What adult in their right mind would believe Scott Bradfield and his friends were making zombies?
Officer Clapton made another right hand turn down Cedar Street, which ran parallel to Broad Street. He was probably going to make a right on Mill Town Road and then a left on Broad Street, which would then take them straight to Lancaster. He was finally getting some semblence of control of his thoughts and emotions when Officer Clapton spoke to him. “So can you tell me what you were doing riding around with Gordon?”
Tim shrugged. “We were just…talking. It was no big deal.”
“Two weeks ago you accused Gordon of the crime you’re under investigation for. You so much as implicated him by telling us you’d loaned him the book that was found at the cemetery. Why would you hang out with the guy you tried to throw under the bus, Tim?”
“I don’t know,” Tim said, not knowing what else to say.
“You can tell me the truth,” Officer Clapton said. Tim caught his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Gordon’s not around to intimidate you. I know what these guys have done to you throughout the years, and I know Gordon is tight with Scott Bradfield and his crew. The dean of your school is adamant you had something to do with not only that cemetery desecration, but the vandalism at the school, and he’s the main cheerleader for the investigation. I’ve always been on your side, though.”
“Have you?” Tim asked.
“Of course.” Officer Clapton made eye contact with Tim from the rearview mirror. “I always have been. I know what you’re going through is the result of religious persecution. Scott and his friends have managed to convince the entire student body of Spring Valley High that you’re some kind of devil-worshiper, and in doing so they’ve managed to paint not only a horrible picture of you, but an untrue one. I have to admit I was disappointed when that book was found at the Reamstown Cemetery. A book which not only had your name on it, but which you readily admitted owning. I really thought you were involved in the cemetery vandalism. Evidence pointed right to you despite your denial. Gordon has an alibi for that night and I know your folks claimed you were at home, but we were required to follow up. Do you understand me, Tim?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re a good kid, Tim. The principal at Spring Valley High reports no trouble from you despite the accusations against you. You get good grades. Your parents are good people. You aren’t the first kid whose been picked on and harassed by the social elite of a small community. I’ve been in touch with other law enforcement officials in other cities where similar events have happened. We’re consulting with one right now in Colorado where a high school girl suffered what you’re going through. Her parents sued the school district and the city. Received a tidy sum, too. I’d be lying if I told you I’m trying to avoid a similar action from your parents, but I also want to see justice done. I’ve been working at protecting you and keeping you out of trouble as much as the law allows me, but I can’t do my job unless you help me.” Officer Clapton made eye contact with him again. “Please, Tim. Be honest with me. What were you and Gordon really doing driving around so late for?”
Tim sighed, the urge to tell the truth so strong that he almost told Officer Clapton everything. Once again Chelsea came into his mind. The memory of her caress, her kiss, and then something worse. Chelsea lying dead on the floor of that guesthouse, those dead things crowding around her, their rotting teeth buried in the smooth flesh of her throat —
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Tim blurted.
“How will you know if you don’t come clean with me?”
Tim said nothing as Officer Clapton drove down 501 toward Lancaster. When they approached the train station, Officer Clapton said, “I think Gordon broke into that cemetery and desecrated that grave to pin it on you. I think he’s blackmailing you. Why, I haven’t quite figured out yet, but — ”
“You think I can trust you now?” Tim said, the words tumbling out suddenly as his frustration bubbled to the surface. “Nobody believes me anyway, not the dean of the school, not most of the police force, not the majority of the whole goddamn township!”
“I believe you,” Officer Clapton said.
“The whole town is out to get me!” Tim said, looking at Officer Clapton. “Don’t you get it? They’re not going to care if you believe me. Your boss probably thinks I’m guilty.”
“That’s not true. Chief Landon and I have talked quite extensively about you and your situation.”
“What good is talk if you don’t do anything about it?”
“Certain procedures have to be kept. We can’t just rush in and arrest Gordon on suspicion of — ”
“But it’s okay to arrest me because some nitwit thinks I might be casting spells in the woods? Are you kidding me?”
“We have to follow procedure, Tim. When a criminal accusation is levied against a citizen we’re required to investigate. We’re compelled to be impartial and — ”
“Bullshit,” Tim muttered, his anger coursing through him. He flopped back in the seat, frustrated this was happening and unable to control his emotions. “The history speaks for itself. Scott and his friends have ruined my life and have convinced damn near everybody in Spring Valley that if a goddamn cat so much as gets mauled by a coyote, they blame me for sacrificing it to the devil. You know how many times I’ve been investigated on such bullshit claims?”
“I understand your frustration,” Officer Clapton began.
“I don’t think you do.”
Officer Clapton sighed. They were in downtown Lancaster now, heading south on Prince Street. Tim had no idea where Brendan Hall was but he figured they had to be close. “I believe Gordon dug up that grave and stole the bones of that corpse. I think he did it to frame you. I don’t know why. Only you can answer that question, Tim.”
Tim shook his head. Officer Clapton slowed down and pulled into a parking lot. A large building stood before them and Tim felt himself tense up again. They were at Brendan Hall.
Tim felt on edge. Despite wanting to confide in Officer Clapton, despite knowing that the opportunity to do so was presenting itself to him at this very moment, he was still scared for Chelsea and his family. If past events were indications of how things would turn out, the truth would be met with skepticism by most of those in authority. Gordon and his friends would deny everything and the Bradfield’s family clout would delay the search of the guesthouse, giving Gordon and Scott plenty of time to dispose of the corpses. Even with such advance crime investigation techniques like blood spatter and DNA, by the time that was gathered and a case was built against them, they’d be free to strike back. They could snag Chelsea at any time, Scott’s dad could essentially crush Tim’s parents with a lawsuit and there was no way they could afford an attorney competent enough to go up against the kind of money the Bradfield’s had at their disposal. They’d be ruined.
“We weren’t doing anything,” Tim finally said, the confession sounding false to him. “We were just talking. Trying to sort things out.”
Officer Clapton parked near the entrance and turned off the engine. He regarded Tim from the front seat. “Okay,” he said. “If that’s what you say happened, fine.”