The Shadow in the Dark (Part Twelve)

 

“You’re rather quiet this morning,” said Sheriff Root as we drove back to the site of my car crash, two nights ago.

 

“I don’t know what this is supposed to be – some sick game, perhaps – but you’re obviously part of it,” I said as I gazed straight ahead through the windscreen. I was not going to look at him.

 

“You’re not making sense, Ashlee.”

 

“Call me Miss Ellis. We are not friends. And today is the 6^th of October, not the 5^th.”

 

Sheriff Root sighed as he held the steering wheel with his left hand. “I showed you the date on my cell phone. You crashed your car on the night of the 4^th…”

 

“Yes, we both agree on that.”

 

“And today is the morning after; the 5^th of October.”

 

“Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I’m just going to believe that? You did something to the date on your phone, that’s all. We were in this car yesterday, driving down this road, and you know that. YOU KNOW THAT.”

 

“Ashlee…”

 

“Don’t call me that!”

 

“Miss Ellis, with all due respect, I think you sustained some concussion in the crash. We should get you checked out by a doctor. I met you at the diner last night and called round this morning as promised.”

 

“What is going on? Just… just tell me?”

 

Sheriff Root just shook his head and said nothing more. There was silence in the car for several minutes, before I then said, “so are you going to tell me about Joseph Curwen? Just like you did yesterday?”

 

“Curwen?” The Sheriff glanced at me. “You want to know about Joseph Curwen?”

 

“No, I don’t need to know about Curwen, because you already told me – yesterday.”

 

“And what did I tell you exactly?”

 

“About his ritual in the late seventies, about his magic working to summon some sort of demon to give him the secret of eternal youth.”

 

“That’s common knowledge about these parts, Miss Ellis. I’m happy to tell you more if you want.”

 

“You told me already! Yesterday. On the morning of the 5^th October. In this car, on this road.”

 

I tugged the stupid pleated school skirt down my legs, about as far as I could, which was barely another inch, as I sat in the passenger seat. It was childishly short and showed off my thighs. Combined with the white ankle socks and black Mary Jane shoes with the side strap I felt ridiculous. And again I had walked out to the Sheriff’s car without even thinking that I had gone upstairs to the Frozen themed bedroom and got dressed without protest. I was an FBI agent, and I looked like a fucking school girl who had changed her top when she’d got home! 

 

We drove in silence again for another few miles.

 

“Who owns the land on the other side of the Miskatonic? The land that is fenced off?”

 

Again, Sheriff Root glanced curiously at me. “The Bannon family. Why do you ask?”

 

“Because you know perfectly well I crossed the bridge and was trapped on the other side of the Miskatonic, trapped by their security fence. There was a young woman, a hiker – Shelley – and a couple of men stripped her and tied her up. So that’s two women now that have apparently gone missing. Two women!”

 

“Can you describe her?”

 

“No. I never saw her.”

 

“Can you describe the men?”

 

“I never saw the men.”

 

“You didn’t see anything happen? Anything at all?”

 

“I HEARD it! I was hiding in a sunken pit surrounded by narrow stone steps with a deep hole in the centre.”

 

“Can’t say I know of any such feature, Miss Ellis.”

 

“It’s on the other side of the river, and there was an occult ritual – well – sex orgy, with naked masked men and two girls in steel collars in a clearing with a big stone ape statue and stone plinths, and….”

 

“You know how this all sounds?” suggested Sheriff Root.

 

“Don’t fucking tell me there’s something wrong with me! Don’t fucking suggest I’m imagining any of this!”

 

“Okay.” He was infuriatingly calm about all of this, as if humouring a mad woman. 

 

“Is there some sort of kinky sex cult around here?” I asked. “But, no, you wouldn’t tell me if there was, would you, because you’re in on all of this.”

 

“Miss Ellis, if there are any kinky sex cults in these parts, I assure you I’m not part of them. My evenings are sadly very boring. I’m working my way through season two of Bosch, and I’m usually in bed by ten thirty.”

 

“Wait, did you say the Bannon family?”

 

“Yep. An influential family around these parts. They have a big house across the river.”

 

“Is there an Elijah Bannon?”

