Homecoming (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller Book 1)

by Scott Langrel

  “Hey, sexy,” Amanda said. “Not up there chasing women, are you?”

  McCoy opened his mouth to reply, thought about it, and remained silent.

  “Are you there?”

  “Yeah. Almost dropped my phone. Where are you?”

  “On my way home from work,” she said. “Not all of us have trust funds to live off of. Are you still in Shallow Springs?”

  “For the moment. I’m getting ready to head back. Things are screwy up here. I need to sit back and try to wrap my head around it.”

  “So you don’t want any company tonight?”

  “To the contrary, my dear. I need someone to bounce ideas off of.”

  “They’re calling it that now?”

  “Seriously,” he said. “I’ve managed to dig up a lot more questions than answers.”

  “Well, I need to jump in the shower. I could come over in a couple of hours if you’ll be back by then.”

  “I will be.”

  “I can stop and get chicken?”

  “That’d be great. See you in a little while.”

  “Finn?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Be careful.”

  “Every chance I get.”

  McCoy ended the call, then immediately hit the talk button again. He needed to make a call while he had a good signal.

  “What’s the word?” Lyle asked when he answered.

  “I’m up on the mountain now, but I’m getting ready to head home. Thought I’d let you know.”

  “Did you find anything?”

  “Maybe. Listen, it might be a good idea to put some patrols around here tonight. And out Duncan Road, too.”

  “Okay. I can do that.”

  “And tell your boys to use extreme caution if they come up on a beautiful, naked girl.”

  “What?” the sheriff asked. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  “I think I know why Ben Rollins stopped in the middle of that road.”

  Chapter Six

  It was nearly eight when McCoy arrived home. Amanda, ever a poster girl for punctuality, pulled in right behind him. He hopped out of Boo and went to open her door.

  “Impeccable timing,” he said as she got out. He bent over and gave her a kiss. It felt like winning the lottery.

  “Keep that up, and you’ll be bouncing the mattress instead of ideas,” she said. She shoved a bucket of chicken at him. “I didn’t get drinks.”

  “There’s beer and soda in the fridge.”

  They went inside. Amanda set out the food while McCoy went to the bathroom. It had been a long drive back from the Springs, and he was pretty sure he’d soon be able to add prostate trouble to his growing list of ailments. Hooray for getting old.

  “So, did you find anything interesting?” Amanda asked when he rejoined her at the kitchen table.

  “Plenty,” he replied as he sat down. “I just don’t know what to make of it. There’s definitely something funny going on in Shallow Springs.”

  “There’s an oxymoron,” she said. “Funny and Shallow Springs don’t exactly go together.”

  “Fine. Weird.”

  “That’s better.”

  “Lyle’s got his back to the wall, and he knows it. I don’t think these killings are just going to stop on their own. In fact, this may just be the beginning.”

  “Is it the Sluagh, like you thought?”

  McCoy shook his head. “I’m almost positive it is. But something’s different. They’ve never been so bold or organized before. And I saw this naked girl..”

  “Whoa. Time out.” Amanda had been about to take a bite of chicken, but she let it fall back into her plate. “You didn’t think to mention that when I called?”

  “Oh, I thought plenty. Then I came to my senses.”

  Amanda flicked a piece of biscuit at him. It bounced off his nose.

  “Okay,” he said. “Here’s what happened. I was driving up Monster Road, and this girl comes busting out of the woods, not a stitch of clothes on. She stops for a second, looks at me, and then takes off. I tried going after her, but it was no use.”

  “See? I knew you were up there chasing women.”

  “Well, I didn’t have a prayer of catching this one, believe me.”

  “Do you think she was one of them?” Amanda asked.

  “No. I mean, I’m pretty sure she was human.”

  “Maybe she was being chased.”

  McCoy shook his head. “She was going somewhere. In a hurry. She didn’t expect to see anyone on the road. It surprised her as much as it did me.”

  “Are we talking young girl?”

  “Nineteen, twenty. Somewhere around that. She looked…almost feral. I tell you, it was a sight to see.”

  “I bet it was,” Amanda said with a smirk. “Do you think she’s the same one?”

  “Same as what?” McCoy asked, shoving a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

  “The little girl that the demon showed you.”

  McCoy froze, spoon still in his mouth. He looked like he’d just been told he was eating puréed ass.

  “I swear, Finn. For being a big-time paranormal handler, you have the hardest time putting two and two together.”

  “Damn!” he said through the mouthful of potatoes. He swallowed. “It could have been her. I didn’t get a good look at her face, but the hair color was right.” He looked at Amanda. “How did I ever make it before I met you?”

  “Just keep asking yourself that,” she said with a smug smile. “And wipe your mouth. You’ve got potatoes dripping from your chin.”

  He took a napkin and ran it across his mouth. It made sense. He had almost forgotten about the image of the little girl. She had to fit into this somehow, and since she wasn’t one of the victims…

  “We need to find out who she is,” he said. “She might end up being the key to this whole thing.”

  “And how do we do that?”

