Epistle of the Damned

by M. Lee Mendelson

  Mike sighed, “Well, that’s something, at least. Thanks.”

  “There’s one more thing, Detective. I found a strand of hair in the crib. It doesn’t match the parents or the girl.”

  “Let’s hope that will give us a lead.”

  Mike then met with Amanda’s parents at the dining room table. “Do you folks mind if I record this?” “No, that’s fine,” said Paul Rollins.

  “Mrs. Rollins, have you received any threats from anyone recently?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Have you had any problems with anyone lately? Any enemies?”

  “No, we have no enemies.”

  “Any unusual people around the neighborhood that you’ve noticed? Any strangers?”

  “None that we’ve noticed.”

  “That’s fine, sir. What was the last time you saw her?”

  “My wife put her down around nine, then I went in and read her a bedtime story. I kissed her and left the room about twenty minutes later. She was fast asleep when I left. We stayed up till about eleven, then went to bed. I never fall asleep right away, and I was awake until eleven-thirty at least. I never heard anything until I heard my wife screaming.”

  “Mrs. Rollins, can you tell me what happened? What caused you to get out of bed? Did you hear anything that woke you up?”

  Mrs. Rollins said, “We were sleeping, and I woke up and thought I heard. . .”

  Understandably grief-stricken, Mrs. Rollins broke down and was unable to continue answering questions.

  “That’s fine, Mrs. Rollins. We’ll take a break for now and we’ll talk some more later. We’ll be around for quite a while. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Thank you, Detective,” said Mr. Rollins.

  Mike excused himself.

  After the Crime Scene Technician was done taking pictures, Mike walked through the house to get a better understanding of the layout. He started in the back room. The window was open and the screen was pulled out. This had to be where the suspect made entry. Mike walked down the hallway toward the bedroom, trying to imagine what it must have been like with all the lights out. He stopped and stood just outside the doorway of Amanda’s room. He scanned the room before entering, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

  Mike saw that there was something in the carpet in the corner of the room—an impression? It was only visible at certain angles when the light was just right. He looked closely and thought, A pentagram?

  As he stood there looking at the pentagram, he felt an eerie presence in the room, then a familiar sensation like warm breath on his neck. He then heard an echoing voice whisper from behind him, “Mmmmiiichaellll.”

  Petrified, his blood curdled as he whirled about. He exclaimed, “This can’t be happening.”

  Behind him in the room stood the technician who asked, “What’s that, Detective?”

  “Huh? Oh, nothing I guess. I thought I heard something.”

  There was no one else there. The room was empty except for the two of them.

  Michael started to review all the strange occurrences he had experienced to this point. From the motel, his first day on the job, the Moloch Society, the altar and now this. He had never believed in spiritual matters, but this was all too much to ignore. Maybe all these odd experiences were getting to him.

  I need a vacation, Mike thought.

  Mike then asked the technician to photograph the corner of the room. He had to point the pattern out to her. “If you hold a flashlight at a low angle, I think the pattern will stand out better for the picture. Do you see it now?”

  She replied, “Oh yes, I can see it now. I can’t believe you saw that. Good eye, Detective.”

  Mike went back to Mr. Rollins and asked him, “Sir, have you ever had any dealings with a group called the Moloch Society?”

  “No, why do you ask?”

  Mike explained that it was just a theory he was working on.

  Mr. Rollins, who had tried to stay strong for his wife, broke down and said, “This is all my fault. I must have forgotten to set the alarm last night.”

  “You forgot, sir?”

  “Yes. We just had the alarm installed last month, and I catch myself forgetting to set it all the time. How stupid am I? A lot of good that did us. I’ve been doing better lately though, but that’s the only explanation I have. I was so sure I set it last night before I went to bed.”

  After an extensive neighborhood canvass, talking to as many neighbors as he could find, Mike cleared the scene and returned to the office.

  Later that morning, Robert came up to him and asked, “How you doing, buddy? Any luck with your canvass?”

  “No, I came up empty.”

