by James Hunt
Lindy nodded, continuing to study the house. She hugged herself as an uneasiness rippled through her thoughts.
Mike touched her shoulder. “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just…” Lindsy struggled to find the right words. “Everything you found contradicts heavily with everything that I haven’t been able to find.”
“No signals?” Mike asked, dropping his hand from her shoulder.
“I’ve only gotten two strong ones so far,” Lindsy said. “There’s a trunk in the attic. I think it belonged to Evelyn, but it’s locked.”
“With all of Mike’s carpentry equipment, I’m sure we could crack it open,” Mike said.
“Maybe,” Lindsy replied, and she told him about the baby clothes that she found in the attic as well, and now that she knew they had probably belonged to all of the children the midwife had killed, it triggered more pain. “For a ghost to do what this Evelyn Carter has done… She must be very strong.”
“We’ve come up against strong before,” Mike said.
“Not like this.” Lindsy’s thoughts traveled to one of their cases from a few years back. The ghost had been living in a farmhouse for over thirty years, terrorizing everyone who lived there, and poisoning the very ground it haunted, preventing crops from growing.
Lindsy and Mike eventually found the token tying the ghost to this realm. It was an old bracelet gifted to the man by the uncle who raised him. But the ghost was too strong for Lindsy to keep still long enough to attach the bracelet to it, and so she had to revert to another trick.
Ghosts always sought to strengthen their foothold in the physical realm, and they gained strength by harassing the living. It was the reason why Evelyn Carter continued to abduct children even after she was dead, and Lindsy would use that to her advantage.
Because of Lindsy’s powers, ghosts were sometimes attracted to the possibility of using Lindsy’s abilities to their advantage, and in turn, she would allow them to try and take over her body in a kind of possession. It was like setting a trap, and she was the bait. And while she had never actually lost control of her own mind, she knew she had never come across a ghost as powerful as this Evelyn Carter.
Lindsy chewed the inside of her cheek. “What are the chances that Angela is still alive?”
Between the two of them, Lindsy had always considered herself the pessimist, and while Mike was hopeful, he was still pragmatic, and she needed to hear his thoughts.
“I want her to be alive,” Mike said. “And if Angela was abducted by Evelyn Carter, everything we know about ghosts tells us they can’t kill the living.” Mike took a breath. “But based on the history of this place, and the sheer length of time the girl has been missing...” He shrugged, leaving the thought unfinished.
Lindsy nodded. Delivering such tragic news to Carla, who was so steadfast in the belief that she would have her daughter returned to her alive, would be difficult.
“Why don’t I go with Daniel and try and crack open that trunk,” Mike said. “You take a break from the house and head into the library in town.”
Lindsy frowned. “Are you sure?” It wasn’t like him just to give up so easily when it came to research. “I mean, we can both go.”
“I know, but I feel like time is short here for this one,” Mike said. “Don’t ask me why, I don’t think I would be able to tell you. But, I think the sooner we could get out of here, the better.”
Lindsy knew Mike was probably worried about her going through another relapse based on the fact that they were dealing with a case that involved not just children, but newborns. “I’ll be fine.”
Mike kissed her. “I know you will. All the same, it’ll make me feel better to get out of here.”
Lindsy understood. As hard as their past had been on her, it was just as hard on Mike.
“All right,” Lindsy said. “I’ll be back soon.”
The pair kissed, and then Mike headed for the house while Lindsy started up the RV. She didn’t envy him having to coax Daniel into helping him, but Mike was more of a diplomat than she was. She had spent her entire life trying to convince people she wasn’t crazy and that she wasn’t a crook. After so many years of trying to do that, she eventually just got tired of it and moved on. If people didn’t want to believe what she could do, then so be it.
Lindsy navigated the dirt road away from the house carefully, their old RV bouncing up and down, the wheel shaking in her hands as she struggled to keep it steady. It still made her nervous after all of these years to drive the RV, but it didn’t bother her as much as it used to.
Once back on the paved road, the ride smoothed out, and it was a short trip into Roster. She eyed the centennial sign at the same cross street, wondering if anyone would attend. She found it hard to imagine this old, broken, rusted town celebrating the kind of history they’ve had over the years. It felt more like a publicity stunt.
Lindsy found the local library, and she parked on Main Street, the RV taking up two spots. Since there were so many empty spaces, she didn’t think it would cause too much trouble.
The library was rundown like the rest of the buildings on the street, the paint faded on the aged wooden boards, but she noticed that while the windows were old, they were clean. And when she opened the door and the little bell chimed her entrance, she was surprised to see a neat and tidy interior.
The smell of old books filled the air, and it reminded Lindsy of their old house in Maine. Mike loved to read, and they had amassed a very sizeable library at their home. It was hard for him to give that up when they decided to sell the house, but with everything digitized these days, he still had access to the information.
“Can I help you?”
Lindsy turned to find an older woman behind the checkout counter. She had a perm of gray hair and dressed in a purple cardigan with big, flashy jewelry around her neck and wrists. She was short and skinny, with too many wrinkles to count.
