Return to Red Creek

by Nathan Hystad

  Beth crossed the cramped space and hugged Taylor firmly. “It’s so good to see you here, honey,” she whispered into Taylor’s ear. “You have no idea how good.”

  Taylor smiled as emotions rose in her like a tide threatening to spill over. “I’m glad to be here. I only wish it was under different circumstances.”

  “What does that mean?” Beth asked, and Taylor saw Isabelle creep away from the discussion.

  “It means… nothing.” She didn’t want her aunt worrying about her while she was there, at least not any more than she would normally. “Just that it took a missing girl for me to get enough nerve to come see you. Strange how that works, isn’t it?”

  Darrel answered from the kitchen, a piece of pizza in his hand. “I always knew you were a tough one. I used to think your dad was a big wuss, until I saw what he did. He became one of us. You’re one of us too.”

  Brent stood there beside Taylor, a confused look spread on his face. “You were there that night?” he asked Darrel.

  “Sure. Nick, Tyler – who’s now the sheriff – Jason, God rest his soul, and Paul were with me. And old Cliffy. That was one hell of a team.” Darrel took a bite of his pizza, and Taylor’s aunt looked about ready to admonish her husband for speaking of things so openly. But she didn’t.

  “It’s also a good way to get yourself killed,” Beth muttered, and Taylor followed her to the kitchen table. She was suddenly ravenous, and the smell of the pizza made her stomach grumble. Brent didn’t hesitate; he grabbed a slice and began to devour it, listening with interest.

  “If we didn’t go that night, Taylor here wouldn’t be standing here talking to us, and a lot more children wouldn’t have grown up either. We can’t be afraid to go out on a limb for the ones we love, right, Taylor?” Darrel asked her, and she nodded. Her uncle was being so kind to her, and his words were inspiring; reiterating what she’d come to Red Creek for in the first place.

  “I go there every now and then, you know,” Darrel said between bites. They were all finally sitting, each with a plate catching droppings from the messy pizza.

  “Where?” Taylor asked, thinking she knew the answer already. The orchard.

  “Where Granny Smith’s used to be,” he said.

  Taylor’s aunt seemed furious, but Taylor got the impression she knew to bite her tongue. They were a funny couple, but it had been clear since Taylor was a little kid that they loved each other, especially after what happened. Her dad said Darrel was like a different man after that ordeal.

  “What’s there now?” Taylor asked. She’d done some digging, but no mapping images had been updated on the town for years, not since before…

  “Condo complex. The Orchards, they called it. Almost funny, if you think about it.” Darrel got up and seized a beer from the fridge, offering another to Brent, who swayed a half-full can and shook his head. Taylor smiled at her boyfriend.

  “Condos. Anything to see there?” she asked.

  “Not really. The project started when things were heating up in town. The orchard had been burned so badly, they didn’t think an orchard would be sustainable again, and with the Smiths gone, a developer got it cheap. I worked on the construction crew.” His eyes met Taylor’s. She remembered the story now.

  “That was almost seven years ago, right?”

  “Yep. They only built one building before the town lost its appeal to tourists, hoping to see the infamous site of Granny Smith’s. It’s kind of a shithole these days,” her uncle said.

  “Darrel, watch your language,” Beth said, and Taylor took a good look at her aunt. The woman didn’t seem like she’d aged in a few years, still pretty at forty-five, but she likely hadn’t slept much lately.

  “They’re all grown up, babe. I don’t think I can say anything they haven’t heard before.” Darrel grabbed another slice, and Taylor noticed Isabelle was pecking away at her first piece of vegetarian.

  Her cousin hadn’t said a word since her mom had gotten home. Taylor made a mental note to check out the condos around the old orchard. She’d intended to go out there at some point in the next couple days and do some snooping. Her list was getting longer.

  Beth changed the subject to school, and Brent and Taylor talked about life at Bellton, and Isabelle finally joined the conversation, telling them about the online courses she was taking from the local community college. Taylor saw Isabelle’s eyes go wide as she talked about her dreams of getting a business degree. She was interested in fashion and wanted to use the education to understand marketing and operations.

