by Robert Brumm
Still, something was off, didn’t feel right. She returned to the living room and moved the chair back again, along with the coffee table and couch. She cleared all the furniture from the side of the room and pulled back the carpeting.
Sweat stung her eyes and her bullet wound felt like it was on fire as she struggled with the carpet, pulling it back as far as it would go. She did the same to the foam padding and froze as it pulled back far enough to reveal the rest of the subfloor she hadn’t seen before.
The rest of the living room flooring was identical to the bathroom. What Kelly stared at was a four-foot by four-foot square of lumber—just large enough to cover up a staircase that descended into the basement.
Chapter 34
The boards looked newer than the original flooring surrounding them but they still showed signs of age and wear. The nails holding them down looked haphazard and rushed, the surrounding wood dimpled from many inaccurate hammer blows.
Kelly quietly closed Keegan’s bedroom door and went in the kitchen to study the contents of her utility drawer. The only tool even remotely useful she could find was a large flat head screwdriver.
She stuck it in between a gap in the boards and only succeeded in cracking the wood and sending a small chunk flying at her cheek. An inch or two higher and it probably would have hit her in the eye. She tried again, this time trying not to use so much force and seeing if she could loosen a few of the nails.
Kelly knew she should stop and go to bed. Her entire body hurt and she suddenly was beyond exhausted. Wait for the light of day. Get help from Ed or Paul. She ignored her better judgment and kept working on trying to pry up the end of the one of the boards until suddenly it popped up and she grabbed a hold, carefully pulling until the entire plank was free. Nothing but darkness below. Kelly tried to pull the floor lamp as close as she could but the weak bulb barely helped at all.
Kelly realized the only flashlight she had in the house was a tiny LED attached to her keychain. It would have to do. She grabbed her keys from the counter and pointed the beam though the gap in the boards. A mixture of relief and dread hit her simultaneously as she peered down, not at a crawlspace, but at stairs leading to the cellar.
Energized with a surge of adrenaline, Kelly attacked the rest of the boards, easily yanking up three more, leaving just enough space for her to make it through. She stood by the hole, breathing heavily and staring at the darkness below. Was she really stupid enough to go down there alone in the middle of the night? What choice did she have? Leave it until tomorrow and go to bed? No way.
Kelly took a deep breath, prayed the watch batteries installed in her keychain LED flashlight had plenty of life left, and crawled through the hole to the steps below. The air felt thick and stale. She crouched and was able to get a few steps down. The beam of the flashlight revealed the bottom of the staircase below, a door to the right, just as in her dreams. She took a few more steps down, finally able to stand upright and slowly headed to the bottom of the stairs.
Kelly looked longingly at the light of her living room streaming in at the top of the stairs and debated turning back. The door in front of her was shut tight, another obstacle daring her to chicken out and turn back, run back upstairs and wait for a man to open it for her. She pressed on the old wooden door and it moved a few inches before the warped planks rubbed up against the floor and stopped.
She pulled the flashlight off her key chain and stuck the keys in her pocket, then held the tiny light between her teeth. She pushed hard on the door with both hands until it pushed past the spot on the door, opening freely.
The sudden jolt caused Kelly to drop the flashlight from her mouth, frantically juggling it for a second, before somehow managing to catch it before it hit the floor. She sighed in relief and pointed the beam down the hallway.
The wooden planks covering the dirt floor had succumbed to decay long ago and an inch of standing water covered the entire floor. Everywhere Kelly pointed the light, showed decay and damp. Neglect and rot.
She carefully took a step off the stair landing onto the rotten floor, her shoe instantly soaking through. Kelly thought of the rat from one of her dreams and could only hope there were none around. She was so focused on what she might step on, she didn’t see the thick cobweb in front of her until it pressed up against her face.
Kelly held her breath to keep from screaming and steadied herself. She broke through the web with the back of her hand and pointed the light through the slot in the first cell door. Empty. She did the same to the room across the hall, this one only being home to one of the old waste buckets. Two more doors to check.
Again, the third cell held nothing, but the last of the cell doors was open a crack. She carefully pushed the door open, steeling herself to be ready for anything. Despite that, she still jumped when the beam of her light revealed a body sitting upright in the corner of the cell. Time and the elements had not been kind to whoever it was. What little skin that still remained over the bones was brown and stretched tight like leather. A few tuffs of dark hair covered the top of the skull but didn’t help to identify the sex of the deceased.
Kelly slowly took a step forward, not taking her eye off the body. The old clothes hanging loosely over the shriveled form appeared to be a man’s suit. As she panned the light down to the corpse’s legs, she saw that one of them was made of wood. The mystery was solved.
She started to shake and took a step back. Although she’d seen Hoskins several times in her visions, just as vivid and realistic as any ordinary day, it still shook Kelly to see him here. In the real world. She let out a deep breath, reminding herself that he was dead and couldn’t hurt her.
The light bounced off a glint of metal. Hoskin’s bony decayed right hand still clutched a rusty old revolver. His former white shirt was stained dark red, almost brown from age.
