In the midst of all of God's creation, in the beginning of time, there was but one coniving spirit. One soul who spun darkness and lived to seperate man from God. It worked it's decadent thoughts into the ear of Eve, forever changing the course of man's path, from by God's side to out on its own.
From that day forth, man and serpent have been at odds. The serpent forced to eat dust and crawl on its belly across the Earth until it's last days and man forever being struck on the heel by the serpents sharp fangs.
There is a tale in southern folklore of a farmer's wife who, in the depth of winter, came upon a serpent half frozen. The snake pleaded with the woman, "Take me in, and allow me to thaw so that I can be on my way and not die."
Feeling compassion for the poor creature, the farmer's wife wrapped it in a cloth and brought it inside their home. She sat near the crackling fire she had made on the hearth. Gently, she stroked the cloth and over a short time the serpent began to thaw. And as he did, he reared back and bit the woman across the hand.
The farmer's wife dropped the creature and cried out, "Why have you done this? Now I will surely die! Why have you repayed my kindness with such evil?". And in reply the serpent said, "I am a snake, it is my nature. You knew this when you took me in."
Evil is among us. We live and accept that fact everyday. It is only when it rears its head do we ask why. It is only then do we seek justice. Sometimes it is easier to ignore the beast that lurks beyond the trees. But there comes a time when the beast is no longer content to stay within the forest, and our back yards become its home.
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"Turn around here girl!"
Campbell was still propped up on the foot rest of the stool and leaning against the bar. When Morgan slowly spun around, she was visibly upset and shaking. She kept her eyes down on the bar top and clenched the cleaning rag in her hands.
"Look at me. We're the police. We ain't gonna hurt you. You know that don't you?"
Her eyes raised slightly, just enough to meet his own. He looked back with a glaring determination to get through to her in some way.
"Yes sir."
"Alright, now tell us, was Elizabeth here the night she dissappeared?"
"Yes sir, for a minute or two. She come by to see me."
"Was she with anyone?"
"Not that I seen."
J.W. interrupted, attempting to use a more soothing tone.
"Why didn't she stay long?"
"She was just droppin' off some clothes she had borrowed from me, that's all. She was headed home."
She started back up wiping the counter down in a circular motion. She flipped the rag over and folded it in half to get a fresh portion of it to use. She kept her eyes down on her work, continually wiping in a slowly frantic way. Campbell grabbed her wrist firmly, and she froze. She didn't dare look up, but listened closely to what he had to say.
"If you think of anything else, you know where the station is. I want you to come down and see me, ok? We need all the information we can get to find this girl."
She timidly nodded her head in agreement and Campbell released her back to her work. He stood up straight and took a look around the bar, before ajusting the position of his hat. He looked back to his partner.
"Let's go, J.W."
Campbell turned and began walking toward the door. The people around the pool tables either nodded to him or avoided eye contact all together. Some even slinked off into the corner as to not be noticed. But Campbell wasn't there for them. Just before following behind him, J.W. turned back to the girl behind the bar.
"Honey, can I get a drink to go? Just a water or a can of coke, if you got it."
She leaned down to an ice chest sitting on the floor. It creaked open and revealed itself to be half full of melted ice and a few sodas floating around inside. She stirred the water around and grabbed one of the cans. Very gently, she bounced it up and down and let the excess water drip off and back into the cooler.
Up on the counter, with her back turned, she folded a paper towel to wrap around the wet soda can. J.W. spent the time glancing around the bar at the people until the metal of the bottom of the can smacked down in front of him.
"Thank you ma'am, how much?"
The girl smiled slightly.
"The first one's free."
He tipped his cap and made his way through the smoke filled room to the exit. Campbell already had the headlights on the cruiser burning by the time he made it outside. J.W. climbed into the passenger seat and the two set off down the road. He pulled back the tab on his coke as it hissed open and glanced over at Campbell.
"Odd bird, that one. Could you get a read on her?"
"Hell, I don't even know if she's right in the head anymore. You can't put a bead on crazy."
"She did seem a little peculiar. I believe I'm spent for tonight. You mind droppin' me at my house? I'll drive my truck in tomorrow morning."
The moonlight shone down into the car and J.W. sat contemplating the events of the past few days. The look on the father's face when he told him that his little girl was missing. The car. But mostly about his wife. Even with her shacked up with another man, he thought about her. He wondered what she was doing at that very moment.
He looked down at his soda can and nervously picked at the napkin wrapped around it, trying to distract himself from his thoughts. Towards one end of it, he noticed a dark marking sprawling toward the edge. He uncurled the entire thing, and held it out a little as to see what it was. He could now clearly see that it was pen ink.
Across the paper towel, handwritten were these words:
"2 Corinthians 6:14"
He studied it for a moment, wondering what the origin of the markings were and why. He hadn't seen Morgan writing anything, but he also wasn't paying very much attention to her. It was an odd thing. Maybe someone had written it down earlier and she just happened to pick it up and use it by accident.
J.W. folded the napkin in half and shoved it into the front pocket of his shirt. He wasn't sure what it meant, if anything. But he wanted to be able to look it up alone and make the determination before bringing it up to Campbell. It could possibly be a message to him directly or just jibberish from an emotionally unstable girl. But whatever it was, he wanted to find out on his own.
When they reached his house, J.W. was almost reluctant to go inside. He knew that the moths flittering around the front porch light would be the only activity in the whole place. Ever since his wife left, there was a depressing loneliness that had taken over. He dreaded the nights where he was forced to lay alone, without another body to be present in his bed.
Finally, he stepped out of the car and turned to lean back through the open window. Campbell was looking straight ahead.
"You know, we'll find her, Sheriff. Secrets don't last long around here. Somebody will talk."
"I know it."
"I just don't want the pressure to get to you. The people will get answers when we get them."
"I ain't worried about what people want to hear. It's the simplicity of it all that gets me, J.W. You and I both know that girl's dead. You know the odds of finding someone alive after the first 24 hours?"
"It goes down everyday."
"Goes down everyday."
"Well, don't even think it. Not yet."
"Don't think it, he says. I'm the one answers to the people of town. Me alone. A thing like this happens, they wanna know why I let it. Why I didn't prevent it, like I could see it comin'. And maybe I could, the way things are these days. Hell, it don't surprise me."
"Well, it's in God's hands now, and we are but vessels."
J.W. rapped his hand down twice on the top of his car and spoke to the sheriff one last time before sending him off.
"Get some sleep tonight, Sheriff. We'll start fresh tomorrow."
He sat on the front steps of his porch and watched the red taillights dissappear into the distance. With it, it took the rumbling of the motor until it was a mere whisper. A slight breeze whistling through the pine needles appeared and J.W. sat listening.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he watched the sway of the tree limbs, and listened to the sound of cicadas singing. He thought of his wife, gone. He thought of the future he had planned, gone. He thought of the missing girl, gone.
A wet dot of a nose nestled against his arm and a little whimper was heard. J.W.'s dog had heard him come home and begged for his attention. He put his hand on his head and scratched, pleasing the dog.
"I know, I've been gone alot lately. You wanna sleep inside tonight? Let's go."
He unlocked the door and the pair walked through. J.W. was unbuttoning his uniform shirt before the door shut behind him. He pulled his arms out of it and slung it across the back of the couch.
As it landed, a patch of white slid out of the front pocket and fell to the floor. The napkin that Morgan had written on lay staring up at J.W. And J.W. stared back.
