When Time Was

by BobA. Troutt

  *****

  When Time Was

  Spin the Bottle

  It was early in the evening in Hawkins County, Missouri when the dry lightning streaked randomly against the black night sky. You could see the lightning spread as it popped, sizzled and crackled. The deep thunder echoed in the darkness. As the silence fell, you could hear the wind driving big drops of rain hard and fast upon the earth.

  It was one o’clock a.m. in 1960; college students from Blackford College in Flatt Ridge Fall, Missouri were hosting a party in a nearby two-story house. The house was packed with students inside and out. They were downstairs, upstairs and even on the balcony. The house was infested with drinking, smoking, dancing, drugs and sexual activity. The party had started around seven o’clock. There was plenty of food and drink; roasted pig, hamburgers, kegs of beer, hot dogs, wine and finger foods galore. It was spring break and everyone was celebrating because they knew it wouldn’t be too long after the break that school would be out for the summer. There were several who had passed out, two boys were fighting over a girl and two girls were fighting over a boy. A lot of the students were gathered around playing spin the bottle; kissing whoever the bottle chose for them.

  It was about two-thirty when one of the girls left the party and headed for home. She had just started classes in the spring semester; she was new at Blackford and didn’t know that many people at the party. She had met some of them before, but didn’t really know them. It was raining hard when her car stalled not too far down the road from the party. The rain was beating down hard, visibility was almost impossible as she got out to check under the hood, but she couldn’t see what was wrong. When she looked up she noticed a van had stopped beside the road and turned off their headlights. She started waving her arms back and forth to get their attention. She knew someone was in the van but she couldn’t tell who it was. As she was running around the car to get in out of the rain, the headlights of the van came back on. It slowly pulled up beside her car and stopped. It was three boys she had seen earlier at the party. They asked if she was having trouble and she told them her car had stalled. They told her it was raining too hard for them to look at her car but they would be happy to take her home. She was hesitant at first but they insisted she get in out of the rain. They opened the door and she got in. As they drove off, she noticed they were still partying; they were drinking and smoking pot. One of the boys offered her some pot.

  “No thanks,” she said at first.

  But by the time the joint was passed around, she decided to take a hit.

  “That’s some good stuff,” said one of the boys.

  “Home grown, man” the other boy replied.

  “Want a beer?” the guy driving asked.

  “Sure, why not,” she replied.

  “Get her one out of the cooler,” he said.

  As they passed another joint around, they started making small talk with her.

  “What’s your name?” asked one of the boys.

  “Amanda,” she replied.

  “That’s a pretty name,” said one of the boys as he took a hit and held it.

  A little ways up the road, the driver turned off. The rain was tapering off.

  “I’ve got to take a leak,” the boy driving said. “What about you guys?”

  “Yeah, man, we’ve got to go too,” the other boys replied.

  The three boys got out of the van and walked around to the front of the van to use the bathroom. She started getting worried because they were doing a lot of talking. She started looking around for something to use as a weapon if she needed it. She found a tire tool and hid it next to her. About that time the boys turned and headed back to the van. When they got back in the van one of the boys grabbed her and the other two held her legs. They forced her to lie down and tried to have their way with her. She fought back and screamed but no one could hear; the storm was too loud. Next, they stripped her of her clothes and tied her down. They bound her hands above her head and spread her legs apart. The thunder roared haunting the night as the lightning lit up the sky. The rain was falling hard; she could feel it on her naked foot that was sticking out of the van. One of the boys asked who was going first. Then by accident the boy who had been driving kicked an empty beer bottle out of the van and onto the ground; it spun around and stopped in front of him. The other two boys told him he was lucky number one.

