The Tears of Pelican Bay

The Tears of Pelican Bay



The warm glow of the harvest moon seeped through the

Spanish moss that hung from the oaks, its cast of dreadful

shadows dancing and swaying in unison against the wall of the

rocky bluffs and the sand below. It was all but quiet and the

brackish bay was calm as always, rare was the sound of a frog or

a bird or even the wind to cause a ripple. Standing at his feet,

he imagined a stranger, he thought, or perhaps a spirit, dark

and blank though vaguely familiar. The strangers face and form

masked what little light filtered through the moss yet never

revealed a shadow. A bitter chill pierced his body and that

which he imagined now seemed so real. He lay perfectly still,

unable to move as if still trapped in a paradoxical state of

altered consciousness. Frightened and confused he wondered why

the strange man watched over him with such patient allegiance as

if waiting for him to speak.

“Who are you?” he asked, and the man replied, “I am the

messenger.”

As sure as the words were cast the wind began to howl and

the sky turned black as coal. He braced himself against the

rocks and closed his eyes as a cold and wet sensation clutched

his now weightless body. He found himself unable to breath and

he opened his eyes to growing fathoms of water between him and

the surface of the bay. The harder he kicked the deeper he was

sucked into the blackness of the deep. He tossed away his coat,

but his boots still drug him down and the coldness of the deep

dark water began to take its toll. As the unforgiving water

seeped into his pharynx, his muscles began to seize and a final

violent burst filled his burning lungs diminishing the futile

attempts at struggle. His body twisted and heaved and within

seconds, he was still, drifting ever downward to the keeper of

his watery grave. There was darkness…silence.

He was standing in the house at 3109 Scenic Highway, exactly

where he had been standing moments before. His watch read seven

o’clock in the evening but the clock on the floor ticked away at

nine thirty. Still short of breath, he tried to make sense of it

all, unsure of what had happened and relieved that it must have

been a dream…a daydream no less. A familiar chill passed though

his body as he made his way to the door and though the mid

autumn evening was unseasonably stifling, Chad shivered.

***

O’Reillys Pub was a popular stop for the thirty something

rush hour crowd in Pelican Bay. It was a chance to part from the

normal bayside club life that everyone else seemed to adore. It

was more a matter of simple geography though, as the pub was

hidden in the corner of a strip mall 5 miles from the water. It

was less obvious to tourist looking for nightlife and usually

the only people who found the place were those who were looking

for it. Still, the regular crowd was a healthy one, more than

enough to keep the Pub in business and the lack of tourist

patrons was fine with the management and the locals. Most of the

staff of Pelican Bay Realty spent a fair amount of time and hard

earned money at O’Reillys, the informal place of gathering where

everybody knows your name.

Max Meyers sat in a booth watching the game on the monitor

over the bar. He sipped his drink and occasionally glanced back

at the door as though he were waiting for someone. After all, it

was Chad Harper who had called him that afternoon and asked him

to meet him there. After a longer than expected wait, Chad

finally walked in to O’Reillys and spotted Max waving at him

from across the room.

“I’m sorry I’m late Max. I was held up. I should have called to

let you know,” said Chad.

“It’s no problem. I was enjoying the atmosphere here. Do you

come here often?”

“I’m here almost every day. Except Sunday of course…morning that

is. There’s always a game crowd here after church.”

“I'll have to keep that in mind,” said Max.

“I looked at the house and it does need to be updated a bit…the

carpet will have to be replaced and I would get all of the

furniture out of there. A few other repairs need to be made to

bring it up to its value potential. I'll get with the movers and

get it cleared out…just let me know where you want everything to

go. There’s quite a few boxes lying around. There was an old

windup clock on the floor right by the door…the time was wrong

but the strangest thing was that it was ticking. I thought maybe

someone had been in the house packing things up or something and

left it,” said Chad.

“My aunt tried packing some things up a few years back…she

couldn’t handle it, but nobody’s been there since as far as I

know. No one in my family wants to be there if they don’t have

to,” said Max.

“That’s strange. That clock was ticking like it was just wound

up…the time was wrong but it worked,” said Chad.

“That is strange. Anyway, most of that stuff in that house will

go to Goodwill or something. I don’t want any of it, just the

pictures and paintings on the walls,” said Max.

“It must have been very hard for you,” said Chad.

“We were little kids, just watching movies in the bed room like

kids do. I came out to get something to eat. I don’t think

either of us understood what was happening, at least I didn’t.

My mom and dad weren’t moving and that guy in the coat… just

standing there looking at me…it still gives me the creeps.”

Max’s stare was miles…years away… back in the beach house the

night his parents died.

