THE MAINE NEMESIS
A Skyler Moore Thriller
R. Scott Wallis
Copyright © 2019 by R. Scott Wallis
First Edition
This is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, places, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.
Cover photo by IntelWond / stock.adobe.com
Author photo by Cedric Terrell / cedricterrell.com
For Dale
PROLOGUE
During one typically mild Maine summer, slightly more than a few decades ago, while the United States of America was celebrating the anniversary of its independence from England, fifth-grader Skyler Elizabeth Moore was celebrating her freedom from being the only little girl on her street. While she got along fine with most of the kids in her class, she’d not yet made a best friend—besides her beloved Raggedy Ann doll—so when Brenda Braxton, along with her brother and aunt, moved into the white clapboard house diagonally across the street, Skyler made it her mission to show the new girl around their tiny New England town in order to win her friendship.
There were only a handful of houses on the street and most of them were only used in the summer, making for a very sleepy, almost ghost town-like existence for a pre-teen girl during the school year. Skyler would stare into the houses’ dark windows as she walked to school, trying to catch a glimpse of something moving inside. A forgotten cat. A caretaker. Even a ghost. She believed in them and was certain that big old empty houses were where they lived.
When the biting winter winds that came off the ocean turned soothingly cool and the town sprung back to life after Memorial Day, Skyler would get her hopes up that a new family—with kids her age—would magically appear on the block. Specifically, a girl. So, when she finally spotted one that early July day, she wasted no time.
The moving truck was still in front of the house on the corner, and even though her mother told her to wait until the family settled in, Skyler marched herself to the open door and stepped into the front hall. She scooted to the left to avoid getting hit by a couch that two large men lifted through the doorway and then she followed them into the living room.
There she was. A girl her own age, sitting on a moving box, eating a banana.
“My mom would be very proud,” she said when she noticed Skyler. “She was always pushing fruit on me.”
“I love bananas,” Skyler lied as she moved closer. “I’m Skyler. I live across the street.”
“I’m Brenda. And I guess I live here now.”
“Welcome to Wabanaki.”
“Such a weird name for a town.”
“It’s named after an Indian tribe. American Indian, not India Indian.”
“I’ll never be able to spell it.”
“I’m good at spelling. It’s easy. W.A.B.A.N.A.K.I. Wabanaki. Almost like banana with all the A’s after the letters.”
“I guess. Did you just let yourself in?”
“I did. Is that okay with your mother?”
“I’m sure she doesn’t care. I’m glad you came in.”
“Me, too.” Skyler couldn’t stop smiling. “Me, too.”
Skyler noticed that Brenda was a little on the heavy side with a roll of fat around her middle that peeked out between her shirt and shorts, but it didn’t faze her. Brenda had a hearty, infectious laugh and positive attitude despite what Skyler would come to understand was an arduous childhood. Her homework could have been eaten by the dog, or the vacation she was looking forward to could have been cancelled at the last minute, and she’d always manage to find the silver lining. Brenda’s attitude would balance well with Skyler’s sometimes dark outlook on life.
Skyler didn’t know it at the time, but Brenda’s father went missing in action during some U.S. military action somewhere on the other side of the world and her distraught mother had been committed to a mental asylum. Her father’s sister took charge of the children and moved them from a bustling, unkempt New York City (at the time) to the more idyllic world that was sleepy Wabanaki, Maine.
For Skyler, the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. The girls had the rest of the summer to play outside, have sleepovers, and get to know each other before the school year would begin. And they did just that. Sometime between building a girls-only tree house and starting a weekly lemonade stand, they’d become blood-sisters, cutting their index fingers and pressing them together to form a lifetime bond. It had been Brenda’s idea. She’d seen her brother do it with his best friend, so it wasn’t totally insane.
“It seems insane to me,” Skyler said. “But I’ll do it. If you want me to.”
“I don’t want you to do anything that would make you feel bad. And I know blood makes you scream and cry.”
“That was just that one time, Brenda, and it was only because that stupid treehouse nail went right through my leg. I’m not afraid of blood. I’m going to be a veterinarian. I’m going to have to get used to it.”
“I’m going to be a cook, I think,” Brenda said. “So, if any of your animals die, you let me know.”
“You are not cooking dead animals, Brenda!”
“What do you think steak and pork chops and hamburgers are? Dead animals.”
“But they aren’t dogs and cats. I’m going to care for puppies and kitties.”
“Veterinarians also take care of cows and pigs and horses and stuff, you know.”
“Well, maybe. But if they die—which they won’t, because I am going to go to a very good veterinarian school—I’m not letting you cook them. There will be a pet cemetery in the back behind my pet hospital.”
“That seems wrong.”
“It does, you’re right,” Skyler said thoughtfully. “Well, we’ll get your stupid brother to take the dead animals away somewhere. But, I’m serious, Brenda, the animals are not going to die. That’s why I’m going to be a veterinarian, to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Everything dies. My dad died. My hamster died. And our first dog died when he got run over by the trash truck.”
