“Please tell me that you have me on speed dial,” he said.
She nodded and smiled, and stepped into the house. “Don’t worry. I’m not taking any chances. I’m young. I like living.”
“So do I,” he said softly. “Lock—”
“The door.”
He took another step back. “I’ll be listening for the bolt.”
She shut and locked the door, then leaned against it and closed her eyes, listening as his footsteps took him down the path to his car.
“Dearest girl, you should have kissed the boy.”
Her eyes flew open. “Auntie Mina!”
Well, she thought dryly, she wouldn’t be having any wild affairs in this house, that much was for certain.
Not when it came with a chaperone.
Aunt Mina wagged a finger at Devin.
“Men like him don’t come along often in life, my girl. Trust me. I lived long, and saw much. You shouldn’t throw away such a rare opportunity.”
* * *
Rocky returned to the hotel room to find the rest of the Krewe already set up in the suite that Sam Hall had taken; it had two bedrooms, one for him and Jenna, and one for Angela and Jane to share. There was also a good-size kitchen/dining area.
There were papers all over the table.
“There’s coffee in the pot,” Sam told Rocky.
“And a bottle of Jack if you need something stronger,” Angela offered dryly.
He poured himself coffee.
“All right, here’s where we are,” Jenna said when he’d taken a seat at the table. “First, still no answers on our Jane Doe in the morgue. I tried missing persons across the country and couldn’t come up with our woman. I also showed her picture to everyone I could think of. No one remembers her.”
“I went over the bulletins from agencies across the country. Came close a few times, but the best we had was a woman with horrible teeth,” Jane told him. “Not our vic, I’m afraid.”
“How does a woman just disappear and die—and no one even misses her?” Rocky asked.
“I don’t know,” Angela said. “Sad. But it happens all too often.”
“Poor thing,” Jane murmured. “But I was noticing, as I’m sure you did, that there are only a couple of general similarities between the dead women. Age doesn’t seem to factor in―Melissa Wilson was seventeen, Carly Henderson was thirty-two and the M.E. says our Jane Doe was somewhere in between—but they all had the same approximate size and build.” She paused and produced a copy of the drawing she had done earlier, only enhanced with color and shading. “Take a look. This is the woman Mina Lyle saw—a spirit trying to help, though whether she was an actress or a genuine Puritan, who knows. But if you compare all four women, there’s something similar in their faces. Not eye color, obviously, but the fine-boned structure. They all have a slightly fragile appearance—an innocent appearance.”
She was right. They didn’t look like sisters, but there was a similar quality about them.
“I saw her again tonight,” Rocky said, nodding at the drawing.
“Where?” Sam asked. “Did she speak to you?”
Rocky shook his head. “She was watching the tour. Devin wound up giving most of it—her friend was sick. Kept coughing. I think she was watching Devin.”
“If so,” Sam said, “we just have to hope Devin will communicate with her.”
“She will,” Rocky said.
“And we’d better hope we’re not putting her in danger,” Angela said.
Rocky tensed, heat flushing through him.
He should have stayed away from her. He should have told her to call Jack Grail for reports, if she wanted updates. He shouldn’t have gone to her house.
Or maybe he was berating himself for nothing. Maybe she wouldn’t have been as careful if he hadn’t insisted that she stay in, that she keep her doors locked. She might have gone off for a walk in the woods....
Bur the killer wasn’t just biding his time in the woods. He was going about his daily life; he was blending in with the crowd.
A crowd that just might include people Devin knew. People she considered friends.
“There are five of us. We’ll keep an eye on her,” Sam assured Rocky. “And if we need more manpower, you can call your buddy on the force.”
“I’ve got those numbers you were looking for,” Jenna told Rocky.
“And?”
“Dark SUVs? There are hundreds. People who own a dark SUV and fit the age range? Over half the group. But that dwindled down a lot when I looked for people who were here thirteen years ago and within the age range then as well as now. Then I took those names and looked into who we know has an athame.”
“And?” he asked again.
She looked over at him. “Down to eighteen people.”
Startled, Rocky got up to stand behind Jenna and look over her shoulder at the computer screen. Most of the names she pulled up meant nothing to him.
But there were several that did.
Jack Grail himself was on the list—along with their old buddy Vince Steward.
And Renee.
But they weren’t the only ones.
Theo Hastings was also on the list.
As was Devin’s old friend, the intrepid tour guide Brent Corbin.
* * *
“Ghosts appear in many different ways. There’s no way to fight it. Sometimes ghosts are the remnants, the souls, of those who’ve passed on. Sometimes they’re the remnants of knowledge in our minds. They’re there, but we can’t quite connect with them.”
Aunt Mina was talking to Devin. Except she wasn’t, not really—not even her ghost. She couldn’t be, because Devin was asleep. She knew she was asleep, and she even knew she was dreaming. But the dream was so much like life. It flowed, and she was trapped within it, unable to stop time or step outside it.
