I Am Chosen

By MickyNeilson

2.3K 379 244

Following a tragic incident in L.A., detective Kacey Dean has returned to her hometown of Pleasant Hills, Was... More

Therapy
Chosen
Unearthed
The Traveler That Walks Unseen
Considering the Impossible
Red Asphalt
Unwelcome Guest
The Darkness of Man's Heart
Lowering the Boom
The Vagrant
Reckoning
Diorama
A Tale of Two Estates
Jackpot
Disappearing Act
Severed
"Crazy idea, but it just might work"
Catalyst
Model 1920
Visitors
Double Jeopardy
The Stone
The Beast That Dreams
Haley Manor
Return to Shady Acres
The Waking Sleep
Sledgehammer
Guillotine
White Agony
Bulls-eye
Trespass
Descent
Wreck Room
Collecting People
Rot and Ruin
The Thing
Meltdown
Singularity of Purpose
Synchronicity
Black Chorus
Twilight
Tremors
Not Enough
The Abyss
Epilogue

The Man Cave

80 11 8
By MickyNeilson

Kacey and Hollis sat at a corner table, waiting for their lunch. They hadn't discussed the case on the ride from Shady Acres, resorting instead to arguing about where to eat. They had eventually settled on the Red Hook.

A four-year-old boy went running past them to the back door, then turned around and went to the table behind Hollis, standing and watching the diners seated there.

While the old man sipped his black coffee, Kacey checked email on her phone. She then pulled up Facebook, where her friend Gloria from L.A. had posted a video of her child's one-year birthday.

"Idiot boxes used to be confined to the living room," Hollis said. "Now you can take 'em anywhere. Did you ever think that maybe not everyone in the diner wants to listen to your little video there?" Hollis asked. "Not to mention the fact, detective, that if someone wants you dead, you're a lot easier to kill while your head's buried in that thing."

Kacey lowered the phone. The video was over anyway. "First off, I sat in a corner near the rear exit, facing the front door so I can see everyone walk in. I had the phone up, like this," she demonstrated, lifting the phone to just below eye level. "So I can keep an eye on the door and the phone at the same time. Secondly, I'm really, really sorry if my phone distracted these fine patrons from the annoying little curtain climber who's been running around unsupervised, staring at people while they're trying to eat."

As if to punctuate this, the four-year-old child in question scampered over to their table, looking back and forth between Hollis and Kacey, chewing on his fingers. Kacey leaned over. "Hey, it's time to play a game called 'go find Mommy!'" The child frowned, looked at both of them and trotted off.

The waitress came and dropped off their sandwiches. Kacey laid her phone on the table. Hollis tucked his napkin into his collar to make a bib, took a bite of his grilled cheese, swallowed and said "You haven't said word one about what you plan to do next. So what, you got the case all figured out and you're just waiting for everyone to catch up?"

While pouring a gloppy mound of ketchup onto her fries, Kacey said "No, Barnaby Jones, I don't have it all figured out. Not yet."

"So... what are next steps? Enlighten me."

"We didn't find any footprints in the dirt... last night's rain probably took care of that, but the lab'll do soil analysis and who knows? Maybe they'll find a hair or clothing fiber. Beyond that, I'll search for any similar cases of body snatchings. And then I'm going to use this new thing called social media... see if anyone's been chatting about digging up Crowe or defiling his grave."

But what if Crowe wasn't dug up? What if it was just as it had appeared, that he had somehow made it out of that grave on his own?

Then I'll get myself fitted for a straitjacket.

Hollis hadn't mentioned anything about the appearance of Declan Crowe exhuming himself. She wondered why-maybe he was questioning his sanity too.

"Running searches and browsing social media won't get the job done. What will get the job done is real detective work."

Just as Kacey took a massive bite of her burger, the kid came back, standing there, staring at her. Again.

Kacey leaned over and opened wide, revealing her chewed-up mouthful. The kid giggled and ran off.

"What all did Declan's assistant, Rhonda, say when you followed up with her?" Hollis asked.

"She didn't return my calls. A few days later I got the camera footage from the coffee shop, then that whole thing with Declan went down... after I shot him the internal investigation started."

"So you never followed up?"

"Yeah. I never followed up, because... reasons. Like I just said."

Hollis dabbed his mouth with his napkin-bib. "Declan wasn't married. He slept around but had no long-term relationships, his parents were dead... stands to reason that the person who knew him best was probably his assistant. If you want to find out who might have had a motive to steal his body... I'd start there."

Kacey hated to admit it (and there was no way she would admit it, not out loud) but the old goat had a point.


Rhonda White's home was a quaint Victorian set at the end of Dunwich Street in the Pleasant Hills suburbs. The woman herself was in her late thirties, on the pudgy side with dark, curly hair and pale skin.

After introducing themselves, Kacey and Hollis followed Rhonda into a sitting room where they settled into a small couch facing a table and padded chair. To their left a massive bay window offered a view of the street and overcast sky outside. Rhonda had asked if they wanted coffee; Kacey had accepted, Hollis had declined.

