by Mark Tufo
Jerrod glanced over at the vast collection along the entire wall. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “Most of it.”
“Most of what?” Stan asked.
“Most of it could be brought into question. I didn’t care where it came from as long as it was authentic.”
Stan groaned. “Damn, Jerrod. I don’t have that many receipts.”
“Bring what you do have. We’ll manufacture the rest.”
“Manufacture?”
“Hand write them from people who are either dead or don’t exist. Private collectors, crap like that. We can make receipts on the computer too. Either way, we have to make it look like they’ve been around the block a bit. So if you have any old paper lying around?”
Stan thought for a moment. “Yeah, I think I can come up with something.”
“Hurry up then. I don’t know how long they’ll wait before they show up and want to dig through all of this.”
29
“And it looked like something just reached down his throat and pulled him inside out,” Justin said quietly.
Eckerson shuddered at the thought and Foo closed his eyes and tried to shake the visual that Zimmer had just painted. Sanders lowered her voice even more than Justin had and added, “The smell was the worst part. Being stuck in such a small enclosed space with poor ventilation…” she trailed off.
“And you’ve already made arrangements to ship off the other inmates on that block?” Jeff asked.
“Yeah. I called Joe Patton over at Fannin County. They sent a bus for them,” Justin answered. “They’re the only county lockup around that had any room.”
Jeff nodded and glanced over at the group sitting at the conference table. “They’ve got some pretty neat information that they want to share.” He hooked his thumb toward Calvin and his group. “I think you and Sanders should sit down and listen to what they have.”
Justin glanced toward the group and stiffened slightly. “I get an odd vibe from them.”
Ben stepped closer, “They may look a little off, but if you just listen to what they have, it actually goes along with the stuff we got from Jana’s book.”
Justin gave him a questioning look and shook his head. “Jana?”
“Mattox. The writer. The one who wrote the history of the county…had the list of names that we linked to the deaths so far?” Ben allowed the bells to go off and the connections to be made.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were on a first name basis with the lady.” Justin studied the academics back in the corner. “Okay, we meet and greet, listen to what they have to say, but if it doesn’t convince, I’m not taking it to Scott.”
“Agreed.” Eckerson stepped to the side and ushered Zimmer and Sanders to the table.
When they arrived, he made cursory introductions and apologized for asking them to go back over their data so soon, but Calvin seemed almost eager to share the ‘evidence’ that they had collected.
Justin and Sheryn sat across from the three Psychologists and listened intently while they went over the data they had collated, where they had collected it and the times that they had collected it. Meanwhile, Jeff pulled the case files for the cases that matched the scenes that they had been at. He compared their readings to the estimated times of death as set by Dr. Guffey and made quick notes in his notepad. He didn’t know if the time variance between the actual attacks and their showing up to take measurements would skew their data results or not, but he wanted them to have the most up to date information as possible.
After they finished their spiel, Justin and Sheryn both seemed more than convinced. They had few questions, as it seems Calvin had become adept at incorporating the other’s questions and answers into his presentation.
Jeff moved around by Calvin and slipped him the note pad. “These are the estimated times of the actual attacks for the two places you took measurements. Does this change your numbers any?”
Calvin’s eyes widened as he accepted the notebook. “Thank you. Yes, it may very well indeed change the data sets.” He handed the notepad to Quinn who glanced at the times and made the correlating changes. She typed away at the laptop and referred with Ginger for a moment. When they were done and she tapped the ‘enter’ key, both women sat back a bit and everyone around the table watched as their eyes widened with shock.
“What?” Jon asked. “What happened?”
“Oh, this isn’t good,” Ginger breathed.
Quinn quickly turned the laptop around so that Calvin could see the results. He slipped his reading glasses onto his nose and looked at the X-Y axis chart. “I’m not…” he said, then he clicked the mouse. “Oh my…”
“Don’t leave us hanging, Doc,” Eckerson said.
“Yeah. What happened?” Ben asked.
Doctor Whynot removed his glasses and cleared his throat. “It would seem that we may have been…off a little bit in our calculations.” Everyone noticed that he was visibly uncomfortable.
“How so?” Justin asked.
“By a factor of about three,” Calvin responded.
“Okay. So…what does that mean?” Ben asked.
Calvin turned the computer around and allowed them to see the display. “It means that this thing is much, MUCH stronger than even we initially thought. And we initially thought that this thing had the power of a demon or a…well, something other than a spirit,” Calvin shuddered. “Whatever is fueling this spirit, it’s only getting stronger.”
“Well I think that’s sort of obvious,” Sanders spat. “Look at what it just did to that prisoner. Not many things can just reach down somebody’s throat and rip them inside out by their asshole.”
Justin winced and Eckerson rolled his eyes. Jon turned and stared at her for a moment before Sanders realized what she had done. She felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach just before the other side of the table erupted. ‘There was another attack?’ ‘Why weren’t we told?’ ‘Can we investigate it while it’s still fresh?’ ‘Imagine the readings we could get from a fresh attack?!’ were just some of the things heard from the three as the room almost exploded.
