The Frank Peretti Collection: The Oath, the Visitation, and Monster

by Frank E. Peretti

  Then Steve heard a familiar voice. “Can’t you boys play a little more quietly? For a minute I thought I heard some trouble in here.”

  Steve stole a glance toward the door. There stood Deputy Tracy Ellis in a casual pose, her hand on the latch of the open door, the sunlight from outside illuminating her olive uniform, her gleaming badge, and that gun on her hip.

  “Hey, Tracy,” Doug greeted her, his tone suddenly civil. “Buy you a beer?”

  Her eyes went cold as she looked at him. “No thanks, Doug.” She looked at Charlie, who had gone behind the bar again. “These guys giving you trouble, Charlie?”

  Charlie looked at his regular patrons and smiled sheepishly. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a gentleman’s dispute.”

  “Yeah,” said Kyle, “we’re okay.”

  “Just shootin’ pool,” said one of the players.

  Tracy digested that a moment, carefully studying all the looks of innocence. Finally, she smiled. “Then one of you liars get me a Coke.”

  Laughter broke the tension. Tracy sat on a bar stool, and every man returned to his place. Levi sat down to finish his lunch, but Steve remained where he was, still in defense mode. A glare from Doug served as a reminder that the trouble, though contained for now, still remained.

  Charlie brought Tracy a can of Diet Coke. She popped it open, then turned. She looked at Steve with a smile that bordered on amusement. “Why don’t you have a beer, Professor Benson?”

  Professor Benson? Oh. She was one of them now, and he was the outsider. “I already have one,” Steve said and took his seat again, with all eyes upon him. He could see Clark County Sheriff’s Deputy Tracy Ellis was enjoying this. This was her turf, her big, wide comfort zone where she knew the ropes and had the authority and Steve didn’t. Well, go ahead, little lady, and play your game. I don’t need to. Steve took a swallow of beer because he wanted to, not because she had suggested it.

  “So, Charlie, how’s the fishing?” Tracy asked, and Charlie began to report on conditions up and down the Hyde River. One of the pool players gave his input on which flies were working and where, and Paul at the end of the bar boasted about a twenty-five-inch cutthroat he’d landed just above the mill, wherever that was. Things were lightening up, and Steve could guess that was exactly Tracy’s intention. She was fitting right in, deftly handling the local subject matter and even the level of the language. She and these hunks must have all gone to school together.

  Doug was the only one who wouldn’t join in. He downed the last suds from his beer, slammed the bottle down, got to his feet, and strode over to the cash register to settle up with Charlie. Then he left without a word or a look back. Tracy kept talking to the others, but Steve noticed that her smile seemed forced.

  Then she set the Coke can down so hard it crinkled. “Back to work,” she ordered herself. She got off the stool and came over to Steve, speaking in a voice all the patrons would hear. “Dr. Benson, if you’ve finished your beer, I’d like a word with you outside.”

  That seemed to have the desired effect on the pool players. Steve was in trouble, and they were smiling about it.

  She turned to Levi, who was just finishing his lunch. “Levi, isn’t that your Dodge truck out there?”

  “Yeah, still is.”

  “Your license tags are expired. I’ll have to proceed on that. Come on.”

  Levi got up from the table, left a tip, and put on his big cowboy hat.

  The pool players snickered.

  Tracy stopped short. “Something funny?”

  They turned dumb and couldn’t seem to think of a thing.

  Steve and Levi went to the cash register without a word, and Charlie rang them up.

  Tracy leaned close while Charlie counted out change. “Charlie . . .”

  “Eh?”

  Tracy stole a glance at Carlotta and Kyle. Carlotta was sitting very close to Kyle, her hand on his forearm. Tracy spoke quietly, but that didn’t hide her anger. “You’re the one responsible for what goes on in here. If Carlotta wants to ply her trade, then I’d better not see it, because if I see it I have to do something about it, you understand?”

  That threw Charlie off balance. He looked at Tracy, then at the couple at the table, and then back again. “Uh, sure, Tracy. I understand.”

  “Outside, gentlemen.”

  They went outside.