  As the other two boys held her down the driver had his way with her. Amanda fought and fought trying to get away, but she couldn’t. She spit in their faces and tried to bite them. But they just slapped her around. She screamed, cried and yelled. But, there was no one around to hear her. Their breath stunk; it smelled like smoke and beer. By the time the last boy had his way with her, she was weak and trembling. The boys then untied her and pushed her out of the van into the dark rainy night. They pitched her clothes to her, jumped into the van and drove off. As Amanda cried, she struggled to get her wet and dirty clothes back on. She felt so helpless and ashamed. As she looked up into the sky, the cold rain fell upon her face. I feel so dirty, she said to herself. Her hair was matted together and she was trembling and weak. Partially dressed, she started walking toward the main road. Stumbling and nearly falling, she finally reached the main road. Amanda saw no one so she kept walking. Within a few minutes, she fell to the ground and laid there beside the road. She noticed the lights of a car coming but she was not able to get up. The car hit its brakes to avoid hitting her; it fishtailed to a stop. A man and woman jumped out to help her. They picked her up, put her in the car and took her to the hospital. When they arrived at the hospital, she was examined and the hospital staff called the police and her parents. By the time Charles, her dad, arrived she was somewhat better.

  As her dad rushed to hug her, he cried out, “Amanda, are you alright?”

  “Where’s Mama?” she asked.

  “She left again,” he said. “But she’ll be back.”

  She told them everything that had happened. The police told her they would pick up the three boys and put them in a lineup for her to identify. She told the police it was dark, but she was able to get a good look at their faces when the lightning lit up the sky. Plus, she had seen them at the party that night. The sheriff told her to go home, get some rest and not to worry about the boys because he would find them and bring them in.

  The next day her dad had her car towed in. The mechanic looked it over and told him and the sheriff that the car had been tampered with.

  The boys were finally brought in and Amanda was able to identify them. A search warrant was issued to check the boy’s van. When they checked it they found roaches, empty beer bottles and other drug paraphernalia. They were arrested and charged with aggravated rape, drug possession, controlled substance drugs and open beer containers. When the deputy took them to lockup he asked them if they knew who Amanda’s dad was.

  “No, who?” they asked in unison.

  “Charles David Brinkley, the president of the college. He has a burnt scar on his left hand and arm.”

  “Oh, shit! I’ve heard that man is crazy. Rumor has it that he dresses up in women’s clothes when he is at home and he sleeps with his wife like that. How was I to know who she was? That night at the party was the first time I had ever seen her. She must take night classes because we have never seen her on campus during the day,” one of the boys stated.

  Meanwhile, the boy’s girlfriends came into the sheriff’s office and asked to talk to the sheriff.

  “How may I help you?” he asked.

  “We just heard that you picked up Tommy, Ricky and Michael; they are our boyfriends.

  “And who are you?” he asked.

  “I’m Vicky, this is Helen and Donna,” she said. “We want you to know that we were with them all night when she says she was assaulted; they haven’t harmed a sole.”

  “Girls are you telling the truth?” he asked.

  “Yeah
,” replied Vicky as Helen and Donna agreed. “We were all at the party that night; it was crowded and noisy. We decided to leave about nine-thirty to spend some quiet time alone. You understand don’t you sheriff,” she said. “I bet you were a party guy in your day.”

  “Go on,” he said. “You’ll left the party at nine-thirty and…”

  “We went to Sugar Creek Campground and spent the night in one of the cabins.”

  “Isn’t the campground closed,” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Vicky replied. “We snuck in.”

  “You do know that is against the law, breaking and entering and trespassing,” he warned them.

  “I didn’t think about that,” Vicky said.

  “Are you going to arrest us?” asked Donna.

  “We didn’t mean any harm,” pleaded Helen.

  “That’s not my problem,” he said. “It been closed since last summer so there is no one to verify that ya’ll were there.”

  “Oh, we were there,” Vicky said, “weren’t we girls.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “All three of them,” he said, “are your boyfriends, right. You didn’t go back to the party.”

  “No, sir,” Vicky answered. “But when we were leaving the party, we saw Amanda get out of a black man’s car. Why don’t you talk to him.”

  “I will,” he replied. The sheriff sat back in his chair and then asked, “Why didn’t the boys tell me this earlier.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I guess they forgot.”

