Crystal Creek

by Malmborg, William

  "There're other buildings," Alice said and pointed. "See."

  He did. They weren't easy to make out given that the woods had reclaimed everything, but once one started to scan the area, several roofs and structures became visible through the branches and leaves.

  "What do you think this all is?" Brian asked.

  "I don't know, but it seems interesting that you were only like two to three miles from it yesterday and yet no one said anything about it."

  "Yeah," Brian agreed.

  Neither said anything for several seconds, then, "Come on, let's check it out," Alice said.

  Brian nodded, his enthusiasm unable to match his wife's. Then again, she hadn't witnessed an ape-like man attacking her companions while in this area.

  Actually, you didn't either, he noted to himself. All he had seen was an ape-like man run across the road, and then the aftermath of the supposed attack.

  Still, one man had been killed, another had been nearly killed, and Cheryl had been dragged into the woods, all within this area.

  And now they were here with no weapons and no water.

  What were they thinking?

  All of this passed through his mind as he followed Alice across a narrow opening into the brush, one that led to an old run-down building that looked as if it belonged on the set of a Friday the 13th film. Sitting next to the building was an ATV.

  Alice walked up to it and put her hand on the engine.

  "Still warm," she whispered.

  Brian didn't reply to this. Instead, he started scanning their surroundings, on the lookout for anything that looked as if it were ready to pounce on them.

  Nothing was there.

  It seemed like they were all alone.

  But were they really?

  There was only one way to find out.

  They started looking around the abandoned camp.

  29

  Cheryl stared at the pictures within the file, which had been labeled with the name Cavanaugh. They showed the former chief lying naked in a bed, eyes and mouth wide open, left hand clutched into a fist while the right was sprawled out over the edge, legs tangled in the sheets. He was dead. A heart attack. The entire town had been told the cause, but not the circumstances it had occurred during. This photo, coupled with other photos that looked as if they had been taken from a video clip, made it fairly clear that the chief had been sleeping with Beverly's mother back when she was a teen.

  Other files and pictures were present as well, ones that pretty much confirmed the rumors that the motel had once been used as a staging area for prostitution, the clients being the lumberjacks when they came down to the town on the weekends. Beverly's mother had been one of the ones providing the flesh portion of the service, while her father ran things and profited from it. He had also documented things, it seemed, maybe to sell the videos for some extra cash, or to keep the clients and the chief in check.

  Following the heart attack, Quinn had been appointed chief by the town and had kept the position ever since.

  It had seemed an odd choice at the time, but now, seeing the pictures, Cheryl wondered if maybe he had had evidence against some of the town officials and used it as leverage.

  Had whitewashing the circumstances surrounding the chief's death been part of the deal?

  No direct evidence within the drawer confirmed this, but even so, having seen what there was, she was certain that it had been.

  Does Beverly know about this?

  Does she know that her mother used to be whored out by her own father?

  Cheryl considered this for several seconds and realized that Beverly likely had and that her grandfather's death may have been something more. After all, Chief Parker was the one who had responded, so what if he had helped Beverly cover up what had really happened?

  And then Beverly killed him.

  Why?

  Nothing within the drawer pointed at Cheryl's involvement with recent events, nor had anything within the house, yet somehow Beverly had snagged information that Quinn suspected she was behind everything.

  Something wasn't right about that.

  And why hadn't Beverly shown up?

  Was it because she had seen that Jeanne was there?

  Had that spooked her?

  Cheryl looked at her hands while contemplating this and saw the blood that covered them, blood that was now on the desk, files, paperwork, and photos. She even saw her own fingerprints within several of the splotches.

  Panic arrived.

  She had killed a police officer while rummaging through the house of another who was lying dead in her yard, a bullet from her own gun having punched through his skull.

  Fuck!

  Why had Jeanne showed up?

  Had she really been checking up on Quinn like Cheryl had initially thought, or had someone directed her here, someone who wanted Cheryl to be caught while in the house?

  But…

  No, Beverly wouldn't have done that to her, not when she could easily have pointed the finger at Beverly and explained what was going on.

  Unless…

  She wondered about Jeanne and the fact that she had never heard of her being in a relationship with a man, not while in school or afterward as an adult.

  Jeanne and Beverly?

  No, she couldn't picture that at all, and had the situation been a bit different, she would have laughed out loud at the thought. Instead, she turned her attention back to the situation at hand and considered her options. She had to leave the house. And she had to do it in a way that would erase the fact that she had been there.

  Fire.

  It was the only way.

  Arson would be suspected, and then murder when they found the body of Jeanne, but at least all the evidence of her presence and involvement would be destroyed.

  Or would it?

  If Annie truly had shown up at the motel like Brian and his wife claimed, and Beverly had done something to her, then the FBI might get involved due to the kidnapping factor and then decide to investigate the burned rubble on the chance that the two were connected. She was no expert, but it seemed their forensic labs were able to learn a lot from a little and would probably be able to determine not just her presence within the house, but how many times she had scratched her head while inside.

