The Tears of Pelican Bay

The Tears of Pelican Bay (Conclusion)

         Chad sat up in his bed, thinking about everything that had
happened over the past few days trying to make some sense of it.
He thought about the first day he had stepped foot in the Meyers
house, the strange apparitional experience that he had there and
the dreams he had been having. He tried to rationalize
everything by convincing himself that his conscience was
probably punishing him for not having done more that night on
the beach all those years ago. He knew that he wasn't thinking
rationally when he began to wonder if David or Lisa Meyers were
trying to tell him their story. It was difficult, though, to
explain the dream with the man he saw in the kitchen window at
his own house, the same man from the beach house...no features, no
physical contact...just a silhouette and the eyes...there was
something about those eyes. Despite everything he had seen or
imagined, it was a simple question that haunted him the most.
Why did Eddie kill? Was it rejection? Had he been bullied and
harassed to the point that when Lisa Meyers rebuffed his
advances, he simply snapped like everyone always said he would?
It wasn't a matter of if, they always said, but when. Chad
believed that the events of that night at the bluffs had been
the final straw that had pushed Eddie to his limit and he
wondered how much society bears responsibility for one innocent
soul's inability to cope with one of the most common obstacles
that people face. Acceptance. He knew it to be true, however,
that while kids can be cruel, most who are on the receiving in
don't become killers and there is little sympathy for those who
do.
He checked his cell phone and noticed a missed message. It was
Jack.
"Chad...The answer to your question is no...I didn't forget. But it
wasn't Eddie Irving that killed those people that night... you
probably knew that, didn't you?"
Chad was shocked and wondered what it was that Jack knew
about the murders. He was never exactly trustworthy and had hurt
so many people in high school, some with his words and others
with his fists. Unless you were in the circle of his closest of
friends, you may as well have not existed and even then, you
might end up with a knife in your back, figuratively speaking,
of course. There was, however, a distinctive hopelessness in
Jacks voice that must have been the same feelings Eddie Irving
felt when no one would give him the time of day or when everyone
went out of their way to humiliate and torment him. But if he
didn't kill those people, who did?
             Chad knew that he had to talk to Jack to try to understand
why, if he knew who the real killer was all along, that he had
let everyone believe for so long that Eddie had done it.
He knew exactly where to find him but it was not until almost
noon that he worked up the nerve to go. When he arrived, he saw
the navy blue pickup truck sitting in the same place they had
always parked. A small parking lot had been built since their
days in high school and there was not a single car there, yet
Jack chose to park on the shoulder of the road. He was likely at
the bottom of the steps on the beach, waiting for Chad, who
nervously wiped away the sweat beads that had accumulated on his
forehead. His stomach was in knots and his breathing labored but
he had come this far and was determined to get answers.
There was a cool breeze blowing aimlessly and the shrill
cries of the hungry gulls were the only other sound. Chad
reached the bottom of the bluffs and looked around at the beach.
He hadn't been down there in several years and it was clear that
the high school parties continued judging from all of the trash
that was scattered about. He called out but no answer and he
thought that Jack could have walked the five hundred yards or so
to the Meyers house. When he got there, however, he was nowhere
within sight nor sound. For more than an hour, he walked up and
down both ends of the beach before giving up, and accepting the
fact that Jack probably didn't want to be found. The uncertainty
and anxiety that Chad had felt about meeting him at the bluffs
was replaced by a sense of relief, though not without some
regret. Back up at the highway he pulled out his cell phone,
dialed information and asked to be connected to the Pelican Bay
Police Department...homicide. The next morning the investigation
into the Meyers murders was unofficially reopened. Days passed
and it took on a more official status as suspicion grew when no
one had seen nor heard from Jack Prater. Chad almost allowed
himself to be disappointed and then remembered who he was
dealing with. Though he wanted everyone to believe that he had
changed, Jack was, apparently, still the same old Jack.
             Chad awoke to the sound of birds chirping and bouncing on
his bedroom windowsill, pecking and scratching at their
reflection in the glass. It was a sound he had never noticed
before, though he was sure it was always there and he walked to
the window, pulling back the curtains to watch. It was a
beautiful morning and despite the obscure events of the days
before, he felt refreshed and ready for a new beginning. He had
slept well, the first time in a long time that he had. On the
lawn, he saw the paper and he slipped on a shirt and his sandals
and walked out to pick it up. The headline of the Pelican Bay
Herald said it all. Manhunt under way for Local War Hero
Implicated in Double Murder.