 

“There sure is. An acquaintance of yours?”

 

“We’ve… met.” My voice trailed off at that point. 

 

********************

 

Several years ago:

 

It was the annual Mount Holyoke College Promenade, which was an evening each year when the students got to dress up and show how well they were doing to their parents or guardians, who drove in especially for the day. Impeccable manners and presentation were expected, and it was the job of the senior Sorority Sisters to ensure that each and every girl looked her prim and proper best when the lecturers described her educational progress to date. There was always a garden party with champagne and strawberries on the lawn, and a string orchestra, and fireworks, and later in the evening when the parents enjoyed the private hospitality party that the students were not permitted to attend, we sat out on the lawn, drinking bubbly and letting our hair down (quite literally, as upswept hair dos were part of the solemn occasion). Those of us with doting boyfriends in attendance would be showing off how well behaved these young men were.

 

“He’s adorable, isn’t he?” whispered a giddy Bryony Addison as her adoring boyfriend, Elijah Bannon, briefly left to cross the lawn and refill our glasses. We had kicked off our gold pump three inch heels and were swinging our bare feet above the edge of an outdoor swimming pool that had pink and blue scented candles floating on plastic lily pads. “I sometimes feel like I’m the luckiest girl alive. Like I’m on a merry go round that never stops.”

 

“He’s so sweet,” I agreed. Secretly I wasn’t so sure. Men like Elijah Bannon bored me, frankly, with their deference and polite manners. I wasn’t sure what I wanted out of a relationship, but I had a feeling it wasn’t simply deference and politeness.

 

“Daddy seems to like him, as does mummy,” said Bryony. “Though did you see how daddy took him aside and had a strict man talk with him for ten minutes or so? He can be so strict with my boyfriends.” She giggled, for she had drunk three slim flutes of champagne in the last hour and a half.   

 

“I hear his family is rich,” I said.

 

“Rich? Oh, you don’t know the half of it. You’ve head of the Fricks?”

 

I nodded. Of course I’d heard of the Fricks. Everyone had heard of the Fricks.

 

“Well,” Bryony leaned in close – so close our noses almost touched, “the Bannons are one of the old families, just like the Fricks!”

 

“No one is quite like the Fricks,” I suggested.

 

“Well, close enough.” She poo-pooed the comparison. “What the Fricks don’t own, the Bannons probably do. We’re going to Free Companion, you know. Eventually. After I graduate and he shows me off to all the great families. They have a Coming out Ceremony, apparently. We talked about it yesterday on the phone.”

 

“Bryony Addison, you never mentioned that!” I pretended to be excited for her, but frankly I couldn’t care less. I was aware of the Free Companion term. It was one of the terms used by New Feminists and seemed to be some alternative to traditional marriage, with rolling contracts for a year at a time, managed by the man.  

 

“Oh, yes, the boy is simply infatuated with me.” Bryony preened herself. “You know, we so have to find you a boyfriend, too. A nice harmless one who won’t be any danger.”

 

“I’m not sure I want…”

 

“Oh, hush – if I say you can have a boyfriend, you can have a boyfriend - no one will complain. Provided he meets my approval of course!” She wagged a finger at me in mock warning. “He has to pass the Bryony test.”

 

I smiled. She meant well. She always meant well when she was drunk, and it didn’t take much champagne to make Bryony Addison drunk. 

 

“And then we can double date together. Won’t that be wonderful?”

 

“Ladies,” Elijah Bannon had returned. He was dressed in a very expensive dinner jacket, looking every part the suave young society gentleman. “Nectar for two exquisite Goddesses.” He offered the slim champagne flutes in both hands. 

 

Bryony giggled as she accepted hers.

 

“An offering to Aphrodite,” added Elijah Bannon as he looked deep into her eyes.

 

“Aphrodite! You say the most wonderful things. Elijah!”

 

“And how are you, tonight, Miss Ellis?” enquired Elijah as he sat down between us. “I see you have loosened the pins in your lovely red locks of hair? Both of you?”

