Blackwater

by Paul McParland

  “Everyone’s saying a rotting girl was buried under your house! How did you know? Was it the smell---?”

  Marcus cut Benji off. “Hold on! Where did everyone hear this?”

  “I heard from Jimmy, who heard from Samantha. She told Garrett, who told Laura. Laura heard from Neil as well!”

  “So who started it?”

  “Don't know...is it true though?!”

  “I don't know...I didn't see anything. Soph and I were at your house last night sure! My Mom and Dad said nothing...”

  “Would they though?” Benji shrugged.

  Marcus did not answer. He tapped his foot absentmindedly. He hated this damn town.

  Marcus avoided Mason for the rest of the day, but was still subjected to interrogation by known and unknown students on the gory details of the many women found in the house. The story was altered from person to person – Kalee queried the decapitated head found in their garden by their non-existent dog, whilst Don Jeffers was adamant (and could not be convinced otherwise) that it was a boy, found naked and castrated.

  By the time school ended for the day, Marcus was furious with his mother. She had sent him into the lion’s den unprepared. Marcus hoped that Sophie didn’t have to contend with the same behavior. Judging by her smiling face when he arrived home, there had been no such questioning.

  Thank God, he thought.

  69

  Karen listened to the familiar buurrr of the telephone line, lighting a fresh cigarette as she did so.

  “Time is not the only healer, Dubois’ Healing Medium, how may I help you?” a sultry voice answered.

  “Alison!” Karen cried when she realized the voice was not pre-recorded. “I need you help! It’s Karen Dawson.”

  “Karen, I've been thinking about you...and then I see on the news they found a woman in the house!”

  “Yes! It was Emma! I found her!”

  Karen felt tears suddenly well up and she felt choked. “I thought if we set her free, it would end...but it hasn’t! It’s gotten worse!”

  Alison Dubois did not speak.

  “Alison?!” Karen panicked. She was convinced that the house had cut the line; silencing Karen before killing her mysteriously.

  “I'm here, I'm here...” Alison’s voice was tinny. “I'm thinking...”

  Karen waited. Her leg twitched in anticipation and her heart leapt her in chest. Smoke billowed from the cigarette in great steam engine puffs.

  “If I come, you must promise to do exactly as I say...don’t question it! Understand?”

  “Yes!” Karen barely refrained from shouting.

  “This could be dangerous, okay?”

  “Please, Alison!” Karen was whispering but her voice was desperate and pleading.

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  When Karen saw Alison Dubois’ car pull into the driveway, she ran to the front door and threw it open, looking out at the psychic’s vehicle.

  The woman did not get out of the car.

  Alison Dubois was sitting in her car staring up at the imposing edifice. Karen could see Alison’s face through the windscreen. She looked terrified. Alison looked to Karen and shook her head. Karen frowned and mouthed ‘what?’ to Dubois, but the psychic just shook her head again.

  Karen looked up and down the street. Curtains twitched and neighbors gawked.

  Karen Dawson tread softly out to the psychic’s car. She appeared at the driver’s side window where Dubois rolled it down.

  “What’s the matter?” Karen asked, leaning through the open window.

  “The presence...it’s very strong,” Dubois said. “This is not Emma...I think she was protecting you...with her spirit free...I don't know...such...hatred!”

  “Alison!” Karen pulled the car door open and shook Dubois. “I need you! You're my only hope, I don't know where else to turn...”

  Dubois swallowed hard and nodded.

  Alison got out of the car and had to steady herself against Karen as a flash of weakness overcame her.

  Dubois turned to Karen and whispered, “Clark knows I'm here…”and her crazed eyes moved back to Blackwater Manor.

  Karen helped Alison into the house.

  “Show me where you found Emma,” Dubois said feebly.

  Karen directed her to the alcove by the basement stairs, “Here.”

  Dubois passed her hands over the walls leading to the basement door. She let them fall and rise against their smooth surface. Alison’s hands worked intricately around the splintered hole in the wall.

