“I said she’s with me,” Joe repeated.
“It’s not safe for you to be running around out here in the cornfields,” Jeremy challenged, staring her straight in the eyes.
“You said you’d be at the museum,” he went on. “That you’d be there, in town, waiting for me.”
“Jeremy, I’m with Joe,” she said placatingly, wondering where all this anger was coming from.
He turned from her to Joe, as if noticing him for the first time, his eyes thunderous. “Why would you bring her out here?” he demanded.
“Hey, simmer down. This is my home, my stomping ground. I’m the law here, and Ro’s here to help me. I’ve known her practically all her life—you two have just become friends. Or whatever,” he added with a glower. “So don’t go all ballistic on me, son. If anyone doesn’t belong here, it’s you.”
Jeremy didn’t back down. He stood his ground, arms crossed over his chest. “Night is almost here. You may be a big strong cop, maybe a crack shot, but once it’s dark out here…Joe, the killer is a clever man, maybe even an illusionist. Cop or not, it isn’t safe for Rowenna to be out here.”
“It’s daylight,” Joe pointed out.
“It’s three-thirty, and night comes fast.”
“Excuse me, both of you,” Rowenna snapped, striding past Joe to confront Jeremy. “I was going back to the museum. I would have met you there, just as planned. Joe and I have been doing this kind of thing for a long time. And, by the way, he is a crack shot.”
“Crack shot—or crackpot?” Jeremy said heatedly, looking past her to Joe. “You can’t use her this way—it’s dangerous. You’ll get the killer thinking she really can see things, and then he’ll target her, make her his next victim.”
“But I can help!” Rowenna insisted. She looked at the two of them, staring at one another, nostrils practically flaring. She had a sudden image of the two of them stomping the ground and rushing each other like a couple of angry bulls.
“Both of you, stop. Jeremy, the killer isn’t going to think anything, because he doesn’t even know I exist—Joe and I came out here alone. I know you’re just worried about me, and I’m grateful. I’m also legally sane, over twenty-one and more than capable of taking care of myself.” She marched past him, trembling—but whether with anger or fear, she honestly didn’t know—and headed for the road.
She could hear the two men pushing their way through the whispering stalks in her wake.
Jeremy spoke first. “Wait! I’ll take you back to town.”
“Hey, she came out here with me,” Joe said firmly.
She spun around. “Screw you both! You’re acting like a couple of five-year-olds. I’m hitchhiking.”
Even as she said it, she knew perfectly well that she had no intention of hitchhiking.
She had far too strong an instinct for self-preservation.
“No, no, wait. Ride back with Joe, and I’ll follow,” Jeremy said, catching up to her.
“No. It’s okay. Go with Flynn and I’ll follow,” Joe said.
“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Jeremy said. “Maybe I was overreacting, but come on, Joe. You’d overreact, too, if you knew that Rowenna and I were at the scene of such butchery…. Especially after this morning.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Joe muttered. “Hey, was that an apology?”
“I’m apologizing for being a jerk. I still don’t think she should be out here,” Jeremy said.
Joe ignored that, turned to Rowenna and asked, “You two are going back to the museum, right?”
“Yes,” she said.
But when she looked to Jeremy for confirmation, he looked hesitant.
“Sorry, I’m going back to the museum,” Rowenna said to Joe.
“I’ll meet you there before five,” Jeremy told her. “Joe, you’ll see to it that she gets there safely, right?”
“You bet,” Joe promised him.
Jeremy walked over to her and paused, meeting her eyes briefly before taking her hand and kissing her cheek. Then he nodded to Joe and headed for his car.
Rowenna watched him go, puzzled, suddenly feeling as if the entire focus of the last few minutes had been argument for the sake of argument, like some kind of bizarre male bonding ritual, and she’d just been the excuse.
Joe joined her on the shoulder of the road, then walked with her over to his car.
“That was weird,” she said as she settled herself in the passenger seat.
“Not really,” he told her, glancing in his rearview mirror as he pulled out on the road.
“Yes, it was,” she assured him. “First he was going crazy worrying about me, and then it was like he forgot all about me.”
He just grinned and glanced at her. “He was in a panic when you weren’t where you said you’d be. Now he knows you’re safe, and he had something else on his agenda.”
“Am I hearing this right? You’re standing up for him?” she said, eyes widening in surprise.
He shrugged. “The kid’s okay,” he said.
She laughed. “He isn’t a kid.”
“Hell, if you’re me,” Joe said, “he’s a kid. And so are you. Leave it at that, huh?”
She fell silent and stared out the side window, watching the rows and rows of corn sweep by them. After a while she glanced over at him. “I take it you think you know where he’s going?”
Joe’s lips twitched. “Logically?” he asked her.
“Logically.”
“He’s stopping by the MacElroy place. He’ll want to meet Ginny and Doc MacElroy himself.”
Rowenna leaned back, thinking of the ridiculousness of little Ginny MacElroy dragging anyone weighing more than ten pounds through a cornfield.
But then there was Doc MacElroy. She had gone to school with his kids, and MacElroy himself would have fit in in Beverly Hills. He was lean and tanned, with a full head of thick, silver-white hair. His eyes were blue like the sky, and he’d always been a handsome man.
