The Outkast (5 page)

“
Exactly my point. It feels like everything’s been going the wrong direction since last week,” Holly said.

“
Your point isn’t exactly ours—hell, it’s not even close,” Brian snapped. “If you would just hear us out—calm down and hear us out.”

Holly relaxed in her seat. “Okay, I’m listening. Tell me everything.”

“
In addition to what Allan just stated, there’s a copy of
The Black Mirage
at the scene, a novel—a horror novel—by Orrobbs Porter. It’s Rob’s copy, judging by the name on it,” Brian said, dipping his hand into the translucent plastic bag he had brought along with him. He drew out the book. Shoving forward a bit in his chair, he opened the first page, revealing Rob’s name for Holly to see. Holly’s jaw dropped, and her lips trembled momentarily. “Not a big surprise to me. I’ve already learned that Rob has a copy from my last chat with him.” Brian put the book back in the bag. “Holly, are you aware Rob has such a book, or is this fresh revelation to you?”

“
Of course, I do. I bought it for him. And a lot more. I don’t suppose that’s a criminal thing for a parent to do, is it?”

Brian ignored her question. “Ever noticed any of those books missing? Or maybe loaned to his friends?”

“
He doesn’t loan his books out. Doesn’t have any friends interested in the same thing he reads. Hardly has any friends at all. In fact, he has none.”

“
Not even a friend?”

“
Not even one.”

“
If my memory serves me right, you stated that he likes watching soccer as much as he likes playing it.”

“
Correct.”

“
Do you like soccer, Holly? Do you like to watch and play it?”

Holly frowned. “What has that got to do with the news of death you’ve brought?”

“
Oh, I was just wondering if Robert has to play his soccer and enjoy it to a good extent, he’ll need to do so with at least a friend. But since he doesn’t have a friend—”

“
He plays all by himself, Sheriff,” Holly cut in. “All by himself.”

“
All right, Holly,” Brian sat back straight in his chair. “May we have a look-through of your son’s collection?”

Holly’s eye grew bigger. “Where’s this heading?”

Allan said, “We’re all out to help you—as well as find an answer to all of this. But if we’re gonna pulled anything through, we’ll need your co-operation in place.”

******

In the reading room, they went through Rob’s pile of books.

“
Damn,” Allan remarked, “this’s an awful lot of books for a twelve-year-old.”

“
Keep at it, Allan. We’ve got a long trip ahead of us. This journey has probably just begun.”

“
Or perhaps it’s not even started yet,” Allan joked.

After they rummaged through a hundred and ninety-nine books and found out
The Black Mirage
was missing, Brian said, “I think this just seals the deal. The book is his.”

Tears had started gathering at the corners of Holly’s eyes, getting ready to roll down her cheeks. “What‘s gonna become of me ... and my baby? This is too much for me to bear. What am I gonna do? Who’s gonna help me?” She turned to Brian. “Why’s this happening to me, Sheriff?”

Brian moved towards the doorway, and ran his fingers through his hair. He sounded as concerned as he could. “I wish I knew. We all wish we did. And maybe we would—in good time. That’s our hope.”

“
Where’s he?” Allan said.

“
Who? Rob?”

“
Yes, ma’am.”

“
In bed, of course.”

“
Could we check on him briefly?”

Holly
hugged
herself, as if trying to ward off some internal chill that had vowed to take up residence in her bones. And Brian could read the harrowing horror of the agony written all over her gaunt face. “If that’s the next thing you’ve
chosen
to do,” she said with a voice laced with tremor, “then, why not? I mean, it’s not like I can obstruct the flow of investigative procedures.”

She walked past Brian even as she spoke, and was out of the reading room.

They followed her.

******

Robert Smallwood curled up in bed, a tiny figure almost completely submerged under the blanket. Although thought of as the young serial killer, he could conveniently pass for an embodiment of perfect contradiction to the prevalent sentiment, considering the peace and quiet that surrounded him in his cozy, dimly lit bedroom. Or, at least, so Brian thought.

Brian stood beside Holly, about two feet away from Robert’s bed. He closed in and gingerly touched a bump formed underneath and along the edge of the blanket—another book,
Ekron Temple
, also by Robert’s favorite author. The lad had developed a profound literary crush on Orobbs Porter, no doubt.

Apparently, Robert had gone to sleep in the middle of reading
Ekron Temple
, and it was bookmarked three-quarter way into the story with a sharp metallic letter opener.

Brian grabbed the opener, flipped it over, and did a quick check of the blade, looking for a giveaway.

Nothing.

When he cast a glance backwards over his shoulder, what he saw in Holly’s eyes spoke volumes even before she opened her mouth.

“
There’s no blood on it, Sheriff Stack,” Holly said, curling her lip. “And no dead bodies, either. Are you satisfied? Have you found what you’re looking for, or do you wanna linger a bit and look around some more?”

Brian started to say something, but Holly walked out on him. She went into her room, locked the door, and left them out there.

They called out to her that they were leaving.

She ignored them.

******

Outside, the drizzle had been upgraded to a veritable downpour. Lightning flashed, making multiple cracks along the face of the momentarily illuminated sky.

The Sheriff’s cruiser was parked about ten yards away. They ran across the road like two drunken flamingos, zigzagging along as they tried to avoid this puddle only to end up stepping in that.

Behind the wheel, Brian thought about how much surprise remained—about how much the entire drama was poised to spill out when it was all said and done.

Chapter 8

Friday, August 14

At a quarter of eight in the morning, Brian was sorting through a stack of files on his desk when a rap issued from his office door.

