Evil Whispers

by Goingback, Owl

  Besides, the batteries in Robert’s flashlight were growing weak. The flashlight’s beam was already a dull yellow and fading fast. The moon was also lower in the sky, making it harder to see without a secondary light source. Better to head back now than risk becoming lost themselves.

  The moon had disappeared behind the treetops, so the Wekiva no longer looked like a shining jewel. On the contrary, the river now looked like an ebony serpent, twisting its way through a prehistoric forest of palmettos and saw grass. It was a serpent, a deadly predator that came to life at night, waiting, watching, hoping for the foolish to venture too close, carrying its victims down to the darkness, never to be seen again. Three children had disappeared in these woods, perhaps swallowed by the river that drew people to the area. Had Krissy also been swallowed by the serpent? Had she drowned?

  Robert shook his head. No. No. No. She couldn’t have drowned. Krissy was a good swimmer, he and Janet had made sure of that. They had put her in a swimming program at the YMCA when she was only six. Their little girl was a natural in the water. She would not have drowned in a river as small, or as slow moving, as the Wekiva. More of a spring than a real river. Just a trickle compared to the mighty Mississippi River that flowed past St. Louis.

  He blinked and again looked at the Wekiva River. Though it was still ebony in the darkness, it no longer looked like a serpent to him. Nor did it appear sinister or deadly. It looked like a small river, and nothing more, it whispering waters the lifeblood of timid forest dwellers.

  Their daughter had not drowned in the river. That was out of the question. At least such a thing was impossible to imagine, and he would not even allow himself to think about it. Never focus on the negative. Think instead only on the positive. Their daughter was lost in the forest. While her being lost was bad enough, they still had a lot to be hopeful about.

  For one thing the weather was warm, so there was little chance of Krissy suffering from hypothermia. A child could easily spend a night alone in such conditions without any adverse physical effects. Krissy could probably spend several nights in the forest without any problems, not that he was hoping for that to happen. Even one night worrying about his daughter alone in the woods would be far too many.

  Also, Krissy had not been gone long, so she couldn’t have gotten very far away. It was only a matter of time before the searchers found her. Finally, she had changed clothes before leaving the cabin, which meant she had left on her own free will and had not been abducted.

  Unless she had been forced to change clothes.

  The thought popped into his head, startling him. What if his little girl had been abducted? What if someone had sneaked into her bedroom, placed a hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, then ordered her to get dressed without making any noise? Someone could have threatened her with a knife, telling Krissy that if she made any noise he would hurt her and maybe kill her parents. She would have obeyed then, wouldn’t have made a sound as she got out of her pajamas and into her clothes.

  Maybe she had made noise. Maybe she had whimpered, or cried softly, as she struggled to get free from her attacker. Janet was a sound sleeper, so it would have taken a loud noise to wake her. A whimper or a cry would have gone unnoticed. And he’d had several beers before going to bed, so he was dead to the world.

  Robert cursed himself under his breath. Why had he drank those beers? He was normally a light sleeper, except when he had been drinking. He might have heard Krissy otherwise. Even if she had been extra quiet, he might have heard the window being slid up and gone to investigate. But he had heard nothing, his hearing and senses dulled by alcohol. If his daughter had been abducted, then his actions might be partially to blame.

  They arrived back at the fish camp to find a large, muscular black man standing on the porch of their tiny cabin, waiting for them. He was dressed in black slacks, matching dress shoes, a red sports shirt, and a pair of gold, wire-rimmed glasses. On his belt was a holstered revolver and a badge.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Patterson?”

  Robert nodded. “I’m Robert Patterson. This is my wife, Janet.”

  The man nodded. “I’m Captain Williams. I’ll be in charge of finding your daughter. I know you’ve already spoken with Sergeant Andrews, but I would like to ask you a few more questions.”

