An Unnatural Kind: 1&2

1- Sunrise Through the Fog

John Walker pouched the tobacco into his cheek as he leaned against the side of his bike, staring out across the open field toward the wood-line that ran behind the Sweeter residence. He waited for someone from the McMorran County Sheriff's department as the rain began to fall as the light began to brighten the morning sky, yet the fog was still hung thickly in the lowland areas just beyond the wood-line. His head dropped, and his long dark hair fell down around his face, his eyes closing as he measured off every breath, his blue and white flannel shirt hanging damply against his tall and thin frame. He opened his eyes and watched as the water beaded up on the toe of his leather boots, and a sudden autumn wind passed a chill that seemed to brush across his bones.  

It took a half an hour for the police department to finally show up.

2- A Downward Slide

"I'd suppose the first question I have for you is why were you at the Sweeter's house last night John?" Sheriff Bill Evers asked as he sat across from him inside of the small room off the short hallway in the County Office. John was not certain what end he might be led to next, the north leading back out into the main office, and the door that exited out onto Main Street in the small city of Crystal River. The opposite way led only to four small cell enclosures that were more often than not, empty.

Things like this didn't happen in Crystal River, Michigan. In most areas of the world, Crystal River would have vaguely resembled a good sized town. In Michigan's Upper Peninsula, it was the largest settlement in McMorran County. With a little over thirty-five hundred residents within, or near, the city limits; the biggest killer in the county tended to be old age, and those various ailments that came along with the elderly population. For the most part, there was an age gap that not much more than a handful of those that lived in Crystal River filled in between the empty spaces. Most of the youth, more often than not, moved away once they came of age. At the other end of the spectrum were those that were most likely born in McMorran County, and would inevitably die in McMorran County.

John Walker had been born on The Great Pines Ojibwa Reservation, and worked as a janitor the high school. There was occasionally a wild one that would come off out of The Pines, come into Crystal River and raise a little hell. For the most part, the two existed independently from one another. The few that did bother to come into Crystal River usually did so on the weekend to shop at The Green Branch grocer.

"She called me," John answered after a long pause.

"Who called you John?" Sheriff Evers pressed.

"Little Ray," he said, his eyes moving upward gradually to meet the Sheriff's steady gaze.

"Why on earth would Rachel Sweeter call you if she was in some sort of trouble?" Bill honed his gaze in on John's face.

"She trusted me," John shrugged.

"You think maybe my department might have been better suited for that sort of thing, don't ya think?" Bill asked as John's eye moved past him to the two-way mirror that sat behind the Sheriff's back.

"Are you asking me about what I think? Or what she was thinking when she called me instead?" John's eye switched back to meet his again.

"Maybe a bit abow't bow'th John, if you actually knouw what she was thinkin' that is." The slight trace of a northern Michigan's "yooper" accent in Bill's voice began to perk up as he continued with the interview, sensing that he might be working around toward something more helpful. "I'm a bit perplexed thaht she has your phoune number at all."

"I don't know why she called me instead of you," John said, and made not so much effort to cover for the deception. "As for having my phone number, I gave it to her."

"Why would you do thaht John?" Bill said as he scratched the light gray and silver stubble on his jowled cheeks.

"I gave it to her when Lonnie came back home." John said flatly, and the Sheriff seemed slightly taken aback by that.

"You'll excuse me for asking, mostly as I have to ask... Rachel Sweeter had a bit a reputation around town, and from what talk might tell, you wouldn't be the first full grown man that she had become involved with..."

"Talk is cheap," John said, his jaw clamping down tight. "No, we were not involved with one another like that."

"All the same, you seem to knouw her pretty well." Bill said as he leaned forward onto the table.

"She would come and talk to me at the school sometimes." John sighed, and sat back away from him.

"About?"

"Any number of things," John tried to keep his temper in check.

"Mrs. Walker moved on, a bit over a year ago, as I recall"...

"Which has utterly nothing to do with this, Bill."

"Maybe," Bill shrugged himself. "Have you heard from her John?"

"I heard from her attorney," John now moved in closer. "Are we done with my personal affairs now? Can we move on to what happened at the Sweeter house?"

"Well-eh? If you knouw sumpthin' abow't thaht John, I'm all ears."

"She called me. She was upset and she wanted me to come by and pick her up."

"And take her where?"

"I don't know." John's upper lip snarled slightly. "We never got that far into the conversation."

"So, you went over to pick her up at her house? I'd imagine that Dave Sweeter might have a thing or two to say abow't thaht."

"Are you guys even looking for Rachel or Lonnie?" John's brow curled up tight.

"We are," Bill nodded. "Still looking for Lonnie that is, we found Rachel."

"Is she alright?"

"Abow't as far from alright as person could be." Bill's tone rose as he spoke. "We found her out by the river, and she definitely appeared to have been pestered with... if you know what I mean."

"Where is she?"

"St. Francis' up in the Sault. The doctors there are certain that she will recover, and we're hoping that she'll have something to tell us when she does." Bill's growl settled back into his chest somewhat. "So, why doun't you tell me whaht else it is thaht you knouw."

"You seen what I seen when I came in," John said, again taking his time to come around to an answer.

"Just let yourself in eh?"

"I knocked first," John said, his gaze lowering down the the table's surface in front of him. "You can always arrest me for breaking and entering if you's like, but I went in because Little Ray sounded like she was in trouble when she called."

"What kind of trouble?"

John exhaled deeply, as he sat there for a moment to collect his thoughts. "An unnatural kind of trouble."

Uley