They were standing on a hill. Gallows Hill. But it wasn’t the Gallows Hill of the witchcraft trials, because no one knew exactly where the executions had taken place. The town fathers had stipulated that the hangings were done outside of Salem proper. It wasn’t the Gallows Hill of today, either. What the city had designated as Gallows Hill was a recreational area.
But none of that mattered in the dream. She simply knew she was on Gallows Hill on a long ago day. There was a cart track that led to the hill, winding through heavy trees. She saw that a path had been created to lead the condemned to the heavy branch of a certain old oak.
Panic seized her. She was floating in the air and still some distance away, but she could see what was happening. And she didn’t want to see. She didn’t want to see people dying horribly by strangulation or a snapped neck. She didn’t want to hear the tears—or the silence of those who had come to see their loved ones’ passing and yet dared not protest.
People were arriving by cart. Five, she thought. She tried to turn away. And then she heard the whispers. She didn’t know where they came from, couldn’t tell if they were male or female. But there were two of them.
“She’ll be the death of us all.”
“We must do something. When one is accused, it seems all around them, all who support them, are accused, as well.”
“You have children. Many children have been accused and now rot in jail.”
“I know.”
“What will we do?”
Devin heard something. A prayer...and then something like a choked-off sob. She turned and saw the body of a woman swinging beneath the heavy branch of the old oak. Head bowed, neck broken...
Or so Devin prayed.
But death was not so merciful and quick. The woman kicked and squirmed. It was horrible to see, until finally...
She was dead, strangled, and the deed was done. And in Devin’s dream the clouds roiled overhead and darkness descended.
She awoke drenched in sweat, almost screaming aloud. A moment later, a worried Auntie Mina was there in her room, trying to comfort her.
“Just a nightmare, love. You had them when you were
a child, too.”
“I did?”
“You did, sweetheart. Don’t worry. You’re safe. I’m watching out for you.”
A ghost was watching out for her.
She smiled. “Thank you, Auntie Mina,” she said.
“I love you, dear. Now try to get some sleep,” Aunt Mina said. And then she disappeared.
Devin stared at the ceiling for a moment. Just days ago she’d had a comfortable life, a good career, friends, and she’d been...
Normal.
And now a ghost was reassuring her after a nightmare.
Out in the parlor, Poe let out a sudden caw.
She could almost swear the bird had said, “Nevermore.”
* * *
Rocky found James Jefferson, the second name on Jenna’s list, living in Lynn and running a mom-and-pop grocery store.
He’d already been to see Mary McCafferty, first on the list. Mary hadn’t driven in ages—she’d broken her leg in several places three weeks ago on a hiking trip to Colorado.
James Jefferson was an affable man, and he recognized Rocky’s name from years past. “I think you were the great white hope when you were here,” he told Rocky. “You don’t remember me—and you wouldn’t. I was only a freshman. Boy, could you throw a football!”
As it turned out, Jefferson had been on vacation in Florida until two nights ago. No, he said in answer to Rocky’s question, his children didn’t use his car. They didn’t even live in the state.
Just as Rocky left the grocery store, he got a call from Jenna and Angela, who had been interviewing the people who lived in Lynn. One, Cindy Marks, had been working a church school carnival the day their Jane Doe had been killed, and half the parish could attest to that. Another, Roger Garcia, was a salesman, and he’d been in Buffalo on the date of Carly Henderson’s murder.
Fourteen. They were down to fourteen names. Then it was thirteen. His next call was from Sam, who had gone down to Boston where Jordan Michaels, a magician by trade, was playing at the convention center. Michaels, it seemed, had been playing to sold-out crowds around the country for the entire summer. Tens of thousands of people could attest to his whereabouts. He’d also been out of state until just a week ago.
“You sure about this list?” Sam asked him.
“No, I’m not sure at all. But we had to start somewhere.” Rocky didn’t like the fact that the parameters he had settled on to narrow down the suspect list involved people he knew. He paused for a moment. “I think I’m going to plan a get-together tonight.”
“Pardon?” Sam said, an edge of disbelief in his voice.
“With three of the people on our list,” Rocky added.
“Ah.” Sam was quiet a minute. “Sorry I doubted you.”
“Yeah. Thanks. Just be ready to party—and pay attention.”
“How are you explaining us?” Sam asked.
“Using guile and a clever ruse—I’m going to tell the truth,” Rocky told him.
When he hung up, he called Jack. He explained that due to simple process of elimination, they were “suspects” and need to answer a few questions.
Jack sighed. “Well, let’s try not to piss off Haley,” he said. “I’d do anything to catch the killer, but don’t forget—I have to live with Haley.”
“Right,” Rocky said. “I’ll be careful. You want to call Vince and Renee, or should I?”
“You don’t really think it could be one of them, do you?”
“No.”
“Then—”
“I have to be sure,” Rocky said.
He hung up and called Devin; he wondered if he had planned the get-together for that night because he didn’t want her to be alone and needed an excuse to spend some more time with her.
Yeah, probably.
But it was also true that his friends were on his suspect list.
When Devin answered, she sounded pleased to hear his voice.
And a little uneasy, as well.
