Bound by Blood and Brimstone (28 page)

he actually said “leads.”

Lester sat back in his chair and squared his shoulders. “I do have a couple of ideas, and

that’s where you can really help me out, if you’re willing.”

Reese sat up straighter, brightening. “Now you’re speaking my language. Tell us your

ideas, and let us know what we can do.”

Instead of responding to Reese directly, he turned to Lorrie Beth and me, lowering his

voice slightly. “Sue Lee had a lot of rage in her. A girl that angry was bound to make a lot of

enemies. There wouldn’t have to be a reason for her to get it in for somebody. It was already in

her, you see? I think that maybe yesterday, when she and Caleb argued, it set off some kind of

chain reaction.”

On the stove, the coffee pot gurgled, releasing a cloud of fragrant steam. A stubborn fly

buzzed lazily around Les Bates’ head, while my pulse pounded my eardrums in a sickening

rhythm.

“The rage had to be released until it was all spent up,” he continued. “She used up some

of it on Caleb and her mother, but maybe there was some left. Maybe she went looking for

someone else to let it out on. Someone she saw as an enemy. Now, all we have to do is find that

person, and I’ll bet my bottom dollar we’ll find Sue Lee Jacobs.”

Don’t you dare cave in, Lorrie Beth! You better keep it together if you don’t want to be

spending the rest of your days in a chain gang. You can’t let on about anything! We’ve come too

far to play true confession now. You break our pact now, and it’ll be over. Worse than over.

I was terrified of what her face might reveal, transparent as it usually was. Deception had

never come easy for my sister, but if this great lie proved too much for her, she’d pay the highest

price of her life. All I could do was try desperately to send her my thoughts and hope that she

didn’t sing like a bird.

Giving her foot a reassuring nudge, I smoothed Sam’s sweaty curls back off his forehead

and jerked the corners of my mouth upward into what I hoped resembled a smile. “So you figure

that since we’ve gone to school with Sue Lee all our lives, we’d know her pretty well. Maybe

know if she hated anybody or was mean to anybody. Is that right?”

“You’ve got it, Honey,” he exclaimed. “Boy, you’re quick. But it won’t be just you and

your sister, mind you. I’ll be talking to your teacher and all your classmates, too. Then I’ll talk to

parents of your classmates, just like I’ve done with your parents. ‘Course, some of what I’ve told

you today, I won’t be telling anyone else. Those parts are confidential.”

“That means it’s a secret,” Lorrie Beth piped in. He looked at her uncertainly, not

knowing whether she was serious or not. I wanted to smack her upside the head until I realized

how brilliant she was being. Then I wanted to kiss her. I could see him floundering, then finally,

accepting her at face value. She would be the one he’d trust the most to tell the truth.

“That’s right,” he agreed. “A secret. So, everybody I talk to needs to tell the truth,

because if one person lies, I’ll just find out from somebody else.”

“You don’t have to worry about the girls,” Reese bragged. “They’ve been raised on the

truth.”

So, he asked us about our school days with Caleb and Sue Lee. He wanted to know what

kind of student Sue Lee was, how she got along with other kids, and if she got into trouble with

Miss Hacker. He specifically wanted to know if Sue Lee seemed angry with anyone in particular

or if she was mean to her peers.

“Did you ever see her pick on anyone?” he asked.

“Sure, sometimes,” Lorrie Beth allowed, with a casual shrug. “But a lot of kids do that.”

“Yeah, once in a while, she even picked on us,” I added. “But you know how it is in

school. Everybody picks on everybody, so we didn’t think much of it.” In a real rush of bravery,

we told a sanitized version of what happened on the first day of school.

“It was pretty silly, really, “Lorrie Beth explained. “I called Caleb a Pumpkin Head and

we got into a fight. Me and Sis were just six, you know.”

He was watching us carefully, analyzing our movements and facial expressions. “And

what did Sue Lee do?”

“She jumped in on it, too,” Lorrie Beth said, and even managed a smile.

