Where Darkness Dwells (9 page)

"The swamps? Why would the boys head this way?" Bergman asked.

"Because they're boys, and that'd be a boy-thing to do," Jane said.

"It's not too far from either the Fowler's place or the Banyon's," Dr. Thompson added. He moved like a man who didn't often leave his office. His arthritic movements were painful to watch, but he never complained.

"It just seems like where they'd be," Jane said.

"Why's that Miss Fowler?" Polk asked as he absently scratched his beard.

"Christ, I wish I could call it mother's intuition. At first I didn't want to search the swamp, but Jacob and I've searched just about everywhere else imaginable since last night. I want Jimmy to be anywhere else but the swamp. There's just no other place to go."

They walked on in silence and fanned out again to cover more ground. Soon, Jacob was the only person Cooper could see through the thickening fog. The others scuffled through thorny patches and cautiously hopped over marshy ground. As long as Cooper could still hear them, he wouldn't worry about becoming lost.

The ground became spongier with every downward step. Blooming flowers spilled their redolence to the nighttime sky. Stepping over snaking tree roots and small algae-covered pools, Cooper came across a level clearing. Ragged tree stumps speared skyward from the verdant water like shatter bones. The canopy enclosed the boggy glade like a ceiling.

Cooper saw the body for several seconds before his brain registered its import. Its shoes pointed toes up, the legs splayed in the mud. That was all that was visible. Green-scummed water covered the body from the waist up. The tip of its nose bobbed at the surface like an emerging island in a volcanic sea.

Cooper tried yelling for the others, but his voice caught just shy of his teeth. He cleared his throat, then tried again, letting loose a shout that sent birds angrily from their roosts.

Jacob was the first to arrive. The boy sprinted into the clearing, his wire-thin limbs flying wildly about. When he saw the body, he stopped as if struck in the chest. Cooper would've done anything to avoid seeing the look on his face.

Jane Fowler's scream stole Cooper's attention away from her son. She ran across the muddy ground all the way to the body, charging knee-deep into the water. Grabbing the shirt with both hands, she yanked up hard, as if there was still a life to save. She showed astonishing strength as she lifted the body from the water and brought it to rest in her lap as she sat on the muddy shore.

The others arrived as Jane rocked the corpse in her arms. Dr. Thompson attempted to shield Ellie from the awful sight. It didn't look like she wanted to see anyway. She pressed her face to his ribs.

Algae and moldering leaves clung to the body like a second skin. Jane muttered incomprehensible half-syllables. Her fingers trembled as she cleared the debris from the face, revealing swollen dead lips, a bloodless gash running the length of its cheek, and open eyes slathered with pond muck.

"This isn't my boy." The body dropped from her arms to the spongy ground. Standing on shaky legs, she looked at the others as if noticing them for the first time. Her eyes went from her hands to the body, then back to her hands. Realization sunk in.

"THIS IS NOT MY BOY!" Her expression slipped with oily ease from relief to utter revolt and then back again. Her flushed skin quickly blanched. Shock stole all sense from her and her eyes tilted back in her head. She fell to one knee and surprisingly, went no further. Polk went to her side and grabbed her by the armpit to steady her.

Thompson handed Ellie over to Magee, then approached the body. Cooper thought he would examine it, but he simply scowled and shook his head. The doctor didn't need to examine the body. Nothing in his power could change the fact that the boy was dead. He returned to Ellie's side, touching her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Ellie. Someone did something terrible to George. I don't know who, but whoever did will see justice." Pain choked the strength from his voice. "I promise."

When Thompson went to embrace the child, she ran past him to the water's edge, to her brother's brutalized body. Reaching down, she touched the pallid skin of George's hand.

Unaware her nose had started to bleed again, a streak flowed from her nostril, to her lips. Letting loose a heartrending wail of misery, she fell to the muddy ground. She tugged George's damp shirtsleeve as if pleading for him to stand.

8.

Considering Ellie's behavior, Cooper almost wished she'd go back to her hysterics. She stood with Dr. Thompson and Jane as the other townsfolk hoisted the boy's body from the seeping mire to a makeshift stretcher. Ellie's eyes were gummy and vacant. She sucked her thumb like a child half her age. Dr. Thompson hunched over to look into her eyes and take her pulse.

To make the stretcher, they tethered two long branches together with belts and suspenders. Polk gave up his outer shirt to cover the boy's face. When the body was ready for transport, Cooper offered to help, but they shook him away. Bergman hefted the front, while Polk and Magee handled the rear handles. They no longer fought over the oil lamp and had given up its possession to Jacob. The boy held it close to the stretcher, but kept his eyes facing his mother and Ellie.

When the sheriff nodded to Magee and Polk, the three men lifted George from the ground. Water dripped from the muddied clothes as if the body had sprung a leak. Because of his small stature, Polk's side hung lower by quite a bit. The stretcher dipped and a leg slipped off and dangled in the air, throwing the three men off balance. With the rest of the body sitting squarely on the stretcher, they couldn't do anything but stare at one another. When Cooper hurried to right the leg, his fingers skimmed across the cold exposed skin of the boy's calf. Even in the balmy night, a chill danced over his spine. The leg felt too heavy when he lifted it, as if a substance weightier than gravity held the lifeless flesh earthbound.

"Let's go," Bergman said, and the procession started back.

Jacob led, followed by the doctor and Ellie, the stretcher, with Cooper and Jane following.

"I liked George. He was a sweet kid," Jane said.

