Eden's Edge

By T. Bradford Hurdle

June 5th 1951it is a warm summer morning in the quiet little town of Edens Edge, North Carolina, and Lisanne Walters has just stumbled upon the mutilated body of Jared Michaels. A member of one of the most prominent families in town, the victim seemingly has no enemies. But, if that was true, why would someone torture him and dump his naked body in the middle of Town Square?

That is one of the many questions SBI Detective Donovan Wolf intends to answer during his stay in this quaint town. As he investigates, he quickly learns that things are not exactly as they seem. The town is shrouded in secrecy and steeped in religious fanaticism. While there is no shortage of suspects, there is only circumstantial evidence. To make matters worse, the townspeople seem more intent on gossip than finding the killer.

As he deals with false leads and hidden threats from the murderer, Wolf struggles to make sense of the evidence and fight against his own self-doubt. Will he ever find the evidence he needs to bring Jareds killer to justice or will this murder become just another unsolved case?

When Wolf finally comes face to face with the killer, he begins the fight of his life. If he wins, the killer will be brought to justice and Jared will be vindicated. If he loses, he will become the killers second victim and the truth will die with him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496908827

T. Bradford Hurdle

T. Bradford Hurdle is a native North Carolinian, where he resides with his partner, Bobby, and their beautiful French Bulhuahua, Roxanne Marie. He has written several stage plays and a screenplay, The Transfer, which was produced in 2013 and is being shown in independent film festivals across the United States. In addition to being a writer, T. Bradford is also a salon owner and hairstylist. A lover of the theatre arts and music, he is very active in community theatre. This is his first novel.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Saturday, June 5th 1951

As Lisanne Walters rounded the corner onto Main Street, the warm rays of a June sunrise shimmered through the curls of her newly blonde hair. She tugged nervously at the pencil skirt that clung tightly to her hips and quickly readjusted her sweater that adhered to her like a second skin. A wave of panic shot through her, just like the one she had experienced the night before when Stella had turned the chair around and said, Greta Garbo, eat your heart out.

Although the change was drastic, Lisanne truly loved it. Her father’s favorite pearl of wisdom had always been that there was a time and a place for everything. She was quite certain that this was the time…it was years in the making…but she wasn’t exactly sure that this was the ideal place. Knowing it was too late to second guess herself, she took a deep breath and replied C’est la vie.

Her heels continued to click on the sidewalk as she carefully opened her makeup compact and checked her lipstick. The reflection smiling back at her gave her confidence and helped her to decide immediately that it didn’t matter if this was the place either, because she wasn’t going to be here much longer anyway.

A whistle pulled Lisanne from her thoughts. Good morning, pretty lady! said a middle-aged man as he pulled three bottles of milk from the back of his delivery truck.

Why Charlie Butts, said Lisanne playfully while she stopped and dropped her compact back into her purse, "you’re being awfully fresh this morning. What would your wife say if she knew you were flirting with a woman half your age?

Lisanne Walters? he replied in disbelief. "Little Lisanne Walters?"

She smiled as she continued to walk, suddenly feeling more secure about her new look. In like fashion, she also received whistles from the mail man and turned many more heads as they came onto their porches to retrieve their morning papers.

As she approached Town Square, Lisanne reached into her purse and pulled out a penny. A tradition she had began as a little girl, she would always throw a penny into the fountain and make a wish. She had tossed many coins into that fountain, but, every time, her wish was the same; she wanted to become an actress and leave the confines of her small hometown. This morning would be no different. She carefully closed her eyes and, with childlike faith, tossed her penny into the fountain. Then, she opened her eyes and carefully sat on the edge of the concrete bench that lay in front of the fountain.

Town Square was beautiful in the summertime. Large gardenia bushes produced a sweet perfume that Lisanne likened to the smell of Heaven itself. Each bush was neatly bordered by a bed of multicolored zinnias and red poppies, creating a scene more breathtaking than anything she had ever seen in Better Homes and Gardens. Without a doubt, this was her favorite part of town and the one thing she would miss.

Lisanne breathed deeply and drank in the beauty around her before looking at her watch. It was her turn to help Betty Lou open the diner and, since Saturday mornings produced the largest breakfast crowds, she couldn’t afford to be late. She stood slowly and carefully smoothed her skirt before leaning in to pick a gardenia bloom that she nestled in the curls above her ear.

