It was still raining outside, and he could feel his ideas and memories flowing inside his mind like an overflowing river. It was not confusion what he felt, but dismay, maybe impotence, because he could do nothing else. But he did not know that he would feel exactly the same only a few hours later. In the meanwhile, the phone started ringing and the touch screen lighted up like a nest of fireflies.
Peter tilted his head and, after a few seconds of confusion, he reached out and grabbed the phone, putting it up to his ear.
“What do you want, Denny?” He had seen it was him. “I am really tired and I need some sleep.” He looked at the nightstand clock and he added: “It is quarter past one, what’s gotten into you now?”
“Peter, my sister Ann is in danger.”
Peter’s heart went off like a bomb inside his chest, pumping blood all around his body. He felt a sudden cold sweat in his neck.
“What is going on?” Peter leaned on the back of his bed. He thought he should speak in a low voice, but his father was probably awake.
“I would love to tell you this is not true, but ...”
“What!” Peter interrupted restlessly.
“She told me that a man had been chasing her tonight, when she was coming back from the store. She started running and the man, who was wearing a black raincoat, stopped, although he kept watching her. Some days before a stone had been thrown against her window. She says he did it. His figure reminded her of Reverend Larry’s when he attacked her last winter, but all of us know Larry is dead. He killed himself, didn’t he?” Denny waited anxiously for his answer from the other side of the line; he wanted an answer that could convince him, that could allay his fears.
“I think he is the murderer” Peter said with a tremulous voice. “Another girl has been murdered tonight, she has been torn apart too, and he has left her in front of the police station.”
“What?” Dennis’ voice could be heard through the speaker and even through the walls.
“You nearly make me deaf, Denny” Peter answered quietly. “My father is sleeping and I don’t want him to wake up, not now.”
“Who has been the lucky one this time?”
“What do you mean the lucky one?” Peter couldn’t believe his ears. Yes, all right, Denny made fun of things sometimes, but this time he had messed up.
“She was Lillian Walker.”
“It doesn’t ring a bell.” Now his voice had turned into a murmur.
“Well, never mind. But I have felt her pain, my friend, and it has been terrible. It is dreadful. I also see many more things just by squeezing a necklace. Now I can see through the objects...”
“I think you made that clear before.” Denny interrupted.
“I know, but now it is unbearable. I remain stuck there, but I cannot see anything else. I was on the verge of seeing his face, but he is wearing a damned white mask.”
“Ann thought she had seen that in the distance, but the rest of his clothing was black.
“It is always happening when it is dark. But tell me, is she all right?”
“Yes, she is, but, will you ask the sheriff to protect Ann?”
“Of course”
“Thank you, mate.” Denny said with a cracked voice, and then he hung up.
Peter left the phone on the stand table and he started tossing and turning.
Tossing and turning a lot.
67
The clock said 03:37 and Burt was dancing on top of the couch when he fell flat on his ass. He hit his head with the nightstand and he started bleeding almost instantly. He could feel his warm and silky blood sliding down his face. He touched the abraded area and then he noticed that all his fingers were smeared with blood, but he kept on drinking beer from the can he was still holding in his hand. He had dropped it when he had fallen, but it still contained half the liquid.
Many things had happened and it was about to get worse. He had a pain in the ass called Ethan. He had had to release Bob the Fool and the murderer. A body had been left at the entrance of the police station. Now that body would be on his way to Boston, no, to Road Main, which was one hour away by car. But Road Main had a coroner and a better-equipped police station, as it was a town of twenty thousand people. In addition, they were not suffering from those dreadful murders.
One hour later, under the sound of the rain, Burt passed out, he had alcohol poisoning after drinking three boxes of beer. He had a terrible stomach ache. By the time he was having the last sip, before falling dead drunk on the couch, the beer foam was coming out of the corner of his mouth. Nevertheless, he fell asleep so deeply that it was as if his body has simply paralyzed.
68
John suddenly woke up with a sharp bladder pain. He was sweating even though he had not had any nightmare. He sat up in his bed. He tried to sit on the edge of his bed with one hand on his belly and his other hand on the wall. John was puffing and huffing like a buffalo, and his face turned pale. The sharp pain was running through his body, going up from his underbelly to his left arm and finishing in his temples. He started dragging his bare feet silently and in darkness. He walked all the way from his room to the toilet without stumbling, as he had been living in that house for more than forty years and he knew it like the back of his hand, even in the dark.
Once he was inside the bathroom, he groped for the light switch. It clicked noisily and then the light blinded him, making him close them imperceptibly. He closed the door behind him carefully, moving as if he had been mummified. The sharp pain was cutting off his breath and increasing his pulse. He noticed now that the back of his hands were wet with sweat.
He looked for his penis under his pajamas and he placed it aiming at the center of the toilet. Then he started urinating. The terrible pain was growing, and John thought he would faint. He felt something inside him that was struggling to get out. It was as if his old pipe system was clogged. The pain extended now to his testicles and towards his penis. It dropped a couple of drops of urine and a drop of blood after a great effort, while he was feeling as if something painful was stuck in the inner channel that went from his bladder to his penis. The pain was becoming unbearable, and then his penis covered in blood. His eyes rolled up and he was sweating more and more as his heart was pumping under his chest. Whatever was stuck there was going down slowly. Two more drops of urine went out, and then another drop of blood.
