Evil Stalks the Night

by Kathryn Meyer Griffith

  “You don’t understand.” He was going to start begging now and that, coming from someone like Ben Raucher, would make me feel worse than I already did.

  As I stood up, my legs trembled. “Oh, but I do understand. You want me to blow my cover and start the circus all over again. I won’t do it. I’m sorry.”

  “A child, Sarah! A poor child like your Jeremy out there.” Now he was getting desperate. He came to his feet, too, and looked over to Jim for support. He found none there. Jim was staring at the wall. As he usually did when he was faced with adversity, he’d withdrawn. A chill crawled up my spine, seeing him that way.

  Ben grabbed my hand and there was ice in his dark eyes. “A child like Jeremy, a child like your brother Charlie all those years ago.” There was a subtle insinuation and I glared at him, something sinking somewhere in the pit of my stomach because I knew what he was going to say next before he said it.

  “Why are you bringing ancient history into this?”

  “It’s not ancient history any longer. I know there’s a connection between this latest murder and your brother’s seventeen years ago. The boy was killed the same way as your brother and the others. It’s a hunch now, but I’m going to prove it, I swear. You know more than you’re telling. I don’t only want your psychic abilities, I want your help. You’re already involved and you can opt to be on my side or you can run away again as you did years ago.”

  His eyes locked with mine and my guilt returned with a vengeance. He had me and we both knew it. He was one smart cop. He did his job well.

  I sat down slowly and cradled my face in my hands, hiding behind my fingers. I had to compose myself, get my thoughts in some kind of order, before I could say anything else.

  After a minute or so, I said, “I’m not running anymore, Ben.” I was so tired. So sick of the games. The avoidance. Running.

  Yet I had to protect my son. I couldn’t put him in danger and if I tried to interfere, he would be. I was angry, again, and it wasn’t Ben I should be cross at. It was the thing in the woods holding us all prisoners. I shuddered. Something snapped inside me and for the first time in many years I felt the anger redirect itself. Wasn’t it time? I was sick of living in fear. It was time to stand our ground and resist. I’d show it! I’d give it a hell of a run for its money before it pulled me down. I wasn’t going to be as easy a prey as the others. By God, I wasn’t! I was going to fight.

  Ben tilted up my chin and searched my face. No longer only a cop, but someone who wanted to be my friend.

  “Sarah, I have the feeling you aren’t involved in these murders in any criminal sense, but I’m hoping you can help us find some answers. I’m afraid there’ll be more murders. It’s a pattern, don’t you see?”

  I looked away and nodded. He gently brushed the stray hair from my face and gave me a reassuring smile. “You’ll help me then? Not only as a psychic but as someone familiar with the case by past experience?

  “Both of you?” He was asking Jim, too.

  I felt sorry for us. All of us lost, pitiful, ineffectual humans up against something stronger and more devious than us.

  I wanted to lay Ben’s head against my shoulder and soothe him. He seemed so upset by the child’s murder. In a jolt of awareness, I had to stop myself from doing it.

  “Ben, I’ll help,” I promised, pulling away. “But anonymously, not officially. No one else can know I’m involved.”

  I’d help him stop the murders, if I could, but it was all I’d do. I wasn’t going to get tangled up with another macho, self-centered cop. No matter how sweet or sincere he acted. They were all alike. Men. All alike. They wanted you until they had you and then they wanted someone else. Oh, I’d help Ben. As long as it didn’t harm any of us, I’d help until it became too dangerous.

  “He’s right, Sarah.” It startled me when Jim spoke up. “We can’t do it by ourselves any longer. Three against something is better than two.” He asked Ben, “Where do we start?”

  I threw a meaningful glance at my brother when Ben wasn’t looking. Be careful, it warned, and he understood. There was only so much we could divulge. If he thought we were totally off our rockers, it would taint the deal.

  “You start with the truth. Or anything you know that might shed some light on what happened last night.” Ben described the murder and what he knew about the case. He asked us a question every so often as his story unfolded.

  I told him about the vision I’d had of the child’s death and told him what he wanted to know about our family and Charlie’s death. There were many things reports and dusty files couldn’t explain—especially the human side of the tragedy. Little details over looked or never reported. I told him as much as I thought he could swallow.

  We talked for a long time. I could see he was distressed by the deaths, and puzzled. The truth wasn’t pretty and I felt sick, knowing I was partly the reason for it. This I didn’t dare tell him. I thought I was at fault somehow, but couldn’t figure out why. There were so many secrets I had to keep. My whole life was a grave full of them.

  There were things I had to say I wished I didn’t. He listened. I could see his thoughts churning behind his eyes. I wondered if he believed everything. I couldn’t tell. “You’re right about one thing,” I told him as he was getting up to leave, “there will be more murders, unless we can find a way to stop them.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, have you had another vision or something?”

  “Not exactly. I feel there’ll be more but I don’t know when. I might not know, I can’t force it. The visions, the premonitions, whatever, come when they come.” I watched his reaction. He was guarding himself carefully. “I never asked to have this so-called gift, Ben. I never wanted it. I hate it. Ran from it, the responsibilities of it, all my life.

