Skulls (10 page)

Blood.

The dark circle of fluid was about a foot wide. Thick drops led under the back door. Jacob followed the trail and gently twisted the doorknob. To his surprise, the knob twisted and the door clicked open. He cracked the door a little and looked inside. The blood trail continued through the kitchen.

He caught himself before he stepped into the room. He stepped back and pulled the door shut. He made sure he didn’t step in the blood. His mind raced. Though he was worried about Cass, he knew better than to walk inside her house. There was no telling what he might find. He didn’t want to think about it.

The best thing to do was call the police. He headed back to the fence and leapt over it. His heart in his throat, he slipped around the side of the house and into the front yard.

Sheriff Tate leaned against the hood of his squad car, waiting. Jacob froze when he saw him. There was no hint of a smile on the man’s stoic face.

“It was obvious you and Cassandra are close, but I can’t figure her parents would approve of you traipsing into their yard uninvited.” Tate adjusted his hat and walked over to Jacob. “What were you doing back there?”

Jacob’s cheeks flushed. His tongue scrambled to speak. “I’ve been calling Cass for a while, but she wasn’t answering. That’s not normal for her. I was worried, so I came over to see if she was okay.”

The sheriff stayed quiet and stared at him. After a moment, some of the tension eased out of Tate’s face, but he was still all business. “You came all the way over here from Paradise Park just because Cassandra wasn’t answering her phone. That’s a pretty good walk.”

Jacob nodded, then pointed toward the backyard. “I found a puddle of blood by the back door and was going for a phone to call the police.”

Tate raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t touch anything did you?”

Jacob felt a tiny spike of adrenaline shudder through him. He looked to the sheriff, who waited for an answer. Jacob thought about it for a second before he answered.

“No,” he told him, unwilling to admit he’d actually opened the door.

Tate smiled. “Good. The Boones will need pictures for their insurance company. I’d hate to have to tell them someone made a mess of the scene.” He walked over and slung a meaty arm over Jacob’s shoulder. “So you know, and can stop worrying, Cassandra is fine.” He squeezed Jacob’s shoulder a little and guided him to the squad car. “Her father slipped on the back step and cracked his head open pretty good. He’s okay, but he’ll need some stitches. Cassandra and her mother are at the hospital with him. Jacob glanced up at the sheriff through narrow eyes as he was led along.

Tate just laughed. “Don’t be suspicious, Jacob. It’s a small town. Every emergency call that goes out comes across my radio. Just like the one that told me some long-haired kid was breaking into the Boone’s house.”

Jacob’s eyes went wide and he stopped walking, turning to look at the sheriff. “But I wasn’t—”

“When I heard the description, I figured it might be you stopping by to see Cassandra, so I took the call to be sure. Guess we were both lucky, huh?”

Tate triggered the back locks on the cruiser and motioned for Jacob to get in the car. Jacob hesitated.

“You’re not under arrest or anything.” He patted Jacob’s shoulder, giving him a gentle nudge toward the car. “I’m just taking you home to be sure my office doesn’t get any more calls from the neighbors. I can’t answer them all, you know.”

Jacob eased into the backseat and the sheriff closed the door behind him. The big man then walked around the car and climbed in, tossing his hat onto the passenger seat. He picked up the radio and called into dispatch.

After a crackled response, Tate called an all clear. He started the car and pulled off, headed for Jacob’s home. The sheriff’s eyes flitted back and forth between the road and the rear view mirror.

“You’re still fairly new to town so maybe you haven’t caught on yet, but the folks ‘round Country Club don’t take kindly to people wandering through their neighborhood.” He looked into Jacob’s eyes through the mirror. “More often than not, we’re gonna get a call if they spot you in the area, no matter your reason for coming ‘round, you hear?”

Jacob sunk into the backseat, nodding. He’d heard it all before. His father, his teachers, and even a few of his friends had said the same thing. It all added up to this, he was trash, and Cass was too good for him. He stared at the floor to keep from saying something he might regret later.

