Evil in the Woods

  EVIL

  IN THE

  WOODS

  A TWISTED TIMBERS THRILLER

  Kevin M. Moehring

  “Rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.”

  -- J. K. Rowling

  For those of you who stood by me when I was not a good person, always knowing I was capable of much more. It did not go unnoticed.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are all the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright ©2018 by Kevin M. Moehring

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  ISBN: 978-1-7321567-0-8

  Chapter 1

  The gavel comes down firm and the sentencing is complete, thus ending a tumultuous time in the life of Mitch Thompson. The jurors are escorted out of their seats and into the hidden room behind the judge's chambers. The bailiffs lead the convicted murderer through a different door, and straight to the prison where he will serve out his life sentence. Lawyers are shuffling through the papers on their desks, shoving file folders into their briefcases. Finally, the spectators begin to rise and make their way out into the hallway. One by one they begin talking about the case and making statements regarding the facts.

  Mitch Thompson is one of the last to leave the court room. He remains in his seat, rubbing his sweaty palms along his pleated khakis to dry the sweat that has formed on his palms. He doesn't speak to anyone as he makes his way through the groups of people who have formed outside the courtroom. He untucks his button-down shirt as he makes his way down the spiral staircase and out the main door of the building, he walks quickly and heads straight for his truck. Reporters have gathered and are fighting for the chance to get a quote from the one spectator who was part of the case itself. He puts his head down and fights his way through the crowd, managing to cross the street and get away from the microphones without uttering a word.

  He has become used to this routine. He made a vow to the convicted prisoner that he would be present at every court appearance until the man got what was coming to him. Now in the safety of his truck, Mitch can relax for the first time all day. It is not often you watch a former colleague and friend get sentenced to life in prison for the murder of your father. Today marks the end of a long three months for Mitch, since the events at Graham Park changed his life forever. His days have been filled with countless trips to Portland for the trial, trying to rebuild the police force of Twisted Timbers and handling the duties that come from the influx of visitors to the area. The national media attention has caused a normally busy tourist season to be much larger than other years. Every news station in the country has flocked to the small town and taken full advantage of the picturesque views the town boasts to help sell their story.

  As he turns his truck off the interstate and onto Highway 30, heading west towards his small town, Sheriff Mitch Thompson is lost in his thoughts. The green lush forests and the bright sunshine has a way of making a person lose concentration and get lost in their imagination. The road winds back and forth, following the terrain along the way. Patches of pavement are covered in bright sunlight that has won the fight and made its way through the trees. Other portions are as dark as night, the overhanging trees working hard to prevent the rays from the sun from breaking through and reach the ground below.

  Mitch has traveled this road so many times over the last three months that he hardly pays attention as he takes the long, sweeping turns several miles an hour above the posted speed limit. He is almost to the turn onto Main Street before he remembers that he hadn't checked his phone since he went into the court house. He pulls the phone out of his jacket pocket and flips it open. The screen lights up and tells him he has five missed calls and three voice messages. He checks the numbers for the missed calls and sees that four of them are from Lucille Pennington, the receptionist at the police station. The final missed call came from the cell phone of Stuart Johnson, the longest tenured member of the police force and the only other person to make it out of Graham Park successfully.

  Since he is only five minutes from the station and the fact that there is rarely any cell service on Highway 30, Mitch decides to just drive to the station without calling in. He has gotten several messages during his trips to Portland in the past, rarely does it lead to anything important. Since the hiring of the two new officers, his duties have been extremely lightened. He is still the town sheriff, so he is called upon to make the tough decisions and handle the unusual cases, something he never wanted to be responsible for.

  The streets of town are busy for a Thursday afternoon. To say that the town was prepared for the increase in popularity and the extra hordes of people that come to town for the weekends would be a lie. They’ve had to add a temporary stoplight in the center of town, a nuisance that Mitch is hating at the moment as he sits at the stagnant red light. Before he can even mumble out a swear word, the light changes to green and Mitch drives the last block, pulling into his reserved spot in front of the station.

  The halls of the station are quiet. With the number of missed calls he received, Mitch expected there to be chaos inside the walls of the building. Lucille is the only other person in the office, sitting quietly at her desk and tapping away on a computer. "Hey Lucille, where is everyone? I had a bunch of missed calls, I thought the town would be gone when I got back."

  Lucille practically jumps out of her seat at the sound of his voice. "Sheriff, you startled me. I didn't hear you come in." She looks up at the young sheriff with a welcoming smile. "How did things go in Portland? Did you get the outcome you wanted?"

  "I guess you can say he got what he deserved. I'm not sure what I was expecting but I'm glad the system worked." He was honest in his assessment. It’s hard for a man to know how he is supposed to feel after watching his former friend sentenced to life in prison, even if he did kill his father. "What were all of the calls to my cell phone about?"

