 
The Fall of Night

By Bobby A. Troutt

Copyright 2013 Bobby A. Troutt

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

Lost Creek

Love Letters

Murders at Mud Creek

Ten Below Zero

Cemetery Road

Confessions

The Valley of a Bitter Day

*****

The Fall of Night

Lost Creek

It was toward the early morning hours and darkness hung heavy over the town of Lost Creek, Mississippi. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was early one Saturday morning around two-fifteen in 1951 when I took my dogs out to run. Mostly everyone in Mooneyhan County was still asleep. It had been a good run; the dogs treed two coons and three opossums. I was on my way home with the dogs following close behind. I cut through the woods of the Perry's Place which was a shortcut to my house. Little did I know, at that time, within a few hours Peggy Perry would be found dead. I stopped off in the nearby woods close to the Perry's house to take a leak. The best I could tell, Norman Perry, her husband wasn't at home; I didn't see his car in the driveway. However, when I looked across the yard through a patch of trees on the other side of the house, I saw a car sitting in the thicket of trees with its lights off. That's when I saw the porch light come and Rufus Bray making his way across the yard. Rufus was the handyman around town. But, I had no idea why he was as the Perry's at that time of morning. It was awfully early to be doing any handy work. When I looked again to see if the car was still there, I saw a flicker of light inside the car. I figured whomever was in the car had lit up a cigarette. Rufus apparently saw the flicker of light as well and took off running. I watched a few more minutes and was about to leave when a man got out of the car. The best I could tell, it was Norman Perry. He leaned against the car a few minutes and smoked a cigarette. As I was about to leave, he must have sensed something because he started looking around. I stood still, trying not to make a sound.

"Virgil, is that you?" he asked.

I watched as he took the last draw of his cigarette, thumped it in the road and headed for the house.

"Virgil, it sounds like your dogs have something treed."

I never said a word. I headed home as fast as I could because I felt like something bad had happened or was going to happen and I didn't want to be involved in it.

Morning came early, especially since I had been up all night. I got up and looked out the window to check on my dogs; they had made it back home. No sooner than I lay back down, I heard sirens in the distance.

Beverly, my wife, looked at me and said, "I wonder what on earth has happened."

I have no idea," I replied.

The screams of the sirens sounded in the distance and seemed to be getting closer. Suddenly, they stopped; it sounded like they stopped down the road from our house.

"It sounds like they stopped at Norman and Peggy's place," Beverly said with a worried voice.

"I believe I'll go over and see what's happening," I said as I got up and got dressed.

"Hold on, Virgil, I want to go with you," she insisted. "I hope nothing terrible has happened."

We hurriedly got dressed, jumped into the truck and headed over there. We arrived just in time to see the coroner going into the house. It wasn't long before a body was carried out and loaded into the coroner's van that was backed up to the house. Beverly made a loud gasping sound and buried her face against my shoulder. We couldn't tell, at first, who the deceased was. Then, I saw Norman step out onto the porch with the sheriff so I knew it had to be Peggy.

"It's Peggy isn't it, Virgil," she asked.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," I replied.

"What on earth could have happened?" she asked.

"I don't know," I answered.

After the sheriff left, Norman walked over to our truck and told us he had come home that morning and found Peggy dead.

"Like I told the sheriff, when I got home this morning I found her half-nude body lying across the bed and a piece of grass string on the floor. She had been strangled."

"She was murdered," cried Beverly. "Oh, Norman, I'm so sorry."

"Yes, the sheriff is looking into it as a murder," replied Norman. "She definitely didn't die of natural causes. It appears she was strangled; she had deep cuts on her throat and bruises around her neck."

"You have my sympathies," cried Beverly.

"I could use your prayers," he said. "It's going to be hard. We've been together for so long."

"We will, Norman. We'll be praying for you," I replied.

"Virgil, have you been running your dogs lately?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied, "I ran them last night."

Norman walked away without saying another word. Beverly and I left and headed for home; we hardly said a word to each other.

I didn't know what to say and Beverly appeared to be in shock. She told me she had seen Peggy a few days ago and she seemed to be okay.

"Virgil, do you think Norman killed her?" she asked.

"I don't know," I replied. "He can be hotheaded at times."

"Hey, look," she cried out as we passed a man walking along the road, "it's Rufus. Let's pull over and see if he has heard about Peggy."

I pulled over, slowly backed up to him and stopped.

"Rufus, are you doing alright?" I asked.

"I sure am," he replied. "I couldn't be better."

"Rufus, have you heard about Peggy?" asked Beverly.

"No, what happened," he said. "Why, what's wrong?"

"They found her body this morning," replied Beverly.

"What!" he shouted. "They found her body. What do you mean?"

"She was murdered," I informed him.

"I just saw her a day or two ago," he replied. "I don't know what to think."

"Virgil, do they know who might have done it?" he questioned.

"No, not yet," I replied. "That's all I know for now. Well, we have to get home. It's been a long day already and I've got to feed my dogs."

"Was that your dogs running last night?" Rufus asked.

"Yes, it was," I replied.

"I thought it might have been," he said. "I'll see you later."

"See you, Rufus," yelled Beverly as we pulled off.

The murder of Peggy Perry traveled rapidly across the countryside. There were all kinds of tales and gossip spreading through Lost Creek. Everyone was wondering if Norman killed her or if it was a stranger passing through town. The biggest rumor was that he caught her with another man and killed her. Norman's alibi was that he was attending a meeting. The stories went on and on. There was one out that Peggy was seen picking up a hitchhiker, about three days before her death, on her way home from town. Some people think the hitchhiker found out where she lived, came back and killed her. All of the rumors were strictly speculation and hearsay.

Shortly after Peggy's murder, a body was found in a shallow grave on Rufus's property. At first, it was speculated to be the body of the hitchhiker Peggy had picked up days before her murder. But, the body was badly decomposed. Whoever it was, they had been deceased for quite a while. It was later determined that heavy rain from the previous month had washed open one of the graves from an old family graveyard nearby. The hitchhiker was a person of interest, but that also led to a dead end.

The investigation of Peggy's murder went on. Two weeks passed without many leads. The rumors had slowed down a bit until one day when an anonymous tip was called in to the sheriff's office about Rufus. The caller stated that Rufus and Peggy were having an affair. At first, it was taken lightly because it was 1951 in Mississippi. That type of relationship didn't happen much then; Rufus was black and Peggy was white. The police eventually took the tip seriously. It was their only lead in the case. The police were able to determine the call was placed by a KKK member. They knew Norman had ties to the Klan.

About a week later, Norman approached me about what I saw that night at his house. I told him that I didn't want any part of it and I wasn't going to get involved. But, Norman pressured me to talk to the sheriff. He wanted me to tell the sheriff I saw Rufus coming out of his house the night Peggy was killed. I looked at him and started to tell him where to go. But, I figured it was in my best interest to walk away. When I started walking away, Norman grabbed me by my shoulder. I stopped and warned him to take his hands off of me. Norman took his hand off my shoulder, backed off and we both walked away from each other. I knew Norman wouldn't try anything just yet because he knew I could testify he was at home the night Peggy was killed.

"It's not over, Virgil; not by a long shot," Norman yelled as he walked away.

A few days later Rufus approached me and questioned me about Norman getting home early the night of Peggy's murder.

"Rufus," I said, "are you crazy seeing a married woman and a white one at that? Are you trying to get yourself killed? You do know Norman has ties with the Klan."

"Yes, I do. But, Virgil," he replied. "I didn't kill her; I loved her. She was alive when I left that night. Norman is most likely the one who killed her. Peggy told me they had been having trouble for the past year. She was about to leave him and ask for a divorce. However, for some reason another, she changed her mind and wanted to break it off with me. I don't know what happened. She took a ninety degree turn for some reason or another. I have no idea what scared her away from me."

"Think, Rufus, she probably changed her mind because she was threatened by the Klan. She was trying to protect you and keep you alive."

"I'm sure Norman had been suspicious of us for a long time. But, I promise, he never said anything to her about it. Virgil, you have to believe me. She was alive when I left that night. You know Norman has always had a bad temper. Everyone in Lost Creek knows that. He could have lost his temper and accidentally killed her. And now he is trying to make it look like I did it," he said as Sheriff Richard and a couple of his deputies pulled up.

"Hey, Virgil and Rufus," he said. "Rufus, I'm going to get right down to business. I have to take you in for questioning."

"For what, sheriff?" Rufus asked. "I haven't done anything."

"Well, if you haven't done anything you shouldn't mind coming to the station to answer a few questions."

"But, sheriff," he replied.

"You better go on, Rufus" I said. "Things will be alright."

The deputies handcuffed Rufus and put him in the back of the patrol car.

"Virgil, what do you think of this situation?" the sheriff questioned.

"I don't know," I replied. "Do you have any other suspects?"

"Not at this time," said the sheriff. "The only reason I'm taking Rufus in for questioning is because an anonymous tip was called into the sheriff's office."

"Do you know who called in the tip?" I asked.

"I have a good idea, but I'd rather not say right now." replied Sheriff Richard. "Well, I got to go, Virgil," he said. "Remember, my door is always open if you need me."

"Thanks, Richard. That's good to know."

When they arrived back at the courthouse, a couple of Rufus' old friends were sitting under a bodock tree killing time by whittling and spitting. They spoke to him and one of them asked him if he would be there Saturday night. He told him he didn't know for sure. On Saturday nights Rufus and some others shot dice in the back of the old country store after it closed. The jail was located on the fourth floor of the courthouse. They took Rufus into the interrogation room and began questioning him. Rufus didn't deny that he was at the Perry's house. He explained that around two o'clock, Peggy asked him to come over because she had some odd jobs for him to do. They asked him how long he stayed. He said he stayed for only about thirty minutes and he left around two-thirty. He told them he didn't know she was dead until the next day.

"Did you go back later that night?" they asked.

"No," he said after he paused for a moment.

"Did you have to think about your answer, Rufus?" questioned Sheriff Richard.

"No, sir," he replied. "I just don't understand why I'm here."

"We got a tip that you were seen at the Perry's place late that night," explained Sheriff Richard. "You were one of the last people to see Peggy alive."

They questioned Rufus for about two hours before he broke down and admitted that he was over there late that night. But, he made it clear that she was alive when he left.

"Were you and Peggy having an affair?" asked Sheriff Richard.

"Yes, sir," he replied.

"Did Norman know about it?" questioned Sheriff Richard.

"I'm sure he suspected it," Rufus stated.

After questioning, Rufus was booked into jail. Later on that evening, the sheriff got another tip from an anonymous caller. They informed him that I was at the house the night when Peggy was killed and saw Rufus leaving the house. I knew sooner or later I would have to come forth with what I knew. I was sitting on the porch when Sheriff Richard pulled up. I knew my time had come; it was definitely not a social call.

"Well, Virgil," he said, "I think it is about time we had a little talk."

"Are you taking me in, Sheriff Richard?" I asked.

"No, Virgil there's no need for that," he replied.

"I guess you got another tip," I said sarcastically. "Those tips are getting pretty convenient."

"Yep," he replied, "they are."

"Was the tip about me?"

"Yep, it was" the sheriff said.

"Well, I'll tell you what I know. I have nothing to hide and I'll be relieved to tell someone."

"I am all ears," said Sheriff Richard.

I opened up and told him everything I saw that night and what I knew. He asked me what time I saw Norman. I told him it was between two and three o'clock. Sheriff Richard then told me that Norman didn't get home until six o'clock that morning and he had a strong alibi to prove it.

"I checked his story out and it appears he is telling the truth. I can't get anyone to tell me otherwise."

"Do you really believe his story, Sheriff Richard?" I asked.

"No, I don't. But, that's all I can say at the moment. I believe that's all the questioning I have for now. I am going to have Norman picked up for more questioning. I may need to talk with you again as well. Virgil, thanks for your cooperation. I'll keep in touch. Have a good day."

I was relieved to get that off my chest. I yelled in the house and asked Beverly if she wanted to ride in to town with me.

"No, I reckon not," she replied.

"I'll see you later. I shouldn't be gone long," I stated.

"Okay," she said as she opened the screen door and gave me a kiss.

"What was that for?" I asked.

"For getting it all off your chest," she said.

"Thanks, I needed that," I replied with a big smile as I got into the truck and headed for town to get some supplies.

Norman was picked up for more questioning. It didn't really matter because there wasn't enough evidence to break Norman's alibi. The sheriff knew the Klan was supporting Norman's alibi which was that he was attending a meeting with them the night of Peggy's murder. I was the only one who saw him at his house between the hours of two and three o'clock. The problem is I also saw Rufus around that time as well. All the evidence pointed to Rufus. With Norman's alibi, they couldn't hold him. But, Rufus didn't have a chance.

On my way back home, I couldn't help but think about Rufus. I wished there was something I could do to help him. But, I didn't know what it could be. I couldn't help but believe he didn't kill Peggy. Finally, I arrived back home. I blew the horn and called out for Beverly. But, she didn't answer. I went on into the house and called her name as I went from room to room. She was nowhere to be found. I figured she had probably gone over to the neighbors. However, that was before I found a note that said I told you it wasn't over. I ran back to the truck and took off toward town as fast as I could go. I had to get to Sheriff Richard's office.

"Sheriff Richard, Sheriff Richard," I cried out of breath.

"What is it, Virgil?" he asked. "Calm down and catch your breath."

"They took Beverly," I said as I handed him the note.

"You got to help me, Sheriff Richard," I begged.

"Do you think she was abducted?" Sheriff Richard asked.

"I don't know for sure," I replied. "But, if she has been, Norman is probably behind it."

"Okay, men," instructed the sheriff, "find Norman and bring him in."

Quickly, the sheriff, his deputies and I left to search for Norman and Beverly. Sheriff Richard put out an APB for Norman. But, Norman or Beverly was nowhere to be found. Hours passed and the sheriff thought he had left town and gone into hiding. The more time passed, the madder I got. I was so afraid something terrible had happened to her. Day eventually fell to night and Sheriff Richard had no choice but to suspend the search until the next morning. We had combed the town with a fine tooth comb. Everyone agreed to get some rest and resume the search the next morning. I had left my truck at the sheriff's office so Sheriff Richard told me he'd drop me off at home and take care of my truck until I was able to come and get it. When we pulled up at the house, we saw Beverly standing in the doorway. I jumped out of the car before it stopped and ran toward her; she burst out the door and ran toward me. I wrapped my arms around her and held her like I had never held her before.

