Murder by Misadventure

by B. T. Lord

  She hid herself behind a large boulder and peeked out. She took in the ghastly scene with one look.

  Emmy was sitting on the ground, surrounded by a wide circle of flames. Her hands were behind her; Cammie could only assume they were tied. She was soaking wet, as though she’d been drenched with water. Scanning the ground, she caught her breath when she saw a gas can lying on its side.

  Dear God, was it possible Emmy had been doused with the gasoline used to start the flames?

  “Please don’t do this!” Emmy keened in abject terror at the woman standing on the other side of the flames. “You don’t need to do this!”

  Cammie could only see the back of the woman who stood before Emmy. She was dressed in jeans and a white ski jacket. Her blonde hair snaked down her back in a thick braid and on the top of her head was what looked like a multi colored hat.

  Her heart skidded to a stop when she realized how wrong she’d been. How she’d allowed a suspicion to be overpowered by a false trail so brilliantly laid out, it had completely blinded her.

  She grimly watched as Lydia held a lighted faggot in her hand and pointed it to the sky. Swaying back and forth, the young woman began to chant.

  “I beseech the God of the Sky, the Mother of the Mountain. I offer to you a blood sacrifice to bind me to thee and to all thy power and wisdom. I am your humble servant who will prove her worth to you tonight.”

  The sheriff grew frantic. She’d seen what Lydia was capable of. She had no doubt she would use the faggot to torch Emmy.

  She had to stop her.

  Cammie withdrew her revolver and carefully aimed, fighting to keep her aim steady against the buffeting winds. She’d just started to pull back on the trigger when a movement across the small clearing caught her attention. To her shock, Rick stepped out of the darkness.

  “Freeze!” he yelled as he pointed his revolver at Lydia.

  The woman regarded Rick for a long moment. Then she began to laugh wildly, as though she were dancing on the edge of madness.

  “You of all people should know the God of the Sky and the Mother of the Mountain will never be thwarted. Not by you and certainly not by the sheriff who is aiming her gun at my back even as we speak.” Without turning around, she shouted, “Yes, Sheriff Farnsworth. I know you’re there. I’ve been smelling the stink of your fear since you began climbing this mountain.”

  “Then you know you don’t stand a chance,” Rick replied as he approached the flames, his gun aimed at her. “The entire mountain is surrounded. You’ll never get away. Put down the faggot and move away from the fire. NOW!”

  Cammie came out from her hiding spot and slowly approached Lydia from behind, her revolver pointing at the woman’s back.

  “Do what he says,” she ordered. “We’ll shoot you if we have to.”

  Nobody moved. The only sounds were the winds and Emmy’s piteous sobs.

  With two guns pointed at her, Cammie prayed Lydia wouldn’t do something stupid. She didn’t want to kill, but she would if she had to. She slowly let out her breath when she saw Lydia slowly bend at the knees, lowering the faggot to the ground.

  Thank God for that.

  Suddenly, in a move that took both officers by surprise, Lydia dove to the ground, throwing the faggot right at Emmy.

  Both Cammie and Rick yelled “No!”

  Emmy screamed in horror, then crumpled motionless to the ground.

  Rick launched himself at the faggot, his arms outstretched.

  Cammie took her focus off Emmy and Rick long enough to see Lydia bolt towards the forest. Firing her pistol at the fleeing woman, she heard a cry, but Lydia kept going, quickly disappearing into the surrounding blackness.

  Unwilling to let her get away, Cammie glanced back long enough to see Rick holding the faggot in his hand. She rushed past them and plunged into the woods, following the sounds of Lydia crashing through the bushes. She did her best to keep up, but she slipped in the snow several times. Just as she thought she could see Lydia just ahead of her, she took a misstep and slid off the path for several yards, painfully crashing into a tree truck.

  “Damn it!” she seethed as a shot of pain shot through her bad shoulder and up her thigh.

  She struggled to get to her feet, but the pain slowed her down. Knowing she’d never catch up with Lydia, she whipped out her radio and called down to the deputies.

