He walked to his car, and saw the glow of lights in the sky around the town. He realized how determined those welcoming lights made him feel. The part that mystified him the most; how the girl managed to slip right through his fingers. She couldn't have walked in her condition, and with no blood trail to follow, he had no idea where she'd gone, or how.
There was no way for him to explain any of this night's events without the evidence—Jennifer. Took out the sentence. It couldn’t happen this way, not now, just when he penetrated deeper into finding out the truth. One way or another, Tom vowed to keep this under wraps within the department until he knew the facts of her disappearance, so he could explain it to her furious parents without having doubt.
Driving down the country road with the window rolled down, the cold wind blew against his tired, sweaty face. It smelled like snow. Instead of taking the main road as usual, he decided to take the back roads into town. Ensconced behind the wheel, he thought better without the normal distractions that overpowered his train of thought. His tough outer shell may appear seriously cracked, but he lived for the thrill of the hunt. Without that, his life didn’t exist. If he didn't solve these crimes, his career deemed worthless.
Getting closer to town, the smell of moldy vegetation and cow dung perfumed the air. Dairy farms lined both sides of the road and field after field of stark cornstalks lay fallow. He loved everything about this town, so proud to protect it, and never once considered leaving Old Creek, Wisconsin.
***
Lying in a cold dank room, Jennifer awoke with a massive headache thumping across the back of her head. Her ribs felt numb and swollen and she couldn’t move without agony rocketing to her brain. She lay on her back, turning only her aching head, and saw a shadow on the wall to the left of her. It looked like someone tall and rotund, but she couldn't see his face. As she moaned from the pain, she heard footsteps coming closer to her. Scared to see who it was, she closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep.
“I’m assuming you’re awake,” the voice asked.
As the voice echoed in the space, Jennifer knew who it was. She opened her eyes wide to see the priest standing over her, smiling like he did as if he greeted her on Sunday morning.
“Father Donovan!” she cried.
“Now you relax, Jennifer, and I’ll get you something for that nasty bump on your head.” He smiled reassuringly.
Relieved to see him, she rested more comfortably without struggling to escape. She looked around at her surroundings: concrete walls, a mattress on the floor, one chair over by a wooden door. Lit by a single candle sitting by her head, the room bathed in flickering shadows. Where did he take her? She threw off the disgustingly tattered blanket and winced in pain, taking note of the strange floor-length white cotton gown she wore. Where did this come from? She struggled to sit up. Tape secured her right arm across her waist, and she looked at it curiously.
Father Donavan came through an arched doorway off to one side with an ice pack in his hand, and wrapped a filthy towel around the bag before placing it on her head. “Now, that should feel much better,” he said, making her lie back down and tucking the blanket around her. “You stay in the bed and get some rest. You'll need it.”
“How did I get here, Father?” she asked.
“I found you bleeding and unconscious at the gates of the cemetery, so I picked you up and brought you here. Do you remember what you were doing out there?”
She couldn't tell him any more than she already had without risking his life. She squinted. Her nose crinkled up, and she answered faintly. “I'm…I'm not sure how I got there. The only thing I re-remember is t-trying to run from something toward the dirt road. S-somebody was chasing me.” Trying to think of a good line to feed him, Jennifer stumbled over her words, hoping to cover up the truth. “I…I don’t remember anything. It could have been a bad dream.” She looked at him and knew Father Donovan saw right through her.
Father Donovan loomed over her. “This is between you and me and no one else. Tell me the truth; you can trust me,” he assured her with a smile.
“Well, remember what I told you the other day about Claire and the little girl? I made it up to get some attention. I’m sorry,” she blurted, lying through her teeth again. “I never saw Claire or anyone else, I promise.” She had to protect him from Maddie Ann's wrath. She had to fix the danger she put him in.
He smiled, then the look on his face changed and he frowned deeply. “Jennifer, Jennifer, Jennifer. You're lying again. The reason I know you’re not telling me the truth is because Claire came to me yesterday morning. And do you know why? Because—say it with me—Maddie Ann owns you, doesn’t she? I was wondering when she was going to come for you, and I figured it was only a matter of time,” he said grinning from ear to ear. His beady little black eyes beneath bushy gray eyebrows burned into Jennifer’s face. “You can put up with visits from me until she arrives.”
Why did he suddenly look so menacing? Jennifer couldn’t believe that Father Donovan had something to do with Maddie Ann and her devilish acts. For as long as she'd known him, she never knew he had another side, a different avocation. Helpful and concerned for the people of his church and the community, she never guessed he could look so sinister. “Why, Father Donovan? Why would you want to do this? You have no reason to keep me here.”
Harshly, he replied, “I see all you slutty little girls running around with no guidance, no respect for society's rules. You don’t care about anything but being shiftless and causing havoc in our peaceful little town. There is no discipline, no morality among you young people. My great-aunt never got the chance to live a full life, because it ended so suddenly, so stupidly, because of young girls like you.”
