Shadows' End by Ron Ripley

Author:Ron Ripley [Ripley, Ron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scare Street
Published: 2021-03-14T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22: Captain Thompson

Thursday, 7:30 PM

Captain Jack Thompson was drunk.

He was amazed he hadn’t been pulled over, and he was disgusted with himself as well. Signaling left, he turned messily onto East Stark Street in Nashua, New Hampshire. A moment later, he pulled onto Berkley Street and guided his car toward Shane Ryan’s massive home.

In the dim light of the streetlamps, the house was more impressive than ever, dominating the neighborhood around it.

Not trusting his ability to park near any other vehicles, Jack parked his car “by touch”, letting the granite curbing tell him where to stop. When he felt his car shudder from a slight impact, he stomped on the brakes, shifted the vehicle into park, and hastily turned off the engine. He fumbled with the inner pocket of his coat, managed to slip the keys in, and then zipped the pocket closed.

Jack opened the door, stepped out into the street, and paused, his hand gripping the frame of the door tightly. With his free hand, he patted down his outside pockets, heard the rattle and shake of the box of breath-mints he had purchased on the way over from his home, and took them out. He let go of the car, wobbled on his feet, but maintained his balance as he shook out several of the strong mints, popping them into his mouth a moment later.

Jack closed the door, composed himself, and managed to walk a straight line up the driveway toward the front of the house. He was within twenty feet of the main entrance when a cool breeze swept around him. He expected to hear the rattle of leaves, but there was none. A glance around the driveway and at the unkempt yard showed him that there was no breeze.

Fear sprang up within him, and Jack stumbled to a halt. He glanced around, his mouth dry, despite the mints.

Eloise’s voice suddenly came from behind him. “Why are you here?”

Jack twitched and turned around.

The dead girl was nowhere to be seen.

“Eloise?” He slurred her name.

“You’re drunk.” The disgust in her voice was plain.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” he remarked.

The temperature grew colder, and his fear was replaced with anger.

“I don’t care if you are a ghost,” Jack went on. “You’re a child, and you will show me the proper respect, Eloise.”

“You’re a drunk,” she retorted, “and you won’t get any.”

“Shane’s a drunk,” he snapped.

“You don’t get to talk about Shane Ryan,” Eloise informed him, her voice sinking, fading, and coming from between him and the house. “You can’t say his name ever again.”

“I’ll say whatever I want.” He let his anger pour out. “You can’t stop me.”

He was about to say more, but he let out a cry of surprise and pain instead, as his left knee exploded in agony. To his growing horror, Jack could feel small fingers wriggling about beneath his kneecap, pulling and twisting.

Desperate, he swiped at where he knew she had to be, but his hand passed only through a cold spot of air.

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