  Opening the front door, they invited the captain inside. Captain Williams entered the cabin and closed the door behind him. He was a large man, and the room seemed to shrink in his presence. Despite his powerful physique, there was a gentleness to his eyes and the set of his mouth that made Robert like him immediately. Here was man you did not want to cross, for he could easily take on even the toughest opponent; yet here too was a father, a man who lived for quiet Sundays with his family.

  Robert and Janet sat down in the two oversized chairs while the captain grabbed one of the folding chairs, placing it so he could sit directly in front of them. Opening the small notebook he carried, the captain proceeded with his questions.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Patterson, do you know of any reason why your daughter might have sneaked out of her room?” Captain Williams chose his words carefully and kept soft the tone of his voice, knowing that the people seated before him were already traumatized by the disappearance of their daughter.

  “No. No reason,” Robert answered, shaking his head. “And we’re not sure that she sneaked out.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning she might have been abducted,” Robert said, stating what he thought was the obvious.

  “That’s a possibility, but it’s not very likely,” Captain Williams answered, glancing toward Krissy’s bedroom. “I’ve already been in your daughter’s bedroom. The two of you were gone, and the front door was unlocked, so I came in and looked around. Hope you don’t mind. There’s no sign of a struggle, and neither of you heard anything. Also, the window and screen both lock from the inside, and cannot be unlocked from outside. Someone on the inside had to unlock it: either one of you, or your daughter.”

  “We didn’t unlock it,” Janet said. “And I don’t think Krissy unlocked it either. She didn’t like sleeping with the window open because she was scared of bugs getting in.”

  “Apparently she must have unlocked it,” the captain said. “Maybe she wanted some fresh air. The owner of the fish camp said the Jasmine was blooming, so maybe your daughter wanted to smell the flowers. Maybe she heard an owl and opened the window so she could hear it better.

  “That still doesn’t explain why she disappeared,” Captain Williams continued. “But I have a feeling she left her bedroom of her own free will.”

  “And how do you come to that conclusion?” Robert asked.

  “For one thing she changed clothes before she left, hiding them under the blankets on her bed. Not too many kids would do something like that if they were being dragged from their room. The ground foliage outside the bedroom is also basically undisturbed, the way it would be if only a small child stepped on it. A man’s weight would have flattened it.”

  Captain Williams paused for a moment to jot down a few notes. “How would you describe your relationship with your daughter?”

  “What kind of question is that?” Robert wanted to know.

  “A standard question. Nothing more. The more information you can provide, the quicker we can find your daughter.”

  “We have a good relationship with Krissy,” Janet answered.

  “Was she upset about something today? Angry perhaps?”

  No. She was fine,” Robert replied. “She said she was a little tired, so she went to bed early.”

  “I see.” Captain Williams nodded. “Don’t you think it’s odd for a kid her age to go to bed early, especially on vacation?”

  “Not at all,” Janet jumped in. “Krissy wanted to get some sleep so she wouldn’t be tired on the fishing trip. She wanted to catch more fish than her father.”

  The captain turned to look at Robert. “Is it important that your daughter catches more fish than you? What happens
if she doesn’t?”

  Robert felt his face flush with anger. He didn’t like the captain’s questions, nor did he like what the man was suggesting. “Nothing happens if she doesn’t catch more fish than me. Nothing at all. We fish strictly for fun. Krissy likes to catch more fish, so I’ll call her the champ.”

  “And what do you call her when she loses the contest?”

  “Look. Enough,” Robert said, feeling his temper rise. “None of your questions are relevant to our daughter’s disappearance.”

  “On the contrary, they are all relative,” argued the captain. “We have to figure out why your daughter is missing. We have to know if she was abducted, or if she simply ran away. If she did run away, then it would be helpful to know why. Was she upset over something that was said? Was she mad? Does she have a happy home life? As painful as it is to hear these questions, I can assure you that’s it’s very important for me to ask them.”

