MALO

The YouTube narrator leaned forward in his computer chair and opened a new email submission from a listener. It read;

Hello, my name’s Gina. The following events took place when I was a sheriff’s deputy many years ago, living in a small Texan town on the border with Mexico. I no longer live in this town, nor am I currently still in law enforcement.

On the surface, it was a sleepy little nondescript town. Locking up the town drunk after a few too many was usually as serious as it got. Underneath the surface, however, it was a lot darker. I wasn’t exactly innocent, either. To say this isn’t a pleasant subject matter is a major understatement. Everyone in our town has heard the story in some form or another. Different people will tell different versions, but it’s the same story.

I tried my best to forget what happened, but I recently overheard my daughter listening to your channel, and your content has made the memories come back in full force. I had never heard of a cryptid before, but my daughter’s really into this stuff. So, I listened to some of your shows with her about creatures like Dog Man and Goat Man, and it all came back

This account is 100 percent true. This is the story of Donkey Man.

Maya Cardona stopped on her way home to examine a spider in its web. She thought it was fascinating how it was both the spider’s home and a deadly trap at the same time. Touching the web would be a death sentence for anything other than the spider, and likewise, it couldn’t touch any other web without becoming stuck.

She silently wished the spider good luck and went on her way, kicking an old beer can as she scuffled her feet along the pavement. Maya paused again at a telephone pole. It prominently displayed three flyers, each of them bearing the faces of three missing women. Each poster is a little more weathered than the previous one, a gradient pattern of fading hope from the top down.

The tape on the third one had come off at the bottom, and it was flapping around in the wind. Maya put her hand on the poster to hold it steady and read it carefully, her lips moving as she sounded out the words in her head. A little shiver ran down her spine. She was old enough to understand the women on the posters were never coming home.

She continued on her way and passed by three older girls playing hopscotch. As she quickly scooted around them, one of the girls tried to pick up her marker and accidentally touched the ground.

Her friends pointed at her and gleefully chanted, “You’re out, you’re out! Donkey Man will tear your heart out!”

The girl’s face turned pale as milk. She abruptly spun around and scampered away down the street. Maya watched her go with a troubled frown. One of the older girls noticed her standing there and snapped, “What are you looking at, kid?”

Maya stammered, “Nothing. I’m just walking home.”

“Then start walking and stop friggin’ staring,” the older girl snarled, and she took a menacing step forward. Maya mumbled an apology and hurried away. She had a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something wasn’t right. She could almost smell the wrongness in the air, a low, acrid stench that lingered in the back of her throat.

Maya thought about the faded smiles of the women on the flyers, and she started to walk even faster.

Maya whispered, “Donkey Man will tear your heart out,” and her power walk abruptly turned into a full-on run. She ran the rest of the way home.

The next day, Maya asked her grandmother, “What’s Donkey Man?”

Grandma glanced up from her book and gave Maya a stern look. She shook her finger and said, “Es malo. Muy malo. Don’t ask about it again. It is not something you should ever think about.”

Maya went into her room. Grandma was always getting on Maya to learn Spanish. Maya had no interest in that, but she did pull out the English – Spanish dictionary that Grandma had gotten her for her last birthday. She flipped the pages to the letter M. She scrolled her finger down the page and stopped at “Malo.” Then slowly running her finger underneath the word. The definition read “Bad, wicked, immoral, evil, the Devil’s work.”

“The Devil’s work,” Maya whispered to herself, and she felt that shiver race down her spine again. The word ‘Malo’ grew bigger and bigger the longer she looked at it. It was only four letters on a page, but it somehow made her feel uneasy on a deep, primal level.

In a hotel room across town from where Maya was now tossing and turning in her bed, finding it extremely hard to sleep. A young woman named Sonia was impatiently waiting for a client. She watched the ancient alarm clock on the nightstand slip from 12:13 AM to 12:14 AM and let out a deep sigh. She had graciously volunteered to stand in for her friend Renee, who had been complaining all night about her pounding headache. It was shaping up to be a big waste of time.

Sonia let out a big yawn and glared at the clock again. She smacked her hands down on her knees and grunted, “Screw it. I’m out.”

She grabbed her purse and angrily yanked open the door, almost storming directly into the figure who was standing on the other side. Sonia let out a little shriek and jumped back, stumbling a little in her high heels.

“I thought you were gonna be a no-show,” she croaked, and she walked backwards as the figure advanced into the room. She bumped into the bed and fell into a sitting position, looking up at the client with eyes like saucers.

The figure sat down beside her and fanned out three hundred-dollar bills beside her leg. She blinked at them, then stammered, “What… what do you want?”

A gloved hand gently grasped her hair and pulled it away from her ears. The client whispered in her ear and pulled out a cat ‘o nine-tails whip. The whip was lightly dragged across her thigh.

“No,” Sonia said in a sharp tone, and she shook her head for emphasis. “I don’t do that.”

The client reached into a pocket and dropped a baggie of heroin on top of the money. Sonia stared at it, rubbing her crucifix necklace between her thumb and her fingers. And then she slowly nodded.

“Okay,” Sonia murmured softly, and she tucked the money and the baggie into her purse. “Just give me a minute. I need some of this first. I’ll be right back.”

Sonia closed the bathroom door and pulled out a rubber band, a burnt spoon, and a bottle of distilled water. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw tears shining in her eyes. She quavered, “You can do this. Just get it over with and forget about it.”

An hour later, Sonia was standing behind a dumpster, shaking uncontrollably as she shoved the money into her purse. She dropped one of the bills and was seized by a wave of nausea as she bent to pick it up. After it was over, she took out a handkerchief and wiped her mouth.

She groaned, “Oh my God,” and rinsed out her mouth with a swig from a faucet sticking out of the wall. Her hands were trembling so badly, she could barely light a cigarette.

Sonia started walking, trying her best to keep it together and not crumple onto the sidewalk. It was late, the street was empty, and she just wanted to get home. When she was safe behind a locked door, she could allow herself to break down and have a long, ugly cry in the shower. For now, she had to go on autopilot and put down one foot after the other, like a machine, until she was far, far away from that hotel room.

Sonia abruptly stopped and whirled around. She was positive she had heard a scraping footstep against the pavement, but no one was there. The street behind her was still empty.

She started walking faster, clutching her purse against her side so it wouldn’t bounce off her ribs like a tiny wrecking ball. She threw her cigarette away and sniffed the air, her nose wrinkling in disgust. She could hear rapid footsteps closing in behind her. Her heart started beating wildly in her chest. The footsteps were catching up.

Sonia pulled a stiletto knife out of her purse and flicked it open as she turned around. She snarled, “Get away from me, creep!” and then her mouth dropped open. Her eyes grew wide as saucers, reflecting the image of her pursuer in the weak glow of the streetlights. She tried to scream, but nothing came out but a faint whistling sound.

And then her throat was seized in an iron grip, and everything went black.

A baseball bat flashed through the sunlight and slammed into a donkey-shaped pinata. A shower of brightly colored candy rained down, and a swarm of laughing children scrambled to snatch it out of the grass. Today was Andrew Oliva’s birthday. He had just turned eight, and he was having the time of his life.

Several couples were standing in little clusters in the backyard, watching the kids romp around and chatting amongst each other. One man, however, was standing apart from the rest of the adults. He had a glass of whisky in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

His name was Jesse Luna, and he was the town sheriff. You wouldn’t usually catch Sheriff Luna at a child’s birthday party, but Andrew was his nephew.

He saw Eddie Oliva approaching, and he greeted him with a grunt and a slight nod of his head. Eddie quipped, “What’s happening, Lone Ranger? Why are you all by yourself over here?”

“Because I feel like shit,” he grunted, and he held up a heavily bandaged hand.

“Rough night?”

“Yeah, probably,” Jesse rumbled. “I don’t really remember.”

Eddie gave him a sympathetic look and said, “Yeah, that sounds familiar. That was before-”

He was interrupted by his wife, Constance, who held out a plastic cup and murmured, “Jesse, you know we love you to death, but can you please put that thing out? I don’t want you to smoke in front of the kids.”

He took one last puff and dutifully dropped the cigarette into the cup.

“Thank you, sir,” she said primly, and she offered him a pack of gum. Jesse frowned at it and shook his head.

He gulped down the rest of his drink with a low groan in the back of his throat.

Constance gave him a faint frown and wandered away. Eddie leaned in closer and asked in a hushed tone, “So, when are we coming to your house to celebrate little Jesse’s or Jessica’s birthday? Time’s getting away from you, Jesse. No one’s getting any younger around here.”

Jesse patted Eddie’s protruding gut with the back of his hand and rumbled, “I’ll start a family when you push yourself away from the table and lose the spare tire.

Eddie gave him a sour look and said, “Are you gonna be a bachelor forever? You can’t spend the rest of your life alone.”

“Sure, I can,” Jesse shot back. “Why the hell not?”

“You’re gonna be fifty years old, all alone in your house with a glass of whiskey and a cigarette.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jesse sighed. “It could be a hell of a lot worse.”

Eddie shook his head at him and said, “Sometimes, I wish that-”

He was interrupted by Andrew, who came running up with bright eyes and a sweaty forehead. He gasped, “Thanks for the football, Uncle Jesse! It’s a real one, not one of those Nerf ones.”

Jesse’s lips twitched in a brief smile. He said, “Just make sure there’s a ticket waiting for me when you’re playing for the Cowboys.”

“You got it,” Andrew chirped. The rest of the children came running over, and one of them poked Andrew’s arm with an expectant look on her face. Andrew nodded and turned to his dad with a glimmer in his eye.

“Dad, can you tell us the story about Donkey Man?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and groaned, “If you had a dime for every time I’ve told that story-”

“I’d have a dollar,” Andrew interrupted. “Anyway, they haven’t heard it yet. Come onnnnn, please?”

“Your mom doesn’t like that story.”

“Mom’s inside” Andrew grinned. “Come on, please? It’s my birthday, for crying out loud.”

“He’s a little young for that, isn’t he?” Jesse observed, and Eddie shrugged.

“I gave him a rated PG version,” Eddie assured him. “I don’t want to give the kid nightmares.”

There was a knock at the gate, and deputy Gina Torres let herself in with an apologetic look on her face. Gina was trying to smile, but there was a look in the deputy’s eyes that Jesse knew all too well. He put his glass down on the table with a sinking feeling in his gut.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, and he ambled over to talk to her.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Gina gave him an unhappy look, shook her head, and said, “We’ve got another one.”

“Well, shit,” Jesse sighed. “Okay, give me a second.”

He waved Eddie over and told him, “I gotta go, thanks for having me over today.”

“Thanks for coming,” Eddie smiled. “Are we still on for some pool on Friday?”

Jesse gave Eddie a somber look and said “Anyway. Plans can change. It’s the job.”

Eddie nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. Andrew waved and called out, “Bye, Uncle Jesse!”

Jesse waved back and yelled, “Have a good one, kid! And keep this guy away from the beer, okay? He’s starting to look like he’s smuggling a basketball under his shirt.”

Eddie smirked and gave him the finger. As Jesse was leaving, he heard Eddie tell the kids, “Okay, so about twenty years ago, there was this woman. Let’s just say she was a dancer.”

A little girl asked, “Like a ballerina?”

Eddie stammered, “Uh, yeah, sure. Kinda like that. Anyway, there was this creepy old house in the woods that no one dared to enter…”

Jesse climbed into his truck and closed the door. His expression was grim. He was about to deal with a real-life horror story.

A short while later, Jesse was standing with Gina at a crime scene. They were looking down at a tarp on the ground. It was covering a body.

“She got a name?” he asked mildly.

“How do you know it’s a she?” Gina asked, and Jesse gave her a weary shrug.

“Just a guess,” he murmured.

“Her purse is over there,” Gina said. “Sonia Reynoso, twenty-one years old. She had three hundred dollars on her, and a small amount of heroin.”

Jesse pursed his lips and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“She didn’t run,” Gina said in a brisk tone. “She died where she was standing.”

Jesse raised an eyebrow and asked, “How can we be sure about that?”

