sense why Carrell didn’t want me rooting around in these. I grabbed the next item in the box, a police report, and read through some details.
There wasn’t anything clear reported. The non-clues were the clues.
Two persons, bound in chains, found deceased in a cabin off the county road. Officers reported no blood, though there were horrible slashes on the bodies, as though they’d been attacked by wild animals.
I shook my head and kept reading, but nothing else jumped out at me.
The nervous archivist was still fidgeting with a pencil and a folder, but that time when I looked up at him his hands were trembling.
Rifling through the rest of the papers in the first box, and the second, all the reports were similar. There were eight unsolved murders in this little town in the last part of the fifties. The number was enough to shock me, but the fact that none of them were solved, and no one seemed to bother to continue investigating after the initial findings... that was a little much.
No autopsies, at least not reported. No suspects ever arrested.
What’s the damn secret, Carrell? Why didn’t you want me to see this?
My mind started to buzz with ideas. Wild ones, crazy ones, ideas that only come from brains that have read way too many crime novels and seen way too many episodes of Law and Order.
Carrell had started sweating on his temples, even though the records room was cold and clammy. He dabbed at the droplets with a handkerchief, and then I noticed his lips were wet, too, either from his habitual licking, or from sweat.
A wave of nausea came over me, but subsided quicker than the first one. Something was talking to me. Some kind of ancient, buried sense was trying to push its way out and trying to tell me something.
“I’m done,” I announced, standing up and pushing my chair back.
Carrell looked up, wiped his lips again and stared at me like I’d just talked to him in Japanese.
For a moment, he looked down at his desk, and in that split second, I thoughtlessly stuffed the police report that was trembling in my hand into my purse.
As I gathered my things, as quickly as possible, and rushed out to my car, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I really needed to get to Damon.
Something was wrong.
I didn’t know what it was, nor did I know how I knew.
But I knew something was very wrong.
Nine
Damon
––––––––
“C ome on, man,” Hunter said as he shook Damon awake. “We gotta go.”
Sun was streaming through the window when Damon blinked as he looked out, and realized he’d somehow gone back to sleep until noon. He grunted and pushed himself off the mattress.
“What... where are we going?”
“Get up,” Hunter urged him again, pulling on his arm to get Damon to his feet. “Something’s happening. Not sure what. One of the – or I guess one of your – lieutenants called a meeting.”
“Meeting?” Damon blinked again, rubbing his eyes.
“Yeah, bud. This is the world we live in. Meetings, politics, all kinds of backstabbing and whining and maneuvering.” Hunter groaned, pulling his heavy friend to his feet. “You gotta get used to it, I guess.”
Damon frowned, rubbing his forehead. “Life in Arizona’s a lot easier. All I had there was my brother trying to kill me. No politics.”
“Politics will kill you faster than... what’s his name? I can’t believe how all that turned out.”
“Devin. And yeah, it... I still don’t know what to think, really.” He swallowed. “Anyway, whatever. He’s out of the way. Last I heard he’d gone all the way to Texas. Maybe Louisiana. Who knows? Got other things to think about.”
“You really okay with all this?” Hunter asked.
“Yeah.” Damon nodded, slowly. “I was worried for a little bit that he’d try to come back after me or Lily, but nothing ever happened.” He shrugged. “The Carak aren’t exactly known for their ability to make big plans and follow through.”
That got Hunter chuckling. “Yeah, true.
There wasn’t anything clear reported. The non-clues were the clues.
Two persons, bound in chains, found deceased in a cabin off the county road. Officers reported no blood, though there were horrible slashes on the bodies, as though they’d been attacked by wild animals.
I shook my head and kept reading, but nothing else jumped out at me.
The nervous archivist was still fidgeting with a pencil and a folder, but that time when I looked up at him his hands were trembling.
Rifling through the rest of the papers in the first box, and the second, all the reports were similar. There were eight unsolved murders in this little town in the last part of the fifties. The number was enough to shock me, but the fact that none of them were solved, and no one seemed to bother to continue investigating after the initial findings... that was a little much.
No autopsies, at least not reported. No suspects ever arrested.
What’s the damn secret, Carrell? Why didn’t you want me to see this?
My mind started to buzz with ideas. Wild ones, crazy ones, ideas that only come from brains that have read way too many crime novels and seen way too many episodes of Law and Order.
Carrell had started sweating on his temples, even though the records room was cold and clammy. He dabbed at the droplets with a handkerchief, and then I noticed his lips were wet, too, either from his habitual licking, or from sweat.
A wave of nausea came over me, but subsided quicker than the first one. Something was talking to me. Some kind of ancient, buried sense was trying to push its way out and trying to tell me something.
“I’m done,” I announced, standing up and pushing my chair back.
Carrell looked up, wiped his lips again and stared at me like I’d just talked to him in Japanese.
For a moment, he looked down at his desk, and in that split second, I thoughtlessly stuffed the police report that was trembling in my hand into my purse.
As I gathered my things, as quickly as possible, and rushed out to my car, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I really needed to get to Damon.
Something was wrong.
I didn’t know what it was, nor did I know how I knew.
But I knew something was very wrong.
Nine
Damon
––––––––
“C ome on, man,” Hunter said as he shook Damon awake. “We gotta go.”
Sun was streaming through the window when Damon blinked as he looked out, and realized he’d somehow gone back to sleep until noon. He grunted and pushed himself off the mattress.
“What... where are we going?”
“Get up,” Hunter urged him again, pulling on his arm to get Damon to his feet. “Something’s happening. Not sure what. One of the – or I guess one of your – lieutenants called a meeting.”
“Meeting?” Damon blinked again, rubbing his eyes.
“Yeah, bud. This is the world we live in. Meetings, politics, all kinds of backstabbing and whining and maneuvering.” Hunter groaned, pulling his heavy friend to his feet. “You gotta get used to it, I guess.”
Damon frowned, rubbing his forehead. “Life in Arizona’s a lot easier. All I had there was my brother trying to kill me. No politics.”
“Politics will kill you faster than... what’s his name? I can’t believe how all that turned out.”
“Devin. And yeah, it... I still don’t know what to think, really.” He swallowed. “Anyway, whatever. He’s out of the way. Last I heard he’d gone all the way to Texas. Maybe Louisiana. Who knows? Got other things to think about.”
“You really okay with all this?” Hunter asked.
“Yeah.” Damon nodded, slowly. “I was worried for a little bit that he’d try to come back after me or Lily, but nothing ever happened.” He shrugged. “The Carak aren’t exactly known for their ability to make big plans and follow through.”
That got Hunter chuckling. “Yeah, true.
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