Smiling, she turned away and began walking down the opposite end of the road, where New Hope Church waited.
“Pink cotton candy is my favorite smell,” Ginny’s voice echoed from where she stood, almost too faint to hear.
Lacey pivoted, expecting to find Ginny still standing there in front of the shop, but the girl had already gone.
Chapter Fifteen
By the time Lacey cut through the woods behind New Hope Church and spilled into the clearing, darkness had veiled over Raven Hills. She wondered if Ginny herself had ever wandered into these woods to play with her friends. Surely during the day the forest was a marvelous place teeming with the chirping of birds, sunlight dappling every oak and pine tree, and critters scurrying about. Lacey wished she’d walked into this scene at the very moment, instead of having tall, twisted trees loom over her in the darkness.
Quickening her pace, and glancing behind her a couple of times, she finally cut through the clearing and onto a long, winding road. At the end of the road, a tall home emerged in the distance. The closer she approached it, the more it resembled an old Victorian-style house, its dollhouse appearance complete with a steeply pitched roof and front-facing gable. It might have looked charming at one time, but now sitting under the ghostly white moon and surrounded by gnarled trees, it represented a sad residence for the mentally insane.
Lacey reached the inside of Hope Sanitarium and upon inspecting the lobby area, she realized this had once been a home, as she had suspected. An ornate staircase wound behind a large counter position in the center of the room, and intricate wood trim trailed the open space.
“May I help you?” a male voice asked.
Lacey tore her gaze from the high ceilings and found a barrel-chested nurse wearing a white uniform staring at her with curious eyes. She figured Hope Sanitarium didn’t get many visitors.
“I’m Lacey Shaw and I’d like to see Mrs. Kline for a few minutes,” she said.
The nurse gave her a dubious look, silently letting the words sink in. “Mrs. Kline? Well, you’re no relation to her, I assume?”
“No, I’m just covering a story on Raven Hills, and I’m interested in finding out more about its residents,” she answered, hoping that unlike Deputy Morris, he wouldn’t give her a hard time.
“Mrs. Kline is an interesting case, alright,” the man scoffed and scratched his head. He walked over to Lacey and extended his hand. “Nurse Michael Effert. I’ve been here for about three years now, and I can tell you Mrs. Kline isn’t the kind of resident we want representing Raven Hills.”
She shook his pudgy hand, then resisted the urge to rub off the sweat against her dress. “I’ve read some files containing her information. She’s mentally ill.”
“She’s a murderer,” Michael countered, then let out a whistle. “Off her damn rocking chair.”
“The illness must be severe,” Lacey said, recalling what she had read in the archived police file that she had found. She had been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, no doubt the cause of her hearing voices and bringing her to kill her husband. Calling to mind the details of Mister Kline’s murder sent chills down Lacey’s spine.
“I’d like to meet her for a few minutes,” Lacey said, trying to push aside the nerves.
“Mrs. Kline? You sure?” Michael asked with a frown. “Won’t get much out of her. She’s heavily sedated.”
“Still, I’d like to try,” Lacey countered “Meeting residents who have woven the history of a town, whether it’s good or bad, makes my job feel more authentic.”
Nurse Efferts contemplated her words for a long moment, then shrugged. “Alright then. Just keep your visit short. We’d like to keep her as calm as possible.”
Lacey followed him to the staircase. Two large windows sided the stairs and she peered out. Brightening up the night sky, a flash of lightning tore the blackness outside. Looked like a storm was brewing.
Upstairs, Nurse Effert led her down a thin hallway, where several doors waited. Lacey figured a patient resided inside each one of those rooms. She imagined living here. Although Hope Sanitarium was tidy and pretty enough, she couldn’t fathom being trapped here day after day. One door to her right was ajar and as they passed by, she glanced inside. A nurse stood over a woman in wheelchair, administering an injection in her arm. The patient seemed to be in her mid-thirties, possibly pretty if it wasn’t for her manic eyes glaring at Lacey, and the matted hair. A stab of sadness pierced Lacey’s heart. Did a mental illness really warrant someone being shut away from the rest of society? Sure, patients like Libby Kline needed to be treated, for everyone else’s safety. Yet, sorrow embedded inside Lacey, the harsh reality for those who suffered with a mental illness an inevitable injustice.
