by N. M. Howell
“What the hell?” I asked myself out loud.
I sighed, then dialed Sheriff Reese’s number. It went straight to voicemail. Great, his phone was off. Just absolutely perfect. I waited for the beep and then said sharply, “Call me. Now.” It was times like that that I really missed my old flip phone. It was so satisfying slamming it shut on someone.
I paced back and forth, trying to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do.
I picked up my phone again and texted the Mayor. I think there has been another murder. Call me.
I waited, hoping for a reply, but none came.
I felt defeated and collapsed down onto a kitchen chair.
Mrs. Brody and the girls arrived a few minutes later and joined me at the table.
“You okay?” Bailey asked, reaching over to squeeze my hand.
I nodded. “Yeah, I just really wish we could get to the bottom of this before anyone else gets hurt.”
“We don’t know for sure that those people were murdered yet,” Jane offered.
I looked up at her. “You’re right. If that’s the case, then we need to do everything we can to prevent it.” I moved to stand up, but Mrs. Brody put her hand on my shoulder and pushed me back down into my chair.
“We can’t do anything about it this instant,” she said calmly to me. “You don’t know who those people are, and you don’t know the identity of the killer. Going out there now is too dangerous.”
“She’s right,” Rory said. “We need to think this through.”
I sighed. They were right, of course. I would have to wait until morning, but at first light, I would be on my way to the mayor’s office to see what the hell was going on.
“Did any of you recognize the person with the hood?” I asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.
They all shook their heads.
“We don’t know for sure that’s the killer,” Rory offered.
“By Jessica’s response, I think it’s a fair bet that it was,” I said. “And if not, we can fairly confidently say that whoever it was at least has something to do with this. Whether that person was a suspect or a victim, they wouldn’t have shown up in the flames otherwise.”
I glanced around the room and suddenly realized that Jessica was missing.
“Damn, where did Jessica go?”
No one else had noticed her leave, and we all got up to look for her.
“She’s gone,” Mrs. Brody said. “Poor thing. Probably scared witless.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “How do you spook a ghost?”
“More importantly,” I added. “How do you find one?”
“We did it once, we can do it again,” Bailey comforted me. “Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”
“I don’t blame her for being scared. Those two people spooked me, too,” Rory said, lifting her knees up so she would wrap her arms around her legs in the chair.
“Yeah, what was that on their mouths?” Jane asked.
“They were sewed shut,” I said. “Jessica’s body had the same thing done to it.”
Jane blinked. “That’s odd. Her ghost didn’t have it.”
I nodded.
“What does it mean?” Rory asked.
“It means it was done after she died,” Mrs. Brody offered, her voice grave.
“Why would someone want to do that?” Rory asked.
Mrs. Brody heaved a heavy sigh. “I imagine they did it so the ghosts couldn’t speak.” It took a moment for the severity of her words to sink in.
“So whoever did it didn’t want us to be able to speak to them?” I asked, barely believing what I was hearing.
“Thankfully whoever did it doesn’t understand ghosts very well,” she added. “Or else they would have known that they would have had to do it before they died for it to remain in place in the spirit world.”
A shiver crept up my spine. “Okay, so let me get this straight. We have a murderer who knows about witches and ghosts, but not enough to truly understand them. So that removes anyone from the paranormal community off the suspect list. Also, whoever did this obviously wanted to make it look like a witch’s ritual with the symbols, and wanted very badly to prevent us from being able to speak to the ghosts to get the truth.”
“Alternatively, it could actually be a witch, purposefully making those mistakes to throw us off,” Rory offered. She had a point; we didn’t want to jump to any conclusions.
I really, really hoped that wasn’t the case, though.
We all sat around the table in silence, letting the information soak in. There was a murderer who was trying to frame witches, killing innocent people and dumping them in our town. Well, that’s just great.
I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my eyes. It had been an extremely long day.
“I need to get some sleep,” I said and stood up to leave without saying another word. I would need at least a few hours if I was going to have enough emotional capacity to handle the next few days.
13
Again, morning came too soon. I felt like that was becoming a recurring theme, one that I really didn’t enjoy.
My bedroom faced east, which meant the morning sun at least helped wake me up. I stretched and yawned, allowing myself a few extra minutes in bed to cuddle with Soot. He had become the best thing about my mornings.
My phone beeped from across the room, and I grudgingly willed myself to get up and start my day.
I made my way across my bedroom and look at my phone. It was a text from one of Mayor Scott’s assistants saying he was sick today, and unable to meet.
The hell with that. Sorry, Mayor, you don’t have the luxury of sick days when a murder investigation is going on in your town.
Ready to give him a piece of my mind, I quickly showered and got dressed and left the house before anyone else woke up.
It was barely eight o’clock, and the town was still mostly asleep. I took the long way to the mayor’s office to avoid having to see anyone on the main street.
