Chapter 18 #2
The second man she’d met before, back in high school. His name was Mack, one of Finn’s old soccer friends. He was slightly taller than Reggie, Black and more muscled.
Reggie said, “Mack, run down and get a blanket out of the back for Rose. Then we’ll figure out what happened here.”
He turned to her. “Are you hurt?”
“My arm.”
Reggie stepped closer. “May I take a look?”
Rose nodded. His hands were gentle as he eased the sleeve of her black sweater upward to get a look. He gave a low whistle at the bruises forming. “We’ll want pictures of this. I bet it hurts like the devil. We’ll get some ice on it as soon as we finish up here.” He eased her sleeve back down.
She didn’t argue.
The light drizzle stopped. Not one word came out of Mr. Castor’s mouth.
The deputy returned in minutes and laid a thick wool blanket over Rose’s shoulders. She thanked him and held onto it with the hand of her good arm, keeping the pained one close to her body.
Sympathy reflected in both officer’s eyes.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Reggie asked. “As best you can. Then we’ll get you down the hill. Maybe Trudy can make you something hot to drink.”
He looked pointedly at Mr. Castor, who reacted like he’d been hit with a stick. He nodded vigorously and pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll text her right now.”
Reggie said, “Perfect.” He pulled out a notepad and pen. “Just the basics. We’ll talk more inside, where it’s warm and dry.”
Rose nodded, pulling the blanket tighter. “I came to see Magnolia’s headstone. Broome got word that it had been placed. He asked me to check on it and make sure everything was correct. I parked my Jeep and walked up there.” She pointed toward the Everson plot.
“Are you okay to walk back up there with us?”
Another nod before she walked beside them, with Mr. Castor tiptoeing behind. Reggie stayed close as they climbed. She stopped and looked at them. “I was here. Then I heard a sound. Stopped, saw a man. He was inside the fence. I know it’s short, but the gate stays locked.”
“Go on,” Reggie urged in a gentle voice.
“He didn’t look right. Sound right.” The fear she’d felt pressed on her again.
Reggie didn’t push. Neither did his partner.
“I think he was crying. I’ve never heard anyone make those sorts of sounds before. I backed away slow. Mr. Castor was supposed to meet me.”
Mr. Castor nodded.
“Can you describe him?” Reggie scribbled.
“The man was tall, taller than me—baggy clothes, muddy. White hair. His face, long and narrow.”
Reggie interrupted. “White hair, you said?”
“Yes.”
He and Mack exchanged a look, but before she could ask, he said, “Continue.”
“His eyes, ice blue.” Glacial. Without compassion, especially while angry. She shuddered. “He saw me. Jumped the fence. Chased me. His grip—I couldn’t get away.”
Reggie gave her an encouraging nod as they continued uphill, his hand a light touch on her uninjured elbow. “You’re doing great, Rose. What else?”
“He smelled bad. I thought maybe he’d slept there. He turned around, and—” She broke off and gasped.
Reggie swore beside her. They’d reached the Everson plot.
She closed her eyes then opened them in the hopes what she saw wasn’t real.
Tears burned her eyes as she took in the sight of Magnolia’s grave.
Reggie put an arm around her shoulder as if to steady her, as if she’d swayed. Perhaps she had. She had reason to.
Magnolia’s grave looked as if an animal had tried to dig its way down to her. Long, narrow furrows carved through the mud and grass. Had that man done this? Why?
She couldn’t look away. She wished she could.
Reggie kept his arm around her while he turned to Mack. A current of anger underlined his words. “Get Quincy and his team up here. We need whatever they can find ASAP.”
Reggie gentled his voice. “Rose, let’s get you inside. We’ll finish our questions there.”
She didn’t argue, letting him herd her down the hill while Mack stayed behind and spoke into his radio. A fretful Trudy waited for them in the chapel, a large Ziplock bag of ice in one hand. She gave it to Reggie before taking one pale Mr. Castor by the arm and urging him through another door.
Rose sat in one of two leather chairs inside a room off the small on-site chapel. Reggie wrapped the bag of ice gently around her elbow and pulled the blanket around her shoulders.
Trudy, a rail-thin woman with dark green cat-eye glasses and upswept pink streaked blond hair, came in with a cup of hot tea for Rose. Curiosity rimmed the secretary’s eyes, but she didn’t pry. “Let me know if you need anything else. I’m taking some coffee to Lance.”
Reggie sat down in the other chair. Mack entered. “Quincy and his team are here.”
He snapped some photos of Rose’s arm with his cell phone. After, he leaned his frame against the doorway, ready to listen.
Rose told them the rest.
Mack asked, “You have no idea who he is?”
“I didn’t recognize him. His face was muddy. He called me Maggie. Said we’d be together. I don’t know anyone named Maggie.”
“Your grandmother?”
Rose vehemently shook her head. “No one called her Maggie. She despised nicknames. Considered them lazy. We couldn’t even call her Gran. Grandmother or Magnolia, nothing else.”
Reggie tapped his pen on the notebook, his lips pursed. “You should see Doc Mason about your arm. It’s not broken, but it’d be good to document it.”
“Doc Mason’s still here?” She hadn’t needed a doctor since she’d moved back. All of Magnolia’s were in Asheville.
“Yes, he took over Dr. Cook’s practice on Poplar Street. He’s not so young and cocky now. He even got himself a wife.”
Rose remembered the young man with the prominent Adam’s apple fresh out of medical school. He’d lectured Magnolia with his expertise after a horse kicked her the night of the barn fire. Rose herself had been eight years old at the time.
“Magnolia called him an imbecile to his face.”
The corner of Reggie’s mouth lifted. “Your gran inspired fear in anyone who didn’t know her better.”
“True.”
Footsteps sounded in the hall. A female officer with short blonde hair stepped in. “Still no sign of him, sir. We’ve got Lance and Trudy’s statements.”
“Thanks Ashley. We’ll head out shortly.”
She left the room. Reggie turned back to Rose. “You okay to drive? We can give you a ride.”
She set the ice aside, moved her arm a tad, and nodded. “I’m okay.”
He studied her and shook his head. “Your grandmother will come back from her grave if something happens to you. We’ll follow you home.”
She nodded. “Do you have any idea who he is?”
“I’m working on it.” He reached out a hand to help her up.
Her brow furrowed. Unusual comment for something that had just occurred. Had she missed something?
“I’ll see if Doc Mason can stop by your place to look at your arm. I’ll also send a sketch artist out to you.”