The Town of Griswold (Berkley Street Series Book 3)

by Ron Ripley

  “Yes,” she said, nodding. “It is a wise course of action. It makes me sad, though, to think of you leaving. I enjoy your company.”

  Jimmy grinned. “I like your company, too, Eugenia.”

  The young woman smiled happily, and the rain became heavier. Jimmy hugged himself tighter, yawned, and waited for dusk.

  Chapter 13: Waiting for the Rain’s End

  Glenn sat with his back against the wall. His right side was colder than his left, the boy and the dog sitting in the shadows near him. He shivered at the thought of them and bit back the panic in his mind.

  I need to leave, he thought, looking at Shane. The older man sat beside Courtney. I need to get out of here.

  Shane’s eyes were closed, as were Courtney’s.

  Glenn couldn’t tell if they were awake and resting, or if they were actually asleep. The last time he had risked a look at Andrew he had seen the boy closely watching him. A fact which had caused Glenn to throw up in his mouth. He had swallowed the foul bile rather than spit it out.

  Water continued to leak through the roof, striking the old leaves and the abandoned pews. The wind occasionally blew rain in through the broken windows while it howled through gaps in the walls.

  I’m in a nightmare, Glenn realized. This isn’t real. None of it. Why else would I be with a ghost kid and his ghostly puppy? What the hell, Glenn, get a grip. Wake yourself up!

  He squeezed his eyes shut and thought, I’m going to count to ten, and then I’ll open my eyes and I’ll be in my car, up there, safe and sound away from Griswold.

  One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six …

  A cold breeze caressed his face and interrupted his count. His eyes snapped open and locked on a woman in front of him. And although she looked to be in her thirties, she was exactly like Andrew.

  Dead.

  Glenn let out a high, piercing shriek, scrambled to his feet, and raced to the door.

  Chapter 14: Awoken in Church

  Shane’s eyes snapped open, and if he’d had a rifle it would have been up and ready, safety off and finger on the trigger. But he didn’t.

  All he had was himself, and he was on his feet even as Glenn reached the door, ripped it open, and fled the safety of the church. As the man ran outside, Shane saw why.

  A woman stood where Glenn had been sitting. She, like Andrew, was dead. She looked at Shane, shrugged, and vanished. Courtney got clumsily to her feet, rubbing her eyes and asking, “What the hell is going on?”

  “Glenn,” Shane said, walking to the door. He closed it over and paused to look out onto the deserted main street. Courtney joined him, slipping in front so she could see. Together they watched as Glenn reached the cruiser. In a moment, Glenn was in the vehicle, the rain pounding on it as he slammed the door closed.

  Lightning flashed, and a terrific roll of thunder shook both the earth and the air.

  A second lightning bolt lit up the entire town, and Shane saw someone standing by the woods.

  “Shane,” Courtney whispered fearfully.

  “I see him,” Shane replied.

  The man was terrifying. He was tall. Taller than anyone Shane had seen before. He was bare-chested and wearing boots with his jeans. With a concave chest, the man gave the illusion of weakness, but Shane could tell, how strong he was just by the way, he walked.

  “Close the door, Shane,” Courtney said softly. “Please.”

  Shane nodded, leaving it unlocked before stepping over to a window to the right of the door. He crouched down, sat a little back, and watched the scene unfold.

  Glenn remained in the car, seemingly oblivious to the giant of a ghost approaching him. Shane could picture him, trying to start the car, attempting to reach someone on the radio. Shane knew none of it was going to work.

  Suddenly the hairs on Shane’s neck stood up, and a glance showed Andrew and the dog had come to stand beside him.

  “There is Abel Latham,” Andrew whispered. “My father.”

  Shane looked at the tall man and nodded.

  “The officer should have stayed here,” Andrew added sadly. “Abel does not care for people. But he despises the police.”

  “Why?” Shane asked, never taking his eyes off of the advancing.

  “The sheriff of Griswold,” Andrew answered. “It was the sheriff’s decision to poison Abel. And he did it, happily. He loved my mother and hated Abel. When I first died, and before they killed Abel, I heard the sheriff and Abel speaking. Abel had been terrible, foul-mouthed and mocked the sheriff.”