  “Steve, wait here.”

  So now he was Steve again. He waited by his camper. She was the cop, and after all, she’d saved him a bruising.

  LEVI WALKED along not saying a word, and Tracy was glad of that, for now. She needed time to figure out how she could talk this guy out of some information, but only the information she wanted. Levi was always glad to offer information on the spiritual state of things without being asked, but certain Hyde River secrets you couldn’t pry out of him. He was a product of this town, and he knew the rules and lived by them.

  They came to Levi’s truck, the current tags plainly visible on the license plate. Levi bent to take a close look, then tilted his hat back a little and spoke kind words to his truck. “Well now, Joseph, you haven’t let me down. I knew I put those tags on there!” He patted his truck on the hood and then, having caught on to Tracy’s ruse, he planted his back against the front of his truck, folded his arms, and waited to hear what this was all about.

  “Levi, I’ve got a problem,” she said, taking out her ticket book and a pen.

  “Well . . . your eyes aren’t too good,” he said.

  That irritated her. “I have to talk to you, and I needed an excuse.”

  Levi looked over her shoulder. “And they’re watching us right now.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Almost all of ’em.”

  Tracy spun around. Charlie, Melinda, Paul, Kyle, and the pool players were all leaning out or standing totally outside the tavern door, wanting to see Levi Cobb get a ticket.

  “Go on!” she hollered, waving them back. “This doesn’t concern you!”

  They smiled, snickered, then went back inside. They were satisfied Levi was really being ticketed. Some stole a cold glance at Steve, still standing by his camper, but nothing else developed.

  Tracy kept her ticket book in her hand and pretended to scribble in it. “You know about that bear attack, I suppose.”

  “Oh, we all know about it. Jerry Fisk spread his pink leaflets all over town, and everybody’s upset.”

  “Well, we’re having trouble with it, Levi. We think it might be something else other than a bear attack.”

  He showed no response, but Tracy knew his ways. He could be unimpressed or uninformed, or he could be hiding something.

  “Levi, I heard Harold and Maggie Bly have split up. Is that true?”

  “Harold would be the one to answer that.”

  Tracy checked to see if anyone was close before she said, “He’d lie to me.”

  Levi thought that over and then nodded in agreement.

  “I need to talk to Maggie, Levi. Do you know where she is?”

  He sighed, looked at the ground for a moment, then back at her. “I can’t talk about Maggie Bly.”

  “But you know where she is, don’t you?”

  He wouldn’t answer. Tracy liked that. Levi couldn’t lie, so his silence revealed a great deal. She hammered again, “Don’t you?”

  He only looked her squarely in the eye, his arms crossed, and asked, “Any other questions?”

  Few people could get under Tracy’s skin, but Levi seemed to have a knack for it. “Don’t give me that garbage, Levi! You’ve been sleeping in your camper for the last several days, ever since Maggie got kicked out of her house, isn’t that right?”

  “If that’s a crime, arrest me.”

  “Levi,” Tracy said, her tone forceful. “I’ll get right to it. That bear attack may have been a murder.”

  Levi looked down. All she could see now was the top of his hat.

  “And as for that man standing back there by the camper who just
about got his butt whipped, that’s the dead man’s brother.”

  Levi didn’t look up as he said, “Yeah, he told me that.”

  “The dead man’s wife could be a suspect, you follow me?” She wished she could see his face and get a clue as to what he was thinking. He wasn’t saying anything. Maybe he was considering her words. She spoke quietly, knowing she was venturing onto thin ice. “We know Cliff Benson’s been seen around here a lot the past few months. We know the Bensons were having marital problems. Now, if Cliff Benson had a particular reason for being here that Maggie might know about, then she might know something else that could keep Mrs. Benson out of a lot of trouble. Personally, I don’t think she’s guilty. A woman acting alone wouldn’t have the strength to cut up a body the way Benson’s was cut up. But she had a weapon, she had motive, and she had opportunity. So this isn’t just Maggie and Harold’s problem. Evelyn Benson’s husband is dead, and that makes it Evelyn’s problem.” Then Tracy shot a glance over her shoulder at the tall professor standing by his camper. “And it makes it Steve Benson’s problem too, right? Now I saw you standing by him back in the tavern. If you think you’re such a great Christian, then you’d better stand by him now.” Levi was a religious man—overly religious, in her book—and she was hoping she could use that for leverage.

