Four Crows

by Lily White

  Another bark of laughter, and Finn’s expression became dead serious. “The reason I’m bringing this up,” he said flatly, “is because I know you’re not as good as you pretend to be. And I know there was some strange guy outside our house when we weren’t home.”

  His inscrutable gaze locked to mine, anger wrinkling them slightly at the corners.

  “I just want to make sure you know what would happen to any man we find that’s been alone with you.”

  A lump formed in my throat. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what my family would do.

  “A man has many parts, Magpie.”

  Speaking slowly, there was a subtle threat weaved into his words. “Fingers, toes, arms, legs, other parts…” He canted his head to the side and grinned. “Well, hell, you’ve read the books. You know what parts I’m talking about.”

  Tired of his game, I tipped up my chin. “So? What’s your point?”

  His expression dripped with venom, his voice so eerily calm, I shivered just to hear it. “So, it would be a shame for a man to lose all those parts. Don’t you think?”

  Averting my eyes once again, I went back to sketching pencil over paper. There was an obvious tremor in my voice when I answered, “You don’t have to worry about that today, because I didn’t see any man.”

  “Sure you didn’t, Magpie.” A saccharine sweet response. “Sure, you didn’t.”

  The legs of his chair scraped angrily over the linoleum floor. His heavy steps shook the table beneath my hands as he walked away. Releasing a shaky breath, I fought the urge to cry.

  Three days passed quickly after that brightly lit afternoon when I met Maggie. And in the seventy-two hours that followed, my mind had been focused on the family. The hours I spent holed up in my house were filled with research I hoped would paint a clearer picture of the Crows.

  A man obsessed, I’d poured through records of abducted women and children throughout the country, tracking the disappearances alongside any major storms that had occurred. There wasn’t a definite pattern I could follow, and that fact alone drove me to the bottle time and time again.

  I’d missed three days of work and couldn’t afford to miss more, but my boss was a good man who understood when I told him I was sick.

  Sick drunk was more like it, but still sick just the same.

  Scrubbing my palm over the stubble on my cheek, I stared at the countless images of missing women. My eyes memorized the details of their bright smiles and pretty faces. I wondered how many of those women were fortunate enough to meet a quick death, and how many had been tortured for hours, or possibly days? As far as I knew, there was a very real chance that some of those women were still alive out there, but the ruminations were just a momentary distraction from the true task at hand.

  There was no clear pattern I could make out from the abundance of information I found online. In truth, it was a testament to my belief that we were already living in Hell.

  Rape, murder, storms that raged…plagues, heartache, and illness. I couldn’t possibly list every sad topic and event that made this world an unsafe place, couldn’t possibly recite every evil that existed. The God-fearing men had it wrong the entire time. Hell wasn’t a place below our feet and separate. Hell was what we lived through every day.

  The lessons I’d learned in church had all but told me that fact when they mentioned that God had given the Devil dominion over this place.

  I couldn’t take on the Devil himself, but I sure as hell could take on three of his demons.

  Nothing I found was concrete, nothing that could definitively tie three men to the countless loss suffered by the missing victims and their families. Judging by the property and the state of their lives, I wouldn’t have considered the Crows brilliant, but it didn’t take intelligence to stay out of sight, and by remaining in shadow they’d masked every trail I might have followed.

  All I had left was gut instinct, and my gut was churning over the thought that the Crows had everything to do with my family’s disappearance.

  Lucky for me, I wasn’t a court of law and I didn’t need DNA or some other damning bit of evidence to convict them. Circumstantial evidence and Maggie’s reaction had been enough for me to sentence those three fucks to the gallows.

  Pushing out of my chair with such force I left it spinning in place behind me, I moved with weighted steps through my small house in route to the bedroom. Despite the alcohol sloshing around in my brain, I moved with a level step, only bumping my shoulder a few times against the wall as I went down the hallway.

  A sharp turn right and my eyes focused on the seven foot gun safe I’d moved into the bedroom from the garage a year after returning home. The dark grey steel contrasted sharply against the soft, bright fabrics Katelyn had used to decorate the room. Except for the addition of the safe, I hadn’t had it in me to change anything else in the space.

  Within that safe sat three rifles, two shotguns and ten handguns, all sizes, high to low caliber. They weren’t the weapons I planned to use to kill the Crow men because that would be too humane, but they were the weapons I’d use to get close to them and take control. Fighting the urge to open the safe and clean the guns, I reminded myself I’d just cleaned them the other day and hadn’t used them since.

  I knew I was unraveling, breaking apart slowly until all that was left of me was my basic, primal instincts. Eat, drink, sleep, shit, kill. And every once in a while…fuck. That’s all there was. Everything else had died on the day my wife and kid disappeared.

  Put in the simplest terms, I was damaged. I was broken. I had nothing left to lose, which made me the most dangerous type of man. I lacked fear. I lacked morality. I lacked every decent thing inside myself that made me care about consequences. Nothing mattered. And because of that, it made me the perfect predator too.

  I should have called out of work for a fourth day, but a sudden extended absence from the job I’d been loyal to for the past ten years would have drawn suspicion. That was the problem with rural towns. Everybody knew everybody’s business.

