Slater Mill

by Ron Ripley

  It was a text from Bill.

  Jamie Fernandez found in the Mill. No signs of violence. Just dead.

  Kurt sent a quick reply, thanking his partner for the information, then turned back to the map. He walked to it, picked his pen up off the coffee table, and wrote the new information on Jamie’s tape flag.

  He stared at the map for a minute longer, then he dropped the pen to the table and walked over to his bed.

  I’ll worry about it later, he told himself as he laid down.

  But he didn’t worry about it later.

  His mind wrestled with the problem for a long time before he succumbed to sleep.

  Chapter 16: Uncertainty about Courtney

  Shane had finished with the paper and was pleased to see there were no new fatalities reported in regards to Slater Mill. A man had been found dead nearby, but it hadn’t been close to the building, against the fence, or in the Mill.

  He still planned to enter the structure, but there was no longer a sense of urgency. People were staying away from it, and so Shane could take his time and determine the best way to deal with Pierre.

  Shane’s most pressing concern was how to find Courtney, and what to do with her.

  The dead in the house had continued to search for the missing ghost, yet she had continued to elude them. Shane had seen Eloise and Thaddeus prowling the third floor, and Carl had begun to loiter in Shane’s bedroom.

  Courtney remained hidden.

  Shane suspected where she might be, and he would face her alone. He twisted the rings on his fingers and stood up from the kitchen table. With his hands shaking from the want of whiskey, Shane left the room. He walked in silence, the house comforting with its lack of noise.

  All of the ghosts were hidden, and it made him smile as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. He made his way to the library, entered it, and closed the door behind him. Shane turned on the lights and sat down at the large desk.

  The books Courtney had knocked down previously were all returned to their shelves. It had taken Shane the better part of an entire day, but he had finished it.

  He made himself comfortable in the chair, put his hands on the desk and said in a low voice, “Courtney.”

  Several minutes passed without a response, so Shane repeated her name.

  The lights flickered, and the temperature dropped.

  “Shane,” Courtney whispered.

  Her voice came from across the room, near the door.

  “Hello, Courtney,” Shane said, the words difficult and painful to speak.

  “Why did you call me?” she asked.

  “I wanted to speak with you,” he said. Hesitantly, and in a whisper he added, “And I miss you.”

  “You could be with me,” she responded, her voice moving to the right as she spoke. “I tried to bring you to me, but you resisted. You refused.”

  Her voice grew louder, angrier as she spoke.

  “It’s not my time to die yet,” Shane said, hating the words.

  “Was it mine?!” she snarled, the lights going out.

  “It shouldn’t have been,” Shane murmured. “But it was.”

  “I came for you,” Courtney said, drifting to his left. “I tried to save you.”

  “I know,” Shane said.

  “And then you locked me up,” she continued, her voice rising.

  “You’re out,” Shane said. “And they are hunting you.”

  “I know,” she said, her voice plunging to a whisper. “But you knew where to find me.”

  “Yes,” Shane said. “Close to the oubliette.”

  “The little place of forgetting,” Courtney said. “Because that’s what you’re doing, Shane. You’re forgetting.”

  “No,” Shane disagreed. “I will never forget you.”

  Courtney didn’t answer.

  “Will you stay in here?” Shane asked. “In the library?”

  “What?” she asked, surprised.

  “I would like it if you stayed here, in the library,” Shane said. “I will tell the others not to enter. To leave you be.”

  Courtney flickered into form in front of the desk, a look of surprise on her face. For a moment, her voice sounded as it had when she was still alive. Vibrant and rich.

  “You’re serious,” she whispered.

  Shane’s voice wouldn’t work, so he nodded.

  “Then, yes,” Courtney said, and she vanished.

  The lights snapped back on, and warmth returned to the room. Behind the bookshelf, where the oubliette was hidden, came the sound of weeping.

  Shane choked back his own tears, stood up, and stumbled out of the room.

