“Thank you,” Kylie said, and then she hurried over to the bedroom assigned to her, closing the door and leaning against it.
She was shaking. She was terrified.
Despite her relief that they believed her about what she’d seen, she was also very afraid that they were telling the truth. Because that meant she had seen a murder—and a murderer. No matter if it turned out Matt Hudson had spent his time out of state, the murderer she had seen was still out there, walking free.
Ten
Jon returned to his office space on Essex Street. He hoped the police were able to reach Marla Martinelli soon. He hoped she had information. He was even more hopeful she was safe and well and just unaware her friend had been in an accident and was in the hospital.
He pulled out the crime scene photos again, pouring over them.
The way the victims had been attacked and then left was alike—as much as a set of perfectly crossed T’s. The knife patterns, according to the different medical examiners who’d checked each other’s files, were almost exact as well. In every murder, the killer had been right-handed. That in itself was nothing. Only about ten percent of people in the world were left-handed, and perhaps thirty percent were ambidextrous in certain ways.
He was getting nowhere.
He went over his notes again. No matter how he looked at it, no matter how many times he read over the information, he came out with the same conclusion. The killer appeared to be the same: a serial killer with a specific method.
Except that Kylie had seen Michael Westerly kill Annie Hampton.
His phone rang—it was Ben. Jon was certain by then that they should have managed to find and speak with Mrs. Martinelli.
“You found Marla?” Jon asked.
“Yes, and no,” Ben said.
“How so?”
“We contacted her daughter. Marla left her house earlier this afternoon, but she left her phone at her daughter’s place and didn’t drive back for it.”
Jon swore softly. “You’ve got to get people out looking for her.”
“Every cop from here to Boston is on it, trust me. But she may just not realize she left the phone. Believe it or not, there are people who actually drive without playing with their phones.”
“Not many.”
“We’ll find her, Jon.”
“I have no doubt we’ll find her. I’m hoping we find her alive.”
“Yeah. Ditto,” Ben said.
“Anything else on Matt Hudson?”
“He’s biding his time. He knows that his every alibi is being thoroughly investigated. He doesn’t seem disturbed by that fact. I don’t know, Jon. On this one...he may be an innocent man.”
“He might be.”
“Better safe than sorry, especially with a knife-wielding man.”
“That’s my motto.”
“I was a bit surprised today when you asked him about Michael Westerly. What did you think about his answers?” Ben asked.
“It was interesting that he admitted that the politician had been in the Cauldron several times, and that Matt knew him.”
“I don’t understand why you’re so convinced that Westerly murdered Annie Hampton.”
“I think he was her mysterious lover,” Jon said. “And if Jimmy wakes up, I’m willing to bet that he’ll tell us that he saw the two of them together. Or,” he added quietly, “if we find Marla Martinelli, and she’s fine and able to talk, she might be able to tell us. Maybe Jimmy told her something. She should be home by now. It’s just not that long a drive.”
“No, and every cop out there—”
“Is looking for her, I know.”
“All right,” Ben said with a sigh. “We’ll stay in touch.”
They rang off and Jon drummed his fingers on his desk for a moment. Then he stood up. He was going to look for Marla himself.
It was late Monday afternoon, and the weekend tourists had gone home, but Essex Street still held an attraction for those who lingered through the weekdays, and some of the shops also managed to maintain local clientele. There were those on the street who practiced Wicca and met as friends or stopped to buy trinkets, books, and other paraphernalia from one another. The museums were also continually popular, offering much that went beyond the witchcraft craze and into the history of whaling and seafaring. Except for late at night, Jon had seldom seen the street empty.
He wandered awhile, then found himself heading back to the Old Burying Point.
It didn’t close until sundown, and while the sun was setting, the gates had yet to be closed. He walked through, back to the place where he saw Matt Hudson with Kylie. Kneeling down, he saw that there was an old grave, one that, despite the best efforts of the caretakers, was crisscrossed with weeds.
Matt’s story could have been true.
Jon was bent over the grave when Obadiah approached him.
“Have you found her?” Obadiah asked anxiously.
Jon looked up.
“Mrs. Martinelli. Have you found her?” Obadiah asked again.
“She was out of the city, at her daughter’s,” Jon said. He hesitated. “But she left there and forgot her cell phone and started to drive home. And she hasn’t been located yet.”
“Why aren’t you looking for her?”
“Obadiah, I’m out here, hoping somehow... I don’t know. Believe me, Ben Miller has every cop in the state looking for her car.”
“Cars can be sunk in ponds and rivers and hidden in many places.”
“I know that, Obadiah. But I can’t just drive around pointlessly. I have to have faith in my fellow law enforcement officers. Ben is a good cop. You know that.” Jon stood and dusted his hands. “There’s a possibility we haven’t considered yet. We’re so afraid something might have happened to her.”
“What’s that?”
“She may be hiding. She may have heard about Jimmy’s accident on the local news. Let’s say she was already driving home when she found out. If she was aware that someone might be after her, she’d know they would probably find her daughter’s place, so she wouldn’t go back there. She’d hide—carefully.”
