"Why are you so sure he's going to have evidence?" Trent asked.
"Baxter has always had a weird obsession with...the less savory parts of our job. He's a sadist. I've seen the way he takes pleasure in making people feel awful, or stupid, or terrified, and I've caught him looking at some...really messed up stuff on the internet. Gore porn, I think they call it. Like pictures of gunshot wounds and people being executed...bad stuff. And the rumors that he's got his own little collection of pictures taken by himself from crime scenes over the years, and sent to him from other cops in bigger cities, have been really persistent. I'm confident he's been taking some evidence of these murders," Molly explained.
"What a sick fuck," Mae muttered.
"Yes," Molly said.
"But why do you think it's at his house specifically?" Trent asked.
"He's a very private person. Lives alone, unmarried, and I don't know anyone who's actually been to his house. And I...already searched his office," she murmured.
"Oh my God, Aunt Molly, you did a crime!?" Mae cried.
Molly sighed heavily. "Yes, Mae, I did a crime. For the greater good."
"The greater good," Mae repeated in an eerie voice. She laughed, then groaned. "Ew, oh God, that's never going to be funny again, because I'm fucking living it."
"What are you talking about?" Molly replied.
"You've never seen Hot Fuzz? Oh come on Aunt Molly, you're a cop!"
Molly sighed. "Let's focus. And go over the plan again. We're going to park a safe distance away, then confirm that he's not home. If his car isn't there, then he should be at work, and he should be at work today. He always goes in early. We go up, we cut the power, we get in, we search the place, find the evidence, and get out. Then I'll handle the rest."
"And the totem," Mae said.
"If there's time."
"We make time, Aunt Molly. The totem's important. I know you don't understand it, but the totem's gotta die," Mae said firmly.
"Fine. I'm still having a hard time buying that there's an actual god down in the ground under Possum Springs. It's enough for me that we've got an actual murderous cult on our hands...but let's just get this done...are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm okay," Trent replied.
"I'm sorry. I knew that little creep was, well, a creep," Molly said.
"It's not like it's your fault," Mae said.
"I should've done more."
"You're doing a lot now."
A long silence passed. "Thanks, Mae," Molly said finally.
Mae just grunted uncomfortably. Molly had been familiar with the cop who had broken into their house and threatened their lives. After some debate, they'd ultimately decided it would just be the three of them making the run on the Chief's house. They'd split up. Gregg and Angus had gone to stay with Mae's parents, Ann had gone home to her mother, and Bea had gone home to her father. Not the best plan but they were unwilling to let their parents be targets and it would take too long to convince them to come to them, so they went to their parents instead.
The house was coming up now and Trent felt exhausted, but also jittery with energy.
He wanted this to be over.
"Okay," Molly muttered as they drove by the Chief of Police's house without slowing, "his car isn't there. Good."
She took a right and then took another right, parking on the side of the road.
"Let's do this," Molly said.
"Are you strapped?" Trent asked, as it suddenly occurred to him.
She glanced sideways at him. "Yes...are you?"
"No."
"Mae?"
"What? Strapped? Like a strap-on?" she asked.
"What?" Molly asked, twisting around in the seat.
Trent sighed. "Like a gun, Mae. No, she doesn't have a gun."
"Oh. Yeah, no, no gun. Just brass knuckles and a knife," she said.
"Okay. Let's go. Keep low, keep quiet," Molly replied.
"Got it."
They got out of the car and made their way into Baxter's backyard. It was also very well maintained and like before, it gave him kind of psycho serial killer vibes. And in this case it was apparently truer than ever.
Molly found the main junction box that connected power to the Chief's house and made them go wait by the back door while she fucked it up. She was convinced Baxter would have some kind of security system and killing the power was the quickest way to deal with it. And she made sure they didn't watch what she was doing, Trent imagined, because she didn't want to give Mae anymore criminal knowledge than she already had.
Something sparked and then Molly jogged over.
"Get ready," she said, fishing the skeleton key she'd taken out of her pocket and applying it to the lock. The door opened. They all tensed, waiting for something to go wrong, but nothing did. The unlikely trio slipped inside.
Trent had to admit it felt absolutely wild and strange to be doing this: breaking into a cop's house, with the help of another cop, who was also his girlfriend's aunt. Let alone that they were trying to take down a murder cult.
Baxter's house wasn't all that dissimilar to the other two they'd broken into, although it felt...colder. More sterile. There were no pictures on the walls, and everything seemed absurdly neat and clean and minimalist.
"Quickly," Molly said.
They spread out, moving through the house, hunting for evidence or the totem. Several minutes passed in uncomfortable silence as they worked. Trent thought about the best place to keep something like evidence of a lot murders and the best he could come up with was either the bedroom or a study or office.
The three of them ended up in just such an office.
