Allison sat in front of her computer, sipping coffee. The java tasted much better than the beer she would have cradled just a few months ago. Alcohol still tugged at her thoughts most of the day, but the burning desire to sprint to the store for a thirty pack had dwindled to a smoldering coal.
As she did every morning, she searched the Internet for references to Asher Benson. And just like every other morning, nothing came up.
The man was a ghost.
He’d saved a lot of lives in West Virginia, had personally carried Allison from danger, and no one even seemed to know he’d even been there.
“Who are you?” she whispered at the screen.
She’d found some older articles about him, but nothing recent.
The same applied to Detective Lloyd. The cop had protected her as the madness spread throughout the town and yet there was no mention of him in any of the news coverage.
A veil of secrecy shrouded their involvement and Allison wanted to know why.
She wanted to personally thank them for saving her life.
And beyond that, she needed to know what she had seen Asher Benson do to a bench. While a crazy doctor was carving her up like a Thanksgiving turkey, Asher was tied to a bench, struggling against his bonds.
One second he sat there, fury in his eyes.
The next, he was standing in front of a destroyed bench, sections of the broken slats still tied to him.
While he was a big man, the strongest person in the world couldn’t have done that. Something extraordinary had happened, and Allison ached to understand what it was. The secrecy surrounding them only amplified her intense curiosity.
After a handful of surgeries to deal with her wounds and a horrible infection from the incision in her chest, Allison had left her life in Arthur’s Creek behind. She’d lived a sad, forgotten existence there anyway. The Massacre gave her the push she’d needed to drag herself out of the slump she’d floundered in since the death of her husband.
She’d moved East, relocating to northern Maryland, and purchased a small house with a monetary settlement from the government. She owned nearly twenty acres of woods full of trails that she ran along every day. The long jogs helped her sort through the emotions, the guilt, and the horrifying memories that hounded her.
Yet her thoughts always returned to what Asher had done. Everything else that transpired that day had a rational, if horrible, explanation. What he had done to that bench should have been impossible.
A few days ago, Allison had called the police department that Detective Lloyd worked for. They’d told her that he was on sabbatical. Allison thought that was something only college professors did.
If she could get a hold of Drew, then she might be able to get a few answers from him. If nothing else, she hoped that he could at least point her in Asher’s direction.
It was her only play.
She grabbed her cell and stared down at it for a moment, rotating the device in her hand.
Not owning a phone had saved her life during The Massacre. She’d purchased one after moving to Maryland even though it seemed a crazy thing to do. Most of the country was petrified of technology at the moment, but Allison was just now embracing it.
Living through the atrocities that she had suffered had emboldened her. Risk aversion wasn’t a primary concern anymore. Having a smartphone plugged her back into a world that she hadn’t realized she’d missed.
She brought up previous calls and touched the number for the police department again.
Held the phone to her ear.
Listened to it ring a handful of times.
“Homicide. Detective Johns,” a gruff man answered.
“I’m looking for Detective Andrew Lloyd.”
The man grunted. “Is this a joke?”
Allison’s brow creased. “Excuse me?”
“Who is this?”
“I’m not sure what that has to do with—”
“Are you the woman who called here earlier? You don’t sound quite the same.”
Confused, Allison waited a moment before saying, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“Detective Lloyd has been away for months, and now I get two women looking for him within a few hours.” He breathed into the phone several times. “I’m handling Detective Lloyd’s caseload while he’s away for a while. What can I help you with?”
“I really need to speak with him. It’s important. Do you know where I can find him?”
Detective Johns huffed. “That’s what the other woman said. This isn’t passing the smell test, lady. What’s your name?”
“Allison Henley. I met Drew in Arthur’s Creek.”
A pregnant pause settled over the line. After several seconds, Johns said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Detective Lloyd works in Maryland, not West Virginia.”
Something about the measured way the detective responded to her mention of Arthur’s Creek set off an alarm bell in Allison’s head. He knew something. She sat ramrod straight, her grip on the phone tightening.
She wanted, needed, information.
“That’s the official story, all right.” Allison gulped, her throat and mouth suddenly dry. “But I was there with him, and I need to talk to him. If you know how to get through to him, then I’d appreciate it if you would help me out. Otherwise…”
Allison let the sentence trail off.
“Otherwise what?” Johns’ tone turned defensive. “I hope you aren’t threatening—”
“Otherwise, I might have to talk with the press about Drew’s involvement there that day. I’m sure they’d be curious to know why someone who helped save President Thomas’ life was also involved in the Arthur’s Creek Massacre.”
Allison had no intention of speaking to the press. They’d hounded her for an interview after she’d left the hospital. Only her moving to another state had stopped their constant harassment. But she had to do something to get through to Drew, even if it meant a little fib or two.
Silence stretched out between them for nearly half a minute. Allison opened her mouth to ask if he was still there when he finally responded.
“Detective Lloyd is on indefinite leave right now.” The measured manner had returned to Johns’ words. “I’m handling his caseload in the meantime. If you have any concerns, I can answer—”
Allison ended the call.
Johns had called her bluff.
“Damn it.”
She poured the rest of her coffee out, and then walked out the back door into the brisk morning. Her mind wandered to a destroyed bench in the middle of her old hometown, its broken slats tied to a large man, as she jogged through the forest surrounding her property.