  Her challenge did seem to give him pause. He looked at her, looked at Steve, thought it over, and finally sighed resignedly. “It’s gonna be up to Maggie. I’ll ask her if she feels like talking, but that’s all I can do.”

  STEVE SAW the short conference end with Levi getting into his truck and driving off without a ticket. When Tracy returned, she offered no explanation, only more orders, spoken so only he would hear them.

  “Get in your camper and follow me but try not to look like it.”

  He replied in an equally quiet tone, “I guess I owe you some thanks.”

  “Try to look like I’m lecturing you, because I am. One thing you need to get straight, Dr. Benson, sir, is that I don’t give warnings without a reason. I grew up here, I know the people, and I know how they think. You don’t. I hope you’re a little wiser now.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To Levi Cobb’s garage. Hopefully, we’ll get some information that will relate to your brother’s death.” Then she gave him a whimsical look. “And you’ll get another glimpse of the Hyde River mentality, I’m sure. This is a different kind of place, Steve. The people can be real backward.”

  “Or very forward.”

  “And let me brief you on Levi Cobb. He seems normal enough to look at him, right? He has his garage here in town, he does contract work for the county on their trucks and heavy equipment, and he even goes to the little church up on the hill. But you’re going to find out he’s a little . . . off. He’s a religious nut for one thing. He likes to preach, and he likes to have deep discussions with—” She hesitated. “—with cars and trucks and machinery; they’re his kind of people. On top of that, he’s full of the old valley superstitions.”

  “What superstitions?”

  “You’ll see what I mean. Let’s go.”

  Tracy got into her patrol car and took off. Steve waited a minute then got into his camper and followed Tracy’s patrol car as she drove past the old red brick fire station with the gas pumps out front, circled back through a narrow alley, and parked near the back door. Levi was already there, waiting for them.

  Tracy stepped forward, a question on her face.

  Levi answered, “She’ll talk to you.” He looked warily at Steve. “But you’ll have to go easy. She’s in a sorry state.”

  “We’ll go easy,” Tracy said, catching Steve’s eyes to make sure he understood.

  They followed Levi up the steep, narrow stairway to what used to be the firemen’s quarters. Now it was Levi’s small apartment, modestly furnished, but clean. Toward the street was a kitchen and dinette, everything neatly in place. Toward the back was a living room with sofa, two upholstered chairs and a coffee table. Steve breathed easier for the moment. He’d been expecting something bizarre.

  Levi stepped to a door, apparently a bedroom, and peeked inside. Then he beckoned to them to come but put a finger to his lips. They approached quietly.

  Levi eased the door open. On the bed was Maggie Bly, curled in a fetal position, her fingers in her mouth, her hair matted with sweat, her eyes wild with fear. She lurched at the sight of them.

  “It’s okay, Maggie,” said Levi. “They’re friends.”

  Now I am seeing something bizarre, Steve thought.

  I would never raise the subject except out of my deep concern for your future happiness. I agree that James Hyde is a pleasant enough man when other eyes are watching, but it is widely believed that strange, secret practices and beliefs run in the Hyde family. I understand that Benjamin Hyde was a secretive man who long indulged in esoteric, perhaps satanic, practices, and I have no reason to doubt his son James participates in the same. You will never hear such things discussed openly in Hyde River, but they are no secret.

  I hope to travel to San Francisco in the spring. If you can wait until then, I will tell you all I know, and then you can decide whether you will accept his proposal of marriage.

  From a letter to Beatrice Clemens from her mother Margaret Clemens, dated December 4, 1902

  DECEASED—Margaret Angeline Clemens, 42, died May 18, 1903, while traveling by train to San Francisco to visit her daughter. She is reported to have fallen from the train, but there are conflicting accounts . . .

