Witch(60)

Hot acid shot up into my throat, and I gaged. I felt sick. A part of me wanted to turn off the torch and sit in the black at the bottom of the well and never climb out again.

“How could you do this to me!” I screamed, kicking at the water with my feet and banging my fists against the wall. I screwed the letter up in my fist as I pounded the wall over and over again. From the corner of my tear-filled eyes, I saw the letter getting ever more creased. Slowly, I stopped. I couldn’t destroy it. I couldn’t destroy the letter if I was going to ever have justice for those people who had died in the well.

Shaking from head to foot, I dragged myself out of the water and lent against the slick grey wall of the well. I looked one last time at the note which had been signed: This is the dying declaration of Police Constable Lee 5013.

I yanked on the rope to give the sign to Vincent that I was ready to be pulled up. I put the note back into the bottle and tucked it into my coat pocket. I switched off the torch, then gripped the rope as Vincent began to pull me up out of the well. With my head resting against the rope, I wondered how I would even begin to explain to Vincent what I had discovered. Slowly, I reached the top, feeling cold, wet, and in shock. I gripped the edge of the well to hoist myself out. I felt a cold pair of hands take hold of mine. I looked up expecting to see Vincent, but instead I was looking into my father’s face. He pulled me over the lip of the well, and I staggered away, my legs still feeling like two sticks of rubber.

“What are you doing here?” I gasped, glancing through the driving rain in search of Vincent. I couldn’t see him anywhere.

“What am I doing here?” my father barked at me. “I should be arresting you for the continual harassment of Farmer Grayson, and for repeatedly trespassing on his land. He called the three 9s claiming that thieves were on his property. I was on patrol close by. The last person I thought I would find is you!”

I knocked the strands of wet hair away, which were plastered across my face, and stared at my father.

“What is wrong with you, Sydney?” he shouted, coming towards me through the rain.

“Don’t touch me!” I screamed back at him. “Don’t you dare come near me – murderer!”





Chapter Thirty-Five

“What are you talking about?” my father snapped as he came towards me through the dark. “Have you lost your mind?”

“It’s not me who has lost their fucking mind. It’s you!” I screeched at him.

“Sydney,” he said, his voice seeming to soften now.

“Keep away from me!” I warned him, holding up the flat of my hand. “Don’t come near me.” I glanced around in the dark again for Vincent, but still couldn’t see him. Where was he? Was he listening to this? I was in danger here.

“What’s this all about?” my father tried to reason with me. “Does it have something to do with those people you killed?”

“It has to do with who you killed,” I hissed at him. “Who you murdered!”

“What are you talking about?” he said, staring at me, rain dripping from his police cap and raincoat.

“You murdered a police officer...” I stammered. Even I couldn’t believe that I was accusing my father of murdering a police officer. “You killed Constable Lee.”

My father’s eyes grew wide, and now it was him who looked like he had taken a blow to the guts. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, you silly bitch,” he growled.

“Don’t I?” I screamed at him, curling my fingers around the bottle which was still hidden in my pocket. “I know all about what you did that night ten years ago. I know what you and your buddies, Mac and Woody, did to that girl...what you did to Constable Lee.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking...”

“You changed your statements!” I screamed at him, making my hands into fists. “I thought you changed them to protect the person Molly Smith was coming to meet that night. But you changed them to protect yourselves...to cover up what you did to her.”

“We didn’t do anything to that filthy little...” he started to bark.

“You found her distraught and crying on the road that night,” I started to remind him. “But instead of helping her...taking her home...you and your buddies dragged her into the back of your police van and touched her...” I could hardly bring myself to say the words. “You tried to hurt her, but Constable Lee stopped you, he helped her escape. Like animals, you went after her. Because she meant nothing to you.”

“Sydney...” my father started, and even in the darkness, I could see his face had turned as white as paper, and his eyes wide with rage. I wouldn’t let him talk. I didn’t want to listen to his lies – to his bullshit.