Hallowed Horror

by Mark Tufo

  “Very well, in fact.”

  “Let him know. Tell him you need to double-check that everything is working correctly. You install whatever you need to feed it to my monitors. Sound doable?”

  Bobby thought a moment then nodded. “If he’s stupid enough to fall for it.”

  “He is,” Scott and Denise both said at the same time.

  Bridger chuckled. “Give me ten minutes to configure your monitors.

  *****

  Calvin parked the RV and set the parking brakes. He looked out at the old ghost town and stared. If you took away the blistering heat, the biting insects, the constant dust and the threat of poisonous snakes, this could be a fun place to vacation. Quinn stepped from the back and stretched. Calvin did a double-take and had to roll his tongue back in his mouth.

  “Why’d you change?”

  “It’s hot out there, sweetie,” she purred.

  “But shorty shorts and a halter top? You do realize there will be a bunch of other men out there, right? And biting bugs and spiders and snakes and—”

  “I’m wearing cowboy boots.” She lifted her leg and placed it on the dashboard of the RV.

  Calvin shuddered and stared up her leg. “Um. Okay. Darling, you may not realize this, but actually, this outfit is probably a lot more appropriate for the bedroom than in public,” he fought to say without stammering.

  Quinn feigned shock. “What? Oh. Well, okay, if you don’t like it.” She turned and walked back to the bedroom, a sly smile across her face the entire way. She made sure to add a little extra sway to her hips as she went.

  Calvin stood and went to the sink, splashing cold water across his face. He heard the crunch of gravel under tires and peered out the window. He saw Constable Gregory pull alongside the RV and rapped on the bedroom door. “Ben’s here, sweetie. You need to hurry.”

  Quinn threw open the door and stood there nude, only the cowboy boots remained. “I’m dressing as fast as I can,” she said innocently. She turned and began pulling her panties on straight legged and smiled even bigger when she heard Calvin whimper and pull the door to the bedroom shut. “Gotcha,” she whispered.

  “Why does she do that to me?”

  Ben knocked on the RV door and Calvin quickly slipped into the dinette booth before saying, “Come in.”

  Ben opened the door and stuck his head in. “Are you about ready to…holy wow. This thing is nice inside.”

  “Come on in, Constable. We’re the only ones here at the moment.”

  “Man, the AC works really good, too.” He stepped inside, the sweat from his shirt beginning to evaporate.

  “Any idea how long we have before the others get here?”

  “Best guess by the radio chatter? Probably twenty minutes,” Ben pulled off his hat and set it down.

  “Well then, have a seat. Take a load off.”

  “Sure. Might as well.” Ben came in and sat, still looking around. “This really is nice.”

  “Thanks. We equipped it especially for our hunts.”

  Quinn tossed open the door and stepped out of the bedroom. Her jeans were tucked into her boots and she had rolled the sleeves up on her western-style shirt. “Ready to get dirty,” she said, staring at Calvin with a sultry smile.

  “That’s good.” Ben turned to look over his shoulder. “I’m hearing that we’ll have to do some digging.”

  “Oh, I’m leaving the digging to you boys. I’m ready to send a vengeful spirit back to the afterlife.”

  Ben turned back to Calvin. “In all honesty, I’d rather swing a shovel than wrassle a ghost.”

  The group heard a honk outside and peered out the window. Foo’s SUV rolled up behind Ben’s cruiser and parked well behind the RV. “Looks like they’re early,” Calvin said.

  “Must have driven code three.” Ben caught himself and elaborated. “Um, lights and sirens.”

  “I figured as much.” Calvin got up from the dinette. The three piled out of the RV and the Texas heat hit them like a wall. “Yeah, this will be a lot of fun.”

  Foo, Eckerson, and Ginger were removing digging tools from the back of the SUV. Ben came around and grabbed his own tools from his car, then met up with the group as they began the trek across the tall grass leading up to the remains of the little church building.

  “You have a lighter, right?” Ben asked.

