Shallow Graves (The Haunted Book 1)

by Patrick Logan

  Chapter 38

  Robert opened his eyes, and at first he couldn’t see anything. He could still hear the gentle sound of waves crashing, but his vision was completely white. And yet, despite this, there was no panic in him. In fact, he felt calm, serene even—completely at ease.

  After several blinks, his sight eventually cleared.

  He was lying on a couch, but had no recollection of how he had gotten it there. Squinting, he managed to make out Cal’s silhouette on the chair, much like the man had been the night before. A passing notion that everything that had happened had just been a dream crept into his mind, but then he realized that Cal’s face and t-shirt were soaked with sweat.

  They hadn’t been that way the day prior. And, besides, Cal and sweat avoided each other like the plague.

  Without moving, not ready to test to see if muscle soreness still gripped him just yet, he continued to look on silently.

  He found Shelly, her back to him, staring out the window. Observing her shapely hips, Robert was forced to squint even harder; the sun that came in through the window was so bright that it made his eyes and head hurt.

  And then everything came flooding back…he remembered Amy in the basement and his heart started to race again.

  The tranquil veneer from the Marrow had dissolved.

  “Amy!” he meant to yell, but the word came out as a dry croak. Still, it was sufficiently loud to get Cal and Shelly’s attention. His best friend’s eyes snapped open, and then he groaned as he quickly made it to him, kneeling down so that they were at eye level. He gestured for Shelly to hurry over, but she was already making her way toward him.

  “Robbo! Shit, Robbo, you scared the crap out of us!”

  Robert turned to Shelly and then Cal. He swallowed, trying to ease the intense dryness in his throat.

  “Where’s Amy?” His words came out nervously.

  Cal looked to Shelly, his eyebrows rising up his forehead.

  He tried to sit up, but Cal gently pushed him back down.

  “Did he get her? Did James Harlop get her?”

  This time when he went to sit up, he shoved Cal away pre-emptively.

  “Goddammit, let me up!” he shouted. He turned to Shelly, who nodded at Cal. “What the hell? What happened to her? Where is she? Did she—did she—?” He couldn’t get the words out.

  “Calm down,” Cal said softly.

  “Don’t fucking tell me to calm down! I want my fucking daughter!”

  Shelly moved into view now, relieving Cal of his responsibility.

  “What is going on? What happened to Patricia and Jacky?”

  Shelly took a deep breath, which wasn’t a good sign.

  “After you bound James,” she began, trying to keep a straight face, “Cal and I took care of the others. They didn’t want to stay here; they wanted to go. They didn’t fight.”

  Robert looked from Cal to Shelly and back again.

  “Great, but what does this have to do with Amy?”

  “Robert, I know we only just met, but—”

  Cal held up his hand, staying her tongue.

  “Robbo,” he said softly. “There is no nice way of saying this, and even if there were, I wouldn’t know what it is.”

  “What?” he snapped. “Is she okay? Did he take her?”

  Cal shook his head slowly, then took his blistered hand between two of his own. Robert should have recoiled, but it was such a strange gesture coming from his friend that he left it there.

  “You need to let go, Robert. You have to let go.”

  Now Robert did pull his hand away, not even noticing when several of the blisters popped.

  “What? What are you talking about? Let go? Let go of what?”

  Cal lowered his gaze.

  “You have to, Robert. It’s time.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Cal looked up again, and Robert was taken aback by the tears in his eyes. Again, confusion overwhelmed him, and it was all he could do to keep his head screwed on straight.

  “Amy’s dead, Robert. I think you know this. She died in the car accident with Wendy.”

  Robert’s heart seemed to stop.

  “Wha—wha—what?”

  He looked from Cal and Shelly and back again so rapidly that he suddenly felt dizzy to the point of becoming nauseated.

  Amy’s dead? She died with Wendy? What? How?

  “Think, Robert. Think.”

