Shadows in the Night

By Jason L. Henderson

In a connected universe, vandalism and strange noises cause fear and unrest in a small Midwestern town. Unexplained knocking on windows is coming from outside by an unseen perpetrator on a nightly basis. Crops are being damaged. Animals are disappearing.

Mary, a local police officer, is put to the task of solving these mysterious disturbances while attempting to overcome tragedy in her recent past. She must also keep those she loves safe—namely, her husband, Ted, who works the night shift at the manufacturing company outside of town, and her elderly neighbor, Edna, the one-woman neighborhood watchman.

It isn’t long before Edna and Mary begin to experience what the locals are talking about as the unexplained events have moved into their quiet neighborhood near the edge of the town. As Mary investigates the incidents, she discovers a potential link—symbols painted or carved near the victims’ properties.

As the investigation unfolds, Mary encounters a new stranger in town, Webb. Her instincts tell her that he has something to do with the events. It doesn’t take long for Mary to realize that her intuitions are correct when she learns that Webb has a history of dealing with unexplainable phenomena.

Are the symbols, noises, and vandalism connected? What role does Webb play in the increasing activity? Will her small town ever be the same again?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jun 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532077593

Jason L. Henderson

Jason Henderson lives in Pekin, Illinois with his wife Rhonda. He discoved his fondness of horror and mystery while trying to stay awake for Creature Feauture with his brother on the weekends and by watching the first Friday the 13th with his sister.

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Copyright © 2019 Jason L. Henderson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-7760-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-7759-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019908362

iUniverse rev. date: 06/24/2019

Contents

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3

4

5

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12

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14

About the Author

1

James Kincaid sat in the shadows behind his desk. He was amused by the man sitting in the chair on the opposite side. Like so many others that came into the office, he was shifting back and forth uncomfortably. A trickle of sweat ran down the side of his head and onto his cheek. Kincaid noted that he was trying to avoid eye contact. Anytime it seemed inevitable, the man would run his hand through his blonde hair, sometimes scratching his head as if deep in thought, and pretend to study a painting off to the side of the room.

Kincaid was a master at making people feel insignificant. Over the years, he learned that his mere presence was enough to do it, but eventually he would have to talk and interact with them as well. That’s when he started working on the power of direct and indirect communication. He focused on non-verbal cues by trying to stay as poised as possible. He took slow, deep breaths and held eye contact throughout each conversation. And when he spoke, he did so in a slow, controlled, and deep voice. The key was to always appear to be one step ahead of everyone. More times than not, it caused the best of the best to second-guess themselves. That’s when he would seize the moment and make the opposition look foolish. These such things got him far in life, got the right people to notice.

He pressed the man harder. So, Barnes, what you’re telling me is that a middle-aged man and his teenage daughter have vanished, and with all the technology and intelligence available to us, we cannot locate them?

Y’yes sir, Barnes replied, that’s what I’m saying.

This is unacceptable. You had them last year in California. You knew where they were for two days. Yet you chose to do nothing. And then they just disappeared, not to be heard from since. Do you have any idea what has happened to others for such pedestrian mistakes in the past?

Yes, yes sir. I do. But, but in my defense, there were others involved-

I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE OTHERS! Kincaid bellowed. I told you to bring him to me the minute you discovered his location.

But sir-

I don’t want to hear it, Barnes. There is no excuse for your lack of competence and carelessness. What I want to hear from you right now is, ‘I’m working on it. We will find him and his daughter soon. And when I do, you will be the first to know.’ If anything else comes out of your mouth, they will never find your body.

Kincaid had him exactly where he wanted him. Barnes stopped shifting in his chair. His slender form hunched over as he drew his shoulders slightly forward, causing disheveled strands of hair to fall across his forehead. The color seemed to drain from his face. Suddenly, the dark, expensive suit and freshly-cut hair no longer fit him. He now appeared to be no more than an underpaid laborer.

I’m working on it. We will find him and his daughter soon. And when I do, you will be the first to know.

I know I will, my friend. I know I will. Now, if you don’t mind excusing yourself, I have other matters at hand.

Barnes stood slowly from the chair and made his way toward the door. Before reaching out to grab the handle, he stopped and turned back. What about Lucas? Should I put him on alert?

No. I know he is our ally, but Lucas wants this worse than we do, and he is willing to do anything to get it. Push him for information. See if his boy, Jimmy, knows anything, but give him nothing.

Okay sir, understood.

Barnes turned away and took hold of the door handle.

Barnes.

Yes sir?

Don’t take too long.

Without looking back, the man opened the door to walk out. I won’t, sir.

Kincaid watched as Barnes opened the door and quickly shuffled out. Just as the door was about to latch shut, it exploded open as another man in uniform came storming across the threshold and straight to Kincaid’s desk.