  After the boy’s lawyer came in, they had posted bail and were released. The rape charges had been dropped, for now, pending further investigation. As the boys made their way out, Amanda and her dad was coming in the door.

  “Hold on,” shouted Charles, “where are they going?”

  “Come on in Charles and Amanda. I have received some new information regarding the case.”

  “Bye, Amanda,” the boys and their girlfriends yelled as they disappeared out the door.

  The sheriff explained the situation to Charles and Amanda.

  “It can’t be. They hurt my little girl. She identified them and now their girlfriends have come came in here and lied so you would let them go, and I’m not supposed to be upset. Bull!” he yelled as he hit the top of the desk with his hand.

  “Calm down, Charles, we’ll eventually get to the bottom of this.

  Meanwhile early that same evening of the night of the party Charles Brinkley was coming home early from an out of town business trip. When he entered his house, he looked around and saw no one. He set his briefcase on the bench in the hall and that’s when he heard noises coming from upstairs. Quickly, he ran up the steps. The closer he got to the bedroom; he could hear heavy breathing and moans. He slowly eased the door open and saw his wife Margaret with another female.

  “What in the hell is going on here?” he cried out.

  The young girl jumped up, grabbed her clothes and started getting dressed. He cursed the both of them and started throwing things at them. The student was crying and screaming as Margaret cursed him back.

  “Get out of here you slut,” he told the girl as he grabbed her by her hair and shoved her toward the bedroom door.

  Then he reached for Margaret as she tried to cover her nakedness with a quilt. He grabbed her and slung her across the bed and up against the wall. She knew he was furious and mad. She realized her life was in danger.

  “Charles, don’t do it,” she screamed. “Please don’t kill me.”

  He slapped her again and rammed her head into the wall and choked her until she fell to the floor. He sat down on the edge of the bed and began to cry.

  The monster within him had come out once again. He was a sick man, but didn’t know where to turn. The violent rage that drove him sometimes couldn’t be stopped before it had gone too far.

  As he stood up to go close the curtains, he stepped over Margaret’s lifeless body; she was dead. When he was pulling the curtains together, he noticed someone sitting on the bench across the street. He mumbled under his breath, I hope he didn’t see or hear anything. He rushed downstairs to get a roll of plastic from the garage, took it upstairs and wrapped her in it. He cleaned up the mess and waited for nightfall. As he sat on the bed and waited, he noticed something lying next to the bed; it was a student ID. He picked it up, looked at it and then slipped it into his pocket. The campus was closed due to spring break and almost everyone was gone, except for a few students. The president’s estate was on campus, so Charles had to be careful. As night began to fall, Charles slipped Margaret’s body into the trunk of his car. The only person he saw was the black man sitting on the bench across the street in the commons area. Charles wasn’t for sure, but he didn’t think he had noticed what he was doing. About that time as Charles was closing the trunk, the campus police drove by. He waved at them; they waved back. They stopped and talked to the guy on the bench. Charles didn’t know what they said to him but he got in his car and drove off.

  “Now Amanda, tell us about the black guy you were with.”

  “His name is Devin and I met him at school; we’re just friends. I did leave the party with him, but we were only gone for a little while and then he brought me back.”

  “Where did you go and what did ya’ll do?” asked the sheriff.

  “We rode around and talked because he felt uncomfortable at the party. There weren’t too many blacks there and I really didn’t know anyone so we decided to ride around. He brought me back to the party and I haven’t seen him since.”

  About that time, a deputy came in and said, “Sheriff, they found the body of a black man not far from the location of the party.”

  “Oh, know, who is it?” she cried.

  “We’re not for sure yet,” the deputy responded.

  “Let’s go,” announced the sheriff.

  They left and headed to the crime scene. The sheriff uncovered the body and searched for some form of identification. He found his driver’s license and student ID. It was Amanda’s friend Devin McKinney.

  “Okay, guys let’s wrap it up, but I want to hear something from you by in the morning, even if you have to stay up all night.”

