Flashback Read online

  “That’s good, so we have an understanding then. Enjoy the rest of your time in Ludlow Mr Saunders, enjoy your meal too.” Rosen turned and grabbed the door handle.

  “Sheriff, if she never came back, what do you think happened to her?” Rosen paused as the door opened.

  “I’m pretty sure I know exactly what happened to her. I knew that girl some, the kid was picked before she was ripe, if ya get ma meaning. Not the sharpest knife in the draw. She went riding up in the hills on her cycle, took a fall and broke her leg or something. Crawled around and got lost. Reckon the bears or coyotes finished her off. A tragedy fur sure but no mystery.” The sheriff placed his hat squarely back on his head, turned and stepped to the door. He looked back at the salesman “Good night Mr Saunders.” There was the briefest of nods then the door swung closed behind him, only the stale smell of cigarettes lingered.

  Ed moved to the front window and unhinged the only part that would open along the top to let in some fresh air then he slumped onto the end of the bed and took a sip of the still hot coffee. For a fast food chain, it tasted pretty good. He liked it strong, even though he couldn’t drink it without drowning it in creamer. The Sheriff’s visit had only added to his curiosity. Remembering that he was sitting on the newspaper article, he lifted one of his cheeks and pulled the folded copy out of his rear pocket. He carefully unfolded it and began to read. The Who, Where, When, and What were all there; Eleven-year-old Grace Benjamin had been seen cycling around the black part of town one Saturday morning in the summer recess on her new red bicycle that she had got that same morning as a birthday present. She never came home for lunch, she never came home for supper, basically, she never came home, period. Everything was mentioned including the ‘Why’, which of course was pure supposition on the reporters part. The article was written on the following Monday and described the discovery of her bicycle just inside the woods on the outskirts of town by some of the search team, nothing in the report made the disappearance sound ominous. There was a blurred picture on page 2 of half a dozen people standing behind the bicycle, some of the team that found it. The only person mentioned in the caption below, and the only person smiling in the photo was the young Police Officer holding the bike, Officer Johnny Rosen.

  Ed’s appetite had disappeared. He finished the coffee then dumped the empty cup and the remainder of his fries and untouched chicken burger into the small wire mesh trash can near the table. It was still relatively early but it had been one hell of a day, so he unzipped half of the flight bag and removed his clothes for the morning, hanging them over the back of the chair. Turning the bag over, he unzipped the other side, took out his wash kit and a small canvas sack. He put the wash kit in the bathroom, brushing his teeth while he was in there. Back in the main room he slowly undid the drawstring on the faded khaki sack and carefully removed a roll of canvas packing material. He sat on the side of the bed and gently unrolled the package until the contents were in his hands. He let the packing material fall to the floor unnoticed as he stared into the faded face of a child’s handmade wooden doll. The doll had the painted face of an oriental woman and wore a simple yellow pattern smock dress over its basic jointed body. The shoulder-length hair looked like real hair and was jet black.

  The dolls previous owner had haunted his dreams for many years, and even now, on occasions she would arrive unannounced from his subconscious. Not every night like it used to be, but maybe once or twice a month. He would see her beautiful face and the slow trickle of blood running from her delicate lips. He didn’t know why he had stuffed the girl’s doll into his jacket before he left her in that hut but he had carried it with him ever since. It somehow gave him a little peace but these last few weeks the dreams had returned more frequently and with a difference. There was someone else in the hut with them now, just out of sight in the shadows, always just on the periphery of Ed’s vision but he could feel the hatred and malevolence radiating from whoever it was. Many times he had woken in a cold sweat, fearfully searching the room for the mystery occupant. Now those nightmares had been added to by these new daylight horrors of the missing girl.

