Chapter 16 #3
Sarah braked for a pedestrian crossing the street.
She surveyed the village shops that lined the street.
The people here were deep in denial. Certain that no one they knew would commit such a heinous deed and that earnest prayer would somehow turn this tragedy around.
Didn’t they understand that Alicia Appleton would die soon if she wasn’t found?
According to the police reports she’d reviewed, every registered cave and abandoned or unused structure in the Youngstown area as well as the surrounding woods had been searched repeatedly. Neighboring villages had cooperated by conducting their own searches in similar areas.
With no results.
If it weren’t for the roses, Sarah would take a hard look at the possibility that the kid had hitched a ride to New York. Less than eight hours’ driving distance, it wouldn’t be that difficult. Just risky when one took into account the freaks, kooks, and perverts on the road.
The bus lines, airlines, and trains that served the region had all received the bulletin with her photo as soon as she was reported missing. No one had seen her. If she’d left Youngstown, it hadn’t been via public transportation.
Yet she was nowhere to be found. Alicia Appleton had simply vanished.
There were no suspects. No nothing. Not in Alicia’s case or Valerie’s.
Who hated Valerie Gerard enough to want her dead? Who hadn’t forgotten that she’d won a spelling bee in fourth grade? Who considered her a liar? Chief Willard insisted that friends and family had been interviewed repeatedly and that Valerie had no enemies. But that wasn’t true.
The truth is what it is.
And someone killed Valerie with considerably more hacking than was necessary.
Labeled her a liar in her own blood. After viewing all the crime-scene photos, Sarah’s confidence in the investigation had boosted a little.
Photos of the victim before her arms and legs had been scraped loose from the stone had been taken.
Maybe they’d done a better job than she’d first thought.
The newly revealed detail about the missing organs from the victims in the twenty-year-old case confirmed her conclusions that they were unrelated to Valerie’s murder.
Brady Harvey’s sister, Melody, was nineteen. She would have known Valerie. But her mother hadn’t mentioned Valerie’s murder. Only Alicia’s disappearance.
Strange.
Passing Bay View Cemetery, Sarah braked.
The big iron gates yawned open, but that wasn’t what attracted her attention.
That dumb crow on the headstone.
“Freezing your ass off, huh?”
She shook her head, told herself to drive on.
But she didn’t.
She turned onto the narrow strip of pavement that cut through the middle of the cemetery. Snow encroached on either side of the asphalt, narrowing it even more. She shut off the engine and got out. Snow immediately poked up her pants legs and slithered into her Converses.
Massive oak trees stood like sentinels, their gnarled roots reaching out to the sleeping residents. A few newer headstones were interspersed here and there—near ancestors, she supposed. Woods bordered the back of the cemetery, while streets flanked the other three sides.
Sarah walked along the rows of headstones until she reached the last one.
Beyond that final row, at the very back of the property, sitting next to two stone cross markers, was the witch’s headstone.
The crow perched there eyed Sarah before flapping its wings indignantly and taking off.
It lit on a naked branch high above her head.
“So where are your friends?” Sarah scanned the nearby trees. Maybe he was a loner. Like her.
“Don’t worry,” she said aloud. “I won’t be here long.”
Sarah started forward again.
Then froze.
A girl stood on the other side of the headstone. Long black hair. Hooded sweatshirt and jeans, all black—goth-style. She lifted her gaze to Sarah’s.
For two stuttering heartbeats they looked at each other without moving or speaking.
Where had she come from? Sarah started to say hello, but the girl spoke.
“You’re Sarah Newton, aren’t you?”
Didn’t take a crystal ball to guess her identity. There weren’t that many strangers around outside the two or three lingering reporters who appeared to prefer their lodging accommodations to trudging through the snow.
“Yes.” Sarah took another step in the girl’s direction. “And you are?”
Teenager, Sarah decided. Seventeen or eighteen. The girl watched as Sarah lessened the distance between them one step at a time, but she didn’t answer the question.
Sarah stopped a few feet away, on the same side of the marker. Worn by time and the elements, the name on the headstone was barely visible.
Matilda Calder. Mattie.
