When Autumn Falls

by BobA. Troutt

When Autumn Falls

  By Bobby A. Troutt

  Copyright 2011 Bobby A. Troutt

  Table of Contents

  Taylor’s Children’s School and Orphanage

  Portland 16 Miles

  3019 Flat Road

  Still Small Voice

  Duck Duck Goose

  *****

  When Autumn Falls

  Taylor’s Children’s School and Orphanage

  The rain had been falling hard and heavy the last two days. The rain had finally stopped and a heavy fog had moved in Running Meadow, Mississippi in 1955. The boys from the orphanage were on their way back from eating wild plums at the plum thicket. Suddenly they saw a car turn onto Dry Branch Road. The fog lay thick as it moved in, making it almost impossible to see. The mist of the fog was damp and sticky. The approaching car passed by the orphanage as the last of the thunder echoed across the grayish black skies. Lightning lit up the sky in the distance as the storm moved out.

  Suddenly the car came to a screeching halt with a loud thump. It sat idle in the road, with the engine running and the wipers scratching across the windshield. Quickly, people began to run from their houses, gathering about the car. In front of the car lay a young boy, and on the passenger’s side, lay the driver’s daughter who had been thrown from the car. The driver, a woman from Jackson, was crying hysterically as she gathered her daughter into her arms.

  “Oh, my God, what have I done?” she cried. “Please Lord, don’t take them.”

  Some other boys who had been walking down the road rushed over to their friend on the ground. Someone in the crowd called for help. Father O’Neal ran up from the orphanage to them. He asked if anyone had called for help. Someone in the crowd yelled, “Help is on the way!” The mother continued screaming as Father O’Neal went over and tried to comfort her.

  “Pray, Father,” she cried. “Pray that the Lord will spare them.”

  “I already have,” he replied.

  Shortly, the ambulances arrived with the police. It didn’t look too good for the boy. Quickly, they loaded the children into the ambulances and drove off. In a matter of minutes the sound of the siren was all you could hear as it faded out, cushioned by the thick fog. The officer quickly took charge of the situation as Father O’Neal helped the driver. After a few questions from the officer, Father O’Neal took her to the hospital to be with her daughter and him with the boy. The officer asked the others if they had seen anything. All that they could say was they heard the squealing of the tires and the thump. The boys from the orphanage stood beside the road as he approached them.

  “I need to know what you saw.” he said.

  There was a moment of silence. John Howard said he didn’t see anything. He was looking the other way. The other boy, Nickolus, looked scared, but spoke up and said, “Me neither.” The older boy, the brother of the victim, shook his head. The officer figured the lack of response was from the shock of the accident.

  “Sir, may I take Anthony to the hospital to see his brother?” came a voice from behind him.

  Slowly he turned and saw a sister from the orphanage standing there.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, “but I’d like to talk to all of them later.”

  “Sure,” she replied. “Come on boys. I’ll let you out at the orphanage, and Anthony and I are going to the hospital.”

  Quickly they headed down the street, and she let them out. Sister Ann and Anthony took off to the hospital with no time to waste. While on their way, Anthony didn’t have a lot to say. She guessed he was worried so she didn’t say much either. When they arrived at the hospital Father O’Neal met with them outside Barry’s room.

  “How is he, Father?” she asked.

  “I don’t really know,” he replied. “The doctors are still with him.”

  “Are you alright, Anthony?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” replied Anthony. “Do you think he’ll be alright?”

  “I think so,” encouraged Father O’Neal. “Do you know what happened?”

  “No, not really,” he said. “I heard Barry yell, ‘Watch this.’ Then someone said ‘look out’ and I heard the car screeching to a halt. The next thing I knew Barry was on the ground in front of the car.”

  “But why?” asked Father O’Neal. “What would cause him to do such a thing?”

  “I guess he was playing around,” replied Anthony, “and didn’t have time to get back on the side of the road.”

  The door of the room opened and the doctor stepped out.

  “What about it? How is he?” asked Father O’Neal.