"God does answer prayers," I cried out. "Thank you, God."

She kissed me and suddenly started crying and shaking as she tried to tell me and the sheriff what had happened.

"Did they hurt you?" I asked.

"Nope, but, I was afraid they were going to."

"Do you know who it was?" Sheriff Richard asked. "Did you see any of them?"

"No," she replied. "They must have snuck into the house when Virgil left. I didn't hear or see anything. I was washing dishes when one of them put a sheet over my head. I kicked and screamed, but it didn't do any good. They tied a rope around my waist and led me outside. They kept telling me that they wouldn't hurt me if I stayed still and quiet. They told me they were going to ride me around for a while and then bring me back home later. After that, they didn't say another word. We rode around until they brought me back home. They led me back into the house and cut the rope from my waist. They told me I had to count to fifteen before I took the sheet off. By the time I counted to fifteen and took the sheet off, they were all gone."

"Thank God you're alright," I said as I hugged and kissed her."

"Well it's too late to do anything now," Sheriff Richard said. "Virgil. I'm going to head back into town. First thing in the morning, I want you and Beverly to come to the office and fill out a report."

"Do you think you will be able to catch them?" she asked.

"I don't know," he replied. "I'll do my best. They are probably already in the next county by now."

"Thank you, Sheriff Richard, for all your help."

"I'll send a patrol car out in the morning to bring you into town."

"Thanks again," I cried.

"I'll see you in the morning," he said as he got into his car.

The night seemed so long. I guess because the day had been so bad. I didn't sleep much at all; I tossed and turned all night long. I'd nod off for a little while, then wake up and sit on the side of the bed. I watched Beverly as she slept; I couldn't imagine what I'd do without her. She had taken a pill to help her sleep. Besides, she needed the rest. Nightfall soon broke into day. We got up, ate breakfast and waited for our ride. I couldn't help but think about the kidnapping. I really didn't know for sure, but I had a gut feeling that Norman was behind it. I remember him telling me it wasn't over. Beverly just wanted to drop it since they didn't physically hurt her. However, I knew I wouldn't be able to forget what had happened. The Lord really watched out for her and I praised Him for His help. It was about nine o'clock when the deputy picked us up. When we got to the sheriff's department we went to talk to Sheriff Richard but he had someone with him. As we waited outside his office, I overheard the DA, James Rodgers, telling Sheriff Richard what he had decided to do about Peggy Perry's murder. Rufus was going to be charged with second degree murder based on the facts and evidence of the case. There was an eyewitness who had seen him at the scene of the crime around the time of Peggy's death.

"Sheriff, Norman has a solid alibi. Plus, from what I have found out from her friends, she wanted a divorce. And there was her affair with Rufus. According to another source willing to testify to the fact, she was going to break it off with Rufus and try to work it out with Norman. When Rufus heard she was going to break it off with him he got very upset and that's what I believe was the motive for him murdering Peggy."

"Okay, James. I appreciate you letting me know. I'll keep in touch."

"Hello, Virgil," James said as he left the sheriff's office. "I'm glad Beverly was returned safe."

"Thank you," I replied.

"Come on in and have a seat, Beverly," said Sheriff Richard. "Virgil, if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to Beverly alone."

"No problem, sheriff. I'll wait outside."

As Beverly and Richard worked on the report, I walked about in the hallway. I looked out the window and noticed Norman walking down the sidewalk. I hurriedly made my way outside to confront him. However, I didn't say a word. I spoke with my fists. I hit him in the face and knocked him to the ground. As I glanced around to see if anyone was watching, I looked up to the window of the sheriff's office. Sheriff Richard was looking out at window. Surprisingly, though, he closed the blinds. I went back to handling my business with Norman. A crowd quickly surrounded us. Someone, I don't know who, eventually pulled me off of him. Norman slowly picked himself up and watched me walk away.

"It's not over with, Virgil Cothron. You just made a big mistake," he yelled.

Unexpectedly, when Norman turned around he was face to face with Judge Andrew Holliman.

"Is that a threat?" he asked.

Norman replied, "No, sir."

"It sounded like one to me," stated Judge Holliman. "I hope nothing happens to Virgil or his family. If it does, I'll remember your threat."

Norman turned and walked away and so did Judge Holliman. I headed back to the sheriff's office. Beverly and Sheriff Richard were finished by the time I made it back to the office. Beverly and I went to the truck to go home. When I opened the door, my feet slipped out from under me and I almost slid under the front end of the truck. As I pulled myself back up, I noticed a piece of paper under my wipers; it was a parking ticket. I looked at Beverly, she looked at me and we both laughed. What else could go wrong? On the way home, Beverly and I talked about what I had overhead James Rodgers saying about Rufus.

"I have wished a thousand times that I didn't run the dogs that night. If I hadn't I would have never seen Rufus or Norman. I wouldn't be a witness to any of this."

Beverly looked at me and said, "You had to do what was right and you did. I'm so proud of you."

I didn't tell her I confronted Norman at the courthouse. She would have fussed about it at first and then probably laughed about it. Anyway, I thought it was best for her not to know.

The next day, Rufus was taken before Judge Holliman. The DA, James Rodgers, presented the charges against him. Chester Phillips, a defense attorney, was appointed to represent Rufus. After hearing the evidence of the case, Judge Holliman bound him over to the grand jury and a court date was set. His bond was posted so high; there was no way Rufus could make bond. Rufus remained incarcerated in the county jail.

A few days later, I went to the jail and visited Rufus. He seemed okay, but I could tell he was worried. We talked about the old days of growing up in Lost Creek. He didn't have any family left in Lost Creek; they had either died or moved away. He never married and didn't have any children. Rufus was a little slow, but he was Rufus. We always had a good time together. I let him know if he needed anything to just give me a call.

About a week later, I went back to visit him. When I got there, Sheriff Richard met me at the door. He told me Rufus had died. I asked him what happened. He told me Rufus died of a heart attack in his sleep. I couldn't believe it; I was dumbfounded. With tears in my eyes, I told Sheriff Richard I would take care of the arrangements. There were several people around town who made donations to help me with his funeral. It was hard on me, but everything turned out nice for him. The funeral and flowers were probably the nicest things he ever received in his life. Too bad he had to die before he received anything nice. I think he would have been proud. He finally found peace and rest.

The DA closed the case and dropped all charges against Rufus. Norman sold his farm, took up with a woman in one of the local bars and moved away.

Late one evening, Beverly and I were sitting on the porch relaxing and talking. She asked me if I thought Rufus killed Peggy. I hesitated before I said anything.

"Yes, I know he did. There is a part of my story I haven't told you or anyone. Norman did come back around two o'clock but he never went into the house. He sat in his car and watched the house until Rufus left. After Rufus left, Norman got out his car, smoked a cigarette and stood for a few minutes before he got back into his car and left. When he came back to the house, Peggy was already dead. He didn't have anything to do with her murder.

"Why, Virgil, didn't you tell the truth?" she asked.

"I wanted to protect Rufus," I replied.

"Well, thank God it never went to trial because the truth would have eventually come out," she stated.

After that day on the porch, Beverly and I never discussed Peggy's murder again and I never told anyone else. A few years later, Beverly died after a long bout with cancer. It was hard for me to let her go. But, I'm glad she didn't have to suffer anymore. For me, I continued to sit on the porch waiting for the days to pass and I still ran my dogs from time to time.

*****

The Fall of Night

Love Letters

About thirty-five miles from the Florida state line, the ocean spray ballet against the rocky bluffs of the Georgia coastline. The waves splashed against the rocks driving the tide inward. The milky looking clouds set abreast of the dawn as the warm winds stirred about. Afar off, across the troubled waters, a little thunder could be heard and flashes of lightning could be seen from time to time; a storm had moved in. It was 1921 in the small town of Mossey Stone, Georgia where I was born and raised. I am Brother Warner, the local church pastor.

It was a typical Saturday afternoon when I reached Stone Cottage Cove. The cove was just outside of Mossey Stone. It was located on a bluff near the ocean and was accented by a small body of water that fed in and out of the ocean. The lighthouse stood so tall and bold; it dressed the coastline with its stylish character. I always enjoyed my visits to the lighthouse. Every time I went there, it brought back fond memories of my childhood. My friends and I played around the lighthouse a lot when we were young. Oh, what I would give for those days again. But, that's life. You have to take it as it comes, do your best and let the rest be. I think sometimes it would be nice to go back. However, after I take a look back, I quickly realize that I really don't want to.

Jud Wilkerson was the lighthouse keeper. He and Holly, his wife, had been there for years. Jud moved to Mossey Stone from the northeast. He became the lighthouse keeper after the death of Sandy Forrest, the former keeper. Soon after, he met Holly and they later married. They had one daughter, Jo Alice, and lived in the adjoining house at the base of the towering lighthouse.

As I stood at the top of the bluff looking out across the ocean, I watched the water splashing furiously below. The strong wind blew the hair on my head aimlessly about and caused my pants legs to flap in the wind. I was enjoying the warm breeze upon my face when Jud came out to see me.

Jud was a quiet man and stayed to himself. He was a low key sort of guy and a good friend of mine. I dropped by to visit him from time to time. I tried to encourage him and Holly to come back to church. They used to be faithful members until life's trouble got them down. Jud and Holly were good down to earth people. But, sometimes when you get down it's not so easy to get back up. It not only happened to Jud and Holly. In my line of work, I saw it happen to a lot of people.

I remember that day clearly; the angry waves beat against the rocky coastline. The sky turned a blackish-gray as it drew back the light of day. I watched the brewing storm change swiftly. It gained momentum every second, recklessly driving the water about as the snowcapped waves formed and rested upon the shore.

"A storm is brewing," I said as the hard wind ripped the coastline with a fear-filled chill.

"Yep," replied Jud, "sure is."

"I've been missing you and Holly at church," I said. "We miss you and your family."

"Yep," he replied. "I appreciate your concern."

But, he would not say any more.

"Jud, you know, we have been friends for a long time. We've been through a lot together, especially in the last few years. I know Jo Alice comes from time to time and it is always a blessing to see her in church. However, Jud, she needs you and Holly to be strong for her."

"Yeah," I know Jud replied. "But it's not the same anymore. There's too much water under the bridge to make any difference."

"Yes, I understand that things happen in life, Jud. Why, I can't explain. It was a long time ago when that happened and you have to find a way to move on. Let it go, Jud. I pray you give it to the Lord. You're going to have to let it go. Or, it will eat at you and you'll only grow more bitter and angry."

High above us, the seabirds sailed about and squawked. The crashing waves hit hard against the rocky coastline causing the silent cry of the ocean to break up against the rocks and return back to the ocean as a haunting whisper.

"The storm will probably move back out," stated Jud. "If it does, we will miss a good chance of getting some much needed rain."

"You may be right," I replied. "Well, I better get going just in case the storm does come ashore. Jud, you're a hard man to convince," I said. "You can't change the things that have happened. We all make mistakes; it's time to put it behind you and move on. I hope you'll think about what I've said. Jesus loves you and your family," I said as I reached out to shake his hand. "I believe you'll do the right thing when the time comes. Tell Holly and Jo Alice I said hi and that I've been thinking about them."

"I will. Thanks, Brother Warner, for coming by," he responded. "Come back anytime."

"I'll keep you all in my prayers," I replied as I turned and walked away.

When I left, Jud headed back to the lighthouse. He was right; the storm shifted and went back out into the ocean. I figured we would probably get some rain off the storm but not a lot. As I drove away, I thought about the story of the lighthouse I heard as a child. The haunting story of the lighthouse dated back to the 1800's. It was told that the lighthouse keeper killed his wife and then committed suicide when he found out she had an affair. The wife's lover was said to have disappeared; he was never seen again. There is an old unmarked grave not far from the lighthouse. People believe the keeper of the lighthouse killed his wife's lover when he confronted him about the affair. It is believed that his wife's lover is buried in the unmarked grave. All of that may be old tall tales which have been told down through the years. Things have happened around the lighthouse that can't be explained. Strange voices have been heard, a light climbing the lighthouse tower late at night has been seen and unexplained blackouts have occurred. The haunting cries have been heard throughout the spiral chamber for years. Stone Cottage Cove definitely had its dark secrets.

As time went on, nothing changed much around Mossey Stone. People just came and went. In the lazy days of summer, families gathered together to drink homemade tea, pitch horseshoes and play a little crochet around Lancaster County. But, times have changed. Also, the people have changed; they have different priorities. It used to seem like people worked together and tried to help one another. However, over time, it seemed like the people didn't have the time to care anymore. I see it more and more each day.

As I drove back to town, I couldn't get my mind off Jud. He truly was a hard man but, in his own way, he was a good man. Don't get me wrong, Jud was no saint. He was a recovering alcoholic; he had been on the wagon for a pretty long time. I was really proud of him. He and Holly had their share of troubles. A few years ago, Jud fell off the wagon and started drinking again which caused his abusive ways to return. When Jud was drinking he was hard to be around. Not only was he physically abusive toward Holly, he was verbally abusive as well. She and Jo Alice had to leave home quite a bit because it would get so bad. They had to leave several times in the middle of the night to get away from his abusive ways. He started staying out late at night, fighting and getting in trouble. No one really knew why Jud started back drinking. But, it was around the time Holly was having an affair with a sailor named James Turner from Savannah. Their affair went on for several months. Jud found out about the affair when Holly became pregnant. She didn't know for sure who the father was. But, deep down in her heart she believed her lover, James, was the father. Things got pretty bad for a while. Jud swore he would kill him if he ever saw him. Jud and Holly tried to work things out but didn't make much ground. Holly told Jud that he drove her into another man's arms. It did appear that way. However, it still didn't justify for what she did; two wrongs don't make a right. Time soon passed and things didn't get any better between Holly and Jud. Holly moved out and went to live with a friend of hers. Jud went by there every day, cussing and causing trouble; he was arrested a few times and ordered to stay away. But, he was so overbearing and heartless.

