by Joshua Grove
Silence.
“Sheriff?”
“Yes, I heard you. No. When you’re done, travel in a group to the cruisers and come back to the station. Make sure no one drives alone.”
“And leave the other cruisers here?” Jake asked.
“Yes. I’m not concerned about the safety of our mechanical fleet, Jake. Let me know when you’re on your way.”
“Copy, Sheriff,” Jake said as he clipped his radio back onto his belt.
“Oh, and Jake?” Anna said.
“Yes, Sheriff.”
“Father McMillan and Pastor Adler are in the house.”
“Excuse me?”
“Under my consent. Make sure you escort them back to the station.”
“Copy,” he replied flatly. He looked at the guys around him. “Now we have to babysit a bunch of priests?” A few men laughed. Tim looked pissed. “What’s the matter, Tim? You upset I don’t want your priest in my way?” he mocked.
“Step back, Jake,” Tim warned. “First, she’s a pastor, not a priest. And second, just because you’ve got issues with your Catholicism doesn’t mean we all hate religion.”
Jake walked toward him, pushing his chest out like an ape. “Whatever, bitch,” he laughed. “Let’s go guys. We got pussies in the house to protect.”
“Yeah, let’s hope we do a better job than emptying our guns into the wind,” Tim said as he pushed past him and into the house.
Jake really wanted to see if they had managed to shoot the killer, but he admitted to himself that it was better to be in a house. Even if it was in the old Brickton place.
As he walked into the house, using the side door by the driveway, he looked around at the large mudroom. He remembered throwing eggs at the house with his friends when they were kids. One of those friends was beside him tonight.
“Remember when we used to sneak around this house growing up?” George laughed nervously, still breathing heavily from running.
“I was just thinking on that,” Jake said as he slapped his friend’s shoulder.
“We used to think it was haunted,” George reminded him.
“We were kids, George,” Jake laughed. “Or should I say, ‘Georgie Porgie.”
George slapped him back a little harder. “Well after what I just saw, I’d say anything is possible.” They walked by the washer and dryer, pausing to wipe their feet before entering the kitchen. They were surprised to find the kitchen in such a good state. It almost glistened from the shine left by its most recent cleaning.
“Does anyone know if Acorn Alan had a maid?” he asked the small group standing around him, including Tim.
“Couldn’t say,” said Ralph Vincent with a shrug. Ralph was one of the officers that ran to help them in the woods and was a friend of Jake’s.
“Yes, he had a maid come in weekly,” Tim said.
“And how do you know that?” Jake asked.
“Because my sister works for the cleaning service Alan uses,” he answered.
“Of course she does,” Jake laughed as he walked further into the kitchen. “Anyone know where the priests wandered off to?”
“They went toward the other side of the house,” Lionel offered. “I let them in. Had to.”
“Yeah, I heard about that,” Jake complained. “Well, I’ll find them. You guys check the upstairs,” he ordered.
“Will do, Jake,” George answered.
Jake walked through the kitchen, the formal dining room, and into an immense, two-story living room. The stone fireplace was overwhelming, along with the large one-story windows that offered a view of the trees that led to the river. As he strained to see the water, he thought he saw someone standing in front of the tree line behind the horseshoe pit. Jake closed his eyes, hoping the shadow wouldn’t still be there when he opened them again.
The shadow was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was beginning to hate these windows. With the lights on in the house, anyone could see him standing there. A sitting duck. He quickly walked through the living room and into a long, wide hallway with two doors on either side. All four were closed.
“Now why in the hell would they close the door?” Jake wondered aloud. There wasn’t any other place on the first floor they could have gone. So he was going to have to check every damned one until he found them. This wasn’t going to be pretty for that Sasquatch priest.
He opened the first door on the right, admiring the wood trim bordering its frame. He flipped the switch. The room was surprisingly small, and was adorned with small, fragile figurines. They were everywhere. Horses, deer, cows, pigs, even angels. And demons.
“Okay, enough of this shit,” he said as he flipped the switch and closed the door. “Next room.”
He walked across the hall, admiring some of the large portraits of previous Brickton residents hanging between the doors. They looked to be quite old. Jake figured they loved themselves so much they wanted to look at themselves as often as they could, especially since the people in the portrait don’t age.
“Rich people,” he groaned. As he entered the first room on the left, he flinched at the smell.
“What the hell is that smell?” Once he scanned the room he understood. “Duh. I would know that smell in my sleep,” he laughed.
Guns lined the walls, along with knives, crossbows, and an assortment of medieval weapons. The room was at least 20x20. Every inch of the room was adorned with some sort of death machine, or mechanisms that caused death. It was, in short, an armory. Jake made a mental note to come back in the next few days, after the case was solved, and grab some of this shit. He was even more irritated with the priests because he had to get to them quickly. Otherwise Anna would say he was ‘wasting his time, the department’s most precious resource.’ Bullshit.
