In Shadows

by Chandler McGrew

  Virgil slowed a mile from the intersection with the valley road, staring at a sheet of water swirling across the highway. It should be safe. But it could be a lot deeper than it looked. Rumny’s voice came back on the radio.

  “Sheriff, there’s a missing persons report out of New Jersey on the guy that owned that Crown Vic.”

  “Did the kid from the hit-and-run give you a description of the guys that hit him?”

  “That just came in, too. Kid said the passenger looked Mexican.”

  “Okay. Put out an APB on ’em.”

  “Done.”

  “I’ll call you again from Rich Morin’s. Call Pam’s place as soon as you get a chance and tell Jake Crowley that Ernie is gonna be okay,” said Virgil, snapping the mike back into its holder.

  He climbed out of the cruiser just as a bolt of lightning struck somewhere back up the valley. Thunder hammered like a giant fist on top of the car.

  He snatched a flashlight out of the trunk and waded into what turned out to be a foot-deep torrent, the current trying to suck his feet out from under him, and he kept going until he was outside the limits of the headlights. The water was a little deeper than when he had come through before, but still fordable.

  But once I get in this I won’t be able to turn around, and if I try to back out I’ll just shove water up the exhaust.

  He turned back toward the cruiser, and a sudden sense of foreboding slipped over him. He shone the light through the forest, unsnapping his holster with his free hand.

  It’s just nerves. Keep walking.

  But he couldn’t get the images of Albert’s and Rich’s and the girl’s—and then Jake’s mother’s—corpses out of his mind. He was almost back within the comforting glow of his headlights when he heard someone whispering, the noise slipping through the rain like a fallen leaf winding through rocks in a stream. He traced the forest with the flashlight again, but saw nothing but trees.

  He drew his pistol and kept moving. The car was only twenty yards ahead when he heard the whispering again, close behind him. He spun around so fast the wet flashlight slipped from his hand, flying out into the water. For just an instant he could see it shining beneath the murky flow as it was carried off the road and away into the flood.

  Another whisper.

  Closer.

  “Police! Who’s there?” he shouted, backing toward the car.

  And then the whispering stopped.

  He slogged quickly through the flood and climbed shakily back into the car, slamming the door.

  What the hell was out there? It wasn’t anything natural. He’d been a hunter all his life, and he’d never heard anything like that sound in the forest before tonight. Instinct warned him to turn around, to head back for town where there were lights, and people. But his sense of duty voted otherwise. No bogeyman was going to keep him from doing a job he’d been doing most of his life. There was something out there that he needed to understand. Something that threatened his citizens, people who had voted for him because they trusted him to protect them. And if anyone had answers it would be Jake. Not Carly.

  He stared through the windshield, gauging the water ahead. He could probably make it with no problem if he really gunned the throttle.

  He shifted into drive, and the car plowed ahead, Virgil fighting the wheel, listening for the telltale chugging that would signal that the engine had started sucking water. But the big cruiser just kept surging along like an old fishing boat. He knew there was a dip ahead, the one spot that would kill the car if any spot could.

  If I’m going too slow when I hit that, she’ll never climb back out the other side.

  But there was also just a chance that the dip was now so deep that the car would lose its footing there and be washed away downstream, into the wide, deadly maw of the angry Androscoggin. He floored the accelerator, and the big sedan reacted like a steadfast old farm horse, clammering its rubber hooves against the drowned asphalt. Virgil’s guts tightened. He felt as though he was on top of a roller coaster as the front end dropped into the mouth of the depression. A wave of green water washed over the hood, and then the car rose up again, chugging and sputtering forward.

  If she can get a breath of air she’ll make it.

  Water splashed alongside his door. The car was climbing, but the engine stuttered, and Virgil heard the rumbling echo of the submerged exhaust beginning to drink.

  Come on, baby, dry land must be just ahead.

  The car lurched and jerked its way like a drowning swimmer but finally lost the battle, gurgling to a bumping halt in two feet of flood, and he ran the battery dead trying to restart it.

