Crimson Falls (The Depravity Chronicles) (10 page)

Silence.

“Sheriff?”

“Yes, I heard
you. No. When you’re done, travel in a group to the cruisers and come back to
the station. Make sure no one drives alone.”

“And leave the
other cruisers here?” Jake asked.

“Yes. I’m not
concerned about the safety of our mechanical fleet, Jake. Let me know when
you’re on your way.”

“Copy, Sheriff,”
Jake said as he clipped his radio back onto his belt.

“Oh, and Jake?”
Anna said.

“Yes, Sheriff.”

“Father McMillan
and Pastor Adler are in the house.”

“Excuse me?”

“Under my
consent. Make sure you escort them back to the station.”

“Copy,” he
replied flatly. He looked at the guys around him. “Now we have to babysit a
bunch of priests?” A few men laughed. Tim looked pissed. “What’s the matter,
Tim? You upset I don’t want your priest in my way?” he mocked.

“Step back,
Jake,” Tim warned. “First, she’s a pastor, not a priest. And second, just
because you’ve got issues with your Catholicism doesn’t mean we all hate religion.”

Jake walked
toward him, pushing his chest out like an ape. “Whatever, bitch,” he laughed.
“Let’s go guys. We got pussies in the house to protect.”

“Yeah, let’s
hope we do a better job than emptying our guns into the wind,” Tim said as he
pushed past him and into the house.

Jake really
wanted to see if they had managed to shoot the killer, but he admitted to
himself that it was better to be in a house. Even if it was in the old Brickton
place.

As he walked
into the house, using the side door by the driveway, he looked around at the
large mudroom. He remembered throwing eggs at the house with his friends when
they were kids. One of those friends was beside him tonight.

“Remember when
we used to sneak around this house growing up?” George laughed nervously, still
breathing heavily from running.

“I was just
thinking on that,” Jake said as he slapped his friend’s shoulder.

“We used to
think it was haunted,” George reminded him.

“We were kids,
George,” Jake laughed. “Or should I say, ‘Georgie Porgie.”

George slapped
him back a little harder. “Well after what I just saw, I’d say anything is
possible.” They walked by the washer and dryer, pausing to wipe their feet
before entering the kitchen. They were surprised to find the kitchen in such a
good state. It almost glistened from the shine left by its most recent cleaning.

“Does anyone
know if Acorn Alan had a maid?” he asked the small group standing around him,
including Tim.

“Couldn’t say,” said
Ralph Vincent with a shrug. Ralph was one of the officers that ran to help them
in the woods and was a friend of Jake’s.

“Yes, he had a
maid come in weekly,” Tim said.

“And how do you
know that?” Jake asked.

“Because my
sister works for the cleaning service Alan uses,” he answered.

“Of course she
does,” Jake laughed as he walked further into the kitchen. “Anyone know where
the priests wandered off to?”

“They went
toward the other side of the house,” Lionel offered. “I let them in. Had to.”

“Yeah, I heard
about that,” Jake complained. “Well, I’ll find them. You guys check the
upstairs,” he ordered.

“Will do, Jake,”
George answered.

Jake walked
through the kitchen, the formal dining room, and into an immense, two-story
living room. The stone fireplace was overwhelming, along with the large
one-story windows that offered a view of the trees that led to the river.  As
he strained to see the water, he thought he saw someone standing in front of
the tree line behind the horseshoe pit. Jake closed his eyes, hoping the shadow
wouldn’t still be there when he opened them again.

The shadow was
gone. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was beginning to hate these windows.
With the lights on in the house, anyone could see him standing there. A sitting
duck. He quickly walked through the living room and into a long, wide hallway
with two doors on either side. All four were closed.

“Now why in the
hell would they close the door?” Jake wondered aloud. There wasn’t any other
place on the first floor they could have gone. So he was going to have to check
every damned one until he found them. This wasn’t going to be pretty for that
Sasquatch priest.

He opened the
first door on the right, admiring the wood trim bordering its frame. He flipped
the switch. The room was surprisingly small, and was adorned with small,
fragile figurines. They were everywhere. Horses, deer, cows, pigs, even angels.
And demons.

