Jack Zane: Evil at Storm Lake

by Jan Sumner

  Chapter 28

  Jonathan finished the book, actually it finished itself; he had become a participant, no longer an interviewer or observer. He was so enmeshed in the story, that the words flowed, he’d never written so well, so articulately. He sent it off to his eagerly awaiting publisher and sat back and watched it sell - and sell it did. He’d never had anything remotely close to the success Surviving Death was having.

  Over a year had passed since he’d finished it and it was still doing well. He and Amy went to book signings, parties and he’d even started to speak at various functions about the book and the research that went into it. He knew part of the intrigue of his speaking engagements was that he was not only the author of the book but the son of the lead character. At first, he struggled with that concept, but then realized there was nothing he could do about it and, in fact, was being rewarded, along with the other victims, for being Zane’s son. Strange though it was, he felt good about the fact he could financially help out those Zane had left in despair. And he was enjoying the signings and talks. He could see people look at him in a curious way, but then once he spoke, told his story, they realized he was truly not like his brother or father and was trying to help those who’d paid such a dear price.

  The first person to reap the reward of Jonathan’s success, was his dad. He made sure his dad didn’t have to work anymore unless he wanted to. This allowed him to pursue his true love…cooking. As a matter of fact he’d even written a small book about cooking, called “The Delectable Breakfast,” which had done modestly well, with some pressure from Jonathan on his publisher, although, his dad didn’t know and wouldn’t have cared. All he knew was those great breakfasts he use to make, were now in print. As he told Jonathan shortly after the book came out, “Sales be damned, I WROTE A BOOK!”

  He seemed happy and content, adored Amy and couldn’t have been more proud of Jonathan, for standing tall, surviving the media onslaught, and writing one phenomenal book.

  Jonathan and Amy had gotten married right after the book came out, found a nice little home in New Orleans and were doing quite well, given the success of the book. The book signings had slowed, but he was still getting requests to speak and, in fact, gave a few lectures at various universities around the country. He thoroughly enjoyed the lectures, because there was participation, students asking questions, a real give and take. It stimulated his creative juices.

  He’d even started another book, nonfiction, on the mentality, personality and traits that make up a serial killer. He wanted to address the nature or nurture argument. He’d certainly seen both sides and felt he could bring an accurate perspective to it. He and Amy were beginning their research on it, but he still jumped at every opportunity to lecture.

  It was coming up on two years since the book had been release and he received a request to speak from his old alma mater, the University of Kansas. A professor in literature there, whom Jonathan had taken a creative writing course from, called and asked him to come and talk about his book, the research required, and any new projects he had going on. He was thrilled. There’s always a part of you, that boastful part, that wants to go back and show everyone how well you’ve done in spite of what they thought when you were a student there. This, along with the fact he could sell some books at the book signing after the lecture was more than enough incentive. It was set for late October.

  Jonathan and Amy flew into Kansas City, rented and car and made the drive to Lawrence. The university put them up in a very nice hotel, paid for their meals and generally treated them like royalty.

  He hadn’t been back to KU in, well, he wasn’t sure how long. Maybe since he’d graduated. It didn’t look any different and he was enjoying showing Amy around what he liked to call a “Big School.” She’d graduated from Tulane, which she liked to call a “Good School.” They laughed and had a good time looking around. He showed her where he’d lived, the field house where the “Big School” basketball team played, and all the hidden little places he’d go to read or study.

  “You know, Amy,” he said as they strolled around the campus, “It’s funny, when I was a student here…well, I was from a very small town, went unnoticed, really stayed to myself for the most part. Oh, I had a few close friends, but we were never part of the in crowd, so to speak.

  “Now here I’ve come back to lecture…wow, it doesn’t seem real.”

  Seeing his head start to swell, she felt it was her responsibility to bring him back to earth a little bit. Amy had always been a big basketball fan and knew some of the history. As they walked she grabbed his sleeve, “Didn’t Wilt Chamberlain go to school here?” She said trying to hold back a smile.

  Jonathan burst out laughing, “Okay, okay, go ahead and steal my thunder, see if I care.”

  They continued on, still chuckling about his pseudo triumphant return. As luck would have it, they ran into Professor Gibbs, who had made all this possible.

