by Paul Seiple
Terrence grabbed Lloyd’s shoulders, restraining him, but the damage was already done. Blood flowed from a deep gash on Lloyd’s forehead down the bridge of his nose.
“I got him. Get a towel,” Terrence said to Kim. “Mr. Lloyd, I need you to calm down, OK?”
The tension gripping Lloyd’s shoulders eased. The sobbing grew louder.
“I...I didn’t mean...It wasn’t me.”
Kim handed the towel to Terrence, who told Lloyd to hold it against his forehead until the paramedics arrived.
“I’m going to stay with you, Mr. Lloyd. Promise me that you won’t hurt yourself again,” Terrence said.
Lloyd sniffled as the white towel against his head developed a pinkish hue before turning dark red.
“Tell me what happened tonight?” Terrence asked as Kim sat beside him.
“It started happening about a little over a year ago,” Lloyd said. “Just before Marion was diagnosed with cancer.”
“What started happening?” Kim asked.
“We started seeing Jimmy again. Marion saw him first. I didn’t believe her. I thought it was desperation. For so long, we prayed for him to come home.”
“Jimmy, your son?” Kim asked.
“Yes. I doubted Marion, and then one afternoon while I was in the backyard having a glass of tea after mowing the lawn, I saw Jimmy. He was wearing the red, blue, and white striped shirt and blue jeans he wore the day he disappeared. He had a mitt and baseball and asked me to toss the ball with him.”
“Did you toss the ball with him?” Terrence asked.
“Yes. For a good fifteen minutes.” Tears flowed into Lloyd’s gray beard. “We laughed, just like we did when he was eight.”
“Are you sure it was Jimmy, Mr. Lloyd?” Kim asked.
“I thought it was, but it wasn’t.”
“Who was it, then?” Terrence asked.
“It was a demon. The same demon that killed Marion and made me shoot my family.”
Lloyd started banging his head again, screaming, “Leave me alone. You’re not Jimmy.”
Terrence jumped from the chair, causing it to fly backwards and hit the wall. He grabbed Lloyd just as MEDIC arrived. Terrence took a step back to stand by Kim as the paramedics attempted to subdue Lloyd.
“Is he on something?” one EMT asked.
“If he’s not, he should be,” Kim said.
“What did you make of that?” Terrence asked, trying to scrub Lloyd’s blood from his tie.
“I think Lloyd’s seen more than his fair share of tragedy and PTSD got the best of him,” Kim said.
“Your father worked on The Silent Six case, right?”
Kim sighed. “Yeah, there are some days he can’t remember his name, but that case still haunts him. He remembers everything about The Silent Six. My dad isn’t a religious man, but he swears Hayes was built from an evil not of this world.”
“Do you believe in demons?” Terrence asked.
“I think demons exist. But not in a religious sense. I have no doubt Lloyd is possessed by demons, but it’s not the kind a movie exorcism can make disappear. How about you?”
Giving up on cleaning the tie, Terrence tossed the paper towel in the trash can. He jerked his tie off and threw it on top of the towel. “I grew up in Alabama. My mother didn’t make enough money for us to live on our own, so we moved in with her three sisters. When I was about twelve or thirteen, one of my mother’s sisters started acting strange. She stopped speaking and dropped about thirty pounds. She only weighed one-ten to begin with; she just stopped eating. After about three weeks, she started screaming at night, waking everyone up. That progressed to her speaking in tongue.” Terrence sat down behind his desk. “My mother was convinced Shirley had the devil in her.”
“Did she?” Kim asked.
“I don’t know. It sounds insane, but my mother had a priest come and sit down with Shirley. I wasn’t allowed to be in the house at the time. After that meeting, Aunt Shirley was fine and remained that way until she passed away a couple years ago.”
“Do you believe in demons?” Kim asked.
“I believe there are things we cannot explain,” Terrence said.
“So you think there is a possibility that Lloyd went Amityville Horror on his family?”
“I’m not sure what I think, but I know that man did not want to murder his family,” Terrence said.
“You think an outside force convinced him to do it? That sounds like a bad eighties movie,” Kim said.
