Dead Rise: An Alex Penfield Novel

by Robert W. Stephens

  He watched as Sally reached over to a table on her side of the sofa. She grabbed a small piece of paper and held it in her lap. Her fingers were wrapped gently around it, so Penfield could tell it was important to her. He tried to discreetly look at it. He guessed it might be a photograph, but her hands covered most of it.

  “How can you help my son?”

  “Someone took Detective Emma Ross. He has her hostage, and he’s threatening to kill her. I need you to help me find him. Once we have him, Charles Ray will be cleared of everything.”

  “Why do you think I know who this person is?”

  “You saw him in your house, your bed to be exact.”

  “He was my son,” Sally said, and she looked down at the photograph in her hand.

  Penfield looked at the photograph. He had a better view of it now, and he could see that it was a wide shot of a family. He thought he could see a massive tree in the background. Maybe it had been taken in their backyard.

  “Are those your children?”

  Sally handed the photograph to Penfield. He looked at it and saw the image of four boys standing around someone he presumed was a much younger version of Sally.

  “Wilton was the oldest, then Bobby, then Jimmy. Charles Ray is my baby.”

  Penfield looked at the photograph again. He didn’t see any deformity in Jimmy’s face.

  “That was taken just before the symptoms started to appear,” Sally said, as if she could read Penfield’s thoughts.

  “How did it happen?”

  “He was only eight years old. The skin on the right side of his face started to look funny. We thought he’d had an allergic reaction to something, but it kept getting worse. We took him to the doctor. He hadn’t seen anything like it before, so he told us to go to the hospital for tests. That’s when they told us it was Romberg’s Disease. I’d never heard of it before.”

  “It must have been terrible for Jimmy.”

  “He was always such a happy boy. He loved to play with his brothers. He loved to climb that tree,” she said, and she pointed to the photograph in Penfield’s hand. “The disease didn’t just take his face. It took everything.”

  “What happened the day he died?”

  “He was in the tree with his brothers. It was Bobby and Wilton and their friend, Buddy. Charles Ray was too young. They’d climb that tree just about every day. Bill and I were in the house. We heard the kids yelling, and when we went outside, we saw Jimmy on the ground. They said he’d fallen. I didn’t know how that could happen. Jimmy was such a good climber.”

  “Did he die instantly?”

  “No. He was still breathing when we found him, but just barely. I ran back into the house and called 911. The sheriff’s deputies were the first to get there.”

  “Do you remember their names?”

  “Yes. It was Lucas Slater and Ben Hall.”

  “What happened after that? Was Jimmy still alive when they took him to the hospital?”

  “No. He died there in the backyard, just after they got there.”

  “The person who took Detective Ross is the same person who killed Ben Hall and your son’s friend, Buddy Butler. He blames Sheriff Slater for something. It has to be connected to Jimmy somehow. Do you know what the connection might be?”

  Sally shook her head.

  Penfield didn’t believe her, mainly because she’d looked away right after he’d asked the question.

  “Why was Jimmy buried in your family plot? Why wasn’t he buried at the cemetery where your husband and Bobby were buried?”

  “Bill didn’t want him going there.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “No. He just said no.”

  “Mrs. Tatum, I’m sorry for having to ask this, but it’s critical to my understanding of this case. We don’t think your son was ever buried in that coffin. There’s no forensics evidence to support him ever having been there. Did you see someone actually put his body in that coffin?”

  Sally closed her eyes. Penfield waited a long moment. She finally opened them and turned to Penfield.

  “My husband thought Jimmy was cursed somehow. He thought God was punishing us for something. He thought he was punishing me as his mother.”

  “Why would God be punishing you?”

  “Bill was never happy with me,” she said, and Penfield could almost feel the pain in her body.

  “Mrs. Tatum, do you know if your husband put Jimmy’s body somewhere else?”

  “He wouldn’t let me say goodbye to my son. I wanted to see my boy one last time, but he wouldn’t let me.”

  “What do you think might have happened to him? Where do you think they really buried him?”

  “I don’t know,” Sally cried. “I hoped he was there. I really did. I would go back every day to his grave to talk to him until Bill made me stop.”

  “Why did he stop you?”

  “Bill never loved Jimmy, and then Jimmy got sick. It just drove them even farther apart.”

  “Did he love his other sons?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why do you think he never loved Jimmy?”

  “He never loved him,” Sally repeated.

  “Mrs. Tatum, were your husband and Sheriff Slater friends? Did they know each other?”

  “They knew each other, but they weren’t friends. I didn’t think Lucas would be the one to get the emergency call. I thought they would just send an ambulance.”

  “They might have been close by when the call came through. What did they do to try to help Jimmy?”

  “They didn’t do anything. Bill told Lucas to stay back.”

  “Why would he do that, Mrs. Tatum?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve called him Lucas a few times now and not Sheriff Slater. Were you friends with him?” Penfield asked.

  “I knew him, a long time ago.”

  “I want to ask you something one more time. Do you know who broke into your house the other night? Did you recognize that man?”

  “He was my son.”

