Two Dead in Field Blaze and Kerosene Explosion.
Jordyn read it again. She couldn’t bring herself to read the article. Instead, she scanned for names and closed the paper once her fears were confirmed. Two more were dead, two more children. All from that stupid list. Enough was enough.
She marched over, still clad in her pajamas, to Henry’s yard, pushing the white gate open. The birds chirping overhead were no longer a good thing, but rather a source of annoyance. She stepped up onto the blue wooden porch, surprised to see an old hound dog asleep. He lifted his head up, apparently too old to care about intruders, then laid back down. Flustered, Jordyn knocked on the door. When no one came, she knocked again, this time louder.
“Hello?” she called.
The door swung open. A dark-blonde-headed girl with large black-framed glasses stared at her. She couldn’t have been any older than the kids in the picture. Jordyn was struck by the realization that she probably knew them, that they may have even been her friends. The girl stared at her without speaking.
“Hello.” Jordyn cleared her throat. “I’m Jordyn, your neighbor. I don’t think we’ve met.”
The girl smiled at her. “I’m Lauren.”
“Lauren, it’s very nice to meet you, sweetie. Is your dad busy?”
“Hang on just a second.” She shut the door. A few moments later, Henry appeared in front of her, looking rather unhappy.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
“Yes, we’re fine.” She paused. “No. I’m sorry, no, it’s not all right. Do you think I could talk to you for a moment?”
“Sure,” he said, not moving.
Jordyn glanced around the porch, feeling exposed. Connor would be up soon, wondering where she was. “Um, well, do you mind if I come in? I’m sorry. It’s just kind of a long story.”
He pondered for a second, stepping back finally and frowning. “Okay.” He held the door open only a crack, allowing her to squeeze in, and shut it. He led Jordyn into a tidy living room and sent Lauren to her room. They sat down opposite each other, Henry’s eyes boring into her.
“Now, look, if this is about the house, I warned you about all the problems.” Henry began, his voice defensive.
Jordyn shook her head. “Oh, no. Of course not. The house is great, perfect, in fact. That’s not why I’m here.”
“Oh.” He rubbed his balding scalp. “Well, then why are you here?”
“Well, it’s kind of a tough subject. I wanted to ask you what you knew about these kids.” She held up the paper to reveal the article.
Henry eyed it for a second, then looked back up, his face stiff. “What about them?”
“Well, kids seem to die here,” she blurted out.
“Kids die everywhere, Ms. Atwood.”
She couldn’t believe how insensitive he sounded. “Of course. But it seems to happen a lot here. Don’t you think? I mean, what? It’s been four kids in, like, three months? That can’t seem normal to you.”
He shook his head. “Crazy times.”
“All of the deaths seemed to be regarded as accidents. All of them. It doesn’t seem like they do much of an investigation. I never even see police out.”
“Is that a question?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t pretend to speak for the police, Ms. Atwood, but they’re doing their jobs I suppose. Is there anything else I can do for you?” He began to stand up, dismissing her.
“Actually, yes. There’s one more thing.” She held her hand up, feeling like a nuisance, but she had to ask.
“Okay?”
“This is going to sound crazy, but when I went into town the other day…”
“Yeah?” he asked, as she paused to think about how to phrase this.
“And there was this list.” She studied his face, trying to see a hint of recognition, anything that might mean she wasn’t crazy.
“A list?” he asked, doubt and annoyance on his face.
“Yes, a list of names. Six names.” She recited them from memory, “Dakota Nettles. Kinley Preston. Alex Turner. Lindsey Cooke. Cara Hancock. Amber Hutson.”
“There are all sorts of reasons to make a list. I’m not sure what it is you’re asking me here.”
“Four of the children from that list are dead, Mr. Taylor. Four. They’re dying in order. There are two names left. I guess I’m asking you if those kids are next. If there’s something we can do to stop this.”
The man was silent, lips pressed together.
“My husband thinks I’m going crazy, and maybe I am, but I just can’t believe this is all just some coincidence.”
“So what is it that you do believe?”
“Well, the list must’ve been a hit list of some sort, right? People who were going to die. Or maybe it was a warning list. Possibly from a psychic? Or maybe it was a perfectly innocent list but for some reason someone has been using it for a bad purpose?” She was rambling now, ideas spilling out of her mouth.
With each question, Henry’s eyebrows grew higher. “That all seems quite far-fetched.”
“I know.” She sighed. “But what other explanation is there?”
“I really couldn’t tell you,” he said, but Jordyn caught more than ignorance in his eyes.
“You have to know something though, don’t you? You have to. Everyone in this town is so lonely. They keep to themselves. No one seems to go out much. Is this why? Is there some killer that you all are doing nothing to stop?”
Henry stepped closer, with a force Jordyn hadn’t expected. “Now, you listen here. Don’t you go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. You don’t know what you’re talking about and going around pretending like you do ain’t gonna do nothing but get you into a world of trouble. You just need to go on home and quit asking questions.”
“So there is something to be asking questions about, then?”
“No, now I didn’t say that. You’re twisting my words. Whatever you saw in that grocery store was—”
Jordyn stood up, her face lined with his. “I never said anything about a grocery store, Mr. Taylor.”
