Four Before Dawn

By Roger Mossman Miller

Burrowed deep within the vast forests of Northern West Virginia, with the stunning backdrop of soaring mountain vistas, rural Shelby County is the absolute epitome of Mother Nature at its finest.  It is also the last place on earth you would ever expect to find pure evil. 

Four Before Dawn delivers a collection of four chilling novellas, all centered in the charming and picturesque setting of Shelby County. 

In "Kirby's Confession" a teenage girl walks into the Shelby County Sheriff's office, with a stunning admission concerning her involvement in a series of unsolved murders. 

This story begins with Kirby writing out her confession to authorities, however, as she recounts this disturbing tale, the climactic finale delivers a shocking twist that no one will see coming.

"The Group" centers around the members of a small group therapy session, with each individual harboring a very dark past.  As the small town of Mountain's Edge buckles down in the wake of a severe snowstorm, a new member is introduced to the group. 

This young man unwittingly holds the key to a long-kept secret that connects each of them.  Before this ominous day is over, a barrage of devastating skeletons from the past will be exposed, drastically altering the lives of each member of the group and changing their world forever. 

Perched on the highest peak of Shelby County, a remote area known as "Blackstone Mountain", there stands an ancient and haunted stone mansion.  This story immediately unfolds to reveal the abusive life of one small boy and the unimaginable atrocities that he suffers at the hands of his guardians in York Manor. 

The story of Blackstone Mountain not only chronicles the violent abuse of this child, but it also traces back to more than a century and a half earlier, to where the presiding evil of York Manor originated.    

            "Something Happened" is set in the small rural community of Big Pine Grove, West Virginia, where a young mother awakens to find her newborn twins have gone missing.  As this troubling story immediately makes national headline news, local police quickly begin a list of prospective suspects.  

While the rest of this tight-knit community rallies around the heartbroken young mother, one unstable citizen, harboring a dark secret, will shut herself off from the rest of the town.  After several days of anxious searching for the missing babies, this story eventually reaches a stunning climax that will once again make national headline news.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roger M Miller
• Release date: Apr 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9798201862312

Roger Mossman Miller

Roger Mossman Miller grew up in rural northern West Virginia, and moved to Florida years later.  After nearly twenty years in the sunshine state, he now resides in Atlanta, Georgia. 

Book preview

Kirby’s Confession

Sheriff’s Department

Shelby County Courthouse

Pineview, West Virginia

JANUARY 22, 2025

MY NAME IS KIRBY LOUISE Dove and I am fifteen years old.  I have come to the Sheriff’s Department this evening of my own free will. 

What I am about to reveal is my recollection of the tragic events that have torn my family apart, as well as shaken our small, rural community to its core. 

I am referring to my involvement in the multiple deaths that have occurred during this past year, with the most recent tragedy happening just earlier this evening. 

I have been hiding a very dark secret for quite some time now, and it was that terrible secret that originally sparked this horrifying chain of events. 

I can no longer remain silent about what I know.  This past year has been gut-wrenching, especially after what just happened to my momma a few weeks ago. 

Tears spring to my eyes when I think of the intense pain that she is now suffering, both physically and emotionally. 

I was naturally quite nervous when I came here this evening, but Sheriff Parker is being nice and very accommodating. 

A tall lean man in his early fifties, with dark hair that is beginning to gray at the temples, he has a kind aura about him and I can tell that he is a good man.

Please, take your time, Kirby, and write it all down. 

The Sheriff has given me bottled water, along with a pen and notepad.  He then left me on my own in this small room, which is adjacent to his office. 

The Sheriff’s department is on the second floor of the ancient stone courthouse, here in Pineview, the seat of Shelby County. 

It is very cold outside tonight and the old courthouse is somewhat drafty, as a fierce winter wind whips snow against the small window of this room.

The tree branches are bare, except for a scattering of tall pines that surround the huge courthouse, and the ground is sparkling white in the moonlight, from the recent snowstorm. 