  “Professor Gibbs, it’s so great to see you,” Jonathan said extending a hand. He hadn’t seen the professor in many years and only talked to him on the phone about this lecture. He looked decidedly older, but why not…he was, but still had that gleam in his eye and a firm handshake.

  “Jonathan, I’m so pleased you accepted my invitation. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to hearing you speak. I’ve read your book and, it was chilling, but even more important, at least from my perspective, it was well written.”

  “Well sir, coming from you that is a true compliment, thank you. Professor Gibbs, I’d like you to meet my wife, Amy. I can’t tell you how much she helped me with the book - she was…and is, fantastic!”

  “I can see that, it’s a delight to me you Amy. I’m pleased you could be here for Jonathan’s celebratory return.”

  They chatted a few more minutes, then parted ways with the professor reminding Jonathan he had to be at the lecture hall no later that four the next afternoon. They were expecting quite a large crowd.

  He and Amy finished up their campus tour and made their way back to the hotel. He wanted to have plenty of time to go over his notes again, get a good night's sleep and be ready for this much anticipated day.

  As Jonathan laid out his speech he could see Amy sitting pensively on the bed, she seemed to be far off…daydreaming.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “What? Oh, never mind, just thinking.”

  “Come on, you look like you’re in another land.”

  “Okay, I’ve never brought this up, but I guess now’s as good a time as any.”

  Jonathan put his work down and sat on the bed next to her. “Wow, this must be serious,” he said half hoping it wasn’t.

  “Have you ever wondered how or why your mom kept her rape a secret…from your dad, her parents? I don’t know if I could do that, you know what I mean?”

  Jonathan lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I’ve wondered the same thing, especially over the past few years. I guess I hoped no one else would wonder. I have thought about it a lot Amy, and the only answer I have is that back then people kept secrets, especially things like rape, anything they perceived to be dishonest or disgraceful.”

  “But Jonathan, it wasn’t her fault, how could that be construed as disgraceful? The guy was a murderer, evil.”

  “I know Amy, but back then things were handled differently. Trust me, she thought it was shameful and better kept to herself. What my dad and her parents didn’t know, couldn’t hurt them.”

  Amy lay back beside him, “What a heavy burden to carry. She must have been special.”

  “She was!”

  He’d made Amy listen to these speeches so may times before she knew them by heart. Maybe, he thought, it was just once too often, and that was the reason she fell asleep on the bed this time. Whatever the case, he tried not to take it personally and finished it up…talking into the mirror. He just prayed she wo
uldn’t pull a repeat performance the next day.

  The next morning they loaded up what he hoped was an ample number of books into the car, then had breakfast, at which he demanded she have multitudinous cups of coffee, then off to the lecture hall.

  “Are you nervous?” She asked hurriedly, starting to feel a little hyper.

  “Yeah, more so than ever before. I guess it’s because it’s my old school, you know, the king is dead, long live the king.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, hoping she’d catch his meaning.

  “Oh, I see, so I am in the presence of true greatness,” she said trying to be serious.

  “Yes, I couldn’t have said it better myself…true greatness!”

  “Well, let’s just hope I don’t fall asleep again during his majesty’s oration. I mean how would that look to the rest of the peasants.”

  “Touché! You’re darn right I’m nervous and, you’d better not fall asleep, because the rest of the peasants would be the least of your worries.”

  They were still trading barbs as they pulled into the parking lot. They made their way to the lecture hall where Professor Gibbs was waiting. He sent some students back to Jonathan’s van to get the books and sat down with Jonathan and Amy to go over the agenda.

  Jonathan remembered the auditorium, but it seemed smaller now, more intimate. The sequence was set and the three of them went into an adjacent room for some snacks. It would be the same room for the book signing. It was spacious with his book displayed and a large poster indicating he’d be doing a signing after the talk. He looked around and thought, Wow, this place could hold a few folks, I hope we get them.

  They did, the lecture hall was packed. With all these people, it now looked much larger than before. He’d gone from true greatness to…pure apprehension, which he hoped would give him a sharpness and, maybe even more important – keep Amy conscious.

