Page 2 of Seeking Evil

And he let her believe as much.

Henry placed his hand against his lips then left his kiss on Maggie’s tombstone.

He didn’t return to the annex and his wife’s farewell meal. Instead, he worked his way through the tombstones to the old truck.

As he drove from the church he’d attended since he and Maggie married, he rolled the window down to let the clean mountain air clear away his sorrow.

Henry left the town of Pinedale and turned onto the county road that threaded through Wyoming’s Wind River Mountain Range.

His four-hundred-acre property butted up to the mountains, surrounded all around by land managed by the Bureau of Land Management. There were other houses past the BLM borders, but they gave him the privacy he’d once needed.

Henry never realized how much he loved this place until he’d seen it through Maggie’s eyes. When they’d first met, he’d invited her to his home. Maggie had fallen in love with the home and vast property immediately.

After their wedding, he’d brought her here as his wife. For a while, he’d worried about things, but he soon realized there was no need. After all, he’d married late in life but Maggie was barely thirty. She told him she’d been waiting for God to send her the right husband.

She’d been waiting for him. Henry couldn’t believe his luck. Maggie was the perfect wife. She loved him unconditionally and had slowly softened his sharp edges. Almost made him believe change was possible. If there hadn’t been that constant reminder of what he wanted to leave behind.

Maggie had worked hard for him and for the Lord. He would miss her. When he’d found her in her garden he’d wept, although he could almost hear Maggie chiding him. The garden was one of her favorite spots. What better place to draw her last breath?

He parked the truck in front of the house and got out. Shielding his eyes against the sun’s glare, he felt something on the gentle breeze. Something that had been waiting for a long time to be unleashed.

Henry had no doubt the good folk of the Pinedale Christian Church would come in waves over the next few weeks. It’s what they did. What he and Maggie had done when they’d lost a member of their congregation. He’d wait them out. Eventually, the crowds would trickle to only a few visits a week.

Inside the house, Maggie’s absence was everywhere. He’d allowed her full control on decorating the place how she saw fit. Maggie’s taste ran a little on the frilly side, but he didn’t mind.

He stepped to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee before opening the door to the basement. Holding onto the banister, he slowly traversed the steps. His woodworking tools and projects lay scattered around the space. Maggie used to tell him she loved the scent of wood shavings. He kept a bucket of them for her.

Henry had taken up woodworking for those long winter days when getting outside wasn’t easy.

But it wasn’t his first hobby. Not the one he’d never stopped craving through the years.

On the far wall, hidden by a bookcase, a locked door waited. He fished out the key and slipped it into the lock. The door squealed open. His past gathered him close as he stepped inside the place he rarely visited. The place no one knew about, not even Maggie. The one place where he could truly be himself.

He flipped on the lights. A dank smell struck him in the face along with the reasons for it. His girls waited for him. Their barrels were lined up against the wall. Special-made just for him. He’d carefully labeled each one. They allowed him a glimpse inside at their contents.

The faces looked out at him. He’d found a way to entomb them in the confines of the barrel so that their faces were always there for him to see. And remember.

A moment of regret sped through his body as he walked past each of them, remembering their final seconds of life. The things they’d endured. He’d been a different breed of evil back then. Their names were written on the barrels, but he didn’t need the names to know. Their faces locked in those final moments of painful death were branded on his soul.

“I’m back, my girls. I’ve neglected you long enough. But I promise I won’t forget your sacrifices.” He sighed deeply. “There will be others to join you soon.” It couldn’t be avoided. The beast had broken free again. It couldn’t be controlled any longer.

He reached the final barrel and remembered her. The first one here. Though more than twenty-five years had passed since he’d watched her life fade, the feelings he’d experienced coursed through his veins at the memory. He fought the exhilaration as Maggie’s pretty face floated through his mind. She’d almost tamed him. But Maggie was gone now, and it was time for the real Henry to return.

When he pictured Maggie’s disappointment, he suffered more regret. “I’m sorry, my love, but I’m afraid you never really knew the real me.” He spread out his arms as if to embrace his girls, knowing this would be his future, while his brain traveled back to the cemetery behind his church.

He’d always wondered what the final passage would be on his gravestone. Now he knew. Loving Husband. Church Deacon.

Serial Killer.

Chapter One

Uncharted Roads—50 miles outside of Pinedale, Wyoming

“Fear grows in darkness; if you think there’s a bogeyman around, turn on the light.”

~ Dorothy Thompson

The cell phone’s incessant ringing muted the “Goodness of God” song playing through her earbuds. Zeke London’s number appeared on the information screen in her Jeep.

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