The Lost Orphans Omnibus: A Riveting Mystery

by J. S. Donovan

  The children chuckled as they skipped down the road. Mr. Caro took in the moment, smiling but jealous of their innocence. He closed the door and took a breath. It would be a sad night for many, Mr. Caro knew. He peered into the plastic pumpkin, feeling his heart racing. He planned to refill the special candy bucket a few more times before donning his costume and roaming the streets with the other monsters. Perhaps he’d even pay Mallory a visit.

  Rachel’s Impala sat in the shadow between two streetlights. Her tea mug warmed her fingers as she watched the junction between Fifth and Oak. Her seat was rolled back far enough and the windows had just enough tint that it would take a stranger’s second glance to see her. She blew steam away from her mug as she watched a gaggle of children and their parents make haste down the street. The biggest one, dressed like a Star Wars character, smiled mischievously and slapped the paper bag out of the hand of an unsuspecting and tiny Spiderman. Tootsie Rolls, Reese’s, and other candy exploded across the sidewalk and road. A few pieces bounced into the gutter.

  The Star Wars teen laughed. Spiderman cried.

  The mother grabbed the teen’s arm. “Jonathan! How dare you!”

  “Mom, it was funny.”

  “You’re going to give him all of your candy.”

  “But that’s not fair.”

  The father helped pick up the scattered candy. “Life’s not fair, Jonathan. Do as your mother says.”

  Rachel eyed them as they cleaned up.

  A scream echoed down the street.

  Rachel sat up, sloshing a little bit of tea down the side of her cup and onto her denim jeans.

  Down the road, a sixteen-year-old girl ran for her life. She wore a skimpy maid outfit that revealed a little too much, in Rachel’s humble opinion. Three teenage boys trailed behind her: a football player with blood down his jersey, a fat guy dressed as an obese Freddy Krueger, struggling to keep up, and an eighteen-year-old with black eye liner and jet-black hair with the right side curved down the side of his angular face. With how the youth dressed nowadays, Rachel couldn’t tell if the last was in costume or if this was his normal look.

  The football player swept up the screaming girl, twirled her around, and gave her a big kiss. The sultry maid was laughing so much it seemed as if she was going to wet herself.

  Rachel reclined in her seat again. Something inside of her urged her to look to the right. Under a blinking streetlight, a clown lay at the center of Oak Street. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t breathing. His body twitched. He slowly sat up. A tire mark ran across his colorful frilled shirt, and half of his painted face was crushed. Rachel turned her eyes away. She didn’t want to get Marked by any more Orphans. Especially not tonight.

  Since 3:00 a.m. that morning, she had been feeling something pulling at her. She would get shakes, shivers, and unexpected chills and could hear faint whispers in the strangest places. Halloween was always her worst night. The Gift, the Sense, the Vision, all of them were constantly in use. She salivated, thinking of her dirt-tasting smoothie that would give her a few days’ rest from the Gift. She made an oath with herself to drink up after the killer was caught. Otherwise, the Orphans couldn’t assist her. It was a tough call tonight since she knew the challenges she would face, but if the Poisoner’s call was true, this would be the night he struck.

  Her dashboard radio crackled. Its narrow green screen flickered.

  “Officer 34582 reporting in. All clear on Laurel and Fourth.”

  Another officer reported in. “Church and Third. All clear.”

  A dozen more officers reported in. Clear and quiet all the way around.

  Rachel gave them the all clear on Fifth and Oak. She put back the microphone and sipped her tea. Highlands was a small town, with just over a thousand residents at its heart. To put that in some perspective, the town only had two bars. The population grew the farther away from Main Street one traveled, but most of the houses were very much spread out, and residents were retirees or successful doctors. However, what the town lacked in residents it made up for in tourists. The Appalachian culture, the mountain vistas, the botanical garden, the fishing holes, the waterfalls, and the scenery as a whole made it a magnet for nature and American history lovers. Especially on Halloween. Highlands held what were called “ghost walks,” where families traveled from historical building to historical building, getting free hot chocolate and listening to horrifying Appalachian legends and ghost stories passed down through generations. Live music echoed down the street. The locals ate it up. It was in their blood.

