The Perfect House

1835 24th Street was the perfect house in the eyes of Mackenzie and Stu Hendricks, and they came to love and admire the place with immediacy. It was an enchanting walk through from beginning to end as they enjoyed every detail that their realtor, Beverly Rollins, pointed out to them.

The original wooden floors… the shiplap walls… the elegant, turn of the century door handles… not to mention, the charming, fenced-in backyard… lush with fresh-cut Saint Augustine grass and perfect, pristine pecan trees offering shade cover that could easily rival many of the area’s best parks.

There was a lone concrete slab in the northeastern corner of the backyard near the fence line that the three looked at only for a moment, taking minimal note of its significance. Stu was still somewhat interested and inquired,

“Any idea what this was?”

Beverly displayed unfamiliarity in her reply,

“You know, to be honest with you, Stu, I’m not really sure. I’ve been a realtor here for a lot more years and packs of Marlboros than I want to admit, and I just can’t for the life of me seem to think of what that might have been.”

There was a layer of concrete poured on top of what was likely another slab. Sticking up through it was a water line and remnants of electrical hookups. On the eastern side of it (the top from the bird’s eye view), there was a make-shifted wooden bench that appeared to be bolted down.

The veteran realtor looked at the 30-year-old pair, both aglow with a radiance and passion for acquiring “the latest talk of town” fished for feedback,

“So… I take it that you guys… like it?”

Mackenzie answered first,

“Oh, it is breathtaking… I am in love. If God built a home and lived here, he would undoubtedly use this as the blueprint. It’s a perfect size, a great location, and just about what every lady would love to raise her family in.”

Beverly grinned and chuckled with a certain southern charm just behind her voice.

“I’m so glad to hear that you are pleased with it. How did you spot this one? I’ve already had five calls in the last twelve hours for it.”

Stu spoke softly and a bit cautious, unsure of what was necessary to score such a sought-after deal.

“Internet... One of those real estate sites… We just could not resist coming to see it. This place is our dream come true.”

The well-seasoned realtor found solace in the recognition that she was inching towards a commission without breaking much of a sweat.

“Well, go home and think about it and just let me know if you’d like to place an offer. I would love to help make this deal happen for you. Any other questions for me?”

Mackenzie shook her head and replied, “I don’t think so. Thanks again for meeting us on short-notice, Beverly.”

“My pleasure. Here’s my card, give me a call when you’re ready to make an offer. I see your names written all over it!”

They shook hands and parted ways. Beverly reached in her black leather purse and pulled out her Lucky Leaf Lighter and a cigarette and took an extended drag as she admired the property. She waved at the pair, and they went on their way.

…

Mackenzie and Stu left emotionally intoxicated without as much as a single care or concern as to the residence’s history, age, or the potential mysteries of its past. It was a beautiful, restored, craftsman-styled home in immaculate condition and dating back some 115 years. Perhaps, it was the precise symmetry of the gables on the north and west sides of the house-- matched up in a flawless harmony that would please any architectural aficionado. Or, maybe, it was the all-natural, stained, wraparound porch that further boasted uncommon elegance and charm amidst the rather lackluster lot and block surroundings. They pulled out of the driveway in their aged SUV and began to dialogue on what they hoped would become their next home.

Mackenzie broke the silence first, “So… what did you think?”

Stu responded rather solemn, “It was... too good.”

“Too good? Is that the best you can do to describe the place? Come on, Stu. I thought you were a little more creative than that.”

“Well… do you want it…?” He donned a Cheshire cat grin that he couldn’t contain. Mackenzie smiled from ear to ear.

“Of course I do!!!”

He nodded his head a couple of times as he pondered on the reply.

“I’ll start looking into how we can make it happen then…”

Mackenzie leaned over the center console, her angled elbow poking into the worn vinyl, and hugged Stu. Then, she gave him a large peck on the right cheek, glossy lipstick lingering atop his unshaven mug.

…

Beverly Rollins commuted back to her own house some three minutes from the residence that she’d just shown a few blocks away. Her husband, Levi, was sitting in his brown recliner, giving the appearance of looking intently at the Anvil Herald. His worn fingers were clasped around the edges of the left and right sides, and there was the sound of a soft, familiar rhythm emerging from just behind.

Beverly flicked the newspaper out of Levi’s hands and observed her barrel-chested husband waking up, surprised by her aggressive demeanor.

He yelled at her and said, “Why did you do that?!!”

“Sleeping again, old man?! I’m out working my big rear-end off selling houses and you just sit in here and sleep. Come on, Levi. Pull your weight around here. Cook me dinner... at the very least.”

Levi sighed, still reacquainting himself with the world of consciousness after the sudden disturbance that came as a courtesy of his wife of fifty-six years.

“I did.”

He motioned towards the halfway-opened box of supreme pizza from Pizza, Please, a local, South Texas favorite.

“The box is half-opened, Levi. Come on, guy... Do I have to spell out every little thing for you?! It gets stale. Probably already hosting a den of bacteria and a couple of dozen flies… you reckon?!”

Levi replied without much apology. “I guess so. It should still be good. Doctor Havens says a little bacteria in the gut will help you keep the spare tire off.”

She slapped the extra folds of skin atop Levi’s shiny forehead with the back of her withering hand.

“Don’t talk to me about my spare tire… you knucklehead.”

“I wasn’t. I was talking about mine.”

“You inferred otherwise, doofus. Think first, before you speak to a lady. You’d think a man with 77 years on this blessed planet knows that already…”

Before she could grab a plate for her pizza, their small Yorkie pup, Waylon, hopped on top of the well-worn Rollins family kitchen table and began licking the toppings off of Beverly’s half of the pizza. She was infuriated.

“Oh… for crying out loud!”

Levi grinned and said, “Here’s a 20. Go down there to the Daisy Q and get you a bunless hamburger.”

She scoffed. “Bunless?!!! You think you can just dictate what I eat now??!!”

“You told me you were watching the carbs…”

She splashed the glass of lemonade that she poured to have with dinner all over the newspaper and Levi’s well-endowed gut.

“That’ll teach you to stop bossing me around… pretty boy.”

The always loyal Waylon jumped into Levi’s lap and began sniffing and lapping up the artificially flavored drink.

She exited the house and went back to the car, lighting up and taking a few drags and heading down the well-traveled highway.

“Bunless… hamburger. What does that… idiot think…?”

THUD!!

She was interrupted without warning as a man on a bicycle came flying across the highway full speed. The collision flung him into the air before he landed on the concrete, and his bike was flattened.

“Oh my gosh… good Lord… what was this guy doing in the middle of the road…?”

She looked over her shoulder and considered a hit and run but was reminded of the fact that someone… somewhere would quite likely match up to her car. She pulled off to the side of the highway and turned on her hazard lights. The rain was picking up, and it had turned dusk. She went to the man and called out to him. Other cars continued to go around and ignore them.

She called out to the man, “Are you okay?”

The man was unresponsive but appeared to be breathing at an elevated rhythm. She dragged him across the wet blacktop and out of the road as a rather merciless semi-truck drove over the man’s bicycle with his front, middle, and rear tires leaving it more misshapen than an overworked pretzel. The man vomited all over the sidewalk as Beverly continued to try and get him to come to his senses and patting him on the back and talking to him. She considered calling 911 but had not done so yet for fear of the ramifications of her actions. It wasn’t that she thought she was at fault, but more images that were flashing in front of her that showed a prosecuting attorney that wanted to prove otherwise.

She checked on the soggy victim. “Are you going to be alright?”

The man’s voice was wobbly. “I guess so. Why did you knock me over?!”

“Knock you over? Why were you driving through the middle of the highway when crossing traffic was clearly coming toward you?!”

“I didn’t see you. Gray car, gray sky, gray road…”

“Okay, fine.”

The man had a pungent body odor and reeked of booze. He spoke with further coherence as he sobered up and recovered from the shock of the unexpected impact.

“I know you… from the billboards. You’re that realtor, aren’t you?! The one that has the pictures of the deer antlers in your hands on the signs?! What does that have to do with real estate?”

“Yeah. That’s me. My way of trying to bond with the locals... Way too many whitetails out here not to try and blend in, don’t you reckon?”

The man wisecracked and said, “Most of ‘em are on the side of the road flattened like my bike is now.”

Beverly chuckled, “What’s your name?”

“What’s it to you? I could see the look in your eyes. That feeling of wanting to flee the scene. You probably even had the voice in your head telling you that no one would miss me… I’m just a bum mooching off of your hard-earned dollars, right?”

“Well, are you?”

“No, lady. I have a home. I had a family… and I had a bicycle.”

“Well, let’s take you home. Don’t worry, I’ll buy you a new bike. Where do you live?”

“What’s it to you, hag? Just leave me in peace and stay away from that old house. I seen you over there trying to sell it to that young couple. They’ll end up like me… washed-up, chewed up, and spit out of this God-forsaken town.”

