But now he understood. Jeff didn’t intend for Lucas to kill himself. Hell, he hadn’t ever meant for Lucas to write a book about him at all.
I’ve taken a liking to your method . . . your ability to bring the past to life—to resurrect it, if you will.
Jeffrey hadn’t been speaking figuratively in his letter, and he hadn’t been referring to Lucas’s writing. Jeff Halcomb had known that he’d be taking his own life as soon as he knew Lucas was the right man for the job. Jeffrey needed a vessel for his own disembodied soul, and Lucas was the perfect host.
And Jeanie? How had Jeffrey known about her? Caroline had expressed her worry about Lucas noting that he lived in New York with his wife and young daughter on the biography page that appeared at the end of his books. Who knows what kind of weirdos are out there, she’d mused. But even if Jeff had known about Jeanie, how could he have been sure Lucas would bring her to Pier Pointe? How would he guarantee himself a sacrifice?
That’s what Echo was for.
Echo must have been going back and forth between Jeffrey and Lucas. Jeffrey probably suggested the box of photographs himself. It’s why she had appeared so conveniently, just in time to keep Lucas from packing up again and hitting the road. Jeff had told her to leave the cross at the front desk. Echo had never been there to help, never been there as a friend.
Dad, what if he makes you do something?
Lucas had been arrogant. Had underestimated Jeffrey Halcomb’s power.
Those people that died? They probably didn’t think they were gullible, either.
He had been desperate to believe his luck had turned. He had allowed blind faith to draw him forward, to pull him to this very place.
Fighting against Halcomb’s movements, his right arm rose over his head at half speed. A shout of defiance lodged in his throat, Jeff’s throat, as they stared down at the girl draped across their knee.
You are Lucas Graham! Lucas screamed the mantra inside his own head, desperate to shake free of Jeffrey’s hold. You can do anything!
Anything but provide for your family, Jeff reminded him.
Your failures are only failures in your mind!
And in Caroline’s mind. In your daughter’s mind.
You will only succeed if you believe you deserve it!
What you deserve is to be punished, Lou, for what you’ve put your daughter through. This is your punishment. You lose, Lucas. Only God wins in this house.
“Don’t worry,” he heard himself say. “I’ll finish your book. That’s all you really wanted out of this anyway, right?”
Jeffrey Halcomb’s word was his bond. He had promised Lucas a story, and a story Lucas would get.
“Death is the beginning of eternity,” Jeff whispered.
His arm swung down.
Lucas screamed inside himself.
The cross sank deep into the flesh of Jeanie’s abdomen. Warm blood bubbled out from between his fingers as she bucked against his knee.
Lucas wailed. Thrashed. Used up the last of his energy to break through. But rather than overcoming that strange, involuntary existence, Jeanie began to fade. The walls of the house began to shiver.
She’s becoming a ghost, he thought. She’s dying.
Death was clear. The blood that soaked Jeanie’s shirt was assurance of that. But it wasn’t she who was fading—it was Lucas’s vision that was blurring. He was the one who was disappearing. Because Jeff already had a soul. He certainly didn’t need two.
Blood poured onto the floor.
And what about the others?
Who cares about the others?
The dead, lying motionless around them, began to open their eyes as though waking from a long, lucid dream.
All of them save for two.
Echo remained where she had fallen, motionless, unbreathing, unneeded. Jeanie’s breathing continued to waver as she bled out. For the chosen one to live, some had to die.
“Death brings life,” Jeff said. Lucas tried to yell again, but he couldn’t. He was too tired. Exhausted. Heavy.
“Life brings death brings life.” A girl’s voice—Jeanie? No, it was unfamiliar, joined by another, by a third. There were eight people in total, all sitting up now, all crawling toward the center of the circle they had made. Their hands pressed into the blood that pooled beneath Jeanie’s limp and supine frame. They smeared bloody fingers across their faces and throats, tasting new life as it poured from their sacrificial lamb.
Jeffrey didn’t look away from the dying girl in his lap, but he did smile. He couldn’t help it as the sound of laughter filled the room.
Joyous. Happy.
They believed that they too were alive, just like him, able to wander beyond the walls of the house. But how does one wander without a body to do it with?
They thought everything was just as Jeff had promised.
Because they were desperate. Sad and reckless like they’d always been. Disaffected, rejected, toeing the edge of insanity with their boundless, teetering hopes. They had trusted Jeff to fix it all, to mend their broken lives.
And so had Lucas Graham.
NORTHWEST NEWS 1 TRANSCRIPT
Aired June 28, 2014 – 08:00 PST
KATARINA WELLS, NWN1 REPORTER: And finally, tragedy shakes the small coastal town of Pier Pointe, where officers and residents have been left reeling from the shock of what appears to be a murder/suicide at a home once owned by the late Washington State congressman Terrance Snow.
The late-night emergency call was placed to authorities by the home’s current renter, bestselling true-crime writer and native New Yorker Lucas Graham. The hysterical Graham reported that his home had been broken into by a neighbor, a woman who Graham claimed was a devotee of the recently deceased cult leader Jeffrey Christopher Halcomb. The home, which had been occupied by Halcomb, his group of eight devotees, and Congressman Snow’s late daughter, Audra, from 1982 through March of 1983, has a history of attracting the attention of people with alternative views.
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CLARANCE ALBERTI, PIER POINTE RESIDENT: Yeah, everyone around these parts knew about that place. Most of us would stay well away. Lots of weirdos every now and again, all because of that house.
KATARINA WELLS, NWN1 REPORTER: When officers arrived on scene, Graham’s twelve-year-old daughter, Virginia, was found dead in the living room next to a neighbor, who police identified as Eloise James. Ms. James appeared to have ingested poison, the same manner of suicide of both Jeffrey Halcomb—his death occurring earlier that day at Lambert Correctional Facility—and his parishioners, who had died in the home thirty years earlier. Officers on the scene reported that a distraught Lucas Graham was covered in his own daughter’s blood, but are confident in his story of attempting to save her life.
OFFICER EDWARD MCGIBBON, PIER POINTE PD: When the resident mentioned Jeffrey Halcomb, we immediately contacted LCF to try to add the stories up. The front desk receptionist at the prison was familiar with Mr. Graham. We have evidence that Eloise James made frequent visits to Mr. Halcomb in the past few months. We’re in the process of obtaining a search warrant for her home to follow up on Mr. Graham’s claims that she really was a Halcomb devotee. We’re not ruling anything out yet, but we’re confident that Mr. Graham’s story is corroborated by the facts.