Devil's Nightmare: Premonitions (Devil's Nightmare, Book 2)

by Robert Pruneda

  Henderson held his hand over the mouthpiece. “Yeah, sure. We can handle it. Everything okay?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Aaron said. “Call me or text me if you need anything.”

  “You bet,” Henderson said and removed his hand from the phone.

  As Aaron took hold of the door handle, he spun around and snapped his fingers. “No, wait, you can’t. My phone is dead.”

  “Hold on a sec, Tim,” Henderson said into the phone.

  Aaron wrote Maria’s cell phone number on a Post-It note and stuck it to Henderson’s computer monitor. “That’s my wife’s cell. You can reach me there if you need me.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  †

  Maria and Aaron waited in the emergency room at Lost Maples County Medical Center for over an hour before a doctor called them back behind the metal double doors.

  “Has Cody had any other health issues besides this sudden seizure?” the doctor asked. “I noticed the scars on his chest.”

  “He, uh…” Maria stumbled over her words and glanced at Aaron, her face covered with confusion and panic.

  “He was involved in an accident a couple of years ago,” Aaron said to the doctor, “but he hasn’t had any health issues other than the flu last year.”

  “What about sleep? Any difficulty? Restlessness? Insomnia?”

  “No, not lately.”

  “But he has in the past?”

  “He had some recurring nightmares a couple of years ago,” Aaron said, noticing Maria’s nervous scratching of her neck. “Nothing recently, though.”

  “Okay. What about head trauma? Any recent injuries from playing sports?”

  “No, he doesn’t play sports,” Maria answered. “Art and reading. That’s what he likes most.”

  The doctor flipped through some papers on his clipboard. “I see he’s not on any prescription medications, but any signs of recreational drug use?”

  “No, of course not,” Aaron said, cocking his head back. “He knows better than to mess with that crap. Cody’s a good kid.”

  “I apologize if that came across as offensive, Mr. Sanders. I’m simply—”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I just…” Aaron ran a hand through his hair. “So, what do you think caused the seizure?”

  “Right now we’re uncertain. He hasn’t had any further seizures. That’s a good sign, but I would like to admit him for observation and schedule a CT scan for tomorrow. I want to make sure he hasn’t developed any tumors.”

  Maria’s eyes widened. “Tumors?”

  “As I stated, it’s only a precaution.” That didn’t seem to ease Maria’s anxiety.

  “Can we see him?” Aaron asked.

  “Yes, of course.” The doctor led Aaron and Maria through another set of double doors and down a hallway to a bed located in the back corner of the emergency room. Cody had a heart monitor attached to him. “His breathing is normal, but judging by the rapid eye movement, he’s in a deep REM sleep. He’s dreaming.”

  Maria placed her hand over Cody’s and squeezed. She brushed her other hand through his hair and pressed her lips gently onto his forehead.

  Maria’s cell phone rang, triggering a hinting glare from the doctor.

  She gave it a quick glance and tapped the screen, silencing it.

  “Who was it?” Aaron asked.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t recognize the number.” Aaron held his hand out. “May I see the phone?”

  She placed it in his hand. Aaron checked the missed calls and recognized the phone number. It was Sheriff Donovan.

  “Why was he calling my phone?” Maria asked.

  “Sorry. I left my phone charging at the office, so I gave Detective Henderson your number. I hope you don’t mind.”

  She shook her head and brushed her hand through Cody’s hair again.

  “I’ll be right back.” Aaron then directed his attention to the doctor.

  “Don’t worry, I know the drill. I’m taking it outside.”

  By the time Aaron reached the emergency room exit, the Sheriff had called again.

  He tapped the green icon to accept the call. “This is Aaron.”

  “I’m sorry to bother ya’, Aaron, but we’ve got a situation at Maple Hills Park.”

  “The boat accident?”

  “A coupla’ kids found a body by the boat ramp. I hate to pull ya’ away from yer family, but I need yer assistance.”

  Aaron grasped the back of his neck. “All right. I’ll be there in about a half hour.”

