by Joshua Brown
I felt like a naughty child, knowing the second I stepped through that door, I’d get the beating of my life. Most times, without reason; just a loveless father taking out his frustrations.
“Well, Ruby, it’s been nice seeing you again, but it’s really best that I get on,” I said.
Ruby forced me into an awkward, uncomfortable hug. “You ought to at least come in and see ma and pa before you go. It’d mean the world to them.”
“I doubt that,” I replied. “How about you tell them I said hi, but I’m needed back in New York, hey?”
Ruby sighed and got out of the car without answering. “He’s dying, Jack. You’re gonna regret it if you don’t see him now.”
Probably true, but I didn’t have it in me.
“And at least consider helping the sheriff’s office. They won’t get through this thing without you,” Ruby added.
I knew it to be true. But how could she make those assumptions? For all they knew, I was the worst detective in New York City, lucking my way into simple cases. She didn’t wait for a reply before shutting the door and walking off to the house.
As I watched her walk, I saw a gaze from the window. Tucked behind the curtain, my mother stood, looking down at me, motionless, and I wondered if she even recognized me at all.
I started the car and drove off—soon enough, I’d be back in New York.
Chapter 7
Jack
I didn’t give word to Freddy, Rodney, or anyone else from the sheriff’s station that I was leaving. I was a bystander in a terrible situation, and just because my title was detective didn’t mean I owed them anything. Especially not the blood, sweat, and tears that came with a murder case.
I burned through cigarettes until my lungs felt ready to give up on me. The idea of a drink at the airport left me longing to arrive. It was easier to run from my problems than face the mess riding into Priest River. But that’s not the man I am. I collected my things from the motel, packed my car, and headed onto the open road.
The image of that poor woman, Lynne Sawyer, burned waking nightmares into my head. From what everyone said, she was just trying to help the town. But that left her an easy target–no one knew or cared for her. I couldn’t imagine the uproar if a local hung from that cross instead. Death was part of life, but never in such devious cruelty.
In the half-hour I drove to the midpoint between the airport and Priest River, my conscience took over. I’d never feel clear and clean if I abandoned those who needed me. Ruby was right. Those who governed Priest River did a piss-poor job of it. Rodney Stern had all the looks of a man in charge but the spirit of a child with power.
Sickened by the crime scene, as we all were, but with no determination in his eye. Hell, Freddy Cochran had more of a fighting spirit, ready to take over from Rodney by the time we left. An old man, pulled from retirement to save the town he loved, didn’t sit well.
I pulled into a gas station, stopped the car, and sat around, annoyed. I contemplated all my options, ending up with the decision to flip a coin. Tails meant going home, heads the opposite. The thought of gaming the system sprung to mind. Walking into the corner shop, hoping somehow they might have a double-sided coin to stack the odds in my favor. Tricks of my trade, always be one step ahead. Jokes and fun thoughts aside, fate had a hand to play in this decision.
But I had a habit of never having Lady Luck on my side when I wanted, only when I needed her.
I drew a penny from my pocket and set it down on the dashboard. Before I took the gamble that would inevitably change my life forever, I pressed buttons on the steering wheel of the Camaro and called the office.
“Mercer Detective Agency, how may I help you?” Lauren answered the phone.
“Hey, Laur, it’s me,” I said, eyeing the penny. The thought was tempting, but actually going through with letting a coin toss dictate the next few days, or even weeks, felt foolish.
“Jack? Is everything alright?” Lauren asked, concern clear in her voice.
“Turns out it was all some big set up by my sister. Tried getting me to see my parents,” without her knowing about my relationship with them, that might’ve appeared odd to Lauren. Still, she didn’t question, letting me go on. “But something’s come up since, and I wanted to get your words of wisdom on the matter.”
“Hey, boss. Mind if I eavesdrop?” Aaron got into the conversation.
“Not at all. I might need you to do some digging for me, anyway,” I said. I filled them in with the events of that afternoon, from Lynne Sawyer hanging on a cross until I got to the gas station.
