Chapter 31

When Hayden sat back from the monitor of his laptop, Tommy saw horror in his eyes. He had his hand over his mouth, and the color had drained from his face.

Jake shook his head in disbelief after identifying the man on camera. He stood up from the couch and walked over to the window overlooking the lake.

Tony Diaz, who came after finding a sitter for the children, was also speechless and kept looping the last few minutes of the video repeatedly. It never got any easier to view.

“So, what do we do next?” he asked.

Everyone was silent, unsure of what to say. A loud knock sounded at the door and Hayden called, “Come in. It’s open.”

Heavy footfalls sounded from the hallway as the person slowly and cautiously walked forward. Hayden instantly regretted inviting whoever it was in. Tommy’s hackles went up, and everyone faced the kitchen door as it swung open. Rose Demeter stood there, eyes wild, brandishing a gun.

She fired the first round into the wall above Robert’s head. Shrapnel rained down as the plaster exploded, and Tommy had Hayden down on the ground before he realized he’d moved. Everyone froze, staring at her.

The woman before them opened her mouth to speak, but the words that came out were not in her voice. “I’ve come to warn you not to interfere with my plans. I own this town and everyone in it.”

Paul’s first thought was, she isn’t like the others. There was life in her eyes, fear, confusion. This wasn’t the spirits of the dead; this was a woman possessed.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

The creature turned slowly on its heels to face him, its head cocked to the side, water flowing out of its mouth. “I am Veronica, Paul. Does your bitch love you?” She leveled the gun at Michelle.

Everyone cried out in fear, including Paul, who tried to stand and block her. Yet when Rose raised her hand, he couldn’t move. No one could, except for Michelle who was openly weeping.

“Please…please…I don’t want to die!” she cried. Paul fought against invisible bonds to try to get to her but found that he was paralyzed.

“Well, then, how about you?” She moved the gun from Michelle to Hayden, whose head was just visible under Tommy. “You’ve seen one of these before, haven’t you? Ahh, yes. Your dead lover took one for you. Tell me, would you take one for your new lover?”

Hayden heard the hammer draw back and closed his eyes, ready for the red-hot searing pain, and gritted his teeth. “Yes, I would.”

“What did you say?”

“I said I would.” He was shaking inside, furious. Images of Malcolm dying, the year of solitude, and living in fear started to bubble to the surface. He struggled to raise his head and, unlike the others, was successful.

He looked up into the thing’s eyes, meeting her gaze head on. He could see the conflict as something else tried to break free.

“Hayden, you have to fight. You have to fight her.” The voice was Rose’s, much lower and wrought with fear. She was inside, trying to fight back.

Hayden felt the restraints on him lessening as the fight continued. Others also found they could move and sought to get as low to the ground as possible. Paul crossed the two feet to where Michelle was and wrapped his arms around her.

The beast inside Rose began to win out against its host and turned to Jake. Trembling, it spoke in Jessica’s voice. “Jake. Help me, Jake. Jake, where are you?”

Hearing that voice was horrible for everyone, but Jake took it the worst.

“Shut up,” he cried.

“But Jake, you promised we’d be together forever. Now I’m dead, floating at the bottom in the dark, and it’s your fault!” She raised her pistol and laughed coldly.

“You’re not Jessica, you bitch. You took her from me. I loved her!” He launched himself at the creature, arms out and eyes closed.

“NO!” Amanda screamed and pushed forward, knocking him sideways. The shot rang out, and Amanda crumpled in a heap on the floor.

Jake immediately went to her side and rolled her over. She’d been shot in the shoulder. “She’s all right,” he told Hayden as he started to apply pressure.

The act of valor seemed to have weakened Veronica’s hold on Rose even more. Hand trembling, she brought the pistol up to her temple, horrified and disgusted at what she had done—what she had been forced to do.

“Rose, don’t do it!” Paul said. “We can beat this. Come on, just put it down.”

“I can’t. She’s inside my head. She is all over inside of me, I can’t fight her,” she cried. “I’m sorry for everything.” And to everyone’s horror, she pulled the trigger and was no more.

