I wasn’t even on duty when it happened. I’d been transferred to the day shift by the Sheriff, who I was still on thin ice with. My shift ended at just after ten at night, and I climbed into my Jeep CJ for the drive back to my house near Sesachacha Pond. I pulled out a cassette tape from the tray under the dash and slid it in, the opening guitar riffs of The Rolling Stones’ Gimme Shelter echoing out from the speakers. As I drove, my mind became more and more firm in its decision to quit the department and leave the island. I turned onto a road that paralleled the ocean on the right, houses lining up and blocking the view of the beach. I just can’t do this anymore. I can’t be part of some cover-up for whatever dumb reason the chief has. This is just too-
I glanced up to see something run out into the road in front of me. No, not something…someone. “SHIT!” I yelled out, jamming my feet on the brake and clutch pedals. The rear wheels of the Jeep locked up, and for a moment, the world whirled around and my ears filled with the noise of screeching tires. Then, the Jeep came to a stop with a lurch, looking back the way I’d come. I sat there, trying to catch my breath for a few seconds when the face appeared, almost pressing up against the windshield. “Gah!” I yelped out, my hand flying to my personal pistol lying under the dash. But I stopped as I saw the panicked expression on the young woman’s face, a girl no older than sixteen. “Please, help me sir!” she wailed out. Unlocking the door, I made sure the Jeep’s parking brake was on before jumping outside.
Immediately the girl ran around the door and buried her face in my stomach. She was crying uncontrollably, and I could tell she was almost out of her mind with fear. Still, I needed to know what was going on. “Sweetie, it’s okay, I’m an off-duty deputy. Try and calm down and tell me what happened” Instantly the girl’s face looked up at me, and I couldn’t help but shiver slightly, both at the petrified expression adorning her features, along with the words she babbled out. “I woke up to use the bathroom. I heard my daddy downstairs doing something, he always stays up late. Then I heard him curse and something crashed. I heard breaking glass and wood. And then I heard something scream and hiss. Something horrible” She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her nightgown. “I heard my daddy scream in pain and ran downstairs” Now she began to scream as she finished. “It had him, it was dragging him out the back door, he was bleeding! Please, help me!”
Another shiver shot through me, but I pushed it down. You have to stay in control of yourself, Vincent. Your first duty is to keep the girl safe, and call for backup. Then you need to see if the father is still near the house. The girl is delirious and thinks a masked man was something else. You need to move fast. Nodding at my own thoughts, I guided the girl into the passenger seat, then locked the door. Returning to the driver’s side, I grabbed my pistol, along with a spare flashlight, before reaching for the CB radio I had wired under the dash. Tuning it to the frequency the Sheriff’s department used, I hit the transmit button. “Any Deputy monitoring this frequency, this is Deputy Koteas, requesting urgent backup. Does anybody copy?” The voice that answered was Johnson’s. “Koteas, this is Johnson, what is going on, over?”
“Johnson, notify the Sheriff, and tell him to get as many local police out to Sesachacha Pond as well. I just came across a panicked girl who said someone broke in and took her father” I let the words hang in the air for a moment, letting them sink in. “Christ, not another one” I heard Johnson breathe. I hit the transmit button again. “I’m leaving the girl in my Jeep and going to check out the house to see if the father is still alive. Get backup here ASAP!” I heard him respond, but I’d already turned to the girl. “Sweetie, I need to leave you in the truck while I go see if your father is okay” She began to frantically shake her head, but I put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright, more police are on the way. Just stay in the truck and keep the door locked, okay? I’ll be right back” And with that, I locked the driver’s door and shut it with a clunk.
I turned towards the darkened shape of the house the girl had to have run into the road from. Even from here, I could see the front door hanging wide open, occasionally swinging when a gust of wind came. A single light burned out from what had to be a living room. Other than that, everything was quiet. There were no bird calls, no animals in the brush. The only things I could hear were the pounding of the surf from the other side of the house, and the creak as a swing bench mounted on the front porch swiveled in the breeze. Otherwise, silence. To this day, I can still recall the amount of adrenaline and fear that coursed through my veins as I prepared for what might be a violent confrontation. Swallowing harder than I usually did, I shot one last look at the Jeep, then began to walk towards it.