  “The sheriff took out his pen knife. It was not nearly as sharp as my father’s knives. But he took my father’s boots off and cut his feet the way he had cut mine and my sister’s. He put the boots back on when he was finished. There was no need to treat the wounds, as far as the sheriff was concerned. He wanted Abel dead. As did we all.”

  Andrew sighed. “My father knew it was the sheriff who wanted to poison him. He knew it was the sheriff who did it. It’s why he hates the police so very much.”

  “I wish he’d stayed dead,” Shane murmured. He looked around for Courtney and saw she had returned to her previous seat.

  “Watch,” Andrew said softly, excitement thick in his voice.

  Shane watched.

  Abel reached the interceptor, walked around to the passenger side, and peered in. The man waved, went to open the door, and found it locked.

  “Now that is not very nice,” Abel said, his loud voice carrying. “You should let me in.”

  Shane couldn’t hear Glenn’s response, but he assumed it was a ‘no.’

  Abel straightened up, shrugged, and said, “Alas, I must take you out.”

  The man took hold of the cruiser’s passenger side door and ripped it out of its frame.

  Glenn’s reaction was instant and violent. The sound of fourteen or fifteen shots from the man’s sidearm filled the air. Leaves and branches fell from the trees and Abel let out a laugh which shook the forest. A lightning bolt, followed by thunder, punctuated his mirth.

  Shane could hear Glenn scream as Abel bent down and reached in. Abel’s words were lost, muffled by the interior of the car, smothered by Glenn’s terror.

  He reappeared shortly, dragging Glenn out by a shoulder. The young state trooper writhed in the dead man’s grip, desperately trying to free himself as he screamed. Abel’s smile was gigantic, broadening as he slammed Glenn onto the hood of the car, which crumpled beneath the force of the blow and the weight of Glenn’s body. The young man’s screams ended abruptly. Shane watched as Abel went to the man’s feet, carefully undid the knots on each boot, and then tossed them onto the ground. He stripped off the socks and examined each foot.

  “Very nice,” Abel said happily. “Your arches are magnificent. I am sure they are sensitive to a tremendous degree, are they not?”

  When Glenn didn’t reply, Abel shrugged and dragged the young man off of the car’s hood. Shane winced as the officer’s head bounced off the pavement, and winced again as Abel dragged him towards the country store.

  “Can we do anything?” Courtney asked in a horrified whisper.

  Andrew answered for him.

  “No,” Andrew said sadly. “He is lost to us. My father will have his way with him.”

  A scream, sharp and brutal, pierced the air.

  “Oh God, I hope it’s quick,” Shane said softly.

  It wasn’t.

  Chapter 15: Jimmy Leaves

  Jimmy drifted in and out of sleep for hours. The rain continued its steady assault upon the land while lightning tore the sky apart. Thunder shook the earth and the trees, the rumblings sending tremors through his heart.

  When he awoke again at dusk, the rain still beat heavily, and Eugenia smiled sweetly at him. He returned the smile, moved the table off of his head, and shuddered at the initial rain drops that struck his face.

  Oh man, Jimmy thought, standing up. He winced, pain shooting through his legs. Reaching out he put a hand on the stone wall, steadying himself. Both feet were
asleep, the uncomfortable sensation of pins and needles churning his stomach. The realization that he had not eaten since before he’d gotten high the night before made his belly complain, and Jimmy tried to ignore his sudden, ravenous hunger.

  “Are you unwell, James?” Eugenia asked with concern.

  He managed a weak smile, nodded, and said, “Long day sitting around and doing nothing.”

  “‘Idle hands do the Devil’s work,’” Eugenia said, “but, in this case, I believe they saved you.”

  “Me too,” Jimmy said. He took a cautious step, bit back a curse, and forced himself to move forward. For several minutes, he paced back and forth, making certain of his footing before he had to go down to the brook and travel through it to Charles’ Lake. He closed his eyes, pictured the lake in his mind, and then focused on a map he had seen years ago. The nearest town was Webb, right on the border of Griswold, but even Webb would be a hike along the shore. The Charles wasn’t a popular spot. Too cold and the locals were too unpleasant.