  As long as patterns and the usual crawl of life continued forward without interruption, people went about their day and kept their noses down. But as soon as something unusual happened, you might as well print it in the paper because every person would know.

  That’s why I was outside in the scorching heat, my body half buried in the engine of a large combine, wrench in hand as my feet dangled precariously off the frame. Harvesting season would be approaching soon and the farmers had been lining their machines up at the shop where I worked to get them prepped and ready for the grueling task of plowing fields and making what money could be made from the haul.

  A tractor sat behind the combine, the green paint stripped from its sides from years of neglect and work, its tires in need of a change and its engine blowing out a billow of black smoke that had the owner worried the loss of the machine would be costly.

  On any other day, I would have consoled the owner of the tractor and promised him it would be up and running in time, but I couldn’t wrap my head around the job enough to care…not since the Crows returned.

  I had another hour to burn before I could call it a day and drag my weary body away from the mechanic’s yard and back home. But home wasn’t where I’d be going that day. There were other matters far more important than drowning myself in a bottle.

  Unsure how I’d venture onto the Crow property again without being noticed, I became lost in my thoughts. Their farm sat on the outskirts of town, far enough away from any other occupied property that I wouldn’t have an easy excuse for driving by. The fact that I hadn’t been questioned more thoroughly by the men the day they found me sitting in my truck outside their house was shocking. I had no reason to be out there, no reason to be driving by, unless it was their property specifically I was seeking.

  Fortunately for me, the men hadn’t asked, but they sure as hell saw my face, and if they were intelligent men, they would have dedicated my features to memory.
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  “Well,” a deep voice drawled behind me, the sweet stench of a small black cigar alerting me to the identity of the person speaking, “you think you’ll have her running by tomorrow? Tate is getting antsy. He’s already called four times today asking for a time estimate.”

  Laughing to myself, I pushed my body away from the engine, sweat dripping from my brow into my eyes as my feet found and balanced my weight on the running board of the combine. I dragged a rag across my forehead to wipe away the stinging sweat, most likely replacing it with oil, dirt and whatever else had spotted parts of that red rag a putrid black.

  My eyes met Henry Dodd, my boss and long time friend. “Tate hasn’t stepped foot on this machine in ten years at least. I doubt that crotchety bastard could lift his foot up high enough to climb on, much less see where he’s going enough to drive it. Why does he care?”

  Henry laughed, puffs of smoke blowing out of his nose as he pulled the thin cigar from his lips. “He cares enough to force his grown boys up onto that machine. His body might be feeble, but his mind’s not. Said he needs it up and running by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Yeah,” I barked out, my palm wiping the drops of sweat from the back of my neck. “Then go ahead and call him. You can let him know she’s ready.”

  Surprise wrinkled Henry’s forehead, his raised eyebrows disappearing beneath his hairline. With a grin twisting his lips, he said, “I knew there was a reason I hired you. Had to be something decent about your work to convince me to put up with your piss poor attitude every damn day.”

  I grinned. “I come here to work, not talk. It’s not my fault you can’t seem to stay away from me.”

  Not one to miss a beat, Henry smiled brightly. “Well, if you weren’t so sweet out here looking all dirty and sweaty, I’d be able to control myself better.”

  Unable to hide the smirk that pulled at my lips, I stepped down from the combine, wiping my hands on the dirty rag as I approached my boss. “I’ll tackle the tractor tomorrow. Although that black smoke is a bad sign. Not sure what’s causing it. Could be some leaked oil burning itself out, or it could be a death rattle. Won’t know until I open it up.”

  Casting a sidelong glance at the machine in question, Henry shrugged a tired shoulder. “It’ll be Tobias’ call once we know more. A patch job might get it through this season. Might not. But don’t worry about it tonight. Go home and get some rest, Elliot. You look like shit.”

  Without responding, I shuffled past. I didn’t make it five steps toward my truck before Henry’s hand landed on my shoulder, preventing my retreat. Spinning on my heel, I squinted my eyes against the blinding sunlight that framed Henry’s large frame.

  “I know, to you, I’m just your employer, but I also like to think of you as a friend. And I can’t allow a friend to get himself in trouble, if you know what I mean.”

  Henry’s words sent a warning chill along my spine. Rolling my shoulders back, I kept my mouth shut while thoughts raced through my head about the type of trouble Henry knew I was getting myself into. Was my interest in the Crows so obvious that the entire town already knew my plans?

  “You’re hitting the bottle again pretty hard.” Giving me a knowing look, Henry blew out a frustrated breath between stern lips. “Trust me, son, I know the difference between the flu and drowning in a bottle of whiskey.”

  Sympathy softened Henry’s expression, his baritone voice a vibration on the wind. “I know you’ve been dealt a sad hand, but at some point you need to move past it. Stewing yourself in the tears of your past and the alcohol your swallowing to forget it won’t help you survive.”

  He stared pointedly at me, concern burning behind his eyes. “Don’t you want to move past this? Don’t you think that’s what Katelyn would have wanted you to do?”