  She looked inside.

  “This is where he kept her…Emma, I mean?”

  Karen affirmed it with a nod.

  “This is next to the dining room, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, where we were last time,” Karen confirmed.

  “That must be why the connection was so strong; she was right next door!” Dubois laughed humorlessly.

  Dubois let a tear roll down her cheek. She cleared her throat and turned for the basement stairs.

  “I sense…a malevolent spirit!”

  “The basement?”

  Dubois nodded, never removing her glare from the stairs.

  “He…lives…down….there…” Karen croaked.

  The psychic’s arm tensed in Karen’s grip. Karen looked to Dubois for help; none was forthcoming.

  Dubois’ tears fell more swiftly and she was shaking.

  “Alison?!” Karen asked, trying to desperately turn Dubois to face her.

  The psychic clutched her chest in a wide grip. “Call…” Dubois stuttered. “For…help…”

  Karen immediately let go of the woman, causing Dubois to crash to the ground,

  Karen sprinted for the phone and bashed 911 with numb fingers.

  “Hello, Emergency Services. Describe your condition. If unable to answer, make a clicking on the line to indicate you can understand.” The voice on the other line asked.

  Karen did not know what to say. She didn't know if she could say anything!

  “Eh…yes…hello, my name is Karen Dawson. My…” She thought about it. “My friend has collapsed. I think she’s having a heart attack!”

  Karen made Alison Dubois as comfortable as she could but the woman’s labored breathing and refusal to open her eyes, made Karen uneasy. Her mind whispered to her consciousness. It told Karen Dubois would die; something that would only worsen the gossip in Blackwater!

  The Dawsons may not have the money to move, but she would figure something out. She had to.

  When the ambulance arrived, sirens whirring incessantly, the entire street had come to gawk at the scandal in Blackwater.

  Karen raised her hand in greeting. She did not think it would help, but she had to try something; anything to dispel the mounting gossip.

  The paramedics loaded Dubois into the back of the ambulance, an oxygen mask across her pale features.

  “Mhhreemm…” Dubois sounded behind the mask.

  The paramedic leant in close and listened to what she was saying.

  “She wants to talk to you,” he said to Karen.

  Karen started. Shocked, she looked at the paramedic and then the psychic.

  He nodded and Karen approached, climbing into the back of the ambulance.

  She bent over and put her ear to Alison’s mouth.

  “Get out before it’s too late!” Her voice was hoarse.

  Karen stood back and the paramedic placed the oxygen mask over Alison’s face. He gently pushed Karen back and out of the ambulance.

  She stepped down onto the pavement again with tottering feet.

  The ambulance roared off down the street, its sirens a din in the quiet.

  Karen glanced up the street again and noticed that several people had gone back inside, though they still spied from behind their shades.

  Karen got back into the Ford and drove into town. She had to see Bethany Granger right away.

  70

  “I’m sorry Mrs. Dawson but I don’t think we can get it sold any
time soon. It took ten years for your family to buy it,” Bethany Granger was almost cowering behind her desk in the realtor office. Karen had burst into the office in a whirl and demanded that the house be immediately relisted.

  “I don’t care! I need to get out of the house! We can rent. Anything!” Karen pounded her hands flat on the table in emphasis. Her teeth clenched the fourth cigarette of the day.

  Granger shifted uneasily. “I’ll see what I can find.”

  She sat down at her desk and retrieved a folder from a stack on her right, labeled ‘rentals’.

  She opened it and scanned down the contents list she had made for the folder.

  “We have a few available in town. They are quite small, but the four of you could stay there for now…” Granger looked up from the folder.

  “I take them. Give me the addresses!” Karen held her hand out for the sheets.

  Bethany Granger did not move. “Mrs. Dawson, I should contact the landlords first. Many require background checks, and they can take a while. I'm sure you would appreciate it if I spoke to them instead?”