Obadiah weighed his words. “Perhaps,” he said.
“If so, maybe you could find her,” Jon said. “You have other friends.”
“Dead ones, you mean,” Obadiah said.
“Maybe someone out there knows something,” Jon said softly.
Obadiah turned and walked away.
Jon prayed Marla was just hiding; he wasn’t at all sure of his theory. If someone believed she and Jimmy knew something about the murder, they were both in grave danger.
As Kylie would be, if Westerly knew she had somehow seen him.
He glanced at his watch, then back at the grave. It was an absurd thought that Westerly might hire a local bartender as a killer.
Absurd. Yet, Jon couldn’t discount the possibility. And if not Matt Hudson, maybe someone else. Someone who had seen to it that Jimmy Marino had a system filled with chemicals that would bring on a heart attack and an almost-deadly accident.
* * *
“I don’t think they’re going to be happy to see us at the Cauldron,” Kylie noted as they left the cottage to drive back into the historic district.
“I don’t think they’ll know anything at the Cauldron,” Rocky said. “There are other bartenders. One has been called in to take Matt’s shift. Some passersby saw what was going on in the cemetery, but we were out of there before any media showed up.”
“We don’t try to ruin lives. We try to save them,” Devin told her.
They arrived early. Rocky parked in one of the garages off Essex Street and they headed for the restaurant. They passed a year-round horror mansion on their way.
Kylie knew she’d walked by the attraction before, but she’d never gone in. Today, she found herself pausing
. The fake skeletal remains in the window had never bothered her before; the foam gravestones had been just that. The floating ghosts had seemed silly. Now they were macabre and frightening.
Her world had changed.
Inside the Cauldron, Kylie saw that Cindy was behind the bar, joined by another young woman. They were moving quickly, filling orders. To her surprise, Cindy waved cheerfully when she saw Kylie.
Curious, Kylie left her escorts behind and strode to the bar, though she assumed they were getting a table for dinner.
“Cindy, hey, how are you doing?” she asked when the young woman turned to her.
“Great!”
“You have a new coworker.”
“Mariah—a friend. Yeah, she needs the work. She goes to Salem College and is trying to pick up a little extra money. And it worked out perfectly. Matt asked for the night off to help the police!”
“Ah, well, that was good of him. How is he...helping the police?” If that was the story Matt had chosen to tell, it was fine with Kylie.
“We’re one of the most popular places in town,” Cindy explained. “Matt is going through all kinds of information about people. Suspicious characters, all that.”
“Ah, I see.”
“What can I get you?”
“I’m fine. Having dinner with...friends. I just wanted to say hello.”
“Well, have a nice dinner!” Cindy said.
Kylie turned to go back to Rocky and Devin, and bumped right into Carl Fisher. He was dressed in a Victorian frock coat and top hat.
“Kylie,” he greeted her, “you’re here.”
“Carl...great costume,” she told him enthusiastically. She was relieved that she knew for sure this was a man dressed in period clothing, and not a ghost from another time.
“Sometimes I dress up for the tours.” He shrugged. “Depends on my mood. Some nights, I feel like being a complete professor—the facts and just the facts, you know. Then, especially on a Monday night, I might be just a wee bit bored, so I kind of play up the dark Victorian alley kind of a thing. Even though we don’t have any dark Victorian alleys.” He grinned.
She found herself smiling in return. He was, for all that she could see, a nice human being. Just making his living. And he shared her passion for history. “Well, you look great,” she said.
“Thank you, my dear.” He gave her a sweeping bow. “You’ve looked great every time I’ve seen you.” Before the compliment could become something more, he added, “So, I’m hearing you had a strange run-in with Matt at the cemetery today.”
“Pardon?”
“He was showing you something and had a knife out and freaked out the cops or whoever. They say he’s trying to help with Annie Hampton’s murder investigation.”
“Ah, yeah,” Kylie said.
“Matt is a good guy.”
“I believe you.”
He was still looking at her. “He thinks you know something about the murder.”
Kylie shrugged uncomfortably, glancing over his shoulder to the booth where Devin and Rocky were waiting. “I wish—like everyone, I’m sure—that I could help the police in any way. But my friends and I were just a few blocks away from here when it happened. No idea what went on...”
She was babbling, wondering just how many people had seen her when she’d nearly passed out in the bar after seeing Michael Westerly’s picture.
Anyone who supported Westerly—to death?
“Hi!”
Kylie didn’t need to fear being put on the spot by Carl any further—Devin was there, smiling, and ready to meet the man.
“Carl,” Kylie said, relieved, “my friend Devin. We were about to have dinner.”
Carl looked at Devin with surprise. “The kid’s book queen!” he said.
“I don’t know about that, but I write books for children, yes. Nice to meet you, Carl.”
“Can I interest you in signing up for a ghost tour?” he asked her, a crooked smile on his lips. “But then you’re from here—you’re even part of one of our tours, because of your connection to those murders a few years back.”
