Crystal Creek

by Malmborg, William

Beverly?

  No.

  She didn't know how she could tell, but something within her warned that it wasn't her.

  24

  What the? Brian thought to himself, the sudden sound of an engine reaching his ears. He couldn't be certain, but he thought it was coming from within the woods below, down in the area Alice had been heading toward.

  It sounded like a four-wheeler.

  But who would be down in that area?

  And why?

  He turned and looked back at the clearing behind him, indecision gripping him.

  He didn't want to leave the safety of the open area, but at the same time he didn't like the idea of Alice being alone down there in the woods near whoever was approaching on the four-wheeler.

  Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

  And then it dawned on him: if there was someone heading their way on a motorized vehicle of some kind, then there obviously had to be a path as well, one that would be easy to see and easy to follow. Shit, for all he knew, Alice had already come across it.

  Still, he didn't like the idea of going into the woods.

  You have to.

  25

  Moving slowly, Cheryl climbed the old wooden stairway back up toward the hallway door, her lips squeezing together at one point when a board groaned beneath her weight.

  No response.

  No relief followed.

  Someone was in the house, someone who wasn't Beverly.

  The doorway at the top of the stairs was partially open.

  Once at it, she peeked through the crack between the door and the frame.

  Jeanne was standing in the hallway, eyes looking up the stairway. In her right hand was her service weapon.

  Did she come to check on Quinn?

  Did the unlocked door make her suspicious?

  But why would she have even tried the door if his vehicle was gone?

  Something wasn't right.

  The gun was evidence of this.

  Had someone seen Cheryl go inside and called the police?

  Or had someone found the bodies?

  Brian and his wife?

  She tightened her grip on the pry bar while thinking about this, fear that she might have to use it on Jeanne starting to work its way into her system.

  Or you can try to get away.

  If Jeanne went up the stairs, she could try to sneak out a door.

  But what if she sees you through a window?

  Or what if she discovers the evidence that Beverly alluded to?

  Jeanne didn't go up the stairs. Instead, she started down the hallway.

  No! No! No!

  Cheryl carefully shifted herself as Jeanne approached so she could keep an eye on her through the narrow crack, her panic growing with each step that Jeanne took.

  Jeanne stopped at the door.

  Cheryl held her breath.

  She knows you're here.

  Cheryl tried pushing the thought away, but it wouldn't go.

  Jeanne stepped beyond the door, slowly heading toward the family room.

  Get her gun.

  Just step out and smash her hand with the pry bar.

  Following that, she could let Beverly decide what to do with her.

  Cheryl eased the door open a bit further so that she could step out, the hinges staying silent, and took a step, only she forgot to step up from the landing and caught her foot, falling forward and crashing into the wall.

  Jeanne spun around, gun raised and ready.

  A shot echoed.

  The blast deafened Cheryl, her right ear feeling as if it had exploded, and the side of her face burning where gunpowder had blasted her.

  Both were stunned, Jeanne holding the gun pointed in her direction while Cheryl stood with the pry bar lifted.

  "Drop—" Jeanne started to voice.

  Cheryl brought the pry bar down, Jeanne's hesitation costing her as the metal crashed into her shoulder, shattering her collarbone and causing the gun to fall from her hands.

  Stunned and in obvious pain, Jeanne dropped to her knees, but then, much to Cheryl's dismay, reached for the gun with her left hand.

  Cheryl brought the pry bar down again, aiming for the top of her head this time.

  The blow landed with a horrific thunk!

  A dull look entered Jeanne's eyes, her body staying upright for several seconds before finally crumpling to the ground, face up, lips slightly parted, lifeless eyes staring at Cheryl.

  Cheryl stared back, disbelief at what she had just done flowing. Anger followed, and with a cry she brought the pry bar down into Jeanne's face, not just once but over and over again, her hands feeling the crunch of facial bone but not hearing it, which was surreal.

  "Fuck!" she gasped when finished, lungs heaving with exhaustion.

  Blood was everywhere, as were chunks of bone, brain, and what could only be called “goo” from one of her eyes that had been obliterated yet still was somehow attached to the socket via a vein-like cord.

  Wow, Brian and Alice were right, she noted to herself while thinking about Marlon Gibbs. There should have been way more blood.

  A smile followed, one that made her taste buds aware of a coppery flavor that seeped in from her lips.

  The walls hadn't been the only thing that had been splattered.

  Curious as to what she looked like, Cheryl stepped over the mess and ventured into the bathroom, pry bar still in hand, blood marking her route as droplets fell to the floor.

  She switched on the light while looking in the mirror.

  And quickly found herself leaning over the toilet, stomach heaving with disgust.

  It wasn't the blood that did it, but the chunk of brain tissue that was stuck to her upper lip, one that she didn't feel at first but now seemed to be embedded into her senses even though the piece was free from her skin, floating in the toilet bowl.

  Nothing actually came up, though the heaves left her feeling completely spent.

  She wanted to go home.

