Coming Home (Norris Lake Series) (8 page)

The sheriff had been a tyrant for the last week, since Beth’s disappearance, and George didn’t blame him at all.  Maybe if she hadn’t been hanging out with those kids in the middle of the night, this wouldn’t have happened.  But then again Beth had always tried to gain her father’s attention by doing things that she knew he wouldn’t approve of, ever since she had been little. 

Tom had known Beth since she’d been born and couldn’t help worrying about his own daughter.  Tom’s little girl was only ten but you never knew what could happen to them as
they got older.  Both men kept walking along the shore, joined by many other volunteer deputies from nearby towns.  The sheriff had a lot of friends and had pulled in all his markers to find his little girl or the killer. 

A few boats were anchored in the cove dragging the lake for a body in case she had drowned.  The boyfriend was still the prime suspect.  He could have drowned her and then staged the whole scene about fighting with her, but all the stories that the teenagers told matched.  The deputy had to admit that the kid seemed really upset that his girlfriend was lost.  He would have had to be the greatest of actors. 

"Hey Springer, what is that out there on that log?" Moore asked as he pointed towards a tangle of logs floating a few feet from the shore. 

"I don’t know.  Let’s find out." 
Springer waded out into the water and bent down over the log, examining a red shape. 

"What did you find?" Moore asked from his position on the shore. 

"You’d better call the lab guys,” Springer answered "It looks like a piece of the white bathing suit that they said that she was wearing, and it looks like it was stained with blood." 

Moore, nodded his head, and looked at his partner, a hard line creased his forehead as he pulled out his radio.  

Michael and his friends waited impatiently in the sheriff’s office. 

“He did it!  I know he did.  He hated me for seeing her and he wanted her for himself.  That freak is responsible.  I know I saw him out here and I heard them arguing!”  Michael swore under his breath.

“But are you sure, man?” Curtis asked.  “I mean did you really see him?” 

“Who else could have done this?” Michael screamed turning to his friends.  “Swear now!  Do it now!  That freak, Stephen, did this.  Tell me that you will help make sure he pays for this! You both know he’s a freak and out of control. If he didn’t do it, then who did?”  Michael confronted them a threatening note in his voice.  Curtis and Rodney looked at each other for a moment and the decision was made. 

“You’re right, man,” Rodney said as Curtis nodded.  “He must have done it”.

“It’s settled then.  You’ll back me up with my dad,” Michael stated.

Rodney and Curtis concurred.

The papers said it was an accident and though there was an inquest, nothing was every proven and no one was charged with a crime.  Michael’s friends stood with him supporting his story that Beth had disappeared into the darkness in hysteric fit of crying. 

The Knoxville News-Sentinel picked up the story sensationalizing it for several weeks.  Reporters speculated about the reason that Stephen killed his adopted sister.  His original parentage, filled with fanatical lunatics, was pinpointed as the potential reason that Stephen could have murdered Beth. 

Stephens’s
ancestry was steeped in mystery. The townsfolk knew only that the land surrounding and beneath the town once belonged to an ancient religious group which worshipped the earth and were linked to the supernatural.  Stephen, they’d found out over the years, was linked to one of the last members of the last living settlers of this ancient religious group. 

Stephens pallid physical appearance, thought to be common among his ancestors, didn’t help his case.  It drew the media like moths to a flame.  His bizarre albino appearance received more press than the murder.  His albinism was portrayed as a supernatural occurrence rather than the inherited genes that do not make enough pigment.   He was tried and convicted in the hearts and minds of the townspeople and his friends  before the tried ended.

Sheriff Kane testified that when told Stephen of Beth’s death, Stephen cried so much that he didn’t stop for weeks, but it did no good.  The townspeople still pointed and whispered Stephen’s guilt. 

