“What?” Christine gasped. “Why?”
“Because I was flunking history, and he gave me passing grades in trade,” she cried out and again slammed her palms against Christine’s shoulders.
Christine stumbled backward and fell to the ground. She looked up at Jamie with surprise while Tamara and Paula stared at their enraged friend, uncertain how to react to the outburst.
“The principal was already suspicious,” Jamie cried out. “That’s why you were supposed to tell anyone who asked that I was with you in the gym!”
“I didn’t know,” Christine cried out. “You didn’t tell me why you wanted me to lie.”
“You ruined everything,” Jamie screamed and kicked Christine in the side.
“Jamie,” Tamara gasped with surprise and attempted to stop her.
Jamie pushed Tamara aside.
“I didn’t know,” Christine cried out while cowering on the ground.
“Now I’m going to be expelled, and Mr. Paterson will lose his job,” Jamie screamed and kicked Christine in the head. “Everyone will know I slept with my teacher!” She kicked her in the head again. “My mother will know I slept with my teacher. She’ll throw me out of the house!” Jamie kicked Christine in the head again.
She was about to kick her again when Paula stopped her. They stared at their friend on the ground. She was bleeding from the head and wasn’t moving.
Paula suddenly gasped. “Is she--?”
All three stood motionless while staring at their fallen friend. Jamie placed her hand to her mouth and took a step back. Tamara rushed to Christine’s side and gently nudged her.
“Christine?” she choked on her words.
There was no response. Tamara looked up at her friends with horror.
“I don’t think she’s breathing,” Tamara gasped.
“I think you’re supposed to check for a pulse or something,” Paula cried out while running trembling fingers through her hair.
Tamara touched Christine’s neck and felt around in several places. She sprang to her feet and looked at her friends as the color drained from her face.
“She’s dead,” Tamara gasped.
“We need to call an ambulance,” Paula cried out while sobbing.
“She’s already dead, you twit,” Jamie snapped.
“We have to tell someone,” Tamara announced while nervously rubbing her chilled arms.
Jamie was silent a moment while her friends sobbed. “Shut up,” she cried out. Once they both silenced, she glared at them and pointed a warning finger. “No one can know about this.”
“What?” Tamara gasped. “It was an accident. You didn’t mean to kill her.”
“That’s not going to matter,” Jamie lashed out. “They’re going to throw me in jail for it.” She eyed each of her friends with an unpredictably psychotic look. “You don’t want me going to jail, do you?”
There was a moment of silence.
“Do you?” Jamie cried out.
“No, of course not,” Tamara announced while Paula just shook her head.
“We’ll move her off the path, cover her over with leaves, and pretend this never happened,” Jamie informed them.
“Pretend it never happened? Her parents need to know,” Tamara protested as tears streaked her face. “They’ll want to bury her.”
“She’ll be found,” Jamie replied then considered the comment. “Eventually.”
“Won’t they be able to tell how she died?” Paula asked then looked at her friends. “On all those forensic shows, they’re able to find cause of death.”
“That’s true,” Tamara agreed. “They’ll figure out she’d been kicked in the head. They’ll be able to tell it was a girl’s foot from the size of the bruises or something like that.”
“Then we’ll need to make sure they can’t do that,” Jamie informed them.
Tamara and Paula gave her a strange look.
“Help me move her,” Jamie ordered and indicated an area off the path where no one traveled.
Both girls reluctantly helped her pick up their dead friend and move the body into the secluded area. Jamie walked the area and looked around.
“Find branches and things to toss over her,” Jamie informed them.
Tamara and Paula exchanged frowns and did as they were told. A strange cracking sound was heard. Both girls spun around and watched in horror as Jamie struck Christine in the head with a large rock. She hit the dead girl repeatedly in the head until her skull split open. Tamara and Paula held back their cries. They heard a startled gasp. All three turned and saw Chelsea standing on the path staring at them. Chelsea stared at the bloodied rock in Jamie’s hands and then Christine’s mutilated head. Jamie dropped the rock and stared at her sister, unable to speak.