Kelly had seen enough. She turned around and almost missed the large envelope nailed to the back of the door. She carefully pulled it off and opened the seam, finding a two page handwritten letter inside. She went back the way she came and sat down on the steps holding her flashlight over the page.
To Whom it May Concern,
I trust you’ve found this letter as a result of my faithful servant Mrs. MacAuley alerting the authorities after my death as I instructed her to do. Mrs. MacAuley is a good woman who aided me against her will and in my opinion should not be prosecuted under your laws.
I’ve decided the physical world no longer has no use for me and it is time for me to transcend to what awaits me in the next realm. Free of man’s laws and petty problems revolving around the almighty dollar. It became clear to me years ago when I’d risen above the common man, looked passed the mundane day-to-day tasks and tribulations, and saw what was truly important.
Our time here on earth is a sham, a dreary existence full of nothing but pain and suffering, fear and loneliness. What lies beyond the veil of life is what is truly important. I find myself shaking in anticipation as I write this, barely able to wait any longer to experience it firsthand.
Make no mistake, I am not referring to the fairytale notion of a Christian afterlife in heaven. The fools who waste their time every Sunday based on a bastardized text written by savages must feel absurd when they experience what waits for them in the great beyond. Only the truly gifted like myself have seen the glory that begins with death, the transformation into gods far greater than the priests and reverends and ministers pretend to know and love.
On the following page you will find a list of names of the young women I chose to join me in my kingdom. Each girl experienced a very traumatic and painful death at my hands, yet in doing so, cleansed them of their physical sins and prepared them for the glorious eternity I have prepared for each and every one. What you will label as murder was actually a great service, one they will show their appreciation for when they greet me on the other side, mere minutes from now.
I list their names because these women should be celebrated as goddesses and her
oines. Their families should take great pride in their sacrifices and sleep well knowing their daughters died for the noblest of causes.
In closing, I’d like to point out that I shall end my mortal existence by firing a single round though my heart using my old service revolver. I strongly suggest the brightest scientists and medical minds of the world study my brain and not let it go to waste. I urge you to take advantage of such a fine specimen. It is my final gift to the world, although I have my doubts it is worthy of it.
Most Sincerely,
Harlan James Hoskins
December 4, 1932
Kelly turned to the next page and started to read the list of twenty three names, but got as far as Elizabeth McDole before she had to stop. She carefully put the brittle papers back in the envelope and placed it on the stairs.
She wanted nothing more than to run upstairs, grab Keegan, and leave the house. She wanted to burn it to the ground, leave nothing more than a scorched and dead patch of dirt. But she couldn’t, not yet. There was one more door at the end of the corridor and she had to know what was behind it.
Kelly got back up and forced herself to move forward toward the door. She passed the cell with Hoskin’s body in it, trying hard not to visualize his mummified corpse sitting in the dark. The door at the end of the hall wasn’t locked but, like the door leading to the corridor, it was swollen and warped from water damage and didn’t want to move.
She put her shoulder up against the door and shoved with all her strength but she wasn’t prepared when the door flew open. Kelly lost her balance and tumbled to the wet dirt floor. The flashlight slipped from her grasp and disappeared, sending her into darkness.
“No!” Her own voice in the small space sounded foreign and just made the rising panic worse. She frantically felt around on the floor for the flashlight and felt nothing. She turned around, hoping to see the dim light of the staircase behind her but saw nothing but blackness.
Disoriented, Kelly spun around and crawled on the floor, hoping she was pointed back in the right direction and the flashlight was in front of her. “Please,” she whispered to the darkness. “Please, please, please.”
Her hand brushed up against the wall, then something soft. Some sort of material. She stopped flailing her arms and took a deep breath. The flashlight had to be on the floor close by. She just needed to keep calm, not panic, and she would find it eventually.
Kelly placed her hand on the floor directly in front of her and almost sobbed in relief as her fingers wrapped around the tiny cylinder of metal no larger than a stick of lip balm. She brushed off the dirt and clicked it on, revealing the twenty three bodies stacked up against the wall in front of her.
Chapter 35
The next few days were a blur. Kelly felt as if the entire world surrounding her suddenly turned upside down. She watched the madness unfold around her as she sat in a daze, struggling to keep up. The steady diet of vicodin didn’t do much to help clear her head.
Law enforcement officials of all shapes, colors, sizes, departments and jurisdictions, swarmed the cottage on a seemingly never ending basis. Local cops, state police, FBI, CSI teams, this team, that team, and every expert under the sun even remotely related to serial killers, invaded Ed and Sue’s property. Kelly answered the same questions to a dozen different people a dozen different times.
With all the commotion in the small town it didn’t take long for the press to hear rumors. The local newspaper reporter tipped off the local television news reporter and within twenty four hours Black Water Creek was practically a household name as the story went national. News vans from every major and cable news outlet lined the street in front of the Sheridan’s house as the local cops struggled to keep them away from the property.
Catchy headlines like HORROR IN THE WOODS splashed across newspapers around the county, people fascinated by Hoskins’ stash of bodies in the basement and his bizarre suicide note.
