The Lost Orphans Omnibus: A Riveting Mystery

by J. S. Donovan

  He took Rachel’s hand and helped her rise. She brushed herself off. “I was talking to Martha.”

  “It sounded like you were talking to yourself,” Peak replied.

  Rachel turned back to Martha. The woman had vanished.

  Apparently so.

  Peak led her out of the room. “Did she see anything?”

  “More of the same,” Rachel replied, feeling crushing disappointment. She quickly replicated Martha’s sketch so Peak could see it. When she finished, Rachel flipped through the notepad, showing four similar jack-o’-lantern masks Rachel had copied from the other victims.

  3

  The Wailing Woman

  With the crime scene nearly under wraps, Rachel and Peak headed out the front door. Stars speckled the sky. Down the mountainside, the faint glow of downtown Highlands shined through the dense forest that overtook the entire mountaintop. A few more homes cast their glow from hills and mountains in the distance. Rachel wondered if any of them had a view of Martha’s place. It would be something she’d look into tomorrow. As she hiked toward the car, she felt the Sense tug at her, warning her of danger or a nearby Orphan. The gust rushed her, brushing her black hair across her pale cheeks.

  An eddy of wind picked up a five-foot-tall tornado of leaves at the center of the driveway. As the dry autumn leaves fell away, Rachel saw a short figure in jean overalls and wearing a jack-o’-lantern mask that covered his entire head. He stared at Rachel with black triangular eyes before vanishing as the leaves fell away.

  With his coal-black eyes, Peak studied Rachel as if solving a puzzle. “You saw something.”

  Rachel glanced at the descending street ahead and the surrounding squad cars. No signs of the figure.

  As a forensic person walked by, Rachel grabbed his arm. “Check inside. Make sure there’s no other body.”

  The man gave her an odd look. “I’d think we would know if there was a second victim.”

  “Do it anyway,” Rachel barked.

  With slumped shoulders, the man shuffled back inside. Rachel rubbed her forehead.

  “Another Orphan?” Peak asked.

  “I don’t know,” Rachel said. “But something about this case isn’t sitting right with me.”

  “You and me both,” Peak replied. “I’m going to get some rest.”

  “Go ahead,” Rachel said. “I’ll stay here until everything is finished inside.”

  Peak gave her a curt nod and ventured to his vehicle. Rachel toured through the home once again. Martha’s body had been extracted along with her plate and wineglass. The rest of the table was still set for Mallory. The black light picked up no sign of blood from the little girl but obviously found an abundance of evidence of her throughout the house. None of it would help. They needed something of the killer’s. After another hour of testing the floor for loose boards and walls for hidden caches, the remaining workers were not happy and had a hopeless mindset of finding a second body or any condemning evidence. They mumbled goodbye to Rachel and went on their way. Rachel hiked around the property, looking at the tall trees with fire-like leaves and the sandbox in the backyard.

  Rachel chewed the inside of her cheek as she wandered back to her car. The Sense allowed her to feel the orphaned spirits of the dead, that is those who were murdered and their killer never brought to justice. The Vision allowed her to talk to the Orphans. They could interact with her and the environment however they saw fit. Nonetheless, only Rachel felt and saw the effects of their actions. It was a dangerous thing to encounter a violent Orphan, since they could hurt Rachel and no one would know.

  The last aspect of the Gift was the Reality. It was the ability to see how the Orphan died from their perspective. In most cases, the Orphans would give her enough information through the vision that Rachel wouldn’t need to resort to the most dangerous aspect of her power. With the Reality, Rachel not only felt their death, she lived it, and if she couldn’t escape their body in time, she would die as well. Even if she did survive, which she had thus far, a part of the Orphan lingered with her. She found herself liking what the victim liked and hating what they hated. No matter how many years passed, that feeling stayed with her. Perhaps forever. She had used it on a few individuals, Highlands’s last mayor being one of them. Suffice to say, she was a lot more in tune with local politics than she would have liked to be.

  Having no luck finding the Orphan boy, Rachel set off for her home.

  “Maybe it was an adverse effect of the season,” Rachel told Peak in the office the next morning.