John had already decided to lean against the wall, but he couldn’t. He was holding his penis with both hands, and he felt something almost out, coming out from his penis. Then, as it happens when a woman is giving birth, a last push helped to expel a body bigger than the dilated exit. He saw a big stone there, inside the toilet. It had fallen from his penis with a whoop, almost as big as a peanut, with a serrated edge. Then he took a long and intense whizz, which made him feel a profound relief. It was a big leak. There was no blood now, just the foaming yellow liquid.
“Goodbye, my babe” John whispered with a wide smile on his face. He breathed hard and he noticed then he had no pain at all. He had just got rid of a kidney stone that had been biting him for months. But now it was over. He had no cancer.
And the stone, which had been shining under the water at the bottom of the toilet bowl, was now invisible under the urine foam.
And John rested then.
69
Burt’s mobile phone started ringing at 07:01, making the ring echo on the walls and inside his aching head. At first he did not remember anything. His mouth turned into a gruesome grimace, like a zombie, while he was trying to yawn without success. He felt a constant stabbing pain in his temples, and the phone ring was destroying his eardrums. The phone rung up to five times before Burt could answer it.
“Hello?” Burt’s voice sounded creaky, slurring his words like a drunken man voice. He had his shirt open, still wet from sweat, his shoes off. He heard a vaguely familiar voice.
“Hi, Burt, I’m sorry to call you so late. This time it’s not just after midnight...”
“Eeehhh
?” Burt said with a hoarse voice.
“Are you ok, Burt?”
“Yes, I am. Just a little queasy” He rubbed his eyes and his temples with his free hand, as he was feeling pain right there.
“It sounds like you are drunk.”
There was a short silence. Burt’s face freshened up, as if he had been given a slap.
“No, I’m not! It’s just that I’ve been awake all night and I could finally sleep too late, so...” Burt looked at his watch and its blurry hands showed that it was seven in the morning. He was at a loss for words.
“I see. And you have been caught off guard.”
“That’s right!”
“Well, Mr. Burt, I just called you to say hello, because I cannot tell you anything else. Apparently you have a lad there with a special gift that I might need here.” He could hear giggles.
“Who told you that?”
“An insider did. It was a bad joke, but we had a good time.”
Burt’s face was red. He had a special affection for Peter and he knew it was all true. They had caught a murderer last winter because of him, and he was now being very collaborative with the investigation, even though it looked like they were at a stand-off. But actually they knew much more about the killer than the FBI or the corpse ripper William, who was calling him just to tell him he had found nothing; nothing at all? How come you didn’t find a stick up your ass, William?
“You should not laugh at Peter” Burt said speaking gravely and clenching his teeth.
“Oh, yeah! That was his name, Peter! Hahaha!”
Burt hung up.
70
“Burt, I need you to do me a favor” Peter said with a trembling voice.
Burt looked at his watch, more alert now. It was about eight in the morning.
“Today is the day of calls. Now the murderer calls me to tell me who will be the next one, and that will be the last straw, because there is going to be a new one, I’m sure.”
Peter remained silent, trying to find something among his memories, but he did not find what he was looking for.
“This time I don’t remember seeing anything about it. I just remember that damned white mask, I almost see his face.”
“If he was one of us and he lived here, once you see his face we would have him, Peter. It is a pity you couldn’t.” Burt was walking to and fro in his sitting room. He was wearing his brown shirt and his sheriff coat, which was shining on that rainy day.
“I need a favor, Burt” Peter insisted from the other side of the line.
“Sure thing, Peter, tell me what you need.”
“I need protection for Ann.”
“Who is Ann?” It was the first time he was not familiar with the name of someone living at Boad Hill.
“Ann German.”
“Oh, yes! She is the daughter of Todd and Donald’s widow.”
“Yes, The almighty Donald Mr. Moneybags.” Peter was about to tell him what Ann had seen that winter day.
“What’s wrong with Ann? Are you in love with her and you can’t even visit her at home?”
“Her brother Denny is my best friend.”
“Yes, I remember seeing him with you several times. You even brought him with you to my office.”
“That’s right. I don’t like to admit it, but I’m still madly in love with her.” He confessed. It was the first time he had said it so openly and he felt free, as if he had taken a load off his shoulders.
He could hear a burst of laughter from the other side of the line.
“And what do you need, Peter?”
“I need protection for her.”
There was a moment of ominous silence. Finally, Burt’s voice broke forth again.
“What are you hiding, Peter? Do you know something I don’t?”
“She has been followed by a man who looks like the killer, the one who attacked her last winter. She is scared. She said that he was a heavyset man, also that he was wearing a raincoat with the hood on and there was something on his face. She just saw a threatening shadow. He has been following her for two or three days. I don’t like the looks of this at all, Burt. I suspect he is the murderer.”
“Consider it done!” Burt answered quickly, with a gleam in his eyes Peter could not see.