  He placed the doll in a sitting position, on the bedside table next to the clock, with her arms folded across her lap, then rummaged deeper into his flight case for another bag. The small satin black bag carried something much heavier and bulkier. Ed unzipped the top and pulled out a 9mm Browning automatic pistol, held snugly in an old leather shoulder holster. Although it was old, dating back to Ed’s military service, he had carefully looked after it, keeping it clean and oiled. Jeanette had asked him to start carrying it many years ago when he first went on the road. She had read about car-jackings and muggings of salesmen from time to time and she felt better that he had it with him than sitting uselessly in an old shoe box in the bedroom closet. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t mind carrying it either, but it rarely saw the light of day as Ed rarely felt threatened. But today had been a very strange day all round, so he smoothly pulled back on the slide, chambered a round then set the catch to safe and placed the gun under his pillow. Better safe than sorry his mom always used to say. He thought about taking a shower then quickly realised he couldn’t be bothered to get wet. Instead, he fished out his travel clock and set the alarm for 7.30 and sat it down next to the motel’s own clock, then pulled off his clothes down to his boxers, turned out the light and slipped between the crisp, cool sheets of the bed. He lay in the semi-darkness staring at the ceiling, wondering if he was about to have yet another headache. There was no pain, just a feeling of unease and the lingering smell of damp forests. His thoughts turned to the little girl he saw in the cab of the pick-up. That flashback or whatever it was seemed so long ago now, even though it had been just a few short hours. His mind led him through the events of the afternoon and brought him pleasantly to the library and his meeting with Linda Saxon. He fell asleep thinking of her and for the first time in many weeks had pleasant dreams.

  eight

  His alarm sang with an artificial bell ringing in his ear. With practised ease, he hit the off button without opening his eyes. Both clocks blinked the time at 07.30. Ed’s first appointment wasn’t until 10.00 but he didn’t like lying in bed idle, and he also wanted to pop into the library before then if it was open, to do some more investigating and of course it wouldn’t hurt his eyes at all to see Linda Saxon again so soon. His routine was the same every day, whether he was working or not. He rolled out of bed and knelt on the floor then lay in the press up position. Ed had been practising the ancient Korean martial art of Tae Kwon Do for more than two decades and had reached the level of 5th-degree black-belt. Although there were many a lot higher than him in the worldwide organisation, he was one of the long term members and was a well-respected disciple. Because of his frequent travelling, it was hard to find time to study and practise but he always made time every morning for the stretches followed by sets of push-ups and sit-ups. He lay with his stomach flat on the cheap carpet then curled his body upward, putting his hands behind his back. He then went through a set of stretches, holding each position for about 30 seconds, finishing in a sitting position with his legs spread out sideways. Although he carried a few extra pounds around his middle, this belied his fitness and flexibility. He then did as many press-ups as he could then four sets of 75 sit-ups. He still hadn’t broken into a sweat so he stood up, still just in his boxers, turned and took up a fighting stance, his body facing sideways to the door of the room. Seventy-five per cent of his body weight was held on his right foot which was to the rear. He then flicked his left foot up and out into a front kick. He repeated this twenty times, getting progressively higher with each kick, then swapped legs. Going back to the first position he then did twenty side kicks on each leg then twenty back kicks. Space was limited so he ended his session there. The first beads of sweat had started to trickle from his forehead but it had helped him clear and calm his mind, almost like meditation, doing actions he had done thousands of ti
mes before without having to think about it. Ed padded to the shower, kicked off his underwear, turned the shower on and stepped in before it had time to warm up. He undid the small soap bar and scrubbed yesterday’s dust and dirt from his body and hair in the increasingly hot spray. Once clean, he turned the faucet to cold and stood for a long minute before turning it off and stepping out. He grabbed one of the motel’s folded towels and wrapped it around his waist and another to dry his hair, then padded back to the main room. The print out of the newspaper report was on the floor by the bed. He picked it up, folded it neatly in half then put it in the draw of the bedside cabinet on top of the only other item in the draw, a Gideon’s Bible. He stared into the eyes of Gracie’s photo for a long moment, and then quickly closed the drawer. Still wrapped in his towel, Ed walked to the front of the room and pulled the heavy curtains back a little to let in some of the new day. The sunshine poured in, it was going to be another scorcher.