  The doctor replied, “I believe he is going to be alright, but it may take some time. He has a hard blow to his head, a broken arm, and four broken ribs. I have given him some medicine to help him sleep. It will be a while before you can see him, but I’ll call you if there is a change. I found numerous bruises on Barry’s back, legs, and arms. They don’t seem to be from the wreck. Do you have any idea what might have caused them?”

  “No, sir,” replied Father O’Neal. “Do you sister?”

  “No. Can we go in for a minute for prayer? This is his twin brother Anthony.”

  “Sure,” replied the doctor, “but just for a few minutes.”

  Father O’Neal eased the door open and they slipped in. As they slowly gathered around Barry’s bed, they noticed all the different kinds of machines hooked up to him. Tears filled Sister Ann’s eyes.

  “Let us pray quietly,” suggested Father O’Neal.

  Shortly, they turned and left the room. Anthony’s eyes peered in at his brother through the crack in the door as it was slowly closing.

  “Sister Ann, lets go down to the girl’s room and see how she’s doing,” said Father O’Neal.

  As they walked down the hall, Father O’Neal asked how the other children were holding up.

  She answered, “They’re fine, Father. Don’t worry so much.”

  As they approached her door, the officer stepped out of the room.

  “How is she?” asked Father O’Neal.

  “I believe she’s fine,” the officer replied. “About the accident,” he said. “On my way over here, I stopped by the orphanage and talked to the other boys, I have talked to the girl’s mother also. From what I can tell it was a freak accident. Barry, they say, jumped out from behind the tree and didn’t see the car. The girl’s mother was trying to miss the boy when she swerved over too far and hit the tree. That caused the girl’s door to pop open, throwing her out of the car.”

  “Is that what happened, Anthony?” the officer asked.

  “Yes, sir,” he replied. “I think so. It happened so fast.”

  “A freak accident,” said Sister Ann, “just like you said.”

  “Well, thank you,” said Father O’Neal, “for letting us know. We are going in now to see her.”

  As they entered, they found the mother standing beside her daughter’s bed.

  “How is she?” asked Sister Ann.

  “She’s holding on,” replied her mother. “Jo Meggin is a good girl,” her mother said. “She’s strong, Father. I’m the weak one.”

  “We will pray for you both,” he replied. “Let us pray.”

  After the prayer, they said goodbye and left the mother and Jo Meggin in the Lord’s hands. All was quiet on the way back. Anthony rode back with Sister, and Father O’Neal drove himself back. He wanted some quiet time with the Lord.

  Things were also quiet at the orphanage. The children were concerned about Barry. That night their prayers were sent up for him and Jo Meggin.

  The next day moved right along. After school that day, Anthony slipped away from the orphanage, wanting to see his brother.
He ran down the street to the bus stop and took the bus to the hospital.

  At the hospital, he found Barry resting quietly. Clicking sounds from the machines filled the room. As Anthony stood beside the bed, he carefully looked about the room. He had come to see his brother, because he had a secret. An orderly came to the door. Anthony hid in the closet, peeped out behind the door, and watched him. Shortly, the orderly was through and left the room, leaving the door open. As Anthony moved from inside the closet, he watched the door to the hallway. Carefully, he crept up to the side of Barry’s bed.

  “I’m sorry, brother,” he whispered.

  Next he quickly turned and eased his way over to the door to the hallway. He looked out and then vanished down the hall and disappeared down the steps. Within moments the warning light began to blink and sounded the alarm in Barry’s room. The head nurse rushed into Barry’s room. There was no pulse. The emergency staff and the doctor worked quickly.

  The nurse cried out, “There’s no pulse and a slow heartbeat!”

  His eyes were set, and his body was cold. His blood pressure was dropping fast.

  “We are going to lose him!” yelled the doctor. “Hold on, son.”

  The emergency team worked together with the doctor doing everything they could to stabilize him.

  “He has hyperkalemia!” cried the doctor.

  Then the nurse looked up and cried, “He’s stabilizing, doctor. The heart is picking up a stronger beat, and I can feel a faint pulse.”

  “Come on, Barry,” the doctor coached. “You can do it, just a little more.”

  Then as things looked good, everyone stopped. The room fell silent. Barry had slipped into a coma.

  “Pulse,” asked the doctor.

