Spook

PROLOGUE

Burn little piggies! Burn little piggies! Fry in the fire! Fry in the hot, hot, hotfucking fire you piglets. Ha ha.

Robert Van Wyck chanted his sick little poem over and over through his twisted mind as he stared out from the oleander bushes, his eyes evil and cold, his mind totally demented, eagerly he watched as the house across the street from him burned. The house that served as the servants quarters, which sat on the same property his beloved family home was built on.

The fire excited and elated him. As he watched on, demonic laughter spewed from his thick, twisted lips. He was proud of his work, proud of the destruction he had caused and proud that he would for certain get away with all that he had done. The fire was the final act in a series of deadly pursuits and now with extreme pleasure he watched from his hiding place among the vast foliage of the oleanders as his enemies were destroyed.

Burn piglet’s burn!

He was enjoying the poem and the more he recited it, the more elated he became. They were the last of his problems, and everything had worked out so damn perfectly he could hardly believe his luck. Of course, like all sociopathic personalities, Robert Van Wyck didn’t attribute his acts to luck. He took full responsibility for his work; after all he was proud of it.

It was just after nine o’clock when our fiend lit the torch and ignited the old wooden cottage. He was certain they’d all be sleeping, and by the time they realized what was going on, it’d be too late. There’d be no escaping, he made certain of that when he doused the exits with kerosene and ignited those spots first.

He didn’t really need to murder the girl and the mother. After all they were good servants and he did enjoy the mother from time to time, but Francis the boy knew everything, and because of this, they would all have to die. There was no other way, it was Francis fault.

Damn little snoop! Always nosing around, listening, and watching.

He saw or heard everything. Robert knew this just by the way the boy had been acting lately. It was the boys fault, not Roberts that they all must be destroyed. Time and time again he had warned the child to stay out of his business, but somehow, whenever he was up to something, the boy would somehow figure it out. So in the evil mind of Robert Van Wyck, the boy deserved to die. All nosy people should die.

Silently he looked on as the fire engulfed the house. He could hardly contain the laughter that was rising in him as he imagined their bodies burning to unidentifiable crisps in the inferno. For a moment he thought he could actually hear the agony of their screams, just before their lungs began to fill with the deadly smoke. He could picture their eyes bulging as they gasped for air.

All of these thoughts gave him intense pleasure, forcing diabolical laughter from his lips. He covered his mouth with a filthy hand to stifle his chuckles and when he finally got them under control, only the creatures in the dense foliage heard him mutter, ever so softly, They’re dead. All of them, dead as door nails. Bye, bye, sleep tight, now you’ll never wake again. More laughter spewed from his lips as he thought of them all frying together in the burning house. Now no one will know what I’ve done. He was pleased with his work, but most important, he knew his grandmother would be pleased too and surely she would reward him greatly for his efforts.

Robert Van Wyck looked on as the hungry flames devoured the remains of the cottage. The fire consumed the wooden dwelling with incredible speed. It was as if the flames themselves were alive and they were feasting on the remains of the house. Robert enjoyed the vision feeling as if he was a sorcerer and his thoughts were controlling the fire. Lifting his arms he conducted the flames to dance at his will, when suddenly, out of the corner of one eye he saw movement.

His blood froze as he spied the small figure of a boy, pulling another mass from the inferno. Slowly, the words dripped from his lips, Francis. But how can that be? How can he be alive?

Sirens started in the distance pulling Robert from his trance. The authorities had been alerted and help was on the way. He knew it was just a matter of time before the boy would tell them everything and then they would come for him. They would arrest him and send him away for the rest of his life, or else they would kill him.

He needed a place to hide and his thoughts turned immediately to the tunnels. Unease filled the pit of his stomach as he realized this was the only possible refuge for him. The tunnels were dark, and there were things down there, things not of this world, things that frightened him, however, he knew they were his only option as no one knew about the tunnels that his grandmother had built deep in the ground many years ago. None of the workers who toiled so laboriously to insert them were still alive. They remained a sacred place, kept secure and secret through magic, however, there was no guarantee that they would remain that way. The entrances to the tunnels were very accessible from his house, and he did not posses the powers that his grandmother did. She was a strong and powerful witch capable of anything, and her skills lay, for many years now, with her in her tomb. Robert was able to communicate with her sometimes. When he was just a child, she would appear to him in his dreams telling him he had great things to accomplish, and as he grew into manhood she came to him in many different ways. It was a secret between Robert and her, no one else knew, not even his parents who rarely ever spoke of the woman. Then he found the medallion, hidden in the wall of the basement of the house with many of his grandmothers other jewels. It was a talisman, a magical charm that enabled him to communicate with her. Together they made plans, one day he would resurrect her and they would become very powerful.