“That’s atrocious. But what’s got you bothered?” Lauren spoke first.
“What would you do in my situation?” a simple question that deserved a simple answer.
Would anyone stay? What reason did they have? Being a tough, grizzled cop in New York was easy. Nothing held me back in a case, no need to feel the weight of running into a family I didn’t want to see. Out here, I was lost, on my own, feeling hopeless and abandoned. But one good thing about Lauren Beckett? Among the many, that is, she never pulled punches when something weighed on her mind.
“You should help them. Is there any real questioning that?” she said.
I’d be deluded to think she’d answer any other way. Lauren was an altruist, believed in the good side of humanity. Always the first to help, with a smile on her face, no matter the consequence. At least I had a second opinion and didn’t have to feel like I was going crazy alone.
I gave the coin a flip, catching it in the palm of my hand. I held it there while I thought. Lauren’s advice was a stark contrary to my wants. What if helping Priest River was harming me in the end? But that’s always the good guy’s problem, isn’t it? The needs of the many outweigh your own.
“If you need any help with it, I can come down too, boss,” Aaron said.
Having my partner could’ve been comforting, but that meant Lauren was on her own. God knows I’d never allow that. As small a chance as there was that something might happen to her, I’d never live with myself if anything did.
“Thanks for the offer, but I can’t pull you from your post. You’re needed in New York,” I replied. I slapped the coin-wielding hand against the back of my other and stayed still a moment longer.
Waiting to know what the coin dictated was the better option than calling early. But who was I kidding? I’d never be able to live with myself if I left Priest River to suffer the fate of a madman. Running was an alluring thought, easy to take when knee-deep in the place.
But I didn’t even get half an hour out before guilt started wracking me.
I lifted my hand, and as expected, Abe Lincoln’s face greeted me. I had to laugh at the irony.
“I guess I’m staying then,” I said. “If that’s the case, Aaron, I’m going to need you to do some research for me. Anything happening on that side, or can I pull you away for a few hours? Might need a few more things over the next few days, too.”
“It’s been a day. Not much has changed since you left, literally yesterday,” Lauren snickered.
“Feels like an eternity,” I said, just as Aaron started replying.
“You let me know what you need, and I’ll get it to you,” he sounded ready for anything.
“I want you to dig up some more information on Lynne Sawyer. A man named Jim Heath, too, while you’re at it. I don’t have much to go by yet, but let’s start at the bottom and work our way up.”
“I’ll get right on it. If there’s anything else, forward it through. See you, boss,” Aaron finished.
“You know it’s the right thing to do, Jack,” Lauren said a moment later.
“Do I?” I shrugged, eyes darting to the rearview mirror. In it, I saw a boy, pointing to the blue Camaro, eyes sparkling bright. He and his mother just stepped out of a rust-orange Kia Picanto. She looked tired, mirroring the citizens of Priest River.
“It’ll kill you if you come back home. You’re not the kind of person who can let something li
ke this go, we both know it. Whatever reason was used to get you there, look how fast you ventured out to help a mother trying to save her child,” Lauren added.
She was right, too. I never ran from a challenge, no matter how difficult. The case of the Mobster Muscle Mystery was enough to realize that. Hell, they couldn’t even pay me to track down Richie Marlowe, and I still did it, anyway. How was this any different?
“Alright, well then, nothing changes, I guess. I’ll keep you all in touch with how things are going. My phone’s always on, so when Aaron gets anything, I want it ASAP.”
Lauren and I said goodbye. I put my hat on my head, got out of the car, and entered the convenience store attached to the gas station. After a short debate, I threw a carton of Lucky Strikes and two bottles of whiskey into my cart.
In order to pull this off, I’d need all the liquid courage I could get.
I drove back to Priest River, ashamed. The fact that I was willing to abandon the place to begin with was reason enough for the feelings. Once in town, I secured the same room at the Eagles Nest motel.
