“Here’s the thing,” Lacey announced, determination returning in her voice. “They say Brian has never been here. No one seems to even know who he is.”
The other end of the line remained silent.
“Mister Pert?” she wondered.
“He was there, I know that for a fact. He called me the night before disappearing from Saddle Inn…” Mister Pert’s tone had dimmed, the facade crumbling. “And he was scared.”
Lacey’s blood froze in her veins. “Scared of what?”
“He didn’t say. Just…he seemed panicked by what he had found. For a moment, I thought he was having an anxiety attack and asked if he needed medical attention. He declined and seemed to get it together. Said he couldn't wait to show me what he’d found.”
Lacey bit her lower lip. “And then he disappeared.”
“Haven’t heard from him since.” Mister Pert’s chair screeched again, and she imagined him squirming in his seat.
“Did he mention any names at all, Mister Pert?” she hoped. “Any residents, or any deaths that occurred here…”
“Not that I can think of. He did mention a little…” but the line muted in and out, connection dropping.
“Damn reception,” Lacey cursed as she looked at her phone screen. The reception had dropped, together with her heart falling down to her stomach in dread.
It was a little before eleven in the morning by the time Lacey arrived on Maelstrom Drive. She advanced to the Derbys’ home but figured they’d be at the soap shop. Still, she wanted to take a peek at their home, being right next door to the Klines.
That reminded her of Ginny, how the little girl wanted to go inside the shop with Lacey the last time she’d seen her. She hoped she’d see her later on in the day and could make good on that promise of taking her there. Ginny seemed to need a friend, and she’d carved a little soft spot in Lacey’s heart. Maybe it was her big, brown eyes, or the way she seemed to be so lonely all the time. It reminded her a bit of herself as a kid. Alone. Sad. Ignored.
She circled the Derbys’ property, the landscape neatly trimmed and manicured. A fresh coat of pale blue paint seemed to cover the exterior, and a large yellow flower wreath hung on the front door. She took the front steps leading onto the porch. Everything was quiet and seemed to be in order, but Lacey couldn’t shake off a gelid touch trailing her back. It was as if an evil glazed the perimeter of the home, guarding it and watching her intently.
“They’re not home,” a singsong voice called after.
Startled, Lacey turned around and saw a woman in her early fifties at the bottom of the porch stairs. “I’m sorry,” she apologized with a warm smile. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay,” Lacey said and walked over to meet the woman. “I’m Lacey Shaw, a reporter from Crestwater Press.”
The woman extended a long, delicate hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Gardening?” Lacey asked, looking over at the basket hanging on the woman’s left arm.
“It’s what keeps me sane these days,” the woman replied.
“Are you a neighbor of the Derbys?”
“Oh yes,” the woman nodded, gray brown hair strands falling loose from under her sun hat. “I’m Katie Loughton.”
Lacey glanced past Mrs. Loughton’s shoulder, peeking at the home across the street. “You live across?”
“No, that is where the Klines used to reside,” she explained, her face fading into sadness. “Bless their hearts. The home is vacant since…the accident.”
Lacey shuddered, thinking of Mister Kline’s death at the hands of Libby. “Are you close with your neighbors? What about the Derbys?”
Mrs. Loughton smiled. “They’re lovely people. I feel terrible about what happened with Joann. It broke Meredith’s heart. She had wanted a child so desperately that when Joann was found in the woods, orphaned and unclaimed, it seemed like a blessing from heaven.”
“If I remember correctly, you were the one who had checked on Joann the day she went missing?” Lacey inquired, ensuring her memory didn’t fail her.
“You did your homework,” the woman laughed, her blue eyes sparkling. “Yes, I went over to check on her when she didn’t show up for…an appointment with my daughter.” Her eyes glimmered with grief.
Lacey cleared her throat, pushing away the gnawing sensation that someone was watching her. She tried to look nonchalant as she glanced over her shoulders. No one was there, and Lacey wished she could just focus on her purpose here.
