by N. M. Howell
I narrowed my eyes. “Did you have anything to do with the murders, Mr. Kraevak?” I figured I might as well ask.
His face remained expressionless. “Don’t be absurd,” he said, then walked out into the crowd and disappeared. I wondered how he was managing to be outside in broad daylight. Weren’t Vampires supposed to burst into flames by the sun? I laughed at myself at the thought, knowing first-hand that you can’t believe every paranormal myth you hear. Being a witch, you would have thought I would know better than to assume.
I noticed my legs were shaking, and didn’t realize how utterly intimidated I had been by that man. I took a few deep breaths to steady myself, then made my way back to the office, away from the crowd and creepy, powerful men.
I had a lot of work to do and locked myself in my office for the entirety of the afternoon so I could concentrate on my work. I did my best to ignore Zack, who was sitting at JoAnn’s desk typing away at his laptop. We were supposed to be working together, but I worked way better when I could focus on my own thoughts for a while. Luckily, he was the same, and we allowed each other to go about our own business.
I must have lost track of time because before I knew it the sky had grown dark, and the noise from the crowd outside had died town. I checked the clock on my laptop, and it was nearly midnight. Wow, I really must have been focused on my work.
My eyes were burning from staring at my computer for so long, and I really needed to get home to get some sleep. I packed up my bag and said goodbye to Zack, then headed down the now quiet main street, feeling rather like a zombie. I was grateful that the crowd had dispersed, as I really just wanted to get home quickly to sleep. I walked the few blocks to the mayor’s office to grab my bike and walked it down the main street towards home, too tired to even attempt to balance on that thing.
I turned the corner and nearly had a heart attack as I walked straight into somebody walking towards me.
“Jesus Christ,” I said, holding my hand over my heart, which was beating a thousand miles a minute.
“Wow, sorry about that,” a low voice said. “Good timing there, River.”
I glanced up to see Jordan standing in front of me in the shadows.
I tried to regain my breath. “Jordan, you scared me.” My heart was still pounding, but I relaxed a little bit. “What are you doing out this late?” I asked.
“Just out for a walk,” he said.
I looked around, the street was deserted. He watched me curiously.
“This late at night?” That seemed suspicious.
He shrugged. “It’s a nice night.”
I noticed he was doing something with his hands, but I couldn’t tell what through the darkness. I took a few steps sideways into the light of a street lamp, hoping he would follow. He didn’t, which made it even harder for me to see him in the shadows now that I was in the light. I sighed and stepped back into the darkness, all the while Jordan was watching me.
“What are you doing out this late?” he asked.
“Just heading home from work.” I reached for my phone and swiped the screen on, shining the light from my phone on him so I could see him better.
He was winding a spool of fishing line.
“What are you doing with that?” I asked. I could feel my face go cold, and I took a step back from him, trying to shake the images of the three corpses with their sewn mouths out of my head.
He noticed me step away, then immediately put the fishing line in his pocket.
“Nothing,” he said.
“No really, what are you doing with that?” I felt the instinct to run, but my feet were frozen to the ground.
“Relax, we just went fishing. What do you think?” he eyed me up and down.
“A bit late to be fishing,” I said.
He shrugged. “We've been back a while. The fish weren’t biting.”
I nodded slowly. “Well, that’s a shame.” I swallowed, trying to maintain an even voice.
“Can I walk you home?” he asked. “It’s late, and you shouldn’t be out walking alone. What with the murders, and all.”
“Yeah, I guess not,” I managed to say. “But I’m alright, I live close, and my housemates are expecting me any minute,” I lied.
“You sure?”
I nodded. “Yeah, honestly. I’m fine.”
His phone buzzed then, and he glanced down at his screen.
“Shit, I gotta go,” he said quickly. “Be safe.”
He slid his phone into his back pocket and jogged off down the main street. I watched him leave and felt my body relax a bit.
I looked around to make sure I was alone, then, with my newfound energy, hopped on my bike and rode off in the direction of home. I kept my phone handy in my back pocket, in the event I needed to call for help. I didn’t know whether the thought comforted or scared me.
It didn’t take long before I got to my room, and threw myself on the bed in exhaustion. The house was unnaturally quiet for this time of night. The girls often stayed up late watching movies and messing around upstairs. How nice it must be to not have to work.
I closed my eyes and nearly dozed off when my phone rang loudly next to my ear.
I groaned and saw that Bailey was calling.
“Yes?” I said, my voice lazy with sleep.
“River,” Bailey sounded frantic. “We need you to come to the station. Mrs. Brody has been arrested.”
16
“Mrs. Brody was what?” I sat bolt upright in bed, my body suddenly alert with adrenaline.
“Arrested. They think she had something to do with the murders,” Bailey said desperately into the phone. “Please just get here. We can’t make Sheriff Reese see reason.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I leaped out of bed in a panic and grabbed my phone and a black hoodie that I had left on the floor. I then ran down the stairs to the back yard to grab my bike while clumsily trying to pull my hoodie over my head.
