October 29th – 9 AM – Tuesday
“He confessed to the whole thing. The McDowell murders, Sheriff Carter – he said he was instructed by his mother to bring about the Blood Coven,” Agent Boyd explained to Deputy Dart in his office.
Dart shook his head, angered by the memories of walking in on his slain Sheriff and his fiancé. “Bud Lockwood should be the one burning at the stake.”
“And onto that topic – the early reports are saying that it was in fact Vivian Lowder’s body,” Boyd added. “That makes two of the three blood relatives of the Lores family dead. Sharon Ferguson and her family are in a safe house – are we one hundred percent positive they are unreachable?”
“I’m positive,” Dart said.
Boyd nodded. “What do we do now?”
“Well, if it is the bloodline the killer was after, he should be at a standstill now. There’s nothing else he can do with Sharon Ferguson and her family gone. Let him stew in this for a bit, and he’ll probably give up and make a mistake. Maybe even turn himself in.”
Boyd stood up and headed for the door.
“Agent,” Dart said, standing at his desk. Boyd turned back and looked at him. Dart continued, “Let’s catch this guy before the 31st – you don’t know how desperately this town needs a normal, quiet Halloween.”
Boyd smiled, “I know.” Boyd left the office.
The rain was still coming down over Stewart Hollow. Both sides of Main Street were flooding faster than the water could go down the sewage drains.
The Oregon Trails Diner was fairly deserted. Renee Black stood behind the counter sipping her coffee and waiting for her next costumer. The front doors opened and Paul Hilton walked in and sat at the counter; his nose bandaged up. He looked at his ex.
“Can I get a coffee please – black,” he said.
Renee stared at him momentarily before she grabbed a coffee mug and sloppily poured him a cup. He sipped it.
“It’s not that hot. Can you make me some fresh stuff?”
Renee forcefully grabbed the mug back and dumped it into the sink behind the counter. “What is you’re problem, Paul?”
“What on Earth do you mean?” he smirked.
“You come back out of nowhere and demand custody of Milo? I think it’s quite obvious you’re not fit to be any kind of parent.”
“He’s mine too, Renee.”
“Well, we’ll let the courts decide that. And your not helping your chances by being arrested either,” she said, starting to brew a fresh pot. “I didn’t expect them to let you out so soon.”
Paul smiled, “They said they were only going to keep me until I sobered up.”
“Drunk, of course.”
“Not as much as they thought.” Paul grabbed a menu and looked through it. “What’s good here?”
Renee didn’t answer. The front doors opened again and Eric Hughes walked in, removing his raincoat. Renee was happy to see a friendly face. She smiled at him. “Hey, Eric.”
“Hey,” Eric responded, noticing Paul sitting at the counter conversing with her. He wasn’t sure, but this had to be the guy Tom told him about. Eric chose to sit in a booth against the back wall.
“The coffee is brewing,” Renee told Paul. “I’ll be back.”
She grabbed a menu and brought it over to Eric’s booth. “You’re up early for not having work today.”
“Yeah,” Eric said, most of his focus still on Paul. “Is that the guy from last night?”
“Tom told you?”
“Tom tells me everything. It’s not fair for you to push him aside for trying to protect you.”
“Everything happened so fast last night, Eric. I didn’t expect Paul, and I didn’t expect my living room to become a boxing ring.”
“He cares about you. A lot more than I thought he would at this point. He’s really bummed out, and I think you should talk to him,” Eric said, handing her back the menu. “I’m not staying, I just thought you should know that your boyfriend is hurt.”
Eric stood up, put his raincoat back on and left the diner. Renee went back behind the counter and poured a fresh cup of coffee for Paul. “Call your lawyer, Paul. Then we’ll talk.”
Paul maliciously smiled as he sipped his coffee.
The rain had calmed to a steady and light drizzle. Sean and Jessica were set up at the park. Sean stood behind his camera set up on a tripod and Jessica stood off camera talking to a female jogger.
Jessica positioned the jogger in front of the camera, and instructed her as to what was going to happen. She’d ask her questions about Stewart Hollow, the Blood Coven, the Harvest Slasher, and she’d have to answer to the best of her knowledge, or give her opinion on the subjects.
Jessica gave Sean the go ahead, and he started rolling.
“What is the atmosphere like these days in Stewart Hollow?” Jessica asked, looking to establish a mood before anything else. The female jogger thought for a moment, and then answered with a nervous stutter in her voice:
“Um, it’s always eerie. It’s kind of like a curse around here anymore. It’s hard to trust people, and you just never know who you’re talking to. They could be your friend or neighbor, but with the way the past couple years have been, they could also be hiding some dark emotions.”
“Did you have any connection to anyone who has died here because of the slashings?” Jessica asked.
“No, but my grandfather, Abe, is a retired mailman. He delivered the letter to the Sheriff’s station a couple years ago that started all of this. He’s felt somewhat guilty for a while now, even though he didn’t do anything wrong.”
Sean’s cell phone started to ring in the middle of the interview. “Ugh, hold on.” He said, shutting the camera off. He saw it was Darnell calling, so he answered.
“Darnell, what’s up?”
“Hey, I heard the news. There’re more killings going on there?” Darnell spoke on the other line.