“Alright, alright, settle down, settle down!” Justin yelled. “This is still a criminal investigation above all else, and while we appreciate everything you’ve brought us, we can’t just have you entering a secure area to—”
“You don’t understand!” Calvin interrupted, “A fresh attack could glean us information like you wouldn’t believe!”
“It isn’t going to happen,” Eckerson said, coming to his feet.
Ginger stood and held her hands out, attempting to quiet both sides. “I have a compromise!” she yelled, trying to get both sides attention. “If everybody will just listen.”
“I’m listening,” Calvin replied.
Ginger turned to the law enforcement side of the table and cocked her head. Justin simply nodded, so she continued. “I think you would at least agree that more data would be helpful, yes?”
“You’re not getting access to—”
“I’m not asking for you to let us in there.” Ginger was still holding her hand in place to quiet Calvin. “But what I am suggesting is simply this…we turn on the equipment and you take it in there. Get the readings for us and we’ll log it. We’ll crunch the raw data while it’s still fresh. That’s all. You, or some of your people, can do the collecting. It doesn’t even take long.”
Justin looked around the table at the other officers. Jon shrugged. “Screw it. I’ll do it,” he said, stealing a glance at Ginger. “With your permission of course,” he addressed Justin.
Zimmer considered the proposal. “Fine. Nobody but Foo goes down into the block itself. Jon, they can go so far as booking.”
Jon stood and gave a mock salute. “Gotcha, boss.” He nodded to Ginger, “Y’all grab your gear.” He watched the other three scramble out of their chairs and rush to the doors.
Justin stared at his watch and turned to Eckerson. “It’s been a long assed night.”
“
And it’s only just begun.”
*****
Casper Wineguard stood in central booking along with two other men. Their arraignment dates were set for the following morning so they wouldn’t be travelling with the other inmates on the bus. Casper shivered as he stood in line with the other two men, their new cell assignments being doled to them as they waited. Each man was being issued new items for their cell and Casper had to wait his turn along with everyone else.
Casper knew he was probably going into shock, but he didn’t know what to do about it. When he closed his eyes, he saw that…thing shredding Roger, then slipping out through the bars. Nobody believed him. They said he still had drugs in his system, except he didn’t. When he kept his eyes open, he STILL saw the blood spraying out of the cell like someone had burst a giant water balloon filled with blood, except it wasn’t a balloon, it was Roger.
One moment he was there, promising to kick his ass, the next he was Ragu. Casper shivered at the thought and he felt his knees go weak. He knew that they shouldn’t have done all the things they did. They shouldn’t have stolen all the things they stole. They shouldn’t have bullied the people that they did. Rather, he shouldn’t have been there when Roger bullied them. They shouldn’t have done the drugs that they did. They shouldn’t have tried to get revenge on old man Miller. Casper knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t convince Roger to drop it. And somehow, the Angel of Death got him. Tore him all up.
Casper’s shivers got worse and he felt his knees go out on him. He didn’t notice the officer walking in and bringing the people with him through booking. He didn’t even hear the booking officer yelling at him to get up off the floor. He just kept seeing Roger explode and splatter everywhere. He tried to curl into a ball as his mind attempted to shut down, but someone was picking him up and roughly tossing him into a chair.
“We shouldn’t have done it,” he mumbled as his body leaned to the side and found purchase against a steel desk. “We shouldn’t have done all them bad things.”
“I don’t give two shits what you did. Stand up so we can assign you a new cell.”
“We shouldn’t have stole all that stuff,” Casper muttered. “We shouldn’t have tried to hurt old man Miller.”
“On yer feet!”
“We shouldn’t have dug up all them graves. We shouldn’t have done all them drugs.”
“Whoa! Wait a minute!” Foo interrupted as he came rushing back toward the mumbling Wineguard. “What did you just say?”
“We shouldn’t have done all them drugs,” Casper repeated. “We did a lot of—”
“No, before that!” Jon shouted. “Before that.”
“We shouldn’t have stole all that stuff?” Casper was confused now.
“About the graves,” Jon said.
“We shouldn’t have dug up all them graves?” Casper asked, still confused.
“Which graves?” Jon asked slowly.
“All of them,” Casper said, his confusion fading. “Every last one of them!”
Jon sighed and shook his head. “Where? Where were the graves?” He was becoming impatient.
Casper gave him a confused look. “Why, at the old ghost town. At Little Hope Church.”
Jon stood up straight and pointed at the booking officer. “I need this man over at the station. NOW!”
“He’s due for—”
“I don’t care if he’s due to see the freakin’ President of the United States, get his ass over to the station and put him with Eckerson. Now!”
The booking officer sighed and pulled Casper to his feet by an arm. “On yer feet!”
“Is that about what I think it was about?” Ginger asked.
“God, I hope so,” Jon said. “Let’s get your readings as fast as we can. I want to get back over to the station as soon as possible.”
*****
Maria Santiago woke up to find herself standing in the kitchen again. She was fully dressed and the smell of honeysuckle was just beginning to fade from the air. Although her head was still foggy, she turned in time to see the kitchen door begin to close as the wind pulled it shut. She felt a smile cross her lips as she turned and reached for the broom that she knew she would need.