“What are you talking about?!! I don’t care for your tone. Maybe I should have put you out of your misery. Here… take some cash, and I’ll leave you be.”

“There you go…fix my problem with your money. I’m good with that.”

“Until next time, then.”

The man shook his head.

“I don’t think so. That place… you really ought to run away from that one and that couple ought to do the same.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready to do that. I work on commission. What do you know?!!”

“Lady, I ain’t gonna tell you any… more. Now, be gone.”

“Here, have a cigarette.”

She lit one up for the man and gave it to him, and he took a puff.

“Thanks.”

The embers glowed in the moonlight as he continued to smoke. His skin showed much more age than she first noticed as she looked at him closer.

“I’m off to Daisy Q if you want to go for a hamburger,” she said.

“I’m not gonna give in that easily, lady. You need to do your homework on the place on your own. Thanks for the drag.”

“Fair enough.” She got into her car and went down about four blocks to the Daisy Q.

She pulled out her final cigarette and stood out in front of the restaurant, trying to cope with the stress of the event. Another worker from the locally-esteemed burger-chain came out and took out their electronic cigarette, and begun playing on their smartphone.

She was disgusted and said, “Now that ain’t the way to smoke, buckaroo... Minimum wage and inhaling the liquid nicotine?! That’ll put you in an early grave. I hear it gives you bubbles in your lungs.”

“Sorry, lady. I don’t want lung cancer.”

She gawked at him as she replied, “Are you kidding me? You think those things are any better for you? I would much rather have a slow burn than a rapid descent into death the way that you are gonna go. If the fried food doesn’t kill ya… you know that the e-cig definitely will, punk.”

“Who are you calling punk, granny?”

“You exude such an arrogance. Let’s go inside, and you can make this 'granny,' a burger.”

“Bunless?”

“You little pr... jerk.”

He laughed and followed her in, making sure that she held the door for him, and not the other way around.

“You guys don’t have a clue how to treat a lady… you millennials are the death of our society, I swear it.”

“Alright, lady. What do you want then?”

“I’ll take a Delicious Double with all of the fixings. Not only that…I want extra mayo and some pickles.”

“That’s low-fat mayo, right?!”

“Why…I oughtta…”

They both grinned at each other with a smirk that indicated their mutual jocularity.

…

Mackenzie and Stu arrived home and began deliberating on their options for financing. As they pulled into the driveway, they saw a tall, shadowy figure standing in their driveway. The rain was coming down hard, but the shine of the security light above gave the man a notable glow. Mackenzie looked at Stu showing concern. Their daughter was home with the babysitter while they previewed the home.

“Stu… who is that?!”

“I don’t know… I have my .45 in the glovebox. Pull it out for me, please.”

Stu pulled back the hammer to the gun and took the safety off. “It’s loaded. I want you to bend over and keep your head down beneath the dash. I will keep the gun concealed until I know this guy means business. Trespassing is enough to really irk me as it is. Lock the door right behind me.”

“Oh my gosh, Stu. What is going on?!!”

“I don’t know, Mack. I’m as bothered by this as you are, honey…”

The figure stood there still and motionless. Stu climbed out of the car and clutched his gun tightly. The rain still poured in a fit of fury. He headed toward the trespasser as the lightning in the night sky lit the world up. There was still not a peep from the individual in the driveway.

Stu spoke up and called out, projecting over the rain, “Something I can help you with, man?!”

The mysterious masked character walked towards Stu, stuck his arm out toward his throat, and grabbed it only for a moment. Before Stu could react or say anything else, the man began to run away. Stu pulled out his well-kept .45 and fired it at the intruder who had a clear and defined pattern to his gait. The unwelcome runner started to limp as he went down the adjacent hill to the west of the house, acting as if the bullet had made an impact. Stu was unclear if his shot actually had such an effect or if the man was merely acting to collect some other unknown or undue mercy. He prepped to fire another shot and was dive-bombed by a pigeon as the troublemaker got away.

He went toward the car and noted that Mackenzie had not come out of the crouched position yet. He tapped on the glass. She didn’t respond. He keyed in the 5 digit code on the side of the car door and unlocked it to find Mackenzie unconscious.

“Mack… Mack… what is going on here?!!” He started to pat her on the back and shake her to wake her.

Mackenzie awakened, “Wh...what happened?!!! Are you okay, Stu?!”

“I don’t know.”

“What are those marks on your neck? They’re black and blue…”

Stu felt of his neck and noted the increasing pain from the choking episode he’d experienced.

“The… guy… he grabbed hold of me.”

“What guy?! Did you get a look at him?”

The rain had stopped.

“Not really.”

“I guess we should call the cops…”

“I’m not ready to do that.”

“Are you freaking kidding me?! What do you have to hide?”

“I don’t have anything to hide. I’m just not ready to immediately yield every detail of this situation to the cops, okay?! Let’s go check on Alaina. My gun is still loaded.”

The two began to walk toward the raised porch and enter their home when they noted signs of forced entry near the handle.

Mackenzie cried out in agony, “Oh my gosh…”

Stu flicked the light on, and they looked around. As they walked through the house and inspected, they found minimal disruption or disorder. There were no signs of struggle or blood. The home appeared relatively spotless, and their daughter, Alaina, and herbabysitter, Jess, were nowhere to be seen.

Mackenzie declared her next course of action and said, “I’m calling 911.” She started to cry.

He threw his fist on the kitchen counter. “Mack, don’t do anything stupid… I’m not ready for the cops to be in on this. I already told you that.”

“You didn’t tell me why. If you have something to confess, you… better do it now… before we both end up six-feet under. It’s not that new job, is it? I thought things were going well.”

“It’s nothing like that, Mack. I’m just not trusting the local authorities yet. They could be mixed up in this mess too, you know. Fix me a glass of ice water, won’t you?”

Mackenzie entered the kitchen and pulled the freezer door open. As she peered inside, she shrieked in terror and fell to the floor. Stu did not react with any sort of urgency. His depression was at an all-time high. He went into the kitchen and saw two plastic bags full of hair and a note written with magazine clippings of various words pasted on a sheet of paper.

“Locks of love… and lots of pain. Who is the one that’s going iNsAnE? We’ll give you a hint. We ain’t HELLbent. Just know that you’d better STAY aWaY!”

…

SIX MONTHS LATER

Beverly buried Levi with a rolled-up newspaper laid on top of his artificially swelled-up chest in the pine-boxed coffin. The main thought running through her feeble mind was that she’d always been too hard on him through the years. She was forever riddled by constant expectations of perfection and an unwillingness to relent the ways that had been hammered into her by her own parents when she was nothing but a small child some seventy years before.

A few hollow and empty words were shared in the eulogy by Levi’s former manager, Dale Harbinger. The pallbearers came into position and loaded the body into the aged black hearse as the processional went across town to the city cemetery.

As for the storied pasture of stones, it wasn’t well-manicured. Weeds growing in front of headstones, rodent and vermin droppings across some of the better-looking mausoleums, and absolutely no shade of any kind for those in mourning, except for the portable tent the funeral home had positioned. Among those to attend the graveside were the Rollins family, a few of Beverly’s relatives, Levi’s former co-workers, and a pale-complected man in a black dress shirt and suit jacket with white slacks. Beverly had been too consumed by her emotions to talk to the man or ask his reasons for being there. He never spoke a word but appeared to be pained with the loss of Levi.

The reverend that presided over the service shared a few words as the box was slowly lowered into the earth while the onlookers observed.

“I think that if one thing could be said about Levi and his faithfulness to the church, it would be this… He loved his Christian holidays. I could always count on seeing him at Christmas and Easter.”

He waited for chuckles from the spectators, but there was only a smile or two. He made eye contact with the unknown man in black and white and saw no expression on his face.

“Levi was a man of character… a man of integrity… a man of faithfulness… when I say this, I mean to say that he was a man who knew how to keep Beverly’s Marlboro’s stocked before she would wig out on him hoping for her next drag.”

Beverly stared at the reverend and rolled her eyes, somewhat offended by his rather lighthearted words. She signaled to him that she wanted him to pick up the pace in the service.

“As we say our farewells to Levi, let’s pray that he is again with His creator, his lungs a little less bothered by secondhand smoke! God bless him...”

He paused for a moment and spoke solemnly. “Everyone… please bow your heads and pray with me... God, we thank you for Levi… for his life and his legacy, and we ask that You offer us relief in these troubling times, help us to be slow to anger, and quick to seek You first. God… bless this family and offer comfort to them as they say a temporary farewell to a grandfather, a father, a brother, a husband, and a patriarch with many gifts. In your name, we pray. Amen”

As the prayer concluded, Beverly looked around and noted that the uninvited visitor had disappeared. She felt a proper name for the mystery man seemed fitting, given his peculiar and unannounced arrival. She approached the reverend a little perturbed by the jabs at her nicotine habit.

