The Devil's Demeanor (31 page)

He grinned and
shook his head in embarrassment. He had some serious apologizing to do to the
others when he returned to camp.

*
 
*
 
*

When he got
there, he found Conner and Travis standing in front of their respective tents.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Conner asked his cousin.

“I went back to
the house to get a blanket and fell asleep on the couch.”

Conner grinned.
“You little bitch. We slept out here in this cold forest while you lived it up
at the house.”

“It was your
idea to camp out here and hunt for something that probably doesn’t exist.”

For a moment,
Conner said nothing. Then he laughed. “Touché,” he said.

Jordan looked
around the woods. “Where’s Erin?”

Conner and
Travis looked at each other, both suddenly nervous. Jordan was about to ask
what was wrong when a scream pierced the air. The three boys followed the
direction of the scream to the little stream they’d found yesterday. There they
found Erin, staring at something. She had her hands to her mouth, as if trying
to stifle any more screams.

Travis ran up
and held her as he too found what had frightened her.

And then Conner
saw it.

Finally, Jordan
saw the feet sticking out of the ground.

*
 
*
 
*

Police
surrounded the area nearly an hour later. They questioned the kids about why
they had been out here in the first place, whether they knew the victim (Mr.
Leper) and if they had seen or heard anything strange last night. Jordan
couldn’t tell if he and his friends were considered suspects, but he wouldn’t
be surprised if they had been.

Jordan told the
police that he had slept at his house. He listened in on the others’
interrogations as well: Conner and Travis had slept in their tents; Erin,
however, said she’d slept in Travis’s car. Jordan couldn’t help but find that
curious. Erin went on to explain that she and her boyfriend had a fight and
that she went to Jordan’s house, but no one was home.

The cops then
returned to Jordan, who told them that he may have been asleep when she showed
up. The police didn’t like the inconsistencies in what should have been a
simple explanation. Jordan thought of telling them that it may have been the
Texas Devil, but he held his tongue. He’d already withheld telling them about
the figure he’d seen while taking a leak last night. That may have been Mr.
Leper himself, and Jordan didn’t think it wise to admit he’d seen the victim
shortly before his death.

*
 
*
 
*

Dad came home
later that night, cutting his trip short. When it came to gauging his reaction
to the news, Jordan was clueless. Judging by his words alone, Dad clearly
wasn’t happy about the kids camping in the woods. However, there was no telling
tone in his voice to go by; he almost seemed indifferent. He merely chastised
the boys about the danger of going into those woods at night.

The news of Mr.
Leper’s death drew some spark that played across Dad’s face. He tried to hide
the emotions, but Jordan saw flickers: horror, revulsion, confusion. It was
bizarre to witness.

Dad couldn’t
possibly feel bad about the old man’s death, could he? Or maybe it was because
of the fact that Mr. Leper died so close to where Jordan and Conner had been.
The thought must have been nauseating.

Or maybe it was
something else entirely.

*
 
*
 
*

Jordan had
become a celebrity at school. News had spread that he had found his neighbor’s
body behind his house. His classmates kept asking him if the Texas Devil had
killed Mr. Leper. Jordan didn’t hate the attention and didn’t want to tell them
that he had spent the night in the safety of his own house, so he merely said
it was possible.

He worried,
however, about that nosy reporter Diedre Marshall. He had hoped she would lose
interest in his father, but there was no chance of that now.

When he got to
English class, he found Erin waiting for him by his desk. Her lovely eyebrows
were turned upward and she looked worried. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m just
really sorry about last weekend.”

“Why? You
didn’t do anything. Did you?” He grinned.

“I can tell you
didn’t want to go camping,” she replied. “I can’t help but feel like you only
did it for me.”

Jordan
chuckled. “Don’t flatter yourself, honey. I did it because it sounded like
fun.”

She laughed,
looking relieved.

“There’s
something I want to ask you, though,” Jordan said.

“You want to
know why I spent the night in the car,” she guessed. “Travis and I had a fight
and I just didn’t want to be anywhere near his ass.”

“Oh. I, uh,
heard you two making out in your tent.” He blushed.

“You wouldn’t
think that would lead to a fight, huh?”

“Was
he...trying to get you to do something you didn’t want to do?” Jordan asked.

“Sort of.” She
seemed apprehensive now. “I’ve never done...
it
.”

“You mean the
sex?” He cocked an eyebrow.

Erin burst into
laughter. Several classmates glanced at her. Jordan marveled at the beauty of
her laugh. He wanted to tell her to dump her rapist boyfriend. He wanted to
tell that he would treat her better than Travis ever could. Why couldn’t he
just tell her these things? What was he afraid of?