  “Tom, contact the other men and tell them Lydia Costas is on her way down the south side of the mountain. I want her apprehended, no ifs, ands or buts. Got that?”

  “Got that, Sheriff.”

  “I also want you to call Mark Nelsson. We’re going to need him to airlift Emmy off the mountain. Call Doc and tell him to prepare for her arrival.”

  “Is she okay?”

  Cammie hesitated. “I don’t know yet.”

  Slowly pulling herself up to her feet in the deep snow, she limped her way back to the clearing. When she arrived, she saw half the circle of fire extinguished under piles of snow. Rick was sitting in the center, cradling Emmy’s head on his lap. Cammie was momentarily taken aback by the tenderness in which he ran his hand over the unconscious woman’s cheeks and forehead.

  Maybe there was hope for him after all.

  She shook off the pain in her shoulder and leg as she stopped just short of the circle. The acrid scent of gasoline from Emmy’s clothing filled her nostrils.

  “How the hell did you manage to make such a fantastic catch?” she asked, inwardly shivering at the thought of what would have happened if Rick had missed.

  Rick shrugged, never taking his eyes off Emmy. “I played football in high school. Guess I still have it.”

  “I’ll say. How is she?”

  “I’ve checked her over as best I could. There are some cuts and tears in her jacket and pants, some bruising on her face and a good sized lump on the back of her head. I think the idea of becoming a roasted marshmallow was too much for her and she fainted.”

  He turned his attention back to Emmy and Cammie felt as though she were somehow intruding on an intimate scene. She moved over to where the fire was still burning to keep warm while waiting for Mark to arrive.

  It was then that she realized Jace hadn’t shown up. She took out her radio and tried to hail him several times, but there was no answer. Her heart started to pound at the thought of something happening to him. Her fear turned to terror when she realized he was heading up the same trail Lydia had disappeared down. Good Lord, had Lydia done something to him? Had he had some kind of accident? Shit, he’d taken the steepest trail. He hated heights! Why in heaven’s name hadn’t she realized that?

  Panic mounted as her mind raced through several scenarios, each ending with a fervent plea that he be okay.

  She had to find him. Ignoring the throbbing pain in her shoulder and leg, she started towards the path she’d just climbed up. Just as she was about to start her descent, she heard the unmistakable sounds of footsteps crunching in the snow moving towards her.

  “Who’s there?” she called out, withdrawing her pistol and immediately squatting down. “Identify yourself,” she commanded.

  “Hold on, don’t shoot.” A moment later, two figures walked into the clearing. Cammie gasped aloud.

  It was Jace. He had his weapon drawn and he was walking behind Lydia. She had her head down, the brim of her hat obscuring her features. She was holding onto her upper arm where blood saturated the white material of her parka. Cammie holstered her weapon and hurried to them. She stopped short when they walked into the light of the remaining flames and she caught her first clear glimpse of him. His clothing was torn in places, his face was scratched and bleeding and he was walking with a limp that matched hers.

  “What the –” Cammie started. “Did she do this to you?”

  “I took an unexpected detour off one of the trails. Thank God a tree broke my fall, or I’d be bobbing along the stream right about now. By the time I got back to the path, I heard someone cursing up a storm. Apparently, our friend her
e had fallen and hit her arm where you shot her. She was all turned around and didn’t seem to know right from left. I thought I’d help her out.”

  Cammie wanted to sob in relief. Instead, she reached out and gave his arm an affectionate squeeze. “It was the only thing you could do under the circumstances.”

  She stepped up to Lydia and read her her rights. When she was done, she felt compelled to ask, “Why did you do it? I thought Beth and Emmy were your friends.”

  “They are my friends,” came the mumbled reply.

  Cammie was about to ask something else, but her words trailed off when the young woman slowly lifted her head. It wasn’t only the grotesque grin on her face that caused Cammie to take a step back.

  It was the fact that she wasn’t speaking to Lydia.