It was true. Speculation had gone from Jack having known
the identity of the killer to having possibly been the killer
himself. It was a theory that made sense to Chad and many others
who were suspicious of a man who's chilling words would seem to
clear a suspected killer who had vanished long ago and then
disappear himself without a trace. The community was in shock
and the amateur lawyers at the Wharf House and O'Reilly's
haggled over the admissibility of a voicemail message should
Jack Prater be charged with murder. It was all, however, talk
and nothing was going to happen right away since the man in
question was still missing, that is until his bloated body
floated to the top of Pelican Bay a couple of weeks later.
Little by little, the picture of what happened all those years
before seemed clearer, and for Chad, it was starting to sink in
how close he was to it all. Jack must have been overwhelmed with
guilt, and wanting to tell someone for years that it was, in
fact, he who had killed David and Lisa Meyers and not Eddie
Irving...that it was he who dared Eddie to go to the beach house,
knowing that they were already dead inside. And maybe, just
maybe, it was he who was the reason that Eddie had never been
seen since. Chad wondered if his first experience, that day
dream in the Meyer's house was a glimpse at the final moment of
Eddies life, an old story being retold years later, maybe by
Eddie himself, reaching out from the beyond. The more he thought
about it, the more ridiculous it sounded, yet still he could not
explain it. It could have as easily been Jack last moments.
Whatever dreams or thoughts had emerged in the midst of it all,
it was no doubt explained by the power of conscience. As for
Jack...he was a changed man, so he said...not the same guy he was in
high school and for the first time, Chad actually believed it.
There remained a lot of unanswered questions, the most obvious
being how it was he never saw it coming. All of the signs were
there, but everyone ignored them in Jack Prater, though they all
saw them clear as day in Eddie Irving. He continued to lived on
in the minds of those who knew him, though not so much the
demonic murderer stalking the beaches as had been his only
legacy before in Pelican Bay. Now, he was just going to be that
gothic boy of which everyone would ask..."Whatever happened to
Eddie Irving?"
             Jack had become heavily intoxicated. For a while, though,
he seemed calm and drank by the fire, mingling with the others.
Felicia had not shown up and he was furious, but he kept it to
himself. Everyone had been drinking and there was not a sober
one among them, but still the party raged on. Though always the
loudest one at any party, no one even noticed him slip off down
the beach, bottle in hand. By the time he was near to the bottom
of it, he saw the light from the house. He had been watching
that beach house for months, since the new owners had moved in.
It was nice, though small; still it was obvious that the owners
were of the more affluent variety. The name on the mailbox by
the road was Meyers and a beautiful woman lived there. She had
caught his eye a time or two. He would walk along the bluffs,
hiding in the rocks, waiting to catch a glimpse of her as she
walked in and out of the sliding glass door. She would lie out
on the beach and many times, he would be tempted to go down and
introduce himself as if she would simply ignore that she was
married or even give him the time of day, a young man's arrogant
fantasy. The husband was always working late and when he would
show up later in the evening they would hug and kiss each other
as if they were making up for lost time, which always killed the
moment for Jack and that was his cue to leave. He had become
obsessed with her. She was a rope that was just out of reach, a
challenge for someone like Jack. When he was watching her, it
was as if there were no others, not even his beloved Felicia.
His drunken state emboldened him and he decided that it was time
to move in and have a closer look. He could hardly stand up and
he stumbled through the sand and rock. It was dark and the moon
had become masked with clouds, though the lights from the house
illuminated the immediate area. He heard her walking around and
she herself thought she heard someone walking on the beach but
looking down from the stilted porch, it was apparent that she
did not see the young man standing there looking back up at her.
"Is somebody out there?" she asked
Jack looked at her and tried to force a smile, but of course did
not give her a clue to his presence. She was in a sweatshirt and
he had his eyes on her, thinking of all the things that young
men think about when they see a beautiful young woman in nothing
but a sweatshirt. His breathing was faster from the walk up the
beach...or maybe it was the sight of her, of Lisa Meyers...or maybe
it was both. The booze was beginning to take its toll and he
dropped the near empty whiskey bottle on the sand as he walked
toward the steps. Lisa, still uneasy and sensing something was
wrong, walked inside and closed the sliding door.
