“He was in her bed?”
“Yeah. Her face was just a few feet from hers. I’m sure she got a pretty good look, even if it was just for a second or two. The deformed face is hard to ignore. It’s not like someone can fake that. She said he was having a hard time breathing. It’s the same way he sounded on the phone when he called me from Ben’s house.”
“Could have just been the shadows that made his face look weird. She’d just woken up, too. You can’t trust your eyes for a few seconds. Shadows can appear to be all sorts of strange things.”
“Maybe.”
“Why did he let her live then? I don’t think it would have been hard to catch her. Why kill Ben but not her?” Penfield asked.
“I don’t know. He was clearly trying to scare her, but why? What did he hope to gain? What kind of message was he trying to send?”
Penfield didn’t have an answer. He turned away from her and looked back at the empty coffin. He walked closer to the hole and kneeled down at its edge. The coffin was in terrible condition. It was clear the years of sitting in the earth had taken its toll. Penfield looked around the area. There were trees surrounding the small clearing. Everything was soaking wet from the heavy rainstorm of the previous night. He guessed the area was below sea level, too. Much of Gloucester was. It would stand to reason the dirt around the coffin would be wet more often than it was dry. It was amazing the coffin was in as good a shape as it was.
“It looks like pieces of the sides have broken away or collapsed,” Penfield said.
“You think they were damaged when it was dug up?”
“Probably just rotted away after being in the ground for two decades.”
Penfield looked over the coffin again.
“This thing looks homemade. Not bad construction but definitely not professionally made.”
He turned back to Emma.
“What do you make of that?” he continued.
“What do you mean?”
He stood. He looked back toward the original clearing they’d come to. It wasn’t that far away, but he couldn’t see it through the thick woods.
“Their son dies after falling out of a tree. So what do they do? They bury him fifty yards away from the rest of the family and stick his body in a homemade coffin.”
“It’s not even legal to bury someone in your backyard. How the hell did they get away with that?” Emma asked.
“Most of the headstones back there looked pretty old. Plus, who would have seen them this far back? Did you get a chance to look at the dates on them?”
Emma shook her head.
“As far as I know, they could be from three or four generations ago,” she said.
“What about Bill and Bobby Tatum? Are you aware of any funeral plans yet?”
“I haven’t heard anything. The bodies haven’t even been released yet.”
“There’s one more thing.”
Penfield turned back to the coffin.
“Take a look at this,” he continued.
Emma joined him at the edge of the hole.
“You see the bottom of the coffin?” Penfield asked.
“Yes.”
“There’s nothing there.”
“We already established the body was stolen.”
“Was it?”
“Somebody took it. The dead boy sure as hell didn’t climb out.”
“I get that, but that wood looks clean with the exception of some of the mud that’s fallen in when the lid was broken. Shouldn’t there be something there? You’ve presumably got a body decomposing in a box for twenty years. It doesn’t look like any flesh or fabric from his clothing has rubbed off. You’d think there would be some degree of discoloration of the wood.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that if I put a glass on the table, I’ve got a water stain within a minute or two. A deceased child was lying on that wood for a hell of a lot longer than that, and there’s not one stain.”
“You think there was no body to begin with?” Emma asked.
“You have to admit it’s pretty damn strange there’s no evidence there was anybody in that coffin.”
“Why would they bury an empty box? If you’re going to fake a burial, why not just disturb the ground and then put a grave marker down? Why do anything at all if the burial is back this far? Who’s going to come back here but family? It’s not like the sheriff’s department is going to demand to see proof of burial.”
“Agreed, but it would solve a lot of questions. Maybe people are seeing things because Jimmy really has come back. He didn’t rise from the dead because he was never dead to begin with.”
“Ben was the investigating detective. I don’t see how he could have screwed that up.”
“What if he didn’t screw it up? What if it was a cover-up of some kind?” Penfield asked.
“Where did the boy go if they did fake it, and why would they? I don’t buy it. Plus, why would Ben have anything to do with them staging Jimmy Tatum’s death? What in the world would he have to gain?”
Emma turned and looked down the path that led back toward the house. She turned back to Penfield.
“I’m going to check on forensics. See if they found anything in the bedroom.”
“Thanks for calling me back in on this. I wasn’t sure you wanted me involved after our conversation last night.”
“It was my fault for even bringing the past up. Forget I ever said anything.”
Emma left before he had a chance to respond. Her tone hadn’t been harsh, but it had been abrupt, and it was clear she’d meant it as a definitive end to the subject.
Penfield looked down at the wooden coffin a final time. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became the boy had never been in that box.
He heard a twig snap behind him. It had come from the area directly opposite the dirt path. He turned around and saw a boy looking back at him, at least he thought it was a boy. He looked to be around ten years old. He had a slight build, and his long, brown hair covered part of his face. They stared at each other for a few long moments. Then the boy laughed and ran away from Penfield.
“Wait! Who are you?” Penfield yelled.
