The Weight of Secrets

The Weight of Secrets
Chief Kellerman's POV (Alive)

The phone rings at 6:47 AM, and I already know what the call will be about before I answer it.
"Chief Kellerman, this is Detective Rivera. I found a body on the beach. Teenage boy, looks like foul play."
My hands start shaking. Not because I'm shocked, but because I've been waiting for this call for three weeks.
Ever since Eleanor told me Marcus Thorne was asking too many questions about his friend Jake's death.
"I'll be right there," I tell Rivera, trying to keep my voice steady.
I hang up and stare at myself in the hallway mirror. Fifty-two years old, gray hair, bloodshot eyes from another sleepless night. When did I become this person? When did I start expecting phone calls about dead children?
I know exactly when. Fifteen years ago, when they killed my daughter Sarah.
I drive to the beach with my stomach in knots. Another kid is gone. Another family will get the terrible news that their child had a "accident." Another lie I'll have to tell with a straight face.
Rivera is standing next to Marcus's body when I arrive. She looks pale but determined. Like she actually thinks she can do something about what happened to him.
I remember feeling that way once.
"What do you think happened?" Rivera asks, looking at the cuts on Marcus's chest.
I force myself to look at the marks carved into his skin. The same marks that were cut into Sarah's body fifteen years ago. The same ones that have been cut into every sacrifice since then.
"Rocks can do strange damage when you fall from the cliffs," I lie. "Especially during high tide."
Rivera looks at me like I'm crazy. "Those are ritual markings. Someone murdered this boy."
"You're not a cop anymore, Rivera. You're a private investigator working insurance cases. This is police business."
"A child is dead! Doesn't that matter to you?"
Of course it matters. It means so much that I haven't had a full night's sleep in fifteen years. It matters so much that I drink myself asleep most nights just to stop seeing their faces.
But what Rivera doesn't understand is that fighting Eleanor Blackwood is like fighting the ocean. You might win a fight or two, but the tide always comes back stronger.
I learned that lesson when I tried to save Sarah.
I was new to being Chief of Police then, full of ideas about justice and protecting people. When they brought me Sarah's body with those horrible cuts, I started a real probe. I collected proof. I questioned witnesses. I was going to solve my daughter's death and put the killers in prison.
Eleanor visited me three days later.
"Patricia," she said, sitting in my office like we were old friends. "I'm so sorry for your loss. Sarah was such a bright girl."
"Thank you. I'm going to find whoever did this to her."
Eleanor smiled that cold smile of hers. "Oh, my dear. You don't understand. Sarah wasn't murdered. She was chosen."
"Chosen for what?"
"To keep this town safe. To keep our families prosperous. To maintain the balance that's protected Tidewaters for over a century."
I laughed in her face. "You're insane."
"Am I? Look around you, Patricia. While other small towns are dying, Tidewaters thrives. Our unemployment rate is near zero. Our crime rate is almost nothing. Our children grow up healthy and safe."
"Except for the ones you murder."
"We sacrifice a few to save many. It's basic mathematics."
Eleanor stood up and walked to my window. "Your investigation ends today, Patricia. You'll rule Sarah's death an accidental drowning, and you'll do the same for every child we choose in the future."
"And if I refuse?"
Eleanor turned back to me with dead eyes. "Then more children die. Not just our carefully chosen sacrifices, but random children. Many more children. The thing we feed gets hungry when it doesn't get what it expects."
"You're bluffing."
"Am I? Tell me, Patricia, how many other children do you have?"
My blood went cold. "What?"
"Your son Michael. Twelve years old, walks to school every morning down Elm Street. And your nephew Tommy, staying with you this summer while his parents work."
Eleanor knew things she couldn't possibly know. Private family things.
"If you continue this investigation, they'll be next. Not as clean sacrifices, but as punishment. Messy, painful deaths that will look like random accidents."
I wanted to fight her. I wanted to arrest her and everyone helping her. But when I looked into Eleanor's eyes, I saw something alien looking back at me.
Something that would absolutely kill more children if I didn't follow.
So I changed Sarah's death certificate to "accidental drowning." I closed the probe. I let my daughter's killers go free.
And I've been living with that choice every day since.
Now I'm standing over Marcus Thorne's body, making the same decision again.
"Go home, Rivera," I tell her. "Forget about this."
"I can't do that."
"Then you're going to end up like Marcus. And it won't be quick or clean."
Rivera studies my face. "You know who killed him, don't you?"
"I know that asking questions about dead kids in this town is dangerous. Take the hint."
I call my officers over to take Marcus's body. Rivera watches us load him into the van, and I can see her making mental notes about everything.
She's going to check anyway. Just like I did fifteen years ago.
Which means Eleanor will make her the same deal she made me: cooperate or watch more children die.
The question is, will Rivera be smart enough to take the deal?
Or stubborn enough to get herself killed?
Back at the station, I pour three fingers of whiskey into my coffee mug. It's not even 8 AM, but I need something to steady my jitters.
My desk phone rings.
"Patricia, this is Eleanor. We need to talk."
"About what?"
"About Detective Rivera. She's going to be a problem."
"She'll learn to mind her own business, just like everyone else."
"I don't think so. There's something different about her. Something that makes her dangerous to our way of life."
I close my eyes. "What do you want me to do?"
"Nothing yet. But be ready. If Rivera keeps pushing, we may need to add her to our list."
"Eleanor, she just got here. People will ask questions if another newcomer dies accidentally."