“Some… parting words you had there, Reverend Todd. I’m still alive, you know. Why don’t you count your blessings and name them one by one…? She pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and blew the smoke into his face.

He smiled at her. “Yes. Beverly…since you asked…. I’ll be happy to do your service too. Would you like me to tuck a pack of ‘em in the casket with you or the whole carton?”

She turned around and left in partial aggravation with the wisecracking minister.

…

There was the dim flicker of fluorescent lights, the smell of burned coffee, and the husky voice of Detective Harry Lambert whose boisterous demeanor was occasionally off-putting. He began to speak,

“So that about sums it up for today, Stu. I don’t have any other updates for you at this point, partner. How’s the change of scenery working out? The new house is brightening things up for you, I hope.”

“I guess so. The place is perfect. It’s such a relief to be away from where it… all happened. I wish Mack hadn’t left me, but what’s a guy going to do in these trying times? I had nothing to hide. She was so convinced that I did. Don’t you love how the old lady can so readily become the judge, the jury, and the executioner without as much as a single question to the defendant?

“That’s just their way. You should know that by now. How long were you two married? Eight years. Well, it would have been eight years, Seven years and three hundred and sixty-two days if you want to be technical about it.”

Lambert took a big gulp of his lukewarm coffee and dunked the overhardened donut, stale from several hours before into his beige-colored, WORLD’S GREATEST COP coffee mug.

“I guess most of us end up that way eventually, eh?”

Stu noted the wedding ring on Lambert’s finger. “I don’t know, Harry... It seems like you have it figured out.”

The detective chuckled and said, “I guess I haven’t been very transparent with you. Jennifer is my third wife. We’re going on three years next month. I pay more in alimony than I get to keep in my salary. I’ll tell you that much.”

“Crying shame there, Detective. That nicely combed mustache and badge aren’t enough to keep your old lady proud?”

“Not a chance on God’s green earth. Not only that, I’ve been combing the well-woven bird’s nest on the top of my head a decade too long and need to shave what’s left of it off completely.

“It might increase your chances, boss. A handsome cop like you oughtta be chasing away the phone calls from the ladies.”

“Flattery with a cop will get you… everywhere. Except in a relationship. We hate commitment.”

“Good to know. Well, call me if you have any updates, please. I’m numb to the situation and have floors to wax at the house.”

“You really oughtta get a hobby, Stu. Pick up a guitar, a paintbrush, write a book… something. You need to decompress some of that stress you’ve picked up the past several months. Tending to that old house ain’t gonna help matters one bit, amigo. There’s no right brain in it. You know… with detective work, we get to use a little right brain to try and get in the criminal’s mind, follow their pattern, their trail… it ain’t always scientific… sometimes it really is organic and unpredictable.

“Well said, detective. Well said. I’ve got a corner in the house that I haven’t put to use just yet. Maybe it will become my creative spot.”

“Grab you a cup of coffee on your way out. Cops know how best to make it on the evening shift. Scorched central-American goodness on the tip of your tongue.”

“Thanks, Lambert. Speak to you soon.”

As Stu went to approach his dated Subaru wagon, he climbed into the seat and strapped himself in. His new residence was only about five blocks from the Angleton Police Station.

He pulled into his driveway and pressed the automatic garage door opener to let himself in. He always pushed the button again to close it once inside to ensure no intruders or others were lurking to jump him from outside of the garage. His added paranoia was compounded with the trauma of the event that he and Mackenzie had been through six months prior and the crux of what left him so challenged. He only relented and shared this with the police after three months. He’d threatened to harm Mackenzie if she as much as eked a word to anyone about the incident. He urged her to tell friends and area relatives that Alaina had gone to stay with her parents in Illinois indefinitely.

The Hendricks’ babysitter, Jess, had not turned up since that haunting February night earlier in the year. Her parents, Jake and Linda Hagley were both pillars in community politics and remained strangely silent on their teenage daughter’s disappearance for fear of negative press. Their narrative was much the same. Jess had moved to Arkansas to be with her grandparents, Linda’s mother and stepfather.

…

The point of entry was not as expected. The tunnel beneath the pier and beam home wasn't well-traveled and rarely had anyone gone down there to inspect it through the previous residents (twelve to be precise). A well dug out some seventy years earlier had been covered first with a slab and a cover, and later a second slab on top of it after the disappearance of Bobby Todd, the Reverend’s nephew, thirty years earlier. The Todd family was indeed pained by the loss of their teenage son, but they always assumed that he had just ditched town and went to work in the oilfield like a lot of the other young men in the area would often do. Bobby’s family had lived in the home that now belonged to Stu Hendricks. It would have benefited Stu to know this. Still, he was too young to recall the disappearance, and Beverly did not bother to share this information knowing that she needed to capitalize on the commission.

Alaina Hendricks and Jess Hagley sat thirty feet in the earth, hundreds of pounds of concrete poured above them, and no apparent way out. It had been 180 days since they’d been abducted, and though they were offered certain sustenance with regularity, the cabin fever that they experienced caused the two of them to become co-dependent of one another. The meal served to the girls was always the same, a can of Flitz beer, a microwaved, fried chicken patty on a bun, and a bag of Fritos. The captor only came to feed them in the morning, every other day. Some three hundred and fifty feet to the west of the well was “the Surveillance House.”

…

Beverly Rollins drove by Stu’s new residence and wondered what had become of Mackenzie, who reportedly split town about three months earlier. She noted the living room light to be on and decided to drop by to bring a housewarming gift. Stu’s isolation since Mackenzie’s disappearance was a bit mystifying to her, but she had enough skeletons in her own closet to leave well enough alone. As a result, she thought it best not to dig out any of Stu’s without expecting them to be uncovered. She climbed out of her car, stomped her cigarette onto the curb out front of the house, and knocked on the door, lobbing a stick of spearmint gum in her mouth to minimize her ever-lingering Marlboro breath.

“Hello, Stu. I just thought I would see how the new house is working out…”

Stu seemed startled by the unannounced visitor.

“Yeah. Okay, thanks for stopping by. Would you want to come in for some coffee?”

“Stu, it’s 9PM. I was hesitant to even stop by. Coffee is probably not the best choice for either of us—that is, if we intend to get any winks tonight.”

She grinned.

“What makes you think that I get any winks anymore?”

“Stu…I’m sorry. I know losing your daughter is tough… say… what ever came of Mackenzie? I haven’t seen her in a while, either.”

“What makes you think I know, or that I even care anymore? She walked out on me.”

“Oh, Stu. I’m sorry.”

“Forget about it. We’re probably better off in separate zip codes…”

“So you are saying she’s left town?”

Looking annoyed, Stu replied, “That’s what separate zip codes would infer, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry, Stu. I don’t mean to pry. It’s just that you guys seemed like such a happy couple when we met.”

“We were…”

“Well… what you had shouldn’t have faded away just because of your… daughter, right?”

Stu slammed his fist on the coffee table, his bucket of honey roasted peanuts spilling all over the freshly waxed wood floor just below.

“What gives you the right?! You just walk in here unannounced and start meddling in my personal affairs??!! What a selfish little busybody you are…”

“I’ll be on my way, then. Here’s a little gift I had for you. It’s a key to the house from when I was a kid…”

“What…? What are you talking about?!”

“I should have told you and Mackenzie before, Stu. I grew up here when I was just a girl until they shipped my daddy off to Korea, and mom moved us back into the city.”

“You money-grubbing b…”

Beverly interrupted and said, “Stu, Stu, don’t lose your temper. I’ve lived a lot of life, and you’d hate to squander away what I know of this place, now, wouldn’t you?”

“Are you blackmailing me?” Stu ran his fingers down the back of his head and pressed his neck to relieve the firmness that he was beginning to feel.

“Oh, Stu… it’s nothing like that. I just didn’t think it was relevant to tell you that the day I showed you the place. I don’t own it anymore, so I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“It’s a really big freaking deal… I can’t believe this… we stood out there and looked at that dad-gum concrete slab, and you knew more than you let on from the get-go, didn’t you? Now...what the.... what is it?”

He picked her up by the throat and raised her frail and feeble body into the air. He put her back on the floor and straightened out the collar to her paisley printed cowgirl shirt.

“It was a well… a well. You know… for water.”

“Thank you. I wish you would have told me that before. I don’t want to see you around here again, Beverly. Do you hear me?!! If you as much as utter a word about my outburst, I will press charges for harassment on your sorry behind. Get…. OUT!!!!”

She ran out to her car and drove away.

“STUPID… STUPID… Good grief… what was I thinking? This guy is guiltier than sin… Mackenzie didn’t go anywhere.”

She lit a cigarette and noticed a shadowy figure that walked just around her vehicle and she quickly drove away.