  “Two. Just in case one won’t light,” Eckerson said.

  “Just wanted to make sure.” Ben fell into step behind him. “And Justin is on his way?”

  “Be here any moment,” Jon replied as he shifted the shovel under his arm and adjusted the rock salt to his other hand. He glanced to Dr. Whynot. “This sure seems like overkill if you ask me.”

  “It may seem like it at the moment, but there are certain things you have to do to make sure the spirit is properly dispersed,” Calvin answered. “Otherwise, you run the risk of it coming back.”

  Ginger grabbed the rock salt from Jon to balance his load. “And if it comes back? Well, if you thought it was pissed off the first time, imagine how much madder it would be the second time around.”

  Jon thought for a moment then shook his head. “I’d rather not, thank you.” He winked at Ginger. “Let’s get this right the first time.”

  “For sure.” She hefted the oversized bag of rock salt to her shoulder.

  The group rounded the corner of the church and pushed through the tall grass, their previous trail barely recognizable. They paused at the grave and stared at the freshly dug earth. The group simply stood there and had a moment of silence. Eckerson broke the silence when he whispered, “It almost seems wrong to do this to a fellow lawman.”

  Jon looked up to the older deputy. “He stopped being a lawman when he took the law into his own hands, Jeff. You know we need to do this.”

  “I know,” Jeff answered. “So let’s get it done.”

  The group dropped their tools and equipment to the ground and each man grabbed a shovel, positioned themselves around the grave and sunk the blade into the soft dry earth. Placing their foot onto the spade end, they pushed into the ground and lifted away their first shovels full of dry soil and placed it aside. Each man quickly broke into a sweat in the humid Texas heat as the digging continued.

  34

  Scott was locking up his files for the night and was just about to turn out the lights in his office when he heard a soft rapping at his door. “Come.”

  Dr. Guffey stuck his head in. “Spare a moment, Scott?”

  “For you, Doc? Sure.” He stepped back to his desk and motioned for Guffey to shut the door. “What’s on your mind?”

  Guffey shut the door and entered his office, something obviously bothering him. “I wanted to talk to you about our County Coroner.”

  “Murph? What’s up with the colonel?”

  Guffey took a seat and shook his head. “I’m not exactly sure, Scott. He came to me this morning with a really bizarre story. He was returning the case files on the murders. He had this burr up his ass about us not having evidence on the cases.”

  Scott moaned and rolled his eyes. “Trust me, Doc. I’m feeling the heat on it, too.”

  “Well, he claimed that too when he snatched up the files. And I’ll admit, I was a little rough on him. Really rubbed it in his face that he was elected and not qualified for the job.”

  “Good. He had that coming.”

  “Well, maybe. Now, I’m not so sure,” Doc said softly. “This morning he…well, he acted like a different man.”

  “How so?”

  “He said he got attacked last night by a woman. A woman with devil eyes.” Doc met his confused gaze and placed his hand over his heart, holding his other straight up, as though being sworn in. “I swear, his words were that her eyes glowed redder than the fires of Hell and she, quote, beat the living hell out of me, unquote.”

  Scott gave him a disbelieving look. “He was probably drunk.”

  “Maybe. But he swears it happened, and he looked like hell,” Doc said.
“You didn’t see him. I did. And while I can’t say what did or didn’t happen, I can assure you, he believes what he’s saying.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he does. Probably would believe in leprechauns too, if he’d seen them on the benders he’s been known to have.”

  “Maybe. But he was scared.” His eyes meet Scott’s. “I mean really scared. Said the woman had the strength of three men. Threw him around his house like a rag doll.”

  “So, what? Does he want me to waste county resources sending my people out to look for an Amazon woman?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. In fact, he probably would be upset with me if he knew I was here talking with you. I just…wanted you to know.”

  “That an Amazon beat up the colonel?”

  “Well that…except he kept calling her a demon. And that she threatened him to keep his nose out of the murder cases.” Doc noted the surprise.