“Okay, enough of
this shit,” he said as he flipped the switch and closed the door. “Next room.”

He walked across
the hall, admiring some of the large portraits of previous Brickton residents
hanging between the doors. They looked to be quite old. Jake figured they loved
themselves so much they wanted to look at themselves as often as they could,
especially since the people in the portrait don’t age.

“Rich people,”
he groaned. As he entered the first room on the left, he flinched at the smell.

“What the hell
is that smell?” Once he scanned the room he understood. “Duh. I would know that
smell in my sleep,” he laughed.

Guns lined the
walls, along with knives, crossbows, and an assortment of medieval weapons. The
room was at least 20x20. Every inch of the room was adorned with some sort of
death machine, or mechanisms that caused death. It was, in short, an armory.
Jake made a mental note to come back in the next few days, after the case was
solved, and grab some of this shit. He was even more irritated with the priests
because he had to get to them quickly. Otherwise Anna would say he was ‘wasting
his time, the department’s most precious resource.’ Bullshit.

He closed the
door behind him as he walked into the hallway. This time he ignored the
portraits as he moved to the last door on the right. Each door had the same
intricate woodwork around it. He knew what the room was before he even saw it
in the light. It was a large guest bathroom. At least he assumed it was a guest
bathroom because the other rooms hadn’t been bedrooms. There was a huge claw
tub and a standup shower behind it. Jake thought the stone looked like the
fireplace. He shook his head.

“This room alone
is worth half my house.” He shut the door a little harder than he should have.
“I’m sure the wood is strong,” he laughed. He walked directly across the hall
to the last room. He noticed that the light was on. He thought to himself that
he should have seen that before he got this far.

“I’m off my
game,” he said loudly as he entered the room. “I should have known that I would
find the dork in the library,” Jake said to an empty room. He slowed the last
words, confused because he was unable to locate the priests anywhere. A large
table with a purple cloth stood against the wall beside him. He laughed at
himself when he considered looking under it. He literally scratched his head,
saying, “Where the hell are you bastards?” He considered calling their names as
he looked at the vast shelves. He thought better of it and walked out the door.

“I can’t find
the holy rollers,” he said to George, who was standing at the foot of the large
staircase in the rear of the living room. “Everybody upstairs?

“Yeah,” George
said nervously as he stared out the windows. “No matter where you go in this
room, somebody could still see you in here.”

“Glass houses,”
Jake said as he shook his head. He looked at George, whose face had grown pale.
“You okay buddy?” he asked as his friend continued looking out the window.

“Every minute or
so I swear to God Himself that I keep seeing something down there.” He
swallowed hard. Jake remembered thinking he saw something when he first passed
through the room.

“This house
gives me the creeps,” Lionel said as he walked onto the landing halfway up the
stairs.

“Tell me about
it,” George echoed.

“Guys, it’s just
a house. It’s the woods that should be scaring the shit out of you,” Jake
corrected.

“True, very
true,” Lionel laughed, making his way toward them. He froze halfway down the
stairs.

“What?” George
asked squeamishly, jerking his neck back to the windows.

“I think there’s
something out there,” he said.

“Oh, shit,”
George huffed. Lionel burst into laughter. Jake joined him. “Real funny,
assholes,” George said.

“Yeah, it’s not
like someone died down there,” Tim said as he began descending the top stairs
and pausing on the landing. Jake rolled his hand into a fist, wishing he could
have one good shot at Tim’s jaw. That would shut him up real good.

“So why aren’t
your religious freaks with you? Don’t you stick together?” Jake mocked.

“Why would I
have them with me?” Tim asked, looking concerned. “That was your job.”

“I didn’t find
them down here,” Jake said. Then he corrected himself. “They’re not down here,
Tim.”

“Shit,” Lionel
cursed. “Anna’s gonna kill us.”

“Calm down, calm
down,” Jake said. “They gotta be here somewhere. They probably heard the
gunfire and are hiding somewhere in this forsaken house.”