Jud eventually encountered Holly's lover one night at a bar in Savannah. He recognized him from a picture he had found of Holly's. The two men had a few words and pushed and shoved each other a little bit. However, James told Jud it wasn't worth it and walked out the door. Jud followed right behind him cussing and threatening him with each step he took. When James turned around to confront Jud, he saw that he had a knife. He told Jud he didn't want any trouble because he loved Holly and his feelings for her would never change. They both disappeared into the night and James was never seen again. Some say he returned to his ship for deployment. Others who knew how hotheaded Jud was think James is buried in the unmarked grave near the lighthouse.

Holly, trying to make the marriage work, moved back to the lighthouse with Jud. Even though Jud had quit drinking they still had some troubling times. The unexpected pregnancy was definitely a thorn in their flesh. However, after the baby was born, things turned around. The child helped close the wounds of the past.

Jo Alice was a good girl and loved living at the lighthouse. She was a heavenly light sent from Heaven; the Lord used her to free two shattered lives from a darkened past. She was the joy of their lives and a blessing to them in so many ways. Jud never forgot the smile on her face when he brought home a dog one day to surprise her. Jo Alice named him Mr. Tenpenny; he was a blessing to her and gave her such love and joy in her heart. She loved him and the lighthouse so much. She and Mr. Tenpenny played around the lighthouse and had so much fun.

In time, life around Mossey Creek was good again. Jud and his family came to church occasionally. It seemed like everything had come together for them. Jo Alice grew up so fast and Mr. Tenpenny was no longer a pup but a lazy hound lying around the base of the lighthouse steps.

The townspeople seldom mentioned anything about the unmarked grave anymore. They had basically forgotten about it. Jo Alice kept it cleaned off and tended to the wild flowers that grew about it. It always bothered her that there was no name or date engraved on the headstone. She felt sorry for the person buried there because they had been forgotten. The headstone had weathered with time and was covered with a little moss. From time to time, Jo Alice would ask Jud and Holly about the grave. She always asked who was buried in the grave and if they went to Heaven. They always told her they didn't know and they hoped so.

Life in Mossey Stone moved on. I still pastored the church there; it had grown a little but we had lost most of our older members. In general, life stayed pretty much the same until we were hit hard by a storm. It swept across the water through the darkness of night producing heavy rain, high winds, thunder, lightning and fierce waves. The winds twisted and turned out of control, tearing down everything in its path. Jud was in the lighthouse the night the storm hit. He shined the light out over the ocean searching for ships caught in the storm. As he fought with all his might to keep the light aglow, he noticed a ship caught up in the midst of the storm. It was being tossed violently back and forth in the troubled waters. The sailor steering the ship could see the small glimmer of light piercing its way through the angry storm. With the Lord's help, Jud was able to guide the ship safely to land. After the surge of the storm, the waters calmed down and were peaceful once again. Unfortunately, Jud died of a massive heart attack after he had guided the ship to shore. When they found him, he was still clutching the light.

The loss of Jud hit the community hard. Despite everything, he had a lot of friends; he was well liked and everyone spoke highly of him. He was respected by many after he accepted another man's child into his home and raised her as his own. I don't think Jud or Holly really knew who Jo Alice's father was. I prayed and hoped he had things in order before he died. After his death, Holly maintained the lighthouse with Jo Alice's help. They had learned everything they knew from one of the best lighthouse keepers around. The lighthouse never seemed the same after Jud died; he was gone but not forgotten.

A few months after his death as Jo Alice played in the tower, she found an old cigar box full of love letters. She found the box behind some loose bricks in the tower wall. She opened one of the letters; it was addressed to her mama from James. She read it as well as the others, seven in all. They were all written to her mother from James. After reading the letters, she was confused and couldn't figure out why her mama would cheat on her daddy. She took the letters to her mama and asked her why. As soon as Holly saw the letters in her hand she knew exactly what they were.

"Mama, what are these?" she asked as she tossed the letters onto the table.

"Where on earth did you find those?" questioned her mama. Jud must have found them and hid them from me, she thought before she responded.

"Jo Alice, honey, you shouldn't be concerned about those. Actually, it's been so long ago that I had forgotten about them myself. I didn't want you to ever find out about mine and your daddy's past problems. But, since you found these letters, let me explain. Several years ago Jud started drinking again. He wasn't the best person when he drank. He became physically and verbally abusive toward me, more than I could take. He was so out of control. I couldn't bare it so I left him for a while and stayed with Ellen, my friend. That's when I met James. I met him by accident at the market. Considering the way things were at home, it was easy for me to slip into another man's arms. He was the exact opposite of your daddy in so many ways. James and I had an affair which lasted only a few months. James was everything I wanted Jud to be. Jud found out about the affair after I got pregnant. We started to file for divorce, but Jud told me he would stop drinking. I went back home and tried to make our marriage work. It wasn't easy but we decided to stay together and make the best of it for you. Jud loved you. He changed for the better after you were born; he never drank again. You gave him something to live for."

"So, are you saying Jud is not my biological father?" she asked.

"No...I mean, yes. Oh, I've always felt that James was your real daddy. I guess in the back of my mind I always hoped he was."

"But, that doesn't make it right," Jo Alice cried.

"Jud and I did what we thought was right," she explained. "We thought it was in your best Interest."

Jo Alice rebelled for a while because she was torn by the things she had found out. At first she was angry and hurt. On several occasions when I went to visit Holly, Jo Alice talked to me about what she had found out and how she felt about it. She was confused and searched for answers to help her accept the situation. We had several conversations about the lover letters and I tried to help her understand. She slowly began to heal. As time passed, she forgave her mother and eventually asked her what happened to James. Holly explained to her that she didn't see or talk to James after she went back to Jud. She did tell her that she had heard about the encounter Jud and James had at a bar in Savannah. And, after that night, James disappeared and wasn't seen again. She told Jo Alice she just didn't have much information about him or his whereabouts.

After several conversations with Jo Alice, I finally decided it was time for me to give Jo Alice something Jud had told me to give her if anything ever happened to him. I drove out to the lighthouse to see her and told her I had something for her. I opened my Bible and handed her a letter from Jud. Jud had written it to Jo Alice after she was born. In the letter he asked her not to blame her mother and told her he loved her and only wanted her to be happy. The letter went on to say how he loved Jo Alice as if she was his own daughter and always would. When she finished reading the letter, it seemed like a peace came over her. I honestly believe it helped bring closure since it was in Jud's own words.

Life went on after that, I stepped down from the church as the pastor and handed it over to a young man filled with fire. He and Jo Alice hit it off real good. I was so glad she met someone like him. Not too long afterwards, there came a knock upon the lighthouse door. Holly ran to answer it. She thought it was the new pastor dropping by to see Jo Alice. She was startled when she answered the door....

"James?"

*****

The Fall of Night

Murders at Mud Creek

I was about an hour out of Shreveport, Louisiana that night in 1956. I was running with a full load and needed to refuel. The sign on the side of the road read Mud Creek, next right. I had been pushing the rig all day; it had been good weather but nightfall was approaching fast. I was still twenty-five miles from my next stop. I hoped to arrive at my destination within the hour or so. I slowed down to take the exit ramp off the interstate to Mud Creek. As I neared the truck stop, I saw several rigs, campers and other vehicles. I slowly pulled in behind another truck at the fuel pumps to get some diesel. The tires on my rig, as I came to a complete stop, grabbed the ground and clenched the pavement; the air brakes shot out a gushing sound of air. I sat there and waited with my truck idling and looked around. It appeared the town was a pretty good size for out in the bayou. I had been on the road for five days. I left Wichita, Kansas and traveled through Little Rock to Shreveport. I was headed to for Birmingham and then home. While I waited to fuel up, I noticed some ladies of the night talking to the other truckers. Some of them didn't look too bad and sort of caught my fancy. A little excitement on the road might be intriguing, I thought. The truck in front of me finally pulled off and I eased up to the pumps. AS I was filling up, one the ladies came over and started talking to me.

"What about it?" she said. "Do you need some company tonight in that big truck of yours?"

"I don't know," I replied. "What do you have in mind?"

"A little fun and excitement," she said as she eased up closer to me, touching her body to mine. "I bet you can really change those gears and show little old me some new things."

"I don't know," I shyly replied and backed away. "I doubt it. But, just out of curiosity, what's the going rate?"

She slipped up her dress, took a card out of her nylons and handed it to me. I took the card and looked at it; it had her name and seven prices on it.

"You pick and choose what you want and I'll throw in my phone number for whenever you're back in town."

"Hop into the truck," I told her. "Let me go pay for my gas and I'll be right back. Get ready, baby, for you are in for a long haul tonight."

Quickly, I went to pay for the fuel inside the truck stop. I stood in line behind the other truckers and overheard some of them talking about two prostitutes who had been found dead, one in Cotton Valley and one near Mud Creek. Finally, I reached the register to pay for my fuel. When I got back to the truck she was sitting in the passenger's seat. I waved and smiled at her before I opened the door. She smiled and waved back. I climbed up into the truck and tuned the radio to the Louisiana Hayride station. Before I pulled out of the truck stop, I updated my log book because I knew there was a weigh station a few miles up the road at the Mississippi state line; I hoped I wasn't overweight. I put the truck in gear. The big rig jerked a little and slowly began to move across the parking lot. I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, she had put one of her legs on the dash of the truck. She slipped her nylons off, balled them up and put them in her purse. That alone got me all worked up; my hands quivered so bad I could hardly change gears. She turned to me, laughed, placed her hand on mine and told me to relax. In minutes, I was back on the road. I knew there was a small rest stop not too far up the road where we could take care of business.

The wheels of the eighteen-wheeler sounded like a symphony as it rolled down the highway. The darkness of the night set a mysterious and intriguing mood. As I drove along, I noticed a few falling stars. I switched on the light inside the truck to get a good look at her and make sure I wasn't dreaming. She sat in a beautiful ray of light and her eyes sparkled. She kissed the tip of her finger and then placed her finger to the side of my cheek before she reached up and switched off the light.

I noticed when we left the truck stop that we were being followed. The car only had one headlight and kept its distance. I wondered why I was being followed and was curious to see if it would stop at the rest stop when I did. I didn't know if she had noticed the car or not but it didn't appear she had. She leaned forward and picked up my hunting knife from the dash of the truck, took it out of its leather sleeve, played around with it for a little while and then laid it back on the dash. The rest stop was just up ahead so I slowed down and turned on my blinkers. I looked in my side mirror and noticed the car had slowed down as well. I pulled off the highway and eased into the rest stop. The car kept going; it didn't stop. I tried to see if I could recognize who was driving but I couldn't. However, I did notice her as she watched the car disappear in the darkness of the night.

Relieved the car had passed on by; I leaned over for a kiss to set the mood for the night. It startled me when she pushed me away. For some reason or another she had changed her mind and turned cold toward me. I didn't know what to make of it at first. Then it dawned on me; I figured she wanted her payment first. I pulled out the money and laid it on the truck dash. Instead of getting the money, she grabbed the knife and pulled out a badge. She was an undercover officer. I panicked and tried to take the knife away from her. As we fought for the knife, it scraped the side of my arm deep enough to make it bleed. I was able to wrestle the knife away from her. However, I couldn't keep her from opening the door of the truck and jumping out. I cranked up the truck, put it in gear and started pulling off. I didn't get far; I was immediately surrounded by red lights. The one-eyed car came back down the road and pulled up right beside the driver's door as two more police cars caught my back side. Quickly, the officers surrounded the truck screaming for me to get out of the truck with my hands up. I slowly opened the door and eased out with my hands up; they rushed toward me, put my hands behind my back and cuffed me. They called for the woman but she didn't answer. They finally found her lying at the foot of the embankment. Apparently, when she jumped from the truck, she fell down the embankment and hit her head on a rock. By the time an ambulance arrived, I was sitting in the backseat of one of the police cars. Luckily, for me she seemed to be alright. They took her to the hospital for observation and me to jail.

Once at the jail, they read me my rights and began questioning me. I told them my name was Russell Richardson. I tried to explain what had happened and told them it was the first time I had picked up a prostitute. Unfortunately, they already had it in for me. They locked me up and held me for seventy-two hours.

The police impounded my truck and thoroughly searched it. At first, they couldn't find any incriminating evidence. It was looking good for me when everything suddenly went bad. One of the officers searching my truck found a woman's billfold hung in the springs of the passenger's seat. They also found two women's photo IDs, a little money, some keys and a little makeup. The photo IDs belonged to Kelly Jean Biggs and Emily Francis Brown; the two prostitutes who had been killed a few months ago. Emily was the sister of Janice Reeves, the undercover officer.

The officers came back to the jail and told me what they had found and wanted to know how the items got in my truck. I told them I wanted to see a lawyer. I wasn't going to let them railroad me for something I didn't do. Everything seemed to be going so fast. It appeared I was being tried and convicted before I even had a trial. I was assigned a defense lawyer from Mud Creek, Wyatt Pelligrin. It wasn't too long before Mr. Pelligrin came to see me.

"Mr. Richardson, the officers informed me that you wanted to talk with a lawyer," stated Mr. Pelligrin.

"Yes, sir," I replied. "I need help getting out of this mess."

"I'll see what I can do," he replied. "Go back to the beginning and tell me what happened."

I went back to the beginning and explained what had happened. I told him I had been set me up for some reason or another.

"Well there is no entrapment law in Louisiana," said Mr. Pelligrin. "So, they can't charge you for that."

About that time Detective Milholland and Detective Janice Reeves, the undercover officer, entered the room. I was placed under arrest for solicitation of a prostitute, attempted aggravated murder and two counts of first degree murder.

Then Mr. Pelligrin stood up and asked, "What evidence are you basing Mr. Richardson's arrest on?"

Milholland answered, "The solicitation charge for picking up Detective Reeves at the truck stop and assuring she was a prostitute, the attempted aggravated murder charge for resisting arrest with a deadly weapon and the two counts of first degree murder for the two prostitutes. We found a woman's billfold in his truck along with the photo IDs of the two deceased prostitutes."

I turned to Mr. Pelligrin, looked at him and said, "I don't know what they are talking about."

"Calm down, Mr. Richardson. Let me handle this. I will start putting together my defense and I'll talk to you later to get more information," stated Mr. Pelligrin.

The two prostitutes had been murdered in and around Bossier and Caddo Parish. The police had set up a sting to catch the killer and I somehow got caught up in the middle of it. I was booked into jail; they took my fingerprints, my mug shot and placed me in a cell.

