The Keeper of the Crows

by Kyle Alexander Romines

  “That’s the understatement of the year,” Thomas muttered, quick to look away when he saw the sheriff scowling at him.

  “Don’t worry,” Jezebel replied. “There is something we can do.” She scribbled something on a sheet of paper and passed it to Heavy Markham, checking to make sure Logan Randall wasn’t watching from his office. Markham looked at her quizzically but nodded to indicate he understood.

  “Come on,” Jezebel said to the curious reporter. “Let’s go to the courthouse.”

  Thomas was thankful for the warmth provided by his black leather jacket; the weather was colder than ever. He kept his hands tucked in his pockets, wishing he had possessed the foresight to bring gloves. In contrast, Jezebel was already wearing a pair.

  “Mind telling me what that was all about?”

  “I told Heavy to check Logan Randall’s cell phone records,” she said. “If he called Gary Davis before or after the murders, I want to know. I should have done it from the beginning.”

  “So, why are we headed to the courthouse?” Thomas asked while he tried to keep up with the athletic sheriff. He remembered Jezebel saying she used to run track. Thomas wondered how anyone could show so much energy when it was so cold.

  “Because Rick Pepper works there, of course.”

  “Right,” Thomas said. “I knew that.”

  “I’m sure you did,” Jezebel retorted sarcastically. “For your information, he’s a paralegal, and not a very good one at that. Judge Underhill was crazy for hiring him, in my opinion.”

  “Judge Underhill? We’ve met.”

  “Frankly, it would be more surprising if you told me you hadn’t,” she said as they walked briskly down the sidewalk. Thomas struggled to keep up. “The judge makes it his business to get to know as many people as possible. Always a plus for reelection.”

  “That sounded awfully contemptuous,” Thomas said. “Don’t you have to run for sheriff?”

  “Point taken. Actually, we have a good working relationship, even though I find him to be a little pompous. He always seems to say exactly what he thinks you want to hear. Most people like that. I guess I’m just too much of a straight shooter for it.”

  “Funny,” Thomas said. He suppressed a grin. “I thought the same thing when I met him. Except for the straight shooter part,” he added swiftly.

  “Anyway, I tried calling the judge last night, but he had his cell phone turned off.”

  The two walked inside the courthouse.

  “Hello, Sheriff Woods!” the young woman at the desk exclaimed brightly.

  “Hi, Sarah,” she said. “How’s your dad?”

  “He’s recovering, thanks to you. The doctors said he probably wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t gotten him to the hospital as quickly as you did.”

  “Tell him I asked after him,” Jezebel said. “Can you let Judge Underhill know I’m here?”

  “Of course,” Sarah replied. Thomas shot Jezebel an inquiring glance as they headed up the stairs.

  “Her father flipped his tractor in a sinkhole,” she said. “He managed to dial 911 before he passed out.”

  “Wow,” Thomas muttered. “That sounds terrible.”

  Jezebel nodded. “My father died in a similar accident,” she said.

  “I didn’t know that,” Thomas said. “I’m sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago. Finding Sarah’s dad like that brought it back.”

  “I keep forgetting what a local hero you are,” Thomas replied.

  Jezebel’s expression darkened.

  “I’m no hero,” she whispered.

  Thomas wondered what she meant, and if it was connected to what she’d told him about Salem Alistair. Thomas didn’t have to wonder what it would be like to search for redemption for past mistakes. That was the reason he was working in Gray Hollow. He wanted to say something to reassure her, but Jezebel knocked on the judge’s door before he had the chance.

  Charles Underhill opened the door. Thomas could see the beginnings of a beard on the man’s face and wondered if the judge was having problems sleeping lately. “Jezebel. What a nice surprise.”

  “Charles,” she said politely.

  “Along with Gray Hollow’s newest reporter,” Judge Underhill said. “We meet again.” His eyes narrowed. “I was a little disappointed in the public outcry your story inspired. Surely it must have crossed your mind that it might be more prudent to sit on the story for awhile?”

