Lacey smiled, relieved that at last she had an ally in Raven Hills. “Then we start with this,” she said, and picked up the crocheted shawl in both hands.
“An old shawl?” he asked.
“Like I said, it connects Julie Collins to Joann Derby and Jane Dearing. I just know it. I have to find out what this shawl means.” She paused and thought for a long moment. “But I need to find Brian first. He may be in serious trouble.”
William rubbed the back of his neck while sending another look into the rearview mirror. Maybe, just like Lacey, he too hoped the panther wouldn’t reappear.
“How do we find out more info?” William prompted, his steel gray eyes finding Lacey grinning.
“Where you go to find most things,” she replied slyly. “The library.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Hanging out with you is becoming a criminal activity,” William sighed as Lacey used his old credit card to pick the lock of the library. Luckily, like the rest of town, the library was an old building, and the lock didn’t resist much.
“If you ask me, libraries should be open to the public twenty-four seven,” Lacey replied, and once inside, she slowly navigated in the darkness. “Learning can happen at any time of the day.”
“Speaking of which, what are we looking to learn exactly? ” William inched around the shadows, his hand scraping the wall. “Ah, here’s the light switch.”
“No!” Lacey yelped. “We don’t want anyone seeing that someone is here. They might alert the police.” The last thing she needed was for a nosy neighbor to call Deputy Morris about night lurkers.
She turned on her phone screen, which was luckily barely coming alive after being shattered in the forest. The screen wasn’t really legible anymore, but the backlight functioned most of the time. The glow wasn’t bright, but it gave them a sense of direction.
“Well, we’re not looking for a book, I’ll tell you that,” Lacey added, nearly colliding against a corner table set up in the far right of the lobby.
William chuckled at Lacey’s attempt to light their way with a cell phone. He pulled out a small flashlight from his back pocket, thanking his lucky stars he had found Lacey in the woods during his hike, and that he still carried the trinket. Turning it on, a much brighter light shone in the library, although it was limited to their immediate surroundings.
“If you’re not here for a book, what then?” William asked.
“The records room, of course. I want to cull evidence.”
“Another breaking and entering?” William let out a groan. “Before this is over, I’ll be locked up in jail.”
“Or dead,” Lacey countered matter of factly.
“Jeez, depressing much?”
Lacey shrugged. “Well, that’s where we’re heading if we don’t figure out what’s going on—and soon.” She thought of Brian and knew time was running out. The possibility of him being dead grated on her nerves, slicing each one of them with little razors. She simply couldn’t accept that as Brian’s fate; just like she couldn’t accept that something—or someone—hadn’t been after her on the Davidsons’ property. The way the bobcat had looked at her, its piercing glare promising to slice her into pieces, was hard to ignore. Then, of course, Ginny was there, warning her or pointing at something. The Collins’ shed and the clues she had found in it were peculiar enough, but right now her priority was finding Brian, and quickly.
As she walked past the lobby, the flashlight shone on the glass case housing the Haas book, the oldest artifact in Raven Hills. She was tempted to inspect it, but she needed to hurry and get into the record room. After stumbling in the dark for a few more minutes, they finally reached Deputy Morris’s record room, which as they expected, was locked.
“You destroyed my old credit card,” William mentioned, “so how are we getting in, Sherlock Holmes?”
Lacey took the flashlight out of his hand and brought it close to the door knob. “It’s a pin lock.” She straightened and shone the light on William’s face, earning a stern eye roll and a light swat.
“Wait, Morris mentioned Rose, didn’t he?”
“The librarian?” William wondered.
“Where does she sit?”
“Uhm, I think her desk is by the children’s section,” he recalled.
“Show me,” Lacey instructed. “Oh, and how is her hair?”
“Her hair?!” His tone grew exasperated. “I don’t know, I don’t check out the librarian!”
“You should,” she reprimanded. “Physical clues come in handy.”
Reaching Rose’s desk, she inspected the objects sitting on top of it. Dissatisfied, she opened a drawer. “You never know when someone’s mundane item will become your best friend.” Her hand pawed the contents in the drawer until the flashlight revealed the one object she needed. “Like this bobby pin, for example.”
Satisfied, she passed William and rushed over to the records room. “It’s a pin lock, which means all we need,” and she handed the flashlight back to William, “is something bendy and pokey like this.”
She bent the bobby pin and placed it inside the lock’s barrel. It took her a few long minutes to get a feel of the picks, but with the right pressure and angle, the lock gave in and granted her access.
“I’m impressed,” William marvelled.
“Alright, let’s see what Raven Hills is truly hiding, shall we?” she said, and she noticed the nervous wave rushing through her. It seemed the more she learned about the town, and the more clues she discovered, the more sinister things became.
William followed her dutifully through the small room, making sure the flashlight shone wherever she checked. The first place she headed to was the file cabinets. They were unlocked, luckily, as her patience for picking locks was about to run out. The tall file cabinets in a row were all labeled differently. She headed to the third file cabinet and dutifully found the letter D. Lacey decided she needed more information on the Davidson property. The forest and the abandoned mine both resided on this vast area. Finding Brian’s notes tucked in the muddy ground confirmed that he’d been there and had possibly run into some trouble. Lacey wanted to find out more about its history, since from what she remembered from the previous cases, that location had been a strange one.
