by Gord Rollo
“Hey, angel,” Malcolm said. “Great to see you again. Come on in, I’m brewing up some java if you want some.”
“Sounds great, Gramps. I can use some after that drive.”
“Traffic bad?”
“Yeah, crazy bad.”
Kelly followed Malcolm inside and shut the door. He was still wearing his blue-and-white-striped pajamas Grandma Audrey had bought him the Christmas before she’d died. They were a bit worn but he always claimed they were so comfy he couldn’t ever toss them out. Kelly figured it had more to do with them being the last thing his beloved wife had bought for him before passing away, but kept those thoughts to herself. In a way it made perfect sense. She missed Grams too.
“It’s lunchtime and you’re still not dressed,” she asked. “What’s up with that? You need me to do a load of wash for you while I’m here?”
“Nope, got some in the machine already. I just didn’t feel like getting dressed today. Got nowhere to go anyway, so why bother?”
That wasn’t a good sign, and it was one of the red flags the doctors had told them to watch out for when Malcolm decided to stay living on his own. When a person’s mind starts to go, or even if it’s just their will to live beginning to diminish, one of the first things they start to do is neglect personal hygiene and sit around in the same outfits for days on end. Still, Kelly didn’t think he was losing it here; he just didn’t feel like getting dressed. Probably wasn’t a big deal, but she made a mental note to tell her parents about it and keep it under observation to see if this became a habit.
When Malcolm brought each of them a steaming cup of coffee to the dining room table, Kelly decided to let it drop and get right to the point. “Say, did you hear about what happened over at the Paramount Theatre yesterday?”
“I sure did. Terrific news. About bloody time they got some funding to start renovating that old girl again. I was one of the electricians that worked on the big reno back in 1975, you know? Damn flood!”
“No, Gramps, not the renovation. I think that’s come to a grinding stop. Maybe even a permanent one.”
“What? Why? I read in the paper just the other day that the city council had given the green light and some initial funds to get things going again.”
“They did get started, but the workers found a dead body in the basement. A really old body…and that’s not the worst of it.”
Kelly told Malcolm all the gory details about the mysterious corpse found inside the wall of the historic theater’s basement and how the police were pretty sure it had been suicide rather than murder.
“Damn!” Malcolm said, taken completely by surprise. “That’s not the type of publicity they need. They’ll probably never get the full funding to fix that old building properly now. Do they know who it was or why he did it?”
“I don’t know who it is. I think they need to check dental records to ID him but they know why he might have done it. He left a note and that’s kind of why I’m here, to be honest. Apparently it was a man from Miller’s Grove.”
“What?” Malcolm looked stunned, his mug only making it halfway to his mouth before pausing in midair. “What do you mean? How the heck do they know that?”
“The suicide note. I was told it said he’d killed himself because of what they’d done back in the Grove to someone named Joshua.”
The coffee cup fell from Malcolm’s hand, bounced off the corner of the wooden table, and shattered on the ceramic kitchen tiles. His mouth hung open in a silent O, his face pale and starting to tremble. Kelly had never seen her grandfather look so frightened and shocked before and she worried he might be having a heart attack or maybe a stroke. She leaped to her feet and raced across the kitchen to his side but he gave his head a little shake and held his hands up to indicate that he was all right. Kelly checked his pupils and quickly grabbed his wrist to feel his pulse anyway, not wanting to take any chances. There was a red button on every phone in the apartment that would summon the medical staff here in a jiffy, but although Kelly was no trained nurse Malcolm seemed to be breathing fine and appeared to be no worse for wear.
“Are you okay, Gramps? You scared the hell out of me!”
“I’m fine, angel. Sorry, you just caught me a little off guard there for a sec. I was actually daydreaming a bit, just thinking the town council might have to find Joshua’s hidden gold to refurbish the theater and I sure as heck wasn’t expecting you to say his name out loud like that. Back in my house, his name was never spoken. Never! Dad used to…umm, oh never mind. Here, let me clean this mess up.”