He ran after the boy. The woods got thick after several yards, and Penfield had to duck and dodge the tree limbs while the boy simply ran under them.
“Stop! I’m not going to hurt you!”
The boy looked back at Penfield but then turned away again and increased his pace. The glance had only been a quick second, but Penfield could have sworn the boy’s face looked strange, like a part of it was missing.
The distance between Penfield and the boy increased the deeper into the woods they went. Penfield eventually lost sight of him, but he kept jogging in the same direction. His side started to ache and throb. He pressed down on the area with the palm of his hand.
“Not now,” he said.
He continued for another agonizing thirty seconds. The pain increased with each step he took. He assumed the boy was gone and that he’d never be able to catch him, certainly not with his body threatening to shut down from the pain in his side.
He finally cleared the woods. The area opened up into a wide marsh with a bay beyond it. Penfield immediately spotted the boy at the outer edge of the marsh. His body was mostly obscured by the tall reeds. He was standing still, and he’d turned to face Penfield as if he were waiting for him to catch up.
Penfield stopped at the edge of the marsh since he didn’t want to scare the boy any more than he already had.
“Who are you? Are you all right?”
The boy didn’t respond.
“Do you live around here? Why were you back there by that grave?”
The boy took a small step away from Penfield.
“Wait. That water might be deep. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
The boy pushed his hair back and away from his face. Penfield could now clearly see he hadn’t imagined it before. Half of the boy’s face was missing.<
br />
Penfield took a step forward, and his feet immediately sank in the mud. Water rushed over the tops of his shoes and drenched his feet. The boy turned away from Penfield and waded deeper into the bay.
“Stop. I need to talk to you.”
The boy ignored Penfield and walked even deeper into the marsh. The water was soon at his chest level. Penfield pushed farther through the reeds, but each step became harder and harder as his feet sank deeper into the mud.
“Please stop. It’s dangerous.”
The boy turned a final time to Penfield. He smiled at him, but the grin was hideous because of his deformed features. He turned away again and walked forward until he was completely submerged in the dark waters.
Penfield struggled to reach the end of the reeds and then dove into the water. He stretched both arms out and felt for the boy. His hands didn’t touch anything. He opened his eyes, but the water was too murky to see. The dirt in the water stung his eyes, so he shut them tightly.
He came to the surface and took a long gulp of fresh air. He used the palms of his hands to wipe the water and mud away from his face. He opened his eyes and looked for the boy. He was nowhere to be found. Penfield walked small circles around the last point he’d seen the boy. He went underwater several times, but he never found him. The boy had vanished into the bay.
Penfield finally gave up and walked out of the marsh. He backtracked his steps to Jimmy Tatum’s gravesite. Penfield found the area where he’d first seen the boy. He went down to his knees and searched the ground. It took him a few minutes, but he finally found it: the stick the boy had stepped on and broken. Penfield picked up the twig and examined it. The break was definitely fresh. He put the stick down and searched the rest of the area. There were no footprints other than his own. Those were deep in the wet soil and unmistakable. He didn’t know how the boy would have been able to run through there and not leave tracks of his own.
He turned and looked back toward the marsh. He couldn’t have imagined it. The boy must have been real, but who was he and what did he want?
Chapter 15
The Past
Henry Atwater Interrogation. Twenty-One, November. Audio Transcription. Part 2.
Slater: Penfield called you after his encounter with the boy in the marsh. Tell me about that.
Atwater: He said it was the same as before. I’m sure that’s why he called. It scared him. He didn’t admit he was afraid, but I would have been.
Slater: He saw the boy before?
Atwater: No. It was the last case Penfield did before he resigned.
Slater: He saw a child in that case? Did a child get hurt?
Atwater: Has he never mentioned the case to you? Has Detective Ross?
Slater: I heard some things about it. All I know is people were hurt, and his partner was at fault.
Atwater: But Penfield took the blame. He said he was the one ultimately responsible. It’s why he left.
Slater: What happened?
Atwater: It was a missing person’s case. He and his partner went to the man’s house. There were things about the place that couldn’t be explained. It’s why he brought me in.
Slater: What kind of things?
Atwater: Penfield and one of the family members started seeing a child. It was a little girl. Her face had been terribly burned, but the girl would vanish whenever Penfield got close to her. He questioned whether he was imagining things, but he wasn’t.
Slater: How do you know?
Atwater: Because I saw her, too. She told me things.
Slater: She spoke to you?
Atwater: They don’t speak in the normal sense. They reveal things to you. They implant visions or feelings in your mind. It becomes obvious what they’re trying to tell you if you open yourself to them.
Slater: What did this girl reveal to you and Penfield?
Atwater: She’d died in a fire. That’s why she had the burns on her face. She couldn’t leave that house. Her energy was trapped there. It was almost as if her shadow had been burned into the brick walls.
Slater: Let me get this straight. You mean to tell me that the boy Penfield saw in the marsh was a ghost?