  I didn’t respond because there was nothing for me to say. Henry had hit the nail squarely on the head, jamming it down so deep there wasn’t an excuse I could give that would force the nail out. But despite how Henry looked at me with pity behind his eyes, I felt relief. If the only thing my boss was worried about was the bottle I nursed nightly to force myself into dreamless sleep, I’d take it. There were far more concerning thoughts running through my mind that I preferred remain hidden from view.

  “The anniversary is coming up,” I explained after a tense moment of silence. It wasn’t a lie, in fact it was the date I planned on taking my time to exact revenge for the loss of two people who had been my entire world. The anniversary was in two weeks - giving me fourteen days to plan the end of the Crows. The end of what had once been my eternal nightmare. I wasn’t sure I’d survive, and on some deep-seated level, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

  “She wouldn’t want this for you,” Henry repeated. He’d never met Katelyn, but he’d known of her. That’s how small towns worked. The adults were friends with the adults, their children carrying out their friendships and disputes as a tiny mirror image of the parents. If Bob Fargo didn’t like Chad Green, you could bet money on the fact that Bob, Jr. was arguing with Chad, Jr. on the playground.

  Henry couldn’t speak for what Katelyn would have wanted because he didn’t know her, not like I did. She was a strong woman, but still skittish. She had a love for stories and often kept her nose buried in books on every subject. That’s how she knew that not even a small, tight knit community could save you from the monsters that lurked in shadow. If they wanted you, they’d find you.

  Although, he hadn’t known Katelyn as well as me, or any other child growing up in our generation for that matter, Henry had known her folks. The pain of her loss sent her mom and dad running for another town hours from where she’d been born, had grown, and eventually disappeared. I couldn’t blame them. They wanted to move on and they needed to escape the shroud of pain that wrapped them in her absence. It made sense that Henry would believe that Katelyn was the same…that she would have run from the memories in order to move past them.

  However, that wasn’t Katelyn.

  Katelyn would have fought tooth and nail to discover what happened to the people she loved. She would have gone just as crazy as me until she found the truth as to what happened to her son. Katelyn would have wanted revenge as much as me, and for that reason, I wouldn’t let go until I had it.

  Tipping my head in acknowledgement of what Henry said, I gave my boss a sad smile. “Maybe you’re right.”

  There was nothing left to be said.

  Henry waved goodbye as I turned to close the few feet of distance between my boss and my truck, climbing in to go home and shower before driving out in the direction of the Crow farm.

  There was nothing more familiar to me than the roar of engines coming from my father’s machines. The smell of fresh cut grass filtered through my senses. The clean scent that belonged to the land spreading out around me promised eternity if I’d just take those few steps that would allow me to become lost within it.

  Lowering myself down the three cement steps from the front door of the house, I looked out across the field watching the cloud of dirt that kicked up from the back of my father’s mower. I paused and wondered how much of that was the leftovers of whatever evil thing my family had done. The wind shifted and kicked that cloud in my direction. Closing my eyes against the onslaught, I didn’t dare breathe it in as I covered my nose and mouth to run across the expanse and find the small trail that led out to freedom.

  I’d read once that whatever you smell, taste, or touch becomes part of you. There was no way I’d allow the death that littered this land to sneak its way into my body.

  The woods were my playground, the stream a trickling beginning of the river that would carry me away from it all if I only knew how to build a boat. Every so often I’d send a stick down that slow current imagining myself riding aloft it and escaping the lonely existence my father and brothers had created for me.

  Secrets were my friends and threats were my chains. My old man didn’t mean anything by it, I knew that. On my head he’d fashioned a crown of the moon and s
tars, settling my body on a pedestal he’d created in memory of the mother I’d never known. I often wondered if he hadn’t become a monster because the pain of losing his wife had been too much. There were times I’d wanted to ask if they’d killed when my mom was still alive, but I was too smart to start conversations I knew would only lead to trouble.

  Despite the joy they found in hurting others, they never talked about it like it actually occurred. Like an insidious nightmare, my memories crept through my head at night, but there was no person who would acknowledge them out loud and admit they were real. I was always told it was someone else’s burden to carry. But how heavy of a burden could it be? Not enough to stop them from committing another.

  Tall grasses in the fields closer to the stream tickled the backs of my legs as I walked. My father never mowed out this far. It wasn’t like the farm was intended for anything more than a residence. There was no need to keep the outlying areas clean, no reason to clear the fields so that they could grow more food than what we needed to survive.

  A person would never hear me complain about the natural landscape. It gave me a place to hide, a place where I could imagine a life outside of the one I was living. No. Not really a life. What I lived was more like a cage, the lock of which had been welded together so that no hope existed for escape.

  The small clearing by the stream came into view and I realized I considered it more home to me than the rundown shack that barely remained standing at the front of the property. Releasing one end of the blanket I was carrying, I allowed the wind to pull it out fully before settling the thick material over the dirt. I kicked off my flip-flops and shivered in response to a breeze that blew across the expanse. Cold weather would be coming soon. I smiled because I knew that meant there wouldn’t be any hurricanes or other storms that would give my family the excuse to kill and head out again.

  Even if it would only be a handful of months, I was pleased to know I’d stay settled in one place long enough to take a deep breath.