Perhaps it was unintentional or instinctively, I wanted to walk up to the guy and beat him up.
‘No! Don’t think about that! You will attract the people’s attention!’ - Leah shouted at me.
I couldn’t say a word but it was really uncomfortable to hold back my urge and try to stay there, doing nothing. Instead, I turned to Frank and started whispering:
‘Hey, Frank. Who is that man over there?’
‘Who do you mean?’
‘That man. Wearing black trousers and a brown vest.’
‘Oh, him. He is Matt. He is one of my old friends. Everyone likes him. He is an enthusiastic hunter who often helps families by giving them some game meat for free. He is one of the organisers of the Festival of Hunting. Why are you asking that?’
‘Oh, nothing. I just…I would like to know who these people are before I come to any conclusions.’
‘I am telling you what. We are going to pay a visit to Sean Pratt and ask him a few questions. I expected him to be here but he is nowhere to be seen. Based on my experiences, most people that feel guilty want to stay away from the victim as much as they can. Sometimes remorse is unavoidable, but putting extra space between the two parties is a natural response to taking part in something that has hurt someone else.
‘All right, son. Keep watching. This is just my theory anyway. Unless you come up with a reasonable clue, I am going to check this Pratt guy.’
‘Bullshit. Don’t let him do that. He will waste his time. Convince him that he is our guy.’
‘But how?’ - I frowned at her, unintentionally.
‘Huh?’ - Frank looked at me in surprise.
‘How? I just want to go to his home and have a friendly discussion with him. If I don’t like his story, I will take him to the station and probably charge him.’
‘All right Frank, you are the sheriff.’ - I replied and I decided to figure out something later.
I was watching Matt. He stood, hands in his pockets, observing the burial with a blatant lack of emotion. How could he do this? I wondered. I mean, he was the person who had killed Leah, and he struggled up to the funeral as if he had been grieving all day long. But I knew what Leah’s death meant to Matt; I knew that he had not just murdered someone, but had also killed all his future happiness. He was, at that moment, actually the most broken man in the world.
Then I looked around. Leah was nowhere to be seen. I think she wanted to stay away from this man. According to some remnants that I have come across in life, we are currently living in one of the hardest places on the entire spectrum of reality. The emotions are immediate and harsh, there is a lot of hatred and negative emotion. People who like to experience different types of suffering come here. I am not saying that we are masochists, but the fact is that this is one of the cruellest realities of all.
But I also met remnants who were eventually helped out by other spiritual entities from the Otherside. There was this old guy called Samuel Green. He died of heart disease but he came back to visit his grandson for a while. One day I was present when the grandson was visited by Sam and he told me incredibly wise things. He was an enlightened spirit who, unlike remnants, was not driven by revenge, hatred, unsolved problems, addiction or whatever. He provided me with some sessions and he talked about reincarnation among other things. He told me that each individual had a role.
Each identity is born into a role and will represent that role throughout its life. In our three-dimensional reality, each role is a projection of the whole entity. The ego is also just a projection of a much larger self that is available to us at all times and is in a constant exchange of information. Roles are defined before birth. At this time, the soul determines what it wants to develop, what goals it wants to create and also plans the main road on which the individual has to go through. Of course, it is possible to deviate from the path, but it is worthwhile to follow the plan. This does not mean that if we stray from the path during our lifetime, we will not progress. We still experience. We still learn. In fact, we can learn more effectively than the entity itself has set for itself. But following the plan is useful because that is when the gaps can be truly filled.
The roles we choose to play have a big impact on our fellow human beings. We can be above others and below others. We can give orders or carry out instructions. We can make serious decisions that affect the masses, millions. We can decide the fate of others. We can be rulers, dictators, politicians, and powerful businessmen. The nature of that role carries responsibility. The more privileged a person is born into a position, the more responsibility he or she will have for the environment and society. A person who works as a cleaner in a building has less responsibility than a president. This is not to say that a president is more important than a cleaner, but that the president was born into that family because he wanted to experience responsibility. This, of course, is just one of the billions of reasons for being born into a presidential family. Even so, the cleaner has a responsibility, because his actions will have an impact on his environment, even if not as massive as those of a president. Both teach us about responsibility from a different perspective.
And of course, roles can be exchanged between murderer and victim. In their next life, the murderer may become the victim and the victim the murderer, but under different circumstances. In this way, both roles and the individual motivations and behavioural patterns behind each role can be fully understood. In the same way, the roles of poor-rich, unfaithful-faithful, or doctor-patient can change.
