Hunting Witches (20 page)

She wished they had never moved. She could have been fine in that tiny apartment, but then there was Mark’s new job, and… it almost seemed like the Universe had pushed them to this point, a horrible cosmic game of cat-and-mouse, blocking them into this specific corner before extending its claws and ending the chase. She took one giant gulp of air through her mouth and held it, cheeks puffed out, like a child swimming. But as the concrete rose and flowed into her nostrils, she choked and gagged on the awful taste. She blew the air out of her mouth. Before she could do anything else, the foul stuff had covered her lips and her chin.

She thought about the gardens she never got to plant. She pictured Mark’s smiling face. And that was the end of it.

***

“She’ll stiffen up fine by morning,” Penny said. “And good riddance.”

“Well, we’re not finished yet,” Pastor Edward said. “Go help Rafferty with the rope.”

Edward knelt by Mark, down close to his ear. Edward could hear the man’s shallow breathing, whistling through broken bones. Blood oozed from his nose and the corner of his mouth. He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t far from it.

“The Lord has spoken, Mark,” Edward cooed. “Or rather, you both have spoken to Him, and you have told Him to go away.”

“Nika,” Mark managed to say.

“Nika is gone,” Pastor Edward said, with a smirk. “She’s waiting for you in Hell.”

Mark closed his eyes. It was unfair. If there were a God, Mark would have some words for that motherfucker. They would discuss how he wanted his wife back. They could talk about how some of His followers were insane, murderous shitheads. That was a conversation that needed to happen sooner than later.

“Edward,” Mark croaked.

Edward said nothing, but looked down at the trapped man with interest.

“More weight,” Mark said.

Edward nodded once, then made a slashing motion across his throat with his thumb. Rafferty and Penny both let go of the rope. They could feel the vibration of the stone hitting the earth in the soles of the feet.

Edward raised his hands in the air. “Thank you, Lord God, for allowing us to work Your will here on Earth, for choosing us as Your holy vessels. Be with us we complete Your plan, and may Your Name and Influence in this town be magnified a thousand-fold.”

He clapped his hands. “Right! Let’s start cleaning up then, shall we? Good work, everyone. Excellent work! Penny, let’s start getting whatever’s left back into the trunk of the car. Lay down the plastic, first! Don’t forget! Rafferty, start disassembling that whatever it is you made with the pulleys and such. Come on, folks! Let’s break it down!”

The next half hour was a flurry of activity. It was full dark now, and they used headlamps to make sure they left nothing behind. Penny and Rafferty hefted the wheelbarrow into the tarp-lined trunk while Edward looped the loose ropes around his arm. Rafferty shoved all the pulleys and carabiners into a duffel bag and put those in the trunk, too. When they were sure everything was picked up and stashed away, Edward asked Penny to bring some bags from the back seat to the backyard.

“Cover the ground as well as you can,” Edward said. “Everyone take a bag.” The bags were filled with rock salt, and the three of them set about the yard, sprinkling the rough crystals like grass seed. The process took about fifteen minutes, and care was taken to put the empty bags back into the car.

“One last thing, then we can get something to eat,” Edward said. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starved. Rafferty, there’s a can of spray paint in the glove compartment. Would you get that for me?” As always, Rafferty did as he was told.

Edward shook the can, taking pleasure in the sound of the little marble clacking about inside the can. “I feel it proper we leave a message,” he said. “Let’s see. What seems appropriate?”

Rafferty took the can of paint from Pastor Edward’s hands and walked towards the house. He flipped on his headlamp and began to write. When he was finished, he turned around to his partners, then shone his light on the wall.

“Ah, then,” Edward said. “Perfect. Well, let’s take off, folks. We’ll go change clothes and then get some food in Bell Plains. My treat.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful!” Penny said, and she headed towards the car. Rafferty hung behind for a second, staring at the message he had painted on the back of the house. In small square letters, he had painted the phrase, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.”

Once everyone was in the car, Rafferty said, “Is it too late for pizza?”

Edward shrugged. “We’ll find out! This, my children, is a night for celebration!”

Edward started the car and backed out of the driveway.

***

Pete Hampton was twenty-four years old, a high school dropout, and had few prospects for a decent job. It had taken all of his concentration and some threats of physical violence from his asshole stepfather to get through the six-week-long training program in order to become a Certified Home Security Alarm System Installer (CHSASI). He had graduated near the middle of his class, and was finally ready to go solo and start his career in earnest.

His first job was all the way out in BFE, a home in Elders Keep. Pete, well aware that he could not afford to fuck this up, had arrived at work early to get the van and everything he would need for this assignment. He packed extra slip-on shoe covers. He made sure his hair was combed the same way as in his ID badge picture.

He liked not having to use his own car for work. It beat the hell out of delivering pizzas. The money was better too, although Pete had enjoyed getting tips. Instant weed money. That particular extra-curricular activity had to go, too. The alarm company was known for random drug testing.

