Their Last Secret

by Rick Mofina

  Ben’s neck and shoulder muscles ached. He took a hot shower. After pulling on a T-shirt and sweats, he thought of Kayla and Emma, stirring his worry. He considered calling home but he was exhausted and got into bed.

  Lights off, room lit only by the glow of his laptop on his chest, Ben swiped through the photos he’d taken that day: the places where the Skull Sisters lived, the smell of the slaughterhouse; the Tullock property, smelling of cleaner, silent, empty of life, with nothing visible to betray the outrage that had descended on the family.

  He’d see that tomorrow.

  He was meeting Roy Tullock’s brother and his wife at the cemetery.

  * * *

  The next morning, Ben was back at the Tel-Star Café having breakfast and reading notes about how the Skull Sisters had taken on new names.

  He went online to read up on the laws and the process used to legally change a person’s name in Manitoba when his phone rang.

  It was Kayla. Ben checked the time difference. She was up early.

  “Hi, honey.”

  “Dad, when are you coming home?”

  “Home? I just got here. What is it? Is everything all right?”

  “No.” Her voice trembled. “Tug’s missing. We can’t find him.”

  Ben took a moment, glanced around. No one was near.

  “He probably ran off. You know he does that sometimes.”

  “We looked everywhere, up and down the street, asked the neighbors.”

  “I’m sure he’ll come home.”

  Kayla said nothing.

  “Is there something else?” Ben asked. “Is this about the alarm going off? You’re sure the security people did a good check and found nothing?”

  “Yes. We saw them looking everywhere. They said they had other calls about coyotes.”

  “Tug could’ve run off to chase a coyote. Look for him in the park.”

  “It’s not just Tug—it’s Emma. She’s been acting strange. Talking to herself about not being able to pay.”

  “What?”

  “I asked her and she said she had to take care of some complicated financial things that were upsetting.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Then I told her to her face that I think she’s hiding something from us.”

  “You said that to her?”

  “Yes, Dad, I did.”

  “Why did you do that, Kayla?”

  “Dad, please don’t be mad at me but the other day I found her reading stories about Eternity and—”

  “That’s because I am here, Kayla.”

  “No, Dad, this was before you decided to do a book there. And the other day I was in your bedroom closet and—”

  “What the hell, Kayla? Were you going through her things?”

  “Don’t be mad. I found something that I’m pretty sure proves she’s hiding something from us.”

  Ben took in an exasperated breath and let it out. “My God, Kayla, you shouldn’t have been invading her privacy!” Ben stopped, struggled to find the words. “Honey, listen to me. I want you to go back to Doctor Hirsch.”

  “But I just know something’s not right, Dad.”

  “Listen to me. I can’t do anything about this while I’m here. But when I get my book work sorted, we’re going to set up an appointment schedule with Doctor Hirsch.”

  Kayla said nothing.

  “So I want you to promise me you’ll stop this, that you’ll stop accusing Emma and remember that she loves you and I love you. All right?”

  Kayla was still quiet.

  “All right, Kayla? I love you.”

  After a moment, Kayla said: “All right, Dad. I love you, too.”

  After hanging up, Ben dragged both hands over his face.

  “You look like you could use more coffee.” The server smiled, then topped off Ben’s cup.

  He thanked her, drank some. He checked the time, steeled himself and then called Emma. She answered before the third ring.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. I just got right into the work.”

  “It’s okay,” she said.

  “So how’re you doing? How’re things there?”

  “Tug’s missing.”

  “Yes, Kayla called me. Look in the park on the trail, there’s a spot—”

  “The place where Brooke used to go?”

  “That’s right.”

  “That’s not all Kayla told you, is it, Ben?” Emma said.

  “She said you were acting weird, like you’re hiding something that you don’t want to tell us about.”

  Now Emma was silent.

  “I think...” He softened his voice. “I think my absence has made it even more difficult for Kayla. Maybe we should cancel the vacation and I’ll fly straight home when I’m done here and we’ll get her to see Doctor Hirsch. What do you think?”

  “That might be for the best.”

  “Good. I’m glad you agree. I think she needs a little help, and I’m out of my depth. The timing of this whole thing... I feel so guilty.”

  “You shouldn’t. You have no control over it.”

  “Maybe so,” he said. “Another thing—that message you sent me about ‘whatever happens’? What did you mean by that?”

  Emma let a moment pass. “Just that... I guess we’ve all been a little stressed lately and I wanted you to know that, whatever happens, I love you.”

  A few seconds went by with thoughts blazing across Ben’s mind: Emma’s concerns about him writing about the Skull Sisters, the private investigator in the park, Kayla’s refusal to accept Emma, and Hirsch’s observations.

  Pushing it all aside, Ben said, “I love you, too.”

  Sixty-Eight

  Cielo Valle, Orange County, California

  Present day

  After her call with Ben, Emma knocked softly on Kayla’s door.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m going to the park to search for Tug.”

  No response. Nothing for a few seconds, then the door opened.

  “No, I’ll go,” Kayla said. “I know where to look.”