“Eddie Irving,” said Chad.

“Yeah, I guess. I was six… it could have been the Easter Bunny

for all I knew.”

“Now that would have really been traumatic,” said Chad, trying

to break the tenseness of the moment. Max smiled and the two

chuckled.

Chad never told Max that he knew what brought Eddie to

their house that fall night, sixteen years before. For a while

he harbored a lot of guilt, but had long since forgiven himself.

Everyone always said of Eddie, it wasn’t a matter of if, but

when he would snap. For many years he was a possible suspect in

every murder and disappearance on the coast, but there were no

confirmed sightings of Eddie Irving in Pelican Bay or anywhere

else since the night of the Meyers murders. He simply vanished.

***

Chad almost fell asleep at the pump. He felt more

comfortable there leaning against the car than he had felt in

his own bed the night before. He noticed a man standing at the

pump on the next island over. Something was familiar about him

but he resisted the urge to walk over until after he pulled

away. As expected, like most people in rush, the man hadn’t

taken his credit card receipt from the pump. The name on it was

Raymond J. Prater. Jack. He hurried back to his car hoping to

get on the road and catch up with him. He hadn’t seen him in

years though he thought about him often and not always with fond

memories. Chad cruised the road and just before giving up he

spotted the navy blue pickup truck that Jack was driving parked

at Wharf House. It was a regular’s type of diner, much like

O’Reillys pub. There was an all day crowd of old men who spent

their days drinking cup after cup of coffee and telling tales of

the sea and of wars and women. As he walked in the door he saw

the man sitting at a table with several of the old story

tellers. Their eyes met at the same time and he knew for sure it

was Jack. He looked different though, his face mangled and

distorted and though Chad didn’t realize it right away, his hand

was gone. Everything that made Jack look like Jack was gone,

lost in a war that most folks watched on television like another

episode of some over rated reality show. As far as anyone in the

diner was concerned though, Jack was a hero. When he had come

back to Pelican Bay the previous winter, the Herald had told the

story of how he had fought hard with his unit and went well

above and beyond the call of duty to rescue his team from a

burning vehicle. His face all but melted, leg broken and the

mangled mess that was once a hand bleeding profusely, he pulled

them all out, one by one as they screamed in excruciating pain

from the burns and the open wounds. His guilt from saving them

was more powerful than if he had let them die in place. They all

died anyway and as far as he was concerned all he did was

prolong their suffering. His reward was a Silver Star and a

Purple Heart to go with his medical retirement and months of

painful physical and psychological therapy. Barely recognizable,

which he seemed to prefer, he came back to Pelican Bay to

something familiar, though he carefully avoided those who knew

him the best, including Chad Harper.

“Hello, Jack.”

“Chad! Was that you at the gas station? I though you looked

familiar.”

“Yeah…that was me. I was thinking the same.”

“Sorry I didn’t recognize you right off,” said Jack.

“It’s ok. I read about you in the paper a while back. That’s an

incredible thing you did over there.”

One of the older men at the table, clearly a veteran of the big

war, spoke up, proudly tipping his pin covered VFW ball cap.

“It sure was. They should have given him the Congressional.”

It was a sentiment echoed by the others at the table. Jack

appeared embarrassed and didn’t say a word, but he was clearly

uncomfortable.



“Maybe so,” said Chad, “Anyway, its good to see you again,

Jack.”

Chad started toward the door and then turned around and

looked back at Jack, remembering why he wanted to see him in the

first place. There was a lingering bitterness in his stare. He

had to be sure that Jack hadn’t forgot what happened all those

years before. It was as important now as it ever was, especially

now that he had met Max Meyers and had been in the house. Chad

had forgiven himself but had never been able to bring himself

to forgive Jack.

“By the way Jack…you remember that night that Eddie Irving

killed those folks at that beach house near the bluffs?”

Jacks glare turned bitter too.

“That’s been a long time ago Chad, what about it?”

“I’m selling the Meyers house,” Chad said, as he walked over and

handed Jack one of his business cards. “I just wondered if you

had forgotten, that’s all.”

“Chad, whatever you think about me, I probably deserve. But I’m

not the same guy I was back in High School,” said Jack.

“Well, that is good news Jack. Give me a call sometime.”

***

He laid in bed staring at the ceiling unable to rest. For

more than an hour he was in and out before finally drifting off

to sleep. It was three o’clock in the morning when a strange

noise brought him out of his belated, peaceful slumber. It was

monotonous, like a windup clock, its seconds ticking away in a

steady metronomic scale. The clock next to his bed was digital,

always set for seven AM. He hadn’t even seen a windup clock for

years, except of course for the one had seen at the beach house.

