She stepped up to him awkwardly, a hesitant smile on her face.
“What is it?” he asked her. “Is something wrong?”
He had grabbed her by the shoulders, he realized, and eased his hold.
She shook her head, her smile deepening, her eyes dazzling.
“No, I was just worried about you,” she said.
“Me? Why?”
“I…I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Last night…last night you seemed to be a little restless,” she said. “And then this morning, you went to that poor woman’s autopsy.”
“It wasn’t my first autopsy,” he said.
“I’m sure that…it still must have been horrible.”
“It was horrible. Murder is always horrible. And that’s why this guy has to be stopped.” He winced. “And why Mary has to be found.”
“You think she was taken by the same person,” Rowenna said, and it wasn’t a question.
“I don’t want to think it, but…yeah. And he has to be found. And stopped.”
His grip on her tightened again. He didn’t know why, but he felt as if he were in the vise grip of fear himself.
“Please, be careful out there. Stay with friends at all times, and don’t go wandering off in the dark,” he said. “Promise me.”
“I promise,” she assured him, touching his cheek. “You, too,” she told him softly. “You be careful, too.”
He grinned. “I’m always careful. And I carry a gun.”
“I guess that’s good,” she said doubtfully, then added, “Since I’m sure you know how to use it.”
“People shouldn’t have one unless they know how to use it,” he assured her.
“I carry pepper spray, and I’m not afraid to use it,” she said.
“The point is, don’t get into a position where you’ll need it,” he said.
“I don’t intend to, I promise.”
“Go on. Get back inside with your friends. I’ll find you at the museum later.”
She nodded and turned. He watched her until she was back in the restaurant, then glanced at his watch and realized he needed to hurry. Darkness came quickly to New England in the fall, and he wanted to accomplish a few things before it began to descend—and before it was time for the museum to close.
If he couldn’t make it this afternoon, he would forgo the farmhouse until tomorrow.
But he was going to find Eric Rolfe.
The man who had recently returned to the area.
The man who had once created the creepiest scarecrows.
And who was now creating images of the Devil himself.
11
Rowenna stood by the doorway, watching Jeremy as he walked away.
He really didn’t remember last night, when he’d been standing at the bottom of the bed, naked and sound asleep, talking to someone who wasn’t there.
But at least he was going to come get her at the museum, so there would be no reason to go back to that house by herself.
She wondered why she was so afraid of something that seemed so simple. If she was afraid of anything, it should be the fact that there was a killer on the streets, a killer who did terrible things to his victims. And she was afraid, of course, but she was going to be intelligent and stay in the company of friends.
And then there were the dreams. She was afraid of her own dreams.
She really didn’t need to fixate on Jeremy’s, too.
But her own dreams were something that she needed to pursue. Because that was where she had first seen the corpse in the cornfield. And if she could figure out how to access what she saw in her subconscious…
“Ready?”
She turned. The others had joined her at the door.
“Did you say an extra goodbye to your special friend?” Eve teased.
“What is this? Are we back in high school?” Rowenna demanded. “Let’s not forget that he’s here because a friend of his is missing.”
“I don’t want to think about it,” Eve told her. “I want to enjoy the fall, and I want to be a little bit happy. We can’t take every death to heart or we’ll go crazy. Do I sound terrible?”
Daniel stared at her, arching a brow. “How about we go show Rowenna those nasty masks in your store? There’s a cheerful thought for you.”
Eve shot him an icy look, then lifted her chin and hurried away, carrying her to-go box of sushi.
The other two grinned and followed.
Eve had been busy, or rather, Eve and Adam had been busy, Rowenna thought. The front window was enticing, draped in a majestic purple, with a dazzling display of silver jewelry and seasonal decorations. Colorful leaves were strewn seemingly at random against the purple backdrop, and Thanksgiving and harvest-themed items were arranged in eye-catching ways.
As they entered, bells chimed softly from above the door. Adam looked up and acknowledged them, then went back to showing a customer what was clearly one of Eric’s ghoulish masks.
“Ugh,” Eve whispered. “Come on back and see the rest.”
As they passed the counter, Eve set Adam’s lunch beside him, then led the way to the back of the store.
And there they were.
Carved wood, for the most part, they had been enhanced with various materials. From one, glass eyes gazed out with a malevolence that was truly frightening. Another had horns fashioned from discarded deer antlers. Another sported what seemed to be genuine goat horns. Some were painted, but it was the plain wood masks that seemed the most eerie to Rowenna. They were like dark figures that the imagination could see in the natural knots of a tree.
“Fantastic, aren’t they?”
She spun around. Adam was behind them, and he seemed pleased with himself as well as with the masks.
Eve grimaced.
“Hey, this is a business, and we just made a very nice profit on the one I just sold,” Adam said, defending himself. When Eve didn’t say anything in response, he turned to Daniel. “What do you think?” he asked.
“I think they’re remarkable.”
“Rowenna?” Adam asked.
“They’re…well, they are art,” she said, her tone tepid.
“Hey, Rowenna,” Eve said, “come to the back room with me. I just got in some gorgeous silk blouses I want to show you.”
