How do I know these things, you might ask? It is all answered for you in a diary of sorts kept by our family. This diary is for your eyes only. It is located in a bank safe deposit box at the main offices of the Bank of Boston. The key to that box is with these papers.
Get this diary and read it well. Believe its words, for they are the truth. As you will see the Keepers are still active, and they have been hunting for the descendants of the Powell family since 1843. These descendants of the “Keepers,” as they are still called continue to be in league with the devil. Please believe me, Aaron. Take extra care when you read this diary. The Keepers would love to get their hands on it as well.
There is one other thing I must tell you. Our family still owns that land in Sutton, Vermont. We have not sold or given it up, because the land itself holds the key to Satan’s efforts to take on human form. As long as it remains with our family and we remain hidden from the Keepers, then they can not complete the transformation. If we relinquish that land to someone else, then it would be used to complete the coven and evil would win. You mustn’t ever let this land fall into the hands of an outsider, and you must never, ever, go back to Sutton.
Lastly, Aaron, you must one day find a good woman and have a child with her. We must keep our bloodline going, or seven generations of our family, and the many who have died for this cause, will have suffered in vain.
I know this all must be overwhelming to you and I truly wish I could have revealed this to you in person, but please believe me, Aaron, this way is best.
Aaron, be strong and watchful, be brave and be wise, and keep faith with all of those who went before you.
I loved you with all my heart and I hope you still love me as well. My pain at not being able to hold you, as your mother, has been tempered by my joy in watching you grow up into a fine, handsome, caring man. You were always in my prayers. Please keep me in yours.
Love Forever,
Your Mother, Elizabeth
Aaron felt himself choking up with emotion. He was overwhelmed with so many confusing feelings. Tides of anger, love, abandonment, and bewilderment swept over him.
Laura was my mother, my very own mother, he thought.
He let out a soft sigh, “Oh,” as he buried his face into his hands. Tears began to flow. He wiped at the tears with the end of the linen napkin. He had a large lump in his throat.
From across the room Aaron’s waitress, Korie noticed that the customer she had played “James Bond” with seemed suddenly saddened and stressed. With that she moved across the dining room and approached his table.
“How is your dinner, Mr. Bond?” she asked in her most cheerful voice.
He heard her voice, and for a moment he snapped out of his sudden sadness. He couldn’t face anyone right now. He needed time to think through the complex revelations that his mother had just revealed in her letter to him. With a wave of his left hand, he gestured for her to leave him alone.
As an experienced waitress, she recognized that her customer was distressed and wanted her to leave, but the personal side to her kicked in. She knew this previously happy, witty and yesm, charming man didn’t really want to be alone. He just hadn’t realized it yet.
“Why don’t you let me have the chef heat up your dinner for you? You haven’t taken more than a few bites.”
“Yes, Yes,” he whispered anything to get her to leave him alone with his thoughts.
She reached across his table and removed his dinner plate. At that moment, the faint but noticeable scent of her perfume reached him. In a moment’s flash, his mind recorded the memory of this scent, along with his reaction. He had found it to be “flirty and sensual.” As she turned and walked away, he again picked up his mother’s letter and read it for the second time. As he did, he finished off his third glass of wine and poured himself a fourth glass. This one he poured to the brim.
After reading the letter for the second time, Aaron now turned his attention to the attached birth and church baptism papers. These too he read, word for word. He soon felt another rush of sadness rolling over him. For the second time tonight, tears began to flow. This time he made no effort to wipe them away. He turned his gaze to the window, and while he could see the nearby harbor just beyond the tinted glass, he could also discern his own tearful reflection staring back at him.
Aaron was transfixed, deep in thought, when his dinner plate was set before him once again. He turned slowly, not wanting to make eye contact.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Don’t mention it.”
Korie turned away and went over to a nearby table to see how they were enjoying their meal. The table she chose to check on would allow her the chance to get a look at this somber young man. As her customers complimented the quality of their dinner, she stole a sideways glance in Aaron’s direction.