  “We’ve discussed it,” Jezebel said. “It’s too late to go back, but I think we’re on the same page now.”

  “That’s right,” Thomas piped in.

  Thomas was surprised she would speak so warmly of him. Maybe her attitude toward him really was changing.

  “If it is indeed water under the bridge, then I am dreadfully sorry to bring it back up,” Underhill replied. “Consider the subject dropped. Hopefully we can all work together to end this sorry affair. Have you come any closer to catching the killer?” He asked the question delicately, but Thomas could tell the judge was very curious.

  “Let’s hope so,” Jezebel said. “That’s why we’re here. Can you help us get in contact with Rick Pepper?”

  “Is something wrong?” Underhill asked. Concern crossed his face. “Rick does good work for me. I hope he isn’t in any trouble.”

  “We just need to talk with him for now,” Jezebel said. “There are a few questions I need to ask him regarding his activities over the past few days.”

  “I’ll have Sarah give you his cell phone number on the way out,” Underhill said. “I’m afraid I don’t have it with me. She’ll have his address as well, in case you don’t have it already.”

  “Wait,” Thomas interrupted. “Doesn’t Rick work here? Is he off today?”

  “Actually, no one here has heard from Rick all day, as far as I know. He didn’t show up for work today.”

  “Is that unusual?” Jezebel asked.

  “Not entirely. Rick loves to hunt, although he normally calls when he wants to take a day off.”

  “And he didn’t call today?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Any idea where he might be?” Thomas asked.

  “If he isn’t hunting, he might be at his girlfriend’s house. If I recall correctly, her name is Michelle. I’m not sure what her last name is.”

  Jezebel’s face fell. Thomas could tell she was hoping for a new lead. His mind raced furiously. While he was admittedly skeptical of Jezebel’s theory at first, the timing of Rick Pepper’s disappearance was unusual, if not outright suspicious.

  “One last question,” Jezebel said. “Has Rick said anything about Salem Alistair or his disappearance lately?”

  For a moment, Thomas spotted a flash of recognition in the judge’s eyes. The name clearly startled him.

  “I don’t understand,” Judge Underhill said. “Weren’t we discussing the recent murders? What does that have to do with Salem Alistair?”

  “Maybe nothing,” Jezebel muttered. “It’s just a feeling I have.”

  Underhill waited for her to elaborate, but Jezebel thanked him and left, Thomas following after her. After stopping by the front desk in the lobby, she pulled out her cell and dialed Rick Pepper’s number.

  “He’s not answering,” she said. Jezebel glanced at the address on the paper and walked swiftly out the courthouse doors. “Come on,” she said. “We only have a few hours left before it gets dark.”

  Thomas followed after her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gathering clouds swarmed over the horizon. Whispers of the darkness to come echoed through the fields. Slowly, the mass of thorns, vines, and pumpkins began expanding outward, animated by an unseen force. An evil power moved through the soil, deforming the trees while sapping their lives.

  Jezebel and Thomas failed to notice the flock of crows spilling out of the forest behind them; they were far too engaged in the discussion at hand. Nor did they spot the gray van parked idly across the street from the two-story brick hou
se.

  ***

  “This is where we should find Rick Pepper,” Jezebel said. “Hopefully, anyway.”

  “What if he doesn’t want to answer your questions?” Thomas asked.

  “Trust me, I can be very persuasive when I want to be,” she replied. The pair walked down the sidewalk toward the house.

  “I’ll vouch for that,” Thomas said.

  “If I know Rick Pepper, it shouldn’t be too hard to tell if he’s lying. You can help me verify everything he tells us. We can have Heavy put him under surveillance if necessary.”

  “If he is the murderer, it would be nice to get a chance to put him behind bars,” Thomas said.

  “And find out what he knows about Salem Alistair,” Jezebel added.

  Thomas remained quiet, as if unsure how to respond. She knew he was hesitant to bring up that sore point with her. She was sensitive about the disappearance of her childhood friend. Despite seeing a possible link between Rick Pepper and his school friends, aside from the scarecrow angle, there wasn’t that much substantial evidence linking either Rick Pepper or Gary Davis to the boy’s disappearance.