  While on the way back to town, the sheriff tried to piece together the crimes. Devin was found not far from where Amanda was raped and not far from the entrance to the campground. But he couldn’t figure out why Devin was killed; was it a racial thing. There was no sign of foul play or any drugs in his car. He was killed a few feet away from his car. It appeared that he was killed from a blow to the back of his head since a bloody tire tool was found near his body.

  It was early the next day when the lab results came in. The only clear fingerprints on the tire tool and the car belonged to Amanda and Devin. It was made to look like a robbery, but it was very doubtful. However, it could be a racial thing. Someone probably followed him from the party after he let Amanda out and then pulled him over down the road. The tire tracks found at the scene where he was killed fit the tires on the boy’s van.

  “Let’s bring them in,” said the sheriff. “We may not get them for rape, but we might for murder. Bring in the girls also, but keep them in separate rooms.”

  It was around noon when they brought them in. The sheriff talked to each one individually. The boys did admit they left the party and followed Devin, but didn’t kill him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me earlier that you left the party that night and followed Devin?”

  “We were afraid to,” Tommy said. “We didn’t know he was dead until now. Since we were with the girls all night, we figured we were safe.”

  “But were you actually with the girls all night?” questioned the sheriff.

  “Well sort of, we did leave the party for a little while, but not for long. We went back to the party, picked up the girls and headed out to the campground.”

  During the interrogation of the boys, they each said the rain had let up s
o they decided to go for a drive. Down the road they saw that Devin had gotten out of his car. They stopped and gave him a hard time about being with a white girl. He told them nothing happened; they were friends and all they did was talk. They heard a car coming down the road so they jumped in the van and drove off. Devin was alive when they left. As they passed, the oncoming car had pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. They couldn’t tell who was in the other car when it passed, but it did have a college sticker in the back window. They went back to the party, picked up the girls and left. The sheriff asked them about the tire tool because it fit their van. One of the boys admitted he got it out to scare Devin but he never used it. When the car came up, he got nervous and accidentally dropped it on the ground. He was in too big of a hurry to stop and pick it up. Based on their testimony, the sheriff released them again but warned them not to leave the area. He still couldn’t figure out why Devin and Amanda’s prints were the only ones on the tire tool.

  Unknown to everyone else, Charles was headed to Sugar Creek Campground around the same time as the boys followed Devin from the party. On his way there he was passed by the black guy who had been sitting on the bench. He recognized the car he had left in. There was a Blackford College sticker upside down on the bottom of his back glass, plus he recognized his face. There was a van between Charles’ car and the black guy’s car. He wanted to stay close but not too close. As Charles drove, he became more and more paranoid. Thoughts were racing through his head; he was afraid and paranoid the guy might see him and recognize his car. He slowed down and kept a safe distance. The black guy pulled over and stopped and the van pulled over right behind him. Charles turned off his headlights, pulled over on the side of the road and waited. Three boys got out of the van and approached the black guy’s car. They pulled him out of the car and they were all talking at once, but Charles didn’t know what they were saying. Charles watched for a few minutes, cranked his car, turned on the headlights and drove toward them. The boys ran and jumped into the van and sped off. Charles pulled up behind the black guy’s car, got out and cautiously walked down toward him and asked him if he was alright.

  “Sure man,” he replied. “It’s no big deal.”

  When the black guy turned, Charles hit him in the back of the head with a tire tool as Charles mumbled softly, now you can’t tell anything. He got back in his car and drove on down the road to Sugar Creek Campground Lake. When he arrived at the campground, he carried his wife’s body to a boat at the dock. He put her body, some rope and a concrete block inside the boat. Then he rowed out into the deep water. Carefully, he tied the concrete block to her body and threw her body into the water. Patiently, he sat and waited to be sure she went completely under before he went back to the dock. As he rowed, he thought he heard something. He stopped rowing and sat still in the boat. It sounded like someone was calling his name. Quickly, he grabbed the oar and rowed back to the dock. When he reached the dock he heard the voice again. It sounded like his wife but he knew it couldn’t be. By the time he got back to his car he was out of breath. His heart was racing; he was weak and trembling. Then he heard something in the bushes. When he looked toward the bushes, he saw a pair of eyes staring at him. Whatever it was growled and disappeared into the night. He cursed it and headed back home. It must have been a wild animal, he thought.