Oddly, all three headstones on this final short row faced the back of the cemetery, whereas all the rest faced the street. A way of indicating they were outcasts, maybe?
“Do you visit her often?” Sarah asked. No need to wait for her name to ask questions.
“I’m the only one who comes,” the girl said.
If she was around eighteen, she’d be the same age as the missing girl.
“Some people don’t like visiting their deceased loved ones.
Too sad.” Sarah hadn’t been to her mother’s grave since the pallbearers lowered her coffin into the ground.
She’d never been to her father’s. In her case, it didn’t have a whole lot to do with sadness.
That sickening emptiness she knew far too well sucked at her insides. She forced it away.
“You should visit.”
Sarah’s attention snapped back to the girl.
“What’s your name?” She still hadn’t answered that question.
And definitely shouldn’t know that about Sarah.
What was she? Psychic? The day someone proved ESP to her, Sarah would maybe consider the possibility.
Then again, the kid could have meant you should visit, as in people in general should visit their deceased loved ones.
“Matilda.”
Okay, so this was officially weird. “Matilda?”
The girl nodded to the headstone. “She was my great-great-grandmother. I’m named after her.”
Maybe not so weird.
Matilda pointed to the two cross markers. “Those were her friends.”
“Is that your pet?” Sarah jerked her head toward the tree where the crow waited patiently, probably for them to leave. Matilda stared at the crow, then shook her head.
Inept stab at making conversation.
“She was a witch, you know,” the girl said matter-of-factly.
Sarah nodded. “I heard.”
“But she helped people.” Matilda’s attention returned to the headstone. “She wouldn’t have let this happen.”
“You mean what happened to Valerie and Alicia?”
Matilda nodded once.
“I guess you go to school with Alicia?”
“Did.” She glanced up at the crow again. “But I quit this year.”
What kind of parents would let their daughter quit school? Particularly if she’d made it all the way to her senior year.
“You don’t like school?” Another lame question.
She shrugged.
“Did you know Valerie?”
“She tutored me in math year before last.”
The kid needed a coat. She had to be freezing. The sweatshirt couldn’t be that warm even if she had layers on underneath.
“Would you like to sit in my car?”
Matilda shook her head. “I gotta get home.”
Now or never. “Do you know of anyone who would have wanted to hurt Valerie or Alicia?”
“Lots of people are jealous.” She searched Sarah’s face with curious eyes that were the most bizarre shade of gold. Sarah hadn’t noticed that before. “But none of the kids around here would hurt them. Not for real.”
“What about the kids Valerie beat in that spelling bee way back in fourth grade?” Okay, that was a stretch.
Another indifferent shrug.
Who remembered what happened in third or fourth grade? If one of Valerie’s classmates had held a grudge over a spelling bee that long, then he or she needed to get a life.
That theory suddenly seemed about as far-fetched as the curse theory. Unless mental illness was involved. In light of the mutilation, that was a definite possibility.
“I sure hope the police find some answers soon.” The statement wasn’t really directed at the girl. Just thinking out loud. Keeping the silence from dragging on too long.
Thankfully Sarah hadn’t said the rest of what she thought.
Before it’s too late for Alicia.
The tree branches groaned and scratched as the wind picked up. Standing out here much longer was about as appealing as being mugged. But Sarah wanted to talk to the girl as long as possible. She mentally scrambled for a way to meet both goals.
“Can I give you a lift home?” Good idea.
Matilda shook her head. “It’s not that far. I like walking.”
“It’ll be dark soon.” Sarah surveyed the sky. Another clear night. Which meant it would be even colder.
“I’m not afraid of the dark.”
One girl was dead, another missing. A young girl shouldn’t be out walking alone. Especially at dark.
“Until the police catch the person responsible for what’s happened, it’s probably not a good idea to be walking alone in the dark.”
“They won’t catch him.”
Anticipation prickled Sarah’s chilled flesh. “They’re trying very hard. I’m sure they will.”
Those eerie gold eyes held Sarah’s. “They can’t catch him.”
That feeling, the one that made your skin prickle and the hair on your neck stand on end, sent Sarah’s instincts to the next level. “Why do you say that?”
“Because he’s the devil. Cops can’t catch the devil.”