The next day the police went back and searched the truck again to make sure they hadn't missed anything. Unfortunately for me, they had. They found a knife wrapped up in a bloody handkerchief under the seat. The knife was sent to the lab for testing. It just kept getting worse for me; the knife contained the blood of both the prostitutes.

For days, I sat in my cell and wondered how I got myself in the situation I was in. I had never seen the girls before. In fact, I didn't even know any girls had been murders until the night at the truck stop. I couldn't figure out how all the evidence ended up in my truck. I tried with all my might to figure out how that billfold wound up in my truck. But, I couldn't figure it out. Who could have planted it there was the million dollar question. Mr. Pelligrin worked tirelessly on my case trying to build a good defense for me. He kept telling me to think positive about the case; that was hard to do when all the evidence pointed to me. The district attorney, John D. Kelly, had offered me a plea bargain of ten years for the two first degree murder charges and five to eight years on the lesser charges for a total of thirty-three years; I would be eligible for parole in twenty years. I turned his offer down. I wanted to take my chances with a jury trial. My court date was set within a month. Finally, my day in court came.

Judge Katherine Millican was the presiding judge. Twelve jurors, seven men and five women had been selected along with three alternates. As Mr. Pelligrin and I made our way inside the courtroom, I noticed there weren't too many people there. I was being tried for murdering two prostitutes, the solicitation of prostitution and attempted aggravated murder, four counts in all. I had had pleaded not guilty earlier to all four counts. When the bailiff came in, he placed some papers on the judge's bench and then called the court to order.

"All rise, Honorable Judge Katherine Millican presiding," he stated to the courtroom. "You may be seated," he instructed once Judge Millican took her seat.

Judge Millican asked Mr. Pelligrin and DA Kelly to approach the bench. She only talked to them for a few minutes before the jury came in.

All rise," the bailiff instructed as the jurors came in. "You may be seated. The state of Louisiana vs. Russell Richardson, docket #7536201W. Court is now in session."

The state called their first witness, Detective Janice Reeves.

"Do you swear to tell the whole truth, so help you God?"

"Yes, I do."

"Mrs. Reeves, can you tell us what happened on the night in question?" the DA asked.

"Well, sir, we had set up a sting to catch the murderer of the two prostitutes. We felt like we had a serial killer on our hands in Mud Creek," she explained.

"Can you tell us why Mr. Richardson's truck was chosen?" he asked.

"We targeted all out-of-state trucks. We felt like the killer wasn't from around here. The way the bodies were disposed of was very elementary, like the killer didn't know what he was doing or his way around."

"I object," replied Mr. Pelligrin, "that's speculation."

"Objection overruled."

"Mrs. Reeves, tell us what took place after you got into the truck," he said.

"Well, we left the truck stop and headed east. As we drove along, my partner, Milholland followed us in the distance. I saw Richardson looking in his side mirror several times. I believe he suspected something but I didn't know what. Not far up the road, Richardson pulled in to a rest stop. We sat there for a few minutes before he reached over and tried to kiss me. I shoved him away and showed him my badge; he went off. I reached for a knife on the dash to defend myself and try to get away. As we each fought for the knife, it accidentally scraped his arm and caused it to bleed. He shoved my head against the window. That's when I was able to open the door and jump out. When I got out, he cranked up the truck, put it in gear and tried to drive away. When he took off, the door swung shut and knocked me down the embankment where I fell and hit my head on a rock."

"Then what happened?" he asked.

"When I awoke they were putting me in the ambulance and Mr. Richardson was sitting in the backseat of the patrol car."

"I have no further questions, your Honor."

Mr. Pelligrin stood up, adjusted his glasses and walked to the witness stand.

"Mrs. Reeves, you stated that Mr. Richardson went off," he said.

She looked at him with a puzzled before she responded.

"Off, like in crazy. It was like he lost his mind."

"Are you saying he was not in his right mind?" asked Mr. Pelligrin. "Or, was he unaware of his senses, afraid, angry or was he having a childlike temper tantrum?"

Looking out across the courtroom at her partner, Milholland, she replied, "I guess it was a little bit of all of that."

"I object, your Honor," said DA Kelly. "The defense is trying to lead the witness."

"Objection sustained. Counselor get to your point," instructed the judge.

"Now, Mrs. Reeves, let me go back over how you said the events happened. You're impersonating a prostitute at the truck stop when my client pulls in. You go over to his truck and start up a little hot conversation with him. He finally agrees to your services and you get into his truck. After you all leave the truck stop, he pulls over not too far down the road at a rest stop for some hanky-panky and you turn on him. You flash your badge in his face and reach for the knife on the dash. You and my client start fighting in the cab of the truck, wrestling for the knife. During the struggle my client's arm gets cut. When he pushes your head against the window, it allows you to get free and jump out of the truck. Could you say you appeared to be a little crazy to him? It sounds to me like he was defending himself."

"I object," cried DA Kelly. "Mr. Pelligrin is badgering the witness."

"Objection sustained," cried out the judge. "Mr. Pelligrin, calm down. Counselor, you may proceed but watch yourself."

Mr. Pelligrin took off his black rimmed glasses and held them tightly between his forefinger and thumb.

"No other questions," he stated. "But, I would like for the court records to show," he said, "that I got a little crazy, your Honor."

Mr. Pelligrin turned, walked back to the defense table and sat down with a little smirk on his face. Judge Millican slammed the gavel down with a stern look on her face.

"Counselor, this is a court of law not a circus. Prosecutor, you may call your next witness."

"Thank you, your Honor. The state calls Officer Jenkins," said the DA as he approached the witness stand holding a billfold. "Can you tell us, Officer Jenkins, how you came about this billfold? You were the one to find it, weren't you?" DA Kelly asked.

"Yes, sir," he replied.

"And where did you find it?" asked DA Kelly.

"Under the passenger's seat of Mr. Richardson's truck," he answered.

"Go ahead and tell us how you found it," instructed DA Kelly.

"Mr. Richardson's truck was impounded at the police garage. Officer Ken and I started going through it to see if we could find any evidence linking him to the murders. We eventually found the billfold stuck under the passenger's seat in the seat springs. A few hours later, we searched his truck again to see if we had overlooked anything."

"And, had you?" questioned DA Kelly.

"Yes, sir, we had," he replied.

"What else did you find?" asked DA Kelly.

"We found a bloody knife wrapped in a handkerchief."

"Do you recognize these two items?" asked DA Kelly as he held up the two pieces of evidence.

"Yes, sir, they are the billfold and bloody knife we found," stated Officer Jenkins.

Then DA Kelly took the billfold and knife to the judge to be marked as exhibits A and B for the state.

"Let it be known to the court that two photo ID's were found in the billfold; one belonging to a Miss Kelly Jean Biggs and the other belonging to Miss Emily Frances Brown, both of whom were brutally murdered. No further questions, your Honor."

"You may cross examine, Mr. Pelligrin."

"Officer Jenkins, there's no doubt that you and Officer Ken found the billfold in my client's truck. We all will agree to that. But, for the record, is there any proof that my client hid the billfold and knife in his truck?"

"No, sir, but," Officer Jenkins tried to answer before Mr. Pelligrin interrupted him.

"Officer Jenkins," asked Mr. Pelligrin, "was Russell Richardson's fingerprints found anywhere on the billfold or knife?"

"But, but...," stuttered Officer Jenkins.

"Just answer the question," insisted Mr. Pelligrin.

Officer Jenkins replied, "No, sir."

"That's all, your Honor," said Mr. Pelligrin.

Judge Millican called for a fifteen minute recess. After the recess, everyone came back into the courtroom and the trial resumed. The prosecution called several other witnesses and the defense cross examined each one. About an hour later, Judge Millican dismissed court for lunch. While at lunch, Mr. Pelligrin went over the evidence with me. He asked me how the billfold and knife ended up in my truck.

"Honestly, Mr. Pelligrin, I vaguely remember the billfold. However, I can't remember where I saw it. I know it was a dark tan color with a yellow quarter moon in the lower right hand corner. I remember the yellow quarter moon because it seemed odd. It was one of those things that caught my eye. Oh, man, now I remember. A couple of months ago when I was coming through Mud Creek, in pouring rain, I picked up a hitchhiker and gave him a ride about a mile out of town. When he got into the truck, he asked me if he could smoke and I told him it was okay. He rambled in his pockets looking for his lighter. He took out the billfold and laid it up on the console between the two seats. I didn't pick it up; I just looked at it. I found it odd that a man had a billfold like that. He must have hid the billfold and knife when I stopped at the weight station and got out for a few minutes. I don't remember seeing the billfold when I got back into the truck; he was smoking a cigarette and looking out the window. I never saw the billfold gain until it appeared in court."

"That explains the billfold. What about the knife?" Mr. Pelligrin questioned.

"I've never seen the knife before," I replied.

Mr. Pelligrin looked up at me and asked, "How are we going to convince a jury about the hitchhiker?"

"I have no idea," I answered.

"Can you give me a description of him?" asked Mr. Pelligrin.

"I don't know about a physical description," I replied. "He was just an average looking person. However, there was something that caught my eye. He had a gold star tattooed on the left side of his neck with the initials N.M. inside it."

The court reconvened. At the end of the day the state rested its case and court was dismissed for the weekend.

Judge Millican stated, "We will dismiss until Monday morning at nine o'clock at which time Mr. Pelligrin will begin calling his witnesses."

I spent the weekend in jail because I was denied bond. Besides, I lived in another state and didn't have any money. Mr. Pelligrin came by that Saturday afternoon to go over some things for the next week. We didn't talk much about the hitchhiker; it seemed hopeless that he would ever be found. He told me we needed a miracle and I agreed. Things weren't looking too good for me. By the time Monday rolled around, we all sat once again in the courtroom.

Before court began, Judge Millican called DA Kelly and Mr. Pelligrin into her chambers.

"During the weekend one of the jurors, Thomas Lankford, had a heart attack and is in the hospital," she informed them. "I have chosen one of the alternates, Nolen Manning, to take his place. Do you both agree to accept this juror?"

They both agreed to the replacement juror.

"Then let's go to court," she instructed.

"Court is now in session," said the bailiff.

"Mr. Pelligrin, the state has rested and you may call your first witness," stated Judge Millican.

Mr. Pelligrin proceeded with his witnesses and the state cross examined each one. As Mr. Pelligrin was questioning one of the witnesses, something suddenly caught his eye. He stopped in the middle of one of his questions and stared at the jury. He slowly slid his black-rimmed glasses down his nose and looked over the top of them.

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Pelligrin?" questioned Judge Millican.

"Your Honor, may I approach the bench?"

"You may," she replied.

DA Kelly rose from his seat and approached the bench as well. After they talked amongst themselves, Judge Millican asked the bailiff to approach the bench. She called for a recess until one o'clock p.m.

"You may rise," said the bailiff.

The jury and mostly everyone else left the courtroom. Judge Millican, DA Kelly, and Mr. Pelligrin went to her chambers; I was escorted back to jail

"Mr. Pelligrin," she said, "you do know it is probably one shot in a million that the juror you're talking about is the killer."

"I know it sounds crazy, but your Honor I believe he could be the killer. My client mentioned to me that he had picked up a hitchhiker one night with a tattoo on the left side of his neck with the initials N.M. inside it. And, he had possession of the billfold. All I am asking is that you take his prints and compare them to the prints on the billfold."

"This is the craziest thing I have ever heard," Judge Millican replied. "How did he get to become a juror anyway?"

DA Kelly spoke up, "You know this is nothing but one of Pelligrin's sideshow antics. As you said earlier, this is a court of law not a circus."

"For your sake, counselor, I hope you're right," she cried.

About that time, the bailiff and police entered the judge's chambers with the juror in question. He was fingerprinted and escorted back out. The prints were sent to the lab to be checked.

"Well, I guess you can say he was one that fell through the cracks," stated Judge Millican in frustration. "We might as well sit down until we find out the results. Have a seat, gentlemen."

"If you don't mind, will you excuse me for a few minutes?" requested Mr. Pelligrin.

"I suppose that will be okay," she said. "What are you going to do now, pull a rabbit out of your hat?"

"Who knows what will happen if we leave it to Pelligrin," replied DA Kelly.

Mr. Pelligrin came over to the jail to let me know what was going on. I couldn't believe it. It was the miracle I needed. But, he told me not to get my hopes up just yet. When he went back to the courthouse, I lay on my bunk and prayed for the best.

Within an hour, the police brought the results to Judge Millican. Nolen Manning's prints matched those found on the billfold and bloody knife.

DA Kelly asked, "Pelligrin are you saying this juror is the killer?"

"I'm not saying anything," replied Mr. Pelligrin, "the fingerprints are."

They were interrupted when a police officer knocked on the judge's chambers door. He informed them Nolen Manning had escaped.

"How did that happen?" asked Judge Millican.

"He needed to go to the bathroom, so I let him. He escaped through the bathroom window. An APB has been put out on him. We'll find him, your Honor."

But, little did anyone know, Nolen was already on the interstate hitchhiking. An officer on patrol saw a truck driver pick up a man not too far out of Mud Creek that fit Nolen's description. He called it in and quickly followed suit. The truck driver wanted to pullover as soon as he saw the police in pursuit. However, Nolen wouldn't let him. They were finally able to stop them before they reached the Mississippi state line. Nolen Manning was arrested without incident and the truck driver was freed to go.

The news of Nolen Manning's capture was relayed to Judge Millican, DA Kelly and Mr. Pelligrin. Mr. Pelligrin immediately made a motion to the judge for an acquittal of his client.

She looked at DA Kelly, then back at Mr. Pelligrin and said, "Motion granted."

*****

The Fall of Night

Ten Below Zero

January, 1946, was on its way to becoming the worst winter on record. My name is Lee; I was one of the guards on duty that night at Mountain View Penitentiary in Jackson County, Tennessee. We were in the process of transporting some of the prisoners from Mountain View to Stone Canyon Penitentiary in Benson County, Tennessee due to overcrowding. I had only been working at the penitentiary for about three months.

Earlier that day we received several inches of snow. As the day passed, the winds picked up and created large snow drifts which caused hazardous road conditions in some areas. The trees were weighed down with snow and ice. All in all, though, the roads were still pretty clear. But, the strong north winds made it brutally cold.