  Lucille once again looks as if she is taken off-guard by the question. "Oh that, it's probably nothing, but you know how Stuart is. We got a few calls from hikers who claim they saw a man running around in the woods with an axe. The callers couldn't describe the man very much. They said he was dressed in all black and moved very quickly. In fact, one caller claimed that it wasn't even a man." She stops long enough to thumb through a stack of papers before pulling one out and looking it over. "Here it is, the person started the call by asking if there had been any reports of Bigfoot in the area. So, like I said, I wouldn't worry about it too much. You know how these city folks can be when they get in touch with nature."

  "I guess so," Mitch takes the caller form from Lucille and looks it over for his own recollection. "I'm guessing Stuart went to check it out?"

  "Yeah, he took Deputy Carter with him. They were heading out to Hidden Creek to look around. Like I said, it's probably nothing." She turns her head away and begins studiously typing away, probably filling out the forms that record every phone call that comes into the station.

  "Let's hope so. I'm not sure this town can take any more excitement. The weekends have already gotten to be almost more than we can handle." Mitch opens the door to his private office and turns to speak to Lucille once more. "You should take advantage of things while it’s quiet, get out of here and get some rest while you can. I'm going to work on some paperwork and wait to hear from Johnson and Carter. Nichols should be here shortly to start the night shift. I want to make sure she knows what to expect this weekend."

  "I'm just about done here, trying to get the hang of this new computer is driving me insane. You know, I really like that Deputy Nichols. Now Carter, you can send him back to Portland for all I care. It's nice to have another woman in the office." Lucille has never been afraid to share her opinions on how things should be run at the station. "Plus, I see the way you look at her."

  Mitch blushes at the last statement. He can’t say that the receptionist isn’t telling the truth, he had just hoped that no one had noticed. Deputy Nichols is definitely an attractive woman, but she is also an employee. Mitch knows better than to mix business with pleasure. He closes the door and sits down at his desk, the same desk that was once used by his father.

  Chapter 2

  Sitting alone in his quiet office is not exactly what Mitch was hoping to do tonight. In the three months since his father passed away, he has tried to stay busy. Breaking in two new officers and the dozens of trips into Portland has helped keep his mind off the fact that he lost the only family he had left. On the slow nights around town, Mitch would usually find himself sitting at the bar at the Bottom Dollar, the very spot where he arrested his father's killer. Growing up, even when his friends were having late night parties, Mitch was never much of a drinker. Now that he puts in twelve to fourteen-hour days on a regular basis, a beer at the end of the shift has become routine.

  The ringing of the phone on his desk snaps him out of his haze. He picks it up and sounds rather upset when he answers. "Twisted Timbers Police Department, Sheriff Thompson speaking."

/>   "Hey Sheriff, I didn't expect you to pick up. It's Stuart and I've been out here in the woods by Hidden Creek having a look around. I'm not sure what those people saw but I'm not finding anybody out here swinging an axe around." The older man sounds like he is out of breath; trying to keep up with the much younger and much more physically fit Deputy Carter is almost impossible.

  "I didn't expect you would find anything. It was probably just some folks from the big city who aren't used to the shadows and sounds that come along with being so deep in the woods. Head on back to the station and fill in Deputy Nichols when you get here. I'm going to head home once she shows up." Mitch knows that he will not be heading home but he doesn't want it to be common knowledge that he has become a regular at the bar.

  "Will do Sheriff. Hey, I heard about the sentence. I guess we can finally put all of that Graham Park nonsense behind us." Stuart has not been the same since the events of that night. Neither has Sheriff Thompson.

  "I guess you can say that. We just move on day by day and get on with our lives. Make sure you file a report about tonight, I'll need to look it over in the morning." Mitch hangs up the phone without waiting for a response from Stuart. He looks up from his computer long enough to watch Sloane Nichols walk in through the front door and head for the locker room where the deputies get dressed.

  Deputy Nichols is the most recent addition to the police department. Mitch has no idea when she showed up or why she came to town. One day he found her resume on his desk, complete with a list of recommendations from the L.A.P.D. He was taken aback by her appearance the first time they met. He wasn't sure what he was expecting when she walked into his office, but Mitch still has an old-fashioned idealism. The fact that a woman that looks as good as she does would want to be a police officer is not something that had ever crossed his mind.

  She is a few years older than Mitch, in her mid-twenties, but the two of them are by far the youngest officers on the force. They have more in common with each other than they do with any of their co-workers. They tend to have conversations regarding popular music or television shows, things that the older generation just wouldn't understand. He has managed to keep his relationship with her strictly professional up until now. The fact is, he knows very little about her personal life, or why she came to Twisted Timbers in the first place. As she exits the locker room and heads for his office door, he fumbles with some papers to make it appear he is fast at work and he hadn't been watching her walk through the hall.

