Dead Rise: An Alex Penfield Novel

by Robert W. Stephens

  “The last time he was here, that’s when he got thrown out?” Penfield asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Maybe a week ago. I thought that’s why you were here. I figured he filed a complaint or something.”

  “So he never talked about his family? Did he talk about anyone else?” Emma asked.

  “Not really. We mostly just talked about how he was trying to change his life. He mentioned his divorce.”

  “Did he ever come in with someone else?” Penfield asked.

  “No. He was always alone.”

  “Did he talk about anyone other than his wife? Maybe someone he was having problems with? Something that was bothering him?” Emma asked.

  “No. He never said anything bad about anyone. The guy was just struggling with who he was.”

  Emma tried to think of other questions, but it had become obvious this was a dead end.

  “Thanks for talking with us. We’ll let you get back to work,” Emma said.

  “He really killed someone?” Danny asked.

  Emma nodded.

  “Jesus. It’s always the quiet ones.”

  Danny exited the office and walked back to the bar. Emma looked at Penfield.

  “Do you believe him?”

  “I do. We didn’t know if we’d get anything. We knew it might have been a longshot. You did good tracking him down so quickly.”

  Emma looked around the bar.

  “I’d offer to buy you a drink for helping me out, but this place is so loud. It’s giving me a splitting headache.”

  “There’s a much quieter place just down the road, if you’re serious about that drink,” Penfield said.

  “Lead the way.”

  They left the bar, and Emma followed Penfield’s car for about five minutes. Penfield turned right into a strip mall and drove toward a tiny restaurant that was tucked in the back corner. They parked beside each other and walked across the wet parking lot. It had finally stopped raining, but large puddles still covered portions of the lot. Emma looked up at the white sign with the name “Mary’s” written in faded red letters as they got closer to the building.

  “I assume you’ve been here before.”

  “Several times. It’s one of the best kept secrets,” Penfield said.

  They entered the restaurant. There were very few patrons inside at this hour, and most of them were at the small bar in the back. Penfield led them over to a table several feet from the bar, but not too far for the one remaining waitress to have to walk.

  “Did you and Maria come here on your lunch breaks?” Emma asked.

  It was the first time in years Penfield had heard his former partner’s name mentioned. It still cut him deeply.

  “Something like that.”

  They sat down, and the waitress took their orders. Penfield asked for a beer while Emma asked for a vodka and cranberry.

  “I’m sure you and Ben had your favorite haunts,” Penfield suggested.

  “A few.”

  “How are you dealing with all of this? I know it can’t be easy.”

  “It’s not, but I don’t think it’s sunk in yet. I feel like I’m in some sort of haze. Nothing seems real,” Emma admitted.

  “I understand.”

  “Who would have thought we’d be working this together?”

  “What has your supervisor said about that?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You haven’t brought it up yet?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “He already knows. Trust me. People talk.”

  “Even more in small towns. That’s something I’ve learned in the last several years.”

  “Is that something you like, the small town feel?”

  “It’s different. I don’t think it’s any better or worse. Just different.”

  “I never got a chance to ask you why you left Hampton. Do you miss the job?”

  “Why didn’t you ask?”

  “I guess I assumed it’s the reason most people leave. They get sick of the madness.”

  The waitress brought back their drinks. Emma took a sip of her vodka and cranberry, while Penfield took a long pull on his beer. He placed the bottle back on the table and looked at Emma. She seemed lost in thought. She just stared at the glass between her fingers.

  “So Bobby Tatum had a fight with his lover, or at least the guy he wanted to be his lover, just a week or so before he killed his father. Sounds like the guy was a time bomb just waiting to go off,” Penfield suggested.

  “It still doesn’t tell us who his partner was. He bought those burner phones for someone.”

  “Nor do we know the connection to Ben.”

  Emma took another sip of her drink.

  “How long are you staying on this case?” she asked.

  “It’s your case. How long do you want me on it?”

  She ignored the question and took another sip of her drink.

  “Have you heard back from that guy that called you?” Emma asked.

  “No. Nothing since that first call.”

  “Is that strange?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t know what to make of that call to begin with.”

  “You seem to trust this person, though.”

  “It’s not that I trust him. It’s just that he has a tendency to get things right.”

  “I don’t understand,” Emma said.

  “I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense. Sometimes I just wonder whose side he’s on.”

  “You question his motivations?”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “When did you meet him?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Is that your way of saying you don’t want to tell me?” Emma asked.

  “Very few people know the story. It’s not something I talk about.”

  “Do you feel comfortable telling me?”

  Penfield hesitated a moment.

  Then he said, “When I was just a kid, some guy grabbed me on my way home from school. He kept me locked up in his house for several days.”

  “Oh my God. I had no idea.”

  “That surprises me a little.”

  “Why? I thought you said you rarely talk about it.”