“Yeah. Two women have been killed.”
“I am so glad I sent you two. What are you doing now?”
“We’re getting interviews with some of the residents.”
“You’re not getting any information on the killings?” Darnell acted surprised.
“Well, the police wouldn’t tell us anything.” Sean said. Jessica looked on, wondering what Darnell was getting at.
“Look, Sean. We need to get the goods. Scrap the original story. Since there’s activity now, cover every single piece of that that you can. Shoot the murder locations, be persistent with the police, talk to local media – maybe anyone who has a connection to the victims. Get me all of it.”
“Okay.”
“Turn on your scanner and listen to the police chatter – we might get lucky and get a good lead or something. Do they have any suspects yet?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Okay. Well, stay on it,” Darnell said.
“You got it, boss.” Sean hung up.
“We need to start asking who would want these women dead,” Dart pondered out loud. Mayor Bernard Hopkins sat in his office with him, looking at pictures from the crime scenes. He wasn’t aging gracefully, and spoke with a slight tremble in this voice.
“Someone who might have had a grudge against the coven. Maybe they’re tied to the family somehow?” the mayor suggested.
“Maybe. Was the original coven in any type of feud with other families?” Dart asked.
“Not to my knowledge.”
“The coven was supposed to come back this year and wreak havoc, right?” Dart asked.
“According to the legend, yes.”
“What if it’s someone who’s scared of what the outcome would be?”
Mayor Hopkins was listening.
“I know the whole town has been dreading this October, maybe some more than others,” Dart said. “You take someone who is already off in the head, add the pending possibility of the town being taken over by a supernatural force – it might be too much for them to handle.”
“And they see the only way to prevent any prophecy is to just get rid of it?”
“Exactly. I’ve talked to dozens of people here in town over the past year, and that’s all they ever asked about. Everyone was frightened.”
“It’s a real possibility. But to solve the problem with murder?”
“Like I said, if someone who was already a little off was deeply concerned and terrified, there’s no saying what they might do. Some people can’t handle stress and fear the right way. Fear can make you do some pretty ruthless things.”
The phone at the desk rang and Dart picked it up. “Sheriff’s office.” There was silence on the other line. “Hello? This is Deputy Jamie Dart, can I help you?” Dart asked one more time before he would hang up.
A man yelled on the other line in an angry growl, “Tell me where they are!”
Dart was startled. “Slow down. Where who are?”
“I’m at the Ferguson house. No one is home. Where are the woman and her daughters?” The ominous voice calmed slightly.
Dart knew who it was now – the killer. “You can’t get to her. She’s safe. Tell me who you are and we can end this.”
“It won’t end until they’re dead. You know that. Everyone knows that. They are a threat to our town, and something is wrong with me. I can feel it.”
“Listen,” Dart said, trying to be reasonable, “if you cooperate now, it’s definitely going to benefit you in the long run. Trust me.”
There was silence on the other line.
“It’s over,” Dart added.
“It won’t be over until I see their flesh melt before my eyes. They need to burn…”
Mayor Hopkins was stunned. He could make out most of what was being said. Dart thought for a moment, and then continued:
“Tell me who you are. You need help. You’re not the only one who’s scared.”
“If you don’t tell me where Sharon Ferguson and her daughters are, I’ll kill more people until you do. That’s a promise. Happy Halloween, Deputy.”
The man hung up, as did Dart. Dart quickly grabbed the CB radio next to the desk and called for Dawn Coldwell. “Dawn, where are you?”
Her response was almost immediate. “I’m across town patrolling near the park,” her voice crackled over the radio.
“How far out from the Ferguson house are you?” Dart was hurried. He stood up and put his jacket on and grabbed his keys.
“Two minutes.”
“Go there now. I’ll meet you there in five. The killer’s there.”
“Yes sir!”
Dart hung up the radio and dashed for the door.
“Be careful, Deputy. I have a bad feeling about this,” Mayor Hopkins said as he stood up.
“I will. I’ll keep you updated, Mayor.” Dart was gone in a flash.
Dart raced his cruiser through the streets of Stewart Hollow. This would be the best chance at stopping the killer. Even if he had left the Ferguson house, he’d still be in the area. Maybe someone even saw him.
Dart flew up Chester Street and onto the street where Sharon Ferguson and her family lived. But something was wrong. The street was filling with smoke. Dart skidded to a stop in front of the house where Dawn Coldwell’s cruiser sat with its’ lights still flashing. Dart jumped out of his car and looked up at the Ferguson house. It was on fire. Flames poured out from every window and roared up all sides of the home.
“Dawn! Where are you!?” Dart called out into the dark smoke. Neighbors from all over were starting to panic, screaming into their yards and clogging up the street.
“Dawn!” Dart called again. Sirens began to ring out in the distance; one of the neighbors must have called the fire department.
Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream erupted from the burning house. Dart ran up into the yard and stopped when he saw someone coming out of the front door screaming. It was Dawn, and she was dripping in flames.
“Dawn!” Dart dashed up the sidewalk and onto the porch where Dawn dropped to her knees, screaming like hell. The flames were too much and Dart dropped back down the porch steps. He stood there, his eyes watering from the smoke, and watched as his fellow officer burned to death right in front of him.