  Karen let her hand fall back to her side. “Okay,” she said, deflated but satisfied.

  “I’ll telephone you this afternoon,” Granger said as Karen trudged back to her car.

  Karen drove to Otter Creek Elementary. It was time for her to collect Sophie. Her daughter’s rosy cheeks bounded towards the car and she hopped inside humming to herself.

  My darling, Soph, Karen thought. You are an angel.

  “Hello, Mommy!” She said, leaning over to Karen’s side of the car to give her a kiss.

  Karen bent down and let her.

  A wet smack sounded against Karen’s cheek.

  “Did you have a good day, honey?” Karen asked

  Sophie nodded. “Uh-huh! We did coloring and we did finger-painting, and Ms. Meadows read us a story!”

  “Oh, that’s nice. What was the story?”

  “Goldilocks and the Three Bears!”

  “Very exciting!” Karen injected enough enthusiasm into her voice to placate her daughter.

  Karen and Sophie drove back to the house; Sophie continued to hum her tune and Karen contemplated the Dawsons’ predicament.

  Karen opened the front door and Sophie ran inside.

  “Mom, you didn't put the alarm on!” She called.

  “Yea,” Karen said distractedly. “I was late in picking you up,” She lied.

  Karen was, again, studying the neighborhood as curtains twitched and whispering sounded.

  From the open door, the telephone rang.

  Karen jogged in and picked up the receiver.

  “Hello?” She said breathlessly. Her heart raced.

  “Mrs. Dawson, it’s Bethany Granger. I have spoken with several of the local landlords...”

  “And?” Karen said impatiently.

  Granger paused. “No one will rent to you...”

  Karen laughed. “What? Why the hell not?”

  “It’s Blackwater House...I tried to explain to them I was phoning on your behalf, and offering my personal reference in lieu of a background check.” Granger intoned.

  “No one would let us rent because we live in Blackwater House?!”

  “This town lives in fear of Blackwater...I’m sorry...the only way I can see you finding somewhere is going outside of town.”

  Karen let the phone drop from her hand. The tinny voice of Bethany Granger emitted from the handset, but Karen ignored it.

  What are we going to do? I can’t take the kids out of school again!

  Karen tapped the switch hook of the phone and listened for the dial tone. She lit a fresh cigarette.

  She then input the number of the law office.

  James picked up on the first ring.

  “Hello, James Dawson, attorney. How may I help?”

  “Jay! It’s me. I need to talk to you!”

  “Kay, I can’t really talk right now. I'm with client---”

  “But Jay, this is more important---”

  71

  “But Jay, this is more important---”

  James stood up, pressed the phone to his chest and mouthed ‘sorry’ to Mr. Morrow. He picked up the cradle and carried the telephone to the corner of the office.

  “Karen! This meeting is very important! I need this job!”

  “James, are you listening?! This isn’t over! Things are still happening!” Karen replied.

  “You told me everything would stop when---” James stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Morrow, an old Yankee farmer, was studying him and evidently eavesdropping on the conversation. “When we found that thing...now you’re telling me that isn’t true?”

  “I thought it was what Emma wanted! Now I'm not so sure...I called a medium, she came out to the house---”

  “You did what? You know those people are cons?!” James’ voice was climbing in volume.

  Mr. Morrow shifted in his seat and James checked himself.

  “Alison isn’t a fake! I saw it with my own eyes! She helped me find Emma!”

  “You let her in my house?!” He seethed.

  “Twice actually!” Karen said indignantly. “She was here today. She suffered a heart attack. Alison told me it’s Clark haunting us now. Emma had been the one protecting us!”

  James dug his nails into his eyebrows. He offered Morrow an unconvincing smile.

  “We’ll talk about this later. I've got to go.” James hung up the phone before she could reply.

  “I'm sorry about that Mr. Morrow. Shall---”

  “Problems at home, eh?” The Yankee said. “Wife giving you trouble, ayuh? Real pissah. Well things on the fahm are wicked hahd, maybe I’ll go elsewheyah...seems like you got enough trouble yahself.” Morrow stood.