Robert knew that his safety lie in the darkness of those tunnels and his fear began to ebb a little, as he felt certain that once down there his grandmother would come to him and help him.

There were only two visible entrances to the secret passageways beneath the street in the vicinity. one was in his house but this one was definitely out of the question, the grounds were already swarming with cops and fire fighters, he’d have to use the other passage that was located in the cemetery just a couple blocks away. This entrance was safe as he held the only key to the crypt.

Carefully, he crawled out from his hiding place in the oleanders that grew along the fence of the house across the street from his own, his dark clothes making him appear no more than a shadow to anyone who might see him. Cautiously, he watched insuring that no one would notice his movements. A crowd was gathering to watch the efforts of the fire fighters and he could see their scuffling feet moving towards the fence. He had to escape now, and quickly.

Quietly, he edged his way along the wooden planks. He moved silently past the legs of the gathering curiosity seekers, grateful for their presence as their shouts and cries were loud, the commotion allowing him to creep by unnoticed.

When he reached the end of the fence, he took one final look in the direction of the house. He could see Francis clearly and he could tell by his movements that he was already blabbing everything to the police.

Damn him! Damn that little piggy all to hell. I’ll make that little piggy pay. Oh yes I’ll make him pay dearly for being so fucking nosy, even if it takes the rest of my life!

A thought came into Robert Van Wycks mind as he cursed the child. This thought brought a smile to his lips and he muttered the phrase, The rest of my life . . . . and then some.

Then like a shadow in the night, he passed by the homes unnoticed making his way towards the small brick wall that surrounded the school-yard, and climbed over it. He ran through the yard and entered the cemetery through a hole in the thick bushes that surrounded the grounds.

The crypt was in the second half of the cemetery and robert made his way through the thick weeds and dense bushes unnoticed. The key was hidden in one of the ornate statues that surrounded the burial plot. He retrieved it and let himself into the crypt, locking the gate behind him, he entered the tunnels through a secret wall and once down deep inside the earth he began his search for the secret chamber. He needed his grandmother desperately and although he had never before discovered the secret room, he knew he’d find it and once there she’d come to him.

PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE

May, 1959

Joe Phillips was in such a joyful mood that he could barely contain himself. Frank Sinatra was playing on the radio, and Joe cranked up the volume, singing along as he pulled his paneled station wagon into the driveway of the house he and his wife Jane had just purchased. It was a glorious day in early May, and as he turned off the ignition he thought to himself, all is right with the world. Running a hand through his thick, black hair he scanned the sight before him. For the past month, workers had been painting and landscaping the house, and his smile broadened with approval at the results. The new house was absolutely gorgeous.

Wait until Jane sees this. She’s gonna flip.

Jane was Joes wife of over eighteen years and just last fall, they’d moved from a small suburb of New York, to the land of promises, California. Joe worked for a developing company and when he discovered the neighborhood of old Spanish-style homes that had gone to seed, he proposed a renovation plan to his boss. His idea quickly became a reality. The company bought the homes at incredibly low prices, and began to restore them to their original condition.

Every home was unique in its design, and because of the rare architecture, the street was named an historical neighborhood, increasing the value of the property considerably. The houses sold quickly and the new owners had been moving in throughout the week.

Joe thought of the neighborhood as it used to be before the construction started. Only a few of the homes were still occupied, the rest remained empty with rusty for sale signs stuck in the weedy, over-grown lawns. The residents that remained in the houses were elderly folks, who were easily persuaded to sell, especially after they saw the substantial profits they would earn.

Now as he looked around the area, Joe saw wonderful things he knew he was responsible for. His dream had come to fruition and he looked forward to many happy years ahead.

Joes thoughts turned to his wife. She was a feisty red head that possessed the gift of gab. She made friends wherever she went and was already involved in many of the social circles around the town. Joe had fallen in love with her the minute he set eyes on her, and from the day they first met, he did everything in his power to please his wife. They were very much in love and very happy.