“What about when you all were older, the last year or so?” I squinted like I was trying

hard to remember.

“Well, she and Caleb pretty much stayed together ‘till he quit school. Then he’d hang out

in the school yard during breaks and they’d talk.”

“Did you ever see her get mad at anybody?”

“She kind of had one of those sour personalities, like she was mad just about all the time.

I think she was jealous of a lot of the girls ‘cause some of them had nicer clothes than she did.”

All in all I felt our performance was deserving of an Academy Award, considering we

were in the throes of a nervous breakdown. When it was over and Momma had had enough, she

offered the sheriff a piece of apple stack cake she’d made a couple nights before.

“Now, you know I can’t turn that down, Mona. That’d be like asking a man in the desert

if he’d like a drink of water.”

“Let’s take it out to the porch,” she suggested. “Maybe we can catch a breeze out there.

Girls, finish up the dishes and bathe Sam for me, will you? Oh, and Ember Mae?”

“Yes, Momma?”

“Better wash that gravy out of your hair.”

I was getting a clean diaper and towels, and Lorrie Beth was pulling a fresh dishcloth out

of the drawer by the time the adults cleared out of the kitchen. On the way to the front room, an

unanswered question still bothered Reese.

“Say, Les, that argument between Caleb and Sue Lee. He ever tell you what started it?”

A couple beats of silence ensued before the sheriff answered. “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot.

That’s probably the most important clue I have, the trigger, so to speak. Caleb said it all started

over some kind of necklace Sue Lee had.”

It could’ve been the fatigue, the stress of dealing with Sheriff Bates on the heels of the

biggest trauma of our lives, or the energy we had to shove out to keep the panic out of our faces

and the jitters out of our voices. Whatever the reason, there were more than a few blank spots for

me after Sue Lee’s death.

One thing I do remember with the clarity of sunlight on first snowfall were the rumors,

most of them taking wing before Sheriff Bates could make it back to town that day. All it took

was the first sign of those shiny West Virginia State Police cruisers snaking through winding

side streets and narrow hollow roads, spraying dust clouds in their wake. Those starched

uniforms and bright badges sure did unhinge some jaws. Like a maddened chicken in the throes

of a solid flogging, tongues flapped.

So the gossip and speculation stood out the most. Then there was the waiting: waiting

while one outrageous story after another was investigated, waiting through those first crucial

days, said to be the best chance of finding Sue Lee alive, and waiting for news of a gruesome

find lying in the weeds at the bottom of The Gorge.

As for the rest, I remembered little about what went on under my own roof. Things

appeared normal, at least on the outside. Lorrie Beth, pale, silent, and wide-eyed, clung to me

like a cheap suit, but kept a tight and loyal rein on her words. Momma, Reese, and Sam, they

were just there, like background noise.

The reason so much was blurred was because The Dream muted my waking hours.

That’s how I came to think of it, The Dream, more real than reality, sound with texture, the

stench of decay, and above all, the scent of copper.

It first came to me the night of Sheriff Bates’ visit, bolting me upright in bed with a

scream locked in my throat. I’d clawed my way out of it, heaving, gasping, slimed in sweat, snot,

and tears, dragging my face to the bed’s edge where I vomited on the floor.

It was always the same in every detail: I’m running; running as though a pack of

ravenous wolves are at my heels. My breath hitches in and out of my lungs, in fits and starts,

spurting plumes into the cold air in front of me. My chest is burning, and I fear my heart is on the

verge of exploding.

It’s a dark place, unfamiliar, and I have a sense of thick foliage around me, tree

branches, snapping twigs, damp leaves under my bare feet. Surrounding me is a mist, gray, slick,

boiling, and within it, a strange metallic scent.

Somewhere ahead of me, veiled in fog, Lorrie Beth is screaming, but it isn’t a human

sound at all, more like the sound of a police siren. Still, I know it’s my sister, and she needs me.

Red lights pulse and bleed in the fog, and she screams louder.