* * * * * * * *

Amanda hadn’t been shot in the shoulder after all. It had grazed her arm and hit the wall behind her. She had passed out from fright. The paramedics mended her wounded shoulder and recommended that she come in and get stitches. She refused, telling them to bandage it.

The coroner had taken the body of Rose away, and Tony Diaz gave his statement to the state police when they showed up. He told them that the woman just came in, interrupting a friendly get-together, ranting and raving, shooting at people, and then blew her head off. Everyone’s story matched, and crime scene investigators took pictures of everything. Hayden watched over the proceedings with a close eye. When the investigators had gone, he poured himself a glass of whiskey and walked out onto the patio. Paul and the others talked among themselves inside; Tara, Robert, and David all stayed inside, but Jake followed Hayden outside.

“Mr. Moore?” Jake asked tentatively.

Hayden turned his head. “Jake, right? Please, call me Hayden.”

“All right, Hayden. I know what happened in there was crazy. I also know that, like me, you lost someone who you were very close to.”

Hayden could tell by the way he spoke he was choosing his words carefully. He shuffled on his feet and put his hands in his pockets. Hayden waited for him to finish.

“You know, everyone keeps telling me it’s going to get better. That I should do this and do that. Their advice is sound, and I’m sure it makes good sense to them. But it adds pressure on top of what I’m already going through. To be quite honest, it isn’t fair because they don’t know what I am feeling. Even my parents—I’d be surprised if, once they hear of this, they’ll ever let me out of their sight again. They don’t get it. They were only divorced. One of them didn’t…go away permanently.”

Hayden turned to fully face Jake, his arms crossed over his chest, glass in his right hand. “No, they don’t, do they?”

Jake shook his head, “Since Jessica died, I’ve been in this fog. When I heard she was gone from me, before all the weird shit started happening, I already felt like I was in a nightmare. But tonight, something changed. I saw that thing for what it was—a jealous evil entity that wants to suck the joy out of everything and everyone it encounters—and I refuse to let it.”

Hayden nodded, feeling his chest tighten a little. “That’s good, Jake.”

“What I mean to say is, I know your husband was killed by a bullet, and what happened in there may have set you back some. But I would just hope that you don’t let it take you back too far. Since Jess died, it’s been this nonstop funhouse of crazy crap, and I thought for a while I was going insane. So, what I guess I wanted to say is I get where you’re coming from. I understand.” Jake gave a brief smile and turned to walk away.

The tightening of the chest that Hayden felt now burned inside like a thousand red-hot embers. The pain was so excruciatingly exquisite it constricted his throat and made tears roll down his face. “Jake,” he managed to whisper. The young man turned around briefly. “Thank you.”

He nodded and walked back in the sliding glass door. He passed Tommy who was headed out. Hayden turned his back quickly, trying to hide the fact that he was crying. He stared out into the fading evening light and wiped his face. Before he knew it, Tommy’s hand, hot and heavy, was on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Tommy asked.

Hayden nodded and when Tommy turned him around to face him, that nod turned into a shake of the head. Jake had hit the nail on the head and said the words he had so desperately been dying to hear for the past year. Those two simple words: I understand.

Tommy wrapped him in a hug, and Hayden buried his face in Tommy’s chest and wept. He wept for the loss of Malcolm, the loss of his job, and for Jake’s heartbreak and resolve. The feelings that had festered inside of him, waiting for that passphrase to set them loose, flowed out freely at last, and Hayden had no choice but to let them break against Tommy like waves breaking against a shore.

Tommy held him close even after the sobs subsided. He didn’t say a word, and Hayden just held on.

Finally, the embrace broke, and Hayden took a deep breath. The sun had begun to set, and he looked up into Tommy’s face, into the kindness of his eyes, and knew that now, anything was possible. He had let go of what could have been and had the clarity of mind to look for what may be.

* * * * * * * *

The morgue handlers had just brought the body down. Dr. Satchel would not be in until Monday, and as they ran past the Emergency Room desk to the elevator, they passed by Dr. Raymond who had been making his last rounds for the night. He stopped Darryl Mitchells and asked who the stiff was.