Gina gave him an amused look and said, “She was still wearing her high heeled shoes. You don’t run in heels. You either take them off first, or you break an ankle.”

Jesse knelt down and lifted the tarp. Gina turned away and covered her mouth with her hand.

“She’s got a knife in her hand,” he observed. “There’s no blood on the blade. She didn’t get a chance to use it.”

He dropped the tarp and stood up, groaning slightly at the twin pops in his kneecaps. He said, “She must’ve known the guy.”

“How do you know it was a guy?”

Jesse gave her a dry smile and said, “Same way I knew it was a woman under the tarp. Just a hunch.”

Gina nodded slightly and asked, “Do you want me to track down her family and… um, her co-workers? Start the interviews?”

“Worst part of the job,” Jesse said, and he grimaced. “Nah, you stay here and help process the crime scene. I’ll take care of it.”

Gina gave him a grateful look and said, “Ten-four, Sheriff. Thank you. I hate that part, too.”

Gina watched him climb into his truck with sympathetic eyes. When you wear the badge, you experience the very worst of humanity, day in and day out. Beneath the uniform, Jesse and Gina were just everyday people doing an unpleasant job, and there was very little reward. Many cops turned to the bottle to cope, and their divorce rate was off the charts. On days like today, Gina wished that she had chosen another career, and she definitely wasn’t alone.

Gina softly whispered, “Good luck,” and she turned her attention back to the grisly task at hand.

Sister Theresa was hard at work in the rose garden when she noticed a pair of black cowboy boots approaching from the corner of her eye. Father Delacruz smiled down at her and said, “Theresa, I’m telling you those rose bushes belong in one of those garden magazines.”

Theresa smiled back and said, “Come on, Father. That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

He shook his head and bellowed, “Nonsense! I’m serious. I don’t know why we’re known for yellow roses in Texas when those beautiful red ones are right there.”

He carefully touched a long thorn, and, in a somber tone, he said, “Theresa, another woman was murdered last night. They found her over by the hotel.”

Theresa looked up at him with a dismayed expression. “What kind of a person would do this? This is a small town.”

“It could be anyone,” he sighed. “Sin and evil aren’t particular about the size of the town. Have you talked to your brother?”

“Not for a couple days.”

“Maybe you should,” Father Delacruz said. “I imagine he could use a little spiritual guidance right about now. I’m sure he’ll do his job. All we can do is pray.”

Theresa watched him walk away, and then she pulled a locket on a chain from beneath her habit. She opened it and looked at the picture inside. It was a woman in her early twenties, along with a little boy and a girl.

“Pray,” she repeated, and then she snapped the locket shut. It was best to not think about that, not now. There was work to do.

Over at the high school, Ms. Pena’s 12th grade social studies class was discussing the topic of serial killers. At the front of the room, a poster board displayed pictures of Ted Bundy, Richard Ramirez, and John Wayne Gacy. Beneath the pictures, there was a quote from America’s first known serial killer H.H. Holmes. It read, “My features are assuming a pronounced, Satanical, cast. My head and face are gradually assuming an elongated shape. I am growing to resemble the devil. That the similitude is almost complete. In fact, so impressed am I with this belief that I am convinced that I no longer have anything human in me.”

Ms. Pena asked her class, “So are they monsters, or victims? Insane, just evil, or all the above?”

Olivia Esparza raised her hand. “Nietzsche said, ‘That which is done out of love, always takes place beyond good, and evil.’”

Ms. Pena gave her a skeptical look and asked, “They kill out of love?”

Olivia shrugged and answered, “Love is very close to hate. I think some people can kill what they love.”

Ms. Pena lifted an eyebrow and said, “Interesting. Some believe they’re instructed by voices to murder. Some are lust killers who murder for sexual gratification. They’re generally sadists. Others consider themselves missionaries, to rid society of unwanted elements. A God complex, if you will.”

Max Lucero piped up from the back of the class and said, “They’re all crazy.”

Ms. Pena shook her head.

“Most serial killers are not insane. They know the difference between right and wrong. They know what they’re doing but choose to do it because it makes them feel good.”

Another girl snorted, “In any case, they’re all men, aren’t they?”

Ms. Pena shook her head again and countered, “Actually about ninety percent are men. Which leaves ten percent that… well, are not men.”

Rose Santovena waved her hand in the air and chirped, “Yeah, like Elizabeth Bathory! She was a Hungarian Countess in the fifteenth century. I read that she committed over two hundred murders.”

“That’s right, Rosemary. She killed mostly servant girls and members of the lesser nobility. She believed that, by bathing in their blood, she would stay eternally youthful.”

The bell rang, and Ms. Pena called out, “That’s it for today. See you tomorrow!”

As the last of her students filed out the door, Ms. Pena pointed at Rose and asked, “Can I see you for a second, Rosemary?”

Rose approached the desk with a guarded expression. In a hushed tone, Ms. Pena asked, “Do you think you can do another favor for me?”

Rose nodded and said, “Same as before?”

The teacher nodded. Rose said, “Sure. Hand it over.”

An envelope passed hands, and Rose left without another word.

Out in the parking lot, Rose caught up to Olivia and Max. Max turned to her and said, “Hey, Rosemary.”

“Only Ms. Pena can call me that.”

He snorted, “What’s that supposed to mean?” and Rose gave him a playful slug on the shoulder.

“It means what it means,” she answered, and gave him a cryptic smile.

“Well, I know what I’m gonna be after I graduate. A serial killa.”

Rose smirked, “The pay isn’t great and the benefits suck. But you’ll have lots of time to work on your music in prison. You know, after you get caught.”

“Did you hear about the latest murder?” Olivia interjected, and she shuddered. “They found her on the street.

“From what I heard, killed’ is too weak of a description. She was mangled.” Rose replied.

Max said, “You know who’s behind this, right?”

Both girls groaned out loud, and Rose groaned, “Don’t start with that story again.”

“It’s the Donkey Man,” he said in a spooky tone, and he curled his fingers into monster claws.

Rose snapped, “Oh, shut up, idiot. It’s a stupid urban legend. Like Chupacabra and La Llorona. It’s something parents tell kids, so we’ll do our homework and eat our vegetables. But Donkey Man only kills bad girls, so we better behave, Olivia.”

“Bad girls,” Max said in a creepy voice. “Baaaaad girrrrlsss.”

He grinned at them and said, “Hey, we can probably get a ride with Vincent. Come on, his car is over there.”

“Vincent?” Rose asked in an incredulous tone. “Since when did you hang out with that guy? I didn’t even think he could talk. The teachers stopped calling on him in the sixth grade.”

“He was in the band room on Friday while I was messing around with my guitar, and we started bullshitting. He showed me some lyrics and they’re freakin’ badass. We might do something together.” Max said.

“Rose turned to Olivia and said, “Speaking of serial killers…”

Max rolled his eyes at her and said, “He’s not like that. He’s just, you know, a bit different.”

Vincent was sitting behind the wheel of his car, his head resting on the steering wheel and his long, greasy hair hanging around his face like a shroud. Max banged on the window, and Vincent’s head slowly rose from the wheel. He turned down the stereo and rolled down the window.

“Dude, I thought you were dead.”

Vincent blinked at him and mumbled, “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“You heading home?”

“Eventually,” Vincent answered. “You want a lift?”

“I’ve got two friends with me. Is that cool?”

Vincent gave Rose and Olivia a strange, muddy look and said, “Sure. Hop in.”

Rose whispered to Olivia, “I don’t know about you, but I’m not getting into the Groovy Ghoulie-mobile.”

“It’ll be fine,” she whispered back, and Rose reluctantly climbed into the back seat.

Max held up his guitar case and said, “I’ve got my ax with me. Gimme your keys and I’ll put it in the trunk.”

“I’ll do it,” Vincent muttered. He got out and took the guitar out of Max’s hands. Max lingered for a second, and Vincent jerked his head at the car.

“It’s cool, I got it. Get in.”

Max held up his hands and said, “Hey, sure. Thanks.”

As Max got into the car, Vincent popped open the trunk. He stared into it for a moment, and then he plopped the guitar inside and slammed it shut.

Back inside the car, Max pointed back at Rose and said, “Hey man, Rose is a writer, too. You should see her poems. She’s like a darker Emily Dickinson, if that’s possible.”

Rose gave him a wounded look, and he added, “I love your stuff, but it’s pretty weird.”

“Weirds good,” Rose replied.

Beside her, Olivia looked around and said, “Vincent, um, if you don’t mind my asking… why doesn’t your car have any mirrors?”

Rose squeaked, “Shit, I didn’t even notice that. No offense there Vince, but this is really not where I want to die.”

“I don’t need mirrors,” he responded. “I have eyes.”

“Of course you do.” Rose said sarcastically.

Max interjected, “You can pick some up at the junkyard for cheap.”

“I know, I built this car myself.”

Max gasped, “What? You built this? Dude, I got a ‘65 Mustang almost ready to go, but I don’t have a lift to get the engine in. Can you help?”

“I can get one.”

Max clapped his hands together and barked, “No shit? Really?”

Rose cleared her throat and said, “I’m truly sorry for interrupting this fascinating conversation, but can we get back to why the mirrors are purposely not there?”

Vincent turned in his seat and said, “I have Spectro phobia.”

Max gaped at him and giggled, “That’s a cool name for a band. What the hell is it?”

“It’s the fear of mirrors, genius,” Rose told him. She turned back to Vincent and said, “That’s, um, that’s a pretty unusual phobia. How did it start?”

He blinked at her, not saying anything. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and started to say, “Forget I asked,” but he held up a hand and explained, “About six years ago, I rode my bike past that old house in the woods. I saw something in one of the windows that gives me night terrors to this day. Every time I look into a mirror, I see it again. That’s why the mirrors aren’t there.”

There was an awkward silence, and then Olivia quietly said, “Oh, that’s… um, that makes sense, sure. Um, let’s just go now, okay?”

Vincent turned his head back around and stepped on the gas pedal.

Back inside the school, Ms. Pena was striding down the hallway to the bathroom. Mrs. Lozano popped her head out of her classroom and chirped, “Hey, Lucy! Long time, no see! I just got back from my vacation in Arizona. How’s things?”

Ms. Pena seemed to barely even notice her. She kept right on walking down the hall and ducked into the bathroom. Mrs. Lozano stared after her with a confused expression, and her face slowly flushed red. She’d just been coldly snubbed by someone who had been her friend and coworker for years, and she had no idea why. She murmured, “Okie dokie, then,” and hurried off in the other direction.

Ms. Pena stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. She leaned in close and traced a finger across her forehead and around her eyes, seeking out wrinkles and laugh lines. She continued to do this for a very long time, and the look in her eyes was sharp and strange.

The gloom was deep inside the church. Theresa lit several of the candles and knelt down in front of the altar. She began to pray, saying, “Oh divine and eternal Father, in union with your divine son, and the Holy Spirit. Through the immaculate heart of Mary, I beg you to destroy the power of your greatest enemy, the evil spirits.”

As she continued to pray, one of the front entrance doors opened and quickly shut again. A pair of black cowboy boots slowly made their way to the altar, treading softly on the worn carpet.

Theresa finished her prayer and intoned, “I repeat this out of pure love for you. With every beat of my heart, with every breath I take. Amen.”

As the word ‘amen’ slipped out of her mouth, a pair of gloved hands slipped around her neck. She let out a high-pitched shriek and jumped to her feet. The figure looming behind her was wearing a Day of the Dead skull mask. She pummeled on its chest and the figure backed away, one hand warding her off as the other slipped the mask off.

She hissed, “Jesse, what’s wrong with you? With everything that’s been happening, you thought this was a funny prank?”

Jesse muttered, “Jesus, take it easy! We used to do this all the time when we were kids.”

She retorted, “We’re not kids’ anymore. At least I’m not. I swear sometimes you’re such a-”

Jesse put a finger to his lips and pointed at the statue of Jesus with the other hand.

“He’s watching,” Jesse grinned. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I’m square-dancing,” Theresa snapped. “What do you think I’m doing, idiot?”