The small police station was just outside of town, and I cycled hard to get there as fast as I could. The night had gotten cold, and I put up my hood to stay warm from the cold wind that blew over my face as I sped down the road on my bike. I dumped my bike at the front door, and locked it up to a street sign as I heard a number of raised voices all shouting over each other coming from inside the station. Unable to figure out the damn lock in my panic, I dropped by bike and ran into the station to see what the heck was going on.
Rory screamed as I ran into the station, and all voices went quiet. I paused, looking frantically from one person to the next. All eyes were on Rory, who had her hand on her chest, staring at me. She looked pale.
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
“Jesus Christ, River,” Rory said, collapsing in a heap on a nearby chair.
“What?” I asked again. By the looks on everyone else’s faces, no one else knew why she had screamed.
“Look at yourself,” she said to me, then stood up and dragged me to the back end of the room to look in a mirror on the wall.
I stared at my reflection and felt my skin grow cold. Bailey and Jane came to stand with us and watched my reflection in the mirror as well.
“Holy crap,” I said, taking in the view of my ratty-looking likeness staring back at me. Black shoes, torn baggy jeans, a black hoodie…
“We didn't see the killer in the fire,” Rory whispered. “We were seeing the next victim.”
I stepped away from the mirror, and immediately tore off the hoodie.
“That could just be a coincidence,” I said, desperately trying to reassure myself. My reflection did look exactly like the image we saw in the flames a few nights ago.
“No such thing as coincidence, dears,” Mrs. Brody said from across the room. I looked over to her to see the small, pink-haired woman was handcuffed to her chair. Her hair was disheveled, and she was wearing a pink ruffled nightgown. It was quite the scene.
“What are you talking about?” Sheriff Reese asked her, putting his hand o
n her shoulder.
“Get your wandering hands off me, you little perv,” she snapped at him. He immediately recoiled his hands as if she had bit him.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts, trying to forget what I had just seen in the mirror.
“What’s going on here? What the hell did you do?” I asked the sheriff, staring angrily at him.
Mayor Scott came striding into the room. “It’s not his fault. I brought her in.”
I turned to him. “You what?’ I demanded. “Explain.”
He sighed, his eyes looked tired, and he sat down in one of the nearby chairs.
The girls were staring at him angrily, crossing their arms and tapping their feet anxiously.
“After the paralytic was found in the victims, I didn’t have much of a choice,” he said.
I looked back and forth from him to Mrs. Brody. She rolled her eyes at him.
“I’m not following,” I said.
“She doesn’t exactly have the cleanest reputation,” he said. “She poisoned all those people at the bake sale years ago.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“She had nothing to do with that,” Rory said, staring daggers at the man.
“I thought that was a school group rehearsing some kind of play,” the sheriff said.
Now Mayor Scott rolled his eyes.
“I’m not stupid,” he said to Rory. “I know exactly what happened, and how.”
“What happened?” the sheriff asked.
“Never you mind your nosy little nose,” Mrs. Brody snapped at him, making him jump again.
“Did your boys find anything?” the mayor asked, turning his attention to Sheriff Reese.
“Nothing but a few weird cooking herbs,” he answered. “Nothing by the name of devil’s flower or whatever.”
“Devil’s root,” the mayor said.
Bailey’s eyes went wide, and she exchanged a worried look with Rory.
“You searched her apartment?” I asked, shocked. “Do you have a warrant?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sheriff Reese said to me, his voice even. “We just took a friendly look around. She didn’t mind.”
“The hell I didn’t mind,” Mrs. Brody snapped. “Rummaging through a defenseless old lady’s things.”
Sheriff Reese patted her shoulder trying to calm her, to which she responded with an attempt to bite his fingers. He pulled his hand away quickly, then put it in his pocket so he wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“What’s devil’s root?” I asked the mayor, trying my best to sound innocent.
“Don’t play dumb, River,” he said to me, narrowing his eyes.
I looked at Mrs. Brody, who was staring down at her feet. The mayor was right; she didn’t have the cleanest reputation. But I seriously doubted Mrs. Brody to be capable of anything as serious as a murder. However, the memory of smelling boiling devil’s root during bridge night gnawed at my thoughts, and I had only really known the woman for a few months. I had absolutely no idea how Mayor Scott knew about devil’s root, though.
“We didn’t find any of it, whatever it was,” Sheriff Reese repeated to the Mayor.
Mayor Scott nodded. “Okay, fair enough. I just had to do my due diligence. You can let her go.”
“Seems you’re innocent, Mrs. Brody,” the sheriff said to her as he unlocked her handcuffs.
“Of course I’m innocent, you big buffoon,” she spat at him. “Next time pick on someone your own size.”
“I’m sorry,” he muttered to her. I didn’t realize what an influence she had on the sheriff. I wondered what their back story was. I tried to hide the smirk that was forming on my lips.
“Now that this embarrassment of a circus is over, we need to get home,” Bailey said. “We have more important things to worry about.”
“More important than a murder investigation?” Sheriff Reese chided her.
She glared at him, then reached for my hand and pulled me towards the front door.
“I expect you’ll be giving us a ride home?” she said back to the sheriff, her voice short.