Devin managed to keep her smile in place. “That’s all in the past. Anyway, truly a pleasure—you look great, by the way—but may I steal Kylie back? My husband is starving.”
Before Carl could say more, Devin linked Kylie’s arm and led her to the table. Kylie sat gratefully, facing Rocky and then Devin who slid in beside him.
“Is it just me or is everyone looking at me suspiciously?” Kylie asked quietly. “Carl knows that Matt is at the station. Cindy knows that Matt is at the station. They were here when I nearly passed out seeing Westerly on TV. But why do I feel as though other people are staring at me?”
She broke off, frowning, and leaned forward. “I know that Michael Westerly killed Annie Hampton. Why would anyone else worry about that? Why would I have to be worried about anyone other than Westerly?”
Just then Jon Dickson slid into the booth beside her. She jumped—she hadn’t seen him come in. Clearly he’d heard her, even though she’d almost whispered.
“You’d be worried because you’re smart,” he said. “Because we have absolutely no idea what is really going on here, or with the other murders. And Marla Martinelli is still missing while Jimmy Marino remains unconscious. So—” He turned to the others. “Did anyone ask about the special tonight?”
The world was upside down. She had visions of murder. Ghosts were walking the streets. And Jon wanted to know the dinner special. At least he didn’t enter the restaurant with a ghost—his “friend” Obadiah wasn’t with him.
Nor did he mention a ghost.
None of them mentioned ghosts!
Their waitress came to the table and Jon politely ordered. Then he excused himself and walked over to the bar, chatted with Cindy and her friend, and then Carl. As casually as if he’d never tackled Carl’s friend in a cemetery and then had him arrested.
Kylie knew that he was casually watching everyone and everything there, certain that something might be gained from being in the Caldron.
Of course, she realized. The matchbox advertising the Cauldron. They still didn’t know what it meant.
They were all observing, Kylie thought. Jon, Devin, and Rocky. At first glance, they all looked like they were enjoying a casual dinner; light conversation, no talk of the dead. But still watching.
After noting that his scrod dinner was excellent, fresh and perfectly cooked, Rocky spoke quietly to Jon. “All parties of interest are here. I believe that’s the past-life-regression therapist, Dr. Sayers, who just walked in. He’s with a young lady.”
Dr. Sayers had a pretty brunette on his arm. He headed to the bar, chatted with Cindy, and thanked her when she pointed out a booth about to empty.
Jon turned to Kylie. “I know you found it really hard to experience, but do you think you could you do it again? Could you let him hypnotize you again?”
“No.”
“If it meant finding a way to get evidence against Michael Westerly?”
“No.”
“If it meant justice for Annie?”
Kylie wrapped her arms tightly around herself. She wished they weren’t seated at a booth, that they weren’t so close their legs were touching—that she didn’t feel torn in dozens of ways.
“Of course I want her killer caught. And if what I saw was real, good lord, I don’t want the man holding any kind of public office. I don’t want him walking the streets. But...it was really horrible. And disorienting.”
“I’d be there. By your side. I swear to you, I wouldn’t step aside a second. I’d have your hand.”
Finally, Kylie nodded. “You’re right. I can do this for Annie. If it will help bring her justice.”
Jon immediately stood and walked over to Sayers’s table. The two greeted each other cordially; Kylie saw that
Sayers introduced Jon to his brunette companion.
Then Jon must have asked him about another regression.
Sayers looked back at her. She felt a chill. Sayers couldn’t have been the killer, she knew; he was the one who had been with her in person when she’d entered another woman’s mind and body.
Sayers smiled at her across the crowded restaurant.
She managed a determined smile back.
The doctor turned and nodded to Jon. They spoke for another few minutes, and then Jon returned to the table.
“We’re on,” he said. “Tomorrow morning at ten.”
“Great,” Kylie said without enthusiasm.
“Thank you,” Jon said simply. He looked straight in her eyes. “We don’t like putting you in this position. But when a killer like this is on the loose—”
“Yes, I get it. I understand.”
“Dessert?” Devin asked.
“God no. Please, let’s just get out of here,” Kylie said. “Please. I just need some time...alone.”
When they returned to Devin’s cottage, Kylie felt she had to escape them, to make sense of what was happening in her own mind. She immediately made her way into the room that had been assigned to her.
She remembered to call Corrine—and say nothing about talking to the dead, though she did tell her about what had happened in the cemetery with Matt and Jon.
Corrine again told her to come home.
Kylie wanted to, but no, she shouldn’t. Whatever had started here had to end here. She had to see it through.
* * *
Jon lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He was growing more and more worried about Marla Martinelli. With every cop in the state looking for her, how had she managed to elude them all? At least, her car should have been found.
He heard someone come into the parlor; he eased up on the couch, frowning, wondering if something had happened.
He didn’t at all expect to see Kylie standing above him. She looked ridiculously dignified, even wearing only a long sleep T-shirt. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she seemed to look down at him with incredible scorn.
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