“Not today,” Ellie replied.
“Oh,” Martha said, remembering something. “When I heard you were coming, I baked some brownies. I’m sure the drive made you hungry. I’m also making a pot roast for dinner. I think you’ll love it.”
“I can’t stay for long,” Ellie admitted.
“That’s too bad,” Martha replied with genuine sadness.
Paul entered the room. Though it was three in the afternoon, he was still wearing his pajamas and his hair was disheveled.
“What’s the rush?” Paul yawned.
“There are a few old friends of mine I’ve been wanting to see. It will probably be pretty late when we finish,” Ellie replied.
Her little brother wiped the sleep from his eyes. “Cool. What’s wrong with your face?”
Ellie groaned.
Howard gave Paul a sidelong glance and then returned to his train repair. “Paul’s been shopping around for apartments.”
“Great,” Ellie replied with a smile. “It only took twenty-seven years.”
“Laugh it up,” Paul replied.
Howard grumbled. “Ellie’s right. Somehow, she moved out at nineteen, and she has an art career.”
Paul smiled widely. “And for that, I’m very proud of my big sister. She is an inspiration to us all.”
“Your sarcasm doesn’t amuse me,” Ellie replied.
When Martha returned with the plate full of brownies, Paul was the first to grab one and, of course, it had to be the biggest. Little brothers, Ellie thought. Some things never change.
Ellie looked at the family photos on the wall. Her and her mother horseback riding, her father setting up the Lionel train track around the Christmas tree, and one of seven-year-old Ellie showing off her toothless grin while holding two-year-old Paul, who was as fat as butterball turkey. There were other photos, too: the family on a hiking trail, walking through Strasburg, and more fond memories.
Ellie took a bite from her brownie. The familiar savory chocolate launched her back to her childhood. Her mom had been using the same brownie mix for as long as Ellie could remember. After middle school, when Ellie would draw pictures all by herself, Martha always baked a fresh batch of Duncan Hines Double Fudge Mix.
Ellie took another bite. “There’s something I need to ask you guys about.”
The three Smiths looked at her. Paul slowly chewed his brownie, as if trying and failing to hide the fact that he was eating.
Mom looked at her with concerned blue eyes. “What is it, sweetie?”
I’m tracking a serial killer, Ellie was almost tempted to say. Though what she was planning on saying was still going to be awkward. “I was reading about the murders in Northampton. It really shook me up.”
Howard nodded. “It’s a scary world out there.”
“Yeah,” Ellie replied. “Wasn’t there a similar murder that happened around here last year? It involved a stabbing and a dead crow.”
Martha and Howard exchanged looks.
“I think so,” Martha said, doubting. “Why are you asking?”
Ellie shrugged. “I don’t know. These murders just have me a little on edge. Now that Troy and I are married, I guess I’m more alert of the danger and those who may want to harm my family.”
Her father smiled at her. “You’ll be fine, Ellie. Troy’s a good guy. He’ll take care of you, and if he doesn’t, I’ll take care of him.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Ellie replied. “Back to the murder, do you know anything about the guy who was stabbed? Wasn’t his name Kenny? Kenny Parkland?”
“Parkland…” her dad said thoughtfully. He turned to her mom. “Didn’t he go to church once or twice?”
“Oh. I believe so. His sweet wife brought him along.”
“What’s her name?” Ellie asked anxiously. She was thankful for the interconnectivity of small communities.
Paul grabbed another brownie. “Why do you care?”
Ellie ignored him and turned her attention to her parents.
“Mina,” Martha said. “Yes, she still comes to church over the holidays. I think we had her over to eat after her husband passed away. She was so torn up about it. It’s horrible, really.”
“It was nice of you to show hospitality to her,” Ellie said. “I’m sure she had to drive quite a way to get out here.”
“Not really,” Dad replied. “She lives on Bibb. So only twenty minutes away.”
Paul smiled stupidly. “Anyone else freaked out that Ellie’s asking about murders and widows?”
“I’m just curious,” Ellie said. “Truth is, I have a friend who was close to Kenny and wanted to pay the wife a visit. You know, to let her know she’s not alone.”
Paul raised a doubtful brow. “You drove all the way out here for that?”
“I help my friends,” Ellie replied with sass.
