C.H.A.R.O.N., page 15
“How do you think CHARON missed this?” Brent eyed the box as if it might bite.
“It might not have occurred to them that the local cops would investigate in much detail,” Travis replied. “The Washington crowd usually thinks everyone outside the Beltway is too stupid to live.”
“You’re not wrong.”
Travis held his hand over the box and paused before touching anything, and Brent knew his partner was sensing for magical traps or residue. “It’s clean,” he finally said and lifted the lid.
They peered inside. Brent recognized several of the items from the photo, a mundane collection of personal possessions gathered with no thought to anything supernatural. It didn’t take long to spread the contents out on the table. A slim wallet/money clip, watch, ring, upscale pen, and a few handwritten notes on scrap paper looked like they had been the contents of Wyrick’s pockets. A thin manila folder and a day planner lay in the bottom of the box.
“All right, let’s see what we can find,” Brent muttered. He reached for the planner while Travis took the folder. Brent scanned the entries, unsure of what to expect.
“Keeping a written day book seems kinda old school,” he said as he tried to decipher Wyrick’s handwriting. “Unless there was a reason he didn’t want the information online?”
Travis looked thoughtful. “There are reasons people keep a ‘dumb computer’—one that is never connected to the internet so it can’t be compromised. This could be the low-tech version.”
“And the government guys didn’t realize it was missing because it wasn’t what they’d have been looking for.” Brent flipped a page. “This looks like an appointment book. He used initials, but the sheriff could probably figure out who’s who. If there’s anything about what they did in their sessions, it looks like it was written in code.”
Travis shuffled the papers in the folder. “There are lists of common fears. Some of them have initials next to them. Don’t know if those fears were suggested by patients or were ones he created for them.”
Brent reached for the watch and ring while Travis pulled the notes toward him. Brent took the back off the watch, looking for any hidden additions. Then he examined the ring, poking at it to see if the stone came out, looking for inscriptions. “Nothing.”
Travis shook his head. “The notes are either a brilliant code, or they really are his grocery list and a reminder to pick up his dry cleaning.”
That left the money clip and an assortment of odds and ends that might have been on top of Wyrick’s desk.
“None of this looks important,” Travis said, annoyed. “Maybe Wyrick was a super-spy. If so, he’s got me baffled.”
Brent turned the slim wallet back and forth. He removed the couple of folded twenties from the clip and examined the driver’s license and credit card held on the other side.
“Brent?”
He ignored his partner and focused on the clip, flipping it backward. Tacked to the back of the clip was a SIM card.
“Bingo,” Brent muttered, holding up his prize.
Travis eyed the card as if it were a snake. “We need to read that—and we need to send it to the Alliance.”
“Yeah—I think that would be a real good idea.” Brent took the back off his phone case and switched out his card for Wyrick’s, letting it load.
“You know, we don’t have any idea what’s on there. You might have just sent nuclear codes.” Travis sounded like he was only half joking.
“I guess we’ll find out pretty quick if I did.”
Travis came to stand behind him, looking at the information as Brent scrolled through. “Shit—it’s going to take a while to figure out what’s here.”
“That’s why I’m sending it to Simon Kincaide with an SOS. There may not be anything in this to put the genie back in the box. Wyrick super-powered a Shubin and made tulpas real. Did he know how to stop them? Was that something he was interested in finding out?” Brent asked.
He made sure that a copy of the information was saved on his device, then uploaded to a secure server and sent an encrypted email to Simon, along with a plea for help. When he was certain the message had gone through, he removed the card, replaced his own, and put Wyrick’s back where he found it.
“That’s a hot potato to leave with the local cops,” Travis said.
“No one’s thought to look for it in six months. If someone gets to you and me, it’s the first thing they’ll look for,” Brent replied.
That’s assuming we get out of South Fork alive.
Melinda came to the door and leaned in. “How’s it going? Find what you need?”
“Maybe,” Brent answered, not wanting to lie. “Is the sheriff around?”
