Valley of the Shadow (25 page)

    “Odd?” The old man inspected Conner through narrowed eyes. “My wife used to teach sixth grade years back and had that boy in her class. She used to say he was like a grown man inside a child’s body. And not because he was smart. Because he was mean. Not little kid mean.
Grown-up
mean. Things he’d say to other kids. He never had any friends. And nobody who ever spent more’n five minutes with him ever wondered why.”

    He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Once they caught him in the field out back of the school. He’d killed a cat and her litter of kittens. Choked ’em all. Said he’d done it just to see what it felt like.” He shook his head and snorted. “Like some kinda dang experiment. I mean, what kid does something like ’at?”

    Conner frowned. None of this information surprised him. If Owen was killing cats as a kid, what kind of things had he gotten into as an adult? “Has he ever been in trouble with the law?”

    “Well, he never did anything anyone could prove. Couple years back, though, we had a young guy from town just up and disappear.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “I mean he disappeared. Dale Edwards. Couple years ago he left for work in the morning but never showed. A few days later, they found his car up near Gary, like it’d run outta gas. They looked all around up there, but no sign of Dale. Nowhere. Folks said he’d run off with some woman. But no one’s seen him since.”

    “So you think Owen killed him?”

    The old man just raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

    Conner went on. “Well, did they know each other?”

    “I think they went to school together.”

    “But I mean, did they have an argument or something? Was there any kind of motive?”

    “Motive?”

    “Yeah. Usually for a murder, there’s some reason for it. Some kind of motive.”

    “Beats me,” the old man snorted again. “He didn’t need no motive to kill them cats.”

    “Yeah, but you can’t just arrest somebody because they’re creepy. You need to establish motive, opportunity, and intent. And without a body, there’s no evidence that a murder even took…”

    Conner’s voice trailed off as he recalled his encounter with the Bristols. A chill washed down his back. Owen had made no uncertain threat to Conner’s life if he ever showed up there again.

    
“They’ll never find you.”

    Owen definitely seemed ruthless enough—perhaps capable of such an act. After a moment, Conner shook his head and forced a chuckle. “Well, I guess I’m glad I made it out of there alive, then.”

    He returned to his car and turned on his cell phone. Three messages. He quickly dialed his voice mail and listened. The first was from Nancy at the office. She must’ve called yesterday after he’d left.

    
“I saw you left early today. Just wanted to see if everything was okay. Call me if you need anything, Connie. Okay? I mean it.”

    The second message was from Marta earlier that morning.
“Connie, call me when you get this please. I think it’s important.”

    The third was also from Marta at around noon.
“Connie, why do you have your phone off? Call me as soon as you can. I got a call from a Jim Malone. He says he knows you. He said he needs to talk to you. Right away.”

MITCH STOOD AND WATCHED
his father elbow his way through the crowd of Reapers to stand, hands on his hips, at the edge of the circle.

    “Dude,” Mitch whispered to Nathan, “do you see this too?”

    “I see him.”

    “He’s . . . he’s real then, right? Or is this another hallucination?”

    “He’s probably a manifestation of your thoughts and memories. Were you thinking about him just now?”

    “No. At least I’ve been trying not to.”

    Nathan stood. “Then I would say they’re trying to deceive you again. They obviously know the issues you had with him and they’re trying to use that against you.”

    “But how? I’m not going out there.”

    “I’m not sure what they’re trying to do. Just try to ignore him for now.”

    “Yeah.” Mitch rolled his eyes. “Like that’s gonna happen.”

    Mitch was turning to sit down when his father bellowed, “Don’t you turn your back on me!”

    “Whatever.” Mitch put his feet up on the coffee table.

    “I’m not paying for your school so you can goof off.”

    “Yeah, I know.”

    Nathan sat down again, across from Mitch, his forehead puckered. “Just don’t respond.”

    “And that,” his father went on, “that right there is the problem. The kind of friends you’re hanging around with. They’re the ones getting you into trouble all the time.”