 

“No, no, no!” Bryony wagged her finger at his face. “Do not start. Don’t suggest we’re naughty! You know we all do that when our parents retire. It’s tradition! The Sorority Sisters turn a blind eye. We can do that when they go their private party. Our hair comes down for the night.” She made a face. She was feeling the effects of the champagne. 

 

“So they do,” said Elijah as he seemed to enjoy the sight of our now tumbling locks. Our evening dresses were black, expensive, and calf length. Tonight though, by the pool side, the hems had ridden up just a little.

 

“I think,” I said with a smile, “Mr Elijah Bannon is gazing at our calves,” I said to Bryony.

 

“He is, isn’t he! Men! Tch! He is a very bad boy!” she exclaimed. “What are you, Elijah?” She straightened the hem of her evening dress just a little, but not quite as far as it might have gone.

 

“Bad, apparently, but utterly devoted to you, Bryony,” he said with a knowing wink. “How can I not gaze at such lovely calves and such elegant ankles – the both of you.” He smiled at me, too. For some reason I felt uneasy and tugged the hem of my dress down as far as it might go. His eyes turned from my ankles and calves to my red hair and then my throat. 

 

“Do you really like my ankles?” asked Bryony as she wiggled them by the pool.

 

“I am enamoured by your ankles, Bryony. They are the most beautiful ankles I have ever assessed.”

 

“Assessed?” She laughed again, giddy on the flutes of sparkling bubbles. “You use such strange words, sometimes.”

 

“I am a Bannon,” he said, cryptically, with a smile, and then softly added, “my darling beloved.”

 

********************

 

“I think this must be where you crashed your car,” said Sheriff Root as he slowed the police car to a stop.

 

“It is,” I said, bluntly. “We were here yesterday.”

 

“Miss Ellis, I’m trying hard to accommodate these things you’re claiming, but…”

 

“Not claiming. You know very well we were here yesterday.” I sat in the police car, waiting for him to release the side locks. 

 

“If I’m part of some mysterious conspiracy, that is, I don’t know, playing games with you, then why are you even here in my car, now? Aren’t you afraid I might do something?”

 

“You people could have done anything when I was asleep, so I assume it’s not part of your game to do anything to me this morning.”

 

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you, Miss Ellis?”

 

“I am not stupid, Sheriff Root.” I looked round at him and felt a strange sensation again, as if I wanted to move closer, to feel his hands touch me and hold me. I shook my head. He was lying to me! They were all lying to me! “Where did you go yesterday afternoon? You said you would drive round to the other side of the river and find me? Did you find me? Were you the one who…”

 

“Who what?” Sheriff Root did look genuinely bemused by all this. He was a superb actor. I would give him that much. 

 

“Who took hold of me in the wood, who pressed a cloth to my face, a cloth laced with some knock out drug?”

 

“You are impossible, Miss Ellis. How can I possibly prove to you that none of this happened, that last night you were involved in a car crash, and this morning I called round for you for the first time?”

 

“Let me out of this car! NOW!” I barked the order, which must have seemed comical coming from a woman dressed in a pleated school skirt, white ankle socks and black Mary Jane shoes. Sheriff Root reached for the door release and I heard the locks disengage. 

 

“You can get out whenever you want, Miss Ellis. I can drive you wherever you want. Do you want to call your Bureau? Assuming you are who you say you are?”

 

“No.” I needed to formulate my thoughts and understand what had happened to me in the last 48 hours, otherwise the Bureau would think I had lost my mind. Sheriff Root was right about one thing at least – I probably did sound like I was suffering from concussion and memory loss. And of course there was the loss of my gun and badge to consider. I couldn’t risk the Bureau learning of that while there was still a chance I might retrieve them. Whatever was going on, it was evident enough that I could easily have been disposed of last night. The fact I had simply woken up in my dormer bedroom suggested I wasn’t in any immediate danger, regardless of what I had been witness too. “I am going to get to the bottom of this, Sheriff. Be sure of that.”

 

I slid my legs out from the car and inwardly cursed as my ridiculously short pleated skirt exposed my thighs again. I was smoothing the skirt down as best I could as Sheriff Root walked round the side of the car and gazed at me with what appeared to be renewed interest.

 

“What?” I said, sharply.

