The Devil, the Witch and the Whore (The Deal Book 1)

by Amy Cross

  With that, he turns and disappears from view. A moment later I hear the truck's door opening and then slamming shut.

  “Wait!” I shout, starting to clamber up the incline again. “Buddy, wait! You can't leave me out here!”

  Stopping halfway, I'm shocked to hear the engine start, and I watch as the lights pull away. Convinced that he'll park just a little way off, and that this'll all turn out to be a joke or an initiation stunt, I wait until the lights have faded into the distance, and finally I'm left all alone on the incline. I stay completely still, hoping against hope that Buddy'll come back for me, but several minutes pass and I start to realize that maybe he's really gone. As a strong breeze blows against me, I reach down and pick up the gun. I keep telling myself that Buddy was joking, that this is all an elaborate and drawn-out prank, but he sure didn't sound like he was joking.

  I turn and look back down the incline.

  Freezing, I see that the silhouetted figures are waiting for me. All still on their hands and knees.

  “Hey, come on,” I stammer, forcing a desperate smile as I hold the gun in my trembling right hand. “A joke's a joke, fellas, but this is getting a little out of hand.”

  I watch them for a moment longer. Opening my mouth, I'm about to tell them to knock it off, but finally I turn and start scrambling up the incline. I bet Buddy is waiting around the next bend, chuckling to himself about the look on my face and -

  Suddenly something grabs me by the waist and pulls me away from the incline, dragging me through the air until I slam into the trees. Instead of falling down, however, I twist around the tree before being pulled once again into the forest, several meters above the ground. I slam quickly into another tree, and the force of the impact blasts the air from my lungs while snapping several ribs on my left side.

  “Wait!” I gurgle, already tasting blood in my throat, but it's too late.

  I'm pulled screaming through the air, slamming into several trees along the way. Each fresh impact breaks more bones, and I'm barely conscious by the time I crash to the ground. Turning, I try to reach out and pull myself away, but my arms are shattered and I can barely even call out as I'm dragged across the forest floor. A moment later, I'm hauled into the cabin, and the door quickly slams shut, leaving me gasping for air in the dark, sprawled broken and wrecked on the cold wooden floor.

  “You can't leave,” the old man's voice whispers in my ear. “I told you that already.”

  I try to reply, but I can't move my jaw at all. Instead, blood dribbles out as invisible forces lift my shattered body slowly into the air. I feel splintered bones jostling against one another beneath my bloodied flesh, but the pain is stifled by an immense, throbbing fear that's pounding in my chest.

  This room is so dark, I can't even tell whether or not my eyes are open. I can hear the girl still sobbing, and she sounds a little closer than before.

  Suddenly something slices up through my chest, splitting my ribs and breastbone. My head tilts back, and I'm hanging in mid-air now as blood dribbles down from my body and spatters against the floor. All around me, voices are whispering in the dark, and I feel the same sense of rampant anticipation that I picked up in the forest earlier. The silhouettes must be all around me, getting closer, and I hear a slurping sound beneath my dangling legs, as if something is drinking my blood as it dribbles from my chest.

  “This is what happens to people when they venture into my home and let my friends pick up their scent,” the old man continues. “They become mine. Anything that enters the forest becomes mine.”

  I scream loud. Louder than ever before, louder than I ever thought anyone could scream. So loud that I feel blood bursting through the walls of my throat. And then finally something bursts up through my belly and splits my body in two, and the last thing I feel is the sensation of pain suddenly vanishing before something takes my head in its huge jaws and swings me around, slamming me against the wall with enough force to break my neck.

  And then the sobbing sounds stops.

  “It's okay, Esther,” the old man's voice continues, as I slip into death. “Come take a closer look at the poor thing.”

  Part Five

  The Massacre at Dodderidge Farm

  Thirty

  Deputy James Kopperud

  10 years ago

  “Sweep the upstairs! Move!”