Atwater: What do you think he was? How could he vanish in the bay and his body not wash up somewhere? Did Penfield kill the boy? Did he weigh his body down with something to keep him from floating to the top?
Slater: Of course, he didn’t kill him.
Atwater: Then where did he go?
Slater: He was never there to begin with. I saw Detective Ross’ report. There were never any footprints. How did the boy run from the gravesite to the marsh and not leave one print?
Atwater: And the broken stick Penfield found?
Slater: He stepped on it himself.
Atwater: So Penfield followed an illusion all the way to the marsh?
Slater: He thought he saw something. It was nothing more than that. Have you been back to those woods? There’s all sorts of sounds. He could have heard an animal rustling around and thought it was a human in his desperation to understand what was going on.
Atwater: I saw that wooden coffin myself. There was nothing in there, never had been.
Slater: Interesting that you should bring that up. I find it beyond coincidental that it perfectly matches your dream. You call Penfield and tell him you saw an empty wooden coffin buried in the marsh. Then you said you saw his body in the water.
Atwater: Many of these visions come true. I’ve told you that before.
Slater: What’s more believable? That you have visions of the future, or that you orchestrated the future yourself to make your so-called prophesies real?
Atwater: What do you mean?
Slater: I think you put that box there. You got rid of the original coffin. Then you placed that empty one in the ground. You knew what it would do to Penfield. You knew the similarities between that box and the one he was put in as a child. Seeing that box pushed him over the edge. It’s why he saw that boy. His mind shattered.
Atwater: What would I have to gain? I’ve only tried to help him. That’s all I’ve ever done.
Slater: I agree with his father. You put him in that box. I don’t know why you changed your mind and later set him free, but you’ve haunted him his entire life.
Atwater: He’s the one who sought me out. He called me for my help.
Slater: Not until you planted this vision in his head. You described the empty box in the marsh. It’s too similar to what he went through. You knew what it would do to him. You knew he’d never be able to stay away.
Atwater: And what about the murders? I suppose you can explain how I was supposedly on that boat when Bobby Tatum smashed his father’s brains in?
Slater: Bobby committed that murder, but he had help. We know he bought a burner phone that he gave to Detective Hall’s killer.
Atwater: You think that’s me?
Slater: Why not? You’re a master manipulator. You could have easily put all of this into motion.
Atwater: How did I meet the Tatums? How did I learn about their past?
Slater: I know it was you. Tell me what you did with her.
Atwater: I don’t know where she is. I would help you if I could.
Slater: Tell me!
Chapter 16
The Fire
Ten, November.
Penfield pulled into the parking lot of the Mobjack Bay Marina. The sky was still a sad sheet of gray clouds, and Penfield wondered if it would start to rain again. He looked at the time on his cell phone and saw he was close to twenty minutes early for his meeting.
He’d reluctantly called Henry Atwater and asked him for his help after seeing the child in the woods. He hadn’t told him specifics about the case. He hadn’t even told him yet about the sighting of the boy. Although Atwater had proven his abilities to him, he still found himself testing and verifying the man every time they interacted. Maybe it was his natural inclination not to trust people.
He thought about calling Emma and asking f
or an update on the break-in of Sally Tatum’s house. He hadn’t seen or talked to her since the morning by Jimmy’s gravesite. He didn’t call her, though. He knew she’d ask him where he was, and he didn’t want to have to lie to her about the meeting with Henry Atwater. He knew what her response would be.
Penfield climbed out of his car. He decided to walk down to the dock and look at the boats to pass the time. The temperature was still cold, and the wind was still blowing hard out of the west.
By the time Penfield got halfway down the dock, he saw the Tatums’ boat was missing. The crime scene tape had been balled up and was twisting in the wind while it slid across the dock. Penfield saw the waterman he’d talked to on his first trip to the marina. He was at the stern on his own boat and was busy coiling a line.
“Hey there,” Penfield said. “Did you happen to be here when The Sally was taken out?”
The waterman placed the coiled line on a bench and looked up at Penfield.
“I was just getting ready to ask the dock master about that. I think something might be wrong with it.”
“What do you mean?”
The waterman turned toward the bay and pointed to a small speck a few hundred yards away.
“I think that’s her out there. She’s just been drifting around for the last thirty minutes.”
“How do you know that’s her?” Penfield asked.
The waterman walked over to the controls on his boat and grabbed a pair of binoculars that were stored in a small cabinet under the steering wheel. He walked back to the edge of his boat that was closest to Penfield.
“Take a look for yourself.”
He tossed the worn binoculars to Penfield. He put them up to his eyes and focused on the boat in the bay. The stern was pointed away from him, so he couldn’t get a look at the boat’s name. It looked like The Sally, though. Still, there were dozens of the deadrise boats in these parts. It could have easily been another one.
“Is there any chance you can take me out there?”
The waterman hesitated a moment, and Penfield was about to offer him what little money he had in his wallet when the waterman nodded.
“Sure, climb aboard.”
Dead Rise: An Alex Penfield Novel Page 11