Joe stepped out of the car and made his way around to the back of the station wagon. Jane remained at their old rental, supervising the movers. She wanted Joe to stay until they were ready to leave, but he begged her to let him go over early with a load, as he had a few preparations to make before she got there. Jane had a hard time saying no to her husband so she released him, promising him that she would be along shortly after with the movers.

Opening the cars tail-gate, Joe reached for a small box and removed it from the car. The box contained items that Joe needed first so he set it down on the grass, out of his way, and then carried the remaining boxes up to the front porch. All the while Joe was tending to his chores he was unaware that someone was watching him from the attic window of his house.

This was not just a new start for Joe and the other families moving in to the new homes, it was also a rebirth for Robert Van Wyck. For many years after his death, he remained locked in the tomb his family had reserved for him, waiting for the day he would awaken, left to rot in the darkness with only his thoughts and the words from the demon to keep him company. Robert Van Wyck was laid to rest after he was found dead in the old scout house on the schools playground, several days after he had disappeared. His body was found, swollen and bloated hanging from the rafters by the caretaker, a thin wiry man who did not recover easily from the sight. For days after the fire, the police had scoured the town looking for Robert Van Wyck, but he had seemingly disappeared into thin air, until the caretakers gruesome discovery.

It felt good to be awake again, alive again, and he laughed, and awful, evil sound as he thought of the children. It was the children after all that had awakened him. They would sneak into the cemetery knowing they shouldn’t be there, yet defying their parents orders, making the games they played there all the more enjoyable. More than anything Robert Van Wyck hated children. It was a child who had driven him to his death, and his heart filled with renewed hatred as he thought of him.

He had escaped prosecution from the law, but the price was high. The cost was his own life and he thought about the events which led to it with hatred in his heart.

Driven down into exile he lingered in the darkness of the tunnels for several days, wandering through the endless twists and turns, calling and begging for his grandmother to help him. As he groped his way along the cold walls he listened, hoping to hear something, but all was silent except for a steady dripping noise, it was this noise that eventually led him to the secret chamber.

This turned out to be, an odd room with furnishings quite out of place in the cold, emptiness of the tunnels. But once he entered the room, things happened quickly and those memories were replaying in his mind at the very minute Joe was finishing with the unloading.

Joe placed the final box on the porch steps and made his way back down the driveway to retrieve the small carton he had set aside. He turned, surveying his surroundings as pleasure and joy washed over him again, he had never been this happy. The once old and decaying neighborhood was alive with people and sounds and it was gorgeous. As he took in the view, he knew with out any doubt, the sprawling Spanish-style house that he had selected for his family, was definitely the home they had dreamed of owning.

Many years ago, only the most prominent members of the community lived in this neighborhood and Joe could see from the collection of expensive cars parked in the drive-ways, that the new owners were all people of wealth and reputation, and to his delight, he was one of them.

The area consisted of 40 homes, 20 on each side of the street. Every home was unique in its design. Perfectly manicured, rolling green lawns led from the sidewalks up to the flower beds which were filled with exquisite roses, perennials, annuals and flowering shrubs. The gardens were the perfect accent to the large covered porches that graced the front of the houses. Joe imagined himself and Jane spending warm spring and summer nights sitting on the porch watching their children and later, grandchildren playing on the front lawn.

Along the roadside sat huge cascading Japanese Elm trees, now producing new, bright green leaves. When the tree branches were completely full, they would shade a large portion of the lawn and the trees’ branches stretching out over the road created a tunnel of multi-colored leaves that would shade the street. Rays from the early morning sun, shone through the vast foliage letting in dappled light. It was an incredibly, peaceful sight and Joe could only imagine, how splendid the trees would look the following autumn when their leaves turned from cool greens to vibrant oranges, reds and yellows.

A couple of children were riding their bikes on the long sidewalks that ran up and down both sides of the two-block length of street, Joe waved at them and they waved back.

What a perfect place for kids to grow up. Joe said this out loud as he opened up his arms and raised his face to the sky. Thanking God for his incredibly good fortune. The children chuckled at Joes actions, and when Joe heard their glee filled laughter he spun on his heel and gave them a good natured salute. Again the children laughed and waved as they pulled into the drive-way across the street.