His jaw dropped open. He sat back in his chair, acceptance on his face.
“You do know what I’m talking about then, don’t you? I’m not crazy.” Her smile grew wide, her skin tingling.
“I don’t know anything about anything. I want no part of this. Now get out of my house and leave us alone.” He waved his hands in the air angrily.
Jordyn took a step back, glancing at the door. “Don’t do this, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Get out,” he said through gritted teeth, walking to the hall and pulling open the door.
They were both surprised to see Connor standing just outside the door, arm up, ready to knock. “Oh, hi.” He smiled at Henry. “I was just looking for my wife. You haven’t seen her—” As he spoke, he looked around the room, finally focusing on Jordyn. “Jor? Is everything okay?”
“She was just leaving,” Henry said firmly.
Jordyn nodded, exiting the house. She turned one last time, wanting to apologize, but the door slammed in her face. She sighed, feeling more upset than ever.
“What were you doing? I was so worried about you,” Connor said, his irritation at the absurdity of her actions ringing out in his voice.
She handed him the paper and took Ollie from his grasp, unable to explain it all again.
***
Connor rode begrudgingly in the passenger’s seat as Jordyn drove. Her knuckles were white on the wheel, eyes straight ahead. She couldn’t make him see why she was so determined to find something wrong when he said there was nothing to find. But Henry had said otherwise, at least sort of. If only Connor had seen the list, maybe then he would understand, but he hadn’t. Instead, it just seemed like some crazy piece of a puzzle that Jordyn was determined to make fit where it didn’t belong. At least, she thought, he’d finally agreed to this.
They pulled into the police station, her chest immed
iately filling with a mix of fear, hope, and insurmountable dread. Maybe now, finally, he’d believe her. Maybe she could stop it all. Or maybe she’d be arrested for withholding evidence. She couldn’t be sure.
As they climbed out of the car, both with apprehensive looks on their faces, he grasped her hand. “I’m with you,” he told her. “Even if I don’t understand this, I’m with you.”
She squeezed his hand, smiling at him quickly. They entered the building and faced a black-haired woman in an officer’s uniform. She stood behind a desk. “Hello. Can I help you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jordyn answered, approaching the desk. “I was hoping to speak to an officer. I think I have some information that may be of use to you.”
“What’s this about?” The woman’s small smile faded quickly.
Jordyn dropped Connor’s hand, pulling the newspaper up onto the counter. “It’s about them,” she said, pointing to the picture of the teenagers, their bright smiles shining up at her.
The woman glanced at the paper and then back at Jordyn, her eyes dark. “Hang on just a second,” she said firmly, not breaking eye contact. She turned around, walking through a doorway and shutting it behind her. After a few moments, she returned, followed by a skinny, mustached man with dark, tired eyes.
“Mary here tells me you folks have something to tell me?”
Jordyn’s voice tickled her throat. “Yes.”
“Come on back.” He waved his arm, opening a gate and letting them behind the desk. He opened the door Mary had disappeared through and let them past him. The room he took them to was tiny, with a small desk. He pulled up two metal chairs and gestured for them to sit.
“Okay.” He clasped his hands in front of him casually. “So what’s going on?”
Jordyn looked to Connor, who raised his eyebrows. She turned back to the officer. “I believe I have some information about the deaths of these children.” She laid the article on the desk. “And the others.”
He glanced at the article, then back up. “Others?”
“The other children who have died. Kinley Preston and Dakota Nettles.”
The officer scooted into his desk. “Those deaths were unrelated.”
“Yes, I know, but—”
“Not to mention accidental,” he continued.
“Yes, I know, but I have reason to believe that you are wrong.”
The officer frowned. “Okay. Go on.”
Jordyn heaved a sigh of relief. “Okay. So it all started a few months ago, when I was shopping downtown. I remember there was a commotion by the door of the grocery store, Benson’s Deli. When I went to see what was going on, there was this list. Everyone was so upset by it. I couldn’t understand why. This woman was crying. She said her daughter was going to die. At the time I didn’t think much of it. I thought, you know, maybe she was sick or something.”
Jordyn almost felt Connor scoff beside of her. She continued. “There were only the names of six kids on that list. Four of whom are already dead.”
The officer was silent, chewing his gum, and staring back and forth between her and Connor. “So,” he said finally, “what you’re saying is that you think someone wrote a list of people who would die?”
“I honestly don’t know what to think of it.”
“Do you have any pictures of the list? How was it labeled?”
“Well, it wasn’t labeled.” Jordyn frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“It was just a typed up sheet of paper. Small font. Six numbers, six names.”
“So, if it wasn’t labeled, how do you think they knew what the list even meant?”
She paused, her mouth open. “I don’t.”
“And do you honestly believe if this were true that no one else would’ve come forward with this story? You said there was a ‘commotion by the door’. A lot of people, right? All those people and not one came in to tell us? Not even the woman who you claim knew her child was going to die?” He tapped a pencil rapidly on the desk.
Jordyn felt sweat gathering on the back of her neck. “Well—”
“Look, Miss?”