“Yeah, sure,” he said. “Car’s out back. I’ll pull it around.”
I sat down next to Mayor Scott and raised my eyebrow at him, hoping for further explanation.
“Don’t look at me that way, River,” he said. “You know it’s my duty to protect this town. It’s our job to bring in suspects, however unlikely they may seem.”
“Yeah but you know Mrs. Brody isn’t capable of anything like this,” I said.
He sighed. “I know, but you can’t be too careful.”
A honk came from outside, and we went outside to see two cop cars waiting for us. I locked my bike up, my hands a lot steadier now than they were before, and got in the second car with Officer George, one of the local policemen. We rode home in silence, and I was thankful for the few peaceful minutes I had before arriving back at home.
I thanked him as he dropped me off, and caught the tail end of Mrs. Brody shouting at Sheriff Reese as I got out of the car behind them.
“Oh, stuff it, pretty boy,” she said, slamming the car door shut. I offered a small smile to the defeated looking sheriff as he drove by, and he gave me a little wave in response.
I let out a loud sigh. This day couldn’t possibly get any longer.
I followed the girls down into Mrs. Brody’s apartment, and she made us a pot of tea as we sat around the kitchen table.
“You okay, Mrs. Brody?” I asked her as she poured me a cup.
“Oh yes, dear,” she said. “Of course. I just like to keep those boys on their toes.”
I laughed. “I think Sheriff Reese is terrified of you.”
“And he should be,” she said. “I used to look after him as a young boy, and the stories I could tell you about him would make him red in the ears.”
“How didn’t they find the devil’s root?” Bailey asked.
Mrs. Brody joined us around the kitchen table and sighed. “My entire stash went missing the other morning. I figured one of you lot had borrowed it.”
I glanced around at the girls. “Did you?”
They all shook their heads.
“So someone stole your devil’s root?” Jane asked. “Why?”
“I don’t know, but I doubt it’s for anything good,” she said.
“Mayor Scott said there was a paralytic found in the bodies,” Bailey said. “I wonder if it was the devil’s root.”
“Could be,” I offered. “But the victims weren’t killed here, we don’t think. They were killed in different cities, then brought here later. It makes it seem unlikely.”
Unlikely, but possible. As Mrs. Brody says, there is no such thing as a coincidence.
“Are you sure someone stole it, Mrs. Brody?” Rory said, speaking slowly and trying to choose her words carefully. “You didn’t accidentally mix up your herbs again, did you? You can be honest.”
“Don’t be bloody ridiculous, child,” she snapped at Rory. “Absolutely not.”
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to be sure,” Rory apologized.
“Off to bed with all of you,” Mrs. Brody instructed us. “And River, dear, sleep in one of the girls’ rooms tonight, just to be safe.”
“Sure thing, Mrs. Brody.”
Soot was waiting for us up in the third-floor lounge room, accompanied by Jessica and Mr. and Mrs. Littleton.
“Oh hello,” Mrs. Littleton cooed sweetly to us as we arrived in the lounge. “What a lovely place you have here.”
It was already two o’clock in the morning, but there was no way I could sleep now. I lay back on the couch, rubbing my temples with my fingers, eyes tightly shut.
“You look terrible,” Jessica said.
“Thanks,” I said. “I don’t exactly feel like a million bucks.”
We all chatted for a while about the events of the evening. Jane was curious as to why I wasn’t home when the arrest went down, and I explained I had lost track of time a
t work. I then told her I ran into Jordan, and that seemed to pique everyone’s interest.
“Is that one of Ryan’s friends?” Jane asked.
I nodded. “Yeah, from Boston. Came up for the festival.”
“You ran into him in the street at midnight?” Rory asked. “What was he doing out that late?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I was wondering the same myself.”
“Is he the hot blond one?” Jane asked.
Rory nodded. “Yeah, the one with the dreamy blue eyes.”
“He asked me out for coffee.” I’m unsure why I let that spill out.
“Are you going out with him?” Bailey asked, sitting up straight. She knew Ryan was interested in me, and I had a feeling deep down she was jealous about that.
I shrugged. “Too busy to think about that sort of thing right now.”
A tight knot was beginning to form in my stomach, and I didn’t have the heart to tell them I suspected he might have something to do with the murders. I couldn’t get the image of him winding the fishing line out of my mind.
“River, you’re as pale as a ghost,” Bailey now looked concerned.
“Hey,” Jessica said. “Not nice.”
Bailey ignored her. “Seriously,” she said to me. “What’s going on?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. I just think we should stay away from Ryan’s friends. I don’t trust them.”
“Er, okay,” Rory sounded hesitant. “What is it that you’re not telling us?”
“Honestly, nothing,” I lied. “I’m just a bit rattled by today, that’s all. The whole hooded image thing threw me off a bit.”
Jessica came to stand next to me. “Are you talking about my killer?”
I glanced up at her. “I’m not so sure that was your killer.”
“What do you mean?” she said, sounding defensive. “I’m sure that was him.”
“How do you know it was him? We couldn’t see the person’s face in the flames,” I said.
“I just know,” she said indignantly.