“Did you get along with Joann?” she asked. “What kind of girl was she?”
The woman gave her a soft smile. “Joann was one of a kind. The poor soul must’ve gone through much before being found in the woods. She never spoke about it, but she seemed to connect with my Allison. She visited her often. They hit it off at first, and I was glad. Allison was a sweet girl, but painfully shy. Even though eventually Allison began not wanting to visit her anymore.”
Lacey’s brows pinched together. “How come?”
The woman shrugged and looked down at her basket. “In hindsight, I wonder if she had already started to feel sick, and maybe just couldn’t handle being around people for long periods of time. All I know is that at the end, after Joann’s visits, she seemed to be exhausted and irritable. Joann was over a decade older than my Allison, but I really had hoped they’d be good friends.” A glimmer of tears showed in Mrs. Loughton’s eyes.
“Was Allison upset when Joann went missing?” Lacey asked.
Mrs. Loughton looked up at Lacey, her shoulders mildly shaking. “She never had the chance to find out.
“My Allison is dead.”
Chapter Seventeen
CASE #5 - THE DEATH OF ALLISON LOUGHTON
December 1990
The Loughtons are just one of many families that are lifetime residents of Raven Hills. Like most of the people who reside in the small town, they can trace their family lineage back to the town’s founding. In a town that seems to have had more than its share of odd happenings, mysterious deaths, and disappearances, it might be expected that people would become hard, bitter, and unfriendly. Katie Loughton is none of those things. In fact, her fellow townspeople consider Katie to be an exceptionally kind, thoughtful, and generous person, despite the fact that she lives with the pain of outliving her only child, Allison.
To her parents, Allison was everything. They never had any other children, and they poured all their hearts into their baby girl. Katie still talks about Allison at every opportunity, keeping the girl’s memory alive in the town. She keeps a picture of Allison on her person every day, and she will pull it out lovingly while talking of the daughter she misses. Allison had a wide smile that lit up her blue eyes, and long brown hair. She had looked so much like her mother, a fact that Katie recounts with pride.
According to Katie, Allison was a sweet girl, but she didn’t have a lot of friends. She liked science and reading, and preferred writing in her journal to playing outside. That’s why when Allison was a young teenager and their neighbor’s daughter, Joann Derby, was kind to her, Katie didn’t really mind them forming a friendship. She thought even though Joann was a bit older than her, it would be good for Allison to have a real friend to talk to, rather than just having her books. It seemed like a good relationship, and the two girls talked nearly every day.
Allison graduated high school at the top of her class. She had applied to several colleges and was excited to start her adult life. The next fall, however, Allison didn’t leave town. She told her parents she had decided to take a year off from school. Of course, this concerned them, but it seemed like more and more young people were deciding to take these “gap years”, so they didn’t make much of a fuss. Looking back, Katie believes this was the first sign that something was wrong with Allison.
Over the next two years Allison would change dramatically. She was more quiet than ever and slept most of the day. She’d lost her appetite and began to lose weight. Her parents worried that she was
depressed but she refused to see a therapist. Joann began visiting her more often, bringing her treats and exchanging books. It brought Katie some comfort that at least Allison had a friend to confide in. She thought that maybe Joann could help bring her little girl out of the darkness consuming her. She did seem exhausted after Joann’s visits, shutting herself in her room and requesting to be alone, but Katie had read that depression can make people feel that way.
Katie watched, feeling helpless, as her daughter seemed to slowly fade away. Allison began asking that Joann stop coming, but Katie felt Joann’s friendship was the last normal thing in Allison’s life, and let her inside each time she knocked.
Except on the bad days. Those days didn’t begin until near the end of Allison’s life. She would complain of stomach pain and cramps. Katie begged her to eat, sure that what she was hungry. Allison kept refusing, insisting that everything made her stomach hurt.
Katie Loughton’s eyes fill up with tears when recalling her daughter’s death. They are the eyes of a loving mother, and are filled with unearned guilt.
