Authors: Todd Ritter
Nick rode in Ken Olmstead’s rig, although not by choice. When Ken got word that Charlie was back in Perry Hollow, he immediately started to leave, giving Nick only enough time to grab his cane and limp into the truck with him. He left his car on the entrance ramp, where it would no doubt be hit, scratched, or otherwise impounded.
Whatever damage occurred, Nick knew it would be worth it. Because as he drove, Ken told him everything that happened on July 20, 1969.
“It was supposed to be a quiet night,” he said. “After dinner, Maggie put the baby to bed and then went to sleep herself. Her naps had become a nightly ritual.”
“Where was Charlie?” Nick asked.
“He was also napping. At least he was supposed to be. Maggie and I had already agreed to let him stay up to watch the moon landing. We knew history was going to be made that night. Instead, everything fell apart.”
According to Ken, the beginning of the end was signaled by a tentative knock on the door a little after 10:00
P.M.
Ken answered it quickly, fearful the sound would wake up everyone else. He assumed it was Mort and Ruth Clark, whose TV always seemed to be on the fritz, asking to watch the moon walk with him. But when Ken opened the door, he saw not his neighbors but a man standing on the front porch.
A man he knew.
A man he hadn’t seen in more than ten years.
“It was Craig Brewster,” Ken said. “He told me he wanted to see his son. Back when Jennifer died, he told Maggie and me that he’d never bother us. But there he was, standing at my door begging to see Charlie.”
“But why then?” Nick asked. “After all that time?”
“His father had died a few days before, and ever since then he couldn’t stop thinking that he had made a huge mistake leaving Jennifer and letting us take Charlie. He said he came to town with the intention of telling Mort and Ruth Clark everything, but he couldn’t get the nerve to actually ring their doorbell.”
Ken said he listened, patiently at first. He let Craig tell him about his job guarding juvenile offenders. About his rapport with them. About how he wanted to open a camp for them using land he had just inherited.
“He said he was a changed man. But that he was lonely. Said that there was a hole in his life that he never noticed until his dad passed away.”
“And he thought being Charlie’s dad could fill that void?” Nick asked.
“He said he didn’t want to take Charlie away from us,” Ken continued. “He just wanted to meet him and see how he had grown. The problem was that Charlie didn’t know who he was.”
The truck, which had been traveling at top speed, slowed as it started the climb up the hill they had just come down only minutes before.
“You never told Charlie about him or his real mother?” Nick said.
“We couldn’t tell anyone. Not with Charlie’s real grandparents still living across the street. Everyone, Charlie included, needed to think he was our boy. Otherwise, it would have been a disaster. The Clarks could have sued for custody. The police could have arrested us for kidnapping. We had no real right to raise him. It didn’t matter we were the only ones who had cared for him in the days after his birth. The law was the law, and what we had done was illegal.”
“How did Craig take the news?”
“Not good,” Ken said. “He kept telling me Charlie had a right to meet his real father. That he needed to know he wasn’t our son. His voice got louder. So loud I expected him to wake the whole house.”
Instead, Ken said, he only woke Charlie.
“His bedroom was located directly above us. He might not have heard every word, but he heard enough. I yanked Craig outside, telling him to keep his voice down. While we were out there, Charlie must have crept downstairs and slipped out the back door.”
“He was running away?” Nick said.
“Not quite,” Ken answered. “He had the baby with him.”
Ten minutes later, as Ken still argued on the front porch with Craig, they heard the sound of running cut through the rainy night. It was Glenn Stewart, bursting out of the darkness with Eric in his arms.
“I grabbed the baby. He was soaking wet. When I asked Glenn what happened, he told me Eric had almost drowned.”
“Drowned?” Nick replied. “In the creek?”
“I looked at Glenn and saw he was drenched, too,” Ken said. “And that’s when I knew what had happened. I knew Charlie had done it before Glenn even told me.”
“How?”
“Because he had tried it before. In May. That time it was in the bathtub. Only I thought Maggie was responsible. I blamed her for everything.”
They had reached the top of the hill and were now starting their descent. The truck groaned from the sudden acceleration, the noise almost drowning out Ken Olmstead. It didn’t help matters that Ken spoke softly, with a hollow tone to his voice. He sounded to Nick like a man who was dead inside.
