When He Calls (Moons of Nibiru - Book #1)

chpt - 35: do you believe?

WHEN SHERIFF CARL WAS INFORMED ABOUT the Breeck girl, he wasn't at all surprised. He hated himself for actually waiting for the next incident. He was in the office when Deputy Jenkins rushed to him after getting the anonymous call about the pickup.

It was in the dark of morning when two police vehicles, a truck harbouring a small boat and an ambulance rushed to the Loch. Sheriff Carl had to once again watch as scuba divers dipped into the dark waters to uncover yet another body. They told him it would be a struggle to retrieve the pickup, said it would take more time, so the best they could do was bring out the bodies; the truck would be pulled out at a later time.

Amy Breeck was pale and blue when they brought her to land. Carl Baumann took off his hat and placed it against his chest as he looked down at the young lady. Her bottom-lip seemed to have been chewed off. What remained was a purple and red gash under her upper-lip. Both eyes were glossy and open. Tiny holes made by fish were collected on both Amy's cheeks. Her condition appeared to have remained for days—a week at most—but it was later at the morgue that Sheriff Carl was told Amy had only been gone for a day.

The night they found Amy, Sheriff Carl had a few officers rush to the top of the cliffs with two bloodhounds to search for any clues to this puzzle of a mystery. What they found—or at least who they found—was Dean Knowles on the ground not too far from the cliff. He was bleeding out from where his left leg had been severed by the knee. It was a miracle he was still breathing—barely—when the officers found him. Other than the severed leg they couldn't find, Dean had scratches all across his chest and back and bruises on his hands, which suggested he fought back.

It was the night of the fifth day after the incident that Sheriff Carl went out of his way to visit Dean Knowles in the hospital. The boy had been in a coma for the past few days; his wounds proved to be more severe. He woke up the previous day and those present in his room were met with shrieks erupting from the boy's throat. He kept at it for almost three minutes before he was sedated and calmed down. When he awoke the evening he said he'd only speak to Sheriff Carl. Some found his specification odd, but Carl Baumann and Dean Knowles had somewhat of a past. The boy's older brother booked in and out of the tiny jail cell in Marbel more times than any of the other regular visitors. Dean would always bail his brother out—whether with his own money or money from his parents—and in doing so had conversations with the sheriff. The two became acquainted, but ever since his brother left town the sheriff and the boy rarely spoke. It wasn't like they were friends, but Sheriff Carl rather enjoyed their conversations.

Dean Knowles laid flat on his back on the hospital bed when Sheriff Carl stepped inside. The sheriff wasn't in uniform: he wore a pair of dull trousers, boots and a mustard shirt.

"Morning son," said Sheriff Carl, rhythmically knocking on the door. "You up for a bit of talking?"

Dean turned his eyes instead of his head and looked at his visitor with bloodshot eyes. He gave a slow blink which indicated a 'yes'.

Sheriff Carl stepped inside and considered Dean for a moment. Then he closed the door behind him and went to sit on the chair by the boy's bedside. He observed Dean subtly and inhaled at his looks: pale and slick skin, dry and crusted lips, and a blanket covering his lower-body.

"I dig the new look." was the sheriff's best attempt at a joke. Dean released a scoff, but he wasn't laughing. "Okay, let's just get straight to the point, yeah?"

"I didn't kill her, if that's what you're wondering." said Dean in a groggy voice. He sat upright, groaning to the pain. The morphine was wearing off.

"Now, why would you go and assume that?" Sheriff Carl asked kindly. "Though, you were the last to see her. Mind filling me in on what actually happened to Amy Breeck?"

Dean just stared at Sheriff Carl for the briefest moment, almost scared to speak. "You... wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Sheriff Carl chuckled. "Kid, with what's been going on, nothing surprises me."

Dean wanted to believe Sheriff Carl—God knew he wanted to—but he was afraid of being seen as some lunatic kid that lost their mind and killed this girl he only intended to snack on because most of his usual friends-with-benefits were out of town. The pain from his missing leg reminded him of what he had lost, though not compared to Amy having lost her life, and her loved ones having lost her.

"I... I'm not sure." he began tentatively, "We were in my pickup, making out and talking about random stuff. Then I heard a noise outside the car, went to go check if it wasn't some creep..."

"And was it?" Sheriff Carl asked when Dean didn't speak further after that.

Dean stared off into space and slowly shook his head. "N-No." he said hesitantly. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the memory of that moment threatening to overwhelm him. "I... I wanted to go back to her when... after it attacked me."

Sheriff Carl leaned in closer, intrigued. "It? What was it, Dean?"

Dean could feel tears sliding over his eyes, collecting at the bottom of his eyelids. "A... Some kind of..." He looked at Sheriff Carl, "What are those things called again? Clowns, but like for kings and queens?" He felt embarrassed for suddenly forgetting the term. He decided to blame it on the shock.

Sheriff Carl raised an eyebrow. "A jester?"

Chills were what Dean felt when the term had him recall that moment: the moment where he entered the thicket of trees leading away from the Loch. It was dark, his flashlight out in front of him. It was poor against the wide stretch of night beyond the few trees in front of him. A rustle in the bushes made him turn in its direction. When his flashlight fell onto the bush, that's when he felt a sting in his left leg. A second right after that, Dean was face-to-face with the dirt. His phone fell from his hands as his body numbed with shock. He didn't know where his phone fell, but the flashlight still illuminated his surroundings.

All Dean could do when the black and white jester walked past him, the lower part of his left leg in its hands as it nonchalantly snapped at the calf, was watch. And then he heard Amy's shrill screams, a loud splash, and then silence. He woke up later in the hospital.

As he thought of a way to answer Sheriff Carl without having himself admitted to a psych ward, something caught Dean's eye when everything behind Sheriff Carl seemed out of place. When Dean focused on what was behind Sheriff Carl, he noticed there were white fingers against the doorframe of the room they were in. And then it was gone.

"Shit!" he let out, pointing to the door.

"What?" Sheriff Carl asked, turning around to see what Dean saw. He only saw the open door and corridor.

With a trembled voice and shaky breath, "It's here." Dean said without as much as a stutter.

"What is?" Sheriff Carl asked, but when he saw the fear in the boy's eyes, he had a suspicion who Dean was talking about.

"Stay here." said the old man as he got up on his feet. Though cautious, he saw no reason to pull out his gun. Sheriff Carl left the anxious boy for the door, carefully peering into the corridor. It was completely empty, not even any stray equipment or a hospital bed in sight. The lights flickered, per the poor maintenance. But that's not what had Sheriff Carl almost reach for his gun. There was an unsettling atmosphere polluting the air in the corridor, holding a hand to his throat. He moved back, swallowing heavily.

"I don't see anything," said Sheriff Carl, turning back to Dean. It was only when he heard the endless beeeeeeeeeep of the flat-lining heart monitor, that Sheriff Carl realized everything was dead silent for a few seconds.

"God Almighty," he breathed when he looked at Deanwith gaping eyes. His heart sunk down to the bottom of his feet, maybe furtherdown, body frozen in place when he realized the boy was dead. No blood or gutsor more missing limbs. Instead, Dean just stared up at the ceiling, eyesbloodshot and his mouth slightly open