“What have you done?” Chelsea gasped as the flower fell from her hand.
“You aren’t going to tell anyone,” Jamie lashed out in anger. “You’re going to keep your mouth shut!”
Chelsea stared at her sister with horror clearly on her face. She shook her head. “You’re a monster,” she suddenly gasped then took off through the woods.
“We need to stop her,” Jamie cried out and ran after her. She paused and looked back at her friends.
Tamara and Paula just stared at her.
“And do what?” Tamara suddenly asked with surprise. “Kill her?”
“You’re already screwed,” Jamie informed them with anger showing in her eyes. “If I go down; you’re going down with me. Now get her!”
Jamie took off through the woods and ran down the path after her sister. Tamara and Paula exchanged frightened looks then ran after them.
Chapter Three
Chelsea ran through the woods and into the meadow with Jamie closing in behind her. Chelsea’s sandals weren’t helping gain traction in the grass. She managed to kick them off while she ran and was able to pick up speed. Jamie continued her pursuit with her friends several yards behind screaming for her to stop. Chelsea ran across the stone bridge with Jamie directly on her heels.
Jamie tackled her sister, knocking her into the crumbling half wall on the bridge. Chelsea hit the stone with force. It crumbled slightly under her weight. She attempted to pull away. Jamie grabbed her by the shirt with her blood-covered hands and slammed her back against the crumbling wall. She glared into her sister’s eyes.
“You’re not going to tell anyone about this,” Jamie screamed in anger. “I want to hear you say it! You won’t tell anyone, or I swear I’ll kill you!”
Chelsea struggled against her sister’s grip and attempted to break free. Jamie again slammed her against the half wall. Tamara and Paula slowed when they saw Jamie slamming her sister’s back against the stone wall with increasing force.
“Say it,” Jamie screamed like a mad woman while nearly ripping the shirt clutched in her hands.
On the fourth time she’d slammed her against the half wall, the stone gave away, and Chelsea slipped backward from the bridge, her shirt slipping through Jamie’s clenched fists. Paula and Tamara ran onto the bridge and peered down to the creek that was barely a trickle. Chelsea lay in an awkward position, bent and broken, below the bridge near the bank among the rocks. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth as she lay motionless. The three stood on the bridge for several minutes, unable to move or look away from the horrible image.
“You killed your sister,” Paula finally gasped, snapping them out of their trances.
Jamie spun to face her friends. “It was an accident,” she insisted. “She fell.”
“We have to do something,” Tamara announced while panicking and pacing the bridge.
Paula attempted to run across the bridge to get help. Jamie ran after her and caught her.
“No,” Jamie shouted while shaking Paula by her shoulders. “We aren’t going to do anything. We’re going to stick to our original plan.”
Tamara stared at her with horror. “You’re just going to leave your sister there?”
“W
hen she’s eventually found, they’ll assume the wall collapsed, and she accidentally fell to her death,” Jamie informed them then glared demandingly at her friends. “Are we agreed?”
As she glared at Tamara and Paula, a sobbing Paula slowly nodded. Tamara couldn’t take her eyes off Chelsea lying motionless below the bridge. Jamie grabbed Tamara’s arms and shook her until she made eye contact.
“Are we agreed?” she cried out in anger.
Tamara stared into Jamie’s nearly psychotic eyes and nervously nodded as well.
§
Several hours later. It was early evening as Sheriff Carter stood on the bank of the stream below the bridge and watched the paramedics strap the motionless eighteen-year-old girl onto the stretcher. Chelsea wore a neck and back brace to keep her immobile while they moved her. She was alive but had yet to regain consciousness. As the paramedics carried her up the bank, Sheriff Carter watched and shook his head.
