Secret Hollows Part 15

Mike turned around and looked at the trees around him. None of them looked like the oak tree they had used. "Where?"

"Right there," Timmy said, pointing to a broken down ancient oak that was leaning against some other trees in the area.

"But shouldn't the hole be higher up?" Mike asked. "It's been twenty years."

"See this is why you need a professor," Ian said with a smile. "Tree trunks stop growing up at a certain age, they only get wider. The growth is from the crown of the tree, which is generally up where the trunk divides."

"Wow, you're pretty smart," Timmy said, "even if you do talk funny."

Ian bowed. "Thank you so much."

Mike chuckled. "So, have you looked inside?"

Timmy shook his head. "Naw, I wanted to wait until someone else was here," he said. "It was kind of spooky."

Nodding, Mike moved over next to the boy. "Yeah, that makes sense," he said. "Besides, we're not supposed to disturb it, if it's still there. It's evidence."

"Yeah, just like in the movies," Timmy said.

The bark around the outside of the hollow was jagged and rough, but the hole still had a diameter of about eighteen inches, big enough for an adult's head.

"Okay, well, here goes," Mike said, moving up and sticking his head into the hole in the tree.

He looked around, the hollow was much deeper now; it looked like it went down several feet into the tree. "I can't see the backpack," he called out. "It's too far down."

Shaking his head, Ian put his hands on his hips. "Well, you know, you're a ghost," he said. "You could get down on your knees and stick your head through the bark and see if it's there."

Mike chuckled. "Oh, yeah, I can do that, can't I?"

Timmy laughed. "Duh."

Mike looked down at Timmy. "Hey, I heard that."

He moved down a few feet and looked into the tree. A ragged piece of canvas was lying in the middle of the tree, covered with leaves and acorn sh.e.l.ls. He could see the color was faded green and there was still a plastic name tag attached to it. "Hey, Timmy, was your backpack green?" he called out.

"Yes. Yes it was," Timmy called back.

Mike pulled his head out of the tree. "I think we have a winner here."

"Yeah, but how do we convince the local constabulary that we happened upon a piece of evidence that's stuck in the middle of a tree?" Ian asked.

"That's easy," Mike said.

"Easy?" Ian questioned.

"Yeah, don't you folks over in the UK all go in for bird-watching?" he asked. "Just tell the cops you were searching for an orange-breasted warbler, or something like that."

"Well, first, we folks over there don't necessarily all go for bird watching," Ian replied, his lip curling in disgust. "And, if we did, winter in the Midwest would not be the time to be exploring the woods for birds."

"Unless you were looking for a hawk or an owl," Timmy suggested. "Then it would work."

Ian nodded. "Okay, you're right, that might work," he said. "But before we call anyone, we bring Mary and Bradley back here to figure out what they want to do next."

"Great, and in the meantime, let's find Ronny and see what he can tell us," Mike said. "I got a feeling this murderer is closer than we think."

Chapter Twenty-six.

Mary and Bradley walked down the gray cinderblock walls to the small Visitor's Room in the prison. The sound of her heels. .h.i.tting against the concrete floor echoed all around them.

They had already pa.s.sed through the metal detector and Mary had left her purse and personal belongings with the guard. Bradley had been allowed to keep his cell phone, but he left his weapon with the guard.

They were seated on metal chairs in front of a gray metal table that was secured to the floor. A moment later, a door on the other side of the room opened and a guard escorted a shackled man into the room. He was dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit that seemed two sizes too big for him. His face was drawn and his body seemed frail and unsteady. His head was bowed and he didn't make eye contact with them.

"Chief Alden?" the guard asked.

Bradley nodded.

"This is Forrest, the kid killer," the guard continued. "You got him for thirty minutes. If you have any problems, let us know and we'll be in here immediately."

He pushed Emil into the chair, locked the shackles around his wrists in the bolt attached to the top of the table and left the room, locking the door behind him.

"Emil Forrest," Bradley said. "I'm Chief Bradley Alden from the Freeport Police Department and this is Mary O'Reilly, a private investigator and former Chicago Police Officer. We're here to ask you some questions about your case."

Emil sighed heavily and lifted his head a little, peering at them from the corner of his eyes. "I didn't kill those boys," he said tentatively, his voice slow and deliberate.

Then he stiffened, bracing himself for retaliation for his words.

"I don't think you did either," Mary replied.

Shock registered on his face. He stared at Mary for a moment. "Why did you say that?" he asked. "Is this a game?"

She shook her head. "No, it's not a game," she said. "But we need your help if we're going to find out who killed them."

He lifted his head higher and looked both of them in the eyes. "Really?" he said softly. "You aren't...you aren't making fun of me?"

"No, we're serious," Bradley said. "But we don't have a lot of proof. So we need you to tell us everything you can about what happened and the trial."

"Okay," he stammered, his eyes filling with tears, "because I really didn't kill those boys. They were my friends."

"Tell me about the day the police came to your house," Mary said. "The day they arrested you."

He sat even taller in his chair and he stared down at the table, his eyes moving back and forth, as he tried to recall the information. "I was in the living room and I was getting ready to go out," he said. "I was going to go somewhere. I can't remember why... But, there was a knock on the door. I had a bag, a grocery bag, and I put it on the table to answer the door. Bob Farley was there, on my porch. I smiled at him and started to say h.e.l.lo, but he grabbed me by my s.h.i.+rt and pulled me out of the door."

He s.h.i.+vered and took a deep breath. "I...I didn't understand," he continued. "Bob was always nice to me and Mother. Then he threw me on the porch and told me I was being arrested. I wondered what I had done. I asked Bob what I had done and he started saying that stuff they say on television. I had the right to remain silent. You know, stuff like that."

"Did he tell you what he was arresting you for?" Bradley asked.

