Chapter 5
One.
Jackson dared to let out a sigh that was something like relief.
Thank God, after Angela’s discovery of Carla Hanson, they were able to rip into and investigate every creature and decoration.
And just one of the creatures in the yard, Carla as a gorgeous zombie, turned out to be human.
As EMTs rushed to the scene and hurried off with Carla Hanson, Jackson and Angela and Detective Valiente inspected everything—and that meant, seriously, everything--in the yard.
Valiente had worked frantically along with them, deeply concerned.
And when they had finished the task, he stood, staring at the house, shaking his head with worry.
“So, we find Carla, a beautiful young woman making the perfect and seductive zombie, in the yard. She’s lost buckets of blood; if you hadn’t found her now, she’d never have had a chance. But she was out here with the decorations, so . . .” he began.
“The owners of the house are not here and the door was ajar—our brilliant killer forgot to close it completely,” Jackson said. “So—”
“So, do you think he’s taken them, taken them as he did the two women?” Valiente asked him. He winced again. “If this guy was hurting Carla, they might well have half killed themselves to stop him. We’re talking about good people.”
“And we’re determined to find everyone he’s managed to kidnap.
He’s going to trip up somewhere; he doesn’t let death come easy.
In the past . . . well, he enjoys seeing others destroy themselves, convinced he is the mortal manifestation of the king of darkness and they’re only chance is being completely subservient to his will,” Jackson explained.
“And oddly enough, that gives us a chance. He enjoys it when he starts the process—and people bleed to death,” Angela said. “Slowly.”
“We must find them. I mean now, as soon as possible, and—”
Valiente broke off, shaking his head. “My guys are out; your guys are out. Rangers, dogs, you name it, but . . . the forest is huge. Huge. And there are more houses,” he said at last.
Jackson wished there was a way to assure the man. There was none. No one really knew what Darrell Manderley would do. True, he enjoyed watching people suffer more than he enjoyed the kill itself.
But when someone was in the way or might threaten him, he was quick to kill.
He could only do his best—without lying.
“Detective, you’ve seen his handiwork here and now. I’m going to say there is hope we may find this couple as we found Carla—seriously, dangerously wounded, but with a chance if we get to them quickly enough,” he told the man.
“And how do we do that?”
“We keep moving forward; your men are at one end of the houses; our guys are at the other end. Maybe we’ll fan out here in opposite directions. Although . . .” he began.
“I believe he moved deeply into the forest from one of his stops,” Angela supplied for him. “So, instead of fanning out, maybe Jackson and I will see if there is any kind of trail in back through here while you move on from the middle. Your people will know what they’re doing on their end, right?”
“Hey, we’re not feds, but we’re good law enforcement.” Valiente told her.
Angela smiled at him. “Detective, in a thousand years, I would never suggest you all weren’t the very best. I mean, they know they need to inspect every so-called decoration they come across.”
“I’m going to double verify that now.” he assured her, and he was smiling as well.
Angela did have that talent. She could be hard as a tack when she needed to be, but she was also one of those people with the ability to draw a great deal from people just by being kind in the way that she spoke.
In fact . . .
Using innocence and charm had been the way she’d gotten to Darrell Manderley the first time.
Would he fall for it a second time?
He knew Angela was willing to be the bait to catch the man.
And he knew she counted on him to be there at the right time.
In a way, he hated the very concept of her taking such a risk.
But she was a trained agent; they’d begun their time together as part of the first Krewe unit.
She would always be such an agent and, of course, she worried about him as much as he worried about her, and yet . . .
They had faith in each other. Thankfully, so far, that faith had been warranted.
But this man . . .
Jackson wasn’t sure that in all of his days working on heinous cases that he’d ever come across a human being he could describe as being purely evil—as if the man was the devil incarnate on earth. The taking of a human life meant nothing to him at all. He could kill as casually as he could breathe.
Valiente had finished his phone call. He looked at them and nodded.
“They know; my guys know to rip everything to shreds. Well, you know what I mean. I’ll head to the next house, going from the middle. And I’m hoping to hell I find some folks home, or maybe even someone who has seen something,” he said.
