May 1963
The clock woke her up again. Cathy sat on the floor, elbows on the low sill, her head in her hands, and looked out the open window. The moon cast a dim glow, and she could see across the road and into the cornfield. The field, flat and empty, looked gray. The creek, filled with spring runoff, rushed past. She heard it, and saw only black where the creek ran.
A light blue car rolled up slowly and stopped in front of the house. Richard, her big brother, got out of the car, walked across the road, and disappeared under the porch roof. The car drove away. She heard the front door open quietly and Richard climbing the stairs.
“Hey peanut, why are you up?” Richard stood in her doorway and whispered.
“The clock woke me up. I like to look out the window.” At four years old, her whisper sounded loud in the quiet house. She saw her sister’s arm move and then Helen rolled over with a groan. Cathy looked up at her brother. He put his finger to his lips and motioned for her to follow him.
They got to the top of the stairs, and Richard scooped up his sister and carried her on his shoulder, down to the kitchen. He sat her on a chair at the kitchen table.
“Do you wake up a lot at night?” Richard pulled a glass from the cupboard and went to the fridge. He poured Cathy a glass of milk, and opened a bottle of beer for himself. He watched her closely as he talked.
“Sometimes I just wake up. I like to look outside. Sometimes I listen to the creek or pretend I’m riding on a train.”
Richard laughed. “So which did you do tonight?”
“I didn’t do either one. I saw a couple cars go by and I saw you come home, that’s all. I could see the fields. I listened to the trains and I counted stars. I wish more happened around here.” Cathy took a drink of milk.
“Lots used to happen. Lots of scary stuff used to happen.”
“What scary stuff?” Cathy put her glass down and looked at Richard.
“You’re probably too young to hear about it. Wait until you’re older and I’ll tell you all about the murderers, and the ghosts.”
“Tell me now, Richard, please.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Richard sat across from her at the table and waited while Cathy talked.
“I promise I won’t be scared. I just want to know.” Cathy got up, walked over to her brother, crawled onto his lap and hugged him.
“You have to promise to go back to bed and right to sleep. Okay?” Richard tickled her neck and she giggled. “Shhh—you’ll wake up Mom.”
“I promise.” She looked up at her brother.
Tall and thin, he looked a lot like her. The dark hair and blue eyes capped a wide smile. Richard would turn eighteen in December. He loved to scare his siblings. He let his imagination run wild and harassed his brother and sisters with far-fetched stories of ghosts and murderers.
“Cathy, I really think you’re too young. You’ll have nightmares from the stuff I can tell you.”
“I won’t, I promise”
“You also have to be sure you never mention anything I tell you to Mom or Dad. They would be so mad. No one is allowed to talk about this stuff.”
She watched her brother and bit her lip. “I won’t tell anybody.”
Richard continued, “You know how you’re never supposed to go into the basement? Dad always says it’s too dirty. The old coal chute used to be down there. Well, that’s not the reason.”
Richard put his nose an inch from his sister’s nose and stared into her eyes.
“It’s the coffins in the walls. The people who lived here long ago, killed all their babies and buried them in the basement. Whenever I go down there, I can hear their ghosts scratching at their coffins.” Richard spoke slowly and watched his sister closely.
Her eyes opened wide and she sat frozen.
“You’ve probably heard them yourself and never knew where the noise came from.”
Cathy sniffled and looked at her brother. “Richard, can we talk about the other stuff now?”
Richard leaned away and took a drink from his beer. “You’re scared. I knew I shouldn’t have told you any of this.”
“I’m not scared. I just want to know the rest.”
“I don’t know. I guess we could talk about the scarecrows.”
“I’d like to hear about them.”
Richard pretended to think about it, and then nodded to his sister. “People used to stop on the highway and just steal corn from Mr. Lewiston. That’s why he got those scarecrows, you know. They aren’t just regular scarecrows. They can come alive and take care of those corn thieves.”
“You mean they can walk and hurt people?”
“They say it’s really ghosts inside those scarecrows. My friends and I, we’ve seen them at night. Sometimes they stand on the edge of the field, and watch the cars go by. People have gone missing around that field. Those scarecrows killed them and threw them into the pond over at the old racetrack.”
Cathy never took her eyes off Richard and he never cracked once. His face stern and his jaw set, he watched his little sister.
“Remember, never, ever, go into that cornfield at night. Those scarecrows will kill you.”
Wednesday, July 27, 1966
Dr. Wagner returned to New York and stayed just long enough to collect her associate, Dr. Steven Webster, and the tests she needed for Cathy. Steven had almost twenty years’ experience dealing with various mental issues in children. He had joined Diane in the hopes of being able to help children. They flew to Windsor and drove to their motel in Chatham. Shortly after seven Wednesday morning, they arrived at Cedarview Hospital armed with a large file, full of tests for their patient.
They arrived at administration, and informed Alexis that they would spend most of the day testing Cathy.
“I don’t know how you handle this in New York. Here in Ontario, we have strict procedures and guidelines for testing patients. Especially those classified as potentially violent. You’re not going to spend an entire day harassing one of my patients.” Alexis stood up and stared at both of them.
“We need these results to diagnose the patient. I don’t understand the problem. We’ve done this before without any incident. Most people are thrilled to have us work as quickly as we can.” Diane hated that this woman took control.