  “That means us”, Gary says, nudging my arm as he heads over to the bottom of the stairs. “Stay behind me.”

  “Sure.”

  I hurry over to join him, as Buddy and the others continue to check the other rooms all around us.

  “No heroics,” Gary whispers, with his gun still raised, as he starts making his way up to the farmhouse's first floor. He looks up toward the upstairs area, although so far there's been no sound from up there at all.

  “Clear!” someone shouts from one of the other downstairs rooms.

  The same cry rings out from another part of the house.

  “Is this your first armed response?” Gary asks, still watching the top of the stairs carefully.

  I nod.

  “Just keep your head,” he continues, “and trust your instincts. And don't make assumptions. Assumptions are your worst enemy, they can get you killed. Are you ready?”

  I nod again.

  “This is Deal Sheriff's Department!” he yells suddenly, as I follow him up toward the top of the stairs. “If you have any weapons, you need to put them down immediately and raise your hands in the air. This is the only warning you're gonna get, so drop your weapons now or we will shoot!”

  “I don't hear anything,” I whisper.

  Ignoring me, Gary looks toward one of the open doors. Meanwhile, I take up a position right behind him, while checking over my shoulder to make sure that no-one can sneak up on us. My heart is pounding and I don't feel remotely ready for this, and I swear my hands are actually trembling slightly. All I can think about is Emma and Ramsey waiting for me at home, and I'm starting to worry that I might really not be cut out for this line of work.

  “I see something,” Gary says suddenly, as he peers into the bedroom. He hesitates, before turning to me with an ashen look on his face. “We have fatalities and -”

  Suddenly I hear a creaking sound over my shoulder. I turn just as a shot rings out, and I hear a grunt behind me. Raising my gun as I see a figure standing in a nearby doorway, I fire twice, hitting the wall both times. Before I can shoot again, the figure raises its gun and aims at me, firing two more times. I duck out of the way as the door-frame shatters next to me, and then I trip and fall into the next room. Banging against a table, I finally slump to the floor.

  “What's happening up there?” a voice yells from downstairs, as a window shatters in the distance.

  I stay completely still for a few seconds, listening in case the shooter approaches, and it takes a moment before I realize that Gary hasn't said anything since the first shot was fired. Turning, I see to my horror that he's crumpled on the floor just a couple of feet away, with blood spatters on the wall behind him. Crawling toward him, I'm shocked by the sight of dark red blood glistening as it soaks through the front of his shirt, and again I freeze completely, as if my brain has simply stopped functioning.

  “Doyle! Kopperud! What's the situation?”

  I know Buddy's shouting for information, but I still don't know what I'm supposed to do. A moment later, Gary mutters something under his breath, but his eyes are shut and there's more and more blood pouring from his wound.

  Finally, hearing footsteps coming up, I turn and see that Buddy is leading two men toward the top of the stairs.

  “What the hell's going on up here?” he asks.

  “Man down,” I stammer. “I... Man down. Suspect...”

  “Clear the rooms!” another voice yells in the distance. “Now!”

  I look toward the spot where the suspect was standing when he fired, but there's a broken window at the far end of the room and it's clear that the suspect managed to escape.

/>   “He's running!” a voice shouts from downstairs. “He's heading out past the barn!”

  “Get out of the way!” Buddy pulls me aside and kneels next to Gary, while two other deputies hurry down the stairs to join the pursuit.

  As Buddy continues to work on Gary, I get to my feet and stagger over to the bedroom, where I see that two other deputies are examining the broken window. Just as I'm about to ask them if there's any way I can help, I hear a faint scratching sound coming from a nearby closet, and I turn to see that the door is hanging ajar. Stepping closer, I pull the door aside and stare down, shocked by the sight of a trembling little boy with tears in his eyes.

  Thirty-One

  Sheriff James Kopperud

  Today

  “Check everything for prints,” I tell the deputies as they continue their work in the cabin. Morning light is streaming through the open front door. “Even partials might be enough to link this guy to another scene. Check every surface.”