It has been a very harsh winter so far, with several heavy snow storms in our region of the state, and we’re not even midway through the winter spell. 

It is just three weeks into the New Year, and West Virginia is in full swing of what my daddy used to always refer to as the cold season. 

Even though I am dressed warmly and still wearing my parka, I am chilled to the bone.  My fingers are still somewhat cramping from the cold, but I’m sure that I can still write. 

I had feared that frostbite might be an issue, after my terrible ordeal on the mountain earlier this evening, however, the paramedics said that my fingers would be just fine. 

My only problem right now is trying to figure out where to begin.  I suppose that I could start with the very first death, which occurred on Thanksgiving Day, fourteen months ago.

However, to truly understand how I ended up at the sheriff’s department this evening, I will have to go back much further to when this waking nightmare originated.

-2-

Iwould like to tell you that I am the prettiest smartest and most popular girl at Shelby County High.  I would also like to say that my family is very well-off and that we are living the American Dream.   l

However, if I were to disclose all of that information, I would be describing my best friend, Reese Adams.  She is all of those things and I have adored her my whole life. 

I was never good at sports and never once did I gain the courage to try out for the cheerleading squad, even though Reese is constantly encouraging me to do so. 

She is the head cheerleader and an absolute natural when it comes to sports.  She is also the smartest person I know and has gotten straight A’s from as far back as I can remember.

If I were to claim that I am anything like Reese, smart, popular, and rich, that would be nothing more than a pack of lies, and from here on out, I want to be completely honest.

I am no prettier and no smarter than any other girl my age.  And my family is not what you would call poor white trash. 

However, my parents have barely been able to keep us above the poverty line for as far back as I can remember. 

Daddy was born James Henry Dove, but everyone calls him Jimmy, and Momma’s name is Arden Louise Webster-Dove. 

My parents met at a high school football game over in neighboring Darby County where Daddy is from.  He was a bonafide stoner back then.  (Some things never change.)

It was the fall of 2007 and momma was a cheerleader at Shelby High, here in Pineview where I currently enrolled as a freshman.  (Go Grizzlies.) 

Daddy and his younger brother, my Uncle Bobby, grew up in Darby City, a small town over in Darby County. 

From pictures I’ve seen of them when they were my age, daddy and his brother were very handsome back then. 

And their good looks followed them into adulthood.  They are both tall and strong with a mop of brown hair on each of them, and a matching set of emerald green eyes. 

Momma looks pretty much the same as she did as a teenager, with big blue eyes and a pretty face framed by long, wavy auburn hair. 

My momma is a very well-liked person in our community, and she has always been quick with a warm smile.

Despite having had two babies, momma has kept a trim figure over the years.  She is best known for her shapely legs and she blushes when Daddy often comments on them.

With red hair and blue eyes, along with a light spray of freckles across our noses, my little brother, Bliss, and I resemble our momma a great deal more than our daddy.

Bliss and I are the only natural redheads in our small town, and we are often referred to as Ginger by everyone who knows us.  (I have always hated that nickname.) 

Bliss is small for his age and with his hair kept short and his freckles, he is cute as a button.  My hair is as long as momma’s and I usually keep it pulled back in a ponytail. 

I suppose it is normal for some girls to feel awkward about their appearance.  I just wish that I could be more confident like my friend, Reese.  She is so very pretty and well-liked. 

By the time my parents were married, momma had already graduated high school and was starting business courses at the community college in Pineview. 

Daddy had dropped out of high school in his junior year and planned on settling for his GED.  But after a couple of failed attempts at the exam, he eventually gave up on the diploma. 

It’s a bullshit test anyway.  Daddy was still complaining years later.  I don’t need a shitty GED to tell me I’m smart enough! 

At the beginning of their marriage, while Daddy began a series of short-lived auto mechanic positions, momma was doing quite well in her business courses. 