He climbed out of bed and walked into the living room where it

was louder and even more so as he turned toward the kitchen. He

was hardly surprised to see that it wasn’t a windup clock at

all, rather the steady sound of water from the faucet tapping

the stainless steel sink with each falling drop. He was able to

smile at himself and as he looked up to the kitchen window

behind the sink where he would normally see his own reflection,

he instead saw that of another man, looking back at him through

the window his evil eyes illuminated by the glare of the moon.

Chad screamed so loud that he woke himself, the hair on the back

of his neck erect and the chill bumps obvious on the surface of

his flesh. He was in his bed, the alarm clock was buzzing and

there was sunlight in the room. It was seven o’clock.

***

He arrived at the beach house to find the moving truck

waiting in the crescent drive. The movers were around back and

he heard them talking to someone. He walked around the house and

to his surprise it was Max.

“They called me when they couldn’t get you on the phone,” said

Max.

Chad, embarrassed, pulled out his cell phone and found 3

unanswered messages.

“Max, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I didn’t hear it ring.” He

knew exactly why he didn’t hear it. He had left it in the car

the night before and he thought to himself that he would never

be able to keep up with a cell phone.

“Its ok, Chad. It’s therapeutic. Besides threes a lot more of

stuff in there than I thought. I should go through some of it.”

“You don’t have to worry about that now, Max. You can go through

everything after they move it out of here.”

“No its ok. There’s a lot of good memories here too. Especially

out here. We used to barbeque out here all the time. My mother

loved to cook and I remember my dad playing football on his

knees in the sand with us. Then she would get in to it and

before long, they were rolling in the sand in each others arms

and my brother and I would be looking at each other wondering

what had happened to our football game. I remember them kissing

and hugging us and each other all the time. It always amazed me,

even as a little boy, how much they loved each other.”

Max had that look again that told Chad that he was far, far

away, in another place or another time.

***

David awoke to the smell of bacon and the sound of Lisa

pleading with the boys to get up and get ready for school. It

was like that every day in the Meyers home. He descended the

staircase still putting on his robe.

“Let’s go guys, you heard your mother, up and at ‘em!”

Joey was 7 and Max almost 6, both a bundle of energy but as limp

as sack of potatoes at that time of the morning. When their

mother would coax them out of their rooms for breakfast, they

never felt the urgency. But when their father came down, he

meant business and they scrambled. Neither cared much for

school, especially since they had moved to the Bay. They would

prefer to stay home and swim and if Mom wasn’t around, Dad might

even let them, yet another reason to stay on his good side.

David walked into the kitchen and over to the stove where Lisa

had just dropped four perfectly shaped circles of pancake batter

on the griddle. He moved her hair and kissed her on the back of

the neck. She smiled and closed her eyes before turning around

and kissing him softly on the lips.

“You know Ill get home late again tonight, right?” asked David.

“Hmmmm…Good morning to you too. And how was your night?” she

asked.

“Id say adequate is a fair assessment?”

“Adequate?” she squealed pushing him away.

Always the one to start picking, David, as usual got the

reaction he had hoped for. He was enjoying her playful protest

and he flashed a devilish smile at her as he poured himself a

cup of coffee. He sat at the table and opened the newspaper,

still grinning ear to ear, hardly able to keep from laughing

himself out of his chair.

“Ill tell you what David, since our sex life is merely adequate,

let’s do this... First we throw out all the toys…you do know

what toys I mean, right David? And then there’s the lingerie,

that will have to go too. Oh and maybe we should try sleeping in

different beds! Maybe different bedrooms...you wouldn’t want to

be tempted to resort to simple adequacy again now would you? You

know what? I think Ill get some of those parachute panties! The

big ones like my grandmother wore. What do you think, David?”

He couldn’t hold it back any more. He dropped the paper and

rolled out of the chair and on to the floor laughing so hard his

eyes teared.

“Parachute panties??!!…ooh…sexy!!” he said.

Lisa was laughing too and got on her knees, hitting David

playfully on the rear with the spatula. He reached up and

grabbed her and pulled her on the floor rolling her on her back.

He looked in to her eyes and kissed her on the tip of the nose

and at that moment they realized that both boys were standing

there watching them, shirts un-tucked and shoes untied. Joey was

holding an empty lunchbox with the lid open and hanging down

below his knee.

“Mommy”, he said, “the pancakes are on fire.”

Lisa saw the smoke bellowing from the pan and jumped up.

David was still smiling and Max just stared at him lying there

on his back, still unsure of what he had seen. David wondered to

himself if Max would tell his teacher that Mommy and Daddy were

rolling on the kitchen floor while breakfast burned.