…

As the next day dawned, Stu prepped to go to work. He’d worked at the county jail for about a year. There was nothing particularly engaging about watching the gate, the prisoners on the video monitors, or the checkpoints in the prison. It was well-manned, and there were minimal problems that materialized. Days would often go by, and he would have almost no recollection to them as he would punch his time card at the end of the day and take the fourteen-minute commute back home. Wednesday was always his stop at the Daisy Q.

Stu had a playful banter in the drive-thru with the “e-cigarette smoking kid,” whom he’d come to appreciate more with more prolonged exposure.

“Welcome to Daisy Q, goof. What do you want?!”

“Oh… I don’t know, surprise me, Puff. How is life as a magic dragon, anyway?”

“You know the drill. Blowing smoke… blowing fire… hitting on old ladies… living the dream for $7.25 an hour… So what’ll it be?”

“I said… surprise me.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be sure to add an extra personal touch to your Delicious Double, jerk.”

“That’ll do me.”

“That’s all the doing you’re going to get. I reckon.”

“Shut up.”

Stu pulled up to the window and flipped three fingers at the e-cig kid. “Read between the lines, chump... Keep the change.”

“Your meal was $7.18. This is only $7.20.”

“Yep, that’s my two cents… My two cents that say that you are only worth two cents.”

“Here’s your burger, Stu.”

Stu drove away and unwrapped his hamburger as mustard squirted onto the front of his shirt. He was infuriated by the miscue but knew that time was of the essence.

He arrived in the driveway and saw a shadowy figure standing just outside of the garage with the security lights illuminating. He pulled his .45 out of the glove box and rolled down the window.

He called out to the man and spoke firmly, “Hey… What are you doing here?!! This is private property.”

There was no reply.

“I’m packing heat, buddy. I don’t intend to shoot for the ankles this time…”

There was still not a peep from the mysterious driveway loiterer. Stu’s boots hit the pavement, and he approached where he thought the figure stood as he lurched towards it, only later realizing that it was only the reflection of the shadow. The uninvited stood elsewhere. The shadow faded away. He looked around in all directions, unsure of where the unidentified predator had run away to. He saw the stutter step in the shadow and had himself convinced that it was indeed the same creep who’d ruined his life some six months earlier. Stu could feel his heart working overtime as he keyed in the code to the garage door exterior entry point.

He entered the house and found the kitchen window jimmied open. At first glance, nothing appeared to be out of place, but he did note a diminishing set of large muddy boot prints that went toward the freezer door. He opened the freezer and found two bags with another note. As he looked closer at the bags, he recognized fingernail clippings of two different sizes. As he read the note, he noted the letters on it to be a collage of magazines, newspaper print, and a little shorthand.

“You left your past bEhInD… knowing that it would bEtRaY YOU! The sad truth of the matter is… the answer lies just beneath your NOSE… - Author Unknown”

…

Beverly sat still in her dining room and reminisced on her many years knowing and recognizing that she was probably late in the fourth quarter, so to speak. She sipped on her coffee slowly and flipped through a photo album. There was a photo stuck behind a picture of her and Levi from some fifty years earlier that she had long forgotten about. She was notably pregnant in the photo, and Levi was pointing at her stomach with a big grin on his face.

FIFTY-TWO YEARS EARLIER (1968)

As per her best recollection, she was somewhere late in the second trimester. They had elected not to tell anyone in her extended family network until the baby was born. Levi’s employer at the time was Henley/Harbinger Rock Quarry, just north of town. The organization, a giant source of local revenue, and a well-respected institution in the region made every effort that it could to squash scandals as it carelessly and tirelessly mined the earth with harsh chemicals and unorthodox techniques. Levi’s late-night returns during this time were troublesome to Beverly. One night in particular, he was notably winded. He mentioned that he was to begin excavations in the center of town in an exploratory effort to understand the area’s feasibility for mining. When she caught wind that her childhood home was to be demolished to begin the study, she became angered, striking Levi in a vicious rage with a steak knife in his upper right shoulder. In retaliatory anger, Levi struck her down to the floor and hauled her to the excavation site while she remained unconscious. As they entered the backyard area, Levi closed the fence and motioned her toward the bench that sat atop the slab, the well just ahead of it.

“I am really disappointed in you, Beverly. This isn’t the kind of thing that you would normally put up a fuss about now, is it?”

Beverly was winded and reaching toward her midsection, struggling to get any words out. Finally, she declared, “I think I’m in labor… take me to the hospital.”

Levi shook his head and said, “They’ll ask you too many questions about why… are you ready to answer them as truthfully as you should?”

“I… don’t know. You shouldn’t have hit me. You know that, you idiot.”

She socked him in the right temple. They awoke in the bottom of the well. She was unsure of how they came to arrive there.

She could feel the contractions coming closer and closer together. She spoke softly in the darkness of the well, “Levi, I’m going to have this baby. Take my hand…”

“Push… push… push…”

After an hour of excruciating labor and escalated breathing, their young son was born. They didn’t have anything to cut the umbilical cord until a small knife was pitched down the well from above. As Beverly attempted to nurse the infant, there was a bond between the two that was indefinitely severed when Beverly was knocked unconscious, dragged out, and left for dead in the middle of her front yard, unstitched and bleeding from the sharpest pains and pangs of labor. She awoke in the Angleton Community Hospital and saw Dale Harbinger looking at her.

She spoke in a flustered bit, “Where’s Levi…? Where’s my baby?!!!”

Harbinger replied harshly, “What are you talking about?!!! You must be some kind of crazy.”

“My baby… I had him in the well, behind momma and daddy’s old place. Levi was with me…”

“You must have hit your head pretty freaking hard, lady. There ain’t no baby. Never will be. You’re barren.”

“What right do you have to say that, Dale?!!”

“You know good and well why… and besides, that baby would be mine. You ain’t givin' ‘ol Levi that light of day in ages. That’s why I’m keeping him employed… our agreement.”

Beverly scoffed, “I could just slug you now. You creep!”

“Looks like we need to dial your meds up. All of these delusions of grandeur… hallucinatin’ about pregnancies, deep wells, God knows what else… May the good Lord bless Levi for putting up with you… you must be some kinda schizo…”

The nurse came into the room and gave her a dose of sedative medicine.

…

She woke up in a quiet, white room where there sat only a desk, a few loose sheets of paper, and a pencil. She began sketching the well and the image of her childhood backyard to the best of her recollection. It did her no good. Everyone was convinced and manipulated to believe that she was full of it. There was no one to invalidate Levi or Dale’s word when they had her involuntarily committed.

She could remember the mother’s bond she had with her son for those few seconds while deep in the earth. It flashed in front of her as vivid and bright as her beautiful and youthful imagination would allow it to.

There were years of grey in Beverly’s life. Years and years of medication, padded walls, and a slew of doctors and medication convincing her that she was nothing but a textbook case of mental illness and drug abuse.

It couldn’t be true. Quite honestly, it wasn’t. After 12 years in the asylum, the psychiatric crew re-evaluated and could find no other episodes of hysteria or hallucinations as she’d been initially admitted for. The hallucinogens of the 1960s had an exceptionally strong half-life, and it was difficult to objectively assess how much she was affected at her time of admittance. She’d never done or taken them of her own volition. Sadly, Dale Harbinger had been abusing her for a while, leading up to her being committed, and she was none the wiser for quite some time. It was a slow burn kind of approach. The fine line between reality, imagination, and hallucination was a difficult one for her to recall. Or, at least that was the narrative of Dr. Hagley throughout her stay. Hagley, a respected psychiatrist in the area, had first opened the asylum in 1962 on the fringes of much experimentation and an assessed community need as a result of his own experimental substance abuse. He did not have any children at that time, but on into his 50s, he and his wife, Shirley, had a little boy, Jacob (Jake).

…

Present

Beverly stared at the photograph with a blank expression for several minutes. She began to realize that she’d been lied to and manipulated for several years. This was further enabled by the long deceased, Dr. Hagley. She found it a strange thing that Levi had never remarried while she was away, nor had he shunned her when she finally got out. He welcomed her openly, almost as if no time had passed. He’d been under the close watch of Harbinger all throughout this time, and there was something strikingly odd to her about the entire situation.

She knew that describing some elaborate conspiracy would only lead her back to padded walls. No matter how accurate her assessment was, it was hogwash to those that had been locally “bought” to stay quiet by Henley/Harbinger Rock Quarry. It had been forty years since she’d been locked up, and she was convinced that there was absolutely nothing that she could do about it all. She was willing to admit that her imagination was far more extensive than she wanted to acknowledge and that it was often difficult to substantiate the difference between her fantasies and the all-encompassing realities that surrounded her. As a means to cope with the struggle, she regularly quieted the more extravagant realities that she was convinced of with more tame and subdued fantasies. Quite honestly, this backward-thinking approach led her to paths of deception with both herself and those that she encountered in the real estate business with regularity.