  “So, the demon Amazon knows about the murder cases, too?” Scott asked.

  “According to Alex, yeah.”

  Scott inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. “My best guess is that he drank too much and fell down his stairs.”

  Doc nodded slowly. “Possibly.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re buying into this whole supernatural bullshit, too?”

  “I’m not saying I am, and I’m not saying I’m not,” Doc said diplomatically. “But there are a growing number of people around here who are.”

  Scott moaned and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I’ll be glad when this whole thing blows over and we figure out who’s really behind it.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  Scott sat up and stared at him. “Then I guess it will make for one hell of an urban legend.”

  *****

  Bobby Bridger rang the doorbell and stood outside the door of Jerrod Miller’s home. He tried to not act impressed by the estate, but standing stoic, eyes hidden by sunglasses can only disguise so much. “Who are you?” a nervous voice asked from a speaker beside the door.

  Bobby should have expected as much. The man had his shit shaken and now he was paranoid. Bridger leaned toward the speaker box and pressed the button. “I’m your new security chief.”

  “Like hell. Get out of here before I fill you full of lead!”

  Bobby slumped slightly in frustration. He pushed the button again, “Mr. Miller, your life is being threatened. I’ve been sanctioned by Sheriff Scott Evans himself to use deadly force to protect you, and, I’m the man who trained Chris Anthony.” He leaned toward the bubble camera lens and removed his sunglasses. “I believe you know that name very well, don’t you?” He gave his best stare deep into the lens then put his sunglasses back on.

  Leaning back and waiting on the door to open, he could almost imagine what was going through the man’s mind. Confusion, panic, paranoia, it was all part of the game. He did a mental countdown and was almost positive of what would come next. The speaker crackled to life, almost on cue. “How can I know for sure that you know Chris?”

  Bobby raised an eyebrow and pressed the button again, “The mere fact that I know he was your security man should tell you all that you need to know. You have two choices. You can allow me access and let me protect you as only a true professional can, or you can take your chances on your own. But you should know something before I leave.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The man who assaulted you in the sheriff’s office, the man who was arrested and was in jail, was killed by the very same killer who is after you. This killer got past armed police officers and closed circuit TV cameras and wasn’t even seen.” Bridger figured that should put the fear into the obstinate little fucker. “It’s your choice. But if this door isn’t open in the next five seconds, I’m leaving and you’re on your own.” He pulled the sleeve of his Army jacket up and peered at his watch. Five…four…three…two… >click<

  The man who opened the front door, huffing for breath, did not match the mental image that Bobby Bridger had in his mind for Jerrod Miller. Whereas Bobby had pictured a small man, with a bald head, a slight frame and no body weight to speak of, Jerrod Miller was a large man. Not fat, just big. He looked like what people thought of when they thought of a big, rich, boisterous Texan.

  “Please, come in!” he said once he caught his breath. “What did you say your name was again? The speaker is a little hard to hear from.”

  “No it isn’t. You just weren’t paying attention. You didn’t recognize my name so you instantly forgot it. You assumed you wouldn’t let anybody into your house that looked like me, so you dismissed me.”

  Jerrod blushed red as he shut the door and locked it. “Okay, yes. You got me.”

  “Bridger. Bobby Bridger.” He looked around the foyer. “Big house.”

  Jerrod stood with his hand extended and realized that he must look the fool so he quickly put it behind him. “Let me show you around.”

  “Show me the computer room where Chris set up your security system.”

  “What?” Jerrod was immediately put off. “Why?”

  Bobby turned and shot him a most dire stare. “We are under threat, Mr. Miller. A very serious threat. I need to ensure that your software is up to date. I need to ensure that all of the cameras are pointed to optimum angles. I need to make sure that all the lenses are free of debris, tree limbs, grass clippings, dead bugs…everything. I need to know that all of the sensors are working properly, I have to do system tests…in fact, just in the time I’ve spent wasting, standing here trying to explain myself to you, I could have accomplished a great number of things.” His voice had escalated to almost a shout. “Now show me the damned computer room!”