After sweeping up the dust and sand from the kitchen floor, she made her way from the kitchen and paused outside the study where Mr. Miller had been spending so much of his time lately. She listened intently and could hear voices from inside the study and her blood ran cold. Suddenly afraid that her trip may have been noticed, Maria strained her ears to notice if her name was mentioned. She could hear Mr. Miller speaking with someone, but…was it Mr. Ingram? She stepped closer to the door of the study and held her breath as she pressed her ear to the door. Yes, it was Mr. Ingram. They were talking of receipts and people that she didn’t recognize.
Maria stepped back from the door and let out the breath that she had forgotten that she was holding. Tiptoeing away from the study she made her way back down the hallway and away from Mr. Miller. She had no idea why he would be awake at such an early hour, or even if he had stayed up late, but she didn’t want to be seen covered in such dirt and dressed the way she was. She could not possibly explain it, because even she had no idea what she had been doing.
Maria went to her little room and undressed for bed. Checking the clock on the bedside table she had barely an hour before she’d have to get up, and her body ached. She had no idea what she had been doing, but her boots were filthy and her pants were covered in dirt. She felt as though she had been chopping wood all night and her limbs rebelled against her as she tugged the heavy blankets back.
She settled in bed and pulled the covers up tight, fighting the urge to hide her dirty clothing lest anyone should see them before she could deal with them in the morning…yet sleep found her as soon as she shut her eyes. As her mind slipped into the realm of dreams, she was taken back to the place that she had been dreaming of so often as of late. A little town in the Old West with a tall, dark sheriff and a straw haired beauty with eyes like pools of water.
She smiled as she watched the two of them and their feelings for each other. It was like watching a child of her own grow up and find true love. Maria liked these dreams, for these were the dreams of before. These were the visions given to her from the spirit that trusted her with its secrets. These were the memories of a lifelong past and she had been promised a gift for keeping true to her word to protect these memories.
She slumbered on, content that whatever she was doing, she was doing righteous work.
*****
Jerrod Miller handed another set of .45’s to Stan. “I got these from a couple of Mexicans down by Brownsville.”
“Jesus, Jerrod,” Stan muttered as he shuffled through his receipts. “I don’t know if…wait. I have a receipt for one. No serial number. We could use it for one of them.”
Jerrod sighed and shook his head. “They’re a matched set. It would be too obvious.” He rubbed at his temples. “Wait, let me see the receipt.” Stan handed it to him and he stared at it hard. “This is hand written and in ink. We could maybe make this ‘one’ into a ‘two’,” Jerrod said, handing the receipt back to Stan.
Stan studied it for a moment then selected a pen from the stack that they had collected to match different inks. He tested it on a scrap paper then compared the two. Nodding his head, he quickly changed the receipt and handed it back to Jerrod. Miller looked it over, blew on the ink to dry it and rubbed at it with his thumb to fade it slightly. “Good enough.” He quickly slipped it into his file.
“How many left?” Ingram asked.
“Too many.” Miller tossed back his drink. “We may be at this all night.”
Stan nodded and waved his hand at him. “Next item.”
“Spurs, gold inlay, Mexican.”
“I don’t have anything like that. We’ll have to make one.” Stan turned to his computer. “Give me a name I can use.”
“I’ve used up all of them that I know. Do you have any collectors that yo
u feel safe using?”
Stan thought for a moment. “Actually, there is a guy. Passed away a few years back. Had a decent little collection. We might could make one big receipt on it…call it part of his estate sale.”
Jerrod’s eyes narrowed, “Do you think they’d be smart enough to actually check any of these out?”
Stan sat back and shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. In all reality, this is a pretty petty charge against someone like you. I mean, you’re a pillar of the community. The worst they’ll do is confiscate the property and maybe—”
“No!” Jerrod exclaimed, rising to his feet. His eyes were wild and Stan jumped when he yelled. Jerrod was breathing hard as he stood in a defensive posture before he realized how silly he must have looked. “This probably seems completely out of character to you, but I’ll not lose a single piece. I’ve spent years putting this display together. It means more to me than…” he paused, scanning each piece and regaling in the history of them all, “…than anything.”
Stan slowly stood up and placed a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll help you do whatever we have to do to make sure that nothing happens to any of it.”
Jerrod nodded slowly then stepped back to his liquor cabinet. “Refill?” He lifted the bottle of scotch.
“No, I’m fine.” He nodded to his glass that was still half full.
Miller poured himself another glass, but this time filled it nearly to the brim. He tilted the glass back and let the burning amber coat his throat and settle into his stomach. He stood and watched Stan create a receipt on the computer for an estate sale that he had never attended and include numerous items that he had purchased illegally over the years. He knew that everything they were doing this night was against the law, but he didn’t care. Nothing would come between him and his collection of history.
*****
Jon settled in at his desk and broke out his digital voice recorder then fired up his own computer. He paused for a moment and stared at his desk. “What the hell happened here?”