As she turned to leave, something caught her eye. Amid the landscape, a bright light shone. She really had no time to investigate, but she couldn’t help herself. It was almost like history repeating itself. Once before, as a young child, Lisanne had also seen a mysterious light bursting forth from among the poppies. Upon further investigation, she had discovered a beautiful, silver charm bracelet, which she still wore to this day. Perhaps today would be another day to find some lost treasure.

She carefully parted the delicate braches of the gardenia bushes and looked down, following the light to its source. For a moment, she thought her eyes might be deceiving her, but when she looked again, she was certain. There, amid the flowers, was a young man’s hand. On the ring finger was a class ring. Its large, faceted stone was causing the interesting reflection. Startled, Lisanne let go of the braches.

After a moment, curiosity got the better of her and again she parted the bushes, this time looking further behind them. Laying face down in the Garden Club’s prized zinnias was a naked man. The morning sun glistened on his tanned, muscular frame. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t.

Stupid boys, she mumbled as she knelt beside him. Since graduation, there had been several instances of boys getting drunk and being dumped naked in Town Square by their friends. Such an adolescent prank for people professing themselves to be men, she thought. Nevertheless, perhaps she could save the unfortunate boy further humiliation by getting him out of there before things got busy in town.

Pardon me, she said shaking him slightly.

No response.

Again, she shook him.

Still, no response.

Are you okay?

She waited for a moment. Again, no response.

Without thinking, she shoved him with a more force than she had intended, causing him to roll on to his back. As she looked down, she suddenly gasped. His face was badly beaten, rendering him practically unrecognizable. Then, her eyes fell to his torso. Carved into his chest and abdomen were random scripture references. At that moment she suddenly realized that this was no adolescent prank.

Her heart beat wildly and she wanted to scream out for help, but her voice failed her. Then, she saw it—the ring. She knew that ring. There was only one person in the entire Senior Class with a ring like that. She grabbed his hand and pulled it to her chest. It was cold and lifeless; even a bit stiff. Her head began to spin and she felt sick. Suddenly, she found her voice and began to scream loudly.

Dropping her keys, Betty Lou quickly turned from the diner door and looked around to see who was screaming. She saw no one, but was certain that the screams were coming from Town Square. She hurried across the street and headed for the fountain. The screams were getting louder and more desperate. She carefully scanned the square. Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of a black stiletto heel peeking out from between the gardenia bushes. She parted the branches and looked down at Lisanne. What on earth is wrong with you, girl?

Jared! she screamed, looking up at Betty Lou. I think he’s dead!

ONE

The phone rang causing Donovan Wolf to sit upright in bed.

Morning, Detective Wolf, replied the gruff voice on the other end of the line. Hope I woke you.

Very funny, Captain, he replied. You do remember you gave me the day off…right?

Much deserved, I might add.

Alright, laughed Wolf. I’m sure you didn’t call to check up on my sleep habits. What’s wrong?

You know, you really should consider taking the sleeping pills the doctor gave you.

You know that I don’t like pills, reminded Wolf. He was amazed at how the Captain could ignore a question and go off on another tangent completely. What do you need?

There’s a case I’d like you to consider.

Sure, Cap’n. Put the file on my desk and I’ll take a look at it when I come back in on Monday. He knew that wasn’t an option, but he liked ribbing his captain because he always seemed so serious.

I wish it could wait, Donnie, answered the Captain somberly. But, it’s a murder. Body was discovered this morning.

I don’t know, complained Wolf. This last case kicked my butt and I was really looking forward to an afternoon of fishing at the lake. Can’t you give it to someone else this time?

I would, he said with hesitancy, but this isn’t an ordinary murder case.

No offense, Cap’n, but they never are.

The killer carved scripture references into the boy’s chest before he killed him.

What? asked Wolf in disbelief. His heart began to pound and he suddenly felt sick. He wanted to speak but the words would not pass his lips.

Donnie, you there?

Yeah, he replied, finally finding his voice and reaching for the pad and pen laying on the night stand. Where’d this happen?

Eden’s Edge.

Eden’s Edge? he quizzed.

Heard of it?

