As a child, you grow up thinking that things are the way they are on the surface. That people are as they present themselves to be. At that point in time, you have no reason to doubt it. Right is right, blue is blue, and things are what they are.
It's not until you get a little older that you realize that everyone wears a mask. Everyone presents themselves as one thing and sheds that persona when they think no one is watching. There's a saying that goes, "give a man a mask, and he'll show you his true self." Truer words were never spoken.
Behind closed doors, or in the dead of the night, when the moon is the only eye that's watching, men can do terrible things. These are not men that look like monsters, they are not painted in a permanent scowl. The most dangerous are the wolves among us, the ones who hide behind a smile.
******
A tractor idled beside an uncovered grave that the police had dug up. It's bucket was lowered down to ground level. Hanging from the edges, were two sets of chains that jingled all the way to the end, where a thick cloth like tarp had been tied into a hammock like shape.
Two men stood at either end, inside the grave, pieces of torn t-shirt strips were wrapped around their faces to cover their noses. As gently as possible, the two men moved the pale, bruised body of a young girl. The girl's body was dark purple on the bottom half, as all of the blood had settled over the last few days. The men moved her into the cloth tarp, doing their best not to disturb any evidence that might be there. When they were finally satisfied with the placement, the man at the head of the grave gave a thumbs up to the one operating the tractor.
The black and orange tractor rattled as the driver pulled a lever and the hydraulics shifted to lift the bucket. Everyone standing around the grave took a couple of steps back. The chains slowly began moving upward, link by link moving to the surface. Finally, the tarp surfaced and was raised above their heads.
The girl's feet hung out of the end, soiled with dirt. J.W. motioned the operator to swing the bucket over to the side and place her down onto the grass. A team of investigators had set up an area to take samples of anything they could find.
"Damndest thing ain't it?"
J.W. answered back.
"What's that?"
"Burying her out here. We never woulda found her. Not without that call. Who woulda thought to look in a graveyard. I know I wouldn't have."
At that moment, a crackle came over the CB radio attached to J.W.'s hip. The voice that came over was panting and out of breath.
"J.W.!.....Truck just blew through the barricade down here. I didn't want to shoot his tires out.......He's headed your way!"
Around a bend in the road, J.W. could see a truck barreling in the direction of the church. He didn't recognize it and wasted no time hurdling the chain link fence and readying his firearm. A couple of officers followed behind him.
The truck screeched to a stop in the parking lot, just in front of the men. The driver's side door flew open and J.W. holstered his gun. His heart felt as if it fell into his stomach. He held his arms out to hold the man off, but instead the man collapsed into them. It was Thomas Freemaux, the girl's father.
"Hold it now Thomas! Just hold it......we can't..."
"Tell me! Tell me it's her!", he screamed through the tears.
Thomas stared into J.W.'s eyes, his were bloodshot red with pain.
"Don't bullshit me J.W. You know her. Is it her?!"
J.W. could only stare back with a silent look of sympathy. Thomas fell to his knees weeping. J.W. dropped down with him and held the broken man in his arms.
******
Campbell stayed on the car's tail until the person driving noticed the flashing red light on top of his truck. It's brake lights began to shine as it pulled onto the shoulder of the road. Campbell followed and stopped a short distance behind.
In the seat beside him sat a pair of black leather gloves laying neatly on top of one another. He pulled each one onto his hand, one at a time. He stretched his fingers out inside them so that they fit snuggly against his skin.
As he stepped out of his truck, he looked in either direction of the road and saw only empty highway. He shut his door and began a slow steady walk toward the car. He could see the woman inside looking through the rearview mirror at his every move.
By the time he reached the window, she was already rolling it down. The confused look on her face was evident.
"Sheriff.....a little out of your jurisdiction ain't you?"
Campbell stared off into the distance, down the road.
"Well, you know what they say, the arm of justice knows no limitations."
"Was I speedin'?"
"Where you comin' from Rebecca?"
J.W.'s estranged wife dropped her gaze down to her lap.
"Went to see J.W. Tryin' to get all this mess sorted out. But he won't have none of it so far."
Campbell put one hand onto the roof of the car and leaned down.
"Sometimes it's best not to disturb calm waters, honey."
"What's this all about, Sheriff?"
Rebecca began to lift her head and look back in Campbell's direction. It was at that moment that her head began to ring and her eyesight flashed, as his fist slammed into her temple. She let out a loud moan.
A sinister look came across Campbell's face and he continued punching Rebecca over and over until she lost consciousness. Deep purple began to spread across her cheek as bruises immediately began to show. Her body slumped to the side and rested against the console.
Campbell reached into the window and opened the car door from the inside. Once again, he looked in both directions down the stretch of highway. When he saw only open road, he bent down into the car and grabbed a handful of Rebecca's hair, dragging her limp body to the ground. Loose gravel crunched against her skin.
A pool of blood began to form under her face as it leaked out from her nose and mouth. With the tip of his boot, Campbell unfurled her body until she lay out straight on her back. With both gloved hands, he grabbed her by the ankles and began dragging her toward his truck. The back of her shirt rolled up with the friction, exposing her bare skin to scrape against the ground.
Rebecca let out another whisper of a moan. Campbell opened the driver's door to his truck and grabbed a roll of black electrical tape that was sitting on his seat. He stretched out a long portion of it in front of him. Looking down at her, he smiled.
******
Later that night, J.W. sat down on his bed and let out a sigh of exhaustion. His boots, still dusted with the red dirt of the cemetery, pulled off with a strain. He sat them down neatly beside his night stand.
He leaned his elbows down across his knees and hung his head. All the nights he had sat in this very spot and envisioned finding Elizabeth alive were dashed. Several times he had imagined her running into his arms. He, her saving hero. And then, he could finally feel like he was making a difference. But it was not to be.
The only thing that kept him putting one foot in front of the other now, after being left alone and as a failure, was his faith in God. He prayed for the strength to carry on every night. And this night was no different. Only tonight, the thought of God reminded him of something else. Something he had put off for too long.
Sitting on the night stand he grabbed his Bible and the napkin that both had not moved since he last thought about them. The pages flapped wildly as he searched for the scripture the girl in the bar had slipped to him. His finger dragged down the page and finally stopped.
"Do not be yoked together with evil doers. For what do righteousness and wickedness have in common? What fellowship can light have with darkness?"
J.W. threw the Bible on the bed and quickly laced his boots back onto his feet. His truck keys jingled as he snatched them from his night stand. The soles of his boots were thundering across the house as he headed for the door. Then he stopped.
Out of the living room window, in the dark of the night, two yellow headlights shown brightly. They bounced up and down as they made their way down his driveway. He stood silently as the beams of light pour across the front of his house. Alone, he stood, waiting.
