10:00 AM
Marion Street was an active crime scene. The yard to the Lindon household was taped off, holding back a slew of reporters and news crews from all over. Carol Lindon’s body had been removed about an hour earlier, but there was so much more than just that to investigate.
Deputy Dart walked out of the house, removing his latex gloves. Agent Boyd followed him, doing the same thing.
“Deputy, I’ve done my research,” Boyd began. “If Carol Lindon was a descendent of the Lores family, that leaves two more; Vivian Lowder and Sharon Ferguson. I think it’s safe to say they are intended targets as well. They should be removed immediately from their homes and taken into protective custody.”
Dart stopped at the bottom of the porch. “You’re right.” He looked around and spotted Officer Dawn Coldwell chatting it up with a handsome paramedic. “Dawn!”
Hearing her name, and seeing who called it, Dawn immediately rushed to Dart and Boyd’s side. “What going on?” she asked.
“I need you to go to Vivian Lowder and Sharon Ferguson’s residences’, and take them to the station as calmly and quietly as possible.”
“Is everything alright?” Dawn asked.
“I’m considering them possible targets. I just need you to get them safely to the station for now. I’ll be back there later to deal with them. Got it?”
“Yes, sir!” Dawn said with a wink and a smile before she headed for her cruiser.
“So you were saying that you thought this year would be different, Deputy?” Boyd smirked.
Dart stared at him, aggravated. “You seemed to show up at just the right time, Agent. Didn’t you?”
Dart walked away, leaving Agent Boyd standing at the bottom of the porch alone, holding his bloody latex gloves.
Tom Parsons and Eric Hughes were in the woods with their crew of fifteen lumberjacks. They had a camp set up in the foothills of Stewart Hollow. The heavy machinery and constant trucks coming in and out of the area was a very loud and continuous headache.
Eric, carrying an axe on his shoulder, walked over to Tom who was sitting on a freshly cut tree stump, texting. Eric removed his ear plugs and shouted:
“Texting on the job, Tom? C’mon!”
Not hearing Eric over the noise, but sensing him, Tom looked up and set his phone down on his lap. “Huh?”
“Who are you texting?” Eric yelled over the wood chipper behind them.
“Renee,” Tom shouted back. “She cancelled our date tonight.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. She said something came up.”
“Yeah, Mr. Muscles came up.”
Tom shook his head. “No, not Renee.”
“All I’m saying is that your relationship with her is still new. You have a lot to learn about each other. Just watch this kind of stuff, bro. I’m just looking out for you.”
Tom nodded. “I was thinking about asking her if I could take Milo to the movies sometime soon. You know, just the two of us for some bonding.”
The wood chipper shut off, and the noise volume subsided considerably. Eric set the axe down on the ground and knelt down next to his friend. “Just you and her son? You’re about, what, three weeks into the relationship?”
“Yeah.”
“I’d give that more time. It’s too soon to be taking her kid places. That show’s commitment, and it’s too early for that.”
“That’s your opinion. Being with Renee is different than I’m use to. We connect and get along so well - she’s crazy about me.” Tom smiled.
Eric looked at his desperate friend, knowing that he wasn’t going to get his point across. “You know better than anyone. It’s your call.”
Tom nodded. “It is my call and I’m going ask her.” He turned his attention back to the phone and started to text Renee again.
Eric grabbed his axe and shook his head as he walked away.
Officer Dawn Coldwell arrived at Vivian Lowder’s apartment and knocked on the door.
“Mrs. Lowder, are you home? This is police. We need to talk to you.”
The door opened, and it was an older man standing on the other side. He looked at Dawn with puppy dog eyes. “Did you find my wife? My beautiful wife?”
“Find her? Are you Vivian’s husband?” Dawn asked.
The old man nodded and looked as if he could cry.
“Where’s your wife, sir?” Dawn asked concerned.
“She said she was going for a walk this morning, and she hasn’t come back yet. I feared the worst, but I was going to give her a little more time before I called you guys. She can get chatty out there with the neighbors and such, so I didn’t think too much of it at first. But now I’m really worried.”
