"Car 4, respond to 235 Maple Drive. Report of a peeping tom looking in at Mrs. Springfield."
The dispatcher's voice roused Sarah Manchester from her dozing. It was past two in the morning, and everyone in Middleton was asleep, except the two deputies on duty. During the past three hours, Sarah had had only one traffic incident and no calls. The last thing she expected was Pete Dawson's voice over her radio.
"Pete, what are you doing at dispatch?" Sarah's voice was groggy and barely intelligible.
"Betty's sick. Just get over to the Springfield's place, or you can come in and play dispatcher for the rest of the shift." Pete sounded mad. It was the third time Pete had had to fill in for Betty in the last month, and it was beginning to wear on him.
"It's probably just another false alarm, or at the worst, George got drunk and ended up at the wrong house, again." Why couldn't George just stay at home and get drunk, Sarah asked the question silently. Every Thursday night, George gets drunk and then ends up at the wrong house.
"Listen, I'm the one who'll catch holy hell if you don't respond. So, get out there or you'll be working the graveyard shift until you retire." With that, Pete signed off.
"I'm on my way." Sarah responded, sounding less than enthusiastic about the prospect of seeing Sally Springfield.
Sally Springfield was a pain in the ass. She was a clinging vine that constantly needed attention from anyone, even the police would do. Sally reported a prowler or peeping tom at least once a week, when her husband was on the road. The longer he was gone, the more frequent the calls.
The drive to the Springfield house took five minutes, but Sarah could see it before she got there. Every light in the house was on, making the house a beacon in the dark night. Sarah shook her head. Only Sally would call that much attention to herself. When she pulled into the driveway, Sally appeared on the front porch.
"What took you so long?" Sally whispered dramatically.
"I drove as fast as I could." Sarah spoke in a normal tone. As she approached the porch and tried to step up, Sally moved to block her path.
"He's not in the house. He's in the backyard." Sally's hands were on her hips, and she looked like she would physically attack Sarah if she tried to go inside.
"I guess I'll go take a look in the backyard." Sarah humored her. It was the only thing she could think of to do. To Sarah, it was pretty obvious why Sally didn't want her to go in the house. Someone, who wasn't supposed to be in there, was in there. Oh well, it was none of her business.
The backyard was illuminated solely by the lights in the house, which actually provided more shadows than actual light. For some reason, Sally hadn't turned on the outside lights. Probably because, she didn't want to scare off whoever was out there. How thoughtful of her, Sarah thought. About twenty feet in front of her, Sarah saw a dark shape move.
"This is the Sheriff's department. Don't move. Put your hands in the air." Sarah shined her flashlight on him.
The suspect, a haggard looking man dressed in ill-fitting clothes, raised his hands in the air. "Don't shoot. I can explain." His voice was hesitant, but it didn't sound like alcohol or drugs, it sounded like fear and exhaustion.
"Sure you can." Sarah didn't care whether he could explain or not. The man may look exhausted, but he could still have enough energy to shoot her. All Sarah cared about, at that moment, was making sure he wasn't armed. There was no way she was going to be the first deputy shot by a harmless looking derelict.
"My name is Steve Randall. I'm a reporter for the Washington Post."
"Sir, stay on your knees." Sarah was only half-aware of what he was saying, but she managed to catch his name and his slight accent.
"Please listen to me. I know how this looks, but I really can explain." Randall stopped for breath, then plunged into his explanation. "You see, I've been following this story for five years. At first, I thought it was a serial killer, but now I know."
"What do you know?" Sarah took the bait and instantly regretted it.
"It's the scarecrow." Randall leaned in close and whispered.
"O-kay." Sarah decided to humor him; obviously he was either drunk, or a few bricks short of a full load. It didn't matter because, he was going to spend the rest of the night, and probably most of the day, in jail.
Sarah led Randall to the squad car, after she handcuffed him, and put him in the back seat. He didn't give her any problems. Talking to her, seemed to have drained what little energy he had. Once he was safely locked in the car, Sarah went back to where she had found him.
The outside lights came on all of a sudden and blinded Sarah momentarily. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes and continued with what she was doing. On the ground, not more than twenty feet from the house, was all that remained of a scarecrow. It was John Springfield's annual entry for the scarecrow contest in November and he wasn't going to be happy. He spent months designing and putting it together, only to have a lunatic destroy it.
Sarah walked around the remains of the scarecrow. Steve Randall, if that was his name, had done a great job of tearing the scarecrow apart. Pieces of straw were strewn over most of the backyard. As Sarah shined her light over the "crime scene", she noticed a backpack on the ground with the zipper open.
Behind Sarah, the backdoor opened.
"Is this going to take much longer?"
