“How very Scarlet Letter of him,” Annika said.
“The point is he gets thrown out of the church for a perfectly sane reason. It was a miniscandal at the time and forced some internal changes to the way the church was run. It’s the only reason the book mentions Coakley at all.”
“So they were okay with his wacky ideas on sin?”
“No, he didn’t have them yet,” Soren said. “From what I can tell, the woman Coakley had an affair with died in childbirth, and Coakley took his son and moved to Reapoke Forest. He didn’t start out trying to form a town or a new religion. He got those ideas after he lived there for a while.”
“Why is it important when he became a nut?”
Soren realized he hadn’t shared his conversation with Terry Jacobsen with her.
“I know an expert on ghosts,” he started.
“Terry Jacobsen,” Annika replied matter-of-factly. “We’ve consulted with him on other matters. He mentioned his connection with you.”
Soren was surprised but didn’t push it further.
“Great,” he said. “Then you know he’s the real deal. To make a long story short, Terry said that if enough bad things happen in one place, it can change the character of a location. That place then has an effect on other people who enter it.”
“So Reapoke Forest is evil because of all the evil things that occurred there,” Annika said. “And it makes people do bad things.”
“Right,” Soren said. “It’s like a person. The forest remembers. It appears to trap the souls of the people who die there.”
“With you so far,” she said.
“I initially assumed that Coakley is a big reason why Reapoke Forest is the way it is,” Soren said. “After all, he’s the guy who kidnapped and killed sinners in the forest. And he’s the one who people still see. Evan saw him, and so have others. If the forest has a personification, it appears to be Father Jeremiah Coakley.”
“I agree.”
“But he didn’t go crazy until after he moved there,” Soren said.
“So?”
“Coakley didn’t make the forest evil; it was the other way around,” Soren finished. “After he moves there, that’s when he starts going on about sin and forming his own private cult. Don’t you see? The forest was already corrupted, and Coakley was just another victim.”
Annika frowned at him.
“Okay, I hear you; I just don’t know why it matters,” she said. “We knew some bad shit happened before this. There was a school there, the Indians attacked.”
“Yes,” Soren said, waving his hand dismissively. “I know that, but here’s my problem.”
“You just have one?”
Soren ignored the comment.
“It’s not enough,” he said. “Terry said it took a significant amount of bad things to happen in a single place before it was corrupted. You’re talking about a school where a few kids heard voices and Indians massacred a single family.”
“A massacre sounds pretty bad,” Annika said.
“But it’s not unusual,” Soren said. “The settler who first set foot in Reapoke—he was James Bennett, right?”
Annika nodded her head.
“He was killed in the Indian uprising of 1622,” Soren said. “But a lot of people—all over Virginia—were killed due to that. The attack slaughtered roughly four hundred people up and down the James River. The Native Americans wiped out more than two-dozen settlements and plantations. The attack up the Chickahominy was just Bennett and his family. It’s not enough. What’s the next incident?”
Annika took back the tablet and began pressing buttons.
“Tom Marshall bought it a little while later,” she said. “But he abandoned it because—”
“He said it was cursed,” Soren said.
She looked at him uncertainly.
“It really isn’t enough,” she said.
“No,” Soren said. “If the murder of several people was enough to ‘curse’ a land, this whole country would be overrun with spots like Reapoke Forest. Every battlefield in Virginia would be like a disaster site, the psychic equivalent of Chernobyl. But they aren’t. If Reapoke Forest really is a bad place, it didn’t start with Coakley, and it didn’t start with the Indian uprising of 1622. We’re missing something big.”
Annika’s face suddenly lit up.
“I bet you it was an Indian burial ground,” she said excitedly. “It’s just like The Shining. The Overlook Hotel was cursed because it was built on sacred ground. This could be a similar thing.”
Soren gave her a blank look.
“Sorry,” she said. “My brother loved the movie, but I thought the book was way better.”
“I don’t think it was a burial ground,” Soren said. “I also don’t think it would matter if it was. Cemeteries aren’t usually haunted, much less cursed.”
“Okay, so maybe there was some other dark history there,” she said. “Maybe something that stretches further back.”
Soren nodded.
“My thought, too,” he said. “But I think we need to know for sure.”
“Why?”
“Because we need to understand this place if we’re going to figure it out,” he said. “And to do that, we need to know why it is the way it is.”
“Then we’re kinda shit outta luck, aren’t we?” Annika said. “You’ve obviously been pretty thorough, and the Institute collected all the history books about the site. Trust me when I tell you that Wallace combed the known universe to find all available material.”
“You’re assuming history is only found in books,” Soren said. “But before there were books, there was the oral tradition. And fortunately for us, the experts on the history of the Chickahominy River are still very much alive. After we check out what happened to Evan Turner, that’s where we need to go next. The Chickahominy people may be the only ones who can tell us how this whole thing started.”
They arrived at the police station a half hour later.
