His cell phone began to ring on the highest volume, tearing Carter out of a restless sleep. Amber woke up instantly next to him in bed. Carter grabbed the phone and saw an incoming call from his department.
“Who is it?” Amber groggily asked.
“The station.” Carter flipped his phone. “Harper, what is it?”
“Sheriff, it’s Dart. It’s bad. You need to get to Harper’s house right away!” Dart spoke promptly and urgently.
“What happened?” Carter questioned, confused by Dart’s tone.
“Just get here! There’s blood everywhere!”
Carter closed his phone and leapt out of bed, putting on his uniform which had been spread all over the bedroom.
“What is it, Ben?” Amber said, nervously flipping on the light next to her.
“I don’t know. Dart wants me at Harper’s house. He said there’s a lot of blood.”
“Blood? Is she…”
“Don’t even say it, Amber.” Carter finished putting his uniform on and ran out of the room. “I’ll call you when I can!”
Carter arrived at Harper’s house on the east side of Stewart Hollow, minutes later. There was already a swarm of police and reporters. The blue and red lights from the cars flickered throughout the normally peaceful neighborhood.
Carter jumped out of his car and rushed up to the quarantined house, dodging reporters.
“Carter!” Dart yelled from the sea of spectators. He ran up, wearing a heavy coat over his uniform. It was the middle of the night, and the temperatures had dropped to the low forties.
“What the hell is going on, Jamie?” Carter asked.
“I just got here. Harper’s parents called the station a bit ago. They got home and said Harper was dead, and so was her brother.”
“Levi? The jock kid who was in the play?”
“Yeah.”
“Jesus Christ.” Carter bolted for the front door of the house and Dart was close behind.
It was horrific. Harper’s body lay at the bottom of the stairs, where a large gash in her face was still spilling blood onto the floor. A flash from a forensic photographer’s camera lit up the upstairs.
“Is that where Levi is?” Carter asked, grabbing the nearest officer.
“Yeah,” the officer said. “He was stabbed up in the hallway and left in his room. There’s more mud up there – everywhere. The killer must have come in from the bedroom window. It was open, and there was mud on the curtains. There were footprints leading to his closet, but stopped there. We think it was a decoy, because like I said, he was attacked in the hallway – no mud. There was no mud near Harper either.”
“Then it’s quiet clear that the killer is planting the prints everywhere, trying to make the Kelly Rodgers’ story come to life.” Dart said.
“We need to locate that missing corpse as soon as possible,” The officer added.
“The killer didn’t expect to off Harper.” Carter said.
“Huh?” Dart muttered.
“If the mud was all over Levi’s rooms, he was the intended target. He was in the play after all. Harper was just a potential witness.” Carter hung his head, sickened by the loss of more innocent lives. “We need to step this investigation up.”
As day finally broke, the clean up at the Cole residence was just starting. The bodies had been removed and sent to the coroners’ office, but a large crowd of neighbors and reporters still remained.
Carter entered the station, trying to outrun a bevy of reporters, and rapidly walked by the empty dispatcher’s desk without even looking at it. He sat down in his office, and was immediately followed in by Agent Spencer Holland.
“I heard about Harper, Sheriff. I’m so sorry.” He said, honestly remorseful.
Carter shook his head, and then realized that the station was quieter than usual. “Where is everyone? We usually have more officers here by now.”
“They’re at the McDowell farm.” Holland said, tightening the tie around his neck.
“The McDowell farm? For what?”
“You…didn’t hear?”
“Hear what?” Carter asked, frustrated and overwhelmed.
Carter stood on the front porch of the McDowell house, where a dry and dead farmland sat in the background like a depressing landscape painting.
He looked down at Jack McDowell, who had been stabbed to death, trying to understand. Agent Holland walked up beside him.
“His wife is inside.” Holland said, showing Carter into the home. Theresa McDowell sat in the back corner of the living room, with multiple stab wounds all over her body.