  “Stable,” she replied. “Blood pressure is good and his heartbeat is stronger.”

  As the team separated and headed back to the station, the doctor said he would call Father O’Neal. She looked up at him and quietly nodded her head in agreement. The doctor filled the Father in on Barry’s condition.

  “I don’t know what happened,” he said. “I’m going to do some blood work. I should know something by tomorrow.”

  “Is there anything I need to do?” asked Father O’Neal.

  “Not at this point,” he said. “There’s nothing you can do but pray.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” replied Father O’Neal.

  When morning broke, Father O’Neal, Sister Ann, and Anthony entered the hospital. In the lobby, they met Jo Meggin and her mother. She was being released.

  “That’s great,” said Father O’Neal. “Thank the Lord.”

  “She is going to be alright now,” stated her mother. “The doctor said she still has some memory loss, but as time goes by she should get it back.”

  “That is wonderful,” he said.

  “What about Barry?” she asked.

  “It’s not too good,” replied Father O’Neal, “but I still have my faith. God can do anything.”

  “Let me know if there is anything I can do,” she encouraged.

  “Pray,” he said.

  “I have been,” she replied. “Well, we have to go. Bye!”

  Anthony looked over at Jo Meggin and took her hand. “I hope you get your memory back.”

  Jo Meggin looked at him, puzzled, and dropped her head.

  When they entered Barry’s room, the night shift doctor was there.

  He said, “I waited to see you,” he said. “I believe I have found out what has happened. It was hyperkalemia.”

  “What’s that?” questioned Father O’Neal.

  The doctor stood and turned toward them. “It is when higher than normal levels of potassium are in the blood. I don’t think the coma actually came from that, but it might have. The trauma from the wreck and his head wounds may have brought it on. He still has some swelling on his brain. He’s a lucky young man.”

  “The Lord has been watching out for him,” replied Father O’Neal.

  “Recovery will take some time. I would like to keep him here for a few weeks,” requested the doctor. If there’s no change, I recommend you send him to Memphis. There’s a good hospital there that specializes in cases such as this.”

  “Let’s wait and see,” replied Father O’Neal.

  Sister Ann took Anthony by the hand and walked him over to Barry’s bed. They stood quietly as the Father and the doctor stepped out of the room. She whispered a prayer over Barry as Anthony said, “I’m sorry, little brother.”

  “Just one other question, doctor,” questioned the Father. “What has caused this setback?”

  “I don’t really know,” he replied. “It could be a number of things. We may never know.”

  “May we sit with him a while?” asked Father.

  “Sure, by all means,” he said. “That’s all we can do for now. Like you said, it’s in the Lord’s hands.”

  Weeks passed and the days seemed so long. Father O’Neal and others sat by Barry’s bedside praying for a miracle. But there was no change. Finally, Father O’Neal consulted with the doctors about moving him to Memphis Not long after that Barry was on his way to recovery through intensive work and an outstanding rehab program. The hospital there in Running Meadow was not equipped with the treatment Barry needed. Anthony stayed behind at the orphanage. Later on, word got out that Barry getting hit by the car was no accident. But no one questioned it. Things became pretty quiet around the orphanage for a while. Barry had been in Memphis for three weeks.

  A few days later, Anthony was playing around outside the orphanage when he found a two and a half foot galvanized pipe. It must have been left by a workman at the orphanage last week. He played with it a while, pitching small rocks into the air and using the pipe like a bat to hit the rocks across the yard.

  That night a bad storm moved through Running Meadow. Heavy rain and lightning haunted the small Mississippi town. The wind cried as a soulless man, and the thunder begged forgiveness. During the night, Anthony got up and looked down the hall. There he saw Nickolus coming out of his room, headed for the stairs. From the flash of lightning across the dark sky, Anthony could see Nickolus standing at the balcony, watching the storm through the window. Carefully, Anthony eased out of his room into the hallway. Nickolus seemed to be intrigued by the storm.

  “You pushed my little brother out in front of the car,” said Anthony.

  Nickolus froze; he was dumbfounded and couldn’t say a word. He couldn’t even turn around.

  “You are going to have to pay for what you did to my brother,” warned Anthony.