The late afternoon sun hung heavy in the sky, and I thought it best to spend the night in. No use in rushing out and hoping to crack this thing without gathering myself and my thoughts first. I suppose I hoped the sheriff would make a breakthrough before I stepped out the following morning.
Unlikely, both because there wasn’t enough to go by until the coroner and investigative teams had something to use, but also, I had no faith in Rodney Stern. I finished half a bottle before 8 PM and fell sound asleep by 9.
Chapter 8
Onyx
In quiet desperation, I heard the Earth Mother weeping.
Not for what I’d done, but what I hadn’t.
One death wasn’t enough to cure her aching soul. Lynne Sawyer was the beginning of something beautiful, a crusade for freedom and redemption. Though I made a few mistakes along the way, I had the Earth Mother’s guidance. She’d keep me safe. Free from the tyranny of man and their subjugation.
The police cleared the church grounds and all surrounding areas out after discovering Lynne Sawyer. My first move bought time. Halting the Inquisition, if only for a brief time, let me think and breathe clearly.
I stood there watching them from afar, relieved to know they were crumbling. Every new sacrifice, an additional benefit to the cause for purity. Three men, out of their army, stood alone beside an empty field. A piece of land they’d bought to further expand in Priest River.
Someday a great mall would be erected on that patch of soil and dirt. With the casino grounds off-limits due to police intervention, these men continued on with another. They mourned not their fallen ally. The demons of greed and gluttony, filling their hearts and forcing them forward. No time to weep when hell’s whip is on your heels.
While watching, I communed with the Earth Mother. My plans to further our relationship had begun. And so too did she deserve to know of my plans to bring her into this world. After my acts with Lynne Sawyer, I spent the night alone, thinking. Lee-Anne was one hell of a woman, and she’d make the perfect vessel for my Goddess. Not a new thought, I suppose, but the idea of bringing it to fruition only intensified my want for it to happen.
But the Goddess needed strength. I had to feed her the souls of the damned to strengthen her up. My plan was secure: every Inquisitor that died by my blade would fuel the coming of the Earth Mother into this realm. Their life force is not destroyed but reused. Lee-Anne was my shell.
“I’ve been wishing to speak with you,” I said. There wasn’t a need for hello’s because we never said goodbye. An omnipresent being within her domain of Priest River, always at my side.
She rarely spoke directly. Her voice, more often than not, came through a vessel of some sort, spreading her wisdom.
“I believe I have found the vessel in which we can bring you into this world. A catalyst of perfection, intertwined with your strength, power, elegance, and grace. We can fight the hordes of the Inquisition together. Return these demons to hell, where they belong,” I added.
I pointed out into the distance towards the three men who stood inspecting the land of their future monument to evil. “They are fuel to the fire. Each one, another log, burning bright to strengthen you. Your ethereal form will be whole within our chosen carrier. And I will be the one who birthed you into the world of the living. And I will be your lover.”
My heart was thumping in my chest at the thought of me and the Earth Mother, side by side. We’d be unstoppable, all-powerful, and all-knowing. Our offspring, kindred spirits of God and man.
I felt the wind changing from a gentle hum to a gust that swept my hair into a wily mess. Soon, her voice would break the silence and give me an answer. I closed my eyes, allowed the Earth Mother’s presence to fill me.
The wind tickled every inch of me, the breeze turning chilly as I felt her presence nearing. So close now, I thought. Soon, we’d be together.
Eternal perfection.
“The hell you doing on my land, boy?” a voice suddenly came, breaking my concentration. Accompanied by the speaker, the cranking of a pump-action shotgun. “You best start talking now. I ain’t got much patience what with the happenings to that woman.”
The wind died down as the old farmer announced his arrival, and with it, the Goddess went too. My heart shattered into pieces.
Annoyance took hold of me. I tried settling it before I spoke.