  Captain Williams looked out the window, then turned his attention back to them. “That should be enough information for now, but I may stop back by to talk with you later in the day. The search has been postponed for now.”

  “Postponed? Why?” Janet asked, shocked.

  “The moon is setting, so it’s much too dark to continue. Too dangerous. We want to look for your daughter, but we can’t risk any of our men getting hurt in the process. We’ll start the search in a few more hours, once it gets light out.”

  “What about the helicopter?” Robert asked. “It has a spotlight.”

  The captain nodded. “It has a spotlight, but the pilot can only do so much. He’s already gone back to refuel, and grab a few hours sleep. He’ll be back bright and early in the morning.

  “We’re also going to bring in a team of bloodhounds. We’ll bring the dogs through the cabin, let them get your daughter’s scent off her clothing--something that she’s worn that hasn’t been washed. Bloodhounds are amazing animals. If your little girl is anywhere around here, they’ll find her.”

  Captain Williams cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “I don’t want to upset you, but if we don’t find your daughter we may have to drag the river.”

  “Dear God,” Janet said.

  “This doesn’t mean that we think your daughter has drowned. Dragging the river is strictly routine. The Wekiva River isn’t very deep, but there are certain areas that warrant investigation.”

  Robert nodded. “I understand.”

  The captain stood up and shook hands. “I’ll stop back by in the afternoon, but hopefully by then we will have already found your daughter.”

  Captain Williams left the cabin, closing the door behind them. Robert considered getting up to lock the door, but he just didn’t have the strength to stand. He thought about what had been said to him, feeling a sick sensation in his stomach.

  They were going to drag the river for Krissy’s body.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Daylight seemed to come unusually late that morning, as if the night was refusing to release its hold on the land. When the sun finally did rise above the treetops to the east, it brought little warmth to the forest along the Wekiva River. At least it seemed that way to Sergeant Chris Andrews.

  At the end of his shift, the sergeant had gone home to grab a few hours sleep, but he had returned to the Blackwater Fish Camp to help search for the Patterson’s little girl. Not that he had to return. It was his day off. He could have stayed home with his wife and kids, might even have spent the day doing a little shopping, or helping out around the house. If he was lucky, he would have been allowed to sleep late without being awakened by the sound of the neighbor’s barking dogs.

  But he had not wanted to stay home and sleep. Nor would he feel right spending the day with his family, not with a child lost in the same forest that had swallowed up several other children. Several of his fellow officers felt the same way, for they too had given up their day off to help out in the search.

  Sergeant Andrews parked his Ford Explorer alongside a row of patrol cars and emergency vehicles. The truck he drove was unmarked, his personal vehicle, but there was another Ford Explorer sitting in the lot that was adorned with blue lights and a big gold star decal on each of its white doors. Behind that vehicle was a trailer carrying a small, flat-bottomed boat. Two deputies stood beside the boat, sorting the ropes and grappling hooks that might be used to drag the river for Krissy Patterson’s body.

  The sergeant felt a lump form inside of his throat as he spotted the hooks. His youngest son, Billy, was only eight, two years younger than the missing girl. What if it was Billy they were looking for? Would he be strong enough to watch as the deputies drug the river with those damn hooks, hoping to snag the bloated, swollen body of an all too small child?

  Feeling an uneasiness settle in his stomach, he turned away from the deputies with the grappling hooks and spotted Robert and Janet Patterson standing in front of the bait and tackle shop. He waved as he climbed out of his truck, but they did not wave back. Either they didn’t recognize him, or they were both too tired, or too dazed, to wave. Probably the later, for the two of them looked like hell.

  Though they were wearing different clothes from the last time he saw them, it was obvious the Patterson’s had not gotten any sleep. There were dark circles under Janet’s eyes that showed clearly, even from a distance. Her eyes were also puffy, probably from a combination of no sleep and too many tears. Dark circles were also visible under Robert’s eyes, and he was sporting a noticeable stubble of beard. They would both look dreadful if their daughter was found and the news crews filmed the happy reunion, but personal appearances were the least of their troubles.