Without warning, his face took on a different shape—an evil skeletal graphic with melted flesh stretched over his bones, and it terrified her. She couldn't make up her muddled mind whether to ask questions or stay quiet. Stunned, Jennifer needed to ask him one question. “Who was your great-aunt?” she screeched, already suspecting what his answer would be.
Glaring straight into her eyes, he said, “Maddie Ann Watson was her name. Her older brother, Seth, was my grandfather.”
Jennifer nodded, suddenly sick to her stomach. Paralyzed with fear, panic surged through her entire body.
Father Donovan didn’t answer. He stood like a zombie, muttering Latin under his breath. Concerned for her own life, she had to know why she was so important to these demons.
“Tell me, Priest—are you going to kill me? I think I deserve to know the truth, don't you? Why me?” Angry now, Jennifer felt as though this was an arguable question. She considered the lies he told her previously and wondered what would make the difference if he told her the truth now. She knew he’d treat her horribly or kill her. After all, the other demons had merely tortured and maimed her, so why not Donovan doing away with her instead and presenting her body as a trophy?
He shook his head. “Ah…yes, your death. But I won't be the one to relieve you of your life. That's up to Maddie Ann. You'll find out your fate soon enough, but for now, you can rest here. I wouldn’t want to trouble you with too many worries yet. You need your strength above all, and if you hope to learn the full details of your coming journey in some misguided hope of finding peace, you won't learn them from me. Maddie Ann lives on in the minds and hearts of us all, and she won't be denied her full retribution.”
There’d be no finding of peace whether he were to keep knowledge of her fate from her or not. Would anyone find peace in knowing of his or her imminent death? Her search for answers remained in the back of her mind as she waited for her executioner to arrive.
“I have to leave now. Eat some of this and get some sleep.”
He set a bowl of tepid stew near her head he prepared in the church’s kitchen. Then he blew out the candle sitting next to the bed, and left Jennifer surrounded in total darkness. Now that he had her in his clutches, she knew her chances for survival looked bleak. Maddie Ann would ha
ve her pound of flesh.
Suddenly famished, Jennifer wolfed down the greasy disgusting mixture in the bowl using the fingers of her left hand. Before sinking into an exhausted sleep, she wondered how she’d get out of this one. Claire couldn’t come to her rescue, so she’d have to save herself.
***
An hour later, Tom stormed into the station and spotted Kyle talking with Jake. Curious about what they found in the reports, he slouched over to the table where papers lay scattered about.
“I thought you said you were going home for some shut eye?” Tom fingered some photographs of the crime scene.
“I decided to swing back by to pick up the file so I could read it thoroughly before I went home, and that’s when I bumped into Kyle and we decided to go over it together,” Jake replied.
“Yeah, me too. After you left, I was intending to go straight home, but I wanted to see a photo of the Cravens girl first.”
Jake's eyes widened. He turned to Tom, and shushed him.
“Hey, are you talking about Steve and Cindy Cravens' daughter, Jennifer?” Kyle blurted.
“Yeah, she’s the one. What can you tell me about her?” Tom questioned, ignoring Jake.
“Well, as you know, they put me on the case back in October. Anyway, that poor child looked like she had been to Hell and back lying in the hospital bed. When they found her, she was deathly sick, hadn’t eaten in days, and pale as a ghost. She couldn’t remember anything that happened, either. Amnesia, the doc said. I went out to their house on a couple of occasions, and still no memories, so they said they’d get back to me when she was better,” Kyle reported. “I haven't been out there in a couple of days.”
“So I take it you know nothing about her other, more recent disappearance?”
“No, sir, I don't,” Kyle said, looking rather confused.
Tom insisted Kyle tell him everything there was to know about the investigation from the beginning. Steadfast, he refused to give until a picture of the entire case took shape in his mind.
“When did they report her missing again?” Kyle asked when he'd finished telling him everything he knew.
Jake interrupted as he cut into the conversation. “Two days ago. She walked away from the hospital after her suicide attempt. And if you take a look at these photos, you will understand why.”
Tom reached out to take the pictures. He couldn't help but suck in his breath. He stared mesmerized at the photos of a once-beautiful, now haggard young woman with long dark hair, big black circles under her eyes and scars traversing her arms.
“That’s her! She’s the young lady I found tonight. Oh, good God, it was her, lying on the ground so hurt and fragile.”
“You found her?” Kyle asked, astonished.
Jake glared at Tom, and then motioned for him to step into Tom's office. He followed, noticing the red flush across Jake's cheeks.
“Will you excuse us for a moment, Kyle?” Tom asked.
Tom walked into his office and shut the door. He got right up in Jake’s face. Jake was furious.
“What are you doing, man? You better than anyone knows that without a body, there’s no way for you to back up your claims. You can't go around spouting this nonsense. There was nobody there, Tommy. You're hallucinating. The lieutenant is going to have a field day with this one. You spend half the night worrying and talking to yourself, and then you see young girls lying all over the place. What the hell are you trying to do, have the captain pull you from the case, or worse yet, fired?”