She knew much more about many of the properties and the town than she could ever let on for her own self-preservation. There was a certain amount of paranoia that lurked within her at all times. That fear of feeling that she was always being watched, listened to, or recorded in one way, shape, or form. She was convinced that it was only a matter of time before one of Dr. Hagley’s successors or cronies would jump out in front of her, with a lab coat, a vial of the little white pills, and a grin, and locking her back up for her final days. It never happened though. The uncertain burden she carried every step since her release in 1980 added an anxiety within herself that rarely quieted in her mind. Beverly picked up the smoking habit in 1975 when the asylum began allowing patients to smoke ground up versions of their medicines.

When she was released, she was weaned off all of the medications that she’d long been accustomed to. She replaced the medicated cigarettes for the real deal, forever cementing a habit that calmed her nerves and the worst of her anxieties and fears.

…

Stu sat at the kitchen table in his home and laid the .45 down, fully loaded, and with the safety off. He turned off all of the lights in the house and camped out to the right of the front window. He carefully watched the street with care and hoping to spot the sinister visitor from behind the sheer curtain. It was dark enough from the inside that he was convinced he wouldn’t be seen unless a light was shined directly upon his silhouetted figure. The still of the night surrounded him. There was only the chirp of crickets, distant cars going by, and his own elevated breath echoing in the room. He had made himself a small glass of ice water and swigged it, his own gulp loudly reverberating without much consideration for the solitude that he was aiming for. He heard the kitchen window squeak again. He spun his head around. The neighbor’s cat had jumped on the air conditioning unit and poked his head in as it let out its familiar meow.

“Son of a… feline… good grief. Don’t they ever keep you locked up...?”

The diversion was just long enough for a laser to shine on the wall just slightly above his head. He collapsed to the floor for fear of being directly in the crosshairs of an unforgiving manhunter.

The question running through his racing imagination… “What have I done…? Why am I the target?!”

The cat leapt into the window and started to chase the laser around until it was shot down with a silenced rifle round.

He gasped and said, “Holy… I’m calling the cops.”

He tried to reach for his mobile phone when he realized that he’d left it in the car in the garage. He laid flat with his face pressed the floor, unsure of what his next maneuver should be.

His mobile phone was ringing, the only problem was it was locked in his car. The screen glowed brightly as Mackenzie’s photo flashed on and off the screen. He’d not heard from his estranged spouse in over a month, and the call would have been just the encouragement he needed in that very troubled moment.

….

THE NEXT MORNING

After a sleepless night and threat of the shooter had diminished, Stu entered the garage, retrieved his phone, and listened to the voicemail from Mackenzie.

“Hey, Stu. I just want to say… I know that our relationship has been complicated without Alaina, and I’m sorry that I’ve been so distant. I was just trying to get some of my personal problems sorted out before I gave ‘us’ another shot. I’m on my way to the lovely home we picked out together now, and I just want to say that I am ecstatic about sharing it together.”

Stu tried calling her back to warn her of returning due to the continued, suspicious activity that had occurred. There was no answer. It only went straight to voicemail. He left a message, hoping that she might get it before she arrived.

“Mack, some crazy stuff is going down around here. I think you should hold off on coming back until I can figure it out. I’ll explain more later. I love you.”

He went into the backyard while it was daylight and began examining the concrete slab closer. As he came out of the gate into the side yard, he noticed the mantrap door to the crawlspace popped open under the home. The hole appeared to be cut too small. He’d never gone under the house for fear of rattlesnakes and other vermin, but he felt implored to check on matters given the slew of activity that had transpired in the times of late. He thought back to the riddle left in the freezer the previous evening, and he began to feel a moment of clarity.

“I left my past behind… knowing that it would betray me… the answer lies just beneath…. my nose…”

He collected the Smacklight flashlight and opted to begin inching under the house in its underwhelming crawlspace. It was a tight squeeze, but he finagled his way in. As he got to the south part of the home, which was not far from the entry door, he noticed a pipe that went into the ground near the house’s center. As he scooted across the dirt, it became notably damp as he neared the pipe. He found what appeared to be a pair of cinder blocks covering something up. As he moved them aside, he realized there was a hole that went further below.

He pulled out his mobile phone and redialed Mackenzie.

“Mack, I’m under the house. I found something down here. Don’t come after me, and don’t call the cops either… I just want you to know in case I disappear. Call Beverly if that’s what it takes… she knows more…”

He climbed down the hole, and it quickly became more of a crawlspace that led toward something else. By his own estimation, it was heading directly where the slab was poured. He began to hear the sound of familiar voices…

…

Mackenzie flew into the driveway of Stu’s home, which she hoped to also soon lay claim to in partnership with him. The battery on her mobile phone had run out, and she had no cable to charge it, so she hadn’t received his messages. She noticed the kitchen window and peeked inside, noting the blood and spray of the cat that had been murdered.

“Poor guy… what's going on here?! I’m calling the cops.”

She dialed the Angleton Police Station, and Detective Lambert answered the phone.

“Hello. Angleton Police, how can I help?”

Mackenzie’s breathing was elevated over the phone. “A cat has been shot in my husband’s home…”

“Is that right? Ma’am, I need you to remain calm. Where are you right now? I’m at 1835 24th Street. My name is Mackenzie Hendricks.”

“Mackenzie Hendricks? That’s right. I know you. You're saying Stu’s cat’s dead… and you had nothing to do with it…?”

“I have no time to joke around with you about this, detective.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Small town cops… it’s difficult for us not to get attached to our favorite residents... I’ll get over there as soon as I can. Any sign of Stu? I haven’t heard from him in a few days.”

The voice messages came through while she was on the phone with Detective Lambert.

As she hung up the phone, she played them back and heard the uncertainty in Stu’s voice… Whatever the conspiracy was or Stu’s ever-growing paranoia, her instinct told her to follow his lead.

…

She tried to call Stu, but the phone was not going through. She only heard bits and pieces of his last message but was able to make out the part about “don’t call the cops… call Beverly if that’s what it takes.” She tried to think through everything that she gathered in the brief window of time since she’d returned home and began to deduce Stu’s paranoia to be more rational than she’d initially considered it to be.

About 15 minutes later, Detective Lambert showed up in an Impala-modeled police cruiser and parked just out front of the property. He walked toward the house when Mackenzie called out to him and said,

“Officer, I’m over here. Look at the marks on this window. It looks like a forced entry. I haven’t picked up the critter inside… but it is a dad-gum mess.”

Lambert examined the window briefly and declared his assessment of the scene.

“Textbook granny robbery... It’s always the cats they go after… I really mean no disrespect. I didn’t know that Stu even had a cat.”

“He doesn’t. This must have been the neighbor’s…”

“Well then, why is it on the kitchen floor?”

“Well… detective, put on your hat, and figure it out. The window’s open. There’s an air conditioning unit that would be a pretty good springboard for an animal of that size. I’d put my money on that… if I were a betting woman.”

“You are a smart one. Aren’t you? Stu told me as much.”

“Oh, he did… did he?”

“Did you ever hear the story of the small-town cop that loved his job?”

“No… Why don’t you tell me about it while you look around, officer?”

“Well… that’d be impossible because there’s no such thing. They don’t pay us enough, and we’re busy picking up dead cats and settling squabbles over who gets grandma’s cookie jar. You think I’m joking… if it were ethical, I’d let you come look at my case files.”

“So, what do you think, detective? Random or premeditated?”

“Well, have you even been in touch with Stu lately? Any more harassment from people you know or people that you don’t?”

“Not that I know of. Just the one night when Alaina went missing.”

“You know, you guys would have drastically helped matters if you’d let us know immediately… 3 months after the fact is hardly any chance for a trail of bread crumbs for any officer of the law to follow anywhere, let alone in this town. There are a million directions that she could have been taken and at least a hundred more for every hour that goes by…”

“I hear what you’re saying, officer, but I’m not sure. Angleton is bound to have an unexposed underbelly, somewhere… Haven’t you run into it ?”

The burly detective smiled. “Well, that’s classified…”

“That much I’ve gathered.”

“Let me give you my card. I will write up a police report and take a few pictures. This is a strange situation. I will say that much. Call me if you don’t hear from Stu pretty soon. I would have figured that he’d have called this in to me last night. I’d estimate that’s about when the animal was killed. Looking at the bullet entry point through the front window, the perp likely stood in the street and took the cat out before it knew what was coming. No 9 lives for this guy…”

He bagged up a shell casing and sized up the scene a while longer before leaving.

…

Stu continued to shimmy through the crawlspace, unsure of what his next chapter might offer. He found his way into the bottom of the remnants of a well. He heard a crinkling sound and saw some leftover refuse in the space as he shined the flashlight around. He felt a strange sensation as he looked around for a short while longer. He began to ponder on the space and its purpose and the more troubling realization that someone may have been held captive… right under his nose… as the note had inferred.

…

Lambert dialed on his mobile while he headed back to the station.

“Dale… we may have a problem. The old Henley/Harbinger property on the west side has a couple of nosy Nellies. Let’s shut them up before it’s too late. Send back up.”

