When Autumn Falls

by BobA. Troutt

When Autumn Falls

  3019 Flat Road

  The heavy rain beat hard upon the ground about Cross Creek, Tennessee in 1968.

  Night had fallen once again on the little community. It had been raining for two days, but the forecast called for it to clear off later on tonight. A cool autumn breeze divided the chill of the coming winter, from the passing of the summer heat.

  Cross Creek in Madison County was no more than a turn in the road. It was a place you could easily get lost in, but find yourself if you went back the way you came. Madison County was the place where it was happening. It sat between the Tennessee River and the Tennessee Valley.

  Not far from Flat Road was Stone’s Lake. You could see a set of headlights bouncing in the darkness, on an old wagon road, as they approached from the back entrance of the lake. Occasionally, you could hear the bottom of the vehicle scrape the ground as it ricocheted from one low place to the other. At the end of the road, the car stopped and sat a moment in the quiet. Then a door opened, maybe two. In the distance you could hear beagle hounds barking, frogs croaking and jumping back into the water, and the sound of the traffic from the main road. Suddenly there was a click that faded off into the night, a thump and a long drag with heavy breathing. Splash went the water as the lake swallowed. Then it happened again. Slowly, the vehicle turned and the bounce of the red taillights vanished down the old wagon trail into the rainy night.

  A few hours later the Sugar Tree Bar and Grill in Dog Patch, a nickname for that section of town, was rolling with excitement. It was the place to be in Cross Creek on Friday and Saturday nights. Everyone came here to soak the suds, dance, party, and have fun. Friday nights were fun, but Saturday nights were out of this world. Sugar Tree was filled with its regulars. The music was playing loud, talking filled the room, and the dense smoke of cigarettes cushioned the air making it hard to breathe. The bar was lined with customers with bent elbows as the smell of whiskey fragranced the atmosphere. The band was setting the mood.

  If the temperature of the night dropped a little more, the rain would easily turn to sleet or snow. The night was still young and hopes were still promising.

  “Rita, don’t look now,” I said, “but there’s a good looking man staring at you.”

  “Who?” replied Rita. “What man, where?”

  “Over at the bar, sis,” I motioned, “the guy with the long coat.”

  “He’s probably not looking at me, Kimberly,” she said. “It’s you he’s looking at.”

  “Oh, come on, girl,” I replied. “Don’t you think men look at you? I do, I’ve seen them.”

  “Sure, Kimberly,” she replied. “I’m too old now to catch anyone’s eye.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say that. You still have a few more years in you,” I encouraged. “I believe you’re as young as you feel.”

  “Shh, he’s getting up. Oh my God, he’s coming this way,” warned Rita.

  Immediately, the two girls began to dolly up.

  “He is good looking,” stated Rita.

  “Look at that curly hair and those eyes,” I said, “and that smile. Did you see it?”

  “Is this seat taken, ladies?” he asked with that big sexy smile.

  “No, it’s not,” I replied as he sat down with his drink.

  “First of all, my name is Stephen McCall,” he said, “but my friends call me Jo Slim.”

  “Alright Stephen or Slim,” I responded. “My name is Kimberly and this is my sister, Rita, my pretend sister.”

  “I see,” he replied. “Hello, Rita.”

  “She says hello, Slim,” I said.

  As he lifted his drink, we lifted ours.

  “Cheers to us all, cheers.”

  It wasn’t long before the whiskey created small talk. Rita saw that he was only interested in me, like always. As the empty whiskey glasses filled the table, the conversation warmed up sweetly.

  Rita interrupted, “Kim, I’ve got to get home. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye, now. Bye, Slim.”

  “Talk to you later,” he replied. “I hope I didn’t say anything wrong.”

  “Oh, no,” I stated. “She’s like that. Don’t worry about it. She comes and goes. Now where were we?”

  The smooth whiskey and the jive talk went on for two more hours. After Slim swallowed his last shot of whiskey, he smiled and told me it was time for him to go. I sat alone at the table, hoping I hadn’t made a bad impression.

  “Oh well,” I thought, “who really cares.”

  I glanced at my watch. It was late and I needed to get home. I grabbed the bottle of whiskey by the neck, got up, and left. It was pouring rain when I left the bar. I reached over and turned up the radio to drown out the sound of the pounding rain.

  “I hate rain,” I yelled in frustration.

