J. Gonzalez - Back From The Dead

And as the boys worked, Tom told Victor and Harry what his son had been up to and how it was imperative they do whatever it took to keep the bodies of that long dead couple from being discovered.

“How are we going to do that, Tom?” Harry asked, his voice a strangled whisper. “We don’t know what’s going on or — ”

“You guys are going to monitor what’s happening in that neighborhood and if it appears that a civilian search party is going to be formed, you’re going to volunteer.”

Harry and Victor glanced at each other, understanding dawning on their features. Tom nodded at them. “You still remember the spot?”

“I’ll never forget it,” Victor said.

“All it’s going to take is to keep detectives and dogs out of the area.”

“What if something happens though?” Harry asked. “What if…something happens beyond our control…like a dog digs up a body or they find it through some kind of infra red equipment or something?”

“Then you’ll be on the ground to hear everything that goes on and you can report that back to me,” Tom said.

Scott’s voice called up to them, interrupting their meeting. “Guesthouse is clear!”

“Thanks, son,” Tom called down. He gestured toward the guesthouse. “I’ve got changes of clothes for you guys. Let’s get to work on painting that guesthouse before Carol gets home.”

Chelsea Brewer couldn’t help but be worried about Tim.

She was sitting in the middle of her bed in her room, not watching TV, not reading a book or magazine, not doing much of anything. What should have been a perfect summer day seemed tainted somehow. Chelsea couldn’t quite explain it. It just felt wrong .

The visit she had from the police shortly after her parents left for work was the main reason for the way things seemed out of whack. Another reason was the vibe she was getting.

Something was happening.

Her father had come home from work to be with her after getting a phone call from Spring Valley Police Officer Frank Clapton that a credible threat had been made against her. Dad had freaked out and came right home. He’d called at least twice on the drive, once to tell her he couldn’t reach her mother, the second to tell her he was going to get in touch with her grandmother so Chelsea could stay with her for the rest of the summer. That was something Chelsea didn’t want to hear. She didn’t want to be away from Tim. The thought of spending even a day apart from him was unbearable. Plus, her grandmother was a very religious woman who lived in rural Virginia. She was a nice enough lady, but she and Chelsea just didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. If she had to spend the rest of the summer with Granny Beth, Chelsea was going to freak. She liked to think she wouldn’t get as bad as she did that summer two years ago when she’d resorted to cutting herself, because the therapy she’d engaged in after all that helped. Still, it was Granny Beth’s influence that had helped contribute to the cutting. All the old woman did was pick at Chelsea, belittle her, make her feel guilty about being a young woman. It didn’t help that the social elite at Spring Valley High had done a good job of whittling away at her self-esteem prior to the last time Chelsea spent at her grandmother’s. Her father hadn’t been much help, either. Despite his outwardly macho he-man nature, he was a softie at heart and he truly did love her. Chelsea just wished he had more common sense. Dad was the type of person that would do anything to fit in with the status quo just to be accepted. Chelsea never gave a good goddamn about impressing people she didn’t care for. No wonder she’d taken out her frustrations on her own flesh. Dad was more hip to things now, was more accepting of her as a person, and surely he’d made the suggestion that she stay at Granny Beth’s out of desperation due to their current situation.

When Dad got home, he’d talked to the officer, who’d met him at the house. Chelsea had sat on the living room sofa. She still couldn’t believe what was going on.

According to the officer, the police had received a very credible threat against Chelsea by Gordon Smith. The officer didn’t admit this, but when he asked Chelsea if she knew Gordon and his friends, she’d put two and two together. She’d told the officer everything she knew about Gordon, which wasn’t much. And no, she had no idea why anybody would threaten her.

Dad had been worse, though. He’d grilled the officer relentlessly. He demanded complete protection from the police until he could make arrangements for Chelsea to be sent out of the state. The officer agreed that sending Chelsea away would be a good thing, at least until they had the person responsible for making the threats in custody. Until then, the officer suggested keeping Chelsea inside. “We’re stretched very thin right now,” the Officer said. “Otherwise, I’d have a car parked outside standing watch.” The Officer left with the understanding they call 911 if Gordon or any of his friends came by the house.

“Don’t worry,” Chelsea’s dad told the officer as he escorted him to the front door. “I can handle it.”

Shortly after the officer left, Dad had gone into his home office and extracted his handgun. Chelsea didn’t know what kind it was, just that it was black and looked dangerous. She didn’t like guns, felt uncomfortable around them, but Dad put her at ease by explaining he was simply going to have it on his person until they got the word that Gordon Smith and his friends were in custody.

Dad’s reasoning made sense.

Still, Chelsea felt nervous about it.

Chelsea looked out her bedroom window into the back yard. Dad was downstairs on the phone. Despite taking his laptop home, he wasn’t working. He was too wound up with worry. So was Chelsea, for that matter.

Chelsea had tried calling Tim five times this morning and had left messages. He’d said nothing about not being home today. She’d gone online to see if he was in IM. He was MIA in cyberspace, too.

When Tim’s mother finally called shortly after ten A.M., Chelsea’s momentary relief turned into further concern and fear as she learned the full details of what was happening. The threat Gordon Smith made against her to Tim last night and — worst of all — Gordon’s admitting to have taken part in murdering homeless people.

She’d been getting updates from Naomi as the morning dragged on. Dave and Steve were nowhere to be found, nor was Gordon. Scott Bradfield’s father had refused a search of his property — a search warrant was apparently being drawn up now. And something was happening in a neighborhood near Zuck’s Woods.

Chelsea had heard police sirens off and on all morning, which was strange considering the low crime rate of Spring Valley. It reminded her of the summer she’d spent visiting her cousins in Richmond, Virginia. She’d heard sirens there all the time, or so it seemed.

This morning, though, was especially troubling. It almost seemed like she heard more sirens coming from different directions.

Naomi called her one last time to tell her she and Jeff had to drive to Lancaster to retrieve something from their respective offices, but that they’d be home with Tim later in the afternoon. “I’ll have Tim call you when we get back,” Naomi said. Chelsea could hear the dim sound of a police siren in the background.

“Is everything okay over there?” Chelsea asked.

“Yeah.” Naomi paused for a moment and the siren grew louder, then cut off. When Naomi came back on the line she sounded concerned. “There’s a lot of police activity around here, though.”

“Tim’s okay where he is?”

“Tim is perfectly safe. We’re leaving in about five minutes to get him. Don’t worry, I’ll have him call you when we get back.”