THE RITUAL ~ Chapter 6
Vanish Inquisition: Part One
Welcome to PART TWO!
Got here without reading what led up to this point? Use the landing page here to navigate to where you left off.
What happened last:
An alcohol-fueled suicide and a teenager’s abduction.
Things in Brook’s End are getting darker by the day…
Part Two: Countdown
Vanish Inquisition
Quiet little Brook’s End suddenly buzzed with an unwelcome, anxious energy as if its namesake had become flooded with dangerous, disheveling waters. Drawn faces and disgruntled mutterings revealed how severely shaken the townsfolk felt by the unusual and disturbing events. Bennie Johnson’s tragic death was enough of a shock on its own; now folks had to face two reported missing person cases as well.
Because Denise McFarland had closed her bedroom door, her parents didn’t notice she was gone until the girl failed to appear for breakfast the next morning. Her mother had knocked, opened the door and found the girl’s room empty. A.J.’s father, Police Chief Tyler took their call and asked the distraught adults about the possibility of Denise staying with a girlfriend or, heaven forbid, a boy—but her parents insisted Denise was too good a daughter not to leave a note. So, kidnapping looked all too likely.
Several people had noticed Pops failing to open. Born a control freak, Mrs. Curson never let anyone run the place on the rare occasion she felt ill: hearty German stock coursed through her veins and even viruses didn’t mess with her. And, should an illness dare invade her body, she would march herself to the store and post a sign announcing her infirmity so that when Andy or her second chef, Dean, came to start prepping for the day, they’d know to turn around and go home. She could have called, they both would grumble.
Well, this time, she couldn’t. And, after waiting a half an hour, Andy went home grumbling about how she didn’t even leave a note. When the morning waitress, Luanne, arrived, she was more confused than angry. This had never happened. And Mrs. Curson’s phone number (“In case of emergency only,” she had demanded) was inside the restaurant. So, not knowing where else to go, Luanne went to the police station.
Sergeant Phillips and Detective Hearn agreed Mrs. Curson’s normal behavior echoed clockwork and so they came with Luanne to the missing woman’s home. They found her car in the drive and, when there was no response to their knocking at the front door, they checked the perimeter and found the back door wide open.
“Mrs. Curson?”
No answer.
They proceeded in and, after a quick tour, found no one at home and nothing disturbed. Although they did note a few too many booze bottles lay about.
“Nobody leaves their door open like that,” Hearn said. “I have a feeling we may have ourselves a real, live missing person.”
He was half right.
The box on his belt crackled out his name. He picked it up and answered, the hairs on the uniformed men’s necks rose as Chief Tyler asked them to go to the McFarland’s to investigate—they couldn’t believe their ears—a possible missing person.
So now there were two.
***
Scott and A.J. met at the school steps.
“Let’s walk,” A.J. said. “I’m too freaked out to sit still.”
They strode casually enough; to any passersby not giving them too much attention, they would have looked completely at ease. But their pensive faces revealed otherwise.
The dance seemed like a dream from long ago. They should have been jabbering on about how much fun they all had. But when Police Chief Tyler had gotten the routed calls about Mrs. Curson and then Denise McFarland, A.J. knew this wasn’t going to be the kind of day she thought it would be. As soon as her father was out the door, she went straight to the phone to call Scott. Bennie was bad enough. But now two people were potentially missing? A.J. felt afraid and she instinctively wanted to be with Scott.
So, they walked. A.J. also struggled with a silent, simmering anger: anger at feeling useless. Her father had taught her self-defense; she was prepared to fight if she had to. But there was nothing she could do now—after the fact. There was nothing to fight but her own emotions.
“There’s nothing at all that connects these things,” Scott said. “You know that.”
“I know,” A.J. said. “And it’s not that I even think they are related. It’s just that Bennie was like the first person I’ve known that died. I don’t remember my mother. And nobody else I’ve really known has died. And nobody young. And now Denise is missing and I guess I’m just afraid that… you know…”
Scott stopped and put his hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eye.
“Hey. Denise is missing. That’s all. Maybe she ran away from home. I don’t know anything about her family. Do you?”
“No.”
“Okay. So maybe her Dad was beating her or something and she’s had enough. So, she took off. Maybe it’s a happy ending.”
“Maybe.”
He put his arm around her and they started walking again.
“You gotta believe that things happen for a reason. And usually a good one. I mean, I’m bummed that Bennie died. He was the best. But look what happened. He left a hole that Mrs. Malbourne could fill. And she’s good at it. You’re proof of that.”
A.J. got a bit of a smile, recalling her new haircut. “I guess so.”
“And maybe it’s her happy ending, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” Scott started. “I don’t think she’s very happily married.”
A.J. looked at Scott. “Why do you say that?”
Scott suddenly felt uneasy. He felt he was betraying a confidence. He just wasn’t sure who he was betraying.
“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s just a feeling. I mean, she’s so happy cutting hair. All day. Away from her husband. It kinda seems odd.”
“Most working parents are away from each other all day.”
“I guess. But she doesn’t have to work. I don’t think. I mean, that wasn’t the impression I got. She was gonna open a store or something. But the way she talked about it, it was gonna be just for fun.”
“You’ve talked to her a lot,” A.J. observed, with a hint of surprise.
Real or imagined, Scott heard accusation. You’ve talked to her a lot. He suddenly felt like his throat was getting a little dry.
“Well, I’ve been sort of the unofficial diplomatic representative of the town, you know.”
A.J. smiled. “Yes, I know. Scott Benedict: born leader; hero at large.”