As soon as I reached the path to the front porch, I slowed down, the hand gripping my pistol now slightly sweaty, even with the chill. I took a moment to breathe deep, then began to slowly creep towards the house, making sure my footsteps made as little noise as possible. There was still no movement from the house, but the atmosphere I was picking up set me even more on edge than I thought possible. The air seemed charged and tense, as if the world around me were collectively holding its breath. And there was another feeling I was picking up on. Something I couldn’t place yet. And it was the same I’d had at all of the other disappearance sites, except this was ten times stronger.
Reaching the porch, I tested the bottom step to make sure it wouldn’t creak, then ascended to the open front door. The entryway was dark, but even in the gloom, I could see a staircase leading to the second floor just inside. A hallway led around it towards the back of the house, and I could also see a doorway leading off to another room to the right. There’s likely an identical doorway to the left, if the layout of this place is similar to my house. I waited a moment, forcing everything except my training out of the forefront of my mind. Then I stepped halfway through the door. I had been correct in my assumption; a doorway to what seemed to be a sitting room lay on my left. I tilted my head so I could see down the hallway. Nothing moved in the stillness; I could hear the ticking of a clock echoing from the end of it.
I took another deep breath, then, as much as I didn’t want to, forced myself to follow procedure and call out. “Nantucket Sheriff’s Department, if anyone is in here, please make yourself known!” My voice sounded almost muted as it filled the house. Well, there goes the element of surprise. I flicked my flashlight on, tucking the wrist holding it under my gun hand, the yellow beam trailing up the stairs towards the second floor. I eyed the half open doors at the top of the landing apprehensively. Normally, the standard procedure for a single officer clearing a home is to do the ground floor first, then move upstairs. But ever since I’d gone to a domestic disturbance call five years ago, one where a man coked out of his mind had burst out of the upstairs bedroom with a shotgun while I’d been clearing the first floor, I’d engrained it in me to clear the second floor first.
Moving to the stairs, I climbed them quickly, thankful that, aside from a small creak on the second step, they didn’t make any noise. The first door led to what had to be the father’s bedroom, the large bed empty. The second opened onto a small upstairs bathroom. The third led into what had to be the girl’s bedroom. As I saw a half open closet on the other side, I chose to enter the room, crossing and making sure that nobody was hiding inside. Confident that nobody was upstairs, I turned and began to head back out to the hallway. But I froze as I spared a glance out of the window.
The window of the girl’s bedroom faced the back of the house, towards the beach. It was dark, but the clouds had pulled back some, allowing the moon to shine down onto the sand and spill into the room. It provided enough light to look down to the ground. Where I caught a glimpse of a darkened figure moving. It was only for a split second; whoever it had been had stepped out of the line of sight visible from the room, but it was enough. I quickly clicked off my light, feeling my heart begin to beat harder in my chest. I trusted my instincts, and all of them were telling me that whoever the figure had been, it wasn’t the girl’s father. Moving out into the hallway, I trained the gun back downstairs. Nothing moved inside, but to say the air inside the house had taken on an even worse atmosphere would be understating it. Every darkened corner now felt threatening, every gust of the wind hitting the windows made me feel that much tenser.
Descending the stairs, I first cleared the sitting room, finding it empty. Then I made my way down the hallway towards the back of the house. I found myself in a long but narrow kitchen, the tile floor reflecting in the moonlight. This, too, looked to be clear. I saw a door which appeared to lead outside to the beach, but turned away. I needed to finish clearing the house, and after seeing the figure skulking around outside, I wasn’t prepared to venture out there alone. I couldn’t hear the sirens signaling my backup yet, but I knew they had to already be on their way. Just clear the final rooms on the ground floor, then pull back out to the Jeep until the others arrive. Don’t be a hero, and don’t be stupid. Not after seeing this guy’s prior handiwork. My decision made, I slowly walked back towards the entryway. The soft sound of the clock behind me chiming caused me to freeze for a moment, and then I reached the other doorway.
The light I’d seen in the front window appeared to come from this room, what I could see now appeared to be a study of some kind. Books lined shelves on every wall, and an ornate desk and chair sat in the middle of the room, papers piled on top. As my eyes flickered behind the desk, where anyone could easily hide, a noise came from beyond, causing me to raise my weapon again. I saw a doorway I hadn’t noticed at first on the far side of the room, the door wide open. I crossed the study slowly, making sure no one crouched behind the desk before approaching the door.
