All he ever needed was sixty seconds, and an inattentive, distracted mother to turn away from her young, only for a minute. An innocent looking hand holding a piece of candy extending from a semi darkened hallway, or a shadowy alley. Candy, the perfect bait for an eager child. Just sixty precious seconds. That’s all it usually took him to whisk them away- to cover their mouths with an ether soaked cloth to foil any resistance. He was always so clever, so cunning, each step carefully planned leading up to each abduction. All she had to do was to turn away, let go of that tiny little hand for just a minute, and he would have them. And a distraught mother would never see her child alive again. For six long perilous months, he would haunt the city of King‘s Harbor, moving through shadows on the fringes of society, stealing its young away, like a thief in the night, leaving nary a trace for the police to find. He was so careful, meticulous, five months and counting. Parents everywhere; fearful for the safety of their young. fearful of someone that no one had ever even seen, a ghost, whose name was only mentioned in carefully guarded whispers. “Hold their hands tightly, then pick them up and run, for the Candyman is coming- for all the little ones.”
King’s Harbor Present day.
He passed by the entrance to the Delorian Street cathedral several times, trying to muster the courage to enter. It was almost to the point where people on the street were beginning to take notice of his quirky behavior. He was pacing back and forth, nervously stopping three times to smoke a cigarette. The crowded sidewalks slowly thinned out, then the rain returned. Morning slowly drifted into afternoon when finally; not without some trepidation, he slowly entered the cathedral. Father Michael McMillan greeted him at the door, hands in front of him. The priest approached the large broad shouldered black man almost cautiously as he introduced himself extending his hand.
“Father- my name is Delmar Eckley I’m a reporter from the Tribune, I was hoping for a moment of your time sir.”
He nodded. Motioning towards an empty pew. Both men sat.
“Father I’m going to cut right to the chase. I’ve been talking to some of the people in this neighborhood and I’ve been told by more than a few that you have a rather unique resident living on one of the deserted upper floors of the cathedral. I was hoping to get your permission to go up there and investigate these rumors personally.”
Father McMillan’s eyes slowly rolled toward the ceiling. He slowly rose to his feet and began pacing back and forth nervously, both hands clasped behind his back. He gave the reporter a stern look, giving the request careful consideration before answering. He stopped and sat back down in the pew.
“There are many unique residents that dwell here in the Delorian Cathedral my son. We all do God’s work in some way or another. What is your particular interest in our angel?”
“Well- with all due respect Father McMillan, I don’t know that I would call it an angel exactly, but I give you my word that I will reserve such judgments until after I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. And, as for my interest in it or them- well it‘s strictly professional, I can assure you.”
He held up a folder stuffed full of papers.
“Like I said Father. It’s strictly a professional visit.”
Without another word they both stood and Father McMillan lead him down a long dark corridor leading to two large wooden double doors secured with several different dead bolt locks. Delmar Eckley gave him a curious look.
“Trying to keep the angel locked out of the church? Some might consider that an odd practice Father.”
He gave the reporter a sideways glance.
“Not to keep him from us my son, but to keep the outside world from him.”
He pushed the double doors open and lead Delmar Eckley into the darkened stairwell. It extended up ten floors right through the middle of the cathedral in a long almost circular pattern. He almost got a kink in his neck from looking straight up at the upper floors. The father patted him on the shoulder.
“I haven’t heard a peep out of him in the past few months but he’s been stirring lately, so I’d say where ever he’s been hiding, he’s home now.” His eyes returned to Delmar Eckley. “He’s usually on the very top floor. Good luck young man.” He turned to walk back through the door until Eckley stopped him.
“Father?”
He turned to face him.
“Have you ever actually seen this- angel? You know, with your own two eyes?”
He walked over, stopping in front of the stairwell he looked up at Eckley.
“No, I’ve never actually come face to face with the almighty either son.” He smiled. “But I have seen his work.” He turned and walked through the door. Delmar Eckley began the long climb to the top floor of the Delorian Cathedral.
The higher he climbed the stairs, the darker it seemed to get. He found it to be more than a little unsettling. By the time he reached the 11th floor he was almost out of breath. It was dark and had an almost musky feel to it. The wooden floor boards were covered in dust and there wasn’t much up there except a few birds living in the rafters and a few empty wooden crates scattered across the empty floor. He sat down on one of the wooden crates trying to catch his breath, all the while his eyes scanning the entire darkened room searching for any signs of movement. The words of Father Michael McMillan suddenly rang in his ears.
“I’ve never actually came face to face with the almighty either son, but I have seen his work.”
“Okay. Look man- here’s the deal. First off, I’m not a cop or anything. I’m just a reporter for the Tribune. I’m not here looking for a story, I’m here looking for help. I know that you’re real, because I have been following your work closely. With Theo Cousins. With the whack job of a cop that you took care of. No sir- like the man said. I don’t have to actually see you to know that your real. I also know that you’ve been away for awhile, so maybe you haven’t seen or heard about what’s been happening to this city in your absence.”