He asked, “Where’s Father Delacruz?” and she shook her head.

“I don’t know. By the way, if you’re not too busy acting like you’re ten years old, can you maybe fix that gate?”

“Yep, I’ll get to it one of these days,” Jesse answered absently. “That day isn’t today, though.”

She groaned, “You have an interesting calendar, Jesse. ‘Monday, Tuesday, one of these days.’ By the time you get around to it, the gate will be rotted away, and I’ll be a senior citizen.”

“If you haven’t noticed, Theresa, I have a job. I’m the Sheriff, in fact. Kind of a big deal, to be honest.”

“But you have time to creep around and scare the crap outta me,” she sneered. “Come on, Jesse! We owe a lot to this place. Just get it done.”

“I remember we used to sneak out that back gate and get ice cream,” Jesse reminisced, and Theresa nodded impatiently.

“Probably the last time you were anywhere near a confessional. If you went in there now, it would take so long they’d have to charge you rent.”

Her expression became serious, and she asked, “Can you tell me anything about the woman that was killed?”

“Her name was Sonia,” he grunted. Another prostitute, a heroin addict.”

“What was her last name?” Theresa asked.

“Can’t remember offhand,” Jesse mumbled. “Don’t look at me like that, Theresa. She was another junkie who was turning tricks to pay for her habit.”

“That’s incredibly callous,” Theresa admonished him. “That could’ve been me or any other woman in this town.”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that you’re not out on the stroll after midnight,” Jesse shot back. “Look, it’s a tragedy, but it’s a rough existence. there’s no shortage of danger for these women.”

“What if that’s what happened to Mom?”

“I doubt the same guy had anything to do with Mom. That was twenty years ago.”

She rolled her eyes and snapped, “I’m not saying it’s the same person! I’m saying that-”

“Look,” Jesse sighed, “what happened to her was simple. This is a small town. Twenty years ago it was a lot smaller. She saw a chance for a better life without two little kids, and she took it. She didn’t care about us then, and she wouldn’t care about us now.”

“I think there’s things that we don’t know,” Theresa said in a small voice. “She wouldn’t have just left us like that.”

“You were three years old,” Jesse snorted. “What do you even remember about Mom?”

“I remember her smile.” Theresa said sadly.

“Well, I remember her not being around a lot,” Jesse rumbled. “We had this little record player when you were little. I’d put you to bed, but I’d keep the lights on. You were always afraid of the dark. And then I’d play a record. It was a Patsy Cline song that she used to listen to all the time. I’d be thinking, ‘When it’s over, she’ll be home.’ And I would play that record again, and again. Until I finally fell asleep. And you know what? No matter how many times I played that scratchy little record, she never came home when it was over.”

Theresa blinked up at him, her lips drawn together in a tight line, and she nodded.

“Yeah,” she said softly, “I know. I just… you know, I just like to think there was another reason she left us, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with that. It makes me feel a little better, I guess.”

“No harm in that,” Jesse agreed, and he patted her on the shoulder. “Nothing wrong with that at all. It’s better than the alternative, I suppose.”

He picked the mask up off the floor and said, “Well, I should get going. Tell Father Delacruz I was looking for him.”

“I will,” Theresa replied, and she gave him a wan smile. “Be careful out there, okay? Watch out for yourself.”

“Always,” Jesse agreed. “If something happens to me, who’s gonna fix that damn gate?”

“Go on,” Theresa grinned. Her smile faded as she watched him leave. He was all she had left in the world, and she couldn’t bear to think of something bad happening to him.

“You be careful out there,” she whispered as the door swung shut behind him. And then she was alone again with the altar and the Holy Spirit, invisible and imperceivable, just like her faith.

Sister Theresa ran out to do some errands, and she crossed paths with little Maya Cardona on the street. Maya came running up and hollered, “Sister Theresa! Wait up!”

“It’s almost dark out,” Theresa said. “Shouldn’t you be at home?”

“I’m going to my babysitter’s house!” Maya chirped in a bright tone. “Can I walk with you?”

“Of course,” Theresa agreed pleasantly.

Maya burbled on for a while about the sorts of things that interest little girls, and Theresa nodded at the appropriate places. Without warning, Maya suddenly shifted gears and said, “I heard a lady got killed. Is that true?”

Theresa patted her hand and said, “There are some very terrible people in the world, and sometimes terrible things happen.”

“They said she was bad,” Maya intoned darkly. “If I’m bad, will someone kill me, too?”

Theresa stopped walking and knelt down in front of her. She said, “Listen to me, okay? No one’s going to hurt you, but you do have to be careful.”

“I know, I know,” Maya said impatiently. “Don’t talk to strangers. Everyone always says that.”

“Just… uh, you know. Just be careful. So how was school today?”

Maya visibly brightened, and she said, “We had a bake sale. I had some chocolate chip cookies, but they weren’t as good as yours. Then this boy Raymond – I think he likes me – anyway, he came up and said he would do anything for me. So I told him to eat some dirt, and he did. Isn’t that dumb?”

Theresa hid a smile behind her hand and said, “It’s not very nice to make people do things like that, Maya. Even if they’re willing to do it, it’s still wrong. It’s kind of like bullying, but the other person doesn’t know they’re getting bullied. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Maya agreed reluctantly. “I guess. I don’t know, I still think it’s pretty dumb.”

“I won’t disagree,” Theresa said, and she hid her smile again behind her hand. “Listen, it’s been a very long day and I could use some ice cream. How about you?”

“Yes!” Maya shouted gleefully, and Theresa led her by the hand into the general store. They both selected an ice cream bar from the freezer case and wandered up to the counter to pay. George wasn’t anywhere in sight, so Theresa rang the bell and waited.

From somewhere in the back of the store, she heard George call out, “Just a minute! I’ll be right there!”

George was in the back room, vigorously washing his hands in the cleaning sink. A woman lay on the cement floor near his feet. She was drugged unconscious and tightly bound to a homemade, upside down, cross. George carefully taped her mouth shut and came strolling through the door with a friendly smile, tucking his Satanic rosary into his shirt as he approached the counter.

“Well now, is that Sister Theresa?” he asked in a jovial tone.

She smiled and replied, “That’s me! Just these two ice cream bars, please.”

George nodded and exclaimed, “Oh, yes, everyone likes ice cream, don’t they? Even the Godliest among us craves a good ice cream bar every now and then.

George leaned over the counter and asked Maya, “What’s your name, little girl?”

Maya just stood there and mutely stared at the proprietor with wide eyes. To her the kindly-looking gentleman behind the counter sounded like a demon. His voice was impossibly deep and hoarse. Theresa smiled and said, “She’s a bit shy. Her name is Maya.”

“Pretty name, pretty girl,” he crooned, and he gave Maya a wink. Maya didn’t react to his friendly manner in the slightest. She just stood there and stared up at him with eyes like saucers.

“Could I bother you to use your restroom, George? My apologies.” Theresa asked.

“Oh, no bother at all!” he boomed. “It’s over there on the right. Go on ahead.”

He looked down at Maya as Theresa disappeared into the restroom, still smiling. She gazed up at him with the look of a deer in the headlights, and her lips began to tremble.

Maya abruptly whirled around and bolted out the door. George watched her go and shook his head. There was a dark look in eyes.

As Maya was scampering out the door, a young woman came inside. She had a troubled expression and a very dark, very swollen black eye.

She started to speak, but George shushed her and said “I told you the problem wasn’t gonna go away on its own, didn’t I? You need the kind of help that only I can provide.”

The girl nodded hesitantly, and George nodded back at her.

“Believe me. It’s the only way.”

“How much?” she asked.

“One hundred,” he answered in a smooth, gentle tone. “Come back at ten o’clock and go straight to the back room.”

As the young woman was leaving, Theresa came out of the restroom. George’s customer service smile immediately turned on, and he cranked it up to maximum.

She asked, “Where’s Maya?” and George motioned at the door.

“She went outside,” he said, and he gave her a shrug. “Not very sociable, I guess.”

Theresa frowned a little and said, “Oh. Well, thanks a lot, George. Say hi to Elizabeth and the kids for me.”

“Will do! Thanks for coming by!”

Theresa paid for the ice cream and walked outside. Maya was nowhere in sight. She called her name a few times, and the little girl came running up with a noisemaker in her hands.

“Look what I found!” she yelled. “Isn’t it awesome?”

“Well, I suppose so,” Theresa said, “but please don’t just disappear like that, okay? You had me worried for a second.”

Maya looked down and mumbled, “Sorry. The man was scary.”

Theresa gave her a surprised look and sputtered, “Who, George? He’s probably the least scary man I’ve ever met! Why do you say that, hun?”

“His voice,” she said faintly. “His voice is scary.”

Theresa snorted, “Don’t be silly. George sounds just like anyone else. Look, let’s get you to your babysitter’s place, okay? I have something that I need to do”

Theresa was sitting in Mayor Ortega’s office. He was listening to Theresa drone on and on as he studied various objects on his desk. He was doing it out of sheer boredom. Here was a stapler, and over there was an old rolodex. A container of paperclips, a ball of elastic bands, a roll of masking tape. His eyes lingered on the tape for a while as he imagined slapping a big, sticky strip of it across her yammering mouth.

“How many women need to die before you admit there is a problem here, Mr. Mayor?”

“I never said there isn’t a problem,” he grunted back. “What I said is that Jesse is doing all that he can do. I don’t know what you’re expecting to happen over here.”

“How about a town meeting? We could gather everyone together and talk about what women can do to protect themselves. Precautions, self-defense tips, that sort of thing.”

“Women? There’s only one very particular kind of woman that should be worried about this,” Ortega sneered. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Theresa took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Through gritted teeth, she said, “Here we go with that again.”

He threw his hands up and exclaimed, “They are what they are, Theresa! What am I supposed to do? They’re out there every night with God knows who, doing God knows what, and… well, we all know what they’re doing, don’t we?”

Theresa looked at the picture of his wife and two daughters on his desk and asked coldly. “What if the killer gets tired of prostitutes?” “Maybe you should think about that.”

Mayor Ortega’s mouth fell open. His eyes narrowed, and he said, “I think this meeting is over, Sister Theresa. Please leave my office.”

“Think about it,” she repeated, and she left him brooding behind his desk.

The woman came back at ten o’clock on the dot. George swung the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed’ and locked the door.

“Back there,” he told her, and he jerked his head at the door that led into his living quarters.

“Drink this,” he said gently, and he handed her a glass. “It’ll give you the strength to leave your husband for good.”

George took the glass from her with a kind smile and excused himself to the bathroom. He rinsed the glass in the sink and stared at his own reflection for a while. When he came back out, the girl was passed out on the bed, drugged into a near-comatose condition.

He took off her dress and laid it carefully over the back of a wooden chair. He admired her for a moment before he proceeded to cut off a small lock of her hair and clip off the end of her thumbnail. He put them in a bowl and said, “This is now bones of my bones, flesh of my flesh. Through the power of Lucifer, let the earth and its lustful pleasures enter his being.”

George drew in a deep breath and filled himself with the presence of the Dark Lord. He raised his hands in the air and chanted, “Allow his vital salts to flow, that he may savor the carnal nectars of his dark sexual desires. Give him power and provide a lust filled sexual experience with a woman in his image. This we command in the name of Lucifer, and by the enlightenment that he offers. Whose mercies flourish, and whose sustenance will prevail.”

In the background, a bloody machete was laying on a towel on a nightstand. Chicken feet dangled from the ceiling. George dipped his finger in a jar full of blood and drew the sign of Lucifer on the girl’s stomach. He paused to admire the beauty of red blood against tawny skin, and then he crawled on top of her.

Olivia and Maya were sitting together on Olivia’s bed. Maya was watching Olivia admire her painting with a nervous expression. Olivia turned to her and said, “I can’t believe you did this yourself. It’s awesome!”

Maya’s lips twitched in a shy grin. She murmured, “It’s not as good as yours.”

Olivia gave her a side-hug and said, “When I was your age, I couldn’t have dreamed of doing something like this.”

“Really?”

