“Come on, Denny, we have to go.” Billy pulled his arm and Denny stumbled after him. “Sorry mister, maybe next time,” Billy yelled over his shoulder.
The last thing Denny saw was the big man trudging slowly back into the shadows of the trailer.
They exited the fairgrounds and made their way quickly through the parking lot. Denny suddenly grabbed Billy. “Wait, I have an idea. Find Crawford’s car, we need to slow them down.” Billy nodded and the boys snuck up and down the rows of cars until they spotted Crawford’s Mustang. Denny bent down and unscrewed the cap from one of the tire valves. He grabbed a small, pointed rock and pushed on the pin, smiling triumphantly as the hiss of fetid, rubber-smelling air rushed by his face. “Billy, do another one in case he has a spare.” Billy quickly went to work, pulling his house key out of his pocket to release the air. When both tires were flat, the boys looked around to make sure they hadn’t been spotted, high-fived and headed out of the lot.
Two shadows hurried through the deserted streets of Haven as if the Devil himself were chasing them. In a way, maybe that was the truth. As the sounds of the carnival faded behind them, they raced down Main Street in a desperate effort to get to Paul before anyone else did. Denny’s mind raced as fast as his legs. The Town Square was completely empty! Normally with the carnival going on, the square would be pretty desolate but the crowd at the carnival was sparse at best. Could everyone really be this afraid of the Butcher? The pounding of their footsteps, the heavy breathing and the buzzing of the overhead street lamps were the only sounds to break the unearthly quiet. Sweat poured from them as they turned down Forge Street toward the old Blacksmith Shop, one of Haven’s historic landmarks.
The Town Blacksmith building was originally built back in 1805. The Kilgore family had served as blacksmiths for most of the surrounding towns for generations. Surviving members of the family still resided in Haven and had long ago donated the building and the grounds to the town to preserve. Denny had toured the building on a field trip, as had everyone else that grew up in Haven, and had been pretty impressed with the entire concept. During the tour, they had actually fired up the old oven and shown how horseshoes were made. Denny remembered standing close to the oven and feeling the searing heat from it that was capable of melting iron. The heat he was running through now seemed to rival that in its intensity.
Just as they approached the Forge building, headlights cut through the still darkness with the suddenness and intensity of lightning. Thinking as one, Denny and Billy dove headlong into the tall hedges that surround the Forge. They tumbled through the thick bushes, scratching skin and tearing clothes, and landed in a heap on the dry lawn on the other side. Denny rolled over onto his stomach, ignoring his torn shirt and bloody arms to catch a glimpse of the car. He heard Billy rustling around next to him. As he suspected, it was a police cruiser. The car trolled by, sweeping a spotlight across the sidewalk that they had been running on seconds before. Denny wasn’t sure if they had been spotted running or if this was just Haven’s finest doing their duty.
The car slowly pulled over to the curb just ten feet from where the boys crouched behind the bushes. Denny was sure they were caught, but then the flick of a match illuminated the inside of the car. They were just pulling over to have a smoke.
Denny and Billy looked at each other, helpless to move and too close to the open windows of the car to speak. It was too dark to make out who the officers were but it didn’t matter: if they tried to get away it would look suspicious. They would have to wait it out.
Finally the officer flicked the butt to the sidewalk in front of them, played the spotlight once more over the old building, and the car pulled away. After the tail lights had turned onto Main Street and out of sight, Denny and Billy stood and brushed the dry grass and dust off themselves.
“I thought we were busted,” Billy breathed.
“Me too. I wonder if it was Crawford.”
“I don’t want to know. Let’s get going.”
They cut through the back of the Forge grounds, across a large clearing that was also part of the property donated by the Adams’. Heat bugs buzzed in the trees above them. The occasional twinkle of a firefly was the only light visible from where they walked. A thick haze masked the moon and stars.
When they finally reached Hillview Street, it was as eerily quiet as the rest of the town. They jogged past Billy’s house. Denny watched Billy out of the corner of his eye. Billy glanced at his darkened house with an expression of such pain and sadness that it made Denny feel like he’d just stepped off the Round-Up. None of this was fair. Billy’s family was forced to move out of their home, while the rest of the town cowered in theirs. Worst of all, perhaps, seventeen years of an innocent man’s life were wasted, and now the scene was being repeated. He slowed down and Billy slowed with him. “What if they have a patrol at Paul’s house and see us?” he wondered out loud.
“So what, you live up the street, what can they do?” Billy tried to sound surprised at the question but Denny could tell he understood.
“They can do anything they want. Let’s cross the street and stick to the woods until we get to the house.”
They crossed the road and made their way into the outer fringe of the woods. These woods would take them all the way north into Maine, or in another direction to the border of Braxton State Prison a hundred miles away. They stayed low in the underbrush, ignoring the occasional scurrying sounds and crashing through the trees around them. They had both lived near the woods long enough to know the creatures that inhabited them, mostly chipmunks and squirrels but ranging as large as fox and deer and every once in a while a coyote.
The boys got to a point where they were across from Greymore’s house and could see the road up past Lovell’s. The houses were both dark and there were no cars in sight. “There’s no lights on, maybe he’s not back from Boston yet?”
A sudden thought hit Denny and he felt like he might cry. “What if they already got him?”
Billy shook his head. “No way they could have been here and gone already. Paul’s probably not back yet or he’s with Father McCarthy.”
Denny nodded. “We’ll wait at my house; we can see any cars coming up the road.”
As the boys made their way up the hill toward Denny’s house, it was his turn to dwell on the unfairness of life. They stopped directly across the street and Denny saw a light on in his mother’s bedroom, knowing she was either reading or just staring off into space, waiting for sleep to come and save her from a few hours of thinking, another day closer to death. He swallowed hard at the thought and tore his gaze away from the house. Suddenly a rough hand was covering his mouth and pulling him into the bushes along the yard.
(65)
Julie Cummings swatted the hand off her butt for what seemed like the thousandth time. Dale was shitfaced, making him more obnoxious and more grab-ass than usual. They had just exited the Ghost Ship where Julie had spent the entire ride fending off Dale’s groping hands. “Knock it off, Dale!”
“What’s the matter, Jen? I thought we’d have a little fun before me and the boys take care of a little business later.”
Julie was starting to get scared. Dale was starting to slur and the rest of the gang were all pretty drunk, too. All they’d been talking about was “getting Greymore.” Julie didn’t think much of it until she’d heard them talking about getting guns from Dale’s father. She had ignored her mom and Billy when they said Dale Crawford may have had something to do with her dad’s attack. Now she knew they were right.