Dark Water (Cooper M. Reid Book 1) (3 page)

Not sure of what else to do, Cooper leaned forward and rested his hand on the front door, just below the little sand dollar ornament. He closed his eyes and focused on the texture of the wooden door beneath his palm. He tried to get a better sense of the place without the aid of sight, being guided by only the feel of the door beneath his hand.

The porch smelled of sunlit wood but was almost entirely overpowered by the smell of the ocean behind the house. He took all of this in and listened to the muted roar of the sea, the crying of gulls nearby and, somewhere a few blocks over, someone cranking a motorcycle to life. His focus kept going back to the ocean and the slow yet hectic rhythm of the waves as they crashed along the shore.

Hearing that, Cooper got what he needed.

He pictured the waves at dusk, colored an aquatic golden green that no painter could ever get quite right. He saw this and he heard screaming in his head. He saw the image of a boy standing along the edge of the sea, looking out and pointing. He was wearing a pair of swimming trunks with a cartoon shark grinning widely and giving a thumbs-up. The boy was saying something as he pointed out to the ocean, but Cooper wasn’t sure what it was.The boy had tousled black hair and a slight scratch along his right temple.

Cooper saw all of this with eerie definition, as if the boy were standing directly beside him on the Blackstock’s front porch.

Then, in a flash, the boy was gone. More screaming followed as the vision or whatever it was dissipated. The screams were the terror-choked wails of a woman, and—

Cooper opened his eyes and looked to the Blackstock’s front door. He touched the sand dollar ornament gingerly. His heart was hammering and he could still hear the ghost sounds of the beach—not the same waves he was hearing right now from behind the house, but the crashing waves of some other time, some other afternoon long ago.

With his stomach in knots, Cooper raised his hand and knocked on the door again. Twenty second passed and he had no answer. Cooper knocked louder, this time leaning against the door.

“Mrs. Blackstock,” he called loudly, not in a shout but loud enough to be heard through the door. “I think I really need to speak with you. I think I can help you with your problems. And I think I can help you learn about what happened to Henry.”

Henry,
he thought.
Where the hell did that come from?

He knocked once more and as he was rapping against the wood, the door opened. Jenny Blackstock stared at him with fury in her eyes.

“What does that article say about my son?” she asked. “What does it say about Henry?”

Cooper retrieved the article from his pocket again and handed it to her.

 “Nothing,” Cooper said. “That’s something I picked up on my own.”

“Where? How?”

Cooper winced at the question and did his best to give her a smile. Instead, it felt like his face was crooked. “I can explain it as best as I can if you can give me just five minutes of your time.”

She considered this for a moment slowly folding the article back up. “You know about Henry?”

“I think so.”

She said nothing and once again, Cooper handed her second article, unfolding it for her. She took it slowly, not trusting the stranger at her doorstep.

“Have you heard about this?” he asked, indicating the article.

The headline read
LOCAL 11 YEAR OLD BOY DROWNS.
The first few sentences summed it all up: eleven year old Kevin Owens had drowned two months ago. It had been quick—so quick that his parents weren’t entirely sure what had happened.

“Sounds eerily familiar, doesn’t it?” Cooper asked somberly.

Jenny nodded as a tear spilled from her left eye. She looked to Cooper as if he had just smacked her across the face.

Still, she stepped aside and let him through the door.

“Five minutes,” she said. “But you don’t start until my husband gets home.”

4

Cooper sat in the Blackstock’s well-decorated living room, sipping from a soda that Jenny had given him without asking. She had called her husband at work and informed Cooper that he would be arriving in about twenty minutes. They spent that twenty minutes with Cooper sitting in a recliner in the living room while Jenny stood at the bar in the kitchen, reading and re-reading both articles.

“Do you know the people that wrote this article?” she asked. “The one about my son, I mean.”

“No, not personally.”

“How do they get their information?”

“Lots of ways,” Cooper said. “Anyone that you have spoken to about what’s going on in your house can be a source. Cops, ghost hunting teams, church members, stuff like that.”