He closed the door behind him as he walked into the hallway. This time he ignored the portraits as he moved to the last door on the right. Each door had the same intricate woodwork around it. He knew what the room was before he even saw it in the light. It was a large guest bathroom. At least he assumed it was a guest bathroom because the other rooms hadn’t been bedrooms. There was a huge claw tub and a standup shower behind it. Jake thought the stone looked like the fireplace. He shook his head.
“This room alone is worth half my house.” He shut the door a little harder than he should have. “I’m sure the wood is strong,” he laughed. He walked directly across the hall to the last room. He noticed that the light was on. He thought to himself that he should have seen that before he got this far.
“I’m off my game,” he said loudly as he entered the room. “I should have known that I would find the dork in the library,” Jake said to an empty room. He slowed the last words, confused because he was unable to locate the priests anywhere. A large table with a purple cloth stood against the wall beside him. He laughed at himself when he considered looking under it. He literally scratched his head, saying, “Where the hell are you bastards?” He considered calling their names as he looked at the vast shelves. He thought better of it and walked out the door.
“I can’t find the holy rollers,” he said to George, who was standing at the foot of the large staircase in the rear of the living room. “Everybody upstairs?
“Yeah,” George said nervously as he stared out the windows. “No matter where you go in this room, somebody could still see you in here.”
“Glass houses,” Jake said as he shook his head. He looked at George, whose face had grown pale. “You okay buddy?” he asked as his friend continued looking out the window.
“Every minute or so I swear to God Himself that I keep seeing something down there.” He swallowed hard. Jake remembered thinking he saw something when he first passed through the room.
“This house gives me the creeps,” Lionel said as he walked onto the landing halfway up the stairs.
“Tell me about it,” George echoed.
“Guys, it’s just a house. It’s the woods that should be scaring the shit out of you,” Jake corrected.
“True, very true,” Lionel laughed, making his way toward them. He froze halfway down the stairs.
“What?” George asked squeamishly, jerking his neck back to the windows.
“I think there’s something out there,” he said.
“Oh, shit,” George huffed. Lionel burst into laughter. Jake joined him. “Real funny, assholes,” George said.
“Yeah, it’s not like someone died down there,” Tim said as he began descending the top stairs and pausing on the landing. Jake rolled his hand into a fist, wishing he could have one good shot at Tim’s jaw. That would shut him up real good.
“So why aren’t your religious freaks with you? Don’t you stick together?” Jake mocked.
“Why would I have them with me?” Tim asked, looking concerned. “That was your job.”
“I didn’t find them down here,” Jake said. Then he corrected himself. “They’re not down here, Tim.”
“Shit,” Lionel cursed. “Anna’s gonna kill us.”
“Calm down, calm down,” Jake said. “They gotta be here somewhere. They probably heard the gunfire and are hiding somewhere in this forsaken house.”
“Father McMillan?” Tim yelled, hoping his priest would answer his call. The men stood as still as marble status, listening. Something scraped against the large window behind the fireplace. George jumped.
“It’s the wind,” Jake said.
“Wind doesn’t knock on windows,” George pointed out.
“A tree’s probably scraping it,” Jake said.
“There aren’t trees there, genius,” Tim said. “We need to find the ministers now, and get the hell outta here.”
“Agreed,” Jake said. He had to put his distaste for Tim on the backburner so they could find the priests. Even though he didn’t like Matthew much, his mom and sister would kill him if he didn’t protect their precious Father McMillan.”
“Let’s spread out,” Tim said.
“No, we need to stick together. George will go with me. You and Lionel check up there. And don’t go into any rooms alone. Don’t let each other out of your sight.” Jake wasn’t about to lose any men.
“Where’s Ralph?” George asked Tim.
“Right here,” he said as he walked down the stairs and stood next to Tim.
“Go with them,” Jake said as he pointed to Tim and Lionel. They went their separate ways in two groups, with Jake and George walking toward the kitchen.
“Why are we going this way?” George asked.
“We should check the mudroom and kitchen.” As they walked into the mudroom, Jake locked the deadbolt on the door.
“Jake, what are you doing? What if Matthew and Amy are out there?” George asked, standing closely behind him preparing to unlock the door. Jake grabbed his hand.
“If they’re out there, George, they’re dead. Let’s go.” They looked out the window for a brief moment, then returned to the main house to search for the priests.
CHAPTER FIVE
Familiar Faces
1
“How in the name of God could a dead man be running through the woods?” Anna asked no one in particular.
“Not to mention ripping through Jake’s jacket like it was butter,” Damien added.
Anna stared at the still frame of the strangely lit, horribly white form of Matthew McMillan, Sr. She shook her head violently as she stood up. All eyes in the room locked onto her, looking to her for guidance.
“There has to be an explanation for this,” Geraldine offered.
Anna could feel the tension in the room getting heavier. She had to take control. First of herself, and then of the situation. This was why people voted for her, and she didn’t want to let them down. Letting the town down at this point could spell certain death for yet another person. If more civilians started dying, the shit would hit the fan and her job would become impossible to manage. At least the political side of it. She shook her head again, ashamed for thinking of the sociopolitical consequences.
She turned to Rick and John. “I need you guys to go the Brickton Estate and help Jake and the others.”
