Devil's Nightmare (Devil's Nightmare, Book 1)

by Pruneda, Robert

Her recorded voice announced, “This is Maria Jimenez with the Texas Department of Family and Protec—”

  I ended the call, assuming she had turned off her phone. I tried calling Riley’s phone number, but he didn’t answer. With neither of them aware that I had arrived, I got out of the car and noticed two security cameras facing downward from the roof. It was only a matter of time before Hadley would have me intercepted and protest my visit. Right on cue, Dr. Jerome Hadley and his henchmen marched outside the front door.

  “You don’t listen very well, do you, Mr. Sanders? Will you require me to file a harassment report with the mayor?”

  I took a deep breath as I felt my blood pressure rise, hoping to calm myself. I really did not like that man. I exhaled slowly and said, with as much calm as I could muster, “Look, I’m sorry for what happened earlier. It’s just that—”

  “I have no interest in your apologies, Detective Sanders. I need you to leave.”

  “Mr. Hadley, I admit I made a mistake, and for that I’m sorry. This case has been very stressful, and—”

  “Then schedule an appointment with a therapist. What you did today is unforgiveable. You interfered with the holy cleansing of a boy who needs spiritual healing, and made a mockery of this facility.”

  I wanted to tell the man that he was interfering with an ongoing investigation, by not allowing me to speak with my only witness to several murders. Instead, I offered, “I was wrong. You have every right to be upset, but I’m asking that you please reconsider. I’m only trying to help Cody.” I paused expecting Mr. Hadley to interrupt me again. He just stood there with arms crossed over his chest. At least he was still listening. “That boy is the only witness we have, and I’ve come across some new evidence that I need to discuss with him.”

  “What form of evidence?”

  “A book. A very old one that I found in his room today. A book which I believe is written in Latin.”

  Mr. Hadley motioned for the security guards to leave, then stepped up to me and asked, “Do you have it with you?”

  I waited until the two guards had gone back inside the building, then pointed to my department-issued vehicle. “It’s on the passenger seat. Help yourself.”

  The director opened the passenger side door, reached inside, and stepped back with the old book in his hand. He examined the exterior, moving his hand over the cover and pages. “Fascinating,” he said, and then handed the book to me. “Your partner and Miss Jimenez are in my office with Cody.”

  “So, does that mean I can stay?”

  “For now,” he said, and headed towards the front entrance.

  †

  Cody sat in one of five office chairs that formed a circle in the middle of Mr. Hadley’s large quarters. Miss Jimenez sat next to Cody, while Detective Riley and I sat in two chairs across from the eleven-year-old orphan. There was another unoccupied chair to his left. Cody glanced at the book as Miss Jimenez, Detective Riley and I carried on with small talk, while we waited for Mr. Hadley to return.

  “So, how long have you been with Family Services?” Detective Riley asked.

  “Fifteen years,” Miss Jimenez answered. “I’ve been in Austin for about four now.”

  “What brought you to Austin?” Riley asked.

  “Saint Hedwig, actually.”

  “Really?” I asked, surprised. “How’s that?”

  Miss Jimenez eyed me with curiosity. “Why does that surprise you? I’d heard a lot of great things about this facility while I was in Amarillo.” I found the way Maria pronounced Amarillo—with a Spanish dialect—very attractive, and I couldn’t hide the slight smile that formed on my mouth. “You find that amusing, Detective?”

  “No, it wasn’t that. I just like the way you pronounced Amarillo.” I flicked my fingers in a forward motion. “Go on. I want to know more about your decision to relocate.”

  Miss Jimenez shifted her weight in her seat, crossed her legs, and placed her hands over her right knee. “As I was saying, I’d heard a lot of great things about Saint Hedwig, such as their wildlife therapy program.” Before I could ask, Miss Jimenez explained, “This program helps the kids cope with their individual social handicaps by getting them involved in the rehabilitation of injured wildlife. Once a week, staff members take the kids to Saint Hedwig Wildlife Preserve, where they learn how to handle injured animals. They assist in various treatments, as well as in preparing meals for the animals. It’s actually quite therapeutic for the kids.”