“Yes, do you have any copies of old newspapers?” Lindsy asked.
“We do,” the woman answered, nodding proudly. “Back to 1921 when the town finally opened its first newspaper. It was called the Turney Gazette.”
“I’ll need everything from 1931 through this past year,” Lindsy said.
The woman’s smile faded, and she arched her eyebrows in confusion. “That’s quite the range. Is there anything in particular that you’re looking for?”
“The midwife murders,” Lindsy answered.
The librarian’s expression slackened, and the old woman suddenly looked ancient. “I don’t think that’s something you want to dig up, ma’am.”
Lindsy couldn’t help but notice the slightest hint of a threat in the old woman’s voice. “I do.”
The old woman chewed the inside of her lip and then shrugged. “Very well. It’ll take me a minute to pull out the boxes. You can wait for me by the microfilm examiner in the back of the building.” She pointed between two bookcases. “I’ll be with you shortly.”
“Thank you.” Lindsy watched as the old woman disappeared into the back room, and then she headed to the microfilm desk.
There was only one desk and a single microscope, and it looked as old as the town, but it was clean and tidy just like the rest of the library, and she figured it would work since the senior librarian hadn’t said otherwise.
A few minutes later, the old woman returned with a single shoebox. It was dusty on top, and a dust cloud plumed when she plopped it down on the desk in front of Lindsy.
“That’s everything,” the old librarian said. “Everything on the midwife murders.”
“You’ve already categorized it?” Lindsy asked.
The old woman laughed. “Sweetheart, you’re not the first person to come to this town looking for a story to publish.”
Lindsy shook her head, removing the shoebox lid. “I’m not a writer.”
“Well, whatever your reason, no good will come of it,” the librarian said. “That stupid legend has been around f
or as long as I can remember.”
“So you don’t believe it’s true?” Lindsy asked.
The old librarian arched her eyebrow and then rolled her eyes. “The only thing that I believe is that people allow themselves to get too caught up in the fantasy and hype. Do I think that woman killed those children all of those years ago? Yes, I do. Do I believe her ghost has haunted this place since? No, I don’t. The dead can’t hurt us. Only the living can do that.”
Sifting through the microfilm was a slow process, mainly because Lindsy wasn’t used to the microfilm machine, but once she got the hang of it, she was able to move through the articles reasonably quickly.
Through the writing of the journalists, Lindsy was given a glimpse into the kind of hysteria that had gripped the town during the time of the infant abductions. People were losing their minds, bordering up their homes, accusing friends and neighbors of the heinous crimes.
As Lindsy continued to read, she noticed a correlation between the disappearance of the children and the economic downturn of the town. When no justice was found for the missing children, people began to move away, crippling the local economy. And so for almost thirty years, between 1948 and 1977, Roster was a ghost town.
But that changed in the early eighties when a manufacturing company that dealt with paper products wanted to set up a mill in the area. They had scouted Roster because it still had a decent infrastructure for a mill town, and the land around the site was dirt cheap because of the ‘curse of the midwife.’
The new families who moved to the town for work dismissed the old rumors, convinced they were nothing more than old wives' tales. But it didn’t take long for Roster’s famous midwife to strike again.
Between 1981 and 1983, twenty newborns went missing, and the headlines made it to the national media scene. Less than four months later, the mill shut down its operations and moved to Denver.
According to authorities, it was believed that the person responsible for those newborn abductions in the early eighties was a serial kidnapper and killer, who remains at large to this day. After that, Roster continued its slow decay to what Lindsy saw today.
But what Lindsy realized as she studied the midwife’s timeline was that Evelyn Carter hadn’t claimed a victim in over thirty years; until Angela Maples.
Lindsy knew that spirits like the midwife continued their wanderings here on earth to wreak havoc on the living. And with the amount of time that had passed since the midwife was able to abduct a child, Lindsy had the inkling suspicion that the woman was starving for a new infant.
Finished, Lindsy put all of the microfilms back in the box and then walked to the front of the library, where she found the old woman behind the counter. She placed the box down and then pushed it away. “Thanks for the help.”
“Find what you were looking for?” The librarian asked.
“Not really,” Lindsy answered, and then she caught a look at the banner hanging outside on the street corner. “What’s going on with the celebration this weekend?”
The librarian frowned and then looked at the banner. She scoffed. “Our mayor’s attempts to try and bring some economic activity to this place. But it ain’t going to work.”
“I imagine it’s been hard living here because of the lack of jobs,” Lindsy said.
The librarian tilted her head from side to side. “You could say that. But people here are resilient. I guess we have to be considering the circumstances. ‘Course, right now, everyone has their eggs in the resort basket.”
Lindsy frowned. “Resort?”
“Yeah, some big developer has been in talks with our local officials to buy the land around the town and revamp it into a resort destination,” the librarian said. “We have good mountains for skiing. Not that I’ve ever gone. It’s the mayor’s last chance at a Hail Mary before the town becomes unincorporated. The celebration this weekend is supposed to be the red carpet treatment for when the executives of the resort come into town to make their final decision.”
Lindsy stared back out at the banner and filed that piece of information away for later. “Right. Well, I appreciate the help.”