“I went inside and looked in Charlie’s room, hoping that Glenn was lying and I’d find him there fast asleep. But he was gone, just as I knew he would be. So I went downstairs, grabbed a flashlight, and headed to where I thought he’d be hiding.”
“Where was that?” Nick asked.
“The bomb shelter Norm Clark had built under his backyard. Charlie loved going down there and playing. Soldier. Astronaut. Alien invader. It was like his own private hideout.”
“And was he there?”
“He was,” Ken said. “Craig went with me, and I had him hold Eric while I went down there. I found him sitting on one of the cots Mort had put down there, his legs swinging beneath him. When I shined the flashlight in his face, Charlie didn’t even flinch. I asked him if he dropped Eric into the creek. He told me yes. I told him that Eric could have drowned. Or worse, gone over the falls.”
“What did Charlie say?”
“He said, ‘I know. That’s why I did it.’”
Nick closed his eyes and clutched his stomach. The thought of a little boy—a ten-year-old, for Christ’s sake—purposely trying to kill his infant brother repulsed him. When his sister was murdered, it felt like a part of him had died with her. He couldn’t imagine someone intentionally causing such pain.
“I asked him why he did it,” Ken said. “Charlie told me it was because Maggie and I wanted to get rid of him.”
“And did you?” Nick asked.
“Of course not. I loved Charlie with all my heart. But pointing that flashlight at his blank face, I didn’t feel any of it. Instead, I felt anger and guilt and fear. Especially fear. I looked into Charlie’s eyes and I saw nothing. No remorse. No emotion at all. It felt like I was looking at a monster. He had tried to drown Eric twice. I have no idea why. I didn’t back then and I don’t now. But I knew he would try again. I was certain of it.”
According to Ken, he climbed out of the bomb shelter, leaving Charlie below. Taking the baby from Craig’s arms, he told him what Charlie had said and how he had looked. Ken admitted that he was afraid of him. It sounded absurd. A grown man terrified of his son. But Ken was deeply terrified. And he didn’t know what to do.
“I couldn’t call the police. Not after Charlie had learned that me and Maggie weren’t his real parents. They’d charge us with kidnapping and possibly take Eric away from us, too. But I couldn’t take Charlie back home and hope it never happened again. That’s when Craig said he would take him.”
“Where?”
“To live with him,” Ken replied. “He said he’d be able to whip Charlie into shape. Just like he did with the boys at the detention center. Just like he planned to do at the camp he was going to build.”
Out his window, Nick saw a sign telling them they were leaving Mercerville. It went by in a blur. They were now back within Perry Hollow’s borders.
“I didn’t like the idea,” Ken continued. “I knew Maggie would like it even less. She was fiercely devoted to Charlie, even though she often didn’t show it. I remembered how tender she had been with him in the hours after his birth, how she treated him like he was her own. She had never stopped. In her mind, Charlie
was
her son. But he wasn’t. Eric was our real son. Charlie was just a baby we had taken in out of pity. A favor for friends. Now one of those friends was offering to take him back.”
“So you accepted?” Nick said.
“It hurt to do it. It hurt so bad. But I needed to think of Eric. I needed to keep him safe. And giving Charlie to Craig seemed like the best option.”
“But you knew Maggie would try to find him if you did.”
Eyes still fixed on the road, Ken gave a little nod. “The only way she’d let Charlie go, is if she thought he was dead.”
“So you went back to the house and got Charlie’s bike?”
“I did,” Ken said. “I carried it to the bridge and tossed it into the creek. I was hoping the police would see it and assume Charlie had fallen in and gone over the falls.”
For the most part, his plan had worked. But the lack of tire tracks didn’t go unnoticed by Deputy Owen Peale, who later told Maggie Olmstead. That, in turn, set off decades of searching for a son who was never really missing in the first place.
“Once the bike was in the water,” Ken continued, “Craig climbed into the bomb shelter and introduced himself to Charlie. I took Eric back to the house. I never saw Charlie again.”
“When they were gone, that’s when you called the police?” Nick asked.
“I told them Charlie was missing. Then I woke Mort and Ruth Clark to help with the search. No one suspected a thing. At that moment, Charlie was officially gone.”