“Really-really,” Olivia affirmed. “You have talent, for real.”

Maya blushed, and her gaze wandered over to Olivia’s Day of the Dead altar to her mother. She said, “We learned about Day of the Dead in school. The purple paper and candles are for pain. White’s for hope, and pink’s for celebration.”

She frowned and added, “How come you’re supposed to celebrate death?”

“We celebrate that we had people in our lives. Even if it was for too short of a time.”

“Oh,” Maya said faintly. “Your mom was so pretty.”

“She’s beautiful and she always will be,” Olivia agreed. There were a few moments of awkward silence, and Olivia’s smile faded away.

“Do you still miss her?”

“So much,” Olivia sighed. “I miss her laugh. I miss the way the whole house smelled when she was cooking. I miss a lot of things, but she’s not suffering anymore. I know that she’s watching over me.”

“Like a guardian angel?” Maya asked, and Olivia’s vision suddenly blurred with a mist of tears.

“Yeah, exactly like that,” she replied in a husky whisper. “So, what do you wanna do?”

Maya tucked her hand into the cuff of her sweater and carefully wiped away the tears. Olivia smiled against the fabric of her sleeve and croaked, “Thank you.”

“I wanna watch you paint,” Maya declared. “Is that okay?”

“Sure, but you have to help. Deal?”

“Deal,” Maya agreed. “But I want to feed the fish before we start. What are their names again?”

Olivia pointed and said, “That’s Richie, Buddy, and the Big Bopper.”

Maya peered into the tank and said, “I think the Big Bopper needs to go on a diet.”

Olivia snorted, “You’re probably right. Here, let’s get set up and get started. It’s getting late.”

The two girls crowded together in front of the easel and lost themselves in the act of creating. As they were laughing and having a great time, a woman was sitting down across from Gina at the police station. It was the woman who’d been violated by kindly old George from the variety store. She spoke slowly at first, but then it all started pouring out, faster and faster, and she began to cry.

Gina reached out to clasp her hand. After a while, the woman found the strength to continue her story, and Gina wrote it all down.

The bar was as dimly lit and smoky as ever. Father Delacruz strolled past some people shooting pool, and then he nimbly dodged around a couple of drunks who were chatting up a couple of hard-looking young women in miniskirts. Father Delacruz knew they were probably a pair of working girls, but that was none of his business. He wasn’t in church right now. At the moment, he was just a man who needed a stiff drink.

He spotted Jesse at the bar and plunked down on the stool beside him. Jesse gave him a nod and held up two fingers at the bartender. Two shots of whiskey were poured in front of them, and Jesse slid a couple bills across the bar.

“How ya been doin’, Jess?”

“Not as good as I like, but better than I probably should,” Jesse quipped in a sour tone.

“What’s going on?” Delacruz asked, and Jesse wearily shook his head.

“We got George in custody.”

“From the store?”

“Yeah,” Jesse grunted. “That’s the one. A woman came in tonight and claimed he raped her. I interviewed him, and he confessed. He, ah…”

Jesse trailed off. He shook his head again and said, “Looks like he’s been moonlighting as a witch doctor, and a rapist. I’ll tell ya, this is one bizarre, messed-up world we got ourselves here, Father.”

“It’s the only one we got, though,” Father Delacruz said, and patted Jesse on the shoulder. “George has owned that store for what, ten years, I think? Married, two kids, always goes to church. I guess it’s the normal ones you have to look out for.”

Jesse grimaced and said, “There’s nothing normal about him. Nothing normal at all.”

Father Delacruz pointed at Jesse’s cigarettes. Jesse slid them over, along with his lighter. Father Delacruz lit a cigarette.

He exhaled a cloud of smoke and asked, “Do we share the opinion that what your sister doesn’t know won’t hurt her?”

“I’ll take it to the grave.”

The priest lifted his glass and said, “May you be in heaven an hour before the devil knows you’re dead.”

They clinked glasses and downed the whiskey.

“Did he kill that prostitute?” Father Delacruz inquired.

“Right now he’s saying no.”

“Well I’ll let you get to it, then. See ya, Jess. Let me know if I can help out with anything.”

Jesse straightened up in his stool and asked, “Wait a second. Do you need a lift?”

The priest held up a hand and said, “No thanks, Jess. It’s a beautiful night out there. I could use the walk.”

Jesse turned back to the bartender as Delacruz walked away and said, “Keep ‘em coming.”

In the alley behind the bar. Rose was standing there impatiently waiting, to do her favor for Ms. Pena. She felt eyes upon her and wheeled around.

It was Sebastian the town pimp and drug dealer. Sebastion favored her with a nasty leer and handed her a baggie of heroin.

He murmured, “There you go, little angel.”

She shoved a few bills in his hand and hissed, “I hope you die tonight.”

He flicked his tongue at her, and Rose stormed away in disgust. Sebastian stared at her backside as she walked off into the night, and he smiled darkly to himself.

Back in the bar, Theresa came walking in with a look of determination on her face. Everyone was staring at her. She approached a trio of working girls and asked, “Can I sit down?”

Two of them got up to leave, but one just sat there and gave Theresa a blank stare.

“Go ahead,” she muttered. Theresa sat down and gave the girl a sympathetic look.

“What’s your name?”

“Renee,” the girl answered in a sullen tone. She lit a cigarette and leaned back in her chair. “What do you want to know?”

“Look, I’m not here to preach to you. I’m just looking for some answers. Did you know the… um, victim?”

Renee’s lips twitched down into a sour grimace. “Sonia, I was the closest thing to family that she ever had. I saw her right before it happened.”

“Did you give a statement to the sheriff?”

“Yeah,” Renee sighed, “but he was looking at his watch more than he was looking at me. I’ve been pretty messed up about it, you know? Sonia agreed to take a date for me that night. That should’ve been me they found the next day, not her.”

Theresa patted her hand and gently asked, “Can you tell me who she met up with that night?”

Renee stammered, “I didn’t arrange it. It was… uh, it was someone else.”

Renee shot a worried look over Theresa’s shoulder. Sebastian was suddenly looming over them. He smiled and said, “Hello, Sister. Nice night for a drink, isn’t it? Mind if I sit down?”

He plopped himself down without waiting for an answer. He gave Theresa an insultingly wide grin and asked, “So, what are we talking about here? Politics? The weather?”

She gave him a withering stare and said, “I know who you are.”

“So does your brother,” he quipped. “We know each other very well.”

Theresa stood up and growled, “You can do whatever you want with your own life. God gave us all free will, after all. But why do you have to drag these girls down with you?”

“I don’t drag anybody anywhere. You just said it yourself, Sister. Free will.”

Theresa looked at the way Renee was trembling in his presence, and she snapped, “I doubt that very much.”

“Ah, you’re a Doubting Thomas,” Sebastian chuckled. “That’s too bad. I thought we could be friends. Oh well.”

Theresa ignored him. She looked at Renee and said, “If you want to talk to someone, I’m always at the church. You know where to find me.”

Theresa gave Sebastian one last withering look, and she hurried off into the night.

“You don’t talk to her,” Sebastian whispered into Renee’s ear. “You got that? You don’t even say hello, or I’ll lose my temper with you.”

Renee whispered back, “Yeah, I get it.”

Sebastian slid a twist of aluminum foil across the table and murmured, “Good girl. Go on, have a bump on the house. But remember what I said. Don’t talk to her. Don’t talk to anyone at all.”

Max’s band Ghost Town had just finished practicing. They gathered around the boom box and he hit play on the cassette. They all stood in a circle and listened intently to the punk rock song they had just recorded. Max’s little sister Jackie started grooving around to the music in the background. Jackie had already declared herself to be their biggest fan, and she was determined to be president of their fan club, if and when that ever came to fruition.

When it was finished, they spent a few minutes discussing the merits and weaknesses of the song. Max clapped his hands together and called out, “That’s good for tonight. My mom should be home soon.”

Jackie was smiling from ear to ear. She squealed, “You guys are really good! You should start playing shows soon.”

The bassist grinned back and said, “We’re coming along, but we have to be a little tighter if we wanna play Austin. Maybe we could use you on guitar.”

Jackie played some hot licks on air guitar and exclaimed, “I can almost play, “Come on, Let’s Go.” Max showed me how. Oh, hey, I almost forgot! Vickie called. I told her that you would call her back.”

She followed them as they carried their gear outside. She frowned and said, “I wish I could go to Austin to see you play.”

Max shook his head and snorted, “If I brought you to a gig in the city, mom would kick my butt. How’s this? We might be playing a birthday party in a few weeks, and you’re personally invited. Anyone gives you any hassle, just tell them you’re with the band.”

The bassist leaned out of the window of his car and asked, “Same time tomorrow?”

Max gave him a thumbs-up and replied, “Same bat time, same bat channel.”

“Cool, man. See you then! Oh, hey, where’s Rose? ”

An aggravated expression stole across Max’s face. “I don’t know.” He said.

His band mate shrugged and said, “Alright, man, see you tomorrow.”

Max gave them a curt wave as they pulled away. Jackie followed him inside, hectoring him in a strident tone about all the merchandise he was going to have to autograph for the fan club.

Rose walked into her house and headed straight for the kitchen. It was late, and the house was dark and silent. She poured herself a glass of wine and wandered over to her typewriter. She stared blankly at the screen and idly tapped a couple of keys..

Her eyes drifted over to a music box. She opened the lid and let the tinny music wash over her as she looked at a European travel brochure. Rose studied a picture of a European seaside, and then her eyes fixed on a glass jar of spare change.

Jesse was already drunk from the bar, and now he was getting absolutely wasted down at the strip club. He stared at the girl on stage with bloodshot eyes as another dancer came up from behind him and put her hands over his eyes. Jesse inhaled the air, and recognized her smell. She ran her nails down his face.

“Guess who,” she breathed into his ear.

Time ran in a blur of booze and silken skin. It resolved itself again in the dancer’s bedroom. Jesse was so drunk, the dancer kept blurring into a kaleidoscope of three different women, all of them running their long, lacquered nails across the wiry scruff on his face and down across his chest. He took a bandana out of his back pocket and tied it around her neck. She smiled as he then proceeded to pull out his handcuffs.

Theresa decided to have a late-night coffee down at the restaurant. It was empty except for one other woman, who was slouching over her own coffee in one of the booths. Mr. Esparza watched Theresa discreetly from the far side of the lunch counter. When she was done, he approached with the coffee pot and asked, “Do you want a refill, Theresa? You’re looking a little glum tonight.”

“Please,” she answered in a weary tone, and she pushed her mug across the table. “I actually wanted to talk to you. You’ve lived here most of your life, right?”

He sat down across from her with a groan and a sigh. He said, “Oh, you bet. We’ve….He paused, remembering the sad truth that he was now a widower “I’ve been here since there were just scorpions for neighbors.”

“Do you remember my mom, Esmerelda Luna? You would have been about the same age. She disappeared twenty years ago.”

Mr. Esparza gave her an unhappy look and said, “My memory’s not so good these days. Ever since my wife… Well, the last year has been rough, let’s just say that.”

Theresa gave him a compassionate look. “I’m so sorry about Miriam. She was such a beautiful person. How are you and Olivia doing?”

He pressed his lips together in a tight line and said, “If time heals, we’re going to need a lot more of it. In the meantime, I have the restaurant here, and Olivia has school. She helps out around here in her spare time. We keep busy.”

“If you or Olivia ever need anything, or if you just want to talk, I’m here.”

He nodded gratefully and said, “Thank you, I appreciate it. So, what’s this about your mother?”

Theresa pulled out her locket and showed him the picture. “She was twenty one here. That’s my brother Jesse and I.”

He squinted at the photo through his glasses and asked, “What did you say her name was again?”

“Esmerelda. Esmerelda Luna.”

The woman in the booth suddenly dropped her coffee cup, and it shattered on the floor. She looked as if she had seen a ghost. She squeaked, “I’m so sorry! I’ll pick it up.”

Mr. Esparza got up and exclaimed, “No, no, don’t cut yourself! It’s no big deal, don’t worry.”