  Blindingly, lightning tore across the sky as thunder shook the building, weakened from age. Beneath the staircase on the bottom floor lay Nickolus, dead in a small puddle of blood. Slowly the storm moved out and quietness settled on the orphanage once more. But upstairs you could hear the closing of a door.

  Early the next morning, the orphanage was awakened by a horrible scream. The maid had found Nickolus dead on the floor. It appeared he had fallen from the balcony. He must have gotten up during the night and, because of the darkness, fell to his death. Father O’Neal ran out and down the stairs to her. He told the children to stay in their rooms until he told them they could come out. The children, curious of what happened, were afraid, and Sister Ann rushed upstairs to comfort them.

  Soon the police arrived. Not too long afterward, they had finished their investigation of the crime scene, deciding it was probably an accident. He may have been leaning over the railing and slipped or lost his balance and fell. But that didn’t seem to answer the question of the deep cut on the back of his head. They thought it could have happened when he hit the floor. The fall had broken his neck.

  The detective was called upstairs to the balcony. There he found specks of blood on the railing and rug. Considering that, the detective kept the case open to a homicide. About then Sister Ann came in and told Father O’Neal
that Anthony was missing. She had asked all the other children if they had seen him, but no one had seen him since bedtime last night.

  “Another missing child, Father O’Neal?” inquired the detective.

  “He’s probably around here somewhere,” as he tried to laugh it off. “He’s in and out,” replied the Father.

  “In the past ten years,” the detective stated, “I believe there have been sixteen children that have disappeared.” Walking around the room he said, “I hope Anthony is not number seventeen. Call me when he comes home. I’d like to talk with him.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied the priest. “I will. Anthony is a good boy.”

  The police left and the maid started cleaning up the mess. Father O’Neal and Sister Ann stepped outside to talk.

  “Do you think Anthony went to see Barry?” wondered Sister Ann.

  “Surely not,” replied Father O’Neal. “It is such a long way. How would he go? He has no way and very little money. Let’s wait and see. He may come in at any moment.”

  The next day, the detective dropped by the orphanage.

  “Father O’Neal, I have a warrant to search the property,” said the detective.

  “Sure, by all means,” answered Father O’Neal. “Sister Ann can show you around.”

  As the officers entered they spread out, thoroughly searching every room.

  “The boy, I forgot his name,” asked the detective. “Did he ever come back?”

  “No, sir,” replied the Father. “I meant to call you, but I got busy and all, and it slipped my mind.”

  “I understand,” said the detective. “I get busy, too.”

  “Sir!” yelled one of the officers upstairs. Come here, I think I’ve found something.”

  Quickly the detective ran up the stairs and down the hall. Father O’Neal followed.

  “Look, sir, what we found in a hole in the mattress. It’s a galvanized pipe. It looks like dried blood on it.”

  As the officer bagged it, the detective looked over at Father O’Neal. “Whose room is this?” he asked.

  The Father dropped his head and said, “Anthony’s room, it’s his bed.”

  The detective stood for a moment looking about the room. Then he said, “The autopsy shows that Nickolus was unconscious before he hit the floor. Father do you or the Sister know where he is?”

  “No, sir,” they replied.

  “Would he have any reason to kill Nickolus?” questioned the detective.

  “Not that we know of,” replied the priest.

  The officers continued, but nothing else turned up.

  “Thank you, Father, for your time,” said the detective. As he looked over to one of his men, “Put an APB out on Anthony.”

  The detective turned the pipe over to the crime lab. He told them he needed a report ASAP. By early morning the report lay on his desk. It stated that the dried blood spots were Nickolus’, and the hair and skin particles were his also. It was the threads on the end of the pipe that caused the cut. Anthony’s prints were on it too. The orphanage’s record proved a match. Quickly, the detective took out a warrant for Anthony on suspicion of murder.

  The orphanage didn’t need another black mark against it. It had been through a lot in the past ten years. There had been sixteen missing children; they considered them runaways. Anthony only added more fire to the unsolved problem. The missing children were never heard of again. One moment they were there, the next they were gone. Over the years, the police and the FBI had tried to solve the disappearance of the children, but they could never get enough evidence to build a case.