  “You’re absolutely sure this might not be one of Salem’s friends looking for justice?” Thomas finally asked, evidently unable to stop himself.

  “You should have listened to me the first time. Salem didn’t have any friends,” Jezebel snapped. “Except me.”

  And I let him down, Jezebel thought. She appreciated Thomas’ efforts to comfort her when she told him about what happened in the past, but nothing he could say would erase her remorse. In her mind, it would always be her fault that something happened to Salem. If she had been there with him, instead of at that stupid party, everything might have turned out differently.

  Salem’s disappearance had changed her life. Jezebel started having recurring nightmares. She grew depressed, losing interest in her friends. Things didn’t get any easier when her father died. In her heart, Jezebel knew she never quite resolved her issues with her dad. After graduating, she focused like a laser on becoming a police officer. She told herself that if she helped enough people, somehow it would make up for failing Salem Alistair when he needed her. So far, it never had.

  “Fair enough,” Thomas said, retreating from the line of questioning. The pair reached the house. There was no sign of life evident from the outside. All the lights appeared to be turned off. The sheriff knocked on the front door several times.

  “Mr. Pepper, are you in there? This is Sheriff Jezebel Woods. I would like a word with you.” She rang the doorbell. There was no answer, so she tried it again. Still there was no answer. Then she heard a sound inside the house that sounded like breaking glass. The sheriff looked at Thomas and quickly removed her gun from its holster.

  “Stay here. I’m going in to make sure it’s safe,” she said.

  Thomas looked at her like she was crazy. “No way. I’m not letting you go in there alone.”

  “You’re unarmed,” she whispered harshly. “You’ll just hold me back. Now stay―”

  She heard the shuffling of feet inside. Not willing to wait, Jezebel kicked the door open. The sheriff advanced slowly into the house, her gun held steadily in front of her. Thomas followed her inside before she could say no.

  A comely brunette with pale brown eyes stood in the middle of the hallway, staring wide-eyed at the sheriff. A broken vase lay on the floor below her. The woman tried to speak, but the sight of the gun made her stutter. Sensing her unease, Jezebel lowered the gun. Whoever she was, the woman didn’t look like a threat.

  “Who are you?” Jezebel said as she lowered her weapon. “What are you doing here?”

  “My name is Michelle Riley,” the woman said, a torrent of words gushing out of her. “I’m Rick’s girlfriend. He gave me a key to the house,” she said, holding up a keychain. “Is he in trouble? He hasn’t been answering his phone.”

  “We don’t know,” Jezebel replied. “I’ve tried his cell phone too. He never showed up for work today.”

  The woman fell back on a chair at the news, and her eyes began to water.

  “I knew this would happen,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” Thomas asked, clearly studying her.

  “Since the murders started, I’ve been afraid for him. I’ve heard rumors that something in the woods is alive, and there’s something evil wandering through the cornfields after dark. Something that’s not human.”

  Thomas returned Jezebel’s doubtful look. She had no doubt Rick’s girlfriend believed what she was saying, but it didn’t help the two of them to hear stories about local superstitions.

  “Michelle,” Jezebel said. “If anyone has been killing people, it’s a human being, not some kind of monster.” She almost added ‘we’ve seen him,’ but decided it would be best not to tell the woman her boyfriend may have dressed up like a scarecrow and butchered four innocent people.

  “I believe what I’ve heard,” the woman said defiantly. “Something is out there.”

  “If you want to help us find your boyfriend, you have to talk to us,” Jezebel said. “When did you last see Rick?”

  “Yesterday,” Michelle replied. “We were here together, until he had to leave.”

  “Where did he go?” Jezebel asked.

  “Did he say why he had to leave?”

  Michelle hesitated. Jezebel could tell she was holding back, and from the look on his face, Thomas could too.

  “No,” the woman said.

  Jezebel folded her arms across her chest. “Michelle, it doesn’t look good to lie to the police. Wherever Rick is, you can’t protect him by keeping information from us. What if he’s hurt?”

