In the book of Job, we find one example of a conversation between God and the devil. Standing in the desert, the two debate the worth of man. "Consider my servant Job", God suggests. "A righteous man, a man who has an undying faith". In return, the devil chuckled, "Your servant only serves, because you have bestowed upon him many blessings. Who would not worship Him who allows no harm to come to him. Take down your protective hedges, and allow me to test Job."
God thought about this and agreed. Over the next few months Job experienced the death of his cattle, the death of his children, and the death of his wife. His home was destroyed, and everything he loved was taken from him. But still Job stood by his faith in God. And for this, he was blessed twice over.
One lesson to take from this, is that even when being used as dice in a gamble between good and evil, it is a man's faith that keeps him on the table. And what is a man's faith if left untested? Through pain, through tears, when the hedges are lowered, some men stand and some men break.
******
J.W. spent the next few minutes watching Morgan. She hadn't noticed yet, lurking in the dark corner of the bar, but she was slowly making her way toward him. He thought about the girl they had found. And now his wife was missing. He could not survive finding her in the same way. He had lost her to another man, but he would not lose her to death.
Just then, a shot glass slammed down in front of him. The brown liquid quickly filled it up and dribbled over the sides. Morgan's thin, lightly brown fingers pushed it toward him. He looked up to see her face.
"I don't drink, hunny."
"You do tonight. Trust me, I know when a man needs a drink...."
She reached over and wiped some dried blood from his forehead.
"....and you are a man that needs a drink."
J.W. picked up the shot glass and tossed it back with a small grimace, as his throat burned all the way down to his stomach. He hadn't had a drink in years, but it tasted as good as he remembered.
"So what happened to ya?"
His eyes refocused and he stared into Morgan's one good eye, her other covered by her hanging hair.
"I need to know what this note means."
He spread the crumpled napkin out on top of the bar in front of her, and her demeanor immediately changed. She shifted into her more reserved mood. She looked down and shook her head back and forth, and started to walk away. J.W. quickly grabbed her by the wrist.
"My wife is gone.....please."
Morgan turned back with a sympathetic look.
"What do you mean gone?"
"Missing. The same as Elizabeth."
"If she is really gone, like you say......then she ain't comin' back."
"Please... tell me what it means. I can't just let her stay gone."
Morgan grabbed J.W. by the hand and began to walk him toward the back of the bar. No one seemed to pay them any attention. He followed.
On the far wall, a door was propped open with a brick that led outside. Morgan walked through and disappeared into the night. J.W. took one last look behind him and followed behind her.
Out back were tall pitch fork weeds, lit by an ever present moon light. A few feet away, sat an old picnic table. Morgan sat down on top of it and rested her feet down where you would normally sit.
She reached around to the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a cigarette pack. She shook it slightly and pulled out a fresh stick. She offered it to J.W., but when he waved it away, she pressed it to her lips and lit it. The first inhale, she let linger for a moment, then blew it out into the night sky.
"I just want you to listen. I only want to go through this once. I have to relive it everyday, and twice in one day is something I'm only doing for you.
I wasn't hit by any truck. I know that's what you heard, because that's what I told them. These scars. This eye. I knew it woulda been nothing compared to what woulda happened had I told the truth.
A person did this to me. Or something that looks like a person. Demons take many forms if you ask me.
I used to walk everywhere. My momo lived right outside of town, and I never wanted to bother her with a ride. That's where he seen me...walkin'. When he stopped, I didn't think nothing of it. I knew him and I trusted him.
I woke up a little while after he knocked me out and dragged me into his truck. He had took me to his house. He has a shed out there, on his property. When I came to, everything hurt. My insides hurt. My body hurt. I don't know what he did to me, and I dont want to know.
We stayed there until dark, then he threw me back into his truck. We rode for what felt like forever. I prayed the whole way that he would just wreck and kill us both. But he didn't.