  Despair threatened.

  She should never have agreed to any of this.

  It had caused nothing but problems, all while failing to yield anything worthwhile.

  But maybe that will change…

  After all, if a college girl like Margaret could find a handful of precious stones from a buried fortune that had likely been unearthed from erosion, then it seemed like it shouldn't be too difficult for them to find. All they had to do was look within areas where erosion was evident.

  Had Brendon understood that?

  Beverly said he was spending all his time looking for the source, but maybe that was the reason it had gone undiscovered. He was an idiot, a sex-obsessed retard that only focused on one thing, pussy. For all they knew, the bastard had passed the unearthed treasure a dozen times and hadn’t given it a second thought because his mind was envisioning fucking someone—her most likely.

  I should have looked for it myself.

  I probably would have found it in less than a week.

  Fear of Brendon and the fact that he was on the prowl had kept her from doing this, but now…

  I could go look for it, find it and keep it all for myself.

  No, that wouldn't be right. Beverly had included her when she hadn't really needed to, so she would do the same.

  Unless…

  She once again wondered why Jeanne had shown up at Quinn's place while she was there and why the bitch had let herself in even though it was obvious he wasn't there given that his vehicle was gone. And then she had crept around rather than calling out for Quinn. Why? Had she known Cheryl was there? If so, there had only been one person who could have told her that, so…

  Cheryl shook her head, her
mind not wanting to go down that path.

  Beverly wouldn't do that to her.

  She couldn't.

  Her eyes settled back on the documents from the drawer and the bloodstains that covered everything.

  She needed to leave.

  And in the process she needed to burn this place to the ground.

  After that, she could talk to Beverly about everything that had unfolded and make suggestions on where to look for the treasure. Hell, knowing how much Beverly hated the woods and how inept she was while in them, she could offer to search for it herself so that Beverly didn't have to get all mucky.

  Make her rely on you rather than you having to rely on her.

  First things first, she had to disconnect herself from this place.

  She looked at the files once again.

  Take them or leave them?

  Jeanne's blood was on them, but she could get rid of that evidence by burning the files in her own fireplace after copying everything from them. Better yet, she could keep the files somewhere safe on the mountain and plant them as evidence somewhere if anyone ever started to point the finger at her.

  30

  Beverly tripped four times while on her way to the cave, one spill being so bad that she stayed on the ground for several minutes holding her shin.

  She hated the woods.

  And the mountain.

  And Crystal Creek.

  Most of all, however, she hated Brendon's cave.

  The place was disgusting, the lightless caverns filled with bad air, putrid water, dead animals, and rats.

  Rats.

  She shuddered at the thought.

  Rats had been an issue long before Brendon had occupied the cave, but with his occupation they had only grown worse given that he often discarded his food leftovers into the areas that he didn't reside in. And then there were the bodies of Margaret Jones and Marlon Gibbs, both of whom had been dragged into a rear cavern, the latter being a semi-fresh meal for the disgusting rodents while the former had pretty much been picked clean.

  Soon Annie’s body would be added to the buffet as well.

  First things first, Beverly actually needed to make it up to the cave.

  Sitting on the ground next to the rock she had slipped on wasn't moving things along at all.

  She put her hands down and pushed but didn't make it up, the pain from her shin too great.

  Did I break it? a panicked inner voice asked.

  No, a calmer one replied.

  Though it hurt, the pain was nothing like the time when she had broken her leg. Instead, it simply felt like she had been kicked in the shin while trying to defend a soccer goal in gym class. The pain was intense, but more in a “fuck, that really hurt” way than a “fuck, something is busted” way. She just needed to give it a few minutes.

  You don't have a few minutes!

  Get up!

  Gritting her teeth together, Beverly pushed herself up once again and started walking, her steps slow at first but then picking up speed as the pain lessened with each passing second.

  Almost there, an inner voice cheered.

  The slope on this part of the mountain forced her to hunch forward while walking, her hands occasionally touching the ground in front of her to help her along. How Brendon had been able to get bodies up here was a mystery, yet manage he had. Supplies too. The cave was pretty much his home, the motel his home away from home. At one point he had even put posters up on the main cavern wall, but they had been ruined from the moisture that collected on the walls every morning.

  She planted her hand on the ground before her and shrieked when she felt something slither away from it.

  Her eye then caught sight of the snake before it disappeared into the underbrush.

  It seemed huge, though honestly was probably no more than eight inches long and no thicker than her thumb. And there was no rattle, which meant it likely was a harmless one.

  Heart racing and lungs gasping, she considered saying fuck it and leaving Annie in the cave to die from exposure rather than the knotted piece of rope she would choke her with, but then she forced herself onward, her eyes quickly scanning every surface that she was about to cross before planting any part of her body upon it.