“Sure, boss,” Rick said after a brief pause, the color draining from his face.
“If we’re going to get through this, and catch whoever this bastard is, we need to work together,” Anna reminded them. She looked closely at the picture covering a third of the wall. She knew it couldn’t be Mr. McMillan. She had seen him in the coffin. She even touched his hand with Matthew, hoping it would make him feel better. Didn’t work well for me, she thought to herself.
“Sheriff,” Geraldine said, touching her shoulder gently. “Where’s Michael?”
“Oh, shit,” Anna mumbled. “I sent him to the payphone at the Laundromat to lift prints.”
“Has he reported back?” Damien asked.
“Janet!” Anna called, making everyone in the room raise their shoulders toward their ears from the volume. Janet nearly sprinted into the office with Trisha hot on her heels. They stopped beside the table where Trevor and Tommy had returned to their seats.
“Yes, Sheriff?” she shouted.
“Have you heard from Deputy Mullins yet?”
“Michael?” Janet asked.
“Yes, Michael Mullins, Janet. Have you heard from him?” Anna was trying to maintain her temper.
“No, Sheriff, I haven’t heard from him.”
“When was the last time he checked in?” Damien asked quickly.
“When he got to the Laundromat,” she answered.
“When was this?” Anna asked.
“And what did he say?” Damien chimed in. Anna gave him a stern look. He nodded apologetically.
“It was about a half hour, maybe forty minutes ago,” Janet said uneasily.
“Are you sure?” Anna asked.
“Yes, at least thirty,” Janet said more confidently.
They all stood and stared at each other. Anna raised her arms, as if to say, And what else, Janet? Jesus Christ!
“Right. He said there were two cars in the parking lot and he would call in when he was done.” Janet looked at her shoes, suspecting she had done something wrong.
Anna was pissed at herself for not having sent someone with Michael. How could she have been so careless? There was a murderer running around in the woods, a murderer who almost killed Sam and Trevor. Why would she have sent him out alone? Guilt began crawling up her spine. She tried to shrug it off, keep her cool and maintain her authority.
“Janet, try to get in touch with Michael. Geraldine, Aaron, I need you to go to the Laundromat as fast as you can.”
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Geraldine said softly.
“We can’t get bogged down in feelings that will get us killed.” Anna said briskly. “Keep your wits about you and let’s get this done.”
Everyone stood and stared at her.
“Now!” Anna shouted. “God be with you,” she added. She hoped it would offset her yelling at them, but she felt like an idiot.
Anna looked toward the table where her sons were sitting. Trevor gave her the thumbs up, but in a somewhat embarrassed fashion. Her direct line began ringing at her desk, startling most people in the room. It was just what they needed to start following Anna’s orders.
“Sheriff Blackwood,” she said gruffly.
“Anna, hello. David here,” Dr. David Styles said.
“Dr. Styles!” she said a little too excitedly. She waved everyone out of the room. She put her hand over the bottom part of the phone to speak to Damien. “Stay on the cameras, Damien.”
“I have some information for you,” David said in a monotone voice.
“I’m listening,” Anna assured him.
“The yellowish foreign object that was in the back of the neck of our victim is a weapon made from animal bone, maybe even a claw or talon.”
Anna was quiet for a moment, allowing what David had said to sink in. Although Aaron had already relayed that information, it seemed real coming from David. It was certai
nly a strange weapon to use, but then again the night was becoming stranger by the minute. When she didn’t say anything, David spoke again.
“I’ve sent Jason to meet with Professor Bearson from the university. He will be able to tell us what type of animal it belongs to.”
“When should we be expecting him?” she asked.
“In the next few hours,” he said.
“Did you determine the cause of death?” Anna asked, even though she had already guessed.
“It turns out that Mr. Brickton had a massive coronary event.”
“You mean he died of a heart attack?” she asked, surprise in her voice.
“Well, yes and no,” David said. “The injuries to his neck would have killed him, but at the approximate time he sustained it he also suffered a heart attack.”
Anna’s stomach dropped a little. She felt intense pity for Alan Brickton. How terrible that must have been for him. Literally being scared to death.
“What else do you know?”
“I know it wasn’t a lower order animal that killed him,” David said. “Logically, I can rule that out.”
“What do you mean?” Anna asked.
“Aside from the neck wound, his ankles were crushed. There were also some scrapes on the back of his head, a few inches above the wound.”
“So you’re saying he was dragged on the ground,” Anna estimated. Just like Sam, she remembered with a shiver.
“Indeed,” David said. “And what’s more, the contusions around his ankles are similar to those inflicted by human hands in some ways.”
“In some ways?” Anna asked. “What about the other ways?”
“Either our killer is on some significant doses of steroids, or…” his voice dropped off.
“David?”
“I’m sorry, I cannot find a way to end that thought.”
“Because you’re still contemplating it or because there’s nothing else to say?”
“Quite honestly, Anna, it defies logic.” He paused. “And I do not say that lightly.”
“I know, David. I know.” “So what’s the next step?” Anna asked.
“Well, I am hoping Professor Bearson arrives within the next hour.”