“Then I finally insisted she see a doctor. I honestly thought that her depression had morphed into anorexia. I knew she was going to die, but I thought she had some mental illness, and I thought she was killing herself by not eating. If I had known, I could have saved my baby. I made the appointment but they said they couldn’t get us in for a few weeks. By the time it came around she was already gone.”
Allison Loughton was found unresponsive in her bed by her father. He performed CPR while Katie dialed 911. They did everything they could to save their daughter, but nothing was enough. She was dead. The Loughtons were later informed of the autopsy results. There was only one anomaly: Colorectal cancer. It’s a disease that can be cured, but it is aggressive and moves quickly. Many times the patient doesn’t know they have cancer until treatment is no longer an option.
Allison’s funeral was small and quiet, much like the girl in the coffin. Although Allison had been somewhat of a loner, she had still been a part of Raven Hills. The people of the town came to show their support for the family. Katie said that she didn’t have to cook dinner for at least a month afterward, as the women of the town kept her supplied with casseroles.
When asked about Joann, Katie remembered being sure she would show up. “I was sure I missed her. She was Allison's best…well, only friend really. But she didn’t come. I checked the sign-in book later, to be sure, but no. She wasn’t there. I was so hurt, you know? She was the one person who had seen it all through. Of course, later I found out she had left town. Disappeared, probably ran off to find her birth parents. I was just a little surprised she didn’t come to the funeral.
“She had been so dedicated to my Allison.”
Chapter Eighteen
The afternoon sun shone at its strongest, the hot humid air hitting Lacey in the chest as she left Mrs. Loughton’s home. With her journal tucked under her arm, she wiped a remnant tear from the corner of her eye. Allison’s story had imprinted in Lacey’s heart, a wave of sadness taking root as Mrs. Loughton had recounted her daughter’s last days on this earth.
On the sidewalk outside the Loughtons’ home, Lacey thought about Joann’s disappearance, something that soured her stomach with each resident’s case. If Joann had been so friendly with the girl, why had she left her so suddenly and not bothered to attend her funeral?
Lacey began walking down the sidewalk, until movement caught her eye. Across the street, next to the Klines’ vacant home, a woman in her wheelchair struggled to maneuver herself on the curb.
Lacey crossed the street and rushed over to the woman.
“Let me help you with that,” Lacey offered, and grabbed the wheelchair’s handle grips.
“Oh, dear, this wheel needs to be changed,” the elderly woman explained. “It’s been coming off for the last two months.”
Lacey straightened the woman’s chair, untucking the faulty wheel from a small pothole. The wheelchair squeaked in reply.
“Let’s see,” Lacey began, bending down to inspect the chair. A few minutes of tinkering proved the testy wheel had a loose bolt. “It just needs to be tightened, that’s all.” She rose and smiled at the woman. “Do you have an Allen wrench?”
“I believe so. In the shed on the side of the house,” the woman replied.
Lacey pushed the wheelchair to the side, the path luckily covered in bricks and making the trek to the shed easier. Once there, she opened the door to the shed.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was such a mess in there,” the woman apologized as she watched Lacey disappear inside of it. “It’s been quite some time I’ve been there. My late husband worked in here all the time. I haven’t culled the shed since his death.”
Lacey looked around, noticing the cluttered piles of tools, cardboard boxes, and lots of metal scraps. She imagined that many sheds looked like that, especially those belonging to people working on too many projects at once.
But what really struck her as odd was a pick gingerly resting away from the cluttered mess. Lacey approached it, noticing hanging on the shed’s wall, two nails holding it up. The tool seemed very old, and the pick’s head shone an orange-brown rust. The long, wooden handle splintered and a faded mark was inked on it. She strained her eyes and moved closer to it. Etched inside a pale box, the word Davidson was imprinted.
Lacey reached her hand towards it, but a booming voice thundered inside the shed.
“What are you doing here?”
Startled, Lacey jumped and turned, her hand dropping to her side. A woman in her late forties stood next to the wheelchair. Her disheveled brown hair hung loosely in a ponytail, and her beady, dark eyes glared at Lacey.
