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Back The Hallows Save as PDF
Chapters (89)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. DEDICATION
  4. CONTENTS
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. 74
  79. 75
  80. 76
  81. 77
  82. 78
  83. 79
  84. 80
  85. 81
  86. 82
  87. 83
  88. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  89. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The bed was large. I got down and checked underneath it. There was a box about the size of a suitcase. I pulled it out. The box looked like it had been homemade from some pinewood. It had a little lock on it. I took it out into the kitchen and put it on the table. Then I searched the rest of the house for tools. In the garage, which was attached to the kitchen, I found a toolbox. I got a thick screwdriver and a hammer, then slipped the screwdriver behind the lock and hammered the top with one careful shot after another. Eventually, the lock snapped and I opened the box.

79

79

Inside the box, the first thing I noticed were the porno mags. At least ten of them. And not Playboy or Penthouse. Things like Torture Chamber and Taboo XXX. Some of the most violent BDSM I’d seen. A few of them looked foreign, and the women in them didn’t appear to be faking the pain.

I took the magazines out and searched the rest of the box.

There was a handgun with the serial number filed off. I carefully took it out and placed it on the table. Some medals from the military were in a glass casing, as was an award for valor. A couple of recognitions from the sheriff’s office and an old worn photo of a mother with a small boy. Howard. The mother looked straight ahead, no expression on her face, her hands carefully placed on the small boy’s shoulders. Howard had a steely expression on his face, no smile, and I could see the burn scars on his arms and neck, the ones he had told me he had gotten in Iraq, and I knew, somehow, that it had been his mother who had given them to him.

At the bottom of the box was a large manila envelope. I took it out and unclasped it. Inside were printed photos of a woman on glossy photographic paper, the woman bound and bloody. But not like in the pornography. These photos were gritty and had bad lighting: taken personally by an amateur.

When it hit me who the woman was, it felt like I’d been punched in the chest. I couldn’t breathe. I threw the envelope down and rushed out of the house.

80

80

I pushed open the door and Will stood there.

“It’s Howard,” I said. “He has photos of Patty in there being tortured.”

“You’re kidding.”

I shook my head and glanced around the property. “We need to find him.”

“You think he killed Patty?”

“I’d bet my life on it. You should see what else I found in his house.” I paused. “If Lyle saw two men there, the other man was Howard. I wouldn’t be surprised if Howard invented a car theft so he had an excuse not to be at the lineup.”