Coming of Winter

by Tom Threadgill

  The boy glanced over his shoulder toward home, then opened the truck door. “Can’t be late, though.”

  “We’ll make it in plenty of time. You can bet the farm on it.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  The kerosene lantern sputtered, and Mason switched it off and flipped on the fluorescents. Didn’t need the lamp’s smells down in the storm cellar anyhow. The room kept its musty silence, save for the humming and sporadic shudder of the old chest freezer. The boy slumped on the floor, his back resting against a wooden corner post. His hands were tied behind the beam, but his legs remained free, and Mason paused to examine the new scrapes on the dirt floor. The boy had struggled before giving in to exhaustion and falling asleep. Mason hovered over him and lifted the youngster’s chin.

  “Time to wake up, Lanny.”

  The youngster licked his lips and squinted into the light. Tear streaks scarred his filthy face, and he stammered when he spoke. “D-don’t know her.”

  Mason leaned and checked the knots on the nylon rope that held the boy’s hands together, then dragged a stool over and sat in front of the boy. “We’ll get to that in a minute. You feeling okay? Ropes not too tight? Don’t want to cut off the circulation.”

  “Thirsty.”

  “Sure, sure. Thought you might be. Got you some water right here.” He held a straw to Lanny’s mouth and waited until the drink was gone.

  “Why you doing this, Mr. Miller?”

  In the two days of confinement, the bravado of a young man had given way to the fear of a boy. “Need to go to the bathroom? I brought the bucket.”

  The youth sniffled, and a tear rolled down his face. “I-I don’t know her. I’d tell you if I did. You know I would.”

  Mason scooted the stool closer. “Shh ... shh. It’s okay. I know you would, son. I know you would. But see, Sarah’s special to me. Right now, nothing’s more important than finding her. I need you to think really hard. Focus.”

  “Wh-what does she look like?”

  Mason patted the young man’s shoulder. “I’m tired, Lanny. Really tired. Listen very closely. The skull. You took it. I know you did. Tell me where she is and all this ends. I just want her back. That’s all. No hard feelings.”

  “Skull? One of the decorations? I didn’t do nothin’ with them. Honest, Mr. Miller. All this is about one of those toys? I-I don’t under—”

  Mason stood and grabbed the lantern. “She’s not a toy. You took her, and I want her back. I’ll be back in a little while, and then we’ll finish up.”

  “I can go h-home then?”

  “That all depends on what you have to tell me. I need you to think real hard, Lanny. I’m gonna take the lantern because a man does his best remembering in the dark. Besides, I’ve always wondered about something, and maybe you can clear it up for me. Those green and red tubs over there. See ’em? When it’s all dark and quiet down here, you ever hear any noise from them? Maybe scratching sounds? Or chewing? See you soon, Lanny. Be ready.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  “Wind’s picking up again. Coming out of the north. Gonna be a cold one.” Mason stared out the kitchen window, snacking on cornbread left over from last night’s dinner.

  Paula stood beside him and gestured toward his coffee mug. “Need some more?”

  “No thanks. Too much caffeine already today.”

  “You check on the boy?”

  Mason nodded. “Nothing new. Probably needs another day or two to think about it.”

  “Have you thought about where this ends?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “With Lanny. What happens after you’re, um, done with him? Maybe he knows where Sarah is. Maybe he doesn’t. Either way, at some point you’ll have to make a decision about him. Been two days already, and the county’s crawling with police. Sooner or later one of them will stop by here. Can’t keep a man in the cellar forever.”

  “He’s a kid, Paula.”

  She scratched her hand across his back. “He is. But you know he’s barely two years younger than Sarah was, right?”

  “Yeah. But fourteen years old ...”

  She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Almost fifteen.”

  He sighed and sat his coffee on the counter. “I know, but—”

  “No buts. I’ve never once complained about your activities. Even helped when you asked. But no matter how this turns out, that boy’s a threat to this family. We both know it.”

  “He said he wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  “You believe that?”

  He shook his head. “Maybe for a while, but sooner or later, he’ll talk.”