  Breakfast was coffee and pancakes in a diner he had found just a few minutes from the motel. It was a place that although he hadn’t seen in his dream visit to the town, he doubted that this place had changed very much from that era. From the outside it looked like a railway car. Inside, the tall chrome and red leather bar stools ran along the counter on one side of the diner and booths that could seat six took up the other half of the business. Polished aluminium engulfed the wall behind the counter with small mirrors along the bottom to give the illusion of a wider building. The pungent aroma of bacon and maple syrup made Ed’s stomach rumble as he slid into a booth near the back that looked out onto the main street. The elderly waitress already looked tired and harassed but still had time for a smile and some small talk while she took his order. She wore a light green check uniform and a name tag with Betty printed on it pinned near the lapel. Her reading glasses hung from a chain around her neck. Even though the diner was relatively busy with the morning rush, the coffee arrived almost immediately, hot, strong and fresh. Ed added cream to the black brew from a separate jug and sugar from the glass dispenser. By the time he had finished stirring the sugar Betty was back with a stack of six pancakes and a selection of syrups.

  “Wow, Betty, you’re fast on your feet! Thank you”.

  “You’re welcome” she replied, “Enjoy”.

  She was off again, seeing to her other customers, refilling empty coffee mugs as she went. Ed looked at the pancakes, then at the syrup jar labelled Maple then back at the pancakes. When it came to sweet things, he had no willpower at all. He tried to show restraint, on occasions, but usually, his stomach overruled his head. The Army had taught him that you eat when you can as you never knew when your next meal was going to be, so to hell with the calories! And he hadn’t eaten a proper meal since yesterday morning. He picked up the jar and poured a liberal amount of Maple syrup over the tower of food until the bottom pancake was completely submerged. They tasted good, so good that when he had finished demolishing the stack of food he was tempted to get a few more, but he satisfied himself with a free refill of coffee from Betty as he stared out of the window onto the street. Traffic was a little heavier but still not what you could call rush hour. A constant flow of pick-ups, old sedans and the occasional yellow school bus rumbled passed as he watched life drive by. The flow of vehicles became more sporadic as people got to where they were going. The diner was now nearly empty. He had worked out already what he owed so he left some notes sticking out from under his mug along with a generous tip. He gave Betty a wave as he headed for the door and out to his Mercury. Already the temperature was up into the high 80’s and his dash clock said it was only just 9.10am. He backed out of the diagonal parking slot and headed for the library.

  Most of the parking slots in the main square were still vacant so Ed had no problem parking right outside the Library, just behind a beat-up old Nissan salon that was suffering from a major attack of corrosion on pretty much every fender and panel. Was rust contagious? Well, he’d be trading in his trusty old Merc for a new car soon enough anyhow. He still didn’t really know what to tell the librarian about why he wanted to know about the missing girl. In the cold light of day, the story he had spun for the Sheriff sounded even more ludicrous than it did last night, but the truth would be simply unbelievable, and for some reason, Ed didn’t want Linda to think he was a crackpot. He also didn’t want to lie to her either. Oh well, here goes nothing! He started to walk towards the large library doors just as a newspaper delivery boy came zooming up the sidewalk towards him on his bicycle from the now open newspaper office across the way. Ed jumped forward into the recess of the library doors, to avoid getting hit by the enthusiastic young teenager. The bike’s wheels had playing cards stuck to the spokes to make a clickety-clacking sound. No sooner had the boy appeared than he was gone again, turning the corner onto the main street, but Ed could still hear the noise from the spokedokes. A realisation hit Ed just before the pain in his head arrived. It was the noises that were setting off the episodes in his head, but he had no more time to think on the cause as the pain took hold. He reached for his head with both hands and lent against the solid doors of the library for support. The pain was unbearable, joined by what sounded like a swarm of locusts taking to the air. Then…..nothing.