The room beyond was dark, but I could see a large table surrounded by chairs set up in the middle of it. Dining room. Moving silently now, I scanned the room. I saw no sign of movement inside, but something had begun welling up inside me as I’d approached the door. Every fiber of my being had been put on high alert, and I was cognizant of everything from the wind, to the beating of my heart. Out of everywhere in the house, this room seemed to give off the worst vibes. And it was likely due to the fact that across the room, I could see the open door which led outside to the beach. I’d just taken a few steps into the room, when I heard a soft squelch come from beneath my foot. Freezing, I looked down, but couldn’t see much, even with the moonlight spilling in from the doorway. Weighing my options, I decided to quickly flick on my flashlight for a second to see what I’d stepped in. I aimed the light down and, hooding the beam with my gun hand, flicked it on.
To this very day, I wish to God I never had.
As I’d said, in every other disappearance I’d been called to, aside from the nesting doll knocked over at the girl’s house, there’d been no signs of violence. No signs of a struggle. Nothing. That was not the case here. The first thing I noticed was the broken dishes that littered the floor. Tiny pieces lay scattered all around me, as if someone had grabbed the china on the dining room table and thrown it at something…or someone. The second thing I noticed was that both chairs on this side of the table had been knocked over. One had the ornate wooden carved back broken, showing someone had been slammed into it with great force. The unknown feeling that I’d had at all the prior disappearances was worming its way forward, past all my training and defenses like lava bursting for the surface.
The third thing I saw was the blood.
The dining room table had been placed on top of a large, braided carpet which covered the wooden floor to keep the cold from seeping up and disrupting those eating at it. And it had been thoroughly soaked in blood. I could see the large stain that I’d stepped in, and looking left and right, I saw that the table and display case for the china was splattered in blood as well. Instantly, I knew that the girl’s father was dead; no person could lose this much blood and survive. The unknown feeling finally burst forth, and I finally understood what it was: dread. I flicked my flashlight off quickly, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable. This is far beyond any straightforward kidnapping or robbery, this is beyond the scope likely of what these people are used to. We’ve been dealing with a damn serial killer this entire time, and to hell with the consequences, I’m calling the mainland right-
I was snapped out of my thoughts by a noise. One which came from out the open back door. My breath caught in my throat, and I felt my heart begin to thunder in my chest as I gripped my pistol tightly. Slowly, I raised my eyes. In the now bright moonlight, I could now see that the bloodstain turned into a smear, one that signaled something-the girl’s father-had been dragged. The smear led onto the wooden floor, towards the door. Even from here, I could see it lead onto the back porch and down the steps onto the beach. The sound came again, and I realized it was the creak of the back porch. I raised the gun and pointed it at the doorway Someone was out there, just out of sight. I saw something move, casting a shadow which stretched across the porch and into my line of sight. For a second, I didn’t fully process what I was seeing.
And then it slammed into me with all the weight of a semi-truck.
The shadow had a human-like shape to it, but…the proportions were all…wrong. Even accounting for warping by the moonlight, the figure seemed too tall. The arms seemed to reach too far down, and the shadow of the head looked misshapen. Then it moved. My blood suddenly ran cold as I heard the sound of it breathing; a wheezing rattle of air, almost as if it were fighting to suck oxygen into its lungs. The porch creaked more as I saw the shadow grow larger. And then a fresh surge of fear flooded into me as I saw a second shadowy figure appear on the sandy path to the beach. It wasn’t directly in the moonlight, but I saw it begin to stagger towards the doorway, and even though it was far away, I got the impression that it had already spotted me. Oh, hell, there’s more than one of them, my mind whispered to me. And then, the one out of sight let out a laugh. I still shiver to this day recalling it. It was wet, gurgling, almost as if it were laughing through a mouth of sea water. And it held a malicious glee to it that chilled me to the bone. Nothing human could have let out such a laugh.
That was when something snaked around the door from the opposite side.
My eyes locked on it, and I felt all the blood drain out of my face. I finally managed to whisper out two words, barely audible. “Fuck me…” Dread and terror like I’d never felt before crashed into me like a rogue wave. I only stood there for another second. Then I was running. I turned and bolted from the dining room, sprinting through the study as I heard another inhuman laugh sound from behind me. I didn’t even give a second thought to using the gun; I knew it would be as effective as the china plates had been against them. I raced out the front door and down the steps. I was halfway to my Jeep when the lights suddenly snapped on, blinding me and freezing me in place. “Freeze, drop your weapon!” I heard a man’s voice order. “Don’t shoot, I’m a deputy!” I cried out, the delirium of fear racing through my veins causing my voice to come out higher and shriller than I’d ever heard it before. For another few seconds, nobody spoke, and I feared I’d be opened fire upon. And then a familiar voice rang out.