  Little was known about Father O’Neal. He wasn’t originally from there; he just appeared one day. He had been at the orphanage about fifteen years. The police checked out his background but came up with nothing. He was sent by the Church of Saints in New Hampshire with remarkable credentials. But every dark cloud has a silver lining if we look for it.

  Father O’Neal received a phone call from Memphis. It was from Barry’s doctor. He had come out of his coma and was doing great. He was to start on his rehab program in a day or so. When he told Sister Ann and the other children about Barry’s report they were thrilled. Their prayers had been answered. The doctor told Father O’Neal that he would probably be in rehab at least a year, maybe two. It depended on how hard he worked and how fast the recovery came.

  As the months passed, Barry continued to get well and the search for Anthony continued.

  There is a dark side to every man, even Father O’Neal. One of the best-kept secrets of the orphanage was the longtime affair between Father O’Neal and Sister Ann. They say it had been going on for years, slipping around late at night in the corridors of the orphanage. She was madly in love with him; he could do no wrong. He was her lord and master even though he used her and abused her. She worshipped him even though she knew his deep dark secret, even darker than adultery. She was blinded by her love and protected him.

  As time passed, everything got back to normal around the orphanage. The children went to their classes and some of the lucky ones were placed in homes. Father O’Neal and Sister Ann secretly carried on with their sin.

  In northern Tennessee, Anthony had started a new life. He had finally surfaced after traveling in the Midwest all this time. There was still an open warrant for him in Mississippi, but it appeared they had quit looking. He had changed his last name and dyed his hair a little darker. Tired of running, he was ready to settle down. He was living in an old abandoned house on Raccoon Creek, not far from the town of Wilburn Hollow. Things were looking up, and his life was finally turning around.

  But not far from him, in South Central Kentucky, Barry had settled down in the town of Little Creek. Barry had finally finished his rehab program, and he, too, wanted to start all over with a new life. When he got out of the hospital in Memphis, he went to visit Father O’Neal, Sister Ann, and the children. They were all glad to see him. By looking at him, you could never tell he had been in the hospital. The Father prayed with him and blessed him. Returning back to Kentucky, by chance, he passed through Wilburn Hollow, Tennessee. It wasn’t but a hundred miles south of Little Creek, Kentucky.

  Months passed and things were going good for the twin brothers until Anthony got into a fight, and the Wilburn police took him and the other boy in. After doing some checking, they found out that Anthony was wanted in Mississippi. In a matter of days he was back in Running Meadow. The word spread like wildfire. Sister Ann got in touch with Barry, and he came as fast as he could. It hit all the local papers. ‘Child Killer Caught’ read the headlines.

  On his arrival, Barry met with Father O’Neal about seeing Anthony. Hurrying down to the courthouse, they talked with the detective in charge of the case. Arrangements were made, and the two brothers sat across the table from each other for the first time in a long time. It was slow at first, awkward, but in a few minutes the twins hugged each other. Anthony brought up the accident. He was so sorry. He was only playing around. He said that he just wanted to scare him.

  “I tried to hang onto your jacket,” he said, “and push at the same time, but the jacket slipped through my fingers when I pushed.”

  “That’s alright,” replied Barry. “I forgave you a long time ago. It’s time to put it behind us and be brothers again.”

  Then Anthony reached over and, with a pat on the back, they hugged again.

  “Now brother,” said Barry. “We have to get you out of this mess. I don’t believe you killed Nickolus. Did you?”

  “No,” replied Anthony.

  “Then tell me your side,” encouraged Barry.

  Anthony began to tell him what he knew about what happened; Barry listened with an open mind.

  “I didn’t kill him!” cried out Anthony. “When I turned to go back to my room, Nickolus was standing at the rail. When I got to my room I glanced back and he was gone. That’s the t
ruth.”

  “Did you see anyone else?” questioned Barry.

  “Like I told the detective, I didn’t hear or see anything. It was storming outside,” he replied. “Don’t you think if I saw something, I would tell it and get out of this place? You believe me, don’t you, Barry?”