Jake's warning rubbed him the wrong way, and Tom lashed back. “Listen, you can suck the lieutenant's johnson for all I care. I know what I saw. Who in the hell do you think you're talking to? Jennifer Cravens was out there half dead tonight. I couldn't give a rat’s butt if you believe it, but I know she was there.”
Giving him a skeptical eye, Jake mumbled, “Then prove it.”
Tom rubbed at his head like he did when his temper flared up, and said evenly, “I don’t have to prove a damn thing to you. Believe it, Jake, she was there, and I will shove it down your throat the moment I PROVE you wrong.”
As Tom turned to leave, he pointed at his backside and smiled.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The alarm clock blared through the quiet room, jerking Barb out of her sleep. When Mike didn't stir, she reached out and shoved him none too gently. “Turn that damn thing off, will ya?” she complained.
Mike rolled over and whacked the 'off' button on the clock radio. “Hey, do me a big favor. Go down and make me a pot of coffee before I leave,” he begged, yawning and stretching.
With a huge exaggerated sigh, Barbara mumbled, “Great, I never get to sleep in anymore, because it’s Barbara do this, and Barbara, do that.”
She climbed out of bed, put on her slippers and yanked on her robe to go downstairs. She exaggerated a wide-armed yawn on the way to the bathroom to grab Mike’s attention, but he didn’t notice. Barb complained under her breath, cussing as she descended the stairs to the kitchen. She grabbed for the glass carafe, filled it with water, and poured it in the coffeemaker. Opening the mini blinds to let some light in, she noticed a black sedan with dark-shaded windows parked across the street right at the end of her driveway. She sat down and watched the car.
Thirty minutes later, Barb heard Mike’s footsteps as he darted down the stairs, fully dressed. She had a hot cup of coffee waiting for him on the table next to hers.
“Hey, what’s so interesting this time of morning that you have to stare out the window? Are you being paranoid again?”
“There's a strange car parked across the street and for a minute there, I swear I saw a man stare right at me,” she said, pointing. “He had binoculars.”
Mike leaned over her to look. “Well, he’s gone, so it obviously was nothing. Maybe he was waiting to pick up a neighbor or something,” he replied, pouring sugar into his coffee mug. He worried about his wife. Barb withdrew from reality most of the time, and blamed others for her current state of affairs. If one thing appeared contrary to her liking, she'd swear something or someone stalked her. She taken to sleeping all day, and the house looked a total mess, with clothes laying about the floors and the dishes pilled high in and around the sink. Her paranoia became a major problem.
“Honey, don't do this to yourself. Close those blinds. You see stalkers behind every bush.”
“Yeah, maybe. You know, though, I'm usually right when others tell me I’m wrong. I was right about Claire, and I'm right about Jennifer's culpability in her death. I'm not just some silly, grief-stricken woman. I still have a brain.” She glared at him, as if daring him to disagree, a constant habit of hers. Barbara refused to step away from starting an argument or keeping an old one going.
Mike drank his coffee, poured a second cup into his travel mug then kissed her good-bye.
“Have a good day, honey,” she yelled as he walked out the garage door to his car.
Mike planted a fixed grin on his face and hollered back, “You, too.”
Barb poured herself another cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. She started to wonder if reporting everything about Claire to the police made her situation better. She’d said nothing to Mike yet about her statement at the police station; she feared what he might do. It was too late to change her story now, and giving them the samples of Claire’s hair without having an attorney present put her in way over her head. Nervously she bit on her fingernails as her stomach burned with anxiety. How did she bring herself to this point in her life?
She dreaded the police showing up at her door one day soon. Not only to search everything she owned, but her greatest fear; endless questions. She’d break under that stress.
The time had finally come when Barbara could blame it all on Jennifer Cravens. Maybe she'd get away with it or perhaps it might backfire, pointing the guilt toward her. She needed to give much thought about this, and it wouldn’t disappear without a heavy price.
She decided to go out today. When she set her mi
nd to it, she had no problem pulling herself together. She had to now. She looked around the messy house, but couldn't bring herself to do anything about it. With nothing on her schedule for the day, Barbara decided to dress and go out to lunch. She dolled herself up and put on her best black slacks and a black cashmere sweater. This helped her grieving process.
As she clipped on her pearl earrings, she decided to go to the Villa Vista Country Club where she and Mike had a membership there for over five years. Feeling spiffy and glamorous for the first time in weeks, she wanted to mingle with people again. Thanksgiving was only days away, and she hoped to snag an invitation to dinner. She vowed not to cook a turkey this year.
As she walked out the door and locked up as usual, she noticed the same car sitting at the end of her driveway once again. This time, she knew the driver of the car didn’t have any dealings with the neighbor across the way—he quested after her. Pretending to ignore this person, she got in her car and started to back out, glancing into the rearview mirror.
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