“There she is,” Michael announced quietly and opened the door to the last room on the right. “I will be down the hall if you need me.”
Lacey walked inside Mrs. Kline’s room slowly, only a tableside lamp shining some light. The woman’s thin form waited in the bed, and at first Lacey thought she was asleep. As she approached closer, Mrs. Kline’s head turned in her direction.
Her long hair showed thick streaks of gray, and even now in her state and current age she seemed attractive and charming. Lacey could almost imagine her as a young woman. Long, auburn hair; pretty complexion; two big, blue eyes that shone like the sea.
“Who are you?” Mrs. Kline asked, her voice low and groggy. Her lids closed slowly before reopening again.
“I’m Lacey Shaw,” she offered, a warm smile on her face. “I work for Crestwater Press and I’m in Raven Hills to write a story about the town.”
Libby Kline just looked at her with two ghost-like eyes, needing to let the words sink in.
Lacey cleared her throat. “You’ve lived in Raven Hills all of your life. I was wondering if you could tell me your…experience.” She struggled for the right words. Did the woman understand at all, even minimally, the evil act she’d committed? What made her snap and become a murderer? She didn’t know if Libby could truly share her own side of the story with her, but since reading about her case, an unsettled feeling had rooted in her.
Libby turned and looked away, her confusion evident.
“Mrs. Kline, do you remember your life before coming here?” Lacey continued, hoping to get the woman to speak to her. She was again met by silence.
Lacey sighed and took a seat next to Libby’s bed. She thought for a few seconds, then wondered if a different approach would work, one that made her feel uneasy.
“Can you tell me about your husband?” she queried, looking at Libby for a reaction.
The woman turned her head and looked at Lacey, a flicker of recognition crossing her mind. “Paul?”
Lacey smiled. “Yes, Paul. Can you tell me about him?”
“Oh, Paul,” Libby muttered, a sad look falling on her features. “Paul…my Paul. Where is he?”
Lacey leaned closer. “Paul is gone.”
Lightning cracked the sky and illuminated the room, followed by raucous thunder.
“Paul thought something had happened to you long ago,” Lacey explained, remembering Mr. Bryan Lippert, Paul’s coworker, had shared some of Paul’s concerns. “Is it true? Can you remember if anyone hurt you? Did something bad happen to you, Libby?”
The woman’s eyes glistened with tears, and the sound of heavy rain began echoing outside.
“The whispers…they never stopped,” Libby moaned, her hands now shaking.
Lacey didn’t know much about mental illnesses, but she figured the voices were just a symptom of her paranoid schizophrenia. Still, why did the illness only manifest in her adulthood, while prior to her marriage she had never shown an underlying issue? During her change in behavior, Libby had been scared of something—or someone. She kept talking about her neighbors. What had she been so afraid of?
“Paul thought something bad had happened to you and that’s why you started acting so strangely.” Lacey reached for the woman’s hand. It was ic
e cold but she held it tightly.
Libby looked at her, a tear trailing down her wrinkled cheek. “Where’s Paul?” she asked again, new found confusion settling over her.
Libby sighed in frustration. “Paul is dead.”
Libby’s face scrunched in agony, her eyes growing wide. “No. No! Paul isn’t dead. He can’t be.” She snatched her hand away from Lacey’s, and her crying intensified.
“Mrs. Kline, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want to know if something happened to you,” Lacey tried to explain. She rose from the chair and offered a sympathetic smile.
“Paul didn’t believe me,” Libby croaked through strangled tears. A loud thunder cracked the sky, and Lacey startled.
“Believe what?”
“The whispers…the whispers!” Libby’s body curved and stretched under the sheets, as if these memories caused her a great deal of agony. “She never stopped.”
“She?”