The first memory that came to mind was Lieutenant Bennett, back then still ranking as deputy, finding Joann Derby there, wrapped in the shawl Lacey believed had been crocheted by Jane Dearing. This information alone wasn’t groundbreaking. The elderly woman might have crocheted many of these items and gifted them to the residents of Raven Hills. Except Joann had been found in the Davidsons’ woods, her origins unknown. How had the little girl acquired a shawl by old Mrs. Dearing before ever coming to live there? Something about that rubbed Lacey the wrong way, so before searching for more clues about the Davidson family, she fingered the files until she found a record on Jane Dearing.
She took out the chunky folder, nearly spilling out the contents. Placing it on the little desk Deputy Morris used in the room, she combed through the notes. Dozens of old photographs depicted Virginia Kyle, her murdered body found that fateful Halloween night. Bile rose in Lacey’s throat, sadness and horror at the sight. Her heart ached for the little girl. She flipped through more forms and reports and came across a list of items found in Jane Dearing’s home the night of Virginia’s murder and Jane’s disappearance. The scribbled ink faded on the yellowed pages, and she motioned for William to shine the flashlight on the paper.
“Clothing items, keepsake dolls, old photo albums,” Lacey began reading the list. “Dozens of crochet hooks, patterns, an old sewing machine, a family heirloom book…”
“Seems typical for an older lady,” William chimed in.
Lacey nodded, lost in thought. “Can you go grab the town’s photo album? The one I checked out the last time we were here?”
“Sure, be right back.” He rummaged through his pockets again. “Here, take this.” He handed her a mini flashlight that seemed to be
long on a keychain.
“How many of these do you keep?” she marveled, taking it in her hand.
“You have to be ready for everything when you hike,” he answered. “Just as you need bobby pins to engage in scandalous, criminal activity, I need flashlights to navigate wooded areas.” He winked and left the record room to fetch the album.
Lacey went back to the file cabinet, her eyes squinting as the little flashlight provided much less light than the other one. She fingered through the files and pulled out a large, clear bag labeled Davidson. A few paper files accompanied the packaged evidence, and Lacey brought everything onto the table.
Placing the flashlight between her teeth, she combed through everything. Her gaze fell on a plastic wrap with a tag securely clipped onto it. She leaned closer to it, letting the light shine over the typed words:
Date: June 18, 2019
Case Number: 3396-1
Collector’s Name: Lieutenant Bennett
Case Type: Missing Person
She opened the bag, finding a dirty and cracked cell phone inside, together with a story that chilled her to the bone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
CASE #7 - THE VANISHING MAN
Six Months Ago
Paul Martinez had begun his land surveying business, Pinpoint Surveyance, at the age of twenty-five, after getting his BA. He worked for a few years with another company, but quickly realized he wanted to be his own boss. By all reports, Paul was an ambitious man and it didn’t take him long to put together a business plan and apply for a loan. Just a few months after the loan application was approved, Paul’s business idea became a reality.
It was slow to take off, but ten years later Pinpoint Surveyance was thriving. Paul himself rarely left the office anymore, letting his employees take on the actual land surveying while he focused on managerial tasks. The project for the Davidsons, however, he didn’t want to leave to just anyone. Paul was not from Raven Hills but a larger town nearby called Durham, but everyone knew of the Davidsons and the extensive amount of property they owned. They were considering selling to some developers interested in Raven Hills and needed their property surveyed quickly and accurately. Paul insisted he would do the job himself, most likely hoping that a good review from the Davidsons would bring him even more business.
That’s how he found himself in the middle of the forest on a wet and foggy Tuesday morning. It wasn’t raining, exactly, just humid with occasional sprinkling of drops from the sky. He had forgotten to apply bug spray before leaving the truck, a rookie mistake, and he was itching his arms and swatting away gnats—bemoaning his own stupidity as he attempted to FaceTime the office, but instead began to video himself. He didn’t realize this had happened, and unable to fathom why his call would not connect, he placed his phone in the breast pocket of his shirt. This effectively blinded the camera, except for some shadowed shapes as he continued to walk around and set up his equipment.
The sound of the fabric rubbing against the phone was dominant as the video continued, but Paul could be heard as he went about his business, occasionally cursing as he tripped over something in the fog. The video became most interesting when it reached six minutes and twenty-eight seconds. Paul stopped what he was doing, and spoke.
“Hello? Who’s out here?” There was no reply, and after a moment he continued, “Hey—you shouldn’t—”
He was cut off by what could have been a woman’s voice, muffled and just barely audible.
“Sie können mit den anderen sein!”
The camera shook and loud breathing could be heard as there was some sort of struggle between Paul and the hidden person, then a loud crack and a thud. Paul must have fallen to the ground, and the phone slipped out, enough that the camera became clear of the obstructing pocket and now showed the somber gray sky and tall trees that populated the dense woods of the property. With the sound of crunching leaves and twigs, the view began to move. For several minutes the trees and clouds moved by, accompanied by the occasional strained grunt of whoever was dragging Paul Martinez.
