If Walls Could Scream

By Laura Burke

Sweeping apple orchards and dogwood trees line the rich mountain farmland of rural North Carolina. As winter comes and snow covers the ground, the trees lose their leaves and their bare limbs stretch toward the sky.

But behind this pretty scene, something else is being lost and covered by the winter snows. One after another, several young high school girls go missing during apple picking season. This peaceful Carolina town appears to have a serial killer on the loose.

The race is on to find the killer before more girls disappear, but local police are stymied. A terrible snow storm hampers the search, as the FBI is called in to help. It’s discovered that the killings actually started in Arkansas, and then crept eastward to North Carolina, and finally to Georgia.

This murder mystery starts out as quietly as the small speck on the map of its Southern town, and blossoms into a far-reaching nightmare. If Walls Could Scream will grab you before you even know you’re caught.

About the Author:
Laura Burke has always loved murder mysteries. She lives in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, and is writing several other books.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laura Burke
• Release date: Jun 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301774760

Laura Burke

I have always been and always will be a storyteller. Since childhood, I have dreamed of becoming an author. Now, as I see my stories in print, my dream has become my reality. Since I was eight years old, mysteries have been my passion, especially murder mysteries. So much so, that after working as a nurse for twenty years, I became a Private Investigator. I worked in close contact with police officers and detectives on several closed-case files with amazing results.

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IF WALLS COULD SCREAM

Laura Burke

All rights reserved © 2013 by Laura Burke

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission, in writing, from the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

First edition 2013

Published by Laura Burke

Smashwords Edition

Book Design by Julius Kiskis

Chapter One

The crisp morning air was filled with a mixture of roses and apple blossoms. The trees were in full bloom. It was the beginning of May. Sunlight shone through a touch of fog near the ground.

The town was scented with the wonderful fragrance of apple blossoms that filled its streets with their perfume. The buds on the dogwood trees were in full flower. All signs of winter were gone in Hendersonville. Activity within the small city was bustling.

It was going to be a beautiful day. Homer walked out the back door and stood on the porch of his farmhouse. His wife Juliann had planted roses near the house so that when the breeze blew it would fill the house with their lovely perfume. There were red, white, and yellow roses, each with a meaning of its own. Juliann said they represented the love she felt for Homer. Red was for love, white for passion, and purity and yellow for friendship. She always looked for the beauty in all things.

Juliann was a little over five foot tall and maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet. Her brown hair fell past her shoulders and was so shiny that it sparkled in the sunlight. Her figure wasn’t bad, either. Not like the other farm girls in the area—they were mostly chunky and were classified as farm stock. They all worked in the orchards and did other farm chores. They had to be able to handle the load if the farm didn’t have a boy; the girl had to do the work.

Homer had met his wife in high school. He didn’t date other girls—he was always in a hurry to get home and help his father and by the time night came around he was too tired to go anywhere. The first time Homer saw Juliann he was hooked! They hadn’t met, but Homer was determined to ask her out. He figured all she could do was say no. But surprisingly, she said yes. They became instantly attached to each other as if they had been together all of their lives. Everyone agreed it was love at first sight.

Juliann was from Richmond, Virginia. Her father had moved to Hendersonville to try his hand at farming. She hated the country, but when she met Homer that all changed. She loved the farm and everything about it. She spent all her time over at Homer’s farm, talking to his mother and learning the ways of farm life. Canning vegetables, sewing clothes, and putting on patches came very easy to her.

Juliann had decided before their senior year that she was going to become Homer’s wife. In their senior year Homer proposed to Juliann and she said yes. They were married shortly after graduation. It was one of the happiest times in Homer’s life.

Homer had owned his farm since his father died nearly twenty years before. Juliann moved in with Homer on the farm and helped her mother-in-law with the chores, like cooking and cleaning. She wasn’t much for working in the apple orchard since she was a frail girl and unaccustomed to the long hours that field labor required.