Paul put up his hands in a non-aggressive manner. “Well, excuse me.”
“Enough, you two,” Martha said, and Ellie felt like she was fourteen again. “Ellie, I don’t know Mina’s address, but I can tell you what her house looks like, if that helps.”
Ellie gave her a hug. “That would be wonderful, Mom. Thanks.”
With her next destination in mind, Ellie took another brownie and hit the road. Her parents waved to her from the front porch.
The ride to Mina’s house was quiet and anxious, much like the tedious drive to Lancaster. Ellie’s body ached from sitting for so long. She pulled over to the only gas station for miles, topped off her tank, and grabbed a candy bar. It seemed like the type of day she would be munching. She recalled Kimberly’s portrait, where she didn’t think about eating all day. Pamela’s portrait was the opposite; Ellie had gorged herself. Andrew’s painting was a fine balance, while Troy’s put her more on the side of hunger. She felt her belly as she drove. Her abs, though normally hidden behind skin, were visible and tight. She felt colder than normal and her stomach had shriveled to the size of a peanut. If she had time for a salad, she would take it. In the meanwhile, candy bars and junk food would fuel her.
Mina’s quaint home appeared in the distance. It was a single story blue house bordered by a white picket fence around the few acres of land. In the back was a small vegetable garden with tomatoes and peppers. A woman in her forties crouched over the plants and pulled out fistfuls of weed. She was dressed in sweats rolled up to the middle of her shins and a sleeveless gray Old Navy shirt with sweat stains beneath the armpits and neckline. Her brown hair was in a loose bun that was lopsided on the top of her head. She seemed to be distant in thought as she pulled the weeds mindlessly and tossed them into a mound of green stems.
Ellie got out of the car, unsure how to approach the woman. Her gut told her to be direct. Ellie trusted it. She swatted away a bug as she neared. “Mina?”
The woman didn’t reply. Her eyes were glossed over and staring hopelessly at the grass beyond the garden. With forceful yanks, she tore more roots from the ground.
Ellie repeated the woman’s name.
Mina turned her eyes to Ellie. Her face was tanned and wrinkled far beyond her age. When she saw Ellie, her expression changed from dread to guarded. “What do you want?”
“You’re Mina Parkland, right?”
“I am,” the woman said, using her dirty forearm to wipe sweat from her brow.
“I want to talk to you about your husband,” Ellie said.
A frown sank the woman’s leathery face. Ellie noticed a scar near the corner of her eye. “Why?”
“In this past week, two of my friends were killed in the same way as Kenny. I’m confident his murder wasn’t just a robbery gone wrong,” Ellie said boldly.
Mina studied her as if trying to crack a code. She stood up, brushing her dirty hands on her thighs. “You a cop?”
Ellie shook her head. “No. Just someone looking for answers. My name is Ellie.”
“It seems you already know me.” The women shook hands. Mina’s palms were dry, cracked, and chalky from the dirt. She gestured for
Ellie to follow her inside.
Sunlight streamed through the windows of the small kitchen. Ellie peered into the den, seeing the wealth of incomplete projects: little model homes without roofs, wooden bowls that hadn’t been fully carved, and unfinished Christmas ornaments made of balsa wood.
“Impressive,” Ellie remarked. “I’m an artist myself.”
Mina crinkled her brows in confusion. It took her a few seconds to realize that Ellie was referring to the crafts. “Those are Kenny’s.”
“I see…” Ellie replied, remembering the man had been dead for over a year.
Mina washed her hands and rubbed them on a small towel. She didn’t see the dirt smudge still on her creased forehead. She rested her bottom against the sink and crossed her arms. “What do you know about Kenny?”
“Not much,” Ellie admitted. “He was attacked in your backyard, and a dead crow was found by his body. It’s the bird that piqued my interest. I believe the killer uses that as his call sign.”
“The garden,” Mina said randomly. “That’s where he was stabbed. His body crushed the tomatoes and green peppers. Got blood on the onions. I had to replant everything.”
Ellie didn’t know how to reply to that.
Mina pulled out a half empty bottle of wine from the refrigerator and took a swig. She gestured for Ellie to have some. Ellie shook her head. Mina put the bottle back. “Your friends get bloody, too?”
