10. Take a Deep Breath

In town, in the heart of this beating Zombieville, after Newt and his chauffeuring grandfather drop me off in front of the restaurant where Mom works, I still think about doing it. I can see the door just down the street, the one with the sign that says Sheriff on it, and I contemplate going through it.

Last time I went in there, one of the sheriff’s deputies threatened me.

Maybe Sheriff Wells will be there now. Maybe his invitation to contact him if anything “funny” happens is still applicable.

Yeah, a lot of funny things have happened, Sheriff. A lot.

I still have his business card. I still have his cell phone number.

I also would bet a hundred bucks he knows more than I do and that sweet Southern attitude is nothing more than cologne doused to cover up the stench.

It’s freezing outside, and that’s what makes up my mind.

When I go inside Brennan’s Grill and Tavern, I find things a lot more warm and cozy. Not just for me, but for Mom and the guy she’s talking to at the end of the bar.

Is that what a hostess does?

Then I see her raise her glass, and I assume she’s off the clock or else this place really has a good benefits plan. A couple coming out of the restaurant partially blocks my view, making me invisible for the moment. I think what a cool concept, to really be invisible.

Considering the fact that she’s drinking it up without a word from me, I’m already halfway there.

I slip out the door and back into the cold.

It’s already dark out, even though it’s just around six. I have no idea what the forecast is except for doom and gloom.

I pause and glance down the sidewalk at the buildings lined together. Across the street in the darkness lie the train tracks. Maybe I’ll walk down past the rusty railroad signal, head into the woods, and find the barn that Jocelyn showed me, the one where she kept Midnight.

Maybe Jocelyn’s ghost haunts the old farmhouse. Maybe I’ll just set up camp there for a while, just me and Midnight, until warmer weather comes and I can finally make sense of everything.

There’s nothing to make sense of, Chris.

Am I going to live in this cold darkness for the next six months? The next year and a half? Enough’s enough. I start walking toward the sheriff’s office.

Night is coming. Night is coming for us all.

This is exactly like my father telling me not to do something. Every single time he did, I managed to go right ahead and do it. The same with my guidance counselor. The same with my friends.

I hear the warnings in the wind as I reach the door, expecting to find it locked.

It’s open.

I hear the siren sound as I enter the building. I expect to find Deputy Ross chewing his gum and getting ready to backhand me before sending me back outside. Instead, I see the sheriff.

“Chris,” he says.

He’s standing with a cup of coffee in his hand. Busy day at work, obviously.

“I need your help,” I blurt out before I can persuade myself not to.

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything. Everything’s wrong. Everything, starting with Jocelyn.”

“It’s okay, just relax. You okay? Your mother okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. She’s more than fine. We’re fine.”

“And Jocelyn?” He looks at me with a grim face.

Whatever I say next could have major consequences.

Don’t do it, man. Feel him out. See if he acts like he knows more than he does. Just wait before you—

“Jocelyn’s dead. She’s dead, and I saw it with my own eyes. I swear. I know that sounds crazy, but I saw it. I saw everything. I know it, and I don’t care who I have to tell. I’m going to tell it if it’s the last thing I do.”

I take a deep breath and feel like passing out.

Way to think about things, buddy.

Sheriff Wells remains composed and cool as he puts down his mug and tells me to have a seat. I’ve seen enough cop shows to know that he’s gotta be careful. He doesn’t know if I’m high as a kite and did it myself.

“Look, I know how this sounds,” I say.

“Do you?” he asks.

And I search to see if there is any sort of hint, any sort of tone, any kind of giveaway. Does he know? Could he know? Am I making a mistake?

“Go on, have a seat,” he says in his thick accent.

The sheriff is wearing a short-sleeved uniform shirt even though it’s winter and quite chilly even inside his office. He doesn’t seem to mind. As I sit at a desk, I keep wondering if Kevin or someone else is around.

“This better not be some kind of joke, Chris.”

He says it in a manner that seems to mean especially not after the kind of day I’ve had. He looks tired, at least from what I can tell. His thick goatee is unruly, the stubble on his face a few days old.

I think of the first time I saw him, the night when my mother was drugged and knocked out in her car after work. All so that they could prove a point and send us—and me—a message.

“Ross told me you were in shortly after Christmas looking for her.”

“That’s right.” I can feel my heart beating against my tongue and gums. Maybe I should tell him about Ross threatening me.

I almost do.

“Why do you think something happened to her?”

“Know. I know what happened to her.”

“How do you know?”

“I was there. It was New Year’s Eve.”

His gaze dims. “That was four nights ago.”

I nod.

“What did you do, son?”

“I didn’t do anything. I found her. It was a group of men. Or people, I don’t know. Like some Ku Klux Klan meeting. Men in robes. They killed her. I found her not far from where she lived. On a mountain ridge. A place with a bunch of rocks. Her throat was cut and so were her wrists. She was dead. They burned her body and told me if I told anybody someone else would be harmed. Someone like my mother or my father.”

“Slow down, Chris. Take a deep breath.”

“I’m not making this up.”

“Why didn’t you come in here right away?”

“I don’t—I couldn’t. I tried. I mean—I was afraid. My mom—I didn’t know what to do.”

“Did you tell your mother?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because—because I was—did you just hear what I said?”

He nods. I don’t see him strapping on a gun and getting a rifle and calling reinforcements.

Does he even believe me?

“I’m not making this up.”

“So who did this? Who were these people you saw?”

“I have some ideas.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know—I just—I don’t know who around this place I can trust. People have told me not to trust anybody. Including you. So I just—I couldn’t contact anybody. Then the storm came and just shut down everything. Almost like—almost as if it was deliberately done. And I didn’t know what to do.”

The sheriff gives me a serious look. “I’ve had a lot of strange stuff come through these doors in my time here, Chris.”

“It’s Staunch. I know it. It’s gotta be. And—and a whole bunch of other people, too.”

He nods and waves his hand. “Look, Chris. Let’s do this, okay? Let’s go take a drive.”

“Where?”

“To this place you’re talking about.”

“But I—I’m sure it’s gone. I mean, the snow. I’m sure she’s not there.”

“So what do you want me to do, then? Go chase down men in robes?”

“I’m not making this up,” I say.

“I’m just suggesting we go for a drive and you show me. I can take a look around.”

“Should you call anybody?”

He shakes his head without even thinking about it. The look he gives me is unsettling.

You know something, but you can’t tell me, right?

I suddenly wish I hadn’t come in here.

Just like I wish I hadn’t waited until it was too late to save Jocelyn.

“Come on. I’ll take you home afterward.”

I’m about to say something like You just don’t get it or This is serious, this isn’t some funny game, but instead I just stand and follow him outside.

The door shuts, and I watch the sheriff lock it.

As if he’s hiding something.

As if he’s about ready to bury something.

Something, or someone.