April 1994
Maryville, Missouri
Andrea had been in town a full week, and the silence was
louder than any denial she’d ever heard. People didn’t just avoid the subject
of the dead boys—they acted like the boys had never existed. Every attempt at
conversation ended with a door closing, a head turning away, or a polite “You
should talk to someone else.” By the seventh day, Andrea realized she needed a
different approach. So she dug through old phone books and church newsletters
until she found a name:
Sue Tyler (Ferguson).
Terry Ferguson’s sister.
She called the number listed for a floral shop on the east
side of town. Sue answered, suspicious at first, but when Andrea mentioned Kyle
Newman, the tone softened.
“Come to Jack’s Dive,” Sue said.
“Eleven o’clock. I’ll talk.”
So Andrea sat now in the corner booth, pen ready but eyes
scanning the window. The diner was half-empty. A cavern of vinyl seats and
chipped tables. A waitress leaned against the counter, bored and barely awake.
Outside, a dusty wind pushed gravel across the lot.
At 11:07 a large Buick rolled in. Out stepped a woman who
could not be missed. Big hair, big purse, big voice before she even reached the
door. The kind of woman who entered a room like she was filling it.
She spotted Andrea instantly, marched over, and slid into
the booth across from her. “You must be Andrea Perez,” Sue said, extending a
hand stacked with bracelets. “Bless you for coming out here.”
Andrea shook her hand. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
The waitress approached, suddenly attentive. “The usual,
Sue?”
“Chicken salad and a big Diet Coke,” Sue replied. “And get
this lady whatever she wants. Put it on my tab.” Andrea ordered a BLT with
chips. When the waitress left, Sue took a breath—one that seemed to steady her.
“Kyle told me you were asking questions,” Sue said. “I didn’t think anyone else
would ever care again.”
Andrea uncapped her pen. “I know this is painful, but I want
to understand. No one else will talk to me.”
Sue gave a sad smile. “That’s because this town thinks the
past buried itself. They say the deaths stopped when Jack Geary died. And that
means everything must have been Jack’s fault.”
Andrea stared. “They think Jack was the killer?”
Sue shrugged, but her bitterness was unmistakable. “Some
whisper it. Others think talking about it will bring the devil back. Most just
want to pretend none of it ever happened.”
Andrea leaned forward. “What do you believe?”
Sue’s jaw tightened. “I believe my brother didn’t drown in a
pond he swam in every summer. I believe those other boys didn’t die the way
they said they did. And I believe Jack Geary didn’t kill anyone.”
Andrea paused, letting that settle. “What do you remember
about Terry?”
Sue sighed. “He was eight. Smart as a whip. Sweet. Loved
baseball. One night he went missing—and three days later he was dead. Sheriff
called it an accident. Said he wandered off and fell in a pond.”
Andrea asked gently, “And you don’t think that’s true?”
“No.” Sue looked toward the window. “I heard my parents
talking after the autopsy. My mom said there were cuts on Terry’s legs and…”
She hesitated. “Other places. The sheriff said it was corn stalks. But my
brother wasn’t found in a field. He was found in water.”
Andrea wrote quickly. “And the other boys?”
Sue’s voice lowered. “Same type of things. Bruises in the
same spots. Cuts where there shouldn’t be cuts. But the sheriff always had an
explanation. Runaways. Accidents. Suicide.”
“Then Jack,” Andrea said quietly.
Sue’s face softened with sadness. “Jack had it worse than
any of them. Everyone knew that family was broken. His dad went to prison. His
mother… well, she wasn’t kind to him. People treated him like trash. Then one
night he fought back, ran off, and three days later they found his body in a
field. Sheriff said a tractor ran him over while he slept.”
Andrea folded her hands. “Do you believe that?”
Sue’s eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall. “No.
But everyone was so glad it was over. They needed it to be true.”
Andrea studied her. “So the town moved on?”
Sue nodded. “The deaths stopped. So everyone decided Jack
must have been the monster. That he killed those boys and then got what he
deserved. Easier that way.”
Andrea clenched her pen. “And what do you think happened?”
Sue leaned in. “I think the monster walked away. And I think
the town let him.”
The waitress returned, setting down lunch. Neither woman
ate.
Sue exhaled, shoulders shaking just once before she steadied
herself. “What Kyle said is true. Nobody wanted to help him. Nobody wants to
help you. But I will.”
Andrea looked at her—stunned and grateful. “Why?”
Sue’s voice cracked. “Because Terry deserves better. All of
them do.”
Andrea closed her notebook. “Then we start today.”
Sue reached for her Diet Coke with trembling hands. “Be
careful, Andrea. Maryville doesn’t like people poking around its ghosts. And it
really doesn’t like people digging up Jack Geary.”
Andrea nodded—but her stomach twisted. Andrea had this
feeling the this town had some deep dark secrets and she was about to shine a
light on them.
© 2025 James William Jackson III. All rights reserved. “Jaxson Lee” and all related content are original fictional works created by James William Jackson III. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or locations is purely coincidental.
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