Stephen’s silvery hair, pale countenance and tall angular form made him look like a ghost. Marie and John grieved for both the loss of their daughter and for the pain felt by their son, Stephen.  Jeremy, too, became withdrawn and uncommunicative.  When asked about the evening that Beth disappeared, all he could do was hang his head and turn away.  Within weeks of his
sister’s death, Jeremy too was gone.  He disappeared in a less than shocking way, via greyhound bus, to the west.

They knew Beth had been the only person his age that Stephen knew he could count on and who was always supportive of him and always his friend.  Now she was gone. 

Stephen knew in his heart that Michael had killed Beth.  He had drowned her at the lake and now nothing would ever be the same.  He was convinced his suspicions were correct but he couldn’t prove anything.  The sister, he adored had been stolen from him.

Stephen’s family moved away from Norris and after several months, the town forgot about the incident.  But Stephen never forgot about Beth.  She was gone and somehow, he would make the Tarlington’s pay.

Chapter 4

Cat stepped through the doors of hallowed Ayers Hall which was better
known as “The Hill" and the center point of the University of Tennessee.  Ayers Hall was the main part of UT's old campus and stood overlooking the north shore of the Tennessee River. From “The Hill” you could see Neyland Stadium at its base.  Though it was built in 1872, "The Hill" was still the center stomping ground for natural sciences, mathematics, computer sciences and engineering majors.

She shook off the foggy haze that normally associated itself with her calculus class.  Nothing was better at removing the haze than walking out of that moldy old structure and into the cool crisp air outside.  It didn’t matter if it was spring, winter, fall or summer.  Anything was better than being captive inside the building facing an aging professor who droned on about a subject that she knew she would never need. 

The only reason she was taking the class was that it was a requirement for any degree program she decided to pursue.  Other than that it was pure hell on earth.  At least it was over and she didn’t have to come back for two whole days, she mused and it was her last class of the day so she was officially free for the weekend.

She rested her full bag of books on the brick wall leading up to the building and pulled out a warm diet coke.  Popping the top she took a long drink and sighed with self-indulgence.  Some of her friends thought that drinking warm diet cokes put her on the same plane as inhabitants of the Twilight Zone.  She didn’t care if the diet cokes were warm or cold, though she did prefer them cold.  She just needed the caffeine fix to get her through the hours of lectures and to give her something to do with her hands when her attention span waned.  She’d always had trouble sitting still during class lectures of more than about thirty minutes.  She filled the time with doodling, tootsie pops and diet cokes to make the event tolerable. 

The problem was that she had an above average IQ and had trouble concentrating on the mundane facts that you could learn from the book in a ten minute read.  She didn’t need to have the content of each chapter explained to her by a professor and unfortunately that was what usually happened in class.  The professor would assign a chapter for reading and then talk through the reading assignment without any value-add on his part.   

She finished the drink and tossed it into a nearby trash barrel, shouldered her backpack, walked down the side walk and across the parking lot back towards her dorm, Strong Hall.  She’d missed lunch and it was late afternoon.  She was anxious to get back, put away her books for the day and find her friends for an early dinner in the dining room that made up the first floor of her dorm.   Crowds of students joined her as they all made their way to their dorms and fraternity row.  Most of the afternoon classes were finished and on Fridays there were but few late afternoon lessons. 

Cat walked down the steps and took a right at the bottom of the hill making her way past the university center towards Cumberland Avenue.  She cut across the front of the University Center and crossed the street in front of the Law library.  Head down, she was thinking of the potential activities for that evening out with her friends at their favorite bar, Ivy’s, which was a hole-in-the-wall on the back side of the Cumberland Strip. 

It was a place only frequented by students, it’s interior small and dark with wooden booths, a room with video games in the back, a large bar as you walked through the front door and a blaring juke box next to the bar.  The jukebox played “Rocky Top” and other country songs all night long.  As the evening progressed there would be pitchers of beer and about 50+ students singing along to every song that was played.  All of her friends frequented the same little spot, as the prime location to unwind from a weary week of studies. 