So it was quite possible that Leah and Matt had a previous business in the previous life - this was something on a theoretical level and it wasn’t my intention to share these thoughts with Leah. the most important thing for her was to fulfil her wish and prepare her for the crossing.
Sean’s home was a small white house with a porch in a residential area. There was a swing and a doghouse in the front yard. the house had a satellite dish on the roof. The lawn and the hedges were trimmed. The flower beds were in bloom and raindrops were falling from their petals.
The house next door was similar in appearance, the house behind it the same. The houses were built close together and the yards were crowded and they felt like they were closing in on us as we walked down the street.
We walked up the concrete walkway and we knocked on the door. Then we rang the doorbell and Sean’s father answered. He was a large man with a thick neck and a bald head. He looked at us with suspicion.
“Where’s Sean?” Frank asked.
“He’s in his room.” Sean’s father said.
“Dad, it’s okay. They’re here to talk about Leah.” Sean came down the stairs with a forlorn look on his face.
‘What is this about, Frank?’ - the father noted and open the door.
‘Just some police matter. We need to check some things.’ - Drank noted.
‘Is he a suspect?’
‘Not yet.’
The father sighed and opened the door more widely. We walked in. We followed him into the living room. There was a couch and two armchairs and a coffee table with a lot of books and magazines on top.
Her mother was also at home. She was in her late thirties. She had dark red hair and she was wearing glasses. Her face was thin and her lips were narrow and her eyes were green. She had freckles on her cheeks and nose.
‘Why didn’t you come to the funeral, son? Everyone was there except you.’ - Frank asked.
‘I don’t know, I just…she was too good for me. I never had a chance with her. I could never tell her I loved her.’ he said and he buried his face into his palms.
‘What was her attitude to you, Sean?’- Noah asked.
‘I wanted her to notice me. I wanted her to want me. She didn’t love me back, that’s it.’
“Where were you the night she disappeared, Sean?”
Sean shifted in his seat. “I don’t remember.” - he answered. In the meantime, Noah walked out of the living room.
Frank leaned back in his chair. “You don’t remember?”
Sean shook his head.
Frank drummed his fingers on the desk. “That’s not very helpful, Sean.”
Sean swallowed. “I was with a girl.”
“What girl?”
Sean hesitated. “I don’t remember her name.”
Frank pursed his lips. “I see.”
Sean’s face burned with humiliation.
this was all odd to me because, on the way to their home, Frank and Noah told me that Sean had never been one for parties and clubs. He always felt out of place in the presence of loud music and people smoking weed. He preferred to spend his time reading a book in the comfort of his own apartment. His friends had always teased him about his introverted behaviour. So this wasn’t too beneficial to him in this investigation.
The more focus was on Sean, the more difficult it was for Leah and me.
“Can you describe her?” Frank asked.
Sean looked up. “I can try.”
“Don’t worry if you can’t remember it all, Sean. Take your time.”
Sean focused on the black speckles on the polished table surface. He tried to recall the girl’s features, but he couldn’t.
The next moment, Noah came out of Sean’s room with a handful of letters and handed them to me.
‘Frank, you should read these.’
I stood up and walked up to them. They were love letters, written in a looping, girlish hand. I started to read one, but the words swam in front of my eyes. I handed them back to Noah.
“We have to take him in,” Noah said.
Sean was white-faced and silent. He knew what the letters said. He had never talked about it.
I put my hand on Sean’s arm.
‘I’m sorry,’ - I said. ‘But they have to do this.’
I looked at Sean and saw how silent and withdrawn he had become. I felt my own face burning with anger.
‘We’ll get to the truth,’ I said, knowing he was innocent.
Sean got up slowly.
‘I hope so.’
‘I didn’t know about these letters either…’ - the father interrupted us. ‘But just tell me, you didn’t do it.’
‘It’s okay dad and mum. Everything will be all right.’
There was something strange with this boy. Why didn’t he deny these accusations more? Why was he acting like someone who had something to do with the murder? I would have to talk to Leah.
Sean walked out the door, his hands in his pockets, and he didn’t look back. We got into the car, and Noah backed out of the driveway. I turned to look at the house one more time. I wasn’t interested in how Sean had come by all those letters. I didn’t know how he had met her or how long he had been writing those letters, but I knew that her death was tearing him apart too.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mark,” Leah said.
“Don’t give me that,” I said. “You’re a terrible liar.”
Leah shook her head. “I’m not lying,” she said. “I swear.”
“Don’t lie to me,” I said. “You’re really pissing me off.”