Most of the inmates were thieves, robbers, dopers and embezzlers. There were no hardcore prisoners incarcerated at the time. Most of the guys, within six months to a year, would be released. Only one of the inmates was under watch. He was being moved for his protection. He was going to turn state's evidence over to the state attorney against the mob. He was being shipped out before the mobs inside men got to him. Jerry, my partner, and I watched the inmates travel through the tunnel and wire fence with razor wire weaved through the top. After they boarded the bus, they were bickering, shoving and cussing; every one of them wanted to smoke. Junior, the penitentiary bus driver, checked the weather forecast. He had made several successful trips in the past and he was determined this trip would be no different.

"They're predicting the temperature will be ten below zero by early morning," informed Junior.

"Is that going to be a problem?" I asked.

"I believe we can make it with no problem," Junior said boastfully. "Lee, have you done your headcount?"

"Yes, sir, we have twenty-three inmates on board," I replied. "Are you sure we can make it?"

"I believe so," stated Junior. "If not, we can always turn back."

About that time, the inmates started hollering and fussing. They were ready to go; it was cold. It was about twelve-thirty that night when old bus number thirteen crossed the threshold of the gates of Mountain View Penitentiary.

"We're on our way," Junior said. "Let's hope we have an uneventful trip."

We were scheduled to arrive at Stone Canyon around seven o'clock the next morning. Most of the inmates fell asleep and the others talked. As we left, I looked out of the front window. The headlights of the bus highlighted the ice covered trees and the blanket of snow hugging the frozen ground. The further we drove, I was more confident we wouldn't have much trouble. But, I still worried about crossing the mountain which would be a different story. At the time, the bitter cold was my biggest worry. The temperature had already dropped to two below and was still falling, according to the radio announcer. I was startled from my thoughts by a loud fart. Within minutes, the inmates were fussing and cussing. Several of them got in a heated argument and were throwing punches at each other. And on top of that, the sickening smell of the fart caused two of the inmates to throw up.

"Okay, men, lets settle down," instructed Jerry.

The inmates finally settled back down. I looked over at Junior in the rearview mirror; he had a big grin on his face. Unexpectedly, the bus started sliding and fishtailing. Junior fought to regain control of the bus, but one of the back tires slid off the road and got stuck. Junior tried his best to get the bus back on the road. Unfortunately, the back tires of the bus just spun in place.

"Okay, men, I want you to get off the bus and push," I instructed. "I'm warning you; don't try anything. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," they replied as they exited the bus.

Before they got off the bus good, they were fussing and cussing again.

"Hey, guys," I yelled. "You can get back on the bus and freeze or you can get this bus back on the road. You do realize it's supposed to be ten degrees below zero tonight. It's your choice."

The inmates hushed, went to the back of the bus and started pushing. They rocked the bus back and forth as Junior pressed on the gas. Eventually, the tires spun free and the inmates immediately ran to get back on the bus.

"Damn, it is cold out here," complained one of the inmates as they pushed and shoved to get on the bus.

After the inmates were back on the bus, I did a headcount and everyone was on the bus. Within minutes we were back on our way. The snow chains clanged as Junior maneuvered the bus down the road; it was music to my ears.

"Hey, man, that's nasty," one of the inmates cried out. "This dude is chewing his gum, stretching it out of his mouth, wrapping it around his finger, sticking it on the back of the seat in front of him and then putting it back in his mouth."

Jerry spoke up, "Either get rid of the gum or keep it in your mouth."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," replied the inmate.

Slowly, the bus climbed higher and higher up the mountain. We were barely going twenty miles an hour. I was really beginning to worry because Junior had a worried look on his face.

"What do you think, Junior?" I asked.

"It doesn't look too good right now," he replied. "We may have to turn around and go back."

"Do whatever you think is best. Let's not take any chances," I said as I looked out the window at the deep cavern below the mountains.

"We'll go a little further," replied Junior. "Keep your fingers crossed."

"I will," I responded.

Just up the way at Tucker's Pass the storm hit hard. It was snowing so bad Junior had to stop the bus because he couldn't see. The devilish wind was driving hard against the bus, rocking it back and forth. We sat in the middle of the road and waited for a break in the storm. But, there was no break.

"I don't think I can back up. There is so much snow I can't judge the road. I believe there is a shortcut up the road. It should save us an hour. But at this point we will be arriving at Stone Canyon late anyway. What do you think, Jerry?" Junior asked.

"I don't think we have a choice. What do you think, Lee?"

"I agree. There's no way we can spend the night here. We'll freeze to death if we just sit here. The heater on this bus isn't much. I can barely feel it. Plus, if we just sit here idling we'll run out of gas. I think we should go for it, Junior."

Junior revved the engine and put the bus in gear. At first, he couldn't get any traction, but he kept at it and within minutes we were moving again.

"Thank the Lord," cried one inmate, "we didn't have to push again."

"Breaker, breaker one-nine does anybody copy?" Junior said over the CB shortwave radio.

There was no answer. He kept trying, but he couldn't get anyone to respond.

"I wonder how cold it is," I inquired.

"About ten below," answered Junior.

Junior drove on; the bus was eerily quiet. There was a bad feeling in the air. The feeling was so strong it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Suddenly, the bus started sliding from one side of the road to the other. Junior fought with all his might to regain control of the bus. Everyone held on with all their might. Then the bus careened off the side of the mountain and rolled over and over down the mountain causing the doors to swing open. It felt like we were in a pinball machine. When the bus finally came to a halt, it was thirty feet below the main road. The lights inside the bus flickered on and off. I looked around to see if everyone was okay. I tried to get up and look out the window but I couldn't; I was pinned down. All I could see was the full moon hauntingly lighting up the night. Then the inside lights of the bus flickered off and never came back on. Every now and then the bus would shift and slide a little further. There was nothing we could do until morning except pray.

At the breaking of dawn, a shadowy cast of light broke through the snowy hillside. I quickly looked about to check on the others. I heard a few moans, but there were not many moving. I called for Jerry and Junior but they didn't answer. I continued to look around and noticed that both the front and back doors were open. Nearly every window in the bus was broken out.

The inmates who were still alive, Derrill, Danny, Kelvin and Guthrie, were able to free me. My leg was badly injured but the four inmates seemed to be okay except for a few cuts and bruises. There was no one else alive. Sixteen inmates along with Junior and Jerry were dead. Their bodies were strewn inside and outside the bus; blood was everywhere. I was afraid the inmates would run off and leave me. But, they didn't. They gathered some twigs and took a couple of the dead inmate's shirts and tied them to my leg to stabilize it. Under the circumstances, we pulled together as a team. I wasn't much help, but the four inmates and I were able to pile all the dead bodies up against the bus. It was so cold their bodies wouldn't decompose before help arrived. As we were trying to figure out what to do next, we suddenly heard a loud roaring sound. Huge balls of snow were rolling down the hillside. It looked like a giant wave of snow coming right at us.

"Avalanche!" Danny yelled.

We all rushed to get back inside the bus; Derrill and Kelvin helped me. I wouldn't have made it without them. They pulled me into the bus just in the nick of time. The avalanche hit the bus and pushed it fifteen more feet down the side of the mountain. The bus finally came to a rest in a thicket of trees and was partially buried in the snow.

"They'll never find us now," cried Derrill.

"They probably already have a search party looking for us," replied Danny.

Danny didn't know how right he was. Officials from Stone Canyon Penitentiary had already notified officials at Mountain View Penitentiary that the bus didn't arrive. Both penitentiaries and the sheriff's department had search parties underway.

We carefully dug our way out, being cautious not to set off another avalanche. What a relief it was when we got out. However, our situation didn't look good. There was nothing but trees and snow all around and the bitter cold wind was brutal. I knew we wouldn't last long in those conditions. Unexpectedly, gunshots rang out and bullets ricocheted off the bus. We quickly took cover.

"Some nut is firing at us. But, why?" I asked.

The gunshots continued; we came close to being shot several times. I told everyone to stay down and out of sight. I tried to see if I could see who was firing the shots, but I couldn't.

I yelled out, "Don't shoot!"

It didn't help. Another shot rang out.

"Hey, man what's your problem?" I cried.

Then I saw a man in the thicket of trees. I took my gun and carefully aimed it.

"It must be a hunter," Guthrie stated.

"More like a lunatic," replied Derrill.

I took a shot at him and missed. He shot again and the bullet grazed Kelvin's arm.

"This guy means business," cried out Danny. "What are we going to do?"

I shot again and missed. I couldn't get a good enough look to make an accurate shot. Derrill waved a white towel from the side of the bus.

"I'm coming out, don't shoot," I yelled.

The sniper stood still with his gun pointed at me. I raised my gun over my head and then pitched it down into the snow. I tried talking with him as I slowly limped toward him. My sweat was cold and freezing to my face. He told me not to come any closer or he would shoot. He cocked his gun and aimed it right at me. About that time, I heard a shot. I just knew I had been shot. Instead the sniper lay before; he was dead. Guthrie had found Jerry's gun and shot him. My knees buckled under me and I fell. I came so close to being killed. I thanked my God and Guthrie for saving my life. But, I had no idea who he was or what on earth he wanted. I searched his pockets; the only thing I found was a picture of Kelvin, the inmate who was going to testify against the mob. The sniper was a hit man. He must have followed the bus and then made the trek down the mountain to see if Kelvin survived the bus crash.

I didn't know how long we would be stranded before help arrived. The mountain was so steep; it was a massive wall of rock. The best thing for us to do was settle down and pray help arrived soon. We salvaged all we could from the dead bodies to keep warm, shirts, coats and pants. We used the hood of the bus as a sled to transport the wood we collected to try to make a fire. It was a long shot; the wood was wet and probably wouldn't burn. We tried to trap and hunt any wildlife we could. It didn't matter what; we needed food. We ate snow to help keep us hydrated.

The search party was well underway. Unfortunately, they had a hard time finding their way since power lines were down and trees weighed down with the heavy snow had fallen and blocked the roadway. They tried to reach us on the CB shortwave radio but it had been damaged in the crash. The temperature was holding at ten below zero. The search team didn't know how long we would survive out in the elements. They had no way of knowing our predicament. They put the chopper in the air as soon as the storm let up and they were able to deice it. Time, something we didn't have much of, was essential.

Our injuries were piling up. Kelvin's arm had been grazed by the sniper's bullet. Guthrie's hands were badly frostbitten. Derrill was having trouble with his eyes. Danny's mental state wasn't very stable. And of course, one of my legs was badly injured.

The bus was stable and didn't shift again. It was on its side with the roof of the bus facing the hillside and the bottom of the bus rested against the thicket of trees. We sheltered ourselves between the bus and trees. Two days had passed and there was no sign of the search parties. We were holding our own, but we knew we wouldn't last much longer. We were hungry; eating the snow was keeping us hydrated but it did nothing for the hunger pains. We were all huddled together when we heard a terrifying roar. Startled, we looked up and saw a big black bear standing on its hind legs. I had never seen a bear that big before in my life. We all held each other tightly and tried not to move. The bear fell on all fours and charged toward us. There was nothing we could do; we were defenseless. Out of nowhere, a shot was fired. It was Guthrie; he shot over the bears head and scared him away. I didn't even realize he wasn't huddled together with us.

"Thank the Lord," I cried out. "I thought we were a goner."

Guthrie turned to me and said, "We are out of bullets. That was the last one."

"But, the last one saved our lives; thank God it scared the bear off."

The temperature had gone up some. How much, I couldn't tell. As we all sat there huddled together, we started to talk about our lives and how we ended up where we were. Strangely enough, we all had a lot of things in common; we each just chose a different route in life.

"Shhh," hushed Guthrie.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Listen," he said, "I believe it's a chopper!"

We all stood up, went out into the clearing and looked up anxiously toward the sky. We waved our arms frantically when the chopper passed over. But, it went on by.

"I don't think they can see us," I cried out.

"Hopefully they did," Danny said.

"I don't know," replied Guthrie. "It's going to be hard for them to see the bus since it is covered up with snow and surrounded by this thicket of trees."

"Let's try to dig the bus out so they can see it," I suggested.

"It's no way we can do that because we are too weak. Plus, my hands are frostbitten," stated Guthrie.

"Do you think they will come back?" asked Kelvin.

"Surely they will," replied Derrill. "Hopefully they won't give up that easily."

For the rest of the day, we waited for the chopper to return. By nightfall we had given up hope that we would be rescued alive. We were hungry and exhausted. Night fell and we drifted off to sleep. We were startled awake by some sort of creatures stirring in the woods. They seemed to be getting closer and closer to us. Carefully, we peeped out from around the bus and saw a pack of coyotes. They were sniffing around the roof of the bus. We sat quietly and hoped they would go away. However, they didn't. We had two guns and no bullets. We didn't know what to do. We grabbed some of the tree limbs that had fallen under the weight of the snow to use as weapons. It seemed as if about forty-five minutes had passed. Everything was quiet. We sat and waited. Even though it was quiet, we weren't sure if they were gone or not. About that time, one of the coyotes approached us growling and snarling. I took the butt of my gun and started beating him against his head while the others swung at him with the tree limbs. Finally, the coyote backed off and disappeared into the thicket of trees. The rest of the night, we took turns keeping watch just in case the coyotes returned.

Morning soon came. When we awoke, we noticed the coyotes wandering across the way. We figured they were probably going to attack again but we didn't know when. We kept our guard up. There was no sign of the chopper. Out chance of survival was now slim to none. Everyone had been put to the ultimate test of survival. We were tired, hungry and injured. I knew if we weren't found soon we would die. I told the men that I was going to check out the area to see if we had any other options. I asked Kelvin to go with me. We traveled about a mile or two, but couldn't find anything; it seemed hopeless. We approached a giant bluff; it was probably about a fifty foot drop. I eased over to take a look. I couldn't see the ground below. I encouraged Kelvin to take a look. He was a little afraid at first. But, I told him I wouldn't let him fall. When he leaned forward his feet slipped and he fell over the bluff. I reached for him but there was nothing I could do. It happened too fast. I leaned over to see if I could see him. He was nowhere to be found. I hurried back to the camp as quick as I could. When I got there, I was out of breath and my leg was hurting something fierce. They asked me where Kelvin was and I told them what had happened. They were all devastated. Then out of the blue, we heard a chopper. We started waving our arms and looked up to see if we could see it. It was right above us.

"Chopper one to base; we have found them. I'm going to circle back over and see if there's a place to drop the search team."