Sarah's control nearly snapped. The last thing she needed, at that moment, was Sally's high-pitched whine. Instead of yelling at her to go back inside, Sarah took a deep breath and then asked about the backpack.
"No it isn't mine, or my husband's. Are you going to be here much longer?"
"No, Mrs. Springfield. I'm leaving right now."
After Sarah answered her question, Sally went back inside and turned off most of the lights, leaving Sarah in the dark. Sarah picked up the backpack and walked briskly back to her car.
Randall was sound asleep in the backseat. Sarah zipped the backpack closed, placed it on the passenger seat, and then drove back to the station.
It took both Sarah, and Pete, to get Randall out of the car and into the station. Once inside, Randall was anything but sleepy.
"Can I have some coffee, Deputy?" Randall was polite and cordial; totally different from what they expected considering how he was dressed and how he had behaved earlier.
"Mr. Randall, what were you doing in the Springfield's backyard?" Sarah motioned for him to sit down while she began her questioning for her report. Before he answered, Pete uncuffed him and handed him a cup of coffee.
"Was that their name?" Randall sighed and shook his head, grimacing. "Please extend my apologies to them. I didn't mean to scare them." He took several sips and wrapped his hands around the mug, trying to warm them.
Sarah couldn't believe what she was hearing. She looked over, and saw that Pete had also heard him and was just as dumbfounded. Randall sat calmly, warming his hands and looking innocently up at them.
"Mr. Randall, what were you doing there?" Pete stepped in.
"Like I told you, Deputy," he motioned towards Sarah. "I've been on this story for five years. It started on a farm in Pennsylvania. An entire family was killed. They were decapitated." He explained when Sarah and Pete looked lost. Randall waited until they nodded their understanding, and then he continued. "While I was researching that story, I found out that there had been identical murders dating back more than a century. I couldn't go back any further because a fire destroyed most of the county records dating prior to the 1890's. Local folklore told a story about a scarecrow that came to life every fall and, one year, killed a family."
Sarah looked over at Pete. He wasn't buying it and neither was she. A scarecrow coming to life and committing murder. Not only was it ludicrous, but it was also impossible. Although, her grandfather had told her a story once about a scarecrow chasing him through a corn field. The only problem was that he had been drinking heavily at the time. Sarah shook herself and tried to concentrate on what Randall was saying.
"Over the past five years, there have been five separate incidents. All in the middle of October, and all of the victims were decapitated. The same scarecrow was at each of the homes prior to the murders. So, I followed the scarecrow out here, but I don't know who has it now. That's why I was in that backyard. I don't want anymore people to die." Randall finished and sat back in his chair. He sipped his coffee and waited for their response.
"No offense, Mr. Randall, but I'm finding it real hard to believe you. I have to get back out on patrol, so you're going to spend the rest of the night in a cell." She saw him start to protest and she waved him silent. "Don't worry you can take the coffee with you, and when the Sheriff gets in, I'm sure he'll want to speak with you."
Sarah helped Randall stand and then led him to his cell. He went quietly and offered no resistance. When he was safely locked in, Sarah went looking for Pete.
"Can you believe that crackpot?" Sarah whispered, not wanting Randall to overhear her.
"Oh well. It is the full moon. You better get back out on patrol. God only knows what else will happen before dawn."
At seven, Sarah's shift ended and she headed straight to Annabelle's Cafe for breakfast. The morning rush had already been in and out, so Sarah had the place to herself. While she sat trying to finish her breakfast, a call came over her walkie-talkie.
"Manchester, respond?"
"What is it, Madge?" Sarah had a mouth full of food, and she hoped Madge understood her.
"Sheriff wants everybody out at the Akers farm. Now." Madge's voice was unusually firm.
"I'm on my way." It seemed that she wasn't going to get a moments peace.
By eight o'clock, Sarah was at the Akers farm. She was the last to arrive. The farm was several miles outside of Middleton and the nearest neighbor was at least five miles away. All of the patrol cars, and the Sheriff's Bronco, were parked in front of the house as well as a minivan that Sarah didn't recognize.
Sarah parked her car next to the Bronco and stepped out. At first she didn't see any of the other deputies, but then she saw Pete standing next to the van and beyond him, near the barn, were two other deputies that Sarah couldn't identify right away.
Pete raised his hand in greeting, then motioned for her to go inside. Sarah still didn't know who was in the van, but that didn't really matter and she was curious as to what was happening or had happened. The front door was standing open, and the first thing she saw when she entered was an emaculant livingroom. Sarah didn't see anything out of the ordinary. She stopped just inside the door until she heard the sheriff's voice, then she followed it.