  Chapter 17: Frank Returns

  “Shane!” Frank called, walking into the house and closing the door behind him.

  “What?” Shane yelled back from the kitchen.

  “I’m home,” Frank said, laughing.

  Shane stepped into the kitchen doorway, dressed in his usual sweatshirt, jeans, and boots, and said, “Well, welcome home.”

  “You’re a miserable man, did you know that?” Frank asked, hanging his jacket up in the closet and dropping his bag to the floor.

  “Yup,” Shane said, leaning against the door jamb. “How was it?”

  Frank shrugged. “Eh. Lots of jocks I knew from when I was a kid. Caught up with a couple of friends from high school. Most of them haven’t turned out too well though.”

  “Did you point that out to any of them?” Shane asked, grinning. “Maybe help them realize how small and miserable their lives were?

  “Ah, no,” Frank replied, shaking his head. “What about you? Did you look into the two deaths at the old mill?”

  “I did,” Shane said. “I’ll tell you in the study.”

  “Okay,” Frank said, and he went into the room. He dropped down into a chair, and Shane entered a minute later.

  Shane looked thinner and paler than when Frank had left for the wedding, and he said as much to Shane.

  “Yeah,” Shane agreed. “I’m not doing too well right now. But we can talk about it after. I want to tell you what’s going on with the Mill first.”

  When Shane had finished, Frank could only shake his head.

  “Definitely deserves some looking into,” Frank said. “Any particular time you want to do that?”

  “I was thinking tomorrow,” Shane said. “I wanted to do a little more research, see if we could find out who owns the building and get their permission to go in. Nashua isn’t a small town that’s not going to get too hyped up about us being in a place we shouldn’t. The cops would be on us in no time.”

  “That reminds me,” Frank said. “I meant to ask you about that female detective.”

  “Marie?” Shane asked.

  Frank nodded.

  “What about her?” Shane said.

  “How do you know her?”

  Shane gave him a small smile. “That’s a long story, Frank, and only a little less painful than Courtney’s story.”

  “Ah,” Frank said. “Well, moving on, think we should go down to City Hall and see if we can dig up some info on the Mill’s current owner?”

  “Yeah,” Shane said. “I need a quick drink first. My nerves are shot today.”

  “Tough night?”

  Shane nodded. “I’ll tell you about it on the way downtown.”

  “Fair enough,” Frank said. “I’ll wait here.”

  “Okay.” Shane stood up and exited the room. In a heartbeat, Carl slid through the wall to stand near the hearth.

  “Damn,” Frank muttered. “You always scare the hell out of me when you do that, Carl.”

  “My apologies, Frank,” Carl said, glancing at the door. “But I am concerned for our friend.”

  Frank frowned. “Why? What happened?”

  “He has granted Courtney sanctuary in the library.” Carl’s voice was filled with anger.

  “What? He let her out?” Frank asked.

  “No,” Carl answered. “She escaped. For a few days, she wreaked h
avoc within our home, but we were unable to lay our hands upon her. Then, it seems, she and Shane had a discussion. She now resides in the library, and we are forbidden to remove her.”

  The thought of Courtney anywhere other than her hidden cell within the walls of the house made Frank uncomfortable. Her past actions had made her a distinctly undesirable houseguest.

  And she wasn’t particularly fond of Frank.

  “What do you need me to do?” Frank asked, glancing at the door.

  “We would have you speak with him,” Carl implored. “He will not listen to us. We, who have known him longest. I believe he sees our motives as suspect. Perhaps spurned on by jealousy. That is the farthest from the truth.”

  Frank nodded. “I know. Okay. I’ll speak with him. See what I can do.”

  Carl gave him a short bow. “Thank you, Frank. I am fearful of what she might do to him. We watch his room, but he has taken to spending a great deal of time in the library. And as I said, we are forbidden from entering to deal with her.”

  “Yeah,” Frank said, sighing. “Yeah. We’ll see what I can do about her.”