The sheriff laughed at his reaction. Jacob’s angry stare met the officer’s in the mirror.

“You’re misunderstanding me, boy. I’m not trying to warn you off. I’m just telling you how things are, what to expect.” He shook his head, still chuckling. “You ain’t ever gonna fit in ‘round The Club so you need to get that into your head. But if you and Cassandra are gonna make a go of it, you two need to figure things out or you’re gonna spend a lot of time explaining yourself to people who don’t give a damn about y’all’s feelings.”

Jacob stared at the sheriff, unsure of what to make of him. There wasn’t time to ask him why
he
cared as the squad car pulled onto Jacob’s street. Tate slowed and began to pull over at the corner when a loud rumble rolled up behind them. Jacob cringed and sunk into the seat as the sheriff slowed further, drifting onto the soft dirt beside the road.

An old Ford pickup rolled past. The cold stare of Jacob’s dad was fixated on Jacob sitting in the backseat of the squad car. The sheriff spotted him as he drove by. A quiet sigh slipped from Tate’s lips.

“So much for stealth, huh?” He glanced into the rearview at Jacob, then edged back onto the road. “I’ll talk to him, don’t worry.”

Jacob groaned but said nothing. He knew his father too well to think it would matter.

The sheriff pulled his cruiser into the driveway as his dad hopped out of his truck. Tate hit the locks and let Jacob out before he went to speak to Jacob’s father.

“What the hell did he do this time?” Jacob’s dad asked as he stormed down the driveway. He headed for Jacob, his fists clenched.

The sheriff intercepted him, placing his bulk squarely between father and son. His dad stopped and met Tate’s eyes.

“He didn’t do anything, Mr. Rile,” the sheriff answered in a calm voice. “He was checking on a friend whose father is in the hospital. I just happened to be around and heading back this way, so I gave him a ride, that’s all. Jacob’s a good kid.”

His father snorted and glanced at Jacob. “Go inside.” He looked back to the sheriff. “I’ll make sure you don’t have to cart my boy around anymore. Don’t you worry.” Without another word, he reached into the truck and retrieved a twelve-pack of beer. He then followed Jacob toward the trailer.

“Take care, Jacob,” the sheriff said as they walked away. “Maybe I’ll see you at the bar tonight, Mr. Rile.”

His dad spun around and glared at the sheriff. Tate stood there with a broad smile plastered across his face. He waved and nodded, giving Jacob’s father every opportunity to respond.

Jacob groaned. He knew the sheriff meant well, but he didn’t know his father. He was only making things worse.

After an uncomfortable moment, his father turned away. When he entered the trailer, he slammed the door so hard Jacob thought it would come off its hinges.

The sound hadn’t even echoed away before his dad turned on him. He shoved Jacob hard into the wall.

“I don’t know what kind of horseshit excuse you gave that cop to get out of trouble, but you damn well better watch yourself. You won’t find any bail money here. You’re lucky I don’t kick you out already.” He poked at the scratches on Jacob’s face as if to prove his point. “You’re nothing but trouble, boy. I don’t want to see the police out here again, you understand?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Go to your room. I don’t want to see you either.”

Jacob was all too happy to comply. He trudged off and breathed a sigh of relief once the door was closed behind him. He went to the bed and lay down as his father stomped into the kitchen, vibrating the floor. Jacob heard the glasses clink as his father slammed the refrigerator door. The whole time, he shouted about police and worthless kids.

Jacob righted the table beside his bed and examined his stereo. To his surprise, it wasn’t broken. He set it gently on the table and retrieved his CDs and clock. He made sure the volume was as low as it would go, then turned his music on. He settled in to wait out his father and hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with him again.

He didn’t have long to wait.

His dad rushed Ann out of the house an hour early, much to Jacob’s delight. As the truck roared off down the road, its sound fading away, Jacob picked up the phone to call Cass.

Again, it was only her substitute voice that answered. He set the receiver back into its cradle and growled. He wanted to talk to her, but it frustrated him that he couldn’t.

