CHAPTER III
The Corpse
Police now swarmed the area around the Watkins home on Amity Road. Police cars, with their spinning blue lights, sat on the side of the road and a couple of them even blocked Amity Road in both directions. It was officially a crime scene.
The coroners van sat parked in the rocky driveway with the back doors open. Patrick Snowden’s corpse laid still in the back of the van on a folded up gurney.
The coroner covered the body with a white sheet after Detective James Miller got one last glance at it. Patrick had burn marks curling around his neck. It appeared to be a strangulation, but with burn marks? It didn’t make sense.
“Thank you,” Detective Miller said to the coroner as he shut the back doors to his van. Officers York and Westman joined Miller in the blocked off roadway. “So, he was found in the cornfield?”
“Yes, sir,” York said, glancing back at the field of dead crops. “We found him laying in there, facedown.”
“And no one’s home, you said?”
“No, sir.”
“What can you tell me about the family who lives here?”
York began, “It’s Elizabeth Watkins and her caretaker. Mr. Watkins passed away several years ago.”
“And this is the house where those murders took place some years back? What’s that whole story?”
A car horn honked viciously just outside the police barricade. Detective Miller’s attention was immediately drawn to an old green and tan station wagon.
“Who’s that?” he squinted.
York took a careful look and identified them. “That’s actually Ms. Watkins now.”
“Let them through!” Miller shouted, and waved for the officers blocking their way to let the car in.
Elizabeth Watkins sat in her wheelchair on the front porch, and Valerie stood behind her very protectively. Detective Miller pulled up a fold-up chair that was leaning against the railing and sat down, leaning forward.
“Where have you been all morning?” Miller asked.
Ms. Watkins’ hands started shaking, probably from her old age.
“We went to the cemetery to visit her husbands grave,” Valerie chimed in.
Miller looked up at her, annoyed she had answered when he was addressing Elizabeth. But he took what information he could, from whoever was going to offer it up. “Which cemetery is that?”
“Wesley Chapel, on the east side of Hilliard.”
“What time did you leave to go there?”
“We left around eight. We grabbed breakfast first.”
“It’s noon,” Miller checked his watch. “Did you go anywhere else afterwards?”
“Nope,” Valerie said, slightly irritated. She wasn’t even 100% sure what was going on.
“Did you see your mail carrier at all today?”
Valerie looked down the driveway to the mess of police cars. She noticed the empty mail truck sitting off to the side of the road. “No,” she said. “Why? Where is he?”
“He’s dead – found strangled in your cornfield with some sort of burn marks around his neck.”
Elizabeth grew uneasy in her seat and looked towards the cornfield off to her right. Valerie put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and Elizabeth finally calmed down.
“Are you implying anything, detective?” Valerie asked.
“I’m just trying to figure out why a man is dead on your property, Ms…”
“Warner,” she said. “Valerie Warner.”
“And you’re the…housekeeper?”
“I care for Ms. Watkins. I feed her, bathe her, wash her clothes and sheets, and keep the house clean. I cared for her husband too, before he passed on. I’ve been with the Watkins’ family for a very long time, detective.”
Miller jotted a few notes down into a small black book he had sitting on his lap. He clicked his pen closed and stood up. “Ms. Watkins, Ms. Warner, I’ll be back a little later on. I’m going to have two of my officers stationed at the end of your driveway for the day just to keep an eye on things. Would that be okay?”
“I don’t see why not,” Valerie said.
Miller smiled. “Great.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his business card. He handed it to Elizabeth, but Valerie reached for it instead. Miller pulled back on the card and Valerie stopped, the two of them making eye contact. “Ms. Watkins,” Miller proceeded to hand her the card, “call me if you need anything.”
Elizabeth reached out with her shaky arm and grabbed the Detective’s card. He smiled at both of them and then turned around and walked back up the driveway where the coroner’s van was just pulling away from the scene.
Valerie pushed Elizabeth in through the front doors and into the house. She made sure the door was shut and locked behind her.
“I don’t know how on Earth they could insinuate that we had something to do with that man’s death,” Valerie said, offended.
Elizabeth didn’t say a word, but instead looked up to the ceiling where the chandelier hung still. It slowly started to rock back and forth creating a quiet jingling sound. The ceiling then started to creak like someone was walking across the floor above them.
“It’s just the rats, Ms. Watkins. No worries.”
“Just the rats,” Elizabeth repeated quietly. “Just the rats…” Elizabeth closed her eyes and pictured the young girl, Melissa, hanging from the chandelier – her body bloodied from an unseen attack.
Elizabeth smiled as she heard the screams in her head.
~
The crowd at the Harvest Festival in the Hilliard Municipal Park had grown. As the day progressed, more and more people found their way to the heart of Hilliard to celebrate Halloween.
An older man walked side-by-side with his granddaughter, holding her hand tight. They walked through a crowd of kids fighting with their fake weapons and up to an apple cider stand.
“Do you want a small one, sweetie?” the old man asked the girl. She nodded and smiled, showing off her teeth, which were stained blue from cotton candy.
“Two small ciders, please,” the man told the young lady behind in the booth.
“Grandpa, what kind of costume is that?” the little girl asked, tugging on her grandfathers track jacket.
“Where, sweetie?” he asked, looking in the direction she was pointing. She was pointing at one of the ponds off the right, just beyond the festival barriers. He squinted to try and get a better look. Someone was wading through the pond towards the shore. “I don’t know, but he’s going to get in trouble – you’re not allowed to be in that water.”
They watched as the person slowly walked out of the water and, little by little, made his way into the grass. It appeared to be a young man, but in heavy Halloween make up. The skin on his face appeared to be deteriorated and hanging off the bone. His clothes were brown and tattered. The skin on his arms was dark green and dripping off the bone as well. It was a disgusting costume…
The old man put his hand out to keep his granddaughter behind him. “Something’s not right with him sweetie. Stay here by the booth.”
The old man made his way through a group of festivalgoer’s and walked towards the boy coming out of the pond. The boys’ clothing was soaked and muddy. The closer the old man got, the more unnerving things became.
“Young man, you must have spent a lot of time on that costume,” he nervously laughed as he approached the boy. “You’re scaring some of the little ones over here.”
The old man came face to face with the boy and immediately noticed his eyes balls had vanished into a pair of deep, shadowed eye sockets. The boy opened his mouth and a steady stream of muddy water gurgled out and spilled into the grass.
The old man stepped back and the young man collapsed and crashed into the ground, making a loud, wet ‘squishing’ sound in the grass. An overwhelming stench from the boys’ body rose and invaded the old man’s nose.
He backed up some more and fell backwards. He put his hand over his mouth and nose and stared at the mysterious and gruesome corpse.