Unspoken Fear

by Hunter Morgan

Alice tripped on a fallen log and went down on one knee. She winced in pain as her hands hit the ground and she pushed herself upright on her knees. It was wet where she fell. She heard lapping water.

  She looked up, both hands pressed into the wet grass, and she thought she could make out the edges of a large pond. She could smell the familiar scent of rotting vegetation and hear the croak of bullfrogs.

  A pond? It had to be Horsey Mill Pond. Alice had fished here as a child.

  But that meant she was going the wrong way, that she was walking north instead of west. Home was west. In the dark, when she ran from the barn, she must have gotten her bearings confused. Her car was parked off County Road 307.

  I'm going the wrong way, she thought, her heart tripping in her chest.

  But this was all wrong. She felt the power, her confidence wane. She had to get home. Home into her nightgown, into her bed. They mustn't suspect. If they did, the punishments would end. The police wouldn't understand. They wouldn't let her feel the blood.

  Somewhere in the darkness, in the direction she had come, Alice heard a dog bark and then howl. It was no stray, but a dog tracking something. There was no mistaking that sound. It was a dog tracking her...

  Alice choked back a sob, genuinely afraid for the first time in months. She tried to stand but she was too weak and she fell forward, her face slapping against the warm, slimy water of the mill pond. A twig snapped behind her, startling her, and she rolled over, half sitting up.

  "Who... who's there?" she called, her voice trembling. Despite the warm night air, she was cold now. Cold and light-headed. "Is someone there?"

  With the passing of the storm, the sky had begun to clear and the moon had begun its ascent. Alice hadn't been able to see it in the woods, but its light now shone palely through the last of the dark clouds.

  The outline of a tall figure materialized, illuminated by the moonlight, and for a moment, Alice feared it was the police. But it was not. The police would have identified themselves; they would have rushed toward her, not understanding what she had done or why.

  The apparition moved calmly, slowly toward her.

  "Who's there?" Alice repeated, squinting to see in the semidarkness. "Please..." Moonlight on a night like this could play tricks on you.

  "Alice..."

  It was a voice Alice did not recognize. Not the voice of God, but another voice. Was it heaven sent? "Yes?" Alice responded.

  The figure did not speak again, but Alice watched as it drew closer, opening its arms, revealing gossamer wings.

  "An angel," Alice breathed. "Oh, God, you have not forsaken me," she cried joyfully.

  Still, the angel approached, and Alice stared in awe as it drew her into its wings and slowly lowered her backward. Alice was so surprised by the specter that she didn't struggle. She surrendered to the wings, gazing up in wonder.

  But then the water began to seep into her nostrils.

  "No," Alice murmured. She tried to sit up, but she couldn't. The angel... the creature was holding her down, pushing her head under the water.

  Alice struggled in earnest.

  "No, no," she cried as the back of her head sunk into the soft mud and the stinking, murky water poured into her mouth. Into her nose.

  Alice choked. Gagged. She tried to hold her breath, but the water filled her mouth, her throat, her lungs. She attempted to suck in a breath of air when she could hold her breath no longer. Fire spread through her chest, filling her with agony.

  She flailed, kicking her feet, trying to tear away the inhuman grip, the hands that held her under the water.

  But Alice was no match for her attacker's strength. As her lungs caught fire and filled with water, she heard a voice in her head. At first it was just one, then many. She heard the adulterers scream in pain. Not just Johnny and Pam, but Jack, too. Then the thief. Then the homosexual.

  She felt their anguish. It filled her, consumed her. And then, in the darkness of her own agony, she saw a light ahead, saw the fires of hell. She opened her mouth and screamed a silent scream that, at that moment, she realized would be eternal.

  Epilogue

  Five days later

  Delilah sat beside Snowden in the cushy blue vinyl chair of the waiting room, pulling through a pile of paperwork in the plain manila folder on her lap. She was almost ready to submit her final report. She was waiting for the autopsy on Alice Crupp to come back, but it would be pretty cut and dry. The police dog had found her less than a mile from the Gibson home, already dead. She'd obviously fallen into the water, due to blood loss from the stab wound she'd incurred fighting Noah Gibson. She'd drowned in the mill pond, poor crazy old soul.