  Carl nodded and slipped away as Shane’s footsteps rang out in the hallway. Frank got to his feet as Shane stepped in.

  “Ready?” Frank asked.

  Shane gave him a wry grin. “Yup. Let’s go deal with some city hall types.”

  Frank snorted a laugh, shook his head, and the two of them left the house.

  Chapter 18: Coming to Terms with the Dead

  Jose lay on his bed, still unable to speak. The ghost had damaged Jose’s throat, the skin dead and flaking away. His wife had changed the bandage on it a short time before, and he had written instructions on the preparation of a balm for his mouth and tongue.

  Nothing thus far had helped. Soon he would request that she send for the Olaricha from Boston, if his voice did not return.

  Jose closed his eyes and let his thoughts roam, lifting them above the pain he felt in his throat. His wife had been begging him to go to the hospital, to at least cut away that which was dead.

  He had written ‘soon’, and nothing more.

  Jose had to think first.

  The dead man had been far more powerful than he had imagined. Jose had been surprised as well at the other ghosts. The one who had attacked him, the small man, that one not only killed the living, but trapped their souls.

  With a wince, Jose interlocked his fingers on his stomach and considered the problem. Including the attacker, there were at least three other ghosts. All of them bound to that man. Whether or not they would stand with him in a fight, had yet to be seen. And the killer was strong. He moved beyond the building, which meant he had an ability to project himself, which Jose had not seen before.

  The most difficult part of the situation was not the dead man who tried to kill him, or the ghost’s bounded companions, but Jose’s lack of knowledge in how to deal with such a vicious entity.

  He had brought the iron dust, more as an afterthought than any sort of real preparation. Jose had been fortunate. Lucky, and nothing more.

  If he was to rid the community of the parasitic ghost, then he would need to learn all he could about ghosts.

  On the bedside table, there was a small silver bell, a birthday gift from his wife’s Goddaughter. When he needed his wife, Jose rang the bell. He reached out his hand, careful not to strain the muscles in his neck as he took hold of the cold metal. When he had it, Jose rang the bell. A soft tinkling sound filled the room, and his wife appeared a few moments later. She wiped her hands on her apron and looked at him with a worried expression.

  He motioned for the writing pad she carried, and she handed it to him. Jose unclipped the pen and jotted down the titles of several books in his office. Ones that dealt only with the dead.

  When he handed the pad back to her and she read what he had written, she frowned.

  “Jose,” she said, “are you certain you can do this?”

  Her concern made him smile, and he gave a minute nod.

  “Alright,” she said, and left the room.

  Jose closed his eyes once more. He listened as she searched his shelves. A tiny worm of doubt spread into his heart, one that ate at his confidence and told him he would draw his last breath in the Mill.

  Chapter 19: An Introduction to Pierre

  Kurt and Bill were parked at the end of the Pine Street Extension. They both had pictures of the boys, Seth and Dylan, who had disappeared after a trip to the bodega on Ash Street. There was no Amber Alert, since the boys were fifteen years old, and they were listed as runaways.

  Kurt had his suspicions.

  The boys had been in the Estates, where the super had died in the office. And the Estates were close to the Slater Mill. Something wasn’t right. Not at all.

  It didn’t help that the boys didn’t have a history of running away. Or of being any sort of trouble. Good students, respectful, and now missing.

  Bill tapped his fingers on the steering wheel of the cruiser.

  “I don’t like this,” Bill said after a minute.

  “I know,” Kurt said.

  “There’s been way too much weird stuff here, the past couple of weeks,” Bill said. “Can’t help feeling like it’s got something to do with the Mill.”

  Kurt nodded. “What do you want to do?”

  “I want to check the Mill out,” Bill said, putting the car into gear. “I know we can’t go in, but I want to see if there’s any sign of someone messing around.”

  As Bill drove the car up towards the building, Kurt said, “You know, we could probably go in. If we think the kids are in there.”