Kelly made the mistake of letting her guard down while getting interviewed by a nice woman from the Chicago Times. She let it slip out that she’d learned about Hoskins and the murders from her nightly visions. The next day, The Times basked in the glory of their exclusive interview with the PSYCHIC THAT “CAUGHT” THE BLACK WATER CREEK KILLER.
Kelly was flooded with a new round of interview phone calls and emails as reporters scratched and clawed to know more about the young mother who seemed knew so much about what had happened so long ago.
It was only a few weeks before the public grew bored of Black Water Creek and its serial killer. They moved on to fresher stories involving celebrity scandals and unrest in the Middle East.
Even the police seemed to lose interest once the last of the remains had been removed from the basement and every inch inch of the cottage had been searched. Once the men in lab coats confirmed all the bodies had been dead for over eighty years and with Hoskins’ confession to the murders in writing, the case was closed.
*****
Throughout everything, Paul was her rock, rarely leaving Kelly’s side and often staying the night at Ed and Sue’s. Honoring Kelly’s request to take things slow, he slept on the sofa in the living room while Kelly and Keegan slept in the guest room.
Life slowly returned to normal and people moved on. Other than Ed chasing off a handful of kids with ghost detecting equipment, life at the Sheridan’s house and Black Water Creek in general had quieted down. Kelly and Keegan stayed in the guest room while she got back to work, trying to save enough for the security deposit on a new apartment. The cottage by the river, mostly empty of Kelly and Keegan’s things and still wearing bits of yellow police caution tape, sat dark and quiet once again.
Chapter 36
“I’m gonna grab a burger and fries down at the Ice Shanty,” Paul said. He did a quick check to make sure no customers were close by before he wrapped his arms around Kelly’s waist and kissed the back of her neck. “Want me to bring you back something?”
“I can’t understand why you don’t weight five hundred pounds with all that crap you eat.”
“Yeah, but it’s good crap. So you want some of it or not, Picky?”
Kelly spun around and put her arms around his neck. “Chili dog. Extra cheese.”
“Hypocrite.” Paul glanced at the classifieds on the counter. “Find anything yet?”
Kelly sighed and picked up the paper. “Nothing. There hasn’t been a decent apartment listed in over a month.”
“My offer still stands, you know. That second bedroom in my condo would look great with all of Keegan’s toys in it. And you in my bed.”
“I have been thinking about it. But…I don’t know, it still scares me a little, I guess. It’s a big step.”
“I thought the guy was supposed to be the one afraid of commitment.” Paul gave her a half smile.
“Well, I do my best thinking when I’m shoving a chilidog in my face, so get cracking.”
Paul gave her a salute before heading to the door. Now wasn’t the best time to tell him, but
Kelly actually did decide to move in with him. Despite being a little nervous, it felt like the right thing to do. She may have been confused about a lot of things in her life but she was positive of one thing. She loved Paul and wanted to share her life and her son with him. She couldn’t wait to surprise him tonight over dinner and accept his offer.
“Excuse me?”
Kelly twirled around, surprised to see two women standing at the counter. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you come in. How can I help you?”
“The young lady at the front of the store said your name is Kelly Raney. Is that right?”
With all the press and police over the last couple of months Kelly was no stranger to meeting strangers, but these two were different. The woman talking looked like an ordinary middle aged housewife and the other one had to be at least eighty years old. Not exactly the reporter type, either of them.
“Yes, I’m Kelly.”
The younger woman held out her hand. “My n
ame is Nancy Simmons and this is my mother, Bethany Taylor.”
Kelly shook the older woman’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Taylor is my married name. My maiden name is Bethany McDole. If what all the news stories said were true, my sister Elizabeth was one of the girls found in your basement.”
Kelly’s mouth hung open and she realized she was still holding onto Bethany’s hand. “I…I don’t know what to say!” She pointed to the corner of the shop where a few chairs for reading were set up. “Please, have a seat.”
“Thank you, Kelly,” Bethany said. “We’re on our way to a family wedding this weekend and we decided to side track for a couple of hours to stop by the town and hoped to talk to you. I haven’t been in Black Water Creek for close to forty years now.”
“Would you like some water or maybe a cup of coffee?” Kelly asked.
“That’s very kind of you but we can’t stay long,” Nancy said. “Mom, I’m going to browse around a little bit. Let me know when you’re ready.”
“Alright, dear.”
“So, Elizabeth was your sister.” Kelly said. “To tell you the truth, it all happened so long ago it never occurred to me that any relatives of the victims would still be alive.” Kelly put her hand over her mouth and blushed. “That sounded really bad.”
Bethany laughed and Kelly’s embarrassment quickly faded. Bethany had soft kind eyes and Kelly felt completely at ease sitting across from her. “I’ll be the first person to admit I’m old, dear,” Bethany chuckled. “I’m eighty-eight, for Pete’s sake. I was just a year old when Elizabeth disappeared. I grew up knowing her just by the few family photos we’d had in the house. Whenever I asked my parents what happened to her, their faces would fall, never quite sure what to tell me. I think for years they couldn’t decide themselves. I don’t know if my mother ever truly accepted the possibility that Elizabeth was dead. She went to her grave believing my sister was out there somewhere and that one day she’d return to us.”