The door to the mayor’s office was closed, but I could see a light on inside. I knocked, and Tanya, one of his assistants, answered the door.
“I’m sorry, but Mayor Scott is unable to make his appointments today,” she said sweetly to me.
I grabbed the door before she had the chance to close it.
“It’s important,” I insisted. “I need to see him. Now.”
She tried her best to close the door, but I was stronger.
Finally, she let me come into the office and closed the door behind me.
“Where is he?” I demanded.
“Mayor Scott is sick as a dog, and can’t meet with anyone right now,” she said. “Poor guy seems to get sick every month, he really should see a doctor about it.”
“Well I’m not leaving,” I said stubbornly.
Tanya crossed her arms and spoke through gritted teeth. “Fine then, have it your way. He’s all yours.” She then grabbed her purse and stormed out of the office. She obviously wasn’t having a very good day, either.
I took my jacket off and made myself at home. The mayor must have been in the back room, as the front office was deserted.
“Mayor Scott,” I called to the back.
“Not now, River,” he called back. “Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow.”
“This can’t wait,” I said sternly. I marched to the back room to see where he was hiding. It wasn’t like him to be this standoffish.
I opened the back door, and my breath caught in my throat as my gaze was met by two glowing yellow eyes.
I stepped back. “Mayor?”
Mayor Scott stepped into the light, revealing fangs and an excessive amount of hair growing down from his neck.
“No,” I said, raising my hand to cover my mouth. “How?”
The mayor sighed, and sat down in one of the chairs at the back of the storage room.
“I was bitten as a kid,” he said. “Full moons aren’t exactly a cup of tea for me.”
I nodded. �
�I see that.” I examined him up and down. He only demonstrated traces of being a werewolf - he still had the human form of a man. “Why haven’t you said anything?”
He shook his head. “I’d rather keep it to myself. I’m sure you can understand.”
I nodded again. “Of course.”
“Why did you come to see me, River?” he asked with an edge to his voice that I had never heard before.
I blinked, trying to remember why I had come. Oh yeah, bodies.
“Two more people will be murdered. Or, maybe have already been murdered.”
He stared at me. “How do you know?”
“Same way you know to avoid a full moon.”
He nodded. “I see. Does the sheriff know?”
“No, I couldn’t get a hold of him. I don’t even know what I would say to him.”
“Just tell him you found more research on the symbol or something, anything that will convince him to put out a search,” the mayor instructed me. “Call him now.”
I reached for my phone and dialed the sheriff’s number again. This time, it rang.
“Not a good time, River,” the sheriff said to me over the phone. What was it about everyone today?
“Sheriff, it’s important.”
“Two more bodies were found,” he said.
Oh. Well, shit.
I looked up at Mayor Scott, who had heard the sheriff speak through the phone. The superhuman hearing was a bonus of being bitten by a werewolf, I guessed. He shook his head in disbelief and rubbed his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in days.
“Where?”
“They were found in two of the coffins on the main street,” he said to me. “You had better get down here. We’re right in front of the Brimstone Press office.”
My phone clicked as he hung up.
“You go,” Mayor Scott said to me. “I need another few hours before I’ll be fit to be seen by the public.”
“Okay, take all the time you need,” I said, and turned to leave.
“Call me with any new information,” he called to me as I left his office.
A crowd had gathered, and the entire block had been cordoned off with police tape. I ducked under the tape and jogged up to Sheriff Reese, who was standing next to one of the coffins with a few of his officers.
“They were found here this morning,” he said to me as I got close. “A man and a woman, look to be in their late sixties.”
I looked down into the coffin at a pale-faced man with his lips sewn together.
“Same M.O.,” I commented.
The sheriff nodded. “We haven’t had a chance to turn them over yet, but I bet we’ll find the same symbol on their backs.”
“I think that’s a fair assumption,” I said.
I felt a knot forming at the pit of my stomach. I really hoped this wasn’t something I could have prevented if I hadn’t gone to sleep last night.
“Do we know who they are?” I asked.
“Actually, we do.”
I looked at him in surprise. “Really? Are they from town?” I didn’t recognize them.
He shook his head. “No, but we got a call from the Wells police late last night. Word has gotten out about the last murder, and people are on edge. These two were reported missing yesterday evening. They own a small farm just outside of the town.”
“Where’s Wells?” I asked.
“South of here. On the drive up from Boston.”
“Boston?” I asked. “They’re getting closer.”
The Sheriff nodded. “We’ll have to get the bodies transferred to the morgue so we can inspect them further. You coming?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll come.”
The day felt like deja vu, driving to the morgue with the sheriff in silence. We needed to find the person behind these killings, because I really didn’t want to have to relive this day a third time.
The hearses arrived at the morgue just moments after we did, and I watched as the coffins were carried inside. I took a deep breath and followed them. I readied myself as I knew exactly what waited for us inside.