“Are you all right? Has anything happened?” he asked.
“No, nothing, but I’ve been reading all kinds of history books.”
There was something she wasn’t telling him.
“That’s great, but aren’t you supposed to be writing?”
“Not every minute of every day, and I love reading,” she said. “And there are things I had forgotten, or at least not thought about in ages, things I never had a solid opinion on. But I’ll tell you about it later. How about you? Have you come up with anything new?” she asked anxiously.
“No, but I’m having that get-together tonight. We’re going to meet at Jack’s house.”
“Oh. Do you want me to drive myself there? I just need to know the address.”
“No,” he told her quickly. “I’ll pick you up. About six. Is that all right?”
“Yes, definitely,” she told him.
* * *
It was 5:45 p.m., and Devin was ready, armed with a number of books from the collection that she, her aunt and her parents had acquired over the years. She planned to share them with Rocky at the right time—and with others, if a question arose.
Auntie Mina had been around most of the day. Poe had gotten accustomed to the fact that Aunt Mina was there, yet not really there. He had grown fond of sitting on Devin’s shoulder, which made her grateful that Aunt Mina had rescued the bird a long time ago, when he’d been very young, and trained him well.
In fact, Poe was far better trained than the puppy she’d rescued when she was four. Her parents had lovingly tended to the little mutt, but the poor thing had never really mastered control of his bladder. But then, he’d been riddled with worms and other parasites when she’d found him and spent his first weeks at the vet. Pup—she hadn’t been even slightly creative with his name—had died the year before she left for college. She still missed him.
Even with Poe there, Devin felt alone in the cottage. Auntie Mina had recently faded out while sitting on the sofa and watching her beloved reruns of Frasier.
She’d spent most of the day reading, trying to make sense of her dream, which had continued to plague her throughout the day. Most of what she read was information she’d known—or at least known about. There was quite a dispute about the real location of Gallows Hill. Historian Sydney Perley had determined early in the twentieth century that it couldn’t possibly be where it was “officially” located, the current recreational area. She was sure a copy of the map Perley had used or created for his thesis had to exist, but she couldn’t find it online.
She’d called Brent to see if he knew where she could locate a copy. He’d been busy but had promised to see if he could come up with it. Of course, he’d wanted to know why.
“Your tour last night,” she told him. “It got me intrigued with the city again.”
“Now that I think about it, you were a little too good,” he said. “Don’t become my competition.”
“Not a chance,” she assured him.
The day had passed quickly, and having Aunt Mina there had been somehow reassuring.
But now Aunt Mina was gone and it felt as if time was crawling.
She glanced at her watch: 5:50 p.m. Rocky would be there soon. She picked up her keys, ready to lock the house.
And that was when she saw a face at the window.
The same face Auntie Mina had seen. The face of the woman Rocky had tried to catch up to the night before.
The woman who wanted to speak...
To her.
The woman stared in at Devin.
Devin stared back at her.
Then the woman turned away.
“Wait!” Devin cried, having no idea if she could be heard or not.
She set down the pile of books and headed to the door, throwing it open and rushing out.
“Hello?”
The woman was nowhere to be seen. As Devin desperately looked around, she saw her.
A fleeting remnant of her in her dark Puritan garb and her white cap...
Disappearing. Disa
ppearing into the canopy of the trees.
Devin hurried after her, trying to see through the green darkness under the canopy of the trees, the little clump of woods between her house and her neighbor.
“Hello? Please, I’m here—please, talk to me.” Forgetting all about personal safety, she headed for the trees. “Hello?”
No response. She heard nothing. She saw nothing.
“Please, I’m trying to help you. And we need you. We need you, and I believe that you’re trying to talk to me.”
A strange shimmer shifted the air around her. It was almost as if the air itself had turned to forest green. And yet the sun hadn’t fallen, and little dapples of light made their way through the leaves.
She realized she’d walked deeply into the stand of pines and oaks. Even as she called herself a fool and started back, she heard a rustling in the woods.
What, she asked herself, had she done?
Walked out like an idiot.
She winced, trying to swallow her fear and berating herself for her sheer stupidity in her eagerness to reach the disappearing specter.
She stood dead still, thinking maybe she’d imagined the sound.
But it came again. A rustling. Ghosts—in her experience—didn’t rustle brush and leaves the way that the living did. Someone flesh and blood was out there—between her and her house.
Had she even shut the door? If she went back, was she in just as much danger?
It came again. The sound. Someone was moving closer to her.
The rustle again, and then...
The evening sunlight trickled weakly through the trees. It created shadows that moved and writhed as the soft breeze of near-dusk shifted branches and leaves.
But the dark form was real.
A man was standing there, clutching something tightly in his hand.
A knife?
Her heart seemed to stop.
And then slide back into action.
What to do? She hadn’t even brought out her hockey stick!
Slip back into the trees? Head for the road?
Run for your life! she warned herself.
She suddenly heard the sound of a car out on the road, slowing....
It was Rocky, coming to pick her up.
But would he arrive in time?
All she had to do was scream and he would find her. Save her.