Despite becoming pregnant almost immediately after getting married, momma was determined to finish school. 

From what I’ve been told by my momma over the years, it was not a planned pregnancy, but it was a very welcomed surprise. 

She went on to continue school until a severe case of something called toxemia forced her to be bedridden during the majority of her pregnancy with me.

Momma had to take a leave of absence from college and put her education on hold, but, eager to get her degree, she reenrolled by the time I turned a year old. 

However, with Daddy unable to hold a job for any extended amount of time, momma had to drop out of school again.

Momma was forced to work full-time, either waitressing or working as a cashier, often she held down two jobs to keep a roof over our heads. 

By the time my little brother, Bliss, came along, just a few months before my fourth birthday, college no longer seemed to be a reality for momma.

She always planned to go back to school, after the bills were caught up and daddy found a job that would last for more than a couple of months.  But that has never happened.

When she talked of college and the thought of one day going back to school, there was always a look in her eyes that told me she knew that that day would never come. 

I don’t remember hearing my momma ever speak of any regrets in having children, and never once did she accuse my brother and me of derailing her dreams of a college education. 

My momma has worked at the local Walmart for quite a few years now, and I cannot count the many times daddy has started and then lost a new job.

He has worked in about every auto shop in Shelby County before going on to lose more jobs over in Darby County as well.

Daddy is notorious for either getting himself fired from a job because he is always calling in sick or reporting to work late. 

And any time Daddy ever became tired of his place of employment, he simply said whatever was on his mind to his supervisor and walked off the job.

I told my boss to go f*** himself.  I heard Daddy exclaim this to Momma more than once during the years of his turbulent history of employment.  This was Daddy’s routine of giving notice to his employers. 

My daddy’s heavy drinking and his constant use of recreational drugs, along with a very bad habit of back-talking to his employers, have cost him many jobs over the years. 

To my knowledge, momma never once ridiculed Daddy for losing yet another job.  But I could see the disappointment in her eyes every time Daddy came home unemployed.

It was always very rare for Daddy to show his affection to my brother and me.  But momma is very much into hugs and telling Bliss and me how much she loves us. 

My earliest memories are of momma tucking Bliss and me into bed, pulling the quilt up to our chins, and telling us to stay snug as bugs in a rug.

For many years, my brother and I shared a tiny bedroom at one end of an ancient and cramped little mobile home. 

We slept on a set of old wood-framed stacked bunk beds that Daddy and his brother had once used when they were boys.  Bliss always slept on top while I took the bottom bunk.

Our tiny bedroom in the trailer home was so small, that I could lean out of my bed and open the bedroom door. 

Every morning it was momma’s routine to pop her head into our bedroom with a warm and loving smile. 

Wake up angels.  It’s a beautiful day out there and I don’t want either of you to miss any of it.

It could have been a warm summer morning or a blizzard in the dead of winter, but I learned from my momma to appreciate every day. 

A cheerful smile and a warm attitude have always been momma’s loving way of waking us every morning. 

Despite our very humble existence, my momma has kept a roof over our heads and food on the table.

Momma has always been a good mother to us, and she has always worshipped the ground that Daddy walks upon. 

She would go out of her way to make him happy, even when this affection was not always reciprocated.  My daddy has not always been good to my momma over the years. 

There was a lot of pushing and shoving and countless times momma saw the back of Daddy’s hand.  It did not happen every day, but it did happen more times than I can count.

There were usually warning signs when Daddy was angry.  I should knock the piss out of you, Arden.  He would yell out at momma, and she would immediately go quiet and try to make right whatever it was that had set daddy off.

Maybe she had forgotten to pick up the specific flavor of syrup he liked with his pancakes, or she had forgotten to put back his favorite radio station after she had used his truck.

As vividly as I remember my daddy hitting my momma, not once can I pinpoint an incident where she said or did something intentional to provoke his anger. 

