Page 29 of Haunted Horror on Halloween

“We understand,” Jackson told him. “We’ll keep at it.”

Angela looked at him. “This time, I think I’ll just say . . . back into the woods!”

They parted ways, the EMTS struggling through the trees with their stretchers, Valiente hurrying ahead.

To get to the next house.

When they stood alone with the others hurrying off, Angela looked at Jackson and said, “There, I think.” She pointed to a break in the trees where one of the creatures—knocked down when the EMTs had gone to start administering to the human goblin—had blocked the path.

He nodded.

“I think you’re right.”

He headed in that direction. As he did so, his phone rang.

Bruce McFadden.

“I think our fellow has another young victim,” Bruce told him. “Third house we got to—a few decorations, but nothing major, no human monsters, but the parents had just phoned in a missing person’s report. Their daughter didn’t come home after having dinner with a few friends near the coffee shop. Her name is Bridget McCreary, just turned eighteen, shoulder-length dark blond hair, about five-five, slim, attractive. Manderley might have taken an older woman, too, but she’s . . .”

“The type he likes to torture?” Jackson asked.

“From what we’ve seen of the man, yes,” Bruce said. “Thought you should know. There are, of course, others he might have taken, but . . . how the hell does one man manage all this?”

He quickly explained about their recent discovery, but Manderley didn’t do it all on his own.

He used people. He terrified and drugged them into submission. Some just to torture or kill. Some to terrify, or to twist into being his helpers.

“Somehow, he can convince others that he is some kind of supreme being, the supreme being of evil,” Jackson said.

“And that’s not far from the truth,” Bruce told him.

“Not at all,” Jackson agreed. “Okay, keep at it—”

“We are. There are eight of us out here, split into four, getting to both sides of the road, it’s just that it’s a massive area—”

“And we have cops and rangers, too. We just keep going. We will get him.”

“And morning will come!” Bruce said. “All right; moving!”

They ended the call.

Angela was inspecting the trail.

“Definitely through here,” she murmured. “Look at the ground. He dragged someone through here, I believe.”

“Even with his ability to twist people, the speed with which he accomplished all this is amazing,” Jackson said.

“And terrifying,” Angela agreed, wincing as she stepped on a twig and it snapped—loudly.

“It makes me wonder,” he said.

“What?”

“He was in max security. He still managed to pretend he’d been shivved, get into an infirmary—bribe a guard, kill and get out. How do we keep a monster like that?” he asked.

“We aren’t judge and jury; we’re law enforcement,” she reminded him.

“Right. I do remember. Honestly. And I suppose, when we do have him again, others will realize all that happened and they’ll be damned sure it doesn’t happen again,” he said. “Because we will get the bastard.”