  Looking down at the floor, I see the broken radio. I still haven't quite figured out what happened here, but it's clear there was a hell of a struggle. I'm not sure the fight was entirely one-sided, and I'm starting to think that maybe the girl was able to fight back for a while. If that's the case, it's hard to believe that the killer didn't leave something behind.

  “I want everything rushed to the lab,” I continue. “Priority -”

  Before I can finish, I feel my phone buzzing. Slipping it from my pocket, I see that Hinch is trying to get in touch.

  “What is it?” I ask as I answer. “Did you get a match on the blood from the glass yet?”

  “I'm still waiting on that,” he replies, “but I think you need to get out here. We found something at Dodderidge Farm.”

  As soon as I hear the name of that place, a shudder passes through my chest.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, I climb out of my car and see that the front door of the old farmhouse is already open. Hinch's vehicle is parked nearby, and I can't deny that I feel sick to my stomach as I turn and look around at the large, empty yard.

  This place should have been knocked down years ago. No-one's ever going to want to live here, not after what happened to the Cane family. Hell, I don't even want to set foot on this land again, but I guess I have no choice. As I make my way over to the steps that lead up to the door, I can't help noticing what looks like a set of fresh tire marks on the ground. A moment later, I see that a hose has been attached to a faucet near the door.

  For an abandoned farmhouse, this place is sure showing signs of having been recently inhabited.

  I stop for a moment, looking at the open door. I swear, I still remember the night when Buddy led a group of us out here, responding to Mrs. Cane's panicked phone call. I remember running up to this door with my gun raised. I remember the fear, and the sense that I didn't belong. I thought I was out of my depth. Maybe I was right.

  But that was ten years ago, and there's nothing to be scared of now. Taking a deep breath, I make my way up the steps and through the doorway. There are no ghosts here.

  “Hinch?” I call out as soon as I get into the hall. “What have you found?”

  “Upstairs!”

  I can't help shuddering again as I look through to the front room. I was one of the first people who arrived on the scene here, years ago when the tragedy occurred. I was new to the job, just a few weeks in, but I remember even the old hands were shocked by the bloodbath we discovered that night. As I make my way through the kitchen and then up the stairs, I'm surprised to realize just how much I remember of the crime scene, and how much detail still lingers in the back of my mind after years and years of trying to forget what happened here. I even remember where specific patches of blood had been left smeared across the walls. And I remember where Gary fell.

  Again, I can't shake the feeling that the place should have been flattened. No-one wants this farm anymore.

  “In here,” Hinch says as I get to the top of the stairs.

  Heading to the nearest doorway, I look through and see that he's standing next to an old bed. It's the bed where Mrs. Cane was found ten years ago. There should be nothing left now, but to my surprise I see some twisted, dirty sheets and several soda cans.

  “So do you think it's a coincidence that someone seems to have been living here?” he asks, with a knowing tone of voice that makes me think he's already guessed the answer.

  “I don't think there are any coincidences right now,” I mutter, trying to fight a dark sense of foreboding in my gut. “Not in a town as small as Deal.”

  “You said I should use my initiative more,” Hinch explains, “so I checked a map of the area surrounding the cabin. I was thinking that maybe if something happened at the cabin, it might have started somewhere else. I mean, the cabin seemed fairly random, so I drove out here on the off-chance and, well, you mentioned this farm last night and...”

  His voice trails off for a moment.

  “Looks like you did a good job,” I tell him. “I meant to take a look, but I hadn't gotten around to it yet.”

  “Someone's definitely been living here,” he adds. “For a while, too. This wasn't just a passing drifter. There's enough to suggest a sustained period of occupancy. I found more garbage downstairs, in the old kitchen, and some newspapers too. Also, it seems somebody's been trying to use the bathroom, even though the facilities aren't quite hooked up properly, if you catch my drift. It really stinks down there.”