  Grabbing his hat off the seat, Sergeant Andrews closed the truck door and locked it. Though it was his day off, he had chosen to wear his uniform. There would be searchers from several agencies in the area, plus volunteers, and he did not want to be mistaken for a civilian while tramping through the woods. Cops didn’t always take too well to outsiders in emergency situations, and wearing the uniform would keep him from having to show his badge, or do any explaining, to those he didn’t know. The holster and utility belt he wore with his uniform was also more comfortable than the shoulder holster he wore when off duty.

  Checking in with the day supervisor, Sergeant Andrews was assigned a section of the forest to search. The search they were conducting that morning would be slower paced, and more thorough, than the one which had taken place in the predawn hours. They would leave no stone unturned, looking for clues that might tell them why Krissy Patterson had disappeared. The sergeant had been assigned a stretch of land along the Wekiva River, opposite the river from the fish camp.

  Walking over the narrow wooden bridge that spanned the river, he turned right and started his search downstream. As he walked along, he paid particular attention to the soft earth close to the water’s edge, looking for the tiny footprints of a child. So far he saw none. He also searched the river itself for a piece of clothing, a shoe, anything that might indicate that the little girl had drowned. Images of a pale, lifeless hand sticking out of the water kept coming to mind, and he truly hoped that he would not see such a sight for real. The last thing in the world he wanted was to find a dead child.

  A pair of doves suddenly took flight before him, startling the sergeant. He stopped, watching as the birds flew across the river and headed south. As he watched the birds, his attention was drawn by something that looked out of place in the forest. Up ahead, the sunlight was reflecting off an object nestled among the trees along the water’s edge. It took him a moment to realize that what he was seeing was sunlight bouncing off the glass windows of a tiny wooden cabin.

  Sergeant Andrews squinted his eyes, studying the strange building that stood close to the river’s edge. It was more of a shack than a cabin: a tiny, dilapidated, tin-roofed structure that appeared to be made of plywood and scrap lumber. The cabin had once been painted blue, but most of the paint had flaked and faded, leaving behind a mostly brown building.


  He wondered what the cabin was used for. It didn’t look like a boathouse. Perhaps it was used to store tools or equipment. Surely, it couldn’t be a dwelling of any kind, because it looked far too run-down to be inhabited. He also wondered if it had already been searched. That was doubtful. The shack was so dark in color that it had probably been invisible last night, even with a full moon. He had better take a look inside, just to be on the safe side.

  As he slowly approached the cabin, a strange feeling came over Sergeant Andrews. It felt as if he was being watched. Twice he stopped and looked behind him, but didn’t see anyone. Was he being watched by someone inside the cabin? The windows he had seen earlier faced the river and could not be seen from where he stood. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t being watched.

  Having spent several years working for the Palmetto County Sheriff’s Department, Sergeant Andrews knew it was always better to be cautious when facing unknown situations. He also knew to trust his instincts; therefore, as the feeling of being watched increased, he casually reached down and unsnapped the safety strap on his gun holster. In that holster he carried a Glock model 23, a 40-caliber semi-automatic with a thirteen round clip. For extra stopping power, the handgun was loaded with hollow points.

  The sergeant slowed his pace as he neared the cabin. He could no longer see the dirty glass windows, but he could see the entrance. A narrow path through the forest led up to a wooden door that faced away from the river. The path was well worn, suggesting that it had been used often, and in recent times. The door was closed, but Sergeant Andrews didn’t see a lock of any kind.

  The feeling of being watched still hung over him, so he didn’t want to directly approach the cabin’s door. Instead he circled around to the side, staying out of sight of both window and doorway. Of course, the cabin was in bad shape, so there were probably hundreds of cracks in the wood. If someone was inside the cabin, watching him, they wouldn’t need a window, or a doorway.