When he gave no answer, the detective looked to the floor, embarrassed for him. “We’ll send your attorney in the moment he or she arrives.”
“I won’t be here,” Seth said, choking on the emotion but still smiling. “I’ll be gone by then. Just…gone. Like you imagined me.”
Datalia turned toward the door.
“Detective?”
Again, he looked back over his shoulder.
“Keep the faith, huh?”
Datalia stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him.
Clarke was waiting. “Guy snaps his wife’s neck in cold blood—his pregnant wife no less—but he wants to make sure his fucking dog’s OK. Christ almighty, the hits just keep on coming. Guess it’s a good sign he loves something, but—”
“He’ll never do a day in prison,” Datalia interrupted. He took up position in front of the two-way mirror with his partner, watching as Seth sat still as a statue, staring straight ahead.
“He confessed to killing her, Frank,” Clarke said. “He admitted to stabbing that poor girl in the eye with a pen at the intervention the shrink set up for him, and he admitted to assaulting all those other people, every bit of it. He’s fucked right in the poop-bin. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”
“He’s out of his mind, Dex. He’s certifiable, belongs in a hospital.”
“He belongs on the lethal injection table, you ask me, but I’d settle for seeing him rot in a cell for the rest of his miserable fucking life. Him and the aliens taking over his brain. Lunatic fuck.” Clarke chuckled, apparently amused with himself. “Unless it’s all an act so he can cop insanity.”
“No,” Datalia said, “this guy’s deeply disturbed. It’s pathetic.”
“That’ll be the day my heart bleeds for a hunk a shit like that.” Clarke looked back through the mirror. “He’d burn if I had my way.”
Datalia continued to stare at Seth through the mirror. “You just might.”
He had long since figured out what it was in Seth Roman’s eyes that hadn’t seemed right to him earlier, but try as he might he couldn’t shake the unmistakable look all his years of experience and expertise had taught him to recognize.
The look of someone who was telling the truth.
“You all right, Frank?” Clarke asked.
Datalia forced himself to look away. “I don’t know,” he said softly.
“Come on, you need to clear your head.” Clarke slung an arm around his partner. “His lawyer’s probably here by now, we’ll let him in and go get some coffee.”
The two detectives left the hallway and headed back into the station.
But Frank Datalia couldn’t help but wonder—only if even for a brief moment—if Seth Roman would still be there when they returned.
Or if he’d ever really been there at all.
CHAPTER 40
It was quiet there. Quiet the way a small town is quiet on lazy summer days.
A delicate breeze blew through the open field, causing the grass to sway and bend. The sun shone down like a spotlight from Heaven, flooding the field with a warm and golden hue and peeking out from between treetops in the thick forest beyond. The sky was a startling blue, decorated with lavish clouds that rolled slowly across the top of the world, and the air was warm but clean, the humidity low.
A modest home sat alongside the field, the back door open but the screen door closed and intact. Through the shadows inside and those created by the slanted beams of sunlight, it was difficult to see into the house, but the silhouette of the woman standing a few feet beyond the screen door was unmistakable. Though one could not see her clearly or discern exactly what she was doing, she was thin and seemed to be standing in front of a sink, presumably doing dishes.
As she began to sing, her voice carried from the kitchen out into the open field, soft but exquisite, and strong enough to be heard quite a distance away. It filtered through the screen door in perfect harmony with the beautiful day, having just as much business in nature as did the trees and grass and dirt and sky.
Beneath the immensity of the sky and clouds, a little boy played in the field, crouched in the grass with a handful of plastic toy soldiers. Only seven or eight, he wore shorts and sneakers and a striped pullover shirt. His face was smudged in places with dirt and grass from when he’d been rolling around in the field moments before. His knees were scraped and sported scabs from various falls and tumbles he’d sustained while playing, and his hair was mussed and looked as if someone had just stooped down and ruffled it with their hand. Though perhaps thirty yards or so from the house, he looked up in notice of his mother’s lovely voice, smiled then returned to his toy soldiers and their battle. But the little boy was not oblivious to the singing, rather he seemed to take particular comfort in it, the way a child takes comfort in a nightlight or a bedroom door left ajar.
It wasn’t until something partially blocked the sun and darkened the battlefield where his toy soldiers stood fighting, that the little boy realized the man was there in the field with him. He looked up, into the sun and sky, and though he couldn’t make out the man’s face, he could see that it was, in fact, a man, standing there gazing down upon him. He had neither heard him approach, nor had any idea who he was or where he’d come from. It was as if he’d materialized out of thin air. But the little boy was not afraid. He could see the man’s eyes and knew he was a good man and not someone who would hurt him. In fact, the little boy had the sudden urge to go with this man, to leave this place with him.