“I’m Lacey Shaw,” Lacey greeted, attempting a smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to trespass. I only need to borrow a wrench to fix the wheelchair.”
“Dear, no need to be alarmed,“ the older lady explained, pleading eyes looking up at the woman. “But I have been telling you for a while now, this darn thing needs fixin’.”
Relaxing, but her eyes still narrowing at Lacey, the woman nodded.
“I’m Mary Sue Collins,” the wheelchair-bound elder explained. “This is my daughter Julie.”
Lacey looked at both women, unable to find any resemblance, either physically or characteristically. The older Mrs. Collins was a thin woman in her sixties, and her fine features were beautifully symmetrical. Long white hair fell down her back, and two simple pins held some strands back behind her ears. She wore a pretty flower-pattern shirt with bell sleeves, and khaki pants that fit her perfectly.
Julie, on the other hand, seemed frazzled and sweaty, and she had an outbreak of what appeared like sores on her swollen face. Her hooked nose was prominent, and her lips so thin they practically disappeared as she set them into a thin line.
“The gray tool box,” Julie said, her chin jerking up.
Lacey looked to the side, finding the box and opening it slowly under Julie’s glaring stare. Something about the woman unnerved her. Fetching the Allen wrench she held it tightly in her hand, a sudden coldness trailing her skin.
“I just need to tilt the wheelchair so I can fix the wheel. It’ll take a second,” Lacey stammered, unable to figure out why her heartbeat had suddenly increased.
“Oh, then do join us inside the home. Julie can help me onto the couch and you can work on the chair,” Mary Sue said chirpily. “It’s so hot today, let us offer you a glass of cold sweet tea as a thank you.”
Lacey nodded, trying to avoid Julie’s intense stare, and reluctantly followed mother and daughter inside their home.
The Collins home was a small place, and it would’ve been pretty if it wasn’t for the horrid smell and piles of litter everywhere. Lacey tried to hold her breath, the pungent scent stuck in the living room like a wet blanket.
Julie took her mother under her arm and with one swift motion dropped her onto the cushion. Lacey didn’t miss the abrupt way she’d picked up Mary Sue, no
r the detached and emotionless demeanor toward her mother.
With the wheelchair finally free, and the strong urge to leave this home, Lacey bent down and tipped the wheelchair against the wall. The loose wheel required a simple adjustment, and then she’d be on her way. Her eyes trailed Julie, who went to fetch them a pitcher of iced tea.
“So kind of you to help,” Mary Sue began. “Sometimes I just feel like a burden.”
Lacey glanced up at her. “Why do you say that?”
“It seems I’m always in need of others. My poor Julie had to abandon her life in the city to come stay with me. I’m in very poor health and she’s the only one I’ve left.” The woman released a sigh.
Lacey looked her over again, noticing the woman’s pink complexion and high cheekbones. For a woman in her sixties she didn’t appear very ill, and her predisposition seemed upbeat and friendly.
“It’s kind for your daughter to be here with you,” Lacey mumbled more to herself, wondering why Julie hadn’t fixed the dangerously loose wheel on her mother’s wheelchair, and appalled at their living conditions. By now the smell was getting to her to the point of inducing nausea, and she swore that from the corner of her eye she spotted a critter scurrying under a chair.
“Julie moved here in the early nineties,” Mary Sue explained. “She’s sacrificed her whole life to be here with me.” The glossy look in her eyes shone with pride.
“Where did Julie live before coming to Raven Hills?” Lacey inquired.
“Hartford. She left a career in business for me.”
Lacey became annoyed at Mary Sue’s constant repetition of how much her daughter had given up for her, but with the bolt tightly put and the chair finally steady and secure, she tipped it back down to the floor.
“I don’t mean to be nosy, but can I ask what your illness is, Mrs. Collins?” Lacey wondered.
Raven Hills- Unraveling Evil Page 7
