Read Online Seven Deadly Tales of Terror by Bryan Smith - Free Book Online Page B

himself up, but his face contorted at a fresh surge of agony and he fell back against the tree. Harley shifted on the ground next to Luke, looking up at him with anxious eyes. The look was one that always got to him. It was the dog’s way of asking him if everything was okay. That was one thing people who weren’t dog people didn’t get. They were actually expressive as hell and had many ways of communicating their feelings. Harley looked and acted like a tough critter, but he and Jasper were more like the kids he’d never had than actual guard dogs. He’d acquired the two of them from the same litter shortly after his acquittal, raising them from puppies. In the wake of his post-acquittal estrangement from damn near everyone he’d ever known, they were practically the only family he had left.
    The train of thought effectively killed any sympathy he might have started feeling for Calvin Wilhoite. “Tell me something, kid. What kind of cowardly, sick piece of shit poisons animals?”
    Keeping his back against the tree for support, Calvin again tried to get to his feet. This time he was more successful. Once he was upright, he fixed Luke with a sneering glare and said, “You ain’t got no right to talk, South County Madman.”
    Luke pointed the .357 at him.
    Calvin’s eyes went wide as he sucked in a breath and began to tremble. He extended a shaking hand. “No. No. Please…”
    Luke couldn’t help feeling a primal satisfaction at seeing the fear in the boy’s eyes. For years now, he’d lived in the long shadow of that murdering asshole, wrongfully branded with the faceless, mysterious killer’s hateful nickname. The South County Madman, aka the middle Tennessee boogeyman. As far as many were concerned, he was the South County Madman, regardless of what the jury had decided. There had never been a shred of physical evidence linking him to the crimes. Other than the fact that all five bodies had been dumped in the woods adjacent to his property, there had been no evidence of any kind against him. But that hadn’t mattered to the citizenry, who were scared shitless and wanted desperately to feel safe again. So the law went looking for a scapegoat and found a convenient one in Luke Benson. From the beginning, his court-appointed lawyer told him the slipshod case the prosecution had put together would fall apart at the trial level. No self-respecting jury would ever convict on such flimsy evidence in a capital case. Even so, until the verdict was read, Luke remained convinced he had a rendezvous with the electric chair.
    After all he had endured, it felt good—albeit in a deeply bitter way—to get some mileage out of his unjustly earned reputation. “What’s the matter, boy? You look like you’re about to piss your pants.”
    Fresh tears spilled down Calvin’s trembling face. “Please…”
    Luke lowered the gun. “Calm down, kid, I ain’t—“
    His next words died in his throat as Calvin propelled himself away from the tree. The lunge happened too fast for Luke to dodge it, but instinct caused him to bring the gun up again, its barrel digging into the kid’s abdomen as he slammed into him. His finger squeezing the trigger was pure reflex. It was the last thing he wanted to happen, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. The gun went off as their entangled bodies began a descent to the ground.
    Luke cried out in pain as his back hit the rocky forest floor and the kid’s dead weight settled atop him. A sense of helpless, bitter horror engulfed him as the irreversible grim reality of what had happened hit him. Another Wilhoite kid was dead and yet again he would be taking the blame. This time he’d actually done the deed, albeit by accident. But no one else would ever see it that way. The court of public opinion would decree Calvin Wilhoite the latest victim of the evil South County Madman. And this time there would be no calm, rational evaluation of the facts leading to another reprieve. He would