Three
“That’s the last of the boxes,” Charlie Tate said, hopping off the ramp of the moving truck.
“Be careful,” Norma said. “Remember last year when you broke your arm? You hated the cast. Remember the itching?”
Charlie sulked by Norma. “Yes, Mother.”
“Good, now go find your sister. I haven’t seen in her about fifteen minutes. Make sure she didn’t get lost in the house.” Norma laughed. “And if you see your dad, tell him it’s time to make a pizza run.”
“Pepperoni and hamburger?” Charlie asked.
“Sure,” Norma said.
Charlie climbed the stairs of his family’s new home, two at a time, ignoring Norma’s plea to be careful.
“Sara, where are you?” Charlie yelled when he got to the top of the stairs. His words echoed down the long, bare hallway. “Sara, Mom’s getting pizza, and she said if I don’t find you, you’ll have to eat the one with those little fish on it.”
There was no reply.
“I’m not kidding, Sara.”
Charlie was about to turn and head back downstairs when he heard his sister’s voice.
“Don’t go.”
“Sara, where are you?” Charlie asked, creeping down the hallway. He stopped at the last door, seeing his sister sitting on her knees in the middle of the empty room holding a stuffed toy. “People are going to think you’re crazy if you keep talking to that stuffed monkey. “
“I wasn’t talking to Zira, dumbhead.”
“There’s no one else here,” Charlie said.
“That’s ‘cause you ran her off.”
“No one was here, weirdo. Now help me find Dad so we can get some pizza.”
Sara grabbed her stuffed monkey and followed her brother out of the room.
“She really was there, Charlie.”
“OK, I believe you. Dad? Where are you?”
Charlie’s words echoed off the walls as he and Sara walked down the hall, looking in each room for their father, Ben. With no sign of Ben, Charlie started down the stairs, but Sara stopped.
“Daddy?”
Ben was in the laundry room, staring at the ceiling.
“Daddy?”
“Oh hey, peanut,” Ben said.
Charlie pushed by his sister. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”
“Guess not. I was too busy trying to figure out if we have squirrels in the attic. Sorry, sport.” Ben ran his hand over Charlie’s shaggy hair.
“Squirrels?” Sara asked.
“Yeah, I kept hearing shuffling up there,” Ben said.
“Maybe it was your friend,” Charlie said.
“Friend?” Ben asked.
“Sara met a friend.” Charlie put his hand in front of his mouth so Sara couldn’t see him. “You know, little kids and their imaginary friends,” he whispered before taking his hand away from his face. “Come on; Mom’s ordering pizza.”
“All right, kiddos. I’m starving,” Ben said, hugging both children.
“Tell Mom about your new friend,” Charlie said, shoving half a piece of pepperoni pizza into his mouth.
“You’ve met someone already?” Norma asked.
“She was upstairs in my room. She told me it used to be her room too and to be sure the blinds are closed. In the morning, the sun hits my room first. She said she used to hate that,” Sara said.
“There was someone in the house?” Norma asked.
Charlie hid his face from his sister. “Imaginary friend.”
“She hid when Charlie came in the room,” Sara said.
“Well, we will just have to make sure your brother gives you your privacy, won’t we?” Norma winked.
“Speaking of unwanted guests,” Ben said, wiping pizza sauce from his beard. “They didn’t find anything when they inspected the attic, did they?”
“Not that I know of. Everything checked out. Why?” Norma asked.
There was a crash upstairs.
Ben pointed upwards. “I think we have squirrels.”
Four
“Dad, you still awake?”
Sam Strode slumped to left side of his Lazy-Boy. He had dozed off while reading the latest Stephen King novel. Sam always was a sucker for a good horror story, even if he couldn’t remember the way it ended days later. In two weeks, he would turn seventy. Sam started showing symptoms of Alzheimer’s a few years earlier, and while it wasn’t completely robbing his mind, each day, he seemed to forget a little more. But Sam had always been a fighter. He refused to lie down and let the disease erase his memories. He read every day, even if it meant reading the same book twice.
“Dad?”