  She was speaking to Beth.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  It had been a long night. After checking Beth’s wound and seeing it wasn’t serious, Cammie had Mark airlift Emmy and, at her insistence, Jace directly to Doc’s house for medical treatment. Mark had then flown back for Cammie, Rick and Beth. On the ride down to where the vehicles were, Beth remained silent, although her wide, eerily happy grin unnerved the two officers.

  Once she was in the Explorer, the floodgates opened. She began to talk and seemed unable to stop. Quite by accident, Rick called her Beth. She immediately set him right.

  “Beth is dead. My name is Lydia Costas.”

  Cammie and Rick exchanged glances. It wasn’t an act, they understood that much. The woman in the back of the Explorer firmly believed she was Lydia. They remained silent as Beth/Lydia continued her rambling. By the time she was secured in her cell, she was still babbling. After getting most of their questions answered, Rick volunteered to stay and keep an eye on her.

  Cammie was now sitting in Doc’s kitchen, her hands wrapped around a warm cup of cocoa. The pain in her shoulder and leg were easing as the effects of a painkiller Doc had given her began to take effect. Jace, who’d gotten the same painkiller, was seated next to her while Emmy was upstairs, resting in one of the guest bedrooms. She’d regained consciousness in the helicopter and despite her protests that she was fine, Doc insisted on keeping her under observation for the night. Her mother was now sitting by the bedside, making sure Emmy stayed put until morning.

  As usual Doc was standing behind the counter, sipping a cup of coffee.

  “So it was Beth all along?” he asked.

  Cammie nodded. “Emmy told me Lydia was always so protective of Beth. She thought it was because Beth was shy.”

  “And not because she was a bit unbalanced?” Doc finished.

  “Lydia never said anything to anyone. She always felt the need to protect her friend, even when she knew Beth was spiraling out of control. Emmy mentioned how Lydia complained about misplacing hats and other articles of clothing. Then she abruptly stopped. Emmy thought it was because Torri had given her a spell to heal her forgetfulness.”

  “Instead, Lydia must have discovered Beth was responsible,” Jace replied.

  “Exactly,” Cammie concurred. “Forensics found several articles of Lydia’s clothing and jewelry in a box hidden in Beth’s storage bin. A psychiatrist will be able to confirm it, but my guess is that somewhere along the line, Beth began to resent her friend. Lydia was friendly and outgoing and confident. She was everything Beth wasn’t. The only way she could become that type of person was to actually become Lydia. We surmise Cheryle Mahoney witnessed Beth’s final break with reality when she found her hysterically sobbing in the supply closet the day before she killed Lydia.”

  “It makes sense in a way. She had to get rid of the original Lydia in order to step into her skin, so to speak,” Doc replied. Cammie nodded. “You have to give her credit for disposing of her friend’s body in such an ingenious way. However, didn’t she realize that once the DNA analysis was done on what was left of the corpse, it would show it was Lydia and not Beth?”

  “She planned to be long gone by the time the results came in. In fact, she’d gone back to Lydia’s apartment to pack up a suitcase of her dead friend’s clothing before taking off. Unfortunately, she found Emmy there and you know the rest.”

  “What about Marcy and Todd?” Jace asked.

  “She’d heard Clarisse talking about trying the salvia while living in Danvers. She looked it up on the internet and was intrigued that it could help a person rid themselves of deep seated fears by revealing those fears to them. However, as you pointed out Doc, without proper supervision, you ran the risk of going crazy. By that time, she and Lydia had taken Torri’s Book of Shadows that contained the recipe to make the salvia timor tea.”

  “So Lydia was involved in that?”

  “She readily admitted they were both curious, especially after witnessing Torri using the book to make some of her healing teas. They might have remained just curious young women if Marcy hadn’t ripped her apart one night, apparently for the simple act of accidentally spilling her tea on the carpet. Already terribly insecure, Beth was not about to let Marcy get away with humiliating her. The old woman became her first guinea pig. She snuck in through a cellar window and put the salvia in Marcy’s tea tin. She was then able to sneak back in through the same window and remove the mug before Rick and I returned to search Marcy’s house.”

