Fishing in Brains for an Eye with Teeth (Thirteen Tales of Terror) Read Online Free

huh?”
    Jack wanted desperately to give his friend hope but he didn't think it was a good idea to mention that his new informants were psychics.  So he told Ed the same lie he told his deputies, after soliciting a promise from his friend that he would keep the information Top Secret.  “Someone called in a tip to my house last night.  She claimed that—” he shied away using the words 'Cornfield Killer,' “the person we're looking for ate chicken at The Red Brick House last night.”
    “You're kidding me!”  Ed sounded stunned.  “That's great news, right?  Doesn't that give you leads to track?”
    “It sure does,” said Jack.  “We're talking to everyone who works at The Red Brick House.  We're getting close , Ed.”
    After a long pause on the phone... “That's great news, buddy.”
    “I've probably said too much.  Keep this under your hat, okay?”
    “Okay.  I understand.”  Ed's voice cracked as he asked, “So you really think— Laura is still alive?”
    “I do.”
    “And this informant who called you?  You said it was a woman?”
    “Yes.”
    Ed whimpered, “Who can it be ?”   
    “I don't know.  But I'll find out.”  Jack asked, “How's Joanie holding up?”
    “Not great.  She's all drugged up on Valium most of the time.  Or sleeping.  She sleeps way too much.”
    Jack flashed suddenly on what it had felt like to get raped the previous night and he was shaken by the viciousness of the recollection.
    “Jack?”
    Sweating, grimacing, Jack swallowed, his eyes closed.  He fought against the memory.
    A pulse of static interrupted the conversation, loud enough for Jack to pull his cell-phone away from his ear.
    He regained control of his emotions as the connection cleared.
    “Jack?”
    “Yeah.  I'm here.”
    “I know you're doing everything you can, my friend.  I'm grateful.”
    All the insecurities of the previous days threatened to break down a dam just recently built around his heart.  So Jack ended the conversation by asking, “You're not working, right?”
    “Hell, no!  I can't work.  The office is closed indefinitely.”
    “I'll call you if I learn anything else,” promised the sheriff.
    “Okay,” said the dentist.
    When he hung up, Jack whispered, “Hang in there, Laura.  It'll all be over soon.” 
    He thought of the Sensora sisters and had hope.
    ******
    Jack Carver sat at home at his kitchen table in front of a new bottle of Jack Daniels, a filled glass, and two empty microwave dinner containers.  His appetite had been enormous.
    Once again, he drank to take the edge off.  He found it hard to sit still; he paced a lot, thinking about Laura. 
    Jack knew that this evening he would see through his goddaughter's eyes and, with any luck, the identity of the Cornfield Killer would finally be revealed.
    The cuckoo clock in his front hallway chirped twelve times.
    As a new day darkly began, there was a tapping on his front door.
    Jack Carver hurried to greet his saviors.
    ******
    He rolled onto his dining room table, lying flat on his back, with his head pointed west.  The Sensora sisters encircled the table.  With a discernible lack of tenderness, Ivona Sensora placed her hands over Jack's ears.
    “Are you ready?” she asked.
    Before he could answer, four of his five senses were blasted apart by a thunderclap.
    ******
    Moaning, coming from Laura, her (his) breathing a raspy accompaniment to a hammering heartbeat—
    A snap and rattle— creaking hinges (a heavy door swinging open) — all of this coming from above her.  The creak was reversed (the door shut) — whump .
    Heavy footfalls descended a wooden staircase.  The approaching person was whimpering louder than Laura was.
    His goddaughter (Jack) began to cry.
    “Pleash.”  She slurred her speech because of drugs and alcohol.  Her voice barely audible, she pleaded for him to “Stop!”
    “I can't stop, Honey,” said the sniffling Cornfield Killer.  “I mustn't stop.”  His voice was