Ned answered the phone at the pool hall. Never one to beat around the bush much he said. “Hi, Tony, I wondered when you would get around to calling me.”
“Hi Ned. What do you mean?”
“I can still read. I read your name in the paper several times recently. Carla Smyth and Bobby Martin. I also read a short blurb about some Indians that are bugging people. One report said that you had shot one of them, to no avail. I can still put two and two together. To answer the question, you haven’t asked me yet; yes, I do see the similarity to what happened to us back in the dark ages. Now what can I help you with?”
“It’s good to see that you haven’t changed in all these years.”
“Older, wiser, fatter. What do you think about the new killings?”
“It’s weird. Do you remember the Indian we saw up on the river bank?”
“Vaguely. Why?”
Tony told him about the recent events with the Indian nee civil war soldier and Samurai warrior, and how he had seen them all in 1986.”
“How come I never heard about all that before now?”
“I thought you guys would think I was nuts back then.”
“So why are you telling it now?”
“Because now other people have seen it.”
“Who?”
“My wife Maria, Thad Goodfellow, and at least three cops.”
“So this thing is real and not just something out of your very active imagination. But how can I help? I never saw anything either back then or lately.”
“You were always the level headed one. I thought you might have some ideas now about how we can approach this thing.”
“Tony, I still have bad dreams about what we saw back then. I certainly don’t want to relive them now, or get involved in what’s happening on this score today. I’m afraid that I would be of little use to you on this. So, I’m going to have to bow out.”
“I had hoped that you might remember something that happened in 1986 that I have forgotten.”
“I doubt it. You always had the best memory of us all. And, as I said a few minutes ago, I do not want to relive that horror all over again. So, I can’t help you. Thanks for calling. Let’s get together soon and have lunch or something.”
“Yea, sure, and thanks for your help and sympathy old buddy.” The click of the phone being disconnected cut off his next statement, which he thought was just as well because his temper had begun to flare at his old friend’s attitude and he was about to say some things he might later regret.
Chapter 27
Tony sat for a few minutes trying to decide what to do next. He decided that he would go see his dad in the Shady Grove Extended Care facility in Chester. Perhaps he would remember something that Tony had forgotten about the 1986 events.
His father’s room on the third floor of a four-story building. It was pleasant with pale green walls and darker green draperies covering a large window with a light green venetian blind that had been lifted half way up. He looked out the window into the parking lot below and the line of oak trees beyond. It was an altogether pleasing view consistent with one goal of the facility; to keep its patients as calm and relaxed as possible while providing them with good medical care.
Stephen Hunter lay flat on his back on top of the green quilt covering his bed, snoring loudly. He was dressed in light blue trousers and a cotton button-up sweat suite top. His feet were bare. Tony had stopped being shocked by his father’s appearance, but it still disturbed him. The man had been a big strong man with fierce eyes and a square jaw. Now his eyes were sunken even when he was sleeping and his jaw had gone slack. He had lost at least fifty pounds.
Tony sat on the brown leatherette arm chair by the window. He wanted to talk to his dad, but didn’t want to wake him. He would sit for a while. Maybe his dad would stir and he could speak to him. He never expected an answer. As often as not his dad would not recognize him. Sometimes he would recognize Tony but not remember who he was. It had been months since his dad could remember his name even when he knew that Tony was his son.
Fifteen minutes later, Stephen opened his eyes abruptly and said. “Hello Tony. Been here long?”
“Just got here, Dad. How are you feeling this morning?”
“Pretty good.” He slid up on the bed and sat against the headboard.
Tony was in luck. Maybe he could have a real conversation with his dad for a change. He wondered if his dad would know about the recent murders and started to bring them up. He stopped himself, thinking that it would do his dad no good and might disturb him.
“Your friend Maria came to see me the other day,” his dad said.
Tony was amazed. He wanted to ask all sorts of questions but decided to restrain himself. “What did she have to say?”
“Told me that you were the best son a man could have and that I should be proud of you. Course she didn’t have to tell me that, I knew it already.
His smile looked more like Tony remembered it from the past. Maybe he would be able to talk to him about 1986 this time.
“She is a very nice girl, Tony. You hang on to her, you hear?” He hesitated as if searching his mind for something. “What did you say your name was?”
“It’s Tony, Dad, your son, Tony.”
“Well of course it is. Don’t you think I know that? I may be old, but I’m not stupid.”
“Yes, I know that, Dad.”
“Why do you keep calling me Dad? Who the hell are you anyway?”
Tony didn’t answer. He knew that he had lost his dad again. Instead he stood and looked out the window. He knew that trying to talk to his dad about Lisa and the others back in 1986 would be useless. He would have to find another way to find out more. “Well, I have to go now, Dad.” He leaned over and kissed his father on the forehead. By Dad for this time. I’ll be back up to see you soon. You get some rest now.” He left, looking over his shoulder as he went through the door at his dad, who was staring expectantly at him still waiting for an answer to the question of who he was.