Soren didn’t bother to ask again how Annika was able to pull strings to get them inside. He knew now that Wallace Leggett was a thorough man. Leggett had given sizable donations to the sitting Virginia governor, its two senators, the attorney general, and many more government officials. Money earned him access, including to the inner sanctum of the police.
Soren let Annika do the talking, watching her charm the desk station cop and then a series of other officers. She smiled at the right times, laughed at their awkward jokes, and generally ingratiated herself with them. They wanted to help her. It was just a matter of time before they gave her what she wanted.
Soren wondered how she did it. He vaguely remembered being the same way before the accident. He had been a golden child, the star of the track team who dated not just one but several cheerleaders. He had a dim memory of being prom king.
Yet he’d been smart, probably too intelligent for his own good. And cocky. He was always getting John—and sometimes Sara—into some scrape or another and then miraculously getting them back out again. He’d been so lucky, he hadn’t even realized how fortunate he’d truly been. Perhaps he intellectually understood that his life was easy and blessed, but emotionally it just seemed like the way it was supposed to be.
And then suddenly his life fell apart like the clichéd house of cards.
He wondered what had happened to the Soren Chase of before the murders, where he had disappeared to. He still shared many of his attributes. He remained arrogant and convinced of his own invulnerability. He wondered if the accident had made that last attribute even worse. Look, Mom, I survived a night that claimed my three best friends. I really will live forever. Only his mom didn’t want to see him anymore. The last time they had talked, she had screamed that he was no longer her son and called him a “murderer.”
And that’s how everyone treated him now, with a few notable exceptions. He’d lost some inner compass as a result. He felt like he’d been playing the part of Soren Chase for all his life, and the play ha
d turned from a triumphant coming-of-age comedy into a sadistic dime-store thriller. Soren Chase, wanted for a crime he didn’t commit. He didn’t know how he was supposed to act or who he was supposed to be.
“You ready?” Annika asked him, snapping Soren out of his reverie.
He nodded, aware that he had lost track of what was happening around him.
“You okay?” she asked.
Annika was different, even if he didn’t entirely trust her. She at least knew his history and didn’t treat him like an outcast. Of course, he had somewhat chosen to be a pariah. He knew the psychiatric term—survivor’s guilt. He’d always denied that was what he was feeling. He was different than those other sorry sons of bitches who couldn’t handle actually living through a tragedy. But Soren wondered if that was actually true.
“Seriously, are you okay, Soren?” Annika asked. “You’re kinda wigging out on me here.”
He realized he’d drifted off again.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I’m good.”
“Come on. They’re going to let us see where he escaped from.”
“How’d you swing that?” he asked.
But he knew. She’d say it was Wallace, but it was really her. Wallace was just the excuse the cops gave themselves when they surrendered to the whims of a pretty woman.
“You know me,” she said.
She nodded in the direction of a short, stocky officer with curly brown hair and bushy eyebrows, who stood there waiting patiently for Annika to return. Soren let her walk ahead with the cop as he guided them through a series of twists and turns.
“I thought Evan was locked up in the state penitentiary,” Annika said.
“He was brought back here to consult with a detective,” the cop replied. “His lawyer said Evan had remembered some vital information that could help us find the missing girl. He refused to talk in the jail.”
“Who was his lawyer? Do you remember?” Soren asked.
The cop grimaced.
“Some asshole out of Newport News,” he replied. “I can get the name for you later. God, we hated that guy. He even insisted what room we put Turner in.”
Soren and Annika shared a look. They didn’t like the sound of that.
The cop opened up a door on the left, and they entered into a holding cell. Soren scanned the room. It was neatly divided into two parts. The first was a standard room with a table and a few chairs. The second area was a single cell block with huge iron bars, a cot, a toilet, and a sink.
“What happened?” Annika asked.
The cop pointed at a small window near the top of the cell.
“He got out through there,” the officer said.
Soren whistled when he looked at it. The window was thin and narrow. It didn’t look big enough to get a person through.
“How?” he asked.
The cop shook his head.
“We don’t really know,” he responded. “That window shouldn’t open. It’s not designed to. Crazy thing, though. We set Turner up for an interview with the lawyer and the detective and left him in here. When I came back five minutes later, the window was open and the guy was gone. We’ve actually had prisoners try to get out that way in the past, but it’s never been an issue before.”
Soren could see why. The window was ten feet off the ground. To reach it, a prisoner would have to be standing on top of something. But the toilet and cot in the cell were bolted to the ground.
“Can I see inside the cell?” he asked.
The cop nodded and opened up the cell. Soren walked in, an unpleasant memory stirring within him. He had sat in a cell like this for a long time before the case against him had fallen apart. But he didn’t pause, instead staring up at the ceiling by the window. There were several holes right by the window.
Soren thought of the way the gaunt had jumped to the top of his bedroom, its claws digging in. It took little imagination to see the same creature grabbing hold of Evan with one hand and leaping to the ceiling of the cell with the other.
“Were there any security cameras outside? Did they catch him getting away?”
The officer shook his head.
“We had a computer glitch about ten minutes before this happened,” he said. “We have no footage out there.”