“They were stabbed, yes,” Ellie replied. “Did Kenny act different before he attacked?”
Mina shook her head. “Kenny was Kenny all the way until the end. He never had a care in the world.”
“Was there anyone that would want to hurt him?”
“No. He was a good, upright man. Never did anything wrong.” It seemed like Mina was speaking more to herself than her guest. Ellie took note of the scar on Mina’s brow. She felt tension as she formulated her next questions.
“Did he ever hurt you, Mina?” Ellie asked.
The woman’s eyes locked onto Ellie like a bird of prey.
“Kenny would never,” she hissed.
“I’m sorry,” Ellie quickly apologized.
“You should be,” Mina replied.
An awkward silence hung between them.
Ellie broke it. “May I use your restroom?”
Mina gestured to the hallway branching out of the den. “Second door. Right side.”
Ellie thanked her. She passed by Kenny’s work desk covered with drafting paper. A craftsman. She wondered if that was the connection with Kimberly the potter, Pamela the curator, and Andrew the collector. Unfinished projects filled the shelves nearest the hallway. There were photos of Mina and Kenny from obviously happier days. Kenny was a husky man with a buzz cut, thick glasses, and square face. He had the physique of a football player and was dressed casually. He cradled Mina in his arms. She was laughing to nearly the point of crying. Kenny had a smug grin on his face. Ellie kept her eye out for any photos with kids. None were to be found. As Ellie neared the bathroom, she realized the bedroom door was slightly ajar.
Turning back to the den and not seeing Mina, Ellie peeked into the bedroom. There were stacks of old craftsman's magazines in the chair by the door and a closet full of Kenny’s clothes. The only thing that seemed to have been touched in the last twelve months was the bed with a tissue box nearby. Feeling her heart rate spike, Ellie slipped into the room. She opened the dresser drawer. Finding nothing but boxer shorts and socks, Ellie headed for the shuttered door closet. A number of men’s jackets hung on coat hangers. There was a shelf with plastic drawers. Within were tools and knick-knacks acquired over years of cross-country travel. Ellie pulled open a bottom drawer that had a number of Polaroid photographs. She flipped through them, seeing twenty-year-versions of Kenny and Mina on their wedding day, Kenny, six-years old, fishing dockside, teenage Kenny in a football jersey. Ellie kept flipping through, growing less confident in her search with every useless photograph. Then she saw it.
It was an undated Polaroid from Kenny’s late teenage years. It showed him dressed in jeans and a hoodie beside three other teenagers dressed in similar attire. One was a brunette with aviator sunglasses, the muscular body, hard face, and broad shoulders of a softball player. The second woman had blonde hair and a cocky smirk. She wore expensive sunglasses and stood with a stiff posture. The last male had a baseball cap to cover his dyed pink hair. He was skinny, with a blemish-free face and sharp cheekbones. He looked familiar to Ellie. They all did, but Ellie couldn’t quite put her finger on it. The four seventeen-to-twenty year olds stood in front of a massive oak tree with a crude vertical crack at the center of its trunk. It looked familiar.
Ellie pulled out her cellphone and opened Troy’s death portrait. Her eyes widened as she held the two images side-by-side. The crack down the trunk and the crude slash on Troy’s chest were identical.
The room spun around Ellie. That raging headache returned to the back of her eyes like a railroad spike had lobotomized her. Saliva filled her mouth. Her body trembled. It was like she had some sort of unholy connection to this place.
Mina cleared her throat.
Terrified, Ellie twisted back to the woman, with her phone in one hand and the Polaroid in the other.
Mina held a cellphone. “What are you doing?”
“I-I…” Ellie stammered.
“Speak up, or I’ll call the cops,” Mina’s eyes were wide and crazed.
Ellie lifted the Polaroid so Mina could get a clear look at it. With her other hand still clenching the photo, she pointed to the tree. “Where is this place?”
Mina snatched the photo from Ellie’s hand and studied it. “Kenny’s favorite picnic spot.” Eyes watering, she locked her gaze with Ellie. “We ate there once a year, always on the same day.”
“April 21?” Ellie asked meekly.
Mina gave her a look full of suspicion. “Yes. Always April 21.”
