by L. T. Ryan
“What?” Mandy felt confused. She had figured at least Marcus would be into the idea, even if Laura Lynn wasn’t. “Aren’t you a computer genius? You could help me solve the case! We’d be heroes.”
“It’s not worth it.” When he looked up again, he was deadly serious. “A lot of people have gone missing over the years, Mandy. Not just kids. It’s better to just keep your head down. Don’t cause any trouble.”
Mandy blanched. When she looked at Laura Lynn for support, she saw her friend nodding in agreement. Mandy sat back in her chair with a huff, the turkey and cheese sandwich untouched. So much for showing Bear she could take care of herself by solving this on her own.
9
Bear pulled his truck next to McKinnon’s cruiser and put it in park. He hopped out and met her around the side of her car. “A graveyard? This is about to get real interesting, or real weird.”
“Let’s hope it gets interesting,” McKinnon said.
The slam of her door echoed through the surrounding trees, and the two of them trudged their way up a set of steps to the cemetery. Bear had passed it a few times as he’d driven around town. It was the biggest within a twenty-mile radius, but it wasn’t huge. The gravestones were crammed near each other, filling the entire plot of land to the brim.
There was a short wrought-iron fence around the perimeter and a plaque that read “April Meadows Cemetery” in block letters. A few trees were scattered around, along with a couple of larger headstones, but most of the markers were small and modest. The paths were skinny and winding, as though they had been an afterthought.
“What’re we doing here?” Bear asked.
“Just observe.” McKinnon walked through the stones with no apparent purpose in mind. “Tell me what you see.”
“Why?” Bear felt the frustration mount in his chest. He didn’t enjoy being out of the loop. “Why are you asking me?”
McKinnon stopped and turned to face him. He had to pull up short to avoid knocking her off her feet. “You’re more than you say you are.” Her expression was unreadable. “And I think you can help me.” She paused. “I need you to help me. I’m not sure anyone else will.”
Something in her voice softened Bear. This wasn’t a person who wanted to dig into his past because she was curious about what he was doing here. She recognized a kinship—a newcomer who was smarter and more experienced than the Average Joe.
McKinnon must’ve seen Bear give in because she smiled and turned on her heel. They remained silent as she wound her way through the gravestones, and Bear went into Sherlock mode. He looked at every stone on either side of the path and gathered information, even if his brain didn’t think it was relevant at first glance. There was no telling what McKinnon was looking for, so he stored it all in the back of his mind.
Bear first noticed the family names. A few of the founding families were in this plot, going back a couple hundred years. Schmidt, Müller, Zimmermann, and Richter. All German. The Richter plots were more ornate than the others, but the Müllers had the most headstones. Some names had changed over the years as families immigrated later—Smith, Miller, Zimmer—but Bear was willing to bet they were related.
Second, he noticed the dates. As McKinnon led him to the far corner of the cemetery, the years reached further and further back. She stopped at what seemed to be the first grave in the cemetery. Johann Richter, 1887. In loving memory.
Bear made a noncommittal sound of interest.
“What do you see?”
He studied her for a moment. She looked wary, almost scared. Like she knew something no one else did, and she was bursting at the seams to share. But that kind of trust in another human being often came with consequences. Especially if you’d just met that person the day before.
“Only the back quarter of the graveyard has headstones from the nineteen-forties or earlier.” Bear pointed back toward the entrance. “Another quarter or so from before the nineteen-seventies. That’s eighty years to make up fifty percent of the cemetery.”
“And?” McKinnon sounded like a teacher whose student was this close to working out the right answer for himself.
“That means the other half of the graveyard has stones from nineteen-seventy to present day. Forty or fifty years.” Bear was pacing now. “And the dates are off.”
“Off?”
“Most old gravestones show people dying before they hit fifty. Many people died early back then because of poor healthcare and sanitation. Not to mention working conditions.” Bear stopped and looked at the sheriff. “But there are a lot of newer graves here, and a lot more people dying around the same age. The death rate is going up, not down. People are dying younger.”
“Bingo.”
Bear shook his head. “So, what does it mean? Why?”
McKinnon shrugged. “Hell if I know. Like I said, our death rates are astronomical. Did you know Union County, Florida, has the highest rate of cancer in the United States? Just over two hundred cases a year. We have half that and an eighth of the population. It doesn’t make sense.”
“You mentioned suicide rates, too? Illnesses?”
“Las Vegas, Nevada, has the highest rate of suicide annually. Just over thirty people per one hundred thousand residents. Do you know what the population of Las Vegas is? A little over six hundred thousand people. That means one hundred and eighty people are killing themselves a year in Vegas.”
Bear was almost afraid to ask. “And here?”
“Twenty in the last year.” She shook her head. “And it’s not like it is in Vegas. Nameless people. Faces on the street. I knew every single one of those people. Mothers. Fathers. Children. Children.” There were tears in her eyes. “A twelve-year-old who didn’t think life was worth living anymore. What kind of place is this if a middle schooler feels he’d be better off dead?”
Bear took a step closer. He wanted to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder but resisted. “What’s going on, Sheriff? Why is this happening?”