  Carefully, I drove on until I came upon a stalled car beside the road. The hood was up and the flashers were blinking. As I eased up next to it, I looked to see if it was anyone I knew. Slim appeared from around the front of the car. I rolled down the window and asked him if he needed a ride.

  “Yeah,” he replied. “Will you take me to a phone?”

  “Sure,” I agreed, “get in. I live up the road; you can use my phone.”

  “Thanks a lot,” he replied.

  “It’s a mess out there,” he said as he got in the car. “I don’t think it’s ever going to stop.”

  “Yes, I was thinking the same thing. I hope I didn’t say anything wrong at the bar?”

  “Oh, no,” he assured me. “It’s not you, it’s me. My wife and I are separated.”

  “Oh, I see,” I replied. “How long have you been married?”

  “About four years,” he answered. “What about you? I don’t see a wedding band.”

  “Married,” I said. “He’s out of town.”

  “I see,” he responded. “Well anyway thanks in advance for letting me use your phone. Did you say you lived up this way?”

  “Just around the next curve,” I stated. “Right up there.”

  “3019 Flat Road?” he inquired.

  “Yep, it’s a dead end road and I live at the very end.”

  It wasn’t long before the headlights of the car shined on the house. Hurriedly, we raced toward the house, trying to keep from getting soaked. When we reached the door, he grabbed me and pulled me into his arms. We kissed as I reached for the doorknob. With a twist of the knob, the door opened and we eased in, still holding each other. The shadow of a small light near the stairs accented the staircase. He lifted me in his arms and carried me upstairs.

  “I’m so glad we met.”

  All was quiet downstairs. The slow ticking of the clock and the chiming of the bells, one, two, and three was all you could hear. The rain had let up and fog was moving in. Slim and I stood arm and arm at the top of the staircase. Rita, who lives with me, was sound asleep in her room.

  As we made our way downstairs, Slim asked if he could use the phone. I showed him where it was. I couldn’t help but watch him make his call. He picked up the receiver, dialed the number, and then placed his finger down on the button where the receiver lay. I thought that was strange. He pretended to tell them he was running late and would be there as soon as he could. He thanked them and hung up the phone.

  “Would you take me back to my car,” he asked. “I want to see if I can get it started.”

  “Sure,” I replied, “let me put on some clothes.”

  Hurriedly, I got dressed and we headed back to his car.

  “I’m glad this rain finally stopped,” he said.

  “Me, too,” I replied.

  Shortly, we arrived and he got out. He tried his car again, but it wouldn’t start. He raised the hood and looked around.

  “Here’s something,” he said. “Let me try this.”

  As he crawled back inside and turned the key, it started right up.

  “There was a wire loose,” he stated. “I didn’t see it
before.”

  “Will I see you again?” I asked.

  “Maybe,” he replied. “I come through here often. I’ll look you up.”

  “Yes, I’d like that,” I answered.

  He drove off and I headed for home. The fog was steadily moving in. The road appeared abandoned. It seemed like it took me forever to reach home. I peeped in on my sister. She was still asleep; she always was a sound sleeper. In my bedroom, I slipped on my pajamas and cuddled up in bed. I fell asleep, only to be awakened by the fog setting in. I could hear the sound of the fog creeping upon the windows. It made a squeaky clean sound of a damp cloth rubbing against glass. I covered my ears as the fog climbed the walls of the house and eased in under the door. It pressed against the outside walls causing the house to pop, crackle, and snap. Startled, I rose up in bed and screamed, waking myself from a terrible dream. My eyes searched about the room. I felt someone was there, but whom?

  I asked, “Who is it? Is it you, Slim? Have you come back? What do you want?”

  However, there was no one in sight. I lay back down, turned on my side, and pulled the cover about my face. I needed to get some sleep. I looked out the window and saw the fog. I thought I saw a face, but decided not to take a second look. I closed my eyes and fell back to sleep.

  Morning seemed to come early. By the time I got up and slipped on my robe, Rita was already downstairs drinking a cup of coffee.

  “Well, good morning,” I said. “You’re already up and at it.”

  “Yeah, you could say that,” she replied. “How was your one night stand?”

  “Not bad,” I answered. “I noticed you turned in early. You want some more coffee?”

  “Sure, give me a little,” she replied. “I’m driving up to Nashville to see some friends for a couple of weeks.”

  “Oh, I see. You’re going to Nashville to see some friends,” I said, “and leave me here all alone.”