  With the autopsy report expected by the end of the week, all Delilah had left to do was interview Noah Gibson, who had taken a turn for the good the day before and was now expected to live, despite how close he had come to death the night he was attacked. Later, over cups of coffee in the staff break room, the EMTs had related to Delilah that they had had to restart his heart twice before making it to Beebe Hospital.

  Fortunately for Noah, a surgeon had been available, and after several blood transfusions, he was now expected to make a full recovery. Because of the depth of the thigh wound and the ligaments that were cut, he would need physical therapy and might walk with a limp for the rest of his life, but considering the circumstances, he was a lucky man to be alive. Some might even say it was a miracle.

  "Snowden. Sergeant Swift."

  Rachel Gibson approached them, smiling. Her face was pale and she appeared a little gaunt, but her smile lit up her face. "He's awake and he seems to think he can answer some of your questions."

  "Please, call me Delilah." Delilah rose, tucking her folder under her arm. Rachel's smile was infectious. She was truly a beautiful woman, and she radiated happiness this afternoon. "How's he doing?"

  "Doctors say great." Rachel opened her arms and brought her hands together. "The surgeon says there's really no other explanation for his survival except that Noah wouldn't stop fighting for his life. They estimate he lost almost two liters of blood before they could stop the bleeding. He should have been dead. Now they're talking about letting him out in the next two to three days."

  "That's good news." Snowden smiled down on her.

  "So you want to come in?" She opened a hand, leading the way.

  Delilah followed Snowden and Rachel, but today, she felt no sense of competition with this woman. She was just happy Noah was going to live, happy no one else had died that night. Happy the killer had finally been found.

  They walked into the private hospital room and were greeted by Noah Gibson, who was sitting up in bed, pillows piled behind him. He looked good for a man who had been so close to death. Looked good for any man, Delilah couldn't help thinking. Not only was he handsome with his classic bone structure and full head of hair, but there was something about his face that was different than it had been. Delilah had always thought he looked sad before. Now, like Rachel, he seemed to radiate light.

  "Thanks for seeing us." Snowden shook Noah's hand and stepped back. "We won't stay long."

  "Just a few things we want to go over with you." Delilah tugged a pen out of her breast pocket and opened up her folder to follow her notes.

  "You want me to leave?" Rachel asked.

  "Won't be necessary," Snowden said.

  "Because we never got to interview Miss Crupp," Delilah started, "we'll never know exactly how this happened. We did discover from her medical records, however, that she was recently diagnosed with a possible psychological disorder."

  "A psychological disorder?" Rachel asked. "What kind of psychological disorder?"

  "I shouldn't even be telling you this." Delilah glanced at Snowden, then back at Rachel. "But you've been through so much. You deserve an explanation." She sighed. "Dr. Carson wasn't entirely sure what was wrong with Miss Crupp because she refused to seek further diagnostic treatment, but she claimed to be hearing voices, among other things."

  Ra
chel and Noah exchanged glances.

  "It's not a complete explanation, I know, but the woman was obviously very sick." Delilah glanced down at her folder. "Anyway, I understand your need to continue to keep private the information told to you while you were a priest, Noah, but—"

  "I'll help you out as best I can," Noah said.

  Delilah glanced at Snowden. "There's also some information the chief and I believe you and Mrs. Gibson need to have, concerning Mattie McConnell."

  "Mattie? I thought he was absolved of any wrongdoing." Rachel turned to Snowden.

  "Hon, let the officer speak." Noah took Rachel's hand and drew her toward him.

  Rachel sat down on the edge of the bed.

  Delilah started again. "After talking with Miss Cora Watkins and her sister, I discovered that Miss Crupp had left high school in the middle of her senior year, and rumor had been that she was pregnant. A Jack McConnell left town about the same time, but no one made any connection. Mr. McConnell returned, of course, but it was many years later before Miss Crupp moved back to Stephen Kill."