The man was out of breath. Sir, it’s happening again. You told me to notify you as soon as the first trace of evidence was reported!

Where?

This time, it’s the lower Midwest: Centralia, Illinois. The pattern is exactly as you said it would be. By our calculations, it’s been underway for at least a week. If we don’t hurry-

Send Webb.

The man stopped talking and shook his head. What? Sir, I don’t understand. Webb hasn’t been part of this assignment for a long time. In fact, he hasn’t been active for years.

Webb has been active in an unofficial capacity since the day he turned in his papers. He’s earned this. He’s gone far beyond the call of duty for this opportunity. Contact him and let him know where to go. He will take care of the rest once he gets there. Is that understood?

Sir, we will not have another opportunity like this, at least for-

You admitted it yourself, a pattern has been established. We will have another opportunity. If it’s happening here, then it’s happening somewhere else. Get the team to work overtime on finding another location. Send Webb. I don’t want to hear any more about it.

Yes, sir. Should I put the team at his command?

No. Send a small reconnaissance team to only observe and report their findings. Tell them not to get involved. This shouldn’t expend our resources. Have the team and Webb report to Barnes. He is working in another area right now, but he should be able to manage this small-scale operation. Also, don’t let Webb know he is being watched. He should figure it out on his own, but I see no need to alarm him.

Kincaid then nodded to the man. You and the team can focus on a more penetrating search as soon as another location is found.

If Webb gets into trouble?

Kincaid removed his hands from the desk and put them in his lap. He bent forward just enough that his long, wrinkly face, dark eyes, and salt and pepper hair were visible. "Webb is nearing the end of his usefulness. His body is breaking down, and he doesn’t have the same abilities as some of our younger team members. If he gets into local trouble, tell Barnes to help him out. If things turn more serious, he will have to find a way out on his own."

2

Officer Mary Jones was sitting at her desk when the two officers burst into the office talking about the call Shawn had just returned from.

She’d taken the call at five o’clock that morning from Nathan Prichard. Prichard claimed that someone was creating a rumpus out in his field and if somebody didn’t get out there in a hurry, he was gonna start shooting and ask questions later. Having been the start of the morning shift, Shawn Atkinson was the first officer to walk through the door and take the call. He’d been out at the farm all morning and just recently returned with an incredible story. Coming down the aisle with another officer, Mary could tell he was worked up. He was speaking loud and fast, trying to stay one step ahead of Matt so that he could stay in Matt’s line of sight.

I’m telling you, Shawn said anxiously. I’ve never seen anything like it. The stalks were laid perfectly sideways, all following the same pattern; all bent over four inches from the ground. It would’ve taken someone weeks to do it alone. Given the fact that all the stalks hadn’t died yet, it would’ve taken fifteen, maybe twenty people to do it overnight. If that many people were involved, people would know. S’probably one of those cults or something.

It was always fun watching the two officers together. Shawn had only been on the force for a few years. He was somewhere in his early twenties, weighed about a buck twenty-five, and got excited whenever he spoke to Matt. Mary would watch his blond hair shake from side to side when he explained things.

Matt Thomson was the complete opposite of Shawn. He’d been on the force for over ten years. From day one, he was comfortable with his role in the department. He was taller and thicker than Shawn, and he always stood stout. She couldn’t recall a time when he showed any flaws in his demeanor while on the job.

He was married up until last year. Although the city was small, there were plenty of young women who liked a confident man in uniform with smooth, dark hair. In the divorce, Matt inherited a three-bedroom, two-story house just a block away from the station. Over the summer, Mary noticed the yard hadn’t been taken care of and garbage was starting to pile up.

Shawn was still rambling when Matt cut him off. Y’know what I think?

No. What?

I think your mind’s playing games with ya. I think somebody’s been out there staging the whole thing. They want us t’think something big’s going on. Trying to get some attention for our little city, so visitors will start coming and spending their money here.

"Impossible, Matt. Nobody wants to bring that kind of attention here, especially when it feels like it’s two hundred degrees outside in the shade.

You weren’t there. The whole crop thing and then the symbol. The symbol was burned into the side of the barn eight feet off the ground, like someone just set a scaffold up and went to work. But there weren’t any footprints and no signs the ground had been disturbed.

I don’t care what you say. Matt snorted. Some asshole is out there doing this all by himself.

Shawn’s voice got louder. "You’re dead wrong. Something is going on here. It ain’t just one person doing all this. I wouldn’t be surprised-"

Okay, boys, Mary interjected with her slightly raspy voice as she wiped sweat from her forehead and brushed her stringy, grayish-auburn hair to the side. It’s about time to bring it down a notch. Nothing is getting solved by you two standing here bickering.

Fine by me. Matt shook his head and walked away, mumbling something about a