by David Haynes
The change of subject caught Dan off-guard. “The diner does a passable cheeseburger.”
Ronayne nodded. “Thanks, I’ll try it. You want me to show you out? Give you a ride anywhere?”
The conclusion to their conversation was abrupt, but Dan supposed men like Ronayne and Burton were used to dealing with events like this. It was nothing out of the ordinary to them. It still seemed unreal to Dan, like a bad dream.
“Can I wait for Lori?”
“Sure. Take a seat in reception, she’ll be out soon.”
It was another hour before Lori finally walked into the reception area. She looked surprised to see Dan waiting.
“Thought you’d have gone,” she said.
“Figured you might need some company. I could sure do with some. Non-cop company, anyway.”
They walked out of the PD onto Main Street and then turned immediately right, cutting through to the houses on that side of town.
“You okay?” he asked.
She shrugged and then shook her head. “Not really, no. How could anyone be okay after seeing that? The cops…the cops just shrugged it off like it was just another day but…but…”
“I know.”
“They asked me if she’d ever said anything about Robert, about…you know…hurting him.”
Dan didn’t say anything. He suspected they’d asked them both the same questions. Lori would have much more to say.
“I told them, she hardly ever mentioned him. She was very private, liked to keep things to herself. If she did ever talk about him, she always pulled a face, like it hurt her to say his name. I don’t think they were close.”
“I hadn’t seen him for at least two years, probably more. He was always a cranky son of a bitch. Always moaning about something or other. Liked a drink too.”
“Long way to go from not liking someone to…to doing that, though. Her own brother.”
“Everyone has a limit, Lori. Everyone has a breaking point. Maybe she reached hers.”
“But Linda? She was as meek as anyone I’ve ever met, wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Dan just nodded. The image of her kitchen flooded back into his mind. He could smell the blood on his clothes, taste it. Hs took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. The rain had stopped now, but the blanket of cloud over the stars told him it would be back.
“Won’t Paul be wondering where you are?” He regretted asking the question as soon as he’d spoken the words. “Sorry, none of my business.”
“He’ll be out with his buddies now. Drinking in Sandy’s, I expect.”
“Do you want to call him?” He fished in his pocket for his cell.
“No. If I’m not home by six, he just takes off. He’ll only wonder where I am when he gets back. That’s when the questions start, that’s…”
She stopped, giving Dan a quick and nervous smile as if she’d said too much.
“Lori, I think…”
“Jeez, watch out!” She grabbed Dan’s arm, pulling him away from the picket fence to his right.
“What’re you doing?” He stumbled off the sidewalk, standing in a large puddle.
“Look at that,” she whispered, grimacing.
They both stood in the road staring at the fence. A dead cat was hanging off the fence, its tongue lolling out of the corner of its mouth.
“Must’ve got its collar stuck on the picket,” said Lori. “Poor thing. We should take it down, knock on the door.”
In the orange glow of the streetlight, Dan saw a thin garrote around its neck, fastening it to the fence. The cat had been deliberately put there, its neck almost severed all the way through by what looked like piano wire. Someone had killed it.
He guided her away. “I’ll come back later and tell them,” he said. “I think you’ve seen enough for one night, huh?”
She allowed him pull her gently away. “You sure?”
He nodded.
Lori made him stop a street away from her house. He knew why. She didn’t want to risk Paul seeing him walk her home. He didn’t want to risk it either. Not for his sake, but for Lori’s. He needed to tread carefully. To do something rash might put her in harm’s way.
He walked back to the house where the cat was still hanging from the fence. He knocked at the door and asked an older couple if they were missing a cat. When they said yes, he told them what was on their fence and asked for a pair of wire cutters.
The woman was disconsolate and stayed inside, weeping. Her husband helped Dan take down the cat, its head nearly detached from its body.
“Who would do such a thing?” the man asked.
Dan shook his head. He had no idea. Up until last week, he didn’t think anyone in the town was capable of much more than a half-hearted drunken fight.
What the hell was happening to Silver Lake?
15
Melody Adams went missing the week before Halloween. She left home Friday evening, telling her mom she was sleeping over at her best friend Beth’s house. She didn’t show up there, and neither Beth nor her parents had any idea she was coming over.
Melody’s mom and dad called the police on Saturday lunchtime when she failed to return home. By three o’clock, there was a full-scale search for the girl. Nobody had seen her since school on Friday afternoon, but some of the kids claimed to have seen a bum sleeping under the old bridge on the edge of town. Some even said they heard him calling the kids over to talk to him.
The cops brought him in. He was eighty-three years old, could hardly see and had spent most of the last forty years wandering through the state, sleeping where he could and eating whatever he found. He was the only suspect they had and not a good one at that, but it was something. It wasn’t until they went through his meager belongings that things changed for him. They found part of Melody’s dress in his bedroll, ripped and stained with her blood.
He didn’t say much when they interviewed him, and what he did say was slurred and incoherent. Much of his speech came through a wall of throaty phlegm built up from years of smoking stogies. The detectives didn’t need him to say much, they had Melody’s clothes, but they still needed her body.