  "OK," Noah said. "I vaguely remember hearing something like that."

  "Well, I didn't. I questioned Miss Cora recently about Miss Crupp and why she had left town, and she never mentioned a possible pregnancy. I talked to Miss Cora again two days ago. Turned out she did know that Miss Crupp was sent away by her father to have her baby, and it was then put up for adoption. Cora was just trying to protect her friend—that was why she didn't tell me."

  "I'll be damned," Noah muttered. "Cora with a conscience when it came to gossip? Who'd have believed it?"

  Delilah gave a little smile. "Well, if she'd been a little more forthright I might have looked more closely at Miss Crupp. Anyway, I did a little research, and it turns out Miss Crupp did become pregnant. One week after a Miss Alice Crupp gave birth in a Maryland hospital, a Jack McConnell took custody of a newborn male. The adoption was private so the records were sealed, but according to Cora Watkins, Jack McConnell is the father of Alice's baby."

  "Mattie is Alice's son?" Rachel breathed, her eyes widening.

  "We believe so. Apparently, instead of putting his grandchild up for adoption, Alice's father allowed the baby's father to take him. Maybe because of Mattie's handicap. Cora stayed in Maryland, got a job, tried to make a life for herself. I'm guessing she was never able to come to terms with the sin she saw herself as having committed. We found notebooks in her home filled with the ramblings of a mad woman. All about sin. About God punishing sinners. About angels being sent to kill sinners. We also found a list of names written in blood. Johnny Leager's, Pam Rehak's, Newton's, and Hearn's names were all crossed out." She hesitated. "Yours was next on the list, Noah."

  Rachel covered her mouth with her hand.

  Delilah was surprised Noah didn't react in response to the idea that he was one of the killer's targets. Maybe the man had been through so much that it didn't matter, not now.

  "So why was she after Mattie, then, if I was to be her next victim? We all know what sin I committed. But Mattie? What could he have possibly ever done wrong?"

  "That I don't know," Delilah admitted. "From the footprints we found in your house that night, we think Miss Crupp entered your home, looking for you."

  "Thinking Mattie was in jail," Rachel whispered.

  "She went all the way up to your bedroom." Delilah rested her gaze on Noah's pale face. "But she couldn't find you."

  "Because I'd blacked out in the nursery."

  "At that point, we don't know what possessed her, but she left the house and entered the cellar where she apparently found Mattie and Mallory."

  "And then she decided to kill Mattie?" Rachel questioned. "Why?"

  "Guess we'll never know. Maybe it had something to do with her sins. Maybe she just got confused."

  Noah exhaled. "So you think this was all just the result of a woman gone mad?"

  "We suspect she had been stalking Mattie for some time. His name appears in the notebooks again and again even though he doesn't seem to have originally been a target. I haven't read through everything, but it appears that she came to your farm several times in June and July in the middle of the night to see him."

  Rachel looked at Noah. "No wonder Mattie was so scared. It makes sense, doesn't it? Alice must have been coming to the house at night and that was why he started acting so strangely. Why he seemed so angry sometimes. Who knows what she was saying to him."

  "But you never saw Miss Crupp at your place?"

  Noah shook his head. "We never saw her."

  "And you never spoke to Miss Crupp about any of your parishioners who might have previously sought counsel with you?"

  Noah scowled. "Certainly not, Sergeant."

  "So how did Alice know anything about Johnny Leager or Pam Rehak, or Skeeter or the judge?" Rachel rose from the bed. "She never worked at the church. She never had any access to any of Noah's files." She turned back to her ex-husband in the bed. "Cora," she said suddenly. "Cora told Alice."

  "Exactly." Delilah exhaled. "I got a teary confession out of her. She said, over the years, she may have let some things slip. She said she never told anyone else, but she saw no harm in telling her sister and her best friend."

  Noah hung his head. "That's awful." He looked up. "Does that make Cora an accessory?"