Mary Anne Burhley and Donna Gutekenst, more commonly known as Donna G., parked their bikes in the shelter of Mary Anne’s carport, planning to head into the house for some refreshments after their long bike ride. They’d been exploring the neighborhood, including the old cemetery around the corner.

What do you think of that old place?

I think it’s kinda neat and also kinda creepy. Donna replied. But it’ll be a great place to play, just not at night. I don’t think I’d wanna go in there at night.

Did you see anyone in their?

No. Why do you ask? Did you see someone?

I thought I might have, but it was probably just a shadow or something.

Maybe it was a ghost. Donna said, half hoping that there was such a thing, but then also hoping that there wasn’t.

It was then that Mary Anne glanced up at the attic room across the street from her own home.

Donna! Look!

Donna G. turned and looked in the direction that Mary Anne was pointing but she saw nothing.

What? Look at what?

I thought I saw someone in that window up there. It looked like the same thing, or someone I saw in the cemetery. But now it’s gone.

Donna looked at her friend and raised her arms up over head. She let out an eerie howling noise which caused Mary Anne to screech with laughter and run into her back yard. For awhile the man in the cemetery and in the window would remain forgotten to Mary Anne and Donna, but only for a short time. Robert Van Wyck would be a familiar face in the neighborhood for many years to come, but only to the children who lived there, and of course the adults would only attribute their claims of a ghost existing in the neighborhood to their imaginations.

Robert Van Wyck knew Mary Anne had spied him in the window; he planned it that way, both in the window and the cemetery. He wanted the children to know him; he wanted them to know him very, very well.

Little piggies! Meet the bigbad wolf

This made him laugh, a deep guttural sound that would send chills up any ones spine as it was the laughter of the criminally insane and it was pure evil. In life Robert Van Wyck was an evil man, but in death not only was he wicked, he was full of vengeance, and he had plans. Oh yes he had big plans for all the living little piggies in the neighborhood. It was their fault that he had to die. It was the fault of the child, the boy child named Francis, and for Francis’ actions everyone must now pay.

He fondled the medallion that hung around his neck it felt warm to his touch, he knew what this meant, his grandmother was calling to him, but she could wait, he was no longer afraid of her and after the hours of torment she had put him through, he thought it fitting to make her suffer a little. Still he was grateful there was no longer pain associated with her callings and this turned his thoughts to the night he had finally found her in the chamber deep down in the tunnels.

The moment he set foot in the chamber the pain began for Robert Van Wyck but he welcomed it knowing his grandmother was finally answering his pleas. It started with a slight pressure that would quickly change to a tingling sensation, but before actual communication would commence, Robert knew to expect intense pain, a pain that felt as if she were somehow boring her way into the gray matter of his brain. He prepared himself for her intrusion sitting Indian style on the cold, hard floor; he grasped his head tightly in his hands.

The pain was mild at fist, but as it grew it became excruciating, and Robert fell to his side, curling up in a fetal position, his hands gripping his throbbing head even tighter as his teeth clamped down hard together and he began to moan. At first it was very soft, almost inaudible, but as the pain grew, so did the lamenting. Spit shot out from his mouth, his teeth still clamped together he pushed air in and out, creating a horrible hissing noise. Like a woman in labor, he breathed through the pain, until it began to ebb, and as his respirations returned to normal, he began to lose contact with the real world. He sat back up, crossing his legs, his hands reaching towards his neck as he felt for the familiar coldness of the chain he always wore.

It was the same medallion he was now fingering as he watched Joe from the attic window, and he pulled it from his neck now, just as he had so many years before, repeating his actions in his minds eye, remembering with loathing hatred the demon, and his grandmother who so humiliated him on that fateful night.

Carefully he placed the jewel on the floor in front of him, and only then did he open his eyes, seeing that torches were now burning in the chamber, allowing him to make out the items in the room more clearly, but he was no longer interested in what the room contained, so he turned his gaze and focused on the priceless piece of jewelry that was in front of him. Encased in gold, lay a huge diamond, totally flawless and crystal clear. Circling the diamond were other precious gems, all of the same clarity and brilliance, however, it was the diamond that was catching his eye and he stared into it intensely until the image of his grandmother started to take shape in the clear stone.

The chamber closed in around him. He heard a shuffling noise coming from one of the dark corners of the room and realized he was no longer alone; he called out hoping to hear his grandmothers voice respond.

Grandmother, are you here?