  First she needed to figure out what was in the fucking drawer.

  Pry bar in hand, she headed back up to the office, a sting in her side becoming known as she climbed the stairs but going uninvestigated for the moment.

  Chunks of brain tissue and bloody hair clung to the pry bar.

  She considered rinsing it off, but then said fuck it and stuck the claw between the drawer and the edge of the desk, wedging it in nice and tight before lifting up on her end.

  Wood splintered and something squealed, but the drawer didn't open.

  She tried again, positioning the pry bar closer to where the latch would be.

  Again, wood splintered, but it didn't open.

  Fucking open!

  She pressed harder, blood and brain tissue sliding down onto the drawer as she levered against it, her body putting as much force into the bar as she could muster until finally, at the point when she thought she couldn't continue, the lock snapped and the drawer wobbled open.

  26

  Alice had come across the old logging road at about the same time she heard the sounds of the engine, and decided to crouch in the brush alongside it to see who was heading their way.

  She didn't have long to wait.

  Unfortunately, making out the figure atop the four-wheeler was impossible, her head covered by a helmet and her body a leather jacket that would be much too warm for this weather had it not been for the fact that she was moving at a speed that would keep her cool. One thing she was fairly certain of, however, was that it had been a female. She wasn't sure how exactly she knew this; she just had a feeling that it was.

  Go get Brian.

  She turned to head back toward the clearing and nearly cried out as she saw him approaching, her mind having been so focused on the four-wheeler that she hadn't heard him coming through the brush.

  27

  Beverly was not a fan of driving Cheryl's ATV, and had she not been in a bit of a time crunch, she would have simply walked up the mountain to the cave. Time was a serious factor t
hough, the unexpected events of that morning having forced her to not only speed up the timetable within her overall plan, but also put into place a secondary element that she honestly hadn't thought would be necessary until that morning.

  It was all Brendon's fault.

  It always was.

  But maybe that was for the better.

  She had known for quite some time that Jeanne would become a problem once Quinn was eliminated, the greedy little bitch having been responsible for a blackmail campaign that had pretty much put Quinn up to his eyeballs in debt. It was sad really, because Quinn had been a good guy, a friend to everyone, especially Beverly's mother. Though stymied by his own boss, Chief Cavanaugh, Quinn had done everything within his power to protect the young mother from her own father, and then, following the birth of Brendon, had taken on a father-like role. Not that it had done much good for Brendon, his brain having suffered quite a bit from the abuses that had been delivered to their mother while she had been pregnant with him, but the effort had been there, and it had meant a lot to those who could appreciate it.

  And then Jeanne had come along.

  Beverly had warned Quinn about her time and time again, but he had not listened, and eventually she had uncovered all the dirt about the department, the motel, and Quinn's part in helping keep it all covered up.

  The blackmail had followed, Jeanne having threatened to share everything with the county and state. Fearing he would never be able to find employment with another department if the information was released, he had complied with her blackmail demands, opening up and maxing out one credit card after another with cash advances. He had also considered taking out a mortgage on the house, his ability to open credit cards starting to dwindle, but hadn't reached that point yet.

  And now he never would.

  Maybe that was for the best as well.

  Even with a new job, Quinn never would have truly been happy. Crystal Creek was his home. It was what he knew, and it was where the love of his life had lived and been buried following her untimely death. Once that was all gone, once he was forced to move on…

  Beverly couldn't think of what his life would be like, but she knew he wouldn't have enjoyed it.

  Up ahead, a bend in the old logging road was present, one that she slowed considerably for before rounding, memories of rolling the ATV as a teen still present, as was the horror of having a broken leg while living in the motel with her grandfather and Brendon.

  She navigated the bend without incident and then went around a small but sturdy tree that was growing in the middle of the old road. Beyond that was another bend, this one going to the right, which would take her to an old logging camp from the fifties.

  Relief arrived as she parked the ATV next to a crumbling bunkhouse and stepped off it, her inner thighs numb from the steady vibrations of the vehicle as she had navigated from Cheryl's backyard to the old lumber camp.

  Cheryl had once expressed enthusiasm for riding the ATV because of the pleasure the vibrations caused.

  Beverly didn't share in this enthusiasm.

  The vibrations didn't bring her pleasure.

  Nothing ever did.

  Her pregnancy as a child, followed by her grandfather's actions to end it once he learned that Brendon was the father, had made sure of that. Something had been damaged. What, exactly, she did not know, her only certainty being that his actions had been the reason that she didn't feel pleasure, just pain and discomfort anytime someone ventured down into that area. Brendon had proven this time and time again when he would come into her room and fuck her, her teeth usually clenched down on her own arm to keep from screaming, blood oozing from both the wounds her teeth produced and the tears he made down below with his large penis.