  “Yep. He will. Then they’ll come take you away. Me too, probably. The boys will end up in some foster home. The state might even separate them. Is that what you want, Mason? Your boys raised by strangers? Your farm sold off to some foreign company?”

  He pressed his lips together. “I’m not gonna let that happen. I’ll take care of Lanny. No need in you worrying about it.”

  “What does that mean? Take care of him how?”

  He caressed her chin and lifted her face toward him. “It means I know what I have to do.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and pulled. “You take such good care of us.”

  “Better or worse, death till us part, and whatever else you tricked me into saying.”

  She snuggled her head under his chin. “I’m pretty sure it was you who chased me, but you can believe whatever you want to believe.”

  They stood for a moment, staring out the window as the wind gusts moved across the corn maze like ocean waves. Such tranquility came at a price, but it was worth every penny, every bead of sweat, and every drop of blood, his and others’. His land was worth protecting no matter the cost.

  He hugged Paula before heading for the door. “Tell the boys to check the maze good. Saturday night this close to Halloween, we’ll have a big crowd. And tell Andy to make sure the four-wheeler’s full of gas. He’ll be running heated water out to you all night. I reckon you might have your hands full making hot chocolate. Want me to get you some help out there?”

  “And share my tips? I don’t think so, mister. I work hard for my money.”

  “I know you do, babe.” He grabbed another piece of cornbread, pulled on his denim jacket, and yanked his cap down low. “I’ll be in the storm cellar if you need me.”

  Paula glanced at the clock. “Lunch at noon. Don’t be late.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Mason winked at her and headed for the barn.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Mason sat on the floor next to Lanny. “I bet you’re hungry, huh? Brought you some cornbread. Nobody makes it like Paula does. Cast iron skillet, extra butter. Better’n birthday cake. We’ll get to that in a minute, though. Wanted to see if you’d remembered anything yet.”

  The boy shifted on the floor. “What’s in those tubs, Mr. Miller? I thought I heard scratching this time. I swear I did.”

  “Nothing you need to worry about. I was just messin’ with you. Trying to spook you a little so you’d loosen up and tell me what you did with Sarah.”

  The boy’s chin quivered, and he fixed his gaze on the ground between his legs. “I can’t feel my arms and legs any more, Mr. Miller.”

  Getting tired of his whining. “I’m sorry, son. I should have thought of that. They fell asleep, that’s all. I’m going to untie you in a minute and let you get up and stretch. You’ve got to promise not to leave until you tell me where she is, though. Agreed?”

  Lanny sniffled. “I don’t know. I swear it. I’ll help you find her, though. P-promise I will. I’ll ask around at school. Somebody’ll tell me. They always do.”

  Mason pulled out his pocketknife, examined the blade, and began scratching lines in the dirt. “Don’t have much tolerance for thieves. Never have. I remember the time someone cheated me out of a deer. I’d been stalking that thing all morning and then, bam! Some idiot spooked it. All I saw was a whitetail bouncing into the trees. Gone. Taken fro
m me.”

  The boy tried to push his back deeper into the beam. “W-what’re you gonna do with that knife, Mr. Miller?”

  Mason etched the ground closer to the boy. “I haven’t decided yet. That’s up to you, I suppose.”

  “But I told you I don’t—”

  “You’ve gutted a deer before, right?”

  Lanny tried to inhale the snot dripping from his nose. “Y-yeah.”

  Mason held up his knife. “Of course, you wouldn’t use something like this. Too small. It might slip in your hands, not to mention make it tough to cut through some of the skin and muscle. Yeah, there’s nothing like making that thin slice through the skin, then—” He flicked the blade within millimeters of the boy’s stomach.

  Lanny screamed and tried to jerk back, but couldn’t move. He might have said something, but it was hard to tell with all his yelling and crying.

  Mason scooted closer. “Then you peel that skin back and cut through the muscle. Got to be careful, though, right? You ever puncture the stomach or intestines? That’ll ruin your day, for sure.”