The bum died in custody. He had a heart attack from going cold turkey from one of the substances that somehow kept him alive. They found him huddled in the corner of his cell. The orange boiler suit they’d dressed him in was the smallest they had, but it was still two sizes too large for a man who wasn’t much more than a skeleton.
And there it was. Norman Youngblood, veteran of Vietnam, decorated war hero, wanderer of a thousand miles and back again, was consigned to history as an abductor of little girls. A murderer, the lowest of the low.
A week later, another girl went missing. A sweet fifteen year old girl by the name of Samantha Riley. She simply vanished on the way home from the store. Funny thing was, neither of her parents knew why she’d gone there in the first place. They hadn’t asked her to go.
Vagrants had always sought safety on the old bridge, spending a night under the old wooden shingles, maybe two but no more. And that was the first place the police looked for Samantha. Perhaps they thought they might find another Norman Youngblood waiting for them with Samantha’s panties in his pocket.
The bridge was empty. The wind howled through the rotten timbers like a specter, making fun of the officers for even looking there. They scratched their heads, bit their lips and tried not to look at each other. It wasn’t possible that Youngblood had been innocent, was it? Melody’s dress had been in his bedroll, after all. Who else could it have been?
Another bum, maybe? Someone else passing through town on the way to the city, perhaps? It had to be. Either that or she’d eloped with a boyfriend. Did she even have a boyfriend? Her parents said no, no she didn’t. Not that they knew of. Her classmates said the same. Samantha was too busy, too shy to think about dating. Besides, they said, she wasn’t exactly popular with the boys. She wasn’t what anyone would call pretty.
No boyfriend. No bum sleeping rough on the bridge.
What did that leave? The unthinkable, that’s all that was left to the police. Someone in Silver Lake was responsible for Samantha Riley’s disappearance. Maybe even for Melody Adams too.
*
Business had been brisk. Better than he could have hoped for in a small town like this.
He knew very well that reading wasn’t everyone’s favorite pastime anymore, not like fifty years ago. Back then, there wasn’t a TV set in every house, or such things as computers or cell phones. They had the movies, of course, but that was confined to Saturday mornings, school vacations and the odd date night.
Nowadays, there was much more competition for his particular kind of reading. If only they all knew how thoroughly enjoyable it could be to immerse yourself in a good book, immerse yourself fully, they’d be knocking down his doors to get to the shelves.
He had to be satisfied with the clientele he’d already met and provided for. He’d heard the sirens, he’d seen the police on the streets, and he’d even spied the poster on the tree outside the shop.
Have you seen her? the sign asked. Below that was a bad photograph of an ugly-looking girl with retainers on her teeth. He suspected which of his new acquaintances was responsible, but that was part of the enjoyment. The piecing together of the parts of the puzzle. Working out who had done what to whom.
He didn’t know what was in their books, what the words said to them. He could no more read their story than they could read his. He drummed his fingers over the cover, still as fresh as the day he’d been presented with it. All those years ago; a preternatural passage of time. There would be more death in this town before he was done with it. The bodies would cover the streets in great festering heaps.
He smiled and looked onto the darkened street outside. A single high school girl walked past, chewing gum, headphones attached to her ears. Hadn’t she heard about the maniac roaming through town? It wasn’t safe out there.
He sighed and walked to the door, opening it slowly.
“You ought not to be out alone!” he called.
She removed her headphones and looked at him as if he’d fallen from space.
“Would you like a free gift, Emily?” he said. “Every new customer takes away a special gift, just for them!”
She frowned.
“On your bag,” he said. “Your name is on your bag.”
She shrugged and walked toward him.
He smiled. A new customer was always exciting.
16
Dan jammed his foot down on the brake. He’d turned the corner and was about to drive onto school grounds but a large group of kids were standing by the gate, some under the old oak tree and some on the road. They didn’t even turn their heads when he skidded to a halt.
He was late already – he could do without sorting out whatever was happening here. He wound down the window and gave a short blast on the horn.
“Come on, move! You’ll all be late for class!”
A few of the kids jerked around as if he’d just woken them up.
“Sir, you gotta see this,” one of them said.
He sighed and climbed out of the car. The crowd parted as he walked toward the tree. Even before he reached it, he could smell something was off.
“Come on,” he started. “Move along, it’s time…”
He stopped. Two dogs were spread-eagle on the wide trunk of the tree, their paws hammered into the wood with enormous nails. Flies buzzed around the open wounds on their torsos. For a moment, Dan was reminded of the sight of Robert Phelps with his guts spilled out. He covered his mouth to stop retching.
One of the kids, his varsity jacket bright against the gray morning, prodded the dog with a stick. It was Sam Portland from his English class. He turned and looked at Dan. “It’s dead, sir. They both are.” His expression was one of disgust but he didn’t look as close to vomiting as Dan felt.
“Everyone inside!” he shouted, turning away. The stench was terrible.
“Looks like this one was pregnant,” Sam said. He hadn’t moved so Dan grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away.
“Inside. Now.”