  Barry didn’t speak for a moment but finally answered, “I believe you Anthony. But I believe there is more that you’re not telling me.”

  About that time a detective and Father O’Neal came in the room.

  “Barry, you can talk to your brother some more tomorrow,” said the detective. “Anthony has got another visitor and then he’ll go back to lockdown.”

  A deputy escorted a young lady in. She was doing a story on the history of the orphanage and the case of the sixteen missing children for the Mississippi Southern Herald in Jackson. The young lady wanted to talk to him about his stay at the orphanage all those years. She sat down at the table and began her interview. An officer stayed in the room. After the interview, she left and Anthony went back to lockup.

  That night Barry went over and over the things about his brother. He believed he was telling the truth, but there was something he wouldn’t talk about. He could always tell when his brother was lying. Finally, about 2:00 in the morning he fell off to sleep. It was early the next morning when he heard a knock at his door. It was a young woman reporter.

  “I’m sorry but I don’t have anything to say,” he told her at the doorway. “I don’t know nothing except I believe my brother didn’t do it.”

  “Can I come in for a moment?” she insisted. “I have some information you might want to know.”

  “Okay, come on in,” he agreed, “but make it quick.”

  “You don’t remember me do you?” she asked.

  “Why, should I?” he replied.

  “My name is Jo Meggin,” she stated. “I was the girl who got thrown from my mama’s car when you were pushed out in front of it.”

  “What!” he cried. “I don’t remember very much about it except being in the hospital.”

  “I saw what happened,” she replied. “I was looking out the window when I saw you and some other boys coming down the sidewalk. As we approached, I saw the boy with the brown coat on reach over and push you in front of our car.”

  “What are you saying?” he cried. “My brother didn’t do it, but it was Nickolus?”

  “That’s what I saw,” she replied. “But I do believe it was an accident. When we hit the tree, I hit my head and lost my memory. It wasn’t until I heard about Anthony being arrested that it all started to come back to me.”

  “But how does this help my brother? Are you trying to imply that Anthony killed Nickolus because of me?”

  “No,” she replied. “I’m like you. There’s more than meets the eye here.”

  “I’ve got to talk to Anthony again,” he said.

  “Can I come with you?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he replied. “Two heads are better than one.”

  Shortly, they entered the police station and asked the detective if they could talk to Anthony again.

  “Sure,” he said. “Have you got some information that I should know about?” questioned the detective.

  “Not really,” Barry replied. “But I may get some if you’ll give me a chance.”

  Then they brought Anthony in, and Jo Meggin filled him in on what she had told Barry.

  “It’s true; Nickolus was the one who pushed Barry in front of the car that day. It was an accident. Nickolus was scared to death, and he didn’t know what to do.”

  “Is that why you killed him?” asked Barry, “For revenge?”

  “No, brother, I didn’t kill anyone,” assured Anthony. “That’s not the reason Nickolus was killed.”

  “Do you know why?” questioned Jo Meggin.

  “I don’t really know for sure,” he replied, “but I have an idea. Nickolus knew too much.”

  “Knew too much,” she answered back. “What did he know?”

  “One night he got up late to get a drink of water. When he passed by Sister Ann’s room, he heard something. Carefully, he opened the door. There he saw Father O’Neal in the bed with her. Father glanced over to the door and saw Nickolus peeping in the crack of the door. Father O’Neal yelled at him and cussed him. Quickly, Nickolus closed the door and ran back to his room.”

  “Is that all?” replied Barry. “He caught them in bed together?”

  Anthony sat a few minutes in silence. It seemed like he couldn’t make up his mind to go on or not. He looked troubled and scared.

  “What is it, Anthony?” cried out Barry. “What is it that you’re not telling us?”

  Squirming around in his chair, he dropped his head into his hands.

  “You’ve got to tell someone,” Meggin encouraged. “You have to let it go.”

  His eyes filled with tears as they listened to him.

  “It was horrible,” he cried as fear came across his face.

  “What was horrible?” spoke up Barry.

  “Father O’Neal,” he answered back.

  “What about the Father?” replied Jo Meggin.

  “He’s a monster!” cried out Anthony as he jumped up from the table.

