Something Bad, page 14
Thibideaux sat in his chair and grinned, flicking small lightening bolts from his fingertips. They crashed into the walls and extinguished, creating an electric display that would have inspired “oohs and aahs” from an audience, had one existed. His thoughts turned to his job. Where’s the damn councillor when I need him? He missed some of my best handiwork today.
CHAPTER
30
THE SUN WAS an oversized orange orb on the western horizon as Sam Merriwether drove up to the rectory. His knuckles hit the door once, twice, then hit air as the doors swung inward, serenaded by singing hinges. Thibideaux stood in the center of the double entrance, dwarfed by the rectory atrium.
“Sheriff Merriwether. What a surprise. What can I do for you”?
“Good afternoon, Mr. Thibideaux. I’m here on business.” Sam shifted into professional mode. “To be blunt, some of the residents have expressed concerns about the increase in accidents in the area, and a suggestion has surfaced that you might be involved.” He paused to watch Thibideaux’s expression, but it didn’t change. “I know when a person comes into a closed community like this, a state of distrust can make life miserable for the newcomer, so I’ll assure you I’m just being thorough by following up on all matters related to these tragedies.”
“Fair enough, Sheriff. What can I do for you?”
Sam shifted his weight slightly. “You can start by giving me some information about your business here in the Tri-counties. What’s your occupation?” He took a small spiral-bound notebook and pen from his shirt pocket and thumbed to a blank page. Pen touched paper, ready to write.
“I’m not trying to be uncooperative, but I’m afraid I can’t divulge my occupation or my business in these parts without compromising the goals of my Organization.”
Sam shifted his eyes up to Thibideaux’s and a shiver ran up his back. His eyes were black. Sam’s eyes returned to the notebook and he tapped the pen tip on the page. “Okay.” Not okay. Why would someone refuse such a simple request? “How about this? What if I tell you what’s been proposed, and you can tell me if it’s off base.”
Thibideaux didn’t say a word.
Sam shifted his weight to his other leg. “Okay … It seems there’s a rumor that a new divided highway is going to be constructed between the two interstates. One of the proposed routes runs through the Tri-counties. Is your occupation in any way involved with these plans?” Sam’s voice slipped up in volume with the question.
“Once again, with no disrespect intended, I have to decline to discuss any aspect of my business in the
Tri-counties. I hope you will accept that.”
Sam dropped both arms to his sides, accidentally drawing a short line on his pants with the pen. His words came loud and fast. “It seems the most economical route through the Tri-counties takes it directly through several farms, including those of the families that have been wiped out recently. Do these occurrences have anything to do with you or your business? Do you have any knowledge of these events?”
“Once again, this time under protest, I will not discuss my work with you. Now, if I may, I have to get back to the very work that interests you.” He stepped back and pushed the doors, but Sam stiff-armed them back open.
“Mr. Thibideaux. Some serious complaints have been lodged against you. I’m afraid if you aren’t willing to talk here, I’ll have to take you in for more formal questioning. Now, once again, would you please tell me … do you or your organization have anything to do with the various accidents that have happened over the last few months in the Tri-counties?” Sam bit his lip to keep from expressing the contempt he was developing for the little man.
Thibideaux repetitively balled his hands into tiny fists and released them. “I don’t have an obligation to provide that information without a warrant or other formal writ. If you take me in for questioning, I assure you a team of lawyers from my Organization will descend on this town within hours to correct the situation, and to file a complaint against you and your beloved Tri-counties. Now, if I may, I would like to get back to work.”
The doors slammed before Sam could react. He stood in place for a full ten seconds, then hurried to his vehicle. His hand slammed against the steering wheel. “What does he have to hide?”
The little jerk was correct about his rights. But why would he avoid such mundane questions? Maybe John and Billy had something this time.
Sam entered his office, welcomed by a ringing phone. The voice of a near hysterical child echoed in the earpiece.
“Calm down and tell me what’s wrong,” Sam said.
