by Anthony Izzo
Six
Maria stood at the edge of the mansion’s driveway, where two town patrol cars were parked almost nose-to-nose. Three more patrol cars were circling the surrounding roads, and a half-dozen more officers were searching the woods on the property. Tim Berry had brought Trooper, the department’s K-9, but the dog had whined, refusing to enter the woods. Tim had looked mortified. He could only shake his head while he walked Trooper back to the K-9 SUV.
Someone had spotted a guy in a long coat in the woods and called 9-1-1, so they were here taking a look.
Martz said, “Where the hell did he go?”
“We’ll find him eventually,” Maria said. “He couldn’t have gone far.”
“Maybe we should call for Air One,” Jenna said.
“A county chopper? Nah. We don’t even know if this is the guy.”
She wanted to get home and curl up next to Tim in bed. There were still miles to go before she could rest, or so it seemed.
The search lasted until just after two in the morning, when the chief showed up and finally called it; their mystery man had evaded capture. The chief made a show of pounding his fist on the hood of a patrol car and swearing they’d catch the guy. Showing his dedication. In reality, he’d been roused out of bed by Maria at quarter of two and drove over to the scene.
One of the uniformed guys was strapping crime scene tape over the front door of the mansion. There’d technically been no crime here, but they wanted nosy kids staying out. The house had become a favorite for urban explorers. They could have the place as far as Maria was concerned. It hadn’t been torn down because supposedly the home had housed a speakeasy back in the Roaring Twenties. Al Capone had reportedly drank there on his way through Buffalo. Someone claimed it had historic value. Her ass.
Maria dropped Martz off and took the unmarked home, where she parked it in the driveway. She went up the walkway to her house, making a mental note to weed the front garden.
Tim was sacked out on the couch. His head was back, a massive snore coming out of him, and Cheetos crumbs littered his chest. An episode of The Big Bang Theory played on the television. As usual, Sheldon was being an insufferable douche. She picked up the remote and turned off the television.
Tim snapped awake, looking at Maria like she was a stranger. He maintained the puzzled look for another moment.
“Tim, it’s your girlfriend. Hello?”
“Oh, sorry. Deep sleep.”
“Go to bed. Sheldon and the gang will be back tomorrow.”
Tim said, “Can’t wait to watch Game of Thrones with you.”
“Sorry. Duty calls. Killer on the loose.”
“Shit, sorry. Westeros will still be there. You okay?”
“I’m okay. Hey, tomorrow call your sister and tell her to keep an eye on the kids. Not out after dark or anything.”
“I’ll let her know,” he said, taking notice of the crumbs and brushing them off. “You want something to eat?”
“I’ll make something,” Maria said. “Get to bed. You’ve got work tomorrow.”
Tim came over and kissed her, his lips still salty from the snack. He took his empty bowl and a glass to the sink and rinsed them. “Coming to bed soon?”
“In a bit,” Maria said. “Going to heat up a Healthy Choice in the microwave.”
“G’night,” he said, and headed for the bedroom.
Maria removed her jacket and draped it over the back of the recliner in the living room. She removed her gun belt, went to the room that functioned as their office, and put it in the safe. After closing up the safe, she went back to the kitchen.
In the freezer were a few French bread pizzas, which is what she really wanted. The gastrointestinal nightmare she’d have wasn’t worth it, however. The stomach and bowels weren’t the same at forty as they were at twenty or thirty. She settled on a Health Choice noodle bowl concoction. She heated it in the microwave.
She thought about the murder at the park. Who the hell cut someone’s head off? And they didn’t find the rest of the body. Tomorrow they’d stop by the halfway house and shake the place, see what came loose.
She didn’t want to think about the dead kids.
The microwave beeped and she removed her meal. Took it to the kitchen table and sat down. She looked out the double hung window. The moon was pale and the sky was clear. Full moon. The weirdos had definitely been out tonight if the moon had anything to say about it.
What about the Walking Man? It was a legend on par with the Slender Man or one of those bullshit internet things. Supposedly he walked the roads at night, and if he saw you, you were marked for death. She didn’t believe that. The town did have its share of bad luck. There were the murders up in the park in the late sixties. Disappearances in ’76 and again in 2003. People whispered that it all started when the Harwell girls got killed up in the caves back in ‘68. Their killer had ridden the lightning up in the state pen, so he was out of the picture. Four people disappeared in ’76, and four more were dead or missing in the 2003 cases.
Maybe the town did just have bad luck. Either that or there was a sick bastard out there copying the initial crimes.
Her food had stopped steaming and she was about to dig in when the hairs on the back of her neck went up. She turned and saw a man standing out in the side yard.
He was about ten feet away. He approached the house. She couldn’t get a good look at his face. A hood obscured his features.
Maria took off for the office. She punched in the code to the safe, whipped open the door, and took out her Glock.
On the way out of the office, she saw Tim emerge from the bedroom, hair rumpled.
“What’s going on?”
“Stay put. There’s someone outside.”
He took one look at the Glock and realized she meant business.
“I’m getting the baseball bat,” he said.
“You’re staying where you are,” Maria said.
