“Boys, I told you not to do that! That’s not a safe place to play at all. What am I going to do with you two scoundrels?” she said, shaking her head in frustration.
“Didn’t you feel the earthquake, Mom?” I asked her.
“Earthquake? There wasn’t any kind of earthquake, boys. Is this some kind of a joke or a way to distract me from punishing you?” she said. We looked at each other in confusion.
“The last earthquake that happened around these parts was in the late sixties. That’s what finally closed down that old carnival. That earthquake was so powerful it brought half of that place down. Lots of folks lost their lives that day. Now, you go up to your rooms and don’t come down until I call for you!”
We did as she asked, but both of us were quietly astonished at what we had experienced and thankful for the girl who had helped us. We guessed that she must have been killed during the last earth quake along with others. Our mother didn’t have to tell us not to visit the carnival ever again.
Istared at the empty playground. The November sky loomed like a gray blanket over the swing set, corkscrew slide, and merry-go-round. It hadn’t changed at all. The slide still stood just to the left of the swings and the rust-colored merry-go-round sat about ten feet in front of them.
My stomach knotted a bit and I thought about just driving off.
But I had to walk out there.
Simon Waters was still the only person I’d ever killed in sixteen years as a detective and I’d done it here. Whether or not I should have just aimed for the leg had nagged at me since it’d happened two years ago and I thought coming back might somehow make me feel better—or at least more certain I’d done the right thing.
But what was right in this screwed up world?
I popped the car door open and stepped out. The two-lane highway that ran past the park stretched out into both horizons and there wasn’t a car in sight. There hadn’t been for almost an hour. As I walked over to the playground, I slid a cigarette out of the pack and placed it in my mouth. Taking the silver Zippo from my jacket pocket, I lit the cigg and took a drag as I stepped onto the gravel. I blew a wisp of smoke into the air and took another drag as I stared at the grassy plain that stretched out from the gravel.
Just a lonely little playground in nowhere Kansas.
I threw the cigarette on the ground and smothered it with my foot.
Simon had been a weird one. He only wore black, and although he’d never killed or physically hurt any of the three kids he’d kidnapped from this place—always releasing them once the payment had been made—each child had needed psychiatric counseling afterwards. A lot of counseling. And that was still before Robby Benson.
Robby was supposed to be number four.
I folded my arms and looked at the highway. Still not a car, truck, or fat man on a Harley to be seen.
It’d been quiet like this the day I’d caught up to Simon. And when he’d wrapped his skeletal like hand around Robby’s throat—even though his right leg was cleanly exposed—I’d aimed straight at his head.
And that was the end of Simon the kidnapper.
Robby was returned to his parent’s the next day.
And a week later the guilt had set in.
I walked over to the swing set and ran my finger nails over the metal frame. It was a strange place to have a park—no homes within a few miles and no trails leading up to it. People built weird things in weird places, but there was something so on-the-edge about the isolation of the playground. Like it was just begging for trouble.
A sound like a creaking door sound pierced the dry air and I looked back.
The merry-go-round had started to spin in the breeze.
But there was no way the breeze could be moving it in this direction.
I tilted my head and watched for a few seconds as the merry-go-round spun against the wind like an automated ride. Walking over to it, I put my hand on one of the handle bars and the wheel stopped. I let go and it started moving again.
In the corner of my eye I saw the far swing start to sway back and forth. I turned towards it and watched as it floated up a few feet and then back. Like the merry-go-round, the cross breeze shouldn’t have made it move like that. I reached for another cigarette and lit it. Taking a drag I took a step back and watched the swing going higher and higher. The ladder of the slide rattled and my heart started to beat hard. A second later the entire slide shook and then stopped as quickly as it’d started.
I rubbed my chin and watched the merry-go-round, the swings, and the slide. A hard wind pushed from the west and I looked over. A man in a long black coat stood about fifty yards away, watching the playground. From this distance his face was a whitish blur, but those long thin hands were unmistakable. He turned his head to me and we stared at each other as the wind whistled between us. After about ten seconds he turned around and walked off, quickly fading into the gray horizon.
I bit my lip and nodded.
Throwing the cigarette down, I stomped it out and walked back to my car. When I got back inside I started it up and backed out from my spot. I’d seen all I needed to.
And I would never have to come back.
It all happened on a Friday night. I placed my wedding ring on the desk. Who would ever guess that some misunderstanding can lead to this so easily? To be forced to leave the house,