  “There are many times I can’t understand what’s going on, or I can’t help anyway. The crime’s been committed. I’m only being shown what’s already happened.” I shivered and I thought he was going to put his arms around me. He didn’t. “Sometimes, “I whispered, “it’s torture.”

  He cleared his throat and gently touched my hand. “I understand. Believe me, it wasn’t easy asking for your help, either. I debated a long time before I came over here today. It’s not that I thought you wouldn’t help, it’s that…” He stopped, perhaps embarrassed at what he was trying to say.

  I finished for him. I’d seen that look too many times not to know it. “You never believed in this kind of stuff before, correct?”

  “You got it.” He was talking to both of us now. “I’ve been a cop for over a decade and, believe me, I thought I’d seen it all. Yet I can honestly say in all this time I’ve never run across anyone I thought was a genuine psychic. A lot of quacks or con artists claim to have the power, but they’re usually trying to get either attention or money. Or both. I used to laugh my socks off at ‘em, hang up on them or not so politely kick them out of my office.” He gave me that scrutinizing look again. “But I’ve never had a case I needed help on more than this one. The boy’s body was the most pitiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Why do you believe I’m the genuine article?”

  “Your track record.” He gave me a smile which helped dispel the awkwardness.

  Had he really accepted my gift, I thought, and could I really help? Or were Jim and I merely two suspicious characters he’d put on his list to be watched because there were too many unexplainable coincidences tying us to this latest murder? I couldn’t be sure, but earlier Jim had been right. We did need help. Ben needed help. Why not help each other.

  “Ben, I have to tell you I can’t promise I’ll see something in time. I mean, as I said, I can’t make the visions come. They do or they don’t.”

  “I understand. You’re sure you won’t come on the case officially? There’s more evidence you’d be given access to if you’d come down to th
e station.” He sure didn’t give up easily.

  “No.” I accompanied him to the door. “I can’t. The media would smell it a mile away and then—poof—I’d be the news story of the day, the brunt of jokes and mistrust, again. You must promise not to mention my name to anyone,” I reminded him, urgently.

  “That’s one of the reasons I believe you’re a true psychic, if one exists. You’re not a fame seeker. You’re not like that, are you?”

  “I’m not. I want to be left alone. I’ve had too many years of intrusive publicity.”

  “And none of us will let you have any privacy,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll call you if anything happens. If I get any more visions.” Looking past Ben through the glass of the door, I saw the sun lowering into the horizon. I didn’t see Jeremy anywhere.

  “I’ll keep you up to date on what’s happening. I have to go home and get some rest, and then I’ll join the men out in the woods again. We’re still searching the crime scene for clues. For anything. I think the department is bringing in specialists to help. We haven’t had a murder like this in a long time.”

  Seventeen years, his eyes said to me.

  “Here’s the numbers at my office and my home.” He handed me a scrap of paper with numbers scribbled on them. “Home number is the bottom one.”

  * * * *

  Then he was gone. I was still looking out the door, seeking Jeremy’s bright head. No Jeremy. When I closed the door I peered out the windows to see if he was on the side of the house or playing in the bushes.

  “What’s the matter, Sis?” Jim asked, trailing on my heels as I walked to the kitchen and looked out the rear door. The tree was empty.

  “I don’t know. I have a funny feeling. I don’t see Jeremy anywhere, do you?”

  Jim shook his head and went out the door at a brisk walk. I stood and watched him move around the corner of the house. He didn’t return for a while and when he did, he was alone.

  “Don’t worry, Sarah,” he comforted. “The kid will be back soon, you’ll see. He’s out playing somewhere. It’s not even dark yet.”

  But it was late afternoon and the sun was a weak ball shining in the sky. “Maybe you’re right. He’s around the house somewhere. I did tell him to stay close.” He could be out hiding in the bushes.

  “He’ll be home before nightfall. He knows the rules, Sis. Besides I don’t think it can hurt him unless he goes into those woods.” He was staring out the window.

  Part of me wasn’t so sure, but part of me refused to accept what had happened the night before, as well as this new murder. It didn’t seem real because it hadn’t touched us. Yet. Then I remembered those screams from the woods, and it seemed all too real.

  Jim sensed my anxiety. I could see it in his expression.

  “If he doesn’t show up in fifteen minutes,” he said. “I’ll go looking for him.”

  I knew I’d be going with him. My son couldn’t be outside after dark. Especially not now.

  I got supper going as if nothing were wrong. Jim sat in the kitchen chair with his guitar and strummed a bit, trying to work out the words of a new song he was writing. His voice relaxed me. I loved to listen to him make his music.

  He had a lot on his mind. I knew there was so much he wanted to say, but nothing he would. We knew each other so well. He was worried about Jeremy, and as frightened as I was, distressed about the child’s death last night.

  But Jeremy was only outside playing as so many other children do. Outside playing. He’d be scooting in the door any minute.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I was washing the supper dishes, rinsing and setting them meticulously in the plastic rack to dry, when I first felt the familiar tingling. I kept my hands busy, but my eyes were on the twilight scene outside the window. It was growing dark. Jim had ceased strumming the guitar and his untouched plate waited in front of him.