“She will never stop!” Suddenly, Libby’s arm flung forward, her hand clutching Lacey’s wrist. “You have to stop this. Someone has to!”
Lacey’s heart flip-flopped, her anxiety building. “Who? Who has to be stopped?”
Libby let out a blood-curdling scream.
Lacey figured it wouldn’t be long before the nurses rushed in the room. “Libby, who are you talking about?”
The woman’s frantic wailing filled the room and her grip tightened on Lacey’s wrist. “She knows you’re here…,” she screamed between ragged breaths.
Lacey had enough. She tried pulling her wrist out of Libby’s grip, but the woman had an iron grip. “I should go.”
Libby pulled her down toward her, so close that Lacey buckled over the bed, her face hovering inches away from the woman’s.
“Derby.” Libby’s voice, for the first time since Lacey had set foot in the room, had turned crystal clear. A sudden clarity and seriousness encased her tone as she pronounced the name.
Lacey’s brows furrowed. She was rambling, but who was she afraid of? Mr. Derby had seemed so kind.
Libby released Lacey, a new shriek erupting from her mouth. “Paul! I want Paul!” Falling back into delirium, she punched and kicked her mattress.
Nurse Effert rushed inside the room, together with another female nurse.
Lacey took a few steps back, and the woman nurse injected Libby with what she figured was a sedative.
“You need to go,” Michael scolded. “Once she gets going, it takes a lot to settle her down.”
Lacey nodded. “I’m sorry.” She turned to leave, giving Libby one last glance. Michael walked her to the door. Just as she began to exit the room, the thunder still rolling in the background, Libby’s voice trailed behind her.
“Ich lebe in ihr.”
Lacey didn’t speak German, but she didn’t need to in order to catch the ice cold fear, warning her that something was terribly wrong with Raven Hills, and that her own life was in danger.
Chapter Sixteen
Lacey dashed through the lobby of Saddle Inn, her brown hair soaked and stuck to her head, and her body dropping rainwater all over the floor.
She shivered and hugged herself tightly, her clothes wringing-wet and feeling soppy and cold. Her leather journal was tucked under her shirt, damp but not ruined. She opened it and gave it a once over, ensuring her notes were intact, especially the phrase Libby had uttered and Lacey had scribbled down hastily on a page: Ich lebe in ihr.
“Oh, my, you got caught in the storm,” Diddie sympathized, rushing over to Lacey with a towel. “Now, why didn’t you find a place inside somewhere? You are soaked to the bone.”
Lacey closed her journal, and taking the offered towel, she dried her face knowing that only peeling out of those clothes and taking a warm shower could help at this point. To Diddie’s point, she probably could have stayed at Hope Sanitarium and waited out the storm, but her eerie encounter with Libby Kline had forced her to brave the weather and put as much distance as possible between her and that place. Something in Libby’s voice as she had uttered that name, so serious and lucid, overwhelmed her with fear.
She handed the towel back to Diddie, the woman looking at her like a worried mother would.
“What do you know of the Derbys?” she asked Diddie, and tried to steady her shivering.
Diddie pouted as she appraised Lacey closely. “What we all know. They’ve owned and run the Derby Soap Shop for generations. They are sweet people.”
“They never had kids of their own, I remember. What about Joann? Tell me about her,” Lacey pressed.
“She was found as a child and adopted by the Derbys. Why all the questions?” Diddie’s face turned into a defensive frown.
“Because Libby Kline has mentioned her fear of the Derbys a few times,” Lacey answered, her arms still tightly wound around her wet frame. “What else do you know about them?”
Diddie placed a hand on her hip and sighed. “Libby Kline. You visited her?” She sighed with disappointment and shook her head. “Lacey, she is mentally ill. She can’t give you any account of our town history. She is a murderer!”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t worth listening to.” Defiance sat on Lacey’s features, her eyes leveling on Diddie. “So, what do you know about Joann?”
“I just told you. She was an orphan who Lieutenant Bennett found in the woods. She was just a child back then.”
