Chapter 11

Trask walked out to the car, opened the door, and sat in the back. The driver never spoke, and he couldn't see his face. The darkness of the cloud-covered evening sky made it very difficult to see out the window or in the driver's seat. There was a tinted glass separating Trask from the driver, and, as hard as he tried, he was unable to make out the driver's face.

For nearly an hour, he rode in absolute silence, mulling over everything he had gone through and thinking about Betty Hanscombe. He couldn't believe that all he had been through had come to this. He tried so hard to rationalize every decision that he had made, and with every feeling of solace, he would second-guess himself.

Trask internalized his reasoning and thought to himself, Betty is dead, and nothing will change that. All of her careful planning and evidence was aimed at protecting her child and exposing the deeds of her murderer. Luck was finally turning on my side until Mrs. Stoddard carried out Paul's death sentence by her own hands. Is it better this way? I mean, he certainly was punished much faster than the system could have done, and he got what he deserved. So does this mean that Betty still won? Did I help her to win?

He sighed and slunk back in his seat, still trying to muddle through his thoughts. Mrs. Stoddard and I made an agreement to protect and help her child, Victoria, as long as I kept her secret. If I broke that secret now, then Victoria wouldn't even have a chance in life. All of her mother's fears would come true. She'd grow up just like Betty said, as "the illegitimate sin child that Mrs. Collins' husband had with that servant girl". I don't know. Maybe it's better this way. I just...I just don't know what's right anymore.

Suddenly, the car came to a screeching halt on an old dirt road. His eyes wide with alert, Trask pressed against the glass, demanding an answer. "Why are we stopping? What's going on?"

The driver spoke, but never turned around. "Get out. I have to go into town to add fuel, and you're gonna wait here. No one will see you here, and don't you be leavin' this spot. I'm comin' back for you."

Trask paused, but the driver persisted. "I don't ask twice. Get out now, and I will return for you in fifteen minutes. Don't even think about runnin' away, Detective."

With a quick pull of the lever, Trask exited the vehicle and stood on the dark road with his hands in his pocket. He watched the large car turn and drive back the way they had come. The driver's hat and darkening sky hid his face well as he quickly pulled ahead and drove out of sight.

Night had fallen, and Trask could barely strain to see his hand in front of his face on this back road. There were no lights, passing vehicles, or anything to help him see around him. He fumbled around his pockets to try to find the flashlight, but with no success. He figured it probably had fallen on the ground when he ran towards Collinwood during the storm. Pacing back and forth in the chilly night rain, he kept waiting for the car to return. Ten minutes went by extremely slowly.

In the distance, he heard the sound of a car racing in his direction. It was a large black sedan shaped exactly like the one behind the Blue Whale. The vehicle was speeding toward him like a bullet. The bright beams came to life, blinding him to where he couldn't see which direction to run.

With a quick turn, Trask ran forward as quickly as he could. The revving of the engine grew louder as he ran, and he knew he had nowhere to go. As quickly as he could, he dove to the right into the high grass to escape the oncoming vehicle, but the driver's reckless speed proved too much for him.

With a loud crash, Detective Trask's body was flung high into the air over the hood of the car and rolled over on to the rock-covered dirt road beneath him. Barely conscious or able to move, he struggled to drag his bloodied body across the road as the car turned back toward him. Nearly every bone in his body had to be broken, and, as hard as he tried, he was unable to pull himself out of the path of the oncoming car.

Suddenly, the brakes squealed to a screeching halt only inches away from where he lay. He tried as hard as he could to cry out, but his lungs had collapsed and breathing was difficult to do. The car shut off, and he heard the car door opening. The trunk popped open, and footsteps trailed to the back of the vehicle. After the trunk was slammed shut, the sound of metal scraping against the ground sent a shiver through his broken body.

Boots covered in thick mud made their way around to where he lay helplessly, and a loud voice erupted from the driver's mouth, "I ain't gonna let ya ruin Missus Stoddard's life, Detective. I-I'm sorry to have to do this to ya b'cause it ain't your fault and I know ya was tryin' to help her and all, but there ain't no other way to make sure ya don't go back on your word. I gotta protect her and I ain't gonna let nothin' happen to her. I promise, I'll make it real quick so ya don't suffer no more."

Trask managed to gaze upward and focus his blurred vision on the man's face.

M-Matthew...?

Matthew looked down at him. "I'm sorry that all your hard work came to this, but before ya die, I just wanna say sum'n to you. You did a real good job helpin' Missus Stoddard, and the girl, too. Ayuh. You protected her and did all ya could to keep that baby safe by keepin' her away from here so no trouble would come to Missus Stoddard. She'll grow up better away from here than she would've here in Collinsport. So you can die a proud man with no regrettin' anything. You're a good man, Mr. Trask, but I'm sure ya understand why I have to do what I hafta. So just close your eyes and...it'll be done real quick like."

Matthew raised an axe high into the air, taking a deep breath. Feeling the life fading from him already, Trask closed his eyes and focused on the falling rain.

In his last moment, his thoughts dwelled on the smiling face of Betty Hanscombe, happy that he was able to succeed in honoring her last hopes and wishes for her daughter, Victoria. Although his plans were completely sabotaged by circumstances that no one could have predicted, just like hers had been, he felt satisfied that the end had justified the means. Betty's murderer was dead, and Victoria could grow up free from this nightmare and this awful town. As he struggled to inhaled one last gasp as deeply as he could, he thought of his son, Tony. Inside, he felt content and at peace.

Seconds later, his view became instant darkness as the weapon delivered the final blow, silencing him forever.

(DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights to Dark Shadows. This story is a creation of my own within the universe of Dark Shadows with the sole intention of entertaining the reader. I do not profit or receive any royalties from the owners of the property, Dan Curtis Productions)