“Father
McMillan?” Tim yelled, hoping his priest would answer his call. The men stood as
still as marble status, listening. Something scraped against the large window
behind the fireplace. George jumped.

“It’s the wind,”
Jake said.

“Wind doesn’t
knock on windows,” George pointed out.

“A tree’s
probably scraping it,” Jake said.

“There aren’t
trees there, genius,” Tim said. “We need to find the ministers
now
, and
get the hell outta here.”

“Agreed,” Jake
said. He had to put his distaste for Tim on the backburner so they could find
the priests. Even though he didn’t like Matthew much, his mom and sister would
kill him if he didn’t protect their precious Father McMillan.”

“Let’s spread
out,” Tim said.

“No, we need to
stick together. George will go with me. You and Lionel check up there. And
don’t go into any rooms alone. Don’t let each other out of your sight.” Jake
wasn’t about to lose any men.

“Where’s Ralph?”
George asked Tim.

“Right here,” he
said as he walked down the stairs and stood next to Tim.

“Go with them,”
Jake said as he pointed to Tim and Lionel. They went their separate ways in two
groups, with Jake and George walking toward the kitchen.

“Why are we
going this way?” George asked.

“We should check
the mudroom and kitchen.” As they walked into the mudroom, Jake locked the
deadbolt on the door.

“Jake, what are
you doing? What if Matthew and Amy are out there?” George asked, standing
closely behind him preparing to unlock the door. Jake grabbed his hand.

“If they’re out
there, George, they’re dead. Let’s go.” They looked out the window for a brief
moment, then returned to the main house to search for the priests.

1

“How in the name
of God could a dead man be running through the woods?” Anna asked no one in
particular.

“Not to mention ripping
through Jake’s jacket like it was butter,” Damien added.

Anna stared at
the still frame of the strangely lit, horribly white form of Matthew McMillan,
Sr. She shook her head violently as she stood up. All eyes in the room locked
onto her, looking to her for guidance.

“There has to be
an explanation for this,” Geraldine offered.

Anna could feel
the tension in the room getting heavier. She had to take control. First of
herself, and then of the situation. This was why people voted for her, and she
didn’t want to let them down. Letting the town down at this point could spell
certain death for yet another person. If more civilians started dying, the shit
would hit the fan and her job would become impossible to manage. At least the
political side of it. She shook her head again, ashamed for thinking of the
sociopolitical consequences.

She turned to
Rick and John. “I need you guys to go the Brickton Estate and help Jake and the
others.”

“Sure, boss,”
Rick said after a brief pause, the color draining from his face.

“If we’re going
to get through this, and catch whoever this bastard is, we need to work
together,” Anna reminded them. She looked closely at the picture covering a
third of the wall. She knew it couldn’t be Mr. McMillan. She had seen him in
the coffin. She even touched his hand with Matthew, hoping it would make him
feel better.
Didn’t work well for me
, she thought to herself.

“Sheriff,”
Geraldine said, touching her shoulder gently. “Where’s Michael?”

“Oh, shit,” Anna
mumbled. “I sent him to the payphone at the Laundromat to lift prints.”

“Has he reported
back?” Damien asked.

“Janet!” Anna
called, making everyone in the room raise their shoulders toward their ears
from the volume. Janet nearly sprinted into the office with Trisha hot on her
heels. They stopped beside the table where Trevor and Tommy had returned to
their seats.

“Yes, Sheriff?”
she shouted.

“Have you heard
from Deputy Mullins yet?”

“Michael?” Janet
asked.

“Yes, Michael
Mullins, Janet. Have you heard from him?” Anna was trying to maintain her
temper.

“No, Sheriff, I
haven’t heard from him.”

“When was the
last time he checked in?” Damien asked quickly.

“When he got to
the Laundromat,” she answered.

“When was this?”
Anna asked.

“And what did he
say?” Damien chimed in. Anna gave him a stern look. He nodded apologetically.

“It was about a
half hour, maybe forty minutes ago,” Janet said uneasily.

“Are you sure?”
Anna asked.

“Yes, at least
thirty,” Janet said more confidently.