***

The Penguin Bay Bluffs along Scenic Highway towered over

the shoreline. It was mostly a man made beach and the bluffs a

natural product of erosion over time. The irregular pitted face

of the walls housed sandy alcoves that many youngsters and

sometimes oldsters alike often used as a lovers lane of sorts.

For many years it was a refuge for wild nature and as much of

the human kind in the small quiet bayside community.

Everyone had been waiting for the party for over a month. Jack

Prater was ever the popular one and nothing was going to keep

him from being there. He had violated curfew the weekend before

and his mother had, not only taken his car away but put him on

lock down for a two weeks as well. At the time he thought it a

small price to pay for a couple of extra hours with Felicia

Brady. He lived just a few blocks away from the Stop and Go and

would sneak out and go there nearly every night anyway. It was a

mile or so from the bluffs and that is where everybody would go

to get their party nights in gear. And that is where Chad Harper

picked up Jack on the way. As they pulled off to the shoulder of

the road to park behind the other vehicles Jack noticed Sam

Irving’s old rusted four door Mercury parked up ahead on the

shoulder of the opposite lane.

“Dude, check it out…that’s old man Irving’s hooptie. Eddies

here…that stupid kid never learns does he?”

“He’s weird but I think he’s harmless,” said Chad as they got

out of the car.

“Eddie?” Jack yelled out as loud as he could but of course, no

answer. Chad was startled and watched him, wondering what he was

going to do. As a friend, Jack was often a liability.

Eddie was a loner, a Goth…the only one in school and he

drew a lot of unwanted attention, some of it shameful and cruel

from guys like Jack and his evil circle of friends. Even his

teachers were often suspicious of him and long before it was

common in the news, Eddie fit the standard campus killer profile

- the long hair, black clothes, the trench coat and his quiet

and withdrawn demeanor. To many, it was not a matter of if he

snapped, but when. He had moved to Penguin Bay from Oregon with

his father, a former marine who came east to work the rigs in

the Gulf of Mexico. Sam Irving had not done well after his

wife’s death and he drank a lot. It didn’t take long for him to

drink himself into unemployment, poverty and depression. They

lived together in a secluded trailer park 3 miles inland from

the Bluffs. Though he sometimes took odd jobs and day labor,

Sam had not worked a stable job in months and rarely was there

any money, at least not that Eddie saw but he took notice that

Sam always had booze. He had a mean streak and Eddie was, all

too often, on the receiving end of it. Many times he had been

blamed for his mother death. It was usually the booze talking

but it hurt nonetheless. It had long affected him and may have

contributed to his dark personality, although he wasn’t much

different when his mother was around, maybe less reserved. He

was different all right…not unpleasant to anyone and not

malicious but he had every right to be, despite having brought

many of his problems on himself. This night was no different.

Eddie Irving just wanted to fit in and for once to be part of

the gang. He had come earlier and planned to wait until the

party was in full swing, then move in and look for an

opportunity to mingle. Maybe, he thought, someone would ask him

to stay, though he knew that was wishful thinking. Maybe he

would catch a glimpse of Felicia or one of the other girls. He

fantasized about girls all the time, though none from school

would be seen with him. His mind would wander off in class,

daydreaming about Felicia Brady and it often got him in trouble

with his teachers. Of course, Felicia was Jacks girlfriend and

she would never even look at Eddie, much less go to a party or a

sandy alcove at the Penguin Bay Bluffs with him. That he was

even there was par for the course. The kid just never learned.

Jack crossed the highway and walked toward the rusted old

car. He was the ultimate high school bully, and just because he

could be. Nobody challenged him, ever. When he approached the

car he noticed that the door was unlocked and the keys were in

the ignition. Chad heard him laugh from across the street and

watched him toss the keys in the air before putting them in his

pocket. He wasn’t finished though. He pulled out a butterfly

knife, flipped it open and heaved the tip of the blade in

Eddie’s rear tire ripping the side wall as he pulled it out.

With a gush of air the tire deflated and he walked back

across the highway just as the lights of an oncoming car

illuminated the features of his face. Even from the distance

Chad saw the coldness in his eyes as they reflected the light

like those of an animal. When Jack had returned Chad was staring

at him, shocked at what he had done.

“What?” ask Jack as if nothing had happened. His breath was

short and heavy as if having just reached the climax of an

extreme rush.

“I can’t believe you did that! Are you crazy?” Chad was shaken.

“Loosen up Harper, he’s got a spare,” said Jack.

“What about the keys?” asked Chad.

“He’ll get them back. He’s just going to have to work for them.”