  And for some reason, Robert, despite his resistance to this nonsensical idea, took a moment to think—to really think. He thought of Amy appearing on his doorstep, soaking wet, and him wondering why in the world Wendy would let her walk from…from…where the hell was she coming from, anyway?

  Robert squeezed his eyes together tightly and continued to remember that horrible evening.

  After I put her to bed, Officer Dwight knocked on the door, telling me that Wendy died. He said something else, too, but I was in too much shock to remember his words.

  His memories skipped ahead to when he had gone to identify Wendy’s body, and the strange fact that he had left Amy at home…she was only nine years old, for Christ’s sake, why had he done that? And then at the morgue, a vision of first seeing Wendy’s too rosy cheeks came to him, but he also vaguely recalled a second gurney and on that gurney there was another body, one much smaller than Wendy’s.

  “No,” Robert moaned.

  And the pathologist, the one with the stupid round spectacles, had been shouting something about him needing to come back, to identify the bodies, plural.

  Robert shook his head and tapped his temples as if to force these thoughts out.

  “No, no, no…”

  Then there was the funeral, and how nobody had even said anything to Amy, not even her grandparents. And the French fries, the ones at the diner when he had met Cal, how they had been left uneaten.

  Tears started streaming down Robert’s face as these memories flooded back.

  He remembered holding Amy’s picture, the one she had drawn of what at the time he had thought was a beautiful wave, but now knew to be the Marrow…the more he thought about that picture, the more he concentrated on it, the less there it was. Eventually it faded to a blank sheet of paper stuck on the refrigerator door.

  He felt Cal reach out and hold him.

  “No,” he sobbed. “It can’t be.”

  “Check your phone, Robbo.”

  With blurred vision, he picked up his phone from the table, which Cal or Shelly must have retrieved from the basement when he had dropped it.

  There were 37 unheard messages. It took him three tries to dial his mailbox, and four more to punch in his code. Even before he heard Officer Dwight’s voice, he knew what the man was going to say.

  It was the reason he hadn’t even acknowledged the messages before; with all of his messing around with the phone, he had never once thought of listening to the messages.

  It was self-preservation, his mind protecting him from the unthinkable.

  “Robert Watts, this is Officer Dwight. Look, I have been trying to reach you for many days now. I know this is hard, impossible even, and that you might just need time alone. But I need you to head back to the morgue. You need to…to identify and sign off on your daughter’s body. Robert, I’m sorry—”

  Robert dropped the phone and then started to weep, the conversation with Officer Dwight that night of the rainstorm suddenly flooding back to him with unprecedented clarity.

  “I’m soaking wet. Maybe—”

  Robert invited him in anyway.

  “Mr. Watts, I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but your wife, Wendy? She was in a car accident tonight…Mr. Watts, your wife is dead.”

  Robert stared at the man, his expression deadpan, disbelieving.

  “Mr. Watts? I’m sorry, but your daughter…shit, I don’t even know how this happened, how it’s even possible…but it appears that she was walking home, I’m assuming from Landon’s house, but we’re not sure at the moment, wh
en—” The officer had to look away at this point, for fear of tearing up. “When Wendy’s car struck her. It was…it was…neither of them suffered. I’m so, so sorry for your losses, and I know that nothing I can say can help you in any way. I just…I just…”

  Officer Dwight let his sentence trail off. There was nothing more to say.

  “Mr. Watts? Mr. Watts?”

  Epilogue

  “It will be okay, sweetie,” Robert said, wiping tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Take Mr. Gregorius.”

  Amy looked up at him, her eyes wide.

  “But will it be okay? I’m scared, Daddy.”

  Robert sniffed and offered a weak smile.

  “It’ll be okay.”

  “You promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “Ice cream all day? For breakfast, lunch, and dinner?”

  Robert laughed, and then wiped the snot from his nose.

  “Yes, sweetie, all day, every day.”

