“Go to hell!” Susan slammed the phone down.
If that stupid, arrogant bastard thought he could steal her story and get away with it, he had another thought coming. Not going to happen. No way. Not in this lifetime.
Not two minutes later, the phone rang again. Susan stared at it, waiting for the raspy voice.
“Susan, are you there? It’s me, Ernie.”
Sure didn’t take long for cry baby, Hill, to tattle on her. She lifted the receiver. “Hello.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Ernie yelled. “I assigned this story to Hill. I expect you to cooperate with him.”
Susan took a deep breath. Who did he think he was talking to? She didn’t need this. Not from him, not from anyone. No one talked to her like that.
“It’s my story, Ernie. It has been since the beginning.” She tried to keep the anger out of her voice, but knew some of it filtered through. Darn that temper of hers. Still, Ernie had no right taking her story in the first place, and he sure as heck had no right to scream at her like that. Maybe she shouldn’t have told Hill to go to hell, but she was tired of this. Tired of the whole sick mess. Those were her friends lying there, and Hill got her byline. It wasn’t fair.
“So are you going to cooperate?” Ernie softened his tone, but his voice still held a hard edge.
“No.”
“You’re refusing a direct order?”
Susan hesitated. She didn’t like this. But still – it was the principal of the thing. “Yes.”
“Then you’re fired!” Ernie hung up. Just like that.
She stared at the phone. “Figures. Hill’s his favorite.” Just what she needed. Tears welled in her eyes. This was too much. Everything was happening too fast. The murders, Dave, now her job. To make matters worse, she had to get ready for her friends’ funeral.
* * *
Susan stood in the cemetery, hardly hearing the words the minister spoke. She stood back, away from the crowd that gathered to mourn Jack and Jill, and looked at the faces, some familiar, some not. Her friends were gone. She’d never see them or hear their voices again.
Her heart went out to the kids. She couldn’t imagine losing one parent, let alone two, and in such a tragic way. They stood next to their grandparents and cousins, tears streaming down their cheeks. Susan wiped her own tears. She dreaded who might be next, and there would be another. Of that, she had no doubt.
The minister finished his eulogy, and the mourners slowly moved past the caskets. She followed the group and set her flowers on each of the caskets, said her goodbyes, and hurried from the cemetery. She couldn’t go to the luncheon that followed. It hurt too badly. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She hurried to her car.
A red rose dangled from the door handle. She picked it up and threw it as far as she could.
She hadn’t noticed anyone following her or near her car. But then, she‘d been too engrossed in her thoughts.
She got into her car and looked at the people getting into theirs. Many of them, she didn’t know. Did one of them leave the rose? Could one of them have been the killer? Surely Jack and Jill must have known their murderer. How else could he have gotten so close? He must have hit Jack first, knocked him out and killed Jill, then turned his attention back to Jack.
She started her car and pulled away from the procession. She had to get away from there.
Later, Susan sat down in the middle of her bed. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her mind played back the last time she had seen Jack and Jill alive. She closed her eyes, and the vision replayed in her head as if it were yesterday.
Jack’s laugh rang out as he pushed his son on the swing.
“Higher, Daddy, higher!” Jack Jr. begged.
“Not too high,,” Jill said. “I swear that boy’s going to be an astronaut or pilot,” Jill told Susan as she watched her daughters climb on the monkey bars. “Sometimes it scares me, you know. Look at them. All of them love adventure. Just like their father. Sometimes I think I won’t get to see them grow up.” Jill shuddered.
Now, just like that, they were gone. In the blink of an eye the family ripped apart. Did Jill have a premonition?
“Why?” Susan screamed. “Why them? Why any of them?”
Bella jumped off the bed.
Why in God’s name would anyone want to kill her friends? As far as she knew, she didn’t have any enemies. A vision of Jack and Jill’s bodies flashed through her mind.
Darn it, she couldn’t do this.
Sitting and crying wasn’t going to bring her friends back, and it sure as heck wasn’t going to catch their killer. She dried her tears, jumped off the bed and paced the room. But what was she going to do? Even the police didn’t have any ideas.