  “I want to get away,” replied Rita. “The city might do me well. Have you heard from Phillip?”

  “No, not yet,” I answered. “But he should call soon. You might run into him in the city.”

  “I don’t think so. Nashville is pretty big,” Rita responded.

  “Honey, could you reach the bag of white beans for me?” I asked. “I’m going to fix me some white beans and hoecakes for supper.”

  “These,” said Rita.

  “Yeah, that’s them,” I replied.

  “Well, sis, I’ll talk to you later,” she cried. “I’ve got to get ready.”

  “Have a good trip,” I replied. “If you see Phillip, tell him I love him.”

  A couple of days later, I was alone when the phone rang. When I answered, it was Phillip.

  “Hi, honey,” he said. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too,” I said. “When are you coming home?”

  “It will be awhile,” he stated. “At least a few more days or it could be a couple more weeks.”

  “That long,” I replied. “I didn’t think it would be that long.”

  “I know. I know, honey,” he said. “It’s all this scheduling and rescheduling. But, I’ll make it up to you. You’ll see.”

  “Well, I guess so, but please try to hurry back,” I pleaded. “Rita’s gone to see her friends and I’m here by myself.”

  “Well, I’ve got to go,” he said. “I love you.”

  “Okay, baby, call when you can. Bye, I love you.”

  I have never felt so lonely. Everyone has abandoned me.

  “Shh, what was that?” I whispered.

  It was nothing but the floor creaking. I could feel a slight chill stirring so I looked toward the window to see if it was open. The curtain moved slightly but the window was closed. Suddenly, the phone rang and I reached to grab it. “It must be Phillip,” I thought, but it wasn’t. There was no one on the phone. As I started to hang up the phone, I looked at the clock; it was still early.

  I decided to get out for a while. “I’ll go down to the bar and spend some time,” I thought. A little while later, at the bar, I was dancing the night away, kicking up my heels. I thought to myself, I wish sis was here. I know how she loves to dance.” From time to time I looked around the room thinking I might see Slim.

  “Another round of drinks,” yelled a truck driver who announced he got his divorce today.

  “I’ll drink to that,” yelled another man across the room.

  The bar was crowded tonight with several new faces. If you listened close enough you could hear someone dropping coins into the jukebox. The band had the night off. Between the smoke, smell of whiskey, and a fight or two, I decided to call it a night and head home. I carefully eased out the door and headed to my car. It was dark as I rummaged around in my pocketbook for my keys when I heard something. It sounded like someone was following me. I quickly turned, but saw no one. I picked up my speed. I could hear the gravel of the parking lot crunching and popping behind me, which made me walk even faster.

  “There are my keys,” I said to myself.

  I finally reached my car. I opened the door and jumped in, and locked it immediately. I quickly turned on the lights to see if anyone was there, but there was no one. Then I cranked the car and high-tailed it out of there.

  Everything was going well until about two miles down the road. I noticed headlights approaching behind me fast. The road was narrow. I gunned it, but before I knew it, they were right on my bumper, racing their engine. The faster I went, the closer they got. It was so dark I couldn’t tell who it was. Finally, they whipped around me. As they came up beside me, I saw it was a bunch of teenagers. When they passed, the one on the passenger’s side yelled out the window.

  “Get off the road!” they yelled.

  I threw my hand out the window, flipped them off, and told him where to go. By then they were nearly out of sight. I rushed to get home before anything else could happen. I thought to myself of how much I needed Phillip. I wished he was home. Finally, I pulled in the drive, jumped out, and raced for the house.

  “What else can happen?” I yelled.

  As I entered the house, the phone rang.

  “Who on earth can that be at this late hour,” I mumbled as I answered, “Hello?” There was no one on the line. “Hello,” I said again with frustration.

  Then a voice said, “I know what you have done and I know where they are?”

  “Who is this?” I yelled. “Know what; where who is?”

  Click went the phone, but it rang back three more times. I looked toward the window. “What was that,” I thought? I saw something outside. I raced over to the window to close the curtain.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” I screamed as I fell to the floor. “What do you want?”

  The phone rang again and stopped. Still crying and upset, I ran upstairs to my bedroom. It had been one heck of a night. I didn’t know what in the world was going on. I practically ripped my clothes off, jumped into my gown, and leaped into my bed. What else can happen? Ring went the phone. I wondered if I should pick it up or not. Then it rang again. I started crying even more as I grabbed for the phone on the third ring.