  “Well, I had a little better luck. I was talking to one of the neighbors, a Mrs. Crenshaw, and she said she heard a car with a loud exhaust driving through the neighborhood and thought it was the newspaper delivery guy. Get this—I then spoke to Mr. Jackson. He said he was on his way to work around three a.m. and saw a black four-door car parked around the corner of the house, right where the hound tracked too. He had never seen it before, but he didn’t see anyone with the car, so he continued on to work.”

  “Could he tell what kind of car?”

  “No, but are you sitting down?”

  Mike had been sitting in his desk chair all along.

  “You’re gonna love me. You owe me big for this one, pal. A fancy dinner at Taureau’s will do. A Mrs. Barbara Benderson said she heard a car speeding through the neighborhood. She was in the front yard around 3:15 walking her poodle, Curly, and could hear it coming closer. She picked Curly up as the car drove past, and said she was pissed at the way he was driving. She stepped out to get the license plate and was going to report it, but didn’t bother once she was inside. Guess what kind of car?”

  “A black four-door?”

  “A BLACK FRIGGIN FOUR-DOOR WITH TINTED WINDOWS AND A LOUD EXHAUST!”

  “For this I have to buy you dinner at Taureau’s? That’ll barely get you lunch at Taco Hut.”

  “Hang on my friend, hang on, there’s more… a lot more. So, she gave me the Florida tag. Ready for this? A custom plate, ‘DVLINME,’ and it comes back to 1989 black Ford Taurus.” “Devil in me?” asked Mike.

  “Yeah, so I ran the plate, got a name and an address. Mark Kearcy at 22062 Abaddon Lane. So, you ready to go pay Mr. Kearcy a visit?”

  Mike said, “Looks like dinner’s on me. Taureau’s it is, but only if this pans out.”

  Robert laughed.

  Mike then asked Robert if he could go with someone else to see if the car was at the house. “If it’s there, call me, and I’ll push a search warrant through. I want to find this kid fast!”

  From the house, Robert called Mike, “Sorry bud, the car’s not here. It looks like someone’s inside, though.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  8:36 p.m. Mike arrived and the three detectives approached the house. The house was a run-down old wooden “Cracker Style” house. The neighborhood was known as a high crime area, and a lot of drug activity was known to take place there. Robert and Mike went to the front door, and Detective Will Mowry went around the side to keep an eye on the rear of the house.

  B-R-R-R-I-I-NGGGG!!! Mike heard the clanging of the old-style doorbell as he pushed the button and waited. He could hear some movement inside the residence. The door creaked open and a skinny, young man in his late teens answered the door. He was not wearing a shirt and had black jeans on. He had a tattoo on his left forearm of a pentagram with the letters M and S in the center. Mike quickly realized that it stood for the Moloch Society.

  Mike said, “Good evening, sir. I’m Detective Carson and this is my partner, Detective McDougal. We’re investigating an incident that occurred earlier this morning. May we ask you some questions?” The subject seemed uneasy, but reluctantly agreed to talk.

  “May we come inside and talk?”

  The subject blocked the entrance and closed the door behind him, sa
ying, “No man, I know my rights. You pigs can’t come in without a search warrant.”

  “Of course, sir. I just thought you’d be more comfortable inside.”

  “Look man, we can just talk right here.”

  “Can I get your name?”

  “Gordon.”

  “Do you have a last name, Gordon?”

  “Preacher.”

  Mike laughed inside at the parody between his last name and the tattoo on his arm.

  “Mr. Preacher, can you tell us where you were this morning between the hours of two and four?”

  “Yeah man, I was here sleeping, why?”

  “Do you own a black Ford Taurus?”

  “No, my roommate does.”

  “Is your roommate home?”

  “No. I haven’t seen him for two days. Hey man, what’s this all about?”

  “Is there anyone else in the house with you? I thought I heard someone else inside.”

  “No man, I’m alone, why?”

  “May we come inside and look around?”

  “You got a warrant, Pig?”