“That’s horrible. If I was older and if I had been there, I would have saved him.”
“She was a she and her head was smooshed into the road and they had to use a bunch of shovels to clean it up.”
“That’s so gross.”
“It was.”
“And sad,” Skyler said. “I’m super sorry.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t really see that happen. Actually, I don’t think that’s what happened to her. I made it up. I think she ran away.”
“That’s sad, too.”
“Not as sad as my dad dying,” Brenda said. “At least, we think he’s dead. He never came back.”
“Maybe he’s with your dog somewhere.”
“Maybe.”
“With your mom, maybe?”
“Well, that would just make me mad.” Brenda dug her fingernail into the bottom of her sneaker.
“Why?” Skyler asked.
“Because if they’re all together somewhere else, why are my brother and me here in Wabanaki without them?”
“Oh,” Skyler said softly.
“That would mean that they don’t love us.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But that’s what it would mean. And I don’t want to believe that.”
“Don’t. It’s not true.”
Brenda became uncharacteristically quiet for a few moments making Skyler a little uncomfortable.
“Maybe we should do it now.”
Brenda brightened when she remembered the task at hand. She pulled out her brother’s Swiss Army pocketknife. “Ready?�
��
“I am,” Skyler said confidently, even though she was trembling. “Because we’re going to be sisters forever.”
“That’s the idea. I don’t want to have to play with just my brother for the rest of my life.”
Brenda took Skyler’s hand in hers, turned it over so that her palm was facing up, and pressed the knife into her finger without hesitation. Skyler’s eyes widened as she watched a small bubble of scarlet red blood form. She looked into Brenda’s eyes. She smiled, cut her own finger, and they pressed them together while they screamed and laughed at the same time.
“There,” Brenda said when she was able to calm herself, “blood sisters.”
“Blood sisters,” Skyler echoed. “Can we go clean these cuts now? I don’t want to get tetanus.”
“What is tetanus?”
“I don’t know, but it’s something awful and if you get it inside you, you die.”
“I don’t want to die.”
“Me either. I have a lot of animals to save.”
“And I have a lot to cook!”
The girls took off to find water, soap, and Band-Aids, and to call it a night. The sun was setting and it was getting dark, the sign that another summer adventure must come to an end. But they’d have lots more. They ensured that with blood.
And an infection.
Brenda’s cut got infected, but it wasn’t tetanus…and she didn’t die.
ONE
Three empty bottles of Jack Daniel’s sat on the coffee table surrounded by half a dozen Dunkin’ Donuts cups, an overloaded ashtray, a pile of X-Men comic books, a well-worn videogame controller, a salt shaker shaped like a lobster claw, and a warm, hard-boiled egg.
Leonard Little, wearing nothing but yesterday’s boxer shorts, sprinkled some salt onto the egg and popped it into his mouth, whole. It was gone in seconds and joined the two others already in his gut.
He farted into the twenty-year-old couch. His senior Great Dane, who had been napping nearby despite the ridiculously high volume coming from The Price is Right, was startled by the sound. The dog sniffed at the air.
Of course, that caused Leonard to erupt in laughter.
“Sorry, old buddy,” he managed, and then broke into a coughing fit. The dog cocked his head. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”
He lit a cigarette and searched between the cushions for the remote. He lowered the volume on the television and glanced out the window. He saw his father’s pickup truck pull into the gravel driveway and the fright of it made him bolt upright.
“Motherfucking duck brains.” He stabbed out the cigarette and found his jeans in a crumpled ball on the floor near his feet. He managed to get into them, checked his hair in a dusty mirror over the piano, and then met his father on the front porch before the man could enter Leonard’s late grandmother’s once immaculate house.
“What’s happening, Pop?” Leonard asked the man before he could climb the front steps.
Leonard’s father put his hands on his hips and sighed deeply. He was most certainly his son’s father; they were almost twins, if you ignored the older man’s well-earned lines that cut across and down the tough brown of his face, and the extra thirty pounds around his middle.
“I’m here to ask you that question, Leonard,” he said. “Why the hell didn’t you show up for work today? You realize that it’s almost Noon? No call? No text?”
“You don’t text, Dad.”
“I can text, smart ass,” he spit as his face reddened.
Leonard laughed despite himself.
“You don’t look sick to me so I expect you to get in that house, take a shower, get into your goddamn uniform, and report to duty.” He spun on his heel to start toward his truck, and then stopped. He turned slowly around and squinted his eyes at the front window.
“Jesus Christ in heaven, Leonard,” he said, pointing at the house. “Your dog is licking the front window.”
Leonard looked over his shoulder then back at his father. “He does that when he wants to go out.”
“It’s disgusting.” He climbed the steps and pushed by his son. “I want a look inside.”
Leonard exhaled deeply, waited a few moments to see if the man would start screaming, then reluctantly joined his father inside the house.