Ken sobbed. It rose from the depths of his chest and left his body in a burst of anguish. “And I killed him. I killed one of my sons to save the other.”
“You did the right thing by getting Charlie away from Eric,” Nick said. “But you should have told the police the truth.”
Because Charlie was indeed a monster. Although he was whisked away from his baby brother, he had tried to kill again. And he succeeded. With Dennis Kepner, who lived four doors down from him. With Noah Pierce, whom he most likely lured into an abandoned mill using Dennis’s toy rocket. With Dwight Halsey, his cabin mate at Camp Crescent. With Frankie Pulaski and Bucky Mason, when he lived next to the Mason family in Centralia.
Charlie Olmstead, later known as Kevin Brewster, had killed them all.
Nick looked out his window and saw the glistening expanse of Lake Squall up ahead. They’d be in town soon, speeding through the streets on the way to the cul-de-sac. He hoped it wasn’t too late.
Kat stepped onto the bridge, not knowing if it could hold all three of them. She moved cautiously, trying to see if she could get a good shot at Charlie without putting Eric at risk. It was impossible. Charlie still had him in a choke hold as he leaned against the railing. Eric struggled, using both hands in a vain attempt to pry the arm from around his neck. It did no good. Charlie was bigger and stronger. And, Kat knew, he was serious about throwing Eric into the water.
He had done it before.
Glenn Stewart saw it happen from the widow’s walk on the roof of his house. Charlie sneaking through his backyard with a wailing infant Eric in his arms. Charlie cutting through the trees on his way to the creek. Charlie standing on the bridge. Holding his baby brother over the water. Letting go and watching the splash. Glenn saw it all.
Eric would have died if his neighbor hadn’t been there. But Glenn told Kat he acted quickly. Running down the bank, he had just enough time to see Charlie scurry away. Then he was at the water’s edge, taking a deep breath and diving in.
Glenn said he then hurried to the Olmstead house after pulling Eric from the creek. Pressing the drenched infant into his father’s arms, he recounted all that he had seen. Then he went home and remained silent, even when Maggie Olmstead knocked on his door to tell him Charlie was missing. The next day, when Kat’s father and Deputy Peale came by, he lied and said he was asleep. During the news stories and search parties, he didn’t say a word. And decades after that, when the story of Charlie Olmstead passed into Perry Hollow legend, he kept quiet.
“But did you know what really happened to Charlie?” Kat had asked him.
“No,” Glenn replied. “I didn’t care. All I knew was that he was gone, and that all of us were better off because of it.”
Kat took a second step onto the bridge. It responded with an ominous groan rising from beneath her.
“Let him go, Charlie. He’s not the one you want to hurt. Not now and certainly not back then.”
“I didn’t want to do it,” Charlie said as he tightened his grip around Eric’s neck. “But I had to. They were going to get rid of me.”
“Did your father tell you that?”
“No. But I could sense it. They didn’t need me anymore. Not with Eric around.”
Kat took another step, heard another groan of the bridge.
“So you thought that if you got rid of Eric, the Olmsteads would keep you?”
Charlie peered at her from over Eric’s shoulder. His eyes were like currants, dark and emotionless. “Yes.”
Kat’s fourth step set off another round of bridge noises. It wasn’t going to hold them much longer. A few feet ahead of her was the gap she fell through on Wednesday. She remembered the feel of the surrounding boards as she slipped between them, the coldness on her foot as it hit the water.
“What about the other boys?” she asked Charlie. “Why did you kill them?”
“I didn’t plan to kill Dennis. It just happened.”
“How?”
“He had a model rocket,” Charlie said, as if that explained everything. “He showed it off at school the day
Apollo 12
landed. I wanted it. We met in the park after school and I took it.”
A quick shiver rushed up Kat’s spine as she thought of James, safe and sound in Glenn Stewart’s house. Her son had done the same thing, only over something as silly as a school lunch. She recalled Jocelyn Miller’s words:
Kids don’t understand the consequences of their actions.
“He followed me home,” Charlie continued. “He kept demanding the rocket back. We fought in the backyard. I hit him with it. Hard. I didn’t want to kill him. I just wanted him to let me keep the rocket.”
“And the others?” Kat asked. “Were they accidents?”