Jack Zane: Evil at Storm Lake

by Jan Sumner

  Chapter 11

  He couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning most of the night. It kept gnawing at him. There was a part of him desperate to find out everything he could. There was also a part of him that said this book could be big, which would not only give him a measure of success he’d yet to attain, but could possibly provide some monetary solace to all those other families hurt by Jack Zane. Then there was that persistent voice inside asking; do I really want to put her through this again?

  He finally fell asleep about three in the morning. He awoke, exhausted; not a good way to start a very important day. He showered by rote, and staggered his way down to the diner. He figured a pot full of coffee would bring him around. By the time he got back to his room he was feeling much better, awake. Coffee always did have that effect on him. He called Barbara, to make sure he was still welcome, gathered up his stuff and made what he hoped would be his final trip to her home.

  It was eleven in the morning and getting hot. When he arrived, the dogs had already taken up sentry duty under the truck. As he got out of the car, they looked at him like, oh yeah, you were here yesterday, besides it’s too hot to be greeting anyone. He tapped on the screen door and heard Barbara say, “Come on in.” As he stepped through the front door he could smell it…coffee.

  “Would you like some coffee? I just brewed it.”

  If he had anymore coffee, well, it might get embarrassing.

  “Sure, that would be fine, just black thanks.” What the heck, maybe she wouldn’t notice him, not drinking it. She set the cup down on the table beside him, then went and sat on the couch. Jonathan waited a minute then said, “Is Clyde going to join us?”

  “No, he had to go to town and pick up some equipment. Besides, he doesn’t like hearing about my family. He said to me once, ‘How in the world did you ever come out of that bunch of crazies?’”

  “To be honest, I’ve kind of wondered that myself,” Jonathan said trying to be upbeat. “You seem so… kind.”

  She leaned back on the couch and looked out the front door. “I got it from my mom, she was nice, sweet and loving. I’ll never know why she married my dad, but she did and we had to live with it.”

  Jonathan could see she was a little more comfortable with this. Maybe she was going to be able to tell her story…for the first time. Who knows, this might just be cathartic for her.

  “Now, Jeffery told me Jack was buried in an unmarked grave near your mom.”

  “Yes, out at the old cemetery. Only Clyde and I know where it is. We were afraid what people might do. There were quite a few people in town who didn’t want his body brought back here, but he had no one when he died, and I knew mom still loved him. She could never understand why he became so evil.”

  “Barbara, do you think it would be alright if you showed me the grave? I promise I won’t let anyone know where it is.”

  Now she leaned forward and looked at him hard. He could see a little bit of that Zane stare.

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about that.”

  “I understand. Now, you and Clyde never had children?”

  She eased back, Jonathan hoped he hadn’t crossed the line.

  “We tried, but I miscarried twice. We felt the Lord was telling us we just weren’t meant to have any, so we gave up trying. I miss having children in some ways, but, there is all this heredity stuff, so maybe it’s best we didn’t.”

  “You’re afraid another Jack might come along?”

  It had hardly rolled off his tongue when he thought, you idiot, of course that’s what she’s afraid of. Quickly trying to backpedal, he said, “I’m sorry, I had no right to say that, please accept my apology.”

  She set her coffee cup down, got up and walked to the front door. Although in her early sixties, she was still an attractive woman; tall, well kept and rather stoic. She stared out at the huge old oak tree at the far end of the yard. He could see her sliding back in time, wondering, yearning.

  “No, that’s okay. You’re exactly right. With a brother like that, how could you not be worried? Clyde and I felt that might have been part of the reason we couldn’t have children. One Jack Zane…was too many.”

  She returned to the couch with a look of peace on her face. Jonathan sensed she was actually relieved not to have had children. Just the possibility of having a child like Jack would have been more that she could bare.

  “Barbara, I’d like to ask you something, but if it’s too painful, you just say so, and we’ll move on.”

  “Alright, what is it?”

  “Do you think Jack was a born killer, or was he created, say by your father?”

  It appeared she’d never thought about it, let alone ever been asked. She squeezed the coffee cup in her hand, slowly turning it, looking him straight in the eye.

  “You may not believe this, but I have thought about that. I don’t know much about this genetic stuff, but I do know Jack was mean at a very early age. Long before dad started abusing him.