Cooper assumed she'd spoken to him, but he had nothing to say. He had no memories to share, so he remained silent as they snaked through the moonlit groundcover. Cooper had never felt so uncomfortable. These people seemed nice enough, especially Thompson, Jane and Ellie, but he wanted to leave Coal Hollow as soon as possible. Even though he was bone-weary from his long journey, he would gladly take to the rails tomorrow to escape the sadness of this town.

Ahead, Magee and Bergman lowered the stretcher to make it easier on Polk. The sky was beginning to bruise at the horizon with the coming morning. After besting a hill, they parted company with the last vestiges of the night's fog.

Jane stretched her arms over her head and couldn't help yawning. Her brown eyes were her most uncommon feature. They seemed to gleam through the darkness, especially when angered or upset. Now, nearly incoherent from exhaustion, her eyes lost their luster. She noticed Cooper looking at her as she finished her yawn. He felt ashamed for so blatantly taking in her features, as if she had caught him stealing. He looked away.

Quite unexpectedly, at least to Cooper, the group broke through a wooded ravine and were now facing the back of the buildings of downtown Coal Hollow. Just moments ago, Cooper couldn't imagine the end of their walk back. They could've continued for another hour without him beginning to wonder, but now they were nearly home. While the others had a home to return to, Cooper had his inviting mattress in his rented room to think about. He made a mental note to make provisions for paying Thea Calder before he fell asleep. The idea of having Hank Calder rouse him from sleep to kick him to the street for nonpayment didn't sound at all appealing.

Polk and Magee started to turn right, but Bergman stopped. His suddenness almost overturned the body. Bergman righted the stretcher. "Wait. We can't take the body to my office."

"Why not, you
are
the sheriff, right?" Magee said.

"Yeah, but I'm no mortician. You wouldn't want to step within a block of there come lunchtime."

"So what are you suggesting? You better suggest quickly, because if feels like my arm'as bout to fall off," Magee said.

"Calder's icehouse. We'll put the body there for the time being. How does that sound, Doc?"

"Seems the best thing to do. You don't want a body sitting out with how hot it's going to get when the sun comes up. We'll also need to track down his father to figure out burial details."

"All right then, we can take care of things from here. Why don't you get some sleep? It's been a long night," Bergman said to the Fowlers and Thompson, adjusting the stretcher from one hand to the other.

"Put the little one to bed, too," Magee said, motioning to Ellie. Her eyes glazed, she held a blood-stained handkerchief to her nose as she clung to the doctor's arm.

"I'll let her sleep for a while before taking her back to her house. I'm guessing her father's not back now anyway." Dr. Thompson guided Ellie across the street and she went without resistance.

"When you go by the Banyon place, if Charles isn't back yet, then just drop her off at my place," Jane said, raising her voice so the doctor could hear. "Actually, if he's home, you still might want to bring her over."

"Sure thing, Janie. Go get some sleep yourself. We'll regroup tomorrow after some rest, and then track down your boy."

"I appreciate it."

The doctor nodded, and then he and Ellie were off again.

"Mom, let's go. I'm tired," Jacob said.

Jane shook her head, as if she'd just woken from sleepwalking. "Okay. Lead the way."

"Well, what about you?" Bergman asked Cooper. "Where you staying?"

"Same place you're headed. I rented a room at Calder's yesterday before dinnertime, and that bed's calling my name," Cooper said.

"Come on then," Magee said.

When they reached the icehouse door, Cooper rushed ahead to open it. He found a lantern inside and lit it with one of the stove matches sitting next to it. Cold air slapped his face, chilling the sweat still dripping from his skin. Cooper maneuvered around the others to hold open the second door ten feet from the first and waited for them to heft the body through the opening.

Gingerly, Polk and Magee stepped down a set of stairs cut into the ground itself. Bergman held the stretcher, not letting it get any farther. "Just place that lantern on the stretcher pole. We'll take it from here."

Cooper slipped the lantern's handle over the stretcher pole on Bergman's end, glad he wouldn't have to venture down the rickety-looking steps.

"Thanks for your help tonight. Just one thing--"

Polk and Magee groaned in unison.

"Since you're so accommodating, Coop, do me a favor."

"Sure, what is it?"

"Stick around in case we need to talk about the night's events."

"What?" Cooper felt sucker punched.

"I'm not accusing you of nothing. I just find it a little odd is all. A stranger comes to town and willingly joins a search party, almost as soon as he settles in. Then, he's the one who finds the body. I find it a little peculiar."

Cooper stood stunned. With how tired he felt, the thinly-veiled accusation was almost beyond his comprehension. He could do little more than nod before leaving the icehouse. He parsed Bergman's words as he walked along the side of the building to the exterior stairwell.

Does Bergman actually think I killed George?

If Cooper weren't the person in question, he supposed he would be suspicious of his arrival as well. He scaled the wooden stairs and entered the building's second floor.

He bypassed his room and the one occupied by Jasper Cartwright, the Calders' perpetual guest. He made his way to the general store and wrote a brief note on a slip of butcher paper, folding two day's rent inside. He placed it by the cash register, hoping Hank Calder would come across it early in the morning. He fought the squeaking steps as he went back upstairs. Once inside his room, he took a weary breath and removed his muddy shoes. He didn't bother changing clothes. He eased back on the mattress, his mind quickly glossing over with sleep.

He dreamed of buzzing mosquitoes swarming into thick black clouds, of scummy water reeking of freshly spilled blood. With a clarity he would remember upon waking, the boy's slashed cheek spread like an opening mouth. The skin stretched, then tore, the wound gaping wider.