The excitement of the day washed over him like the tide. He felt sleep creeping up on him, but he didn’t want to sleep. With the clamor inside his head, the last thing he wanted to do was dream. He thought about taking a walk.

What about Jenks? The threat of the old man was still sharp in his head. He peered out his window and glanced around the neighborhood. He spied movement at the trailer across the street, the flutter of curtains. He leaned back against the wall so no one would see him. When he realized what he’d just done, he laughed.

He was becoming just like everyone else that lived in Paradise Park, paranoid. The place was getting to him.

He shook his head and went outside. He stuck to the trees, his head on a constant swivel. Once he was out of the trailer park, he waited until the traffic cleared on Sudderth. He ran across the street and headed for the woods. He paced indecisive when he reached the base of the hill.

The sun edged toward the mountains. He caught himself climbing the hill. He was at the barbed wire fence before he even realized it. He dropped low, his eyes on a frantic sweep for anyone—for Jenks.

After several minutes, he was satisfied he was alone. He was just a short distance from the trees that covered the bunker. He made his way to it without a second thought. Inside the protective shell of greenery, he felt his adrenaline begin to rush. Even through the closed hatch, he could smell the wet earth of the bunker. The cloying scent called to him.

He lifted the hatch with trembling hands and slid quickly down the ladder. He felt the darkened eyes on him the moment he hit bottom. He drew in a deep breath. The air was crisp.

The images of murder that had been swept into the back of his head, charged to the front as though summoned by their earthly counterparts. Jacob met their empty sockets, but only briefly, before skipping past those of the rest. They seemed to cry out for his attention.

He wasn’t really sure why he was even there. He looked over the familiar assemblage of skulls and noticed a new niche. It had been dug into the packed earthen wall beneath the lowest row. In it sat a gleaming skull Jacob hadn’t seen before. Its white dome appeared almost wet in the dim light.

It was then Jacob heard a familiar voice. It called out to him as he breathed along with the skulls. He listened close to hear any intelligible words from the otherworldly drift of sounds, yet they were still too faint for him to pick out. He held his breath and strained his ears. This time he could make it out. It was just one word.

Jacob
.

His head exploded with his name. All of the skulls seemed to take it up as though it were a mantra. Their ethereal voices prickled his skin.

Jacob
.

The temperature in the bunker dropped. He could see his breath as it slipped slowly from his lips. Wisps of air huffed from the nostrils of the skulls. He felt their willowy breaths mingle with his.

The comfortable familiarity of the voice drawing him in, he stared at the newest skull. He lifted it into his hands. Its presence tingled through his fingers as he turned it to stare into its hollow eyes.

The blackness inside whirled to life, glistening stars born out of the darkness. Resistance was not even a thought, not even an option. He welcomed the cold contact. Craved it. Fear left behind, he dove into the well of the skull.

Chapter Fifteen

The woods clustered, claustrophobic, around Dennis Jones, but not as thick as the emotions that crowded his head and shadowed his heart.

He’d been an outcast so long he didn’t know what the word meant anymore.

Dennis trudged through the Ruidoso forests hoping to chase away the demons of his home life. His father, out in the free world for a record six months the last time, once more found the easy way back to jail. Again, as always, he took his family’s spirit with him. His meager paycheck—what hadn’t been blown on drugs and alcohol—had gone away as well.

At sixteen, Dennis had once more become the man of the house, a role for which he was ill suited—more so each time his dad was locked up. He was quiet and unassuming, a ‘C’ quality student at the best of times. He struggled to keep his part-time sales job at a small T-shirt shop off the main strip.

The shop catered to tourists and he didn’t fit the vacation town’s ideal image. The water off more often than on, his greasy-haired and thrift-store clothing led to his hours being cut all the time. His shifts were relegated to the times when business was slowest. It was only the compassion and understanding of the owner, Miss Hernandez, who was well aware of his plight, which kept him there at all. There was only so much she could do for him though.