“I don’t get it. They weren’t involved in the play.” Carter said, baffled. He glanced around the room, desperately looking for something specific.
“What are you looking for, Sheriff?” Holland asked.
“There’s no mud.” Carter ran to the kitchen and searched, before coming back into the living room. “There’s no mud anywhere.” He looked at Agent Spencer Holland, wide-eyed. “This wasn’t the same killer.”
October 26th
“Dev Liles sat alone in his bedroom, and in the dark. He wondered if they would be back tonight, as they were every night. They would whisper, they would taunt, and they would haunt. He could always feel their eyes on him; sometimes it felt like everyone’s eyes were on him. He belonged in Hell, and he knew it. He deserved it. He wanted it. The demon that devoured his soul so long ago, deserved to finally vanish. Dev wished it would.”
Libby Hatcher sat the script down on the table in front of her, blown away by the haunting nature of ‘October’s Shattered Graves’.
She looked at Jude Coffman, who sat next to her on her parents porch swing.
“It really is an amazing play.” Libby said. Jude politely smiled:
“Yeah it is. That’s why I thought it would have been a great opportunity for me. Doug’s a great writer.” Jude said.
“Yeah.” Libby said, looking next door at Doug’s house. It was calm, and there had not been much movement besides his mother leaving for work. Doug was probably still inside.
“I had an idea.” Jude said, grabbing Libby’s attention.
“What is it?”
“What if we were to submit the play to the community theater instead of having the school do it?”
Libby thought for a moment, and then smiled. “Not bad.”
“But we should probably wait until next year,” Jude added. “I mean we’re going to have more people to honor it looks like.”
Doug’s front door opened and he walked out onto his porch in a daze. Libby looked over, as did Jude. He just stood there, looking out into the neighborhood.
“Hey, Doug.” Libby said. Doug slowly turned to her, and saw Jude there as well. He looked scared. “What’s wrong?” Libby asked.
“We’re all going to die.”
Doug’s words sent a cold chill down Libby’s spine.
“What’s he talking about?” Jude whispered. Libby shrugged.
Doug took a step in their direction. “Call everyone that was involved in the play, and tell them to come to my house within the hour.”
“Doug, I-“
“Libby, just do it.” Doug said, interrupting her. He retreated back into his house.
“What’s going on, Libby?” Jude asked.
“I don’t know.” She pulled out her cell phone and began to start making calls.
An hour later, Doug stood in his living room, looking out among the students who were still alive. Libby and Jude sat close to each other on the couch. Kevin stood in the corner, close to the front door, and Charlotte sat in the chair.
“Okay, guys, listen up. Something is wrong.” Doug began, before Charlotte stood up:
“We should wait for Levi.” She said, commanding.
“He’s the only one I couldn’t get a hold of.” Libby said.
“That’s because Levi’s dead!” Doug shouted, his lips trembling uncontrollably.
Shocked and horrified, Charlotte plopped back down onto the chair. “What the hell have you done?” She cried out to Doug.
“I didn’t do anything, Charlotte, I swear to you. For some reason, everyone that was involved in the play is being killed. Jasper, Levi, Mr. Swan, Samantha…”
“Samantha wasn’t involved in the play!” Charlotte yelled, correcting him.
“But she was there; she auditioned,” Doug said.
The room became silent. Everyone’s thoughts were racing.
“Who would want us dead?” Doug calmly continued.
“Besides Kelly Rodgers?” Jude sarcastically asked. “You.”
“Me?” Doug laughed. “You think I would kill everyone involved? Involved in a tribute play, to honor people that have died? You don’t know what you’re talking about, Jude. Shut up.”
“Doug started writing a sequel to ‘October’s Shattered Graves’.” Kevin said, stepping forward. Doug’s face went red.
“Kevin, why?” Doug asked.
“I’m telling people this so they can also know that you stopped writing it, because of what’s been going on. Doug hasn’t done anything. For some reason, someone is trying to frame him and somehow link this ‘Kelly Rodgers’ myth to the murders. Doug’s a good guy, and shouldn’t be treated like this.”