  The next day, Charles sent a message to his wife’s lover, Lisa, to come and see him. When she arrived, she met with him behind closed doors. He asked her how long their relationship had been going on. She told him a few months. She went on to say that Margaret walked in on her one day while she was taking a shower. She didn’t say anything but she stood and stared at her for a few minutes. A few days later she received a call from her to come by and see her. She really wasn’t sure what she wanted, but she had an idea. She told him that whenever he wasn’t around she called her to come over.

  “I see,” he replied. “And I guess you thought that was alright.”

  “No sir, I didn’t think that. But she said she would help me out in school; make it worth my time. And I do need that.”

  “Well, Lisa,” he said. “We have a nasty situation right here and what do you think we should do about it.”

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “You’re going to expel me aren’t you? Oh, please don’t do that. It’s just another week and then I’ll be gone.”

  “What are you going to tell your parents?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, they’ll kill me,” she cried. “Oh, please you won’t tell them will you, please.”

  “Well, there’s only a week left, do you think you can come by my house a couple of nights and make it worthwhile with me, since you pleased my wife?”

  “What will you wife say?” she questioned.

  “She’s gone,” he replied. “She left me; I don’t think she will come back this time.”

  “Oh,” she mumbled.

  “Now, you don’t want me to call your parents and tell them why you had to drop out of school.”

  “No, sir,” she replied.

  “Lisa, you made your bed so you have to sleep in it with me.”

  “Okay, just for a week,” she said, “and then I’m out of here for good for good.”

  “I’ll be in touch,” he said.

  “Is that all?” she asked.

  “For now,” he replied.

  The investigation slowed down. Tommy, Ricky, Michael and their girlfriends changed their stories again. They said the incident with Amanda was consensual; it wasn’t rape. Amanda was nowhere to be found to comment on the new evidence. Plus, two more boys had come forth and said they had been with her the week before. It appeared Amanda had left Flatt Ridge and no one knew where she was. Charles didn’t know where Amanda was. He thought she might be with her mother.

  Finally, school was out for the summer. Most of the students were packing to go home, but some were going to the campground. It was a big tradition to open the camp for the first three weeks after school was out for the students at Blackford. Some of them worked at the camp as safeguards and counselors, but the majority of them would just goof off and have fun. The first days of camp were typical days. Everyone settled into their cabins and mingled together. They had a bonfire, roasted wieners and marshmallows, played some games and got acquainted. They would also sit around the campfire and tell scary stories. The campground had been there since the 1920’s and campers had come and gone through the years. There was always something to do; horseback riding, swimming, archery, canoeing, volleyball, fishing, hiking are but a few of the activities.

  There had been two caretakers in the past and the current one had been there for about three years. He was quiet, kept to himself and didn’t have a lot to say. He was a little on the creepy side, wore a hooded pullover shirt, with baggy green army pants, a long-sleeved shirt and brogans. His pullover was long waisted with a hole in it and he wore a hat under the hood. Even though it was summer, he never broke a sweat. His left hand and arm was scarred from where he got burned and he had a shaggy beard and mustache. He lived in the tool shed behind the camp. He had divided it into two sections; he used one side for sleeping and the other for cooking. It was an old weatherboard shed with a tin roof and dirt floor. It also had an attic where he raised homing pigeons. He kept them in cages and would let them out from time to time. A lot of the campers teased, mocked and made fun of him. But, most of them were scared of him. Many stories have been told about the camp and the unexplained things that have happened there. Some campers disappeared from the campground and were never seen again. Some say the caretaker had been caught peeping through the cracks of the girl’s shower stalls. That he prowled around at night when everyone was asleep. One summer his shed caught fire. Most people believed some boys at camp did it, but no one really knew for sure. That’s how his hand and arm got burnt. Some say the fire started when he was drunk and left his h
otplate on. Who knows? There was even some talk that Amanda had been seen around the campground late at night.

