James Beamer Box Set

by Paul Seiple

  “Six is such an impressionable young age. I remember when your father was six. He did something that shaped our future. Can you believe that? All at the tender age of six.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Your father interrupted my job and forced me to choose a different career path.”

  “Is that why you hurt Aunt Barbara and brought me here? You’re mad at my daddy?”

  Norman expelled a brief laugh. “Oh, dear child, I am not mad at your father. I’ve waited years to thank him. Hopefully, I will get the chance soon.”

  “My daddy and Uncle Reid are going to find me.”

  “Oh, I hope they do, dear.”

  “And you’re going to be in big trouble.”

  “Have you ever been to Disney World?” Norman asked, shaking off the threat. “I hear fabulous things about Epcot. Maybe we can go there when this is over.”

  “The only place I want to go is home.” Michelle stood up.

  “Sit down, child.”

  “No. You can’t make me.”

  Norman’s voice deepened. Intensity filled his stare. “Sit down.”

  Michelle dropped back into the chair. “You know, my daddy and Uncle Reid are going to put you in jail. Uncle Reid is a FBI agent.”

  “Yes he is, my child. And a very good one at that. Did you know your father used to be a police officer?”

  “My REAL granddaddy used to be a police officer."

  “James Callahan wasn’t just a police officer, dear. He was the chief of police. A mighty fine man. Your father tried to follow in his footsteps. He couldn’t cut it. Maybe one day when you’re older I’ll tell you the stor…” A noise distracted Norman from finishing his sentence. He took Michelle’s hand. She squirmed free and fought until he stared at her. “Come on, we need to go to the basement.”

  Hella sat the radio on a pew. She pressed play and Iron Maiden echoed around the wooden benches.

  “Can we just listen to the radio?” Sanford asked, fumbling around the pulpit.

  Hella let out a deep breath. “Fine.” She switched it to a pop channel that was playing Cyndi Lauper. “Better?”

  “Much.”

  Hella danced around, tripping over her feet, to ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.’ A twirl caused her to lose balance and tumble over a row of pews.

  “I see why you listen to that heavy metal. It hides your clumsiness. You have no rhythm.”

  “Let’s see you dance then, Sasquatch. With those tree trunks you call legs; I can’t imagine the Solid Gold dancers have much to worry about.”

  “Can’t dance to this.” Sanford sat on the edge of the stage beside the pulpit.

  Hella took a seat beside him. “So, how do you know the old man?’

  “He was friends with my dad. I didn’t know much about my dad until Norman came along. My mom kept me away from him. Guess he was some big deal Satanist.”

  “No shit? Does your skin burn from being in this church?” Hella winked and nudged Sanford with her shoulder.

  “I’m not a Satanist. I don’t put much faith it the whole Heaven and Hell thing. When you die, you just die. And the worms party like it’s 1999.”

  “Don’t let the old man hear you say that.”

  “I’m pretty sure Norman feels the same way I do. One of the first things he told me after we met at The Thirsty Drunk was that this life is all we have. Make the best of it. Don’t waste time thinking about consequences that determine your afterlife. This is it. My dad had the same philosophy.”

  “There is a bar called The Thirsty Drunk?”

  Sanford chuckled. His heels kicked the stage behind them sending vibrations through their legs. “Yeah. In Statesville. I don’t believe in angels, but it’s weird, Norman showed up at the right time. I was unemployed, depressed, and questioning if suffering through another day was worth it. He convinced me that I was worth something. Norman saved my life.”

  “So, you don’t think he’s bullshitting when he says he has a way out of this for us?”

  “Norman doesn’t bullshit. If he played pool, no one could touch him. He’s always thinking five moves ahead. I guarantee you; he already had new identities in place for us before any of this began. He has eyes everywhere. His connection at the FBI pretty much makes sure Norman will never get caught.”

  “I don’t know why but I believe you. I shouldn’t, but I do.”

  Sanford stood up. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  “Sounded like a car pulled up.”