Maybe if she offered to meet with the guy, see what he wanted. Then what? Let him kill her? What would that prove? There had to be something she could do. She couldn’t sit back and watch all her friends die.
Suddenly, Aunt Kate came to mind. Aunt Kate, her favorite aunt, great-aunt, really, always had the answer to everything. Every summer, she had stayed with Aunt Kate for a week in the summer. It was from Aunt Kate she learned her appreciation of books. Aunt Kate had tons of them, and took the time to read to Susan when she was very young. After Susan learned to read, she read to Aunt Kate.
“Books are the mainstream of life. Look at them, Susannah,” she used to say. Aunt Kate was the only one who called her that, and Susan loved it.
“Look at the covers and the binding. Doesn’t it make you feel like an artist, make you feel alive?” Aunt Kate always patted the bun on her head, looked out of the top half of her glasses, and smiled. “Read them. Absorb their words.”
Susan ran her hand across some of the books Aunt Kate had left her. Aunt Kate didn’t have a big house, but every nook and cranny was filled with books. She swore her aunt had collected every book ever written by Agatha Christie and Dashiell Hammett. Susan picked up The Maltese Falcon and held it to her chest.
Funny thing, the first of her many journals came from Aunt Kate after Susan confessed she wanted to be a writer, a journalist.
“Write,” Aunt Kate used to say. “Write about everything and anything, no matter how foolish other people think it is. Write every day, and you’ll realize your dream. Never give up your goal, Susannah, not for anyone.”
Susan remembered the last time she had visited Aunt Kate, the day she got her first assignment. Aunt Kate was the first person she told.
“I knew you could do it, Susannah. You have talent. Stick with it, and you’ll succeed.” Aunt Kate said and surprised her with another journal, this one leather bound.
Susan put the book back on the shelf. She knew what to do. She slipped on her shoes, grabbed a jacket and car keys. It was time to visit Aunt Kate.
Her sister, Kate, found comfort visiting the cemetery. Maybe she’d would, too. Even now, Susan mourned her aunt. It saddened her that she didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. Aunt Kate had died so suddenly. She wasn’t even sick. Memory of the phone call from her mother played in her mind.
“She died peacefully, Susan, just the way she lived.”
Susan wiped a tear and concentrated on her driving, turning off the highway at the Twinsburg exit. A few minutes later, she turned into the long drive of Locust Grove cemetery, followed it just to the top corner of the cemetery, and parked. If she remembered correctly, Aunt Kate’s grave was down the hill at the far corner. She supposed she could have driven down, but it was a nice day, and she felt like walking.
Susan walked slowly to an area she thought Aunt Kate was buried, reading the inscriptions on the headstones along the way. Hair prickled on the back of her neck. She never liked cemeteries. Probably why she hadn’t visited before.
She found her aunt’s grave and knelt down next to the headstone. Katherine Weston, Beloved Aunt. A strange calm came over her, as if Aunt Kate sat next to her. She brushed the leaves off the headstone. “Hi, Aunt Kate. I know I never came here before, but I needed to talk
to you. Kate says she comes all the time, and you give her comfort. I need it now, so I thought I’d give it a try.
Susan paused and held back the sob, building in her throat.
“Susannah, I’m glad you came. What’s wrong?” Susan swore she heard her aunt’s voice, if only in her head. She continued to clean off the headstone.
“I don’t even know where to start. Two of my dear friends are dead, their kids alone in the world. Oh sure, they have their grandparents and cousins. But that’s not the same, is it, Aunt Kate? Their parents are gone. They won’t be there for them like mine are. Won’t see them grow up, graduate, go to college, get married. Won’t see their grandkids. It’s not right, Aunt Kate. They were too young to die. They had so much life to live. So much to offer.”
Susan sat for a minute, not talking, not even thinking, just taking comfort from the quiet cemetery. Only the sounds of the birds, singing in the trees, broke the silence. No wonder Kate liked it here. It was a quiet place to reflect, and she sensed Aunt Kate’s presence, even felt her aunt’s comforting arms around her like when she was little and had a problem. She could always talk to Aunt Kate.