“Forget it, mister. You stay put. I can pick up the mug.” Kelly picked up as many pieces of the cup as she could find and tossed them into the kitchen garbage. She headed back to the dining room with a wet cloth to wipe up the spilled coffee. “Sorry I brought it up. I’ve always known you don’t like talking about that place you grew up in. I just thought maybe you knew that dead guy and might know what the heck he was talking about.”
“I probably did know him. The Grove was a pretty small community. Tiny, really. He was likely a friend of my father, Angus.”
“Wow. Small world, huh? And this Joshua guy? Was he rich or something? Why weren’t you allowed to say his name out loud?”
Malcolm tried but couldn’t quite look Kelly in the eyes. With his head hung low, nervously rubbing his gaunt hands together, he said, “It’s not a pretty story, angel, and I don’t know if I wanna tell you about him. I don’t even know if I should tell you.”
“Why not? Who was he? What happened to him?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. It was a long time ago and some things are better off left in the past. This is one of them, trust me.”
“Oh come on, Gramps. It can’t be that bad, can it?”
“It can…and it is. A man committed suicide over it, didn’t he? That ought to give you some clue. It’s not something…something that…ah hell!”
Malcolm buried his face in his hands and covered his eyes. It took Kelly a moment to realize he was crying and trying not to let her see his tears.
“What’s the matter, big guy?” she asked, worried about him and kicking herself in the butt for coming here to bother him today. She was curious as hell, but she didn’t want to distress him so much. “You don’t have to tell me anything that upsets you. Just forget I asked, okay? It’s not important.”
“Yes it is,” Malcolm said, still hiding behind his hands. “It’s something that’s very important and something I probably should have told you and your dad ages ago. There were lots of people who knew what happened but I don’t have a clue how many ever talked about it. Not many, I’d guess. I know it’s a secret my father took to his grave but I was there that night, hiding in the woods, and I didn’t need him to tell me what he and the other elders had done. I watched them do it.”
“Do what? Does it have something to do with this Joshua guy?”
“Yes. Everything. Joshua Miller was the man who founded the Grove. He was the reverend of their church and it was him the village was named after. For a while he was the heart and soul of the community.”
“What happened to him?”
Malcolm sighed, aging another few years in front of Kelly’s eyes as he struggled to decide what he should or shouldn’t say. “Can you get me a new mug of java, angel? Got a feeling this story might take a while.”
Kelly ran to get him his coffee, thrilled to be finally hearing about the mysterious little backwoods community his family had been forced to move away from so long ago. Her own father had never talked about it and until today, she’d seriously wondered if a place called Miller’s Grove had ever actually existed.
Apparently it had.
And something really bad had happened there.
When she’d given him a new cup of coffee, Kelly sat down at the table and waited. Malcolm took a sip and looked deep into her eyes.
“You sure you wanna tell me?” Kelly asked.
“Nope…but I’m gonna anyway. You’re old enoug
h to know the truth. I just hope you’re ready for it…”
Oak Valley, Iowa
September 1936
MILLER’S GROVE
Chapter Five
Killing was something new for Angus Tucker. He’d never even considered it before, never dreamed he was capable of such a heinous act, but if the truth be told a dark anger had crept into his heart lately and whether he liked to admit it or not, murder was on his mind. For the big Scottish man, the golden rule of “do unto others as you’d have them do unto you” was much more than just a friendly verse from the Good Book; they were words of wisdom to live by, solid advice from the highest authority. Up until tonight, Angus could confidently say he’d done just that, lived his entire forty-one years of life as a Godfearing Christian who tried his best to keep the peace and always help his fellow man.
That was going to change tonight.
Cold-blooded murder, he thought, tasting the sound of it in his mind and finding it bitter. You’ll be damned, Angus. Damned for what you’re about to do.