  “You see ghosts and ghouls on Halloween?” Peak asked with his normal dry sense of humor.

  Rachel tapped her foot under her desk. “More Orphans come out this time of year. My mother’s journal made mention of it, but I don’t know the exact reason.”

  Peak changed the subject. “Gates brought the body back to the morgue. He started on the toxicology test.”

  “Great. We’ll see the report in four to six weeks,” Rachel said sarcastically.

  Peak rolled his chair back from his desk and moved to Rachel’s. The Highlands PD bullpen was somewhat busy today. It was a large room with a number of desks. To the upper right was the briefing room, to the left were the interrogation rooms, and in the back of the room was Lieutenant McConnell’s office. Peak handed Rachel two files.

  “He returned the reports for Anastasia Sebring, who died in February, and Carolina Thurston from March.”

  Rachel sifted through the autopsy reports. “Atropa belladonna.”

  Peak leaned back in his rolling chair and locked his fingers behind his head. “Deadly nightshade, the devil’s cherries, and beautiful death are all different names for the poison. You know women used to squeeze the juices into their eyes to dilate their pupils. It supposedly made them more attractive.”

  “Thanks for the fun fact,” Rachel replied and continued reading.

  In Gates’s report, he mentioned that the deadly nightshade, both roots and berries, appeared to have been blended into a thin but intensely powerful liquid that was poured into the wine. There were traces of cyanide and a few other toxins that were added into the deadly formula.

  It made sense that the killer had to make his own poison, because despite its name, deadly nightshade was known more for its hallucinogenic properties, or so said Rachel’s friend Sequoyah, a Cherokee herb dealer who knew about the Gift though never stated how. Nine months ago, after Anastasia’s death, Rachel paid him a visit.

  “What makes belladonna so dangerous is that it’s attractive. Its tasty-looking fruit allures children,” Sequoyah told her then, a mug of homegrown tea in hand. They walked through the massive herb garden behind his little house, and he pointed to a plant with a stiff, fuzzy stem, faint purple leaves, and little black-and-green berries. “There’s the poison that your friend uses. Some say a single berry can kill. Others say forty. I’ve never tried it myself, because they say that anyone who does must be ready to face the Devil.”

  Rachel remembered kneeling down next to the eighteen-inch-tall plant and watching a ladybug walk over one of the spade-shaped leaves. “How is he able to kill within seconds then?”

  “The man or woman you’re dealing with has practiced and perfected a formula.” Sequoyah stared at her with his intense brown eyes. White hair tumbled down his broad shoulders. “Watch out, Rachel Harroway. Be mindful of what you eat and drink around strangers.”

  Rachel had not seen him since she picked up her latch batch of roots and dried leaves that she used to make her special smoothie. Not seeing anything else stand out in Gates’s report, Rachel closed up the file and handed it back to Peak. Without a word, she headed for the police briefing room. It consisted of two rows of collapsible tables, a whiteboard, a corkboard, an overhead projector, and a podium. Rachel flicked on the lights and let the door fall shut behind her. The room had all the charm of a high school science classroom.

  She approached the front and examined the crime scene photos tacked on the corkboard.
Anastasia’s wide frame had toppled off of her kitchen stool and was lying on the tile floor. Her dyed-red hair swooshed over her round face. Bile and blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. The spilled blood made a puddle that followed the cracks of the tile whenever it touched them. Her ten-year-old son, Ethan, was taken from his room. In his picture, he had a wide grin with a missing front tooth, an oval head, and short brown hair, and he wore glasses.

  Carolina, thirty-six, was found on the patio behind her house. She was hunched over with a broken wineglass at her feet. Her seven-year-old daughter, Ava, was abducted from the mini-playground in the backyard. Ava seemed short for her age and had a shy smile and a jumpy personality.

  Jasmine, thirty-four, died in her bed, reading a poetry book. Her eight-year-old daughter, Emily, was nabbed in her sleep. Like her mother, she had rich dark skin, curly hair, and joyful eyes.