Bright sunlight illuminated the master bedroom. The heavy dark, green drapes were drawn aside, and the windows were wide open. Sarah entered the room cautiously. Her attention was so focused on the disarray of the room, that she didn't notice Sheriff Joe Harper and Deputy Lance Adams standing next to the bed. Since it was her first crime scene, Sarah hadn't known what to expect when she walked in. The sight that greeted her, though, was beyond anything she could have expected. Blood saturated the tan carpet in several places, and clothes were strewn from one end of the bedroom to the other. Stuffing from the shredded pillows covered the king size bed, and dried blood was splattered on all four walls.
"Has anyone found the dog yet?" Sheriff Harper interrupted Sarah's examination of the room.
"I don't think so." Sarah's voice was shaky and her normally tanned skin had turned chalky white. Actually, Sarah didn't even know that the dog was missing, but it didn't look like they had found it when she went inside. She'd been standing in the doorway for more than five minutes, looking over the room and trying to make sense of it. She couldn't.
Sheriff Harper returned his attention to Deputy Adams. "Lance, find that dog. It's the only member of the family unaccounted for."
Adams nodded in response and hurried out of the room. As he passed Sarah, he threw her a concerned look. She smiled to reassure him.
"Deputy Manchester, come over here and give me your observations." Sheriff Harper was standing next to the bed, and in between them was an obstacle course of broken furniture, torn clothing, and puddles of congealing blood.
For a moment, Sarah froze. A part of her wanted to run out of the room and never look back, but she didn't listen to that part.
Sarah warily made her way over to Sheriff Harper. If she stepped on anything other than dry carpet, she would contaminate the evidence. She tiptoed through the mess and stopped beside him.
"Well?" Sheriff Harper sounded upset.
Sarah picked up on his distress, his slight mid-western accent was heavier, almost southern.
"It looks like a wild animal, possibly a cougar, somehow got trapped in here and went beserk." Sarah finally answered his question. It seemed logical enough to her, considering what she'd seen of the house so far.
"No wild animal did this." With that, he turned and left the room.
He led her through the house, stopping briefly in the doorway of each room. The destruction seemed limited to the bedrooms. No wild animal would destroy only the bedrooms and leave the rest of the house untouched.
Sarah followed closely behind as Sheriff Harper led her to the basement door, and then stopped.
"Go down there. The lights are on. When you get back up here, tell me if you still think some wild animal did this." His voice was barely above a whisper.
To Sarah, he sounded angry. Whether it was directed at her or someone else, she couldn't tell. Meekly, Sarah started down the basement stairs. The wooden steps creaked under her weight, giving the basement a horror movie feel. Halfway down, she was struck by an odd odor. By the time she reached the foot of the stairs, Sarah realized what she was smelling. She hadn't smelled it in the master bedroom because the windows were open.
Seated along the east wall was the entire Akers family, minus the dog. They were posed in a grisly family portrait. Mr. and Mrs. Akers were seated in the middle, with their decapitated heads in their laps. The oldest boy was next to Mr. Akers. The daughter, only four years old, was seated next to her mother. Both childern were also decapitated. They were all dressed in their pajamas, but Mr. Akers had his work boots on.
Sarah raced up the stairs. Her stomach was churning, her mind racing, and she couldn't catch her breath. She kept repeating, "Oh, my God," over and over until she reached the top of the stairs.
Just outside the basement door, Sheriff Harper was waiting. When Sarah came through the doorway, she was close to hyperventilating. He grabbed hold of her arm to keep her from falling and she collapsed in his arms.
"No animal could do that." Harper said. "Only a man could be that sadistic." He continued to hold her while she tried to catch her breath.
Sarah nodded. No animal put bodies on display like that.
"Sheriff, you better come see this." Deputy Adams, gasping for breath, spoke from several feet away.
"Why are you out of breath, and did anyone find the dog?" Harper asked, eyeing his out of shape deputy.
"Yeah, we found the dog." There was a noticeable pause when he answered. "And I'm out of breath 'cause I just ran up here from the barn."
Harper nodded and motioned for Adams to go.
"I'm okay." Sarah's voice was muffled by his shirt.
Once he released her, she took a deep breath and tried to look brave. When she saw that he wasn't buying it, Sarah straightened her back and stuck her chin out.
"All right." He chuckled at her antics. "Let's go see the dog."
Sarah managed to pull herself together. The sun had been up less than four hours, but to Sarah it felt like a whole day had already gone by. It wasn't like her to fall apart, but her lack of sleep may have contributed to her delicate state of mind. Sheriff Harper and Adams were already out the front door by the time Sarah got moving.
"Who's watching over Mrs. Collins?" Sheriff Harper's voice was distinct, there was no mistaking it.
"Pete's keeping her by her car. She's still in shock. If she hadn't come over to see her sister bright and early, we wouldn't have found the bodies 'til late afternoon or later." Adams response was clearer as Sarah shortened the distance between them.