  Delilah shook her head. "No. She had no idea her friend would go off the deep end. It was just more juicy gossip to share while they waited for the banana bread to bake." She looked to Noah. "But just to clarify, you never provided Miss Cora Watkins with any information regarding your parishioners either?"

  "You know the answer to that, Sergeant."

  Delilah looked down at her file; this was all really a formality. He was right. She knew the answers. But any job worth doing was worth doing right, her mama always said. Besides, she wanted Snowden to know she was thorough. She wanted him to know how seriously she took this job, how much it meant to her.

  She pulled a notepad out of her pocket. "Now, if you could just go through the events of the other night, step by step, I'll get some notes and get out of here."

  Noah related the events of that night, and in fifteen minutes Delilah and Snowden were saying their good-byes. Outside the hospital room, in the empty hall, Delilah stopped to put away her pen and notepad. She was relieved to have the case settled but a part of her was sorry it would end here. With the case over, she doubted she and Snowden would be working together so closely again. Even if they couldn't have anything else, she wished she could keep working with him. They made good partners.

  "You've done an excellent job with this case," Snowden told her. "I'm going to push the city council to let me hire our first detective, and I want it to be you."

  She slid her pen into her breast pocket and looked up at him, surprised by the emotion she saw in his handsome face. "A promotion sounds great. Your approval means more."

  His blue-eyed gaze met hers, and Delilah's breath caught in her throat as he shocked her by leaning down and covering her mouth with his.

  "No one can know," he whispered against her lips. "I mean it. We would both lose our jobs."

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway and a nurse appeared pushing a cart. She didn't seem to notice them in the patient's door alcove.

  Delilah took a step back, trying to catch her breath, her lips still tingling from his touch. "You go for a run tonight, you might find my front door open."

  "I just might need that run," he said with a chuckle as he started for the elevator, his stride long and businesslike.

  Delilah followed, trying not to grin like a fool, her handcuffs jingling as she hurried to catch up.

  * * *

  Noah watched Rachel for a moment in silence. She stood at the window of his hospital room, looking out on the lawn below, bathed in sunlight. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever known.

  She turned, a smile on her face. "In your hospital bed? You're an injured man, you need your rest."

  "Pl
ease?"

  She glanced at the closed door. "Someone might come in."

  He scooted over, trying not to wince. "Come on." He patted the bed beside him. "Best medicine I know."

  Rachel only hesitated another moment, and then she kicked off her sandals and climbed into the bed. Noah wrapped his arm around her, and she stretched out beside him, her head on her chest. He smoothed her honey blond hair and kissed the top of her head. He was a lucky man. A blessed man. And he knew it. And he was going to remind himself of it every day for the rest of his life.

  "Do you think it's true?" Rachel murmured.

  "What?"

  "That what Alice did was just the result of a madness?"

  "What else could it be?"

  She shrugged and then smoothed his hospital gown in a gentle caress. "I don't know. I just can't help thinking she didn't act alone."

  "There's no evidence she had an accomplice."

  "Sergeant Swift said she heard voices. Mallory said Mattie heard voices. I heard a voice in my nightmares. It was warning me, I think."

  He was quiet.

  "Noah, have you had a blackout since that night? In the hospital, I mean."

  "No."

  "And I haven't had one of my nightmares. I also haven't gotten that awful feeling, that feeling that's been haunting me for weeks, months. Not since she died, not once."

  He rubbed her arm. "What are you suggesting?"

  "Just that, maybe there was something evil in this town and maybe it wasn't Alice, maybe it was just something controlling Alice. Maybe your blackouts had something to do with it. Maybe whatever was making Alice do those things was trying to make you look guilty—to the police. To you."

  "I doubt the police would go with that theory. Alice committed the murders. There's forensic proof. Her fingerprints were on that bloody machete."

  "You and I know what we experienced. I know what it felt like in the cellar with her that night. I was definitely in the presence of evil. And how could Alice have had the strength to cut Skeeter's hands off? Something had to have given her that strength."

  He sighed thoughtfully, not ready to go along with her theory, but not willing to totally dismiss it. "Guess we'll never know."