  nine

  He opened his eyes but still he couldn’t see anything. The pain had gone again and his head was clear, but why couldn’t he see? He was kneeling as if in prayer. He looked up and realised it was night, the only meagre light coming from a misty half-moon that seemed to glow and shimmer behind a thin veil of clouds. As his eyes adjusted he could tell from the tall pines, the smells and muted animal noises around him that he was back in the forest. He remained still for some minutes, alert to every little noise and movement around him as his sight grew steadily better. Finally, he rose to his feet and recognised the clearing, but this time he was on the side that his would-be assailant had entered from. In the half-light, he could just make out the large trunk of the tree that he had hidden behind earlier. Was that today? Yesterday? Forty years ago? He just didn’t know. He stood still for a few moments more, ensuring that he was alone. Except for the smallest of critters rustling in the undergrowth, he felt sure that he was on his own this time. Tentatively, Ed moved across the clearing to where he thought he last saw the man in the checked shirt. Sure enough, there was some disturbed ground that was raised a little from the surrounding area but the mossy overgrowth had been replaced on top of the mound. He had no shovel or any tools to start digging around, but he didn’t need to. Ed knew exactly who was buried in the moist soil. He knelt and placed his left palm on the mound. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you Gracie”, he said in a whisper, “but I promise I will find out who did this to you, and I promise I will get you home”. In the far distance he heard the long mournful wail of a large truck horn on the freeway. An owl perched high up on a branch seemed to reply with a long hoot. He stood and turned toward where he thought the freeway was, the same direction the other man had come from, and headed away from the freshly dug grave.

  The going was tough, almost virgin territory, with no tracks that he could see, the pines were so close together at times he had to go around what seemed to him to be an impenetrable fortification and try and get back in the direction he figured he should be going but the thick overhead boughs cut out almost all of the moonlight so he had to feel his way through. Low branches grabbed at his hair and tore at his face and arms while the stumps and roots tried to unsteady him. After a few hundred yards of battling through the trees he came upon a small stream that looked to be no more than a foot deep in places but just too wide to jump. He turned left and followed the stream as it meandered down through the forest until he found a large stone reflected brightly by the moonlight. The shiny stone, rubbed smooth by years of running water, sat near the centre of the stream, making a perfect stepping stone across to the other side. The low banks were six feet apart here but the stone would help. He backed up a few feet into the tree line t
hen ran for the water’s edge, his long legs pumping hard. With a grunt of energy, he leapt forward into the night. The stone rocked precariously as he touched down but Ed was only on it momentarily then off again, with another long leap he was safe on the other side. The forest seemed less dense on this side of the stream and he continued to move towards the direction he thought the road would be. After ten minutes he picked up the smallest of tracks that appeared to be going in the direction that he wanted to go. It meandered steadily down through the foothills until he could now clearly hear the sound of the occasional vehicle speeding along the highway. The track got wider but became steeper. Finally, he came around a left turn in the track and could make out lights in the distance. Leaving the dirt path he pushed through the trees to get a better look. He came out of the trees and almost fell as he came out at the top of a sheer drop. He leant forward and looked down but he couldn’t see the bottom, but looking into the distance, the lights of a town, Ludlow he assumed, twinkled softly in the night. They were still a good few miles away and steeply down from his position so he could see over the area. He looked left then right to see which would be the best way to descend from the hills. He decided to carry on in the direction he had been going but as he turned back towards the track, he felt the soft earth under his feet start to give way. He reached out instinctively, for a branch, anything to hold on to. His left hand grasped a piece of ivy hanging down from a tree; he quickly brought his right hand up and desperately hung on. Ed breathed a large sigh of relief then tentatively started pulling himself back up towards firmer ground. He could see a more substantial branch just to his right, he reached over to grab it but as his palm brushed against the fir fronds the ivy suddenly snapped and he fell away from the trees into the inky blackness of the drop, arms flailing madly and a scream on his lips.