by Raven Snow
“Oh,” said Rose.
“Yeah,” said Rowen. “Oh.”
Chapter Eleven
Rowen mentioned her suspicions to Ben. He wasn’t dismissive, but he did seem as lost as she felt.
“Go home,” he told her. “I’ll give you a call if I find anything out. I appreciate the input.”
Of course, neither of them headed home. Rose went to the office. After the day they had just had, there was plenty to write up. Rowen should have done the same, but she didn’t. She took a drive instead.
It was a drive she had taken only once before. She had been with her family then. They had all come. Since then, only her aunts had made the journey. They did so often and without complaint. Rowen honestly didn’t see how. It had taken so much out of her the first time she had gone that she could never find the motivation to go a second time. That probably made her a pretty terrible granddaughter.
Lainswich Correctional was just on the town limits. It sat in the middle of nowhere, nestled in thick woods. It was a small building. It didn’t need to be large. Lainswich didn’t really warrant a prison. Some surrounding counties used them, but it was mostly where harmless criminals went to be forgotten.
Rowen parked her car in the parking lot and headed in. To her surprise, the staff didn’t even ask any questions.
“Ms. Greensmith?” asked the woman at the front desk. “We were expecting you about thirty minutes ago. She motioned Rowen on into the visitor’s area. We’ll get your grandmother.”
Rowen was led into an empty area with snack machines and tables. She sat herself down at a table in the corner and waited. Was visitation always this easy? Something told her it wasn’t. Suddenly, Rowen found herself wondering whether she had come here completely of her own volition or if she had been drawn here.
Grammy showed up a few minutes later. A guard led her in. She was wearing an orange jumpsuit that was very unflattering. Orange just wasn’t her color. Still, it was easy to ignore all of that. Swallowing back a sob, Rowen stood and embraced her grandmother.
Grammy squeezed her tightly. “It’s so good to see you, honey,” she said, planting a kiss on the top of her head.
“You too,” Rowen said, squeezing her back. “I’m sorry I don’t visit more often.”
“Oh, hush,” said Grammy, letting her go to sit down at the table. “I understand, and I don’t blame you. This isn’t the happiest place to visit family.”
Rowen took a seat across from her grandmother. “They seemed to know I was coming,” she said, raising an eyebrow pointedly.
Grammy couldn’t seem to help but smile. “I might have had something to do with that,” she admitted.
“Did you also have something to do with me coming here?” asked Rowen.
Grammy’s smile didn’t falter. “Perhaps,” she said. “Does it really matter? You’re here now.”
So she was. “I need some advice,” she said, getting right to the point. “Things have gotten sort of strange… and difficult.”
“That’s all of life, isn’t it?” Grammy asked with a laugh. “Go on. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Where should she even start? Rowen began with the murders. She explained what had happened with Terry and then with Roland Davies at his trailer. She explained her own suspicions.
Grammy listened to all of this intently. She nodded on occasion, asking questions where she needed to. “And where is Eric in all of this?” she asked when Rowen had finished.
Rowen sighed. She had planned on leaving that part out, but it must have been extremely obvious that it was weighing on her mind. “We sort of had a fight. It was only a matter of time, I guess. Us Greensmith women have terrible luck with men, after all.”
Grammy smiled. “I think a fight is just a matter of time for anyone. Don’t write off your relationship just because of one fight.”
“What’s the point, though?” Rowen asked, suddenly feeling terribly pessimistic about everything. She had put on a good front about just believing the Greensmith women’s luck with men was a coincidence or by-product of their insular, family centric attitudes but it had most definitely been nagging at her. “Aren’t we just doomed to fail anyway?”
That earned Rowen a raised eyebrow from Grammy. “I’m surprised to hear that from you,” she said. “You’ve always been the levelheaded one.”
“You think our luck with men is coincidence?” asked Rowen.
Grammy shrugged. “With that attitude, it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy either way.”
Rowen folded her hands in front of herself and looked down at them, growing thoughtful. It was nice to hear that from someone else. She wasn’t sure if she believed it or if it was too little too late, but it was nice to hear either way.
“Our family aside, this sort of thing happens in any relationship,” Grammy assured her. “The two of you have been together for a little while now. That’s means the honeymoon phase is ending. Now you’re starting to see what each other are really like. You’re bullheaded, and he’s… well, that’s for you to gather for yourself, I suppose.”
“I’m not sure I can change,” said Rowen, still looking down at her hands.
“Then don’t,” said Grammy. “If you like who you are, stay that way. I think you’re just wonderful. A bit stubborn, but wonderful.”
Rowen looked up and smiled at her grandmother. “Thanks,” she said.
“That’s not to say you shouldn’t find some sort of compromise,” said Grammy. “Or know when to call it quits if the two of you just aren’t compatible.”
Rowen snorted. “That’s a lot of talk for a woman who was with what? Like dozens of men?”
Grammy laughed. “That just gives me more experience, I say.”