  Thirty-Four

  Arlington, Virginia

  I expected the church to look like a church. A sign with an uplifting tagline. A cross. Anything. But Reid took us to a rundown wood-sided, small building. Dull gray paint peeled away from the wood exposing years of weather damage. Knee-high grass hid the front steps to a porch that sloped forward. All the windows were replaced with wooden boards. The only semblance that this was once a house of the Lord was graffiti on one of the pieces of plywood that read ‘Jesus Saves’ in black paint. Below that were the words, ‘But Slayer Slays’ in red paint.

  “This is what you come up with on a hunch?” Rebecca asked.

  “Stay in the car,” Reid said, turning to Rebecca. “This is not up for discussion. If Michelle is in there you’re just going to give Wallace another target.” He faced me. “There’s a side door that leads to the office. This place is small. Only four rooms and a basement. Kids used to break in so they boarded the windows and padlocked the doors. Front door leads to the nave. If they are here that’s where they are keeping her. We’re going in from the side.” Reid handed Rebecca the phone. “If it rings, only answer it if it’s this number.” He grabbed a fast food napkin from the floorboard and wrote a number. “This is Mack Root’s number. He’s the only person you answer for.” He turned to me. “Hand me the bag.”

  I pulled the backpack from the floor. Reid took two Smith & Wesson Model 15s from the bag. He handed one to me and one to Rebecca. “You know how to use this?”

  “I’m on a fucking cop show. Of course I know how to use this.”

  “Let’s go,” Reid said.

  Rebecca moved to the passenger seat as I followed behind Reid. We had to be careful walking through the tall grass, not knowing what, if anything was lurking beneath. It only took one errant sound to spoil our surprise. I noticed there was no lock on the front door. “Didn’t you say these doors were locked?” I whispered.

  Reid spotted that the side door was missing a lock. “Yeah. Someone’s definitely here.” He tilted his head toward the door. I drew my Model 15 to cover him. Reid held his Beretta 92 at his side and turned the knob. Slowly the door opened. I cringed with every creak of the old wood, praying that the screeching wouldn’t give us away.

  A strong musty smell swirled around the darkened room. I followed the narrow beam of brightness from Reid’s small flashlight. The light caught the legs of an overturned chair. Several bandanas and an unopened box of candy surrounded the wooden chair.

  “She’s here,” I said.

  A deep voice came from my side. “You boys looking for someone?”

  I heard a thud, followed by Reid moaning. The flashlight flew through the air as faint light darted over the walls.

  “Cover yourself, Michael.”

  A gunshot lit the room with a spark. That’s when I saw Richard Lick. He was at least two inches taller than me and looked like a steroid junkie. The bullet hit him in his right shoulder. I tried to follow the beam from the flashlight which was rolling across the floor. Lick took two steps back. And then the light disappeared. Something hit me with the force of a truck. I sucked in, trying to grab any breath that was racing from my body. The Model 15 flew from my hand and clanked against the floor. I was right behind it, landing on my elbow, sending numbness to my hand.

  “Fuck this, I’m outta here.” The woman's voice was shallow. Her words trailed off as if she were running.

  “You think that hurt,” Lick said.

 
Through the faint light I saw his size sixteen boot coming towards my face. I turned my head just before it made contact behind my ear. The room got darker as I fought to stay conscious. There was another gunshot. I followed the spark. This time the bullet lodged in Lick’s thigh. He lunged in Reid’s direction.

  “Where the hell are you, mosquito? You think these little bites are doing anything but making me mad?”

  I fumbled in the dark until I found the overturned chair. I grabbed the leg and brought it towards me, using it to brace myself before standing. I heard Lick stumbling around, looking for Reid. Following the sound of his footsteps until Lick was nearby; I drew the chair back like a baseball bat. Just as I was about to put all of my faith in a blind swing, Reid fired a shot into the air, giving off enough light to locate my target. Lick turned, facing me. I swung, breaking the chair over his face. He fell to one knee, flung himself forward, and speared me. Before my head hit the floor I saw Reid standing by the door, aiming his gun. He didn’t shoot out of fear of hitting me. My head bounced off the wood causing my eyes to roll back. A punch to the gut cleared my focus and brought me back from certain unconsciousness. “Get Michelle,” I managed to say before another blow snapped my ribs.