“Lower your weapons, it’s my deputy!”
The lights lowered as well, and I finally saw that my backup had already arrived. I was facing what looked like the entire island’s police department, plus the Sheriff’s department as well. I saw the Sheriff standing next to the police chief, both holding shotguns. Stony faced officers stood on all sides of them. I saw that a few of them had already retrieved the girl from my Jeep; a blanket had been draped across her shoulders as she sat in the back of a waiting ambulance. I frantically gestured behind me at the house. “They’re back there, there’s at least two of them!” I said, my voice still trembling. I saw the chief and the Sheriff exchange a dark look with each other. Then they were ordering the officers into the house. They swarmed around me and up the steps as an EMT rushed and guided me back to lean against one of the squad cars. I could hear them calling out to one another as they cleared inside as I was examined.
“He’s okay, Sheriff” he said as he finished and stepped back, “Just looks like he’s in a bit of shock is all” The Sheriff nodded, then gestured for me to follow him. As I did, I noticed something. None of these cruisers have their lights on. And they didn’t use their sirens either, even as focused as I was, I would’ve heard them approaching. The realization didn’t sit right with me; neither did the look on the Sheriff’s face. With a low voice, the man asked me what had happened, what I’d seen when I entered the house. Fighting the adrenaline and fear still coursing through my system, I did my best to recount everything that had happened since placing the girl in my Jeep. When I’d gotten to the part about what I’d seen in the back door of the dining room, I saw his face darken even further than it already was. They DO know what those things are.
He stayed quiet for a time after I’d finished. Then he sighed, as if he’d come to a conclusion he hadn’t wanted to and spoke. “None of what you just told me is going to be written in your report, Deputy” I stared at the man in disbelief before he continued. “There is not going to be an incident report of this entire situation, to be more precise. As far as it will be concerned, it never happened” I let out an astonished gasp of air. “Are you freaking serious, sir?” He nodded. “I’m dead serious, Deputy. And that is not all. When you return to the station tomorrow, you will find that none of the incident reports you’ve filed for the past cases, with the sole exception being the Kilcoyne case, are there. They have been destroyed, and as of now, they never happened” I let out a half gasp, half laugh of shock. He didn’t let me speak, though. He continued. “You’re not an islander, Vincent. You came from the mainland. I say this with all due respect, but you’re an outsider. And outsiders will never truly understand some things about life here. This”, he gestured towards the house which still filled with officers, “this is one of them”
I finally found my voice again. “Sir, with all due respect to you as well, you’re talking about covering up the disappearances-no, the deaths, of six people. Six people that were butchered and dragged off by God-only-knows what those things were. And you want me to just shut my mouth and let you sweep this under the rug?” He locked eyes with me at my words, and I saw a look in them I never had before. A hardness that he usually only reserved for criminals. “Yes, Deputy, I do. At least, if you ever want to return to the mainland” I felt my jaw drop open at the man’s open, not just implied, threat. He spoke again. “We’ve dealt with…them for a long time now. Longer than I’ve been alive. As far as I know, since people moved to the island. And we’ve always taken care of our own when they return. We keep who we can safe. And as for the unfortunate souls…” he trailed off.
“What about those who lost people?” I said, feeling a low surge of angry heat overwhelm the terrified side of myself. I gestured towards the girl now being loaded into the ambulance. “What about people like her?” He spared a look, then turned back to me. “We make sure they understand why we don’t say anything to people from the mainland. For the exact reason I’m dealing with now, Deputy. We take care of our own” I glared at him for another moment, then lowered my eyes. The Sheriff’s threat had been clear, and I had no doubt that between him, the chief, and the others on the island, if I didn’t accept the terms given to me, I might end up disappearing as well. Finally, I asked one final question. “And Kilcoyne? How are you going to explain that?” “We’ll place breadcrumbs, make it seem like she might have simply decided to walk out into the water and end it all, maybe a person followed her from the mainland and abducted her. We’ll figure it out, don’t worry”
After a time, I finally nodded, not meeting the man’s eyes. “Fine” I said weakly. “Fine, I won’t say anything” I felt him place his hand on my shoulder. “If you want to leave, I don’t blame you one bit. I’ll even give you a letter of recommendation for wherever on the mainland you’d like to transfer to. As long as you keep your word”
I didn’t say anything back to him. I simply pulled out of his grasp and walked back to my Jeep, getting into it and drove away.