  Then late Friday night after things had settled down for the night, they all gathered around the campfire and one of the campers told the story of the bitch hound. The bitch hound is the breed of a wild dog and a coyote; the pups are one half dog and one half coyote. Legend has it that she is searching for the killer of her pups. A long time ago three coon hunters killed her pups and mate; she has been searching for the killer ever since. Her pups were killed one night when some coon hunters came upon her den. For fun and sport, they torched them. When she came back from hunting, her mate hung from a tree and her pups were dead. For a long time she has searched for the men, hoping they will come back so she can get her revenge. They say two did and through the years she has continued to wait on the third one. She has his scent from the night her pups and mate were killed. They say she has killed two so far and she is on the prowl for the last one. She is out for blood and revenge. When she is on the prowl, bad things happen. They say her pups are buried at the campground. When the fog lays low across the lake and the moon is full you can look up toward the top of the mountain and hear her lonely cry. People of old say she turns herself into a human and walks about searching for victims. It’s been told that she walks the campground late at night.

  A few weeks later everyone was in the groove and having a good time at the campground. Time went by so fast. As the moonlight crusted across the lake, close to bed time, they sat around the campfire playing spin the bottle and post office. With each spin of the bottle a kiss awaited someone. The sounds of the night were creepy and it felt as if someone was watching them. The owls hooted and the crickets chirped, but deep in the darkness you could feel the presence of something watching and waiting.

  “I believe we’ll go for a walk,” said Tommy. “Come on Vicky; we’ll see ya’ll later.”

  Vicky felt uncertain at first because of the eerie feeling that lingered about the camp.

  “Oh, come on,” said Tommy. “It’s nothing.”

  “I guess you’re right,” she replied as she grabbed him around the waist and hugged him.

  “Bye, gang,” they said as they disappeared down the hiking trail.

  As Tommy and Vicky walked along the lighted trail, they talked about what they were going to do after they graduated. They hugged and kissed a little; he pressed her up against a tree and kissed her passionately. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the night air was dived by the sound of an arrow racing at them. The point of the arrow pierced the back of his neck, went through her throat and out the back of her neck. Only the gurgling sounds from their necks could be heard in the night air. As the lights of the trail went off, all that could be seen and heard were two beady eyes off the trail and a haunting whining sound.

  When daylight came, everyone was still in the groove. A few people asked about Tommy and Vicky. But, no one had seen them since they went for a walk. The others didn’t think too much of it; it was no telling with those two. They figured they would be back sooner or later.

  Two days later no one had heard from Tommy and Vicky; people were getting concerned.

  Night fell again over the campground and Ricky and Helen were out on the lake passing the time with hugs and kisses. As they slowly floated around the lake, Helen and Ricky stood up to take off their clothes to go skinny dipping. Out of the darkness raced another arrow. It drove through the back of Helen’s head and a few seconds later a fiery arrow drove through Ricky’s chest and they both fell into the water. Across the lake there was nothing to be seen except a canoe floating in the water and a pair of beady eyes near the bank. All that could be heard was the swooshing sound of the water splashing up against the boat and a whining sound. Then it fell silent.

  Early the next morning the camp leader called the police about Tommy, Vicky, Ricky and Helen. When they arrived they questioned everyone at the camp to see if anyone knew anything. The police classified them as missing persons since no bodies had been found. The police searched the campground and so did some of the campers. Then someone asked where Michael and Donna were. No one had seen them. About that time a girl screamed and ran out of one of the cabins. The police rushed over to see what was wrong. When they entered the cabin, they found Michael and Donna in bed; they were dead. There as an arrow anchored through her bed and through his chest.

  “Alright, men,” spoke up the sheriff. “I want this camp locked up tighter than a drum. Everyone go back to your cabins and stay there until I give you further notice.”