  “We can try the internet, but it may not be much help. Maybe you could go with me tomorrow and research back issues of the local paper. Could be she’s a local that’s been reported missing.”

  It was Amanda’s turn to stop in mid bite. “You want me to come with you?”

  “Sure, if you can take off from work. But I want you to stay in town.”

  She looked at him, undecided.

  “Meet me halfway on this?” he asked.

  Amanda smiled. “Okay. I’m sure they can do without me for one day.”

  “Great. I want to get an early start. Can you be here around seven?”

  “That depends on what time you let me go home,” she teased.

  McCoy thought about it.

  “Let’s make it eight,” he said.

  ***

  Big John Talbot had a quandary on his hands.

  John was currently patrolling Duncan Road, on the lookout for who-the-hell- knew-what, but his thoughts were a thousand miles away. He knew he should be paying attention to the task at hand, but there were some hard questions nagging at him, and he just couldn’t shut them out.

  He had never wanted to be anything other than a cop. When he’d been a kid, he had never wanted to be a firefighter or astronaut. In high school, when other kids had been talking about college or trade schools, John had kept his sights set steadfastly on the Academy. At sixteen, however, he’d lost the middle finger of his right hand in an accident, and his dreams of the Police Academy had gone down the drain.

  He had found renewed hope when Bob Lyle had hired him on as a deputy. Some people viewed it as only a step above a rent-a-cop, but to John, the job was a godsend. He even had aspirations of running for sheriff when Lyle decided to pack it in, hence the moral dilemma he was now facing.

  On one hand, he was Lyle’s deputy, and it was his job to support the sheriff and follow orders without question. This was something that John usually had no trouble with, but in the past few weeks, it had become increasingly difficult.

  Sheriff Lyle had never been in the habit of explaini
ng his orders or the reasons behind them, but since the disappearances had started, he had become downright closemouthed and openly hostile to anyone who questioned him. Normally, this wouldn’t have overly concerned John. Lyle could be a moody person, and when he was in a bad mood it was wise to avoid him as much as possible. But John saw something lurking behind the sheriff’s unusually gruff disposition: fear. Something about this whole affair was spooking Lyle, and badly.

  Then there was the sheriff’s insistence that there be no outside help. This puzzled John most of all. Even an isolated town like Shallow Springs was hardly cut off from the rest of the world. News travelled quickly via the internet and cell phones. There was no way in hell they would be able to keep a lid on this for much longer. It made more sense to contact the state police before the state police contacted them, wanting to know what was going on because someone read something on one of the social media sites.

  The final straw, as far as John was concerned, was that Lyle was hiding something from them. It was as obvious as the nose on the sheriff’s face. If Lyle knew something and was keeping it purposefully hidden, then there was a chance that this whole thing might blow up on him. And if that happened, not only would Lyle go down in flames, but his whole department would go with him. John’s dream of one day becoming sheriff would die as quickly as his dream of the Academy had.

  Big John couldn’t allow that to happen. He needed to find out what it was the sheriff was hiding, and once he had that information, he would have to decide which path he should take. If it looked like Lyle might be able to control the situation, he would go on being the obedient, faithful deputy he had always been. If it turned out Lyle was in over his head, well…then there might be a call made to the state boys, after all. John considered himself as trustworthy as the next fellow, probably more so, but he was also no fool. He knew that there was nobody to look out for Big John except Big John.

  The cruiser’s headlights cut a bright arc into the desolate night. John was moving slowly. He was in no particular hurry; Lyle wanted him patrolling the area until three AM, at which time Jeff Thacker would show up to relieve him. It was going to be a long night. There was no traffic. Most of the other deputies would have pulled over and grabbed forty winks, but John, his mutinous thoughts notwithstanding, was a good cop and took the safety of the public seriously.

  He thought he saw movement at the edge of the dark woods to his left, and he stopped the cruiser and activated his spotlight. The tree line was suddenly awash with a brilliant light. Though there was no wind, some of the lowest tree branches swayed as if they had been recently disturbed.

  “Somebody there?” John called in his most authoritative voice.

  No answer came from the trees.

  John put the car in park and hit the blue lights. He got out of the cruiser, hand resting on his firearm, and studied the woods. He started to walk closer to the edge of the road, thought about it, and reached back into the cruiser. He pulled his riot gun from its retaining clip, checked to make sure it was loaded, and then began to move cautiously toward the shoulder of the road. Whatever it was that had Lyle on edge had infected him, and he was suddenly unwilling to take any unnecessary chances. John was a big guy, but he had seen the mess at the scenes of the abductions. He wasn’t about to end up a blood splatter on the pavement.

  “I want you to move slowly out of the woods,” he said. “Towards me. And I want to see your hands.”

  There was a faint rustle, then something that sounded like a hushed conversation. John tensed and leveled the shotgun at the sound. He couldn’t be sure, but it had sounded like a woman’s voice. He realized that he had not radioed in when he’d stopped, a flagrant breach of protocol, and he silently cursed himself.

