Chapter Six

Graves

I awake with a smile on my face. Last night was perfect. I probably shouldn ’ t have slathered my baby gravy all over her dirty panties, but when in Rome, or however that saying goes.

It ’ s the start of a new week and I ’ m rolling over to night shift highway patrol, which means five days without my little siren. The idea sours my stomach, it ’ s my least favourite shift. What if something happened to her and I wasn ’ t there to help? How am I supposed to keep her safe if I ’ m an hour away, trying to catch a speed racer while hiding in a bush?

Maybe I ’ ll swing into the hotel restaurant tonight. I usually try to stay away, limiting myself to only the parking lot, watching her through the windows. Of course I know she ’ s working tonight. It ’ s child ’ s play getting that information when you ’ re a cop and Mallory's parents are subjects in an ongoing missing persons investigation. Well, I guess they technically aren ’ t missing. I know where they are. Spoiler alert, they ’ re dead. I yanked them from their beds, bound and gagged them, and wrapped a bag around their faces. They suffocated on the drive out to their unmarked grave, where I burned and buried their bodies. The two fucking men who dared to shove their cocks in Mal ’ s unwilling mouth that night also met the same unfortunate fate.

If anyone dares to touch what ’ s mine again, I'll break every one of their fingers, before gifting my little siren their corpse.

My blood is thundering in my ears and my adrenaline has spiked at the thought of the abuse that Mal has endured. Getting out of bed, I cross to the bathroom to take a piss, and then I'm grabbing my workout shorts and putting them on. I can ’ t even imagine the things I don't know of yet. I’m shoving my feet into my runners and lacing them more aggressively than needed. I've really had to amp up my workout routine to deal with the stress of all this stalking, but I ’ ve never been healthier. I can ’ t wait to chase her. I'll give her a head start, establishing a false sense of security. Then, I'll rip it away as I crush her beneath me. I hope she hides from me, the thought of hunting her awakens something wild inside me. Her fear tinged arousal soaking her slutty little panties. Fuck, nothing makes me harder. Spotting the stolen pair sticking out of the pocket of my departmentally issued uniform pants, I walk over and grab them. I take a long deep inhale of her heavenly scent, then tuck them into my bedside table drawer. It ’ s like a hit of the best drug on the market. A burst of energy fires through my system, and I'm ready to start my run. Stretching out my legs before jumping on the treadmill to burn off all this energy will do me good. I can ’ t be in a bad mood for dinner with my baby.

∞∞∞

I’m sitting at my desk, trying to force the thoughts of Mallory away long enough to get my paperwork done. She’s consuming my every waking minute which is delaying my ability to get out of here and get to the Silverberry restaurant. In this daydream she’s on her knees for me, hidden beneath my desk. Taking my cock to the back of her throat, the way she was always meant to. Before this, my mind conjured up the image of her cuffed in the back of my squad car and riding me to an earth shattering orgasm. The scenes play out on a never ending loop in my mind. She will bring my every fantasy to life, she will want to. Killing my cock in a death grip, I’m fighting the urge to go to her and fuck her into submission. It's becoming more of a struggle everyday to push her from my mind. I can ’ t go on like this, I have to have her. I'm slowly going insane, the blackest parts of me taking over. Maybe I need a vacation. Some time off to put into our relationship would be good for the both of us.

“GRAVES!” My name is bellowed through the precinct, pulling me from my thoughts. That ’ s the best boner killer, the sound of my boss’s voice echoing around the bullpen. Rising from my desk, I head down the hall towards the captain's office.

“ It ’ s open,” he states.

“Yes, Captain?” I inquire, strolling into his office, my ass taking up residence on the seat to my left. What the hell could he possibly want?

“ Where ’ s your report on the Pederson girl from last night?” he asks. She ’ s not the ‘Pederson girl’, she just lives in that house. His neglect to use her name irks me.

“There was no report to file, sir. It was a Halloween mask stuck in a tree,” I reply.

“ Mrs. Carla said the girl was terrified on the phone.” A hint of irritation is apparent in the undertone of his statement. He is constantly exasperated by that woman, but refuses to replace her. Carla must have brought up the call this morning at shift change. He wouldn ’ t care about a report unless asked about it, embarrassed he wouldn ’ t have the answers to her nagging inquiries. Without the reports he wouldn ’ t know what goes on in this town. Another thing, not to split hairs here, but I know my woman, and she was not terrified. Horrifically aroused maybe, but she isn ’ t scared of me. She is apprehensive of the things I made her feel.

“ While that is probably true of the initial call to the precinct, sir, when I arrived Miss Mallory Knight seemed calm and collected. Once I recovered the mask from the woods and presented it to her, she visibly relaxed and did confirm she was fine. I conducted a sweep both inside and outside the premises and there was nothing to report. I did run into the neighbourhood teen boys earlier on in my rounds, they were down by the mill, but I have nothing to confirm their whereabouts later on in the night. I did instruct her on the importance of better security measures and she took it under advisement. That was the end of the interaction,” I state. Fuck, ‘ Miss Mallory ’ j ust rolls off the tongue, doesn ’ t it? She could be my dirty little librarian with a name like that.

“ Alright, very good.” He nods, stroking the greying stubble on his chin. “ Let Carla know everything is okay with the girl. She was talkin ' my ear off, going a mile a minute in that southern twang of hers, asking a bunch of questions I couldn ’ t answer.” I knew it.