“Quite a coincidence,” Annika said.
“I know,” the cop said. “The IT guys swear it wasn’t hacked; it was just bad luck.”
Soren looked over at Annika. It wasn’t bad luck. He thought of the lawyer, who asked that Evan be taken to this specific room. And the “glitch” that just happened to knock out the cameras at the very moment they’d be needed. Finally, there was the gaunt itself. What else could crawl in through such a small space and have the strength to pull a human being up and through a window?
“What time did Evan disappear?” Soren asked.
“About five o’clock yesterday,” the cop replied.
It was plenty of time. The gaunt could have freed Evan and then made his way to attack Soren in the middle of the night. He would have needed help, of course, but Soren had realized that already.
The more important revelation was this: Evan Turner hadn’t escaped—the Association had kidnapped him.
Chapter Twenty
Soren was in such a hurry to leave the station to discuss the impact of Evan’s abduction that he would have missed the clue entirely if not for Annika.
He nodded at the officer and headed for the door, but Annika was moving in the opposite direction. She stared at the cot.
“Did you have anything in the room when you left him?” she asked.
“Just pen and paper,” the cop replied.
She got on her knees and pushed the cot mattress up. Soren saw an ordinary bunk bed, but Annika was running her hands along the seams. Her fingers found a small opening and probed inside. She pulled out a single sheet of bright yellow legal paper with writing on it.
The cop started toward her at once.
“Holy shit,” he said. “Give me that.”
Annika had already unfolded it and held it gently at the top.
“Please, Officer, just give us a chance to read it,” she said.
She said it with that smile on her face that she’d used so successfully earlier. The response was no different this time. The cop nodded his head.
“Just be quick,” he said.
Soren practically sprinted over to where she held the letter and started reading.
Father Coakley has been calling to me. I see him every night when I close my eyes. He has shown me the way. Soon I will return to him, but not for punishment. He will welcome me back as one of his own if I confess my sin.
I met Melissa first. That’s what you have to understand. Sometimes who you end up with is just a matter of timing. By the time I met Alice it was too late. So of course Gavin got her.
I loved Melissa but I wanted Alice. I dreamed of her, those long legs and the way she moved. It didn’t take long for me to realize she wanted me, too. You can see everything in a person’s eyes, and I saw lust in hers—a reflection of what she saw in mine.
And so it became a game between us, with the flirts and the signals. She kissed me in the bathroom one night. She was headed out and I was headed in, and she pulled me inside and gave me the best kiss of my life. I could feel the desire in it, the need. I had to find a way to get her alone.
It wasn’t as easy as it sounds. Melissa or Gavin were always there, and I didn’t dare text or e-mail her in case one of them saw.
The camping trip presented a great opportunity. It was mostly about the treasure, but I also knew how simple it would be to slip off unnoticed. In the dark of night, how easy would it be for us to surrender to what we both want? It was a simple solution.
I know Melissa suspected. I could see it in her eyes. But I didn’t care. Maybe I should have just broken up with her, but I didn’t want to. I wanted her, too. I wanted them both.
I almost had Alice. But it was at that moment that Father Coakley
seized Melissa and Gavin and punished them for our wickedness. He says they didn’t suffer, but sacrificing them was necessary to set them free from sin. I didn’t understand then but I do now. Father Coakley has been instructing me every night I’ve been in jail. It has been a painful lesson.
But he has already shown me what I could become. When I was in the forest with Alice, we were interrupted by a man, a figure we both knew. Of course we did. He was me.
But he was a very different Evan Turner. He was dressed in white robes and at peace. I could see that from the expression on his face. He looked at me and pointed.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he told me. “You have been judged.”
It might have been a delusion, but Alice saw it, too. She screamed behind me when she saw the vision. And even as I was running to help Melissa and Gavin—too late—I must have known what it meant.
The vision of myself was a glimpse into my soul. I need to redeem myself. And there is only one person who can help me do that.
Every night Father Coakley preaches a sermon inside my head. At first I was terrified, but I’ve come to accept his wisdom.
He says they will come for me soon, bad men with ill intention. But I will not be afraid. Father Coakley says they will let me go and I will join him in the forest.
I will join him and be free from sin.
Soren stumbled backward and sat on the closed toilet, staring at the paper as if it had turned into a living thing. Annika and the cop barely noticed and continued reading the letter.
He knew Evan was hiding something, had seen it on his face clear as day. Why hadn’t he pushed him? He’d been so close to understanding and he had let it slide, focused on the rest of Evan’s story. At the time he’d wanted to hear more about Coakley. And he’d missed a critical opportunity in the process.
There weren’t enough swearwords invented for what he called himself inside his head. He’d been sloppy and careless, and it would now cost them all.
When he looked up, he noticed the cop and Annika staring at him, only the latter with an expression of concern. They didn’t know. They didn’t realize what this meant. He felt like screaming at them, but he kept his cool.
The Forest of Forever (The Soren Chase Series, Book One) Page 19