Dr. MacElroy a murderer? No, never. She remembered how he’d made her laugh about teddy bears or Barbie dolls to take her mind off the sting whenever he had to give her a shot. She remembered him at her parents’ funerals, telling her that he was right there next door if she ever needed him. She could picture him holding up one of his granddaughters, making her giggle with delight as he spun her around the room.
No. No way was he a killer.
Joe glanced at her. “MacElroy was out of town on Halloween.”
“Oh,” she said.
“Medical convention in Orlando,” he elucidated.
She smiled, relieved to have her faith confirmed.
“You know, I’m sure he’s been out to see Eric Rolfe,” Joe said. “He called the station, asking for the address. Now…there’s a strange fellow.”
Rowenna frowned, turning to stare at Joe. “He’s not strange, he’s artistic.”
“You don’t think our murderer was ‘artistic’?”
She shook her head. Yes, she could see why Joe would find it easier to see Eric Rolfe as a sadistic murderer than the kindly Dr. MacElroy. But they both seemed like equally unlikely suspects to her.
“I admit I haven’t seen Eric since high school,” she said, “but he was a nice guy.”
“He was weird. Just because he found a place to go where weird is in, that doesn’t change the fact that he was one weird kid who built some really twisted scarecrows, then grew up into a pretty weird adult,” Joe said firmly.
“Joe Brentwood, that’s exactly the kind of attitude that forced Eric to run out west. Well, that and the obvious fact that that’s where he could use his talents to make good money,” she said.
He looked at her. “We both know it was a local who did this,” he said. “When you were doing your thing today, you knew it. He targets out-of-towners. He keeps prisoners. He knows where to put up his displays. He knows the area.”
She felt a sinking sensation. Joe was obviously thinking that he needed to keep an eye on Eric Rolfe, which was just ridicu
lous. Eric was just…Eric.
Then again…
How well did she really know him? She hadn’t seen him in years. In fact, just how well did anyone ever know anyone else?
She looked at Joe. She thought she knew him. Thought she knew him well. And yet he had surprised her just a little while ago by actually defending Jeremy Flynn.
They had reached the edge of town, and Rowenna felt a strange sense of relief to see that even though it was still relatively early, the streetlights had come on. The homes they passed were beautiful—but looking a little indecisive. Pilgrim lawn ornaments were out in abundance, along with wagons heaped with pumpkins whose bright orange complemented the brilliance of the autumn leaves. But some people already had their Christmas lights up, as well. One house already sported a giant Santa and sleigh on the roof.
“Can’t we just get through the one holiday before starting on the next one?” Joe complained. “I mean, seriously. Could we just celebrate Thanksgiving without getting confused with Christmas? It’s a good old American holiday that deserves its due.”
“As American as apple pie?” Rowenna suggested with a smile.
“Yeah. Apple pie,” Joe agreed, as he pulled up to the curb in front of the museum. “Take care, you hear? I don’t want Jeremy coming after me with a mad-on.” He grinned, and then his expression turned serious. “And thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Joe. See you later.”
As she got out of the car and walked the few steps to the museum, Rowenna noticed that the night was coming on fast, almost as if the darkness were racing down from the sky.
She hurried up to the door.
There was a poster on the notice board outside, a poster with two photos, and it hadn’t been there when she’d left. She was certain that the same poster was up all over town. The notice below the pictures, which were identified as Dinah Green and Mary Johnstone, read: PLEASE HELP. If you have seen either of these women, please contact the Salem Police Department at 555-TIPS. Dinah Green went missing on approximately October 20th. Mary Johnstone has been missing since Halloween night. If you saw either of these women, particularly in the company of anyone suspicious, please step forward and help.
Rowenna found herself staring at Dinah Green’s photo. As she did, she once again felt as if the breeze suddenly started to whirl around her, catching her in its vortex. She could hear whispers in her ear.
The woman, crying and desperate.
The man, cold as ice, ruthless, merciless. Unstoppable.
She blinked, as a strange sense of cold surrounded her and her peripheral vision began to cloud. The darkness crowded around her, and the air grew redolent with the scent of growing things, as if she were still standing in the cornfield.
Taking a step back, she found her equilibrium again.
Poor Dinah. She was gone, and she had died in an agony of fear.
And Mary was still out there somewhere, in the possession of that same calculating killer. Rowenna was convinced that she was still alive, though she had no logical way to explain her certitude.
The killer played with his victims. They were toys to him. He was a god, and they were to worship him. He was kind. The harvest king. And they were to bow down and offer themselves willingly, lovingly, to the king of abundance.
She focused on the picture of Mary Johnstone. She was a gorgeous woman, with laughter in her eyes. The photographer had caught something gentle and sweet in her features, in her full and generous smile. She had been hurt, Rowenna knew, but she had forgiven, because she loved her husband.
The swirling sensation came again, along with that foggy darkness. She was there, but she wasn’t. She heard voices again, and she knew that she was hearing Mary Johnstone, feeling what Mary had felt, but when she’d been happy, not as she was now. She was laughing and sliding her hand into Brad’s, a sign of the trust she was willing to give.