  Just then he saw headlights coming up from the rear, and he climbed out to wade into the center of the oncoming lane to warn them off. But the big sedan blasted up out of the dip like a sea monster, rising from the waves. When he could just make out the two dark forms in the front seat he realized that instead of slowing down the car was speeding up, plowing a wall of water before it. Heading right for him. He could hear the engine revving.

  He dove into the flood behind the cruiser just as the Crown Victoria surged past. By the time he splashed to his feet and pulled his pistol the headlights were disappearing, and it dawned on him then that the car had been gray, and the right rear quarter panel and bumper were smashed.

  He ran back to the cruiser and tried to contact Rumny, but with the battery dead the radio was useless. He threw the mike down and dug his cell phone out of the console. But as soon as he turned it on the no-service light glowed, and he tossed it onto the seat.

  Might as well be living in the Old West.

  He could head for the nearest house back along the highway and try to call Rumny. But the phone lines were going down fast, and that might well be a waste of time. He could hotfoot it back to town, but there was a good chance the road would already be washed out between here and Arcos.

  Or . . . he could hike on ahead and try to get his hands on the crazy pair in the Crown Vic. The highway on the other side of the Crowley intersection was closed. And they couldn’t get far in the valley. He knew that going after them without backup was an unprofessional and risky thing to do. But another thought nagged at his mind.

  Mexicans. A pair of Mexicans out here crazy enough to run a kid into the river and leave him. Was it remotely possible that everything was related? Could it be some of Torrio’s men, after Jake?

  Virgil tried to do things by the book. But sometimes you just had to do things the John Wayne way. He snatched the shotgun from the console and dug extra ammo for it and his pistol out of the trunk along with another flashlight. With any luck the jerks would be sitting in the middle of the washout ahead with a dead car.

  ANDI STOOD IN THE GLOW of the back porch light, tapping her foot and frowning at what was left of her lawn. A narrow band of grass still surrounded the deck, but even as she watched the flood crept closer. If the water was this high in the yard, the intersection at the highway would be completely flooded. She had spent the past day and night worrying about a killer loose in the valley. But it seemed now that her concerns had been misplaced. She was more frightened of a flash flood sweeping the house away.

  She had two choices. Wait it out and hope for the best, or head for Pam and Ernie’s place, which sat on higher ground.

  Jake will be there.

  Although she struggled to think rationally, to reason out her and Pierce’s best chance for survival, she couldn’t get that thought out of her mind. She knew she’d feel safer with Jake. She always had. But her pride still argued that she stay where she was. She hadn’t needed Jake in fourteen years. Where had he been when she had needed him, when Rich was beating her or raping her, when he’d nearly killed Pierce?

  But try as she might, she discovered that the anger she had nurtured over the years was cooling. And her fear was squashing her pride. She had to take Pierce to safety. She needed to know that there were people other than herself around to keep watch against the growing storm, against whateve
r it was that Pierce sensed in the valley.

  Rushing back into the house, she started stuffing clothes into an old duffel bag. Pierce was sitting in front of his bedroom window, facing the cardboard as though it were glass, but as soon as she entered his room his head leaned back and his blind eyes locked on her. She went to him and took his hands, signing as calmly as she could that they had to leave. But he was nervous, argumentative. Now that they had to, he no longer wanted to leave.

  How deep is the water? he signed.

  She never lied to him, but did he need to know everything?

  Not that deep.

  How deep?

  We have to go.

  We should stay here. Inside.

  You wanted to go before.

  He shook his head. It’s gone again. I don’t want to go outside.

  The water’s rising. I’m afraid it’ll come in the house. We have to go. Now.

  He bit his lip, but she could tell that he wasn’t going to fight her anymore. He was scared, but she was scared, too.

  A blast of rain rattled against the cardboard. Suddenly she pictured Pierce immersed in dark swirling water, and a chill ran up her spine. The image was so real, so immediate that she couldn’t get it out of her head. But she threw his raincoat over his shoulders, tugging him out to the car even as he struggled to put his arms into the jacket.