The woman stared at Theresa, her face pale and drawn. She abruptly jumped to her feet and hurried out the door.

Mr. Esparza shook his head and muttered, “Strange times, strange people. I’m sorry, Theresa, but I don’t remember the name or the face. But I can give you a friend of mine’s address and phone number. She might remember her.”

He grabbed a pad of paper at the cash register and wrote down 32 Mesa Street. Theresa scanned the information and said, “I know exactly where that is. Thank you so much.”

Theresa gulped down her refill and thanked him again before she left. A short time later, she was knocking on the door of a modest little house. A woman cautiously peeked out and demanded to know why she was there. Theresa apologized for showing up at such a late hour and showed the woman the picture in the locket.

The woman shook her head. Theresa thanked her for her time and walked away with her head bowed. It had been a very long night, and she was still no closer to the truth.

Back at the bar, an extremely drunk man had just lost a game of pool. He covered his bet with his opponent and shoved the rest of his money into his pocket. Mumbling sourly to himself over his loss, he stumbled into the alley to take a leak. Another man discreetly followed him outside.

As he was zipping up his fly, the drunk was struck on the back of the head with a leather sap, and he dropped like a stone.

Jesse, and the stripper were looking at each other in the doorway. He lit two cigarettes in his mouth and passed one over to the girl. He murmured, “That was excellent,” and she gave him a knowing smile.

By sheer coincidence, Theresa happened to be walking by on her way home. She saw two shadows standing in a doorway, and then she realized one of them was Jesse. She ducked behind a telephone pole and waited until Jesse was gone before continuing on her way.

She didn’t know what was going on, and she didn’t need to know, either. As far as Sister Theresa was concerned, no one had the right to pry into the affairs of consenting adults. Jesus had said, “He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone,” and Theresa considered that to be the final word on the matter.

Theresa’s fidded with her keys at the door, shining a flashlight on the lock so she could see what the heck she was doing. She finally got it unlocked, and she staggered into the house. She plopped down in a chair, exhausted. The clock read 12:30 AM.

Theresa quietly murmured, “Tomorrow is another day,” and eased back into her chair. She would try again tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after, too. She would keep trying until she could finally piece this puzzle together.

The sheriff’s late-night liaison went upstairs after he was gone, and she ran herself a hot bath as she lit some candles. She slipped into the water with a deep sigh, and she closed her eyes.

There was a slight creak as someone ascended the staircase. The footsteps moved down the hall, and then the intruder was standing behind her.

The dancer’s eyes were still closed. She smiled up at her unseen visitor and said, “I knew you’d come back for more?”

Her hair was slowly pulled across her neck, and she giggled at the sensation. Suddenly, it snapped tight, and she was wheezing for breath. She struggled fiercely, gurgling and gagging in desperation. Water slopped over the side of the tub and pooled on the floor.

Her struggles quickly weakened, and then they stopped entirely.

Theresa was thinking about getting ready for bed when she noticed the blinds were open. She heaved herself up on her feet to close them. She turned around to head for the bathroom, and then she frowned to herself and looked back at the window.

There was a man looking in the window from the outside.

Theresa let out a gasp and jumped a little.

She yelled, “Who are you? What do you want?”

He shouted through the window, “My name’s Edgar, Sister, and I need some help! Please.”

Theresa grabbed a fireplace poker. She called back, “Just wait right there for a minute,” and picked up the phone. She wasn’t about to let a stranger into her house without some backup, not with everything that was going on these days. She didn’t bother calling Jesse, though; he was undoubtedly still busy with his lady friend. Instead, she called Father Delacruz.

She quickly explained the situation, and he said, “I’ll be right there. Keep him at the door.”

Theresa took a quick glance at the looming shape at her doorway and whispered, “Make it quick, Father. See you soon.”

Twenty minutes later, she was sitting at her kitchen table with her surprise visitor, both of them sipping at a hot mug of coffee. Father Delacruz was standing between them as a cautionary measure, but he was pretty sure it was okay. Edgar wasn’t a predator, he was a victim. He had been hit in the back of the head and robbed behind the bar.

He dabbed at the back of his head with a washcloth and sheepishly muttered, “I usually take my coffee Irish, if you know what I mean. From now on, I think I’ll have a little less Irish and a little more coffee. Again, I’m sorry I scared you, Sister.”

Theresa let out a sigh and rubbed her eyes. She said, “I’m getting kind of used to it. I still think you should go to the hospital and get a few stitches.”

Father Delacruz tapped Edgar on the shoulder and said, “Speaking of going, I think it’s time we get out of Theresa’s hair. See you in the morning, Sister.”

She followed them to the door and bade them both a good night. As they were walking down the porch steps, Edgar pointed at the priest’s cane and said, “That’s a really interesting walking stick, Father.”

He grinned in the dark and said, “A while back, this guy comes up to me and says, ‘That’s not a very good cane.’ I told him, ‘Well, it’s not a real bad limp. Plenty of fellas got it worse than me.’ The guy laughs and says, ‘I sure could use a stiff drink right about now.’ Well, I just happened to have a half pint in my truck. We polished it off and parted ways. A couple of months later, this was waiting for me at the office. Handmade from Ireland. No two are the same.”

Edgar nodded thoughtfully and said, “Sounds like a nice guy.”

Father Delacruz chuckled and replied, “I think he was just really thirsty.

The two men walked briskly into the night, laughing and talking like old friends beneath the pale light of the moon. Only a few blocks away, a young woman was lying below the surface of the water in her bathtub, her sightless eyes staring at nothing and her lifeless foot dangling over the edge.

A few blocks further on, the town sheriff was sprawled out on his couch, clutching the cushions beneath him as the room spun in circles. His eyes lost focus, and the world around him went dark.

The next morning, Jesse ignored his coffee maker and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He popped two of the three remaining Aspirin tablets in the bottle, and then he grumbled, “Fuck it,” and took the last one, too.

He brought his whisky into the bathroom and pulled out his shaving kit. He preferred to use a straight razor, but his hands were shaking so bad from the booze the night before. He sliced himself a good one on his cheek.

Jesse clapped a hand over the cut and snarled, “God-dammit!” Blood was dripping down his face through the shaving cream. He watched the streaks of crimson roll down his jawline in the mirror for a few seconds, and his eyes went blank.

Theresa was sitting in her car and trying to brace herself for yet another confrontation with her brother. He had a problem, and he had no intention of doing anything about it on his own. Like so many others who wear the badge, Jesse’s problem was the bottle. He was slowly losing himself in an ocean of booze. He needed to sober up, or his drinking would surely be the end of him someday.

There was a sudden knock on her window, and Theresa flinched. It was Gina. She leaned down to peer through the glass and said, “Hi, Theresa. Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Is Jesse home?”

Theresa rolled down her window and grunted, “I don’t know. I just got here.”

Gina gave her an unhappy look and asked, “Hey… do you think he’s been acting differently lately?”

Theresa frowned and said, “Um, not really, no. I don’t think so, anyway. Why?”

Gina shrugged and answered, “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing. Anyway, I’m here because there’s been another murder. Jesse wasn’t answering his phone.”

The nun winced at this news. She murmured, “Was it another prostitute?”

Gina looked around and said, “We’ll talk about it inside. Come on, let’s get this guy out of bed.”

Jesse glared at the two women standing on his porch and demanded, “What the hell are you people doing here this early, It’s my day off ?”

Gina calmly answered, “Veronica Rubio, age twenty six. She was strangled with her own hair last night. Let us in.”

Theresa blinked at her and whispered, “Oh my God.”

“She was drowned by the assailant in her bathtub,” Gina added. “And you, Mr. Sheriff, are not answering your phone. Bad timing, Jesse. Very bad.”

Jesse’s face went pale. He whispered, “What did you say her name was?

Gina pushed at the door and demanded, “Are you going to let us in or not?”

When they were seated at his kitchen table, Gina said, “Her name was Veronica Rubio. Sound familiar?”

Theresa was staring at his cheek. She pointed and asked, “Jesse, what happened to your face?”

He touched the large Bandaid on his face and muttered, “I cut myself shaving okay. Thanks, Gina. Sorry I wasn’t answering the phone. I’ll go over there and check out the crime scene.”

He started heading for the door. Gina said, “Hey, don’t you want the address?”

She handed him a scrap of paper with the address. He took it with an irritated glance and said, “All right, we’ll meet up later.”

Gina turned to Theresa and said, “Nice seeing you again.” At that moment, Jesse quickly balled up the scrap of paper and threw it in trash. Theresa saw it happen from the corner of her eye. He never even looked at it.

He saw Gina out the door, and then turned to his sister with an impatient look on his face. He said, “We can talk later. I gotta go.”

Theresa stopped him with a hand on his arm. She looked at him closely and asked, “What’s wrong?”

He glowered at her and huffed, “I think it’s pretty apparent what’s wrong, Theresa. We’ve got another body on our hands. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.”

Theresa snapped, “I can smell the booze on your breath. Is that from last night or this morning?”

Jesse shrugged and asked, “Why not both? Now can we leave it alone, please? ”

Theresa threw up her hands and hissed, “Exactly my point, Jesse! Leave it alone.”

He crossed his arms and growled, “What’s your damn problem?”

She ignored his question and asked, “Where were you last night?”

“Out.”

She sneered, “Yes, you were out. More specifically, you were out getting drunk again.”

“What is this, a fuckin’ investigation? Look, I gotta go, okay? This isn’t the time.”

“Speaking of time, what time did you get home?

He shook his head and muttered, “I don’t know.”

“You blacked out again?” Theresa asked rhetorically.

Jesse leaned against the wall and flapped a dismissive hand at her. Wearily, he said, “There’s usually not anything worth remembering anyway”

She let out a deep breath and asked, “What if you don’t remember doing something bad?”

He gave her a piercing look and said, “I don’t do anything drunk that I wouldn’t do sober.”

“Jesse, you have a problem. Please admit that to yourself, okay? It’s the first step.”

He snapped, “I’ve got lots of problems. Right now, you’re one of them.”

He started to open the door, and Theresa said, “I saw you with that girl last night.”

Jesse froze. Without looking at her, he asked, “What girl?”

“The one that was killed.”

Theresa fished the address out of trash. She smoothed it out and held it up in his face.

“This girl!” she hissed. “Her name was Veronica Rubio. She was only twenty six, and now she’s dead. I saw you with her last night, Jesse. Don’t deny it.”

Jesse snarled, “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” and he slammed the door behind him.

Theresa looked at the whiskey bottle on the kitchen counter, and she poured herself a shot. She knocked it back, gagging like her throat was on fire. She made the sign of the cross and whispered, “Please protect us and guide our way with Your light. Please help us escape this darkness.”

Olivia had breakfast with her father as usual, and then she headed off to school. She walked off of the path and wandered into the woods. It was still early. There was still lots of time to hunker down and do a few nature sketches. She pulled her sketchbook and a pencil out of her bag and tried to blank her mind. It was just her and the trees, and it was perfect.

She heard something rustling in the undergrowth and turned around. As soon as she turned to look, the rustling stopped.

Olivia called out, “Hello?” and she was answered by the twittering of the birds. As soon as she looked away, however, the stealthy rustling continued. Whatever it was, it was approaching her, and it was doing its best to remain unseen.

“Um, okay,” she said quietly to herself. “Screw this. I’m outta here.”

She shoved the sketchbook away and started walking again. The noise behind her suddenly got louder. She whirled around and saw a Mexican gray wolf in the distance. Its posture was stiff and alert.

She called out, “Hey there, sweetheart!” and the wolf responded with a menacing snarl. They both stood there and stared at each other for a few seconds, the girl’s smile fading as the wolf bared its teeth and growled.

She nervously looked around for help, but she was far from the path and there was no one in sight. Olivia quietly said, “You’re a good boy. Right? You’re a good boy and you won’t-”

The wolf suddenly bolted at her, Olivia dropped her bag and started running.