  Jimmy grinned, turned to Eugenia, and said, “Feel like showing me down to the brook, Eugenia?”

  She smiled and said, “Yes, I do.”

  The young girl passed noiselessly in front of him and through the wall. Jimmy hurried after her, climbing out the way he had come in. He found her waiting for him. When she saw him, Eugenia gestured and led on.

  Jimmy followed.

  It took only a few minutes to reach the brook again. Jimmy stumbled over a root, almost fell, but caught himself. He hissed at the cold water and the way the rain continued to beat on his face. Vainly he tried to pull the hood of his sweatshirt further down, but it was pointless, and he let go.

  “May I go with you to the end?” Eugenia asked.

  “Sure,” Jimmy said. “I like your company, and I appreciate your help.”

  She lowered her eyes and murmured, “Thank you, James.”

  “You’re welcome.” He started cautiously, making sure of his footing on the smooth rocks and loose sand. Soon he was slipping, his feet numb in the water as the darkness descended. The moon and starlight were smothered, suffocated by the storm clouds. The thunder and lightning continued, and Jimmy found himself praying he wouldn’t be electrocuted.

  Desperately he wanted to climb up one of the banks and make his way on dry land, but he knew he couldn’t. Abel would find him.

  Eugenia walked near him, her voice soft and constant. She spoke sadly of being seventeen and of never having been married, of never being a mother. She had hoped to have been married in Griswold’s church, a great wedding with a tremendous, store-bought cake from Concord.

  Jimmy listened with half an ear, more intent on not falling and splitting his head open and drowning in the darkness. When he heard a question, he gave an answer, agreed with observations, and continued to offer up silent prayers. He lost track of time, knew only pain and hunger, and caught himself counting his steps. The numbers drifted in and out of focus, and suddenly the forest opened up.

  Jimmy stumbled to a stop in the center of the brook and looked out at Lake Charles. Lightning flickered and showed him the darkened shore. A few boats were out in the center of the water, their lights bobbing as they rode out the storm.

  “Oh thank Jesus,” Jimmy said, fighting back tears. “Oh thank you, God.”

  Eugenia stood beside him. She looked at him earnestly. “James.”

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “Will you, will you come and visit me?” she said, her eyes pleading.

  But Jimmy was too tired and hungry to lie. “Probably not.”

  She dropped her head down, her chin resting on her chest.

  “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “Really, Eugenia, it’s too dangerous for me. Abel, he’ll kill me.”

  She nodded, brought her head up, and said softly, “I know.”

  Eugenia threw herself at him, a cold weight slamming into his chest and knocking him down into the water. His mouth was open in surprise, and instantly he was choking on it, drowning. He tried to get up, but Eugenia was on him and held him under. Jimmy thrashed his arms, kicked his legs, and bucked under her. To no avail.

  Stars exploded around his vision, blackness crept in as his lungs demanded air. Eugenia remained on top of him, her face a mask of sadness.

  Then he heard her voice above the frantic beating of his own heart.

  “I will have my wedding, James.”

  Chapter 16: In the Darkness of the Church

  Courtney had fallen into a fitful sleep and lay against Shane. She had wept for nearly two hours. The entire time Glenn was tortured. It had been long and drawn out. Abel had started with the man’s feet, of that Shane was certain. Then, after he had grown bored with them, he had moved on to strangulation.

  Even through the rain, and interrupted only by the thunder, Shane had heard Abel choke Glenn into unconsciousness repeatedly. The man had screamed and begged until his voice had broken.

  “He’s moving him,” Andrew whispered.

  The boy stood by the window, watching the store.

  How strong are they? Shane wondered suddenly. With this storm raging? Can they feed directly off of the lightning?

  He thought they could. Both the boy and the dog were looking far more solid than they had before.

  “Where will he take him?” Shane asked, keeping his voice a whisper.

