CHAPTER IV
A Warning
“It doesn’t necessarily mean this is some kind of warning, Holly,” Kevin said to his sister as they say next to each other on the couch in her one story home on Wakefield Drive.
“What else could it be?” she asked as she stared at the pumpkin they had picked out sitting on the coffee table in front of them. It had yet to be touched. A movie played on the TV – something about a killer doll – but it was on mute.
Kevin didn’t know what to say. It certainly was weird though – everything that had been going on. The figures in the woods, the cold touch on her neck at Abners, the whispers – and this all just happened to be happening on Halloween? There wasn’t much he could say to try to convince her otherwise.
“Do you want to carve the pumpkin?” he asked.
Holly shook her head. She didn’t seem to be in the mood anymore. She looked up at the TV and saw the psycho-doll stab a janitor over and over with a switchblade knife, and she turned her head and winced. “Can we turn the channel, please?”
Kevin grabbed the remote and turned the channel. He sat back in the couch and flipped through the channels to find something good. He flipped right past the news, but a glimpse of Hilliard’s Harvest Festival caught his eye and he turned it back.
A young reporter was live from the festival. She stood in front of police caution tape and spoke directly into her microphone while keeping eye contact the camera.
“It was a shock to everyone who was out at Hilliard’s Halloween Festival this afternoon – a muddy corpse, of what an eyewitness described as a young man, was discovered in the grass at the Hilliard Municipal Park near one of the parks many ponds. The boys’ body was removed from the scene and the festival was shut down.
“There is still no official word from local police as to what happened, but a witness tells us that an older man discovered the body, after believing it was someone dressed in a Halloween costume.”
“My God…” Holly said, disturbed by the breaking news on TV.
~
Officers York and Westman sat in their police SUV at the end of the Watkins’ gravel driveway. York sipped a coffee; Westman, a hot chocolate.
“What’s the big deal about this house anyway?” Westman asked.
York swallowed a mouthful of coffee and looked at his partner. “Long ago, there was a witch named Raven who lived in this area. Supposedly, before the Watkins family moved in, the witch told one of the construction workers to kill the other members of his team. Well, he did, and the Watkins’ moved in as soon as they could, ignoring the murders.”
York’s attention drifted a little as he looked out the passenger window and saw the raven still perched on top of the barn in the back of the house. He watched as it shook its’ feather and cocked its’ head again. The raven lifted itself off the barn and flew to the top of the house, where it sat next to the brick chimney. York continued, “These roads out here in the country are infamous for strange things. Unexplained fires burn in the cornfields, strange noises erupt in the night – someone was out here jogging early one morning and swore up and down that something large flew over top of her numerous times before flying away into the darkness.”
“Like a bird?”
York stared at the raven on the roof. “Well, if it was, it must have been a pretty big bird.” He turned his attention back to Westman. “Most people in Hilliard know the stories and have always tried to connect all the witchcraft to the Watkins family – some people even claim that Elizabeth Watkins is Raven herself. Who else would move into a house on such violent grounds?”
“I heard something about a group of kids getting killed here, what, ten years ago?”
“Sort of. There was a group of students from Darby High School and their teacher here interviewing Elizabeth and Seth about the creepy history. No one for sure knows what happened, but it’s understood that Elizabeth and Seth both blacked out, and somewhere in there one of the students hung herself from the chandelier, and the others all dropped dead.”
“How is that possible?”
“There was always the assumption that the Watkins’ had something to do with it, but medical evidence guaranteed us that five of the kids just dropped dead from heart attacks – they were not murdered. The only violent death was the girl who hung herself.”
“How could she get up there without anyone seeing her?” Westman inquired.
York shrugged.
“What about the caretaker?”
“Valerie was found unconscious in the kitchen.”
“Did no one think this situation was suspicious?”
“Everyone did. But it’s hard to blame them for murder when there is absolutely zero evidence of foul play. When the case wrapped up, it felt very unfinished – no one was happy about it. Elizabeth and Seth became outcasts that everyone looked at with condemning eyes. We all know they’re guilty – there’s just no proof.”
York looked back up at the Watkins residence and noticed the curtain in the upstairs bedroom was pulled back. He could see Elizabeth sitting in her wheelchair, staring out at them. She closed the curtains once she saw York look at her. York then turned his attention to the raven on the roof. It hopped around on the shingles for a moment before taking flight and flying over the cornfield.
York peered up the side of the house at the barn behind it. “I’m going to go have a look in the barn back there. Stay here.”
“Okay.”
York opened the driver’s door and stepped out of the car. He zipped his coat up, but before he could shut the car door, Westman grabbed his attention.
“What about Raven?” he asked.
York leaned back into the car. “What do you mean?”
“What’s her story?”
“I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve read up on her. There’s stuff online if you get bored.”
Westman nodded and York shut the car door. He walked around the car and made his way up the driveway.
~
Detective James Miller stood in the morgue staring at the decomposing boy’s body on the cold metal table. They had removed the clothes from the boy and covered the bottom half of his body with a white sheet.
Miller studied the boy’s face – it was shredded. The skin was old and brown with a thick layer of some sort of slime covering it. The eye sockets were wide and the eyeballs were missing. Miller could see right into the skull where a mushy brain remained.
The boy’s skin was deteriorated and the odor was awful. Miller did all he could to avoid vomiting.
The door to the morgue opened and a middle-aged woman walked in wearing a lab coat. She wore her hair back in a ponytail and her square-framed glasses sat down on her nose. She held her clipboard down by her side and smiled at the Detective.
“Good afternoon, I’m Betty Sims, the senior medical examiner.
Miller shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. You took over for Dr. Richards?”
“I did – two months ago. He retired.”
“He was a good man.”
“He was my mentor for quite a while. Everything I’ve learned, I learned from him. I’m pretty quick on my feet when it comes to my job.”
“Then it should be a pleasure working with you. What can you tell me about this body?” Miller asked.
Betty pushed her glasses back up her nose and referenced the clipboard. She read directly from it. “Well, a DNA sample would take some time to get here, but I can tell you right now who it is. I knew this kid.”
Miller was confused. “Who is it?”
“His name was John Kelly. My daughter dated him in high school,” Betty said.
Miller knew exactly who that was. John Kelly was one of the five students who dropped dead at the Watkins’ home ten years ago. He didn’t understand how this could be possible.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “How does his body end up out in the open? Wasn’t he buried?”
“Cremated actually. There is no logical reason for his body to be in tact, and laying right here on this table for that matter,” Betty explained.
Miller looked back at the muddy and soggy body. “This doesn’t’ make any sense.”
Miller covered his mouth and nose as another waft of the odor made its’ way into his senses.