When Homer’s mother suffered a stroke and died shortly thereafter, Juliann’s life was turned upside down. She was thrown into all the cooking, cleaning, and working on the farm. She tried her best to keep up but soon she became pregnant, which made matters worse.

Juliann died giving birth to a son, but the child was stillborn. Homer was alone on the farm and sometimes he wished to himself that his son could have lived to help out around the place. His luck didn’t seem to change throughout the three years since graduating from school. But Homer knew he had to keep going and try his best to survive the terrible events which were taking their toll on him.

He hired several workers over the years but none stayed around. He had to depend on the laborers who followed the crops. Most of them were very dependable, but after the crops came in they moved on to the next harvest. So for Homer the farm was a lonely place to be. He didn’t have time to go out and look for another lady friend, nor did he want anyone else. Juliann was the love of his life and the farm was a busy place, except in the winter. In the winter there were still chores to do, but most were quickly accomplished in the morning, which left the afternoon and evening with nothing to keep him occupied.

During the winter months Homer sat around and became depressed with his situation. He wanted to go out and meet people, but he felt they would laugh at him or talk about him behind his back. It had been over twenty years since he had gone out on the town. So to avoid any discomfort he stayed on his farm and hibernated through the winter.

Homer wasn’t a bad-looking man. He was six foot tall and rather handsome in spite of working outside most of the spring and summer months. His skin was usually dark from the sun and had turned leathery. Because of this he was able to keep his deep tan through the winter. He had a full head of hair which had not yet turned gray, and he was only in his late forties.

Sometimes Homer would sit and daydream about what his son would have been like. Would he have resembled his father? Would he have been tough or weak? Homer considered himself a strong man and hoped his son would have been like him. It would have been nice to have his son helping out and keeping him company. He would think about them being best friends—fishing, hunting, and just talking about their day.

The old farmhouse was in pretty good shape. It was a white two-story with blue shutters which his wife had insisted upon the last time the house was painted. He kept the same colors the last time he had painted the house about six years before. It always made him feel closer to Juliann after he painted the house. It made him think of the last month his wife was pregnant. She had been so happy and thrilled about the sensations she felt when the baby moved.

The rooms were rather small. Homer wanted to make the house bigger, so he began to do some demolition work on the inside walls. He felt that if the rooms were enlarged the house would look more modern. He really wasn’t good at that type of work. He didn’t like working indoors. He loved the outdoors more and working outside in the fresh air always made him feel good about himself.

Spring was a happy time for Homer and it kept his mind busy so he didn’t dwell on the loneliness he felt deep inside. He always whistled while he worked and never showed the rage that burned like a red-hot poker deep inside. It was only a matter of time, like a ticking time bomb, before Homer would be unable to contain the rage he felt deep inside. He didn’t know the source of the anger. He only knew it was there and he could only try to push it away.

Spring was different this year—it seemed to come early, and with it came a peaceful calm which Homer had not known for years. He liked this new feeling and hoped it would stay with him for a long time. But when he looked out toward the back of the house at the family graveyard sadness overcame him. Yet this sadness would be short-lived. He would be back to his old self, filled with anger for not having his wife and son by his side. The feeling he knew so well before the harvest of the apples. The weather would turn hot and he would feel miserable.

The first in the graveyard was his grandfather, then his grandmother. Next to be buried there were his father, then his mother. Homer had also buried his wife and son in the family graveyard. He knew he himself would be buried there someday. The question was: would it be by someone close to him or by a stranger? Homer had no brothers or sisters so he knew he would have to remarry someday to make sure his wishes on this matter were carried out.

As he stood there with many thoughts racing in his mind, an old pickup truck rattled down the dirt road that was lined with dogwood trees. Homer stood there for a moment or two, trying to make out who was coming to his farm. Nobody ever visited his place except when it was time for the apples to be picked. Then it was farm laborers, whom he had to go into town and pick up. They would stay on the farm in the bunkhouse. He had built the bunkhouse specifically to house the laborers. Most of them would stay until the harvest was over and then move on.