Chapter 28
Still trying to expand his knowledge of what they were dealing with, Thad once again called Shirley James, and asked if she had been able to discover more details about the legend.
She apologized for not calling him back sooner and told him a story about a man named Matchiehew. “That is an Algonquin name that means ‘he has an evil heart.’ The legend is that Matchiehew was a warrior that lived before the white man came. He was a medicine man who took to destroying evil, which was one of his responsibilities, by killing those who he considered to be the evil ones, which for him consisted mostly of young people who sinned against the tribal rules and traditions. He was said to have had the power to change himself to look like whatever a person seeing him was most afraid of. A young girl, for instance, might be afraid of bears. He would show himself to her as a bear thus traumatizing her into being slow to escape.
“After killing several young boys and girls, Matchiehew became so loathsome to the other medicine men that they decided to rid the tribe of his influence. The caught him and cast a spell on him that would put him into a state of suspended animation. They then buried him deep in the ground. They were not evil men, however, so they did not allow him to suffocate there in the ground. They did, however, make it so that he would waken every twenty-eight years and become aware of his circumstances. He would stay awake then for a period of two years after when he would return to sleep for another twenty-eight years. Today we would consider that worse than death but their thought processes were different from ours. Anyway, it’s just a legend. Nobody believes that stuff anymore.”
Thad was no so sure of that. “Perhaps some of us might.” He told her about the 1956, 1986, and recent cases.
She said, “but it’s just a legend.”
“Perhaps it is and perhaps it is more than that. Can you tell me where this Matchiehew is supposed to be buried?”
“There is no record, since it is only a legend, but I suppose that, if it had
actually happened, the subtribe he was supposed to be a member of would have buried him somewhere along the north side of what is now called The Appomattox River, since that was where they lived.”
“Thank you very much for giving me your time. Is it alright if I contact you further when we have more data from down here?”
“Certainly. I’m glad to help, so long as you understand that these are just tribal legends, and not real things that actually happened.”
“There is one more question. Why did they pick a number like 28 years for his sentence?”
“Well they didn’t actually. The time period was based on their own reckoning of time. They did not follow the same kind of calendar we use today. The sentence was based on a number of lunar months. Please recognize also that they had no conception of one month being longer or shorter than another. Years ago, a member of our tribe compared their dating method to ours and produced a comparison chart. As we have been talking I looked up the legend in a book I have here and took the time comparison chart out of my file cabinet drawer and looked up the time ratio. The time period you stated, twenty-eight years, corresponds to the time that the legend says they imprisoned him between awakenings. When you add the length of time the incidents continued, two years, that also corresponds with the legend. I keep telling myself, as I told you, that it is only a legend, and nobody believes that stuff anymore. Still, it is a strange coincidence, isn’t it?”
“Let’s hope that that is all that it is. Thank you. I suspect that we will talk again.’’
“Any time Professor. You have my number.”
So, what she was describing was a shape shifting entity that was supposed to be buried forever but had found some way to escape about every twenty-eight years to kidnap young people and mutilate and kill them. According to the legend the Indian had been made immortal.
He went back to his computer and found similar incidents every thirty years going back to the 1956. He wondered what might have happened back then to free the Indian. He remembered Tony’s story about finding the girl Lisa in a mica mine. It occurred to him that the first appearance of the Indian had occurred after the time the mines were opened. Perhaps the Indian was uncovered when they were drilling for mica. He found a map in the archology files that included the location of all the mic mines they had found at the time of the research paper mapping them.
Thad was starting to believe that Tony might be right and decided to go see Maria and Joe Marshall.
They listened to his story without interruption. Then Joe said, “I think both you and Tony have active imaginations. I always knew that Tony did but frankly I’m surprised at you Doctor.”
“At first I thought the same, but after my investigation and remembering the Belikosie incident I began to wonder if Tony was not right.”
“I see no relationship between this and the Belikosie incident. That was a strange one to be sure but you are asking me to believe that yet another immortal creature is right now walking among us. To state it mildly, I find that a little hard to, believe. I suggest that both you and our resident horror writer would be better to talk to another kind of doctor about this instead of a policeman.”
Maria had had enough” Joe, I think you owe both Thad and Tony an apology. They are bringing you a possible explanation of recent events and you are accusing them of being crazy, just as you did when Bellicose was here.”
“The so-called explanation they are proposing is nonsense. No human being could live buried underground for hundreds of years and emerge to kill people today. It is so illogical as to be ridicules. How can you as a dedicated hardnosed cop buy this crap?”
“I have to admit that it does sound weird, but with Tony I have seen weird things before and I have begun to believe that almost anything is possible.”