Sensing the end of our conversation, I rise from my seat. “ Yes, sir.”

“ It ’ s deader than three day old road kill in here today, Graves, why don ’ t you take a drive up Sawmill and give everything a once-over in the daylight. Make sure there ’ s nothi n' that ’ s going to have Johnson shittin ' his pants when he does his rounds later. You know how he is,” Captain instructs. Officer Johnson jumps at his own shadow but that doesn ’ t make him a bad cop. As long as he ’ s working in the daylight or patrolling the highway, Ted Johnson is as good a cop as he ever was. It ’ s a pain in the ass when he ’ s on night shift though, on rotation to patrol the rural areas. More often than not I get called in for backup on something that he could have definitely handled on his own. I don ’ t fault him for being cautious, he ’ s never been the same since he found someone strung up in the old mill about two months ago. It was clearly a murder that was staged to look like a suicide since there were multiple ligature strangulation marks. The case went cold pretty quickly. The woman wasn ’ t a local, she had no identification on her, and she didn ’ t match any missing person reports for the last five years. We sent her info out to the surrounding police departments but nothing ever came back.

“ Yes, sir.” I nod and turn to leave the office.

“And keep an eye on that girl, Graves, we don ’ t need her stirrin g up trouble in our little town be cause she ’ s gone and freaked herself out by living in that crazy ass house. Something’s not right in your mind when you choose to live there.” He mumbles the last part and irritation bubbles beneath my skin. There ’ s nothing wrong with her, she thrives in the darkness, it comforts her. I can ’ t say I ’ m any different really, just a bit more depraved. She ’ ll get to my level soon enough, I ’ ll make sure of it.

“Yes, sir. I'll take my truck so I can make it all the way out to the mill without issue. Use the radio, channel four, to reach me but you know how spotty the connection gets the farther out I go,” I curtly reply, trying to hold back the annoyance in my voice. He ’ s never even met my girl, how dare he judge her.

“ Have your gas receipts on my desk by morning and be safe, Graves, that mill is a death trap.” He hates me going out there. He thinks it ’ s cursed with the homicides that have happened out there over the length of its existence and the body that ’ s turned up there recently.

“Affirmative. I'll check in later.” With that I'm out the door and practically skipping to my truck. Work clearance to spend time watching my little siren. This day couldn ’ t get any better.

It takes about three hours to drive my route throughout the wilderness and then stop in at the Henderson Sawmill to ensure shit hasn ’ t gone awry out there. It is still a fully functional hydro powered saw mill, working water wheel and all. About once a month in the summer the town will host tours. Usually for the school aged kids in the town and surrounding areas. They get to learn about the history, minus the murders, and the older townsfolk dress up and play mill-worker for a few hours. It's a fun time and brings in the extra revenue the town is in need of.

What really brings in the mountains of cash flow though is the Halloween centred festivities. Starting the first weekend of October the town really leans into the deadly history of the Henderson Mill. The townspeople trade in their fun historical clothes for costumes covered in blood and gore and the surrounding area is turned into a horror centred debauch fest.

A haunted house is set up in the old Henderson house that ’ s on the Mill site. The paths to the forest are roped off, sending the patrons on a creepy hike through the woods. Wild chainsaw wielding hillbillies in roughly cut burlap masks will chase you through the maze-like hike, filing you out to a clearing in the woods where you will be able to eat, drink, and dance. Scantily dressed fae folk will tend to your every need. Through the clearing on the other side is the continuation of the path, looping you back around to the mill. This time you're chased by a wild wolf man and his horny pack of delinquents. Lusty hot vampires with next to no clothing on will corral you to the doors of the mill. Inside you ’ ll witness just about every depravity known to man. The cops turn their heads the other way, knowing this month of insanity is one of the only things keeping our small town afloat. The whole month-long event is curated to feed desire and people come from out of state now to take part in the wild party in the woods. Last year there was an orgy. No, I did not participate.

All the cops have to work that night to make sure no one dies, we have uniforms specifically for the occasion so we blend into the chaos. They are old, and covered in fake blood, but they do the trick. All the party goers are too inebriated in one way or another to tell if they are engaging with a real cop or not. That doesn ’ t stop them from participating in the lewd acts throughout the night though. I ’ ve seen enough of my comrades to scar me for life, especially my uncle, who happens to be the captain. I won’t judge him on anything that brings him joy nowadays though.

My aunt passed away at the scene of a vehicle collision. She was on her way to work at the community hospital early in the morning and witnessed the accident. Being a nurse, she went to aid in any way she could until the ambulance arrived. A long haul trucker had fallen asleep at the wheel of his big rig, crossed into oncoming traffic, and caused a head on collision with another vehicle. It was clear that the driver had died on impact, but the accident caused a small pile up. My Aunt Deanna called emergency services, then texted my Uncle Oscar to inform him of the accident. While tending to the injured, my aunt was hit by a drunk driver who didn ’ t even care enough to slow down through an accident site. The whole scene was straight out of a nightmare: blood on the pavement, people crying, the trucker being arrested. But watching my uncle break, screaming and crying over the loss of the love of his life, tore through me in a way I may never recover from. I certainly know he will never be right again. It's why he ’ s thrown all he has left into this town and the Henderson Haunt, it was my aunt's favourite time of year. I know they used to engage in the filth together so maybe continuing their tradition makes him feel closer to her in some way? Who am I to judge? I'm about to get my jollies just by watching the one I adore most in this world and I can ’ t wait.