The GPS in the van steered him right to the house.
What a dumpy neighborhood
, Pete thought. It didn’t look like anyone lived there at all. It reminded him of those shows his stupid stepfather watched about The Great War, and how the Army built towns on nuclear testing ranges, just to see how the blasts would affect housing. Seemed like a fuckin’ waste of time to Pete. It was a goddamned nuke, you know? Nothing was going to stand up to that kind of firepower except, if that old Spielberg movie were to be believed, a refrigerator.

Pete pulled into the driveway and parked. He checked his hair in the rear-view mirror before getting out. He took a leather bag, filled with electrical meters and a stud finder. He plastered a smile on his face and marched right up to the front door, ready for a fantastic day at work.

Even if it wasn’t a fantastic day at work, he was sure as shit going to tell his stepfather it was.

He rang the doorbell and waited, humming a happy tune. Always smiling for the customer, always acting in a confident, positive manner. That’s the way to success, they taught him. It was the CHSASI Way. He rang the doorbell again. While he waited, Pete thought about installing alarm systems his entire life, doing that same shit until he was sixty-something, every day a copy of every other one. Christ, what had he gotten himself into now? Maturity was stupid.

Pete looked through the front bay window. Goddamn, that was a big TV. These folks must be doing okay for themselves. Wonder what they did for a living? It looked like the kitchen was in the back of the house. It was awful bright back there. Maybe they were in the kitchen drinking rich people coffee. Fair Trade or some shit.

Pete walked around the side of the house into the backyard and stopped. “Holy shit,” he whispered. Pete took a step back and shoved his hands into his pockets, his leather bag resting in the crook of his elbow. He knew not to mess around with a crime scene, so he ran back to his van, opened the door and climbed in.

Maybe the people who did that were still around. Maybe they were watching. Pete realized he might be in danger, so he locked the van doors.

His instinct screamed at him to leave, just get the hell out of there, go home, lock the door, turn on WREK and smoke three or four bowls. That wasn’t an option, though. He had to do the adult thing, the right thing, and that meant being responsible. That sucked.

He got out his phone and called his supervisor.

“Ricky? This is Pete. Yeah, man, I’ve got kind of a situation here. No, I didn’t fuck anything up! I need you to call the cops for me, okay? Yeah, Elders Keep. I don’t think our customers are going to be in need of our services anymore.”

The Gathering Storm

“Jesus Christ,” Graham said. “Jesus fucking Christ.” The sun was high in the cloudless sky, illuminating everything in the Pendleton’s backyard. Graham found himself wishing for shadows, something to hide the details. He scratched his head and tried to look away from the grotesque scene before him, but couldn’t. The brutality of the scene was both compelling and infuriating.

Deputy Kevin Moon stood next to him, hands in pockets, staring at the ground. His shoes, specifically; yes, his shoes were safe to look at. He could do that without weeping or throwing up.

“I don’t even know where to start, Deputy,” Graham said. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Well, we’ve got some things rolling, Sheriff,” the officer said. “I called Tamara. It’s her day off, but she said she’d be here within the hour. She’s having all calls redirected to her cell. I know a couple guys on the Bell Plains police department, and they’re going to roll up here in uniform and pull guard duty for us. The judge has search warrants ready for you, just gotta pick them up. I called Doctor Mike’s office, too. He’s at work, so that makes him easy to find. And Tamara is going to bring us some sweet tea when she comes.”

“Good,” Graham said. “That’s all good. Thank you, Deputy. Good work.”

Graham looked around the yard and regretted it. All he could see was Nika Pendleton’s legs, bone and congealed blood blooming out around the spike driven through them like a flesh flower. “Well, Deputy,” Graham said, “I think we can rule out suicide.”

Kevin nodded. “That’s some fine detective work, Sheriff.”

Graham took a deep breath and started walking about, surveying the scene. He stopped where once there were three standing stones. Now there were only two slabs and a dead body. He tried to examine the fallen stone only, and not the corpse underneath it, but Graham’s eyes were drawn to the final look on Mark Pendleton’s face was not one of panic or fear; just a terrible sadness.

“Deputy Moon,” Graham asked, “how much do you figure a rock like this weighs?”

Kevin shrugged. “I don’t know, man. A lot?”

“You can see where somebody dug a trench, just enough to pry the thing loose. What then? They had to have lowered it down onto him a little at a time. If they had just dropped it on him, he would have just exploded. How do you manage something that heavy without ripping your arms out of your sockets?”

“Levers and fulcrums? I don’t know. Something to do with physics, I’m sure. I never understood physics real well.”

“And look at her, Deputy,” Graham said. “I don’t understand why anyone would do this. Dammit, we just talked to both of these people! She was so, I don’t know. Nice. Not even in town a month. So goddamned senseless.”