  “I never knew Saint Hedwig owned a wildlife ranch,” I said. “That’s actually kind of cool.”

  Mr. Hadley entered the office and took a seat next to Cody.

  “I was just telling the detectives about your wildlife therapy program,” Miss Jimenez said to Mr. Hadley.

  “Ah, yes. Saint Hedwig Wildlife Preserve. It’s our own internal naming of the Saint Hedwig Ranch, which, of course, is predominately an animal husbandry operation. We utilize this for those teenagers in our sister facilities where we also have agricultural programs available. Saint Hedwig has multiple youth homes throughout the state. The Austin location is our oldest group home for boys.” Mr. Hadley squeezed Cody’s shoulder, which elicited from Cody a subtle, but contemptuous glare.

  “I appreciate the brief history lesson, but do you mind if we get down to business?” I handed Cody the old book I’d found in his bedroom. “Does this look familiar to you?”

  Cody held the heavy book with both hands and shook his head. He offered to hand the book back to me, but I didn’t accept it. He glanced at Miss Jimenez, and then at Mr. Hadley, before resting the book on his lap.

  “So, it doesn’t belong to you,” I said with narrowed eyes and a slight tilt of my head. “Even though I found it locked up in a chest in your bedroom?”

  Cody shook his head again.

  “No? Then who does it belong to?”

  Cody shrugged with his head poised downward and his eyes upward.

  “I also found a planchette in that chest. Do you have a Ouija board?”

  He shook his head.

  “Ever played with one?”

  He shrugged.

  “You don’t know?” I said, raising my eyebrows.

  Detective Riley asked, “Do you know what a Ouija board is?”

  Cody glanced between Riley and me a few times but didn’t say or do anything.

  I sighed.

  Riley got up to approach Cody. I was about to grab his arm, but then went ahead and let him take the reins. Considering his claims of having had experience with kids as a youth minister, I wanted to see how he would handle Cody.

  Riley leaned down and assured the boy, “You’re not in trouble, Cody. We’re here to help you… Detective Sanders, Miss Jimenez, Mr. Hadley, and me. I know you’ve been through a lot. Man, I can’t even imagine what it feels like, but the only way we can help you is if you tell us—”

  Cody shoved the book off his lap. Riley stepped out of the way, the book landing on the hardwood floor with a loud thump. It opened to a drawing of a pentacle and inverted pentagram on one page, and a chimera on the other.

  Cody’s face reddened. “I’ve never seen it before,” he yelled. “And I don’t know what a Wee-jee board is, either. Okay?”

  So much for Riley using his special youth ministry skills, I thought. “You called your dreams the devil’s nightmare,” I said. “Can you explain that for us?”

  All eyes, except for Cody’s, focused on me.

  “Detective Sanders,” Mr. Hadley addressed me. “Perhaps you should refrain from traveling down this path of questioning.”

  Miss Jimenez gave me an all too familiar glare that told me that she agreed with the director.

  “Just trust me.” I then asked Cody again, “Can you explain what this devil’s nightmare is?”

  “Detective, please,” Mr. Hadley said. “This may not be the opportune time to discuss this.”

  “I disagree.” I knelt in front of Cody. “I’ve been having nightmares, too,” I whispered.
/>   That got his attention. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were wet with tears. He hesitated, but then whimpered, “I have nightmares all the time.”

  “Want to talk about them?” Riley asked in a gentle voice.

  Cody pressed his lips together and his chin quivered. Mr. Hadley reached behind him and grabbed a box of tissues from his desk. He handed it to the boy. Cody pulled a tissue from the box and wiped his eyes and face with it.

  “I only want to talk to Aaron,” he said.

  The director peered at me and reassured Cody, “But we are all here to assist you.”

  “I don’t care,” he said, handing the box of tissues back to Mr. Hadley. “I don’t want to talk to you… or her…” He pointed at Miss Jimenez. “You won’t understand.”