She slipped out the back door, crossed the patio, and crept up on the side yard, where they had a fire pit and chairs set up.
Maria swept the Glock back and forth. “Police officer. Come out. Show me your hands. Now.”
But there was no one in the yard. Whoever he was, the fucker was quick.
She spotted the mark on the house, just below the window. Smeared in gaudy strokes. Maria took a closer look at it. Two parallel splashes. One perpendicular under those. Another vertical slash of paint. Not paint. That was goddamned blood.
Someone had painted a crude number four on her house.
Once again, the hairs on her neck stood up. She couldn’t deny the icy lump forming in her belly.
She went back inside, took out her cell, and called the station.
1968 – Heidi
Heidi went down an unfamiliar path. They’d played in the woods near the picnic grounds a hundred times, but this path wasn’t familiar. It was dark and cool in here, despite the heat. She thought she’d turned right, then left a few times. God, she never should have gone ahead of her sisters. But she’d been annoyed by them talking about Paul and George and the rest of the Beatles.
Now, she was on a dark path covered by pine needles. She looked back and didn’t see Sara or Emily. In another minute she was about to call out to them. She didn’t want to be called a little shit for being scared, though.
She continued down the winding path, wondering how the woods got dark so fast. The sun didn’t penetrate here. It was like every deep, dark forest she’d read about in books. She was in Mirkwood.
When she turned around to look for her sisters, she saw a man standing on the path. And he started towards her.
The man wore a ragged army jacket a shade between gray and green. He was so tall that the top of his head touched the lowest branch on the nearest pine tree. She’d never been so scared in her life.
He was dangerous. All those strange men her parents warned her about. This guy was one of them.
The wind shifted, carrying with it the man’s rotten
stink. It reminded her of the stench from the slaughterhouse in the summer. Blood and manure and burning hair.
She looked back down the path, the way she came. It only led to more woods.
Deeper into Mirkwood.
Why couldn’t she be at home reading The Hobbit, curled up in the reading nook by the upstairs window? It had a musty old cushion and Turbo, their cat, would sometimes join her, stretched out in a sunbeam. It was the place where she’d fallen in love with Bilbo, Gandalf, and Middle Earth, which seemed so much better than their crumbling house.
Now she had to deal with something worse than Tolkien could conjure up. She backed up and the man seemed to glide towards her.
She took a deep breath, expanded her ribs, and let loose a terrific scream.
Sarah figured she’d take a whipping for losing sight of Heidi. Even though her little sister was a huge pain in the ass sometimes, she wanted no harm to come to Heidi. In fact, she’d never admit that she admired Heidi’s love of reading, a love fostered by Sarah reading her hundreds of bedtime stories. She even had a surprise copy of The Fellowship of the Ring tucked away as a birthday present for Heidi.
First she had to find the little shit, and then she was going to murder her for running off.
Emily said, “She turned right up there.”
“Dad’s gonna give us the belt for sure. We have to find her. C’mon,” Sara said, and bounded up the trail.
They hit the spot where Heidi had turned. Sarah followed the new path. A high, piercing scream filled the air.
Heidi.
There was a network of caves on the other side of the park. Sara feared a bear had come down and gotten her sister.
She broke into a run.
The path sloped downward and Sarah had to sidestep in order to avoid slipping. As she went, rocks slid under her feet and a few times she nearly went ass over heels before catching herself.
Emily was nimbler, picking her way along the trail with ease. She was a starter on three different teams at school, carrying a natural grace that eluded Sarah.
The other end of the path was cloaked in shadows. The sun didn’t break through the branches. There was enough light to see a large man standing at the other edge of the path. Coming toward them. There was something in his hand, but Sara couldn’t tell what it was.
Em said, “We need to get help.”
“See that guy? What if he has Heidi?”
“What if we can’t stop him?”
Sarah said, “We can’t leave her. It might be too late by the time help comes.”
“Hey you!” Em yelled.
Sara watched the man squat down and throw something over his shoulder. At first it looked like a large doll but Sara realized it was Heidi. That mop of curly, brown hair. Her breath caught in her chest; lungs felt paralyzed.
Heidi wasn’t moving.
The man turned and went deeper into the woods.
Sara followed, Emily beside her. She didn’t know what they’d do if they caught him.
Seven
“You sure you’re okay?” Jenna said, standing in Maria’s kitchen.
Maria was seated at the table. She had a bottle of Great Lakes porter in front of her. There were two patrol cars in her driveway and the boys were out canvassing the neighborhood, knocking on doors and looking for her creeper.
Tim was leaning against the counter, arms crossed. He had on a Captain America t-shirt and baggy gym shorts, his standard sleeping attire. He was chewing his thumbnail.
“It was the person from the mansion,” Maria said. “I’m sure of it.”
“Guy from the mansion,” Tim said.
“We never saw his face. Can’t assume.”
Jenna said, “It’s a good bet though.”
“I’m going to fuck him up if he comes back,” Tim said.
“Let us handle it,” Jenna said.
“I’ll handle it how I want.”
“Easy Tim. It’s all good.”