She was deep in thought, following the stream of humanity down the side walk when she bumped into someone hard.  Her book bag fell off her shoulder as she sat down hard on her backside scuffing her palms on the hard cement.  Her attacker was a tall gangly young man with brown hair, brown eyes, obviously a student coming from the Law School building.  The young man stooped to pick up her book bag and pulled her back to her feet with his hand under one arm. 

“I am so sorry but I tried to step out of your way,” he said.  “We did a little dance as you were lost in thought.  I tried to side step but you ran into me anyway”. 

She wanted to be angry but he was probably right.  Sometimes, she was oblivious to her surroundings. 

“No, don’t worry. That’s okay,” she said dusting off her hands and looking at her scratched palms.  She finally took a moment to look at him and realized that she knew him from somewhere.  “I know you.  I can’t place the face with a name at the moment but I am sure of it.” 

He laughed a moment and turned to his friend saying, “That’s supposed to be a guy’s line when he’s picking up a broad”. 

She blushed and turned to go. 

“I am sorry. I was just kidding,” he apologized.  “You look familiar too but I can’t place it either.  Maybe we’ll bump into one another again and figure it out,” he said as he started to walk away. 

“Hey, I think I have seen you at Ivy’s, haven’t I?  Maybe we’ll bump into each other there,” Cat said as she joined the stream of students walking down the sidewalk.  After about 20 feet she turned to see where the young man had gone but he had disappeared into the crowd.  She walked on toward the dorms stopping in the courtyard between Strong Hall and Clement Hall, the co-ed dorm next to hers.  Sitting on a stone bench she waited for her brother who was supposed to meet her there. 

She pulled a Daily Beacon off the bench and started reading the university’s weekly student newspaper.  She’d sat there for 15 minutes, had finished the paper and was people watching when she saw her brother in the distance.  He was a year older than her and was still deciding what major to choose.  He had always been heavy on looks and superficial charm but lacked the drive and discipline it took to make good grades.  He would rather charm his teachers than do the homework and earn the grade.  It had worked in high school and a place on the varsity football team had resulted in passing grades but after he graduated from high school she was afraid he’d found that he was no longer a big fish in a little pond.  The pond had gotten a lot bigger and there were many high school superstars at the university. 

“Hey Michael.  It’s about time.  You want to get something to eat?” she said as he and his best friend Rodney walked up, like two peas in a pod. 

“No sis.  I just need to borrow your car for the weekend.  Rodney and I are going to Gatlinburg with some truly dishy babes.  We have his dad’s cabin and plan on doing some serious hot tubbing,” he laughed punching Rodney in the shoulder to emphasize the amount of fun they were going to have. 

“Okay.  You can have it,” Cat agreed as she dug her keys out of her backpack, “but it had better come back in one piece, with a full tank of gas and clean.  Don’t you two be drinking and driving or doing anything disgusting in my car or it will be the last time you get it.  Remember Dad’s already taken away your car due to your heathen activities.”

“You’re the best, Sis.” Michael grabbed the keys in case Cat changed her mind.  Just then she caught a glimpse of the young man she’d bumped into. 

“Michael.  Focus for a moment.  Do you know who that person is?” She grabbed  her brother’s shoulder and pointing towards the young man.  Michael looked in the direction of her finger, squinted his eyes and a puzzled look came over his face then recognition. 

“It looks just like that kid Stephen from home except it can’t be.  Stephen had blonde hair and those weird eyes, where that guy has dark hair; except for that though they could be twins,”  Michael watched the figure walk across the plaza toward Clement Hall. 

“He’s the guy who killed his sister, remember?” Michael continued. 

“They didn’t prove that,” Rodney acknowledged looking in the direction Cat and Michael were focused. 

“Hey Stephen Kane!” Rodney yelled at the top of his lungs.  The figure stopped and turned looking toward the small group, then turned and walked on toward the building. 