Doug nodded to his friend, who nodded back. Charlotte stood up again. “What was the sequel about, Doug?” She asked, not sure if she even wanted to know.
He didn’t say anything.
“It was probably a tribute play to the people who are going to die this year.” Jude said, grabbing Libby by the hand. They stood up and walked for the door.
“Where are you going? It’s not safe out there.” Doug said. Neither one said a word. “Libby?”
She hinted at a smile, but her trust for Doug was lost. She turned her head and followed Jude out the door.
Charlotte stood up, zipping up her coat. She shook her head and headed for the door.
“Charlotte, wait. Please?” Doug begged. She stopped and looked back at him, tears in her eyes. “Charlotte, can we please talk?”
“Maybe some other time, Doug. I’m sorry.” She walked out the front door.
“Charlotte, wait!” He desperately called out, but she kept walking.
Kevin shut the front door, and walked up to his friend, hugging him.
“Doug, it’s over man. I know you’re innocent, and I’m sorry everyone has these demented thoughts of you right now, but it’s over. I think it’s better if you lay low until this whole thing blows over. Halloween is coming up, and if last year is any indication, it will all be over by then.”
Doug let out a shaky sigh. “Now Charlotte thinks I’m a psycho.”
Kevin backed off, shocked that that’s what was on his friends mind.
“Kevin, you don’t get it. I love her. I need to tell her. If she thinks I’m some sort of sick, psycho-slasher, then I’ll never get a chance. You need to help me out, man.”
“I can’t, dude. Just leave it alone, please? You don’t have many people on your side right now.”
Doug didn’t know what to say. Kevin kept quiet, and eventually left.
Carter stood in the Sheriff’s Department lobby with Deputy Dart, Agent Holland and Mayor Hopkins.
“Carter, this is bullshit!” the Mayor shouted. “Tell me every single thing you know right now, who we’re looking into, and what we’re doing about it. And give me the cliff notes, because I don’t want to hear all your whiney excuses.”
Carter stood his ground, although slightly nervously, and spoke:
“Cliff notes? Seven dead bodies, a missing corpse, a killer who also seems to be a writer, possibly acting out his next book, a connection to a young woman who doesn’t even live here anymore, a ghost story, a tribute play gone horribly wrong, and all the clues we have don’t make any sense. Not to mention, two of those dead bodies don’t seem to have any earthly connection to the rest.”
Mayor Hopkins stared into Carter’s eyes. “I don’t like your sarcastic tone, Carter. As a matter of fact, I despise it. Over the past year, you have proven to me that you are incapable of being a respected official in what use to be a very safe town. Starting now, and until further notice, you are on an indefinite, unpaid, suspension.”
“What?” Carter laughed, dumbfounded.
“If you can’t keep this town safe, you have no business being the Sheriff. Gun and badge – now.” Hopkins demanded them, holding out his hands. Dart and Holland stood by and watched as Carter torn his badge off from his chest and pulled his gun from his holster, setting them down on the dispatcher’s desk instead of the Mayors’ hands.
Carter walked out of the station without saying a single word.
“I didn’t see that coming.” Dart said.
“Let that be a lesson to you, Deputy. Don’t screw with me.” He turned to his old friend. “And Spencer, you came here to do a job. Right now, you haven’t done a thing. Help us find the killer.”
Hopkins left the station. Spencer Holland and Deputy Dart stood next to each other, befuddled.
“This can’t possibly get any weirder.” Holland said, shaking his head. Right then, the phone at the desk started to ring. Dart picked it up.
“Stewart Hollow Sheriff’s Department, how can I help you?” Dart listened to a frantic voice on the other line. He looked at Holland, who saw perplexity in the Deputy’s eyes.
Dart hung the phone up, and looked at the Agent. “It just got weirder.”
“What happened?”
“That was Bud Lockwood from the cemetery. Kelly Rodgers’ corpse is back in her grave.”