  “I know too, sweetheart. And I think your dad would prefer if you stayed here in case Tug comes home. I know you just spoke with him.”

  Staring at Emma, Kayla sorted through several thoughts before brushing past her and going down to the kitchen, noticing a backpack on the counter.

  “What’s that?”

  “Dog treats, bottled water and a small bowl, in case I find him. I expect he’ll be thirsty and hungry.”

  “Okay.” Kayla went to the kitchen closet. “Take this.” She held up a can of pepper spray. “If you see a coyote.”

  “Thanks,” Emma said, before offering Kayla a little smile of surrender. “I’m sorry so much is happening.”

  Kayla looked at her, then said, “Just find Tug. I’ll wait here.”

  * * *

  Walking the few blocks in their neighborhood to Suntrail Sky Park, Emma’s problems consumed her.

  There was no way she could give in to Rita Purvis’s demand. Still, Emma believed their threat to expose her past was real.

  I can’t let it happen—the scandal, the headlines, it would disgrace Ben, devastate Kayla, and that would destroy me. I won’t let it happen.

  She entered the park, took the trail along the grassy hills and brushwood, found a branch to use as a walking stick and began calling out. “Tug! Tug!”

  * * *

  Kayla was torn. Her heart told her that she should be looking for Tug in the park, at the spot where they scattered her mom’s ashes.

  Holding back her tears, Kayla whispered a prayer.

  Tug, please be safe and please come home.

  Kayla checked her phone. Still no response from the college.

  What’s taking t
hem so long? They could have the proof I need for Dad to take off his love-blinders and see Emma’s been lying to him.

  Right now, Kayla had to seize the opportunity she had, being in the house alone, because she was close, so close, to finding out what Emma was hiding from them.

  Dad needs more proof and I’m going to get it.

  She went in search of Emma’s journal.

  * * *

  “Come on, Tug! Tug, come on!”

  Emma climbed the twisting path along the rising slope. Deep in the park now, she was suddenly wary of that strange fan of Ben’s—Del Brockway—who’d practically stalked them here.

  Could Brockway be tied to Marisa and the notes? Could he be helping Rita in extorting me?

  She couldn’t let herself get overwhelmed. That’s not going to help.

  What was that noise?

  Emma stopped. Held her breath. It sounded like a bark. Faint. Distant.

  “Tug! Tug!”

  Rooted in place, Emma listened. Another bark. Closer this time.

  She didn’t know if it was Tug, but she moved in the sound’s direction calling for him, stopping to listen. For a minute, maybe more, she picked up the pace, repeating her call, then stopped and listened again.

  She heard metallic tinkling, then panting, then she saw him trotting toward her on the trail.

  “Tug!”

  Kneeling down, Emma took him into her arms, welcoming his happy licking.

  “Where have you been?”

  He nuzzled her hand for the cookie. Giving it to him, she slid off her pack, poured water into a bowl for him.

  She was thinking of texting Kayla when a tiny glint at Tug’s neck drew her attention. Running her fingers along his neck, she found his tab key—and something else.

  It was new, round, attached to the dog tag clip of Tug’s leather collar.

  A skull ring.

  Ice coiled up Emma’s back.

  Emma unclipped the ring to examine it in her palm. It was a death’s head, relatively new. No markings or engravings. Turning it over and over, her heart beat faster, her mind raced through a million horrors.

  This is Rita Purvis’s ring and it’s a message.

  Tug jerked his head up, turned toward the forest below. His ears went forward, twitched, and he barked. That’s when Emma saw a microflash of yellow in the distance amid the trees.

  Barking again, Tug moved closer, alert, his tail wagging, his eyes wide. His mouth was closed as he stood tall.

  Emma searched the woods sloping below the ridge.

  From somewhere in the darkened forest came a rustling sound. Tug, hackles raised, tail tucked, ears back, barked, then charged into the woods.

  “Tug! No! Come back!”

  Emma thrust her hand into her backpack, pulled out the pepper spray and a serrated knife she’d packed from the kitchen. With the spray in one hand, the knife in the other, she hurried down into the steep sloping forest after Tug.

  Following the jingle of his collar and his panting, she navigated through the trees, branches slapping and pulling on her as she continued going about thirty yards down the slope.

  Then she screamed.

  Sixty-Nine

  Eternity, Manitoba

  Present day

  Am I making a mistake?

  Should I drop everything and fly home?

  Ben drove across town beset by how Kayla’s refusal to accept Emma into their lives fueled her suspicions that Emma was hiding something.

  Am I missing something? Am I being a fool?

  He glanced at his briefcase and contemplated flying home, while at the same time thinking how he’d just gotten started on his research, how he’d set up so many things, how badly he needed to work on this book, for so many reasons.

  No, he couldn’t go back to California. Not yet.

  Then he thought of Cecil May, looking into the private investigators from the park for him. Ben pulled over, sent Cecil a text.

  What’s the status on Brockway and Wicks?

  When he didn’t get a response he continued driving.