Sheriff Carter was in his mid to late forties. Considering the low crime rate of his town, he remained physically fit, which only made his six-foot-two stature all the more impressive. He was a serious-looking man with short, light brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His much younger deputy, Havens, frowned while watching the paramedics remove the critically injured girl.
Deputy Havens was in his mid to late twenties. Despite his tall stature, he was more lanky than muscular. He was considered adorable by the women in town. What barely constituted as a mustache on his upper lip may have had something to do with that. There had been plenty of debate as to whether or not the few hairs on his chin were meant to be a goatee.
“I’m surprised she’s alive after a fall like that,” Deputy Havens remarked.
“She’s not out of the woods yet,” Sheriff Carter reported while maintaining his frown. “Something about this stinks, Havens.”
“You don’t think it was an accident?” his deputy asked with surprise while turning to face him.
“She had blood on her shirt,” the sheriff reported while remaining in his own world. “I’m no expert, but I don’t think that blood will turn out to be hers. Apart from a few scrapes on her legs, she didn’t have any cuts. The blood on her shirt looked almost like--” He placed his hands out in front of him and reached for the deputy’s jacket. “Almost like hands grabbing her.”
The deputy stared at him with horror. “You think someone pushed her?”
The sheriff didn’t respond to the question. “Did you find her shoes?”
“No, they weren’t anywhere near the bridge,” Deputy Havens informed him.
“Spread out the search,” the sheriff announced. “I want to know where she lost her shoes. It could be important.”
“Sheriff,” a deputy called from beyond the bridge. “We found her shoes!”
“Where?” Sheriff Carter called back.
“In the meadow,” he announced. “Quite a distance from here.”
“Show me!”
The sheriff and Deputy Havens followed the other deputy into the meadow where he indicated the shoes discarded haphazard several yards from each other. Sheriff Carter paused within the meadow to pick up several crushed flowers and stared at them. Both deputies watched him with bewildered looks.
“I don’t like this,” Sheriff Carter announced then looked around with genuine suspicion. “I’d like to search the entire area.”
“What are we searching for?” Deputy Havens asked looking lost as if he missed what the sheriff obviously had seen.
“The blood on her shirt could be from whoever pushed her,” the sheriff informed him, “but how did our perp get blood on him. She didn’t have any blood on her hands. That was a lot of blood. Seems unlikely she injured him during the attack, or she’d have blood on her.” He eyed his deputies. “I think someone else could be injured. We need some dogs. Asap.”
§
Jamie paced the hospital waiting room while her mother, Dorothy, sat on a nearby chair and sobbed into her handkerchief. Another woman clung to Jamie’s mother and spoke softly and reassuringly. Jamie’s mother was possibly a fine catch in her early years, but with little regard for makeup or even a decent hairstyle, she looked more like an old-fashioned librarian. Her long, slightly graying hair was worn in an old granny bun, and her clothes suggested old-fashioned in every sense of the word.
“She’s going to be okay, Dorothy,” the woman announced. “I know she’ll be fine. The Lord will take care of her. We need to pray for her.”
Jamie listened to the conversation and fidgeted. Each time a doctor or nurse appeared from the emergency room, she jerked with fear that her sister was somehow going to survive. The doctor finally approached Dorothy. She sprang to her feet and stared at him with anticipation. Jamie twitched while nervously wringing her fingers together.
“Mrs. Smyth,” he announced in a soothing yet concerned tone. “Your daughter is currently in stable condition.”
Dorothy sobbed with relief and hugged her friend. Jamie’s expression dropped as all color drained from her face.
“We need to talk,” the doctor informed her and escorted her to a private area.
Jamie trembled and started to pant. Her face was nearly white, and her palms were sweating. Sheriff Carter approached her, practically appearing out of nowhere. She jumped when she saw him. He offered a sympathetic smile.
“How’s your sister?” he asked.
“Uh, the doctor just showed up to talk to my mother,” she informed him. “If you want to talk to her--”
“Actually, I’d like a word with you,” he announced and indicated the nearby chairs.