The man smiled, reached down and touched the side of the little boy’s face. “You can’t go with me,” he said as if he’d read his mind. “Because if you do then I wouldn’t be here. Right here. Right now. And neither would you.”
I led them out here. I ran because I knew I was smaller than you, faster.
“Don’t be afraid,” the man said. “I’ll protect you.”
I led them out here so they’d take me and wouldn’t hurt you.
“Don’t come to the field at night.”
You—you saved me?
“One day you’ll understand.”
I tried, Seth, I swear I did but I fucked it up. That’s what I do, I fuck things up.
“Don’t go to the field at night. Hide,” the man told him. “Make sure you hide.”
That’s not true. This isn’t your fault, it never has been.
“Hide and everything will be all right.”
Even then you were the better of us. I’m so sorry, Raymond.
The little boy rubbed his eyes.
It should’ve been me. I wish to God it had been.
And the man was gone, just—just gone.
Now, it will be.
Like maybe the little boy had only imagined him.
I never knew.
Another soft breeze blew through the field.
But now I know.
The little boy dropped his toy soldiers and looked after it, as if hoping to see the man again, perhaps carried away on it somehow.
I know who I am.
But he was gone.
And who are you, Mr. Roman?
The forest watched him silently, the light between the trees revealing nothing.
I’m the man. The man Raymond saw that day in the field. I’m the man in the sun.
The little boy stood there awhile…
I tell you what’s coming before it comes, and this time you do hide, Raymond…and they take me instead of you.
…then looked to the sky…
I’m gone, vanished in the night like so many others. Like Christy.
…and studied the clouds…
A tragedy, a mystery—but you’re safe now. You’re all safe now.
…all the while listening to his mother’s beautiful voice…
And one day they send me back. I see you in this field and tell you the secrets.
…singing to him from the kitchen until...
Because time is not the same when you’re with them.
…t
he song came to an end…
And this is how we beat them, Ray, with love, faith and selflessness. They’re all timeless.
…and her voice drifted slowly to silence.
So are they. So are we.
“Raymond!”
The little boy turned and looked back at the house. His mother had opened the screen door and was leaning partially through it.
“Come in and wash your hands for lunch, please.”
“OK, mama,” the little boy said with a wave.
His mother stepped back into the house, the screen door slamming behind her.
He wondered if he should tell his mother or maybe his older brother Seth about the man. Maybe he could tell Nana.
No, he thought. It’s my secret.
The little boy gathered his toy soldiers and started back across the field to the house. As he reached the steps he stopped, and looked once more to the sky.
He thought he’d seen something from the corner of his eye.
But there were only clouds and sunshine.
In time the light would turn to darkness, and with it would come the sleep and dreams of a rambunctious and innocent little boy. And as surely as the sun would rise, darkness was bound to follow.
But the night, it seemed, had lifted.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Greg F. Gifune is a best-selling, internationally published author of several acclaimed novels, novellas and two short-story collections. Called, “One of the best writers of his generation” by both The Roswell Literary Review and author Brian Keene, and “Among the finest dark suspense writers of our time” by legendary best-selling author Ed Gorman, Greg’s work has been published all over the world, translated into several languages, consistently praised by readers and critics alike, and has garnered attention from Hollywood. His novel The Bleeding Season, originally published in 2003, has been hailed as a classic in the genre and is widely considered to be one of the best horror/thriller novels of the decade. Greg resides in Massachusetts with his wife Carol, a bevy of cats and two dogs, Dozer and Bella. He can be reached online via e-mail ([email protected]) or on Facebook and Twitter.
For more information on Greg and his work visit his official website at: www.gregfgifune.com.
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
DarkFuse is a leading independent publisher of modern fiction in the horror, suspense and thriller genres. As an independent company, it is focused on bringing to the masses the highest quality dark fiction, published as collectible limited hardcover, paperback and eBook editions.
To discover more titles published by DarkFuse, please visit its official site at www.darkfuse.com.
Table of Contents
DEEP NIGHT
Connect With Us
Other Books by Author
Alpha
Chapter 1
Part One: Before
Chapter 2
Part Two: Sleepers
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Part Three: In the Night Season
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Part Four: Talk of Wolves
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Omega
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
About the Author
About the Publisher
Deep Night Page 40