  “Not yet. Do we need one?”

  Mike turned to his fellow officer. “What do you think, Rob? You think he wants to come downtown and talk?”

  Rob replied, “I think that’s what he’s saying.”

  “Hey, look man, I didn’t do anything, and you can’t make me go anywhere!”

  “Actually, sir, the truth is you’re a material witness in a capital kidnapping case, and I think you’re withholding information. So yeah, I can take you down. Unless, of course, you’d be more comfortable talking inside your own home. Oh, and don’t worry about the weed I smelled. I’m not here for that. I don’t really care about a little weed.

  You get a free pass if the dope is all you’re worried about.” With a heavy sigh, Gordon agreed to let them inside.

  Mike called out to Mowry, “Hey Will, we’re going inside. Watch the back for me.”

  “You got it, Mikey.”

  The three entered the dark house. The smell of burnt hemp hung heavy in the air. It was clear that Gordon had just been smoking prior to their arrival.

  “Like I said, Mr. Preacher, I don’t care about the weed. Tell me about your roommate. What’s his name?”

  “Mark.”

  “Mark what?”

  Another heavy sigh. “This is bullshit. Kearcy, Mark Kearcy! Shit man, he’s gonna kill me if he finds out I talked to you guys.”

  “What are you trying to hide?’

  “Me? I’m not trying to hide anything, man.”

  “We have reason to believe that your roommate may have been involved in the abduction of a little girl.”

  “Look man, I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

  “Okay, listen to me very carefully. This girl’s life may be in your hands. The next few minutes can make the difference between you staying a free man or going away for the rest of your life as an accessory in a capital crime. Do you understand what I’m saying here?”

  “I hear ya.”

  “Do you have any objections if my partner looks around while we talk?”

  “Whatever, man!”

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “Yes man, go ahead and take a look around! There ain’t no kid here!”

  Rob looked around the house while Mike talked with Gordon.

  “What do you know about this Moloch Society?”

  “Those freaks? Yeah man, I got caught up with them at one time, but they were way too extreme for me. I got out of there when they started hatching a plan to sacrifice a young kid. I really didn’t think they would do it man, I just didn’t even like the talk of it. They worship some demon called Moloch.”

  “Do you know who started the cult?”

  “I don’t know all that much about it. I was only involved with it for about six months. I just got into because the chicks are smoking hot and are into anything, and the parties are off the charts. But

  when they started getting into the weird shit, I bailed.”

  “What about Mark?”

  “Yeah man, he really got into it, still is. I overheard him talking with someone on the phone the other night about how he knew where to find a kid. Again, I didn’t really think they would do anything. That’s just crazy.”

  “Well, it would seem they followed through with their plan.” Rob called out, “Hey Mike, come here and check this out!” Mike went to the back bedroom where Robert had found an altar. This was similar to the one Mike had found in the closet in the Lugowski murder. It had a black shroud over the table with several black candles and a red pentagram. A picture of a Minotaur demon was placed prominently above the altar.

  “Look at this, Mike.”

  On the dresser was a stack of photos that showed the Rollins’ home. There was a drawing of the layout of the interior of the home, highlighting Amanda’s room. Next to the papers was a photo ID that showed Mark. It read Superior Alarm Corporation, Technician Mark Kearcy, five years.

  Mike recalled seeing a Superior Security sign near the front walk of the Rollins’ house.

  Mike returned to the living room and spoke to Gordon, who appeared nervous and was smoking a cigarette.

  “Gordon, do you have any idea where Mark is?”

  “I . . . I don’t know, man.”

  It took all that Mike had not to lose his cool. “Gordon, do you know where Mark is!?”

  “Look man, I’m scared. You don’t know what these people are like.” Mike stood up, towering over Gordon, and he started to yell,

  “GORDON, YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW WHAT I’M LIKE! TELL ME WHERE TO FIND MARK!”

  “All right, all right, but I’m just guessing. There’s an old shanty the group uses for rituals and parties. It’s out in the woods off of

  Highway 27 in the swamp.”