“My apologies, Mister McDonald. I was just out for a walk,” I said, spinning around. I knew the farmer well enough. Never learned his first name, but most kids around town called him Mister McDonald. I turned around to look at him, dashing a smile across my face and running my hands through hair, settling the windswept style in my usual side path. “Just kind of wandering and ended up here. Didn’t mean to cause any fuss.”
Never was there a more fitting time for Old McDonald had a farm.
“Oh, it’s you, Victor,” Mister McDonald replied. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be walking on your own? There’s a killer out here in Priest River.”
“I heard the news this morning,” I said. Without him knowing just how safe I was with the Earth Mother at my side, I’d have to play the fool. “I guess that’s what’s got me so on edge. Can’t sit around at home when there’s a killer on the loose.”
Mister McDonald gave a chuckle, pointing the shotgun to the ground. McDonald was a string bean of a man. Tall enough to touch the clouds and thin enough to get blown away by the wind. He wore a set of jean dungarees and a tattered white shirt, torn at the collar. A washed-out black trucker hat always covered his balding head. A few missing teeth from years of fighting in bars finished off with a weak jaw.
Still, for all his faults in the way he looked, McDonald was a good man, one of my kind. The cream of the crop.
“You ought to stay safe if you’re gonna be walking around, though,” Mister McDonald said. We stood on a dry piece of land, not all that far from the main gate that led to his house. In the distance, I saw his barn, and behind it, long rows of corn.
Only a single tree stood before his home.
All land on either side of us was lush with greenery, even more now after the night’s rain. The early morning sun burned away most of it but left a sludge pile of mud caked on my shoes.
Dirty shoes were the least of my problems.
“I carry a knife on me while walking,” I said. I pulled it from my pocket to show him.
“Steak knife, ‘ey?” he chuckled. Mister McDonald drew a knife of his own, tucked somewhere behind him. I didn’t quite understand where he was hiding it, seeing as he wore dungarees.
I didn’t question it. The blade he held was long, the metal wide, all coming to a razor-fine point. The handle looked to be carved out of wood, laminated and lacquered. I cared little for knives, wood, or anything else of the sort.
He seemed to believe my story of being out here, well enough. So, I’d entertain him here for a while.
“Fo
rm and function over flashy. Knives all cut the same way, right?” I replied.
He nodded. “Sure, they do. But why not do it in style, if you’re going to do it at all?”
“Those are damn fine words to live by,” I said.
We engaged in meaningless chatter a little longer. He asked how my day was going, what with the news of the woman. And I asked how business was going. Both answers got pretty standard answers of “just fine.”
“Well, can’t be standing around speaking all day. Fields aren’t going to plant themselves, and animals ain’t going to feed, either,” Mister McDonald chuckled again. He gestured off in one direction, towards the town anyway, and started walking. “I’ll walk you out to the gate, but you best run-on home now.”
I started walking, turning over to the men at the piece of land where their mall would be built. They were already back in their cars, pulling into the road.
“You don’t need to mind me. I’ll head out on my own,” I replied, giving a smile.
“No bother at all,” Mister McDonald said, joining me anyway. “How’s your ma doing?”
I always hated that question. How was I supposed to know how she was doing? She wasn’t here anymore. I suppose Mister McDonald didn’t know that. If I’m honest, I don’t think anyone in all of Priest River knew she’d left. They’d find out in time. But until then, I gave him the same reply as everyone else got: “She’s just fine. Out of town again, but misses home dearly.”
“Is that right? Where’d she go?”
“Changes all the time. One minute she’s here, the next she’s there, I can’t keep up anymore,” I laughed, and Mister McDonald joined in.
“Ah, right. Work’s got her busy,” Mister McDonald said.
“The grind never ends. We’re a slave to the system, then we die.”
We walked a lot of the way in silence. When we got to the main gate, a maroon metal on roller wheels, Mister McDonald pulled it open, just enough for me to step through. He extended a hand out to me, and I shook it.