Deputy Moon shrugged. “Did you read the back of the house?”

“Yeah,” Graham said. “And I can’t quite fit that all the way into the puzzle yet.”

“Maybe someone thought they had put a curse on them. People come up with some weird shit.”

“Like crucifying a woman upside-down and setting her in concrete, like a replacement mailbox? Yeah. ‘Weird shit’ doesn’t begin to cover it.”

Graham squinted and kicked the ground. Without meaning to, he caught a quick glance at the back of the house.
Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.
He had known it was going to be a crazy fundamentalist thing when he saw the brick that shattered the Pendleton’s window, but he didn’t think it would go so far so fast. He was able to see the opening to that dark “woulda-coulda-shoulda” tunnel in his mind, but made every effort to stay out of it.

There was something cold on the back of his neck. Graham first thought it was wind on sweat, but it was too constant. He reached over his shoulder to find a large plastic cup, filled with sweet iced tea. Condensation dripped down the collar of his shirt.

“Thought you could use something to drink, Sheriff,” Officer Tamara Ogle said. “I’ve got more in the car.”

Graham took a swift deep swig. “God, that’s good,” he said. “Thank you.”

“There’s enough for what’s-his-face, too, by my own grace and mercy,” she said.

“What is it with you and Deputy Moon?” Graham asked.

“He don’t like me,” Tamara said. “I’m returning the favor.”

“Y’all better get your shit straight,” Graham said. “We’re understaffed as it is. It would be good if my deputies could work together.”

Deputy Moon joined the two of them. He nodded at Officer Ogle and spoke to Sheriff Strahan. “The guys from Bell Plains are here,” he said.

“I brought you some tea, Deputy Moon,” Tamara said. She handed him a plastic tumbler. Moon took off the lid and sniffed it.

“What did you put in it?” he asked.

“Sugar, you asshole,” she said.

“Enough!” Graham said. “Now I have to leave for a little while, but I will be back, okay? Can I trust you two not to add to the goddamned body count?”

Moon and Ogle nodded without looking at each other.

“Kevin, get the Bell Plains guys set up guarding the front perimeter. Tamara, wait back here for the white suits. I will be back as soon as possible. Are we clear on that?”

“Crystal,” the two deputies replied.

“Good,” Graham said and he headed towards his car.

Tamara turned to Kevin and asked, “What’s that smell?” Kevin rolled his eyes and turned away. Now he smelled bad, ha ha ha. So mature.

***

Graham knocked twice, then poked his head into Doctor Mike’s office. “Hello?”

Doctor Mike was sitting at his desk, filling out forms. “Just a second,” he said, without looking up. “Let me sign off on a couple things and… okay.” He slammed his pen down and looked up.

“Sheriff! Hello. What a surprise.” Mike scooted his chair back and stood up.

The two men shook hands. “Please, have a seat,” Doctor Mike said. Graham took the chair in front of the dentist’s desk. Mike sat back down, too, and leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. It was a power stance. And why not? Graham thought. A man in his office should feel at ease, the king of his domain.

“What can I do for you this afternoon, Sheriff?” Doctor Mike asked. Graham answered by placing two folded up pieces of paper on his desk.

“What are these?” Doctor Mike asked.

“These are search warrants,” Graham said. “One for your private residence, one for here.”

“What the hell for?”

“Doctor Mike, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Why do you have search warrants?”

“The warrants are here on your desk. They are not currently being used. Whether I use them or not depends on the answers I get from you in the next few minutes.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Do I need to?”

Doctor Mike leaned back his head and laughed. “You’re clever,” he said. “I like you! Of all the sheriffs we’ve had, you may be the first one with a sense of humor.”

“I’m failing to see the humor here,” Graham said.

“That’s even better!” Doctor Mike said. “You’re clever and somewhat oblivious. What a delightful combination! Oh, this will be fun. So what’s this all about, Sheriff Strahan? I voted for you, you know.”

Graham cleared his throat. “Do you know Mark and Nika Pendleton?”

“Oh, fucking hell,” Doctor Mike said. “Yeah, I know them. Twats, both of them. What, did they file a complaint? Press charges? You got a restraining order with you, too?”

Graham raised his hand. “No, no, no. Slow down. They’re dead.”

“Dead?”

“Dead. Murdered.”

Doctor Mike’s eye widened and his mouth became an ‘O’ shape. “Oh, I get it! You think I… oh, Sheriff. This is rich! I’m so glad you stopped by. Shutting your case against me down is going to be the absolute highlight of my day.”

“Where were you last night, Doctor Mike?” Graham asked.

“I was at home with my wife. We had a guest. We were entertaining.”

“And this guest can corroborate that?”

“Oh, I would think so,” Doctor Mike smirked. “She’s a consenting adult. Barely.”