  “Hello,” I screamed.

  “Kimberly, is that you?” came Phillip’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, Phillip,” I sobbed. “Please tell me you are coming home. Please baby, I can’t stay here by myself any longer.”

  “Okay, baby, that’s what I called to tell you,” he said. “Things are looking better and I should be home in a couple more days.”

  “That’s great, Phillip,” I replied. “I’m so happy. I feel so much better.”

  “Well, I’ve got to go,” he said. “I’ll see you in a couple of days. Bye, love you.”

  Click went the phone.

  “But Phillip,” I cried to myself. “I don’t know if I can make it a couple more days.”

  I slowly eased down under my cover and
drifted off to sleep. “A couple more days,” I whispered, “a couple more days.”

  Out of the blue, I was awakened by the phone ringing. I glanced at the clock; it was 2:45 a.m. I was so startled I didn’t know what to do. I reached for the phone only to pull my hand back. Ring, ring, ring it sounded. I decided to answer, “Hello.”

  A man’s voice said, “Hello, Kim.”

  “What do you want? Who is this?” I shouted.

  “Look across the room,” he replied.

  As I dropped the receiver on the bed, I glanced over to my side. Slim was sitting in the chair. I caught my breath. The balcony door was cracked a bit and the curtain that covered the door faintly moved with the breeze. I jumped out of bed and raced toward the bedroom door. He sat there and stared at me with a sick grin. I dashed for the door, ran downstairs to the kitchen, and grabbed a butcher knife. Slowly, I crept back upstairs with the knife pulled back to stab. When I entered the bedroom he was gone. I started screaming and running through the house. I grabbed the phone and called the police. It wasn’t long until they were there. I explained to the officer what had happened. I told him I kept seeing something outside my window and hearing noises in the house. Officer James went in to look around while I explained everything to Officer Clint. I told him about the phone calls. He asked me if I lived by myself.

  I said, “No, I live with my husband and sister, but they are both out of town.”

  He asked if there was anyone who would want to harm me, such as an ex-boyfriend, ex-husband, neighbor, or if I had any enemies. I told him not that I know of except there was this one guy named Jo Slim; he might.

  “Who is he?” he inquired.

  “He’s a guy I met at the bar one night,” I explained.

  “Why would he want to harm you?” the officer asked.

  “I don’t know,” I cried. “Why don’t you find him and ask him. He was in my bedroom a few minutes ago.”

  “Do you know his real name?” Clint asked.

  “He told me,” I said, “but I can’t remember.”

  Officer James returned and said, “Everything checked out.” He turned to his partner and whispered, “The balcony door in her bedroom is locked from the inside.”

  “His name is Stephen McCall, that’s his name,” I replied.

  “Okay, Mrs. Flat, everything seems to check out okay for now,” said Officer Clint. “I’ll see what I can find out about him and those phone calls. When will your husband return home?” he questioned.

  I stated, “In a couple of days.”

  “Can you stay with anyone until he gets back?” he suggested.

  “No, not really,” I replied. “I’m not originally form around here and I don’t have many friends.”

  “Well, call us if you have any more trouble,” they said simultaneously.

  As they drove off, I watched until they were out of sight. Hesitantly, I turned to go in. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the curtain from the upstairs window fall back into place as if someone was watching. I hurried back in, ran to the kitchen, and got my knife. As I crept about the house looking, the phone rang. I rushed to answer it and started screaming. There was no one on the phone. Then from the silence a voice replied, “I know what you have done. I know where they are.”

  I fainted. It was early the next morning when I woke up and found myself lying on the floor with the phone beeping beside me. Unfortunately, from the blackout, I couldn’t remember much from the night before. Still in my gown, I went into the kitchen to fix me a bite to eat; a little toast with some butter and sugar on it. I had planned a lot for today, the best I could recall, but it too had slipped my mind. I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to finish my bouquet of crepe paper flowers. I love making them. They make such beautiful arrangements for the house. There came a knock at the door. I eased over to see who it was. With the chain still latched, I eased open the door.

  “Yes,” I said to the strange man standing on the other side.

  “Excuse me ma’am,” he said, “but my car has broken down at the end of the road, and I was wondering if I may use your phone.”

  “Why, by all means,” I replied.

