Chapter 13
It was late, he’d had dinner and the television was on, but he was thinking about his interview with Barbara that day. He couldn’t get over how different she was from Jeffery. He could feel her compassion, her longing to be free of this. Yet, there was a strength about her in wanting to tell her story and face the inevitable onslaught of questions and judgements. In just two days, Jonathan had grown to admire and respect her. Tomorrow, one way or another, he was going to wrap this up and let her be…for a while.
The phone rang, it was Amy, “Hi Jonathan, how’s it going?”
“Good, how’s it going for you, any progress?”
Amy told him about the Hansen family and how she was having a difficult time getting over it. Every time Jonathan heard one of these terrifying stories he became more determined to find out all he could. There was also that ever-increasing eerie feeling that this demon had actually touched his family. In many ways it was just too close for comfort.
He told her about his interview and how in some ways he regretted having to go back out, while on the other hand he was anxious to find out more. They chitchatted about the weather, politics and the St. Louis Cardinals, when Jonathan suddenly realized they didn’t know what had happened to Mike Hansen.
“Amy, did that article mention what happened to Mike Hansen, I mean did he go on to school, get married, have kids, what?”
“No, it didn’t. And I hadn’t thought of that until you mentioned it. I guess I was…recovering. That’s great Jonathan; I’ll get right on it. He has to be somewhere. He’d be in his early forties by now. Don’t worry, I’ll find him.”
He told her he’d call the next night after he finished what he hoped was his final interview with Barbara, then he’d be heading home and they could coordinate what needed to be done next.
He packed his bags, checked out of the motel and made the final drive to Storm Lake. For some reason he felt invigorated. Maybe it was the fact that he was leaving, or maybe he felt like he was really going to learn something today, whichever, he arrived enthusiastic.
Clyde was gone, as he had been the day before, and Barbara had the coffee on. Jonathan didn’t need any coffee today; he was wired enough. The dogs greeted him with less excitement, as he almost felt like part of the family by now. He tapped on the door, and Barbara beckoned him inside.
“Good morning Barbara, how are you?”
“Fine Mr. Smyth, how are you?” He had asked her to call him Jonathan, but for whatever reason, she preferred to be formal. She appeared more tense and expectant.
“Are you sure,” he questioned. “You seem a little…uneasy.”
“Well, you know I’ve been thinking about all of this, and I have some very mixed feelings.”
Oh boy, he thought, she’s going to beg off. “Barbara, as I told you yesterday, if you don’t want to go any further with the story, I’ll understand.”
“No, I talked it over with Clyde, and we both feel I need to tell my side of this. The doubt, came from what you said about reopening this, you know the media, sightseers, stuff like that.
“But I think it’s more important to get this out, say what I have to, and live with the consequences.”
Jonathan was relieved, but still had one more touchy question she hadn’t answered, “Did you think anymore about my wanting to see his grave?”
“Yes, I discussed that with Clyde and we agreed; that when we’re done here, Clyde will show you where it is. But you have to promise not to tell anyone or I will deny everything.”
“Absolutely, I will not divulge that to anybody. You can trust me.”
They took their usual seats; she on the couch and he in the adjacent chair.
“Barbara, you’ve told me a lot about your family, as has Jeffery, so let’s just concentrate on Jack and what you remember about him and your reactions.”
“I guess my main feeling is disbelief. I’ve never understood how anyone could be that mean, let alone someone in my family. Sure, dad was terrible and abused us, but I didn’t turn out all bad, and neither did Jeffery.”
“Well, maybe it’s that genetic thing we talked about. There are such things as bad seeds,” Jonathan said agreeably.
“Yes, you’re probably right. I guess there’s no other explanation for it. The first really bad thing I can remember him doing was on Halloween when I was about ten years old. Jack was about twelve. Mom had let me go up the road to the next farm where my friend Donna was having a little party. We couldn’t really trick or treat back then, because the farms were too far apart. Mom sent Jeffery up to get me and walk me back to the house. It was a dark, cold night so we were hurrying. When I got to my room I was freezing. I couldn’t get in bed fast enough. I slipped under the covers and felt something warm and wet down by my feet. I jumped out of bed and threw the covers back, there was Donna’s cat, Spike, skinned and laying in my bed. Spike had vanished a few days earlier, and Donna thought maybe a coyote had gotten him or he had just run off.”
“How do you know Jack did it?”
“Well, it wasn’t the first time he’d tortured an animal and besides, he brought the skin to me the next morning.”
“He just walked in and handed it to you?”
“He knocked on the door and said ‘Are you in there, sis? I have a present for you.” I wouldn’t answer the door, but he came in anyway, walked over to my bed with one hand behind his back. I wouldn’t look at him, I was afraid of what he was going to do. He pulled the covers off my face and something started tickling my nose. I had to open my eyes, and there it was, Spike’s tail rubbing up against my face, and it was still attached to the skin. I screamed, he laughed and slowly turned and walked out of the room, leaving the skin on my pillow.
“I’ll never forget it and I never forgave him. I never told Donna what had happened to Spike. I figured it was better if she didn’t know. That was the first really horrible thing I remember him doing…but it certainly wasn’t the last.”
Jonathan sat there thinking, my God, this guy was sick right from the beginning. Barbara is probably lucky to still be alive.
“What’s your first recollection of him hurting another person?”
“When he was about fourteen, he beat up, actually knocked out this kid who lived on a farm behind us. He drug him out to one of the pastures and tied him to the back of a cow and left him. He laid him on the cow’s back then tied his hands and feet underneath the cow’s stomach. When he woke up, he couldn’t get loose and couldn’t get off the cow. The really bad part was the cow tried to get him off by rolling and rubbing up against the fences. They didn’t find him till the next morning. Poor Jerry was cut and bruised and had to be hospitalized for a couple of days. His parents had the police looking for him and were scared to death what might have happened to him. Jerry would never tell who did it; I think he was afraid Jack would do something even worse to him. Everybody kind of knew who did it, but they couldn’t prove it, so, like always, he got away with it.