“Thank you, Burt.”
But finally it was not necessary to do anything about it, because the murderer was too close to his final work. Fate was going to trap him very soon.
71
Burt was drinking coffee at his office when Ethan came in abruptly, with the serious face that the western bandits always show when they are going to take his henchmen out of prison by killing the sheriff. Charlotte was behind him, as serious as always, but this time she was surrounded by two people he was familiar with: They were Michael and Julia, from the local channel; Julia, with a perky expression in her face, who was holding a microphone with the channel logo, and Michael, who was recording Ethan’s grandstanding entry. Their steps sounded like a herd of horses trotting. They were soaking wet, and they walked straight to the counter, where Lloyd raised his hand to stop them.
“I want to talk to the sheriff!” Ethan was yelling with his nice suit soaking wet.
“You can’t come in like that, even less with a camera.” Lloyd explained, trying to calm him.
“That’s true. You can’t come in like that.” Jack corroborated with a cup of smoky coffee in his hand.
“I want his resignation as sheriff! You are incompetent!” Ethan’s finger was pointing at Burt, who was behind the glass drinking his coffee calmly.
Julia was moving the microphone closer to be able to capture the whole conversation, which was being video recorded by Michael’s camera. It wasn’t a big camera, it was a Sony.
Then Burt left his cup of coffee on his desk. He stood up from his chair slowly, shoving it with a squeak that pierced his office’s air. He walked calmly towards the door, with his felt hat on. He pulled the doorknob and then he leant on the counter with a challenging look.
“Michael, point camera at both of us if you like, but now you should point it at my lips.” Burt said. “Now that all my friends at Boad Hill are watching, I’d like to tell you that we have been working really hard to solve the murders and finding the criminal. Let there be no doubt that we will succeed, but not because of this simpleton.” Burt’s index finger was rubbing Ethan’s nose, while he was shooting his mouth of like a possessed man. Charlotte had stayed behind them.
Burt gargled, right before them, and then he tilted his head to spit on the floor.
“This is what I think about you, suited man” Burt said calmly with a smirk. “And now, if you will excuse me, I have to attend a funeral.”
But he couldn’t finally go to the funeral.
72
Andrew, the school janitor at News Academy, had seen a lump at the campus, which was blurry before him under the pouring rain. He was really sad about what was happening there. He had attended Lillian’s funeral that day, and he had feelings of unjustified guilt and sadness. He had met them all, the girls who had been murdered the previous winter and the girls who were being killed this fall, nine months after the first murders that had terrified the quiet Boad Hill. But he would have never expected to find what he just did when he got closer to the lump. Andrew was a short and chubby man. He was immersed on his own pleasant thoughts while he was listening to the rain falling down against his umbrella and smelling the wet soil scent. But he was shocked now. His eyes turned wide open as he approached and he realized it was the naked body of a girl. His legs started trembling while he was getting closer. She was in the fetal position, but her face had been turned up to the sky and the rain was falling on her open eyes, those eyes that could see nothing now but darkness. The poor girl was floating on her own blood, although the rain had started cleaning it up. Andrew did not bend down, but he recognized her; Of course he did; his heart was racing and he wanted desperately to yell at the sky and cry until he ran out of tears. Andrew was a se
nsitive man and he cried every time he saw a kid kicking a dog and it howled in pain. He was about to burst out crying, but he didn’t. Horror seized upon him, and he stood there, paralyzed, for a long time, feeling his blood running through his veins at a very high speed.
“Audrey” He whispered under the rain, feeling impotent. He could remember the way she gave him a smile every morning when she was going to school. He had not seen her that week, because all classes had been suspended as a precautionary action. And now there she was, almost curled up, with her soft skin under the rain. She was lifeless, her mouth gaping in a rictus of pain.
He started looking for his phone in his pocket slowly. His fingers touched it. He took it out and then he dialed sheriff Burt’s personal number, he had it. He had shared many beers with him at Moll’s bar; too many. His thumb dialed the worst phone call he would have ever wanted to make. That was a phone call that should have never been done. But he had to do it.
After the second tone, Burt’s voice answered cheerfully.
“Andrew! I’m glad to hear your voice, as things have been difficult lately and I didn’t have much time to go to Moll’s bar. What brings you out here?”
“I’m not calling you for that, Burt” He said gravely.
“What’s wrong, Andrew?”
“Audrey Payne is dead.”
Burt frowned on the other side of the line, but Andrew could not see it.
“Fuck! Goddammit! We can’t stop him!” Burt yelled and Andrew could understand him.
“I am grieving, I don’t know what to do” Andrew said with a plaintive voice.
"Just stay there, beside the girl. Where are you?" It seemed a stupid question.
"At the campus, Burt, where else, I am this school janitor, and even though all classes have been cancelled, I must carry out my duties."
"Shit!" Burt exclaimed, and Andrew could hear a strong blow on the table. Burt had made a fist.
"Burt, I am scared. The murderer could be near his victim."
"I don't think so. He always disappears like a fish in water."
"Ok, Burt. What shall I do?" Andrew repeated for the second time; he was speaking passively and sadly, all at the same time.
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