“And you don’t believe that your opinion may be swayed by the fact that the crazy one here is you husband, who you love dearly. I suggest that your judgment is twisted here. Good day, Doctor Goodfellow. If you discover real evidence that will advance this cockamamie theory of yours, please feel free to call again.” He stood and left the room.
“Sorry, Thad. Joe has always been a hardnose. He has to see a thing before he will believe it whether real or not.”
“That’s what makes him a good policeman, I suppose. I didn’t expect you or him to believe me, but it was worth a try.”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you, Thad, but for a police investigation we will need more than theory. Please keep at it and find us something concrete.”
Thad left police headquarters drove to Tony’s house. Sitting on the porch, he told Tony all that he had learned.
Together they searched the beach looking for clues. Clay Barker joined them. “Hello Mr. Hunter, Professor Goodfellow. Can I help you find something?
Thad told him what he had learned.
Clay points up the hill toward the woods. “Did you know that there is a mine cave just up there?”
Tony was surprised, Of course he knew about the mine. He had grown up around there. He was surprised at himself for forgetting it. “By golly, he’s right
Ten minutes later they stood at the mine opening. “It’s too dark to go in there,” Thad said. “And there’s no telling what we might find when we do. I suggest that we search when we are better prepared.”
Chapter 29
Wondering if Tony and Thad might be right, and remembering the Belikosie incident, Maria decided to investigate the earlier incidents.
The computerized records went back only twenty years. She saw no record of a similar incident since 1986. She went to the paper files in the storage room at headquarters and found nothing in the ten years between 1986 and when the computerized records picked up. The 1986 records showed essentially the same information as what Tony had remembered with a few insignificant exceptions. On a hunch, she decided to go further back in the records and found no files that preceded 1960.
She went to the department historian, Sargent Stokes, and asked where the records are before 1960.
“Before 1960 there was no police department in Potaucac. Everything was done either by the Sherriff or the State Police.”
She called the county sheriff’s office and was told that all their records before 1960 had been transferred to the Virginia State Police in Richmond.
She called the state police and was directed to the department of history where a polite young officer turned her over to the civilian in charge of records. There, a woman named Mrs. Barton told her that she could have access to all records with proper identification.
“Where are the records and during what hours are they available to me?”
“We are in the central headquarters in Richmond. Hours here are 7 to 3 Monday through Friday. You are welcome any time during those hours and for as long as you wish to be here.”
“Are any of the records computerized?”
“Only those after the merge in 1960 when the Sheriff in your county turned them over to us. Before that they are all paper, but they are cataloged and merged.”
“Merged?”
“The sheriff’s records and State records have been merged so it is not necessary to examine each separately.”
“Is it possible to have you do some of the research for me?”
“To a certain extent. What specifically are you looking for?
“Homicides relating to young people for the years 1986, 1956, 1926, 1896, 1866, 1836, 1806, 1786, and a two-year period surrounding those dates.”
“I’m afraid that all those dates are not accessible. When the Yankees burned Richmond in 1865 all the records before then were destroyed. I can help you back to 1866 but not before that.”
“How do I put in a request for your help?”
“You just did.”
“And when might I expect to see the results of you search.”
“How about three this afternoon. I will scan them transmit them directly to your department computer; your desktop directly if you gi
ve me your address and code.”
She did that immediately. “I can’t thank you enough for your help. You will save me a half days’ time by doing this.”
“No problem.”
While waiting for the records from State, Maria scanned newspaper archives on the papers’ computers. She founds some information about the 2016, 1986, and 1956 incidents but nothing further back than that. It seems that the papers had the same problem during the war between the states that the State police did. The reports about the 1986 incident were essentially the same as the local police records. There are articles about the 1956 incidents. In that time four teenagers are kidnapped and murdered with the same M.O. as the 1986 incidents. The perp is never identified or captured just as was true in the 1986 incidents. The bodies were beheaded and mutilated in both incidents. The heads were never found.
The reports from State appeared on her computer just shortly after three o’clock, just as had been promised. She glanced through them quickly and sent a thank you note to Mrs. Barton. More thorough study revealed that the records were apparently complete and well organized but shed little additional light on what was happening now. They backed up what she already knew with no significant exceptions.
About four o’clock, when she had read all the reports and made notes where it seemed to make sense to remember the details, she decided to do something she had been thinking about for a day now. He called his sister, Ramona, and asked if she could come over and talk to her and her daughter, Ana.
When she pulled the squad car up in front of Ramona’s house Ana was walking up the sidewalk toward home. She was wearing distressed jeans and a powder blue tank top which made her dark brown hair and tawny skin stand out. She waited for Ana and they went in together.
Ramona came out of the kitchen wearing black shorts almost completely covered by a flowered apron. “Hi sis. What’s up? Have a seat.”
The Watcher: A Tony Hunter Novel Page 11