  “I’m gonna have fun breaking you,” Lick said.

  I closed my eyes as a matching snap hit the other side of my ribs.

  Thirty-Five

  Arlington, Virginia

  Rebecca saw the redhead swing the door open and leap from the church steps. She recognized her as Patty Cline. Without any thought, Rebecca opened the car door, gave it a push with her foot, and chased after the woman. In haste, she left the gun on the driver’s seat. The woman saw Rebecca and tried to run faster, but more force meant the asphalt dug deeper into the soles of her bare feet. Thankful that Barbara's tennis shoes fit perfectly, Rebecca gained ground on the woman.

  “Where’s my daughter?” Rebecca asked. Her breath labored, but her long legs stretched farther. Her strides put her almost within diving distance of catching the woman. But she didn’t want to risk missing.

  Shit, it’s the brat’s mom, Hella thought. Rounding the corner, she hid behind a stack of pallets near the back door of a liquor store. She picked up an empty whiskey bottle and gripped it until her knuckles turned white. She closed her eyes as the sound of Rebecca’s steps grew closer.

  Rebecca turned the corner. Hella screamed and swung the bottle as hard as she could. It barely nicked the top of Rebecca’s head. Air caught most of the force. But the glancing blow was enough to startle Rebecca and give Hella time to execute her next move. She kicked the back of Rebecca’s knee, dropping her to the concrete.

  Hella straddled Rebecca’s back. She pulled Rebecca's hair, jerking her head from side-to-side. Hella landed a forearm to the back of Rebecca’s head forcing her face first onto the ground. Hella lowered her weight onto Rebecca and jerked the hair away from her face. She whispered. “Do you like it rough, TV bitch?”

  “You have no idea,” Rebecca said. Placing her hands, palms first, on the concrete she pushed up with a quickness that startled Hella, who fell on her back. Rebecca spun around and straddled Hella, digging her knees into Hella’s armpits. “Where’s my kid?”

  Hella struggled, but Rebecca placed her hands on the ground just above Hella’s head to gain more leverage.

  “Where’s my fucking kid?”

  Hella reached for the bottle that she had swung at Rebecca earlier. It was just out of reach. She inched closer. Rebecca was too busy trying to hold her down to realize what she was doing. Hella got her fingertips on the bottle and brought it closer. “The brat’s probably in Hell by now.” She freed her arm and hit Rebecca in the side of the face with the bottle. Glass broke, skin split, and blood rained down on Hella as Rebecca crumbled on top of her. She pushed Rebecca to the side, and got to her feet. “Well, this has been fun, but I can't stick around here and play who's the biggest bitch with you.”

  Rebecca grabbed Hella’s ankle.

  “Really?” Hella kicked Rebecca’s hand away. She grabbed her again. “Jesus Christ.” Hella freed herself again and kicked Rebecca over onto her back. She straddled her tracing Rebecca’s throat with her black nails. “I bet you like to be choked.” Hella wrapped her hands around Rebecca’s throat, putting a little pressure on her windpipe. “Something so sexy about having a person’s life between your hands.” She squeezed tighter and leaned into Rebecca, kissing her lips. “I can feel the life move from your body to mine.” Hella rose up and tightened her grip. “And the orgasm is so powerful while gasping for air.”

  Something sharp pressed against Hella neck, tearing through flesh. While Hella was talking, Rebecca grabbed a piece of broken glass and jabbed it into her jugular. Hella let go of Rebecca’s neck and wrapped her hands around her own throat. Blood spurted between the crevices of her fingers like a water fountain. She sucked in. The blood flowed more violently.

  “Gasp on that, bitch.” Rebecca lifted her hips, tossing Hella to the side.

  Hella was dead before her head bounced off the concrete.