  Bill nodded. “If we see a door open, that’s what we’re going to do. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” Kurt said. A feeling of relief swept over him. He had been anxious for days. There was nothing solid, no rational explanation for why people were suddenly dying or disappearing around the Slater Mill. But it was comforting to know that Bill felt the same way.

  Bill guided the cruiser around the back of the Mill, then parked the car. They both got out, looking at the building. It seemed to squat on the earth, a nasty growth in need of removal.

  “They should just tear the damned thing down,” Kurt said.

  Bill nodded his agreement.

  Movement caught Kurt’s eye, and he turned towards it, pulling his flashlight from his belt. He clicked it on and brought it up in one smooth motion, the beam illuminating a short man.

  And passing through him.

  “What the hell?” Kurt asked.

  Bill turned at the same time, saw the stranger, and cursed.

  For a moment, the short man stood there, then he stepped forward.

  “Bill,” Kurt said. “We should leave.”

  “No,” Bill said, shaking his head. “This is, hell, I don’t know what this is. What is that?”

  A terrible feeling settled into Kurt’s gut.

  “Bill,” Kurt said again. “We need to get out of here!”

  Before Bill could answer, the stranger launched himself forward, latching onto him.

  Bill let out a surprised shout that turned into a howl of pain. He tried to pull himself away from the stranger, and Kurt raced to him.

  Kurt tried to grab the stranger, but his hands passed through him, a biting cold attacking his flesh as he did so.

  The stranger snarled something and shoved Kurt away.

  Bill struggled and then stiffened as the stranger plunged his hand into Bill’s chest.

  Kurt scrambled to his feet as Bill’s eyes rolled back in their sockets. Again, Kurt tried to grab the stranger, and once more, his hands passed through him. The pain was terrible, and when the man gave Kurt a backhand, the blow knocked him to his knees.

  Kurt’s head spun, and his thoughts were confused. He tilted his head up in time to see a pair of men racing towards them. The one in front was bald and missing an ear, and as he ran, he lifted his right hand, metal gleaming in the pale light of the street lamps.


  As Kurt watched, the bald man reached the stranger, and struck him, the metal passing through the man. A howl of rage filled the night air, and the stranger vanished.

  Bill collapsed to the pavement, his head cracking against it. His eyes stared forward, and Kurt realized his friend and partner was dead.

  Chapter 20: In the Car

  Shane and Frank sat in Frank’s car, parked far away from the Mill so that they wouldn’t be noticed, but still close enough to see what was going on.

  They had left the dazed officer by the cruiser, the man's partner dead on the ground. Frank had told him to call it in as a heart attack, and Shane had told the man where they would be.

  There was the risk the officer would directly involve them, but it was a risk Shane was willing to take.

  The lights of the ambulance and other emergency vehicles danced in a maddening pattern across the walls of the old buildings around the Mill. In silence, Shane and Frank watched the paramedics examine the surviving officer. The dead man had been rushed to the hospital. Shane knew the cops should have called the medical examiner to retrieve the body, but the man was one of their own. They would do everything they could to save him.

  “Think he’ll talk?” Frank asked in a low voice.

  “No,” Shane said.

  Frank glanced over at him. “Really?”

  Shane gave a terse nod. “He’ll want to know what we did to good old Pierre. I figure he’ll think about telling his duty sergeant, but then he might worry about sounding like a lunatic. Especially if we act like he’s out of his mind. Sure, I might get picked up for the knuckle-dusters, but he’ll get sent off for a psyche evaluation. And that never looks good.”

  “True,” Frank said after a minute. “Plus we won’t tell him a thing if he rats on us.”

  “Yeah,” Shane agreed. “There’s that too.”

  Several minutes passed, and Frank swore.

  “What?” Shane asked.

  “Guess we’re not breaking into the Mill tonight,” Frank said.

  Shane nodded. They had found the name of the current owner of the Slater Mill, but they hadn’t had any luck getting in touch with the man. They had agreed to try and do a quick look before waiting for his blessing, especially after hearing about the missing kids on the news.