  “But where did Beth get the salvia timor?”

  “Clarisse hooked her up with a supplier in Danvers.”

  “Okay,” Jace replied, “that explains Marcy. But why Todd?”

  “Seeing what she’d done to Marcy gave her a sense of power she’d never felt before. Remember, up until this time, it was Lydia who held the power in their relationship. Now things were changing. She’d had her first taste of authority and supremacy and she wasn’t about to let it go. Knowing how paranoid Todd was, she began to play on his fears by anonymously leaving items in his cabin that made it seem as though he was being cursed by the ghosts of the witches of Crow Mountain.”

  “So that explains all the books on his shelf and his need to arm himself. He wasn’t a doomsday prepper. He was protecting himself from what he believed were unseen forces,” Doc said.

  “Yes. Beth might have grown tired of her antics. Unfortunately, she found out about Todd’s obsession with his ancestor Reverend Parris, as well as the fact that Torri and Clarisse’s ancestor was a victim of the Salem witch trials. She had no way of knowing that Todd had tried to make up for what happened 300 years ago by giving Torri and Clarisse $50,000. Instead, in her convoluted way of thinking, she believed she was enacting revenge on behalf of the Jackson sisters by giving Todd the salvia.”

  “But how did she give it to him?” Doc asked.

  “Everyone knew he was an alcoholic. She filled some beer bottles with the salvia, then waited until he came into town for supplies. While he was gone, she left the tainted bottles mixed in with the regular bottles of beer. It was only a matter of time before he drank the salvia. By that time, she’d figured out a way to mask the dried socks smell. The only thing Todd would have noticed was a minty sweetness to his beer.”

  Jace whistled. “Man, that’s sick.”

  “She also confessed to leaving the tea on Emmy’s desk when she knew we were all out. It seems Emmy had called her, asking questions about Torri and Clarisse and the deaths of Marcy and Todd. Beth felt she needed to shut her up. She hoped the salvia would do the job. Of course, she never dreamed I’d end up drinking the stuff instead.”

  Doc shook his head to himself. “I think this will forever cure Emmy of any fascination with witches and things that go bump in the night.”

  “It’s like anything else, Doc,” Cammie replied. “There’s nothing wrong with witchcraft or wiccan or any other pagan-type religion. It just comes down to how it’s interpreted. And we all know how people misinterpreting to suit their needs has caused countless issues throughout history.”

  “Did you ever find out what happened to Clarisse?”

  “Torri was right. Never the nurturing type, she
took off for Bangor. A fellow officer picked her up on the APB. Just before we arrived here, he called and was able to provide confirmation that she’d left before Lydia went missing.”

  “What I don’t understand,” Jace spoke up, “is why drag Emmy all the way up Crow Mountain? If she was going to kill her, why not do it in Lydia’s house? It would have been a lot easier.”

  “Beth believed herself to be some kind of high priestess. She’d always been interested in the metaphysical, and was practicing spell work long before she ever met Torri. According to Paul, she’d learned a thing or two over the years. In order to prove her worth to the powers that be, she had to perform, in her own mind, a blood sacrifice on top of the one mountain that’s known to be host to all kinds of rituals. Emmy just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She gave a little shudder. “If it hadn’t been Emmy, it would have been someone else. Possibly even Clarisse. She admitted to leaving the mug full of salvia timor in Lydia’s apartment and implying to Emmy that Clarisse also made teas in an effort to frame her.”

  “Did you find out what the wrong was that the real Lydia intended to right?”

  “Rick asked her that. Lydia accidentally found the salvia in Beth’s kitchen cabinet. She went over to confront her before coming to see us. Unfortunately, she made one huge mistake that cost her life. She turned her back to someone she thought was her best friend.”

  Cammie finished her cocoa and stood up, taking a long stretch. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m pooped. It’s been a very long couple of months.”

  “My truck is still out at Crow Mountain,” Jace replied. “We can either get it now or I can have Hank come pick me up.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Jace raised a perplexed eyebrow at her. “What do you mean?” he asked.