“I’m not lying. Sean wrote love letters to me but I didn’t answer back,” Leah said.
‘Look, I know I have made you angry, but what does it matter what he did? Matt Neal was my real killer and I fuckin’ don’t care what Sean is saying or doing!’ Leah said.
‘OK, fine, just…I need more time because the shit hit the fan! I need to shift the focus from Sean to Matt somehow! I am going to send that email.’ - I told Leah and went into my trailer. I opened up my laptop and clicked on the send button. Now all I had to do was just wait.
I needed a drink in the evening but I didn’t want to be alone so I decided to go out to the pub and find out more about Matt that I could use against him in front of the police.
In the meantime, Sarah, the medical examiner texted me:
HOW ABOUT A DRINK? YOU MIGHT WANT TO DISCUSS SOMETHING
I replied:
GREAT IDEA! JUST HEADING TO THE EAGLE ARMS! SEE YOU THERE!
The Eagle Arms Pub was less crowded that night. It was understandable because the town was grieving. I was wondering how they will celebrate the Festival of Hunting after such a brutal murder.
The bartender, a short man with a red nose and only one ear, stood by the door, leaning on a broom. A cheerful piano tune flowed through the air but was accompanied by no voices. The tune was having a hard time overcoming the thick silence that hung in the bar. There was not a single lighted candle or lantern, nor even the crackling orange of a hearth fire.
I was waiting at a table for Susan to appear. In five minutes, she entered the pub, I ordered two glasses of Jim Beam and we decided to have our conversation in the backyard.
‘You and the sheriff became good friends I see.’ - she noted.
‘Yeah. He wanted me to assist him. I am a good observer, I guess.’
Then somebody started talking to us from behind.
‘Sorry young man, do you happen to have a fire? You see, I can’t light up my pipe without it.’
‘I am afraid I do not have. I don’t smoke.’
‘That’s unfortunate.’ – he said. He was a medium height, a bit chubby man with thin hair. He was wearing glasses.
‘May I?’ – he asked. Sarah and I both nodded. The old man sat down.
‘I don’t have to introduce myself to the lady. Everybody knows me in Black Rain. Isn’t that true, Sarah?’
‘Our local librarian. Oh, and my former history and literature teacher who I sometimes drove crazy.’ – Sarah said smiling.
‘Indeed, our never-ending fierce debates.’ – he said with his pipe between his lips still looking for matches on and under the table.
’Black Rain has its own things. These things could be very frightening to new visitors because they might sound weird at first. But just like all countries have their own mythology, Black Rain also has its own mythology. Besides dusting old books, I study our history and all the things which are connected to Black Rain. What I can say for sure is that the evolution of this place is quite unique.’
’In what sense?’ – I asked while he was searching for matches in his pocket.
’Damn it, where could I find a match…never mind. First of all, according to the ancient Lumma tribes, this place is sacred. Anything that disturbed the sanctity of the place triggers the anger of Gods.’
’Hang on for a second. You said Lumma tribes?’
’Yes. They are native Americans who lived here a long time ago you see. They have a very rich and long history with many cultural elements. If it hadn’t been for the British settlers, their civilization would be thriving today.’ – he told me when somebody dropped a glass inside the pub swearing loudly.
The Lumma natives had many Gods which all represented something.’
’Like the Greek and Roman Gods?’
’Exactly. When they needed help, they turned to them. And the Gods told them how to take care of the island. If they did what the Gods said they provided them with gifts like crops and vegetables. And magic.’ – he said. Sarah had a long yawn, trying to conceal it with her hands but was not successful and said sorry.
’What happened when they did not pay attention?’ – I asked with emerging curiosity.
’They were punished.’
‘Wait for a second - I said, ‘Let me guess. Their punishment is sending black rain from the sky, right?’ - I laughed.
‘Your guess is not far from the reality, young man. Because you can see it on the 23rd of October.
‘What?’ - I asked.
‘That’s right. The colour of rain that falls every 23rd of October is completely black.
‘What the hell? You mean like, muddy or dirty water?’
‘Nobody knows for sure. No chemical test has ever been conclusive about the compounds of that rain.’
‘So what causes it?’ - I asked but I didn’t believe it of course. I was convinced that the old man had drunk too much. Sarah didn’t say a word and I thought she was part of the prank too.
’Some locals believe that these Gods are still alive and they try to communicate with us but people long stopped talking to them you see.’ – he replied while playing with the ashtray on the table.
’Which means that inhabitants are being punished?’