  Eternity’s cemetery was in a windswept part of town. Wheeling through the stone gates of the entrance, Ben looked out to the lush green lawns dotted with tall willows, maples and poplars. He found Section B, spotted a shiny Mercedes-Benz waiting off to the side and parked behind it. A man and woman in their early seventies got out and greeted him.

  “Ben Grant,” Ben said.

  “Paul Tullock.” The man took Ben’s hand in a firm grip. “My wife, Lynn.”

  When she took Ben’s hand, he said, “Thank you for meeting me.”

  “We reached Torrie,” Paul said. “I’m sorry but she doesn’t wish to participate in the book.”

  “I understand.”

  “All of this has been especially painful for her,” Lynn said.

  “I can appreciate that.”

  “This way,” Paul said, and led Ben to a grave site shaded by a tall maple. It was modest, marked with three rose-colored granite headstones. In the center, a companion stone bore the names: Royston Jackson Tullock and Constance “Connie” Tullock. A smaller separate stone was to the immediate right with the name Neal Jackson Tullock and a similar stone to the left with the name Linda Constance Tullock. Each stone had a cross and roses on the front. Each showed the Tullocks’ birth dates and each bore the same date of death. Fresh flowers were at the base of each stone.

  Ben held up his camera, as a way of asking permission to photograph the site. The Tullocks nodded.

  “We wanted to talk here, Ben,” Paul said, “so you’d have an understanding of the toll taken on our family.”

  “I remember the day we buried them like it was yesterday,” Lynn said. “Four caskets, two of them small. I never got over the fact that the children had witnessed their parents’ murders. In some ways it gave me peace of mind that they didn’t have to live with it for the rest of their lives.”

  “My brother was a good man. Everyone in town loved and respected Roy. He worked hard to build his enterprise and it was taking off.” Paul shook his head.

  “Torrie had been getting better,” Lynn said, “and was looking forward to being with her family again when this happened. It changed everything. They stole everything from her. It changed her into a sad, solitary person.”

  Taking notes, Ben pushed aside his own emotions. Standing there in a cemetery, he suddenly felt the anguish of the guilt he carried for his wife’s death. There are things in this world that are impossible to forgive.

  If only I’d taken care of Brooke’s tires like she’d asked me to do.

  He glanced around at the lake of headstones, thinking how there was no stone for his wife in California. Brooke never wanted that.

  I’ll be with you wherever you are.

  That’s what Brooke had said whenever they had talked about death, never once believing it would happen until they’d each lived to 100. But now, standing here working again, touched by the gentle breeze, Ben felt Brooke’s presence, felt her guiding him.

  Keep going. Keep working on your book. Finish what you’ve started.

  “The girls who did this,” Ben said, “were fourteen at the time. It’s been some twenty years. Have you forgiven them?”

  Paul pursed his lips, blinking fast and looked away.

  “Those girls,” Lynn said, “were evil masquerading as human teens. They were released to start over, given new lives.” Lynn pointed to the stones. “Our family didn’t get a second chance. So our answer is no. We can never forgive them.”

  Ben took notes. “I understand that the mothers of the girls died and are buried here, as well,” he said.

  Paul’s jaw clenched. “We fought it back then,” he said. “Hired lawyers to lobby the town council to prevent burial here or move their graves. Offered to donate land at
the edge of town for another cemetery but we lost that fight because some on council said the mothers had no role in the crime and should not be stigmatized for it.”

  “So they remain here?” Ben cast around.

  “Yes.”

  “I apologize, but I had to ask.”

  “I’ll show you where their graves are but I won’t set foot on them,” Paul said. “Give me your notepad.”

  Paul drew a map to the sites, then pointed.

  “Thank you. I just need to get pictures and I’ll be right back.”

  The graves weren’t far. Ben walked past ponds, flower gardens and benches and found headstones for Nancy Alice Gorman, Florence Dolores Mitchell and Marlene Judith Klassyn.

  But he didn’t know who their respective daughters were.

  After taking pictures and writing the names down, he returned to the Tullocks.

  “Did you get them?” Paul said.

  “Yes, thank you,” Ben said. “Again my apologies for doing this now. But it’s part of my work and, well, it would help my research, my effort to be as accurate as possible, if I had the full names of the girls. I know there’s a publication ban, there are laws protecting them, but since their mothers’ names are in full public view, I was wondering if you knew the girls’ names and could share them with me? I won’t have to say where I got them. I’m sure everyone in town knows them and I will get them eventually.”

  Paul and Lynn exchanged looks.

  “Those names are burned into our memories,” Lynn said. “We’ll never be able to erase them. And the way we see it, they don’t deserve to be protected. Not anymore. Give me your notes, Ben.”

  In clear block letters Lynn printed:

  NICOLA HOPE GORMAN

  MARIE LOUISE MITCHELL

  JANE ELIZABETH KLASSYN

  Seventy

  Cielo Valle, Orange County, California

  Present day

  Still alone in the house, Kayla searched with renewed intensity because she knew she was close to answers.

  She went to the closet in Emma and her dad’s bedroom, moved the trunk, lifted the loose panel, turned on her phone’s flashlight and raked the hiding spot on the floor. Nothing.