The old pickup was rust-colored and it looked like a 1952 Chevy. It was in pretty good shape except for the actual rust which showed on the fenders. Homer could make out one person in the cab of the truck, but still could not tell who it was. He started to walk to the front yard to meet the person and see what he wanted.

The pickup came to a stop at the gate and the engine stopped as a man stepped out of the vehicle. Good morning, sir. My name is Jeremiah Perry, and I heard you might be looking for help.

Jeremiah was tall and good-looking. He had long hair pulled tightly back into a ponytail, which was what Homer noticed first about the young man. He didn’t feel like it made Jeremiah a bad person, but he wondered why someone would have such long hair, and whether he wasn’t rebelling against something. Jeremiah was wearing a baseball cap for the New York Yankees and was dressed in a pair of old, faded blue jeans and a tee-shirt.

Yes, I could use some help. My name is Homer Thomas. Where are you from? Homer asked.

Well, sir, that’s hard to say. I’ve worked here and there and moved around a lot. I really don’t come from anywhere, but then again, I came from over there, Jeremiah said. He was looking toward the west as he motioned with his hand waving it to the west.

This was puzzling to Homer; he never knew of anyone who didn’t come from somewhere. But because of the evasive response Jeremiah had given, Homer wasn’t sure he wanted to push for a definite answer. He didn’t feel the visitor was a fugitive, so he let it go.

I meant, where did you come from? Your last job—was it around here? Homer asked.

No, sir. I was working up in the mountains in Tennessee as a handyman. You know, where the caverns are located? Jeremiah asked. They didn’t have any more work for me and they told me to try over this way. They said the apple season was coming soon. In town at the feed store, they said you might be looking for someone to help out around here, Jeremiah continued, fishing for an answer.

Well, yes, I could use some help. We have the apple trees to take care of this time of year and with fifty acres it’s a little hard with only one person working the groves. What did you have in mind for wages? Homer asked.

I hadn’t thought about the pay, but room and board for now if that’s okay, and then when the harvest comes in we’ll talk about money? Jeremiah suggested.

It sure sounds good. There’s a bunkhouse over there and it has a kitchen. It isn’t much, but it’s a roof over your head and from what I’ve heard the beds are pretty comfortable. Of course, that comes with meals, and you’re welcome to take your meals with me. I don’t cook fancy, just plain old-fashioned meat and potatoes, if you don’t mind an old man’s cooking.

Hey, that’s all I need—bed, bathroom, and a refrigerator. Who could ask for more? I’m really not much on cooking, so if you’re the guy doing the cooking I’m all for it.

Then it’s settled. Go ahead and put your stuff away and then meet me up at the house, Homer said.

Jeremiah jumped back into his truck and drove around to the bunkhouse. He stepped out of the truck and looked around. He walked inside and a smile came over his face. This place isn’t bad at all, he thought. There were several bunk beds set up to house about twenty men. There was no linen on the beds so Jeremiah would have to remember to ask Homer about sheets and blankets. The bunkhouse had a couple of ceiling fans and the kitchen had a table and six chairs around it. There was nothing extra, just a plain stove, sink, and a few cabinets. Inside the cabinets were a few dishes, glasses, silverware, and pots and pans.

After he put his things away and picked out his bunk he walked up to the house. Homer was waiting for him on the front porch, just sitting and rocking in his rocking chair.

Hi, come on in. The first thing I guess I need to know is, do you have experience with farm equipment? Second of all, do you know anything about apples? Third, would you like a cup of coffee? Homer asked.

Sure, that would be great. Most of my life was on a farm. My pop had a spread out in Arkansas but he lost it in foreclosure and they sold it at auction. My mom passed away about two years ago and there wasn’t anything left for me there. The only thing I have is that old truck. My dad gave it to me when I was sixteen. It isn’t much, but it’s all I have, Jeremiah told Homer.