Olivia had a big head start, but it was gaining on her. She veered off-course and ran down a hill, windmilling her arms to keep her balance as she dodged around the trees. She hit the bottom at a full sprint and made a beeline for a nearby culvert, a four-foot wide tunnel that directed flood runoff beneath a major roadway. She blocked the opening behind her with a big piece of rotting plywood that was lying in the weeds. She heard the wolf scratching at the plywood as she scrambled out the other side, and she started running again.

Olivia spied an old, abandoned house through the trees. She desperately tried to yank open the front door, but it was locked. She could hear the wolf crashing through the underbrush somewhere behind her. It appeared in the clearing as she ran around the house to the back door. This one was open, and she scrambled inside a bare second before the wolf slammed against the other side. She leaned against it and panted as the wolf repeatedly jumped against the door, growling and slobbering in a mindless rage.

And then the commotion abruptly ceased, and it was eerily quiet outside.

Olivia counted to fifty before she cautiously opened the door. There was no sign of the wolf. She tiptoed onto the sagging porch and looked around in all directions, but there was no one there. A chill shivered its way up her spine.

Where did it go? Did it give up and run off into the woods? It appeared that way but, unbeknownst to Olivia, the wolf was lying nearby in a tall patch of weeds.

It was very dead, and torn almost beyond recognition.

Olivia scampered away from the old house and ran all the way back to the path. She got to class half an hour minutes late, covered in burrs and bits of leaves. Her face and hands were striped with scratches from bramble vines and tree branches. Everyone turned to stare.

Ms. Pena turned around at the front of the classroom and exclaimed, “Olivia, what happened to you?”

She tried to answer, but she started sobbing instead. Ms. Pena rushed over to her pupil and escorted her out of the class, leaving the rest of her students to sit and murmur uneasily amongst themselves.

Father Delacruz had another unexpected knock at the door. A familiar voice on the other side said, “Hello, Father, it’s me. Can I come in?”

He grunted, “Of course, come on in.”

It was Edgar, the man Sister Theresa had helped after he’d been assaulted behind the bar. Edgar sat down and said, “Sorry for the intrusion, Father, but could I please use your phone to get a hold of my brother?”

The priest nodded and asked, “How would you feel about staying here for a little while? We could use some help. Maybe it would help you stay away from situations that would set you back, and a few bucks to get you on your feet. Let me know if you’re interested.”

Edgar gave him a look of surprise, and then a grateful smile spread across his face. He said, “Sure, absolutely! Thank you so much! Can I still use the phone, though?”

“Go right ahead,” Delacruz nodded, and he pushed it across the desk. “I’ll wait outside and give you some privacy.”

Jesse was standing in the dead girl’s apartment, nervously gazing at everything that he probably touched last night. Glasses, bottles, ashtrays, door handles, light switches. The list was endless.

Gina came up behind him and asked, “Find anything?”

He slowly shook his head and croaked, “No. Not yet.”

“Forensics should be here soon. I can tell you one thing for sure, though. She wasn’t drinking alone last night.”

Faintly, he asked, “You reckon she had some company, do you?”

Gina frowned at him and said, “You don’t look so hot today, Jesse. Are you feeling okay?”

He shook his head again and murmured, “Nah, not really. Okay, I’m gonna wait outside until the Forensics boys get here. Get some air.”

Gina studied his face closely, and he shifted his gaze to avoid her eyes. She patted his shoulder and said, “Okay, then. You go ahead, they’ll be here soon.”

There was another knock on Father Delacruz’s office door. He looked up from the stack of receipts he was examining and said, “Come in.”

Sister Theresa poked her head through the door and asked, “Am I interrupting you?”

He shook his head and chuckled, “Not really, no. I’m just going over some budget stuff right now, nothing important. What’s on your mind?”

She closed the door behind her and asked, “Father, are you sure there isn’t anything you might have forgotten? You know, about when Jesse and I were brought here?”

He gave her a sympathetic look and said, “Theresa, I never knew your mother. I guess she wasn’t the church going type. As I’ve told you before, both of you were very young. No relatives and nowhere to go. Rather than send you to some orphanage, we took you in. That’s it.”

She sat down across from him and leaned forward in her chair. In a low voice, she said, “I’m so grateful for that. I know Jesse is, too. If we went into the system, we might have been split up. I don’t even want to think about it. I just… I have to know what happened to her.”

He steepled his fingers together, deep in thought. He sighed, “I understand. Have you talked to anyone else?”

She nodded and murmured, “Yes, but no luck yet. Father… um, if someone confesses a murder to you, do you have to… you know.”

He made a dismissive gesture and said, “I couldn’t say anything.”

“I know, but if people are getting killed, isn’t that different?”

He tapped the desk for emphasis and said, “Theresa, we save souls, not lives. It’s good that you care, but if you turn over enough rocks, you might just find a rattlesnake.”

She gave him an unhappy look and said nothing.

“Well,” he said briskly, “I should get back to adding up my receipts. Oh, I almost forgot, we’re having our rummage sale in two weeks. If you have anything you want to part with, we sure could use it.”

Theresa muttered, “Oh, I think I can find some things.”

“Do you think that you could make some of your famous chocolate chip cookies?”

She gave him a limp smile and said, “Sure, I can do that.”

“Oh, good! I was hoping that you would. I hope this wasn’t too presumptuous of me, but I already got all the ingredients. I think all of the things you’ll need are here.”

She hefted the grocery bag in her arms and said, “Thank you so much! You didn’t have to do that.”

Delacruz smiled and started walking her to the door. He said, “Considering how many of them I’ll eat myself, it’s the least I could do.”

Theresa walked out to her car and stared out the windshield for a while, her gaze both haunted and profoundly sad. She glanced over at the grocery bag and murmured, “To hell with your cookies. To hell with your rummage sale, too.”

She immediately felt guilty for saying such a petty, spiteful thing, but it felt good, too. She was a human being under her habit, wasn’t she? Frankly, Sister Theresa didn’t give a hoot about cookies and rummage sales. What she cared about was the truth, and the truth seemed to be in short supply these days.

Jesse was driving down a desolate highway. He had large duffel bag in the back seat, and a grim expression on his face. He sipped away at a flask and chain-smoked the entire way to his destination.

Finally, he saw it pop up on the horizon; a big white cross on top of a hill in the middle of nowhere. He got out of the car and stood in the middle of the road, staring at the cross with the flask in one hand and a cigarette burning away to a drooping cylinder of ash in the other.

After a while, Jesse climbed back in the car and pulled a U-turn. He had pressing matters to attend to back in town.

Jesse pulled into Ray’s driveway, and he was unsurprised to find his predecessor working on his truck. It was an old Ford with a mismatched tailgate and an astonishing number of miles on the odometer. Ray refused to let the poor thing retire in a junkyard, which is where it belonged.

Jesse walked and Ray welcomed him with a hug. He said, “Jesus Christ, Jess, it’s been awhile. What brings you out here?”

Jesse answered his question with a cryptic smile and said, “It’s good to see you, Ray.”

The retired Sheriff looked at the bags under Jesse’s eyes and asked, “Lot going on, huh?”

Jesse sighed, “Sometimes I think I should’ve stayed in the army.”

Ray nodded thoughtfully and said, “You know, I always wondered why you took the job. Not that I didn’t think you’d be good at it, of course. Just didn’t seem to fit you, is all.”

Jesse gave him a wry grin. He said, “When I was a kid, I used to read those old detective magazines. I thought… well, I don’t know. I guess I always thought it would be so cool to wear the badge and catch the bad guys, you know? But now I actually do wear the badge, and as it turns out, nothing about it is cool. It’s goddamn depressing, that’s what it is.

“Yeah, I get that,” Ray drawled, Jess, there are bigger cities out there. Different places, different faces. Believe it or not, one day you’ll wake up and you’ll be my age. Still in the middle of nowhere, and nothing to look forward to. Go somewhere different, son. Go somewhere you can get some really good Chinese food. Shit, I don’t remember the last time I got to use chopsticks.”

Jesse thought for a couple of seconds and said “Did shit like this happen when you had the job?”

Ray gave him a grim look and said, “It was usually as quiet as a graveyard back then, but every once in a while, a lady of the evening would go missing. It goes with the territory. It’s a sad fact, but it’s a fact nonetheless. It’s a dangerous profession.”

Ray paused for a moment, looking out into the distance with haunted eyes. He leaned against the truck and said, “You know, I’d heard the story about that old house, just like everyone else. Stories are just stories, though. They aren’t evidence. I never had any legal reason to go out there. So one day, I decided to just drive by for the hell of it. Jess, I’ll tell you something… I fought in Korea. I don’t scare easy. But when I looked at that house, my blood turned cold. Something ain’t right out there.”

Jesse nodded thoughtfully. He asked, “Do you remember Father Delacruz?”

Ray mulled it over and said, “I think he showed up about twenty years ago. The other priest had a stroke. Maybe it was a nervous breakdown or something, I can’t remember.”

“He died?”

“Nah, I think he got shipped out to a hospital in El Paso. Shit, that was a lot of drinks ago.”

Jesse absorbed this information silently, looking up at the blameless blue sky above their heads with an unreadable expression.

Ray looked down at a table beside him with a chessboard on it, ready to play. He said, “A Korean guy – shit, I can’t remember his name – anyway, that guy beat me during the war. That was the last time I lost… that is, until you beat me.”

Jesse grinned, “That’s the last time I played.”

“Well, you’re a natural. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle said excellence at chess is one mark of a scheming mind. Doesn’t hurt to have a scheming mind in your line of work, not one bit. You owe me a rematch.” Ray said.

“Maybe later Ray,” Jesse replied. “I have a small town I have to get back to.”

The school bell rang, and everyone headed for the door in a crush of bodies. Everyone but Rose, that is. She was still sitting there, leafing through her notebook.

Olivia stopped beside her desk and said, “Let’s go, slowpoke.”

Rose gave her a distracted look and muttered, “Hey, I’m just finishing up. I’ll be right there, okay?”

When everyone was gone, Rose handed Ms.Pena an envelope. In turn, Ms Pena handed Rose a twenty dollar bill. Rose gave her teacher a silent nod and left without a word.

Rose caught up to Olivia and Max in the parking lot. She exclaimed, “So, are you okay, Olivia? That’s scary as hell.”

“Yeah, I’m okay. A little shook up, but I’m okay.”

Max asked, “Is that house as creepy on the inside as it is on the outside?”

Olivia shuddered and croaked, “Oh, you have no idea. I didn’t really get a good look around, but what I saw was more than enough. It smells really bad in there, too. Like mold and rotting meat. It was freakin’ horrible.”

Rose said in a sly tone, “Maybe we should get an idea.”

Olivia shook her head and replied, “Nope. Not this chick.”

Her friend poked her in the ribs and squealed, “Oh, come on! That old house could be a gold mine inside. You just have to know what to look for, and I do.”

“That’s a bad idea. It’s trespassing. I mean, I went in, sure, but I didn’t have a choice. That wolf wanted to rip me apart. But if we go in there for no reason, it’s trespassing.”

They argued back and forth for a while as they walked. Olivia pointed out that it would be dark and potentially dangerous there, and Rose assured her, “This time, we’ll have some flashlights, and you won’t be alone.”

“That’s the problem,” Olivia muttered darkly. “I don’t think I was alone this morning.”

Theresa was pawing through a box of old childhood mementos. She searched until she found a teddy bear, a tea set, and a doll. She stared at the doll, and in her mind, she heard a child’s voice say, “Dolls are stupid. I’m gonna rip its head off.”

In her mind’s eye, Theresa was four years old, and a little boy who was about eight or so was holding the same doll by the neck. Four year old Theresa was crying, and the bully was laughing at her tears.

Six year old Jesse tapped him on the back. The bully turned around and Jesse put his hand out, his small face solemn and serious. Even though he was older and a lot bigger, the bully obviously wanted no part of her big brother’s wrath. He handed Jesse the doll, and Jesse handed it to Theresa. As the bully ran off to safety, Jesse pulled a piece of candy out of his pocket and gave her that too. She stopped crying, and she smiled. He took her hand, and they walked away.

Theresa clutched the doll, and tears glimmered in her eyes.