  Taylor was impressed and told her so. Darrel had kept quiet, but Taylor noticed him assessing his daughter as she talked about wanting to go to a nice college one day. It was only a matter of time before he allowed Taylor’s dad to pay for it. It was the right thing to do, and she thought her uncle was finally cluing in.

  Darrel gave her a knowing glance and tilted his head as if to say “fine, I accept,” and the edges of Taylor’s eyes crinkled as she smiled at him in reply.

  Two slices of pizza and a diet Coke later, Taylor was stuck thinking about the box in the basement.

  Eight

  “What the hell kind of operation are you running here, Sheriff?” Detective Tom Bartlett’s blood was pumping as he stormed into the office behind the secretary’s perch.

  The man behind the desk didn’t look distraught at the outburst. He actually had the gall to smirk at Tom. “I’ve been busy today. You do know there are more things going on in this town than Brittany Tremblay’s disappearance.”

  Sheriff Tyler Bruno was a big man. Where most men his age had lost muscle mass to fat, Tom could tell he was in shape. His wide chest threatened to burst his uniform buttons as he leaned forward before getting off his chair. He came to stand in front of Tom, but the detective didn’t back down.

  “And I’m sure a fender-bender on the side roads or a drunk shooting his rifle at a stray cat is as important as a missing girl. Right?” Tom stepped forward, his chest inches from the sheriff’s. The man had to outweigh him by fifty pounds and stood another two inches taller, but Tom didn’t care.

  Bruno’s face went from hostile to friendly in the blink of an eye. “I’m glad you’re on the case, then, pal.” He clapped Tom on the arm before heading to his desk. Tom noticed his boots were caked with dried mud. He motioned for the detective to have a seat, and after a few seconds, Tom obliged. Just what the hell was this man playing at?

  “Why didn’t you call me back? I wanted to speak to you about the case before I trudged around town asking questions,” Tom said.

  “I’m sorry. Something came up, and it needed my attention,” Tyler said, as if that was the only necessary answer.

  “That’s not good enough. I’m here for the sake of the county. We’re supposed to work together,” Tom said.

  The sheriff looked at him and ran a hand through his thinning blond-gray hair. “Where you from initially? You’ve only been in Gilden a couple years, right?”

  “Chicago. Homicide detective.”

  “So you have a lot of experience with bad guys, then.”

  “Sure. I’ve seen a little of everything. It’s not a quiet town,” Tom said, wondering what the other man’s point was.

  “Red Creek isn’t your run-of-the-mill town. I’m sure you’ve heard a few stories over at the Gilden PD?”

  Tom shifted in his seat and glanced at his watch. Six thirty. He was getting hungry and looked forward to getting home for the night, but the search parties were already out, and he needed to join them.

  “I’ve heard some crazy tales, all right. Ghosts, demons, werewolves, hell, even shadow creatures from nightmares. Witches too. I’m sure I missed a few, but those were the first to mind,” Tom said, forcing a smile.

  “And what do you think of those rumors?” the sheriff asked.

  “I think that people like to blame crap on the mysterious because it’s hard to believe humans are capable of doing such terrible things. I read up on the missing kids, an
d the Smiths. Dozens taken over the years. If that fire hadn’t destroyed their ‘trophy room’ underground, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d have found over a hundred sets of bones inside.

  “I think the Smiths were a terrible family, and they were the real monsters around here. If the town population needs to keep their kids safe by telling them to watch out for shadows, and to be home before dark, then so be it, but I don’t believe in that kind of thing.”

  “That’s what I thought. Good. I wanted to see what kind of person I was dealing with here,” Sheriff Tyler said.

  “Right. You going to join the search party?” Tom asked.

  “I always do,” the man muttered.

  “If this is the first disappearance in twelve years, who do you think took her?” Tom asked, wondering at the response.