There was no answer so he spoke once more directing his vision and his voice towards the amulet.

Grandmother! Are you there? I command you to answer me, now!

The shuffling noises started again, bringing with them a stench so foul, Robert had to contain himself from vomiting. More noises sounded on every side of him, he turned trying to find the source of the stirrings but saw nothing. only the face of his grandmother, staring out at him from the stone, her eyes glittering bright red as her mouth twisted in an angry snarl. She was yelling at him, but Robert couldn’t hear a word she was saying. Only the shuffling sounded in his ears and the awful smell permeated his nostrils.

once more Roberts thoughts turned away from that dreadful night, and back to the man who was now moving towards the side yard of the house.

The phillips’ house was located second from the corner, next door to a lavishly huge two-story home owned by a doctor. Dr.

Jack Judd had four kids of his own. Joes children had already made friends with the doctors children and Joe thought now of the fun they would all share this summer. Joes bright, blue eyes twinkled at the thought of his children. Even as a child, Joe had dreamed of having a large family and with two beautiful girls and two handsome boys, he was well on the way to fulfilling his dreams, plus he was ecstatic knowing that Jane was now pregnant with their fifth child, due to arrive in the fall.

The Judds house was one of the first to be renovated and Dr. Judd being an avid gardener, had personally supervised the landscaping done on his house, making sure that none of the original shrubs and bushes were removed. over the past several months, he had personally trimmed, pruned and planted an extraordinary array of prize winning camellias, rose bushes and azaleas. Joe looked at the garden through the lattice work, thinking how beautiful the yard was with the camellias now in full bloom, and the roses and azaleas just beginning to blossom. The aroma was intoxicating, and Joe inhaled deeply, savoring the scents of the many flowers.

Located against the doctors house was a small greenhouse. Joe could see rows of orchids and gardenias growing in there, many of them hybrids that the doctor had developed himself. From inside their new home, they would be able to see the flowers simply by looking out any one of the many windows that faced the Judds house. The view of the garden was breath taking and it was one of the many things that Jane loved most about the house.

Joe stopped by a stucco structure that was positioned against the lattice work. Standing about five feet tall, it had an inset with a little wooden roof. Joe reached down into his box and removed a small cement statue of Jesus. placing the icon on the ledge he bowed his head in prayer.

Dear Lord. Please bless this house and my family. Bring us happiness and abundance, but most important keep us safe from all evil. Amen.

Joe wasn’t very religious, but his wife was, although they were both baptized Catholic, it was Jane who practiced the religion and

Joe who regarded it as her belief. This is not to say that Joe didn’t believe in God, or that he didn’t accept Jesus Christ as the son of God, he had no doubt about those things being true, he just didn’t participate in organized religions, believing that religions were about God, but God was not about religions.

Robert Van Wyck was not pleased with the blessing Joe had just bestowed on his home. The world he had entered didn’t consist of God, only the dark demon. Once again his thoughts returned to the chamber and the events that led to his untimely death and anger flared in his heart, anger and hatred towards those that led him to his demise. He hated his grandmother, the demon and mostly the boy.

The damned little piggie.

Roberts death was arranged by the demon and his grandmother to look like a suicide. He begged them not to make him die, but there was no other choice. The boy had told the authorities everything and Roberts options were limited to death or imprisonment. He could not survive any other way.

After spending some time in the chamber begging for his grandmother to speak to him, the shuffling noises subsided and Robert was faced with a new darkness, a shadow that stared down at him through eyes that glowed yellow.

Who are you and what do you want?

Robert felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck, he wasn’t frightened by the phantom, he was excited by its presence, yet at the same time he hated it.

In response to Robert’s words the demon reached out, grabbing Robert by the neck and picking him up with one huge clawed hand, he hurled him across the room where he landed in a heap, his shoulders burning where the shadow had touched him, and as he reached up he could feel the blood trickling down his neck, but he didn’t dare take his eyes away from the shadow, which was now grinning down at him with razor sharp teeth.

Just be done with it! Robert yelled at the image. If you intend to kill me then do it, and do it now. Do not toy with me like I’m some cats prey. If you intend to kill me then do it now!

Laughter sounded from behind Robert and he turned quickly to see his grandmother now standing in the room, mocking him, laughing at him. Robert felt humiliation flood over him and he loathed his grandmother for making him feel such a disgusting human emotion.