“What’s the point of buying off law enforcement when I can’t trust you to do anything right… We’ll send someone over.”

Lambert broke the phone and pitched it out the window.

…

Mackenzie walked around the property and noticed the neighbor on the property just behind rolling the garbage bin to the curb. His demeanor was a bit strange, and he wore pajama pants and a plain white t-shirt with ketchup stains in various spots on the front of it. He looked at her with an uncomfortable stare and began to scratch the back of his head. He turned around and looked both directions, clearly put out by being seen.

“It’s always the same. You people can’t just leave me in peace. I try to go about living under my rock, and I can’t ever seem to get the privacy I need to just live my life.”

He’d gotten more and more reclusive with time. Ordering all of his groceries, meals, and supplies online and never going much beyond his own block. He walked into the back bedroom and looked at the two malnourished girls in disgust.

“I wouldn’t have ever picked you if I’d known what slobs you’d be. Leaving your mess to be discovered and expecting someone else to clean up after you. Haven’t you ever heard of picking up the bread crumbs? Now the path back to me is becoming more obvious. Are you ready to die for that?”

“Nnnn…nnn… o sir,” Alaina declared.

Jess sat there, motionless and sedated by the abundance of medication that had been involuntarily forced upon her.

The creep shoved Fritos in her throat and began crunching her mouth together, clasping his hands around her jaw and the top of her head.

“Wake up, little missy. I can’t have you sleeping on the job like that, now can I? I’m repulsed. Ugh… what kind of good are you for your uncle if you can’t even keep an eye on things like you were hired to do?! The dad-gum scandals in this community are just one stacked on top of another, like all of the great Texas towns. Just beneath the cheap, veneer, a harsh and uncomfortable truth always lurks. You are one of those truths, Jess. Why your stupid mother acted the way she did still sickens me. You never were hers to keep, she slept her way into the political arena, and you only came as a result of that… I don’t know if you ever knew that, but your mother is a no-account wh...”

Jess was still unable to speak, her face looking up at the man in terror and disgust.

“You know who your daddy is, girl?? Do you? It sure ain’t Jake Hagley. He’s more interested in Mayor Ron Henson than any woman. I guess some secrets are better left in the dark, aren’t they?”

Jess began to mumble and said, “I hate you, John.”

He ran across the room, yanked a microwaveable chicken patty out, and shoved it in Jess’s mouth, temperature scalding. She gasped from the shock of the heat as the smoke came from her mouth and gagged.

“That’ll teach you not to talk badly of me again. You know why I’m your uncle…? Your momma is a little too friendly with men and Dale Harbinger is a womanizer, that’s why. I may be twenty years younger than that old man, but I stay on the payroll because Henley/Harbinger Rock Quarry needs another narrative in the news to keep the spotlight off of all of the corners they cut. They've been using that well for years to keep people hidden. I thought you were finally old enough to be able to help ‘ol Uncle John. Once we get these yuppies out of here, I’m going to go rogue on your pops, Dale Harbinger, that is… My brother never knew what was best for him. They’ve been contaminating this place and its people for years. Toxins from the quarry seeping into the water supply... buying off all the cops... and cancer riddling this forsaken place because of all of the chemically-induced smog that lurks everywhere in the haze of the Angleton sky.”

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

“If either of you as much as utter a peep, that scorching chicken patty will be your last meal.”

As John went to the door to answer it, he saw a beautiful, young woman.

“Hello, I’m Mackenzie Hendricks. I just wanted to introduce myself. We’re new in the neighborhood and just want to get to know everyone.”

“Okay. Do you want a housewarming gift or something? Why are you bothering an ornery type like me? I don’t have any business dealing with the likes of you?”

“The likes of me? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Just mean I’m a curmudgeon, and I don’t get out much talking to nice looking ladies like yourself. Just call me John.”

“Nice to meet you, John. Well, we’re in the neighborhood if you ever need a bag of flour.”

John’s tone became friendlier. “I’ll see you around, neighbor. Think I met your husband the other day, what was his name?”

“Stu.”

“That’s right, Stu. I ran into him at the hardware store.” John began to close the door.

“Bye.”

…

Stu began bonking on the end of the Smacklight flashlight he carried as the light continued to fade. It flickered a time or two before it stopped working. His smartphone was powerless and left him in the dark abyss beneath his property without a reference point to explore further. He kept hoping that his eyes would adjust, but there was only darkness. He started feeling around the perimeter of the well and paced with his shoulder-grazing against the rough edges. He estimated its circumference to be about 15 feet in total. It was not an exceptionally large space, and the ridges, surface irregularities, and hardened concrete walls seemed unstimulating to the imagination. There was no light from above for him to assess the height of the pit. He kicked at the wall and knocked off some loose rock and threw it upwards to see if it would hit the ceiling. It didn’t make contact on the first try, and it knocked him on the right shoulder on its descent back down. One shoulder pelting was enough for Stu. He didn’t try again.

He elected to leave the well. He found only one definitive entrance, and that was the one which he had come in from beneath his home. He calculated the risk and reached around for some of the debris or trash he felt while he was down there. He found a bottle and a wrapper that he would take with him back into the crawlspace and out from under the home.

There was not much of a struggle to crawl out for Stu. It was indeed a tight space, but he was desperate to get back to the surface. As he felt the small area beginning to curve and just to the right, he also noted its marked ascent, which he had not paid as much attention to on his way in. As he arrived beneath the house again, he covered up the hole as it had been protected before and moved toward his home’s crawlspace entry point. He heard a rustling beneath the house and elected to ignore it. It wasn’t uncommon for Angleton to have vermin, and he didn’t expect his home to be exempt from the rule either. As much as he hated the idea of something tearing up his home, he felt the discovery that he’d made needed further uncovering, and time was of the essence. He slid out of the small door and was greeted by Mackenzie.

“You’re filthy. Why did you go down there in those clothes? Couldn’t you have changed first?”

“How about… it’s nice to see you, Stu. I’m so glad you're okay.”

“You know we’re at a phase in our relationship where pleasantries are just lip service. Get out of there… Did you have to take snacks with you? Seriously, Stu? I thought there was a real problem.”

Stu began to climb out and started to brush the dirt and dust off of his chaps and now-worn button-down shirt.

“I didn’t take snacks…. These were down there, Mackenzie. There’s something off about this entire situation. I’m not liking it at all. As he looked down at the snacks, he saw the familiar Flitz Beer logo and a Fritos sack. It was held shut with a paper clip. As he opened it, he found a small piece of magenta toned t-shirt that appeared to be ripped and left in the bag. He studied it carefully as the sunlight from the sky shined upon it.

“That’s Alaina’s shirt, Stu… what were YOU doing down there with it?!!!”

“I have nothing to do with this, Mack. Don’t infer that again, or I will be done with speaking to you. Don’t think I won’t file a restraining order on you for harassment.”

“Calm down, Stu. Turn around. Ugh… the back of your neck and shirt… it's discoloring."

Mackenzie picked off some flecks of hardened rock from the back of Stu’s neck and looked and smelled of it.

“Smells like chemical, not any proper sediment.”

“So now, your some kind of geologist?”

“No… I’m a concerned mother and wife. Now, are you going to tell me what in the world you were doing down there or what?”

“There’s not enough time to waste. We have to act quickly.”

“Do you want to tell me why there was a dead cat in the house and glass broken, or would you rather discuss why you still don’t want any police involved?”

“Mack, let me go inside and take a shower. We’ll talk later… If you are going to stay around here, I want you to stay out of the windows and out of the line of sight. I don’t feel confident that we’re okay at the moment. There was a prowler out here the other night…”

Before Mackenzie could ask anything else, Stu went inside and closed the door.

…

Beverly continued to rifle through more of Levi’s personal effects. There was a lot about him that she never paid much mind to or even cared to know in his working years. She had her own work and responsibilities to tend to. She found pay stubs and purchase order slips from Henley/Harbinger Rock Quarry with vague itemizations, like miscellaneous services, security details, and other supply replacements. They were all wedged in the back of the 1970s era rolltop desk drawer that the two had owned and shared for over forty years. Most of the dates were marked from 1976 until five years past Levi’s final official year of employment. She began to feel disconcerted. A feeling of emptiness and disconnect between herself and her husband. Why hadn’t he shared more with her? She assumed that he must have had to take on additional work for Henley/Harbinger while she was away to account for the institutionalization costs. She wasn’t proud of her time locked away and still in a lot of ways resented Levi for going along with it. He could have helped get her out sooner if he’d really tried. Their marriage was somewhere five or six notches below work and a slew of other more pressing commitments, and they both knew this, but it rarely caused problems because they both prioritized it at the same level. Amicable but distant, hospitable, but still with secrets.

“Sorry son of a gun.” She flung the stack of purchase orders and paystubs across the room and began scratching her arm up and down compulsively. She hadn’t done this in years, and it quickly reminded her of her troubled time while she was committed.