  I opened the door and propped myself against the doorway. I was a little embarrassed as he felt me up and down with his eyes. I pretended I didn’t notice and acted like I was not interested. He asked again if he could use my phone. I slowly eased my index fingers under the straps of my gown, letting them slowly slide off my shoulders. I stood naked before him with my gown cuddled about my feet.

  “It must be the early morning air. It’s so fresh and clean,” I said as I turned to go in. “Bring my gown and I’ll show you to the phone. Close the door behind you,” I whispered.

  Later on that afternoon there was a knock at the door. Peeping out the window, I noticed it was Officer Clint and another man. They asked if they could come in and ask me some more questions.

  “Mrs. Flat,” said Officer Clint, “this is Detective Johns.”

  I opened the door and replied, “Sure. Did you find out anything?”

  Officer Clint reported, “I ran a check on Stephen McCall in the state driving license databank. It only turned up two people. One was a seventy year old man and the other one is deceased. We’re still working on it. If he’s from out of state, it will take a little more time.”

  “I don’t remember if he is or not,” I replied. “I wish I had paid more attention.”

  “Mrs. Flat, are you sure you’re the only one in the house?” asked Detective Johns.

  “Why yes, I am,” I nervously replied. “Why would you ask that?

  “We check the phone logs with the phone company,” he replied. “Ma’am, the calls were made inside your house.”

  “What?” I cried.

  “The phone company checked it twice to be sure,” spoke up Detective Johns.

  “Do you think someone is hiding in the house?” I pleaded. “Maybe I did see someone. Would you please check again before you go?”

  The two policemen searched the house once again, looking in every nook and cranny.

  “If someone was in the house they’re not here now,” said Officer Clint.

  As the officers began to leave, I asked them if they saw a car broken down up the road. They said they didn’t notice one.

  “Should we?” asked Detective Johns.

  “No, he must have gotten his car fixed,” I thought to myself.

  A couple of days had passed and I fixed a romantic dinner for Phillip because he was supposed to return that night. I couldn’t wait. I had everything ready for a late night dinner for two. Thinking I heard a car, I went to the window to look out but I didn’t see anyone. However, there was a car coming up the road; it stopped at the edge of the drive. It sat still with the engine running and lights on. I kept looking to see if it was Phillip, but I couldn’t tell. I wondered why he would park so far away from the house. Simultaneously, the headlights went off and the phone began to ring. Immediately, I remembered what Detective Johns had said about the calls coming from inside the house. All of a sudden I started hearing footsteps upstairs. I looked quickly around the room and toward the windows. I hesitantly went over to the phone and picked it up.

  “Hello,” I answered, but no one replied. “Hello,” I cried again.

  Then a voice said, “I know what you have done. I know where they are.”

  I jerked the phone out of the wall and charged out the door. About half way across the yard I fell. Detective Johns and Officer Clint were watching my house from an unmarked car. When I fell, they jumped out and ran over to me. I was crying and so afraid. I didn’t know what to do. Then I saw a figure of a man in the upstairs window.

  “There, there,” I screamed. “See him.”

  Officer Clint sprinted toward the house.

  “He’s upstairs,” I screamed. “He’s upstairs.”

  In a few minutes Officer Clint
returned.

  “I didn’t see anyone, ma’am,” he replied as he gasped for breath. “I don’t understand, Mrs. Flat,” said Detective Johns, “how it is that you can see him but we can’t. It’s like a ghost. The house seems to be clear.”

  “I don’t know why,” I cried. “I don’t know why you can’t see him.”

  “We will be on patrol around here tonight,” he said. “We’ll keep our eyes open and check back every two or three hours.”

  “Thank you, officers,” I said. “Thank you so much. I am so sorry that I’m so much trouble. Please forgive me. My husband should be here any time now.”

  “Just where is your husband?” asked Detective Johns.

  “He’s in Nashville on a business trip,” I replied. “He works out of town a lot.”

  “Have you ever thought of staying in a motel until he comes back?” he suggested. “That house is huge and there are several places for someone to hide if they wanted to,” warned Detective Johns. “Ma’am if you don’t mind, tell me your husband’s name and where he is working in Nashville. I’m going to see if I can locate him.”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying, detective. He’s coming home tonight.”

  “If he’s not here by tomorrow,” replied Detective Johns, “I’m going to get in touch with him myself. What is his name?”

  “Phillip Flat,” I answered.

  “And where does he work in Nashville?” asked the detective.