*
 
*
 
*

Jordan saw a
few reporters parked in front of Mr. Leper’s house as he walked from the bus
stop to his own home. If not for the nature of the death, he doubted it would
have been enough on its own to warrant this much media attention.

The kids had
been left out of any official news stories, but it wouldn’t be long before the
press found out. After all, it hadn’t taken long for the school to find out.

Jordan kept his
head down as he walked toward his house. He stared intently at the street, his
heart suddenly racing the closer he got. He could hear the reporters recording
their segments.

One voice, in
particular, made him look up.

Diedre
Marshall.

He gave her a
passing glance as he strode by. She was facing him but looking at her cameraman
as she read her script. Her eyes shot to Jordan quickly, though she never
faltered in her words.

“Mr. Scott?”
she called a moment later.

Jordan had just
reached his driveway when she called to him. He stopped and turned around.

“Hello again,”
she said with a smile as she briskly approached him. “Quite an exciting week,
isn’t it? I heard it through the grapevine that you were the one to discover
the body. Is that true?”

Jordan wanted
to tell her that it wasn’t true, but he also didn’t want to put Erin on this
vulture’s dinner plate. “Maybe,” he compromised.

Her smile
vanished only to be replaced with a sympathetic expression. “That must’ve been
very frightening, discovering the body of your beloved neighbor practically in
your backyard.”

“He wasn’t very
beloved.”

The reporter
arched an eyebrow. “Really? He had enemies?”

Jordan scolded
himself for saying that. “The whole neighborhood hated him for a bunch of
reasons.”

“Did your
father have a reason?”

Jordan didn’t
want to say any more. He’d already said too much. He wished he’d just kept
walking. To remedy that, he turned on his heel and walked to the front door. It
may have looked suspicious, but there was nothing else he could do.

Diedre
followed.

The moment he
stepped onto the front porch, the reporter said, “You can see why I find this
story so interesting, can’t you?” She sounded like she was pleading.

Before Jordan
could touch the doorknob, the door flew open. Standing just inside the house
was Dad. His eyes were hard as he stared at Ms. Marshall.

“Hello, Mr.
Scott,” she said to him.

He didn’t
respond.

“I was just
asking your son a few questions about Mr. Leper,” she continued, unfazed. “Such
a terrible tragedy.”

“You don’t want
to talk to my son,” Dad said. “You want to talk to me. And that’s not going to
happen. Good day, Ms. Marshall.”

Dad ushered
Jordan inside and closed the door in the bewildered woman’s face.

The excitement
over Mr. Leper’s murder started to die down a week after it occurred. Despite
its bizarre nature, no one seemed to really care about the death of a mean old
man who was socially inept. The most interesting aspect of the case was that it
happened behind the house of a well-known author, in the very same woods where
other deaths had occurred.

Investigators
were having difficulty solving the supposed murder; no fingerprints were found
on the body, according to the news reports. Jordan shuddered to think he may
have seen Mr. Leper (or the murderer) in the woods that night. Surprisingly, he
felt absolutely no guilt. It’s not like he could have saved the old man.

Or could he
have?

If the murderer
had been the Texas Devil, then no. The Devil was a monster, one that didn’t
kill like an animal. It killed like a homicidal maniac. Jordan wasn’t even sure
where the idea of the monster came from, but once the notion was out there, it
spread like wildfire.

He was
constantly on alert while at school, fearful that he would run into Diedre
again. After her awkward encounter with Dad a week ago, Jordan was worried the
reporter would try to get answers through him once again. He decided he would
refrain from speaking to her, even if it made his family look suspicious.

He wasn’t sure
why they would look guilty, however. None of the Scotts had killed Mr. Leper.
Jordan had been asleep in the house; Conner had been passed out in their tent;
Dad had been out of town. That only left Erin and Travis. Erin said she’d gone
back to Travis’s car, so there was no one to account for the bad boyfriend’s
whereabouts at the time.

Though Jordan
didn’t like him, he couldn’t see Travis killing anyone.

Thinking of
that brought something to Jordan’s mind. Why didn’t the murderer kill Conner
and Travis? They had been only yards away from the stream. And what had that
hole been for? Jordan wondered if someone had planned on burying something in
it. He did get a strange feeling when he first saw it, something familiar, but
he couldn’t remember what. The answer was just at the tip of his brain, teasing
him.
 
It became infuriating.

*
 
*
 
*

Diedre sat at
her desk in her bedroom, poring over her research. She didn’t have much. Before
Don Scott became a popular author, his life had seemed anything but normal.
There wasn’t much, but what was there proved significant.

His mother,
Hilda, died in Georgia, shot to death by her husband Patrick. Hilda, however,
had not been entirely innocent. She had supposedly killed her boyfriend,
Adrian, and buried his body at the very spot where she lost her own life.