“Rose Demeter,” he said and shook his head. Rose’s nephew had been his best friend all through high school. Hell, she’d even got them out of serious trouble when Bobby hit that cop. He felt sorry for the old broad, but even worse, he was afraid of what was going on in and around Maplewood.

“What the hell happened?” Raymond asked.

“She blew her brains out, Doc. She walked in on a party out at the old Woodbridge place and shot at a couple of partygoers before plugging herself.”

“Christ. What’s wrong with this town?” Raymond was dumbfounded. It was like a black cloud had descended on the residents of Maplewood. He was treating David Taylor now, who’d suffered a nervous breakdown after the death of Elizabeth Lage. He kept calling out in his sleep that a woman named Veronica was going to take them all to their graves. At first, he’d thought the poor bastard was suffering from a psychotic break, given what he claimed to have seen, but now…Raymond wasn’t so sure.

“The town is going bat-shit nuts, Doc, that’s what’s happening,” said Gary Malguard.

The doctor looked up at the skinny acne-faced tech. He gave Raymond the creeps, but his words had hit a note. His less-than-educated opinion wasn’t far off.

“Did the witnesses say anything peculiar?” Raymond asked as he put on his jacket to head home for the evening.

Darryl said, “She was acting confused and angry and suddenly started shooting. That was what I heard, anyway. Linda Gilmore was the one who took the statements. Tony Diaz, that worthless piece of shit, was there. He didn’t like Rose, anyway. I wouldn’t put it past him to have done something to the her.”

Raymond turned on him. Unlike his scrawny counterpart, Darryl looked like a beer-drinking ex-jock. He’d been married and divorced twice and now lived in his mother’s basement. Everyone knew the trouble Darryl had gotten into as a teenager, and what Rose got him out of. He’d maintained a clear record after that, but still, he was an asshole from the word go, and Raymond really didn’t appreciate his throwing accusations around like that.

“Hey, let’s leave what happened up to the professionals, shall we? You know the dangers of being falsely accused, right? Grant someone else a little slack.” Raymond walked out of the door, and Darryl flipped him off.

“Fucking fairy. Fuck you, asshole,” Darryl muttered.

“What’s his deal?” Gary asked on their way down in the elevator.

“Who fucking knows, dude? Probably got a crush on Tony. Wants it up his ass.” Darryl said, making an obscene gesture.

Gary giggled and began to pull the body with him as he walked backwards out of the door when the elevator came to a stop.

The morgue was dark and empty this time of night, and it always gave Darryl the creeps. The smell of chlorine barely covered the smell of formaldehyde and God knows what else that reeked down here.

“Last stop, mail lady,” Gary said. “Here, help me lift her up and put her in the drawer.”

“All right,” Darryl grunted as he opened an empty silver cabinet that stored the body until an autopsy could be performed.

Rose Demeter was wrapped in a large body bag with a zipper down the front. When they grabbed her, they had to grab the bag and the body together to keep it from sliding out of their hands. Don’t want to break the merchandise and screw up an autopsy, Darryl thought to himself. He really hated being down here. It was so freaking cold and damp.

They put the body in and slammed the drawer shut. “Come on, Gary, let’s go.”

“Right on, dude!” Gary rushed to the door and switched off the lights causing Darryl to double-time it to the elevator, and as soon as he got there, he slapped Gary upside the head. Gary didn’t care. It was funny to see Darryl look like he was going to shit his pants.

“Fuck you,” Darryl spat as the doors slid closed, leaving the morgue in absolute quiet except for the steady drip of the faucet over the metal sink.

Had the stupid jock and his underweight, bad-skinned friend stayed, they would have been privy to more than they bargained for. In the dark quiet room, the drips were as loud as bombs hitting a target. One, two, three, one right after another, tax payers’ money going down the drain. Tonight, the dripping noise was joined by the sound of movement from inside the metal cabinet. First, just a rustle, then the sound of something shifting hard to the right, banging against the side, and then the sound of something shifting hard to the left, banging harder this time, and then it grew quiet again.

Drip. Drip. Boom. Drip. Drip. Boom. And finally, the sound of a zipper being drawn down.