  Cora, thirty-eight, died in June. She was in her bathrobe, painting expressionist art, when she took a sip of wine and toppled into the easel’s wet paint. Her six-year-old daughter, Hailey, was dragged out of her playroom, evident by the fingernail scratches on the floor. Like her mother, Hailey had blond hair with bangs cut straight across her forehead, and blue eyes.

  Now, there was Martha Stix, thirty-nine, dead at the dining room table. Being unable to get much information from their Orphans, Rachel wondered what sort of story the killer was trying to tell. He obviously showed the methodology of most serial killers, but what prompted him to start his spree this year? Was it born of tragedy or pent-up desire, or had he been killing before this?

  Back at her desk, Rachel took a crack at searching for any nationwide killing that matched the profile. Husband makes wife drink rat poison. Pass. Coworker poisons rival and kidnaps their child for ransom. Pass. Every listing she scrolled through had already been solved. Apparently, poisoners kept their sales receipts or ordered their deadly concoctions online. Rachel had already reached out to sellers of deadly nightshade. Not many people bought the devil’s cherries. Rachel and Peak had exhausted the list fairly early on in the investigation.

  Peak swiveled back in his chair. The way he sat, his slacks hovered inches above his shoes. “Martha doesn’t have much of a family.”

  Rachel got out of her chair and approached him. Hands in her jacket pockets, she leaned in to get a better look at the screen. “Mother and father both deceased. Cancer, both of them. Husband died in Afghanistan a few years back. No brothers and sisters.”

  “I’ve reached out to the husband’s side of the family. They’ve not returned my calls,” said Peak.

  “Close friends it is,” Rachel said. “Martha was a successful greeting card creator. We’ll see where that leads us.”

  “I imagine she gets out a lot with that career,” Peak commented sarcastically.

  Going onto Martha’s personal website, Rachel was able to find a list of greeting card distributors that she had sold to. Rachel and Peak split the list and each called different companies until they found someone who knew Martha personally: Lisa Buckley, a graphic designer.

  They scheduled a time to meet with Lisa at a restaurant and decided to kill a few hours before that by visiting Highlands Elementary. Teachers, students, and the principal were all on edge, seeing as how three of their students had gone missing in the last ten months. Carolina’s daughter, Ava, was homeschooled and was therefore unknown to the school.

  “It was like every other day,” Mallory’s teacher explained.

  “Mallory didn’t act suspicious or make any comment regarding being followed or watched?”

  “Oh heavens, no,” the teacher replied. “I wish I’d been more mindful, knowing what I know now.”

  After talking to the teacher and principal, Rachel was ready to head out when a little boy stopped her. He had big ears and a freckled face. When the detectives looked down at him, he nervously fidgeted with his hands.

  “What is it?” Peak asked.

  “Mallory told me she made a new friend a few days ago,” the child said, too intimidated to make eye contact.

  “Who?” Rachel asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you know what he or she looked like?” Rachel asked.

  The boy shook his head. “No.”

  “Girl or boy?” Rachel asked.

  “Boy, I think. I never saw him around her.” The child rubbed his hands together. “I have to go.”

  Rachel and Peak exchanged looks.

  “Was he your age?” Rachel asked.

  The boy shrugged. “Mallory talked about him once. That’s it. That’s all I know. I have to go back to class now.”

  “Thank you,” Rachel said sweetly.

  “It could be something,” Peak said as the boy ran through the school hallway.

  Rachel flipped through her notepad, trying to recall if any of the other abducted kids had made new “friends” before their disappearance. It appeared this was the only time this had happened. Unless I missed something. As much as Rachel wanted to shush the doubting voice in her mind, she needed to be aware of the possibility that she might have put up some unintentional blinders. If the simplest solution was the right one, as Peak said, then what was she overlooking?

  Peak broke her chain of thought. “We’ve got to go.”

  Rachel checked her watch. It was time to meet with Lisa.

  They met at the outside tables of an expensive breakfast-all-day restaurant. It was the type of place that practiced portion control, so Peak was not a fan of it. Lisa sat at one side of the circular table. She wore big, nearly circular sunglasses that gave her a bug-like appearance. She had a tiny chin and a skinny frame, and she wore fall colors and a double-breasted coat. She crossed one leg over the other and bounced her gaze between Peak and Rachel. The restaurant was fairly busy today, with mostly rich elderly people and their tiny dogs.