  Rachel usually took this night off. Not tonight. She eyed the street like a hawk, watching and waiting, praying that she could stop the Poisoner before his plan came to fruition.

  “Harroway.” The radio crackled. “Pick up, Harroway. We’re on a private line.”

  Rachel drew the corded microphone to her mouth. “Feeling lonely, Peak? Couldn’t stand a few hours without me?”

  Peak ignored the comment. “You’re worrying.”

  It was a statement.

  He went on. “Despite contrary belief, no child has been randomly poisoned on Halloween. A kid died when his Pixie Stix were laced, but the culprit was his own father. There were a few other smaller cases but nothing as harsh as the legend makes it out to be.”

  “And I thought I was the optimist in this partnership.” Rachel watched another group of kids stroll down the sidewalk.

  “Use your fear and worry to drive you. We’re all drowning animals struggling for a breath of fresh air. Those with the strongest drive find their release. Tonight is no different. We stay diligent, and we can outswim our adversary before anyone gets hurt.”

  “I prefer positive reinforcement and the idea that there’s more to life than scraping by, but thanks for the pep talk, Peak,” Rachel replied.

  “Yep. Over and out.”

  Rachel sipped from her mug. Outside, a few naked middle-aged men stood motionless on a nearby rooftop. They were silhouetted in the moonlight and dripping wet. With unblinking eyes, they glared at Rachel. Orphans. She kept herself from shuddering. It was going to be a long night of waiting. Waiting for something bad to happen so she could react.

  Carolina Thurston ran down Fifth and dived headlong into a few glass store windows. Covered in glass splinters, she crawled out of the gaping hole in the antiques shop and ran to the flower store adjacent to it. She went in for another deadly dive. By the time she climbed out, the antique shop’s window had recovered completely. Frustrated, the Delinquent dashed at the healed window and shattered it with her body. She was drenched in her own blood when she crawled out. Lacerations covered her pale skin and head, though she smiled from ear to ear with the long smile she had carved on her face. Across the street, the flower shop window was scratch free.

  Feeling sickness in the pit of her stomach, Rachel watched the mother of missing seven-year-old Ava Thurston continue her suicidal window dives. For a moment, Rachel thought it was grief that motivated the woman, but when she squatted on the sidewalk and chewed on a shard of glass, it became very clear that there was no rhyme or reason for the madness. She wasn’t like that when Rachel found her cadaver on the woman’s back patio, slumped over herself with the fatal glass of wine spilled at her feet. She told Rachel all about Ava, a shy girl she homeschooled, and how Ava was so sweet she would cry every time she received a gift. Something changed after Ava wasn’t discovered. Carolina snapped.

  Down on Oak Street, Anastasia Sebring walked down the sidewalk, her red dress and hair flowing behind her. Rachel recalled the picture of her ten-year-old son, Ethan. He had a wide grin with a missing front tooth, an oval head, and short brown hair and wore glasses. A real bookworm.

  Dark-skinned Jasmine Rickers pleaded with passing trick-or-treaters strolling down the street. They didn’t notice her, even after she grabbed them or shouted in their ear.

  “Emily? Where are you, baby?” she cried out into the street. She still didn’t believe she had died.

  Cora Brewster, th
e palest of all the women, hung onto a power line with her palms and the bottoms of her feet. Wet paint dripped from her body and bathrobe, which was a breeze away from falling off. She scouted the town with her big blue dilated eyes. Hailey, her six-year-old daughter, was still missing.

  Lastly, Martha Stix wept on the curbside. Rachel looked at her with pity. Her daughter, Mallory, had the highest chance of survival out of all of the captives, namely because she was the most recent one to be taken. Maybe I can save one.

  The police radio crackled again. “This is dispatch. There have been reported shots fired on Chestnut.”

  Rachel felt her heart rate spike. Was the Poisoner throwing them a curveball? Was a shooting his plan?

  “Officer Bowers reporting in. I’m on my way.”

  Rachel listened to the radio anxiously.

  “I’m pulling up at the site of the disturbance now,” Bowers said.

  The radio went silent.

  Another policeman called in. “Officer Bowers? Please update.”