“Help me, please. I’m here alone. He’s trying to break into the house.”
“Where are you?”
“James Farm. Please. Come quick.” The boy began to cry.
“James Farm in Porter County?
“Yes.”
“Stay on the line. I’m going to transfer to my cell phone, so there’ll be a couple of clicks. I’m on my way. Okay? Hello? Hello? You there?” Sam sprinted for his car, turned onto State Route 27, and headed for Porter County with full siren and lights.
Just over the Boyston-Porter County line, State Route 27 ran through the only non-tillable land in the Tri-counties other than the swamp. A series of small, rocky hills forced the highway into a serpentine path for just over a mile and a half. The curved road slowed Sam’s dash, but not as much as the dense fog that shrouded the hills. He rounded a corner made by blasting away half of one of the hills, and he hit his brakes, hard. A partially shrouded figure stood in the road. The car fishtailed to a halt, nearly running into the jagged upright bank of the blasted hill.
Sam trained his floodlight into the fog, focused on the figure and inched his car closer, but most of the light was reflected back in his eyes. He turned it off. Through the mist, he saw the stranger walk toward the car. When about fifty feet separated the two, a wave of recognition gave Sam a hard shake. The small size. The irregular walk. He felt sick. He stopped the car and swung out of the door.
“What are you doing here? I have an emergency to get to at the James farm. Let me pass. Now.”
“I’m afraid the only emergency you have tonight is me, Sheriff Merriwether,” Thibideaux said as he ambled closer.
Sam drew his service revolver and cocked it, keeping it close to his side. “If you don’t allow me to pass, I’ll have to arrest you for hindrance. Your lawyers won’t be able to get around that one.”
“You will do no such thing, my dear Sheriff. You see, you can’t even raise your arms from your sides.” Thibideaux extended his arms straight out toward Sam, parallel to the ground, fingers extended straight out, palms inward.
Sam tried to raise his arms, but they wouldn’t move. He sneered at the little man. “What the hell is going on? I have an emergency to get to. Let me go.”
“As I said, you have only one emergency tonight, and that emergency is me,” Thibideaux said in the same child’s voice Sam heard over the telephone. “Now you see, no one, including you, will interfere with the business I have to conduct for my Organization. I’ll go to any length to maintain this situation.” He pulled his fingers back to form two fists and the tightness in Sam’s arms loosened.
Sam raised his right arm and leveled the revolver directly at Thibideaux’s torso. “Now maybe you’ll tell me what the hell is going on here.”
Thibideaux took a step forward.
Sam put his finger through the trigger guard and onto the trigger. “Freeze! Or I’ll shoot!” His voice was pitched high with adrenaline.
Thibideaux took another step.
“Freeze, Thibideaux!”
A slight grin appeared to separate Thibideaux’s lips and Sam thought he saw a glint of silver.
“Shoot, Sheriff. I really like this one.” He stepped forward again and re-extended his fingers, this time with palms down, parallel to the ground.
Sam pulled the trigger and all motion went slow. There was no sound of discharge, no muzzle flash. The bullet exited the barrel of the gun and began a slow, spinning line toward Thibideaux’s chest.
Sam could see it. He could see the bullet move through the air. But as it moved, it dissolved, like a salt crystal dissolves when dropped in a tall glass of water.
Sam’s mind spun. Virga, he thought. Like virga, where rain falls from the clouds but evaporates before hitting the ground.
The bullet was a speck when it reached Thibideaux’s chest and gone before impact. Sam watched the little man’s distorted grin widen to show a double row of silver capped teeth.
“Oh please, Sheriff Merriwether, please shoot me again,” Thibideaux said in the little child’s voice. “I really love this one.” Thibideaux moved his arms out laterally so his body formed a cross.
Sam tried to turn and run but he was frozen in place.
Thibideaux rose on his toes and slowly turned his body toward the jagged hillside. Sam’s rigid body levitated a few inches and moved toward the hillside as if Sam were a puppet under control of an invisible puppeteer overhead. The two moved in a one-to-one ballet that would have been graceful in any other context.