There is one violent incident that stands out in my mind above all the others.  And I think that it might have been the very first time I ever witnessed Daddy raise a mean hand to Momma.

I was about seven or eight at the time, and this would have put my little brother at either three or four years old. 

Bliss and I were sitting at the tiny kitchen table of our mobile home, eating toasted cheese sandwiches and potato chips for lunch. 

Momma always cut our sandwiches diagonally, leaving them in two smaller triangle-shaped pieces. 

A habit of mine has always been to lift the top piece of toast off and line my sandwich with potato chips before putting the top piece back on.  And Bliss always mimicked this.

Jimmy, is all the beer gone, hon?  Momma was sitting at the table next to us, scribbling out a grocery list.

She turned in her chair to call down the short hallway toward Daddy.  He was in the back bedroom with his favorite rock and roll music blaring and he couldn’t hear her.

Kirby, you look after Bliss and be good for Daddy while I’m at the grocery store, Momma said this routinely, but she knew that we were always good for Daddy.

If you’re good little bunnies, momma might just get some of those strawberry-flavored pop tarts the two of you like so much.

With our meager food budget, oats, and dry generic cereal was usually our normal breakfast food.

But on occasion, momma enjoyed treating Bliss and me with our favorite pop tarts.  This certainly put a smile on both our faces. 

When Daddy still had not responded, momma called out a second time.  When he still did not respond, she raised her voice and called out a third time. 

Jimmy, did you drink all the beer, honey? 

With our mobile-home style refrigerator being so small, Daddy keeps his beer and some other items in an old secondhand refrigerator out back in the old barn. 

Jimmy.  Momma called out again, and suddenly I heard a loud crashing sound come from their bedroom.  Immediately a horrified expression came over my momma’s pretty face. 

Daddy came lumbering down the narrow hallway and stormed into the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, and his hair was sticking up wild in all directions. 

What I remember most about this distinct episode was the awful expression of anger on his unshaved face. 

Kirby, honey, take your brother and go in your room, sweetheart.  Momma dropped the pen and paper from her hands, forgetting all about her shopping list. 

Momma stood from the table and quickly backed away from her enraged husband.  ’s voice was just above a whisper as she began to back away from her enraged husband. 

Go, sweetheart, go.  There was an unforgettable terror in her eyes.

Abandoning our lunch, I quickly grabbed my little brother’s hand and pulled him from the kitchen table.  We quickly ducked into our bedroom, which was directly off from the kitchen. 

As I stood in the open doorway of our tiny bedroom, with little Bliss silently whimpering and clinging to my leg, I watched Daddy put his hands on Momma. 

I was so terrified and did not know what to do.  This dark incident is forever burned into my memory. 

Daddy first pushed Momma hard against the paneled wall of the kitchen and then he backhanded her, making a very loud cracking sound. 

Why the fuck do you always make me do this, Arden?  Daddy cursed at my terrified momma and she instantly grabbed her cheek and began crying. 

Momma is lean with a small frame and daddy is so tall and much stronger.  Sometimes a mere shove would send her flying across the room. 

Even though he was violent sometimes, my daddy could also be charming to momma from time to time.  He was very good at making momma laugh with his goofy and funny ways. 

Not only was I witness to the bad times, but I was also there to see the smiles and hear the laughter in our little trailer home.

But even when there was sometimes happiness in our home, it could all change in an instant because my parents’ relationship was sometimes quite volatile. 

That first time I saw Daddy hit my Momma, I remember wanting to make a run for it across the field to Granny Lou’s house.  I wanted her to know what was happening to her girl.

However, the sheer terror of what I was witnessing kept me glued to the floor, tears rolling down my cheeks.

Jimmy...I was only asking about the beer because I’m heading to the grocery store and I was going to pick up a case for you. 

Momma was still holding the side of her face where Daddy had just backhanded her and tears were still rolling down her cheeks. 