4
ETCHED
“Who are you, really?” Mina asked. “And what are you after?”
As much as Ellie wanted to play twenty questions, she felt the need to move. It was one of those rare moments where pieces were falling into place.
“Where is that place? The one with the tree,” she asked, completely disregarding Mina’s scrutiny.
Mina clenched the photo with force. The old Polaroid bent between her fingers and thumb. “I’m not saying anything. Not until you tell me what happened to my husband.”
“You know what happened,” Ellie replied. “Tell me about the people in this photo.”
Mina shook her head. “You know who killed my husband, don’t you? I knew it from the moment I saw those bandages.”
With all that was going on, Ellie nearly forgot how psychotic she must look with the neck wrap over her jugular vein and the medical patch covering the stitches under the eye. The wound was still tender and caused her cheek to swell up.
“I don’t know the man’s name,” Ellie confessed. “But I’ve seen him.” And he tried to kill me.
“Where is he?” Mina barked.
Ellie took a deep breath. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s one of Kenny’s old friends, or maybe he’s just some psycho. I won’t know until I get to that tree.”
“And they say I’m crazy,” Mina mumbled to herself. “What does any of this have to do with some old oak?”
“I don’t know,” Ellie replied. “But it does.” She was tired of trying to make sense to the woman.
Mina saw Ellie’s seriousness and frowned heavily.
“You want Kenny’s killer to be brought to justice?” Ellie asked, moving closer to the woman. “Don’t you?”
Mina stared her down. “More than anything in the world.”
Ellie’s fierceness turned into a plea. “Then help me.”
Mina turned her attention to the Polaroid. “Willoughby Drive. Look for it on the right. You won’t miss it. It’s the biggest tree around those parts.”
Ellie tapped her finger on the three s
trangers standing around Kenny. “Who are they?”
Mina shrugged. “I don’t know. Some of Kenny’s high school friends. He and I didn’t meet until we were in college. I never knew his old friends.”
Ellie didn’t do well to hide her disappointment. She put her phone back into her pocket. “May I?”
Hesitant, Mina surrendered the photograph. Ellie pocketed it. She would send it to Detective Peaches when she learned more. She fished out a business card and handed it to Mina. “Call me if you remember anything that might help us.”
Ellie squeezed past her and headed for the front door. Mina studied the business card acutely. She turned it over, looking at the bright painting on the back that made Ellie famous. The word “Painter” was printed over the image. A look of confusion flushed over Mina’s face. She went to ask Ellie about it, but she was already gone.
Ellie climbed into her rent-a-car and turned the key in the ignition. She started down the rural roads of Pennsylvania. She stayed mindful of the time. It was 5:30 pm. If exploring the tree only took thirty minutes or so, she would be able to get home before the twenty-four-hour mark of the creation of the mural. That would only matter if this mural followed similar rules to the last three. The key differences were the size and scope of Troy’s painting compared to the others. There was also an incomplete feeling to the mural she didn’t feel when she completed the canvas pieces. Perhaps Ellie had more time than she thought. Perhaps she had less. Either way, she wasn’t going to risk it.
Willoughby Drive was a straight two-lane street flanked by a few fields and some woods. Ellie kept her eyes to the right as she cruised. A horse and buggy trotted by. The Amish riders gave Ellie curt nods. She nodded, wondering if she should pull over and ask them about the old oak. She spent too much time deciding and missed her moment. Ellie watched the buggy vanish in her rearview. It was the second time she’d seen the Amish today. Perhaps whatever cosmic power responsible for her blackouts was trying to tell her something. Ellie reminded herself to keep her paranoia to a minimum.
Over the tops of the other trees, she saw the bloom of sprawling branches and green leaves. Ellie pulled over to the side of the street, parking two of her wheels in the ankle-high grass and others on the asphalt road. She exited the vehicle. The spring wind blew her at blonde hair and pulled at the bandage on her face. She looked both ways down the street. She was the only soul for miles. She locked the car and headed into the brush. There was no defined trail, but there was a natural path that provided the least amount of resistance. Ellie was able to avoid thorns and low-hanging branches. She swatted aside bugs and walked through an invisible spider web at one point.
Stolen Secrets: A Collection Of Riveting Mysteries Page 16