“I don’t know.” When McKinnon looked up into Bear’s eyes, he saw the kind of determination that could change the course of his stay in this small town. It was a choice—help or stay out of the way. “But I think it has something to do with that girl you found in your septic tank. Whatever happened to her has happened to others.”
“She was murdered.” Bear didn’t want to dissuade her from following through on the thought, but he needed to keep them grounded. “It wasn’t cancer. And it probably wasn’t suicide.”
“Lots of people go missing around here,” McKinnon said. “Men, women, children. A lot more children than people would like to admit. Some people think they run away. That this town is cursed. They feel like those missing kids might be better off away from here.”
“But you don’t think they are.”
“They’re either dead or worse.” She shook her head. “They’ve stepped out of one fire and into another.”
“Are there any common links?” Bear asked. “Any patterns?” He gestured around the graveyard. “You’ve got plenty of data to look at. There’s gotta be something that jumps out at you.”
“That’s the problem.” McKinnon laughed, borderline hysterical. “There’s information missing. Years of our records that don’t exist.” When Bear opened his mouth to ask about it, she held up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say, but whoever did it, whether it’s one person or many, covered their tracks. This office building burned down. That basement flooded. Someone stole them. A computer got hacked. A hard drive blew up.” She leveled him a look. “Don’t ask me how a hard drive blows up, because I don’t know.”
“Okay.” Bear started pacing again. “So, you’ve got a conspiracy on your hands.”
“Don’t think I missed the way you say you and not we.”
He shrugged. “Like I said, I’m just trying to keep my head down. I don’t want any trouble.”
“Trouble found you when you dug up that body.” McKinnon looked sorry for him. “People aren’t going to think you
had anything to do with it, but you’re new in town. Your name is tarnished. Small town residents will find any reason to ostracize outsiders.”
“I’m not looking to make friends.”
“What about enemies? People around here don’t need an excuse to hate you. They’ll do it on principle alone.”
Bear sighed. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
“Your reputation?”
“Your conspiracy.”
She shrugged. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
10
Bear was home by the time Mandy climbed off the bus and ran up the driveway. He’d spent another half hour with McKinnon in the cemetery, but ultimately didn’t give her an answer. He was sympathetic to the situation, but what could he do that she couldn’t? She was the sheriff. She had more power to get answers than he ever would.
The situation still nagged at him. It tugged at the back of his mind like a needy toddler. Numbers swirled in his head—percentages of this and rates of that, birthdates and death dates, populations. He kept on until he found himself staring into space and trying to put it all together, like a puzzle with missing pieces. He knew McKinnon was on to something, but until they had some idea of the big picture, he had no way of helping her.
Not that he was ready to stick his neck out for her, he reminded himself. She was a good person—a good cop—and he could tell she cared about this town and these people. But this was supposed to be his retirement. His reprieve from the life he had led before this one. He wanted Mandy to go to a good school, learn how to be around kids her age. She deserved to live a normal life. And it was his job to give it to her.
As if on cue, Mandy burst through the front door, breathless and excited. He chuckled. “It’s nice to see you so excited to do your homework.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She turned away. “I know the rules. But I had an interesting day at school.”
“Did you?” This was a first. Mandy talked little about school, and Bear didn’t press. He knew how hard it was to be the new kid. “What happened?”
“Made a new friend.”
“Oh yeah?” He went to the kitchen and poured her a glass of water. “Who?”
“Marcus.”
“The kid you saved from Pete?”
“Yeah.” Mandy drained the glass before Bear even had a chance to put the pitcher away. “He’s, like, a tech genius. He was telling us about all the computers he has. Even built his own.”
“That’s pretty cool.” Bear filled the glass up again and handed it to her. “He’s not committing any crimes, is he?”
“No idea.” Mandy didn’t seem all that concerned if he was, and Bear couldn’t blame her. Their shared definition of criminal activity was more than a little blurry. “He’s really smart. Knows a lot of stuff.”
Bear didn’t miss the way her cheeks were flushed, and he didn’t think it was just from the run up the driveway. But he wasn’t ready to talk to her about boys and crushes. He had enough on his plate. “That’s very impressive. Knowing stuff.”
Mandy ignored him. She stiffened. “I told him about the body.” When Bear’s eyes narrowed, Mandy held up her hand. “Everyone already saw the cop cars. They thought it was because I beat up Pete. They were going to find out sooner or later, Bear. All the parents will be talking about it, and the kids will hear it one way or another.”
“Fair point,” Bear grumbled.
“So, I told him about the body. And you know what he said? There are lots of people who go missing around here. A lot of kids who die of cancer and stuff.”
Bear didn’t let on that he knew more about what she was saying. “Yeah?”
Mandy’s voice got quiet. “Laura Lynn thinks it’s a sign.”
“A sign of what?”
She shrugged. “Bad things. Do you think—” Mandy’s voice cut off, and it surprised Bear to see tears in her eyes. “Do you think we deserve it?”
