J. Gonzalez - Back From The Dead

Tim nodded. “Yes.”

“How did he think you could help him?” Diane asked.

“I think he’s afraid of being caught,” Tim said. “He told me that he didn’t want to get in trouble for participating in the crimes Scott and the others were committing, but he didn’t want to make it seem that he was formally getting out of it. If you ask me, I think he was scared to tell Scott that they were taking things too far. I think he just wanted to ease his way out of it and hope Scott and the others would eventually get bored and do something else. That’s what he wanted me to do. Find a way to make the spell not work, so Scott and others would lose interest in what they’re doing.”

Mom muttered. “What could be possibly worse than what those cretins were doing?”

“So he blackmailed you into helping him?” Diane prodded.

“Yeah.” Tim drew forward in his chair, posture straight. “He told me about the spell, told me what they’d been doing, and he didn’t know how to stop it. He thinks I know how to end the spell, but of course I don’t. I tried telling him that, but he wouldn’t listen. He just said I had to come up with a way to end the spell or he’d make the police aware of the evidence, that he’d frame me for the grave robbery. And…well…” He shrugged and looked at his parents. “My folks and my friends, Al and George, they’ve been through enough because of their association with me anyway. I didn’t want to put them through any more. You know?”

“Oh, honey,” Naomi hugged him. Dad patted him on the back.

“So you felt compelled to help him?” Officer Clapton asked.

“At first I didn’t believe him,” Tim said. “He told me he’d show me proof, so he took me over to the Bradfield place last night and showed me.”

“And what did you see?” Diane asked.

Tim told them how they’d snuck onto the property, how Gordon had instructed Tim to stand back while he’d opened the guesthouse door and shined a flashlight into the interior of the structure. He told them about the two things inside, chained and shackled up against the far wall. “They certainly looked like zombies. I guess.” Tim scratched his head. The five seconds or so he’d gazed into that house had seared itself into his memory but had also scarred him. “They looked dead, they were all messed up, covered in blood and one of them looked…I don’t know…kinda bloated and rotted, I guess.”

Tim concluded the events by relating their drive through town, how he’d tried to come to grips with what he’d seen. “That’s when you pulled us over,” Tim said, nodding to Officer Clapton. “And that’s when Gordon threatened Chelsea. Said that if I told you any of this, if the cops even came around his house to talk to him about it, he’d make sure Chelsea was hurt.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Officer Clapton said. “She’ll be under protection.”

“Her family, too,” Detective Andrews said.

“So did they kill John Elfman?” Tim asked. He looked at Officer Clapton.

“We don’t know that for sure,” Detective Andrews said.

“When was the last time you saw John?” Officer Clapton asked Tim.

“At Susan Zimmerman’s party a few nights ago,” Tim said. “I was there for a little bit with Chelsea, Matt, George, and Al. We didn’t stay long. I don’t think we barely spoke two words with John.”

“Did you see Gordon and his friends hang out with John that night?”

Tim thought about it. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember. He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “Sorry. I didn’t even know he was missing until you told me he was dead.”

There was a lull in Tim’s narrative for a moment. Diane and Pat conferred quietly with each other, then Pat whispered something to Detective Andrews. Officer Clapton tried to smile in encouragement at the Gaines family. Dad and their lawyer were talking quietly while Mom patted Tim’s hand. “Everything’s going to be okay,” she told him.

Tim nodded and tried to feel better about everything. That was hard to do when he wasn’t entirely convinced Chelsea was safe and Gordon and his friends were in custody.

“What happened this morning?” Tim asked.

Detective Andrews nodded at Officer Clapton.

“We have several people missing from a cul de sac near Zuck’s Woods,” Officer Clapton said. “One of the 911 calls said a neighbor was trying to break in to her house. When I arrived I made my way around the rear of the property and saw John lying on the ground. At first I didn’t know what I was looking at, but then I saw his arm. It was moving. Like something out of a horror movie. The hand was dragging itself along. Like this.” Clapton demonstrated by crab-walking his hand across the conference room table. “That’s when I made out it was a body and that the pieces…they were all moving. I didn’t know who it was at first until my partner shot the shit out of it and stopped it.”

“So it was moving?” Tim asked.

“It was trying to get me!” Officer Clapton’s voice was adamant. He fixed Tim with a stare that told him he was serious.

“His partner can verify this,” Detective Andrews said. “I wouldn’t have believed it either if other officers didn’t see it.”

“You don’t know what happened to these people?” Tim asked.

“No, but it doesn’t look good,” Detective Andrews said.

“What do you mean by that?”

“The State Police are investigating,” Diane said. “I’m sorry we can’t reveal more, but we’re trying to keep as tight a lid on this as we can. We don’t want to start any kind of panic.”

“What the hell is going on?” The tone of Tim’s voice must have cut through the beauracracy because Diane and Pat started slightly. They glanced at each other and Pat nodded at Diane.

“We believe the people missing have met with foul play,” Diane said. “Their residences are empty, in some cases there are signs of a struggle. The State Police are organizing searches in Zuck’s woods.”

“Send somebody out to the Bradfield place,” Tim said. He could feel his heart racing with the urgency. “Do it now.”

As if the law enforcement personnel present sensed his urgency, they all rose as one. Tim and his parents got up too, along with Doug Fenner. Detective Andrews exited the room while Officer Clapton addressed the Gaines family. “We’ll get a team of Detectives out to the Bradfield residence and we’ll have officers pick up Scott’s friends.”

“If the State Police are searching Zuck’s Woods, they should look for places that appear to have been dug up recently,” Tim said. “Gordon said the area he held the ritual in was where he and his friends buried those homeless men.”

Officer Clapton nodded. “We’ll get them. Don’t worry.”

Pat stepped forward. “I think until we can formally have the arrest warrant withdrawn through the court, Tim should remain at Brendan Hall in protective custody.”

Naomi looked like she was going to protest but Doug put his hand on her shoulder. “I’d like that withdrawal faxed to my office by noon.”

“You got it,” Pat said.

As they filed out of the interrogation room with his parents on either side of him, Detective Andrews said, “We’ll get a team out to the Bradfield residence and we’ll have Gordon, Steve, and David picked up and brought in for questioning. Don’t worry Mr. and Mrs. Gaines, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“You’d better,” Naomi said.

“Let me know when Chelsea is safe too,” Tim said. He caught Officer Clapton’s gaze in the hallway. The officer nodded.

And then Tim was led back into the cell he’d spent last night in. His parents hugged him one last time and then he was ushered inside. Detective Andrews poked his head inside quickly. “Are you hungry? Can I get you anything from the cafeteria?”