“I’m not sure what I’m going to do now, Aunt Kate. I just lost my job. You always told me I was too pig-headed for my own good. I guess I am. But I’m right this time. I know I am.
“You always say that, Susannah.”
Susan laughed. She couldn’t help it. Aunt Kate was right, she did always say that. “But it was my story, Aunt Kate. Maybe I should have agreed to let Dan have it. If Ernie and Dan had handled it differently, maybe I would have. I know Ernie was concerned about me. But Dan… Dan is just being an egotist. He was mad because I got there first.”
“You never would have agreed no matter how they handled it.”
Susan smiled. Her aunt knew her too well. “Besides, this is personal. I know these people. I care about them. And how am I supposed to explain those phone calls? That voice? It’s impossible. I know I’ll find another job — I’m a darn good reporter.” Susan giggled. “Now I sound like you. But it’s true, and we both know it.”
Susan stood and walked around, looking at other headstones. Aunt Kate was one of the last to be buried here. Most of the graves were from the 1800s. She remembered hearing about a building where they used to store bodies during the winter when the ground froze. They kept them there until spring, when the ground thawed and they could dig the graves. She bet it was the building she saw when she first came in. Maybe someday, she’d research the old cemetery and write an article about it.
Although cemeteries usually spooked her, she felt calm and relaxed. She went back to her aunt’s grave and sat down again. A movement up near her car caught her eye. Was someone there? Susan swore something moved. She shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand. No one was there. Goosebumps broke out on her arms, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
Probably just a shadow or her over active imagination
Susan looked back at her aunt’s grave.
“I’ve met the most interesting man, Aunt Kate. I know you’d like him. I know, I know. You told me I’d meet someone special someday. I like him a lot. I like being around him. He makes me feel safe and pretty, and... Well, you know.” Susan couldn’t help but smile.
“He’s a cop — a detective. It’s nice to have a man around. ‘Course, he drives me crazy sometimes, too, but I guess in a good way. It wouldn’t take much to fall in love with him. But I’m not ready for that. I have a career to build. Once I find another job, that is.” Susan pulled some weeds from around the headstone.
“After what happened to Kate, I sure don’t want to jump into anything. And look at poor Clare. I know Steve’s not blameless — it takes two to build a relationship. You’ve told me that often enough.” Susan brushed her hand across the headstone and ran her fingers over her aunt’s name.
Lord, she missed this woman.
“That’s why I’m not ready. I’m too committed to my job to even think about a relationship.” Susan said. It was as if Aunt Kate sat there with her, just like she had so many times, listening while Susan talked. Hardly ever saying anything. Yet, Susan always felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted after their visits.
“I don’t have time for that right now. Marriage is difficult enough between two people who are committed. What happens if one falls out of love? Divorce is so easy these days.” Susan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know I shouldn’t judge Clare too harshly. That was always her way, wasn’t it? Clare never handled confrontation. I always thought she had the perfect marriage, the perfect home, perfect kids. But, you were right. There’s no such thing as perfect.” Funny, all the while Susan talked; she swore she heard her aunt’s replies.
“What’s it like, Aunt Kate, to die? Are you in heaven? Is there even a heaven?” Susan wiped a tear. “Is it peaceful? Are you happy? Of course, you’re happy. You’re with your Benny. I won’t ask anything else.” Susan kissed her fingers and touched them to the headstone over her aunt’s name. “Thanks for listening, Aunt Kate. You always were a good listener. I miss you. I’ll come back soon, I promise.”
Susan stood and looked down at her aunt’s headstone. She swore she saw her aunt smiling at her the way she used to do. The way her eyes crinkled at the corners. Her blue eyes sparkling with the joy of life. Susan felt better, more content than she’d felt in a long time. Nothing was resolved, but she felt better. She hurried up the path to her car.