Scott saw her smile and was instantly relieved. He smiled right back at her. God, he loved her.
Suddenly, her eyes left his and her smile faded.
“What is it?” Scott asked. He turned his head to follow A.J.’s glance.
“What the—?” he muttered.
“What time is it?” A.J. asked.
Scott looked at his watch. “Jesus…”
A.J. held onto his arm, fear sending shivers creeping down her spine as she saw the physical manifestation of Mrs. Curson’s disappearance: the closed door and unlit, empty space of Pops.
A.J.’s grip on Scott’s arm tightened and he unconsciously brought his hand to cover hers.
They stood there, unmoving…neither one of them able to say anything.
***
Running was the only sports-related activity Alex liked. No teammates to let down. Just him and the wind in his face. And he excelled at it. No surprise: he’d gotten enough practice running for the locker room after gym—even from the farthest corner of the field. During the week, he ran regularly at dusk, but he liked his Saturday morning runs the best. He liked being up before anyone else. It felt like the world belonged to him. And he was safe.
He had finished the day’s run and cooled down, walking it off and feeling good when he ran into Scott and A.J. They filled him in with what they knew of the new missing pair. Alex just listened till the other kids finished. He shook his head, trying to make sense of it.
“What do want to do?” he finally asked. “You want to form a search party?”
Scott looked at him. What made the kid think he wanted to do anything? ’Cause he knows you, bonehead, Scott realized. And he was right. Scott did want to do something. So did A.J.
“Yeah,” she said. “You guys probably know some of those backwoods better than anybody, I’ll bet.”
And so, it was agreed that the Brothers and A.J. would meet at Happy Burger at noon and discuss a search party.
Alex headed for home and a shower. He thought about Denise. She had been in some of his classes. She seemed nice enough. Everybody seemed to like her. Why did bad things always happen to nice people? First Bennie and now Denise. Okay, Mrs. Curson didn’t exactly fit the pattern. But even she wasn’t bad enough to want to harm.
What was going on?
***
Scott walked A.J. home and then headed back for his own house. He knew A.J. would get any information she could from her dad. That would help them with their own investigation.
Investigation? The word rang odd. Made Scott suddenly a touch worried. Were they all just getting hyped up over something exciting happening in their sleepy town? Was it some sort of exploitation? An adrenaline rush? Not unlike with the Malbournes and their invasion of Griffin Hall. Look at what a big nothing that turned out to be.
Scott hoped his doubts would prove unfounded. He really wanted to believe he and the gang were sincerely acting out of a mature concern for others. He figured he’d get a better feel for it after they all talked it out some more at Happy Burger.
Happy Burger. God, he hated that place.
***
The dance had ended up a complete waste of time as far as potential dates. But Robert didn’t really care. He knew his image. Hell, he had done his best to get it out there. And it said: “understudy for James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause”. And the thing of it was, as sexy as that might be to look at, the girls in Brook’s End were too scared to touch. But Robert’s imagination provide him solace: he believed those same girls, though certainly talking badly behind his back and giving him disapproving looks, secretly all creamed their panties for him. And he liked being untouchable. It was ultra-cool.
Randy was untouchable, too…but in a different way. Though a good-looking kid and way smarter than he ever let on, his image bordered on Town Fool. Almost as if he was from a movie where he was the developmentally challenged kid everyone liked but nobody would dare love. Girls did love him, all right. More like a puppy, though, than anything else: a dumb, adorable puppy.
So, they were a perfect duo. Robert and Randy. The untouchables. And so, they often hung together, their own dynamic duo. And neither one of them would admit it was out of loneliness. But without the other, they would each have likely lived infinitely more solitary lives.
But this morning, the untouchable two arrived as one, climbing the bluff to do some long overdue thrill-diving. Or so they called it. Neither of them ever actually dove headfirst into the water so far below. They’d jump and scream in their best macho yell as they’d sail down to the sea below—feet first, arms flailing at their sides. It had been a jumping place for as long as anyone could remember, perfect at high tide when the water was deep enough and only Flat Rock remained barely visible. And while many a teen went to watch, the height and/or the fear of injury left only the bravest of the brave to actually jump. Robert and Randy were just that. Bravest of the brave. Untouchable.
The waves crashed loudly against the cliff side and Robert had to shout.
“Been looking forward to this all year, man!”
“Yeah,” Randy said.
Robert loved the whole experience: standing on the edge and knowing you had the guts to jump; the adrenaline pumping just before you shoved off; the sensation of free-falling with the wind and the sea spray rushing all around you in a whirlwind of life at its most exhilarating. He’d been waiting all spring for jumping season. Now, at last, it had arrived.
“This is the best place in the world,” he crowed to Randy as they came to stand on the edge.
“Yeah,” Randy said.
Robert looked at the water below, swirling and churning—waiting to suck him in. Randy looked further down the coastline at the view. The jumping for him was exciting, but he really just liked being at the water’s edge and taking in the vista. The craggy cliffs sloping majestically, the waves crashing in their wild spectacle, and old Flat Rock jutting out with a body on it—
A body?
“Robert…”
“What?”
“Look at Flat Rock.”
Robert looked. On the mesa, sure as anything, lay a body—its limbs twisted at abnormal angles. Robert felt glad he was up on the bluff for a completely new reason: it allowed him to be far enough away from the sight to not get too much detail. In particular, one thing about this body Robert knew he didn’t want to see too clearly involved a red, chunky mess where the head should have been.
To be continued…
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I wonder what they are up to in that house... how is it all connected... ?