Jesse left for El Paso without telling anyone where he was going. When he got to the hospital, a nurse told him, “You’re lucky you came when you did. Next week we’ll be gone.”

Jesse gave her the side-eye and asked, “What, is everyone cured?”

The nurse rolled her eyes and snapped, “Just the opposite, actually. We’re moving to a bigger facility. The only patients that are still here… well, they’re the more extreme cases.”

They passed through the day room, and Jesse saw that one patient was walking around in endless circles. Another patient was sitting in front of the TV in restraints. He was watching the shopping channel and screaming that there were maggots on his arms.

Jesse motioned at him and asked in a low voice, “What’s wrong with that guy?”

“Wet brain,” she answered in a brisk tone. “Alcohol induced psychosis. Alcohol and drugs are like loan sharks. You get something quick, but you have to pay it back tenfold. Well, here we are.”

They were standing over an old man lying in his hospital bed. His eyes were open, but they were focused on nothing in particular. The nurse gave Jesse a sympathetic smile and said, “I don’t think he can help you. He hasn’t responded to anyone in a long time.”

Jesse asked, “Can I spend a few minutes with him alone? I understand it might be a waste of time, but I’d still like to try.”

She nodded and told him, “I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”

“Thanks, appreciated.” He said.

The nurse bustled out of the room, leaving Jesse alone with the old man in the bed. He leaned over the unresponsive man and breathed, “I think you can hear me. You need to talk to me, do you understand? I need you to talk.”

Ms. Pena slipped into the payphone and dialed a number. She stared anxiously into the night as the phone rang on the other end.

“I’m really sick. Can you meet me at the same place? Okay, see you then.”

A short time later, Ms. Pena was sitting on a bed in a hotel room. She was cooking up a shot of heroin with a spoon and a lighter. She loaded the syringe and handed it to Gina, who was sitting on the bed beside her. Gina shot Ms. Pena up in her neck. Within seconds, she was stretching out across the bed in ecstasy. Smiling languidly, Gina lay down next to her.

Back at the hospital, Jesse was leaning against a pay phone. He left a message on Gina’s answering machine, “Hey Gina, it’s Jesse. Can you meet me at that old house in the woods around 10 PM? You know the one. It’s just a hunch, but I want to check it out.”

Olivia was getting ready to go out, examining her appearance in the mirror. She suddenly stopped fussing over her hair and froze. She could feel something behind her. The hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end. She slowly turned around.

It was her little dog Henry, staring at her in the doorway. She breathed out a sigh of relief and said, “Henry, I swear I need to get you a bell.”

She threw him a toy, but he just stood there and stared at her.

Olivia frowned and said, “Eh, maybe later.”

Her dad walked up to the door and announced, “Bonnie and Clyde are here.”

She gave him a sarcastic, “Ha ha,” and put down her brush.

Her dad said, “So, Max tells me his band’s pretty good.”

She nodded in agreement and said, “Yeah, but it’s not your style.”

‘Did you forget that I was in a garage band? Being in a band was tough back then. We had to write our lyrics on the walls of our caves.”

Olivia smiled and said, “It wasn’t that long ago. Just before running water, and electricity.”

Mr. Esparza’s lips twitched into a wistful grin. He said, “We were actually pretty good, but I quit.”

“To work, right?” Olivia replied.

“No, because the band was good, but I sucked. Honey, why do you always dress in black? You’re so pretty.”

“I know someone that used to wear a lot of black. He turned out okay.”

“I needed a comb back then. Olivia, you know your mother’s so proud of you right now. I am too. Now get out of here, and have some fun.”

He followed his daughter to the living room, where Rose and Max were sitting at the coffee table. They bounced to their feet as Olivia came walking in, and Rose said, “God, finally! Okay, see ya later Mr. E.”

Max echoed, “Later,” and Mr. Esparza gave them all a wave.

“Go on, stop crowding up my living room,” he grunted.

Olivia hesitated at the door, and she told him, “Bye dad, I love you. See you in a couple hours.”

Mr.Esparza looked out the window and watched them leave. He didn’t like her galavanting around town without supervision, but that was part of growing up. He poured himself a glass of brandy and sat down to wait.

Mayor Ortega sat in his easy chair and watched his daughter flit around the house, singing to herself sweetly as she buzzed around from activity to activity. He had a somber expression on his face. Finally, he let out a long breath and grabbed the phone off the end table beside him.

Theresa was laying on the couch and staring up at the ceiling when the phone started to ring. She grabbed it and croaked, “Hello?”

“Theresa, hi. It’s the Mayor. I’m glad you’re home. Look, I’ve been thinking about our conversation-”

Theresa sat up and interjected, “I was out of line. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

“No, you were right. Let’s have a town meeting. As passionate as you are about this, people will have to listen.”

She grimaced at the handset, then said, “I can’t do that anymore. I’m sorry, I have to go.”

She hung up the phone and lay back down on the couch, her eyes red and exhausted.

Father Delacruz was moving some boxes around the church when Ms.Pena came walking in. She said, “Father, I know it’s not a good time, but I really need confession right now. Like, immediately.”

He took in her stricken expression and said, “Well, I was just getting some things ready for the rummage sale, but that can wait. It’s always time for confession. Your immortal soul’s at stake. After all, Hell doesn’t wait for anything.”

She gave him a grateful smile, her eyes gleaming with tears.

Olivia, Rose, and Max were walking beside the road in the dark. Trying to take her mind off of where they were going, Olivia suddenly said, “I can’t wait until next year. Rose and I will be at U.T. We can get jobs and get an apartment together.”

Rose took a cigarette out of a case and lit it. She said, “Olivia, I didn’t want to say anything… but if I find anything that’s worth some serious money in that house, I’m not going to U.T.”

Olivia glared at her and demanded, “And you were going to tell me this when?”

Max shone his flashlight into the woods and said, “We’re here.”

Olivia gave Rose an angry look and said, “To be continued.”

They carefully walked into the house with flashlights and lanterns. A rocking chair with nobody in it was slowly rocking in the background. Or at least, it looked like nobody was in it. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

Max heard the noise and turned his flashlight beam to illuminate the chair. It immediately stopped rocking.

Olivia groaned, “It’s freezing in here. It’s warmer outside.”

Rose giggled, “This is the real deal. It’s a creep house.”

Olivia shone her light around and whispered, “It looked better when I couldn’t see anything.”

The silence was deafening. Rose put down her purse and immediately knocked something over. It shattered. Olivia let out a shriek and hissed, “Rose! What the hell?”

Rose looked down and said, “It’s not valuable. I’m sure the maid will clean it up.”

She then noticed a mirror with most of the glass broken out of it and said “It looks like Vince isn’t the only one with mirror issues… or is he?

“Oh come on” Max responded.

“Come on nothing. That guy isn’t right.” Rose shot back.

From behind them, Olivia let out a gasp and said, “Oh my God, those are teeth in that jar!”

Max asked, “Are they human?” and Rose answered, “Does it really matter?”

Olivia picked up three tarot cards and examined them in the light. One of them said ‘DANGER’ in block letters. She put them back down and wiped her hands on her shirt.

“Oh, shit!”

Olivia and Rose both jumped and looked over at Max, who flashed a sheepish grin. He said, “Sorry. Just realized I forgot the beer.”

Rose smiled and said, “That sounds like a really good idea. Then we can all crack open a cold one and say something cheesy like, ‘It doesn’t get any better than this.’”

Max slapped his hands together and said, “My buddy’s working tonight, he’ll sell it to me.”

Olivia gave them both an uneasy look and said, “I don’t know if that’s such a great idea, guys. I feel like maybe we shouldn’t split up right now, you know?”

Rose giggled, “We’re not in a horror movie, Olivia. Nothing’s going to happen.” She turned to Max and chirped, “See, it’s not what you know, but who. I love a man with connections.

He headed for the door and called over his shoulder, “Don’t do any Nancy Drew stuff till I get back.”

After he left, Rose turned to Olivia and said, “Well, even a creep house has to have a bathroom, and I have to find it. Like, right now.”

Olivia snapped, “Can’t you wait until he comes back? It’s just…look, I know it sounds dumb, but I feel like I did this morning. Like there’s someone else here.”

All of a sudden, the door swung open. The girls both let out a loud gasp and whirled around to face the intruder, but no one was there.

“What the hell?” Rose whispered. She aimed her flashlight at the door and called out, “Um, hello? Who’s there?”

A figure appeared in the doorway, and Olivia stifled a scream when she saw that it was Max. He came strolling in and asked, “Sorry, but I’m a bit short. You got a few bucks I can borrow?”

Rose grumbled, “What am I, the beer wench over here?” and hauled a five dollar bill out of her purse.

Max snatched it out of her hand and said, “Cool, thanks. I’ll pay you back. See you in a bit!”

He rushed out the door, and Rose groaned, “I can’t hold it until that idiot gets back. I’m gonna pee. It’ll just take a minute, okay?”

She charged up the creaky stairs to find a bathroom. Olivia dusted a dilapidated, old chair off to sit down for a while. She mumbled to herself “It’s fine. This is not a horror movie, and everything is fine.”

She put on her headphones and pressed play on her Walkman. She needed to relax. Everything was going to be just fine. Olivia then noticed an hour glass sand timer on a table. She turned it over and the sand inside slowly started to run down.

Ms. Pena made the sign of the cross and softly murmured, “Please forgive my sins, father.”

Father Delacruz closed his eyes and recited, “May the Lord enlighten you and help you make a good confession.”

Over on her side of the confession booth, Ms. Pena blinked back a curtain of tears.

“Father, I’ve done some horrible things. I don’t know where to begin…”

Car headlights splashed over a prostitute leaning against a wall. The car pulled over to the curb, and the prostitute got in without hesitation. She gave the driver a sultry look and crooned, “Long time no see, Mr. Lawman. How you been, sugar?”

Jesse turned to her and said, “Look, I just want to ask you something, okay? My memories are… they’re kind of foggy. How many times have we seen each other?”

She smirked at him and said, “Oh, we’ve ‘seen each other’ a few times now. Why?”

He rubbed a hand over his face and mumbled, “Well, I’m usually pretty drunk.”

She laughed a little and said, “You’re always drunk, sugar.”

She touched his cheek. Jesse gently pushed her hand down and said, “Yeah, well, have I… um, have I ever done anything bad to you?”

“Bad as in bad, or bad as in good?”

He looked away from her and muttered, “Violent. Have I ever been violent with you?”

She patted his leg and purred, “Sometimes it gets a little rough, sure, but I kinda like it. Jesse, you’ve never hurt me. I swear.”

He let out a pent-up breath and whispered, “Good. Okay, that’s good. Have you been with any guys who get violent?”

Her smile disappeared, and she gave him a dark look. She said, “I guess it’s part of the job. You never know about your next date. You can’t always tell who might be dangerous like that. It could be anyone.”

Another night on the job. Sebastian sold a bag of dreams to a high school girl, and she walked away with a sense of urgency in her steps. He put the money in his pocket and smiled to himself. Life was good.

A gunshot cracked in the darkness, and Sebastian fell dead on the ground. Ms. Pena stepped out of the shadows, the gun dangling from her hand. She made the sign of the cross and put the gun against her temple.

Another shot boomed out in the alleyway, and Ms. Pena tumbled to the ground.

Olivia was tapping her foot nervously as she listened to her Walkman.

In the corner, the piano starts playing on its own, releasing a discordant cascade of notes that race up and down the keys. Olivia was oblivious to this ghostly phenomenon as she hummed along to the Goth music blaring from the Walkman. The piano stopped playing, the cover to the piano keys closed, and the chair pushed back in with a faint scraping sound.

As she continued to tap her foot and hum in blissful ignorance, a figure in a black cloak and veil drifted up the stairs.

Olivia stopped the tape and turned around. She softly called out, “Is that you, Rose?”

Meanwhile, Rose was dealing with an unpleasant turn of events upstairs; while she was checking the filthy, mildewed bathroom for spiders and snakes, she accidentally dropped her flashlight into the toilet. She snarled, “Oh, Jesus Christ!”