"Roger, over and out," radioed the base.

"They saw us," cried out Danny. "We're saved."

From the time we saw the chopper until the search team found us was the longest time of our lives. Our joy was short lived when the pack of hungry coyotes returned. Slowly, they circled around us. We kept them back with the fallen limbs. We were fighting a losing battle. One of the coyotes jumped at us but he was shot out of the air; he landed right at our feet. It was the search team. They fired several shots into the air and scared the other coyotes away.

"We would have been here sooner but the only place we could land was about a quarter of a mile from here," said Sheriff Webb. "We're going to get you guys out of here and to the hospital."

Then one of the men in the search team removed his ski mask. It was Kelvin. Everyone immediately turned and looked at me. The sheriff instructed his deputies, Larry and Chad, to cuff me. I never said a word.

"Not far from where we landed, we heard Kelvin yelling for help. Luckily, some trees broke his fall. He was stranded on a rock ledge. We threw a rope down to him and pulled him up. Kelvin told me what happened. Lee pushed him over the bluff," explained the sheriff.

"Why, sheriff?" questioned Guthrie.

"That's not important right now. Let's get you guys to safety first."

As we were led to the chopper, I thought about how excited I was when I got my job at the penitentiary. At first, I was the perfect employee. However, I was able to make a lot of extra money as a hit man inside the penitentiary. I had no idea they were going to move Kelvin to Stone Canyon Penitentiary in Benton County. Despite his transfer, the bus wreck and being stranded, I thought when I pushed Kelvin over the bluff my job was done. I figured everyone would believe he slipped and fell to his death. Oh, well, at least it warmed up. The sun sure felt good.

*****

The Fall of Night

Cemetery Road

The warmth of summer crested upon the gentle evening and layered the ground with a warm blanket of heat. The sky was bright and brilliant, like looking at a diamond. As the sun set abreast, the blue clouds, high in the sky a flock of buzzards glided over a nearby field as an old pickup truck topped the hill leaving a cloud of dust behind on the old dirt road.

The year was 1957 in the little community of Bo Creek just off Cemetery Road located about ten miles outside of West Arkansas in Calloway County. The truck sped on down the road, slowed down and finally stopped at the old graveyard beside the road. Two young boys jumped off the back of the truck, ran over to the graveyard and played among the stone markers; shortly afterward, an older boy got out of the truck and made his way to the back of the truck. He kept his eyes on the buzzards circling in the sky but didn't think much about it; he figured they had found a dead animal of some kind and were getting ready for their dinner. He grabbed his fishing poles and tackle box and yelled for the younger boys to head to the creek. They took off running as fast as they could across the field. The field was carpeted with grass, weeds and sage brush. The older boy watched as they disappeared in the tall grass and weeds. The wind had picked up and a terrible smell wafted through the air; the smell was rank. The closer they got to the creek, the worse the smell got. The buzzards glided above the field with the wind as it swept over the tall grass. Not far away, crows could be heard cawing and making an alarming sound. Near the edge of the field, not far from the creek bank, the buzzards started acting funny. They flew at them and swooped down like they were going to attack. The boys took off running toward the wooded area next to the creek bank. Unexpectedly, the older boy tripped over something and fell. He got up and looked down to see what he had tripped over. At first he didn't know what it was. But as he looked a little closer, he realized it was a charred body. He yelled for the younger boys, who were just a little ways in front of him, and told them to head back to the truck. He dropped his poles and tackle box, left them behind and rushed back to the truck. The younger had no idea why they were leaving in such a hurry. It was only a matter of minutes before they made it back to the truck. The younger boys jumped on the back of the truck and the older boy got behind the wheel and sped away to find the closest phone. About a mile up the road, he stopped at an old house and asked the owners if he could use their phone. They were hesitant at first but eventually agreed to let him use it. He called the sheriff's office and told them what he had found. The sheriff told him to go back to the field and wait for him to arrive.

It was only a matter of minutes before the sheriff and his two deputies, Steele and Meyer, arrived. But, to the older boy, it seemed like hours. He explained to Sheriff Buckley and his two deputies what had happened. Sheriff Buckley told him to take him to the body. The older boy told the younger boys to stay in the back of the truck and don't move. As he led the sheriff and his deputies to the body, he looked up at the sky and noticed there were only two buzzards circling over the field. But, he found out quickly where the other buzzards were. When they approached the charred body, he saw three buzzards on the ground pecking at it. The sheriff fired his gun in the air and scared them away. About that time, the ambulance arrived on the scene. One of the deputies yelled and motioned at them to let them know where they were. The smell was awful; it was hard to bare. The sheriff and his deputies immediately began their investigation. The sheriff thanked the older boy and told him he was free to go but that he may contact him later if he had any more questions. The boy grabbed his fishing gear and headed back to the truck. By then, the buzzards were all gone. He got in the truck and headed for home. He never told the younger boys what he had seen.

A few days later, the sheriff and his deputies had wrapped up their investigation. The cause of death was determined to be a heart attack. The body had only been lying in the field for about three or four days. There was no evidence of a struggle other than the body being burned. They were not able to match the fingerprints because they were burnt. And, they couldn't get any dental records since there were no teeth. Evidently, the man had false teeth but there was no sign of them around the area. The man had died of a natural death. But, they still wondered why the body was dumped in the field and burned. He wasn't wearing any jewelry or glasses. But his billfold was located only a few feet from his body. It contained a driver's license, a few dollars and some pictures. The license belonged to a Kenneth Whittemore from Memphis. The name seemed vaguely familiar to the sheriff so he checked his missing persons report. Sure enough, Kenneth Whittemore was listed on the report.

Sheriff Buckley contacted Kenneth's wife and notified her that his body had been found. She told him her husband, Kenneth, had disappeared after the death or their son two years ago. She said it appeared he just vanished off the face of the earth and had no idea what happened. She let the sheriff know she would make the necessary arrangements to have his body picked up from the coroner for a proper burial. The sheriff had no idea that Kenneth Whittemore was a very wealthy man. He was the founder and CEO of Whittemore Electronics in Memphis, Tennessee.

Kenneth had been married twice. He and his first wife were high school sweethearts. They attended college together and later married. She helped him start his business. He and his first wife had a son named Mickey. His first wife died of a brain aneurysm and he later married Geraldine, his wife at the time of his disappearance. She had been married before; she and her first husband had a son named James. James was older than Mickey. For the most part, they got along well. But, they also had their fair share of troubles and problems like all boys do. Kenneth and Mickey were close and so were Geraldine and James which created a marriage full of trouble. Kenneth was a workaholic but he made it a point to spend quality time with Mickey and he enjoyed their time together. Geraldine married Kenneth for his money. She wanted James to take over his business someday. But, there was one slight problem in the way by the name of Mickey. She knew as long as Mickey was around, James had no chance of taking over the business. She knew Kenneth well enough to know that he would leave the business to Mickey, not James. All James would get was a little money, not the entire business like she wanted.

It was about two and one-half years ago when Mickey was working on his car in the garage. He was great with cars. He liked the rush he got from a fast car. While he was underneath his car working on it, he saw a pair of feet walking around the front of the car. He asked who was there but he didn't get a response. He asked what they wanted but there was still no answer. When he saw the person kicking at the side of the jack he yelled out are you crazy as he tried to get out from under the car. Unfortunately, he wasn't quick enough. The car jack slipped out from under the car; the car fell and crushed him to death. Kenneth was at work when Geraldine called him to notify him of Mickey's death. He rushed home just in time to see his son, Mickey, being carried out of the garage with a sheet over him. From that day on, Kenneth's life was never the same. The police report listed Mickey's death as a freak accident. The police thought it was a little suspicious but there was no supporting evidence to indicate foul play. Kenneth also had his doubts but he had nothing to prove that it was anything other than an accident. James' fingerprints were on the handle of the jack hand. But, he reported that he used the jack a few days before the accident. Geraldine and James told the police they were in the house when they heard a loud noise coming from the garage. They ran out to see what the commotion was and found Mickey trapped under his car; he was already dead.

Kenneth took Mickey's death so hard he almost went crazy. He slumped into a deep depression and had to get away. He couldn't stand to stay where there were so many memories of his son. He left one morning for work and never came back. For the first year and half he lived as a homeless man. He disguised his appearance, changed his name to Rusty and got another driver's license in his new name. He blended into the world and began his life anew. He was still hurt, bitter and angry; a man almost driven to suicide. Bitterness was the song of Kenneth's heart and his anger carried the tune. The street life was hard for him. It wasn't what he thought. But, little did he know, the Lord would bring him through that bad time in his life by leading and guiding him. The Lord watched over him as he chose his way.

For a year and a half, James also endured some rough times. He fought many legal battles with lawyers as he tried to take over Kenneth's company. However, he eventually gained control of the company since no one had heard from Kenneth and he was presumed dead. He initiated several new ideas. But, he was nowhere near the businessman Kenneth was. A year after he took over the company, James had cleaned house. He had fired several while others quit on their own because they could not stand to work for him. The company had lost quite a bit of money. The Board of Directors wanted to replace him because he had made too many mistakes and bad business deals which cost the company a lot of money.

Kenneth had set up camp along the creek bank near the edge of a field. One day as he looked for firewood to fix something to eat, he accidentally came upon a dead body. It looked like it had been there for three or four days. This was at a time when Kenneth was desperate and near his breaking point. He didn't want to keep living the way he was. He wanted his old life back. That's when a dark cloud brought an uneasy and chilling thought. During the night, he tossed the idea over and over in his mind but he didn't know if he could do it and live with his decision for the rest of his life. Finally, he decided he would do it. In the early morning hours began the process of staging his death. He tossed his billfold with his old driver's license, a couple of dollars and some pictures in it a few feet away from the body. He walked about a mile down the road to an old she behind a farmhouse and stole a can of gas. He went back to the field, poured gasoline all over the body and set it on fire. He knew there would be no way to identify the body if he burned it. He just hoped someone would find the body and billfold. After the fire had burned out, Kenneth gathered his few belongings and headed out. He left behind a haunting darkness that would hopefully lead to forgiveness.

Back at the Whittemore place, an ambulance sat in the driveway. Geraldine had apparently suffered a bad stroke. She was found unconscious by some of her friends she was scheduled to have lunch with. They are the ones who called the ambulance and James. He left work and rushed to the hospital. By the time he arrived at the emergency room, she had already suffered another stroke. She was paralyzed on her right side and in a coma; she couldn't talk. A few months passed before she came out of the coma. However, she was in a vegetative state. James arranged for her to be moved to the Meadow View Nursing Home. He knew his job was on the line and he had to exhaust all his energy on making the free ride last as long as he could.

Meanwhile, Kenneth was working his way back home. One evening when he was having a drink in a bar, he saw on the news that a charred body had been found in an Arkansas field and it was believed to be the remains of missing millionaire, Kenneth Whittemore. The news anchor stated Mr. Whittemore's stepson had taken over his business and had it in financial trouble. Plus, Mr. Whittemore's wife had suffered a massive stroke and was residing in Meadow View Manor Nursing Home. The news anchor stated more information on the mystery of Kenneth Whittemore would be revealed at ten o'clock.

Kenneth went the next day to apply for any job available at Meadow View Manor; he was hired as a custodian. Each day he worked around the nursing home he tried to get familiar with the people and the layout of the home. The good thing is no one seemed to recognize him.

Then, one day, the strangest thing happened when James was visiting Geraldine at the nursing home. The nurse brought a bouquet of roses to Geraldine's room. Geraldine was so excited and eager to know who had sent them. Her eyes watered and tears ran down her cheeks. She just knew they were from James. But, James had a puzzling look on his face as he reached for the card and slipped it out of its tiny envelope. He turned to her to read it but froze in his tracks. When he got over the shock, he held it up for her to see; it read love Mickey. Dumbfounded, all they could do was look at each other. James grabbed the flowers, threw them in the trashcan and rushed out of the room.

Later on that night, Kenneth worked his way to her room as Geraldine lay quietly in her bed. He saw the flowers in the trashcan that he had sent but the card was nowhere to be found. To keep from being suspicious, he swept the floor and emptied the trash. He was startled when he heard her ask Kenneth, is that you. He told her no it was the janitor and apologized for waking her. She drifted back to sleep as he cautiously surveyed all the machines and equipment around her. He was interrupted when the head nurse came in and told him there was a cleanup in room 502.

Night after night, he contemplated taking her life. He struggled with it and fought the demons. He knew it wouldn't bring Mickey back and would only ruin his life even more. He knew he needed to put it in the Lord's hands and walk away. But, he wondered if the Lord would punish him at judgment. He doubted the Lord because he never understood why the Lord let it happen to such a good boy like Mickey.

Then one night as he cleaned her room, he made his way to the side of her bed to unplug the machines. He stood quietly as he looked at her lying there so peaceful. He looked at the plugs and hesitated. Tears filled his eyes and his sweaty hands trembled. He thought to himself, oh my, God, what have I become. She was sound asleep; she had no idea what was about to happen. He looked at her once more, gritted his teeth, eased down and grabbed the plug. He wiggled the plug from side to side, trying to ease it out of the wall socket. But, he stopped and took his hand away before the plug came out; he couldn't do it. He was standing beside her bed staring at her when the alarms of her machines sounded and the nurse came rushing in. The nurse did everything she could to revive her. It was too late; Geraldine had passed away. James was notified and Rusty never worked another day at the nursing home. He took off across the river to Little Rock where he worked, ate and slept at a mission. He knew he had to lay low for a while until he made things right with the Lord and decided to face his mistakes.

James took the death of his mother hard. He lost his job at the company and had to make it on his own; he was troubled and lost. He started drinking heavily which became his downfall. One night, while drinking in a bar, he got so drunk he started telling another man about what happened to Mickey. He admitted to being involved with Mickey's death. Unfortunately, he was totally unaware that he was talking to an off duty undercover cop. The police had always suspected James and his mother of the crime. With no solid evidence, they had finally received the break they needed to reopen the case, a verbal confession from James. Before he left the bar that night, the undercover cop placed him under arrest and took him to jail. The next day, when he sobered up, he had his rights read to him. But, it took the police a week to get him to sign a written confession. He was offered a plea bargain of life in prison with the possibility of parole in thirty years instead of the death penalty; he accepted it.