"He called me a name," Emil said. "A really bad name. Mother didn't let me use that kind of language. I was surprised Bob used it. I told him that he needed to be quiet because Mother didn't like that word. Then he put the handcuffs on me and dragged me off the porch. I saw a bunch of men in my shed and I asked Bob what they were doing in there. That's when he told me they found the bodies of the boys..."

Emil began to cry. "He said they found them buried on my property. They found their stuff in my shed. He said they knew I killed them. He said I was going to jail for a long time."

Looking down at the table, he clasped his hands together and shook his head. "I told him...I told him I didn't kill those boys. I told him those boys were my friends."

Pausing for a moment, he studied his hands and finally he met their eyes. "Then he told me I was lying. He told me there was evil inside of me that took over me. He told me the evil made me do things I didn't want to do."

He shook his head and his eyes widened. "I never knew about the evil inside me. He said something was wrong with my mind, that's why I wasn't smart as other people. And whatever was wrong with my mind made me kill those boys."

"What happened then?" Bradley asked.

"I told Bob I never wanted to kill those boys," he said. "I didn't even remember doing it. But I was sorry. I was sorry I killed those boys."

He looked up and met Mary's eyes. "Then Mother came out of the house. She yelled at Bob. She asked him what he thought he was doing. Told him he should know that I could never hurt anyone. Bob put me in the police car and Mother came down the steps. She told him to stop this nonsense right away. But he didn't listen. He didn't listen to her at all. He just got in the car and drove me away. Mother was standing by the road, calling my name and she was crying. But he just drove away."

He turned his head slightly and looked at Bradley. "Mother's dead now," he said. "She died about ten years ago. She would write me letters all the time before she died. She never knew the truth about the evil inside me. She thought I didn't kill those boys."

"Did you know the boys?" Mary asked.

Emil nodded eagerly, and then stopped. "Well, I knew four of them," he said. "There was one, from Freeport, didn't know him at all. The other boys, I drove the bus for them since they were in kindergarten."

"Did they find your fingerprints on the items they found in your shed?" Bradley asked.

"They said I wore gloves," Emil replied. "And they found my gardening gloves in the shed. Course, I did always keep my gardening gloves in the shed."

"Did they find a weapon, the weapon used to kill the boys, in your shed?" Bradley asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. "They said I must have cleaned it off or thrown it away," he said. "They never found a weapon. But they said I probably got rid of it."

He shrugged. "The evil part must have told me how to do it. But I wonder why the evil part didn't hide the swim trunks."

"Swim trunks?" Mary asked. "What are you talking about?"

Emil shook his head slowly, remembering. "That's what I had in the grocery bag," he said, "when I was going to leave my house, before Bob took me. I found Timmy's swim trunks in the ditch, right by my house. I figured he must have dropped them when he was riding on his bike, past my place. I was going to bring them back to him."

"How did you know they were Timmy's?" Bradley asked.

"Oh, they had his name on the inside," Emil said, "in black marker."

"What did the police say when you told them about the trunks?" Mary asked.

Looking around the room, he lowered his voice. "Never told them," he said. "I never told them about the trunks. I was too scared they would think I stole them. So, I never told anyone about them."

"Do you know what happened to the trunks?" Bradley asked.

"I left them on the table," he said. "And when Mother came to visit me, she told me she found them. She told me not to tell anyone about the trunks, she was going to hide them away."

"Do you think she threw them away or destroyed them?" Mary asked.

"No," he said, shaking his head emphatically. "She said she was going to store them and Mother never did throw much away."

"Who lives in your house now?" Bradley asked.

"No one, I guess," he said. "After Mother died, the lawyer came to see me. He said it's mine, free and clear. He said no one wanted to buy a..."

He took a deep breath. "A murderer's house."

"So, it's just sitting there?" Mary asked.

"Yeah, just sitting there," he replied. "Mother and I didn't spend a lot of money, so there was plenty in her account to cover the taxes. The lawyer said he would get it boarded up for me, so vandals wouldn't go inside."

"Can we go inside and see if we can find the trunks?" Bradley asked. "They might have some DNA evidence on them to prove your innocence."

"But, I'm not innocent," he said, shaking his head.

Mary put her hand over Emil's. "I think Bob was wrong. I don't think you have evil inside you. I don't think you killed those boys."

"Really?" he asked.

"Really," she replied. "Can we go into your house and get the trunks?"

"Sure, if you can find them," he said. "Mother was always one for finding good hiding places for things."

"Does your lawyer have a key?" Mary asked.

He shook his head. "No, the spare key is in a plastic box under the big rock by the front steps. You can use that one."

"I have one more question for you," Bradley said. "A year before the murders, a young boy went missing. He was camping at Lake Le-Aqua-Na with his family. He was from Chicago. Do you remember the incident?"

Emil thought for a moment and finally, slowly, shook his head. "Yes. Yes, I do," he replied. "Mother and I had just returned from visiting her sister, Aunt Vilene, from Champaign. We went every year during Spring Break because I didn't have to drive the bus that week. When we came home, we heard he was missing. I helped search the woods, but we didn't find him."

"So, you were out of town when he disappeared?" Mary confirmed.

Emil nodded. "Yeah, I think everyone knew we always went out of town during that week. All the neighbors kept an eye on the house for us."

"Emil, how could someone bury the bodies of those boys on your property without you knowing about it?" Bradley asked.

"I don't know," he replied. "I have asked myself the same question for many years. There are farmers going up and down that road all the time with big tractors and combines that would have been able to see someone digging. I guess they could have done it at night, but even then, the tractors would go up the road occasionally."

"How far from the road was the gravesite?" Mary asked.

"Not too far, about fifty yards," he said. "But it was behind the tree-line from our house, so I never even noticed the disturbed earth. My garden is closer to the house."