  Miss Jimenez placed her hand on top of his. “Cody—”

  “No!” He pulled his hand away and yelled, “It’s your fault I’m here. I want to go home, and you won’t let me.”

  “That’s not true, Cody,” Miss Jimenez said and shot me a wide-eyed and hinting glare, as if requesting my intervention.

  “It’s not her fault,” I reassured, but I could tell he wasn’t buying it.

  “I know you want to go home, but…” I glanced at Mr. Hadley and Miss Jimenez, and with reluctance, I admitted, “I really do think this is the safest place for you right now.”

  “How can you say that?” Cody whimpered as another tear dropped from his eye and rolled down his cheek. “How you can you say that after what these people did to you?”

  “What?” I’d never told Cody anything about the mental and physical abuse I’d received at Saint Hedwig. I’d never told anybody. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “They used to beat you for not praying,” Cody said. “They used to lock you up in a dark room for days.”

  “That is quite enough, young man!” Mr. Hadley scorned. “No boys have ever been treated with such inhumanity at this facility, and I rebuke you for saying such a thing.”

  “It was probably just something you saw in a dream,” Miss Jimenez said. “No one ever abused him here. Isn’t that right, Aaron?”

  I hesitated before answering, and I considered the woman’s sudden choice to address me by my first name. I chose my words carefully. “If you ever feel like you’re being mistreated, you can always talk to Miss Jimenez or Mr. Hadley.” I put my hand over my chest. “I know how you feel, Cody. I hated this place at first. I just wanted to go home, but I couldn’t.” I placed my index finger and my thumb under Cody’s chin and lifted it up gently. “You’re going to be okay, kiddo… just like I ended up being okay. Just give this place a chance.”

  “Promise?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I promise.”

  Cody sighed and slipped out of his chair to close the book on the floor. He picked it up and handed it to me. “It belongs to…” Cody hesitated, and then sighed. “It belongs to Jackson Smith.”

  I stood with the book in my hand. “This belongs to Jackson?”

  Cody responded with a subtle nod.

  “Did he give it to you?”

  The boy shook his head.

  “No?” We were going in circles. “Then who did?”

  “No one.”

  I set the book on the chair behind me and knelt down. “Listen to me, Cody. This is very important. Did Jackson Smith hurt your mom and dad? Did he hurt your friends?”

  He pursed his lips and broke eye contact.

  “Mr. Hadley, do you mind if Cody and I use your office for a minute?”

  The director frowned, but agreed. Riley followed Cody and me into the office with a chair in his hands.

  “I need to speak with him alone,” I said to Riley, raising my hand out to him. “So, If you don’t mind.”

  Riley gave me a resisting expression, but complied. He left the office and pulled the door closed behind him. The three other adults stood outside and observed through the slightly frosted glass window in the door.”

  “Have a seat, Cody.”

  He sat with his hands rested on his lap. I sat in front of him and leaned forward. “I can tell you want to get something off your chest. So, are you ready to tell me what happened at the cemetery? Was Jackson involved in any way?”

  “No.”

  Certain that he would confirm my suspicion that Jackson Smith had something to do with the deaths, I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “He didn’t?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.” I rested back in the chair. “So, if it wasn’t Jackson, then tell me what happened.”

  “He tried to stop…” Cody’s chin quivered, and with a reddened face he whimpered, “I couldn’t help them.”

  “What were you doing there? Why were you at the cemetery?”

  “I was never there,” he said, his eyes strained and moist with tears.

  “What?” I cocked my head back. “What do you mean you weren’t there? You had…” I wanted to describe the fact that he had Jason Dexter’s and Cullen Chandler’s blood on him, which would place him at the cemetery, but I held my tongue. “The evidence places you there, if not when your friends were attacked, then sometime afterward.”

  “But I wasn’t there,” he stressed.

  I took in a deep breath and scratched my forehead. “Okay, let’s just assume you weren’t there. What about your friends? Do you know what they were doing there?”

  “Austin and Jackson invited us to play with a Oui…” Cody cut himself off and sighed. He lowered his head and rubbed his hands over his thighs.

  “You were going to say Ouija board, weren’t you?”