  †

  Located a half mile north of town, Maple Hills Park was tranquil and scenic, filled with bluebonnets, Indian paintbrushes, and many other wildflowers. Maple trees scattered throughout the park painted the landscape in rich orange and red leaves. The lake itself spanned across approximately ten acres, which made it a popular spot for boaters, fishermen, and jet skiers.

  Aaron drove a quarter mile up a winding gravel road, passing several picnic areas until he spotted a cluster of emergency vehicles near a boat ramp at the far end of the park. He parked his cruiser next to the coroner’s van.

  Sheriff Donovan walked up, tipping his hat in greeting.

  Aaron got out of the car. “So, what do we have here? Boating accident, or something else?”

  “Hard to tell. Looks like gators got to him. Body’s pretty chewed up.”

  Aaron shut the car door and followed Sheriff Donovan towards the boat ramp. Deputy Tim Copeland helped a paramedic pull the headless and limbless corpse out of the water. Bugs crawled all over the algae-covered and bloated torso. Aaron nodded towards a cabana where Sergeant Henderson was speaking to two boys seated at a picnic table. Four other adults, likely their parents, stood behind them.

  “Are those the kids that found the floater?”

  The Sheriff nodded. “Middle school kids. Should be in class right now.” He pointed to a heavyset boy. “The plump one is Peter Slavic. His pa owns the shop on Oakwood, the one that keeps our patrol units purring. He’s a real shit-dick, but his guys do real good work. So, if ya’ ever need work done on that ‘Vette, then that’s where you should take her.”

  “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Aaron tilted his head towards the picnic table. “What’s the story on the other kid? You know his family?”

  “Never met the boy personally. His parents run the Christian Fellowship Center on Eighty-Three just outside a’ town. Tad bit charismatic for my liking, but Pastor Thomas and his wife are good people.” Sheriff Donovan snorted a hearty laugh. “That boy is sure to get one helluva sermon tonight.”

  Aaron let out a slight chuckle. “Yeah, I’ll bet.” He knelt by the body and gave it a quick scan. “So, how big do the alligators get out here?”

  “Biggest one I seen ‘round here was about four feet. Nothin’ big enough to pull a man out his boat, that’s fer sure.” He handed Aaron a pair of latex gloves. “So, ya’ ready to get yer hands dirty?”

  Grinning, Aaron took the gloves from the Sheriff. “Are you always this peppy around mangled corpses?”

  The Sheriff snickered. “I don’t mean to be insensitive. Just—”

  “No need to explain, Sheriff.” Aaron slapped on the latex gloves and asked the coroner to roll the body over to its side. He reached into the back pocket of the corpse, removed a wallet, and checked the man’s license as he handed it to Sheriff Donovan. “We have a name for the toe tag.” He pulled another laminated piece of paper out of the wallet. “And it looks like he was fishing with an expired permit.”

  “I think the game warden might give him a pass this time.” Sheriff Donovan examined the license. “Son-bitch. That’s Doug Travers.”

  “You know him?”

  “Yeah, I know him. He owns that old rundown bar on Main Street, down the road from the station. Prolly got himself drunk on his own merchandise and fell overboard.” He pointed to a small boat floating in the middle of the lake. “That must be his boat right there. Poor dumb bastard.”

  Aaron raised
an eyebrow and inspected the wounds around the neck and limbs. “Ever have any alligator attacks at the lake before?”

  “We got signs posted all over warning people about them gators, but in the twenty some odd years I’ve lived in Lost Maples, we ain’t never had one attack. Well, at least not fatal, that is. A small gator bit a guy’s leg a coupla’ years ago, but that was his own dumbass fault for agitating the damned thing.” The Sheriff removed his hat and wiped sweat away from his brow. “Our gators seem to be more like scavengers than anything. I seen ‘em feast on dead deer, even a cow that managed to find her way into the lake. But never a person.”

  Sergeant Henderson approached the two men. “Everything okay with your family?” he asked Aaron.