  “Uh…yes, sir!” Jerrod exclaimed and marched toward the safe room. Bobby’s first thought was, They weren’t kidding. He truly is an idiot.

  Once Miller opened the door to the safe room, Bobby flipped on the light. He was immediately disgusted by the view. Snack food bags and potato chips littered the console. Empty cans lay scattered about the floor and stacks of crap were piled inside the room. He slowly turned to Miller and watched the big man shrink.

  “This isn’t a playroom, Miller.” He purposely dropped ‘Mr.’ to demean him. “Get the fuck out of here so I can try to work.”

  “Okay…if you need anything, just let me know.”

  Bobby opened his bag and withdrew the tools of the trade. He checked out the equipment and nodded in approval. “Not too shabby, Chris.” He turned off the DVR function of the computer so that what he did wouldn’t be recorded.

  He slipped the CD into the drive of the computer and began typing away at the keyboard. He pulled up the command prompt and entered the keystrokes to run the program on the disc. Bobby took one more look toward the door and, satisfied that Miller wasn’t snooping, hit enter. The program began uploading and he opened a remote station on the monitor. Within minutes he could see what the sheriff’s office monitor was seeing in one window and the deputy monitoring the cameras in another.

  Once the program was fully installed, all of the cameras mounted at Miller’s were now viewable at the sheriff’s office. He waited a moment and saw the deputy give him a thumbs-up. He grinned to himself and shut down the remote connection.

  “Too easy.”

  He pulled the disc from the drive and dropped it back into his bag. Bridger sat back and viewed the different cameras, the angles, the quality of picture, everything he had mentioned to Miller. Other than one of the cameras in the back, he was more than satisfied with the entire setup.

  He locked his bag up and exited the nasty little safe room. Across from the safe room and down a short hallway he could see Miller sitting behind a desk, nervously fidgeting with something. He walked to the door and the man nearly jumped out of his skin.

  “Is everything okay with the system?” Miller asked.

  “It’ll do. I had to do a software update,” Bridger lied. “These updates come out every few days. Minor tweaks, but every little bit helps.” He glanced around Mil
ler’s study. “Nice junk.”

  “It’s not junk. It’s my collection. And those damned cops came in here and defiled it.”

  “Really?” Bridger really couldn’t care less.

  Jerrod stood and Bobby noticed for the first time that Miller was holding a cowboy-style single-action .45 in his hand. “Bastards just walked in here and stole it from me.”

  Bobby’s gaze narrowed as he watched Miller’s hands. “Watch where you’re pointing that thing.”

  Miller paused and glanced down at the pistol. “What? This?”

  “Flag me with it again, and I’ll take it from you.” Bridger’s eyes narrowed.

  “Flag you?”

  Bridger moved so fast that Miller had no clue what happened until it was over. One second he was holding his prize Colt .45 Peacemaker and the next, Bobby Bridger had it tucked into his belt. Bridger stared at the man and shoved a finger in his face.

  “Flagging. Waving a firearm in such a manner that the barrel crosses the path of another person. It’s a recipe for disaster. If I weren’t here to guard you, I’d have broken your damned trigger finger.” Miller stood still, his mouth moving, but nothing coming out. “Stop it, you look like a fish.” Bobby turned to leave.

  “But…wait. What if the killer comes for me?” Miller asked.

  “At least I’ll be safe,” Bobby called back. “From you.”

  *****

  Zimmer pulled up to the Little Hope church and parked behind the line of police vehicles. “Damn. Looks busy.”

  “Hope we’re not too late for the party,” Sanders quipped.

  Justin smiled across the hood of the car, “I do. I have no desire to dig up this dirt, do you?”

  “Oh, I like to get dirty.” She winked at him.

  Justin shivered. “You’re the only girl I know of that can even make grave digging sound kinky.”

  Sheryn paused and stared at him. “You mean it isn’t?”