Evil Agreement (17 page)

Kelley was desperate. She remembered her brother’s admonition
to not have any contact with her boyfriend, Paul
Lacosse
.
She had to speak with someone before she went completely mad. She decided in
her well-worn state of mind to contact Paul.

Kelley announced to her mother, “Mom I’ve run out of my
shampoo. I’m going to go down to the grocery store and pick some up. I’ll be
back in a few minutes.”

Kelley was half way out of the front door when her mother
called out to her.

“Kelley, you can use some of mine dear.”

“Oh, Mom,” protested Kelley.

“All right then. But be back in half an hour. I’ll need some
help changing the bed sheets. I want to put fresh linen on the beds today and
rotate the mattresses.”

“Okay, I’ll be back in half an hour.”

With that Kelley sprang from the doorway and bounded down the
front porch. She sprinted around the side of the house and headed into the
garage and pulled out her bicycle. She hadn’t used it since last summer. She
was at an age where she had become too old for a bicycle and yet too young to
drive a car. She was in luck. The bicycle’s tires still held a respectful amount
of air pressure. She quickly hopped on and pedaled for all she was worth.

In less than five minutes, she had reached the grocery store.
It was an independent store set in the middle of a small plaza. On one side was
a hardware store, and on the other side was a branch bank. The only other
storefront in the plaza was vacant. Kelley leaned her bicycle up against the
brick wall outside the grocery store next to the pay phone. Kelley fished in
her pant pockets and quickly removed a handful of small change. She selected a
quarter. Kelley picked up the receiver and deposited the coin. She quickly
pounded out Paul’s telephone number from memory. It began to ring.

“Please be home, Please...,” she whispered to herself.

Halfway into the sixth ring there was a click on the line.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Mrs.
Lacosse
.”

“Yes.”

“May I speak with Paul?”

“Who’s calling?”

For a moment, Kelley thought of giving a fake name. However
she was fairly sure Mrs.
Lacosse
recognized her voice
and so giving a fake name would only arouse suspicion.

“It’s Kelley...Kelley Porter.”

“I see, well Kelley, he’s outside mowing the lawn right now.
Can he call you back?”

“Uh...no, not really, I mean, I really need to talk to him.
I’m not at home right now...I’m uh, baby-sitting and I don’t want the phone to
ring and wake the baby.”

Kelley knew her excuse was lame, but it the best she could
come up with on the spur of the moment. She crossed her fingers.

“Well, I suppose it would be all right. He could use a break.
I’ll go and get him, just hold on...”

Kelley held the receiver to her left ear. As she waited for
her boyfriend, she turned and scanned the plaza’s parking lot. Everything
seemed normal.

“Kelley, say Kelley, is that you?” said a slightly out of
breath Paul
Lacosse
.

“Yes, Paul.”

“How are you doing?”

“Fine, I guess.” She couldn’t find the right words.

“I haven’t heard from you for a while. I was kind of thinking
that maybe you had ...maybe you know, found someone else.”

“Oh, Paul, I’m so sorry. I just haven’t been able to get away
to call you. I have to be careful. Paul, I need your help. I need to talk to
you, in person. Do you think you can get away tonight and meet me somewhere?”

“Sure!”

“Good, how about meeting behind the town library, say around
eleven o’clock
.”

“Okay. Can you tell me what it’s about?”

“Not now, Paul, but I promise I’ll tell you everything when
we meet tonight.”

“All right, see you then, bye.”

“Sure, bye.”

Kelley hung up the phone, turned around and bumped into Mrs.
Lawless.

“Oh, excuse me…I didn’t see,” said Kelley. Her words hung in
the air as she recognized whom she had bumped into. As a fellow member of her
brother’s coven, Mrs. Lawless was someone Kelley knew and feared. Each and
every member of the coven would be aligned with her brother.

“Well, Miss Porter, what brings you to the plaza today?” she
asked in a tone of voice that suggested power and dripped with intimidation.

Kelley wasn’t sure if Mrs. Lawless had heard any part of her
conversation with Paul.

“I have to get some shampoo. I, um, called home to see if my
mom needed anything for supper while I was here.”