Suddenly, she froze. A single red rose, with a note attached, stuck out of her windshield wiper. Susan stood, looking at it, Afraid to touch it, Afraid to read it. He had been there, watching her.
How long did he stand there before she sensed his presence? She spun around, looking for someone. Looking for him.
Her hands shook and her legs barely held her up. She grabbed her cell phone from her purse and hit the send button for Dave. Thank God she had keyed in his number. Slumping against the bumper, the thought of touching the rose turned her stomach, and she had no desire to read the note.
The caller and stalker were the same man. She didn’t care what Dave or any of his detective friends said, the stalker had killed all those people. Killed her friends. Now he wanted her.
“Susan, what’s wrong?” Dave answered on the first ring.
“Dave...” Darn it! She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t talk.
“Susan, where are you? What’s going on?”
“I’m...I’m at the cemetery. Uh...Locust Grove Cemetery. I...”
“Where the hell is the Locust Grove Cemetery?”
“Huh? Oh...um...Twinsburg.” Susan gulped for air. Why couldn’t she breathe?
“What the hell are you doing at a cemetery in Twinsburg?” Dave yelled. “Never mind. Just tell me what happened? Are you all right?”
Susan finally took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Yeah, I’m all right. I came to visit my aunt’s grave. Dave, he was here. He followed me.”
“Who?”
“He left a rose on my car. There…There’s a note.”
“Don’t touch anything. I’m calling my friend on the Twinsburg force. Just stay where you are. Hold on, okay. And don’t touch anything.”
* * *
Dave grabbed the radio in his car. “Bristol, connect me to the Twinsburg Police Department. Detective John Gardner, to be exact.” He didn’t like this. He rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t like this at all. Susan was forty-five minutes away. What was taking so long with his call?
After he talked to John, he called Susan. “Susan, are you still there?” He didn’t like the way she sounded. He started his car. He had to go to her. Had to see for himself that she was okay.
“I’m here.”
“Detective Gardner is on his way. I’ll talk to you until he gets there, okay?”
“Okay. You’d better do all the talking, because I don’t think I can. Detective Gardner That name sounds familiar?” Sirens sounded in the distance,
“I hear the siren.”
“Okay, listen, stay on the line. Give the phone to Gardner, okay. I need to talk to him.”
The unmarked car pulled up behind hers. The detective got out of the car, and Susan’s heart jumped to her throat. John? John Gardner? That couldn’t be, could it? He walked toward her with that slow, easy walk she remembered. It was him. A detective? John Gardner? No way. But here he was, walking proof.
“Susan? Susan Weston?” A look of surprise registered on John’s face.
Susan stared at him, finding it hard to speak. The jerk who broke Kate’s heart stood in front of her. Worse, he was a friend of Dave’s. The thought of Dave brought her back to reality.
“Dave — uh, Detective Morgan — wants to talk to you.” She handed him the phone and walked away. When had John come back to town? She thought he was in Vegas. What would Kate say? Not that Susan was going to tell her. Heck no! No way would she even bring up his name.
She tried to hear what John said to Dave. Something about the note. She moved a little closer. John took the note from the car.
“Roses are red, violets are blue. Wherever you go, I’ll see you. What the hell does that mean?” John shot her a suspicious look.
Susan caught her breath. He was following her. How? She hadn’t seen anyone when she pulled in. The cemetery was isolated enough. Surely, she’d have noticed someone. But if he went past and waited until she was well into the cemetery, then parked on the road above before he actually came into the cemetery itself…
She didn’t want to deal with this, especially with John. She could hardly look at him, let alone talk to him.
“Ms Weston.” John sounded so professional, Susan almost laughed. “I need to ask you some questions.”
Susan nodded. Great, just what she needed, John asking her questions.
“Detective Morgan explained a little. I understand you’re being stalked.”
Susan nodded again. She still couldn’t bring herself to speak to him.
“Did you see anyone near your car?”
Susan shook her head, cleared her throat, and whispered, “I thought I saw someone, but the sun was so bright, I didn’t see anyone. I thought it was my imagination.”
Ring Around the Rosy Page 9