Oh snap, babe!  (This has always been daddy’s favorite catchphrase, Oh, Snap) I’m sorry, Babe, Daddy said as he moved toward Momma again, only this time in a calm manner. 

Come on over here, honey.  He said calmly.  I’m sorry for overreacting.  I hope I didn’t hurt you.  I thought you were accusing me of drinking too much. 

Reluctantly, momma melted into his strong arms and all was forgiven in an instant.  When the welt finally left her face, she pretended the entire incident never happened. 

Over the years I noticed a fresh bruise on Momma from time to time and she sometimes wore long-sleeved blouses during the summer months.

Momma put on makeup to cover any marks and we never spoke about it.  She always tried to shield Bliss and me from the abuse she suffered. 

Even when we witnessed one of Daddy’s attacks, the silence was Momma’s way of dealing with her own experience of domestic violence. 

Daddy was not only physically abusive to momma; he was emotionally abusive as well.  I think he hurt her more times with words than he did with his hands.

Arden, you’re dumber than dog shit!  That was Daddy’s favorite playful thing to say to momma. 

He would pull her into his strong arms and kiss her cheek, and even though she kept a smile on her face, I saw the hurt in her eyes.   

Despite the abuse, momma somehow held onto her sense of humor and a very positive outlook. 

Momma often joked that she was raising three kids, but I think that in the back of her mind momma believed this to be true. 

Daddy often picked on Bliss and me, as if he were an older sibling and not our father.  He often ate up all of our snacks after smoking a blunt and getting the munchies. 

He was constantly getting high and eating up all the leftovers, and Daddy was always raiding our piggy banks when he needed to buy more weed. 

My daddy could be silly and a prankster sometimes, but then he could be downright mean and cruel also. 

Occasionally, Daddy would sneak up behind my brother and flip his little ears until they were bright red and Bliss was crying.

Daddy would sometimes target me and purposely bump into the kitchen table where I was carefully painting a picture for art class.  In an instant, hours of careful work were ruined. 

As mean and abusive as he sometimes was to our momma, I have no memory of Daddy ever raising a mean hand to me or my brother. 

However, it is true in this world that there are other ways that a man can bring harm to his children, without striking them. 

-3-

Daddy’s younger brother , our Uncle Bobby, has always carried a torch for Momma.  It became so very obvious to me over the years. 

Uncle Bobby just seemed to stand a little taller and his smile widened more when Momma entered a room. 

However, there was something about my Uncle Bobby that always made me nervous and somewhat skittish any time that he and I were alone together. 

I have always carried a very vague but dark memory of something from the past that involved my Uncle Bobby; however, I could never quite put my finger on it.

With her sweet nature, momma was always very kind to her brother-in-law and seemed to look upon him as though he were her brother. 

Momma would smile at him no different than she smiled at anyone else, and she never seemed to notice that Uncle Bobby was making eyes at her. 

And Daddy either didn’t care or was too stoned to ever notice the obvious affection that his younger brother held toward Momma. 

Daddy and Uncle Bobby have always been very similar in appearance and they both shared the same habits of booze and weed. 

Even though Uncle Bobby drank a lot and was just as big of a stoner as Daddy, he had somehow managed to retain a long-term job at a local lumber mill. 

My uncle has also lived in the same little rented house in town, since following daddy over from Darby County years earlier. 

Despite my reservations toward Uncle Bobby, something always told me that if Momma were married to him, instead of daddy, he would never raise an unkind hand to her.

My Uncle Bobby is very handsome, just like my daddy, and he has had many girlfriends over the years.

Fifteen months ago, Uncle Bobby had been dating a much younger girl.  Her name was Laci Adams and she is the older sister of my best friend, Reese. 

Laci was just a few months away from turning nineteen years old when she died in an unfortunate automobile accident. 

Laci was thrown from the brand-new Mustang her parents had bought for her graduation, earlier that year, and she died instantly.

