Don't Go Into | the Devil's Den (Book One)

One | No Service

Detective Jarod (Jah-rod) Grant fought to stay awake. His eyelids barely held up their own weight. His thoughts, foggy. Fresh coffee stains forced him to remove his leather jacket. Michigan was boring; especially the run-down towns between urban civilization.

A flatbed truck roared by, puffing black exhaust at him like a dirty sheet, causing him to crinkle his nose and curl his lips into a sneer. He missed California. In this decrepit ghost town, the population barely scratched five-hundred souls. Through his tiring hours of driving, all he'd found was a pair of liquor stores, a grocery store, and a gas station. Everything else was farmland, woods, or just plain nothing.

Detective Grant regretted answering that call, but his partner back in California had pushed the issue for several days. He couldn't handle her nagging stress. He was one of the top detectives for missing persons, and as such he had no shortage of opportunities, but this one felt soulless.

He finally circled back to the teary-eyed mother, who was on the porch eagerly awaiting his arrival. White shirt? Buttoned. Black tie? Centered. Deep breath? Well-needed. He hopped out of the blue SUV and began his approach.

"My apologies, but I really don't think she is out here, Mrs. Finn." His lips were pursed and there was a grave intensity in his eyes. "There has to be a link between her and her father. That makes the most sense to me. You mentioned that you saw her a few weeks ago with her father, correct?"

Silence.

With a blank gaze, she wiped a bitter tear from her cheek. "Where is my baby, Detective? Where is my little Laney?!" She bawled, stumbling backwards before catching herself on the wall with a wobbly arm.

His best option was to console her. She was in no condition to provide any useful information unless she calmed down. A few more sniffles passed before she spoke again.

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Finn sighed. "Correct, Jeff came to see Laney a few weeks ago. She's been missing ever since. Ever since." She blew into a freshly laundered handkerchief that she'd unraveled from her pocket.

"Do you think he would've taken her someplace?"

She paused, another blank stare. "T-that way, Jeff's house is that way." She pointed. A uniform line of oak, juniper, and pine trees covered both sides of the dirt road. "It's a couple miles down, o'er the trees. You'll see a statue of a beast just before you get there."

He pursed his lips. "Gotcha," he said, accepting the challenge. "I'll go see what I can find. I'm sure Laney can't be too far."

A question still burned inside his head, and he couldn't wait another moment longer to ask it. Before walking down, the steps, he turned and asked, "One more thing... is there any law enforcement around here? I've driven all the main roads and haven't even seen a station, let alone a patrol car."

"I'm sure they're patrolling," Mrs. Finn sighed. "There's really no phone service out here, so typically they don't get word of anything unless they see it on their patrol time. It's a tiny town."

"Well then, how'd you contact us?"

Her gaze lowered to her hands, then rose back to Detective Grant. "I drove out of town to call you."

Detective Grant hesitated and then nodded and walked back to his SUV. He'd sensed some nervousness within her, like she'd been abducted by aliens and returned in the same night, never quite the same as before.

"Thank you, Jarod!" Mrs. Finn shouted. Then her eyes opened wide as something grabbed her attention. "Oh! I meant to give you this!" She fumbled around in her purse and retrieved a large golden key about the size of a water bottle.

"A key?" He questioned. "Is this a toy? It's practically the size of my forearm."

Mrs. Finn giggled, "You'll know when to use it."

Detective Grant curiously took the key.

Pulling out of the driveway, an eerie feeling overcame him. An anxious sweat worked its way through his shirt. Why would she give him a random key? Though Mrs. Finn was probably emotionally unstable at the moment, this gesture completely threw him off. It was curious that her driveway showed no evidence of a vehicle on the premises.

As he drove away, his trained eyes caught her in his rearview mirror. Standing in the middle of the road, she awkwardly waved with a contorted smile. 

He ignored her and continued, pulling out his phone to test the service. Wow. There really is no service.

Less than a minute out, the asphalt road transitioned into dirt. The SUV handled the harsh change better than he imagined. A closer look revealed many bumps and dents, but the footprints were what intrigued him most. Being a detective for ten years had conditioned him to look beyond the surface.

After rumbling over a bump so large it spanned half the road, he parked and collected his thoughts. He retrieved his notes on Laney Finn from his leather bag. Upon closer study, something stood out: Laney was last seen leaving Repentance Church with her father heading eastbound, according to Ms. Finn.

Detective Grant continued, cautiously watching for potholes and footprints. Unfortunately, the footprints weren't worth studying. From his car, deciphering a size 7 girls shoe print proved effortless. Most of the prints ranged from men's size 8-12, which made sense–the whole town was mostly made up of men.

After a long stretch of greenery, Repentance Church came into view, and Grant couldn't help but be underwhelmed. The old church spanned 30 feet, while the tip of the steeple stretched 40 feet high. The weathered window frames were in dire need of replacement. The paint had peeled off in some areas, wrecked by the hands of Father Time. The Repentance sign was the church's most prominent visual asset. 

Oddly, the church elicited a memory buried deep in Jarod's mind, as if he'd seen it in a dream before. Shaking off the idea, he parked the car in the makeshift dirt parking lot. He cocked back the hammer on his black and chrome, semi-automatic handgun and holstered it for safekeeping.