  Heavy breathing seeped through the radio. “Bowers speaking. False alarm. Just a couple of kids shooting off pop rockets. Everyone’s a little jumpy tonight.”

  “Ten-four.”

  Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose. She wanted to go outside and take in some fresh air, but protocol dictated otherwise. If dispatch called her in, she needed to be ready to move.

  Within the next forty minutes, two more disturbances were reported, none near Rachel. The first was a couple of college kids who had caught their living room on fire. They were heavily intoxicated, and the fire department was able to save the building before anything other than the hardwood was damaged. The second call came from an old woman who collapsed when her niece snuck in through the back door and gave her a good scare. The elderly lady was fine and laughing it off when she awoke in the clinic.

  As the night dragged on, Rachel became antsier. She couldn’t sit still and was tempted to buy some junk food to occupy her free time.

  “Officer 34582 reporting in. All clear on Laurel and Fourth.”

  Another officer reported in. “Church and Third. All clear.”

  The reports remained the same: clear skies all through Highlands.

  Rachel recalled everything she knew about the Poisoner: male, handsome, European descent, romantic, art lover, killer of single middle-aged women, abductor of children, vast knowledge of atropa belladonna, a.k.a. deadly nightshade, and wore a pumpkin mask with a large crack down the center that was held together by staples. There were a number of questions and controversies Rachel had with the man.

  For starters, the jack-o’-lantern mask. It did not fit his romantic Italian persona that he was so keen on upholding. Rachel believed they were the same man, but what if they were not? The mothers all seemed to have seen this mask before they died. The Poisoner could have a partner. The thought made Rachel’s skin crawl. Her next question was in regard to the man’s profession. The Poisoner had bee able to rent out a huge estate in the woods and purchase nice suits. Was he a businessman? A town official? A wealthy inheritor? His home, which he had so casually burned down, revealed very little about his person, almost as if everything about this man was a facade.

  Also, what was up the half-eaten rat and the words this is your home?

  Rachel’s final question horrified her the most: how much did he know about poison? His victims had all been killed with the same technique. Was he a one-trick pony, or was he holding back?

  Rachel’s phone rang, causing her to jump a little.

  It was Lieutenant McConnell.

  “What’s up?” Rachel answered.

  “I just got off the phone with my friend who works in the hospital. You may know her. Dr. Nordin?”

  Rachel was familiar with the woman. They had met last winter, back when the trucker known as Father was carving numbers into his captives’ backs. Thinking of the doctor reminded Rachel of the horrors she had witnessed during that case and how close she and Peak had come to death during the snowy New Year.

  “Anyway, she told me a couple of kids showed up at the hospital. They are vomiting everywhere and having muscle spasms. It’s not pretty.”

  “Nordin hasn’t determined the cause yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  As soon as he finished saying the words, Rachel saw a little Dracula walk down the sidewalk with a mummy and a zombie, eating a candy from his Walmart bag.

  Instinct prompted Rachel to get out of her car. She held her phone against her ear. “Lieutenant, I think…”

  Dracula’s expression turned sour. He spit up the candy bar and held his belly.

  “Hey!” Rachel called out to them.

  The tiny vampire collapsed. Candy spilled from his bag and bounced down the road. The mummy and zombie stared at their limp friend, unsure how to react.

  “Get an ambulance to Fifth,” Rachel told McConnell and tossed her cracked phone aside. She dropped to her knees next to the child. Pedestrians in costume stopped their strolling to watch. Orphans studied Rachel from rooftops and windows. Their presence filled Rachel with dread.

  She turned the boy over and put his head on her lap. He had smooth skin and a little nose. He couldn’t have been more than six years old. Rachel placed her fingers on his neck, feeling for a pulse. His jugular throbbed rapidly against Rachel’s fingertips. He still has time. Rachel snapped her attention to the other children. “Have you eaten anything from your bags?”

  The mummy and zombie traded worried glances. In unison, they nodded at Rachel. She felt her heart sink.

  “Don’t touch anything you got tonight. Can you do that?”

  Tears raced down the zombie’s crusty face. He nodded.

