"You said Hannibal Lecter. He was fictional. A figment of the imagination. But he was based on a man named Alfredo Balli Trevino. The author, who created Hannibal Lecter, met him in a prison when he was researching another serial killer. He thought Trevina was a prison doctor because he had treated the serial killer’s gunshot wound. It wasn't until later that he found out Trevino was a murderer. It was said that his skills as a surgeon let him fit his victims into very small boxes," Xavier says.
He meets my eyes for a brief second, then continues down the path.
“Happy Halloween,” Dean says as he walks past Sam, who does not look amused by the story.
We make our way further and go around a curve deeper into the woods. It feeds out into what looks like a room without a ceiling. The walls on either side are splattered with fake blood and cracked with hatchet marks. Dripping letters write out the old nursery rhyme about Lizzie Borden.
"Ah, good old Elizabeth," Sam says. He glances at me with a playful look. "We're friends, so I can call her that."
"Not good friends," Xavier says.
"Because she's dead?" he asks with a note of sarcasm.
"Because her name wasn't Elizabeth. They called her Lizzie because her name was Lizzie. Lizzie Andrew, named after her father."
"Oh," Sam says.
Xavier takes a step closer to the wall and examines the bloody words. "Poem’s all wrong, too. First, Abby was not her mother. She was her step-mother. And whoever was wielding the hatchet—not an ax, a hatchet—didn't hit her forty times. Only nineteen. To the front of the head and the rest to the back after she fell. Andrew actually received fewer than that. Probably eleven blows. They crushed his head, split his face in half, and left his eyeball sitting on his cheek."
He turns around sharply to look at the other wall. His head tilts to the side, and he gets a confused expression on his face.
"What is it?" I ask.
"The second verse," he says. "I would think it would be on the other way." He shrugs. "But I suppose that wouldn't make it any better. Still would be inaccurate. ‘Andrew Borden now is dead. Lizzie hit him on the head. Now in Heaven, he will swing. And on the gallows, she will swing’."
He's still humming as he walks away down the path. Sam's head snaps over to me.
"How does he know that? Why does he know that?" he asks.
"We might have found Xavier's hobby," I say.
The trail takes up almost another half-an-hour of turns and morbid scenery. At nearly every stop, Xavier has a complaint about the accuracy of the depiction. I know it's starting to get to Sam, but I'm just relieved to not be the only one to have immediately noted the strange details and implausible choices.
Ahead of us, the woods stop, and the trail seems to lead out onto an old paved road. We're starting to follow it when Dean glances back over his shoulder.
“What's that?” he asks.
I see what he's pointing out, and I smile.
“Let's find out.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“I didn't know anything like this was back here,” I say. “I thought this was just old fairgrounds.”
The weathered sign on the side of the road directs us to Ashbury Hill Amusement Park. The cracked paved road moves away from the pumpkin patch and deeper into the woods. Rather than the hill going up, it goes down, leading us along a slight slope that opens out to the crumbling entrance.
“It's been here forever,” Xavier says. “My family came to this park all the time when I was a little boy. We only lived a couple of hours from here. When I moved back to Harlan, I couldn’t wait to come back.”
“Because you love amusement parks,” I say softly.
He nods, moving ahead of us as if he's walking through time. He approaches the gate comfortably, the familiarity obvious in every movement. It's as if he's holding his ticket and expecting someone to appear and take it from his hand so he can go inside.
“When did it close?” Sam asks.
Xavier shakes his head. “I don't know.”
There's a chain across the entrance, but it's been cut, and Xavier walks straight through it. We follow him, letting him guide us out onto what was once a smooth road leading into the park. Buildings on either side have broken windows and grass growing up through the sidewalks in front. Looming at the end of the road is a Ferris wheel with all of the gondolas removed.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
Xavier looks at me. “Of course. Being here gives me peace.”
I nod gently. “Okay.”
"Hey!" A shout makes us whip around to see an angry-faced security officer stalking toward us down the road. "What do you think you're doing in here?"
“I'm sorry,” I call over. “We were just walking and saw the sign. We were curious.”
“Agent Griffin?” he asks, the light of recognition hitting his face.
“Officer Murray,” I say when he gets close. He’s with the Harlan Police Department and has been helping us in the cornfields. Friendly guy. Always has some sort of joke to share. “I didn't realize it was you.”
“I didn't realize it was you, either. Who else do you have with you?”
“Sam and Dean and Xavier,” I tell him.
“What are y’all doing out here?”
“We were just exploring at the pumpkin patch and found the haunted trail that brought us out here. Kind of got away from us a little bit. What are you doing out here?”
“When I'm off duty at the department, I do security for the pumpkin patch and corn maze. My boys loved the pumpkin patch growing up, so I kinda like revisitin’ it every year. Keep it safe for the kids. Stop wayward miscreants from wandering off and going into closed areas,” he says with a laugh.
I hang my head for a