  “Cody might have had a seizure at school, but the doc thinks he’ll be all right.” Aaron scratched the back of his head. “He’ll spend the night in the hospital for observation. Have a CT scan done in the morning.”

  “Is he epileptic?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.” Aaron averted the small talk and got back to business. “So, what did those kids tell you?”

  “They admitted skipping school to hang out at the park. I could smell smoke on both of them, too. I don’t think they were doping, but—”

  “What did they say about the body?”

  “Right. Um… Well, they saw something floating in the water. Thought it was a dead animal at first. They noticed the clothing when they poked at it with a stick.”

  “Did they touch the body? Other than poking it with the stick?”

  “No, they immediately called nine-one-one.”

  Aaron stared out towards the middle of the lake for several seconds. “We need to get that boat to shore.”

  †

  “We have a couple of scenarios here,” the coroner stated, examining the corpse on the boat ramp. “Either a large alligator did in fact attack him, or he drowned. It’ll take a full autopsy to determine that. I personally doubt it was an alligator that killed him, though. When the ME finds water in his lungs, then we’ll have our official COD.”

  “You sound confident about that,” Aaron said, and stood. “What if the ME doesn’t find water in this guy’s lungs?”

  “Then I would contact Parks and Wildlife. See about trapping this animal, because if it was a gator, it’s a big one.”

  “Doug prolly just got drunk while fishing,” Sheriff Donovan said. “Tripped and fell out the boat. Hit his head. Drowned in the lake. Gators took care of the rest.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Aaron said. “But I don’t know. There’s just something—”

  “The rescue boat’s here,” Henderson announced, and waved the truck over to him. He helped guide Deputy Dilbecky as she backed the boat down the ramp. As soon as they had the boat in the water, Sergeant Henderson, Sheriff Donavan, and Aaron rode out to retrieve the stranded boat. The small wooden craft had fishing gear and beer cans scattered inside of it.

  Sheriff Donavan pointed to a spot of dried blood on the engine. “Ya’ see? Just like I said. He got drunk and hit his head right there on the engine. Man overboard.”

  Aaron closed his eyes for a couple of seconds. “What do you say we tow this boat to shore, so we can get a closer look at it?”

  “Whatcha thinking?” Sheriff Donovan asked.

  “I’m thinking this boat is evidence, and we need to give it a thorough processing before jumping to conclusions.” Realizing he’d been a bit too curt with the statement, he stared out into the lake for a moment while he fished for a way to make amends. “I’m sorry. You’re probably right, but I just want to be sure.”

  “Alrighty then,” Sheriff Donovan said, reluctant acceptance in his voice. “Just for the record, I think it’s a waste of time and resources. My money’s on drowning and gator bait.”

  Aaron raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “Why do I get the impression you didn’t like this guy? You’ve been cold about this whole thing.”

  “That obvious, huh?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, it is. What’s up with this guy?”

  “Let’s just say I ain’t attending his funeral, and leave it at that.”

  Aaron mouthed okay and gazed at Sergeant Henderson for insight.

  “Let it go, boss,” Henderson said. “Touchy subject.”

  “I can see that.” Aaron twitched his eyebrows up and glanced at the Sheriff. “Anyway, back to work.”

  After towing the stranded boat to shore, Sergeant Henderson climbed aboard while Aaron took several photos of the body. He also snapped photos of the interior and exterior of the watercraft. Upon further examination, they found spattered blood droplets on the floor, along with more blood on the tackle box.

  “Still think he simply hit his head?” Aaron asked the Sheriff.

  “Found something,” Sergeant Henderson announced. He waved his colleagues to the front of the boat and held up a severed thumb, pinching it between his gloved index finger and thumb.

  “Where in hell did ya’ find that thing?” Sheriff Donovan asked.

  “Right there,” he said, pointing to two fiberglass fishing poles. “Underneath those poles.”

  Aaron took a closer look at the severed thumb. It had a manicured and lightly painted nail. “Either Doug Travers was transgender, or he had someone else in this boat with him. Was he married?”