He strained against the sound of falling rain beating softly against the sides of the cathedral. There were no signs of any movement- no sounds. He wondered for a moment if he was perhaps too late in coming here. He ran his fingers through his hair. He leaned forward and lay the folder of papers on one of the empty crates. His eyes were almost welling with tears.
“You see man- in my business they’re always telling us to not get personally involved with a story, we aren‘t allowed to let our emotions get in the way. But man. How can I not care about- children? He’s taking the children. Killing them. He appears and disappears without a trace. And the police? God help them, but they don’t have a clue- it’s like they’re chasing a ghost or something. This folder that I’m gonna leave here with you- it’s everything that I’ve managed to track down on the Candyman in the past 6 months. It isn’t much, but, there are pictures of his victims and I’ve managed to get a few crime scene photo’s after the police released the scene’s. I’m just gonna leave it here with you, please? Just look at it?”
Fearful that he would receive no answer, he stood up, drew in a deep breath, and then turned toward the stairwell, pausing briefly to look down at the folder. He headed for the stairs never seeing the hand extending from the shadows, picking up the folder and opening it. A deep, cold emotionless voice echoed across the empty room and it froze him in his tracks.
“How many children exactly?”
Delmar Eckley slowly turned around, his eyes nervously darting back and forth fighting through the darkness. He could feel a lump beginning to form in his throat, his stomach muscles tightened.
“Ummmm. Seven. In almost six months, five months and thirty days to be exact.” Eckley answered.
He was leaning forward trying to see who he was talking to.
A tall dark figure slowly emerged from the shadows and walked over to where the smallest sliver of light came shining through a broken window. He knelt down and pushed two of the wooden crates together and began laying the pictures of the children down on them. Eckley inched his way closer, nervously looking him up and down.
“I went to all of their funerals man. Stared into the eyes of their parents. I felt their loss and pain, I just can’t help it. It’s personal now.”
His eyes carefully moved from one photo to the next with Eckley cautiously inching his way closer to him. He could see it in his eyes something had already captured his attention. Now he pushed aside his uneasiness and moved up beside of him.
“You see something in the pictures, do you?” He asked.
“Tell me everything you know. Start at the beginning. Leave nothing out. Where does he take them from?”
“Some were taken from inside of the buildings they lived in, some were taken from just outside. They think that he waits until the parent becomes distracted and then lures the child away with candy. In each case it took him just a minute to snatch the kids away and disappear into thin air.”
He tapped on the picture with his forefinger, looking at Eckley.
“What are these marks on the child’s face?”
“Uhhhh yeah, that’s a pic I got from a cop friend of mine, the police think that once he has the child- he covers their mouths with a rag soaked in ether. Then he takes them to some remote area and does God only knows what to them, and then the next day they find the body close to where the child is taken from.”
He raised one of the pictures up to the light to inspect it more closely. Now he turned to face Eckley giving him a curious look. He turned his attention back to the photo.
“Is this the only photo you have that was taken right after the body was discovered?”
“Yeah a cop friend of mine took it. He gave it to me under the promise that I would never release it to my editor. Which of course I never would. Why? is it significant?”
“I’m gathering that they all died of suffocation but weren’t sexually molested?”
Eckley nodded to the affirmative.
“And he always takes them back to where he took them from?”
Again he nodded.
“What are you thinking?”
“Give me your phone number Mr. Eckley, and I’ll be calling you soon.”
“Wait- I never told you my name- how did you-”
He turned to face him fully then, face-to-face almost smiling.
“What? Do you think that I’m the type to not know when someone has been following me in my own neighborhood, and then not find out who it is?”
He picked up the pictures along with Eckley’s note and stuffed them back into the folder, and handed it to him.
Eckley scribbled down his cell number and handed it to him.
“At first impression, Mr. Eckley, I don’t think he’s a pedophile. There’s something a little deeper going on here. First off, even though he takes both boy and girls, the children in all of the pictures look similar and all possess feminine qualities. Something happened in this person’s past. It has scarred him deeply, mentally and emotionally. He may even be killing them by accident. I will get a better feel for it when I see the first crime scene.”
Chapel stepped up to the window and stared for a moment out at the looming storm clouds.
"It will be snowing soon, he's not stupid, it will be more difficult for him to cover his tracks in snow, it may slow him down, cause him to consider his next move more carefully, that will buy us time to catch up, maybe even figure him out. there is more to this person than meets the eye, I have an idea, when I know more I'll need you to to do some leg work first, we'll have to do this together, or we won't catch him."
Eckley shook his hand and started to leave but stopped to look back at him.
“By the way- you know my name. so what’s yours?”
“You may call me Chapel.”
~Scratch.. A.B.T. Copyright © 2011~
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