  Water puddled all around the little station wagon. Her feet were soaked before she climbed in, and she knew Pierce’s were, as well. As she started the car and shifted into reverse, she noticed that the creeping flood she’d seen in the backyard had already reached the side of the house and was flowing around the foundation toward them. Suddenly the car wallowed on slippery mud and slid toward the trees.

  Jake paced the kitchen floor. Cramer sat at the table staring at him.

  “Why don’t you call her?”

  Jake stopped, reaching for the phone. His hand hung there for a moment, then dropped.

  “What?” said Cramer.

  “If she wanted my help, she’d call.”

  “Jesus,” muttered Cramer. “You two really are pieces of work. You’re worried shitless and you won’t call. She’s probably scared shitless, and she won’t call, either. Were you two always like this?”

  “No,” said Jake sadly. “We weren’t like this at all.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  Cramer glanced into the living room where Barbara dozed on the couch with her mouth wide open. Oswald had his head in her lap. “I have time.”

  “Some shit happened,” said Jake. “I had to leave.”

  “Something to do with the curse.”

  Jake shrugged. “Yeah.”

  “You thought you could take it with you and no one here would get hurt.”

  Jake nodded.

  “But it didn’t work,” said Cramer. “Your uncle got killed, and then Torrio’s men on the beach. That’s why you came back. You wanted to prove to yourself that the two weren’t related. That Albert’s death was a fluke.”

  Jake glared at him. “I wanted to see if there wasn’t some way to end the curse for good. To see if I couldn’t stop the horror from starting again.”

  “Why did you have to do that here?”

  Jake shook his head. “I don’t know. I just know in my heart that regardless of what happened on the beach, it’s all centered here, somehow. In this valley.”

  “And you think you can stop it?”

  Jake sighed heavily. “I don’t know how. I don’t even have any idea what it is.”

  More lightning flashed and thunder roared. The sound of water pouring off the porch roof grew louder. When the phone rang Jake snatched it out of its cradle.

  “Hello.”

  “This is Deputy Rumny at the county sheriff’s office. Sheriff Milche wanted me to call and let you know that Pastor Ernie is gonna be all right. Have you seen Sheriff Milche?”

  “Not since he left for the hospital. I thought he was in Arcos.”

  “No, he was headed back to Crowley. If you see him, please tell him that—”

  The house lights went out, and the phone went dead.

  “What happened?” asked Cramer. Jake rustled around on the kitchen counter for matches. He found them and lit a candle. Barbara started whimpering, and Cramer called to quiet her.

  “The dispatcher wanted to let us know Virgil was on the way back to the valley,” said Jake, shaking his head. “Now the phone’s out.”

  “Great.”

  Jake stared into the storm.

  “Get the fuck out of here and go get Mandi and Pierce, for God’s sake,” said Cramer, rising and shoving Jake toward the door.

  Jake didn’t argue. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Take care of Barbara.”

  Cramer frowned. “Don’t take all night.”

  “Back in a flash,” said Jake.

  Jimmy stood in the middle of the flooded road, staring up into the dark sky, letting the rain pummel his face as though to say Send it, asshole, you aren’t stopping me now. Lightning flashed ahead, and he crossed himself and spat.

  Paco brooded beside him, silent and alert. Jimmy could smell the fear on him, and he smiled because he knew that Paco was still more afraid of him than he was of the storm or the flood raging around them. Good. Served him right for stalling out the fucking car. He had a mind to kill the little bastard right here, right now, for all the trouble he’d caused. None of this shit would have happened—including maybe even José dying—if Paco hadn’t screwed up royally.

  “Come on,” he grumbled. “Let’s get to a house where we can dry off. Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky for a change and find Jake Crowley in it.”

  Paco shrugged, trotting along like an obedient guard dog. When they reached the valley road he pointed up it.

  “Crowley?” said Jimmy.

  Paco nodded.

  “First house we come to,” said Jimmy, “we find out where Jake Crowley is holed up.”