So that's who was in the minivan, Sarah thought. She didn't envy Pete. Emeila Collins was a handful on a good day, and there was no telling how she would react when the shock wore off.
"According to Mrs. Collins, Mr. Akers left a message on her machine sometime in the night. She couldn't remember the exact time, but she brought the tape with her." Adams explained as he led them towards the barn. Emeila Collins was not a priority at that point.
By the time they reached the barn, Sarah had managed to catch up to them. The silence of the countryside was broken only by the squawks of the police radios. There wasn't a single bird anywhere near the house. Two deputies were standing in front of the closed barn. Both were pale, and the taller one had vomit on his sleeve.
"Andrews, Doyle, get the doors." Adams ordered.
The two men exchanged looks, then turned to open the doors. Once the doors were open, Andrews and Doyle held their breath and ran back towards Harper. Even Sheriff Harper, who was standing several yards back from the barn, was assailed by the foul odor.
"Doyle, stay put. We don't want that uniform to get any dirtier, and give your wife more work. She'd never let me hear the end of it." Harper tried to lighten the mood.
Doyle smiled, and nodded, then turned and walked several feet away from the barn.
Sarah followed the three men inside. The light inside the barn was terrible, so all four of them turned on their flashlights once they were in. At first, Sarah couldn't see anything wrong. The smell was worse inside, and there was more hay on the floor than there should have been, but neither of those things meant that something was wrong.
"Where's the dog?" Sarah's voice echoed slightly in the silent barn. Just as she finished the question, Sarah saw for herself. "Oh, God." She whispered. The urge to flee was nearly irresistible, and once again, she felt her breakfast rising up.
All of their eyes were drawn to the edge of the loft, and held there by the gruesome sight.
"Sheriff, Ace's body was still warm when we found him 'bout half an hour ago." Andrews reported.
Ace was half german shepard and half pit bull. No one should have been able to touch, let alone carry, that dog. But someone did. Ace's front paws were nailed to the loft, and his head hung limply. A puddle of blood had gathered beneath the dog on the floor. There was one long cut up his belly, and his intestines should have been hanging out, but they seemed to be missing. Ace's mouth was nailed shut.
Sarah turned and faced the doors. While the others looked around Ace's body, Sarah stared at the darkness on either side of the open barn doors. For a split second, it looked like something had moved. Then she saw it again. A faint movement, accompanied by a reflection of light off metal and a slight shuffling sound.
"Sheriff." Her voice was low, but forceful.
Sheriff Harper walked over to Sarah and stopped next to her.
"What's wrong?" He kept his voice at a whisper.
Sarah's demeanor had changed. Her stance was tense and her right hand hovered over her pistol butt.
"We're not alone in here. Something moved, in the shadows, to the left of the doors. It wasn't an animal and it has something metallic." Her eyes never left the spot where she'd seen the movement. Alarm bells were going off in her mind. The instinctive part of her brain was telling her to get the hell out of there, but Sarah held her ground against the fear.
"Andrews, go out to your unit and get your shotgun." Harper spoke as if nothing were wrong. When Andrews failed to respond, Harper barked at him. "Move it, Simon."
Andrews had also seen the movement, but an order was an order. He swallowed his fear and ran for the door. The former high school track star would have made his coach proud.
Sarah strained her eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever it was, but she no longer saw anything. It was gone. The whole atmosphere inside the barn had changed. Sarah was no longer afraid to walk over to that spot, which she did after a few seconds had elapsed.
"It's gone." Adams stated the obvious. "Can we go outside now?"
His question broke the tension and caused them to laugh. Sheriff Harper smiled and led the way. Their exit was dignified, but fast.
Sarah remained behind. There was something in the corner, hidden by shadows, but Sarah could make out a shape. The batteries in her flashlight seemed to be failing, its light getting dimmer by the minute. Finally, Sarah saw what was in the corner. It was just a poorly stuffed scarecrow sitting atop a pile of hay, nothing to be afraid of.
"Sarah?" Sheriff Harper yelled into the barn.
"Coming." She responded, and then walked out into the refreshing sunlight.
"Lance, whoever killed Ace might still be around." Sheriff Harper was addressig everyone. "I want you to take Simon, Finley, and Pete, and walk around the grounds. Don't go into the corn. I don't want to have to send search parties out to look for you."
Pete grinned when he heard his name; walking the grounds was far less stressful then dealing with Mrs. Collins. Finley Doyle looked less than thrilled. Strenuous excerzise after vomiting was not something he enjoyed, but it was better than going back into the barn. The four men took off towards the garage, leaving Sheriff Harper and Sarah to deal with Mrs. Collins.