Rhonda brought a tray with two mugs, and that was when Kacey noticed her deformity- her left hand was bent severely at the wrist, her pointer finger drawn up, bent at the first knuckle, the other fingers curled under, almost claw-like. Arthritis, maybe? She held the tray with her right hand, with the left side of the tray sitting atop her abnormal left hand. Setting the tray down, she handed Kacey one cup and, taking the other for herself, sat in the chair. Her face held no expression as she waited.

"Are you sure you don't want any coffee?" she asked Hollis.

"I'm sure ma'am, thank you."

"I didn't have a chance to follow up with you after that tip you phoned in," Kacey began.

A fly buzzed around Kacey's head and then landed on the tray. Kacey hated flies. She had hated them before L.A., but since then...

"What can you tell us about any enemies Declan might have had?" Hollis asked.

"Milestone did a great deal of business. Created jobs... Declan did a lot of good for the community," Rhonda said evenly.

Declan may have been liked, but his company, Milestone, had its hand in all sorts of pies. That was bound to ruffle some feathers.

"What about rivals, competition?" Hollis asked.

"To my knowledge Mister Crowe was respected, even by his competitors."

"And what about his friends? Who were his closest friends?" Kacey enquired.

Who might want to get revenge on me for shooting him?

"Despite his good standing, he didn't have many," Rhonda answered. The fly on the tray swooped up, looped around and landed on Rhonda's cheek. The woman seemed not to notice. "Especially in the last few months. He withdrew... there were rumblings, the board of directors weren't happy because all he cared about were the coal mines."

Kacey didn't know much about the history of Pleasant Hills, but she did know that back in the 1800s, when the town was first established, a series of coal mines were dug beneath it, expanding out in all directions. In the ensuing years, the city grew over top of the tunnels. It was why every once in a while a sink hole would open up and swallow a house or car.

"What made you finger him as a suspect?" Hollis asked. Rhonda was quiet. Another fly drifted lazily into the room and landed on the couch arm right next to Kacey. She shooed it away.

The fly on Rhonda wandered up her cheek, then across her nose to the other side. "He was behaving strangely..." Rhonda said finally. "And I knew, knew that he had talked to some of those people who did those terrible things... invited them into his office..." Rhonda's speech had slowed. She fell quiet. Kacey and Hollis waited for her to continue.

"You were saying?" Hollis prompted.

Rhonda's voice was flat as she said "Are you sure you don't want any coffee?"

Hollis and Kacey shared a look.

"Do you mind if I refill my cup?" Kacey asked.

"Of course," Rhonda replied.

Kacey looked over to Hollis, who nodded slightly. She got up, taking her cup with her, and walked through a dining area to the small kitchen. There were a few more flies in here, buzzing around the sink and the windows that looked out on the rear of the property. There was a door next to the fridge, directly across from where Kacey was standing. As she watched, a fly crawled under the door from the other side into the kitchen.

Quickly placing her cup on the kitchen counter, Kacey withdrew her service weapon, crept to the door and opened it...

Revealing a long, dim hallway. Here, more flies buzzed noisily. Kacey waved them away from her face and stopped, taking a moment to calm herself. She tried not to think of L.A., of the gallery... then as she drew in a deep breath, an all-too familiar smell crept into her nasal passages:

Decomp.

Unwelcome memories threatened to come flooding back but Kacey pushed them away.

You can do this.

Eyes watering, Kacey forced herself to continue down the hall toward a closed door. A couple flies crawled into the hall from underneath. Kacey reached out and turned the knob with her left hand, gun held at shoulder height in her right.

The space beyond was dark, with a faint bluish tint. Stairs led down into the neon gloom. A small cloud of flies blew past as Kacey stepped lightly onto the concrete steps, descending to a single turn and then... to a large room. All the while Kacey fought against retching in reaction to the nauseous stench.

There was a couch facing an old big screen TV. Flies crawled over its blue screen, which washed everything around in a hazy aqua glow. Next to the couch was a small table with a few beer cans. Near the foot of the stairs was a small pool table. On the walls Kacey could barely make out a dart board, pictures of old cars and 80s action movie posters-Desperado, Terminator, Commando. Further against the back wall was a shelf lined with DVDs.

This was a man cave.

Moving carefully around the pool table, Kacey angled for a look at the couch. A male figure was slumped there, shirtless, head resting back, arms slack at his sides, a beer can in his left hand. Much of the outer layer of his skin was simply gone. The underlying tissue and muscle was dark in many places. Flies busied themselves around the rotting remains, but most especially around the man's eyes, which were now just ragged holes.

Projecting from these orifices were objects which Kacey couldn't identify at first. As she pulled near, however, it became clear...

They were the handles of steak knives.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yes, I actually own that Desperado poster. Loved the movie. Hope you enjoyed the latest chapter of I Am Chosen. Next one's up in one week! If you're diggin' it, remember to vote! Thank you!!!

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