I left Nantucket the very next day, turning in my letter of resignation to the Sheriff’s office and calling a moving company on the mainland to come and empty my house. I’d end up placing it for sale once I left; happily, it sold quickly to a nice family to use as their summer home. As I drove my Jeep onto the ferry, I remember seeing so many pairs of eyes on me. I saw the Sheriff waving me farewell from the dock. I saw some of the residents giving me the side eye. I also felt other eyes on me, but those I couldn’t see the owners of. They came from beneath the dark waters of the Atlantic, and the feeling of them watching me never abated until the ferry was halfway back to the mainland.
That was almost 44 years ago now. I ended up taking a job with the Massachusetts State Police, helped by the letter of recommendation I did end up receiving from the Sheriff. I kept that job for another twenty years before retiring in 2000. The Sheriff had told the truth about what would happen in the case of Margaret Kilcoyne as well. Even though the case made the mainland news, owing to her brother trying to force new leads, they only found some clothes of hers abandoned near a pond, along with her ID and some money. No doubt deliberately placed there to throw the state police and others off. Many ended up believing she’d committing suicide by drowning, and though the case stayed open for a while, interest eventually waned, and it went cold. Today, barely anyone even remembers the case, and many of those that did have died. Nobody ever found out the truth.
Because islanders can keep a secret.
I only ever went back to Nantucket once, on a day trip in 2013. I honestly don’t know why I did; maybe I thought it would be a form of closure I felt I’d never gotten. It didn’t help, though. The place looked largely unchanged in 33 years, and all the memories came flooding back to me. Especially when I drove by the house that had haunted my dreams for decades. The swing still hung from the front porch, and I shivered in the driver’s seat of my Saab across the street, the memories seeming as fresh as if they’d happened yesterday. Especially the memory of that webbed, clawed hand snaking around the back door, the dark green, almost black scales glinting in the moonlight. The claws digging into the wood like it had been Paper Mache.
I was happy to drive back onto the ferry to return to Cape Cod before the sun went down. I didn’t feel the eyes on me like I’d had all those years ago. But I knew they were still there. Waiting.
I’m in my early 70s now. The end of my life is rapidly approaching, especially after I was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver a year ago; a result of drinking far too much for most of my life in attempt to try and forget. But not even alcohol was ever enough to chase away the memories, the nightmares that woke me in a sheen of sweat, screaming. I finally decided, with me staring up at the bladed scythe of the Grim Reaper, that I needed to tell the truth about what happened all those years ago. Keeping quiet for over forty years has burned a hole in my soul. And the threats the Sheriff, likely now long since dead, threw at me ring hollow.
And so, after hearing about this website, and more importantly this page I heard about from my grand nephew, where others post accounts of things they’ve experienced that are unexplainable and terrifying, I’ve chosen here to tell. I know full well that most people won’t believe me, and that is honestly fine. Maybe it doesn’t matter. But the truth is out there now. It’s known. My conscience feels lighter being able to share it, and when it’s my time, I’ll go far more peacefully.
But there’s another reason I’ve chosen to tell you all what happened in 1980, that frigid January so many miles from the mainland. It’s to give you a warning. Because I’ve kept tabs on the going’s on, on Nantucket Island. And people still do disappear from there. Fishermen and others have disappeared from the island, and the waters around it over the years. And those are the ones who, thanks to the internet and its ability to connect the entire world, weren’t able to be swept under the rug. I’m sure there are far, far more people who disappear from the island than anyone will ever know. They’re just still good at covering it up.
I can’t stop anyone of you from going to Nantucket. And, in all honesty, I’m not sure I’d want to. It, in truth, is still one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been to. If you’d like to visit during the summer months, go. But if you do, don’t let your guard down near the water at all. Because those things…those creatures are still out there. They are smart. Smart enough to clean up after themselves, to remove all traces of their presence. The swept sand was proof of that. Stay near others as much as possible. Don’t rent remote houses away from everyone else.
And most importantly, if you ever hear any noises coming from around your house at night there, don’t be like those unfortunate souls. Don’t go and open the back door to investigate.
Because it’ll likely be the last thing you ever do.