wait ’til you see what I got. You’re gonna be so jealous.”
“You got your plutonium?”
“Nah, this is better,” Dewey said.
“What is it?”
“A sword. A real one, like we wanted last summer. I told you Santa’s elves could make anythin’.”
“Apparently as long as it’s not radioactive.”
“Now we can go outside and pretend we’re really playing D and D,” he said.
“Our mothers musta got together on these presents.”
“What do you mean? Santa brought mine.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot. I can’t wait to see it.”
“I’m not showin’ it to you until I’ve had some practice with it, so give me a few days,” Dewey said.
“What? Why?”
“On account of warriors need to practice and learn The Way before they go into battle.”
“What have you been watchin’ on TV now?”
“Nothin’, it’s just somethin’ I heard.”
“Okay, well, I can practice, too. I’m gonna be a crack shot with my bow.”
“Not nearly as good as me,” Dewey said. “’Sides, you have a lot of readin’ to do with those three new manuals you got.”
“You gotta read the Player’s Handbook, too. And probably the Monster Manual isn’t a bad idea,” I said.
“Anyway, I gotta go,” Dewey said. “I still have presents to open!”
“All right. Bye, Dewey!”
And with that, I hung up, thinking the kid was nuts. Warriors need to practice and learn The Way before going into battle. He probably thought The Way was some sort of map to a shop on Main Street or somethin’.
CHAPTER 32
Even though it was the day after Christmas, Leah couldn’t settle her mind. She decided since the kids were going to be busy all day playing with the stuff they got, it was the perfect time to sneak out and do some research. Also, this day was usually pretty dead at police stations, so it would probably be easier for her to gain access to the file room. They’d either just give it to her or have to call their superiors at home, and nobody wants to bug their superior on the day after Christmas.
Before heading out, she ate breakfast with her family. Hank was still here, but leaving as soon as breakfast was over.
“Can’t you stay a little longer?” Carry whined at him.
“Nope, sorry, my little sugar plum,” he said. “Gotta get to my boys’ house. They’re cookin’ me up quite a spread; it should be a delicious turkey supper!”
“But you had turkey last night.”
“My dear,” Hank said, setting a plate of eggs, bacon, and hash browns down in front of Carry, “one can never have enough turkey.”
“I’m really gonna miss you, Hank,” Leah said.
“Oh, I’m gonna miss you guys, too. I always do. But don’t worry, I’ll be back soon as I can.” He turned his attention to Abe. “How ’bout you, my little wrangler? You gonna miss your Uncle Henry?”
“I’m not your ‘little wrangler,’” Abe said. He had his bow in his hand. Leah was pretty certain he had slept with it, but she wasn’t about to say anything. She was just happy he was enjoyi
ng his gift. “I’m Luciheed, Elf Prince of Newpyr.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Lucihead,” Uncle Henry said. “Please forgive an old fool like me and don’t shoot me to death.”
“You’re forgiven. And it’s Luciheed, not head. And of course I’m gonna miss you.”
Carry said, “Does he really have to wear that bow and arrow while we eat?”
“One day you’ll be happy I have it. It might be just the power you need for me to save your life,” Abe said.
“You ain’t got no power, other than the power to hang around with your dimwitted friend. Where is he, anyway? I haven’t seen him yesterday or today. That’s like a world record, I reckon.”
“He’s been busy,” Abe said, sounding a bit let down.
“Doin’ what?”
“Practicin’ bein’ Black Blade, his favorite comic book hero. Says he wants to get real good before we fight again.”
Carry laughed. “He has a sword? You have a bow with just six arrows I bet you can’t aim at all. That’s your power. You’re gonna get so walloped by him. I can’t wait to see it.”
The rest of breakfast was quiet. Afterward, everyone shared in clearing the table. Then they all said good-bye to Uncle Henry and waved to him out the front window as he backed his car onto the street and headed out of town.