She gave a brittle laugh. “Not hardly. We’ve got three missing people, reports of those freaky shadow things all over town, the river’s rising, and there’s a jack-knifed truck blocking the main highway—and a partridge in a pear tree.”
“Are you from South Fork?” Travis asked her.
“Born and bred. Not much to brag about, but I’m a hometown girl,” Melinda answered with a flip of her ponytail.
“We have a theory that Wyrick was using his patients’ fears to make those shadow things and bring them into existence,” Brent told her, taking the chance that she wouldn’t just laugh and walk away. “He recorded his patient appointments in his day book, but he only used initials. The feds took all his records. If you looked at the initials, do you think you could guess who they were? Knowing that he targeted veterans might narrow it down.”
Melinda frowned, probably debating the legality of their request. “Why do you want to know?”
“We’re trying to un-do what Wyrick did before the energies he created hurt more people. The stronger they get, the harder they’ll be to stop,” Travis told her. “We’d like to talk to them and see if we can get some insight into what Wyrick did.”
“They might not want to talk about it. He was their therapist,” she pointed out.
“That’s their right. But I don’t think they ever signed up for bringing killer, imaginary friends to life and setting them loose on the town,” Brent said.
“I’ll give it a shot,” Melinda said. “No guarantees. Believe it or not, South Fork may be small, but we don’t all know one another.”
“I believe in you,” Brent said with a grin.
“Flatterer,” Melinda tossed back with a smile. “I’ll do my best.”
Travis and Melinda took the day book to the front desk while Brent stayed behind to put the contents back in the box and study a little of Wyrick’s download.
His phone rang, startling him out of his concentration. “Hey, Tammy! What have you found for us?”
“You know we’ve got half the town holed up here, right? I figured I’d crowdsource information,” Tammy replied, sounding chuffed over whatever she had discovered. “I got the knitting circle to tell me the ghost stories and local legends they had heard. And did I get an earful!”
Tammy chuckled. “Turns out that when a disaster is about to happen, people report seeing an old man in a dirty fur coat walking back and forth in the distance before he vanishes. The ladies who told me were all in their seventies, and they swore they had heard that story as children from their grandmothers.”
“The Shubin,” Brent murmured. “Except it doesn’t warn people about danger—we think it might have a hand in causing it.”
“I know—creepy, isn’t it?” Tammy seemed to be enjoying her research. “The teenagers had a different legend. They said people have seen an angry thin man in a white coat staring down from a window on the fourth floor of the hospital, but that’s the closed-off wing—no one’s supposed to be there.”
“Wyrick.”
“Could be. Also heard a lot of stories about seeing those shadowy whatsits, the sneaks. Seemed like everyone had a story of either seeing one themselves or knowing someone who did. And they all think the sneaks are the reason people have gone missing,” she reported.
“I’ve got to agree with them on that one,” Brent said. “Are you safe at the library?”
“Oh, yeah,” Tammy assured him. “The building is solid as a rock, and we’ve got a wrought iron fence around it—keeps out the bad ghosts. And three people said they saw Miss Liddie, so she’s on patrol.”
“Miss Liddie?” Brent welcomed Tammy’s help, although her casual acceptance of his weird supernatural theories still surprised him.
“Miss Elizabeth—Liddie—Townsend. South Fork’s first librarian. Died a hundred years ago. She started the library when the town was first founded, went to Pittsburgh to see Andrew Carnegie himself to ask him to build one of his libraries here, and tirelessly knocked on the doors of local businesses to get money for books. She’s buried with a book-shaped headstone behind the library. There’s a little memorial garden with benches for people to sit and read—it’s a real nice place.”
“And there’ve been sightings?”
“Oh, yes. Whenever South Fork is going through a rough patch, people report seeing Miss Liddie in the library. She’s kind of like our guardian angel. She was tiny but fierce,” Tammy said proudly. “One time, one of those holy rollers came in and raised a fuss over romance books, and she pushed him onto a book cart and wheeled him out of the building—sent him rolling down the road if you can believe the story!”