  “The BMIC building; he’s and accountant,” I said. “He works for Cornerstone and Sun Firm.”

  “Try to get some rest,” he replied. “We’ll be back soon.”

  As the officers drove off, they started putting things together. There was something wrong at that place, but they didn’t know what.

  After they left, I went back into the house to wait for Phillip. I waited all night until I fell asleep sometime in the early morning hours. When I awoke the next day, he hadn’t come home. I wondered what could have happened. Why didn’t he call? I looked at the clock. I had overslept so I quickly jumped into the shower. While I was showering I thought I heard someone downstairs. I thought it was Phillip; he’d come on up. I had missed him so much. It seemed like he had been gone forever. We had a lot of catching up to do.

  After my shower I slipped on my robe and headed downstairs for a late breakfast. When I got downstairs, I looked out the window. I didn’t see anyone. I opened the front door and stuck my head out. The morning air smelled so good. I noticed the morning glories had spun their way up the rail on one end of the porch. It wasn’t Phillip so I closed the door and headed for the kitchen. I decided to stay in.

  Later on that day, a knock came at the door. When I opened the door, Detective Johns stood at the door; the other officer waited by the car. He asked me how I was doing and if I made it alright last night.

  I replied, “Sure.” He asked me if my husband came home and I said, “Not yet. Something must have come up at the last minute. I look for him later on this evening.”

  He said, “I came by because early this morning we got a call saying a delivery truck had broken down at 3019 Flat road. Have you, by any chance, seen a delivery man? The driver’s truck is parked at the end of your drive. We looked around but didn’t see anyone.”

  I told him, “I haven’t, I overslept. I haven’t seen anyone,” I stated.

  “Well thank you, ma’am,” he replied.

  But as he turned to leave, his eye caught a package sitting beside the door. He started to turn back to question me when the officer at the car yelled out, “We got a call, they have found two bodies in Stone’s Lake.”

  “Sorry, ma’am, but I’ll get back with you,” he stated as he dashed to the car and took off for the lake.

  A lazy laid back morning had turned into a screaming frantic. Sirens screamed from every part of town with police cars and the rescue team circling the lake. A full blown investigation was unfolding.

  “We have two bodies, one male and one female,” cried the officer.

  About three hours later the excitement started to settle down. The bodies were transported to the morgue for examination and to be identified.

  Detective Johns stopped back off at the house. He questioned me about my medicine bottle that was found at the crime scene. I told him the bottle had been missing for about two and a half weeks now. I thought I had lost it in the house, but I guess not. He asked me if I notified the doctor. I answered no because I didn’t take it half the time anyway.

  “Mrs. Flat, how did it get to the lake?’ he questioned.

  “I don’t know,” I responded.

  “Mrs. Flat,” he said. “There have been a lot of things going on around here that we need to clear up. First, has your husband come home?” he asked.

  “No,” I replied.

  “Is he even coming home?” he questioned.

  “I don’t know,” I replied.

  “Well,” he said, “we are going to have to take you in for further questioning.”

  “Am I under arrest?” I asked.

  “No, not at this time,” he replied.

  “We need to clear up some things, like the delivery man. You said you haven’t seen him, but I know he’s been here because there’s a package beside the door.”

  “Oh, it is,” I cried. “I didn’t notice it. He must have brought it when I was in the shower.”

  “Let’s go,” he demanded.

  When we got downtown, I was escorted to the interrogation room.

  “I’m going to make some calls,” said Detective Johns. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Shortly, he came back in.

  “Mrs. Flat,” he stated, “do you know a Dr. Martha C. Coley at the State Hospital in Nashville?”

  “Yes, yes I do,” I replied. “That’s where I got my medicine.”

  “Well, I have talked to her and she has informed me that you do not have a husband. You are an only child. That you spent eight years under her care for manic-depression and schizophrenia. She said you suffer from depression, delusions, hallucinations, you hear things and voices, along with a wide variation of mood swings, and most of the time you live in a fantasy world. She also said that you were released to some friends of the family who lived at 3019 Flat Road. If I was a betting man,” he challenged, “those two bodies in the lake are probably the people you lived with. Does any of this make sense to you?” he said. “Mrs. Flat did you murder those two people?”

  I sat motionless. I never said a word. Tears beaded up in my eyes and my chin started to quiver. I was so afraid and so alone.