Kelley hoped Mrs. Lawless hadn’t heard her telephone
conversation with Paul. If she had, her lying now would just compound the
trouble she was in. If she hadn’t, maybe this little lie would allow Kelley to
slip away.

“I see. Well, Miss Porter, it’s Kelley isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Kelley Porter!” she said with
a touch of sarcasm.

“Well, I’ve got to go. It was nice meeting you, too,” said
Kelley as she ducked around Mrs. Lawless and headed into the grocery store.

Once inside the store, Kelley looked out the large windows at
the front of the store. She noticed Mrs. Lawless was still standing on the
walkway in front of the store. She was facing the window and speaking on a cell
phone while she seemed to be looking inside the store. The store’s front
windows were heavily tinted, still Kelley felt as if Mrs. Lawless was looking
right at her.

Kelley turned away from the windows and headed over to the
cosmetics and sundries aisle, looking for shampoo. She glanced over her
shoulder back towards the front windows before she turned down the aisle. Mrs.
Lawless was gone.
 

Not everyone in Sutton was a member of the church. The people
of Sutton mingled everyday. One half of the community had no idea their
co-workers, spouses, neighbors or friends were devil worshippers. It had always
been that way. The devil worshippers needed Sutton to appear as normal as
possible. They didn’t tolerate intruders—they called them “interlopers.” While
they accepted living amongst non-believers, they had to be constantly on their
guard to not reveal who or what they were. The secret has been well kept for
over a hundred years.

Occasionally, the non-believers treaded on dangerous ground.

Samuel Porter was shooting baskets alone in his driveway. He
was still a young boy and knew he needed to keep up that appearance for the
benefit of the non-believers. He could hear the sound of someone running in his
direction even before he turned around. He tossed the basketball up towards the
rim, which was fifteen feet away. The ball hit the front of the rim and skipped
straight up in the air over the rim. He stared intensely at the ball and with
his mind he nudged it forward. The ball came back down straight thought the
net.

Nice,
thought Samuel.

“Sammy, Sammy, help me!”

Samuel Porter turned around and spotted young Bobby Warfield
running towards him. Bobby Warfield was ten years old and a nearby neighbor. He
lived down the street, only three houses away. He was an only child, small for
his age, and wore wire rimmed glasses. His family belonged to Samuel’s Church.

“What’s wrong, Bobby?”

Bobby stopped in front of Samuel. He had a couple of cuts and
scraps on his face. He wasn’t wearing his glasses. He had a streak of blood
running down his nose. He was crying.

“Those
Dulac
brothers beat me up
and stole my new bicycle,” he said through a series of sniffles. He held his
hand out and showed Samuel his broken glasses.

“They broke my glasses, too.”

“You’ll be okay.”

“But...”

Putting his hand on Bobby’s shoulder, he said, “Come with
me.”

The two of them walked down the street towards the
Dulac’s
house. Bobby Warfield walked a half-step behind.
The
Dulac
boys were fourteen and fifteen years old.
The oldest was Tim. He had stayed back three times in grammar school. He would
be returning to the seventh grade next fall. His younger brother was named
Kenny, and like Tim, he, too, had a penchant for pausing in his educational
advancement. This coming fall, he was going back to the fifth grade. Their
father had visited the State Mental Hospital in Waterbury on several occasions.
He was also an alcoholic. The
Dulac
boy’s mother had
died eight years ago.

The
Dulac
boys were just your basic
bullies.

Samuel stopped at the entrance to the
Dulac
driveway. Bobby stopped too and stood next to Samuel.

“What are you going to do?”

“Me, I’m going to do nothing.”

“But why did we come here?”

“To get your bike back.”

“They
ain’t
going to give it back
without a fight, that’s for sure.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.”

“Huh?”

“Hey Porter, who’s that with you, your fag friend?” shouted
Kenny
Dulac
. He was standing at the opposite end of
the driveway in front of the ramshackle old garage with his hands defiantly set
on his hips.

“Say, Tim, look who’s here. It’s that hot shit Sammy Porter
and he’s brought along that puke, Bobby.”