It seems we’re in the same boat. I lost my father over twenty five years ago and then my wife in childbirth. My son was stillborn. They’re all buried out back in the family graveyard. I live here alone. I’ve had a problem making friends since my wife died. So now the farm takes most of my time, being alone and all, Homer told Jeremiah.

It was only eleven in the morning, so there was still time to put in a few hours of work. I guess we’d better get started, Homer stated.

Yeah, can you show me around first and then explain what you would like me to do? Jeremiah asked.

The first day went by rather fast and as dusk approached they stood at the barn and surveyed the orchard, then turned and looked at each another.

Not bad for your first day! Are you hungry? Homer asked.

Yes, sir, I believe I am! In fact, I’m so hungry I could eat a horse! Jeremiah answered.

Let’s go up to the house and have some supper, Homer said.

After dinner they sat on the front porch and watched the sunset. Homer wasn’t a suspicious man so he didn’t pressure Jeremiah about where he really came from or what had brought him to the small town of Hendersonville. They sat quietly until dusk turned to darkness.

I guess I’ll call it a night, sir. I’m a little tired and I think I’ll turn in.

Me, too, Jeremiah. See you in the morning. Remember— breakfast is at six-thirty.

The next morning Homer woke up to the sound of wood being chopped. Jeremiah must have been up for an hour or more, because the stack of wood he had chopped was enormous. Homer quickly dressed and went down to the kitchen to start the coffee and make breakfast.

Jeremiah, come on in and have a cup of coffee. Breakfast will be ready soon, Homer called out.

Sure, I’ll be right in, Jeremiah answered.

Good morning. Did you sleep well last night? Homer asked.

Like a rock, Jeremiah replied.

Jeremiah didn’t have much to say, that was for sure. He sat quietly drinking the steaming-hot coffee and watched Homer start to scramble some eggs. The bacon was already fried and draining on paper towels to blot off the excess grease.

Well, today we have to check all of the irrigation lines to make sure the trees are getting enough water. After that, we need to cut any dead limbs and bring them down to the chipper. The chipper is in the barn; we’ll pull it out with the tractor. I’ll pull the wagon to put the wood chips in. We can dump the chips on the other side over there by the side of the shed. The overhang will protect the stacks from getting wet in the rain—we don’t want them to get moldy. I like to make my own mulch for the winter; the roses and other flowers really like it and it lays down a great bed for the winter months.

There is a lot of work that goes into apple growing, isn’t there? Jeremiah said.

Yes, there sure is, and when you do it yourself, well… it’s a long day and half the night! Homer said, looking Jeremiah straight in the eyes.

The weeks passed quickly and the work was long and hard. The two of them worked well together, but Homer still didn’t know much about Jeremiah. All he knew was what Jeremiah had told him the first day they met. On Sunday Jeremiah was always working on his truck, either changing the oil or the coolant or sometimes just checking out the engine. Sometimes he even washed it, which didn’t make the truck look any better but it made him happy and Homer didn’t have any objections to seeing Jeremiah happy. It was as if they were meant to be together as a team.

Homer had enough wood for the winter all chopped and stacked. The house didn’t have central heat or air. He depended on wood-burning stoves and fireplaces to keep the house warm. In the summertime he opened all the windows to keep the air flowing through. Homer didn’t believe in air conditioning.

Jeremiah was even good with his hands when it came to working on the inside. He started putting walls up for Homer in the house and helping with the remodeling. Homer told him what he wanted or what he was looking for, and somehow Jeremiah would make it come out the way Homer had envisioned it. Homer didn’t have to hammer one nail, or screw in one screw.

Homer had gained a lot of respect for Jeremiah but he knew that after the season was done, well, Jeremiah would surely be moving on. Nobody ever stuck around. So Homer tried to enjoy having Jeremiah around for the time being and tried not to think about the season being over.