Kenneth resurfaced and turned himself in to the authorities. He went before a judge for faking his death and for desecration of a corpse. The judge took in to consideration his mental condition after the death of his son, Mickey. With the testimony of several doctors and the power of his money, he was found incompetent of his actions. Overall, he received a five year suspended sentence, two years of community service and a ten thousand dollar fine. He resumed his life as the CEO of his company. He also bought another company in Little Rock, BAT Digital Chips, and merged it with his company, Whittemore Electronics, in Memphis, Tennessee. He sat at his desk, one day, with his feet propped up on his desk. He couldn't believe he was able to pick up where he left off. He thanked God for giving him his old life back.

*****

The Fall of Night

Confessions

From Bourbon Street, across the Louisiana French Quarter, the bells of St. John's Trinity Temple could be heard. It was Sunday; church had just let out. Outside the church a boy and girl sat in a car listening to the radio while others stood by talking and fellowshipping. Father McDaniel stood at the door with Sister Ann and Sister Jean. They shook hands with the parishioners as they exited the church and thanked them for attending the service.

It was 1933, a beautiful sunny day with a light wind stirring just enough to move the dangling Spanish moss on the trees. It was late one evening when Detective Furguson and Detective Summers arrived at St. John's Trinity Temple. There had been a break-in the week before and they were there to arrest Sammy, the church janitor, and his wife, Linda. During the robbery, several items, along with some money, were stolen. A few days prior, Sammy had tried to hock the items at a pond shop in Baton Rouge. Sister Ann and Sister Jean met the detectives at the door and then led them to Father McDaniel's office. The detectives informed him they were there to arrest the individuals responsible for robbing the church. He couldn't believe it was Sammy and Linda and neither could Sister Ann or Sister Jean; they were all dumbfounded. Father McDaniel told the detectives he would show them where Sammy and Linda were; Sister Ann and Sister Jean followed close behind them as they walked through the church looking for them. When Sammy and Linda looked up and saw Father McDaniel, the sisters and the detectives they knew what they were there for. Neither Sammy nor Linda said a word. They didn't try to resist arrest or deny they were involved. They walked quietly through the chapel and out the front door with the detectives. Father McDaniel told them he would be praying for them. Father McDaniel and the sisters stood on the steps of the church as the detectives put them into the car and drove off. They watched them until they were out of sight.

"Can you believe that?" questioned Father McDaniel. "I never would have thought they were involved in any way."

"They seemed so nice," replied Sister Jean.

"I know," said Sister Ann. "I've only been here for a few years and I didn't know them that well but I never imagined they would steal from the church. I thought I knew them better than that."

"Things like this happen all the time," Father McDaniel replied. "It's hard to understand people these days. Nevertheless, we need to find someone to replace them. Well, I guess we need to get back to work," he said as he turned and went back into the church.

About a month later, a woman came in for confession. Before she entered the confession booth, she took one of Father McDaniel's business cards from the box on the door and slipped it into her purse. Father McDaniel had already taken his seat. Her name was Rosemary Jackson. Once he knew she was seated in the booth, Father McDaniel kissed his rosary beads, whispered a small prayer and slid back the small panel to hear her confession.

"My mother died from breast cancer when I was very young. Her sister, my aunt, took me in," she stated, "but my step-uncle was abusive to me. I was raped in a park by a young priest and I got pregnant. When the baby was born I gave her up for adoption. After that, I lived on the streets and started prostituting. I have never been able to get over how I lived my life.

Rosemary knew that Father McDaniel was the young priest who had raped her. She just never could bring herself to turn him in.

"My child," he said, "the Lord will forgive you. That was so long ago," he said. "We all have our dark secrets and skeletons in our closets; we all fall short."

"But, why, why did it have to happen to me?" she questioned.

"The Lord is strong but we are weak," he answered. "I, too, have dark secrets in my past and demons I have to live with."

"But, you're a priest," she said.

"I have not always been one," he replied.

"Thank you, Father," she said as she hurriedly left.

Unbeknownst to her, Father McDaniel followed her home to see where she lived. She didn't live too far from the church in an apartment building; her apartment, twelve, was upstairs. When she went in and closed the door, he stood at the bottom of the steps for a few minutes and then went back to the church.

Around ten-thirty that night, a stranger stood outside her apartment building. The street was filled with a heavy fog and the air was moist and sticky. The fog was so dense you probably couldn't see your hand in front of your face. The heavy fog draped the street like a blanket. The stranger, being careful not to be seen, entered the building. He made his way up to apartment twelve and killed her. But, on his way out he bumped in to Sandra Biggs in the hallway. He said excuse me, spoke, nodded his head at her and quickly disappeared down the stairs.

The next day, Father McDaniel sat in the confession booth talking to a stranger.

"Father, forgive me," he said. "I have done bad and sinned against the Lord. Will the Lord forgive me for I have blood on my hands? When I was a young altar boy in the church, I was molested by two priests but I never told anyone until now."

"I'm sorry, my son, that this horrible thing happened to you. However, you need to let go and put it in the Lord's hands. Let us pray."

"Father, what should I do if I was seen by someone last night?" he asked.

Father McDaniel did not reply. The silence caused the strangers thoughts to run wild and he became paranoid.

"Father, I must take care of this loose end. Please forgive me. I have to go."

"My son, my son," cried Father McDaniel, "don't go."

It was too late. He had already left the confession booth, ran down the aisle and disappeared.

Sandra lived a couple of apartments down from Rosemary. Father McDaniel found out that Rosemary was Sandra's niece. She is the one who took Rosemary in and raised her when Rosemary's mother died of cancer. Father McDaniel went to Rosemary's apartment to invite her to church but she wasn't at home. He slid his business card under her door and left. After he left, the stranger knocked on her door. Sandra heard him knocking and came out of her apartment.

"She is always running in and out," Sandra stated. "It's hard to catch her at home."

While talking to Sandra, the stranger noticed she was nearly blind. He moved around as he talked, but she just looked straight ahead.

"Sir, I was wondering if I could make a confession to you and ask the Lord to forgive me of my sins," she said.

They bowed their heads for a moment of prayer. The stranger prayed that the Lord would forgive her of her sins and set her free from her bondage.

"Amen," he said.

"Don't I know you," she inquired. "Your voice sounds familiar. Have you been here before?"

Afraid she had recognized him; he grabbed her by the throat and choked her to death. He carried her back into her apartment and laid her on the kitchen floor. She had already fixed her supper and had it on the table. He took a small piece of meat and pushed it down her throat with a pencil to make it appear that she had choked to death. Before he left, he turned over a chair to make it look like she had fallen out of it and onto the floor.

The next day as Father McDaniel entered the confession booth, the stranger was already waiting.

"My son," said Father McDaniel, "I wondered if you would come back."

"I had to take care of some loose ends," he said. "I don't have to worry now."

"What is this that you have done?" questioned Father McDaniel. "Have you put more blood on your hands?"

"My dad used to beat me," the stranger replied. "My mother stayed sick all the time so she couldn't defend me. I have tried to push it out of my mind but it just keeps coming back. My haunting past has always ruled over me. Father, what am I to do? What have I become? I know I'm not a monster."

"Let's pray, my child," instructed Father McDaniel, "that the Lord will be able to help you and see you through this madness. Let us pray."

As Father McDaniel stepped out of the confession booth, Sister Ann and Sister Jean was standing there with Detective Furguson and Detective Summers. They were investigating the deaths of Rosemary Jackson and Sandra Biggs. The two women who had been murdered a few blocks from the church. They wanted to know if he had ever seen them at the church.

"Well, detectives," he stated, "Miss Rosemary has been in for prayer in the past. However, it has been a while. I had prayer with her and I gave her one of my cards. When I did, she asked for a card for a blind friend of hers. I was happy to give her another card because that's what I'm here for. I'm so sorry to learn about their deaths. It's a shame someone would harm two sweet ladies like them."

"Well, Father," detective Ferguson said, "here's my card. If you can think of anything else that may help us with the case, please give us a call."

"I will," replied Father McDaniel.

Father McDaniel had no idea that the detectives had already talked with the two sisters about Rosemary and Sandra. They told the detectives they had seen a woman who looked like the woman in the photo they had shown them leaving the confession booth a few days ago. But, they had never seen Sandra at the church. The detectives knew something wasn't right because there were discrepancies in the stories. Bothered by what Father McDaniel had told the detectives, the sisters went in to ask him why he said Rosemary hadn't been in for a while when in fact she was there just a few days ago.

"Oh, oh, yeah, I completely forgot," he explained when they confronted him. "I have so much on my mind; I completely forgot. Plus, I see so many different people in one day it's hard for me to recall everyone. I'll call the detectives now and correct that."

He picked up the phone but discreetly pushed the hook switch down on the phone and pretended to make the call. He asked to speak with Detective Furguson.

"Detective Furguson, this is Father McDaniel. After you all left, the sisters brought to my attention that I had seen Rosemary just a few days ago. I had so much on my mind I completely forgot she had come in for a confession."

"Well, thanks a lot," replied Detective Furguson. "I appreciate you setting the record straight."

"Now, that's that, sisters. I'm so glad you caught that error. Oh, by the way, would you mind going to town to pick up something for me?" he asked. "I am really pressed for time. I would greatly appreciate it."

"Sure," they replied in unison. "We wouldn't mind at all."

They made their way out of the church and flagged down a taxi. Father McDaniel watched as they got into the cab and disappeared out of sight. As they headed across town, Sister Ann struck up a conversation with the cab driver, Billy Howard; it was just a little small talk. He told them his wife went to church but he never had the time to attend. He made a confession to them and asked them to pray about his problems. The sisters prayed for him and gave him one of Father McDaniel's business cards. They told him to come and talk to Father McDaniel sometime. It was about an hour later when the sisters arrived back at the church. Father McDaniel saw them when they pulled up. He watched as they unloaded the cab. But, he was perturbed when he saw them talking and having a good time with Billy, the cab driver.

Later that evening, Father McDaniel called for a cab so he could go out. He hoped it would be the same cab that Sister Ann and Sister Jean had taken earlier in the day. It was; Billy, the cab driver, worked a double shift that day. Billy recognized Father McDaniel when he entered the cab. He had seen him standing outside the church on several occasions. As Billy merged in to traffic, he asked Father McDaniel where he wanted to go. Father McDaniel told him he needed to go to Pier 261. The traffic wasn't congested at all. They engaged in a little small talk. Billy talked highly of Sister Ann and Sister Jean. He was so unaware of what lied ahead for him. He had been chosen as a decoy to throw the police off track. Afraid of being seen getting out of Billy's cab, Father McDaniel asked Billy to let him out under the overpass right before they reached the pier. Billy did as he was asked even though he couldn't understand why. As he waited for Father McDaniel to pay him, he lit up a cigarette, looked out across the water and thought how pretty it was. He was startled when the back driver's side door of the cab opened. He looked up in his rearview mirror and asked the stranger who he was just seconds before he was shot in the back of his head. The stranger went about making it look like Billy had been robbed. Next, he took the cab out of gear and pushed it into the water. The stranger watched as the car slowly sank into the water. The stranger disappeared and Father McDaniel awoke back at the church.

It was a few days before Billy's cab was spotted by some fishermen. When the police pulled the cab and Billy from the water, they found Father McDaniel's card in his front shirt pocket. When the detectives arrived at St. John's Temple, they found Father McDaniel and the sisters praying. After they finished praying, the detectives told them they needed to talk. The detectives informed them the body of Billy Howard, a local cab driver, had been recovered from the river near Pier 261; he had been killed. Sister Ann immediately started crying.

"What on earth happened?" asked Sister Jean.

"He was shot in the back of the head before he and his cab was pushed into the river. Some local fishermen spotted his cab in the water. Father McDaniel, if you don't mind, where was you late yesterday evening?"

"I was here at the church most of the day. Late yesterday evening, I needed to get out some so I went for a walk around the neighborhood."

Sister Jean bit her tongue trying to keep from telling what she had seen. She was looking out the upstairs window that evening and saw Father McDaniel get into a cab. But, she didn't know if it was Billy's cab or not. However, she didn't understand why he had to lie if he hadn't done anything wrong.

"The reason we ask, Father, is because we found your card in Billy's shirt pocket."

"Oh, no," said Sister Ann. "Sister Jean and I took his cab to the other side of town one morning and we talked to him about coming to church. We gave him Father McDaniel's card."

"It's strange, Father McDaniel, your card keeps turning up with dead people. Can you explain that?" Detective Summers asked.

"No, I can't," he replied. "I have no idea. Maybe someone is trying to set me up," he stated.

"That will be all for now," Detective Summers said. "But, we'll keep in touch."

The police were baffled. They kept running in to dead ends. The series of murders were called the ghost murders because that is the way they appeared to happen. It was as if the killer was a ghost. There were no clues or motive. The detectives had questioned Father McDaniel after each of the murders. Each time, they came up with nothing.

Father McDaniel wanted to lie down. He was tired and frustrated because he knew the police suspected him of the murders. As he walked by the confession booth on his way to his office, he heard a familiar voice.

"Father," the voice said, "I need to confess my sins."

Father McDaniel stepped in the booth, took his rosary beads in his hand, kissed them and held them tightly in his hands.

"Yes, my son," he said, "I'm here."

"Father, my hands are covered with blood that I can't wash off. My heart is black and I have no light to my soul. I have been so bad, Father; I have done evil in the sight of my God. I wonder, at times, if he even hears me. My mind is like a whirlwind. My thoughts are scattered and the taste of my sins are bitter."

"What is it, my son, do you want?"

"I pray, Father, for peace. The doctor has told me I am bipolar and suffer from schizophrenia. I live daily in a tormenting hell with little to know hope. Please, Father, pray for me and set my demons free. Cast them, I pray, from me and do not let them return. As the sisters walked by the confession booth, Father McDaniel opened the door and stepped out. Sister Jean listened as Father McDaniel and Sister Ann talked. Sister Jean was curious to see if anyone else came out of the booth. She waited a few minutes before she questioned Father McDaniel.

"Father McDaniel, who were you talking to?" she inquired.

"A stranger," he answered.

"Where did he go?" she asked.

"He left a few minutes ago," he replied.

"I didn't see him come out," she said.

"Oh, he must have left before you all came by. He probably went out the back of the church. He's a little shy around other people."