“Mm-hmm,” the librarian said. “You have yourself a good day.”
The bell chimed when Lindsy stepped outside, and she stopped on the sidewalk, glancing up and down the street.
The only word that kept coming to mind to describe the place was desolate. It seemed to encapsulate the essence of Roster. If the mayor was trying to impress the developers, Lindsy thought he might need something a little more convincing than just a banner.
Lindsy’s phone rang, and she checked her pocket. It was from Mike. “Hey, I just finished up here—”
“You need to come back to the house,” Mike said, his voice hurried, and there was some kind of screaming in the background, making it difficult to hear.
Lindsy jogged to the RV, fishing the keys out of her pocket. “What happened?”
Mike said something, but another scream drowned him out.
“What?” Lindsy asked, climbing back into the RV.
“Just hurry!”
6
Lindsy pushed the little RV to its limit on the dirt road back to the house. And though she nearly tipped over, twice, she returned in one piece, and she saw the black Mercedes parked out front, Daniel Maples speaking with two men in suits, and Mike standing off to the side, hands on his hips.
Mike intercepted Lindsy before she could walk over to Daniel and the other two men.
“You’ve missed a lot of action,” Mike said.
“What’s going on?” Lindsy asked. “Who are they?”
Mike sighed. “That is Mayor Wayne Penn and his assistant, James.”
Lindsy frowned. “Why the hell is the mayor here?”
“They’re trying to get the deed to the property,” Mike answered.
Lindsy frowned at first, not understanding why the deed to the place would be necessary until she remembered the conversation she had with the librarian about the mayor trying to get the developers to buy the land around the town. The Maples property must have been a part of the land deal.
“Have they said anything to you?” Lindsy asked.
“Not much,” Mike answered. “I’ve only been able to overhear small details. You find anything?”
Lindsy caught him up to speed on what she had found. The history of the abductions, the economic struggles, and the news about the mayor’s real estate plans.
“Explains why he’s here,” Mike said.
Lindsy noted how the mayor and Daniel looked to be getting a little too cozy with one another. “Any luck opening the trunk?”
“No,” Mike answered. “We were about to when Carla had an episode, and then the mayor showed up.”
“Carla had an episode?” Lindsy asked. “What happened.”
Mike shrugged. “I don’t know. She came back from the woods and then locked herself in a room in the house.”
The mayor and Daniel shook hands, leaving amicably, and the mayor and his assistant both stared at Lindsy and Mike as they returned to the Mercedes, but as the mayor opened the door, he shut it and then walked to Lindsy and Mike.
“What the hell does this guy want?” Mike muttered under his breath.
The mayor was a paunchy looking man with nice hair and white teeth. But everything else about him sagged, as if the man had never gone through puberty, his skin remaining lumpy and smooth like a child.
“You must be the… investigators Mrs. Maples hired,” the mayor said, arching an eyebrow as he looked Lindsy and Mike over.
“We’re here to help,” Lindsy said, knowing that it would be useless to try and convince the mayor of their work.
“You want to help them?” the mayor asked. “Tell them to sign over their land before it’s too late.”
“Too late for them, or too late for you?” Lindsy asked.
The mayor grimaced. “There’s nothing left for them here.”
“Their daughter is still missing,” L
indsy said. “I’d say that’s plenty enough reason to stay.”
The mayor stepped closer, a feeble attempt at intimidation. The man hadn’t much practice. “If you have any decency, you’ll leave these people to grieve and not give them false hope.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Mike said.
The mayor said nothing else, and then stormed away.
Lindsy and Mike watched the Mercedes drive down the dirt road, and Mike stepped closer to Lindsy, his voice quiet even though they were well out of earshot from Daniel. “Do you think it’s possible the mayor—”
“And you always get on me about traveling down crazy roads,” Lindsy said.
“I’m just saying,” Mike said. “If this thing about the resort is true, and if the Maples aren’t looking to sell their property…” Mike stopped, allowing Lindsy to fill in the blanks.
“Yeah, well, we’ll add it to our list of things to investigate.” Lindsy walked toward the house, and Mike fell into step with her.
Lindsy found Daniel outside the bedroom door where Carla had locked herself inside, head down with his hands on his hips.
“Has she said anything?” Lindsy asked.
“No.” Daniel knocked on the door, exasperated. “Carla, can you please open the door?”
Lindsy watched Daniel with a skeptical eye. She might have been reading too much into his interaction with the mayor, but she couldn’t help but feel that it was all connected.
“Carla, please,” Daniel said.
“Just leave us alone!” Carla shouted, her voice muffled through the closed door.
Lindsy frowned. “Did she say us?” She walked toward the door, Daniel stepping aside as Lindsy knocked. “Carla? It’s Lindsy.”
“I’m busy,” Carla answered.
“I know, but I wanted to know if you found something in the woods,” Lindsy answered.
Another stretch of silence followed, broken by a baby’s cry from inside, and she froze.
“Carla!” Daniel aggressively stepped forward. “Open this door right now.” His voice was loud but more concerned than angry.