…

“We’re going to have to go. I can’t keep you here any longer. There’s been too much activity there at the old Henley/Harbinger house.”

Neither of the girls argued or pushed back with the comment. If anything, a change of scenery might not only offer them a new perspective but also a better opportunity to escape.

After nightfall had come, the kidnapper (AKA Uncle John) loaded up the girls in the back of his truck and tied them up, placing them under a tarp.

“Don’t you say anything while your back there… you understand? I’m going to take you across town to a... safer place.”

Jess tried to make a note of the turns and the bumps in the road and the sounds to keep track of where she was. It didn’t seem to help much. It appeared that misdirection was exactly what Uncle John was aiming for. She would never call him Uncle John. He was far too harsh with her to achieve such a title regardless of their relation. She was coming to grips with the news that John Harbinger had so carelessly spewed in his barrage of commentary earlier in the day. Her mother’s extramarital relationship was not a surprise to her given the distance between her parents, but having this truth reiterated by another was difficult for her to accept.

She and John had been acquainted at various times through the years as a result of Henley/Harbinger Rock quarry events and the company’s large financial partnerships with the city. John had rarely said much to her, but she’d noted his eccentric demeanor even in these settings. His agoraphobia was paining to him to be in public for any episode longer than just a few minutes at a time.

John called out to Alaina, who’d not spoken and said, “Little one, why are you so quiet?”

“I’m ready to see my mommy and daddy. You are a bad person.”

“That’s enough… have I not kept you clothed and fed all this time? Heck, I even kept you at the same address as your daddy. What’s the problem?”

Alaina began to cry. She’d heard her mother’s voice earlier coming from behind the front door.

Jess interrupted and said, “You creep. Why are you even doing this at all?”

John responded with added harshness in his voice, “Shut your trap.”

“I’m not going to until you tell me why you’ve kept us in captivity for the past several months. What do you have to gain from it?”

“Alaina’s parents have no business being on the old Henley/Harbinger property, and your parents have no business in Angleton politics. When the two of you were together at the same time, it was just the perfect culmination of events.”

“Culmination?”

“You know… like when all of the pieces fall into place at just the right time…”

“Okay, I got it. Well, why can’t you just let us go and threaten to kill us if we reveal your identity?”

“The thought has crossed my mind, but that would require me relocating… not only that, you are too close to the Harbinger clan in relation. Dale wouldn’t want you dead, and I don’t want any more blood on my hands then I have to. Certainly not any children. Your ‘father,’ the lovely city manager of our little town, has gotten a little too relaxed in his payouts to the Harbinger family. We offered him protection and capital that he would not have been able to accumulate elsewhere, and even that wasn’t good enough for him. Dale was fed up with it. He’s too uncomfortable to say anything to your mother. Truth is the dad-gum Harbinger family has corrupted both of your… folks, and neither of them know it about the other. Is it ironic? Maybe… maybe not.”

“Where are you taking us?”

“That’s of no consequence to you. I’m sick of doing Dale’s dirty work.”

The road began to get bumpier, and it was clear that they had veered off-road.

“It’d be too obvious to dump you at the Henley/Harbinger Rock Quarry, Harbinger fingerprints all over the place… I’ve decided a drop off at an ‘ol boar hunting ranch west of Town would leave less evidence.”

Terrified by the reality of what John Harbinger had shared, Jess spoke,

“I hope you know one day you will get your comeuppance, John…”

Alaina interrupted, “What’s a boar?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, kiddo. Then we’ll see what kind of ‘babysitter’ Jess really is. You listen to her… you hear…?

After six miles of dirt road, they came to a gate that stood about twenty feet tall and appeared to be electrified. John pulled out a lock pick and was able to finagle the boron plated lock with relative ease. He cut the headlights to the car off. It was a brighter night than he would have liked with the full moon in full view and minimal cloud cover.

“Alright, get in there and find somewhere to hideout. If the boars don’t find you before I send someone after you, you’ll be in better hands before too long. There’s a huntin’ stand about half a mile that way that you can climb into for shelter if the boar doesn’t plow into it at full speed…”

…

As Stu climbed out of the shower and dried off, he found it odd that Mackenzie wasn’t coming in the room to question him more. He found her dead on the floor with a knife in her back and note between the penetrated skin and the blade.

“SNITCHERS CAN’T be FIXERS… GOOD RIDDANCE. GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN!”

Stu collapsed to the floor in disgust and panic and began to sob.

“Oh, God. Mack…what happened? I told you to watch yourself.”

He began to look around the rest of the room and the house to ensure there was not still an intruder lurking about. It was clear… someone was trying to get a message across and wasn’t afraid to spill some blood to do so. Stu didn’t feel anger initially, only shock. He hadn’t realistically pictured how he and Mackenzie could ever thrive or flourish after Alaina’s disappearance. He called 911.

“My wife has been murdered… send someone….”

…

John Harbinger’s drive back to Angleton took about an hour. The Henley/Harbinger Quarry had purchased the adjacent property (the Surveillance House) when Dale Harbinger elected to get the property off of the books back in 1976. He sold it to the Todd family on the caveat that they rent it out indefinitely for passive income. He didn’t want anyone to grow to close to or accustomed to it in hopes that the company could again one day acquire it. They’d used the Surveillance House for years to keep close tabs on it and as a sort of blackmail spot for anyone that found their way into community politics that didn’t jive with their business operations.

He decided to call Beverly Rollins anonymously and ask her to meet a client on the hunting ranch as it had been for sale on the market for over three years with virtually no interested buyers.

…

“Sure, I’ll meet them out there tomorrow morning at 9. Does that sound okay?

“Sure thing. Thanks, Beverly.”

“What did you say your name was? It’s not important. Jake Hagley will meet you there.”

“Jake Hagley? As in the City manager, Jake Hagley?”

The phone line went dead. Beverly had shown the property a couple of times, but the hefty 2.3 million dollar price tag left buyers extremely reluctant and incapable of affording such a place.

Mackenzie mumbled to herself as she rolled over in bed,

“Hmmm… that was weird. She went to reach for the lamp and knocked her ashtray onto the floor. Waylon leapt out of bed to see what the commotion was and quickly came back to find a resting place next to Beverly.

“Ugh… I’m such a klutz. Levi…your probably laughing at me about now, aren’t you…? Tomorrow morning… 9AM.”

…

Jake Hagley sped across town and talked to himself,

”Man, oh man… why did I let myself get mixed up in this mess…?”

The voices in his head were echoing his memories of conversations with Dale Harbinger,

“It’ll just be this one time, Jake… it’ll help you pay the bills…. It’ll offer you job security… we’ll protect you… you’ll have our votes for the position indefinitely…”

The blackmail for Jake’s interest in the mayor would certainly disqualify him as city manager and furthermore tarnish the unblemished reputation he had managed to maintain for many years. This, compounded with his daughter’s disappearance, was more than enough to keep him motivated to do as the Harbinger’s demanded.

He still had latex gloves on to reduce the risk of prints on the weapon as he tightly clenched the steering wheel. He, too, had received a note with magazine clippings the previous night…

“Straight and narrow are many fellows… but not this one. Take care of what we need, or we’ll inconveniently reveal this truth and ruin you!”

Beneath the note was an address and a simple instruction…

“1835 24th Street… Kill her, make it messy... or else…”

There was not a hint as to how, who, or when.

Angleton was a town steeped in many traditions and a lot of old-fashioned ideologies. The concept of a leader in community politics abandoning such a thought process was certain to be unwelcome and an immediate disruption for Jake’s livelihood and future career in Angleton. Sure, he could never officially be fired or discriminated against for such a thing. They would come up with another way to get rid of him, some kind of technicality, but he was convinced if he didn’t go along with it, his political career in Angleton would be over.

Jake was trembling. Killing a person was not in his genetic makeup. He’d dodged the service for similar reasons and was now forever a pawn of the Harbinger clan.

…

As for Dale Harbinger, there was a bounty on the Hendricks property at 1835 24th Street, and he wanted it back. A death in the home would have to be reported on the real estate paperwork and was sure to be unsavory to any prospective buyers. The Harbinger family’s grasp on the area was tight, and its access to a seemingly unlimited capital left it in a unique position to flourish indefinitely. He’d bought the majority stake of the Angleton National Bank out as well as the bank president, among many other community and city council leaders through the years. If Dale could disrupt Stu Hendricks life enough to get him out, he could get back to what he was really after, a false wall behind one of the home’s fireplaces that stored four million in cash and falsified cash machine templates to produce counterfeit currency to circulate around town

He was never able to have it extracted and relocated. The original plan was to cut Joe Todd (father of the long time missing, Bobby Todd) some of the loot to allow the unsuspecting location to continue to host the operation. Still, his brother’s pursuit of religious leadership left the generally unreligious Joe feeling deeply conflicted at the human level. Unfortunately, the deal had gone sour between Dale and Joe, and Joe elected to sell the home and further threatened to ruin the Henley/Harbinger company name indefinitely. Bobby Todd went missing shortly after the threat, and it ruined Joe Todd entirely before his death just a year later.