“
Yes?” he said, and looked up as the door was eased ajar.

Deputy Allan Moore poked his head through the narrow space. “I have nothing against early-morning appointments with civilians, Sheriff. But when it involves a disdainful asshole of a man, and especially when I’m the one who has to fill in for some sick secretary to deal with such a
douche
, then I ain’t no game for such shit.”

“
Close the door, Allan,” Brian said. “Calm down, step inside, and close the door.”

Allan did.

“
Who’s it this time?”

“
Donnie … says he’s got an appointment to see you. And I get it, but he needs to learn a bit of patience if he wants to get past a lot of obstacles in life.”

Brian frowned.

Allan quickly added, “Just saying I don’t appreciate his “right-now” attitude. Not a bit.”

“
Appointment with Donnie?”

“
Yeah,” Allan said. “Weren’t you expecting him?”

Brian sat back in his chair, fingers interlocked. “Not really,” he said, casting a glance at Allan, whose features had changed and begun to speak volumes even before his mouth opened to seal the deal. “I haven’t scheduled any appointment with him yet.”

“
Awesome,” Allan said, turning around to stomp back out of the office. “I’ve always known he’s a good-for-nothing son-of-a-bitch.”

“
What’d you plan doing now?”

“
Going to order him to leave right away and go make a genuine appointment. Only then can he return to drive me nuts.”

“
And if he didn’t leave?”

“
I’d suppose somebody might be itching for a lock-up in that case.”

Brian laughed. “Sounds a tad personal to me.”

“
Oh, it is. Very much so. He’ll never pray for our paths to cross again when I’m done with him.” Allan was at the door, turning the knob.

“
You didn’t happen to get up on the wrong side of the bed today by any chance, did you?”

Allan couldn’t help but smile a little in spite of his current mood. “I almost always do.”

“
Relax, you don’t need to kick him out,” Brian cautioned. “You know … it’s funny.”

Hand still perched on the doorknob, Allan turned around. “What is?”

“
I actually made a list last night.” Brian moved forward in his seat, shoving a sheet of paper to the edge of the desk for Allan to see. “This contains the names of the people I intend to contact before the day expires. His name tops the list.”

“
Donnie’s?” Allan was back at Brian’s desk.

“
That’s right.”

Allan skimmed through the list with disinterest and slid it back towards Brian, as if in a speedy dismissal of such an exonerating point. “That still doesn’t offer him a carte blanche to act like he has a couple screws loose.”

“
Yeah, I know. It’s in Donnie’s make-up to be impatient, rash, and even unreasonable every so often. Let him in. I’ll handle the rest.”

******

“
Arrest the boy and send him to the juvenile detention right away? Why’re you suggesting this, Donnie?” Brian asked for the second time. “There’s an ongoing investigation, as you’re well aware of. Men are working round the clock to unveil every mystery surrounding Robert Smallwood’s case. So, what do you mean by ‘justice must not go unapplied?’”

“
Yes, Sheriff Brian,” Donnie said, rubbing his balding head customarily. “I understand every bit of what you’ve said so far, which is why I believe we’re speaking the same language, as evident in—”

“
Not sure we are,” Brian cut him short. “To be honest with you, we actually aren’t. Listen—we need to follow protocols, Mr. Murphy. But if you’re suggesting we cut corners and play it fast in the name of letting justice have its way …” Brian finished his statement with a shake of his head.

“
That idea sits well with me, Sheriff. I’m not interested in cutting corners any more than you do. Never been an exponent of such degrading act.”

“
Good, I’m glad to know that.” Brian sat back in his chair.

“
I’m also proud of you for following protocols. That’s why the people voted you in at the outset. One can always rest assured you’ll get the job done very well. However, Sheriff Stark,” Donnie said, but then paused, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at the door, as if wary of a possible eaves-dropper.

“
However what?” Brian asked, leaning forward in his seat, wondering where all of this was heading to.

“
I suppose I’m attempting to observe that, in spite of everything you’ve said regarding your position on this matter, we should be extremely vigilant. There’s a very dark evil living among us, and we can’t afford to let our guards down at any point in time. That’s like offering the roofs of our houses up for the arsonists to set ablaze.”

Brian said nothing. He only propped his chin against his palm and watched as the man whom Allan would have thrown out of the department spat out gibberish from the plethora of his brainless reservoir.

Donnie cast one more glance behind him. Then, assuming a conspiratorial posture as he leaned forward a bit over Brian’s desk, he whispered, “Have you even heard a thing about the boy’s mother, Sheriff? And I don’t mean by dint of police investigation, because there’s actually no need for one—not when the stories about her are so obvious and widespread even a toddler can pick up a clear picture of what her life is made up of. Have you?”

“
No, I haven’t. Fill me in, please.”

“
Really?”

“
Really what?”

“
That not even a bit has filtered through to you—in this close-knit, small town.”

“
Well,
I
haven’t. But now that you’ve broached the matter, could you be a sport and let me in on it?”

“
Sure, why not?” Donnie adjusted his bulky backside in his seat. It was time for the real business. “This isn’t just me telling you this, Sheriff. It’s the joint voice of the people talking to you.”

“
Okay.”

“
Been flying around for a while now—the issue of people living every single second of their lives in fear, without having any rest of mind,” Donnie said, seeming to play it the mealy-mouthed way at first, but then decided calling a spade a spade would serve the occasion much better. “She killed Charles Smallwood. That woman murdered her own husband in cold blood.”