by B. T. Lord
Ellis tipped his head. “No, they’re not. I’ll be on my way then.” He started to turn away when he abruptly swung back towards her. “Did you do a reading for Mallory?”
Before she could stop herself, she burst out laughing. “Are you kidding? All those kids think I’m the Wicked Witch of the West. They wouldn’t come near me if they could help it.”
“John did.”
She shrugged. “If you must know, he came here to apologize.”
“For what?”
“His friend Richard said some nasty things to me last night. John felt bad and came to say he was sorry for Richard’s behavior. I’ve often wondered why he hangs around with that Neanderthal in the first place.”
“Don’t you like Richard?”
“It’s hard to like a bully, and that’s exactly what Richard is.”
“What did he say to you last night?”
“The usual.” She looked up at the deputy. “It isn’t easy being a psychic on an island where people are suspicious of anything they don’t understand. The kids pick it up from their parents and grandparents who have always looked down on my family with fear and misunderstanding. At least John had enough sense to realize I’m not the devil incarnate.”
“I’ll leave you to it then. Have a good afternoon.”
Dara listened to Ellis’s receding steps, followed by the door downstairs opening, then closing. She stood up and looked out the window, watching as the deputy crossed the street and headed towards his office.
Why had he really stopped by? And why was he so curious about her giving a reading to John? Or to Mallory for that matter?
Maybe she should have told him she’d done a reading for John. But as soon as she thought that, she quickly discarded it. Her mother had drilled into her that readings were private. If the client wanted to share specifics, that was up to them. But the information that came through was to be treated with the same sacredness and care as whatever passed between a priest and a person in the confessional. She couldn’t betray that confidence. Not even with Deputy Martin.
The moonlight shone brightly onto the surrounding homes and yards as Richard cautiously drove past DeeDee’s house. Thanks to the natural illumination, he was able to make out the figures of the two men as they quietly patrolled the outside of the home. Details of her frightening dreams, and the fear that she was next on the killer’s hit list, had spread throughout the entire island. Because of her reputation as a melodramatic, slightly hysterical young woman, everyone believed this was her way of gathering attention to herself.
Richard knew otherwise.
He’d never liked DeeDee. She was too nosy for her own good - always trying to listen in on conversations that had nothing to do with her. He’d warned Mal countless times that DeeDee had no idea how to be a true friend. That she was only using Mal to enhance her standing in the group. She never truly added anything to their get-togethers, except the occasional packs of beer she brought to the bonfires.
The bonfires. Those were now a thing of the past. After what happened to Mal, and with the rumors running rampant that the killer would strike again, no one in their right mind would go out at night and make themselves a target to the sick bastard who was out to get them.
Richard sighed in disgust. The island was full of cowards.
He took a hefty swig from the beer bottle as he continued down the road.
Somehow, someway, he needed to get to DeeDee. But how? She was locked up in her house as tightly as if she were in Fort Knox. Nor did he want to call her cell. Calls left a trace. He had no intention of leaving anything that could point back to him. He was too smart for that.
He parked down on the beach and sat looking out over the sea, trying out several scenarios on how he could get to her. The simplest was to enlist Tim’s help. But even that was chancy. He didn’t want Tim to overhear what he had to say; how could he keep her boyfriend away while he spoke to DeeDee?
No. There had to be some way he could get into her room without being detected. He had two days before the ferry showed up to figure it out.
It was close to eleven PM. Dara knew she should be in bed – she had the early morning shift, and she hated dragging her butt while trying to serve breakfast. But she wasn’t sleepy.
Hoping some mindless TV would lull her to sleep, she laid herself out on the couch and reached for the remote. She nestled her head against the pillow and flipped through the channels, stopping at an old black and white film with Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy.
It wasn’t long before Dara’s eyelids grew heavy. She closed her eyes, and soon Hepburn’s unmistakable New England-accented voice grew fainter and fainter. Before she knew it, she drifted off to sleep.
She found herself standing on the top deck of the Portland ferry. Looking about, she noticed it was still docked at the harbor at Paradise Cove. Abruptly, the horn sounded, announcing that it was about to leave.
As she stood upon the deck, she saw that she was alone, which wasn’t unusual. At that time of year, there were few visitors willing to withstand the frigidly cold winds that ravaged the islands. And fewer still brave enough to remain on deck outside while the ferry made its run.
Dara shivered and tightened the scarf around her neck to ward off the chill. She had no idea what she was doing there. She certainly had no reason to travel to Portland. And what was she going to do there for a week until the ferry made its return trip to the Coffins? If she hurried, she still had time to disembark. Yet, she remained at the railing, somehow knowing there was a reason she needed to be there.
She looked out over the dark blue sea, listening to the seagulls’ shriek as they swooped over the large ferry. Thankfully the water was calm, and the sun was shining, guaranteeing a smooth crossing.
To pass the time, Dara slowly walked up and down the deck, her hand sliding along the rail. Suddenly, a piercing scream broke into her revelry. Jerking her head up, she ran across the wide deck and peered over the opposite railing.
“Oh no!” she cried.