  Thirty-Six

  Arlington, Virginia

  Reid searched the nave which was empty. The bathroom was vacant. That left one place Michelle could be — the basement. He opened the door. Shrieks from the squeaky door echoed throughout the darkness. Reid lost his flashlight in the altercation with Sanford. He put his foot on the first stair, taking a leap of faith into the black with each step. He patted the wall several times trying to find a stair railing. His hand hit something cylinder-shaped. He gripped it, something snapped, and the wooden rail dangled. It could only be used as guidance not support. Reid’s fingertips danced down the wood until there was no more. He was on the bottom step. A slight hum grabbed his attention. The sound led him to a door with a yellowing glow seeping from underneath. He turned the knob. Cracking the door, he readied his Beretta, and pushed through with his elbow.

  In a blink, the yellowing light was replaced with darkness.

  “Sorry, we couldn’t catch up sooner, old friend.” Norman’s voice surrounded Reid.

  Reid blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the pitch black. “Yeah, I was starting to think you didn’t care.”

  “Reid, you know, we are like kindred spirits.”

  A flickering light grabbed Reid’s eye. The strobe effect threw his vision off. He tried to focus. The strobe slowed. He felt the strain on his eyes. Standing in front of Reid was Norman Wallace. The ghost had finally materialized. Reid squinted, hoping that would correct his sight. He aimed his Beretta at Norman who was fading in and out, and fired off a shot. The light went dark as the sound of shattering glass filled the room.

  “Ouch, Reid. Is that anyway to treat an old friend? Shoot first, ask questions later.” Norman laughed.

  Fucking mirror, Reid thought.

  “Kind of ironic, isn’t it? I’m the boogeyman you’ve wasted your whole life chasing. And here I am in the same room with you, and you still can’t catch me.”

  The flickering light picked up again. This time to Reid’s left. Norman appeared again. Reid shifted his hips and fired to his right. The light died as more glass shattered.

  “So predictable. You could have had me that time, Reid. But I knew you would figure out the trick. So I had to turn the tables. Manipulating the mind. Is there anything better?” There was a brief silence. “Of course there is...murder.”

  “You’ve been a coward your entire life, Jackson.”

  Norman didn’t respond.

  “What’s wrong? Mommy issues got you down, Jackson Milton?”

  “Color me impressed. It only took you thirty years to figure out my real name.”

  “I know everything about you, Jackson. I know your mother cheated and your father couldn’t hack it, so he offed himself.”

  “Kindred spirits I say. Didn’t the same thing happen with your mother, Reidy Bug?”

  Reid gripped the Beretta so tight that his fingers started to tingle. He burned from the inside. H
is blood boiled. Calm down, he thought. This is what he wants. He wants to manipulate you. “We both know my mother died at the hands of a coward.”

  “I’m a little offended that you keep calling me a coward.”

  “Then, show your face and prove me wrong.”

  “You would like that wouldn’t you, Reidy Bug? I’m afraid you would shoot me before we finished catching up. No, Reid. I won’t show my face. You’re not good at my game. I’m not weak-minded. You can’t lead me to the slaughter.”

  “Lamb? Coward. Not much difference.”

  “Let’s agree to disagree and I’ll just keep you in the dark for a little while longer. I will shed a little light on something you’re blind to though. My father didn’t off himself, as you so eloquently put it. I killed him. He didn’t have the courage to kill the whore that brought me into this world. So my world no longer had a use for him. Weak things make me ill. Of course, I had to kill my mother as well. ”

  “You know you could have saved a lot of people a lot of grief if you hadn’t been such a coward and sought help for your mommy issues.”

  Norman laughed. Reid heard a door shut behind him, followed by a click.

  “Speaking of mommy issues. I must be going now. I have to be mother and father to my granddaughter now. She’s such a special little girl. But I’ll give you a little time here to work out your own mommy issues.”

  Camera lights that were staggered around the room lit, blinding Reid. When he regained sight, there were two full length mirrors with shattered glass propped against the walls which were covered with photos. All pictures of Norman’s victims. One wall was dedicated to Reid’s mother. News clippings, photos of the Hoffman family, and pictures of Victoria after Norman murdered her.

  Reid dropped to his knees.

  Norman's voice resonated through speakers hung on the wall. “Maybe you’d like to say a few words to your dear mother before you join her.”