The Calling

Craig Conrad

Description

Paul Rice is asked by his friend, Police Chief Clive Thayer, to look into the disappearance of his sister’s grandson. Paul is reluctant to say “yes” because he is not a trained investigator, but Thayer’s strong feelings that there is more involved than the boy’s disappearance persuade him to make the trip up to northern Wisconsin. There, he finds a large town growing into a small city and a female police chief who resents his involvement. His search leads him to a cult of baby murderers and straight to an encounter with an ancient power that is not benign.

Sujets

• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 02 mars 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781669868606
• Langue: English

Extrait

The Calling









Craig Conrad



Copyright © 2023 by Craig Conrad.


ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-6698-6862-0
Softcover
978-1-6698-6861-3
eBook
978-1-6698-6860-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.





Rev. date: 02/23/2023





Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com

809144



CONTENTS
Prologue

1
2
Part One
The Far Country
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
Part Two
House Of Lies
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69

Epilogue

















PLEASANTVILLE, WISCONSIN
1981



PROLOGUE
I waited patiently for the Lord: and he inclined unto me, and heard my calling. He brought me also out of the horrible pit, out of the mire and clay: and set my feet upon the rock, and ordered my goings.
—The Book of Common Prayer



1
She woke with a start, sitting up quickly from the bed, and looked around the bedroom with frightened eyes and racing heart. Her eyes jumped to the crib. The baby was stirring, but he was all right. Still safe. Her heart slowed as she breathed a deep sigh of relief. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, just to lay down for a while, and must have dozed off. The room was warm. The bedroom window faced south, and the sun, the sliver of light that peeked through the window where it wasn’t covered by the pulled-down shade, was climbing the opposite wall and shadowing the large oak, which grew outside her window, against the shade. It was nearing noon. She knew that without having to check the clock on the nightstand. She could tell just by looking at the sun shadows silhouetted on her window.
It was time to feed him again. She got up and walked to the crib, her long brown hair damp from sleep. Perspiration beaded the skin above her upper lip, her complexion pasty white. For a young girl, just barely twenty-five, Mary Kaul looked old beyond her years. She picked up the baby and cradled him. He felt warm to the touch. She would have liked to open all the drapes and raise all the shades in the house, and even open some windows to let in the autumn air. But she didn’t dare.
“How’s my honey-baby?” Mary cooed to him as she kissed his cheek and played with his hand. “How’s my big, strong, beautiful boy? Did you have a nice nap? Mommy’s going to fix you something to eat.”
Passing the bureau mirror, she paused, looking at her reflection. She looked like a ghost, but that no longer startled her. She had been attractive once. A sweet, lovely girl with large dark brooding eyes and delicate features. Some even called her beautiful. But not anymore. Now, she looked as used and worn as an old penny. Her freshness was gone, her spirit tarnished. But not so with her baby.
“Who’s that beautiful boy in the mirror?” she said, giving him a little bounce in the crook of her arm and nuzzling his ear. The baby smiled and grabbed her nose. “You want my nose? You can’t have it. Besides, yours is much cuter.”
She kissed him again and resettled him in her arms. “C’mon, schnookums, Mommy’s going to feed you.”
Shruggs greeted her with a tail wag as she entered the kitchen and settled the baby in his high chair, making sure he wouldn’t slip out. “I suppose you’re hungry too?” Mary said to the beige-and-white sheltie. The dog sat down and looked up at her with anticipation, giving its tail a few more wags in the process. Mary checked that part of the kitchen where she had put down several layers of newspaper for Shruggs to do her duty. Shruggs was a smart girl and had picked up on the new toilet facility arrangements from the start. No telling when Mary would be able to let her out again—or, in fact, if she’d be able to get out herself.
“Good girl,” Mary praised, giving her a few rewarding pats on the head. She picked up the soiled newspapers and discarded them in the trash basket. Shruggs smelled the paper and followed its trail to the trash, lingering there for a few parting sniffs before joining Mary at the sink where she was washing her hands.
The doorbell jarred her into a moment of paralysis as she dried her hands on a kitchen towel. Her mind froze for an instant, and trepidation rose in her throat, causing her heart to jump to a faster beat. The doorbell kept ringing, and Shruggs wanted to bark, but Mary went to her knees and held the dog’s snout closed, hugging Shruggs tight with her other arm.
“No barking,” she whispered. “No barking. Be a good girl.”
The ringing doorbell was replaced with a steady pounding on the front door.
“Ssshh,” Mary whispered, still holding the dog’s mouth shut. “Ssshh. Be quiet. No barking.”
Mary’s eyes darted to the baby, but he was happily preoccupied with something he found on the tray of his high chair.
The pounding stopped. Mary held her breath, afraid to breathe, afraid they would hear her somehow. The pounding started up again at the back door, and Mary waited it out, still holding onto Shruggs long after it stopped and was quiet again.
Mary released the dog and stood up on shaky legs. She wanted to peek out a window to make sure they were really gone but didn’t dare look for fear of being seen. Then again, she had the sickening feeling that they knew she was home. The dog went to the front door and sniffed around the bottom for any familiar scent, then moved to the back door, and did the same.
Mary picked up the baby and folded her arms around him, holding him tight against her body. She felt weak, trembly, and very frightened. But she would not give up her baby. They took her firstborn, but they would not take this one. Not again. Never again. She had to think of something. Anything. Just so she could get away. She had to spare him from the unspeakable horror she knew would befall him. Even if it meant her doing the unthinkable.



2
Several days later, Cody Barrett rapped impatiently on the farmhouse door of his stepfather’s farm. Before he could rap for the fourth time, the door swung open, and Randall, one of his younger half brothers, stood in the doorway.
“Where you been the last couple of weeks, Cody?” he said. “You’ve been missin’ all the fun.”
“I’ve been travelin’,” Cody said. “Where is everybody?”
“Ma took the girls into town for a spell, and Pa’s at a meetin’. No one’s here ’cept me and Rufus. We stayed so we could keep the woman company.”
“Doin’ what?” Cody said, as he stepped in, and his brother closed the door behind him.
“Like I’ve been tellin’ you,” Randall said. “We got us a ‘marked one.’ Not like the last one. This one’s pretty. C’mon back and take a turn.”
Cody followed him back to one of the lower bedrooms. There, he found Rufus, his other half brother, just finishing sex with a naked woman who was spread-eagled on the bed, each hand and foot manacled to the bed frame.
“Hi, Cody, you want a taste?” Rufus said, putting his pants back on. “Everyone else has. ’Specially Pa. He really gives her hell.”
“She looks like hell,” Cody observed, standing near the bed.
“Yeah,” Randall said, “but she’s still a looker.”
Cody studied her. She was pretty, in a worn-out sort of way. “What’s Pa gonna do with her?”
“Probably the same as the others,” Rufus said. “That’s what the meetin’ is about—decidin’ what to do with her. But Pa said if we was to fuck her to death, that would be all right too.”



PART ONE
The Far Country
“So shall you hear of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts.”
—Shakespeare’s Hamlet



1
After the Clark station and more road-bordering woods, Paul Rice slowed down and began looking for the turnoff that led up to Police Chief Clive Thayer’s trailer, still wondering some hundreds of miles later why he had let Clive talk him into coming up here. He wasn’t a cop. He worked for the post office for Christ’s sake. How was that going to help find a missing boy?
He checked the map again. Clive