1978

Dale Harbinger had personally contracted Levi Rollins to build a passageway between the surveillance house he’d purchased just behind 1835 24th Street.

It was an above and beyond project, not sanctioned for Henley/Harbinger, but rather some extra overtime and incentive pay, which Levi desperately needed to pay the mortgage and finance Beverly’s institutionalization fees. Levi didn’t have anyone to object to the project, so he turned a blind eye to it and helped to dig out a path between the properties.

The passageway would link the homes beneath and furthermore offer a means for business deals to begin and end at either address with minimized detection from neighbors and other prying eyes.

…

PRESENT

Mackenzie arrived at the ranch and was surprised not to find anyone there. She lit up another cigarette and walked towards the gate. She noted the: DANGER: HIGH VOLTAGE sign placed on the front and debated its authenticity. She saw no power poles for miles on the surrounding flat terrain. She flicked her Marlboro as it floated through the air and hit the top of the metal fence edge. The partially-smoked cigarette severed in half. She heard a small zapping sound and realized that the fence was indeed electrified.

“Well, I’ll be... John Brown. Freaking thing is electric. It must be pretty hot to melt a cigarette butt so easily.”

She lit another smoke and continued to nervously pace, waiting for Jake Hagley to arrive. She tried to dial the number that had called her the previous night and received an automated message which declared:

“THE NUMBER YOU HAVE DIALED IS NOT IN SERVICE.”

She muttered angrily, “Good freaking grief…”

As she started her vehicle and prepped to leave, she heard a scream in the distance. She didn’t think she was hearing voices again like she had in her worst times of stress many years before, but considering her age and the struggle of losing Levi, she decided that the best thing for her to do was dismiss them. They didn’t stop.

In the distance, Jess Hagley was running toward the fence with Alaina Hendricks draped in her arms. Beverly was driving down the fence line as Jess approached, but the recently formed cataract in her right eye was blocking her ability to see well out of her peripheral vision.

Jess got to the fence and decided not to try to risk testing its electrical current. She threw a rock, and it hit the side of Beverly’s vehicle loudly.

“What the …?”

Suddenly, she saw Jess and little Alaina and stopped the vehicle.

“Oh my gosh…”

As she went to open the car door, it was slammed shut by the charge of a boar that was on her side of the fence. The vehicle was thrust closer to the electrified fence. Beverly was unclear how to handle this, a few inches closer, and the car would quite likely be electrified, but the children were also likely at risk of other boar on the opposite side. She attempted to put the car in reverse and, in a fit of panic, angled the car tire the wrong direction crashing its rear into the back of the electric barrier. It zapped the car and knocked Beverly unconscious but appeared to disengage the electrical current in the sector as a result of the impact.

Jess grabbed a few things to test on it and confirmed as much. She began climbing the fence to attempt an escape with Alaina. Alaina was in one arm, and she was using the other to hoist herself up the dated and once electrified fence. The boar opposite them was spooked by the associated electrical charge that occurred when the car made an impact with the fence and scurried off.

As they reached the top and began descending, they dropped onto the top of Beverly’s vehicle. She was passed out with her head on the steering wheel. When Jess tried to wake her, Beverly was unresponsive. She lifted her frail body up and laid her in the passenger seat. She then loaded Alaina from the hood of the car into the back seat. Jess did not have a driver’s license but did the best that her 14 years of life experience could offer her and put the damaged car into drive. Alaina was calmer than could be expected, especially given the circumstances. They headed out the only way back and cruised toward Angleton. Beverly was still unconscious.

…

Stu Hendricks greeted a slew of visitors as he took final glances at Mackenzie. He still couldn’t believe that murder would have been the final outcome. As he was grilled by police, medical professionals, and local media who had latched onto the story, he continued to remain very protective of information. He felt that no one could be trusted in Angleton. He’d always been this way. Perhaps, it was overbearing parents or the line of work he was in that had made him so untrusting. Still, he never fully articulated these feelings to anyone beyond a general elusiveness and lack of candid transparency.

Detective Harry Lambert approached Stu and leaned in to give him a hug and a shoulder pat of condolence. Stu was not ready for it.

“I met her the other night, Stu. She seemed pretty decent.”

“Pretty decent? I’m not fishing for a dad-gum compliment. She’s dead, detective. You know we weren’t on the best of terms…”

“Are you admitting that you did this, then?”

“Of course not. That’s preposterous.”

“My first job is to be a detective. I’m a friend... second to that. If I detect a hint of guilt, Stu. You know what I have to do. Where were you when she was killed?”

“I was in the shower…”

“You didn’t hear any signs of struggle, a thud to the floor…”

“No… no! I didn’t hear anything. I get out of the shower, and she’s just dead on the floor. Face down, butcher knife in her back.”

“Butcher knife? Did you look at it that closely? You weren’t so repulsed that you had time to study the knife?”

“Oh, for crying out loud, detective. I’m trying to pull my life together here, my wife’s dead… my kid is missing… what’s next? I’m locked up…?”

“That's certainly a possibility. You are the prime suspect. You didn’t clue us in when your daughter went missing. A dead animal was found in your home, and I also received a call from Beverly Rollins, the realtor… about a certain short-fused night when you grabbed her by the throat?? Stu, you are looking to be in pretty rough shape there, partner…”

“Oh, come on, detective…This is all circumstantial… You are not going to vouch for me?”

“Did you ever hear the story of the small-town cop who loved his job?”

“No… what are you getting at?”

“There ain't one... Stu… I think you have more to hide… given the suspicious activity here… we’re going to have a search warrant on your property. I think it’d be in your best interest to find a lawyer.”

“My life is turning upside down… trusting you to help was never something I did, and now, I know why…”

“Excuse me? Are you trying to add harassing a police officer to your laundry list of offenses?”

“I don’t give a flying flip any more…”

“When I told you to get a hobby… killing people and targeting animals wasn’t what I had in mind…You have the right to remain silent…Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

The brightness of the ambulance, police, and TV lights, and the swirl of people engulfing 1835 24th Street was overwhelming Stu. It all began to become a blur as he felt his hands being pulled behind his back and Detective Lambert loaded him into the car. The police searched and seized the home and tried Stu Hendricks for the murder of his wife, aggravated assault, battery, counterfeiting, animal cruelty, and failure to report a crime.

…

3 MONTHS LATER

Beverly Rollins lights up a cigarette outside of the county courthouse, appearing conflicted about her testifying against Stu. Her dog, Waylon, enjoys a posh wet dog food lifestyle indefinitely.

Stu Hendricks is in transit to the state penitentiary, where he is sentenced to life.

Alaina Hendricks moved to Illinois to live with her grandparents (Mackenzie’s parents) amid her father’s impending incarceration.

Bobby Todd (Whom nobody knew was Bobby Todd) is fully recovered after his bicycle accident with Beverly. No one knows its him, beneath his unkempt and poorly maintained appearance and health, he is just another homeless man.

The e-cigarette kid switched to Marlboros…

The confiscated counterfeit template machine mysteriously vanished.

Detective Harry Lambert still dips his donut in lukewarm coffee and receives regular payouts from the Harbingers.

Jess Hagley is living with Jake and Linda. She never confronted either of her parents for their indiscretions, and business continues as usual. She knew that the Harbinger family would never bother her again.

John Harbinger is reclusively living in the Surveillance House.

Dale Harbinger lights a celebratory cigar and leans over to kiss his wife.

Reverend Todd still never misses a Sunday at the Angleton Baptist Church. It seems it's part of his job description.

...

Politics and people in Angleton are still bought for a price, and the Henley/Harbinger empire prepares for another successful year in business…

Somewhere lost in translation, the murder that was on record has been purged from the real estate logs... and 1835 24th Street is back on the real estate market.

The tunnels beneath it leading to the well and the Surveillance House are undiscovered… and it is once again "the Perfect House" as the next prospect rolls into the driveway.

The unknown man at Levi's funeral was Beverly and Levi Rollins' long-forgotten son, Dave. He'd never worked up the courage to introduce himself to them, despite living in town throughout the years. Dale Harbinger had anonymously left him on the Angleton firehouse steps on the night that Mackenzie was committed.

Dave emerges from the vehicle and declares his love for 1835 24th Street.

"I love it. It's like I've always belonged here! Dad, I know you'd be proud of me."

Mackenzie stamps out her cigarette in the grass and goes to introduce herself to her new client. She recognizes him but cannot place from where she's seen him, Her old age continuing to slow her memory down more and more by the day. Mackenzie walks him in the door to the home and starts the tour... never realizing that Dave was her own son...

Dave further affirms his feelings for the home,

"It's Perfect!"