by J-F. Dubeau
“Stephen!” The name broke the silence, the sound echoing in the nearby cave. “Don’t touch. Look at them.”
Everyone started paying more attention to how the eyes were arranged. The tiny white-and-red dots surrounding the cave were horrifying and eerie. Despite the strength of the late-day sun, a chill seemed to permeate the area.
“They’re all looking at the cave . . . ,” Erica said, and let out an audible breath.
Once Crowley noticed it, everything became clear. Each eye pointed directly at the cave entrance, as if waiting for something.
“In death, they are ever vigilant.” A raspy, tired voice broke the quiet behind them. Instantly, Inspector Crowley and Lieutenant Bélanger spun around and drew their sidearms. Both recognized the voice. Both had been expecting it.
“Sam Finnegan . . . ,” whispered Erica Hazelwood. Her words were lost in the din of threats the two officers shouted as they moved in to arrest the old man. Sam didn’t put up a fight. He lifted his arms and, in an almost practiced move, put his hands behind his head, all while slowly collapsing to his knees.
The old man was a pitiful wreck. Eyes sunken and cheeks hollow, his body was malnourished and filthy. In fact, the only patches of skin on his face not covered with grime were the two pale streaks left by flowing tears. Old Sam Finnegan’s lips moved as he repeated words that were swallowed in the tumult. It was Randy who somehow deciphered what the madman was saying and repeated it:
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.”
VENUS
VENUS MCKENZIE LOOKED UP at the sky, squinting as the sun mercilessly beat down upon her face. The few shops and restaurants that made up Saint-Ferdinand’s main street were each stirring to life, slowly preparing for the inevitable noon rush. Owners unlocked their doors and put out their wares. The florist busied herself transforming the sidewalk into a veritable garden. The aromas of her inventory fought against the nearby burger joint’s greasy smells of fries and onion rings to be the dominant fragrance. Saint-Ferdinand didn’t have much of a downtown area beyond the wide street that bisected it. From where she stood, Venus could easily see where the village started and where it ended, along with every business in between. She could observe Gaston, the operator of the gas station, scratch his generous rear end as he removed the padlock on the sole pump that served the town’s need for gasoline. She took note of two nurses in blinding white uniforms as they walked into the medical center, chatting loudly. She knew them both, a mother-daughter duo that also sang together in the town’s annual talent show and were frequent customers at her mother’s tea shop. The village was coming alive as it had every single day for the last hundred years. Today, however, things were different.
Behind her, she heard the click of a lock, followed by the creaking of a door and the gentle song of wind chimes. She smiled with contentment and turned to see that her friend Penelope had figured out how to use the keys her boss had left in her care. She’d swung open the door to let the stale air out of the converted trailer, a hollowed-out mobile home that had been transformed into an ice cream parlor. Venus didn’t wait for an invitation and pranced right in ahead of her friend.
Both girls had been here hundreds of times, but always as paying customers, funneling the better part of their allowances into milk shakes and ice cream cones. As Venus walked toward the three bright red barstools at the counter and passed a seafoam green wall decorated with paintings of sundaes and parfaits, she was discovering the ice cream shop all over again.
“This place is going to be packed this afternoon!” Venus declared, sitting down on the middle stool and spinning back to Penny, who was busy securing the front door. The summer had so far been withering, hot, and unusually eventful. Teenagers from the surrounding farms would be eager to come here to waste time and money. