More Harry Hogan stories!
Harry Hogan looked up as the office door opened. “Max! What are you doing here? I hope you haven’t started sleepwalking again.”
Max Marshall laughed as he closed the door and sat down across from Harry’s desk. “Last time was three months ago, right before the biopsy.”
“Biopsy? Is everything okay?”
“Thought I had skin cancer but it was negative.”
“That’s good. So what’s on your mind?”
Max leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and spoke quietly. “Do you know the story of the Henderson Tragedy?”
“Henderson?” Harry shook his head.
“Josiah Henderson, the guy who shot his six kids on Halloween, and then his wife ended up in the mental asylum.”
“Oh… yeah… I heard the story but not the name. I believe his wife died in the institution.”
“That’s right,” Max said. “They said she was still pacing the floor, wringing her hands, and crying for her children.” He shook his head. “I’ll never understand how he could have done such a thing.”
“I doubt if anyone will,” Harry said. “What’s going on, Max? That was a long time ago.”
Max nodded. “This year marks the one-hundredth anniversary of the most tragic event in the history of this town.”
Harry rubbed his chin. “One hundred years. Is that significant in some way?”
“Could be. I think the ghosts of those six kids have come back.”
“Max, have you gone from sleepwalking to nightmares?”
Max shook his head.
“But why… not that I believe in ghosts… but, if there was such a thing, why would they come back now? Why wait this long?”
“Maybe because the time is right. I don’t know.” Max paused before continuing. “But I’ve seen them.”
“Are you sure you’re not sleepwalking?”
“No, I’m not… sleepwalking, I mean.” Max shook his head “I’ve seen them several times, out at the old farm… from the road, of course. I wouldn’t dare go any closer.”
“Why not?”
“They’re ghosts. Who knows what they might do to me if they knew I saw them.”
Harry tried not to laugh. “And you’re sure you didn’t imagine it?”
“No way. I saw them… and I heard them too.”
“What did you hear?”
“Sounded like metal scraping. Maybe they’re tearing apart what’s left of the old farming equipment. It’s nothing but a heap of rust anyway.”
“So you’re not only seeing things… now you’re hearing things too.” Harry shook his head.
Max sighed. “Look, I know I have an overactive imagination, but I’m telling you this is real. I saw them – and heard them – several times. Maybe they’re planning to erase all traces of their father from the face of the earth.”
“Well, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” Harry said. “But what do you think I can do?”
“Maybe you could go out there and take a look around.” Max shrugged. “You could probably tell if something was happening there… better than I could.”