  “What do you mean, Anthony? What are you talking about?” replied Barry.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you,” he said. “But don’t tell the detective because I don’t want to be his next victim.”

  “Okay,” agreed Barry.

  “One day in late summer it was pouring down rain. Nickolus and I slipped down to the basement of the orphanage. We were playing around like always. In a few minutes, we heard someone coming so we hid. It was Father O’Neal. We were as quiet as mice; we were afraid he would catch us. As we watched, he went over to a wardrobe, opened the door, and stepped inside. We quietly watched as he closed the door behind him and waited for him to come back out. In a few minutes the door opened and he stepped out. As we watched, we saw him hang the key on top of the wardrobe and leave.

  We waited a few minutes to be sure he was gone. Puzzled and not understanding, Nickolus looked at me and I looked at him. We ran over to the cabinet, got the key, opened the door, and stepped in. There was nothing. There were no shelves, nothing but a box with a top and four sides. Then I laid my hand on the back of the cabinet and the back gave. I began to feel around and found a caved in handle that I slid to the side. It opened and there was a tunnel before us. Slowly we made our way through it, and we began to smell a terrible odor. It was the same foul odor we smelled up in the orphanage from time to time, but here it was stronger. As we went on we came to a door. When we eased the door open…”

  Then he stopped and shook his head from side to side.

  “I can’t go on,” he cried. “I have said too much.”

  “You have to wake up and face your fears, Anthony,” encouraged Barry. “What did you see?”

  “I can’t. I want to go back to my cell. Barry, you promise me you won’t tell,” he said. “But, I will tell you this. When we opened that door we ran like hell. That’s all I am saying.” Then he banged on the door, hollering for the jailer. “I’m ready to go back to my cell..”

  As they were leaving, they ran into the detective.

  “Well?” he said.

  “Nothing much,” Barry replied.

  “Are you sure?” questioned the detective.

  “Barry, tell him. You have to,” said Jo Meggin.

  “Tell me what?” replied the detective.

  “Barry promised Anthony he wouldn’t tell,” she scolded, “but I didn’t promise.”

  “Let’s go into my office,” he said, “and you can fill me in. I would appreciate anything that would help solve this case.”

  As Jo Meggin began to tell him what Anthony had told them, Barry opened up also.

  “I see,” he replied. “We have suspected the Father for years for those missing
children, but, for some strange reason, we could never get the proof. We have searched the orphanage time and time again and came up with nothing. That’s the reason Nickolus was probably killed--he knew too much. Father O’Neal was probably standing in the hall when Nickolus and Anthony were there also. Then he saw a way of getting rid of both of them. He killed Nickolus, framed Anthony for the murder, and hid the pipe in Anthony’s mattress. He probably thought we would arrest Anthony for Nickolus’ murder. The Father underestimated Anthony; he never dreamed Anthony would run off. The two boys were so frightened of him for what they saw in the secret chamber, they kept quiet. Probably afraid they’d be his next victim. I believe we have enough for the judge to grant us a search warrant. Come with me. We’ll go by the courthouse and see him.”

  He instructed three or four of the officers standing there to meet him at the orphanage in thirty minutes. When they got there, Sister Ann met them at the door. They served her with the search warrant and asked if Father O’Neal was there. She said she hadn’t seen him since late yesterday. Then they proceeded in. Anthony was with them. As they made their way to the basement, Sister Ann followed. When they got there, Anthony showed them where it was. But there was no wardrobe. There was nothing but a block wall.

  “Are you sure this is the right place?” the detective asked.

  “I’m sure,” he answered.

  Then the detective turned to Sister Ann. “Do you know what happened to the wardrobe that sat here?” inquired the detective.

  “No, not really,” she replied. We had a rummage sale last year. It might have been sold in it.”

  Then one of the officers found a half bag of mortar and a trail. Picking up a hammer from a nearby table, the officer began to tear out the block wall where Anthony showed them. You could tell the wall hadn’t been up very long. Suddenly the wall started to break. Anthony was right. There appeared to be a tunnel, and the foul odor lingered. Finally, they broke all the way through.