She was Mary, or she was in Mary’s head, and she was walking along the street and then going into the museum.
“There you are.”
She was startled back to the present. Dan was standing in front of her.
“I was going to give you up for lost and call it quits for the day,” he said.
“Is it five?” Rowenna asked. It couldn’t be. She was sure that it hadn’t even been four-thirty when Joe dropped her off.
Had she been standing here staring at pictures for over half an hour?
“It’s five,” Daniel confirmed.
Her cell phone rang. She gave him an apologetic smile and answered it quickly, recognizing Jeremy’s number.
“I’m sorry. I’m running late. I’m close to town, though.”
“That’s okay.”
“You are at the museum, right?” he asked with a hint of skepticism.
“Yes.”
“I arranged for us to meet Brad for drinks at six, at the Hawthorne Hotel.”
“Okay, I’ll be there.”
“Are you alone?”
“I’m with Dan.”
“Okay, good.”
“Did you come up with anything else?” she asked Daniel once she’d hung up.
He grinned. “Well, I don’t know if the cops will think so. They’re pretty interested in the here and now. But I think you were right and someone is replaying the past, even though the cops aren’t interested in all the details.”
“I’m interested.”
“You are, aren’t you?” he said, and his expression grew sad as he looked at the pictures on the poster. “I saw her, you know, at the Hawthorne bar. I called the police and told them what I could.”
Rowenna sucked in a breath.
“Did you see who she was with?”
To her surprise, he nodded. “I described him to the police, and I bet I’m not the only one who’ll be able to give a description. It was busy there that night, so someone else is bound to remember them.”
“Was the guy…local?” Rowenna asked.
“I’ve never seen him before, but that doesn’t mean he’s not from the area.”
“What did he look like? Did you ever see him again? Maybe the day Mary Johnstone disappeared?” she asked anxiously.
“I wish I could say that I had, but no. He was tall, good-looking. Built, like he worked out a lot. I got the feeling that he was blue collar. I don’t know—mechanic, construction worker, something like that. He had that…bad-boy kind of edge, I guess.”
“Blond, dark, white, black, Hispanic, Asian…What?” she asked.
“Blond, white,” Daniel said. “Hopefully they’ll put a sketch out, someone will recognize him and they’ll get him. Quickly, I hope. While Mary’s still alive.”
She nodded at him and smiled slowly. “I’m glad you think she’s still alive, too. Brad believes it, of course, but he almost has to, to keep from going crazy. But I think most people think that she’s dead. Especially now that Dinah Green…” She couldn’t bring herself to go on. The mental image was bad enough without putting it into words.
He touched her face. “I think you think she’s alive because you want to,” he said softly.
“That’s not true. I really believe it.”
“You’re a good kid,” he told her. “But will you be a good queen?” he teased, making an effort to lighten the mood.
She shrugged. “It’s hard to think about celebrating anything right now.”
“Yeah, but…that’s what the world does. It goes on. The seasons will always come and go. Until we blow up the planet, of course,” he added dismally. “Well, long day, and longer day tomorrow. I’ll see you then, I assume?”
“Yeah, but wait! I want to hear what you found out.”
He waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing huge. I’ll fill you in tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure, thanks.”
His brow furrowed. “Hey, are you all right alone? Should I take you somewhere?”
“No, no, I’m just going up the street.”
“Well, be careful.”
“I’ll st
ick to the main roads, and I’m only going a few blocks. I’ll be fine.”
He waved goodbye and started off down the street. She watched him go and hesitated, thinking she should have asked him to walk with her and considering calling him back. But she really was going only a few blocks along sidewalks filled with people, and she couldn’t go letting Jeremy and Joe make her afraid of the town she’d lived in all her life.
When she turned the corner, she saw that Adam and Eve hadn’t closed up. In fact, there were still several customers in the store.
She noticed that Eve had taken a corner of her display window to put up the police department’s request for assistance.
She forced herself not to look at the pictures; she still couldn’t understand how she had lost so much time in front of the museum, staring at them. She hadn’t been trying to figure out where they had been or what had happened, but somehow her mind had slipped into those channels anyway.
Maybe she should try to figure out where Mary was, since she was still alive.
For how long?
A sense of urgency tugged at her. If only she had some magic window or a real crystal ball, or if she could even go into a trance to discover the truth. But she couldn’t do that. Despite the way she had felt earlier, the things she had seen, all she had was logic.
All she could do was let herself feel and become.
But it was frightening, painful. And she couldn’t do it now, not here, and not alone.
She was all set to move on when Eve saw her, waved and hurried outside, offering Rowenna a worried smile.
“What are you doing out here on your own? You’re not going to drive home alone, and stay in that big old house all by yourself, are you?”
“I’m staying in town with Jeremy,” Rowenna said. “I’m on my way to meet him now.”
“Smooth move,” Eve said teasingly.
“Eve!”
“Oh, don’t get huffy. I know you wouldn’t sleep with someone just because you didn’t want to go home. Especially not him. I mean, I’d sleep with him without any extra incentive. Wait, that didn’t come out right.”
Deadly Harvest Page 19