  “I’m sorry I lied to you,” he mumbled.

  I lifted his chin so he could face me. “You’re scared and under a lot of pressure. I get that. I probably would’ve done the same thing. But telling the truth will make things a lot easier for both of us. Whoever hurt your friends and parents is still out there.”

  “You can’t stop them.”

  “Them?” I raised my eyebrows at Cody’s suggestion that there was more than one perpetrator. “So, more than one person did this? Who are they?”

  Cody’s head drooped. “You can’t stop them,” he said again.

  “Who, Cody? Who are you talking about?”

  “I don’t want to talk anymore.” He got up and said, “I’m sorry.”

  The door swung open. “Are we done here?” Mr. Hadley asked. Cody pushed past him and stood next to Miss Jimenez. “He has a less than jovial appearance. Is there something the matter?”

  “He’ll be fine.” I exited his office into the larger room, and reached for the old book on the floor. “I do have a couple of questions for you, though.”

  “Is that so?” Mr. Hadley said. “And pray tell what that may be.”

  “It’s about this book.” I lifted it to waist level. “You can read Latin, right?”

  “I recognize Latin text when I see it, but if you require an interpreter, Father Henry Marwick would be of far greater assistance. However,” he said, “in light of your previous encounter with him, I am quite confident he will deny you that privilege.”

  A subtle laugh escaped me. “Yeah, I think you’re probably right. I’m sure Padre Henry would rather focus on his commitment to celibacy before helping me with anything.”

  A grimace suddenly appeared on the director’s face.

  “On that note,” I said, “I think I’ll see my way out. I appreciate your time, Mr. Hadley.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Confessions

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  Riley and I stood on the front porch of the Smith residence just outside the Austin city limits. Riley held the old book that Cody had claimed belonged to Jackson. I could see lights inside the house and movement through the lace curtains covering the windows. Riley shined his flashlight at the open garage, which housed a Toyota Camry, but Robert Smith’s BMW was missing. I knocked on the door again.

  Jackson’s little brother finally answered the door and poked his
head around it.

  “Hi, Austin. May I speak with your mother please?”

  “MOOOOM!” he yelled as he shut the door. “There’s a policeman outside.”

  A few moments later, the front porch lit up. Mrs. Smith answered the door in a beige robe covering pink pajamas. She held the top of the robe near her chest. “Is there something I can help you with, Detective?” She spoke with an unwelcoming tone.

  “I’m sorry to bother you at this time of night, Mrs. Smith, but do you mind if we come inside for a moment?”

  She glanced at Riley and then glared at me. “What’s this about?”

  “Is Jackson here?”

  She eyed me with suspicion for a few seconds, and then said, “He’s in his room, studying. Why?”

  “I believe we have something of his.”

  She nodded towards the book in Riley’s hand. “That?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I confirmed. “I found it in Cody Sumner’s bedroom this afternoon.”

  She glared at me, and then, without saying anything further, opened the door all the way and stepped aside. “I guess the Christian thing to do would be to offer you something to drink.”

  “That’s okay,” I said while I sat on a couch in the living room. “We won’t be long.”

  “All right, then,” she said. “I guess I should go fetch Jackson for you. It’ll just be a moment.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  She left, and a moment later Austin strolled into the living room from the kitchen, dangling a bag of popcorn from his fingers.

  “Want some popcorn?” His mouth was full of popped kernels. “We’re gonna watch a movie.”

  “Sure,” Riley accepted. I gave him a subtle wide-eyed glare, in which he responded with: “What? I’m just being polite.”

  “What about you?” Austin asked me. “We’ve got plenty.”

  “No, but thanks anyway.”

  “Ooo-kay. I’ll go get a bowl for your friend.” Austin set the bag of popcorn on the coffee table and then scurried back into the kitchen.

  “This isn’t a social call,” I said to Riley.

  He formed a mischievous smile. “Good cop, bad cop. Remember?”

  I rolled my eyes just as Jackson entered the living room from an adjacent hallway with his mother. I could tell he wasn’t happy to see me, either.