    Mitch sighed. Nathan motioned him to ignore the comment, but he couldn’t not respond. His anger was growing. The man was always dictating. Always setting some new rules to obey. And not for Mitch’s good. Not out of love. These rules were designed solely to keep Mitch from embarrassing him. To keep the congressman’s son out of trouble. And out of the news.

    “They’re like bad pennies, Dad. They just keep showing up wherever you send me.”

    “Well, not while you’re under my roof. Not while I’m paying the bills.”

    Mitch popped up off the couch again and turned to face his father. Somewhere in the back of his head, Mitch knew this wasn’t his father, but he couldn’t help himself. He was angry and he was going to vent. All the rage that had been pent up for so many years was starting to explode out of him in short bursts. Rage over the man’s political obsessions, with getting reelected every two years, with his career and his reputation. And rage over the loss of the only good thing in their family.

    His mother had been the glue that had kept them together. And she had been the insulation that kept them apart. She maintained an uneasy peace and was always trying to reconcile her husband and son.

    But now that she was gone, it was metal on metal. There was no more buffer. No quiet voice of calm and reason. No faithful partner and no hope for peace. Her death had driven them farther apart than Mitch could have imagined. His father had not let the news of Mitch’s role in her death leak out. He’d not told a soul. But not for Mitch’s sake. Rather for his own reputation. Mitch was sure the old man would’ve gone public with the story if it could have bolstered his career in some way.

    Indeed, his mother’s illness had already garnered an outpouring of public sympathy. It was just the thing his father had needed in a close race that year. Mitch had watched his father make her illness a central focus in his campaign by steadfastly maintaining in every speech that he would not use her illness for political purposes.

    Mitch’s jaw clenched. He stood nose-to-nose with his father. The blue veil of light was all that separated them.

    “You’re paying the bills?” Mitch sneered. “You’re paying the bills? You’re a politician, Dad. Remember? You live off the public dole like a leech. Bloodsucking the taxpayers and getting kickbacks on the side!”

    “Mitch, stop!” Nathan’s voice sounded too late.

    Mitch reached through the light and grabbed for his father’s throat, but his fingers closed on empty air. His father’s image had dissolved into nothing.

    Mitch pulled his hand back through. The Reapers hissed and growled, baring their teeth and puffing out their chests. But then—as if by some unseen or inaudible cue—they began to back away from the light. On every side, they moved back into the shadows and disappeared.

    Nathan stood beside him as they peered into the darkness. Outside, the faint trace of gray morning light began to filter through the front double doors.

    “Is that why they left?” Mitch whispered. “Daylight?”

    Nathan shrugged. “I . . . I don’t know.”

    They stood in silence for several more seconds.

    The circle of light crackled a bit, flickered, and then began to fade.

    Mitch heaved a deep sigh. “Well, wherever they went, let’s hope they stay—”

    He never finished. The building shook with a deafening noise from outside. A thundering roar that Mitch recognized immediately. The ground trembled as a massive shadow passed by the window.

CONNER DIALED MARTA’S CELL
while still parked at the gas station. He hoped he wasn’t too late to get ahold of Jim Malone. Maybe it hadn’t been a coincidence that they’d run into each other at the juvie center the day before.

    “Connie? I’ve been trying to call you all day.”

    “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s kind of a long story, but I left my cell phone off. I felt like I had to come down here and see Howard for myself.”

    “Howard Bristol?” Marta’s voice seemed to go up an octave. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come with you.”

    “That’s why I didn’t tell you. Look, I just felt like I had to do this myself.”

    “Why? That doesn’t make any sense.”

    “I know it doesn’t, and I can’t really explain it, either. Besides you and Rachel had plans today and I didn’t want to derail everything you had going on.”

    “I’m your wife, Connie. I’m supposed to be helping you, but how can I do that if you keep shutting me out?”

    Conner rubbed his eyes. “Marty, I’m not shutting you out. I just had to see him and I didn’t want to drag you all the way down here for that.”

    There was a pause on the other end. “So did you see him?”

    “Yeah. He was in a nursing home, still in a coma. Completely unresponsive.”

    “Are you on your way back, then?”