  The boy’s swollen eyes looked desperately around the room, and a strong odor of urine soaked the air.

  “Lanny, did you wet your pants? Now why would you go and do something like that? Word of it gets out, you’ll never hear the end of it. You hear what I’m telling you? This will be our secret, okay? You keep your mouth shut about all this, and I’ll keep your secret too.”

  His whimpering slowed, and he looked at Mason. “Y-you’re gonna let me go?”

  “I told you I would, didn’t I? Just wanted to make sure you were telling the truth, that’s all. I’ll drop you off somewhere, and you can walk home. Tell everybody you’ve been hiding in the woods this whole time. I bet you’ve got plenty of good hiding spots, don’t you?”

  “S-some.”

  “Good. Make up a story like you didn’t want to go to school or were mad at your parents. Stick to it, and no one will be the wiser. Do we have a deal?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mason leaned behind the boy and cut the rope binding his wrists. “I’m sorry all this had to happen, but you understand. Here, let me help you up.”

  Mason dragged a stool over and helped Lanny onto it. “Sit there for a minute until you get the feeling back in your legs. Don’t want you falling off the ladder, do we?”

  Lanny dragged his arm under his nose. “No, sir. I won’t tell nobody. I swear it.”

  “I believe you, son. You ready to go home?”

  He pushed himself off the stool. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, good. Head on up that ladder then.”

  The boy was on the second rung when the shovel struck the back of his head. Mason tried to judge the impact needed to kill, or at least stun Lanny without damaging his skull. He bent over the fallen body to inspect his work.

  Blood matted the teenager’s hair, and the boy wasn’t breathing. Mason squatted and caressed the back of Lanny’s head, grimacing when he felt the flattened section. He’d hit too hard. Still, the damage was in the back. The recognizable parts, the eye sockets, jaw, and so on, would be fine.

  He grabbed a bottled water off the shelf and guzzled half of it. Paula’s cornbread sure did make him thirsty.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Mason stood a couple of feet inside the tree line and scanned for any signs of movement. Off to the left, his pickup truck sat parked next to the Forked Deer River. Just another guy out fishing on a crisp October morning, or maybe scouting out a spot for his deer stand. Ahead, an opening in the woods allowed high power lines through. To his right, more trees.

  Getting here had been easier than he’d expected. No neighbors flagged him down to talk about the weather or the boy or politics. State Road 188 did have more traffic than usual, though, doubtless folks headed to help in the search for Lanny Palmer. Mason knew better than to show up with the crowd. Returning to the scene of the crime was never a good idea, and besides, he had a good excuse if anyone asked. Keeping the pumpkin patch up and running took all his time, and folks insisted he keep it open.

  Law enforcement had focused their search in the area around Lanny’s home. On the record, the police said the boy’s parents were not suspects, but some of Mason’s neighbors were starting to whisper. Things like this didn’t happen around here.

  Off 188, a dirt road paralleled the Forked Deer to the northwest. Mason and his boys had been fishing near here many times. Cane pole and a red-white bobber. The same way his father taught him. The best way for kids to learn. He’d considered leaving Lanny’s body in the river but couldn’t do it. The boy may be a thief and a liar, but he still deserved a decent burial. The thought of leaving him in the water, where all kinds of critters could get to him, was too much.

  He carried the corpse a few feet into the woods and chose a spot under a mid-sized oak. With no time for the usual process, the boy would get a traditional burial. Minus the skull and hands, of course. The ground was soft due to years of decomposition, and he dug the hole without much effort. Around two feet deep, so no animals would smell him and try to dig him up. He rested the shovel against the oak and debated saying a prayer before covering the body. No need. Plenty of prayers being said already. Besides, it’s not like Lanny was really gone.

  In a few weeks, there he’d be, dressed in garb from the local thrift store, hanging around in the cellar. Well, part of him anyway. A companion for Mason. Someone to talk to while he worked down there.