  Sister Ann began to cry, defending Father O’Neal and saying that he was a sick man. As they traveled down the tunnel they came to a door. Slowly, the detective eased it open. There they found the sixteen missing children’s skeletons hanging from the ceiling. As he looked around he saw no windows. The walls were sealed with black tar and plastic. Some of the skeletons had fallen from the rafters and lay on a rat-infested floor.

  “Let’s get out of here,” ordered the detective.

  When they reached the basement, the detective told the officers to search the home top and bottom for the priest. He turned to Sister Ann for answers.

  “Tell me about what has been going on here!” he demanded. “You are right about one thing. Father O’Neal is a sick man if he has done this. Why in God’s name would he do something like this?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” she cried. “But I know he said the children were disobedient, and they had a devil in them. So he beat them and hung them up to die to get the devil out of them. When the evil spirit was gone then they would go to Heaven. This was an old ritual, in the church years ago. He thought he was doing the Lord’s will.”

  The detective shook his head. Then she went on.

  “Father O’Neal is not his real name,” she said. “His real name is Richard, Richard Massey. He spent five years in a mental hospital in Florida. Two of them were in lockdown. One day during a visit from a priest, he managed to kill him and take the priest’s identity and walk away a free man. For years he was a recluse. When the voices that tormented him were all but gone, he thought he was well and became a priest.”

  “You seem to know him quite well,” replied the detective.

  She them turned to him and said, “I love him. No one knows him as well as I do.”

  “So you’ve been sleeping with him,” he stated.

  “Yes, I have. He’s a good man,” she replied. “He just has some problems.”

  Then suddenly an officer ran in and shouted, “Detective we’ve found him! You need to follow me, sir.”

  Quickly he turned and left the basement. The crime scene began to unfold. As they followed the officer upstairs to the Father’s bedroom, they found him hanging from a beam that ran across the ceiling. He was dead. Then Sister Ann, seeing him hanging there, began to laugh hysterically and turned to the detective and said, “You can’t get him now. He’s beat you. I knew he was a brilliant man. No need to look further for him,” she cried. “He’s gone to Heaven.”

  “Get her out of here,” he yelled. “She’s as crazy as he was.”

  Then she began to fight. She was hysterical. She broke loose and ran out of the room and leaped over the banister to her death. The detective began to look around for a possible suicide note. He found one on the pillow of his bed. He also saw the priest’s personal Bible, a letter, and a photograph. He began to read.

  ‘I can no longer hide the devilish rage that drives me. The voices that I hear have driven me insane. I was married once later on my wife died. We had two boys, a set of twins. I put them in an orphanage in Arkansas because I couldn’t take care of them. They stayed there until they were ten. Then I had them moved here. I recognized I had some problems, but I didn’t know where to turn for help so I disappeared. My sons’ names are Barry and Anthony.’

  The two boys couldn’t believe it. An officer took them out of the room and back downstairs. Then the detective turned to Jo Meggin.

  “I wonder what will happen to the school,” she asked, “and Barry and Anthony?”

  “I guess they’ll close the orphanage down,” he replied, “unless they send another priest. The twins it’s going to be hard on them to overcome it all. But, they are strong.”

  “If you don’t mind,” he said, “can you hold off on your story for a couple of days before you print it? I’d like to go back over something. I’ll give you a copy of my report.”

  It wasn’t long before the case of the sixteen missing children was closed. The church closed the orphanage. The twins left and went their separate ways. Barry went back to Kentucky. He and Jo Meggin dated some, on and off, and then she returned to Jackson, Mississippi and finished her first short novel. Anthony disappeared. No one ever did know much about him.

  Years later, the church decided to reopen the orphanage and school. A lot of work went in to fixing it up. It needed a new, modern facelift to help remove its haunting past.

  Finally, the day of resurrection had arrived in the little town of Running Meadow. Everyone was excited about the new school and orphanage, but no one was more excited than the new headmaster, Father Anthony.

  As time passed, the orphanage grew and became the pride of the town. Then one day a report came in, a child was missing and no one had seen him. The town began to panic. Had the haunting of the past come back?

  In a few days the missing child was found in Alabama. He had run away.

  *****