After a brief moment of disbelief, Chad smiled, then snickered.

He shook his head and headed down the boardwalk still uneasy

about what he had witnessed.

The night was a cool one and the party carried on by the

fire. After about an hour one of the kids spotted Eddie Irving

standing on the beach watching the party from a distance. Eddie

had long heard of the bluffs and its infamous bonfire parties

with plenty of girls and booze for everyone. He had always

wanted to see what went on there with his own eyes and not hear

about it on Monday morning at school.

“Hey Eddie! Come on over! Have a beer!” said one of the boys. A

couple of the girls echoed the invitation and that was enough to

draw Eddie in toward the bonfire. Although he was suspicious,

his diluted fantasy of being a part of the crowd was stoked,

even if for a short while. As he approached the fire, Jack

turned around; all his dramatic and arrogant prowess on display

and Eddie was face to face with the last person he would ever

want to see.

“I’ve been looking for you Eddie,” said Jack.

“Yeah right…why would you be looking for me?”

“Well…for starters, you’ve got a flat! Looks like someone cut it

up real bad. Sorry pal, tough luck, huh?” said Jack.



Eddie exhaled a long and deliberate sigh. He knew that if it

were true, that Jack had something to do with it. His distress

was obvious and his voice cracked as he talked to himself under

his breath acknowledging that his father was going to kill him.

“Come on, Eddie, no sniffling, ok? You’re embarrassing me,” said

Jack. Some of the bystanders laughed. Eddie was used to being

humiliated and said nothing, letting them have their laughs and

hoping he would get away this time without spilling any of his

own blood. He tried to walk away toward the boardwalk but Jack

stood in his way. Chad watched, unable to believe what Jack was

doing. He had known him since the fourth grade. He was a bully

then too, but it was different now, less about the instincts of

a young alpha male and more akin to terrorizing the locals.

“Jack, let him go,” said Chad.

“Let him go? Eddie came to party, didn’t you Eddie? Besides,

can’t go anywhere without these,” Jack said, holding up the

metal chain with two dull unpolished keys hanging from it.

“Please, just give me my keys,” said Eddie.

Jack twisted the top off a bottle of beer and extended it to

Eddie who just looked at it waiting with angst to see what Jack

would do. As he expected, Jack pulled it back and drank from it

himself.

“I'll tell you what. Here’s what I’m going to do for you. I’m

going to give you a chance to earn your keys back. You see that

light down there?” Jack pointed to a beach house about five

hundred yards down the beach. “There’s a woman there Eddie, some

suits old lady. The guys always working, day and night and she’s

always alone. I’ve been down there a time or two myself,” said

Jack, polishing his fingernails on his shirt, falsely implying

or boasting of an intimate encounter.

“Here’s what you have to do, Eddie... You walk right up the

sliding glass door and knock three times. When she answers the

door, tell her you have a message for her. That’s the code,

Eddie. Tell her that and she will rock your world, just like she

rocked mine. Bring me back a souvenir and you get your keys…and,

I'll help you change that tire. After that, we party together

every weekend! What do you say, Eddie…you up to it or are you

going to sit here and sniffle?”

Eddie knew he could not do what Jack had challenged. He

couldn’t. It was probably better to tell him what he wanted to

hear, let him have his little laugh and get out while he could.

He would not get his keys and his father was probably going to

beat him but at least he thought he had a better chance with

him.

“Yeah, whatever,” he replied as he started to walk away.

“Well ok, if that’s the way you feel. But the way I see it, you

don't have anything to lose and everything to gain. What do

say?” asked Jack.

Eddie was gullible enough to start wondering if there was

even the slightest bit of truth to what Jack was saying. Maybe

there was a lonely wife living in that house, longing for more

than a workaholic husband could provide. Maybe it was his

desperate desire for friendship and to have girls to like him

that had him beginning to buy the nonsense that Jack was

selling. Tell him what he wants to hear, he thought to himself.

Just tell him what he wants to hear.

“A message, right? Isn’t that what you said?” asked Eddie.

“That’s right. She’ll know what your there for,” said Jack.

As Eddie walked away, Jacks smile grew into a sinister bout of

laughter. Chad knew that the lady who lived in that beach house

would call the police on Eddie. He was ashamed to have even been

there and decided that it was time to leave.

“Chad, where you going?” asked Jack.

“I’ve got to go Jack. That kids going to get into a lot of

trouble for something you put him up to and then his old man's

going to beat him to a pulp for the tire too. I don’t want to be

a part of your games anymore. I’m sure you can find a ride

home.”

***

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. But 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 text message or voice mail 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 had waited

for almost two hours before he finally 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