  "Sheriff Thompson, I didn't expect to see you here tonight." She gives him the bright smile that he’s certain made her popular with the boys in high school.

  "I'm just finishing up some things before heading out. Listen, there were some calls that came in today. Apparently, some hikers claim they saw a man wielding an axe and running through the woods. Johnson and Carter were out by Hidden Creek all day checking it out. They’re headed back now and will fill you in when they get here." He shoves some files from on top of his desk into a drawer, once again trying to look busy.

  "Oh, maybe some action for a change. I could go for a little excitement in my life." Sloane giggles a little and lets out a half-smile that lets the sheriff know that she is only mildly serious.

  "Yeah, I wouldn't bet on it. Just be on your toes and make sure you document every call that comes in. I'll want to look over the reports in the morning." He lets his last words trail off as he makes his way to his feet and throws on his hat.

  "Just like a man. Get my hopes up with thoughts of excitement and actual police work. Then you leave me here all by my lonesome." It's just in her nature to make everything she says sound like an attempt to flirt. She doesn't do it on purpose, at least she tells herself that every chance she gets.

  "Sorry to let you down, but this is a small town where nothing ever happens. If you came here because of what you saw on the news, I'm sorry to tell you that nothing like that will probably ever happen again." Every fiber in his being is hoping that he will never have to deal with anything that serious again. "Now if you'll excuse me, it's been a long day."

  "Sure thing Sheriff. By the way, when you get there, make sure you have a drink for me. Lord knows I could use one or two."

  Chapter 3

  The short drive over to the Bottom Dollar is just long enough for Mitch to get lost in his thoughts about Deputy Nichols. Is he imagining the fact that everything she says to him comes across as a pick-up line, or is she honestly trying to hit on him. The fact that he has never had a steady girlfriend in his life has led him to live in solitude and naivete about how women act. He dismisses her advances as just friendly banter between co-workers as he pulls into the parking lot of the bar.

  From the moment he enters the front door, Mitch regrets his decision to come here. He had forgotten the fact that it’s a Thursday night, when drink prices are at the lowest to help bring in the visitors who arrive early for the weekend. On top of the cheap beers, it’s also karaoke night. His ears are assaulted by three college-aged girls doing a great injustice to a classic Cyndi Lauper tune. The bar is small, very small, with only about four tables in the sitting area and a dozen or so stools lining the bar. Sheriff Thompson is relieved to see the last stool is vacant and he makes his way there.

  The bartender must have seen him come in and has his beer in front of him before Mitch can even remove his hat. He nods to the female server and she walks away and begins mixing liquor drinks. Mitch scans the room and even though he is just about the youngest person in the room, he feels like he is the chaperone at a grade school party. Pitchers of beer are stacked on every table, most of them empty. Even though he comes to the bar more frequently than he would like to admit, he is confident in the fact that he has never let himself get as intoxicated as most of these folks are.

  The looks he gets from the patrons whenever he walks in is an odd one. He has never experienced fame before. Most of the people look at him like they have seen him before, but they can't place where they know him from. Usually when they get a look at his badge, they either become quiet thinking he is on-duty, or they want to come over and talk to him. Luckily the college girls did a decent job of masquerading his entrance to the rest of the bar and he was able to avoid the uncomfortable stares.

  With a long drink from the bottle he finishes his first beer and nods to the bartender to bring him another. He watches as she finishes making a few mixed drinks, reaches into the cooler and pops the metal top from his next bottle. She places it down in front of him and turns away without saying a word. She has seen him in here enough times to know that he is a low maintenance customer, unlike the tourists who expect five-star service. He drinks the same thing every time he comes in and rarely will he have more than three before paying his tab, tipping well and leaving for the night. No sooner had he began to sip on his new beer and he could feel the vibration from his cell phone in his pocket.

  The bar is extremely loud, with so much horrible singing going on in such a tiny room. He races to the front door to try and drown out the last verse of a Neil Diamond song that he detests. "Hello, this is Sheriff Thompson."

  "Sheriff, it's Nichols. I hate to bother you, but I have an old man here, he says he's the owner of the Hidden Creek Campground. Apparently, there was a younger couple staying in one of his cabins and they failed to check-out this afternoon."

  Mitch is pacing around the front door of the bar. The music slips through the walls like a steady reminder of how much he hates karaoke and the people that sing it. "Maybe they decided to leave early this morning and the owner wasn't in the office to check them out."

  "No Sheriff, Mr. Blevins here says that all their belongings were still in the cabin. He said the last time he saw them was yesterday afternoon. They were headed out for a hike along Hidden Creek." She is firm in her tone of voice, to show the sheriff that she’s confident more is going on than what he initially thought.