Behind me, heavy footsteps pound the leaves. A man’s footsteps, I think. His breath is

close and foul, smelling of decay. He growls, and the sound of it shakes the ground around me. I

feel the growl, and it feels sharp. I’m afraid it’ll cut me if he gets any closer. I try to run faster,

but my legs are leaden.

Suddenly, out of the mist, a face looms in front of me. Vivid, white, sorrow lines etched

around blue eyes. It’s Momma’s face. “You have to help her,” she begs, sobbing. “Only you can

help her.” I shudder and reach for her, feeling slick warmth on my hand. I bring my hand to my

face, and it’s become a glove of blood. The smell of copper fills my nose, slithers down my

throat. I gag.

Still, ahead of me, red lights, brighter now. A scream shatters the darkness, a scream of

such mortal anguish I can feel my veins harden. They’re hard because the blood inside them has

turned to ice. A pitiful keening sound warbles up and around me in the dark, so sharp, so high in

pitch, I fear it’ll rip the fabric of this night. The sound is coming from me.

Suddenly, behind me, I hear the heavy footsteps stomp, and I sense a jungle beast getting

ready to pounce. A jagged cry wheezes out of me, just one, before something sails over me and

into the mist. I look up and my heart seizes within me as I see the face of Caleb Jacobs, bruised,

gashed, and twisted with rage. He’s airborne, and he carries a switchblade.

That’s when the mist thickens and begins to churn and swirl around me, faster and faster,

a live thing with weight and purpose. Like a python, it encircles me, squeezing, a thief after my

breath. Lights dance, all colors of the rainbow, and stars burst about my head as I drop to my

knees. I begin to crawl.

In front of me, closer now, I hear snarls and deafening growls, the roars of a hundred

beasts from the Pit. There’s wailing and babbling in the midst of it. Shuddery sobs. “No! Please!

No!” It’s Lorrie Beth. The murderous mist has released me, and my body quakes and spasms, out

of my control. I start to drag myself forward, digging my fingers into wet dirt and pulling. I have

to save my sister.

“Leave her alone! She’s mine! She’ll always be mine!” The voice is raw, guttural, not of

this world.

“You can’t have her! Get out of here! Go back to hell!” This is followed by a meaty

thudding sound and a whoosh. That voice, and not the other, stops me cold. It’s the voice of

Caleb Jacobs. And it’s right in front of me, just a few feet now.

At that moment, the mist clears, and all is dark but for the red light, throbbing over the

scene before me. The first thing that registers is Janine Westerfield. She’s lying on her back in

the clothes I last saw her in as she stood in the rain on the porch. She looks like a broken rag doll,

her limbs twisted at impossible angles. Her face is bruised and swollen, covered in slash marks,

like something has clawed her. I know she’s dead because those incredible blue eyes are lifeless,

yet she speaks to me. “You did your best, Ember Mae. It wasn’t your fault,” she whispers.

Beside her lies Caleb Jacobs, one hand grasping the hilt of his switchblade. The end of it

is embedded in his stomach. He’s dead, too, but he says to me, “I tried. I want you to know I

tried.”

The worst of it, the thing that haunts me to this day, is standing beside him. Sue Lee

Jacobs faces me joyfully with Lorrie Beth’s limp body in her arms. My sister has been bitten and

chewed, pitifully mauled. Around her neck dangles a necklace with a green stone.

As I drag my eyes back to Sue Lee, her face quivers and begins to slide off, melting

before me like candle wax. It bubbles and squishes, morphing into something hideous beyond

words, a face that embodies all the terrors that ever were, eons before time began. It’s the face of

Evil. It opens its mouth and hisses at me, its breath stinking of the grave. “I tried to eat all of

her,” it says in its rumbling, inhuman voice, “but I guess I wasn’t as hungry as I thought.” As its

oozing face splits into a grin of dark glee, I begin to scream.

While search parties fanned out and the manhunt tightened around us, Lorrie Beth and I

kept vigil with the rest of Silver Rock Creek and with our secret. For me, it was mostly a matter

of fighting off the panic as nightfall approached and The Dream waited.