  “I don’t know,” Andrew said, coming over to sit across from him. “I never knew. None of us did. It does not pay to follow Abel too closely. Even the others do not know where he has hidden them. I have heard my sister say it is because of the shock of death, how horrible it is.”

  “Could be,” Shane agreed. “How are you feeling?”

  Andrew looked surprised at the question. “I feel quite well, Shane, thank you very much for asking.”

  Shane smiled. “You’re a polite young man.”

  Andrew straightened up with pride. “Our mother made certain to raise us well. Father, too, before he went mad.”

  “Is that what happened?” Shane asked gently.

  Andrew nodded knowingly. “When he first started to behave strangely, our mother said it was because of the war.”

  “He was a soldier?” Shane asked.

  “Yes,” Andrew said proudly. “He killed many and more, so he would say when he drank.”

  “Where?”

  “Everywhere,” Andrew replied. “When he was in France, he killed Germans. When he was in Turkey, he killed Greeks. When he was in Greece, he killed Turks. He killed whomever they asked him to.”

  “And he liked it,” Shane said softly.

  “More than anything,” Andrew said. “He needed more, so he said. He needed more death. To smell the blood, he said. To feast on the pain.”

  “Was this when he went mad?” Shane asked.

  Andrew nodded. He put his hand on the dog’s head, scratched it and said, “Yes. I’m not sure if he killed others before mother left to visit grandmother. She never thought he would hurt us. Nor did we. But one night, as we sat in the house, he looked at us, apologized, and said he could wait no longer.”

  “Do you remember your death?”

  “If I think about it, I do,” Andrew said with a brave smile. “But I don’t. I think instead about my mother and Rex. Rex died the same night. I think he tried to stop Abel, but Rex was only a puppy.”

  “A very brave puppy,” Shane said. “Much like you are a very brave boy. You were a true friend to bring us into the safety of the church.”

  Andrew grinned. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you, Andrew,” Shane said. Silence passed between them for a few minutes, and then Shane asked the boy, “How long will it take?”

  “For Abel to hide the bodies?” Andrew said.

  “Bodies?”

  Andrew nodded. “There was the police officer and the one before him. The one with the rifle.”

  One of the brothers, Shane reminded himself. “Yes. How long for the bodies?”

  “He is stronger toni
ght,” Andrew said. “It will be quick. An hour, perhaps two. Why do you ask?”

  “I was wondering if we could slip away,” Shane said.

  A look of fear flickered across Andrew’s face, and he shook his head. “You have to wait. At least until morning. Perhaps longer.”

  “Why?” Shane asked.

  “There’s still one more for him to find,” Andrew said. “He’ll still be looking for the other man. The one he let out into the woods.”

  “Come on,” Shane said, groaning. “I’d forgotten about him. How will we know if he got away?”

  “If Abel goes to sleep,” the boy said, “then we’ll know.”

  “And if he doesn’t?” Shane asked.

  “Then you might die here,” Andrew said sadly.

  Chapter 17: The Storm

  Gordon Bay sat on a log which had washed up onto his small section of beach on Lake Charles. The rain pounded down around him and on him, smacking against his poncho. In his hand, he had an all-weather flashlight and a shotgun across his lap. The wind whipped the normally placid lake into a frenzy, raising whitecaps on the small waves slapping at the shore.

  The flicker of light from the electrical storm gave the land and water a graphically nightmarish quality. All of it reminded him of why he had moved to the lake, to begin with.

  From where he sat, Gordon could see the brook, the one he had followed and fled the town of Griswold from. A terrible storm had raged on the night of his escape when the man Abel had hunted him through the woods and screamed in a terrifying mixture of rage and frustration.

  Gordon longed for his pipe, to sit in his front room and smoke a relaxing bowl of the new Cavendish blend he’d received in the mail. The sudden storm and its ferocity had made such an act impossible.

  My place is here, he reminded himself. Waiting and hoping.

  The last time such a storm had occurred, surprising everyone, a man had gone missing in Griswold. Vanished, leaving only his shoes behind.

  And you know why, Gordon thought. You know he has a thing for feet.