Their eyes met for just a moment.
Aaron saw her glance at him. Embarrassed, he looked quickly down at his reheated dinner. He quickly picked up his knife and fork and took a bite of the prime rib he had previously cut.
In the brief moment that their eyes met, she saw the telltale signs of red swollen eyes and traces of tears glistening in the restaurant’s subdued light. Most of all she saw sadness that almost seemed to her to be childlike, a sadness born out of innocence. Her heart was touched by what she saw, and more by what she felt.
Aaron sat there slowly chewing the piece of prime rib. He decided to return the papers and two envelopes to his left coat pocket. Time seemed to pass ever so slowly for Aaron. He felt a buzz building from the wine he had consumed. He also felt warm. After a few moments, he began to pick at what remained of his dinner. He had lost his appetite, so he pushed his dinner plate away. He hadn’t touched his salad or fresh bread. He drew the half-empty glass of wine closer.
Reaching for the wine bottle, he poured the remaining wine into his glass. His glass was filled once again, but the bottle was now empty. As he placed the bottle back onto the table, he almost dropped it. The bottled settled on the table after teetering back and forth a couple of times.
Aaron had managed to get himself quite drunk.
7
A shiny, black, 1994 Mercury Grand Marquis drove slowly down the gravel driveway of the Washington County Animal Shelter. At the bottom of the driveway, the car turned to the right and pulled to a stop behind a forest green pickup truck. The side and back windows were darkly tinted. Only the windshield was not tinted.
From the back porch came Ed, who was closely followed by Walter. Ed Foley opened an umbrella. The warm summer rain had begun to fall just moments before. As with most summer storms here in the Winooski River Valley area of Vermont, this storm was sudden and the rain was heavy.
The two men stood silently next to the black Mercury. They huddled under the umbrella. The only sound that was heard came from the splatter of rain on the vehicles and the tat, tat, tat sound of the rain striking the tarp in the back of Yandow’s truck. The men shifted their feet. Not a word was spoken between them nor did they look at one another. Instead their eyes were fixed upon the driver’s side front door window.
Over five minutes passed since the car had arrived, and yet there was no sign from within. The rain was now beginning to puddle around their feet. A bright burst of light exploded behind them, which momentarily cast an eerie frame to the backyard scene. It was a lightning strike, which hit an old elm tree in the woods behind the Animal Shelter. The lightning exploded upon the tree, blowing away a large limb from the upper third of the tree. The loud crack from the exploding tree was almost immediately followed by a huge concussion, which shook the ground. The earth-shaking thunderclap would have caused almost anyone to jump. They continued to wait in silence.
A whirring sound softly emanated from the car as the driver’s side window was powered down halfway. From inside the car’s darkened burgundy leather interior spoke a raspy voice.
“I want to see them.”
“They’re in the back of the pickup truck u
nder a tarp,” said the veterinarian.
With a click followed by a louder click, the driver’s side door was unlocked and now it began to open. Ed, who was holding the umbrella, now held it over the open car door. Walter stood almost at attention. No longer protected by the umbrella, he was quickly drenched by the heavy downpour. A distant boom of thunder echoed about as a short balding man emerged from the car. It was Reverend Simon B. Mitchell, pastor to the faithful of the town of Sutton’s Church of Everlasting Faith. He wore a neatly ironed black suit, beneath which he wore a minister’s dark gray shirt with a white collar. This man, with short gray hair at the temples, also sported a mustache and beard, neatly trimmed and shaved so that they outlined his mouth and the edges of his jaw. He had dark piercing eyes with crows feet age lines radiating from the corners. His shoes were polished to a mirror like shine. He closed the door of the car and then he too stood silently beside Ed Foley. As he stood there, he clasped his hands behind his back, military style.