“I follow the guidelines to protect my patients from harm. Every procedure requires approval by the hospital supervisor. That would be me. The tests are booked around the patient’s normal schedule. Speed is not a consideration.” Alexis put her hand out.
“This is ridiculous.” The doctors looked at each other and Diane handed Alexis the file that held all the tests.
“I’ll have to check over the tests, and if I determine they’re pertinent, possibly helpful, and will in no way harm Cathy, I’ll approve them. You also will need to get separate approval from her father for each test. She is a minor.”
“Mrs. Keith, please be reasonable. We don’t have time to waste on this.”
“I don’t consider ensuring the health of one of my patients a waste of time. Cathy has lived here almost two years now. A few days won’t make a big difference. You won’t be doing any testing today. I suggest you contact Mr. Millard to sign off on these. Once everything is in place, I’ll schedule the tests.”
She referred to a file on her desk, scribbled Robert’s address and phone number on a piece of paper, and handed it to Diane.
She threw the note onto the desk and stormed out.
Dr. Webster shook his head. He picked up the piece of paper, looked at the notation and smiled. He nodded to Alexis on his way out.
Alexis sat down and opened the file they left. There were twenty-eight tests. She almost closed the file right then. To be fair to Cathy, she decided to review each one. She couldn’t approve any test until she had checked it. She started with the first one.
Back at her motel room, Diane phoned Robert’s house and got no answer.
“Why don’t we just drive out there? We may be able to interview some of the people mentioned in her story.” Steven had read the case files and reviewed Cathy’s version. Fascinated by the story details, he wanted to see the scene of the murder. He felt meeting the various players in the child’s story could play a role in his diagnosis.
“It would take a couple hours to drive to Windsor.” Diane wanted to review her notes and references.
“I’m going. I need to see, hear and touch the environment. Come with me. You might be surprised how much you’ll learn.”
“No. I have enough to do here. Go ahead if you think it will help you understand her story better. Do your interviews, since you’re so interested in getting personal with this.” Diane couldn’t believe he thought there a basis for the story. “She’s a child who made up a story to cover her own guilt. It’s that simple. Why complicate things? I’ll work on these. Do whatever you want. If you’re going, get the father to sign off on the tests.”
Steven returned to his room. He thought about the story while he changed from his suit into casual clothes. It only increased his desire to know more. His experience told him any child’s story was normally grounded in fact. He grabbed his own file on the case and headed for the lobby. He walked up to the counter and smiled at the young clerk.
“Hi. I wondered if I could arrange for another rental car.
“If you want to have an early lunch or coffee in the restaurant over there, I’ll see what I can do for you. It takes about thirty minutes for them to bring the vehicle here from Chatham.” Steven thought a quick lunch sounded good.
An hour later, he headed to the farming community on the outskirts of Windsor. He turned off the main highway onto Highway 2. All the roads that ran off Highway 2 were unmarked, and most were dirt or gravel. He stopped at a roadside stand to get directions. When he asked for a route to the Millards’ property, he got a vicious stare from the older woman tending the stand. She said nothing and turned her back on him. He went back to the car, knowing he asked the wrong question. He must be close because the woman knew the name. The next stand he stopped at, he tried a different approach. “I would love a basket of those strawberries.”
The older man grinned and handed him the berries.
“These are summer berries. They run fifty cents a basket. You must be American. I know that accent. Besides, I know everyone from around here.” The man looked older, probably retired, and had a nice smile.
“Well, then maybe you can help me. I have a cousin by marriage who lives around here somewhere. I met him a couple years ago at a wedding. He grows a lot of corn, and he bragged he owned the biggest farm in the area. I think his son is retarded. I thought of dropping in on him, and I can’t even remember his last name.”
“That would be Barry Lewiston. He lives over on the third concession. He owns the biggest farm around here. Just take the highway north to the third. I don’t think it’s marked anywhere. It’s the road across from the railway roundhouse, about a mile north of here. Just stay on the highway. You’ll see the roundhouse and hear the trains.”
The man thought for a minute. “Wait. There are several signs pointing you to a new subdivision that’s up at the end of the concession. You won’t need to go that far. When you hear the trains and see the signs, turn right. Barry’s is the first farm on the south side of the road. You’ll see the cornfields.”
Steven reached into his pocket and pulled out a dollar. “Thank you for the help. I guess I’ll drop in after all. Can I get another basket of those strawberries? Hate to show up empty-handed.” The old man handed him another box of berries and took the money.
“I don’t know if Barry still eats fruit. I’m sure that boy of his will go for those berries. That’s such a sad story.” The old man looked down and shook he head.
Steven knew this man had gossip to tell and decided to learn all he could.
“Is there something I should know?”
“It’s been five or six years ago now. Jimmy, that’s the boy’s name, he fell in that pond at the old racetrack. By the time they got him out of the water, he had brain damage. He walks and talks okay. Barry took him out of school because he couldn’t learn anything. The boy has no sense at all. His older brother blames himself for the accident. He felt so guilty about his younger brother, he ran off and never came back. Barry drinks a lot now. You’d best catch him early, before he starts tippling.”
“Thanks again. I’ll keep your advice in mind.” Steven walked back to the car. He smiled as he pulled around and turned north onto the highway. The man grinned and waved with both hands. The pond at a racetrack—there was a question that needed an answer.