Rowenna glanced at Adam, who rolled his eyes. She offered a weak smile, and followed Eve.
Rowenna oohed and aahed appropriately over the blouses and decided to buy a couple, but that clearly wasn’t why Eve had pulled her aside.
“Ro, I’m really scared,” she said.
“You just need to be careful,” Rowenna told her.
Eve shook her head. “Not that. It’s Adam!”
“Adam?”
“He’s gone on this horrible kick. Some guy was in here about a month ago, going on and on about how he couldn’t figure out why any man would want to be a wiccan when women are in charge of everything and turn the men into lapdogs. It was stupid—the guy didn’t know anything about wiccan beliefs and practices. But it was after that when Adam started demanding that we broaden our horizons. Which is fine with me—really. But then he started studying up on Satanism. As if we’re not always trying to fight against misconceptions that wicca and Satanism are the same thing…. I just hate what he’s doing. It’s like he has to prove he’s a man suddenly. And he’s always slipping out of the shop now—that’s why I decided to go to lunch without him today. Rowenna, can he be having a midlife crisis when he isn’t even thirty yet?”
Rowenna fought the temptation to laugh, her friend was so serious.
“I’m sure he’ll get over it, Eve. Honestly,” she offered.
“He worries me,” Eve said.
“Why? Is there something else?” Rowenna asked.
For a moment she thought that Eve was going to tell her that there was something more, but her friend just looked unhappy and shook her head.
“Come on, you two have been together for years. This will work itself out,” Rowenna said.
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“I guess. I mean, I’m not ready to call a lawyer or anything, but…” Her words trailed off, and she suddenly hugged Rowenna. “Thank you. Thank you for being back, for never being judgmental, for being my friend.”
“Of course I’m your friend.”
“Hey, Ro!” Daniel called. “You ready to head back to the museum?”
“I’m coming,” she said, then grinned at Eve. “You ready to face the world again?”
Eve nodded, then swept out ahead of Rowenna. “How’s lunch?” she asked Adam, who was behind the counter, his meal spread out before him.
“Wonderful, thank you,” he said.
Rowenna’s phone rang, and as she slipped it from her handbag, she noted the number. It was Joe Brentwood’s private line.
“Hey, Joe,” she said.
“Hey. What are you up to?” he asked her.
“I’m at the Llewellyns’ store,” she told him. “I was about to head over to the History Museum. Dan and I have been doing some interesting reading.”
“Great. I’ll see you there in a bit.”
“Okay,” she said, and was about to hang up when he spoke again.
“We’ve gotten a positive ID on the woman in the cornfield,” he told her.
“Oh?”
“Dinah Green, from Boston.” He was silent again for a second. “I’ve told Jeremy. We’ll have pictures to show around soon. We need to try to find people who saw her in the area.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll see you in a bit.”
She closed her phone to see that Adam, Eve and Daniel were all staring at her. “They’ve identified the woman from the cornfield,” she said.
They all waited.
“Please tell me she wasn’t anyone we know,” Eve said.
Rowenna shook her head. “I don’t think so. Her name was Dinah Green. She was from Boston.”
She could hear Eve exhale loudly in relief.
“I’ve never heard the name,” she said.
“I’m sure the police will be around with a picture to find out if she was in the shop,” Rowenna said. She reflected for a second, then grimaced. “Wait. I know the police—and probably Jeremy, too—will be around with a picture.”
“I know he’s really gotten involved in this because Brad’s his friend,” Eve said. “But it’s still possible that the murder and Mary Johnstone’s disappearance aren’t related, right?”
“It’s possible. I certainly hope they’re not,” Rowenna said.
“I have to get back,” Daniel said, checking his watch. “I’m worried I might have left the reading room door unlocked.”
He sounded so serious that Rowenna turned away to hide her grin. She just didn’t think there were too many people who plotted each morning to get into his reading room, but she was ready to move on. “All right. Just give me two seconds. I just want to quickly buy something to change into. I’ve got to get out of these filthy jeans.” Eve wound up supplying her with an entire new outfit. Rowenna wasn’t certain that the skull bra-and-panty set would have been her personal choice, but they were comfortable and well made, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. She picked up another set of undergarments—this set decorated with cherubs—just in case she didn’t get home again that night.
Finally she and Daniel headed back to the museum to see to the safety of his books.
At least he didn’t mind when she slipped in a bookmark wherever she found a section of text that she thought the police and Jeremy should read.
She was reading about the third notorious murderer from the tableau when Joe arrived. He chatted with Daniel for a minute, but it was evident that he didn’t have time to spare, so when he asked Rowenna to take a stroll out with him, she cast a quick excuse-me look Dan’s way and headed out with Joe.
“Turn up anything interesting in all those old books?” Joe asked.
“There may be something there,” she said, and quickly explained what they’d found.
“What do you think about Brad Johnstone claiming he saw cornfields in the crystal ball? Is he making too much of this Damien person?”
She stopped walking. People were strolling by, looking into windows, enjoying the day. She looked Joe squarely in the eyes, took a deep breath and spoke.