  “Martha,” Lisa said in between sips of her drink. “The poor thing. She lived a rough life. What will happen to her daughter that she’s, well, orphaned?”

  Peak slouched in his seat. “We’ll figure that out if we find her.”

  Lisa gawked. “That’s a gloomy way for a detective to talk.”

  “We’re being realistic,” Rachel said. “What can you tell us about Martha?”

  “Martha had a lot of issues, okay. I mean, she would complain for hours about her work and her relationships, about her joints, if Mallory’s getting a proper education. I swear, she barely let me talk.”

  “You don’t say,” Peak replied dryly.

  “I do say!” Lisa exclaimed with excitement. “She’d spill her secrets to me like I was the only person in the world. Lonely much? That’s what I wanted to say. And then…”

  Rachel and Peak got comfortable, listening to Lisa spill every one of Martha‘s secrets as though they were nothing. Part of Rachel wanted to tell her to have some respect for the dead, but the gossip could advance the case, so Rachel suffered through it.

  “I wanted to tell her about Brad, the man in my life, but no. She was too consumed with talking about her new mysterious lover.”

  Rachel leaned forward. “Tell me more about that.”

  “Brad?” Lisa asked.

  “Martha’s boyfriend,” Peak corrected.

  “Oh, well, from what I heard, they met on a nature trail one evening.”

  “Did she say where the trail was?”

  “Let me finish,” Lisa said defiantly. “But to answer your question, no, she did not say where exactly. I know the guy is something sexy. Or at least that’s what Martha said. He called her a ‘hot item’ when they first met. Can you believe that? Anyway, he also told Martha not to tell anyone about their relationship.”

  “That’s a red flag,” Peak said.

  “I know, right?” Lisa replied. “It’s kinda hot, but it’s also creepy, you know?”

  “Yep,” Peak replied emotionlessly.

  Lisa lowered her glasses to the tip of her nose. She had big, hungry eyes. “You two are an item, aren�
��t you?”

  Rachel and Peak exchanged looks and then chuckled.

  “Stay focused, Lisa,” Rachel replied. “Did Martha tell you this man’s name?”

  “No, she did not, and I tried really hard to get it out of her,” said Lisa. “Anyway, she told me he was European. French, Italian, one of those romantic hunks.”

  “How long had they been seeing each other?” Rachel asked.

  “I think a month or two,” Lisa replied.

  “That’s a long time not to tell anyone,” Rachel thought aloud.

  “Tell me about it. I was just happy Martha was confiding in me. If she didn’t, you two would be in the dark.”

  Peak smirked.

  “Is there anything else you can tell us about this man?” Rachel asked.

  “Martha said that he took her to his estate in the Nantahala Forest.”

  The national forest bled into Highlands. It stretched over eight hundred thirty square miles if Rachel remembered correctly. Even with a helicopter flyover, it wouldn’t be an easy find.

  “That’s all I know about him. I can tell you more about Martha, though,” Lisa said enthusiastically.

  Rachel checked the time. “Maybe later. Peak, give her your card. I’m fresh out,” Rachel lied.

  Peak glared at her and surrendered his business card to the busybody.

  Lisa moved her mouth as she read the card. She glanced up at Peak and smiled. “I can call anytime, right?”

  “I can’t guarantee I’ll pick up,” Peak replied.

  After they finished up with Lisa, they climbed into Peak’s squad car and started down the road. More Halloween decorations had been put outside since last night.

  “You think this mystery man could be our guy?” Rachel asked.

  “Too early to tell. There was no sign that any of the other victims were in a relationship, so this could be a dead end. Or it could be the lead we’ve been starving for for months.”

  Rachel returned to Hadley House. She opened up her cupboard and brought out her whiskey. Intoxication heightened the Gift, perhaps because it lessened her senses. She sat down at the bare dining room table with the eerie yellow glow of the ceiling light projecting down upon her. She usually stayed away from the bottle unless she was working on a case like this. It should hit her pretty quickly. And after two swigs, it did.