The video stopped moving and tipped to the side, now showing the world upside down. The view, when corrected, showed a mossy swamp area, surrounded by trees. Then, a flash of ankles, moving fast with red splotches blotting the skin. They didn’t belong to Paul, but to whom?
The frame moved over to a small shack built on stilts, with a rickety staircase. The door was open, showing the pitch black interior. A rattling chain, croaking of frogs, and screeching birds permeated in the background of the squelching footsteps in the mud. Just before the camera began to move again, there was a movement by the shack, and briefly a man could be seen, a chain around his ankle keeping him from moving more into the frame of view. He was thin and his skin was red from the sun. His blonde hair was dirty and he winced as he looked toward the camera before scooting back out of view. Then the splashing of water came through the speakers. For a brief time the camera still functioned as it became immersed and floated away from its owner, swirling around and capturing his image as he sank into the shallows of the green water.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lacey nearly collided with the truck door swinging open, her nose buried in the case evidence she had taken from the records room.
William flicked an arm out in front of her as he opened the door for her, preventing her from smashing against it.
“Careful! Wait…are you bringing that with you?” he asked, his eyes homing on the evidence file in her hands.
“Yes,” she replied. “This is important. It proves someone hurt the construction worker…and that other man in there…it has to be Brian.” She tried to call to mind the few times she’d seen Brian at work before. Although he worked in a different department, there were the usual quick hellos at the water cooler, or a goodbye in the parking lot as they headed home for the day. Brian had blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Lacey had always been too angry and stressed about Mister Pert not giving her the time of the day to really notice Brian’s handsome features. But he was pretty athletic in frame, tall, and with an olive complexion. She realized that the man in Paul Martinez’s video file could very well be Brian.
Lacey’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest, her pulse racing as she had just uncovered more information about the Davidsons’ vast property.
“How can the case of Paul Martinez be closed?” she marveled, as William joined her in the truck and began speeding away from the library. “Was his body not found? They just gave up? What did Lieutenant Cliff Bennett tell everyone in town?” She rattled all of these questions, frustrated that everything in Raven Hills seem to hide more and more secrets.
“Paul Martinez? The land surveyor?” William asked, brows furrowing. He tried to follow Lacey’s rambling thoughts. “Nothing, really. He tripped and got hurt on the job and then he left, for what I remember. Or wait…I think people said he’d been attacked by a wild animal out there…”
“Are you kidding me?” Lacey shouted, her memory trailing back to the case evidence. “He was attacked, alright! His body was dragged through the woods but the muffled sounds in the background didn’t seem to belong to an animal.
“What about the swamp?”
“The swamp?”
“Yes, the swamp! Did they drag it? His body might be in there!” Lacey’s hands flew in the air, nearly dropping the bagged evidence on her lap. How could she be the only person sensible enough to know the case reeked with secrecy? “A murderer could be on the loose!” she shouted.
William rubbed a weary hand against his temple. “What exactly did you find in that evidence file?” He glanced down at his own lap, the town’s photo album joggling on his knees. He had grabbed it for her but when he’d returned to Morris’ records room, Lacey had rushed them both outside. Now Lacey grabbed it from his lap and opened it.
“I found Brian! I think…” she explained, her fingers flipping through the last pages of the album where she’d seen Jane Dearing’s photo. “And the glimpse of someone.�
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“Who?”
“I don’t know, but we need to find out.”
William expelled a sigh as he maneuvered around a curve. “How? And most importantly, will it require more breaking and entering?”
“Probably,” Lacey answered, finding Jane’s picture. She brought the album closer to her face and inspected the little shawl wrapped around Jane’s body. Then, she gazed at the shawl she’d found in the Collins’ shed. “It’s the same,” she declared. “It’s the same honeycomb stitch.”
“Honey what?” William asked, confused.
“My Nana taught me how to crochet. This is an old stitch pattern. Not used much anymore.” She pointed to the shawl now in her hands.
“Okay, thanks for the fascinating lesson on knitting, but what does that mean?” William arrived at the Saddle Inn and placed the truck in park.
“Crochet! Way different than knitting!” Lacey sounded truly appalled. “And it means Jane Dearing made the shawl she wore in the picture, and she also made the one little Joann was found in.” Lacey gazed at young Jane’s picture again. That smile...almost secretive and contemplative.
“Could be a coincidence,” William argued.
“Or a clue.” If there was anything that Lacey prided herself in, it was her intuition, and her gut feeling told her the same pattern had been crocheted by the same person.
Lacey placed a hand on the door handle, ready to leave and head inside Saddle Inn. The day’s events had layered her with extreme fatigue, and all she wanted to do was to soak in a hot bath and go to sleep. But she stopped before swinging the truck door open.
Leaning across her seat, she planted a kiss on William’s cheek. “Thank you for helping me.”
Raven Hills- Unraveling Evil Page 10