Yeah. I went there once when I was a kid. He scratched his head with the pen. It seemed like a pretty peaceful little town.

It is, answered the Captain. Or should I say, it was?

Who’s the victim?

He’s the son of the local physician, Elliot Michaels and his wife, Margaret Michaels.

Motive? asked Wolf, checking the notes he was scribbling.

That’s the tricky part, laughed the Captain. He was popular; his family was loved and respected by the community. He had no enemies.

He had at least one, corrected Wolf.

Naturally, the whole town is outraged….and frightened.

Donovan nervously scratched at the scruff on his chin. After a moment, he asked, What did we learn from the preliminary investigation?

Not a lot, answered the Captain. The victim’s name is Jared Michaels. He’s eighteen years old; just graduated from high school last week. Before he was murdered, he was severely beaten. Most likely the scriptures were carved into his chest while he was still alive, but we’re not sure.

So, it’s safe to assume that he was tortured. Cause of death?

The Captain cleared his throat and paused briefly. It’s not official, but I’m almost certain he bled to death.

And we reached this conclusion how?

The Captain hesitated before answering. The boy’s genitals were removed.

Donovan’s mind reeled from all of the information he was trying to process. This was no ordinary crime of passion. It was planned and methodical. Where’d the murder take place?

That’s hard to say.

What do you mean?

Well, sighed the Captain. The victim was found nude, lying face down in Town Square.

But?

But, there was no blood at the scene. It’s almost as if the victim had been bathed and cleaned up before his body was dumped in town. His hair had even been combed.

Who performed the initial investigation? inquired Wolf.

The town Sheriff, Earl Leggett.

Has the body been moved?

I asked them not to, said the Captain. Earl and the victim’s daddy are friends from way back. He’s not too thrilled about leaving the body out in the middle of Town Square, but I’m afraid he might miss something, seeing how he’s personally connected to the victim and all.

Good thinking, assured Wolf.

So, how quick can you get there? asked the Captain, knowing that Wolf would never refuse the case now.

I’ll be there before lunch.

Good deal, said the Captain. I’ll call the Sheriff and let’em know you’re on the way. And Donnie…

Yes?

You might want to take some extra clothes. I don’t want you to leave Eden’s Edge until you have all the facts. Understand?

Completely, answered Wolf. I’ll call you later today and let you know what I’ve got.

Wolf hung up the phone and sat in bed for a moment, playing the facts over again in his mind. He knew why the Captain had chosen him for this case, but he wasn’t sure he was mentally up for it. Professionally, however, he was the best the Bureau had to offer. Ultimately, he knew that Jared needed him. Wolf possessed the ability to give him the only thing that anyone could give him now— justice.

Wolf knew he had no time to waste so he forced himself out of bed and into the shower. He would not allow himself to think about the case right now because he knew it would only slow him down. He quickly went through his morning ritual without missing a step, making sure that his teeth were brushed and flossed, his faced closely shaven, his nails trimmed and his hair combed perfectly into place.

What do I need? he asked himself, pulling a suitcase from the top shelf of the bedroom closet. He deplored packing in a hurry. He knew he would forget something. He decided to take two suits, a couple pairs of khakis, a few casual shirts and his trusty wingtips. As he pulled his toiletries off the bathroom counter and into his shaving bag with one sweep, he muttered, What else have I forgotten?

He closed his suitcase and lifted it off the bed, scanning the bedroom. He grabbed his badge, notepad, a worn Bible, and a pack of Chesterfields from the night stand and headed out the door. However, before he made it through the front door, he turned around and went back to his bedroom. It’s probably a dry county, he said, retrieving a silver flask from the drawer of the night stand. It was then that he realized he had almost left without his medicine bag. He was sure he would need its protection and the guidance of the ancestors on this one. Making one final sweeping glance over the room, he grabbed his suitcase and said good bye to his home, not knowing how long it would be before he would return.

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Wolf rolled down the windows of his Mercury Monterey and let the humid breeze circulate freely through the car. He was glad he had decided to stop outside of Raleigh for a cold Pepsi and a Moon Pie. He knew he would be driving at least two hours in the sweltering, North Carolina heat before he would reach the small town of Eden’s Edge. He was already damp and uncomfortable and he was sure he would be drenched with sweat by the time he arrived. Good thing he had decided not to put on his shirt and tie until he was almost there.