  “People in the force just seemed to have a way of knowing. Sometimes I’d think that’s all they’d talk about when I wasn’t around. I’m sure I was being paranoid or something, but it has a way of changing you.”

  “How did you escape?”

  “I was buried in a wooden box in the woods. The guy who called me, Atwater, he contacted my father and told him he thought he could find me.”

  “And your father didn’t suspect anything?”

  “Of course, he did. Atwater eventually took him to where I was buried. After they recovered me, my father had him arrested. The case went to trial, and Atwater was found not guilty. My father never got over it. He was convinced Atwater had taken me. He died still believing that.”

  “What do you believe?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve looked him in the eyes several times. I don’t think he’s the same guy as the one who took me.”

  “You were just a boy. You were probably scared out of your mind. How can you be so sure it wasn’t him?”

  “I’m not.”

  “But you believed him when he called you a few days?”

  “There were other things I saw, things that I can’t explain. They make me think that Atwater is often right.”

  “What were they?” Emma asked.

  “I didn’t officially meet him until the case I did right before I left the force. I wouldn’t have been able to solve it if it weren’t for his insights.”

  Emma took another sip of her drink. She put the glass back on the table and looked to Penfield.

  “Now it’s my turn to ask. Do you miss the job?”

  “That’s a good question. I’m not sure. I miss the paycheck. I know that.”

  Penfield took a
long pull from is beer. He put it down and made eye contact with the waitress. He held up his empty beer bottle. She nodded. Penfield turned to Emma.

  “You want another drink?” he asked.

  “No. I’m good.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments.

  Then Emma asked, “How did you get my number when you called me the other day?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did you call the office, and they gave it to you?”

  “I already had it. Besides, I wouldn’t think they’d give out your personal number.”

  Penfield waited for her to respond, but she didn’t.

  “Does that surprise you?” he asked.

  “That you still have my number? I suppose.”

  It was the talk he’d been wanting to avoid but that obviously wasn’t going to happen.

  “I regret the way it ended between us. It’s not something I’m good at,” Penfield said.

  “What? Ending things?”

  “No. Just being in relationships.”

  “I thought you were fine.”

  “Fine? That’s it?” Penfield smiled.

  “What? You expect a compliment after dumping me?”

  “I’d hardly call it dumping you.”

  “What else would you call it?”

  Penfield could feel an argument coming, so he turned to the approaching waitress and thanked her for the second beer.

  Emma waited for the waitress to walk away.

  “Sorry. I guess it’s not really important after all this time.”

  “Your feelings are important, but like I said, I’m not good at these things.”

  Emma picked up her phone and checked the time on the display.

  “It’s getting late. I probably should get going.”

  She turned to find the waitress.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get the bill,” Penfield said.

  Emma stood.

  “I’ll let you know if anything comes up. Thank you.”

  Penfield nodded and watched as she walked toward the door and exited the restaurant. She hadn’t spoken the words, but he was pretty sure she’d just told him he was off the case.

  Chapter 14

  The Coffin

  Ten, November.

  Sally Tatum walked down the dock. The faded and cracked wooden planks creaked under her weight. She looked out to the horizon and saw the sun rising above Mobjack Bay. The air was cold, and she pulled the collar of her jacket tightly around her neck. She saw her namesake in the distance. She remembered the day her husband had bought the boat. She’d laughed when he’d told her what he was going to call it. She’d said to name it something else, but he was insistent. There was really no other name remotely appropriate, he’d said.

  Sally walked the rest of the way to the boat. She looked down at the deck and saw her son, Bobby, looking up at her. He held a hammer in his right hand. He sneered at her and then brought the hammer smashing down onto the head of her husband. Bill didn’t even respond to the devastating blow. He couldn’t have. It was obvious that he was already dead. Bobby swung the hammer again and again. She screamed at him to stop, but he wouldn’t. Finally, Bobby dropped the hammer on the deck. He turned to her.

  “You did this to him. You did it!” he yelled.

  Sally opened her eyes. The house was mostly silent. The only thing she could hear was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room.

  This had been the third night in a row that she’d had a nightmare about her husband’s murder. The dreams had been identical each night. It was like someone or something had stored some short movie in her mind that played every time she closed her eyes. She thought about climbing out of bed and going into the den to watch some television. She didn’t want to sleep again and be faced with the sight of her husband being murdered once more.

  She was about to push the covers back when she heard a different noise. It was the sound of someone breathing beside her. It was a labored breathing, like someone was trying to breathe through a broken or obstructed nose.

  Sally turned over in bed and immediately saw the face of a man. He had long, dark hair, and a side of his face was caved in.

  “Did you think I would stay buried forever?” the man asked.

  Sally screamed and jumped out of bed. She ran down the hallway and out the back door.