When Sam was in reach of the vertical rock wall, Thibideaux lowered from his toes and Sam’s feet returned to the road.
The car was only five feet away and the engine was still running. If he lets up, I’ll jump in and run the little bastard over, he thought.
“I’m not a bastard,” Thibideaux said. “My mother just had no use for my father. After their few minutes were over, of course.” He chuckled.
Thibideaux jumped backward on the road and bought his arms over his head in a big sweeping motion. Sam was released from Thibideaux’s control, but before he could react, the hillside exploded. Rocks and dirt rained down.
When the dust cleared, the only thing left standing was a partially covered sign that read, “Watch for Falling Rock.” Sam was killed outright. It took longer for his car to die.
CHAPTER
31
AT ONE-THIRTY on the nose, Gabe slammed his car door and hurried across the parking lot. His idea looked like a good one—only a few cars meant it was past the noon rush. He’d have most of Miz Murtry’s time. Today, he didn’t want to flirt. He needed to voice his frustration about Sam’s accident. And she was a good listener.
He pushed through the door and immediately lost the bounce in his step. Billy sat at the counter.
“Hey, Billy. You hear about Sam? I was up there last night. Poor guy was killed by a rockslide.” Gabe shook his head and sat down next to Billy. “He was a good man.”
Billy looked at the counter between his hands. “It wasn’t a rockslide.”
“What?” Gabe turned his head in Billy’s direction.
“It wasn’t a rockslide. Me and John went to see Sam yesterday to tell him about Thibideaux, and Sam said he would check him out. Now he’s dead. It was Thibideaux who done it.” Billy’s stare penetrated the counter.
“It was a rockslide, Billy. I went up there.”
“It was Thibideaux. Who do you think caused the rockslide?”
Gabe grabbed Billy’s shoulder and swung him around on his stool so they were face-to-face. “Look at me, Billy. Tell me what you think’s going on.”
“Give me a minute. I got to pee.” Billy stood up and walked to the bathroom.
Gabe’s eyes tracked him until the bathroom door shut. He couldn’t remember when he saw Billy so scared.
Teddy rounded the half-wall and leaned an elbow on the counter in front of Gabe. “What’s wrong with Billy? He’s been here all morning. Had about six or seven cups of coffee. He’s been burbling to no one in particular about the sheriff, a highway, accidents that weren’t accidents, and Thibideaux.
“I wish I knew. I’ll see what I can find out.”
On his way back to his stool Billy stopped and said something to Deena Lee, who reached under the counter and gave Billy a piece of paper and a pencil.
Gabe watched as Billy smoothed the paper on the counter and drew several lines. A few more lines and Gabe recognized the sketch as a crude rendition of a map. Billy put the pencil down and turned his head to look at Gabe.
“This here’s the Tri-counties,” he said.
Over the next fifteen minutes, Gabe sat in silence and listened to Billy’s version of John’s highway theory, the group decision to investigate Thibideaux, and their theory of Mac McKenna’s accident. He let Billy ramble about the meeting with Sam, which was recounted nearly word-for-word, and about Sam’s decision to have a talk with Thibideaux yesterday, just hours before his accident. Billy looked directly into Gabe’s eyes and then twisted his neck back down toward the counter.
Gabe felt a chill. He was about to speak when Deena Lee walked up.
“You two look like you could use a topper.” She tipped her coffee carafe toward Billy’s cup.
“Thank you, Miz Murtry,” Gabe said. “How are you feeling these days? Getting close to your time?” He didn’t intend to smile, and managed to hold it to a slight grin.
“I’m doing all right, I guess. My ankles are swelling more and more, and I’m starting to get a few headaches, but otherwise I’m just trying to rest up as much as I can. I’m just starting my seventh month.” She rested her hands on the sides of her abdomen and tapped it with her right hand.
“You’re looking the better for it all. Be sure to let me know if you’re needing anything. I’m always ready to help.”