 

“Nothing.” He smiled and gazed at my legs again. They must seem very long on account of the short ankle socks and the short skirt. 

 

“I didn’t choose these clothes,” I said.

 

“And yet you look adorable,” said the Sheriff.

 

“Let us remain professional,” I said back.

 

“Of course, Miss Ellis. Whatever you say.”

 

But I felt that sensation again as he looked at me. I was suddenly the subject of interest. I was being - what did Elijah Bannon once say? – I was being assessed. 

 

“The car is down there,” I said, pointing in the direction of the skid marks, and the area of destroyed foliage at the side of the road. “It is wedged between some tree stumps. But further down the road is a slope that will lead to a derelict bridge. It may be intact or it may be broken.”

 

“And this is the bridge you claim we found yesterday?’

 

“You know we did.” I crossed my arms to cover up the ridiculous cartoon picture of Elsa summoning sparkles from the upward palm of her right hand. “And how else would I know it’s there unless I found it yesterday?”

 

“Yesterday was the day of your car crash. You possibly saw the bridge when you escaped from the wreckage of your car and began to walk along the road trying to flag down a passing motorist?” suggested Sheriff Root.

 

“No! I crashed my car two nights ago! I saw the bridge last night!”

 

“Which is when you crashed your car.”

 

“Stop staying that! It is NOT the 5^th October! it is the 6^th of October!”

 

“I think you really need to see our local doctor, Miss Ellis. Shall I drive you there?”

 

“Why? Is he part of this, too? Is he part of this, I don’t know, magic sex cult? Is he going to tell me I have concussion and I dreamt everything?”

 

“Why don’t you give him a chance?”

 

“I don’t trust any of you!”

 

‘I’m only trying to help you, Miss Ellis, but my patience only runs so far. I can drive you back to Rosemary’s house and continue my assessment of the crash scene alone?”

 

“No you don’t. I want to see the bridge for myself. I want the evidence of my own eyes.”

 

The Sheriff sighed. “Then lead the way, Miss Ellis. Wherever you want to go.”

 

“That way." I pointed down the road to the point where the Sheriff had climbed down to the river bank. I had gone the more treacherous and long winded route of scrambling down to my car and then working my way along the narrow, slippery, muddy river’s edge, yesterday afternoon.

 

“After you, Miss Ellis.” The Sheriff gestured towards me. “Unless you think I’m going to throw you into the Miskatonic river the moment you turn your back on me?”

 

“Just try it. I completed two unarmed combat courses at Quantico. I was awarded a bronze medal!” I felt defiant as I said that.

 

“I am suitably warned,” said the Sheriff with a pleasant smile. “You are obviously a dangerous girl in your pleated tactical battle school skirt.”

 

“Shut up!” I tugged the hem down again and walked quickly down the road, my cheeks burning with embarrassment as I felt his eyes on my pleated bottom, and my bare legs. And yet the thought of him gazing at me again made me feel warm between my thighs. 

 

I reached the edge of the slope and realised how difficult it would be to climb down there in such a short skirt with any dignity. “Could you please not look,” I said as I surveyed the slippery slope.

 

“As you wish, but it is difficult to take my eyes off you, Miss Ellis.”

 

“What?” I turned round, eyes blazing. 

 

Sheriff Root offered me an apologetic smile and a conciliatory gesture with a wave of his hand. “That is a very short skirt, and I’m only human.”

 

“That is hardly professional,” I snapped. But again I felt a sudden warmth between my thighs. He wants me. He wants me. I fought hard to push those thoughts aside. 

 

“I shall try to be more professional.” And then he turned round and gazed in the opposite direction.

 

“I will know if you turn round!” I said.

 

“I am sure you would. But I am too scared of your bronze medal in unarmed combat to take any liberties, Miss Ellis.”

 

“Do not patronise me! I am the equal of any man!” I sat down on the slope and began to inch my way down on my bottom, clinging on to the available roots and shrubbery as I went. In just a few minutes I reached the bottom and was able to clearly survey the expanse of the fast flowing Miskatonic. 

 

But there was no bridge.

 

Nothing.

 

Not even a single wooden support rising up from the water.