Absence of Faith (28 page)

"Oh, thank you so much Matthew. You
are truly a good friend," she said grasping his hand. "I'm so happy
you did this for me."

"It was nothing at all. If you need
anything else just call."

She escorted him out the door, and
then stood in the doorway and watched him pull away. He drove back
to the hospital with the weight of his grief bearing down. It was
hard to believe Henry was gone and the worst part of it was that it
was so sudden. If he had contracted an illness and was dying, one
could slowly adjust to the fact that he would die one day, and one
could prepare for the inevitable. The car accident was a shock and
a waste of life because he was a perfectly healthy and functional
man. Many deaths were a waste of life, but it just seemed more
acceptable when a man died of old age because he had his share of
life - he had had his turn. Life was not fair or
equitable.

The dog hairs troubled Stokes like
a tiny voice hidden beneath all of his grief. It intrigued him
because he didn't understand why he was distressed by it. Why
should his mind place so much importance on it - it could have been
a neighbor's dog that had jumped into the trunk. It could be
anything at all and of no importance, but Stokes' mind lingered on
the enigma.

He arrived at the hospital within
minutes and when he entered his office he found a large, white
envelope on his desk. He opened it and saw it was the autopsy on
Henry Graber. He had a few minutes before the board of trustees
meeting so he read it quickly and then called Carson. Carson was
sitting in his office at the new lab when he felt a vibrating
sensation at his hip. He looked at his cell phone and smiled. He
opened the phone and said hello, but there was nothing. He pressed
the redial button.

"Hello, this is Doctor Stokes," the
voice said.

"Hello, doctor, this is Carson. You
called me?" Carson said.

"Oh, yeah, I've got to talk to you,
but I can't now. Why don't Linda and you plan on dinner at my house
around seven tonight," Stokes said.

"Okay, I'll call Linda and
hopefully she's got nothing planned."

"Great. I'll see you around seven.
Now I have to go," Stokes said and hung up.

Carson looked at the phone and
frowned because he knew that whatever Linda had planned had to be
canceled. Stokes voice had a tone of urgency in it and Carson knew
this could not be postponed to a later date. He dialed her cell
phone hoping she had left it on. She was supposed to turn it off
while in class. It rang several times.

"Hi," he said. "Can you
talk?"

"Well, this is a surprise. Did you
call me to ask me out?" Linda said.

"As a matter of fact I did. I was
wondering if you were busy tonight?"

"Maybe," she said.

"Well, I would like to ask you out
to dinner at Doctor Stokes' house."

"No, I have to wash my hair and
I'll probably have a headache by then."

"Sure you will. I'll just have to
ask someone else, that's all."

"Do that and I'll break your legs,"
Linda said laughing.

"He just called and invited us to
dinner. He said he has something important to tell me."

"Okay, what time?"

"Seven."

"Pick me up at 6:45 and don't be
late," she said.

"I'll be there."

"So how's your first day at the
lab?"

"Oh, it's ok. I'm in charge of
scheduling shifts, payroll, and quality control. I have to make
sure every job that comes in from one of our doctors gets priority
over the others. It's a far call from neurology, but I figure it
will help us save some money," Carson said. "Besides, after the
first year if I don't want to manage it I don't have
to."

"I'm glad you like it," she
said.

"I feel important, too. Like a team
player, you know, one of the guys, and especially with Doctor
Stokes. He's included me on everything concerning the Hellfire
Syndrome. I'm sort of under his wing. It's great."

"I always knew you were good at
what you did. I'm proud of you. I love you, Carson."

"I love you, too."

M
ary loved
when company came to her house. She had never held a job since
marrying Matthew and spent all of her time decorating their large,
13-room, restored Victorian mansion. The house was once featured in
House and Garden
magazine and it was considered a landmark
in the town. Mary became an instant celebrity when the article was
published and soon every interior decorator in the area had called
offering her a job. Others wanted to hire her as a consultant, but
she declined them all since she had no interest in decorating other
people's homes. Besides, she would have to trek to all of these
homes and she had never obtained a driver's license. There was
never a need to go anywhere - Matthew took care of everything and
Mary was content to arrange, and rearrange the decor of her home,
and to try new recipes on her husband. When Matthew began to gain
weight she called a nutritionist at the hospital and learned how to
make meals low in fat and low in cholesterol. She was fully devoted
to her husband. She loved to cook and impress visitors with her
gourmet delicacies.

Suddenly, several lights in the
house began to blink. Mary rushed into the kitchen. On a tiny shelf
next to the phone was an Apple laptop computer. She pressed the
return key and the screen lit up. And Instant Message screen
appeared with Stokes headshot in the left hand corner. She watched
it like an excited child.

"Hi, Mary, I've invited Doctor
Carson Hyll and his wife, Linda, for dinner tonight. They will
arrive around seven. Is that ok with you?"

Mary's eyes lit up like a child's
on Christmas morning. She typed back,

"Wonderful. I love
you."

Stokes typed,

"I love you, too. I will be home
at six. Bye."

The news brightened Mary's day.
This was her chance to shine and she loved it. She instantly
planned to bake an apple pie and make Chicken Vienna from a recipe
she obtained from an international cookbook she had borrowed from
the local library. She would bring out the best china and the best
silverware, and there would be long white tapered candles rising up
from antique silver holders in the middle of the table. Luckily,
she and Matthew had done the week's shopping the day before so
there was plenty of fresh food in the house.