  Stepping over to the bed, I see more soda cans and old food wrappers on the floor. Hinch is right, someone has definitely made this place their home, and it's hard to believe that this isn't connected to the mess we found at the cabin, or to the human remains that were discovered in the forest. In fact, I'm surprised it didn't occur to me sooner that Dodderidge Farm is reasonably close to both those locations. I guess I've been pretty distracted over the past few days, and maybe I've missed a few obvious sitters. I'm letting my illness cloud my judgment. That's the one thing I swore would never happen.

  “Something bad took place here once, didn't it?” Hinch asks. “I mean, I've heard a few things about Dodderidge Farm. Some people were killed, right?”

  I nod. “The Cane family.”

  “How many died?”

  “Fourteen-year-old Mikey Cane murdered his parents,” I explain. “He did more than that, he savaged their bodies. There was something almost ritualistic about what he did, especially when it came to his mother. The pathologist found evidence of physical abuse, sexual abuse, even torture. He'd kept her alive for several hours. It was almost as if he unleashed every possible sadistic perversion that came rushing into his mind. He probably would've killed his little brother Liam, too, if we hadn't arrived when we did.”

  “That's horrible.”

  Staring at the bed, I remember the sight of Mrs. Cane's bloodied corpse. The crazy part is, that wasn't even the worst thing I saw that night.

  “I'll never forget the look on the boy's face,” I continue finally. “When we found Mikey's little brother in the closet, hiding in one of the other rooms, he'd soiled himself. Liam was so traumatized, he didn't dare move even when Mikey had run off and we'd secured the location. The poor kid had to be lifted from the closet and carried out of the house. It was one of the worst cases this part of the world has ever seen, and I swear, when I looked into Liam's eyes, I saw...”

  My voice trails off for a moment as I remember the awful sight.

  “I saw he was broken,” I add. “I can't even describe it, but I could see in that boy's eyes that his soul was truly broken. And I don't even know that I believe in souls, but I'm telling you, he was completely...”

  I try to think of the right word.

  “Destroyed,” I whisper finally. “Have you ever looked into someone's eyes and see that?”

  “Can't say I have.”

  “It's like you can see that something's gone inside. Something's just snapped. That kid looked lost and terrified. I don't think a day
goes past when I don't think about him at least once.”

  “It's hard to understand how the world can be so cruel,” Hinch mutters after a moment. “Children shouldn't have to go through stuff like that. No-one should.”

  “Then we had to go after Mikey and track him down,” I continue. “Mikey Cane was only fourteen himself, but he was crazy, he had all these insane ideas. That part didn't end well, either. There was a gunfight in the forest, and finally Mikey...”

  I pause for a moment, thinking back to that moment.

  “Finally Mikey was killed,” I add, preferring to avoid any further detail unless Hinch specifically asks. Even if he does ask, I can't tell him what Buddy did. I've never told anyone.

  “I can't believe you were actually there,” Hinch says. “I guess we all know, when we sign up, that something like that can happen, but you don't really expect it, not out here in a nice peaceful place like Deal.”

  “I've been trying to forget that night ever since it happened,” I reply. “It was ten years ago now, but there's still not a day that goes by when I don't think about it all. And about...”

  I catch myself just in time. There's no need to tell Hinch any more. Not the part about Emma and Ramsey, anyway.

  “What happened to the kid?”

  “Liam?” I pause for a moment, remembering the fear in the boy's eyes. The damage. “He was institutionalized. I guess some people never get over something like that. Something breaks in them, and whatever it is, it can't be fixed. I know that's an unfashionable point of view, I know I should believe that the right therapy can repair the damage, but I just... I don't think a kid like Liam Cane could ever get over the things he saw that night.”

  “It's not possible that he might have been released, is it?” Hinch asks. “Maybe he came back here, and somehow he's mixed up in all of this?”

  “I can check, but I doubt it. Anyway, I'm pretty sure we'd have been warned if he'd been let out.”