  Obituary in the Oak Springs Register May 20, 1903

  Five

  MAGGIE BLY

  TRACY MOVED forward as if approaching a timid deer, her hand outstretched. “Maggie. Hi. It’s Tracy Ellis.”

  Maggie recognized her and took her hand. “Tracy.” Then her eyes looked past Tracy and Steve in horror. “Oh, my God! Close the door!”

  Levi shut the door, careful not to slam it.

  The room was stuffy and dark, and no wonder. The windows, even though they had blinds, were boarded up with plywood. If not for the one dimly glowing lamp beside the bed, the room would have been pitch black. The odors of the aging building, its yellowing wallpaper, dust-filled cracks, and seasonal mildew now mingled with the smell of tears, filth, sweat . . . and something else. Something dead, Steve thought, shuddering slightly.

  Tracy kept hold of Maggie’s hand as she looked toward Steve and spoke gently. “Maggie, this is Steve Benson. He’s a wildlife biologist, and he’s here to investigate what happened up on Wells Peak.”

  Steve tried his best not to appear threatening. He stooped down just a bit so as not to tower over the trembling woman and extended his hand to her.

  She pulled away from both him and Tracy, her eyes locked on him as if he were a predator. “You’re Cliff’s brother!”

  That threw Steve off balance. Who was this woman? “Uh, yeah, that’s right.” He immediately looked at Tracy, hoping for an explanation.

  “How did you know he’s Cliff’s brother?” Tracy asked quietly.

  Maggie’s hand went to her mouth again, and she cried through her fingers like a child. “You’re gonna hate me . . .”

  Levi stepped forward and touched her shoulder. “Maggie, now, these folks don’t hate you, not at all.”

  “They hate me.”

  “No, they’re here to help you. We all are.”

  “Nobody can help me. I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead!”

  Tracy met Steve’s eyes. See what I mean? her expression said.

  Steve was seeing and hearing, of course, but not understanding any of this.

  “I’m no good,” Maggie whimpered.

  “No, now that’s not true,” said Levi. “You’re a precious creation of God.”

  She recoiled at that. “No I’m not! I’m nothing!”

  Levi countered, “God loves you, Maggie.”

  “No, He hates me!”

  “God loves everybody!”

  “Harold hates me! He t
hinks I’m ugly and filthy and dirty! He hates me!”

  “Well, you don’t have to listen to what Harold says. God doesn’t hate you. He’s here, Maggie. He wants to help.”

  “I’m sure He does,” said Tracy, just to bring that topic to a close. “But, Maggie, we need to ask you some very important questions.”

  Maggie stared at them blankly.

  Levi offered, “Talk to them, Maggie. It’ll do you good.”

  Maggie calmed a little, wiping her eyes clear.

  Tracy smiled to reassure her. “Some of these questions are going to be difficult, and I’m sorry, but I have to ask them, okay?”

  Maggie didn’t react at all.

  Tracy tried the first question, asking as gently as she could. “So, Maggie, you knew Cliff Benson?”

  “Yes,” she answered directly. “You bet I did.”

  Tracy couldn’t hide her surprise at such a direct answer. Steve braced himself. He could sense bad news coming.

  Tracy probed for it. “Were you and Cliff . . . were you—”

  “We were in love!” Maggie blurted as if defending herself. “Cliff loved me! He said he loved me! He said he’d get me away from Harold!”

  There it was, just that quick, far quicker than Steve could prepare for it, much less believe it.

  “It’s okay, Maggie,” Levi said. “You just get it out in the open. ‘If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us—’”

  “Maggie,” Tracy cut in, “were you and Cliff having an affair?”

  Maggie showed disgust at the word. “It wasn’t an affair! It was more than that. It was the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me.”

  Oh no, Steve thought. Not Cliff!

  “How long, Maggie?” Tracy asked. “How long were you and Cliff seeing each other?”

  “A couple months.”

  “Until Harold found out?”

  Maggie said nothing. She only nodded.

  “And that’s why he kicked you out of the house.”

  “Yes.” Maggie closed her eyes as if the confessions had exhausted her. “And now—now I’m gonna die.”