Walter, now completely soaked, stepped aside to allow Ed and Reverend Mitchell to walk to the back of his truck. As they approached the back of the truck, Walter stepped in front of the two other men and pulled the handle of the tailgate. Walter hoisted himself up onto the tailgate by grabbing the rear corner of the sidewall and pulling himself up. The front of the truck was parked on a slight incline so the pickup truck bed tilted toward Ed and the Reverend.
Tiny whitish gray flecks of brain tissue floated down the truck bed upon the rivulets of rainwater. The channels in the truck bed funneled the rainwater into a series of tiny rainfalls. As the rainwater fell off the truck it struck the rear bumper, before cascading to the gravel covered, rain soaked ground.
“The tarp, Mr. Yandow, the tarp if you please,” said the Reverend in his usual demanding tone.
Walter always wanted to milk the moment. He was, at times, almost theatrical in his manner around the Reverend. This Reverend suffered his eccentric behavior with little patience. He would frequently scold “Mr. Yandow” as he was about to now.
“Mr. Yandow, have you not noticed that it is raining? I don’t wish to stand out here all day, so let’s be done with it.”
“Sure, Reverend, here they are,” said Walter as he pulled back the tarp in one long powerful stroke.
The water, which covered the tarp, now flew at Ed and the Reverend, soaking them both. Neither man flinched.
“Sorry, Reverend, Ed,” said Walter as he looked away as if to avoid eye contact.
“I didn’t mean to...”
“Silence,” said the Reverend in a commanding voice.
The Reverend now moved to the right side of the truck to get a closer look. He placed his hands on the truck’s sidewall and stood on his tiptoes. Ed Foley stood next to him, holding the umbrella and not saying a word.
“Turn her over,” said the Reverend.
Walter bent over and with his large powerful hands he grabbed her by the legs and twisted them, causing her stiffening body to roll over. Her backside was already turning a dark purple color from her shoulders down to her buttocks as her body’s blood was settling and congealing inside her cold lifeless body.
The Reverend stared at her naked body for a moment as the rain splattered against her skin. Her eyes were wide open, frozen at that moment the bullet entered her upper throat, the very same frozen moment that she saw Sammy pointing a rifle at her.
“Now turn him over.”
The Game Warden repeated the process with the dead man. Again the Reverend took a moment to examine the entire body of this victim as well.
“Have you gone through their things?”
“No, I haven’t had time yet.”
“All right, I’ve seen enough. Cover them up.”
Walter did as he was told, only this time with less flair.
The Reverend turned to Ed and looked up at him said, “You know what to do. We’re counting on you, Ed. We are doing His work and through His work we shall inherit the earth.”
Ed nodded his understanding.
“Mr. Yandow, I will expect a full report on my desk by eight o’clock tomorrow morning. Leave nothing out, do you understand, and bring along their personal effects?”
“Yes, Reverend.”
Ed spoke up for the first time since the Reverend’s arrival. “What about an alibi, should we need one?”
“These were young hikers it seems. Their absence may not become a concern for a few days. After I see Mr. Yandow’s report, I will set into motion a suitable cover story.”
The three men walked back to the car.
From the back porch, a soft voice addressed Reverend Mitchell.
“Hello, Reverend Mitchell,” said Lisa Foley. She smiled at the Reverend. She also offered a half wave with her right hand.
“Hello, Lisa and how are you today?”
“I’m fine Reverend, just fine.”
“That’s good, well I must be going now,” said the Reverend in a softer tone as he smiled at Lisa and returned her wave.
With that, Ed opened the Reverend’s door and held the umbrella over the Reverend as he slid into the front seat of the car.
Ed turned to Walter and nodded in the direction of the two small buildings set off from the house and the driveway. These particular wood shake buildings stood alone. One served as a shelter for hard to handle creatures that came into the possession of the Foley’s from time to time. The other building was where the vet conducted his disposal of dead and unwanted animals.
“I’ll get the bodies and bring them in, and then I’ve got to leave,” said the game warden.
“I understand. Bring the guy in first, okay?”