“I’ve been having dreams about the cornfields. They started right before Halloween. I kept seeing them as they were when I was young, maybe twenty years ago. Remember when the town used to run competitions for best scarecrow? Eric Rolfe always created the scariest one. In my dream, I’m approaching one of his scarecrows, but I know it isn’t going to be a scarecrow, that it’s going to be real. And when I get there, it’s a rotting body, just like…just like the one I found.”
He looked back at her solemnly.
“You didn’t happen to dream about what the killer looked like, did you?” he asked. His tone was dry, but there was an odd hopefulness in it, too.
“Come on, Joe, if I had any idea, I would have told you right away.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said wearily.
“I don’t know why, but I feel as if reading about the past is very important. I mean, beyond the obvious—that someone is playing off things that have happened before.”
“We have to go back to that field,” he said.
“We?” she asked warily.
“The crime-scene people have gone through it with a fine-tooth comb. Harold and the lab staff have found everything the body and the clothing can tell us. We’ve got nothing but some crow feathers, and I can hardly lock up a crow.” Joe sounded disgusted. “I have a suspect of a sort, some guy named Damien. Of course, no one can put him near the cemetery, no one saw him come into town and no one saw him leave, not to mention that no one knows who the hell he really is or where to find him. At least we know who the victim is now. I’ve got fliers circulating now, so with any luck we’ll know soon if she spent any time in town. I can only pray that someone can give us a lead, because right now, I have an invisible man and a bunch of birds. And Mary Johnstone’s husband, of course, but assuming that his wife and Dinah Green were victims of the same perp, Brad is starting to look very much like a man in the clear.” He paused for a moment. “I need to call the parents and tell them that their son-in-law is most probably just as innocent as they are. Meanwhile, I know it won’t be easy, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d come back out to that cornfield with me.”
“What do you think I can find that all your techs missed?” she asked. She knew she sounded skeptical, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to go back to that cornfield. Not ever.
“I don’t know what you’ll find with your own strange brand of logic,” he said. “But I sure as hell hope you’ll find something.”
“When?” she asked, feeling a sense of fatality settle over her.
“Now,” he told her gravely.
Jeremy was glad that he had made a point of getting and staying on good terms with Joe Brentwood, because Brentwood’s acceptance seemed to give him access to any information he needed.
On the way to his car, he pulled out his phone, hoping to get Brentwood on his cell, but the man didn’t pick up. A call to the station put him through to Detective Ivy Sinclair, who supplied him with an address for Eric Rolfe. He thanked her for her help and headed out of town on the road that eventually led to the MacElroy house, Rowenna’s house, and then, a bit farther down and to the left, the Rolfe property.
Apparently Eric Rolfe was not a man who needed to bask in his success.
The old farmhouse needed paint, and the front yard was filled with a melange of materials—wood, metal scraps, twine, stone and marble—all stacked untidily on the ground or on a series of mismatched broken-down chairs. There were paint cans in the yard, as well, along with a pile of fabric, and plastic bins filled with various bits and pieces of what seemed to be debris.
Rolfe was seated in a chair, sanding a length of wood. He looked up curiously when he saw Jeremy’s rental pull into the drive, and gave a
pleasant nod when Jeremy got out of the car.
“Hello,” Rolfe said simply. He was a tall man, as Rowenna had said, but he’d lost weight as he matured and would no longer be considered husky, though his arms, bare below the pushed-up sleeves of an old gray sweater, were well defined with muscle. He had long, light blond hair, but his full beard and mustache had streaks of red. He smiled again beneath all the hair and said, “Hiya. Something I can do you for?”
Jeremy strode forward and introduced himself.
“Up from the Big Easy, huh?” Rolfe said politely.
“Recently, yes,” Jeremy said. “I didn’t realize it was common knowledge.”
Rolfe grinned broadly. “I know all about you. Salem’s a pretty small world when you get right down to it.” He waved a hand toward town. “Nice to meet you. To what do I owe the honor of your driving way out here?”
“Dinah Green,” Jeremy said bluntly.
The other man frowned slightly, and appeared to be thinking. Then he shook his head. “No, can’t say I know who she is. Am I supposed to?”
“She’s the woman whose body was found in the cornfield.”
Rolfe smiled slowly. “I see. And I make devil masks and live near the cornfield, so…”
“And you just returned to town after a long time living away,” Jeremy added evenly.
“No alibi. I’m living alone,” Rolfe said agreeably.
“Those are some pretty weird masks you make,” Jeremy told him, changing the subject.
Rolfe nodded. “Yeah, I was a weird kid, too. I always loved the movies. Did you ever see An American Werewolf in London? That was it for me. They created a new Academy Award for special effects that year, it was so damned good.”
“I did see it,” Jeremy said. “I liked it.”
“Want to come in? Have a beer or something?” Rolfe asked.
“Sure.”
“I didn’t kill that woman, you know,” Rolfe told him. “I’m all artist—a lover, not a fighter. But I guess I can understand why you have to eliminate me as a suspect.”
He got off his broken chair, and headed toward the rickety porch and unpainted house.
“Guess you’re wondering how I could have done so well in Hollywood and own such a ramshackle place,” Rolfe said after telling Jeremy to watch out for a broken step.