  A touch of sadness closed around his heart. He and Paula had agreed the boy could never come out again. Too risky to put him in the corn maze, as if anyone would recognize him from a skull. Fourteen years old. No hope of going outside and watching as friends and neighbors wandered around him in the maze. Didn’t seem right.

  They may need to revisit that decision next Halloween.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  “Where ya been, Dad?” Andy clambered into the bed of the truck.

  Mason scooped up his son and kissed his cheek. “Had to make a run to the dump.”

  Lucas stood on the pickup’s bumper and peered into the vehicle’s bed. “Aw, man. Why didn’t you take us?”

  “I should’ve. Need to get even with you boys. If I remember right, last time Lucas tossed the trash the farthest.”

  Andy wriggled down from his father’s arms. “No way, Dad! I won, remember?”

  Mason winked at Lucas. “Hmm. You might be right. We’ll call it a tie. How’s that?”

  Andy crossed his arms and frowned.

  Lucas winked back at his dad. “No, Andy beat me. Just barely, though. Even a blind hog finds an acorn once in a while, right Dad?”

  “Sure enough. You boys got everything ready for tonight?”

  “Yes, sir,” Andy said. “The four-wheeler’s full, and I checked the maze. Still got to put new batteries in a bunch of flashlights, though.”

  “Better get on that,” Mason said. “How about out front in the pumpkin patch?”

  Lucas motioned toward the field. “It’s pretty full. I put some more big ones out, but we’ve probably got enough to get us through another week at least.”

  “Great. Anything else?”

  Lucas jumped off the truck. “Dad, can I talk to you?”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  The boy cut his eyes toward his younger brother. “Um, I need to, uh—”

  “Andy, run and tell your mom we’ll be ready for lunch in a few minutes,” Mason said.

  Lucas waited until his brother left, then continued, “All this stuff that’s going on now. Some of the kids were talking. I mean, about what might have happened to Lanny. Everybody at school’s kind of freaked out.”

  “Well, they should be. Listen, you boys need to watch out for each other. Like your mom and I said, don’t go anywhere alone for a while, at least not until they find Lanny. I’m counting on you to keep an eye on Andy.”

  “Yeah, I know, Dad. But what if they don’t find him?”

  Mason squatted
and placed his hands on his son’s shoulders. “We need to pray they will. But if they don’t, if something bad happened to him, they’ll get whoever did it. They always do.”

  “Always?”

  “Of course. Listen, the point here is to be careful, but not afraid. You can’t go through life scared. That’s no way to live. There’s plenty of police around and, if someone did take him, he’d be an idiot to try it again.” He pulled Lucas to his chest and embraced him.

  “Thanks, Dad. I was just worried for Andy.”

  Mason stood and straightened Lucas’s ball cap. “Of course. That’s what brothers are for. Now then, what say we go see what your mother’s got going for lunch? I’m hungry as a horse. You?”

  “Starvin’.”

  Mason laughed. “Now that’s no surprise. I swear, you boys can eat like nobody’s business, and I still see your ribs poking through. Need to put some meat on those bones. Either that or use you for skelcrows.”

  “Oh, Dad? I think I know who took the one that’s missing from the maze.”

  Mason’s stomach tensed. “What? Who?”

  “One of the boys in eighth grade. Carson something, but everybody calls him Fishy. I don’t know him, but a couple of kids told me he was showing them pictures of a skull on his phone. He said it was Lanny, but everybody knows it’s not. They said it looks like plastic, and it’s just the head.”

  Mason bit the inside of his cheek. All that time wasted on the Palmer boy. “Appreciate you telling me, Lucas. I’ll check it out. If Carson did take the decoration, I’m sure it’s just a prank. No harm done, long as I get it back.”

  “Want me to ask him at school on Monday?”

  “Um, I really don’t want to wait that long. I reckon we’ll have a big crowd tonight, and I’d sure enough like to have the maze looking perfect. Tell you what. Think you can call around? Find out the boy’s last name for me?”

  “Sure.”

  “Then I’ll track him down from that. With all the police around, I’m certain he’ll be happy to give it back. Let bygones be bygones.”