  Penfield looked at the photograph of the Tatum family in his hands. He looked back at Sally.

  “Do you mind if I take a photo of this with my phone?”

  “No.”

  Penfield pulled his phone out of his pocket and snapped a quick photo. He handed the original back to Sally. He then stood.

  “Thank you for your time. I want you to know I’ll do my best to help Charles Ray.”

  Sally said nothing in response. She just stared at the photograph in her hands.

  Penfield let himself out. He climbed back into his car and drove to the end of the dirt driveway. He stopped his car before pulling out onto the road and put it in park mode. He pulled out his phone again and searched through his contacts until he found the right name. He dialed the number.

  “Hello, this is Doctor Cassidy Greene.”

  “Doctor Greene, this is Alex Penfield. It’s been a long time.”

  “Alex, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Penfield brought Doctor Greene up to speed on Emma’s kidnapping, as well as his decision to work the case without the official assistance of the Gloucester County Sheriff’s Department.

  “Oh my God, do you have any idea who might have taken her?”

  “Just one idea, but I was hoping to get some information from you first. I’m sorry to put you in this position since I’m not a city employee anymore.”

  “Just name it, Alex. I’ll help however I can.”

  “I know you ran the DNA test on that hair found at the Tatum household. Mrs. Tatum claimed the intruder was suffering from a condition called Romberg’s Disease. Is there any way you tested for that?”

  “Emma asked me that before I even sent out the sample. In fact, I left her a phone message about the results yesterday. I was wondering why I didn’t get a call back.”

  “What did the test conclude?”

  “The person does suffer from that disease.”

  “How much do you know
about that condition?”

  “Not a lot, but I did read up on it because of this case.”

  “Is it possible for two siblings to both suffer from the same disease?”

  “It’s rare, but it has happened.”

  “Thank you. That’s exactly what I needed to know.”

  “How does this help you?” Doctor Greene asked.

  “Because now I know exactly who I’m looking for.”

  Penfield thanked her again and ended the call. He pulled up the photograph of the Tatum family on his phone. Four sons: three presumably dead and one locked up in jail. He thought he knew what happened the day Jimmy Tatum died. Now he had to prove it.

  Chapter 26

  It Changes Everything

  Emma had no idea how much time had passed since the man had left. The pain had yet to ease up, and she could still feel the blood trickle down her hand. She’d tried to angle it up to help stop the flow of blood, but the ties were still too tight around her wrists. The man had told her he intended to return her to Sheriff Slater one piece at a time. She had no doubt he would keep that promise.

  Emma was no stranger to death. She’d seen it many times on the job. She remembered all of those encounters, but the first one seemed the most vivid in her mind’s eye. She’d come upon a car accident while working a night shift. She was still a uniformed deputy at that point. She’d heard the report called in, and she’d happened to be just a few miles away from the accident.

  Someone had apparently run a red light and plowed into the side of another car that was crossing the intersection. Emma remembered driving up to the scene and seeing the cars’ headlights illuminate the falling rain. There was broken glass, crushed plastic, and torn metal all over the road. She’d parked about thirty feet from the accident and rushed out of her car. She’d come to the first car and seen an unconscious man slumped over the wheel. The air bag had deployed, but it had deflated by the time she’d arrived. Emma had examined the man and found that he was still breathing. He didn’t seem to have any injuries at all, short of being unconscious. Emma didn’t know if he had a head injury, but she hadn’t been able to find any bruising or swelling on his forehead or face.

  It was the complete opposite scene at the next car. That car had been pushed several feet after the collision and was sitting in the grass along the side of the road. The driver’s door was crushed. The seat belt had held the woman in place, but the door had pushed inward and had pressed her body toward the middle of the car. The driver’s left arm was dangling at her side. It looked like it had been dislocated. Emma couldn’t even see the woman’s left leg. It was buried under the tangle of metal and plastic. Blood streamed from a deep gash on the woman’s upper cheek as well as her broken nose. The woman’s face was a hideous mask of red.

  The woman had barely managed to turn her head toward Emma when she’d leaned through the broken window and told her that help was on its way. It was, but it had taken an agonizing twenty minutes for the fire department and paramedics to arrive.

  Emma had walked to the other side of the car and entered through the undamaged passenger door. She’d cleared the broken glass off the passenger seat and had sat down beside the woman. Emma remembered taking the victim’s right hand in her own. The woman hadn’t been able to speak, but Emma had talked to her the entire time. She’d told her that she was going to be all right. A part of Emma had believed it at first, but then she’d spent several minutes watching the life drain out of the woman.

  She’d seen something truly strange happen during that time, and she still struggled to understand it this many years later. She’d been able to see the pain in the woman’s eyes when she’d first come upon the scene. That look of pain had lasted for several long minutes. Then her eyes changed and reflected deep sadness. It was as if the woman had known that she was going to die on that rainy roadside. The sadness had been unbearable, and Emma could have sworn the pain and sorrow had extended out to herself. It was like it enveloped her in a thick blanket of energy. The weight of it had felt suffocating. She’d squeezed the woman’s hand even harder and had promised her that she wouldn’t leave her. She thought the woman had heard her, but it hadn’t done anything to ease the sadness.