He turned on the radio and decided to make the best of it. He belted out Hey Good Lookin’ along with Hank Williams while he sipped his Pepsi and picked at his Moon Pie. Most people would not have tried to juggle all three things at once, but Donovan believed that the treats improved his singing, which was mediocre at best.

Occasionally, he looked down at the Bible that lay beside him on the seat. He didn’t know why he always kept it there. Perhaps it was because it was one of the few things he had left that was directly connected to his father or maybe it simply made him feel a bit safer. He hadn’t opened its covers in years. He kept telling himself he would read it again someday. However, he had no idea when that day might come. He had been forced to read and memorize so much scripture as a child; he felt as if it was enough for a lifetime. Still, according to most of the people who gave him their unsolicited opinions, all preachers’ kids felt that way and used it as an excuse to do whatever they wanted. Although he failed to read the Word, he still believed in God and prayed regularly. That was enough for him.

On top of the Bible, he had laid his medicine bag. In many ways it brought him more peace than the Bible itself and it offered him a sense of protection. Perhaps that was because it had been made for him by the only person who had ever truly loved him unconditionally. Its contents were innocuous really—a special blend of herbs, tobacco and sage grown by his best friend, Thomas Lone Wolf, who had always been more of a father to him than the man who sired him.

He couldn’t help but smile when he looked at the pack of Chesterfields and the Zippo that lay next to the Word. His father would have been enraged to see the Devil’s weed next to the Good Book. It too always occupied the same spot. He smoked occasionally, but not enough to justify the purchase of either. Of course, he had bought the Zippo simply because it looked cool. However, he had managed to use the lighter many times. Always the gentleman, he took great pleasure in lighting other people’s smokes. Friends and acquaintances alike found the gesture truly endearing and appreciated his gallant effort to keep alive the art of southern hospitality.

The sweltering summer heat made the hour that had passed seem like forever. Wolf looked at his watch. It was eleven. He only had one hour to make it to Eden’s Edge. What was he going to find when he reached the town limits, other than the body of a prominent youth murdered by God knows who? He was sure he was going to find a town full of people unwilling to believe that a murderer was living among them. Then there was the scripture verses carved on the boy’s chest. Wolf was sure they pointed in some way to motive. But how? It was common knowledge that Eden’s Edge was a community of tight knit Christians with strict religious beliefs, but he found it hard to believe that they would be so fanatical in their beliefs that they would commit murder. Still, people had been known to kill for less. There simply had to be a more logical explanation.

Wolf pondered over scenarios, both logical and farfetched, for the remaining hour of the drive and by the time he stopped to put on his shirt and tie, he was convinced that it was pointless to think about the murder for another moment until he had done a thorough investigation and had a solid motive. Still one thing was certain—someone in Eden’s Edge had committed a murder and he wasn’t going to rest until they paid for it.

TWO

Donovan Wolf drew in a deep breath as he approached the sign that read Eden’s Edge 5 Miles. He cautiously turned to the right as the arrow indicated and began his trek down the curvy road that had been burrowed out through the thick tapestry of pine trees, tobacco and corn fields. The scent of pine sap filled his nostrils and he was thankful for the needed shade the trees provided. He pondered how such a small yet self-sufficient town had managed to blossom and flourish in the middle of the woods. Perhaps the secret to their success was their seclusion and sense of family. However, he was almost certain that most of the residents would attribute it to the fear of God and their strict adherence to His teachings.

As he looked out over the corn fields, he smiled. The white man separated the sisters, as usual, he chuckled, thinking of the teachings that had been passed down to him by Thomas Lone Wolf. When will they ever learn that you have to plant the corn, beans and squash together if you want them to flourish? He had come to know Thomas when he was a mere boy of sixteen. Although they were not blood relatives, Thomas had taken him in and given him a home when he had nowhere else to go. He had taught him the ways of the Native American, and now Donovan was as much an Indian as his brown-skinned indigenous brothers. In many ways, Thomas had been more of a daddy to him than his own father had ever been; which is why he chose to legally change his last name to Wolf.