“Thank you, Gabe. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Before she turned away, Gabe noticed her smile stretched the limits of her face. He watched her waddle away and entered a daydream of how he would come to her rescue, to get her to the hospital just in time, and of how grateful she would be.
Billy slammed his open hand down on the counter. “Gabe. Get them google eyes back down here and tell me what we should do about Thibideaux and all the bad stuff that’s been going on.”
Gabe leaned back from Billy a little. His ranting hadn’t included a request for instructions. “Tell me again about the highway plan and the accidents.” He stared off in the distance, without focus, and tapped his spoon on the counter.
“Gabe. Could you stop banging the spoon?”
His mind came back. It was Miz Murtry’s voice, from down the counter. “Sorry. I’m just trying to figure something out.” He defocused again but his mind took an unexpected left turn. Miz Murtry’s head on Wanna’s body, straddling him in the hayloft. He hoped no one was looking at his lap. He was showing his emotions quite clearly.
Billy slammed the counter again. “Why don’t you just give her a big kiss and get it over with? We got a serious problem here and all you can do is drool over Deena Lee. And in her condition.”
“I don’t know what to do, Billy. Let me think about it for awhile.”
“Shit,” Billy said. “It’s like Father Costello all over again, but this time a lot worse.” He got up and rushed out the front door of the Edge, into a dense fog.
Gabe watched Billy disappear into the mist and a mental snapshot froze him. He stared at the front door. Father Costello. He knew the lore about the Father’s meltdown. How he cut up all those animals and arranged them around the altar for when the people came in to worship. And then he disappeared. Gabe had heard the story a hundred times. But this time something was different. The mention of Father Costello triggered a recollection of fog. And a bicycle. Thoughts he had before, but not all together like this.
He swiveled back around to face the counter, put his clasped hands up to his mouth, and rested his elbows on the formica. He was riding a bicycle through fog. Going to see Father Costello? But what for?
He rocked forward and back on the stool and let his breathing fall into the rhythm. Going to see Father Costello … to … confess. Confession, in the … inhouse. With that final word, a flood of memories swamped his attention, flashed in rapid order. Blood. Parts. Then darkness.
“Thibideaux,” Gabe said out loud and snapped the middle finger of his right hand. “He was there.”
“You all right, Gabe?”
Miz Murtry’s voice again. He looked up. She was coming his way. “Yeah. I’m okay. Just lost in a daydream.”
“You scared us half to death. You sure you’re all right?”
Gabe stood and slid a bill under his coffee cup, then fished in his pocket for some change to top it off. “I got to go. You let me know if you need any help.”
CHAPTER
32
GABE THOUGHT DARKNESS would never come. He wanted to keep the memories coming and the best way to do that was to go back to the scene. To the church. Now, he knew he was there twenty-five years ago. So was Thibideaux. And although the details weren’t clear, he knew it wasn’t Father Costello who created the carnage that morning. But Father Costello was there, and that confused Gabe.
The first firefly signaled official darkness as Gabe hurried to his truck. The night was clear and warm and the engine roared on the first jolt from the starter. He wanted to get back before Wanna got suspicious.
He decided to let his mind freewheel. Trying to force memories from their hiding places only caused anxiety and he wanted to keep a clear head. Let them come out by themselves. It was like a game of hide-and-seek, but with a casual search. Ollie, Ollie, oxen free.
His thoughts flew to the church. He knew the confessional wasn’t there anymore. It was dismantled when the Protestants took over the building. But its place, halfway up the west wall, was still marked by the pews. They survived the remodel, and they were shorter from that point to the back of the church, arranged back then so the confessional wouldn’t block anyone’s view of the altar. He needed to be there, at the site of the old confessional. Maybe that would bring back the memories.
He parked to the left of the general store and walked the rest of the way to the church. The front door was locked. He hurried around to the back door and another memory surfaced. If the door was locked, Father Costello had told him to lift up on the knob and give a hard shove. It’d push open.