“Church members?” Jenny asked.

“For exorcisms and things like that. In
your
case, though, based on the site I got the article from, I can almost guarantee that they got the information from a paranormal investigation team. Have you guys had anyone like that in your house since this all started happening?”

“Yeah,” Jenny said in a tone that indicated it was a decision that she regretted. “About four months ago.”

“Did they find anything?”

“No. They tried to blame most of it on how the wind comes through the eaves on the back porch.”

“Do you mind if I have a look?” Cooper asked.

“Not until Sam gets home.”

Cooper nodded. He wasn’t about to push the issue. She understood that she wanted her husband home not only so they could both hear what he had to say, but just in case the man she had never met and had invited into their home turned out to be insane and tried to hurt her. He had no doubt that was why she was standing at the kitchen bar while he sat down. She was standing roughly two feet from the large wooden block that held all of the knives, perched along the end of the bar and the kitchen wall.

When they heard the front door open and close, off of a small hallway and the foyer which could not be seen from the living room, Jenny dashed across the room and out of Cooper’s sight. She didn’t say a word or even glance at him. But seconds later, he could hear the Blackstocks whispering softly to one another.

It was a peculiar feeling, but he felt like was a child in school that had been sent to the principal’s office. The whispered voices behind him could have easily been a teacher and the principal trying to determine his punishment.

A few seconds later, Sam and Jenny Blackstock came into the living room as a unified force. They were actually holding hands when they sat down on the couch across from the recliner. Sam Blackstock wasted no time, leaning forward and looking directly into Cooper’s eyes. He looked furious.

“The fact that I have no idea who you are and that you came here today talking about my son does two things to me,” he said. “First, it pisses me off. And second, it creeps me right the hell out. So we’re going to give you your five minutes. And if you say anything to upset my wife or anger me, you and I are going to have problems. Am I understood?”

“Yes,” Cooper said.

Sam Blackstock was about the same size and build as Cooper. Of course, Sam didn’t know that Cooper had several years of FBI training under his belt. Cooper had never been the most physical of specimens, but he was more than capable of handling himself in a fight. During his time with the bureau, he’d taken down men much larger than Sam Blackstock. Still, he was not about to underestimate the strength and determination of a man that had lost a child.

Cooper began the only way he knew how. As he started, he hoped the old writer instincts would kick in and he would be able to get the right words out.

“My name is Cooper Reid,” he started. “Once upon a time, I was pretty well known for some work that, looking back on it, was pretty ridiculous. Before all of that, though, I worked as a field agent for the FBI for a few years. I was recruited out of the FBI and into another organization that was overseen mostly by the CIA with some support from the Department of Homeland Security.”

“Do you have ID?” Sam Blackstock asked.

Cooper grinned nervously. “I don’t. I am quite fortunate to not work for the government anymore. But if you have any doubts, a simple Google search will show you that I’m telling the truth. I got into some hot water with just about every government organization I ever spoke to because of a book I wrote. It was a blimp on the news a few years back.”

It was clear that the Blackstocks knew nothing about the Cooper M. Reid controversy that had hummed beneath the headlines three years ago. But neither of them made a move for the laptop that was sitting on a small desk on the far side of the living room, either. Cooper took the opportunity to continue. He did so with caution, knowing that this would be the tricky area.

“My line of expertise was in the paranormal. Only, the FBI, CIA, and Homeland Security never called it that. At one time, I had a good reputation with the FBI. It was so good that I was approached by a ghost organization that I don’t think even exists anymore. I had a degree in astrobiology and was an expert in the field of parapsychology.”

“Parapsychology?” Jenny asked, looking as if she was absolutely not buying the story. “Are you kidding me?”

“No.”

“You mean like mind-reading and making things float with your mind?” Sam asked.