  Rachel placed the backs of her fingers on Dracula’s forehead. The boy was a furnace. She felt pressure on the side of her own head.

  “What’s his name?” she asked the others.

  “Mark,” the mummy said, unable to take his eyes off of his incapacitated friend. “Mark Peers.”

  Mark’s body twitched. The next second, he was thrashing on the ground. Rachel pinned his wrists to the sidewalk to prevent him from hitting himself.

  “Has this happened before?” Rachel asked.

  The zombie whimpered.

  “Tell me,” Rachel commanded, trying her best to hold Mark still.

  “Never. Not to Mark,” the mummy said.

  The zombie rolled his fists on his eyes. “Are we going to die, ma’am? I don’t wanna die.”

  Rachel gawked at the horror in his words. “No, no, no. Call your parents. Tell them what happened.”

  White foam spilled from Dracula’s mouth.

  Across the street, a child dressed as Belle from Beauty and the Beast stumbled over and fell face first onto the road. Her parents gasped. The other Disney princesses around her screamed. Their cries matched others sporadically echoing through the small town.

  Rachel could see it, the rise of chaos that came from fear. Through her open car door, the desperate and electronically muted voices of Highlands police officers leaked from the dashboard radio. It seemed as if time slowed down as the mother and father surrounded their little princess, asking a million questions. A teenager down the road vomited. Another tossed his bag of candy. Orphans, bloodied and indifferent, watched the havoc with apathetic expressions. All but Carolina Thurston, whose dry chuckle would haunt Rachel’s nightmares.

  There must be something Rachel could do. There was always something. Chaos and widespread panic enveloped the street. Her arms were stiff from holding down the seizing child’s wrists. She couldn’t tell her legs to stand. The atmosphere itself seemed to be crushing down on her. She didn’t realize it at the moment, but Rachel Harroway was petrified with fear.

  Red and blue lights flashed over. A distinct siren drowned out all other noise.

  “Detective?” a faraway voice said. “Detective!”

  Wide-eyed, Rachel slowly craned her neck up to the young, handsome EMT looming over her. “I need y
ou to let go of the child.”

  Rachel snapped back to reality. The world returned to normal speed as parents hurried their children home. Rachel let go of Mark, who had stopped seizing, but she couldn’t say when. His eyes were half open. A little bit of bile, foam, and blood leaked from the corner of his tiny mouth.

  Rachel scurried back from him, allowing the EMTs to perform their preliminary tests. They spoke in medical jargon Rachel didn’t understand. You could’ve stopped this, Rachel, an internal voice said. If you’d backed down, this would not have happened.

  A police cruiser screamed down the road, followed by another ambulance. A woman that wasn’t Martha Stix wailed.

  Rachel scanned the panic-filled sidewalks, from teenagers vomiting to a father carrying a limp child. Rachel gazed at the center of the street. Standing amid the chaos and on the yellow road stripes was a little boy in overalls and a friendly jack-o’-lantern mask that was slightly cocked to one side.

  Though the little boy didn’t move, he pulled at Rachel’s core, prompting her to stand. Her legs felt wobbly beneath her. Flashes of cold struck her body randomly. The Sense Rachel got from him was stronger than the rest. Its constant pull even made Rachel’s teeth feel loose.

  The child turned his back to Rachel and started walking down the center of the street. Dry leaves blew past him. Some scraped across the road and brushed against his feet.

  Rachel left Mark and the EMTs behind. The thought of closing her car door never crossed her mind as she followed the child. He led her down Oak and branched over to Main Street.

  The street was usually closed off from cars during Halloween, but that didn’t stop police cruisers and ambulances from driving down the road at breakneck speed, sirens wailing. Rachel felt the breeze as they zipped by mere feet from her face.

  The boy in the jack-o’-lantern mask must’ve run far ahead. He was nearly halfway down the pandemonium-filled street. Restaurant owners and ghost-story tellers rallied around the large crowd of fear-gripped parents, telling them to calm down. Police officers with megaphones shouted into the crowd. “Do not eat or drink anything. Anyone who has ingested any candy from tonight, please step to the side. Medical personnel will be here to assist you shortly. Stay calm.”