From somewhere in another room, a voice answered, “There is no Jesus Christ in this house.”

Rose’s heart skipped a beat. She squeaked, “Is that you, Olivia?”

It certainly didn’t sound much like Olivia. The voice sounded like it belonged to a very old woman.

Rose gingerly retrieved the flashlight and did her business. Then walked into another room. She saw an old trunk and forgot about the disembodied voice immediately. She was here to find treasure, and this was a good place to start looking.

She opened the lid, and a pleasantly surprised expression lit up her features.

Back downstairs, Olivia was starting to feel increasingly antsy. Staring at the timer as the last grains of sand ran out. She got up to take a look upstairs, but there was nothing to see but shadows and gloom..

She pulled off her headphones and stuffed the Walkman in her purse. Olivia cautiously walked up the stairs. It was dark as mine shaft up there, and it smelled terrible. She walked into a bedroom with the lantern held high, and she hissed, “Rose! Damn it, Rosemary, answer me!

She couldn’t find her friend upstairs, and that was very worrisome. How did Rose get past her without being seen? There seemed to be only one staircase leading to the second floor. Olivia went back to the main floor, calling Rose’s name with angry urgency, and then she reluctantly went into the cellar. It was black as midnight in hell down there, and it smelled even worse than the rest of the house.

She turned a corner and saw something that made her freeze like a statue. She tried to scream, but nothing came out except a faint whine in the back of her throat. She looked around wildly for a place to run. The only place to go was up a narrow stairwell. She scrambled up the stairs and tried to open the hatch at the top, but it wouldn’t budge. She started pounding on it, sobbing and screaming for Rose.

The hatch abruptly burst open with a squeal of rusting hinges, and Olivia clambered out of the cellar. She found herself in the back yard in front of a huge, rotting. old tree. She looked around for somewhere to run, and she spied a gate set in the tall fence at the back of the property. She took off through the yard like a bolt of lightning and yanked on the gate, but it was locked with a padlock and chain. She tried to jump up and climb over it, but she couldn’t pull herself over the top.

There was an old work table nearby that was covered with an assortment of rusted, tools. She ran to it and started looking around frantically for something that could break the chain. She pawed through them for a few seconds, and then she knocked them all off the table with a muffled curse. None of them would do the job. Looking down at the tools on the ground she saw a pair of bolt cutters half-buried by the weeds and grabbed them. Panting like a dog, Olivia scuttled back to the fence and struggled to cut through the lock. She could sense something closing in, moving with an easy confidence as it watched her desperately fight against the reinforced steel.

The jaws of the bolt cutters suddenly clicked together, and the chain slithered to the ground. She shoved the gate open and ran for safety. Olivia saw Max walking back to the house with the beer tucked under his arm, and she screamed, “No! Go back!”

He sputtered, “What the hell happened? Where’s Rose?”

Olivia gasped, “Rose?”

Jesse took an old army ammo box down from his closet and blew the dust off the lid. He started pulling things out. At the bottom of the box, there was a copy of the same picture that was in Theresa’s locket. It was a picture of Jesse, Theresa, and their mother.

Eddie’s voice popped into his head, saying “Okay, so about twenty years ago, there was this woman. Let’s just say she was a dancer…”

Theresa was pacing around her kitchen when the doorbell rang. She opened the door and found the woman from the restaurant standing on her porch.

The woman said, “I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but I have to talk to you. Last night when you were asking about your mother, I got nervous. My name’s Martha Olivo. Back then, it was Gomez. Esmerlda and I were good friends, another lifetime ago. Anyway, after your father left, things got really tough for your mom.”

As Martha continued to talk, Theresa’s mind wandered back to twenty years ago. In her mind’s eye, her mother was reading something. She started to cry, as six year old Jesse and four year old Theresa ran down the hall.

Jesse gaped up at her and shyly asked, “Mom, why are you crying?”

She wiped away her tears and croaked, “I’m just so happy to see you two, that’s all.”

Theresa said, “I love you mommy,” and Esmerelda replied, “I love you too baby. I love both of you so much.”

Martha continued, “Now your mother had gotten a note from the land lord to pay the late rent or be evicted, She was on the phone while looking at the classified ads. The few that were that were there she had already crossed out. Then she saw one more at the end, it read Waitress Wanted. She worked at the club for a few weeks, and then one Friday afternoon she came by to pick up her paycheck. The club owner took her aside and asked, You want a drink? She told him no thanks, so he poured himself a drink and told her, point-blank, ‘I need you for the donkey show Saturday tonight. There are some big spenders coming to see it and they want to see someone new. Don’t worry, you’ll get your cut. More than you make in a month, serving drinks.”

“Well, your mom told him, “Absolutely not.” He was petting this dead, stuffed cat he kept on his desk.. Then pulled a gun from a drawer and said “I’m not asking.” He then looked out of the window, and saw you two kids sitting in the car. He asked your mom, “Do you know how long kittens need their mother? Just about twelve weeks. That’s it, twelve weeks.

“So your mother looked out at you and your brother sitting in the car, and…”

Martha trailed off. Theresa looked stricken. She murmured, “No. Dear God, no.”

“The night of the show that bastard drugged your mother up so much, she didn’t remember anything.”

“About a month later, she noticed that she was pregnant. She couldn’t afford another child. She could barely feed you and your brother.

“She didn’t?” Theresa asked in fright, dreading the response.

“No, she said that she would have the baby and make it work. Back then in this town for a woman it was either being a housewife and not much else. With your father gone, it was the latter for her. So she was going take you all out of here and go somewhere where she could find work and support the four of you. Theresa, she was having really horrific pains. The one Doctor here couldn’t help. He prescribed a few things, but nothing worked. She went to the only person that she thought could help, Father Delacruz.. He told her to go to to this old woman in the the woods. That she was some kind of natural healer.” Martha said, fondly remembering her friend.

Martha paused for a few seconds, trying to gather the courage to finish the story.

”And?” Theresa murmered. While clutching her hands together, blinking back her tears.

“Something went horribly wrong,” Martha whispered. “The woman took her into another room, and when she came out, she went into labor right there.. She was laying there on the floor under a blanket, and I was holding her hand. She was screaming, and convulsing. It wasn’t just normal pains., it was like a horror movie. I thought that she was gonna die right there. The old woman started smiling when the baby finally came out. When we saw the baby, your mother fainted dead away, and I had to run for the door. The old woman was holding the baby up in a blanket and laughing like a maniac. I swear to God. I don’t know what came out of her, but it wasn’t human. I was so scared. I thought that I was going to die in that house. I ran out of there so fast. I never told the police. I never even spoke about it. They would’ve put me away in an asylum. I still wake up screaming in the middle of the night sometimes. I’m so sorry, Theresa, I never saw Esmerelda again after that night.”

Theresa closed her eyes tight and breathed, “Thank you, but I need you to leave now. Okay? Just go.”

Martha nodded, tears gleaming in her eyes, and walked away.

As soon as she was gone, Theresa grabbed her keys and headed for her car. It was time to visit that old house in the woods.

There was an upside down cross in the front yard of the old house. Theresa stared at it with her lips pressed together in distaste, and then she realized she left her flashlight at home. She thought about what it was going to be like inside that decaying house in the dark, and she started to head back to the car.

“You can’t crap out,” she said out loud, and she walked slowly up to the house and opened the door. The interior of the house was full of gloom and shadow. She took a few deep breaths and went inside. She started looking around by the light of the moon. She saw a Day of the Dead altar with several little figures. A devil, a donkey, and a woman. She drew closer, and she saw a copy of the same photograph in her locket.

In this copy, however, Jesse and Theresa were both blacked out.

Theresa stared at the picture in shock. She heard something and, her breath caught in her throat, she turned around. A monsterous, figure came lurching out of the dark, and she completely,froze.

At the same time, Gina stomped up to the back door and went into the old house with a Maglite in hand. She heard a noise and immediately drew her gun. She called out, “Jesse, is that you?”

She walked into an open room and saw a window standing open. She turned around and saw Theresa standing there in a state of shock.

“Theresa, what are you doing here?” she demanded. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Theresa didn’t respond. She was staring at nothing. Gina called her name again, and then she radioed for an ambulance.

Jesse was sitting across from Father Delacruz in his office. He asked, “Remember the priest that was here before you?”

“Not really. Didn’t he have some health problems that put him in a coma?”

Jesse nodded and said, “Yeah, I went to see him in El Paso. I thought he might have some information about our mother. Theresa’s never been able to let it go.”

The priest raised an eyebrow and asked, “Can he talk?”

“A little, yeah. He remembered you. Not any help on our mother, though. Say, what do you know about that old house in the woods?”

“Not much. Just what everyone else does. Want a drink?”

Jesse shook his head and sighed, “No, I’m good. Think I might quit, actually.”

The priest asked, “Mind if I have one?” and Jesse shook his head. Father Delacruz walked over to a cabinet, opened a drawer, and took out a bottle. He poured a shot and drank it down. Then out of the same drawer with his back still to Jesse, he grabbed a pistol.

Father Delacruz turned around. and shot Jesse dead. As he was checking the Sheriff’s pulse, Edgar came running in to see what happened. Father Delacruz grabbed Jesse’s gun and shot him in the chest three times.

“My, what a mess,” Father Delacruz said softly, and he took a handkerchief out of his pocket. He wiped Jesse’s gun and put it by Jesse. After that task was completed, he turned Jesse’s chair around a little to face the man dead on the floor. He looked at his work with a critical eye, then adjusted the chair a little more to his liking.

Finally, he wiped his own gun and put it in Edgar’s hand.

Jesse’s radio crackled to life on his belt, and Gina’s voice said, “Jesse, come in. It’s me, Gina. Jesse, come in. Jesse…”

Father Delacruz turned the walkie talkie off, and then he drank another shot of liquor in the silence.

Father Delacruz was at the hospital, talking to a doctor and a nurse. Theresa lay comatose in a bed beside them.

He asked, “So when do you think she might come out of this?”

The doctor said, “There’s really no way to tell. We need to do a CAT scan, but we don’t have the equipment. Someone’s coming in from San Antonio, but in the meantime, she’s in a state of catatonic shock. It’s possible that she’s reliving the horror of what happened over and over.”

He nodded thoughtfully and asked, “Can she hear us, or blink responses?”

The doctor gave him a grave look and said, “No. She’s not cognisant in any meaningful way.”

The priest pointed at her restraints. “Then why is she wearing these?”

“If she comes out of it, there’s no telling what she might do. Try to hurt us, or herself. I don’t know, Father. I’ve seen my share of victims, but I’ve never seen fear like this.”

Theresa’s eyes were wide open, but they were focused on something that wasn’t in the room with them. The doctor motioned at her face and said, “It looks like she’s trying so hard to scream, but she can’t.”

A beep went off, and the doctor said, “Excuse me, Father. I need to check on another patient.”

The doctor and nurse walked out of the room. When they were gone, the priest leaned in and asked, “Can you hear me, Theresa?”

She just stared straight ahead. He waved his hand in front of her face and got no response. He looked over at the door, and then he leaned in even closer to Theresa. At that moment, the nurse walked back in and surprised him.

She said, “I almost forgot, I have to feed her. I’m sorry Father, visitors aren’t allowed, hospital rules.”

He shrugged and said, “Rules are rules. What kind of priest would I be if I broke the rules? Please let me know if there’s anything that I can do.”

The nurse smiled and nodded her head. He started to walk out. As the nurse was preparing the feeding tubes he looked back at Theresa. She was still staring straight ahead, unable to speak, while screaming inside.

“Goodbye, Theresa,” he said quietly, and then he was gone in a swirl of black.

Later that night, Delacruz came down to visit with the unholy thing in the basement. Chains rattled in the darkness. He started whistling cheerfully as he descended the staircase. He stopped whistling, and in the silence, there was a blur of motion in the shadows.

Maya was laying on her bed in the dark, holding a figure of a man’s body with a donkey’s head. She stared at it, and a blood-curdling scream echoed into the night.

Credit: Jay Reeves

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