  ***

  Penfield climbed out of his car. He’d parked down the street since there were already four sheriff’s deputies’ cars parked in front of Sally Tatum’s house. He’d received the call from Emma before the sun had risen, but now the first rays of light were creeping over the tall trees in the distance. He didn’t want to walk to the house unannounced, especially since he knew law enforcement was probably still canvasing the neighborhood for the male intruder who broke into Sally’s house. He was about to call Emma when one of the deputies approached him.

  “You Penfield?” Joe Debney asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “Detective Ross asked me to bring you to the back of the house.”

  Debney motioned for Penfield to follow him.

  “Have you found the guy?” Penfield asked.

  “No. He’s long-gone by now.”

  Debney led Penfield up the driveway of the Tatum house.

  “Is Mrs. Tatum hurt?”

  “She’s pretty shaken, but the guy didn’t touch her,” the deputy said.

  They walked down the side yard until they came around the back corner of the house. Penfield immediately saw Emma talking to Charles Ray Tatum. He approached them and nodded to Emma.

  “Thanks for coming out here,” she said.

  “No problem.”

  Penfield turned to Charles Ray.

  “Sorry to hear about what happened. Is your mother okay?”

  “It was Jimmy,” Charles Ray said, ignoring Penfield’s question.

  Penfield didn’t know how to respond to such an outlandish claim, so he said nothing.

  “My mother got a good look at him. It was the face. It was deformed, just like Jimmy’s.”

  “It was a boy who was here last night?” Penfield asked.

  “No. It was Jimmy, at the age he would have been now.”

  Penfield hesitated again.

  “You don’t believe me? Fine,” Charles Ray said, and he turned to Emma. “Show him.”

  Emma paused.

  “Show me what?” Penfield asked.

  “My mother called me right after she saw him. That’s when I called you guys. After I got over here, I checked the house. Then just a little while ago, she told me to check out back. She was right. Bobby was right, too. He really did see Jimmy on that boat.”

  “Come on. You need to see this,” Emma said.

  Penfield followed Emma and Charles Ray deeper into the backyard. The Tatums’ property stretched farther back then he could see. They eventually reached a thick wood line, but Charles Ray walked toward a narrow dirt path that cut through the trees. They walked down the path for several more minutes. They had to push away the thin tree branches that had grown over the path. Penfield waited for Emma to elaborate during the walk, but she said nothing. The path finally opened up to a small clearing where Penfield saw several small, worn gravestones. The grass was high, and it looked like it hadn’t been cut for several weeks.

  “It’s back here,” Charles Ray said before Penfield had a chance to read any of the faint markings on the gravestones.

  Charles Ray led them down another thin path that originated at the back of the clearing. They walked another minute or so and came to a second clearing. This one was much smaller than the first. Penfield saw a large mound of fresh dirt beside a deep hole in the center of the clearing. He walked up to the edge of the hole and looked down. He saw an empty and rotting wooden box about six feet below the surface. Most of the lid had been chopped away. It looked like it might have been struck repeatedly with an ax or the sharp edge of a shovel. He looked back at the mound again and this tim
e saw large splinters of wood scattered amongst the dirt. He walked over to the gravestone at the upper edge of the hole. It was a small marker, at least smaller than the previous ones he’d just seen, and it looked like it might tip over and fall into the coffin. The writing was worn and shallow. He could still read the name: James Tatum. He looked at the date of death. It was approximately twenty years ago.

  Penfield turned to Charles Ray.

  “When was the last time you’ve been back here?”

  “It’s been years. Bobby took care of cutting the grass. Sometimes Mom would bring flowers.”

  “Why is this gravesite away from the others?” Penfield asked.

  “It’s what Dad wanted. Mom argued about putting it back here, but he insisted.”

  “He wanted his son separated from the rest of your family?” Penfield asked.

  “It’s what he wanted,” Charles Ray repeated.

  “Do you know what made your mother want you to check the grave?” Emma asked.

  “It was something Jimmy said to her. He said he wasn’t going to stay buried forever. She was too scared to look herself.”

  “You said she saw a man in her bed? Not a boy?” Penfield asked.

  “She said he looked close to my age. She’s convinced it was Jimmy.”

  “Could you give us a moment?” Penfield asked.

  Charles Ray hesitated for a few seconds. Then he nodded and walked back down the narrow path that led to the house.

  Penfield looked down at the empty coffin again. Then he looked over to Emma.

  “She actually saw a guy with half a face?”

  “That’s what she said. She swears it’s her son.”

  “The one who died as a boy but came back as a man?”

  “I know. It’s nonsense.”

  “I’m sure it was dark in the room, and I doubt she stuck around to get a good look at the guy.”

  “She was pretty shaken, but she couldn’t have been more certain that she saw him,” Emma said.

  “Did you find any evidence of the break-in?”

  “A broken window pane in one of the back bedrooms. It was just like the way they gained entry into Ben’s house. They could have been in there for hours.”

  “Any prints?”

  “I don’t know. Forensics is in the house now. I told them to check the bed, too. She said he was lying right beside her.”