  “I need you to move slowly into the light,” he ordered, but his voice now carried less authority than apprehension. He had messed up badly. He should have at least told dispatch his position, and probably should have called for some backup, given recent events. He could still call in, but he would have to back to the car, a move that could be perceived as fear or weakness.

  He decided to risk it. There was no doubt in his mind that someone was out there in the dark, and since they had not responded to his commands, it was likely that they were up to no good. He began to back slowly toward the cruiser, keeping his eyes glued to the woods in front of him. The sound of his shoes scuffing against the pavement sounded much louder than it should have.

  “Help me,” a female voice drifted from the forest. It had come from just beyond the reach of the light. John stopped and listened. The woman had sounded weak, hurt.

  “Ma’am? Are you injured?” he called.

  “Help. It…it hurts,” came the reply.

  The voice sounded faint and pained, but Big John knew that if it walked like a duck and talked like a duck, it probably was a duck. And this was probably a trap. He resumed his slow retreat toward the cruiser.

  “Just stay put,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady and even. “I’m going to call in and get an ambulance out here.” And a bunch more cops, he thought. He was within a few feet of the car when something bolted from the woods. It was small, like a child, but it was coming at him incredibly fast. If he had stopped to think about it, he probably wouldn’t have pulled the trigger. But he acted reflexively, and the shotgun discharged with a deafening roar. His attacker was spun around by the impact. The thing gave an ear-splitting shriek and fell twitching to the pavement.

  John looked at the thing. It appeared to be some sort of grossly deformed child. It’s features were grotesque, though whether or not that was a result of the shotgun blast, he couldn’t tell. It didn’t appear to be bleeding, but its skin was smoking from the heat of the pellets. Incredibly, it seemed to be shaking off the effects of the gunshot.

  “The hell?” Big John said softly. He instinctively knew that he had discovered something Lyle already knew, that this thing was part of the truth the sheriff was hiding. The thing was fearsome- looking, for sure, but it was relatively small. John had a hard time believing that this creature had attacked and killed eight grown adults, most of them men.

  There was a shrill cry from the woods, and suddenly dozens of the creatures came bursting from the darkness. John did not even consider firing again. He turned and dove into the cruiser, shoving the shotgun in ahead of him. He was able to pull the door closed just as several small bodies slammed into the car with enough force to rock it. Though terrified, he retained enough sense to realize he had no chance of surviving if he stayed and fought. He jerked the cruiser into gear and stomped the gas. His left rear tire rolled over one of the things, and it emitted an unearthly howl as it writhed on the roadway.

  John glanced into his side mirror and was horrified to see that one of the things had latched onto the rear door handle and was doggedly hanging on. His window was down, and he had the dreadful notion that the creature was going to climb its way up the side of the car and jump inside. Steering with his left hand, he grabbed the shotgun with his right and thrust it clumsily out the window. He was turned awkwardly in the seat, and the car began to veer between the narrow lanes. He aimed as best he could through the side mirror.

  The thing saw what was coming, but the cruiser was moving fast and it didn’t seem to want to relinquish its death grip on the handle. John squeezed the trigger, and the creature was blown away with a quickly fading scream. He tore the hell out of the side of the car as well, but was lucky enough not to puncture his tire, at least. The gun’s report set his ears to ringing.

  John spent the next several minutes nervously checking each of his mirrors to make sure nothing else was hitching a ride with him. After several miles, he began to calm down. The first order of business was to get back to civilization, somewhere with bright lights and other people. Then he would have to decide what he was going to do. He was going to have to make a call, but whether it would be to Lyle or the state police, he didn’t yet know.

  He sped toward Shallow
Springs, thinking the town to be a safe haven.

  ***

  She was furious.

  It had finally happened. They had missed one, and a policeman, to boot. He would come back with many more, and now they would know exactly what to look for. And all because one of them had been overly anxious.

  She had been afraid of this. There had been signs over the past several days that her control was starting to weaken slightly. The others were troublesome things, bitter and always fighting amongst themselves, and now that their bloodlust was growing, it was getting even worse. This was why she only brought twenty or so with her each time. Deep down, though she was their Queen, she was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to handle the whole horde.

  But now her hand had been forced. There would be no more time to pick them off one by one. Now she must rejoin the horde and somehow hold them together for one final march.

  By dawn, they would bring the town of Shallow Springs to its knees.

  Chapter Seven

  McCoy lay in his bed and wondered if his luck might finally be turning around.

  He glanced over at Amanda, who was snoring gently beside him. After dinner, they had decided that she should sleep over so they could get an early start in the morning. She had gone back to her place, packed a few things, and returned a short time later. As far as sleepovers went, this was a first, and they had both been a little nervous. The evening, however, had flowed at such a natural pace that they might as well have been living together for years.

  He was as happy as he could ever remember being, but he was also scared. This was unchartered territory for him, and he was afraid he might do something to mess it all up. And then there was his job, or his life, or whatever you wanted to call it. He was scared that she might get hurt. He was also afraid that she might tire of looking into the darkness with him.