He dragged me outta that truck in the dead of night. I played like I was unconscious the whole time. But I knew exactly where we was. He finally stopped, and started diggin'. That's when I knew I wasn't leavin' there alive.
I did everything I could and finally, by the grace of God, broke outta those ties. I never ran that fast in my life, and ain't since. I thought I was free. Thought I'd beat him. That's when it happened.
He caught up to me, and hit me with that shovel right across the head. Tip of it caught me right in the eye. We wrestled around a while. He hit me. I tried to hit back. I knee'd him right in the nuts and took off again. I don't know what kept me going.
For hours, I just ran through the woods. Bleeding and half blind. When I thought it was safe, I walked out onto a road. That's when they found me. I had started walking back toward town but passed out.
But that's how I knew."
"Knew what?"
"Where he took Elizabeth. Same place he tried to put me."
"You're the one who called in the tip?"
"Til this day, I don't know why he let me live. He could get me anytime he wanted. I think he liked that. He liked that I knew that.
So I kept quiet. It seemed to be the only thing keeping me alive. And to see ya'll together that night, I knew I had been quiet long enough. Why should my life be more important than hers?"
"Who Morgan, tell me!"
"You know. And J.W.........he only moves them after a funeral."
******
The next morning, Rebecca's eyes were fogged over from the pain she was in. The side of her face lay down flat on a dirty plywood floor. She moved her head to look around. A single slit of light seeped in between two closed barn doors. Wooden beams framed the walls and roof, tin on top of that.
Inside, things seemed fairly empty. There were a few ropes and chains, and one solitary chair. She could barely keep track of the thoughts stumbling through her mind.
Her hands and feet were still bound together, but Campbell was no where in sight. The sting in her ribs raged as she shuffled her way to a seated position. Her eyes darted around wildly, and her breathing quickened. From this position, she could see the entire floor. Covering the room were large patches of red stains peppering the room. She knew she wasn't the first to be here.
Frantically, she tried to move, to stand up. The sound of a chain rattling and a tightening grabbed her around the waist. When she looked down, she saw a large linked metal chain. It wrapped around her torso and bound her to a wooden beam. She shook her body violently and again screamed against the tape covering her mouth.
******
Campbell sat in his truck for a few moments, looking at the front of the building. He didn't know what to expect or if it even mattered at this point. The fact that there weren't any out of state vehicles in the parking lot was a good sign to him.
He stepped out of the vehicle and made his way toward the door. The heel of his boot clicking with each step. His hand reached out and grabbed the handle, and for a split second, he hesitated.
The cool air from the building's conditioning washed over his face as he stepped inside. The dispatcher hopped up from her seat and ran around the desk.
"Sheriff! We been tryin' to reach you for over a day. Lord, I thought somethin' done happened to you!"
"Well, I'm still upright and breathin'."
"There's a lot of things to catch you up on and a whole mess of phone messages."
Campbell walked into his office and sat his hat down on the edge of his desk. He talked aloud as he rounded it and sat down, looking through papers and sticky notes that had begun to riddle the desktop in his absence.
"I left a capable man in charge. Where is J.W.?"
"Finished his shift last night. He should be in sometime this mornin'. You haven't talked to him?"
Campbell lowered his eyes at her.
"Who's workin' for who here, Ms. Sepulvado?"
"Sorry, Sheriff. I'll leave you to your work."
Campbell thumbed through the papers until he came to the report on the cemetery. He read the details on the two bodies that were found. Visions of the nights he took them snapped through his mind like an old film. He remembered how they screamed, how they begged.
He ran his fingers across the pages like he had run them across their faces. Reassuring them that everything would be fine, that they would be ok. Then he killed them.
Breaking his daydream, a glare of light hit his eyes. Through his office window, he could see a truck pulling up to the building. It's tires rolled slowly across the rocks in the parking lot and it came to a stop facing his office. Behind the wheel, sitting, staring was J.W. He didn't move.
Campbell swiveled his chair to face the window. He nodded his head and grinned.