“So what are we doin’ today, Mother?” Carry asked.
“Well, y’all got fine new gifts to keep you busy. I thought I might slip out and get some police work done. I have a few things that I have to work on and today’s a good day to do that.”
“So you’re abandoning your family on the day after Christmas?” Carry asked.
“Look at it more like I’m lettin’ you do whatever you want.”
“Oh, that does sound better.”
“She can’t beat me up!” Abe squealed. “Tell her, Mom! Tell her she can’t beat me up!”
“Okay, anythin’ you want other than beatin’ up Abe.”
“Thank you,” Abe said.
Actually, Leah hadn’t completely run out of clues in her case. She did still have the weird videotape she had gotten from Dan. Every time she ran it, she had the same reaction. Something about it is wrong.
She wondered if it was worth researching newspapers from all the major towns in the Alabama areas, looking for news reports in the last few months about finding bodies with sewn-up eyes.
Then she thought, If that were true, someone would’ve put two and two together by now. But then, it took Chris to do it with the newspaper from Birmingham, so who knew?
If this was a serial killing, and it certainly was chalking itself up to be one, shouldn’t there be more murders happening? Shouldn’t there be a trail of them? What made the killer start with Graysville? And did he really live in Alvin? And did two killings make a serial killer? Leah thought somewhere in the back of her mind that the number had to be three before it was official. Oh, but that was the Feds talking.
And there was another thing that had been bothering her lately. Should she bring the Feds in on this? She knew Ethan’s stance on the whole thing, but maybe this was a case that was too big for her. Even with Ethan’s help and his forensics analysis, she felt somehow out of her league.
Pulling a map of Alabama from her drawer and laying it on the table, she examined all the small towns in the vicinity of Alvin: Satsuma, Chickasaw, Grand Bay, Stapleton, Le Moyne, Semmes, and Atmore. There were more, of course, but those were the handful that jumped out at her. If a killing similar to the one Luanne Cooper had found in Willet Park had happened in any of these places, would she hear about it? She was pretty sure she would.
CHAPTER 33
Me and Dewey spent the morning practicing with our new weapons. Before he left, Uncle Henry didn’t just set up my target for me, he created a big body bag out of canvas, stuffed it full of old newspapers, and hung it from the boughs of one of the cherry trees for Dewey to hit with his sword and pretend it was a person.
I turned out to be a naturally terrible shot with the bow and arrow. Not only could I not hit the center of my target, I couldn’t hit the target. Anywhere.
Dewey fared much better with his body bag.
I was getting so frustrated that by lunchtime I was ready to call it quits and start on our real mission: finding out who the serial killer was in Alvin.
Me and Dewey were pretty certain it was Isaac Swenson, but my mother was still searching all over town for someone else; she was searching for someone she considered to be the real killer. We had to find out for sure if we were right, and that involved some closer investigation. I didn’t dare go to my mother until we knew for certain. We’d just be given heck.
So, we decided to sneak into Isaac Swenson’s barn and search for clues. We figured if there were any to be found, that was where they’d be. We knew his patterns very well—he’d be out with his cattle for another half an hour. That gave us plenty of time to do a thorough examination of his barn.
Like most barns in Alvin, Isaac Swenson’s was painted red. We approached the front doors from our hiding spot in the long golden grass and the two of us pulled one side of the large doors open. The door squeaked so loud, I figured they could hear it in Birmingham. “That’s far enough, Dewey! If we keep pullin’ this thing, we’ll have the entire Swenson family out here with shotguns.”
“Okay.”
We actually hadn’t opened it far enough, so we had to suck in our guts really hard and turn our heads to push ourselves through the opening. But we did make it inside. Once we were there we decided to leave the door partially ajar rather than close it and make all that noise again.
The barn stank like horses. Mainly because there were horse stalls down each side. Four of the stalls actually had horses in them. The rest of the horses must’ve been out in the fields. “So what do we do now?” Dewey asked.