They all stood
and stared at each other. Anna raised her arms, as if to say,
And what else,
Janet? Jesus Christ!

“Right. He said
there were two cars in the parking lot and he would call in when he was done.”
Janet looked at her shoes, suspecting she had done something wrong.

Anna was pissed
at herself for not having sent someone with Michael. How could she have been so
careless? There was a murderer running around in the woods, a murderer who
almost killed Sam and Trevor. Why would she have sent him out alone? Guilt
began crawling up her spine. She tried to shrug it off, keep her cool and
maintain her authority.

“Janet, try to
get in touch with Michael. Geraldine, Aaron, I need you to go to the Laundromat
as fast as you can.”

“I have a bad
feeling about this,” Geraldine said softly.

“We can’t get
bogged down in feelings that will get us killed.” Anna said briskly. “Keep your
wits about you and let’s get this done.”

Everyone stood
and stared at her.

“Now!” Anna
shouted. “God be with you,” she added. She hoped it would offset her yelling at
them, but she felt like an idiot.

Anna looked
toward the table where her sons were sitting. Trevor gave her the thumbs up,
but in a somewhat embarrassed fashion. Her direct line began ringing at her
desk, startling most people in the room. It was just what they needed to start
following Anna’s orders.

“Sheriff
Blackwood,” she said gruffly.

“Anna, hello.
David here,” Dr. David Styles said.

“Dr. Styles!”
she said a little too excitedly. She waved everyone out of the room. She put
her hand over the bottom part of the phone to speak to Damien. “Stay on the
cameras, Damien.”

“I have some
information for you,” David said in a monotone voice.

“I’m listening,”
Anna assured him.

“The yellowish
foreign object that was in the back of the neck of our victim is a weapon made
from animal bone, maybe even a claw or talon.”

Anna was quiet
for a moment, allowing what David had said to sink in. Although Aaron had
already relayed that information, it seemed real coming from David. It was
certainly a strange weapon to use, but then again the night was becoming
stranger by the minute. When she didn’t say anything, David spoke again.

“I’ve sent Jason
to meet with Professor Bearson from the university. He will be able to tell us
what type of animal it belongs to.”

“When should we
be expecting him?” she asked.

“In the next few
hours,” he said.

“Did you
determine the cause of death?” Anna asked, even though she had already guessed.

“It turns out
that Mr. Brickton had a massive coronary event.”

“You mean he
died of a heart attack?” she asked, surprise in her voice.

“Well, yes and
no,” David said. “The injuries to his neck would have killed him, but at the
approximate time he sustained it he also suffered a heart attack.”

Anna’s stomach
dropped a little. She felt intense pity for Alan Brickton. How terrible that
must have been for him. Literally being scared to death.

“What else do
you know?”

“I know it
wasn’t a lower order animal that killed him,” David said. “Logically, I can
rule that out.”

“What do you
mean?” Anna asked.

“Aside from the
neck wound, his ankles were crushed. There were also some scrapes on the back
of his head, a few inches above the wound.”

“So you’re
saying he was dragged on the ground,” Anna estimated.
Just like Sam
, she
remembered with a shiver.

“Indeed,” David
said. “And what’s more, the contusions around his ankles are similar to those
inflicted by human hands in some ways.”

“In some ways?”
Anna asked. “What about the other ways?”

“Either our
killer is on some significant doses of steroids, or…” his voice dropped off.

“David?”

“I’m sorry, I
cannot find a way to end that thought.”

“Because you’re
still contemplating it or because there’s nothing else to say?”

“Quite honestly,
Anna, it defies logic.” He paused. “And I do not say that lightly.”

“I know, David.
I know.” “So what’s the next step?” Anna asked.

“Well, I am
hoping Professor Bearson arrives within the next hour.”

“You really
asked him to come?” Anna asked, wondering what a professor could really do for
them. “What more can he do than tell us what animal the weapon came from?”

“He is a capable
man, Anna. I have a feeling his services may be necessary.”

That’s awfully
cryptic
,
Anna thought.
And a little presumptive.

“I am sure that
was an unusual statement, Anna. But these are unusual circumstances.”