  The woman looked doubtful. She bit her lip, looking fleetingly around the room. “He told me not to say anything.”

  “Michelle,” Thomas said, looking her in the eye. “We aren’t here to hurt you, but someone is out there killing people, and anyone could be next. Are you ready to accept responsibility for the next death, if you could have helped us prevent it? Besides,” he added slyly. “It wouldn’t look that good in the paper to everyone else if they found out you hindered the investigation.”

  “You would print that?”

  “I would have to,” he said in a serious voice. “It’s my responsibility.”

  That obviously worried her, Jezebel noticed.

  “If you help us, I promise I won’t breathe a word of any of this,” Thomas added.

  “Fine,” the woman said. “Yesterday when we were having lunch, someone called Rick on his phone. Rick sounded frustrated and left the room. When he came back, he had a gun.”

  “Was he going hunting?”

  “No. The gun was a pistol, not a rifle. That’s why I was upset. We actually go hunting together sometimes, and I know Rick only has two rifles. He doesn’t even own a pistol. He tried to tell me he had always had it, but he was lying. It was new.”

  “Why would he lie to you about having a new pistol?” Jezebel asked. Things weren’t looking good for Rick Pepper.

  “I don’t know,” Michelle said, looking downcast. “Sometimes we fight a lot. He doesn’t always tell me everything. There might be other women.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jezebel said. She felt a pang of sympathy for the woman in front of her. “Was that the last time you saw him?”

  “Yes.”

  “And did he say where he was going?”

  “I heard him mention it over the phone. 316 Four Winds Acres.”

  “Thank you,” Jezebel said. She turned to leave.

  “Sheriff,” Michelle shouted out when the pair was back on the sidewalk. “If you find Rick, will you tell him to come home?”

  “I’ll do what I can,” she said softly, gazing down at the street. There were days she hated her responsibilities. No matter what happened, more than likely Michelle Riley would end up a heartbroken woman. As they walked to the parked car, Jezebel removed the paper Sarah had given her from Judge Underhill and looked over it carefully. Rick owned
a green SUV, which was how she would know to look for him.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked Thomas when they were back inside the cruiser.

  “Do what?” he asked, looking confused.

  “You threatened to leak her story in the paper.”

  Thomas shrugged. “It was just easier, I guess. It helped get us what we needed to know.”

  Jezebel turned on the ignition. “Sometimes I really don’t understand you. Making the effort to do things the right way is better in the long run than cutting corners.”

  Thomas sighed. “Why don’t we stay focused on what we learned in there? What Michelle said doesn’t prove anything. Remember, no one has actually been killed with a gun. If having a gun meant so much, Gary Davis would still be our prime suspect.”

  “As someone involved in law enforcement since I graduated from college, trust me,” she said. “Having a gun means a lot.”

  “Just don’t get so caught up in this that you make Rick Pepper out to be the killer.”

  Jezebel stomped on the brake, and the car tires squealed. She looked at Thomas, her eyes full of resentment, and brought the car to a complete halt. “What did you say to me?” she demanded.

  “You heard me,” Thomas said. “I think you’re making a mistake to convict Rick Pepper before we’ve even found him. I’m worried that you’re too caught up in solving this Salem Alistair case, and it’s starting to impact your judgment.”

  “You don’t know me very well then,” Jezebel said, taking a deep breath before she continued. “There is nothing more important to me than the safety of the people in this town. As much as I want to solve Salem’s case, that is not my first priority. But if there’s a possibility the crimes are connected, I’m going to do my best to get to the truth.” There was a moment’s silence in the vehicle, and Jezebel stared down at the floorboard with her eyes closed. She put the car in drive and headed in the direction of the address Michelle had given them.

  “I’m sorry,” Thomas said finally. “My concerns were real, but they weren’t just for you. They were for me, too. I loved being a reporter in New York. It was the experience of a lifetime. You probably know this already, but my firing came after publishing an article exposing a gubernatorial candidate’s affair.