  He stepped out of the room for a few minutes and then returned. They had identified the bodies. Johns was right. They were Kenneth and April Handshoe, the family I was staying with. When he came back into the room, he read me my rights. I was being arrested for the murder of Kenneth and April Handshoe.

  A hearing date was set within a week to determine if I was mentally capable of standing trial, considering my mental state at the time of the crime. Detective Johns stayed close to the case. There was something that didn’t seem right to him; I guess you would call it a gut feeling.

  Meanwhile, the hearing came with the evidence presented in the case and my state of mind. After careful consideration, the judge put the case off for three months and sent me to the state mental hospital for more evaluation. The next day I was moved from the Madison County Jail to the state hospital in Nashville. It appeared there was going to be a rest in the case, until Detective Johns drove back up to 3019 Flat road a few days later to look around.

  “Something is not right,” he said to himself as he drove up in front of the house.

  Carefully, he entered and began to look about. He was about convinced he was wrong until he noticed a beam of light coming through a crack in the wall. The upstairs attic was still dark, but there was some sunlight coming through the wall. He rushed to the wall to investigate. When he
placed his hands on the wall, the wall gave a bit. He felt a small, loose section. Suddenly, his hand slipped and the wall slid open. When he opened the sliding panel, a hidden room appeared. In the room, he found a bed, some clothes, a slop jar, food, a bunch of pictures, and a notebook. There was a window across the room; it was where the light came from. He thought that was strange because he hadn’t noticed the window from the front of the house. As Detective Johns looked around the room, he found pictures of me, the Handshoes and some other people he didn’t recognize.

  From the condition of the room it looked like someone had been there a long time. There was a phone in the corner. He picked it up and called in a request for a crime team. He fumbled through some old newspapers and some other papers lying about. There’s where the story came together. What eased his feelings was when he looked inside the notebook.

  According to the notebook I was not an only child; although I never knew it. It was kept from me. I had a twin brother. When we were born I stayed with my natural parents, and my brother, Jeffrey, was taken in by the Handshoes. For a while, everything went well for Jeffrey until the Handshoes started abusing him. They made him stay in the house and not leave. The Handshoes built the hidden room for him to live in. The abuse went on for years.

  There was a copy of the birth certificate and some papers from the hospital. I was diagnosed in my early twenties of being manic-depressive and schizophrenic and so was Jeffrey, by a private doctor. Both of us were born with mental problems, but Jeffrey was far more advanced. He struggled with rages, anger, and the ongoing struggle of hearing voices. It looked like the case was taking a peculiar twist.

  It was all written down in the notebook. Jeffrey admitted he killed the Handshoes for abusing him. When I came to live with them, he couldn’t let them get to me.

  Jeffrey had pretended like he was hitching down the road from the house and was picked up by Mr. McCall, the man I brought home from the bar. He killed him and threw his body in the lake, along with the body of the man that came to the door to use the phone. It went on and on; it was beginning to make sense.

  Suddenly, Detective Johns went to turn around. There was a man standing in the door with a butcher knife drew back and ready to strike. He rammed the knife into his shoulder blade. He tried to fight him off, but he was as strong as three men. As they fought, somehow his gun holster strap had lodged about his gun, and he couldn’t get it free. Twice more Detective Johns was cut across the face. His hands were cut up as he tried to defend himself from the knife. Tired and worn out, he finally freed his gun from the holster and shot the man. He stopped in his tracks, grunted, and as his eyes rolled back in his head; he buckled at the knees and then to the floor. Quickly, Detective Johns reached for the phone to call in. The crime team had already arrived out front. He had lost a lot of blood by the time they got to him. He told them there were two more bodies in Stone’s Lake, or possibly more. As they were carrying him out, the team was gathering the evidence from the hidden room.

  They kept Detective Johns in the hospital for a few days, and then he was released. He was off duty for a while. After the Judge received the new evidence and Jeffrey’s testimony in the notebook, he released me of all charges, but I was to start back on my medicine. The case was closed.

  It was about three weeks after I was released that Detective Johns found me at the Handshoe’s house. He came by to see how I was doing. Every since he had been on the case he was amazed by it all. Still on medical leave from his cuts, from my brother’s knife, he found a worse shock. He called it in. I committed suicide by hanging myself. Folded up in my hand was a baby picture of me and Jeffrey. As they were cutting my body down; the phone rang. Detective Johns went over to pick it up. He placed his hand on the receiver, suddenly stopped, and walked away.

  *****