“Indeed they
are, David. Indeed they are.”

“There’s one
more thing, Anna,” David said. “There was a strange liquid around the entrance
wound on the victim.”

“Have you been
able to discover its origin?” she asked.

“If I didn’t
know any better, which I’m not sure at this point if I do, I would say that it
is some sort of saliva.”

“Some form of
saliva? How many types are there?” Anna wondered.

“Well, there’s
your regular saliva that you and I have. And then there’s saliva that isn’t
human.”

“So you think
that perhaps an animal may have bitten him after he had been killed?” Anna
asked.

“That’s the
thing, Anna. Although I have to run some tests, it looks to me like the saliva
mixed with the blood while it was still warm. In other words, either our killer
bit him, or there was a scavenger close by waiting for its turn at the kill.”

“I need you to
chuck reason out the window for a moment, David,” Anna began. “Forget logic.
What is your gut telling you?”

He paused too
long for Anna’s comfort. Sighing softly, she decided she would give him the
time he needed.

“I think our
killer likes to either bite or lick his victims.” Anna shuddered at his choice
to use the plural.

“You don’t think
he’s finished, do you?” Anna asked.

“Judging by the
savagery I’ve seen this evening, he’s not done by a long shot.”

“David, I need
you to do me a favor.”

“Sure thing,
Anna. What do you need?”

“I need you to
find the autopsy report for Matthew McMillan, Sr.”

“Okay. I believe
that was around 1990 or so. Last year we hired a temp to scan all hard copies
into the computer database. I can fax it to you in the next ten minutes.

“Great, thanks.”
Anna was grateful that David was not a man who asked questions when he received
strange requests. She also appreciated his discretion.

“Anna, be
careful.”

“You too,” she
said. She hung up the phone and looked at her children. She considered for a
brief moment locking them up so whatever it was that was out there couldn’t get
them.

* * * * * *

2

As Michael
Mullins regained consciousness he felt lightheaded and nauseous. It took him a
moment to gather his thoughts and remember what had happened.
What a
terrible dream,
he thought to himself. Thinking he must have passed out at
the Laundromat, concern for his health flooded his mind.

“I must have hit
my head,” he mumbled to himself, eyes still closed. In the distance he could
hear the trickling of water. It felt damp, and he felt pain. The pain continued
to grow more intense, coming from his neck and face. When he opened his eyes,
he immediately noticed two things. First, he could only see out of one eye, and
second, he was no longer at the Laundromat. Confused and disoriented, he
realized he was standing, his arms outstretched above his head. He tried to
pull his arms down so he could touch his face, but his hands were tied together
and secured to some sort of hard, slippery surface.

Panic began to
take over. The nightmare in the woods must have really happened, and now he was
being held against his will in some dark, unknown hideaway. He considered
calling out to his captor, then began arguing with himself. Maybe it was better
if he just kept his mouth shut and pretended to be unconscious? What if they
planned on torturing him? If they had wanted him dead, the terrifying man in
the woods would have taken care of that by now.

What could I
have done to piss someone off? Why would they want to kill me?
After seeing
Alan Brickton dead, it sort of made sense that someone might kill him. Granted,
murder doesn’t usually happen in Crimson Falls. But still. If someone was going
to be killed, it would be someone like Acorn Alan. But the sound of Anna’s
voice in the woods, the larger than life attacker – something weird was
happening and that creature was just getting started.

As Michael
silently cursed Anna for making him dust for prints by himself, he heard the
sound of someone walking toward him. He slumped his head down and acted like he
was out cold. His body almost convulsed with fear, and the pain was becoming
almost unbearable. Suddenly it became clear that he may not be able to pull off
looking unconscious. That thought only made him tremble more feverously. The
footsteps were getting louder and closer.

 “Michael,” a
deep male voice called.

The voice was
familiar, but he felt too incoherent to recognize it. He decided to keep
playing dead.

“Michael,” the
voice repeated. It sounded almost like he was singing. The voice sent shivers
down his spine.

Play dead. Play
dead
,
he kept repeating in his head. He tried to will his muscles not to move, to
force his body to stop shaking.