‘Black Rain has a dark and unfortunate history, young man. We had so many tragical events that coincident could hardly cause them. Here’s the scoop on the town. There was the Great Fire in 1966, which levelled about half the downtown area. Some people thought it happened because the local government wanted to destroy an archaeological site by putting buildings on the ground. Or the assassination of the mayor, George Carter, in 1888. Some people thought it happened because George Carter was a corrupt politician and wanted to expand the port at the expense of plantations growing valuable crops and fruit. Or it could have been an attempt to protect natural resources. The city didn’t recover from this event for several years.
‘It seems this island is cursed, indeed. ‘ - I interrupted and sipped from my whiskey.
‘That’s not all. There was an industrial disaster in 1946 when explosives caught fire in a local factory and killed several workers. The factory was accused of environmental pollution because it exhausted a tremendous amount of smoke that settled over the city like a layer of fog and smoke that burned eyes and throats. Another tragic event in the town happened in 1975. In the middle of that summer, after a long, hot day, a violent storm brewed up from the south and began to head for the town. The sky was an electric blue and the air was thick and sweet with pollen. The thunderheads made it seem like night had come early, and the lightning showed everyone where to run to avoid the storm. A just few powerful bolts of lightning had done little damage, but an unlucky bolt struck near the elementary school when all of the students were outside. The school was severely damaged and two children were killed in the surrounding neighbourhood. The two children were buried together in a lovely little field located at the edge of town where it met up with the forest undergrowth and no one visited their resting place anymore because they were buried there.
‘john, our guest might be getting tired of your tales.’ - Susan interrupted this time. She read my mind.
‘Let me finish this. A man dressed in a ski mask and carrying a machine gun shot and killed five people in the bank around 1:15 p.m. on September 3, 1983. The shooter entered the bank and fired 36 shots from his weapon. The sheriff’s department had no leads until someone recognized the shooter’s voice in an episode of The Rockford Files that was aired two weeks later. Even though the voice did not match the face, it led a few people to believe that their friend was the shooter. The real gunman was soon taken into custody. He was sentenced to life in prison on November 8. His motive was believed to be revenge, which is known as payback or retaliation. So my question is, can these all be coincidences? It’s up to you.’
‘Of course, they can be! Unless you believe in black magic, curses and other children’s tales.’ - Sarah interrupted the conversation.
’Well, we can’t rule out anything. We can also assume that they were all coincidences. You can always put the blame on something. When disasters or tragedies occur we like to blame something because we can’t accept the trauma.’ - John replied.
‘Or there are several other causes that we didn’t see like money, personal interest, human negligence and other probable causes which all led to these tragical events.’ – Sarah said, sipping from her whiskey.
‘We don’t always need to look for answers, Sarah. Some people instantly know that there are higher powers. If you accept the existence of the supernatural, you also accept that they are responsible for a lot of things.’
‘Those people who don’t believe in the supernatural are looking for tangible facts. And sooner or later they will find it.’ - Sarah replied. Another, slightly drunk person bumped into our table almost spilling our beer.
‘Exactly. They are looking for answers. Because they don’t want to accept what they already know. The truth is all around us but we ignore it for we want something that fits our needs.’ – John rejoined.
‘Belief doesn’t provide us with answers. It just provides false promise.’
‘Belief gives you an explanation on the level of your interpretation. It is the answer to what you are looking for.’
‘Or, just because we can’t understand something we consider it supernatural. Everything is part of the same natural powers. Things we don’t understand have a more complex connection with nature. As long as we don’t understand how they work they are supernatural.’ – Sarah replied.
‘The problem is we don’t want to see what is already around us. Why do you want a different answer when it has always been there? Just like…these…’ - he said lifting up a boy of matches from under the bench, showing it to us like some kind of precious trophy. It was probably thrown away or fell out of someone’s pockets. We were all taken by surprise.
‘I think our guest is already bored with our little philosophy here, aren’t you young man?’ – John asked and lit up the pipe. He inhaled the smoke with such great satisfaction that it made me crave for a second (I have never smoked in my life).
At that moment, my phone started ringing. It was Noah.
‘Excuse me.’ - I said and picked up the phone.
‘Mark. You are not gonna believe this. Can you come to the sheriff’s office? Where are you?’
‘I am at the Eagle Arms with Susan and John Dewey.’
‘The old John? Bring him! We need him too!’ - he said and broke up the call. Susan and John were looking at me for answers I told them what Noah had just told me which took them by surprise.
‘It seems this case is getting more complicated.’ - John noted as we were leaving and paying for the drinks.