  I kept glancing from the phone to the door to the window. Back and forth. Listening, watching and waiting. I wasn’t going to panic—not yet. Jeremy had only been gone an hour. His plate, covered to keep it warm, sat on the counter. Chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy and corn. I’d made homemade biscuits for him. He loved my homemade biscuits, and there was chocolate pudding for dessert.

  The last rays of sunlight seeped away into eternity. No matter how we tried to deceive ourselves, Jeremy’s absence wasn’t normal.

  I tossed the dish towel down on the counter and spun around to Jim.

  He spoke before I did. “He should be home by now. How could we have been so foolish as to let him go out unsupervised, after what happened to you last night? I blame myself,” he whispered vehemently. “I know better than that.”

  “It isn’t your fault. It’s hard to believe this is happening to us again.” But we’d been incredibly naive to let the boy out of our sight. Of course, when he’d left we hadn’t known about the murder. Ben hadn’t told us yet.

  The dim yard was empty. When would we ever get wise? We were cursed. Time wouldn’t make any difference. “I’m going out to look for him. I don’t care how late it’s getting or how dangerous. I’m going.”

  “Sarah!” Jim was behind me as I stepped out onto the porch and peered down the winding street. It looked like it had when I was a child and I smiled for a moment, remembering the games we used to play when we were unsuspecting kids.

  “Sis,” Jim repeated at my shoulder. “You can’t go out there looking for Jeremy alone. We’ll go together.” It took courage for him to say that. “Does he have any friends here?”

  “Not that I know. Too soon. He hasn’t started school yet, and we’ve been busy working on the house.”

  Jim picked up the phone. “I’m going to call Ben.”

  “We don’t know if anything’s wrong. He’s only a little late.” I hated the thought of dragging the police into this. Jeremy might waltz in any moment.

  “Not the police. Ben.” Jim dialed the number that was on the piece of paper by the phone.

  I almost protested and stopped him, but thought better of it. Ben had offered to help and he’d be called in sooner or later. Shades of the past and Jonathan. I gave in. It didn’t really matter. All that mattered was the safety of my child.

  Jim mumbled words into the receiver and handed the phone to me. “I’m afraid I got him out of bed. He wants to talk to you.”

  I felt bad waking him.

  “Hello, Ben?” I tried to keep my voice steady.

  “Sarah, didn’t I just see you?” It took a second to understand he was teasing. His voice was distantly groggy but somehow reassuring. I liked his voice.

  “Yes.”

  “What’s the problem?” His voice was frayed around the edges.

  “Jeremy went out two hours ago and hasn’t come back. Usually I don’t worry, but after what’s happened…” I broke off. Outside it was almost totally dark. Inside I was screaming.

  “Any friends?”

  “No. We’re so new here. Ben, I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to be an alarmist, but he knows the rules and this isn’t like him to stay out past dark. I’m worried.”

  “I’m coming over. We can talk about what to do when I get there if he isn’t home by then. Okay?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “No problem, Sarah. Try not to worry too much. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

  I hope that’s fast enough, I thought. The phone went dead in my hands.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It began the moment the receiver settled in its cradle.

  “Do you feel the cold?” I questioned Jim. My throat closed up. I was choking. The hair on the back of my neck prickled.

  “Cold? I don’t feel a thing. Are you all right?” He was beside me and he took my hand. “Sarah?”

  My mind fumbled,
as an unnatural darkness invaded the house. With a cry of dread, I squeezed Jim’s hand tighter. “Why is it so dark? Jim?”

  I felt his arms wrap around me, but it was all I could feel. The darkness and the cold had taken me into another world and I was lost there, confused and alone.

  I wandered, but I knew Jim’s warm arms were still around me. It served as a lifeline, a tether, and if he hadn’t been there, I might have slipped into oblivion. He gripped me harder.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong. I don’t know where I am.” My voice sounded small. Far away. I was in world of gray colored mists, in a trance. It’d never happened like this before and I was frightened.

  “I’m here,” Jim murmured from another dimension.

  “Your son’s not in danger, Sarah-child. He’s safe,” the soft voice whispered in my ear and in slow dream motion I pivoted around to see a tall, willowy white shape in the distance. I couldn’t distinguish the features, but I knew the voice.

  “Grandmother?” I stepped closer. The figure rippled and shrunk.

  “Safe. He’s safe.”

  “Where is he?” She was shrinking to a pinpoint of light and soon she’d be gone. Why was she leaving?

  “Stay!” I ran after her only to find nothing.

  “It doesn’t want him,” the emptiness chanted. The misty world hummed and thumped around me and the light flooded in as if something had opened a great door. A deep sleeper, I awoke. Jim was shaking me and there was so much noise.

  It was everywhere.

  “Sarah!” Jim’s face was pale as he shook me. His eyes were full of desperation. “For God’s sake, wake up!” There was a horrendous pounding and screaming, a moaning, at the front door and Jim was shaking.

  It had come for us.

  “Wake up,” he cried again and slapped me across the face. It stung down through to my feet. I was so dizzy I swayed, a slender sapling in the wind.