Get up you idiot! There is no time for games.

There were very few things that frightened Robert Van Wyck, but his grandmother was most certainly one of them and judging by the look on her face, Robert could see she was not pleased with him. Still he was entranced by her incredible beauty. Long red hair trailed down to her knees and her pale white skin glowed in the darkness as if she were lit from within.

She was the most beautiful woman Robert Van Wyck had ever encountered and in spite of the fact that they were blood related he wanted her desperately, but knew he couldn’t have her. Many times she had come to him, in dreams or through the talisman. Together they’d be sitting in a dark region, her head lying in his lap as he brushed her gorgeous, thick hair, listening to her speak of the day he would bring her back from the dead, and how together they would become powerful once more. Never in all his life had he ever seen her as he did now, she took his breath away and once again he tried to reach out to her, only to be met by a sharp blow to his groin area, which sent him reeling once more across the floor. Robert grabbed himself, trying desperately to rub away the excruciating pain he felt.

Robert you failed me. You failed me greatly and for this you must die.

Then kill me now grandmother. Surely that’s what the demon is meant to do. Kill me now and make it as painless as possible.

No Robert. The demon cannot do it. You must do it with your own hand. You must commit suicide and you’ll have to do it in a place where you will surely be found. We cannot have them rummaging through the house. We cannot have them finding the entrances. You are going to commit suicide and we are going to do it now. IMMEDIATELY! Now get up and listen to me.

The events that led to Robert Van Wycks death happened very quickly and although it was painless for him, the memories burned in his mind over and over. He didn’t like these memories, they made him feel vulnerable and powerless, yet they were always there in the back of his sick mind, like a painful tumor.

Accompanied by the shadow and the ghost of his grandmother, Robert walked from the tunnels to the designated spot where he would die.

The old scout house sat on the schools playground. It was the weekend and nobody would find him until the following Monday. The house was secured and Robert had to force his way into the structure by breaking one of the windows. His grandmother and the demon, entered in through the walls. Robert envied the powers they held, and a little stir of excitement came over him as he thought that very shortly he too would possess these same powers. Neither his Grandmother nor the demon mentioned that it would be years before he would be able to rise again. Robert Van Wyck was meeting death, and he would suffer greatly six feet bellow the ground for many years, maybe forever. But he didn’t need to know this.

Once in the house, his grandmother led him to the upstairs attic loft. Robert could see his old house from the window. Sorrow leapt in his heart as he thought that he would never again be able to dwell in the house as a living being, but he also knew he would definitely return to his home one day.

They were all present in the room now and Robert looked at the unlikely pair, despair was apparent on his face. Regardless of how he felt, he was trying to be brave. He spoke matter-of-factly,

How is it to be done then?

The words had barely left his lips when movement caught Roberts eye. Something was gliding along the floorboards towards him. Robert could feel the coldness of death as the object slithered along, making its way towards his feet. Robert could see it had a head shaped like a noose and it raised itself, pointing towards him like a cobra about to strike. Only his grandmother remained, the demon had disappeared, or so Robert thought, but as he turned his attention back towards the rope, he realized that the shadow had merely changed shapes, and from the head of the rope-serpent, the demons face grinned out at Robert, moving closer and closer. The satanic force was pleased with him; Robert felt certain of this as he braced himself for what he knew was to happen next.

Silently the rope made its way up along Robert’s body. It felt seductive and Robert was entranced by the movements of the rope. He was in a daze and he watched with pleasure as it glided along his body, releasing all the tension Robert had been feeling up to this moment. Two skinny black arms unraveled from the thick twine. They grabbed hold of the noose and stretched it just wide enough to fit over Roberts head and down around his neck. The demon gestured towards Robert, motioning for him to insert his neck into the noose.

Robert did so without any fear, determined to die with dignity in the eyes of his executioners, somehow he felt this would please them.

The rope felt scaly and slimy as it slid onto his neck, and he could feel the heavy weight of the knot against his breast bone. The talisman throbbed on his heart, seeming to remind him that it was there.

Wait. He said. The talisman, we can’t take a chance of anyone discovering it.

Robert pulled on the amulet, breaking it away from the sturdy chain it hung on and shoved it deep into a pocket of his pants, he felt certain it would remain undiscovered there. Nancy Spelling nodded with approval. This gave Robert