Bear guided her to the table, and they sat down across from each other. He wasn’t always good at this stuff—the quieter part of being a dad. Usually, he went from zero to a hundred trying to protect Mandy. But sometimes it was just about checking for monsters under the bed.
Unfortunately, a lot of their monsters were real.
“Deserve what?” Bear asked.
“Bad things to happen to us.”
“No. Especially not to you.” Bear took her hand. “I’ve done a lot of things I wish I could take back, but I’ve always tried to make up for it. No matter what, I try to keep the balance in favor of the good guys. That’s really the best we can do.” He ducked his head to look her in the eyes. “And you know you haven’t done anything wrong, right? Life dealt you a crappy hand, but that doesn’t mean you deserved it.”
Mandy nodded her head. “Do you think our house is haunted?”
He chuckled. “If it was, it wouldn’t have been so expensive.”
“What do you think happened to her?” Mandy took another sip of water. “The girl?”
“I’m not sure.” Bear had always treated Mandy more like an adult than a kid. She was too smart to fall for the usual tricks, and he knew better than most that the world wouldn’t be kind to her. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her, but he also wanted her to be ready for whatever came at them. “I think she was murdered.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. Lots of different reasons. She saw something she shouldn’t have. Maybe it was a message to her parents. Maybe it was an accident, and someone buried her to hide their mistake.”
“Are you gonna try to figure it out?”
“Not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” Mandy frowned. “I thought we tried to help the people who couldn’t help themselves. You know, keep the balance.”
Bear sighed. She had him there. “We’re also supposed to be—”
“Lying low.” Mandy sighed. “I know. But what if that was me, Bear? Wouldn’t you want to know what happened?”
“I’d stop at nothing to find you.” Bear’s voice was a growl, and he had to work to suppress the sudden anger that overtook him at the idea of someone hurting Mandy. “I’d do anything to get you back.”
“I wish that girl had a dad like you.” Mandy sounded sad. “Maybe she wouldn’t have died.”
Bear couldn’t bring himself to tell her it didn’t always work like that.
She sat up straight, a new light in her eyes. “What about talking to the neighbors? Maybe some of them have been around for a while. They could know something.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” He looked at the clock. It wasn’t even dinnertime yet, so he couldn’t use that as an excuse. “The more we get involved, the more trouble we invite to our doorstep.”
“Marcus and Laura Lynn seemed scared, too.” Mandy deflated. “They said it was better to stay out of it, or something bad might happen to one of us.” She looked up, and her eyes were wide. “But I just want to help. And you always win, Bear. You always beat the bad guys.”
He didn’t know what to say. That one of these days, he was bound to lose? The numbers weren’t on his side, and he was still recovering from his latest surgery. Or was he supposed to tell her he was tired? Tired of being on the run, tired of looking over his shoulder, tired of worrying about whether he’d wake up in the middle of the night with vengeance standing over him.
Bear didn’t want to help because he wanted to be selfish for the first time in his life. He wanted to put himself and his daughter first. He wanted to relax. Finding the body in his backyard was a coincidence, but for all he had reassured Mandy, it felt a lot like retribution. He had a duty to help others, but for once, he wanted to look the other way.
Except there was no way he could tell her that. As she sat there with hope in her eyes, Bear felt the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders.
11
Bear used his thumb and forefinger to split the blinds. It was a bright fall day with just enou
gh chill in the air to make you want to sit down with a cup of coffee and read the newspaper. Autumn in Upstate New York was picturesque. The leaves on the trees were just turning, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
The irony of this perfect day was that Bear’s new life was falling apart around him.
He hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. Then again, he had no way of anticipating finding a body in his backyard. Paranoia had crept in, and he couldn’t help feeling an unbearable itch to leave.
That morning, his house had been on the news. Two separate reporters—one from the local station and one from Rochester—had stood on the sidewalk outside his home and gathered footage for about an hour. Every fiber of his being wanted to chase them off. He resisted. For now. So far, the news had no information about the man who had found the body, and he was going to keep it that way.
Mandy had already left for school by the time the news story ran. He felt a pang of guilt for not giving her a better heads up that her entire school would be talking about what had happened at her house. But she was a smart kid. She’d already told her friends about the body because she knew this would happen eventually. She was thinking more clearly than he was.
When she asked if she could sleep over at Laura Lynn’s house that night, he’d jumped at the opportunity. He was keeping up pretenses for Mandy, but without her around, he’d have a little more liberty to dig into the situation. Now that it was getting wider attention, he’d have to decide to make a move or get moving.
Bear’s ears perked up as a car with a loud muffler approached the house. It was a red Honda Civic that had seen better days. It didn’t slow down or turn into the driveway, so Bear stored it in his memory banks in case it made another trip down the street.
That morning, he’d caught four different vehicles slowing and staring at the house, like they could glean information from the siding if they made prolonged eye contact. One of the vehicles had actually pulled into the driveway, backed out, and then went back the way it came. Maybe someone really had needed to turn around, but given the size of the town, he doubted it. By this time, everyone knew what had happened there. If you hadn’t seen it on the news yourself, then your friend had, and they couldn’t wait to tell you all about it. Including their theory of who the girl was and what had happened to her.