“We’ll deal with that in a few minutes,” Graham said. “I have it on good authority that your meeting with the Pendletons did not go well.”

“That’s being diplomatic,” Doctor Mike said. “It’s all my wife’s fault. She meant well, of course, but she had no idea just how incompatible we would be with the Pendletons.”

***

It had been a beautiful evening, with a slight cool wind. Doctor Mike was driving. Sarah called shotgun. Mark and Nika had the backseat. The car was comfortable and clean, and Mike was a cautious driver.

“It’s kind of a curvy road,” Mike said. “Hope you don’t mind if I drive like a grandpa.”

“I drive it every day,” Mark said. “I’ve seen some gnarly wrecks on this stretch of road.”

“Oh, this is so cute!” Sarah said. She pointed at her husband, then to the backseat at Nika’s husband. “Mike! Mark! Mike! Mark! So many ‘M’s!’ It’s almost like you’re brothers!”

Mark laughed politely, then leaned over to Nika. “Oh, dear Lord, she’s crazy,” he whispered. “What the fuck have you gotten me into?”

“Ease down, Paleface,” Nika whispered back. “It’s just one night.”

“Hey, maybe we are related, Mark,” Mike said, over his shoulder. “Do you have any family in Sicily?”

“Sure don’t, Mike,” Mark said.

“Me, either!” Mike said. “The odds just went up!”

Mark shifted in his seat, wondering if anyone would notice if he quietly slipped off his seatbelt, opened the door and did a quick tuck and roll into the ditch alongside the road.

“So what’s the name of the place we’re eating?” Nika asked.

“It’s a French restaurant called
L’agneau Abbatus
,” Mark said. “Very fancy. Very chic. That’s why we have to wear ties and fancy shoes. Except the girls, of course. No ties for them! At least, not right now.”

Sarah’s eyes widened. “Oooh, Dr. Mike,” she cooed. “I love it when you talk light BDSM.” She stroked Mike’s cheek with her finger and licked her lips. Mike took a hand off the steering wheel and slipped it under Sarah’s dress. Nothing was audible in the vehicle except their heavy breathing, and a new heavy scent permeated the air.

“Hey, I love French food,” Mark blurted. “Except for snails! Nope! Don’t like those snails! Kinda gross.”

Mike put his hand back on the wheel quickly, and Sarah started smoothing her dress. “Yeah, the food is, uh, pretty good here,” Mike said. “Lots of garlic and truffle oil.”

“Oil,” Sarah said dreamily.

Mark shot Nika a look that said he would never forgive her for putting him through this. Nika’s look in return implored him to relax and try to have a good time. Mark lowered his head a little and raised his eyebrow, meaning that she had better make worth his time. Nika turned up the corner of her mouth in a sly smile, which assured him that she would. Mark nodded. He was fine with that. Nika reached over and squeezed his hand. It was going to be an okay night after all.

“And here we are!” Mike said. He whipped the sedan into the restaurant’s parking lot in between two pickup trucks. “Boo-yah!” he cried, and opened the door. Sarah got out and placed her arm in the crook of Mike’s elbow.

“This is going to be a story we tell our grandchildren,” Nika said.

“Not if we get tied up in Mike and Sarah’s Torture Dungeon of Doomed Love,” Mark replied. They exited the car, clasped hands and followed Mike and Sarah into the lobby.

The restaurant was a candlelit affair, and strange shadows spasmed on the red velvet wallpaper, decorated with stars and
fleur-de-lis
. As the hostess gathered up menus, Sarah told Nika, “You’re going to love it here. Listen to the music! All they play is Celine Dion!”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Mark said.

“I know! Isn’t it great?” Sarah folded her hands under her chin and giggled.

“But Celine Dion is Canadian, isn’t she?” Mark asked.

“French Canadian,” Mike said. “French.”

The hostess showed them to a corner booth. The bench seats were black and cushy.

“Hey, Mark,” Mike said, “how about the men take the inside seats? You know how often girls have to pee. Might as well let them have an easy exit, huh?”

“Sure,” Mark said, and he scooched in behind the table as Nika watched. The vinyl upholstery rubbed against Mark’s pants, making loud sounds. Mike and Sarah laughed out loud.

Mike pointed and said, “It’s the mating call of the bunghole!”

“Actually, it’s the seat…”

“It usually is!” Mike said as he soundlessly sat down. Sarah slid in next to him, while Nika took her place next to Mark.

“Can I get you something to drink?” the hostess asked.

“Sure,” Mike said. “I want you to bring us the cheapest white wine you have, and bring us a lot of it.”

The hostess nodded. “All right!”

“I mean it,” Mike said, pointing at the hostess. “Don’t fuck with me on this. I want a lot of wine.”

The hostess’s cheeks grew flushed, and she walked away mumbling something about a server being right with them. Sarah snuggled up to her husband.