Donovan was pulled from his thoughts of home and Thomas when he saw the sign that read Welcome to Eden’s Edge. He veered slightly left and was immediately flanked on both sides of the street by neat rows of pristine houses with perfectly manicured lawns and fragrant rose gardens. He was amazed at how rural country and farm land could immediately turn into a perfect little city that would put a Norman Rockwell painting to shame. The street sign read Main Street. He was not quite sure where he was supposed to go, but he felt confident that Main Street should lead him there. After a couple of blocks, he knew he had reached his destination.

On his left, there was a large group of people in tight groups asking questions and murmuring so loudly that he could hear them clearly from inside his car. He spotted a parking space on his right and quickly whipped into it, stopping with a slight jerk. Then, he reached down and grabbed his medicine bag. As he shoved it into his pocket, he whispered, Be with me, Creator. Protect me and guide me to the truth. He looked in the rear view mirror and quickly combed his sandy-colored hair neatly back into place before stepping out of his car and slipping on his suit jacket. It was too hot and damp for a coat, but he knew with his boyish face he had to look professional or the townspeople may think him too young and not take him seriously.

He drew in a deep breath as he approached the crowd and exhaled slowly. They were obviously frightened, angry and confused. Each little group was huddled together, sharing their theories and disbelief, oblivious to the others around them until they wandered into another group and shared their theories again. Questions and accusations were being hurled at the sheriff and his deputies and, he, in turn, was yelling back for the people to stay calm.

Excuse me, said Donovan politely as he began to weave his way through the maze of people. It was as if he was invisible and mute. Realizing he was making no head way against the human barricade, he removed his badge from his coat, held it out in front of him and replied a little more forcefully, Detective Donovan Wolf, State Bureau of Investigations. Pardon me.

No response. Amidst the dull roar of the crowd and the sound of the sheriff’s bellows, Donovan was not being heard. The tension and fear were rising and he knew order had to be restored quickly or the situation could turn volatile. More importantly, the longer the angry citizens of Eden’s Edge trampled around Town Square, the more his crime scene was being compromised. Not sure of what else to do, Donovan raised his badge in the air, and yelled, Sheriff!

Who said that?

Waving his badge in the air, Donovan answered, Over here, Sheriff.

Is that you, Detective?

Yes, sir.

Bout time, he replied, disgusted. Make way for the big city detective, people! Although he was loud and boisterous, the people continued to ignore him, infuriating him even more. I said, make way for the detective. It was as if he had said nothing. Unable to control his anger any longer, Sheriff Leggett removed his gun from the holster and quickly fired it into the air. After a gasp or two, the crowd fell silent. Then he replied, Like I said before, make way for the detective.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea when Moses struck it with his staff and Donovan quickly passed through. As he made his way to the sheriff, the crowd quickly closed in and resumed their murmurings and speculations. That was subtle, he replied extending his hand. Detective Donovan Wolf, State Bureau of Investigations

Sheriff Earl Leggett. And it got you through didn’t it? What the hell took you so long?

"Raleigh is two hours away. I got here as quickly as I could."

Meanwhile, I got a dead boy, lying in the sun for the better part of four hours, getting riper by the minute. He quickly spit a wad of chewing tobacco by Donovan’s left foot. "And you people who think you’re so high and mighty and better than everybody else won’t let us move him because you think we ain’t capable of doing a proper investigation."

Being the fine lawman that I am sure you are, you know that moving the body could have contaminated the crime scene, retorted Wolf sarcastically. Now, I’m sure we both agree that the most important thing is bringing this boy’s killer to justice. So, if you’re through trying to have a pissing contest…

Earl glared at Wolf for a moment and then replied, I understand that you are to be in charge of this investigation. So what’s your next move, Cap’n?

I think it would make the most sense the clear out this crowd and conduct a thorough investigation of the crime scene.

We’ve been trying to clear this crowd ever since we contacted your boss. I’ve tried reasoning with them, threatening them. They ain’t gonna move.

Have you tried shooting into the crowd, asked Wolf.

Nobody likes a smart ass, Detective, he smirked.

Do you mind if I give it a shot? I have found that if you deal with people honestly and rationally you can generally get them to comply with your requests.

Earl extended his arm and replied, They’re all yours.

Wolf stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Excuse me, people.