  The sheriff was concentrating hard. His eyes squinted, and he tapped his chin subconsciously. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t have asked for you to take the case. I’m over my head. I only got the job because Cliff ran a one-man show back in the day. Even with all the shit that occurred, he never got funding because the whole damn county was so deprived of income. I was there to help when we took down the Smiths, and when no one else raised their hand afterwards, I offered to take over. I’ve been lucky enough so far, and while I do think I’m good for the community now, I don’t have the skills to find a missing girl.”

  Tom was surprised at his transparency. “You requested me? Specifically?”

  “Sure did. I read up on your track record and knew you were the man for the job. If she’s got a hope in hell of getting home alive, I think it’s because of you,” the sheriff said, but Tom caught something in his eye, a look that told him the other man didn’t expect anything of the sort to happen.

  “Come on. Let’s go out there together,” the sheriff said, and Tom moved for the door as the sheriff flipped his light switch off.

  _______________

  Paul watched the fireplace as the flames licked the glass. Soft classical music played from his ceiling speakers as he crossed the living room.

  “What is it?” Terri asked, eyeing him from over the top of her book.

  Stevie was in bed, and Paul had the sudden urge to go check on his son. He pushed it away. “Everything. Talking to Tyler about the missing girl made it all real. It made everything that happened to me real again.”

  He noticed his wife’s glass of wine was empty, and he nodded to it, asking if she wanted a top-up. Paul wanted something stronger, but he added some of the Bordeaux into his own glass after he half-filled Terri’s.

  “Kids go missing all the time, across the country. I think it’s isolated, Paul, plus there’s nothing you can do about it. You’re gone from there, your mom’s no longer with us, and Taylor is all grown up, and she’s never even been back to Red Creek.”

  Paul didn’t even like hearing the town’s name. “Why did Beth have to stay? We could have helped them move anywhere.”

  “They don’t want our help, Paul. Do you know how hard it is for them to take money from you? I’m glad they do, but I doubt Darrel even knows just how much his wife has accepted. Imagine if the shoe was on the other foot and you were taking money from your sister.” Terri always made good points, and Paul’s shoulders slumped as he stared out the window.

  The trees in Central Park were springing to life. It was his favorite time of year. The streetlights cast shadows over the ground, and couples walked along the wide sidewalks, going home after dinner, or heading out for late night drinks.

  “You’re right, as usual. Either way, I’m glad we’re going to see Taylor tomorrow. I miss her, and Bellton is too close to Red Creek for my liking,” Paul said.

  “You know she’d never go there. Not after everything. She had nightmares for years. I think she still does,” Terri said, and Paul turned, meeting her eyes.

  “Still?” Paul considered this. His daughter didn’t like to talk about the nightmares, but they were no stranger to him either. He’d been plagued by them his whole life, and the three years after Taylor had been taken had been the worst for him.

  “Still. Don’t pretend you don’t get the odd one,” his wife said, and he shrugged noncommittally. “She’s a good kid. I’m looking forward to seeing her too.”

  Paul sipped his wine and sat back down before getting up just as quickly. “I’m going to check on Stevie.”

  “He’s fine, Paul. He’s eleven in a few days. Stop worrying so much,” Terri said.

  He couldn’t help it. He’d become an overprotective parent who’d do anything for his children. “I’ll peek in and be right back.” He saw Terri give in, and set his glass on the counter, heading down the hall. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

  _______________

  “I thought they’d never let us come downstairs,” Isabelle said. Her braids were brushed out and she’d washed off her make-up, looking three years younger now. Taylor had left her make-up on, being in that early-enough self-conscious state around Brent. He’d seen her a few times without, when she’d sneaked away and managed to sleep in his room at the frat house, but she wasn’t ready to go full-face with him.

  “They’re really nice. I wish my parents gave half as much attention to what I did as yours do,” Brent said, getting a big smile from Isabelle. Taylor cleared her throat.

  “We have a lot to do tomorrow. I got the name of the house’s previous tenant, and we’ll drive to Gilden to talk to him. Percy Miller. Then we have to check out the area of the orchard. These condos, anything else around them?” Taylor asked Isabelle.