Kim’s voice startled Sam. He stirred. The book fell to the floor. “In the office.”
Kim placed the Chinese take-out on the kitchen table and slipped the blue heels from her feet before shoving them under the table with her toes. “I brought your favorite,” she said.
“A tall blonde with the stamina of a race horse?”
Kim laughed. “They were all out of those, but I did manage to snag some sweet and sour chicken.”
“And egg rolls?” Sam asked.
“Of course.”
Kim grabbed a couple of plates from the cupboard. Still groggy from the nap, Sam strolled into the kitchen, rubbing his belly through his terrycloth robe. He took a seat at the table. Kim slid a plate of chicken, rice, and two egg rolls in front of him.
“I’m starving,” Sam said.
“Well, eat slow. I don’t want to hear you whine all night about heartburn,” Kim said.
Sam bit an egg roll in half. “Why are you so late getting home? I was starting to wonder if I just imagined having a daughter.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin depicting a red dragon from the restaurant and smiled.
“That’s not funny, Dad.”
“Lighten up, kid. Life is short. Although I may not remember that in the morning.”
“Dad.”
“OK, OK. So why were you so late?”
“We had a homicide late this afternoon.”
“Oh.” Sam put down the egg roll. “Tell me about it.”
Last year, there was one homicide in Mooresville. These murders quadrupled that number. This was a big deal. Kim knew that her father would ask questions she didn’t want to answer if she went into detail about the crime. She tried to deflect his question. “Dad, you’ve been retired for fifteen years. Didn’t you get enough of the job when you worked there?”
Sam shoved the rest of the egg roll into his mouth and chewed. “It’s just a little light dinner talk.”
Kim let a brief chuckle escape before telling her father not to talk with his mouth full.
Sam ignored the scolding. “See, laughter does the soul good.”
Kim rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to stop, are you?”
Sam took bite of another egg roll. “Nope. I mean, I might forget, but...”
Kim cut him off. “All right, some guy shot his whole family.”
Kim silenced her words as abruptly as she blurted them out. She hesitated to talk further about the murders. The Silent Six was such a sore spot for Sam, she didn’t want to risk hurting him in any way, and with the murderer being connected to the case, that was a real possibility.
“You’ve got to give me more than that, honey,” Sam said, pushing his plate to the side. “How many people did he kill?”
“Four.” Kim scooped rice onto her plate, hoping that would be the end of the murder talk.
“Motive?”
Kim exhaled and sat silent for a moment before choosing her words carefully. “We are still working on it. The guy isn’t talking yet.”
The plate of Chinese food caught Sam’s attention again. He cut a piece of chicken and dipped it into sauce. “Well, keep me posted.”
Kim placed her hand on Sam’s. “I will, Dad.”
Kim lay in bed counting the grooves in the ceiling tiles. Something Terrence said earlier wouldn’t allow her to close her eyes. I believe there are things we can’t explain. Conceding that sleep was a lost cause, she got out of bed, slipped on a robe, and went to the kitchen to make hot tea. She placed the kettle on the stove. A faint giggle set the hairs on her arms at attention and sent gooseflesh scattering over her back. She swung around. No one was there. Maybe Dad’s watching television, she thought.
Kim crept down the hall to the living room, praying with every step that Sam had fallen asleep watching television. But the room was pitch black. She flipped the light switch. Nothing.
“What the hell was that?” Kim asked herself.
The kettle whistle went off, causing her to jump and stumble backwards over the couch. She hit the side of her face on a coffee table. Lying on the floor, she rubbed her head and started laughing.
“I’m glad no one saw that,” Kim said, getting to her feet. “How embarrassing.”
Shaking off the throbbing pain in her cheek, Kim poured a cup of tea and sat it on the table.
After a few sips, she checked in on Sam, who was sleeping soundly, before going to the bathroom to inspect the damage. There was a small cut on her cheek, nothing a little concealer couldn’t hide. She laughed again. “I can’t believe I did that,” she said, staring into the mirror. “And you call yourself a cop.”