"Let me worry about that. You just focus on doing your job."
Eleanor hangs up, leaving me alone with my guilt and my whiskey.
I think about Rivera, standing over Marcus's body with fire in her eyes. She reminds me of myself fifteen years ago, before Eleanor broke me.
Maybe Rivera will be smarter than I was. Maybe she'll take the advice and leave town.
But something tells me she won't.
My office door opens, and Officer Bradley walks in. He's one of Eleanor's people, placed in my area to watch me.
"Chief, we have a situation."
"What now?"
"Dr. Carver is missing. His house is empty, and his car's gone."
My stomach drops. "When did you last see him?"
"Yesterday afternoon. But here's the weird part." Bradley sets a bloody knife on my desk. "We found this in his kitchen sink. Fresh blood, but no sign of a struggle."
I look at the scalpel. Dr. Carver has been Eleanor's partner in covering up killings for fifteen years. Why would he suddenly disappear?
Unless he finally got a conscience.
"Chief," Bradley continues, "there's something else. Dr. Carver's nephew was supposed to visit next week. Eight-year-old boy from San Francisco. But when we called the boy's mother, she said he never arrived."
"What do you mean?"
"The kid's missing. Has been for two days. The mother thought he was already here with Dr. Carver."
My hands start shaking again. An eight-year-old boy lost. Dr. Carver disappeared. A bloody knife.
Eleanor is going faster than usual. Something has her scared.
"Bradley, put out an APB on Dr. Carver's car. And call the FBI about the missing child."
"Eleanor said not to involve outside agencies."
"I don't care what Eleanor said. A child is missing."
Bradley looks at me with cold eyes. "Are you sure about that, Chief? Remember what happened the last time you tried to go against Eleanor's wishes."
He's talking about Sarah. About how I failed to save my own daughter.
But something inside me snaps. Maybe it's seeing Marcus's body this morning. Maybe it's thinking about another eight-year-old boy in trouble.
Maybe I'm just tired of being a wimp.
"Get out of my office, Bradley. And if you report this conversation to Eleanor, I'll make sure everyone in town knows you helped cover up child murders."
Bradley's face goes pale. He backs toward the door.
"You're making a mistake, Chief."
"The mistake was letting this go on for fifteen years."
After Bradley goes, I lock my office door and pull out my personal cell phone. The one Eleanor doesn't know about.
I dial a number I memorized years ago but never had the guts to call.
"FBI Child Abduction Task Force, this is Agent Martinez."
"This is Chief Patricia Kellerman in Tidewaters, California. I need to report a pattern of child murders going back fifteen years."
"Chief Kellerman, can you repeat that?"
"Fifteen children have been murdered in my town, and I've been helping cover it up. But there's an eight-year-old boy missing right now, and I think I know where to find him."
There's silence on the other end of the call.
"Chief, are you saying you've been an accessory to multiple child murders?"
"Yes. And I'm ready to confess to everything if you can help me save this one boy."
"We can have agents there in four hours."
"Make it two hours. I don't think Tommy Carver has much time left."
I hang up and lean back in my chair. For the first time in fifteen years, I feel like I might be able to sleep tonight.
Assuming I live that long.
My office door bursts inward. Eleanor Blackwood walks in with six men in dark coats, all holding guns.
But Eleanor doesn't look like a sweet old grandmother anymore. Her eyes are completely black, and her face has a gray tint like she's been dead for days.
"Hello, Patricia," she says in a voice that doesn't sound human. "Having second thoughts about our arrangement?"
I reach for my gun, but one of Eleanor's men is faster. Pain bursts through my chest as the bullet hits me.
I fall backward in my chair, blood soaking through my clothing.
"You called the FBI," Eleanor says, walking around my desk. "That was very foolish."
"They'll be here soon. You can't stop them."
Eleanor laughs, and the sound makes my teeth hurt. "Oh, Patricia. You have no idea what I really am, do you?"
She leans down close to my face, and I can smell death on her breath.
"I'm not Eleanor Blackwood. I haven't been Eleanor Blackwood for three days."
"What?"
"I'm something much older. Something that's been sleeping in this town until a certain detective's arrival woke me up."
My vision is getting blurry from blood loss, but I force myself to focus. "What are you talking about?"
"The thing you people call Eleanor Blackwood died three days ago, just like Dr. Carver and Detective Rivera and that boy Marcus. I've been wearing her body like a costume."
"That's impossible."
"Is it? How else do you think a seventy-eight-year-old woman could kidnap a child from San Francisco and transport him here in one night?"
The thing wearing Eleanor's face smiles with too many teeth.
"Your FBI friends are coming to rescue little Tommy Carver. But when they get here, I'll be wearing one of their faces. And then I'll be wearing all of their faces."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you're going to help me. Your dying testimony about Detective Rivera being the real killer will be very convincing."
"I won't do it."
The shadow walker reaches into my chest wound with Eleanor's fingers. Pain shoots through me like lightning.
"Oh, but you will, Patricia. Because if you don't, I'll possess your son Michael next. And then your nephew Tommy. And then every child in this town."
Black spots dance across my view. I'm dying, but the thing won't let me go asleep.
"Choose quickly," the shadow walker says. "Lie for me, or watch me wear your family like clothes."
Outside, I hear sirens getting closer.
The FBI is almost here.
But they have no idea they're going into a trap that will let an ancient evil spread beyond Tidewaters forever.