A few days later, a young girl came by the church looking for a place to stay. She was from out of town and had nowhere else to go. She asked Sister Jean if she could stay at the church a few weeks until she could get on her feet. Sister Jean asked Father McDaniel if it would be okay and he said yes. They let her stay in the upstairs storeroom on the back side of the church. Her name was Brandy Britton; she was a runaway. Father McDaniel let her stay at the church until she was capable of providing for herself. She too needed to confess so Father McDaniel met her in the confession booth. She confessed that she was conceived when her mother was raped at a young age. Her mother couldn't deal with what happened to her. It affected her so much she wanted to die. Before she finished her confession, she broke down crying and ran out of the booth.

The voice that drove Father McDaniel had left him temporarily. But within a few days it returned. The voice told him that Brandy was a threat to him and he needed to add her blood to his. The voice stated to him he would take care of it.

The night of Brandy's death it was storming, lightning and the night sky danced the dance of death. That night, Brandy Britton fell to her death from a third story floor of the church and died on impact. Brandy fell in the corridor and broke her neck. The next morning, Sister Ann found Brandy's lifeless body. She immediately called the detectives. They were all devastated. Not long after Brandy's death, the detectives came to take Father McDaniel in for questioning. But, he asked if he could hear a confession before they took him in and they agreed.

"What do you have for me today?" Father McDaniel asked the stranger.

"By the time I was in my twenties, I was confined to a mental ward after I had a mental breakdown. I escaped before they gave me shock treatments. I ran away, changed my name and my appearance. I am not a priest, but always wanted to be."

"You must not have any loose ends. You should have nothing to tie you to your past," Father McDaniel replied.

"Late that evening, there were severe storms, high winds and lightning. At the breaking of day, Sister Ann found Brandy lying dead in the corridor. Evidently, Brandy became afraid of the storm, ran out of her room and accidentally fell over the balcony," explained the stranger. "It was still raining when the detectives arrived. However, the rain had slowed down to a drizzle; the intense lightning and thunder moved out."

"Father McDaniel, we need to take you on down to the station for questioning," said Detective Summers from outside the confession booth.

"Sure," he replied, "I'll be right out."

When they arrived at the precinct, they took him in to the interrogation room.

"Oh, by the way," said Detective Furguson, "before we get started. Sammy and his wife admitted stealing from the church. They're looking at five years in prison."

"That's good to hear," replied Father McDaniel.

"Now, let's get to the matter at hand. Father McDaniel, can you fill us in on what has been happening?" asked Detective Furguson.

"A few weeks back, Sister Jean brought Rosemary to me to for counseling," explained Father McDaniel. I worked with her for about two weeks. Actually, until you told me she had been killed. Sister Jean met Sandra when she went to visit Rosemary at her apartment one day," he added. "I didn't know the cab driver. I guess he was used to throw off the investigation of the murders. Brandy was a runaway. She came to the church looking for hope so Sister Jean asked me if she could stay at the church until she was able to provide for herself. I would say if anyone was the best candidate to be identified as the murderer it would be Sister Jean. She was associated with every one of the victims. Plus, she had access to all of them. Can I go now?" he asked.

"Sure, but do not leave town. We may need to talk with you again," Detective Ferguson stated.

That night, Sister Jean committed suicide. After her death, Sister Ann transferred to another church to work with young people. Once again, Father McDaniel opened up the door of the confession booth, took his rosary beads in his hand, kissed them and then slowly opened the little panel door.

"Father, forgive me of my sins," spoke a familiar voice.

*****

The Fall of Night

The Valley of a Bitter Day

At the breaking of dawn in 1968 we were out in the jungle on assignment. We had been out there for at least a month. It seemed like it had rained twenty-one days out of the thirty we were out there. It made our assignment even more miserable. Being in the rain soaked and muddy jungle was horrible. The days it was raining, it was even more miserable. It was extremely hot in all that overgrowth. The jungle was grown up with plants, vines, trees and weeds of all kinds. We had a two man patrol that went ahead of us with machetes to chop and clear the way for us.

As the heavy rain fell hard upon the jungle, it drowned out all the other sounds of the jungle. In fact, we wouldn't have been able to hear the enemy even if they were nearby; it was a haunting feeling. The muddy ground made it difficult for us to walk. Our legs felt like lead and to top it off the insects were having a feast on us. High above the trees lightning shot across the sky which made our surroundings even more haunting.

Our order was to filtrate in to the communist North Vietnam stronghold along the Ho Chi Minh Trail. We were to penetrate the perimeter, gather information and report back. The trail was complex, like a spider web. There were roads and paths in every direction. They wound in and out of the neighboring countries of Laos and Cambodia.

That morning, the rain continued to fall as a steady drizzle and it seemed like it was never going to let up. Sergeant Rusaw had sent a small troop ahead of us to scout the area. The rest of the platoon waited behind for them to return with their report. As I sat there, all I could think about was getting back to Charlie Company to put on some dry clothes and relax for a change. Sometimes, living on the edge is more than anyone can bear. When the scouts returned, they informed Sergeant Rusaw that a small patrol of Viet Cong had a camp a short distance up ahead. The sergeant gave us our plan of action and told us to move out. We pushed forward until we came upon their camp. The sergeant quietly motioned for some of us to go to the right and some to the left. There were about ten or twelve Viet Cong. But, it would only take one to kill us. The jungle lay quiet with only a few birds whistling and the voices of the Viet Cong. They knew we were there. We opened fire first and they returned fire with a vengeance. After a few minutes of fighting, most of them were dead. A few of them were able to escape through an underground tunnel. There were all kinds of underground tunnels used by the Viet Cong to get around from place to place without having to move through the open jungle. The jungle was also rigged with booby traps and snipers. The sergeant told us to stay alert. He warned us to keep our eyes and ears open because they knew we were there and coming for them.

When we crossed over in to Cambodia, the jungle was so heavy and thick we could hardly breathe. There was one good thing, the rain had finally stopped. We checked our coordinate and we were somewhere along the Ho Chi Minh Trail. We headed south toward the MeKong Delta. In a few days, we crossed over Mekong River to the southern part of Laos where we engaged in some heavy fire fighting.

After we moved on, about a mile up the trail, we heard someone singing. We cautiously moved closer; it was a village. Outside of one of the hootches (grass huts) was a little Vietnamese girl holding a doll and singing. Except for the little girl, the village appeared to be abandoned. The sergeant motioned for us to spread out and move in with caution. There were several hootches scattered about, but there seemed to be no one occupying them. As we got closer to the village, the little girl suddenly jumped up and ran inside the hootch. We knew immediately something was up. We spread out and searched the huts. Inside one of the huts I found a family of Vietnamese huddled in a corner; I motioned for the sergeant. A flock of birds startled me when they took flight in the air. At that exact moment, Viet Cong soldiers came out from everywhere. I had never seen so many. We quickly took cover and started firing; all hell broke out. We had been ambushed. The village was swarming with Viet Cong on all sides. They had us penned in on both sides. We were suffering casualties quickly. Hurriedly, the radio man radioed Charlie Company and gave them our coordinates. He requested choppers to aid us with air strikes. We started shelling the village to keep our casualties from adding up. In the distance we could hear the choppers. We continued to fight for our lives, bombing the village with heavy artillery. But, the Viet Cong kept coming. The casualties were piling up on both sides. It seemed so hopeless. Finally, the first chopper landed in a little clearing behind the village. We didn't have a choice but to make a run for it. Shortly, a second chopper landed near the first. The shelling continued; it gave us a little lead way from the Viet Cong to the choppers. There were only eight of us that made it to the first chopper. Because of the fire fight, the second chopper had to take flight, circle back around and land in the clearing again.

Most of the Viet Cong were dead or wounded. The ones who survived retreated back to the jungle. Most of the villagers went back to the jungle as soon as the shooting started. However, some of them didn't make it. The little girl who was singing lay face down in the mud with her doll lying only a few feet away from her.

I had been hit and lay motionless in the mud. I could hear voices, the sound of the choppers and a single gunshot every now and then. I could see a Viet Cong soldier checking the lifeless bodies to see if they were still alive. If they were, he would shoot them with a single gunshot to the head. The last thing I remember hearing was the little girl singing as my life flashed before my eyes.

I looked back to when I worked as a local reporter for the Knoxville Times. I started there as a club reporter working on adds, layouts and a little sports writing. I remembered the day I came home from work and checked the mail. That day I received my draft notice and so did a couple of my friends. At first, I was reluctant to go; I was supposed to be getting married in a couple of months. However, I had no other choice but to go. We postponed the wedding; we decided to get married when I returned from my tour of duty. My two buddies dodged the draft by fleeing to Canada. I went for my physical and passed. Within a few weeks, I left for boot camp at Fort Campbell. After boot camp, I was lucky. I landed a job at the Call of Duty as a military reporter to cover the war.

After six weeks of training, I was sent to Da Nang, South Vietnam which served as a landing site for all soldiers. Da Nang was the second largest city in South Vietnam. It was located at the DMZ zone where I was deployed to Charlie Company, 2nd Platoon, 50th Infantry and 173rd Airborne Brigade. The base was about five miles north of the city of Saigon. It was pretty much like all the other bases. There were tents, out buildings, a hospital and a mess hall. It was the army; need I say more. I made some new friends by the names of Eddie, Boone and Bryan. We all shared the barracks together along with the other men. It was 1967 in Southeast Asia. When we weren't in the jungle we were at Saigon partying or we'd drive over to the South China Sea for some beach time.

As the days passed, there seemed to be no hope that the war was ever going to end. Day after day the casualties piled up. New soldiers arrived at Da Nang almost every day. The wounded and dead soldiers were sent home. We went out on patrol at least once a week. We tried to press toward Hanoi, the capital of North Vietnam, but it was hard for us to drive them back; there seemed to be millions of them. The battles and confrontations nearly drove us over the edge. High above in the treetops, the enemy snipers watched over the jungle. They were ready to shoot to kill at any given time. The jungle was full of snipers. Most of them stayed in the treetops for days at a time. Being on patrol in the jungle at night could easily take its toll on anyone. The piercing sounds of the night jungle were haunting with a heavy chill. It caused the mind to run rampant. We built fires for comfort and warmth. The small flickering light of the fires helped push back the darkness of night, comforted us and created a guiding light.

I kept the interviews of the men of the war in a journal. I talked to a lot of men about their experiences of the war, their families and children. They shared with me their pictures, memories, hopes and dreams.

I remember when Eddie, Boone, Bryan and I went on a furlough to Bangkok, Thailand for a weekend. We went to party, pick up girls, drink beer and pick up more girls. When we arrived, we stopped at the Scarlet Lounge. We drank beer, whiskey, wine and sockie and engaged with prostitutes. After we hit some of the local bars, we played a few cards and tried our luck at shooting dice. We eventually ended up at a restaurant called the Owl's Nest. We heard from some of the other soldiers that it was a place to see and plus the food was good. When we went inside, the waitress escorted us to a table with a hole in the center of it. We had no idea why the hole was there; it was out of the ordinary. Puzzled, we looked around at the other patrons eating and enjoying their food. Shortly, a man a woman came in; they were seated at a table directly across from us. We continued to look over the menu but I noticed the couple had already made up their minds and placed their order. We really didn't pay them much attention until the waiter went over and pulled their table apart and told them he'd be right back. Within a few minutes, he returned carrying a live monkey. He slipped the monkey's head up through the hole of the table. Then the couple pushed the table back together, trapping the monkey. The monkey squealed and wiggled about trying to get loose but it couldn't. We couldn't believe it; we were dumbfounded. Next, the waiter took a funny little hammer looking thing and tapped the monkey on the head. It killed the monkey instantly; the monkey's body lay limp. The waiter took a little saw-like tool and cut the top of the monkey's head off, removed its skull exposing his bloody brains. The couple picked up their chopsticks and started eating the brains. It made us sicker than dogs. We left and returned to the base. It was something I'll never forget.

The next day, we stayed around the barracks listening to the radio. We had already received word from the sergeant that we would be moving out the next morning. We would stay out on patrol for three days and then return to the base. The sergeant had us checking the perimeter for a sniper. Somewhere, somehow a lone sniper was hid out there taking pot shots at the base. Well, we took care of that problem. It felt so good for us to crawl into our bunks, straighten out and rest. After a good nap and we got cleaned up, we headed down to the Officer's Club for a few beers and some entertainment. It wasn't home but it was all we had. I talked to several of the guys about the war and how they felt. You have to do what you have to do was the most general statement I heard. In a way it summed it up for all of us.

The most cherished thing during the war to us all was mail time. The soldiers were always elated to hear from their loved ones, family and friends. I often noticed at mail call, when the soldiers got their mail, they would slip away to read their letters in solitude. I, too, longed for mail day. I didn't get as many letters as some of the soldiers and not as often as they did. However, I received a blessing when I looked at their faces as they read their letters. It had been a while since I heard from my girl. The day I received her letter, I also went away from the others to be alone. I slowly opened the letter; it was addressed to Dear John, not Dear Benjamin. I knew instantly she was breaking up with me.

As darkness slowly eased in around me, I could hear the faint sound of a chopper. I slowly opened my eyes as I lay in the mud; a Viet Cong soldier was standing over me with the barrel of his gun pressed against my head. I knew within a matter of minutes it would all be over for me. I couldn't move, I had lost too much blood and was too weak to fight back. I watched in a daze as he slowly squeezed the trigger. The hammer of the gun clicked but nothing happened; the gun had jammed. About that time, I heard a shot and the Viet Cong soldier's lifeless body fell beside me. Next, I heard someone calling my name. It was Boone; he, Eddie and Bryan had come back for me. Boone and Eddie carried me to the chopper as Bryan stood watch for the enemy. I thanked God in Heaven for all of His blessings. For some reason or another he saw fit to spare me, praise the Lord. As they loaded me onto the chopper, I turned my head and looked back at what I was leaving behind. There were casualties on both sides plus civilian casualties. When I left there that day I knew I would never see that scene or Boone, Eddie and Bryan again. To this day, they call that clearing The Valley of a Bitter Day – Amen.

*****

Discover other titles by Bobby A. Troutt at Smashwords.com

Beyond the Truth

A Cry in the Wind

Thistles and Thorns

Dead Limbs and Leaves

Troubled Waters

When Autumn Falls

When Time Was

Bittersweet

Sycamore Tales

Stepping Out on a Limb

Odds n Ends

Turning Point