  “Honestly, I’ve never been out there. I haven’t stepped foot beyond the farmer’s field since I was a little girl,” her cousin said softly.

  Brent seemed surprised. “If the Smiths were gone, what was there to worry about?” he asked, and Taylor frowned at Isabelle. Her cousin knew Brent wasn’t aware of the true story, and Isabelle didn’t give anything away.

  “I know, but it’s better safe than sorry. Plus, I was never much of the outdoor type,” Isabelle said from her seat in the old chair facing the coffee table.

  Taylor and Brent were seated side by side on the couch, their legs touching, and the contact sent a warmth through her body. She glanced at Brent, then focused on the task at hand.

  “Okay, so Gilden Hospital, then the old orchard land. Maybe someone at the condo will have answers,” Taylor said.

  “I thought you were just doing some digging because of the missing girl. How do you expect to help?” Brent asked, and Taylor moved to the box.

  She pulled out the photo album and held it in her hands. It was heavy, the cover made from an old soft leather. Taylor turned, blew the dust off the top, and flipped it open.

  “These have to be a hundred years old,” Brent said as he leaned in to get a better view.

  Taylor ran a hand over the plastic sheet covering the black and white photos. The first page had four pictures of a forest. She lifted the sticky sheet from the corner and peeled the top photo off. There was no date on the back. She kept looking. The next page showed a creek from different angles.

  “Red Creek,” Taylor whispered, giving herself goosebumps.

  The following page had pictures of logging trucks and excavators, clearing out the land.

  “This is when they destroyed the forest and built the orchard. Do you remember your dad telling us about the details he’d dug up on it?” Isabelle asked, her mouth falling wide open.

  Taylor did. “Nineteen thirty-one. The mayor, Peter Bellows, lost his daughter. He renamed the town afterwards, as they were preparing the land here for Granny Smith’s. The disappearances started long before that, though.”

  “You’re saying that kids were going missing even then? The documentary didn’t get into that,” Brent said.

  “That’s because they didn’t know. The whole show was built on speculation and rumors. My dad found there were five children reported missing by the early twenties, and I suspect it was a much higher number tha
n that.” Taylor kept flipping, now seeing photos of the orchard.

  “Is that… the house?” Brent asked, pointing to one with a grand home being built on the land.

  Taylor nodded, recalling seeing it as the fire crews arrived when she was a little girl.

  “It’s their house.” Isabelle pointed at a photo showcasing an original “Granny Smith’s Orchard” sign. It was hanging from the house’s porch canopy: a white wooden sign, with the lettering painted in a dark color. Even though it was in gray, Taylor guessed it was red, even though Granny Smith apples were green. They grew those as well as the Red Delicious apples. Taylor had done her research years ago.

  The next page had photos of the first Smiths to settle there. Conway was a little boy, wearing a wool suit. Taylor knew his face well and could pick him out of the small litter of kids standing still for the photographer. They were on the porch of the house, looking dour, probably from all the chores everyone had to do so early in the morning.

  “Looks like one’s missing,” Isabelle said as her finger landed on the bottom corner of the page. She was right.

  Taylor was hoping to get more out of the hidden box. What had her grandma been trying to hide by shoving this particular album into the attic space? There wasn’t much to be worried about, unless it was her association to the orchard and Smiths that she wanted to hide.

  “Check the journal,” Brent said, passing the leather-bound book to Taylor. What secrets lurked between these old covers? Taylor was both excited and nervous to find out.

  She flipped it open and was struck by something unexpected. A drawing spread over the first page, the paper thick and yellowed. She touched the page and her finger came back clean, though the drawing appeared to have been made with charcoal.

  “What is it?” Brent asked, pressing closer to Taylor. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek.

  Taylor could instantly tell what it was. The shadow man. The dark drawing showed a figure cloaked in black, with long fingers, and what could only be mist pouring off its shoulders and hands. The head was petite, dark congealed red eyes stared at her, and Taylor wondered for a moment if it was real blood used for emphasis.