Lying on the deck below was a woman, her long dark hair splayed out around her indistinguishable face. There appeared to be an object near her ear, but Dara couldn’t make out what it was. Determined to offer assistance, she turned towards the steps that would take her down to the lower level and came to an abrupt stop.
Across the deck, right where she’d been standing just moments before, stood a black silhouette. She could see no discerning features. Just the motionless dark outline of a man.
A feeling of malevolence washed over her. She wanted to move – needed to move. But her feet refused to cooperate as she stood rooted to the spot. They remained staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Then, as if a mask had been removed from the shadow’s face, she saw a pair of red dots appear where his eyes should have been. Although he remained still, she felt him somehow touching her – sharp, skeletal fingers slowly moving up and down her arms, enveloping her in a sense of dread and evil so sharp, she could barely catch her breath.
She moaned helplessly when the fingers traveled up to her cheeks, her temple and into her very mind. She saw images she didn’t want to see. Deaths that left her shaking. Atrocities that would haunt her for the rest of her life.
Then she saw her own face, contorted in such pain and anguish that the shock of it freed her from her paralysis.
She screamed as loud as she could and backed up so quickly, she didn’t realize until it was too late that she was hurdling over the railing. Down to where the broken body of the woman still lay silently in the winter air.
DeeDee was terrified to fall asleep. Terrified of seeing that thing again. She sat in the living room while her mother sat in her favorite chair, absorbed in her knitting.
How could that woman be so calm when her own daughter was falling apart? What the hell was wrong with her? She wanted so much to open her mouth and scream out those words, but what would be the point? It would only make the tension in the house worse.
> Two days, she kept telling herself. Just two days. Then she’d be away from here and safe. Whatever was after her would never follow her out to Bethel. The killer would make himself too obvious if he were to try something stupid like that.
She had it all planned. She’d get on the ferry as soon as it docked and keep an eye on everyone who got on and off. That wouldn’t be difficult; hardly anyone took the ferry at this time of year. She’d make sure to stay close to her mother in case the killer managed to make their way onto the ferry without being seen. Even if he did, she was ready. She’d quietly taken a small Smith and Wesson 38 from her dad’s gun safe, along with a box of cartridges. Thankfully, they fit perfectly in the oversized pocket of her coat. All it would take was one bullet to take out whoever was after her.
And she was positive someone was after her.
No matter what she did, DeeDee felt as though she was being watched. She was going stir crazy sitting in the house, but she didn’t dare go out. It wasn’t just the killer that unnerved her. Lately, she’d been catching glimpses of that horrible shadowy figure out of the corner of her eye. When she turned her head, it would disappear.
How was she ever going to last two days before the ferry arrived with that creature appearing and disappearing at will? She felt this close to completely losing it. In desperation, she’d turned to Tim, but instantly regretted telling him what she’d seen and experienced. He told her the same thing her parents did. It was all in her head because of her grief surrounding Mallory’s death.
If they only knew the truth.
As much as she hated to admit it, months before Mallory’s death, DeeDee had begun to grow fearful of her friend’s increasingly scathing tongue and hurtful ways. She traced it back to her friend’s rejection by that rich Virginia guy. It triggered an anger in Mallory so deep, DeeDee was unprepared for the viciousness. For the first time, Mallory came face to face with the reality of her life. She could dress and act as though she was rich and famous, but in the end, she was still a fisherman’s daughter living on a boring island in the middle of the Atlantic. No matter how many fashion magazines she read or how long she labored at her blog, those facts were never going to change.
It unleashed a rage that left DeeDee and the rest of the group cowering. All they could do was steer clear of Mallory when the black mood hit her.
DeeDee lost count of the many nights she lay in bed, tossing and turning, wishing she had the courage to break off the friendship. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Was it because she couldn’t bear finding herself on the receiving end of Mallory’s malicious behavior? Or was it due to something darker in her own make-up?
DeeDee mentally went through the list of people Mal had verbally attacked in recent months – incidents she herself had witnessed. To her sickened surprise, she realized there were at least ten people she could think of off the top of her head that fell victim to Mal’s cruelty.
She grew even sicker to her stomach when she remembered how she had taken part in some of them in a desperate attempt to stay Mal’s friend.
Jeez. She was as bad as Mallory. She’d given up her decency to remain friends with the most beautiful girl on Eagla.
If the killer could do that to Mallory’s face, what would he do to hers? He’d never understand that small part of her that was actually glad Mal was gone. No one ever needed to be afraid anymore of what would come out of Mal’s mouth.
The mouth had that been sewn shut.
Shit!
She had to get off the island as quickly as possible. Waiting two days for the ferry to arrive could prove fatal.
She thought to go into her father’s study and beg him to take her off the island. This wasn’t drama. This wasn’t about getting attention anymore. This was about survival.
She didn’t want to die.
Growing more frantic, she was about to get off the couch and seek him out when a memory clicked into place. It made so much sense she couldn’t understand how she hadn’t thought of it before. She sat back down and turned to her mother.