From out of the garage’s darkness stepped Timmy. He wiped his
hands on an old rag and then tossed it back inside the garage.

Timmy stood there staring at Samuel and Bobby.
 

Samuel started down the driveway with Bobby keeping a safer
distance, at least four steps behind.

Seeing Samuel coming towards him, Timmy pulled a screwdriver
from his back pocket. He tossed it up into the air much like someone juggling a
knife. It slapped back into his hand.

Samuel stopped about five feet away and looked from one boy
to the other.

“Give him back his bicycle, now!” demanded Samuel.

“What bicycle?” sneered Kenny.

“Yeah, what bicycle?” joined Timmy.

“Timmy, that little snot-faced Bobby has been spreading lies
about us,” said Kenny looking at an obviously nervous Bobby.

“We don’t like people telling lies about us, do we Kenny?”

Kenny nodded his agreement.

“And we don’t like some smart ass telling us what to do.”

“Yeah, smart ass.”

Fixing his eyes on Kenny, Samuel spoke directly to Kenny.

“Did you know Timmy killed your cat, Buster, three years ago,
by snapping its neck with his bare hands?”

Kenny shot a glance at Timmy.

“Don’t listen to him, he’s lying.”

“Timmy I’ve got some news for you, too.”

“Oh, yeah, what?”

“Kenny left those porno magazines on your bureau on purpose,
so your father would find them and give you a whipping.”

“You did that?” said an instantly angry Timmy as he shot an
accusatory look at his brother.

“No, I swear, I didn’t...,” said Kenny in protest.

Before Kenny could say anything else, Timmy threw the
screwdriver on the ground and proceeded to smack his brother across the back of
the head causing Kenny to stumble for a moment.

“Kenny, Timmy diddled your girl friend Connie in the back
seat of your old man’s car just two days ago.”

“That’s a fucking lie,” shouted an angry Timmy.

“See for yourself Kenny. You can find her panties under the
front seat, where Timmy hid them,” said Samuel with growing satisfaction.

Kenny ran inside of the garage and opened the back door of
his father’s beat up, rusted Ford Taurus. He began a search for the evidence.

Timmy wasn’t so confident anymore. He in fact looked
confused, so Samuel moved in closer.

In almost a whisper, Samuel spoke to Timmy.

“Kenny’s taken the pictures of your mother from out of your
secret place and he’s keeping them with his baseball collection under his bed.”

There was a moment of hesitation before Timmy bolted to the
house and bounded up the back steps flinging open the screen door. Just as he
disappeared inside of the house Kenny stepped out of the shadows of the garage
holding a pair of girl’s panties in his right hand. His face was twisted in
rage. He walked towards Samuel.

Bobby could see a name embroidered on the panties now in
Kenny’s hand. The pink letters spelled out the girl’s name, Connie.

“Where did he go?” demanded Kenny.

“He’ll be right back, just you wait right here.”

From inside of the house, through the opened but screened
windows, came the sound of Timmy racing down the stairs. In an instant, he
burst out of the back screen door flinging it open with such force that it
strained against its spring and slapped against the side of the house. He
jumped down to the ground. His face was filled with a red-hot rage.

Timmy had a small envelope in his left hand. He half ran
towards his brother.

“You bastard!” screamed Timmy.

“You fucker!” shouted Kenny.

The
Dulac
boys dropped the envelope
and the panties and flew at one another. In a flash, they were throwing punches
at one another with incredible fury. They were soon rolling around in the sand
and gravel of the driveway like two snarling dogs.

“Bobby, go and get your bike,” commanded Samuel.

“But...” protested Bobby.

“Do as I say.”

Moving as fast as his two nervous little legs could carry
him, Bobby hurried inside of the garage and spotted his bicycle right away.
They hadn’t had anytime to dismantle it. Bobby grabbed it by the handlebars and
wheeled it out of the garage. He stopped next to Samuel.

“Let’s go,” said Samuel as he turned to leave with Bobby.

Before he left, Samuel kicked the screwdriver over towards
the two fighting boys.

“Who knows, we might get lucky,” said Samuel with a grin.

Samuel and Bobby left the
Dulac
boys fighting in their own driveway.