Probably true, but it was a chance he was prepared to take and at least he wouldn’t go to hell alone. Angus gazed around the clearing at the other fourteen men gathered in the woods bordering the cornfields, brooding silently while they waited for the others to arrive. They were all hardworking men, strong, hearty immigrants from Scotland and Ireland for the most part, with a few first-generation Americans tossed into the mix who were already in the valley when they’d settled Miller’s Grove a decade ago. Angus had a long mane of ginger-colored hair and was bigger than most of the other village elders, tall and broad shouldered from years of hard physical labor in the fields so naturally they looked up to him for guidance. His physical stature as well as his calm, intelligent personality made him a perfect leader in times of turmoil and stress. Times like tonight, when the future of their community was at stake.
Not to mention their souls.
“Should we get goin’, Angus?” Charlie Magee asked, another Scot whose brogue was as thick as the day he’d arrived in America. “Looks like we’re a’ here.”
The small crowd of men moved closer, anxious to hear Angus speak, but he waited for the last few stragglers to circle around him so he wouldn’t have to shout. “Best wait another few minutes, lads, just to be sure. We dinnae want to move until he’s started his sermon. Are they in the church a’ready?”
“Aye,” Davey Leask answered from the back, short of breath from having just arrived in the clearing from where he’d been scouting the church. “Only Joshua and three others. If we’re gonna do this, tonight’s the perfect night.”
“If we’re gonna do this?” Angus asked, curious. “Are you and the others having second thoughts? I cannae do this alone, ya ken?”
Most of the elders nodded their heads in agreement, but there were still murmurs in the back and too many people whispering among themselves for Angus’s liking. Singling out Jim Hancock, the oldest and most respected elder present, Angus asked, “What is it, Jimmy? Out with it. We need to stand together or not at all.”
“Agreed,” the diminutive Irishman said, his shoulders slumping. “It’s just that he’s a reverend for heaven’s sake. A man of God. How can we even think about—?”
“He stopped being a man of God a long time ago,” Angus interrupted. “We a’ know that. You, Jimmy, more than most. With your own eyes you saw him meet with the Man in Black, right?”
At the mention of the Man in Black, the crowd went silent. It was a name no one in Miller’s Grove ever said out loud and all eyes turned toward the little man in the front row. “Aye, Angus. I did. He appeared out of the shadows…out of nowhere in the middle of the corn and I watched Joshua walk right up to him and kneel at his feet. I’d never been more scared in a’ my life.”
“And you’re no’ the only one. I’ve seen him too, and we a’ know how Joshua’s changed in the last year. Reverend Miller was a good man, no question. The best of us maybe, which is why we named the village after him. He was our guiding light here in America, but that was before the hard times. He’s been turned from God…corrupted by the Man in Black into a greedy, evil monster who’ll drag us a’ to hell with him if we don’t make a stand. You’ve a’ heard him speak…a’ heard his blasphemous sermons. He’s out of his mind and walks hand in hand with the demons now. For our sake, for our families’, we have to stop him. I dinnae want do this either, but there’s no other choice. God has put this task in front of us and we cannae look the other way any longer. Tonight we end this, once and for all. Are you a’ with me?”
There was a chorus of “Aye” from the Grove’s elders, and everyone joined hands in a display of solidarity. Angus was pleased and more than a little relieved. He had no idea what he’d have done if they’d given up and gone back to their homes. “Good. Then let’s get going and by the grace of God we’ll do what needs done, but first we should pray.” The men huddled together, going down on their knees in a circle around Angus. He knew none of them were prepared for what lay ahead, but they were as ready as they’d ever be. “Forgive us, Lord, for what we are about to do…”
Chapter Six
They broke the circle and immediately left the clearing, walking single file along a narrow dirt path through the woods that led toward the fields. Some of them carried sharpened sticks, some carried rope, and some carried small flaming torches just burning brightly enough to light their way. In another time, another place, a procession like this might have been heading out on a holy crusade or a late-night medieval witch hunt, and even though this was America in the mid-1930s neither of those were far off the truth. To a man, they firmly believed they were on a mission from God.