“There are tales about her alerting librarians to wiring problems that avoided fires, or roof leaks, or anything that threatens ‘her’ library,” Tammy continued. “So, it’s a good thing if she’s watching over us.”
Brent had never relied on an assist from spectral librarians, but given the situation, he’d take all the help they could get. “How did the amulet-making session go?”
“Like a charm,” Tammy replied with a snicker. “Tony’s nonna is an impressive woman. Half the town thinks she can put the Evil Eye on them, and the other half wants her to tell their fortune. We’ve got enough ‘dreamcatchers’ hanging all over the library to scare off all the bad ghosts in the county!”
“We also had people draw their fears,” she added. “It seemed to fit with your tulpa idea. Aimee, our yoga guru, is doing a session to help people focus on their drawings and release their anxiety. I figured it couldn’t hurt.”
“Good work,” Brent replied.
“Nonna had a message for you.” Tammy’s words snapped Brent to attention.
“For me?”
“For you or Travis. Nonna says she has a special ‘working’ that she’s saved for when this day would come.” Tammy sighed. “I know that sounds overly dramatic, but that’s an exact quote. Nonna is very old world.”
“No, no. That’s totally okay,” Brent assured her. “Old world might be what we need. We’ll swing by.”
“Be prepared that she might want to talk to you when you get here.” Tammy paused. “I know she can seem a little…odd. But I do believe Nonna has the Sight. If she tells you something, it’s worth your while to listen.”
“I’ll take that to heart,” Brent said sincerely. “All your information is fantastic. But I have one more request.”
“Shoot,” she said, sounding excited for a new challenge.
“Do you happen to have any maps for the mines? Especially the oldest ones? I’m working on a theory about where some of the dark energy has been all these years, and the mines are a natural location.”
“If this darkness is in the mines, it could go anywhere in town. That would be worse than being in the drinking water. There are mines underneath all of South Fork. I’m pretty sure the oldest, deepest mine runs under what’s now the hospital, the Miner Monument, and the mansion. Got maps for some of the mines, but not sure about having maps for all of them. The record-keeping was fast and loose back in the days before OSHA,” Tammy told him.
“I know. But still—please try. It could be important.”
“I’m on it,” she promised. “Gives me a reason to escape the madness for a little while and hide in the special collections room. Let me see what I can find.”
Tammy ended the call. Brent glared at the box full of Wyrick’s stuff as if that might force the confession of its secrets. Then he sighed and put the top back on. Brent walked out to where Melinda and Travis were talking at the front desk.
“Melinda is going to try to figure out who the initials refer to and contact them to see if they’d be willing to talk to us,” Travis explained. “That keeps confidentiality, but it also makes the connection.”
“I’ll tell them to meet you at Fisher’s at six,” Melinda replied. “They’re probably regulars there, anyhow.”
“Much obliged—for everything,” Brent said.
“Keep an eye out for the shadowy things,” Melinda warned. “The sneaks. Got another missing person report—fourth one in twenty-four hours. Might turn out some people got carried off in the flooding, but every report mentioned creepy shadows. So, watch your backs.”
“We definitely will,” Travis told her. They headed for the Crown Vic, avoiding the worst puddles, resigned to the steady downpour.
“Where to now?” Brent asked as the big engine rumbled and the wipers started their thwack-thwack rhythm.
“Back to Fisher’s—after a stop at the hardware store for some big bags of rock salt,” Travis said. “The library has Miss Liddie’s ghost and the iron fence. Maybe we can talk Mike Sokolowski into spreading road salt around the community center. But we know Fisher’s is a gathering place, and we can do our best to protect it.”
Brent nodded. “What about the people getting taken by the tulpas?”