“Say Mom, you know that cinnamon hot chocolate you make that’s so good? Do you mind making me a cup?”
“The caffeine from the chocolate is going to keep you up.”
“I don’t think I’m going to get a good night’s sleep until we’re off Eagla.” She leaned forward. “Please, Mom.”
Aggie looked over the scarf she was knitting and saw her daughter’s pleading expression.
“Oh, alright,” she conceded. She put her knitting into her basket and walked out of the living room. DeeDee waited until she was gone before grabbing her cell phone off the coffee table. She quickly scrolled through her contacts until she found the name she was looking for. Hitting the button, she held her breath. Thankfully it was answered.
“Hey Richard,” she whispered, “it’s DeeDee. We need to talk.”
CHAPTER NINE
Ellis was just turning off the television in his cottage when his cell rang. To his surprise, he saw it was Chloe.
“Don’t you ever sleep?” he asked.
“When I get my teeth into a case, time gets away from me.” He knew exactly what she meant. In his case, it was food that got away from him. “The computer transcripts came in this afternoon. I’ve been going over them.”
“What about the phone records?”
“They should be here the day after tomorrow.”
“Anything jump out at you?”
“Mallory had a blog called The Island Fashionista. Much like her social media, she was obsessed with fashion. She was into predicting what the next year’s trends would be. I have to admit, she was pretty good, though I’m not sure accessories made out of fish nets would have become the rage on Madison Avenue.” Ellis laughed. “She had at least 20,000 followers, some of whom she kept in contact with via email. What’s interesting is the large amount of emails that went back and forth between her and Richard Huntson over a period of about 12 months. He’s the guy you just interviewed, right?”
“Yes, he is. What did they talk about?”
“She spent a great deal of time flirting with him online. He asked her out several times. She always said no, but in a manner that didn’t come out as saying no, if you know what I mean.”
“She was stringing him along?”
“Pretty much. When he apparently got tired of her antics and didn’t email her for several days, she managed to lure him back in and get him going again. I took a look at the transcript of your interview with him. He made it sound as though he’d only asked her out once, she refused and that was that. But these emails show something entirely different was going on between the two of them.”
“Was that reason enough to kill her though?” Ellis pondered aloud.
“Remember how you were trying to figure out why her mouth and eyes were sewn shut? Maybe this was why. She was making promises she had no intention of keeping while batting her eyelashes at him. He got tired of it and finally snapped.”
“It’s possible,” Ellis replied.
“He’s a fisherman, He’d have plenty of access to fishing line. And may know how to repair nets. That takes some kind of sewing skill, doesn’t it?”
“What I don’t understand is, if Richard is our killer, why didn’t he just throw her body into the ocean instead of the pond? With no body, Mallory could have become a missing person and he’d skate away scot free. So far, Ana hasn’t been able to find anything that links him or anyone else to the killing.”
“Is Richard some kind of lothario? Maybe he wanted her found as a warning to others that he won’t be made a fool of.”
“That’s pretty extreme, but I’ve seen worse. I’ll re-interview the ladies in his group of friends and see what they have to say about Richard.”
“On a hunch, I went back over Mallory’s Facebook page. Not only did she send DeeDee an inordinate number of messages, she also spent a great deal of time on DeeDee’s homepage. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was stalking her.�
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Ellis frowned. “They saw each other just about every day.”
“I know. Facebook allows you to see who’s been checking out your page. And Mallory did a ton of checking up on DeeDee.”
“How long did that go on?”
“For at least a year. Seems to me Mallory was not only obsessed with fashion, she was also obsessed with her best friend.”
“There were rumors that Mallory might have been gay.”
“Well, something was going on that would make her keep an eye on DeeDee.”
“How often are we talking?”
He heard the sounds of clicking as Chloe punched up the information on her computer. “Since January of last year, Mallory went onto DeeDee’s home page at least five to six times a day.”
“That really is obsessive.”
“She’d check in throughout the day. Including summers when she was working, which would have been easy to do since she could access Facebook on her cell.”
“Looks like I’ll be paying DeeDee another visit in the morning.”
“I’ll let you know when the phone records get here. Do you want to make a bet on how many times she phoned DeeDee? Or Richard?”
“If her emails and Facebook messages are any indication, I’m sure it’s in the thousands.”
He hung up. Before he had a chance to go over what Chloe had just told him, his cell rang again.
Doesn’t anyone believe in sleep around here?
When he answered, he was bombarded with a hysterical female voice.
“It’s going to happen again! Oh my God, there’s going to be another murder.”
He instantly realized it was Dara on the other end. “Dara, slow down. What are you talking about?”
He listened as she tried her best to get her emotions under control. “I just woke up from a dream. It was like the one I had about Mallory. Someone else is going to die.”
“Describe the dream to me.”
In a halting voice, Dara told him the details. When she got to the end – to the part where she’d seen the shadow – she hesitated. Just as she’d left out that part in her description of her dream with Mallory, she couldn’t bring herself to describe it now. It was as if by giving voice to what she’d seen, it would somehow bring it to life. And once it was brought to life, it would torment her. Torture her.