That definitely
raised an eyebrow.

Don’s father
died of a heart attack here in Texas.

Don had been at
the scene.

His brother,
Ethan, had been shot to death in an alleged robbery in his girlfriend Ivy’s
home, which was in the same neighborhood where his mother died. Not only that,
but the same house would host another murder, that of Ivy’s last boyfriend ten
years ago.
 
Very interesting.

Ethan’s
murderer was never caught, and Don’s whereabouts for that night were still
unknown.

*
 
*
 
*

Don stood at
the kitchen counter, marinating chicken for dinner. He stared out the window
directly in front of him, which gave him a view of the side of Mr. Leper’s
house.

Just thinking
about what happened to that man filled him with terrible dread. Don knew the
Texas Devil had nothing do with the murder. He also knew he didn’t kill his
neighbor; he would’ve remembered that. Besides, he had been far away from here
at the time. Not in New York with his agent, like he’d told the boys.

He may not have
been where he said he was, but he knew for a fact he didn’t kill his neighbor.
The curse hadn’t taken hold again.

Don suspected,
from the deepest level of his being, that Mr. Leper had been killed by one of
the boys.

*
 
*
 
*

The Scott
family sat down to dinner later that day. The house was so quiet without
Samantha running her mouth and blaring her pop music. Jordan almost missed her
simply because he couldn’t stand this new silence.

Dad sat across
from him, with Conner next to Jordan. The boys stared at Dad, and he stared
back.

Jordan grew
nervous. So far, Dad hadn’t said much about the boys camping in the woods
without his permission. Dad didn’t look angry, though; he looked worried.

“I’m sorry you
boys have to go through all this,” Dad finally said, breaking that terrible
silence. “It must have been scary, seeing a dead body like that.”

“It wasn’t that
bad,” Conner said casually as he chewed his chicken.

Dad ignored him
and said, “You boys know you shouldn’t have been in those woods to begin with.”

“We know, Dad,”
Jordan replied.

“Why did you do
it, then?”

Jordan looked
at his cousin. It had all been Conner’s idea, after all; he should be the one
to explain.

Conner noticed
his cousin eyeballing him, swallowed his food audibly, and then told Dad, “It
seemed like a cool idea.”

The house grew
silent once again, as Dad processed that response. Jordan held his breath.
Conner had always been a thorn in Dad’s side, constantly getting into trouble.
Jordan wondered if the breaking point had finally been reached.

Dad’s face
contorted, like he was holding something in.

And then,
suddenly, he
laughed
.

Conner began
laughing as well. Jordan couldn’t understand what was happening. He wasn’t in
the laughing mood himself, so he simply sat there with his foolish family.

*
 
*
 
*

Monica Scott
was exhausted when she walked into her empty house. Her nurse scrubs hung
loosely on her dwindling frame as she walked into her kitchen and began heating
up the lasagna Terry had made her last night. Terry, that poor lovely man, was
a fool for putting up with her. He gave his heart to her ceaselessly but she
only managed to accept it with reluctance.
 
In truth, she missed Donovan. She missed her son, as well.

She missed her
world
.

Not a day went
by that she didn’t think of Don and Jordan, and she spent equal amounts of time
regretting her horrible decision to leave them. She’d let her fear of the
unknown break up her family. That wasn’t like her. She had been a strong woman,
and yet, Don’s terrible secret had filled her with an unbearable dread. That
dread had haunted her dreams and her waking thoughts, had consumed her. She’d
felt the only escape was to distance herself from the source: Don.

Just knowing
that the...curse had been imprinted onto her son as well only fueled her fear.
But she couldn’t stay away from her baby. She saw him every summer, and she
sensed something in him, just beneath the skin. Whatever it was never managed
to surface, however, and for that she was grateful.

As she ate the lasagna
at the table, she remembered Don as he had been. That cute little boy with the
undeniable crush on her in grade school.

Monica missed
him terribly at that moment. She’d read all of his books over the
years—disposable thrillers only decently written—and she watched the few
interviews he’d ever done. Time hadn’t been kind to him; he now seemed like a
mere shadow of his former self. She wished things could go back to the way they
were, but....

But the
murders. Nothing could undo them. No matter how much she wished and prayed,
nothing could change the fact that Don had killed people—including his own
brother—in cold blood.

Monica listened
to the messages on her answering machine: One was from Terry, stating he
couldn’t get her on her cell but left a voicemail, which she would check later;
another message was from a woman who left no name, but asked her how she felt
about the murder that had taken place behind Don’s house.