“Sure.”
Ed folded up the umbrella and walked over to the porch. He handed the umbrella to his daughter. The rain had lightened up.
“I’ll finish feeding the animals and cleaning out the cages that need it. I know you’ve got work to do out back,” said Lisa.
“Thanks. It shouldn’t take more than an hour to an hour and a half.”
“All right, I’ll have supper waiting.”
Ed turned and moved off in the direction of the disposal building. Meanwhile, Walter climbed up into the back of the pickup truck. He pulled back the tarp once again, uncovering the two bodies. Lisa remained on the back porch just long enough to catch a glance of the two dead hiker’s bodies.
Lisa headed back inside the back porch door of the clinic into the operating room. Ed fumbled in his pants pocket for his keys. Finally locating them, he unlocked the door of the disposal building and flipped on a light switch. He quickly went over to a large stainless steel vat. Working the controls, he flipped a couple of switches and turned a knob on the top of the vat. The sound of a gas burner kicking into full operation filled the silence of the room with a “swoosh” like sound.
At the disposal door stood Walter. He was carrying the body of Michael Delvecchio over his shoulders.
“Put him on the table, right here,” said Ed pointing to a stainless steel table. The table was six and one half feet long and thirty inches wide. Its edges were rounded and raised. The entire table was sloped to its center where a drain hole was located. Attached to the right end of this table was a deep stainless steel work sink, industrial grade. Suspended over the sink was an overhead radial saw.
Delvecchio’s body was laid face up on the table.
Ed began to remove the man’s hiking boots and socks. He handed these to Walter, who turned and headed out the door.
From over his shoulder Walter said, “I’ll go and get the girl. Be right back.”
“Okay, Walt.”
Ed reached under the table and pulled out a pair of rubber gloves from a box marked “Large, For Surgical Use Only.”
He reached to the back wall of the table and flipped a switch. The overhead radial saw’s small red power light blinked on. He reached up and pulled the saw down until it was but inches from the corpse of Michael Delvecchio. He pulled on the saw’s trigger and the radial
blade began to spin at 3,000 rpm. Its high pitched sound filled the room. The blade was centered over the right leg of the corpse, just above the knee. He lowered the saw.
Outside, Walter pulled the lifeless body of Julia Brodsky from the truck and laid her across his powerful left shoulder. With his right hand free he closed the tailgate. As he turned towards the disposal building, he could clearly hear the unmistakable sound of the radial saw. By the time he reentered the building, both lower legs had been removed and Ed was busy moving the body into a better position for the rest of the carving. Without saying a word, Walter put Julia’s body on a wooden side table next to the door.
Walter closed the door as he left the disposal building. Outside the door to the right, under a small overhead roof, stood several wooden kegs stacked on top of wooden pallets. The kegs were labeled in heavy black letters, Bone Meal Fertilizer.
8
Korie stood next to the bar. It was nearly midnight. The restaurant was closing down for the night. The customer that had attracted her sympathy, “Mr. Bond,” was now quite drunk. She had brought him some coffee earlier in an effort to sober him up. He accepted the coffee and asked for the check. She brought him his check, which he paid after fumbling around in his wallet. He gave her a generous tip of thirty dollars. He had remained at his table for the past hour staring out the window. He seemed so very sad.
“Hey, Korie, what’s with that guy?” said Danny, the bartender. He also doubled as the shift leader for the waitresses.
“I don’t really know.”
“Well, we’re closing. See if you can move him along. If he’s too drunk to drive, we’ll call him a cab, but he’s got to go.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll see what I can do.”
Korie walked over to Aaron’s table and sat down. She tapped Aaron on the arm to get his attention and received no response.
“Mr. Bond, please, we’re getting ready to close. Would you like me to get you a cab?”
Aaron slowly turned towards her. He looked her straight in the eye and whispered, “I’m not Mr. Bond. My name is Aaron.”
Evil Agreement Page 4