  Then, just before she passed, the woman smiled at Emma. The smile had only lasted a few seconds, but they’d made eye contact nonetheless. Then she’d closed her eyes and was gone. Emma had stayed in the car and held the woman’s hand until the emergency team arrived. She remembered them talking to her as she sat in the car, but she couldn’t recall what they’d said. She did remember them placing their hand on her shoulders and urging her to get out of the car so they could do their work. It didn’t make a difference. The woman was dead. It wasn’t the emergency responder’s fault by any means. The autopsy revealed the woman had suffered massive internal injuries and would have never survived the transportation to the hospital.

  The man who had run the light had been uninjured. As is often the case, his relaxed and inebriated state was what had saved him. It was a cruel twist of fate that Emma saw far too often. Emma had to testify at the man’s trial since she’d been a witness to the aftermath of the accident. The man’s blood alcohol level had been twice the legal limit that night. Of course, it wasn’t his first arrest for driving under the influence, but they always seemed to find a way to get themselves back on the road.

  Emma was also in the courtroom when they sentenced him. She remembered the look on his face, or perhaps it would be better to describe him as having no look at all. He just sat there expressionless and blankly stared ahead as the judge spoke to him. It took all of Emma’s self-control not to scream at him. She wanted to know if he truly realized the damage he’d done. He’d killed a mother of three. He’d cut short a woman’s beautiful life and left a family utterly destroyed in the process. There was no way he could ever repay them for the damage he’d done, but there he sat, stone-faced and seemingly remorseless.

  The man got sixteen years, much shorter than Emma had wanted, and he was out in only eight. Emma remembered the day he’d been released from prison. She was there as well, although she didn’t think he’d seen her. She’d been in her car. She was a detective by then, and she watched him as he walked out of jail a free man. His life had gone on, while the woman he’d crushed with his car was deep in the ground.

  Death was everywhere, yet there was a part deep in Emma’s mind that was still protected from it. She knew on an intellectual level that it would come for her one day. She was still a young woman, though, and she’d never imagined her own death despite what she did for a living. She never questioned whether she would make it into her old age. Even after Ben had been murdered in his own home, there was still that part of her that remained safe from death. It wouldn’t come for her, not yet, at least.

  The man with the deformed face walked back into the warehouse. She heard the heavy footsteps on the gravel behind her.

  “He’s stayed silent, just sitting inside his perfect little world while you suffer here,” the man said.

  “What has he done? What is it you want from him?”

  “They found the piece of you. I saw your friend find it. I watched as he walked through the woods and came out by the water. He’s so close to you.”

  “I haven’t done anything to you.”

  The man walked around the pole that Emma was tied to and stood in front of her. Emma looked up and saw a long knife in his hand.

  “It changes everything about you. You know that, don’t you?”

  The man held the knife up to the side of his face with the deformity.

  “I remember when it first started to happen. I knew exactly what it was,” he continued.

  He kneeled down in front of Emma.

  “Do you know how people look at me? Do you know what they say?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, but it’s not my fault.”

  “I asked you to stay away. You don’t even have the slightest idea wh
at’s going on, but you’re still trying to stop me. You’ve chosen sides, and you don’t even know who the players are.”

  “I know what you’ve done.”

  “Not everyone is innocent.”

  “I’ve done nothing to you, but you still judge me,” she said.

  “Isn’t that what you do? You punish people for their crimes. I’m just doing the same. How am I different from any other judge? They put on their robes and sit behind their wooden boxes and hand out their sentences. How do they have that right? Who gives them the power over others?”

  The man leaned closer to Emma.

  “Now I’m the judge.”

  “It’s no one’s fault what happened to you. It’s not yours. It’s not mine, but you can’t change things by killing others,” Emma said.

  The man pulled her hair back.

  “I’m sorry, but I made a promise, and it’s time for the next piece.”

  Emma felt the cold blade of the knife lower between the top of her ear and the side of her head.

  “No, no, please.”

  She watched the muscles in the man’s arm tighten as he pushed down on the knife. She closed her eyes and screamed as he sawed the knife back and forth until the ear came free. She kept her eyes closed tightly as the pain raced through her head.

  She heard the man stand and walk away from her as the blood flowed down the side of her head and onto her neck and shoulder. She kept waiting for the waves of agony to ease, but they didn’t. She could still feel the cold knife against her skin. She could feel the phantom presence of her ear, even though she knew it was gone.

  Then she thought of the woman in the car in the rain. She’d seen death coming for her, and there had been nothing she could do about it. That same pain swept over Emma. The tears came forward as she gave into the crushing weight of despair.

  Emma suddenly realized that she now knew what the woman had been smiling about. She’d been thinking about her children in those last seconds of life. She’d known that she wasn’t ever going to see them again. But then that pain had transformed into happiness as she’d thought of the time she had gotten to spend with them. The shortness of her life had made those moments even more precious.