Monica gasped
and listened to the message again. She couldn’t have heard properly. The voice
had sounded casual, like a friend merely being curious. Monica called Don’s
cell phone, praying he answered. While she waited, she booted up her computer
in the bedroom.

“Hello?” Don’s
voice answered after a thousand rings.

“Don, why
didn’t you tell me someone was murdered behind your house?” Monica was suddenly
angry and could not keep the heat from her voice.

“How did you
find out about that?” he asked.

“It doesn’t
matter!
 
Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Calm down,
Monica. Nobody was murdered. My neighbor fell into a hole upside down.”

Monica pulled
up the story online, read it to herself. “The news says he was
buried
upside down. I hardly call that an accident.”

Don was
speechless for a moment. Monica held her breath and waited. He was clearly
trying to come up with a response, which told her that he had something to
hide.

Finally, he
said, “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I beg to
differ.”

“I’m handling
it.”

“What’s going
on over there, Donovan?” After a breath, she at last voiced her concern. “Did you
do it?”

“No,” he
answered at once. “I was out of town and.... I would’ve remembered.”

There was
another concern, however. “Did one of the boys do it?” The words tasted awful
in her mouth, and she hated herself for even asking.

Her concern was
made worse when Don said, “I don’t know yet.”

*
 
*
 
*

Jordan looked
for his cousin at school the next day during lunch period but couldn’t find
him. Students weren’t allowed to stay in his or her classrooms during
lunch—which was probably just where Conner would be. Jordan looked around one
more time before deciding to go searching for his cousin’s art class. He saw
Erin sitting at their table and talking with a friend.

Travis wasn’t
with her.

So both boys
were missing. Strange.

Jordan made his
way down a hallway, keeping an eye out for any hall monitors. He’d encountered
a teacher once during lunch period a few months back, when he and some friends
had decided to eat in class, and that had ended up blowing it for everyone when
that teacher followed him from the bathroom and disbanded the get-together.
Jordan remembered how hot his face had felt as he struggled to come up with a
lie to tell the teacher. Those “friends” hadn’t spoken to him since.

He rounded a
corner and saw Conner’s class on the left. The door was closed. He was about to
open it when someone burst through, nearly knocking him down. It was Travis,
and he looked pissed.

The boys stared
at each other for a moment before Travis charged off. Jordan looked into the
classroom and saw Conner sitting on one of the desks, facing the windows.

“Conner?”

His cousin
jumped at the call of his name. His eyes were wet and red. “What are you doing
here?” he asked as he wiped tears away.

“I was looking
for you. What just happened? Did Travis hit you or something?”

Conner laughed.
“No. If he had, he’d be dead right now.”

Jordan ignored
the joking tone. “Why are you crying?”

Conner walked
past him to get to the door. “I’m not,” he said, wiping his cheeks dry.

*
 
*
 
*

Jordan kept a
closer eye on his cousin that week; something was definitely wrong with Conner.
What that had to do with Travis was anyone’s guess. Erin was just as clueless
about her boyfriend and, therefore, not much help.

Jordan felt
like everything was spinning out of control. He wished Mom was there to tell him
everything would be okay. He wondered if she knew about Mr. Leper’s murder yet;
she hadn’t called to check on Jordan, and per Dad’s request, Jordan hadn’t
called her. Dad probably figured she would worry and try to bring Jordan back
to Georgia.

What about
Conner, though? Would she leave him with Dad? Most likely. She was a good
woman, but Jordan knew she’d never felt responsible for Conner because he
wasn’t her son.

A curious
thought suddenly occurred to Jordan as he rode the bus to school the next day:
What if Mom did take him back? He and Conner would be separated. The two were
practically brothers and though Conner got on his nerves often, Jordan still
loved him.

*
 
*
 
*

Don decided to
finally stop brooding and get back to life. At some point, while doing the
boys’ laundry, he realized he’d been in a depressing state of mind for quite a
while. For how long he had no idea, but he did know it had started even before
Samantha left him.

When Conner
made him laugh at the dinner table that night, however, something had opened up
inside him, some hidden reservoir of happiness, and he was still feeling its
lingering effects to this day. He felt like a new man. Despite the murder, he
felt optimistic about the future. Anyone could have murdered Mr. Leper; there was
no evidence to point to either of his boys. He had simply jumped to
conclusions.

Though there
was Monica to think about. She’d found out what happened and was worried sick.

He headed
upstairs and started picking Conner’s clothes up off the floor and loading them
into a hand basket when he noticed his camcorder peeking out from under the
bed. Don had bought it for his birthday, though Conner rarely used it.

The camera had
dirt on it now.

Don grabbed it,
examined it. Did Conner take it with him when he went camping? Don’s pulse
quickened. Could there be evidence of the murder on this very camera?