  Immediately, the camp was locked down as the sheriff and other officers searched the campground. When they dragged the lake they found three other bodies. One of the bodies was Margaret Brinkley. The other two bodies had been there so long it would be hard to determine who they were.

  “Sheriff I’ve found something,” an officer yelled.

  It was Tommy and Vicky buried in a shallow grave covered with brush. The crime team arrived; they had their hands full. About thirty minutes later, at the point of the lake, two more bodies had washed up on the bank. They assumed it was Ricky and Helen. The place was like a madhouse. An officer came and told the sheriff he needed to see what he had found. The officer led him to the groundskeeper’s shack. Inside they found a crossbow and arrows. The word spread fast; they asked if anyone had seen him. Some said no and others said it had been a few days. No one knew much about him. All they knew about him was that he was weird and creepy.

  “I want an APB put out on him now,” cried the sheriff, “and I want this placed turned upside down until we find him. Get the crime team down here on the double.”

  Four hours later the police were finished searching the campground. The sheriff closed the campground down until further notice and sent everyone else home. The groundskeeper could not be found anywhere, but the sheriff figured it was only a matter of time. The next morning the campground was vacant. It would remain closed until further notice from the Sheriff’s Office.

  Unknowing to the sheriff, high in the hills above the campground the groundskeeper had taken refuge. And little did the groundskeeper know that bitch hound was stalking him. The hound’s last victim had returned; the last of the three who had killed her pups and mate. At night, as the groundskeeper sat by the fire, he could hear the whining cry of the bitch hound. He was now aware of the hound and laid in wait for her attack. The little beady eyes of the hound pierced the night as she watched his every move. When morning broke and the groundskeeper stood upon the cliff facing the campground, the two met face to face. They stared at each other and didn’t move for several minutes. The hound started pacing back and forth, growling and slobbering. The groundskeeper watched her every move. Then the hound leaped for his throat, driving him to the ground as they wrestled about. The groundskeeper reached for a rock to hit the hound, but they both fell off the cliff to the rock bottom below.

  Ten years had passed and the murders at the campground were cold cases. The groundskeeper was never found. The sheriff’s office believed he committed the murders and disappeared. The campground had been sold three times; the murders kept it from prospering. Then a woman named Amanda and her son bought it; they had big plans to turn it around. One day while she’s in the office working, a man came in looking for a groundskeeper’s job. She interviewed him and hired him on the spot. She did notice between the fingers of one of his hands was a scar. He was wearing long sleeves so she couldn’t see his arms.

  Charles Brinkley, the president of Blackford College, had moved on to another college not too far from Flatt Ridge Fall, Missouri. He had remarried and was never charged with the murder of his wife.

  Several months had gone by when Amanda went to see her daddy, Charles. He had been out of town and was due back the next day. When she got there, she didn’t see his car so she went on in the house. Once inside, she heard a commotion upstairs in the bedroom.
When she walked by the table, she reached for a knife and eased up the stairs. She had never gotten over the rape and it haunted her daily. When she entered the bedroom, she saw her stepmother in bed with a man. Without warning, she snapped; she was filled with rage and anger as she ran toward the bed. Before she knew it, she had stabbed the man in the back four times. Her stepmother was screaming as he fell on the bed. She noticed his arm was scarred from burns; it was her daddy. She placed his head in her lap and dropped the bloody knife.

  “Daddy, Daddy,” she screamed. “I didn’t know it was you.” She started rocking slowly back and forth as she repeated over and over, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.”

  Amanda was tried, convicted and sent to a mental hospital where she remained for the rest of her life.

  Years later, after putting all the bits and pieces together, the case of the spin the bottle murders was finally closed.

  *****

  Beyond the Truth

  A Cry in the Wind

  Thistles and Thorns

  Dead Limbs and Leaves

  Troubled Waters

  When Autumn Falls

  To read other works by Bobby A. Troutt, visit bobbysbooks.8m.com