Rowen couldn’t disagree there. Grammy had more life experience than anyone she knew. That was why she was here.
“I was with your grandfather for a long time, you know?” Grammy said, leaning back in her chair. She sighed heavily, reminiscing. “People focus too much on how things end. I was with your grandfather until he died. We had some very good years together.”
Rowen nodded. That was a fair point. “I guess… I guess I’ll talk to him.”
“I’d recommend it,” said Grammy. “We’re not all that unlucky in love, you know. Your Aunt Nadine was with her husband until his death. Your Aunt Lydia never showed much of an interest in settling down. Your mother is the only one who picked spectacularly bad boyfriends. Your father was a real piece of work. No offense, dear. You’re nothing like him.”
That got Rowen’s attention. “You knew my father?” Tiffany had never so much as given her his name. That anyone was aware of who the man was was certainly news to Rowen.
Grammy had a look on her face that suggested she hadn’t meant to let that slip. Maybe she was getting careless in her old age and incarceration. “That’s a tale for another day, I think. Rest assured, as bad as he was, he was still heaps better than that last guy your mother dated.”
“The naturalist?” Rowen asked, thinking back to the fellow her mother had lived off the grid with for so long. “Why?”
Grammy just shook her head, like she didn’t know where to start. “Jealous streak a mile long, that one. He wouldn’t even let her talk on the phone to me. He was real big on all that going back to basics malarkey. When I came to stay here, well - it took some real work to bring her back. He still didn’t want her to come but, fortunately, Tiffany came to her senses.”
As annoyed as she was with her mother, Rowen wasn’t fond of the idea of her being mistreated. “Did he do anything when she came here?”
“I wouldn’t know,” said Grammy, sounding bitter about that fact. “All we can do is make sure she doesn’t go back to him.”
“I’m not my mother’s keeper,” muttered Rowen.
“No,” Grammy agreed. “But it might be worth it to mention to her that you would rather her stay away from people like that.”
Rowen agreed with her on that, and talk went to other matt
ers. They chatted until a guard came to retrieve Grammy. The visit had been all too short and Rowen was loathe to stop hugging her grandmother goodbye. When she walked out of the correctional facility, it was with a lighter heart.
Murders aside, her most urgent priority was to check in on Eric. She called him, but there was no answer. Rowen was starting to get worried. Needing to get out and clear his head was one thing. This was veering into passive aggressive behavior, which Eric wasn’t. At least, she thought he wasn’t. Maybe, she really didn’t know him after all.
Rowen decided to go to Roland Davies’ trailer instead. He had asked for clothes, and sooner seemed better than later. She got in the car and headed that way.
There were some messages on her phone, and she listened to those as she drove. The newest paper was out without a hitch. It was a wonder, honestly. Rose was fantastic at pulling her weight as well as everyone else’s. Margo was basically useless, but she could follow instruction. Willow and Peony were helpful, but Willow was afraid of the office right now and, apparently, Peony was preoccupied with Tina. It seemed that Tina had put two and two together and realized she wasn’t actually having a story written about her. That had to happen eventually, Rowen supposed. She wished it could have waited until after this whole mess was over, but what could she do?
The second message said the blog was getting quite a bit of traffic. Tina, meanwhile, was still making a fuss. Didn’t the girl have work at the library? Apparently, tantrums were more important.
Rowen was glad to hear that the Lainswich Inquirer was doing well. On better days, it was her passion. Right now, though? Right now she just wanted a killer off the streets. It was, largely, for selfish reasons, too. She wanted to be able to sort things out with Eric again. Mystery solving, while enjoyable, was a pretty big distraction.
The trailer lot was how she remembered it. There were cars parked in dusty lawns. Some people were out on their porches drinking iced drinks here and there. No one paid Rowen much mind as she pulled up to Roland’s place.
The trailer in question was still roped off with police tape, but Rowen knew for a fact that the police were done with it. They hadn’t found much. It was now just an empty home waiting for its owner to get out of the hospital.
Rowen parked her car out front and climbed the steps. She hadn’t gotten the key from Roland. Lainswich wasn’t really the sort of place where people locked their doors at night. It felt like the police had locked the door behind them when they left, but it wasn’t a very sturdy lock.
With a nudge from Rowen, the door popped open without her even needing to turn the handle. She hadn’t gotten a very good look at this place the first time she had rushed in. Now she saw it was a dim, sad little home. It had the feel of a bachelor pad. There wasn’t much furniture, and the furniture that was there looked like it had been found on the side of the road.
There were signs leaned up against a corner. Rowen recognized some of them as ones he had held outside of their building. She sighed and resisted the urge to take them out to her car. Maybe after this he would decide to stop harassing the Greensmiths on his own.
Rowen headed to the bedroom. That was pretty sparse, too. She headed for the closet and scooped out a few shirts and pairs of pants. They were all pretty much the same. Roland didn’t have any fashion sense beyond plaid and blue jeans. An armful seemed like plenty, and she headed to her car with it in tow.