The crowd slowly dispersed, walking across the car park to their classes. Dan didn’t even look at the dogs again. The janitor was going to be really happy with this start to his day.
Since the disappearance of the two girls, neither of which Dan taught, the kids had been different somehow. It was a subtle change in their mannerisms, in their mood and behavior. They had grown up in a closeted community where the only bad things, truly bad things, were on the six o’clock news. Silver Lake was immune from all that trouble, all that violence and bloodshed. At least it used to be.
Now it was everywhere. The dead dogs at the school gate were another reminder that the town had changed. At some point in the last month the world had shifted, and Silver Lake had become just another town where kids disappeared, where folks murdered each other and fear was everywhere.
“Everyone calm down,” he said, walking into class. He was a few minutes late after delivering the bad news to the janitor. “Get out your books and open them to…”
He paused, looking up. A small crowd had gathered at the rear of the class. They hadn’t even noticed him walk in.
“I asked you to sit down and be quiet,” he said, feeling irritable. “I want everyone…”
The crowd parted slowly. JJ was sitting at his usual seat, the vacant desk beside him a reminder of his absent friend.
“JJ?” he said. “You’re…you’re here.”
“Well spotted, sir!” someone shouted.
JJ nodded but said nothing. He looked terrible. It had been a week since Dan visited him, but the boy looked worse now than he did then. If that was at all possible. The dark rings around his eyes had grown, almost stretching down his cheeks. It almost looked like the makeup the goth kids sometimes wore.
“Great to have you back with us!” he said, feeling genuinely happy to see him. Nobody had mentioned JJ’s return and he’d assumed he wouldn’t be back until the start of next semester. “You okay?”
JJ nodded.
“Okay, well we can have a chat after class and catch you up on where we’re at.”
JJ nodded again and opened his book.
Sam Portland was the last to sit down. “You think he looks like something out of The Walking Dead, sir?”
“Sam!” shouted his girlfriend, Emily. “You’re such a dick! He’s only just come back and…”
“Hey, we always used to give him shit, I want him to feel part of the class again!” Sam said back. “What’s gotten into you, anyway?”
“That’s enough!” Dan shouted. “Sit down, Portland, and get out your book or you’ll be in detention for a week!”
Sam pulled a face at his girlfriend and sat down. He watched him open his bag and get out his book before he continued. In truth, Sam was at least partially right. If JJ were to recover, things needed to get back to normal as soon as possible. The way he went about it, though, was all wrong.
“Right,” he said. “Who has in fact read this chapter as I asked?”
A dozen members of the class raised their hands. JJ wasn’t one of them but that was understandable. He had an excuse. The others didn’t.
“Great,” he said. “I might as well…”
The class door flew inward and in strolled Ryan Simmons. He looked only marginally healthier than JJ.
“Mr. Simmons,” Dan said. “Glad you could join us. Won’t you take a seat.”
Ryan grinned back. “Sorry but did you know there’s a couple of dogs nailed to the tree out there? I was helping the janitor…”
“Yes, we know. Please sit down.”
This morning was a disaster already. The day was only a few hours old, but if he had a reset button he’d press it and start it over. He rubbed his face and began the lesson.
An hour later, as the class filed out, he caught JJ by the arm and pulled him to one side. He waited until the rest of the class had left the room before he said anythin
g.
“You’re sure you should be here, JJ? If you don’t mind me saying, you look like you need some sleep. No one would mind if you wanted…”
“I just want to get back to normal,” he replied, his voice flat.
“I understand that, but sometimes these things take a while to…”
“What things? What things do you mean?”
Dan was taken aback.
“I don’t need patronizing,” JJ continued. “I just want to get back to normal. That’s all.”
Dan nodded. “I wasn’t trying to patronize you. I only want to make sure…”
He didn’t finish. A great cheer went up from the corridor. It was followed by clapping and quite distinctly the word fight was used several times.
“You better go see what that’s all about,” JJ said.
Dan rolled his eyes. “I’ll be right back.”
JJ shrugged.
A little way down the corridor a group of students were standing in a wide circle, their heads bobbing up and down, vying for a better view. Dan marched straight up to them.
“That’s enough!” he shouted. “Break it up!” He couldn’t see what was happening but he knew a fight when he heard one. He saw a fist rise above the heads and then come down in a flash. Someone cursed.
He pushed his way through. Sam Portland and Ryan Simmons were going at each other. He heard the crack as Sam’s fist smashed into Ryan’s cheek. His head snapped around and blood flew from a cut on his lip. He drove a punch into Sam’s exposed midriff, doubling him up. As he gasped, unable to get his breath, Ryan drew back his fist to deliver an uppercut.
“Stop!” Dan shouted. He lurched forward, grabbing Ryan’s wrist before he could follow through. He strained against Dan for a second and it was a close thing whether Dan could hold him off, but suddenly he relaxed and laughed.
“Just having some fun,” he said. “Isn’t that right, Sam?”
Sam exhaled loudly, straightening up gradually. His left eye was blackened. “Fuck you,” he panted.