“Little did we know at the time that was only the beginning. He’d only be around about four more years and then, thank God, he left. But, that’s when the really horrible crimes began.
“I had no idea what kind of animal he’d turn into, the unbelievable things he’d do. Even now, it doesn’t seem real. To know I grew up with someone who could commit those crimes…seems unbelievable.”
Jonathan could see she was tiring, “Barbara, are you okay, do you want to keep going?”
“Yes, I want to finish this today,” she said emphatically. “One thing I do want to make clear, Jack never hurt or abused me, my mom or Jeffrey, physically. He did lots of things to us emotionally, but never laid a hand on us. I don’t know why I needed to say that, but I did.”
“I understand,” he said, really not knowing why he said it. “Now, tell me what you thought after he left, and the tragic stories began to emerge.”
“Horror, disbelief, but there was a part of me that knew he was capable of doing those things. I became very shy and withdrawn. I figured if I didn’t talk to anyone, maybe it would just go away. Of course it didn’t. The worst part though was watching what it did to mom. She could never understand it. Not only what Jack did, but the way people started treating her. Almost all her close friends turned away from her. Like I said before, it was suddenly like we had a disease. That was the hardest part for me.”
“Did you and your mom ever talk about it much?”
“No, not really. There was one time, after the newspapers reported he’d killed the schoolteacher in Waterloo, Iowa, that mom really lost it. Clyde and I were living in town and she was still out here on the farm. She called me and asked me to come out. It was all over the news, Jack Zane, strikes again. She was crying, but sounded mad. I’d never heard her that way, although she’d had many chances to feel angry. I hurried out and found her sitting, right here on this old couch. When I walked in she looked up at me and said, “What in God’s name is wrong with him, how can he do these things…kill an innocent schoolteacher? I hope they hunt him down and…he doesn’t deserve to be on this earth.”
“I sat next to her and held her. She was in agony, and there was nothing I could say to help her. We just sat and held each other for maybe, thirty minutes, not saying anything. Then she sort of straightened herself up and said, ‘I’m sorry, I’ll be okay,’ and got up and went into the kitchen. That was the last time we ever talked about Jack until the day she died. I think part of what killed her was a broken heart, over Jack.”
All the enthusiasm and vigor had drained out of Jonathan. He sat back in his chair emotionally exhausted. It was all beginning to mount up on him. For days, weeks really, he had immersed himself in this, killing, rape, murder, and it was starting to take its toll.
“You know, Barbara, that should probably do it as far as interview questions, if it’s okay with you I’ll just wait for Clyde, he can show me the grave and I’ll be on my way.”
She seemed relieved and said that would be fine. She knew where Clyde was in town and called him. Jonathan sat alone looking around the room. So this is where this evil man grew up, he thought. He’d been so busy interviewing Barbara he’d never really thought about it. He could hear her talking on the phone in the kitchen, so he got up and walked around, looking at pictures, nick-knacks, family stuff. On a dinner hutch in the corner was a picture of Barbara’s mom, Evelyn. They looked a lot alike, except for the sadness on Evelyn’s face.
Barbara could see Jonathan looking at the photo when she came back in the room, “That’s a picture of mom five years before she died.”
“She was beautiful. You look a lot alike.”
Barbara walked over and picked the frame up in her hand, “I loved her dearly; she didn’t have an easy life.”
They sat and talked about other things, birthdays, dogs and small towns, until Clyde came home. Jonathan gave her a hug and thanked her for letting him do this. He followed Clyde to the cemetery which was located about a mile and a half outside of town, opposite from the farm. It was an old dirt road covered with bumps and holes. Off to the right side was a small clump of trees. Jonathan could see some headstones in the distance. They pulled in and drove to the back of the cemetery. They parked under one of the shady old trees then walked through some sparse grass to a white, well-cared for tombstone – Evelyn Zane. Clyde bent down and dusted it off and rearranged some wilting flowers. Jonathan stood quietly watching. Clyde stood up, “I’ll take you to his grave, then I’m leavin’. You can stay as long as you want. I know you and Barbara talked about the fact you have to keep this a secret.”
“Yes we did, and I will…I promise!”
“Okay then, take two steps back and look down, you’ll be standin’ right on it.”
At first Jonathan looked at Clyde in disbelief. Clyde nodded so Jonathan took two steps back, looked down and saw nothing.
“He’s here, right under my feet…how do you know?”
“It’s unmarked so no one knows. We had it arranged so he was near Evelyn, but so’s no one else would know. I know where he’s buried, cause I was here when they did it. Believe me you’re standin’ right over his head.
If that’s all you need, I’ll be on my way,” he said reaching out to shake Jonathan’s hand. He walked to his truck, waved goodbye and was gone.
Jonathan stood there, unable to comprehend the fact he was standing over the grave of the man who killed his great grandparents, beat his mother, killed the Hansens, the schoolteacher, and who knows how many more. He got a queasy feeling and quickly stepped to the side. It was unnerving and he had mixed feelings about it. He went over and sat down next to Evelyn’s grave marker, staring at the ground Jack was buried under, listening to the birds and locusts in the trees. It seemed like such a peaceful place to have such wickedness present. He’d seen enough. He got up, said his good-bye to Evelyn and looked down once more to the ground under which Jack Zane was buried and then began his trip back to New Orleans.
He hoped to never see Storm Lake again.