“What time did she go for her walk?” Dawn asked.
“Seven.”
Dawn looked at her watch – it was 10:30. “We’ll be in touch sir.”
Dawn left the Lowder residence and called Deputy Dart on her way out of the neighborhood.
“Dawn, what is it?” Dart answered on the other line, obviously busy at the moment.
“We have a problem,” Dawn began rather frantically. “Vivian Lowder is missing.”
There was silence from Dart’s end of the call.
“I’m heading to Sharon Ferguson’s house now,” Dawn continued.
“Call me as soon as you get her,” Dart said and then hung up.
A blue SUV, with a large KSWS News logo plastered on either side of it, crossed the city limits and into Stewart Hollow. It pulled into an isolated roadside gas station, kicking up dirt and dust as it came to a stop in front of the pump.
Sean Nettle climbed out from the driver’s seat and began to fuel the vehicle. Jessica got out as well, yawned and stretched her legs. She reached into a bag that was on the front seat floor, and pulled out a voice recorder. She made her way around the vehicle to Sean’s side.
“First things first, I want to stop and see my parents.” Sean said as Jessica passed by him. He watched as she headed for the small building where the attendant sat behind a glass window. “Where are you going?”
“I just want a quote or two from this guy. Then we’ll go see your parents.” Jessica responded without looking back.
She approached the window and smiled at the man behind it. “Good morning, sir. I’m Jessica Morgan with KSWS News out of Seattle, and we’re here to do a story on your towns little horror show.” She smiled, held out the recorder and pressed down on the button, igniting the red ‘on’ light. “I was wondering if I could get a quote or two from you.”
“Sure!” the man said, seemingly excited to be part of the story.
“First off all, what is your name?”
“Rodney Holmes.”
“Rodney, because of the threats and murders last year, do you fear that the Blood Coven will return this Halloween? Or are you a skeptic who doesn’t believe in the supernatural?”
“Um, well, anyone who lives around here will tell you that the Blood Coven isn’t supernatural. It was a real group of people who practiced witchcraft back in the day. But, as for them coming back, I don’t think so. Actually, there are a few people who live here today who share the same bloodline with some of the Coven members. You actually came at the perfect time though, because one of them was murdered this morning.”
Jessica froze, not sure if she heard Rodney correctly. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“One of the people who share the same bloodline as members of the Coven was killed this morning. It’s all over the radio here.”
“Where did this happen?” Jessica asked, franticly putting away her recorder and grabbing a pen and notepad from her pocket.
“Somewhere on the east side, on Marion Street I think.”
“Thank you, Rodney Holmes!” Jessica said, scratching down the street name. She ran back to the SUV.
“What’s wrong, Jess?” Sean asked, screwing on the cap to the gas tank.
“Hurry up, we’ll see your parents some other time. There was a murder this morning,” Jessica shouted, climbing back into the car.
Hollow’s End Cemetery was quiet. The dying trees scattered about the land were letting go of the rest of their leaves; some dried, some a dark orange – they blew gently across the ground, and weaved in and out of the gravestones where the dead lay just beneath the surface.
A lone shack sat on one of the hills in Hollows End. It was old, and the wooden walls were starting to splinter and chip away. Inside the shack, Bud Lockwood sat in an old ripped and musty chair, staring at his small black and white TV propped up on a bucket in front of him. The local news was on, and the murder of Carol Lindon was the talk of the hour.
Bud sat there with his bloodshot eyes opened as wide as possible, taking in every piece of information he heard. He was nervous; he was terrified. The horrible deeds he had committed a year earlier were to bring about the Coven, not get them killed.
The deceased old woman whom he had cared for, his sinister mother, told him that if he had dispatched of the towns’ eldest, and then a condemned man, a path would be created for the Lores family – The Blood Coven – to return to Stewart Hollow and continue their reign of terror. It was all he knew – his mother had convinced him.
Did I do it right? Was I wrong with the ones I chose?
Impossible. He was right. Jack and Theresa McDowell were the towns oldest residents; there was no mistake about it. Sheriff Carter had been fired, let go - condemned. He did it right.
Something was wrong.