  And then the land leveled out once again, and within five minutes she was at the cave entrance, one that was difficult to see unless one was looking for it, because the six-foot-long, two-foot-wide crevice that marked its opening was situated in a fold of rock that was always in shadow.

  Something moved to the right of her, causing her to jump a bit.

  The movement occurred again, the sound that of something that seemed to move and then hold still, move and then hold still over and over again.

  She decided to investigate.

  A rabbit was caught in a snare trap, one that Brendon had likely set, Quinn having taught him how many years earlier.

  The wire was around its torso rather than its neck, which meant the loop had probably been too big, because it had gotten its head and front legs through before it tightened.

  Blood marked where the wire had cut into its flesh in its attempts to jerk itself free.

  Poor thing.

  "There, there," she cooed while stepping forward.

  The panic in its eyes was intense, as was the pain from the wire.

  "It's okay."

  She reached down to free the rabbit and quickly jerked away when it tried to bite her, the long buckteeth missing her flesh by less than an inch. Had the teeth caught hold, she would have lost a huge chunk of flesh from her hand.

  Frustrated, she told the rabbit she was trying to help it, but every time she attempted to get at the wire, it tried to bite her, so eventually, rather than leaving it to suffer, she got a large rock and smashed it atop the rabbit's head, crushing it.

  Stupid rabbit.

  Wiping rock dust from her fingers, Beverly headed into the cave, her body having to twist a bit given the narrowness of the opening.

  Fuck!

  She had forgotten to bring a flashlight.

  Would there be a fire going inside?

  Every time she had come here, Brendon had been home, so she had never had to worry about providing her own light source, but now…

  She had no idea what awaited her inside but doubted there would be a fire. No. That would have burned down long before she had even arrived on the ATV, let alone completed the climb up to the cave. But maybe there would be some embers that would provide a glow and small twigs in the woodpile that she could use to get everything going.

  First she had to make it through the entryway, which was pretty much a tight tunnel that one had to squeeze through for about fifteen feet. How exactly Brendon had found the cave as a kid and why he had navigated his way through the first time was a mystery she would never know the answer to, but find it and navigate it he did, his curiosity finding him a home that he could live out his Bigfoot fantasy from.

  Something scurried by her feet.

  She paused and waited to see if anything else would go by.

  Nothing did.

  This is the last time…

  Never again would she need to venture into the cave.

  Once Annie was dead and the cave cleaned of anything that could point at her, she could leave it once and for all, her focus turning to the mountain and finding the rest of the fortune Margaret had discovered.

  A horrific stench hit.

  Though disgusting, the smell was almost like a marker for the main cavern, which meant her journey through the entryway-like tunnel was just about at an end.

  Embers!

  Though weak, the remains of the fire provided enough light for her to make her way to the pile of twigs that Brendon always kept in the cave. Once those were piled on the coals, she bent over sideways and gently blew upon it.

  Flames took hold, lighting the cavern.

  Several flashlights sat on a makeshift shelf, as did some old-fashioned lanterns that one could secure a candle within.

/>   Beverly tried the flashlights first and eventually found one that was still good.

  Using that, she headed to the bedroom cavern that Brendon had been keeping Annie in, one that he had often talked about with Beverly, his dream being to turn it into a master bedroom of sorts complete with a full-size king bed and dressers. Once completed, he and Cheryl would live happily ever after, the cave their home, one that they would raise a family in.

  Of course, no bed had ever been brought up, and the idea of secretly remodeling the entire cave into the home was completely ludicrous. The only comfort the room had was pine boughs Brendon had brought in and piled up in a corner to act like a mattress and a makeshift nightstand-like table he had made himself from scrap wood. He had also pounded a chain into the wall so that Cheryl wouldn't try to run away once she was his, a chain that had been used to keep Annie secure, a chain that was now missing, along with the girl she had brought him three days earlier.

  "I've been waiting for you," a voice said.

  Startled, Beverly spun around and came face-to-face with Annie, her body illuminated by the flashlight where she stood along the opposite wall. She was holding a rifle, one that likely had belonged to Marlon Gibbs.

  31

  Knowing the fire would be investigated and likely be labeled as arson as soon as the body with the crushed head was discovered—unless a beam conveniently landed upon her—Cheryl decided against trying to make the fire look natural and simply dumped an entire can of gasoline all over the first floor. Following that, she used lighter fluid to create a path through the front door and down the steps, her thinking being that she didn't want to be anywhere near the gas-filled first floor when igniting the fire.

  Standing about fifteen feet away, Cheryl used her lighter to set the fluid ablaze and then hurried to the edge of the woods to watch as a flame quickly worked its way toward the house—only for it to go out as it reached the wooden steps of the front porch.

  Startled, she waited a second to see if it would relight itself, but it didn't, so she walked up to the steps and contemplated lighting the remaining fluid right there, but then noted how strong the fumes from the gasoline were.