Cooper nodded. “The organization that hired me was deep into that sort of thing. They sent me around to investigate some very strange cases. Some were crime-based but many were simple occurrences of the paranormal. Things like haunted houses, UFOs, demonic possession and things of that nature.”

“I thought those things were bullshit,” Sam said, his doubt thick and pronounced in his voice. “You mean things like MK Ultra and Project Blue Book, right?”

Cooper shrugged. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg, really. And it’s also straying from my point.”

“Which is?” Jenny asked.

“I lost my job because of the book I wrote. The government tried to keep me quiet, but I started researching cases on my own. I did that for a little over a year, collecting information for another book. But then I happened upon one particular case and something happened to me. To be honest, I’m still not sure
what
happened. But according to everything I have read and things I have been told, I went missing for a little over three months.”

“Our son…,” Jenny said, anger causing her voice to tremble. “You really think we’d let you talk about the death of our son and the craziness going on in our house in some book?”

“No. Not at all,” Cooper said. “I’m done with that. See, when I came back from—well, from wherever I was—I started getting these sort of visions. I’d get gut reactions to things I saw or read. I tried ignoring them but it wouldn’t stop. Finally, I decided I had to see what was going on. And if I’m being honest, I’m more interested in finding out what these visions and gut feelings are than what is happening in your house. I’m just putting that out there for the sake of transparency.”

“I don’t believe any of this,” Sam said, getting to his feet. “I’m going to ask you to leave now, Mr. Reid. And if you do it now without argument, I won’t call the police.”

“I understand,” Cooper said, also standing. “But the clock in your kitchen tells me that I have about forty seconds remaining of my five minutes. I just have one more thing I need to tell you.”

Sam stepped forward and Cooper saw his clenched fists. But Jenny reached out and took her husband’s wrist. He looked back to her, angry and hesitant.

“Thirty seconds,” Jenny said in a near-hiss.

“I saw your story on that site I was telling you about. And then when I did some research on the area, I also found the recent story of Kevin Owens and how he drowned. There was a definite connection, but I thought it seemed small. Simple. So I came out here, not knowing why. I didn’t even know your son’s name or that he had died. All I knew was that you ha reported laughing children in your home at night. I know
nothing
about Henry until I was standing out your porch. After Jenny closed the door on me the first time, I put my hand on the door and…and I just
knew.
”

“Get out,” Jenny said. She was crying, slowly sinking into the couch.

Sam was staring Cooper down, not budging.

Cooper wrapped up, fully expecting a blow from Sam. If it came, Cooper decided that he wouldn’t even block it. He’d let the man have his release. He couldn’t begin to imagine what this must feel like for them.

“It was late in the afternoon,” he said. “He was wearing swim trunks with a smiling shark giving a thumbs-up. He was pointing at something at sea, something close to land, I think. He was shouting something…I don’t know what. He was—,”

He wasn’t interrupted by Sam Blackstock’s punch, as he had fully been expecting. Instead, the man let out a stifled cry and slowly sank into the couch beside his wife. They both looked up to Cooper as if he had done some great magic trick. There was sick wonder in their faces, but there was fear, too.

“How could you know that?” Jenny asked in a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Cooper said. “It literally just came to me on your front porch.”

“No one could know all of that,” Sam said. “We were the only ones on the beach. We were the only ones that saw it.”

“We didn’t even tell the coroner or police or anyone what he had been shouting,” Jenny said. “It was too strange—sort of scary. We didn’t want to dwell on the fact that those words were the last thing he ever said.”

“Can I ask—?” Cooper began.

“Dark water,” Jenny said, wiping a tear away. “That’s the last thing our baby ever said.
Dark water.”

5

Cooper didn’t think the shock had yet worn off, nor did he think the Blackstocks fully believed him just yet. Regardless, they no longer asked him to leave and, in fact, invited him to stay and check out their house. They started at the front porch, something Cooper secretly hadn’t wanted to do. He feared that if he saw that image again—the sight of a boy that he now knew had been Henry Blackstock—he might bail on this entire trip.