As Jack got to the steps that led to the deck his head began to
spin and he suddenly felt dizzy and nauseous. He turned around
and sat in the sand, leaning against the bottom step. It was
the last thing he would remember.
             It took him some time but Eddie worked up the nerve. He
climbed down from his hiding place, a rocky outcropping inside
an alcove, down to the beach and headed toward the house. As he
got closer, he saw Jack passed out at the base of the steps. He
was disappointed but relieved at the same time, still not sure
that he would be able to go through with what Jack had told him
to do. At first, he did not approach but when he saw the
condition that Jack was in, he saw an opportunity to avenge all
the pain and humiliation that he had been forced to endure. He
came closer, cautious and quiet, not sure what he would do, but
do something, he would. Jack was sprawled across the steps on
his side exposing the polished grip of a butterfly knife, an
open invitation to his coat pocket. Still he slept, soundlessly.
The lights in the house were on and though the sliding door on
the back patio was closed, the window was open and he could hear
someone walking around inside. Eddie climbed the steps, stopping
to slip the knife from Jacks pocket. He flipped it open and
unleashed the blade. Holding it to his nose, he could still
smell the rubber from the tire of his father's car. He was not
angry, though. Not anymore. For once in his miserable life, he
felt liberated and in complete control. He did not make a sound
as he walked up to the glass and just as Lisa was walking to the
sliding glass door, Eddie knocked on it three times. She was
caught by surprise and abruptly expelled a short involuntary
shriek, instinctively cupping her hands to her face. Before she
was able to recover her senses and lock the door, it was too
late. It was open and Eddie was standing in the threshold. She
stood there in shock, shaking and overwhelmed by terror, unable
to move or muster another scream.
"I have a message for you," said Eddie as he walked toward her,
following her around the sofa waiting for her response as though
he had just posed an encrypted challenge.
"Jack told me to tell you that. You do know Jack, don't you?" he
asked.
Lisa shook her head.
"No...I...I...don't...please..." She pleaded in whispers hoping the boys
would not hear and would stay in their room.
"Sure you do...he's the jerk that's passed out at the bottom of
your steps. He told me he's been here before. I have a message
for you...He told me to tell you that."
Lisa's fear was inconsolable and she began to hyperventilate,
still fighting the urge to scream for fear of drawing her boys
into the room. Eddie became agitated...at her, at Jack...but mostly
at himself for being so stupid. He wanted her to stop but she
wouldn't. He told her to stop but she couldn't and with every
passing second, he became more and more enraged until finally he
knew what he had to do to make Jack pay. As Lisa went to her
knees struggling to catch her breath, he walked up behind her
and grabbed her by the hair, snatching her back to her feet. He
put his hand over her mouth and nose and pulled her into his
shoulder with all his strength, resting his cheek on the side of
her head. Already winded, Lisa's struggle was a short one and
within seconds, she wasn't moving at all.
"Maybe you didn't hear me," he said, "I said....I have-a message-
for you."
He let go and her lifeless body fell to the floor. He was dazed
and still not certain of what he had done. It had all happened
so fast. There was, however, a strange new sense of exhilaration
that came over him. It was power and control...something he had
never felt before.
Suddenly there was a rustling of keys at the front door.
He hid behind the draperies as the door came open and David
Meyers came walking in through the foyer. He walked toward the
glass door and around the sofa and at the moment he saw the body
of his wife on the floor, Eddie buried the blade of the knife
deep into his stomach, ripping it out and back in several times
as David sunk to his knees his body recoiling with every blow.
No less than twenty five times, Eddie heaved the blade into
David's body. For the first time in his life, Eddie didn't feel
powerless at all. David was still on his knees clutching the
mortal wounds that riddled his torso when Eddie placed his hand
to his forehead and tilted his head back. David could hardly
utter the words.
"Who...are you?" he asked as he drew his final breath, and Eddie
replied, "I am the messenger."
As he turned and walked to the sliding door, he heard one of the
boys, Max, walk into the living room.
"Mommy?" he called.
The boy's helplessness was familiar. He knew it all too well.
The fear...the pain. The tears. It was this place...this
unforgiving, miserable place, he thought, that had been the
cause of all of his tears. He walked out of the house and down
the steps, pausing for a moment to wipe the blood from his hands
on Jacks coat and place the bloody knife in his open hand. And
then he simply vanished and that was the last that anyone ever
saw of Eddie Irving.

©2008 K. Sullivan Pierce