  She reached for Mr. Gregorius, which Robert held out to her, his hand kept safely behind the animal’s fur to avoid contact. All he wanted to do was to hold her, to hug her, but Shelly had said that probably wasn’t a good idea. He wasn’t sure why, considering that he had touched her so many times since she had died. Maybe that was why he had been able to go to the Marrow and come back, something that he had kept from both Shelly and Cal.

  Just before she grabbed the animal, her hand froze.

  “Have you been, Daddy?” Amy asked softly.

  The question took him by surprise, but it still evoked memories of the waves, their sound, their appearance…the way he had felt when he had been standing alone on the shores.

  The feeling of warmth, of an undeniable fullness, complete and utter fulfillment.

  But that was before the sky had clouded over.

  “Yes, I’ve been,” he admitted at last. “And it is the most beautiful thing you will ever see.”

  There was a short pause before Amy said, “I love you Daddy.”

  “I love you too, sweetie.”

  And then Amy grabbed the stuffed bunny and her image slowly started to fade. As it did, Robert began to sob again, but this time he was crying and smiling at the same time.

  Amy was moving on now; she could finally be happy again.

  ***

  Robert dropped the stuffed bunny onto the casket as it was lowered into the earth, and then he walked away. He didn’t say goodbye; there was no need.

  He had done that in person. And for the first time in forever, he finally let go. Robert felt relieved; he actually felt good. Not Marrow good, but good nonetheless. He didn’t say hi or bye to Wendy’s friends Stephanie or Julie, or even acknowledge Landon, who had also made an appearance. He gave a curt nod to Wendy’s parents, but that was all he offered them. After all, they had given him less when he had been suffering.

  Besides, Robert was done with this life.

  As he walked down the grassy hill toward his car, he realized that Shelly and Cal had moved to his sides and were flanking him now. Shelly hooked an elbow through his and he wrapped an arm over Cal’s shoulder, which was three or four inches lower than his.

  They walked arm in arm until they nearly made it to the parking lot.

  “What are we going to do now?” Cal finally asked.

  Robert shrugged.

  “I have some ideas.”

  Shelly squeezed him tightly.

  “Me too.”

  “Wanna go for a drink?” Cal offered. “My treat.”

  “Fuck yeah,” Shelly replied.

  Robert took his arm off Cal and stared at his friend.

  “You’re buying? You? I think going to—” He was about to say the Marrow before he caught himself. “—the Harlop Estate messed with my ears.”

  Cal shrugged and tucked his hands into his pockets.

  “Whatever.”

  Robert laughed. It felt good to laugh.

  “Well I’m definitely not letting this once-in-a-lifetime experience pass me up. Callum Cheapskate Godfrey is going to buy me a beer.”

  Robert whistled and Cal punched him playfully on the shoulder. As the three separated, Robert scanned the parking lot for his car, but before his eyes fell on his blue Mazda, he noticed a man in a black suit with short-cropped blond hair leaning up against the driver’s side door of a black Buick.

  “You know what?” he said, putting more distance between himself and his friends. “I’m going to take you up on that offer. But I’m going to catch up with you. There is one more thing I have to do, okay?”

  Cal gave him a look, but Shelly patted him on the back.

  “Sure. We’ll be waiting for you.”

  Robert smiled and waited for them to get into their respective vehicles before he changed direction and walked over to the man he knew as Sean Sommers.

  Sean acknowledged him with a nod as he approached, but when Robert came to within a foot of him, the man offered no salutation or introduction. Although it was undoubtedly the same man as the one that had visited his house that day with the letter, there was something different about him now. He was colder somehow, less inviting. More business-like, maybe, which was odd considering that their previous interaction had pretty much been all business. And yet, for some reason, Robert got the impression that this version of Sean Sommers was the real Sean Sommers.

  Robert said the first thing that popped into his mind.