  “Can you show me on a map?”

  “Yeah man, but look, you gotta protect me, please!”

  “Gordon, I promise you, help me find this girl and no one will hurt you.”

  Mike went out and called to Will, “Will, can you get a map from the car and bring it in here?”

  Gordon then proceeded to show exactly where the shanty was and how to get there. “I haven’t been there in months, but here is where I know it to be. They do everything out there. Man, you gotta protect me!”

  “We will, you have my word. I need you to go to the station with Detective Mowry. We can keep you safe there. Will, can you take him back and sit on him after you get a marked unit to come and sit on the house?”

  “Can do, Mike. Go find the girl.”

  10:09 p.m. Mike and Robert ran to the car and headed out toward the swamp. While they were responding, Mike got on the radio. “MC 17 to Dispatch, I need any available units to respond to the intersection of Highway 27 and Old Camptown Road. We are responding emergency to that location. Request the SWAT team to respond as well. This will be a possible location for our kidnap victim.”

  “10-4, MC-17.”

  The watch commander, Lieutenant Eberle, stated on the radio, “L-9, MC-17, I’ll be responding as well.”

  “I copy L-9, we’re about twenty minutes out. We’ll need all units to stage out on the highway before going back. We have reliable intel that the girl may possibly be out there.”

  10:47 p.m. When Mike and Robert arrived, four marked units were already on scene. There were no highway lights out that far, and it was dark.

  “MC-17, Dispatch, do we have an ETA for SWAT?”

  “10-4, SWAT ETA fifteen minutes.”

  Mike met with the deputies on scene. “Okay guys, this is a long road. Did anyone see any cars heading back into town on their way out here?”

  Deputy Ferrindale spoke up, “I was the first one on the scene, Detective. I saw a caravan of about fifteen to twenty cars on my way out here, but I didn’t think much about it at the time.”

  “Shit! I pray we’re not too late.”

  The shanty sat back off the highway approximately tw
o miles down a long dirt road. Mike looked, and because of all the mud on the paved highway coming from the dirt road, it appeared that all the fresh tire tracks were leaving the scene. There were multiple tracks.

  “We don’t have time to wait. We gotta get back there, Rob!” Mike said impatiently.

  Rob replied, “I agree, brother. Let’s do it.”

  “Okay, I need two of you to come back with us and two of you stay here and watch the highway. Grab your rifles. This might get messy. Two of you jump in my backseat. We’re gonna head back there.”

  “MC 17, Dispatch, we don’t have time to wait. Advise SWAT to come back quietly upon arrival.”

  Mike and Rob donned their vests, and the four officers drove down the long, dark road blacked out. It was a dark night and it had recently rained. The road was nearly impassable, especially in a large four-door sedan, but somehow Mike managed. Ten minutes later, they neared what looked like the entrance to a camp. Mike parked off the road behind some bushes to stay out of sight.

  The four exited, and Mike whispered, “We’ll walk back. Keep your eyes and ears open. But be quiet. According to the witness, the shack should be down that road about five hundred yards.”

  As they got closer to the camp, Mike could smell the smoke of a fire. The smoke had an unusual odor, not the typical oak and pine wood smell, but a distinct odor that he had never smelled before. They got around the curve in the road, and there it was, the shanty. It was dark, and in a large clearing in front of the cabin were the remains of a large bonfire. There were no cars, but they found dozens of fresh tire tracks. Clearly, whoever had been there was gone.

  Mike took out his flashlight and illuminated the dilapidated structure. He could see a freshly painted red pentagram on the door. Painted with what?

  The closer he got, the more it looked like blood. His heart was pounding. “Oh my God, please no! You two, go around the back!”

  “C’mon Rob.” Mike and Robert approached the front door. It was blood and it was still dripping wet. Mike cried out, “AMANDA!?” No response.

  Mike’s heart sank.

  Rob said, “Ready, partner?”

  Mike took a deep breath and moaned, “Ready.”