  “No, divorced,” Sheriff Donovan answered.

  “What about a girlfriend?”

  “Don’t know. He mighta’ had one. We’ll get some divers out here. See if they can turn up a body. Until then, we’ll handle the search ourselves.”

  Henderson slipped the severed thumb into an evidence bag, labeled it, and handed it to Deputy Copeland. “Could you take this to the station? Get it processed for me? And check to see if there are any recent missing person reports in the area.”

  “Why don’t we have our errand girl do it,” Deputy Copeland said, jerking a nod towards the uniformed woman securing the rescue boat to its trailer. “I’d like to stay here and assist with the search.”

  “Just do it yourself, okay, Tim? I trust you more than Dilbecky to handle this properly.”

  Deputy Copeland sighed. “All right, but talk about wasting resources.”

  “I know, brother. I don’t like the whole nepotism thing either. But what do you do? Her uncle is the mayor.”

  †

  Aaron stood on the shore near the boat ramp in Maple Hills Park as the sun set on the horizon. He watched the glistening water for twenty minutes as he tried to envision what happened to Doug Travers and his girlfriend. He thought about the couple making love on the boat in the middle of the lake under the light of the full moon. The man had probably never even cast out his line before the attack.

  The rest of Aaron’s colleagues had already left Maple Hills Park after several hours of searching for another body. Aaron patrolled the lake one more time while contemplating the latest turn of events. Then something caught his attention from a thicket of cattails. There was something black protruding from the edge of the plants. A swarm of flies hovered around it. Aaron crept nearer and leaned forward a little, his eyes widened. It was a dead alligator, and a large one, judging from the size of the head.

  “Damn,” he said aloud. “Four feet, my ass.”

  Aaron called Sheriff Donovan and informed him of the discovery. “You know that four-foot alligator you were telling me about?”

  “Yeah, what about her?”

  “Well, I’d say you have bigger alligators in this lake than you thought. I’m looking at one right now.”

  “How big?”

  “I don’t know. Eight, nine feet?”

  “Don’t get too close to it, and try not to scare it off. I’ll be—”

  “Oh, that won’t be a problem.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because it’s dead.”

  “Dead?” Sheriff Donovan said. “Seriously?”

  “I can send you a photo if you’d like. Maybe she died of food poisoning. You know,
from eating Doug Travers.”

  The Sheriff remained silent for a moment before instructing Aaron to call Animal Control. “We need to cut it open. See if we can find any human bits and pieces in it.”

  “Been there, done that.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. I’ll call the dead possum posse and get back with you later.”

  Aaron waited forty-five minutes for two Lost Maples County Animal Control officers to arrive at the lake. Paul—according to his name tag—apologized for the delay and grabbed a noose from the truck. He handed it to Aaron. “You mind? We could use the help.”

  “You had me waiting here for almost an hour. Now you want me to do your job?”

  “If that’s an eight-foot gator, we’re looking at about two to three hundred pounds of dead weight.” The tall, young man stepped into a pair of wading pants. “I just need you to noose the head while Brad and I get in the water to fetch that dinosaur out of the cattails. Unless, of course, you want to get in.”

  “No, that’s quite all right. I’ll work with the lasso.”

  “Noose.”

  “Whatever.”

  After the Animal Control officers suited up in their wading gear, they entered the water, which was about waist deep.

  “Damn, this water is cold!” Brad yelled.

  “Motivation to get the job done quickly,” Paul said, and then instructed Aaron to reach over with the noose so he could position it over the head and neck. “All right, when I get the noose over the head, just give it a tug and it’ll take hold. Then we’ll… What the…?”

  “What?” Aaron asked, as Paul felt around in the water behind the exposed head. “What’s wrong?”

  Paul grabbed the alligator’s head and pushed it forward out of the cattails. The large head bobbed, rolled over, and then floated, revealing torn flesh.

  “Holy crap!” Brad exclaimed. “Where’s the frickin’ body?”

  “That’s it.” Paul felt around underneath the surface of the water.

  “There ain’t no body. Just the head.”