    Conner hesitated. He didn’t want to go into all the details of his visit with Mrs. Bristol and Owen. Frankly, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He wasn’t quite ready to leave. He felt like he was following a trail of bread crumbs now that was leading him somewhere. And he couldn’t give up.

    “Soon. I want to check one last thing first and then I’ll head back.”

    He could hear Marta sigh on the other end. “Well, I got the strangest phone call this morning.”

    “From Jim Malone?”

    “He said he was a client of yours.”

    “Almost a client. Actually, I just ran into him yesterday morning.” Conner winced. He hadn’t told Marta about going to see Devon. Not that it was a big deal. She knew he’d been trying to track the kid down for the last several weeks. But after the whole Pastor Lewis fiasco, this wouldn’t go over well. He’d look like he was trying to keep more secrets.

    There was another pause. “Yeah . . . well apparently you have a mutual friend.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Apparently this Jim knows Devon Marshall too. He said he had found Devon and his friend, Terrell, in a car the night they’d been shot. The same night you were having your heart attack. Just like you told me. Anyway, he said he performed CPR on Devon until the police arrived.”

    Conner moved the phone to his other ear. “He said that? Is that what he told you?”

    “Yes. He said he’d gone to see Devon after you had left. And somehow Devon escaped.”

    “Escaped?”

    “Yeah, from prison. Connie, what’s going on? You didn’t say anything about going to see Devon yesterday.”

    Conner sighed. Everything was happening too fast. “I know. I just wanted to try to make contact. To see if I could help him somehow. I had managed to get permission, but we didn’t even get a chance to talk. He freaked out when he saw me. He wouldn’t talk to me. Did Jim say how he escaped?”

    “He didn’t give me a lot of details, but he said he needed to talk to you.”

    “Did he give you his number?”

    “Connie, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

    “Yes, but not right now. I think Devon’s in a lot of trouble.”

    “Is that why you went to see Pastor Lewis?”

    “No! Look, I’ll explain everything when I get home. I promise. Just give me the number.”

    Marta relayed the number and Conner reassured her that he loved her, that he wasn’t in trouble, and that he’d explain everything as soon as he got home. Whenever that might be.

SHORTLY AFTER TWO O’CLOCK,
Jim Malone’s phone rang. It was Conner Hayden.

    “Do you believe in coincidence or providence?” Conner said.

    Jim chuckled, feeling a bit relieved. “I’m sorry if I gave your wife too much information. It’s just that she started giving me the third degree and I didn’t want to lie.”

    “Don’t worry,” Conner said. “She has a way of dragging things out of people. She should work for the CIA.”

    “I know the type. I married one too.”

    “So tell me what happened to Devon.”

    Jim recounted the events of the previous day, Devon’s seizure and subsequent escape. He felt a little foolish at first, talking about their suspicions of something supernatural at work.

    But Conner didn’t seem the least bit incredulous. “I think we have to try to figure out what he might be up to. Where he might be going. He’s potentially very dangerous, and I doubt the police are equipped to handle something like this. This could end very badly for Devon.”

    “To be honest with you, I was having a hard time believing the whole thing. I mean, I believe in supernatural things—spiritual things—but the idea that you two met during your near-death experiences is… well, a little bizarre.”

    “You don’t know the half of it.”

    “What was it like? I mean, where were you? What did it look like?”

    “That’s what was so strange,” Conner said. “For a while, we didn’t know what was happening to us. Everything all seemed so normal and so real.”

    Jim listened to Conner explain the details of his experience and how he’d come to meet up with Devon. He also told Jim about Mitch Kent and Helen Krause. And a farmer named Howard Bristol. He described terrifying creatures that had hunted them and how this Howard had turned out to be working with the creatures.

    Jim scrawled down notes so he’d be able to follow up on his own to verify the facts. This lawyer could be making up the whole thing. Maybe just to write a book and get rich. Jim noticed there were conveniently no eyewitnesses to back up his story. None except Devon. And now Devon was conveniently unavailable, not that he would have been a reliable witness anyway.