Deviant Acts by J.J. White

Author:J.J. White
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2022-09-13T18:08:35+00:00

Chapter 27

Bent Hill

Jackson had hoped to arrive at the Bent Hill Commune in New Hampshire before dark, if the Fairlane cooperated. It didn’t, barely reaching the speed limit during the long drive. The commune was built on the Wester Ranch in 1967 when the owner, Lester Wester, used his inheritance to attract the young and beautiful to, as Leary said, turn on, tune in, and drop out.

According to Cheryl, Wester’s motivation was not to en­lighten but to surround himself with young men and women who had no inhibitions. He provided the land, the drugs, and the tools for farming. At one time they had more than a hundred self-supporting idealists working together to change the world. Wester looked the other way when members of radical organizations like the Weather Underground and the Panthers needed a place to hide out. Jackson hoped Cheryl, Purple Haze, and Janie Anderson had taken advantage of Wester’s hospitality.

Once Jackson had turned off the main highway, the dirt road to the commune ran for about a half mile alongside a utility right-of-way until it came to a locked gate. Rather than try to bust the hardened lock and chain, he barreled the eight-year-old Ford through the barbed wire alongside it. It was just a few hundred yards from there to a road made of small river rocks.

He drove through an arched entryway with a plywood sign nailed to it that read, “Wester Ranch.” So it wasn’t the Bent Hill anymore; deserted like all the other communes in New England.

He shut off the headlights and slowed the car to a crawl, rocks crunching beneath the tires. The only other sound was an owl in the distance screeching at its night prey. Jackson rolled the driver’s-side window down halfway. That’s as far as it traveled anyway, the forty-­dollar price tag too high for him to have it fixed.

He stopped the car and listened. The owl hunted in the distance. A stream rushed nearby, behind the large two-story farmhouse. The last time Jackson had been there, Wester had used the farmhouse for his family, whoever his family was that week.

Lights were on in the first floor only. Jackson removed the revolver from the glove compartment and placed it next to his right thigh. He decided he’d circle around the back of the house to see if it were just the three of them and Cheryl so he could get the jump on them. A flashlight beam on his left lit up the front seat of the Fairlane. It blinded his vision when he turned to face it.

“You lost, son?”

Jackson rested his right hand on his revolver. “Looking for Bent Hill. Trying to find a Mr. Lester Wester.”

“You found him. I know your voice, don’t I?”

“I was here a few years ago. I dropped off my cousin, Cheryl, and then I stayed a day. Jackson Hurst.”

“I remember you. Haze talks about you. That why you’re here? To get the reward money? You figure they’re here hiding out, don’t you?”

“That ain’t why I’m here.

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