“Atwood. Jordyn Atwood.” Her face flushed.
“Ms. Atwood, I appreciate you coming down today. I really do. These children’s deaths were true tragedies and nothing more. You can believe me when I say each death was fully investigated. Right now, Ms. Atwood, these families just need peace. They need time to grieve. I’d like to ask you personally to let this go. Whatever you saw, whatever you heard, it’s over now. Please just let us do our jobs.”
Jordyn sucked in a breath. Before anything else could be said, Connor reached over and took hold of her hand. He stood up, pulling her to her feet as well. “Thank you so much for your time, Officer. We are so sorry to have disturbed you.”
Jordyn’s body tensed as her husband’s words stung her. Without another word, they left the room, walking out to where the receptionist stood. She smiled at them as they walked past. Jordyn couldn’t bear to look her in the eye.
As Connor opened the door to let her out, the secretary smiled at them.
“Cute baby.” Her words were like icicles on Jordyn’s skin, tingling her. Tears made their way into her eyes. She put a hand over Ollie protectively.
She climbed into the car. Connor put Ollie into his seat and then climbed in as well. He turned to Jordyn, rubbing her cheek. “You tried, okay?”
She turned her head so that his fingers no longer made contact with her skin. “That isn’t good enough,” she whispered firmly.
He moved his hand away, starting the car. The ride home was filled with silence.
***
Jordyn walked through the cemetery, staying toward the back of the crowd and trying to remain unnoticed. Connor had sent flowers for the teenagers’ gravestone, yet Jordyn couldn’t make him see why that wasn’t enough, why nothing he did to console her was enough. After Connor had left for work this morning, she’d slipped on her long black dress, still a bit too tight since Ollie had been born, loaded Ollie up into the car, and headed for the funeral. She couldn’t really explain, even to herself, why she needed to see the kids’ families, but the feeling was there, burning inside of her like a candle she couldn’t blow out. It was as if this were all her fault. She couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow she could have prevented this.
The funeral was small, quiet. It was obvious that Jordyn was out of place. She glanced around, searching for familiar faces. She saw a few people she’d seen around town, each person avoiding her eye contact. It was obvious they all knew each other, making her the outsider. Up near the caskets stood two couples. One man, tall with dark brown hair, and his wife, her blonde hair piled high, stood near the boy’s casket. The other couple, much older, both with graying hair and two other younger children beside of them, stood near the girl’s. In the end, Jordyn couldn’t make herself approach the caskets. It just didn’t seem right. They seemed smaller than usual, even though she knew they couldn’t be. With a lump in her throat, she pulled Ollie closer to her. It broke her heart to see the families’ swollen eyes, the children wiping their tears away as quickly as they fell. None of this was fair. She watched as people walked toward the families, sharing their condolences and tearful hugs.
Finally, the face she hoped to see made her way to the front of the line. The woman from the grocery store, Carrie. They shared a quick hug. She watched the man who must’ve been Carrie’s husband pat the mother’s shoulder and shake the father’s hand. They made their way to the next family and repeated the process. The line kept moving, and eventually the Prestons were left alone on the outside of the funeral, standing awkwardly arm in arm. Jordyn wondered if they’d make their way toward their car soon. She couldn’t chance losing them again. Making sure that no one was looking at her, she made her way toward the couple. She felt a few stares burning into her as she began moving. Maybe Connor had been right, she realized. Maybe showing up here had been a mistake.
Jordyn looked up, her gaze
locking with Carrie’s. Carrie’s puffy, red eyes held Jordyn’s for a moment too long. She was probably trying to remember where she recognized Jordyn from, and then she turned away. A young woman with short, dark brown hair approached the couple. She pulled Carrie into a hug. Jordyn froze, unable to move. She felt her heels digging into the soggy, wet grass, yet she could do nothing. Everything in her ached for this to have all been a bad dream. How could this woman be brave enough to attend the funeral of two children when her own had died only a month before? How could any of these people still be standing? If it were her, if Ollie were…she couldn’t bear to think about it. It would destroy her. She looked back toward the crowd, people still gathering around the caskets, and felt anger well inside of her. This could’ve been prevented, she thought. All of this could’ve been prevented. She felt eyes burning into her, and her trance ended. She looked around, laying eyes on Carrie again, who was now looking her way.
Behind her swollen, red eyes was a darkness Jordyn hadn’t noticed before. Perhaps she’d finally recognized her. She whispered something to her husband, who suddenly looked Jordyn’s way too. They both froze, neither smiling nor frowning. Jordyn made her way toward them once again, her face feeling stiff. Ollie stirred in her arms, and she pulled her arms tighter around him.
As she grew closer, the Prestons stepped together instinctively. Carrie spoke first, softly. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
Jordyn nodded. “Not well. We met at a grocery store a few months ago…I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Did you know our daughter? Our Kinley?” Her voice cracked as she said her daughter’s name. Her husband rubbed her arm softly.
“No,” Jordyn said. “My husband and I sent flowers to the funeral home.”
“That’s very nice,” Carrie said, her voice growing more faint.
The List (The Carolina Killer Files Book 2) Page 5