That was when Rowen saw something from the corner of her eye. It was outside. Movement? Rowen put the clothes down on the kitchen table and headed for the window. Sure enough, there was someone walking into the woods behind the trailer. Rowen would have just assumed it was one of the other people who lived here except the person moving deeper into the woods was carrying something. Rowen squinted. It looked like grocery bags.
Why in the world was someone taking grocery bags into the woods? Rowen’s first thought was the killer, of course. Why would he still be out in these woods, though? The police had already searched them thoroughly.
Rowen looked from the woods to the front door then back again. She really shouldn’t follow anyone again. Eric would hate that. Even so she couldn’t resist. Rowen dialed Rose on her way out the back door.
Rose picked up almost immediately. “Hey,” she said, sounding tired.
Rowen could heard some arguing being done in the background. It sounded like Tina. Rowen wasted no time. “I can’t really talk, but I’m at Roland Davies’ trailer getting clothes for him. I saw someone in the woods, and I’m going to go check it out. If you don’t hear from me in ten minutes or so, call Ben, all right?”
Rose started to say something, but Rowen hung up. There was not time to talk. If she got any closer and she was still on the phone, there was a good chance he would be able to hear her.
Rowen couldn’t see much of the man she was following anymore. There was a blur of color off ahead that had to be him, though. He was heading deeper into the woods. Deeper and deeper. He led the way through thick underbrush and across a shallow stream. Occasionally, Rowen heard the crinkle of grocery bags and knew she was on the right trail.
Often, Rowen ran her fingers over the cell phone in her hand. She wanted very much to go ahead and call Ben. This was making her very nervous. The man she had glimpsed didn’t quite look like the one she had chased the day before, but there was always the chance that she was way off base with this one too. What if this guy just lived on the other side of the woods? He could be heading home from visiting a friend, carrying grocery bags to lug leftovers or something.
Rowen couldn’t shake the feeling that she was about to stumble upon something important, though. Maybe this guy she was following now was an accomplice. She made a point to keep her distance.
Eventually, the man stopped near a big clump of underbrush. He changed the bags over to one arm, ducked down, and parted the shrubbery and brambles. There was an outcropping of rock behind of all that. A cave?
Rowen heard the muffled murmur of voices. She went a little closer. She had no intentions of getting too close to the entrance. She did, however, move around behind it trying to step as quietly as possible. She moved slowly and low and finally laid down just behind the thickest part of the underbrush. No one would be able to see her here - not unless they knew where to look.
The voices came through a little clearer. “I can’t do this anymore,” said a voice. Rowen recognized that voice. It sounded like… Edward? From the diner? The voice spoke again, “This has to be the last time.”
It was definitely Edward. Rowen felt certain of that and, frankly, a bit excited. She had known there was something going on with that man. It was nice to finally have confirmation of that. It didn’t sound like he was alone either. That didn’t surprise Rowen in the least. Edward didn’t strike her as the murdering type. Clearly, someone else was doing all of the dirty work.
“The last time will be when I’m done here,” said another voice. This one was soft-spoken. The cadence of the man’s words sounded intelligent, world-weary almost. It sounded like this was a conversation that the two had had before. “Or when you decide to quit,” the mystery voice added. You can quit any time you like.”
Edward didn’t really respond to that. He snorted, though, like the idea of quitting was a joke. Rowen imagined that meant the killer had something he was holding over him.
“Did anyone follow you this time?” asked the soft-spoken man.
Rowen’s heart beat a little faster in her chest at that question, but Edward only answered in the negative. “Of course not,” he said.
“Never be that careless again,” warned the soft-spoken man.
“I know,” said Edward.
“If you get us caught, we’re both in trouble,” the man said. “Trouble” seemed like an understatement.
“I know,” Edward said again, sounding slightly more exasperated this time. “Where are they?” he asked.
Rowen’s ears perked at that. Did that mean there were more murder victims
than the ones they already knew about? Had some poor souls followed Edward into the woods before Rowen? It sounded like it. Suddenly, Rowen wanted very much to make a run for it and call Ben. She needed to… But first she wanted to know who it was that had wandered in after Edward and gotten themselves caught.
“They’re out of the way,” said the soft-spoken man, not sounding comfortable telling Edward too many details. That was probably a good idea on his part. Edward seemed like the sort who might just run to the police. Rowen certainly wished that he had already. It was far too late for him to play innocent now.
“Are they…” Edward trailed off, sounding reluctant to say what a killer was most likely to have done to them. “You know,” he amended.
“Not yet,” said the man. I-”
Rowen’s phone started to ring. She looked down at in horror, stabbing at the screen with her finger in a desperate attempt to silence it. Rose’s name was there on the screen. She was likely calling to check in on Rowen before calling Ben. It had definitely been ten minutes by now. Why hadn’t Rowen thought to silence her phone?!