Jamie slid into the chair almost unable to maintain her balance as she trembled.
“When was the last time you saw your sister or your friend, Christine Marion?”
“Uh, I hadn’t seen Chelsea since we’d left for school this morning,” she informed him as her voiced cracked. “Paula, Tamara, and I were with Christine after school. Last time I saw her, she was heading home. Paula, Tamara, and I decided to go to town rather than head home.” She stared at him a moment. “Why are you asking about Christine? What does she have to do with Chelsea falling from the bridge?”
“Jamie,” he announced timidly while staring into her eyes. “Christine was murdered in the woods not far from the bridge where we found your sister.”
Jamie stared at him unable to move while managing to wipe her sweaty palms on her pants. Everything was unraveling faster than anticipated.
“We believe someone killed her, and your sister may have witnessed it. We found a flower from the same meadow where we found Chelsea’s shoes on the path not far from Christine’s body,” the sheriff announced then drew a deep breath. “We believe the killer then went after your sister to keep her quiet.”
“I--I don’t know what to say,” she gasped while trembling. “Do, uh, you know who did it?”
“Did you happen to see anyone near the woods when you and your friends left Christine?” he asked. “Did she have a boyfriend?”
“No, she didn’t have a boyfriend,” Jamie immediately announced then fumbled for something to say. “But, uh, there was--” She suddenly looked at the sheriff as her eyes lit up. “We saw some guy near the woods. We’d thought he’d left. It could have been him.”
“Anyone you know?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m sure he wasn’t from town,” Jamie replied. “He was dressed sort of grungy and wore a dirty green jacket and a black baseball cap. I really couldn’t see his face.”
“Maybe your friends got a better look at him,” Sheriff Carter announced. “Why don’t you check on your sister? I’ll stop at Tamara and Paula’s houses later and see what they remember.”
Jamie nodded and watched Sheriff Carter walk away. Once he was gone, she bolted up from her chair and hurried to a nearby payphone.
Chapter Four
Seven years later. The small town of Fairview Glen was comprised of tiny homes with fenced yards and quiet streets. Beyond the small t
own, there was farmland as far as the eye could see. Some farmers grew crops while others raised cattle or sheep. Just beyond the vast farmland was a newly constructed resort area containing large, impressive hotels with swimming pools, nightclubs, and restaurants. Although the town attempted to distance itself from the booming resort area, the younger generation embraced the idea of a new, modern world at their doorstep.
Nestled somewhere between town and the resort area was a large, out of place, newly constructed museum surrounded by a lush cornfield. Scaffolding surrounded the left, front corner of the building where workers were completing the finishing touches on the building’s exterior. A large, historic home resided just a short walk from the museum. Apart from the house and museum, the only other building residing among the never-ending farmland was an old funeral home just on the other side of the cornfield.
A jeep pulled into the secluded museum parking lot early that morning and stopped near the main entrance. Two young, attractive women in their early twenties, Devon Vincent and Ivy Jennings, looked out the jeep’s windshield and stared at the large and impressive museum. Both immediately cringed when they saw the words ‘wax museum’.
“You didn’t mention it was a wax museum,” Ivy announced while displaying her distaste. “Those places are creepy.”
Ivy’s strawberry blonde hair was meticulously styled and her makeup perfectly applied with just the right shade of lipstick. She was dressed to kill in a conservative, yet flattering thin-strapped dress, which revealed just enough of her cleavage.
“The owner didn’t mention it was a wax museum either,” Devon remarked then drew a deep breath and collected herself. “I hate interviews.”
Devon was the typical girl-next-door with a classic tomboy appeal. Her long dark hair was worn up in a simple ponytail, which she’d actually taken time to make it neat. She usually didn’t wear makeup, but today she wore a little eyeliner and a little lipstick. She was dressed even more conservative in a simple blouse, revealing none of her ample cleavage, and black dress pants usually reserved for church. She wore a pair of black dress boots to complete her conservative, job interview outfit.
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