  It could not have gone better, he had them in the palm of his hand, to quote Amy when he was done, which probably meant she was awake throughout the speech. There was a good give and take, with lots of questions. Given the response of the crowd, Jonathan felt sure he’d be signing lots of books and getting to talk, albeit briefly, one on one with some of the attendees. He was right, lots of people came in to get books and get the chance to meet him up close.

  Amy sat next to him and fed him the books. At one point, he couldn’t resist, turned to her and said, “I don’t know about you but I feel a certain…what shall we call it…greatness here.”

  She rolled her eyes, shoved another book at him, said, “Yeah, okay, whatever your prominence.”

  They’d gone through about fifty books, signing, dedicating and having some nice flattering conversations, when a young woman, probably in her late twenties stepped forward.

  “Mr. Smyth, it’s such an honor to meet you…and I was wondering, if, well…there’s someone I would like you to meet when you’re done…if you don’t mind.”

  Jonathan didn’t understand why she just didn’t bring whoever this was up to the signing table with her, but agreed to meet them, if she didn’t mind waiting. She said she didn’t and they’d meet him back in the lecture hall when he was through signing.

  As he put his last salutation and signature in a book for an older man who wanted to reminisce, he’d completely forgotten about the lecture hall meeting. He was starting to pack up, when Amy reminded him of it.

  “Jonathan, don’t forget that woman in the lecture hall.”

  “Oh jeez, I’d completely forgotten about that. Okay, I’ll run down there, see what she wants, or who she wants me to meet and I’ll be right back.”

  “Fine, leave me here to clean up the mess…I’m just kidding, go ahead, I’ll finish up here and wait for you.”

  He made his way into the lecture hall. There sitting alone in the front row was the woman and a small boy, about seven or eight years old. As Jonathan approached she stood up, the boy remained seated.

  “Mr. Smyth, this is my son Ted.”

  “Ted, it’s nice to meet you,” Jonathan said, extending his hand.

  Ted sat quietly, looking down at the floor. Jonathan squatted down, still holding his hand out.

  “Ted, I’m pleased to meet you.” The boy slowly raised his head, his eyes moving up from the floor deliberately. As their eyes met, Jonathan pulled back his hand and stood straight up. He felt a chill run down his back. He turned and looked at the mother, “Who are you?”

  “My name is Monica Lane and this is my son Ted…who also happens to be…your nephew.”

  “What are you talking…Oh my God…Matthew?”

  “Yes, I was a student in college in Idaho…and, well…I escaped. This is his son.”

  Jonathan sat down beside the boy, still shaken. Monica came to him and held his hand, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know exactly what to do, but I thought you’d want to meet him. He’s a good boy and wanted to meet you. I hope that’s okay?”

  “Well, certainly it’s okay, I don’t quite know what to say…except it’s okay.”

  “Why don’t you and Ted talk for a minute. I left his backpack in the other room, I’ll go get it and be right back.”

  Jonathan turned to Ted, “So, Ted, tell me how old you are?” Still looking straight ahead the boy answered, “I’m eight, uncle.” He now turned and looked Jonathan directly in the eyes, his demeanor changed. Jonathan could see something familiar, frightening.

  “You know, Uncle Jonathan, you have that same look on your face, like when my dad shot that cow back in Independence.” Then he grinned.

  Jonathan stood up slowly, terrified, not believing this was happening. He stared at the boy, not knowing what to do. Monica returned and Ted instantly wiped the grin off his face and looked back at the floor.

  “Well, did you guys get acquainted a little bit?” She asked.

  Ted looked up at her, “Yes, mom, we had a good talk.”

  “Mr. Smyth,” she said moving in front of him. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this. I don’t expect anything from you, I just wanted you to meet Ted. Who knows, down the way, maybe you two can have a relationship.”

  Jonathan was speechless, still not believing what had happened. She patted him on the arm, “Well, I guess we better get going, but I hope to talk to you again sometime.”

  Jonathan nodded and, as they walked out the door, the boy turned and looked at Jonathan, “I'm serious Uncle Jonathan, no one better know about this!" And was gone.

  Jonathan sat and began to shake, he felt like he was going to explode. Amy found him, sitting alone, crying.

  “Jonathan, what’s wrong? Who were those people?”

  He grabbed her face and held it to his, sobbing he said, “Oh my God, Amy…it’s starting all over again!”