“The best thing we can do is figure out how to dispel the tulpas and bind the Shubin. Much as I’d like to get the road crews out with salt trucks, they can’t go everywhere, the rain’ll just wash it away, and the drivers are needed elsewhere,” Travis admitted.
A tall woman with long, dark hair eyed their cart that was piled high with fifty-pound bags of salt and a dozen pieces of iron rebar.
“We met at Liz’s house the night Shelly died. I’m Jamie Kerr. I own this joint.”
“I remember,” Brent replied.
“We’re hoping you can figure out how to stop what’s going on. No pressure,” Jamie said. “What’s all this for?”
“Most spirit creatures are repelled by salt and iron,” Travis explained. “We don’t know for sure if the tulpas—the sneaks—will be, but odds are good it’ll slow them down. We’ll line the doors and windows at Fisher’s with salt, and we’ve got the rebar in case we need to fight our way clear of the creatures.”
“Tulpas? That’s what the shadow things are?” Jamie looked intrigued, not skeptical.
“That’s what matches the lore best,” Brent replied. “Someone called them here, and we need to make them leave.”
“I can send Mac with a load of bags and rods over to the library and community center,” Jamie mused. “Liz and Tammy could use the help. You got any more do-it-yourself ghost busting ideas? I’m all ears.”
“Shotgun shells filled with rock salt work good on ghosts,” Travis volunteered. “Iron nails or iron pellets work too—just need to make sure people aren’t in the line of fire.”
“Shotguns and pipe bombs. Got it,” Jamie replied, and the grim set of her mouth suggested she took them seriously.
“Hopefully, it won’t come to that,” Brent said.
“South Fork isn’t a lucky place,” Jamie told him, waving off Travis’s credit card when he tried to pay. “So smart people prepare for the worst. Keep your money—this one’s on the house.”
Fisher’s packed parking lot confirmed that South Fork locals deemed it a safe place. The neon window signs reflected on the wet cars, and the mist gave the glow a creepy nimbus. Travis pulled up to the back door as Brent gave Chris a call and explained their cargo.
“You want to do what with this now?” Chris gave them a skeptical look as he helped them unload.
Brent explained the process and the effect on spirits. “We’re narrowing in on how to get rid of them, but until then, it’s better than nothing,” he added.
Chris helped them with the salt lines, and to Brent’s surprise, very few people questioned what they were doing.
Maybe they’re too weirded out to care at this point.
Once they finished, Brent and Travis set up their laptops at the back table, which Chris had kept open for them.
“We’ve had enough folks holing up here that we’re running a bit thin on some things, so I hope you don’t mind grilled cheese sandwiches and chips tonight,” he said, putting plates down in front of them.
“Thanks, Chris,” Brent replied. “That sounds fantastic. I love grilled cheese.”
“How’s Liz doing with the shelters?” Travis asked before he took a bite of the hot, gooey sandwich.
“Run ragged,” Chris answered. “Like everyone. She wants to commandeer the school buses and evacuate the town, but that’s more complicated than you’d think. Takes time to set up places for people to go, especially folks with kids or pets or who need special medical help. I hate to say it, but I think she’s right.”
“Have you heard from the guy at the dam?” Brent wasn’t sure he wanted confirmation of his fears.
“Pete got a call through—the cell signal wasn’t good. He says that the dam is holding—for now. But he’s trying to release the pressure so it doesn’t fail completely. That still means flooding, just maybe not catastrophic.”
“Back to the buses—how far would they need to go to be safe?” Travis pressed. “I run a halfway house in Pittsburgh. I know people who run emergency housing, and maybe some of them have contacts near here. It’s worth a shot.”
Chris nodded. “Yeah. It is. I’ll call Liz.” He went straight to voicemail and left a brief message. “Maybe you can see if any of your contacts can help while we wait for her to reply.”
“Let me see who I can get in touch with and what we can manage,” Travis offered.
Brent had the awful feeling they were a couple of days too late to make it work.
Chris went back to the bar, taking their empty plates with him.