“Investigate,” I said.
The floor was covered in sawdust and it was dark. The only light came through a bank of paned windows on the back wall of the barn that looked like they’d never been cleaned since the barn was built. They caused the sunlight falling through to cast weird, eerie shadows that I didn’t like. They looked like they belonged in some kind of spooky funhouse. There were also holes between some of the boards in the walls and the roof that let a little light in, and that light sliced down like bright sheets. The whole thing was really eerie.
“I’m sure glad I’ve got my trusty sword,” Dewey said. I told him to shut up and just whisper. And only talk about things that are important.
“Look,” Dewey said in a clipped whisper as we approached the back wall where Isaac Swenson kept his tools. There was a workbench that ran the width of the barn. “He’s got an ax!”
I checked out the ax. It did look mighty suspicious. It even appeared to have dried blood on it. My mother had to see this. It was definitely a major clue to her case. He had many other tools, but what gripped my attention next was his collection of shovels. They were even more suspicious than the ax. He had five of them. Who needs five shovels unless they’re burying a lot of bodies? I figured only serial killers would be collecting shovels.
Then I saw it. At first I thought I was imagining it, but then I realized it was real. It was rolled up and hanging from a hook just beneath the workbench. For a second I froze there, just staring at it. My heart started bouncing like someone was kicking a hacky sack into my guts. “Dewey!” I whispered, trying to keep my voice down even though it was hard when it was full of excitement. “Look!”
There in the darkness with a splinter of light casting across it from a slice in the ceiling was a big roll of rope, the kind you’d use to tie people up with. It was yellow, but parts of it were splattered red that I knew had to be blood. Even the spool had flecks of red on it.
We’d found the clue my mother had been looking for.
We found more clues, but none as incriminating as that rope, that ax, or that shovel collection. We were about to start investigating the stalls when, from outsi
de, I heard the sound of whistling and footsteps approaching in the mud.
“Oh, no!” I said to Dewey, trying to keep my voice low. “He’s coming!”
“Why did he break his pattern?” Dewey asked, lowering his voice, too.
“How the heck should I know?” I looked around for any exits, but there were only the large front doors of the barn. “We’re trapped!”
“Don’t worry,” Dewey said to me in a very calm voice, “we have Icarus. We’ll be fine.” Dewey had named his sword Icarus because he read somewhere that all great swords had names. Why he picked Icarus, I would never know.
This just raised my panic and added a bit of anger to it as I stared at him for a second in disbelief. “Dewey,” I said. “What are you going to do? Swordfight him? Other than giving you that ability, the sword don’t really give you any powers. It’s all just make-believe. Please tell me you know that, right?” I remembered he still believed in Santa Claus, so anything was possible.
“‘Power is in your heart,’ Abe,” he replied. “‘Believe in it and it will come to you.’ ”
I shook my head clear. “Where the hell did you get that from? Did Yoda say it?”
“No, it came from a comic book. Captain Defender number fifteen, I reckon. But I believe it’s true. If you truly trust in yourself, you can do anything.”
Right now I was pissing my pants scared. “Well, comic books ain’t real either, Dewey. We’re in real trouble here.”
Slowly, Isaac Swenson pulled the left side of the barn doors open, casting sunlight into the darkened interior. Dust motes floated in the air. I realized too late that we should have at least tried to hide in one of the horse stalls or something, but we didn’t. We were just standing there at the end of the barn in front of Isaac Swenson’s tool bench, squinting into the sudden burst of sunlight, Dewey with his sword held with both hands at the ready and me with my bow in my left hand, an arrow ready to be loaded in my right.
CHAPTER 34
While knocking on the door of her seventh farmhouse, most of which were decorated very nicely with Christmas lights (some even had a blow-up Santa and baby Jesus in the yard) and wreaths, Leah realized this was an exercise in futility. Near on every single visit went the same way. Number seven included.
A Thorn Among the Lilies Page 15