  “We’ll be pretty noticeable.”

  “Then we won’t leave anyone around to remember,” said Jimmy, still leading the way.

  He heard an automobile revving in the woods somewhere ahead and quickened his pace. Stationary headlights and the increasing noise of the screaming engine promised easy prey. But just as he and Paco rounded a bend a small station wagon lurched out of a tree-lined drive and slid in the opposite direction, weaving away up the road. Jimmy waved his hands and Paco jumped up and down shouting, but the lights disappeared in the rain.

  “Damn!” shouted Jimmy, backhanding Paco.

  Paco didn’t ask why he’d been punished. He just lumbered along down the empty driveway behind his boss.

  Virgil’s determination faltered when he reached another dip in the road. He could feel the asphalt dropping away ahead of him like a steepening shore, and the current got stronger the farther up his legs the water climbed. He shone the light out across the flood and could just make out the reflection of taillight lenses on a car in the distance. So the jerks hadn’t made it across. But where were they? It occurred to him—not for the first time—that he was over sixty and facing two men who might well be armed and dangerous, and that there weren’t only the men to worry about. He looked back over his shoulder, but he knew he wasn’t turning back. Doris had always said his hard-headedness was going to be his downfall one day. But Virgil knew it had been as much a virtue in his job as a curse. A lawman who let his fear rule his heart was useless. He stumbled forward until the current jerked his legs out from under him, and he began to swim.

  He held the shotgun out of the water with one hand and slapped along with the waterproof flashlight in the other. But he was afraid he was going to be carried away into the river before he could reach shallow water again. He kicked wildly until finally his feet found bottom, and he struggled—wheezing and coughing—up into thigh-deep water again. He stood for a moment gasping for breath.

  When he finally spotted the swamped car again he to
ok his time approaching it. The rain whipped the flood’s surface into a roiling stew, and the sound of it striking the water and the nearby woods was like being caught inside a rock-crushing machine. He walked slowly around the sedan, sure now that these were the same assholes who’d sent the kid to the hospital.

  The keys were in the ignition. Water had already reached the bottom of the dash and was creeping across the gold-colored upholstery. Shining the light on the back of the driver’s seat, he saw two reddish brown stains marring the cloth. He scratched at a scabby brown smudge with his fingernail and knew immediately what it was.

  He jerked the key out of the ignition and opened the trunk. He hadn’t known for certain he’d find a corpse inside. But intuition told him to check, and there it was. The holes in the guy’s side told Virgil the pair up ahead were armed and dangerous. And he was pretty sure now why they were here. They were heading into Crowley, and Jake had no way of knowing they were coming.

  Great.

  He slammed the trunk lid and trudged off toward the valley.

  Mandi had barely been able to get the little Subaru back out of the ditch and into the driveway again by shifting from drive to reverse and back again. Now, barely a quarter of the way to Pam and Ernie’s, she stared into the water ahead and tried to keep her breathing steady. She knew Pierce sensed her fear, but he was quiet, facing straight ahead into the night.

  The swirling gray flood seemed to stretch forever through the trees, and she tried to picture the layout of the road hidden beneath. When she peered into the rearview mirror, the washout right behind them—blood-red in the brake lights—continued creeping inexorably toward them. She couldn’t believe how fast the water was rising. The rain was sluicing down the mountains faster than the valley could flush it out to the river. If they stopped here now it would just swallow them up.

  She took Pierce’s hand and signed to him. We’re going through deep water again. I won’t let anything happen to you. Don’t be afraid.

  He nodded. But his jaw was clenched, and his nostrils flared. She steeled herself for the plunge, praying the little station wagon was up to the challenge. If she went in fast she hoped she could plow through any deep spots. On the other hand, she might also bury the car in the wave of water she built up, splash it right up into the engine and kill it. She elected to compromise. The car didn’t hit the water so much as merge with it, like a boat launching off a trailer. She glanced nervously out her window, but the flow barely touched the bottom of the door.