  “No, please.” James said, desperately. “We can go over the details quickly. Contracts are easily started---”

  “Nah. Don't trouble yahself, bucko.” Morrow brushed his threadbare Bruins cap off and placed it on his head again.

  Morrow walked to the door. He stopped and turned. Through a cheek full of chaw, he said, “I hope you get yahself sorted. You seem like a hahdo.”

  Morrow then left, leaving James in the center of the office, his arms hung loosely at his sides.

  This was not how he had seen the day going. The Lonergan divorce was killing him and Bluth’s will was a freebie. He needed more than one paying case, even if he could extract a significant amount from the warring couple.

  Anne and George Jones’ wills had been the only straightforward job so far.

  James was not an established attorney in Blackwater. He did not have the necessary backing of the locals. Word of mouth was important in this town, and James was not getting it.

  Despite the obvious pleasantries from living in a quiet Vermont town, it makes an attorney’s job more difficult when he has no criminal clients.

  Blackwater seemed obsessed with the supposed haunting of his home. If Karen was correct, the town was probably avoiding ‘Dawson’s Legal Representatives’ due to his connection with Blackwater House.

  If this continued any longer, their dream life in Blackwater would come to a very abrupt end, with the splintering of the family quickly following.

  72

  “What do you want from me, Kay? You wanna move again?!” James shouted.

  “That would be good, but we can’t!” Karen replied. “No one will buy this damn house!”

  “Oh, so you’ve already contacted the realtor?!”

  “I rang Bethany Granger this afternoon. She told me that the house will never sell! So I asked her to find us somewhere to rent, somewhere we can stay in the meantime...we can’t stay here much longer!”

  “And when are you going to spend more of my money?” James pushed his face right into his wife’s.

  “You would like that, wouldn’t you?! Well, sorry to disappoint, but no one will rent to us ‘cos the entire town thinks we’ll curse them as well!”

  “What the fuck are you talkin’ abo
ut?!” James moved away from Karen. He slapped the wall in frustration as he did so.

  Karen took a cigarette from the pack and lit it.

  “Oh, yea, just light up another fuckin’ cigarette!”

  “No. One. Will. Rent. To. Us!” She shouted in staccato-ed emphasis after her husband.

  “Shut up!” A third voice screamed.

  Karen and James whirled around.

  Marcus was standing in the doorway of the kitchen where they were arguing.

  His face was flush and tears were in his eyes.

  “Sorry, Marcus, you weren’t meant to hear---” Karen moved towards her son.

  “Don't lie to me!” He replied moving away from her.

  “I'm not lying, Marcus! I would never want you to hear us argue!”

  “I don't mean that,” Marcus waved his hand dismissively. “The body in the wall!”

  Karen looked shocked at James. “You told him?!”

  “I didn't!” James said firmly. He turned to Marcus. “How did you hear about it, son?”

  “School,” Marcus said simply. “Everyone was talking about it! Questions from people I don't even know!”

  Marcus affected a mocking tone, “‘Oh, did you see the severed head?’, ‘Was his dick eaten by your dog?’” Marcus voice returned to normal, if not slightly shaky. “And I didn't even know what anyone was talking about! I couldn’t tell them the actual truth!”

  “It is not something I should be telling my adolescent son, and certainly not something that anyone else should tell their child either!” James pointed.

  “And yet they do!” Marcus shouted.

  “Keep your voice down!” Karen whispered. “Sophie still doesn’t know, does she?” She looked above them towards Sophie’s room.

  Marcus shook his head.

  “Then let’s keep it that way.” And she placed a finger to her lips.

  “What do you propose, then?” James said, ignoring Marcus again and seething at his wife.

  “Your Mom and Dad. I want the kids to go stay with them.”

  “Don't be ridiculous!” James spat. “What about their schooling?”