None of the elders talked, each man lost in his own private thoughts and prayers, the gravity of their decision weighing heavily on all of them, making each step a chore unto itself. Even the woods seemed to feel the tension in the air, the great oak trees towering above and around them usually creaking and swaying in the wind and harboring a multitude of chattering birds, scavenging animals, crawling insects, and all the other normal inhabitants of a forest teeming with life. Tonight they were silent though, the breeze dying off and the wildlife somehow sensing the danger in the air and silently slinking away in fear or staying hidden in their dens and nests.
Angus was at the front of the line, leading the men and trying to appear strong and confident for their sakes even though he felt neither of those. Tonight, appearances were vitally important and he knew the elders needed him to be the rock they could shield themselves behind in the coming storm. He accepted his position without complaint, but inside he was no more prepared for tonight’s confrontation than anyone else. Less maybe, because there was a time not long ago when he’d been a huge supporter of Reverend Miller and had considered Joshua not only a friend and mentor, but the shining example of how God wanted all men to live their lives. Reverend Miller had been the sole reason Angus had moved his wife Anna and their newborn child Malcolm from Scotland, following the charismatic preacher across the Atlantic on nothing more than the man’s word they could make a better life for themselves.
For a time they’d done just that, settling in Oak Valley and planting corn, a crop none of them had ever farmed back in the old country but was perfectly suited for the rich, dry Iowa soil. Building a community from the ground up and coaxing a living from the previously barren fields was incredibly difficult for the first few years. Had it not been for Reverend Miller’s leadership and guidance their tiny village out in the woods never would have gotten off the ground, much less started to thrive. In Angus’s opinion, they owed everything to Joshua: their homes, their community, their livelihood, perhaps their very lives. Simply put, without him Miller’s Grove wouldn’t exist.
But then, just as things were finally coming together and all their hard work was beginning to pay off, the Great Depression hit like a fairy-tale giant, mashing their meager savings beneath its feet, trampling their hopes and dreams but never quite squashing their
spirits. Faith kept them alive, and when times were at their worst, Reverend Miller persuaded the village that instead of giving up they should turn to God for help. The entire community banded together to build the church in the center of their largest cornfield, and once it was done Joshua promised everyone God would provide for them.
Instead of prosperity, what came next were the droughts and heat waves that swept across the middle of the country, devastating crops, withering the corn away to nothing and taking the community’s willpower along with it. In Angus’s mind that was when Joshua had started to turn, when he’d first started to look for answers outside of the Holy Book. Some people said that was when the Man in Black first made an appearance, but Angus believed he’d always been here, always been waiting in the shadows for his chance to sink his claws into Reverend Miller when he was at his weakest. Their fields had made a sudden comeback, the corn crops flourishing when no others in the middle part of the country were. Joshua had reaped huge profits selling food at outrageous prices to all the hungry people in the nearby towns and cities, but something just wasn’t right about the way things had changed and the villagers weren’t as grateful or happy as Joshua thought they should be. Thirty-six months later, things had spiraled down to where they were now, out of control and the Grove’s future all but hopeless.
As they neared the end of the dirt path, word was passed to the torchbearers to extinguish their flames, none of them wanting to give away their position when they exited the woods. They walked the last hundred feet in darkness, using only the light of the moon filtering through the tree branches to guide their steps.
Angus emerged out of the forest followed closely by the other elders and they paused for a moment at the edge of the field. A murder of crows grabbed their attention, soaring above their heads, filling the night sky with the sound of powerful wings. The large scavenger birds were the first animals the elders had seen tonight and their sudden appearance could have been interpreted as a bad omen, but no one seemed too concerned with the local wildlife. Instead, their gaze was drawn out over the high rows of corn to where the white church stood alone in the center of the unnaturally bountiful crops, the only building within sight.
