Hunting Down the Horseman. B.J. Daniels
sensation had been the presence of evil. Evil fueled by vengeance. She’d known then that the settlers had never left town. Some years back, a local named Bud Lynch had sworn he found a pile of human bones in a cave west of the ghost town.
The bones, as well as any evidence of the more than hundred-year-old crime, had mysteriously disappeared before his story could be confirmed by the sheriff.
The Brannigans and their relatives called Bud Lynch a liar, but Faith had seen the man’s face when he told of what had to have been the skeletons of dozens of men, women and children, piled like kindling in the bottom of the cave.
There was no doubt that Bud Lynch had seen evil.
DIRECTOR ERIK ZANDER WOKE on the couch, confused for a moment where he was and how he’d gotten there. On the floor next to him lay an overturned empty Scotch bottle. He groaned when he saw it.
He had to quit drinking like this. He sat up, his head aching, the room spinning for a moment. The trailer rocked to the howl of the wind outside, the motion making him ill.
He glanced at his watch. Past two in the morning. With an early call, he really needed to get some sleep. Hasting would be arriving today, and who knew what the hell he really wanted.
Pushing himself to his feet, Zander stumbled toward the bedroom, slowing as he passed the kitchen and the fresh bottle of Scotch he knew was in the cabinet within reach.
“Don’t even think about it,” he mumbled to himself. He was already so drunk he had trouble navigating the narrow hallway, bumping from wall to wall like a pinball. Something about that made him laugh.
He was still chuckling when he reached the small bedroom. The trailer room was just large enough for a bed and a built-in dresser.
As he aimed himself for the bed, he spotted the doll propped against the pillow and lurched back, stumbling into the wall and sitting down hard. Now eye to eye with the damned doll, he saw that it had to be the ugliest thing he’d ever seen.
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