One entire wall was a bookshelf, packed with books. There was an aquarium with several colorful fish by a rear sliding glass door that led out onto a patio. There was a huge desk and swivel chair. Several filing cabinets. A pair of lamps.
"Where to begin…" Molly murmured.
"Shh…" Mae replied, and they both looked at her. Mae was looking at something on the wall, what Trent realized with a start was a painting. It was mostly dark, save for a pair of red spots that he suddenly realized were eyes.
It was the Goat, he saw. The Black Goat, but only the vaguest suggestion of it.
"Here," Mae said, walking up to it and grasping it. She pulled it off the wall, revealing a safe. Mae laughed. "Knew it. Hold on." She leaned forward and placed her ear close to the safe, then reached up and began turning the dial around.
"Can you seriously crack that?" Molly asked.
"Yes, now shh," Mae replied.
They waited, listening to her work. Trent wondered if she could actually do it, and had that particular question answered just half a minute later when she opened it with a loud click. "Ha!" she declared, looking inside the wall safe.
"Here, let me see," Molly said, drawing closer.
"Here's the totem. Don't touch it, Aunt Molly, it isn't safe to touch."
"Why?" Molly asked.
"I don't know, it just isn't."
"Fine...but what's this?" she murmured, reaching in and pulling out a binder in one hand and a jumpdrive in the other. She pocketed the jumpdrive carefully and then opened up the binder. "Oh God," she muttered as she looked inside. "This is...yeah, this is what we need. Jesus."
Trent took a look over her shoulder, then regretted it. He saw a figure with a sack over their head, on their knees, hands tied behind their back, in what looked to be a mine. That was just one picture, there were four Polaroid pics taped to each page. Each one held a person that was somehow bound and gagged in the same underground cave or mine environment. Most of them were unmasked, and the looks of pure terror on their faces turned his stomach. Molly flipped through a few pages. The types of people in the pictures seemed to be of two different varieties.
Either teens or scraggly, dirty looking people, like homeless men and women.
They all looked terrified.
"God, this is the hole," Molly whispered as she stopped at one. Someone was being thrown down a dark hole in the earth, flailing wildly, the photo snapped mid-fall.
"I'm going to puke," Mae said, her voice flat. She had turned away. "Is it enough, for God's sake? Tell me it's enough."
"More than enough," Molly replied. "Now let's-"
They all turned and Trent felt pure terror flood his body as he saw a tall, burly oxen opening the sliding glass door at the back. He wore a police uniform that seemed to be straining to contain his large, well-muscled body, and the look on his face was one of dark satisfaction.
"I knew you'd try something like this," he said as he stepped in. He settled his hand on his holstered pistol.
"You're going to fry for this, Baxter," Molly replied, her normally neutral voice turning dark.
"I'm gonna cut your fucking eyes out," Mae growled.
"That's a good idea, actually," he replied. "I think I'll try that on your boyfriend. You were given a choice, Borowski, and you chose wrong. You aren't the end-all be-all, you know? He can sing to someone else, it'll just take time...I think I'll kill one of you, and keep one of you for a bit of fun, and I'll feed you, Borowski, to Him. He'll like that."
Trent didn't think, he just acted, because he knew they were fucked if they didn't do something and right now.
He bolted. Right towards the much larger man. Things seemed to be happening in slow motion. A look of surprise came across his face, and he was drawing his pistol. He heard Molly and Mae both shout at him, but it was too late for that. Trent was charging across the immaculate office, reaching, no other thought than getting that gun away from the big bastard in his head. And then suddenly he was there, right before Baxter, who had his gun out but not up. Adrenaline had lent him speed and a jittery kind of energy.
Trent grabbed for the gun. Baxter was strong, much stronger than him, but Trent headbutted him suddenly, and he heard something crack.
Baxter shouted and began wrestling the gun with more force and violence.
"Shoot him, Aunt Molly!"
"I can't get a clean shot, Trent get out of the-"
A gunshot exploded and seemed to briefly consume his world.
An eruption of pain blasted into existence as something punched into his left thigh. Trent staggered away, everything suddenly seeming far away.
"Looks like you're the one who gets to die," Baxter said as he put the gun in Trent's face.
He stared down the huge dark barrel of the pistol, utterly frozen.
Another gunshot sounded.
The barrel disappeared and Trent watched in shocked disbelief as Baxter's head snapped back in a spray of blood and he collapsed to the carpet, staining it with his gore. Trent swallowed, the pain overwhelming as he looked back down at his leg.
There was a lot of blood coming out.
He blinked several times, like he could make it go away, like this was a dream he was having, and he needed to wake up.
Molly and Mae were suddenly at his side.
"Trent!" Mae cried.
"Jesus," Molly muttered, "we gotta get you to a hospital."
Trent cleared his throat. "I've been shot," he said.
And then he passed out.