Sheriff Maynard Little was on his knees inspecting the slobber all over the bottom half of one of the front windows. He marveled at the state of the once pristine floors in the house his mother used to treat like a palace. There were enormous dust bunnies lining the baseboards, dog hair everywhere, and countless piles of crap strewn about.
“I’m ashamed of you, son,” Sheriff Little said. He walked the dog to the back door and let him out. “This place is a shithole. My mother would drop dead if she saw the way that you’re treating her house.”
“I guess she might, yeah, if she weren’t already gone.”
“Yes, thank you for reminding me. Where is your wife, Leonard? I can’t imagine that she puts up with this.” The Sheriff gestured around the room like an angry game show model.
Leonard had to bite into his lip to keep from laughing out loud. He glanced out the back door to check on the dog, then looked at his father sheepishly.
“Where is Patty?”
“I’m not quite sure, Dad. She left to go to work and she just didn’t come back.”
“When was this?”
“About three weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry, what?! Three weeks and she hasn’t called?”
“I have not heard a peep out of her,” Leonard said.
“You’re a class-A dumbass, you know that? Let the dog in, get changed, and meet me down at the Chowder House. They’re doing roadwork at the corner there and we need to direct traffic. And maybe we’ll start asking around about Patty. Have you asked anyone anything?”
“I figured she needed some space. I haven’t started an official investigation, if that’s what you mean.”
“I guess I’m just a little dumbfounded that you seem so blasé about this. We’re talking about your wife here. If your mother went missing for as much as a few hours, I’d be scouring the streets.”
“Patty and I have a different kind of relationship.”
“Apparently,” the Sheriff said. He started for the door, “I can’t believe another one left you.”
“Another one? What does that mean? I left the first two.”
“You keep telling yourself that. We have traffic to direct.”
“Another thrilling day in the big city.”
The Sheriff stuck an index finger in his son’s face. “You’re lucky…damned lucky…that the good people of Wabanaki have graciously looked beyond all your bullshittery and allow you to work for them.”
“Pop, Bullshittery is not a word.”
“You know you are paid with tax dollars, right? The people of this town are your ultimate bosses. And they must all think I’m insane to allow you to wear a badge.”
“Yeah, but you don’t allow me to have a gun. And people notice that kind of thing.”
“That’s right! Because I don’t trust you not to shoot the television set when you lose a videogame or shoot one of your wives when she’s five minutes late getting dinner on the table! Get in the shower.”
Leonard let the dog back into the house.
The Sheriff jabbed the finger at his son again. “You know that the only reason you get away with so much crap, the reason you get so many ladies, and the reason people forgive you so often in this town is because you look like you just stepped out of a frickin’ fashion magazine. But it doesn’t work on me.”
His father suddenly turned away and headed to the front door. He paused for a moment to check out his own image in the mirror over the piano, sighed, then abruptly left the house and slammed the front door. Leonard flopped on the couch and lit a cigarette.
“Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.” He nearly choked on his own hysterical laughter. Leonard pet the dog for a few moments then padded off to the bathroom and t
urned on the shower faucet. “Damn it. Why didn’t I think of that when he was still here?”
* * *
Sheriff Maynard Little couldn’t get the town council to appropriate enough money for police cars, so everyone on the force drove their own vehicles and were reimbursed for gas and general wear and tear. He was lucky the council agreed to spring for the magnetic strobe lights they attach to their roofs during an emergency or a traffic stop. As he drove his hunk of a 12-year old Ford F-150 back into town, the Sheriff marveled at a shiny new Ford Mustang going in the opposite direction. That was the car he’d get if he could. It was on his wish list. Along with new uniforms—he’d always hated the chocolate brown ones that made him feel like he was part of a corny 1970’s television show like CHiPS.
And he wished his son would wake the fuck up and act like the man Maynard had believed he raised.
He blamed himself. And that always got him right in the pit of his stomach. It physically hurt to think that he created something so selfish and slothful. Leonard was bright and good-looking and funny and he had been a star high school athlete. The Sheriff and his former wife were always told that he was an absolute copy of his father. A spitting image, they’d always say. But then the boy went and got married before college—the first of three wives in a span of ten years—and he lost all real ambition. Leonard wasn’t interested in going to college, didn’t want a “sit down job,” didn’t want to leave Wabanaki, and pretty much failed at every job he was ever offered.
It wasn’t until the Sheriff threw a brown uniform at him and put him to work on the force that something stuck. He certainly wasn’t the best cop in town, but at least he wasn’t digging ditches on the side of the…
The truck suddenly bounced hard, knocking the Sheriff’s head into the roof. He slammed on the brakes and pulled over right in front of Dale’s Farm Fresh farm stand. He wasn’t aware of a pothole along Route 17.
He got out of the truck and looked over at the farm stand’s proprietor, an old high school friend and occasional fishing buddy. They never bothered with pleasantries. “What the fuck?”
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