The car had ended up wrapped around a tree and it was completely totaled.  Officials said that it was a miracle that my Uncle Bobby walked away from the wreck with barely a scratch. 

They had both been drinking and it was quite the scandal.  Everyone in Shelby County believed that Uncle Bobby should have gone to prison for vehicular manslaughter. 

But even though witnesses had come forward to say they saw Uncle Bobby behind the wheel of Laci’s car earlier in the day, it was never proven that he was the one driving the car during the time of the accident. 

My best friend, Reese, was devastated right along with the rest of Shelby County when my Uncle Bobby eluded doing any kind of jail time. 

However, he did lose his job at the sawmill and was evicted from his rented house.  Joseph Adams, Laci, and Reese’s father own the lumber mill and several rental properties.

Uncle Bobby was quite resourceful and quickly found work at a lumber mill over in Darby County, as well as a small apartment in an old tenement building near the mill. 

Uncle Bobby continued to visit our home, but something changed in him when Laci died.  He never talked about the accident, but there was a constant sadness in his eyes.

Daddy and Uncle Bobby were always in the barn, working on an old lawnmower, or both their heads were under the hood of one of Daddy’s old jalopies he was always fixing up. 

They were always drinking or passing a blunt around to each other; however, the death of Laci Adams, seemed to be a wake-up call for my Uncle Bobby. 

Even though he did not give up alcohol altogether, Uncle Bobby ended his use of recreational drugs. 

My uncle seemed to be attempting to clean up his act, but Daddy could always be counted upon to stir up trouble.  He was constantly badgering his younger brother to party. 

While momma worked, my brother and I were often in the presence of Daddy and Uncle   Bobby, and I observed their interaction many times. 

Come on Bobby boy.  Daddy was constantly goading Uncle Bobby.  I want to share a blunt with my baby brother, and you keep acting like a little pussy! 

I’m done with that shit, Jimmy.  Uncle Bobby seemed like he truly wanted to give up the booze and drugs. 

I’ve witnessed my daddy and his brother polish off nearly an entire case of beer in one evening.  Not to mention the amount of dope the two of them were constantly smoking. 

But after what happened with Laci Adams, my Uncle Bobby opened a beer with Daddy only to be sociable. 

On more than one occasion, while helping momma clean up around the house, I found that Uncle Bobby had barely consumed half a beer during the entire evening. 

My Uncle Bobby seemed to be trying very hard to change his ways and become a better person.  However, his life would ultimately come to a very sudden and violent end.

-4-

I’ve lived in Shelby County, West Virginia my whole life.  Close to the border of Darby County, the sleepy little town of Briarwood is the only home I’ve ever known. 

Before these recent tragedies turned my world upside down, I always described my hometown as charming and scenic. 

With rolling hills and twisty country roads, along with the backdrop of an amazing mountainous landscape, Briarwood always seemed so picturesque. 

The town square of most small towns in West Virginia are made up of historic red brick buildings, and Briarwood is no exception.

With a population of less than eight hundred citizens, it is a close-knit community, where everyone knows everyone and people still wave to one another on the street.

We have an old school house that serves as the grammar school in Briarwood, and it goes from kindergarten up to eighth grade.  My momma went here and her momma before her. 

It was easier on Bliss when we were on the same campus during school hours because I always looked out for my little brother. 

Last year when I became a freshman, I felt guilty leaving him behind.  The only high school that serves all of Shelby County is over here in Pineview, the county seat. 

We live a couple of miles outside the city limits, off a twisty one-lane road that ends at our sprawling farm.  It is a very quiet and serene farmland. 

We have several acres of property but it is not a functioning farm like it was decades earlier when our Granny and her older sister were little girls growing up there. 

Our land has been in momma’s family for generations and it sits on the Shelby County line, with several acres of our wooded backfields stretching over into Darby County. 

Our property sits against a dense forest, adjacent to a very popular recreational landmark