The summer flew by in the blink of an eye. Toward the end of August Jeremiah suddenly began to disappear at night several times a week. Homer wanted to ask him where he was going, but he knew it wasn’t any of his business so he just kept quiet. He thought about following Jeremiah one night, but decided against it. If Homer made him angry he might leave. Homer had grown to depend on Jeremiah way too much. He felt that Jeremiah had taken the place of the son he had lost. He was about the same age as Homer’s son would have been if he had lived.

Just before picking time on September thirtieth, Jeremiah disappeared for three full days. Homer was afraid he wasn’t coming back and wondered to himself if he had done something to run him off. Jeremiah had not complained about anything and actually seemed to be very happy. In fact, Homer was thinking about asking Jeremiah if he wanted to move into the house where it would be warmer and he would be more comfortable. The seasonal laborers would be arriving soon and Homer felt Jeremiah wouldn’t want to stay in the bunkhouse with them.

Jeremiah turned up again on Wednesday and was quickly out in the orchard picking apples. Homer went into town to hire pickers for his crops. The same group of men he had hired the previous year and the year before were there waiting at a labor pool. He hired only twelve men this year. Each year some of the local kids and college students would also work for Homer picking. They liked working for him because he always paid each week and was very fair. This year was no different—there were six of the kids he knew and four college students who showed up on Homer’s doorstep looking to pick for him. He knew that with Jeremiah and himself, he wouldn’t need anyone else but he didn’t want to disappoint the kids, so he told them yes, they could join the crew.

When Homer returned from town with the workers there was Jeremiah, putting out baskets and ladders for the pickers. It was as if he had read Homer’s mind. Homer wore a big smile on his face and began giving orders to the workers.

Homer, can I see you for a minute? Jeremiah called out.

Sure, what’s on your mind?

I just wanted you to know I was gone for a few days on business. I didn’t have time to tell you before I left and with you not having a telephone out here, I couldn’t call to get a hold of you, Jeremiah said.

Hey, you don’t owe me any explanation. I just figured you had some business to take care of and you’d be back or you wouldn’t, Homer replied with a smile on his face.

Homer, I really appreciate you understanding, Jeremiah said.

Let’s get to work. Those apples aren’t going to jump into the baskets by themselves and there are a lot of ’em that have to be picked before nightfall, Homer ordered.

The trees were bent over with the weight of the fruit whose bright red color glimmered in the sunlight like red rubies. Looking down the rows it was a sight to see! If anyone missed an apple it was easy to spot—with its bright red color against the dark green leaves of the trees, it stood out like a big stoplight!

The days were hot and long. The mornings were as hot as the evenings, and by noon each day everyone felt like they could jump into a frozen pond to cool off. The morning temperatures were around eighty and by noon up in the nineties. It was going to be a hot autumn. Homer said to Jeremiah, It’s going to be an Indian summer. It’s September and you would think it was the middle of August!

Yes, sir, boss, Jeremiah replied and began working like the others.

It was dark by the time Homer quit for the night. Jeremiah went ahead to the farmhouse to wash up. He decided he would fix supper for the two of them. He knew Homer would be hungry and he wasn’t ready to go back to the bunkhouse with a bunch of strangers. The workers Homer picked up in town at the labor camp would be staying on the farm in the bunkhouse until all the trees had been picked.

Homer had a load on the flatbed truck he owned and was going to take the apples into town in the morning. There was a cool-storage building there for apples and they would mark the load and tag it with Homer’s identification. Once all the apples were in, they would be hauled to the factory that had bought his whole crop this year.

They had picked only one-quarter of the orchard when Jeremiah disappeared again. This time it was October fifteenth. Again he was gone for three days, and he returned as if nothing were out of the ordinary. He pulled his truck up to the side of the barn where he usually parked it and began working as if he’d been there the entire time. This happened twice now and Homer was beginning to get curious.

It was near the end of October and everyone had done a fantastic job