Tim said, “It’s not good. My girlfriend gets threatened and I’m supposed to just stand around?”
Maria sensed his pride was hurt; he was supposed to be the protector, at least according to society’s rules.
“Maria knows you’ve got her back,” Jenna said.
“Damn right I do,” Tim said.
The forensics guys were currently outside swabbing samples from the blood on the house. They’d take their photos of it. It would be up to Tim or Maria to go out and hose it off the house. That was something people didn’t realize: once the crime was over, you were left with the mess. Cops and crime scene guys didn’t clean up blood.
“You need anything else?” Jenna said.
“I’m good. I’ve got the Glock at the ready if he comes back.”
“He’d better not come back,” Tim said.
Tim was itching to prove himself again. “We’ll be ready for him, right babe?”
He nodded.
“You kids get some sleep,” Jenna said.
Someone knocked at the door. Maria got up, went to the door, and saw the chief standing outside. This time, his hair was combed and he wore a short sleeve plaid button down with cargo shorts. Maria opened the door.
“How you doing?” the chief said.
“I’m doing.”
“Mind if I come in?”
“Actually I need some air, can I come out?”
“That works.”
She stepped out onto the porch.
“When did you get here, boss?”
Dylan said, “About twenty minutes ago. Don’t suppose you got a good look at this guy?”
“He had a hood. And he was fast. Gone by the time I got my Glock.”
“I’m going to have Warsbaski sit out here tonight.”
Maria said, “I can handle it chief.”
“I know that. But you need to rest, get some sleep. You can’t do that if you’re worrying about every little noise you hear.”
“He must’ve seen us at the old house and followed me,” Maria said. “He’s goddamned slippery.”
“We’ll flush him out,” Dylan said. “Rest easy.”
“Can I make a suggestion?”
“Go for it.”
“Talk to Bill Meyers. He was the detective that investigated the disappearances in oh-three. Might have something for you.”
Maria raised an eyebrow. “Do you think it’s the same guy?”
“Don’t know. But talk to Bill. I’m having a presser in the morning. I’m going to suggest a curfew. And we’re working overtime. No days off.”
“Can you enforce a curfew?” Maria said.
“Don’t think I’ll have to. People are scared, especially the people that lived here during the last round of murders.”
“I’m going to get him,” Maria said.
“I have faith,” Dylan said, and turned to leave.
She saw the patrol car at the end of the driveway and felt slightly resentful. Didn’t need someone to watch after her.
If he came back, she’d be ready for him.
1968 – Mary
Mary was getting nervous; they’d gone deep into the woods and there was no sign of her sisters. Her anxiety wasn’t helped when she heard a short, high scream. It was impossible to tell how far away the screamer had been. All she could think of was Heidi. “One of them’s in trouble.”
“We’d better hurry,” Dean said.
The two of them hustled down the trail. If something had happened to her sisters, Mary would never forgive herself. Even though she hadn’t officially been tasked with watching them, she still felt responsible. It had been that way ever since Mom had left.
Please let them be safe. Maybe it’s just a twisted ankle or broken arm.
Somehow she knew it was worse than that.
Sarah had to stop and catch her breath when the caves came into view. A fire burned in her lungs. She bent over, hands on knees. Emily, the star athlete, was barely winded.
“C’mon,” Emily said. “He went into that fi
rst cave. Suck it up. It’s our sister in there.”
Sarah felt a pang of guilt for stopping to rest. The man had scurried up some large rocks and disappeared into a cave opening. There were dozens of openings like it, large holes that seemed to be drilled into the rock. Sarah had no idea how deep any of the caves went. She didn’t relish going in.
But she had to go.
Emily burst ahead and scurried up the rocks, leaping from boulder to boulder. Sarah took a slower approach, climbing up, scraping her palms as she went. “Shit.”
They came to a small rock shelf outside the cave’s mouth. A cool breeze wafted out, Chilling Sarah’s skin.
She peered into the cave but couldn’t see more than a few feet inside.
Had she stuck her hand inside, she felt as if the darkness would chew it up and spit it out.
“We don’t have a light,” Sarah said.
“Look,” Emily said.
From inside the cave came a pale, white glow, a flashlight beam bobbing in the darkness. Coming toward them.
“Who’s there?” Sara said. “Where’s Heidi?”
The light died near the cave’s mouth and when the man in the ragged army jacket stepped out, both of them screamed.
The man reached out and grabbed both of them, yanking the girls into the cave. Sara was nearly jerked from her feet, no more substantial than a leaf in a strong breeze.
He smelled like something dead.
Tom was listening to Edna McGrath discuss the finer points of quilting when he noticed the girls still weren’t back. He checked his watch, realizing that it had been a good forty-five minutes since he’d sent Mary to look for them.
“Quilting boring you?” Edna said. She was a rope-thin woman in a screaming blue pants suit. She always smelled of cigarettes and cough drops.
“I’m sorry. I have to see where my girls ran off to.”
Edna clucked her tongue but Tom ignored her. Free from hearing about the joys of quilting, Tom took a walk around the picnic grove. There was no sign of the girls. They should’ve been back by now.