The bodies were laid on two tables. I walked up to the man to get a closer look at his mouth. The stitches were clean, obviously made after he had died. I don’t know why I didn’t notice that before.
The officers helped the mortician flip the bodies over so we could get a good look at their backs. As expected, both bodies were carved with the same symbols.
Only, these ones looked different.
“There’s something different about these,” I commented, looking back and forth between the man and the woman.
“The shapes are the same,” one officer commented.
I nodded. “They are. But they’re different. Look, there’s no blood on these.”
“The carvings were made post mortem,” the mortician said, inspecting the cut lines. “On both of them.”
“Why would these two be different?” I asked, looking up at the Sheriff for answers.
He shook his head. “I have no idea. The poor girl suffered through it while still alive. I don’t know what made these two different.”
“Could they have died of shock before it happened?” I asked.
“It’s possible,” Sheriff Reese answered. “Or the killer just got sloppy.”
A sloppy killer often leads to a found killer, so that was one point working for us, I supposed.
I stared down at the two corpses, feeling incredibly sad for what happened to them. Why would someone want to kill a child and two farmers?
I hoped we could find their ghosts at least, and with any luck, they would remember something useful. Maybe if we brought all three victims together, their memories would be triggered.
I got out my phone and texted Bailey: Another ghost hunt. Can you ask Mrs. Brody to find Mr. Richards again? Be home in an hour.
“We at least know one thing,” I said to Sheriff Reese.
He sat down on one of the stools next to the examining table and massaged his temples. The stresses of the past few days seemed to be taking a toll on him. “What’s that?”
“We know the symbols weren’t actually used as a means to mark these people,” I said. “It doesn’t make sense to mark someone as cursed after they’re dead.”
The sheriff nodded. “I guess so. I just want to find this nut job who thinks he’s cursing people.”
“No…” I started, but then gave up. He obviously didn’t understand what I was saying. “What I’m saying is that I don’t think this has anything to do with cursing. The person who placed the marks on these people obviously doesn’t know how they work.”
“And how do you know so much about this?” he eyed me blankly.
I shrugged. “It’s amazing what you can find on Google these days.”
“Alright well, curses or no curses, we need to find out who did these before another body turns up. The murders themselves are happening closer to town, and we still have no idea why the bodies are turning up here. We don’t know if it has anything to do with the damned Shadow Festival, or if that’s just a coincidence, and we don’t know whether the killings are part of some sort of old dark marking ritual or just some young punk trying to scare people.”
I sighed, the tinges of exhaustion finally taking over. “We do know it’s not part of some ritual,” I insisted, motioning to the symbols on the woman’s back. “Can’t mark someone for cursed once they’re dead.”
The sheriff sighed. “Right, sure. Cursing sounds bogus to me, anyway.”
I stared at him, not really knowing how to respond. I had thought that he was smarter than that, but I guessed not.
“Either way, we need to solve this before anyone else dies,” I said.
He nodded. “That much we agree on.”
“I’m going to go do more research, see what other information I can dig up,” I said. I didn’t feel the need to tell him my research involved searching for ghosts rather than Google.
14
Sheriff Reese dropped me off a
s close to my office as the police tape would allow. I thanked him for the ride and was going to head straight to the office to work on the article with Zack, but I noticed two people standing around the crime scene so I went to them instead. As I got closer, I could barely believe my eyes. They were the farmers’ ghosts, walking aimlessly in circles around where the coffins used to be. I glanced around and was relieved that there was nobody else around. The street felt empty and almost normal without the coffins there, the only thing marking this area as different was the police tape blocking traffic at either end of the block.
I walked up to the ghosts, and they both paused when they noticed I could see them.
“Hello,” I said calmly, looking around at the nearby shops to make sure none of the shopkeepers could see me talking to myself.
The man stared at me in silence, seemingly confused as to the whole situation.
“You can see us?” the woman asked.
I nodded. “I can, but most people won’t be able to. My name is River.”
“I’m Mary Littleton, and this is Frank. We own the farm just outside of Wells” she said as if striking up a polite conversation. Normalcy was good, and I tried my best to keep it up.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” I smiled. I wasn’t too sure how to approach the situation, given that I didn’t have any time to prepare.
Mrs. Littleton looked at me expectantly. I just stood there, smiling back awkwardly for a moment.
“Er…” I began. “Do you know why you’re here?”
“Why yes,” she said. “It appears we have been murdered.” She smiled sweetly at me.
Again, I smiled back in silence. I was more than a little thrown off by how well she was handling this.
“Yes, you were.” I noticed a pair of eyes staring out at me from the window of the sporting goods shop across the street.
I turned so my back was to the onlooker, then asked, “Do you both mind coming with me to my house?”
“How lovely,” Mrs. Littleton said.