Kim spent the next fifteen minutes sipping on lukewarm tea and trying to come up with a logical explanation as to why Tommy Lloyd murdered his family. Lloyd didn’t have a record, not even one speeding ticket. He managed a grocery store for forty years. Even with the tragedy of losing his son, he wasn’t the type of person to snap and murder anyone, especially his family. Kim mentally beat herself up looking for an answer. And with all the torture, she still drew a blank.
Kim put the mug in the sink and stepped on the stool she used to reach the high cabinets. She climbed onto the counter and fished her fingers behind the crockpot on the top shelf that she never used and pulled out a small key.
Guilt rattled Kim as she hopped off the counter. This key opened the locked drawer in Sam’s desk. He didn’t keep much in there, but this was where he stored the things most valuable to him — a .38 given to him by his ex-partner as a retirement gift, his wedding ring, Kim’s first school photo, and a journal chronicling The Silent Six case. Sam knew as the disease progressed, he would start misplacing items. These were the things he was determined to never lose.
Kim stared at the key for a few moments. With Sam getting worse, she knew he would eventually misplace the key, so she “borrowed” it one day and had extras made. Not so that she could pry into her father’s things. She knew how much independence meant to him. She made enough to keys to help Sam “find” the key if he ever lost it. Kim never intended to search the drawer, but she had to find out if there was something about Tommy Lloyd that she didn’t know. Something that would make sense out of the murders.
Ignoring the guilt, Kim took the key to Sam’s office and opened the drawer. The journal was underneath the gun and her father’s wedding ring. She held the ring for a moment, remembering her mother, who passed away when Kim was fifteen. Several times, she’d witnessed Sam sitting at his desk just staring at the ring. Now she knew why. Holding it had some sort of power. It released memories that Kim hadn’t thought about in years. She held the ring to her heart and brushed away tears before they had a chance to trickle onto the journal below.
Kim put the ring back in its place, told her mother she loved her, and took the journal. The book was labeled like a file cabinet. Seven sections, like fo
lders, one for each of the children and their families, and one for Elvin Hayes. Curiosity got the best of Kim. She went straight to the Hayes section.
Elvin Hayes had an IQ of 143. He tested Superior on every scale. Hayes was raised by his mother, Alice, until she was murdered by a john in 1965. Hayes never knew his father. It was widely assumed that his father was one of Alice’s clients. In 1970, Hayes went to jail for breaking into a convenience store to steal cigarettes and beer. In jail, he was first introduced to the occult.
Sam had notes jotted on the margin of the page. Kim turned the journal sideways to read them.
Hayes claims to have sold his soul to the devil. In his mind, were the children his way of paying the devil?
Kim turned the page. On December 25, 1974, Hayes was cited for performing a satanic ritual in his cell. Several books on witchcraft were confiscated.
“On Christmas,” Kim said.
Gooseflesh returned. This time, it spread over Kim’s thighs. She thought she heard the giggling again, followed by a banging in the kitchen. She slammed the journal shut and sat with her feet tucked under her butt. Every muscle tensed to the point of aching. There was another bang, followed by another.
Kim summoned the will to investigate. She shoved the journal into her robe pocket and walked into the hall. A light was on in the kitchen. There was a louder crash. The shattering sound echoed down the hallway.
“Son of a bitch.”
“Dad,” Kim said, running toward the light.
Sam was standing in the middle of the kitchen over a broken plate and rice splattered all over the floor.
“I got hungry,” he said.
Kim sighed in relief. “It’s OK. Sit down. I’ll get you a plate.”
Five
“Listen, let’s not sugarcoat this. I understand Mr. Lloyd has seen a lot of tragedy in his life, but yesterday, he was the cause of this unthinkable horror.” District Attorney Judith Margaret Richards held up a photo of twin boys. “Michael and Brian Lloyd. These two children will not get a chance to hit the game-winning home run. They will not graduate high school. And these two…” Judith held up a photo of Will and Molly Lloyd on their wedding day. “…these two will never get the chance to watch their precious angels grow up.” Judith banged her fist against the podium. “I will see that Tommy Lloyd pays for cutting these innocent lives short.”