  “I guess I think he was born that way, and dad just made it worse.”

  Jonathan thought, pretty insightful. It was time to cut to the nitty-gritty.

  “Again, if you’d rather not answer any of these questions, just tell me. I have to get down to the basic facts, some of which I know are going to be difficult for you to answer.”

  “Go ahead, I’ll tell you if I don’t want to answer them.”

  “Tell me your worst memories of Jack, going back to when he was little, and then what you thought once he was gone and you found out what he had become.”

  Well, this ought to do it. He was either going to get all the information he needed, or be asked to leave. Either way he had to try. She got up and started to the kitchen, “Would you like some more coffee?”

  “Oh, God n…sure.”

  He got up and yelled into the kitchen, “May I use the bathroom?” He heard her grunt a yes, so he hurriedly prepared for the next coffee onslaught. When he got back she was waiting for him, and he had a hot, fresh cup of coffee waiting as well.

  “Barbara, if you’d rather not…?

  “No, I’ll tell you. There seems to be a part of me that wants to get rid of this. After mom died, I had no one to talk to about it, and even when she was alive, we didn’t discuss it a great deal. It hurt her too much.

  “From the time I can remember, Jack was different. He seemed to love to hurt people, animals, anything he could watch suffer. I used to watch him play with the other boys, and every chance he got, he’d hit them, hurt them. It seemed to bring him some sort of pleasure. I never did understand it…and neither did my mom.”

  She turned away and he could see her wipe a tear from her cheek.

  “Barbara, if you want to stop we can. I can see how hard this is for you.”

  “Mr. Smyth, you only see what’s on the outside, you have no idea what it’s been like to live with this. People looking at you, judging you, thinking you must be bad too. Even people I considered friends, saying things behind my back, treating me like I have some disease.

  “You know, the only thing, besides my faith, that changed that?”

  “No, what?” “Time. Eventually everybody just forgot about it. It was old news. Not until then did I get to start living my life normally. Clyde and I got married, took care of our little farm out here and they just…forgot.”

  Oh boy, this was what he was worried about. She had no idea what could come of this, the media, television, who knows what all. There was only one thing to do, tell her. He owed it to her.

  “Barbara, before we go any deeper into this, I need to tell you something. If I write this book, with all this in it, quoting you, people in town, Jeffery, it could bring a lot of unwanted attention your way. I’m really not sure what all might happen, but there is the possibility, actually a good probability, that the media and sightseers might descend on you and Storm Lake. I just wanted you to know that, befo
re we continued.”

  She got up and moved to the front door again. He could see she was tired, tired of talking and tired of having had to live with this her entire life. It was as if he could read her mind, “Why me? Why couldn’t I have had a normal family?”

  She turned, straightened up and said, “No, it’s time I said my piece. I’ve had to live with this my whole life, and now, for the first time, I can tell my side of it. How much I hated what he was, what he did to our family, and how sorry I am for all those families he hurt. When he killed himself I was glad, but I can’t imagine how horrible it must have been for all those moms and dads, brothers and sisters who lost loved ones. This will give me a chance to tell them so. It’s probably too late, but I still want to tell them.”

  Jonathan was surprised. He sensed a certain strength about her, but he hadn't anticipated this response. He could see she was determined to purge what had festered for so many years and, reach out to the victims of her brother, of which she was one.

  “Well, I’m glad you feel that way, Barbara. I personally think you’re doing the right thing. I promise you, I’ll do all I can to help you, however this goes.”

  It was mid-afternoon, and she asked him if he’d mind coming back the next day; she was very tired. He, of course, agreed and packed up his stuff. On the way out he ran into Clyde in the drive.

  “How are you, Clyde, sorry I missed you today.”

  “I’m fine, how’d it go?”

  “Well, I think I’ll be back tomorrow, and hopefully we can finish it up. You have a very sweet wife there, she’s been wonderful.”

  Clyde smiled and waved a good-bye as he walked on toward the house. The dogs finally came out from under the truck and he petted them as they jumped around him.

  As Jonathan headed south to Cherokee, he couldn’t help but think how completely different Barbara was from Jeffery, not to speak of Jack. Clyde was right, how in the world did she come from this family, or maybe more accurately, how did she survive it?

  Perhaps, tomorrow he’d find out.