“That’s creepy.  Stay away from him, Cat.  He’s a killer,” Rodney reminded her in a hushed voice. 

“I bumped into him a little while ago and I didn’t get that impression, but then he’s your age not mine and I didn’t really know him in high school.  He’d already been sent away to reform school by then.” Cat turned back toward her brother when the figure disappeared once again. 

“Okay you two.  Have fun!” Cat yelled as Rodney and Michael ran across the plaza towards the student parking lot.  

“Be careful with my car!” 

Later that evening, Cat walked from the front of her dorm down a steep hill that was17th street and made up one end of what the students called “The Strip”.  It was a two-mile stretch of stores, fast food, restaurants and bars which cranked up every evening with beer drinking, carousing, recently-christened, adults anxious to spread their wings for the first time away from the nest. 

On the left hand side of the street was the backside of Massey Hall, an
all-female dorm filled mostly with freshmen.  She’d lived there when she first came to the University of Tennessee but quickly tired of the loud all-night partying, panty-raids in the court yard, community bathrooms at the end of the hall, and lack of air conditioning. 

She knew that inside the building there were hundreds of 40 by 40 ft. white cinderblock rooms with immovable, matching built-in accoutrements including: 2 beds, 2 dressers, 2 closets, 2 desks all atop a black linoleum floor originally installed when the building went up in the early 1970’s.  To her, the rooms looked like jail cells no matter how they were decorated. 

On the right was an all-night mini-mart with adjoining deli which now teemed with customers ordering hoagies, the deep steamed delight of ham, pastrami, and cheese.  She turned the corner down Lake Avenue past frat houses and married student apartments.  About a ½ mile later, she stopped in front of a small brown house with a red tile roof.  The sign out front said Ivy’s.  The parking lot in front of the bar was packed with cars.  The front door was surrounded by students, beer in hand in small plastic cups but guarded by a large football player turned bouncer.

He sat bulging on a three-legged stool inspecting driver’s licenses with a small flashlight.  She could hear the pounding of the juke box from the street.  “You never even knew me by my name…” poured from the door, an old David Allen Coe country song and one of the regular’s favorite tunes. 

Cat stood in line as the bouncer stamped a black OK on the inside of each entrant’s wrist who was of age. Her senses were assaulted by the smell of cigarette smoke, stale beer and the sweet odor of what could have been marijuana.   The music was even louder than before, pounding so hard that she could feel the rhythm of the song through her shoes.  “Good ole Rocky Top, Rocky Top Tennessee…,” The singer wailed loudly.  Wrist stamp in place, she entered letting her eyes adjust to the darkness.  It was so crowded she had to push her way in. 

“Hi Jo!” she said waving one hand to the owner, a bleached blonde 50-plus thin woman dressed in blue jeans and a tight white tank top.  Jo was sitting on a bar stool at the corner of the bar with a cool beer at her fingertips. 

Cat always imagined Jo was a beauty queen that couldn’t face the tirade that the passing years had waged on her and was trying desperately to pass for as one of her 20 year old customers. 

Jo and her husband, Howard, owned not only Ivy’s but several other shops on The Strip and were well set financially.  Jo lit a cigarette and continued talking to the young male bartender as she waved back. 

Cat wedged herself between people, who were mostly taller than she, and at last reached a wooden booth filled with her friends.  Four pitchers of beer sat on the table’s surface and the six occupants of the booth were playing quarters. 

Quarters is the quintessential drinking game. It involves skill, luck, dexterity, and of course beer. It’s a cheap thrill because all you need are a quarter and a cup and you are ready to go. Quarters is best played on a hard wood table. The shooter tries to bounce a quarter off the table and into a shot glass full of beer. If the quarter goes into the glass, the shooter chooses a person at the table to consume the shot.   If the shooter doesn’t bounce the quarter into the glass, their turn is over and it goes to the next shooter.  There really isn’t any goal to the game other than to get one another so drunk that all the players can’t stand up.