  “You know, one thing has always bothered me—” He shook his head. “No, that’s not right. Everything has bothered me, but the one thing that has stuck in my brain is, why me? I’m pretty sure now that I’m not related to Ruth or any of the other Harlops, or at least I don’t think I am. And I’m guessing you’re not Jacky’s father, either. So why did you specifically come to visit me?”

  Sean shrugged and said nothing. Robert waited patiently for the man to collect his thoughts, but even given the pause, when he answered, he got the impression that it was only a half answer, that there was more to tell.

  Perhaps much more.

  “I don’t have any children,” he said flatly. “At least not in the traditional sense. And no, you are not related to the Harlops. As to why I came to you, that’s a long and complicated story. Suffice it to say that you were selected.”

  Selected.

  After what had happened at the Harlop Estate, this felt more a condemnation than a reward.

  Robert considered asking for clarification, demanding it even, but Sean’s stern expression made it clear that there would be no further explanation.

  At least not now.

  Robert stared into his eyes, and for a brief second Sean’s demeanor faltered.

  “You’ve been there too, haven’t you?” Robert whispered.

  Sean pressed his lips together tightly, but said nothing. That moment’s hesitation, however, was answer enough.

  “What’s coming? When I was there, it was the most serene experience I had ever felt…but then the lightning came, and the thunder. What is the dark cloud that came over the sea? And who is the goat?”

  Sean reached quickly into his suit jacket pocket, and for a split second Robert thought that the strange man was going to pull out a gun and shoot him dead right there in the parking lot.

  But that was ridiculous…wasn’t it?

  Robert breathed deeply when Sean only held out an envelope.

  “Take it.”

  He eyed it suspiciously.

  “What is it?”

  Again, Sean said nothing.

  Robert reached out and took it from the man, opened it, and pulled out a piece of paper that had been folded three times to make it fit. The page was clearly old, the pages slightly yellowed, and it took him a while to make out the faded text.

  It was the deed to the Harlop Estate, and it had his name on it.

  Robert experienced a sharp intake of breath.

  “How?” he asked, looking up.

  Sean shrugged.

  “Wait, are you a
ghost too? Were you friends with Ruth?”

  Sean laughed, a dry, grating sound.

  “No, no. Never met her. And besides, I’m much older than she is.”

  Robert’s eyebrows knitted.

  Older than Ruth?

  Then Sean surprised him by turning away and opening the door to his midnight-black Buick. Robert thought he saw a flash of light and heard the voice of another man inside, but Sean quickly blocked the doorway.

  “Will I see you again?” Robert asked.

  Sean, one foot in the car, a hand on the top of the door, turned back.

  “Oh, I’m sure you will, Robert. I’m sure you will.”

  And then he closed the door, leaving Robert to wonder whether or not seeing the strange man with the short blond hair again was a good or bad thing.

  And if he would ever make it back to the Marrow.

  For some reason, Robert Watts was convinced that the two went hand in hand.

  END

  Author’s Note

  I hope you enjoyed Shallow Graves, the first book in the Haunted Series. There are many more tales due out featuring Robbo, Cal, and Shelly banishing unruly apparitions to the Marrow due out soon. In fact, the second book, The Seventh Ward, will be released in November, 2016. It’s on pre-order right now. Reserve your copy today.

  There at least four books are planned for Robert Watts and his trio, and after that…well, who knows? The goat, maybe. Or Sean; Sean knows some stuff...some stuff he isn’t letting on.

  Ah, that reminds me. Special thanks to Sean Sommers who lent his name to this book by winning a Facebook contest I held. So like my facebook page @authorpatricklogan. Just do it. You probably follow a half dozen people that you don’t even recognize anymore, at least one of which you did only so that you could get a Candy Crush bonus.

  Got a spare moment? Please consider directing your browser to Amazon.com and posting a quick review. Let others know that you enjoyed my book, so that they can enjoy it, too.

  You know, altruism ‘n all that.

  Thanks for reading. I am forever grateful that you decided to spend your time reading one of my books when you could have been doing something else. Like texting.