* * *

Carson and Linda arrived a few
minutes after seven and were greeted at the door by Stokes. Stokes
brought them into the kitchen to meet Mary. She was washing a few
pots at the sink and Stokes tapped her on shoulder. She turned and
instantly beamed a smile to Carson and Linda. Her grandmotherly
ambience instantly warmed the room.

"This is my beloved Mary," Stokes
said and then he began moving his fingers in sign language to
introduce Carson and Linda.

Mary moved forward, grabbed Linda's
hand with both hands, and shook them. Then she did the same to
Carson smiling the whole time.

"Let me help. What can I do?" Linda
asked.

"Nothing," Mary replied in the
unique pronunciation indicative of people who learned how to speak
without ever hearing the spoken language. "Go. Sit. Relax.
Everything is done."

Stokes led them into the study, a
dark mahogany paneled room with a wall of books on one side. Carson
and Linda sat in a burgundy-leathered loveseat across from Stokes'
matching lounge chair.

Carson felt a bit closer to Stokes
when he entered the room because he had always felt that the inside
of a person's house was a window into their mind, their
personality, their attitudes, their entire being. It was the
ultimate personal statement about a person. One saw the workings of
one's mind inside a person's home. If they were neat and orderly,
you knew they were organized, efficient and ambitious. If the home
was untidy, but clean, you knew that person was more creative than
most and dwelled on higher issues in life rather than putting
things in their rightful places. If the home was dirty and unkempt,
then that person was lazy and had low self-esteem. If a person's
house was not in order, how could their lives be in order? Carson
knew it was a broad generalization and didn't apply to everyone,
but the generalizations served as a starting point for reading
people. One would usually find a mix of all the generalizations in
most people - a strange balance.

"Can I get you something to drink,"
Stokes offered.

"No, thanks," Linda
said.

"I'll have a beer," Carson
said.

Stokes left and returned with two
beer glasses filled with the golden, bubbly liquid.

"So what's going on?" Carson asked
taking a sip from the tall, tapered glass.

"Complications..." Stokes said
looking at Carson and frowning.

"Your house is lovely," Linda
added.

"Thank you. We are comfortable
here."

Within a few minutes, Mary came in
and motioned that dinner was ready. The dining room had a warm
green glow from the ornate wallpaper, oak chair rails and brass and
crystal chandelier. The chairs were original Chippendales with a
matching mahogany table large enough to seat eight. A white linen
tablecloth covered the table and the place settings were formal
with an array of gold flatware and cloth napkins. Mary placed a
large platter with the Chicken Vienna on the table along with a
bowl of brown rice and another platter of corn on the cob
glistening with melted butter.

"Wow, this is fantastic!" Carson
said.

"Very lovely. Do you need help,
Mary?" Linda asked.

Mary shook her head and motioned
for them to sit.

"Mary grew the corn herself in our
garden," Stokes added.

"That’s wonderful," Linda
said.

"Fresh corn on the cob; I haven’t
had it in years," Carson said.

Linda gave him a look.

After dinner, Stokes and Carson
went into study with snifters of cognac and Linda helped Mary clear
off the table, and make coffee.

"So what is this new complication?"
Carson asked while settling into a leather recliner.

"Henry Graber was not killed in a
car accident," Stokes said after taking a sip. "An animal of some
sort ripped his throat open. There was hardly any blood left in the
body and the burnt remains indicated that the flesh had been torn.
The medical examiner ruled it might have been caused by glass from
the windshield or some other projectile. I think it was a
dog."

"A dog?" Carson nearly
shouted.

Stokes gestured in a downward
motion with his hand telling Carson to lower his voice.

"I found hair in the trunk and had
it analyzed. It belonged to a Doberman Pinscher and a German
Shepherd," Stokes said softly.

"What would he be doing with
dogs?"

"I don't know."

Carson looked around the room.
Stokes noticed a sudden sparkle in his eye.

"Speaking of dogs...that reminds
me...did you ever find out who put the dead dogs in the incinerator
bins?" Carson said.

Both froze instantly and their eyes
locked. They stared at each other in disbelief.

"I don't believe it!"

"What kind of car did Graber have?"
Carson asked.

"A black Chevy."

"It had to be him!" Carson said.
"It all fits."

"What would Henry be doing with a
couple of dead dogs?"

Carson looked away. He knew what he
had to say, but he wasn't sure how to say it. The revelation was
turning into a nightmare. He took a deep breath.

"Satanism. Those dogs' throats were
cut clean," Carson explained. "Nobody kills a dog that way, not the
pounds, not the vets, no one. Only the cults do it that way. They
use the dogs as sacrifices to the devil. They cut their throats so
they can get the blood quickly and sip it while it's still warm.
They sacrifice the dogs in pairs."

"You're making me sick!" Stokes
said putting his snifter down on the cherry wood end table next to
his chair. "How do you know about this anyway?"

"I'm from New Hampshire, remember?"
he said. "Cults in New England are as common as lobsters in Maine.
Many are harmless, but this one isn't because once they graduate
from dogs, they go after humans. I had suspected that it might be a
Satanist cult, but I wasn't sure until now."

"I still don't believe Henry was
involved in something so foul. He was one of the most religious men
I knew - an outstanding member of the community."

"A perfect cover. No one would ever
suspect him."

"But, why?"

"Because religion did not satisfy
his needs...did not give him what he needed, so he turned to the
only alternative that seemed logical. I think the church let him
down at some point and he lost faith. It could also be that he was
after power," Carson explained.