“And one day, years later, she just disappeared?” Lacey’s eyes narrowed in confusion.
“Yes.” Diddie gave Lacey a cold stare.
“There’s something else you’re not telling me.”
Diddie scoffed. “About Joann Derby?”
“Maybe.” Lacey threw her hands up in exasperation. “About the whole picture. The entire town seems to be…off.”
“I’m sure we do seem that way to some big shot girl from the city,” Diddie countered, and Lacey caught the pain flickering in her face. “You wouldn’t understand our way of life.”
“It’s not that,” Lacey explained. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel there’s something you’re hiding.”
The woman chuckled, rolled her eyes, and turned on her heels. “Do all journalists have such a vivid imagination? There’s no need to lie about anything.”
“No?” Lacey called after Diddie, her hand grabbing the journal tucked under her shirt and opening it. “What about this, then?”
Diddie turned around and saw a pen in Lacey’s hand. “A pen?”
“Not just any pen. You lied about Brian not being here. I’m sure it belongs to him.” She walked closer to Diddie. “Why did you lie about him being here?”
Diddie remained quiet, her eyes glaring at Lacey for a long moment. “I didn’t lie.”
Lacey took a big inhale, knowing that just like Lieutenant Bennett, Diddie wouldn’t budge. No one in town would. They were protecting someone—but who?
She had come to Raven Hills to cover a simple story, in hopes of validating the town’s existence and proving her worth to her boss, Mister Pert.
Now, there seemed to be much more at stake.
“Fine,” she said, her eyes sending a deliberate message of determination. “But I will find out what happened to Brian. I’ll also figure out what it is you’re hiding.”
She passed Diddie, fuming but ready to get into warm clothes and figure out her next move. Her suspicion growing, she felt like she needed to visit the Klines’ old neighbors, and find out more about the Derbys and their relation to Libby. She also thought of the German words Libby had uttered when Lacey left her room. She repeated them in her head, hoping not to forget them, but still clueless on how to even spell any of them. She desperately needed to know what Libby had meant.
“Be careful, girl,” Diddie’s trembling voice called after her. Lacey stopped in her tracks, but didn’t turn around when the woman added, “In this town we don’t look for evil. It just finds us.”
The next morning, Lacey woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and hot croi
ssants. She’d had a fitful sleep, tossing and turning all night, and dreaming about Libby Kline. In her dream, Libby’s voice had continued to shout for her husband, Paul, and to yell a phrase in German. Then, in a raspy, hushed tone, she would wail one word over and over: Derby.
Before heading for breakfast, Lacey sat on her bed and looked at her cell phone. Her reception at Saddle Inn had been impossible to connect but every once in awhile she’d get lucky and get one bar. She stared down at her screen, hoping that she’d find a trace of one now. She did, and nearly leaped for joy.
Quickly, she dialed Mister Pert’s direct phone number, hoping the connection would hold. The phone rang for what seemed an eternity, until a deep male voice answered.
“Pert here.”
“Mister Pert!’ Lacey jumped to her feet as she shouted into the phone.
“Lacey?”
“Yes, it’s me. I have some questions.”
She heard his chair squeak on the other side of the phone, as he probably leaned back into it. “How’s it going in Raven Hills?”
“Well…it’s interesting,” she replied, unsure how to explain the bizarre environment there.
“Good, good,” he muttered. “I expect a great story.”
“Sure, but I’m starting to get worried about Brian. Are you absolutely sure he came here before me?” She didn’t have to hear his confirmation, the pen she’d found a sure sign he’d been there. But still, she needed to hear from Mister Pert directly and get to the bottom of his disappearance.
Mister Pert coughed. “Yes, he did. Brian was covering the story there. I told you he was there two weeks ago, informed about some earth shattering info he’d found about the town, but then never returned.”
Lacey chewed on the information. What information had Brian found that couldn’t be sent electronically? And why would he disappear out of nowhere, especially if he had covered a story so juicy it could’ve catapulted his career forward?
Raven Hills- Unraveling Evil Page 6