  And Cheryl was no better. Her gentle actions down there, while not painful in the way that Brendon's thrusts were since she was gentle, did absolutely nothing for her in the pleasure department. In fact, Beverly was far more interested in getting Cheryl off, though not because she wanted to see her experience pleasure, but because she liked being in control and knowing she was the deciding factor in whether or not that pleasure would be released. At moments like that, and after, she was in charge, the pleasure that Cheryl got (and Brendon when she used her hands and mouth on him) almost like a drug she was addicted to, Beverly being the supplier that the junkie kept returning too.

  Beverly smiled.

  Up ahead, just beyond the tangled mess that had grown up within the old camp, was a path that would lead her to Brendon's cave. It was a path that could only be navigated by foot, the frequent upslopes and the narrowness making it impossible for the ATV to get through.

  Other paths led to the cave as well, but this one was the quickest.

  It was also one of the reasons Beverly had had Brendon kill Marlon Gibbs.

  He lived too close to the cave, his desire to be near Brendon and try to be a father figure to him as redemption for his involvement in his birth way back when he had been a doctor for the logging company making it impossible to hide the fact of Annie's imprisonment within that cave for very long. His suspicions of who was behind the attack on Margaret had also been a factor, his thoughts on this detailed in a journal he had kept. It would have only been a matter of time before he ventured into the cave with food for Brendon and found the girl chained to the wall.

  The other reason was because he had been the doctor who helped her grandfather remove her baby.

  She checked her watch before starting down the path and wondered if Jeanne had eliminated Cheryl yet.

  Or had Cheryl eliminated her?

  Better yet, had they killed each other?

  The latter didn't seem all that likely, but even so, stranger things had happened.

  More likely than not, Jeanne had killed Cheryl.

  Logically, that made the most sense given that she would have the jump on Cheryl and might make Cheryl believe she was being arrested, at which point she would have shot her several times and then filed a report about how Cheryl had broken into Chief Parker's house after killing him and then drew down on Jeanne while she had been investigating things.

  And then, of course, Jeanne would disappear, her body left somewhere on the mountain near Clearwater after Beverly had made her pay for the blackmail, which would never be revealed, thus protecting her father's honor.

  First things first, however, she had to pay a visit to Annie and make sure Brendon hadn't left any evidence behind of what was going on, her usefulness as a distraction for Brendon no longer necessary now that he was dead.

  28

  "Did you see who it was?" Brian asked.

  "No, they were wearing a helmet and jacket, so…" Alice simply shrugged.

  Brian nodded and looked at the old road, one that had likely been used by the logging company to get men and equipment up the mountain, one that had been long since abandoned to the woods.

  Yet someone is still using it.

  Where are they going?

  Cheryl hadn't said anything about this old road, yet given her familiarity with the woods and the mountain, she had to have known it was there and where it led. Had the road been miles away from where they had been the day before, he wouldn't have thought much of her omission, but it was within walking distance and whoever had attacked and dragged her into the woods had likely been taking her to the road. That was huge.

  She also hadn't said anything about townspeople using ATVs to go up and down the mountain, though that in itself wasn't really something to get all riled up about. Still though, it did mean that some were still using the road and that it had to lead somewhere interesting. The question was, how far was that place of interest, and should they go investigate it?

  Alice answered yes to the question.

  He agreed.

  The two started walking.

  "You know, we should have brought water with us," Alice said as they neared the first bend. It went to the left.

  "Yeah, you're right."

  Nothing e
lse followed, though in his mind Brian wondered if maybe they should turn back so they could get some supplies before going too far. After all, in this heat, it wouldn't take much for their thirst to turn deadly, and if there were any rivers or streams nearby, he doubted the water would be safe for drinking, so—

  "Hey, look at that," Alice said.

  A tree was growing in the middle of the old road.

  "You know," Alice continued, "whoever was on that ATV must have known the tree would be just around this bend, or else they would have crashed right into it."

  Brian nodded. Though small, the tree was big enough to cause serious damage to the ATV and whoever was on it. Instead, they had gone to the right, the shin-high grass having been flattened.

  Another bend loomed up ahead, this one going to the right.

  While nearing it, Alice looked to the left and said, "I bet if we headed through the trees right here we would hit the clearing."

  "You're probably right," Brian said, wiping sweat from his eyes.

  Nothing else was said for several minutes, during which Brian wondered why they could no longer hear the ATV. Was it because the person who was riding it had stopped or because they had gone so far that the sound would not reach them? He hoped for the former because walking on and on while trying to find them if it was the latter would be a serious test of endurance.

  The land sloped upward as they got closer to the bend.

  Brian paused for a moment and said, "I'm not sure how much farther we should go without water."

  Alice considered this for several seconds and said, "Let's just see what's around this bend and head down it a bit."

  "Okay, but if it simply goes on and on without anything in sight, then we need to head back because we have to remember that for every step we take we will have to match it going back."

  "Noted," Alice said, continuing onward.

  Brian followed.

  Five minutes later they rounded the bend.

  Alice stopped.

  Brian caught up with her and started to ask what it was, but then saw the old battered roof among the trees and undergrowth to the left of the old road. "Another cabin?" he asked. "Someone that also lives off the grid?"