“We’ve had the warning out with the media,” Jackson told him. “Hopefully, some people have heard and will double-lock everything and pay no heed to a stranger. Of course, the fear with him is that he’s great at bribing or threatening others into doing his biddings.”
“Or, in some cases as we’ve seen, brainwashing them. Except in the past, that’s taken him a bit of time, so, we can do our best to get everyone out of danger as quickly as possible. Which means,” Angela said, looking at Jackson, “We need to get moving.”
“All right, over the river and through the woods,” Jackson said.
“There is no river behind the house,” Valiente said.
Jackson winced. “Just an expression. We move.”
He did so, nodding to Angela and then they, in turn, nodded to Valiente and headed toward the back of the property.
The handsomely manicured lawn, with its flower garden and sporadic trees, was met in the back by a wall of oaks.
But as Jackson had expected, there was something of a very slim trail in the center of the massive array of trees.
“Broken branches, a few,” Angela commented. “Too bad one of us isn’t a canine. You can’t really tell if people were dragged through here or not.”
“He must have someone else helping him,” Jackson said. “Or else . . .”
His voice trailed as he looked to the right of their position. It seemed there was another trail that led in a parallel position with the road beyond the houses.
“I’m going to give Valiente a call and make sure he’s checked out the nearest neighbor to the northeast of the house we’ve just left. Looks like there might be a connection here,” he told Angela.
“And maybe one that was just created or enhanced,” Angela said. “Jackson, look. There are several branches in that direction, leading toward this trail.”
Jackson nodded, calling Valiente.
He suggested the direction in which the man should move—and asked him to return the call as soon as he knew anything.
“Okay, he’s on it.” he told Angela.
“And ahead.” she suddenly whispered.
At first, even with the strength of his light, he saw nothing.
And then he saw what Angela saw, something that might have been taken for part of the landscape, part of the night.
Spiderwebs.
“They’re not real!” she whispered.
“I agree. No spider is really that big or has a web that thick, but in the darkness . . .”
She laughed softly. “There’s something up there. One of his scenarios, I’m certain.”
“With or without human decorations,” he replied dryly. “All right, this is . . . this is not going to be him. He won’t make it this easy, this close to the road. But he’s created something ahead, a diversion, I figure.”
“And I think you’re right; we still need to be careful.”
“Of course.”
He turned off his light. They stood still, adjusting to the night, the darkness, and allowing the moon and the stars to be their only guide.
Not an easy decision. But if Darrell Manderley had been using more human decorations, they needed to move fast but also be extremely meticulous.
Angela gave him a nod and started forward again, watching for the branches, for twigs on the ground, for anything that might give them away with sound.
She was ahead of him and she suddenly stopped, lifting a hand. She drew him around so he could see past her shoulder.
They’d come to a very small clearing in the woods, but that was where the spiderwebs had been woven between the trees, the webs they had seen first from a distance.
And, yes, of course, the place had been turned into a Halloween scene.
The small clearing offered a tiny pumpkin patch, a crude wooden coffin, an eerie skeleton, a witch, a goblin, and several ghosts.
And a man who was talking to . . .
The night. Or the decorations. One of which just might be human.
“We are the night!” the man said. It was difficult with the lack of real light to truly see him, but he appeared to be in his forties. He wore an orange Halloween sweatshirt and a blue baseball cap over wild, slightly graying hair.
“I’m sorry, but this is so short, and the reward was so great!
And you must understand, I didn’t see the light at first, but now I understand!
The suffering brings us to a greater place than we could have ever known.
I truly didn’t understand at first, but life without my wife .
. . well, now she and I both will have his eternity, the splendor that we’re promised, and you will share that, too.
I do hope you understand that; your suffering will bring you to splendor, a place where there is no pain, only .
. . a majesty none of us has ever known! ”
“Crazy? Drugs?” Angela whispered.
“Maybe a bit of both. But he seems to be alone,” Jackson whispered in return.
“Let me find out,” Angela said.
Jackson was pretty sure the man was alone, but that was all right—he’d be right here, not twenty feet away, ready to burst onto the scene—or take aim and shoot any unseen target that offered her harm.
“Hey!” Angela said, walking into the tiny clearing. “The pumpkin and that zombie both forgive you, you know!”
The man jumped back in consternation.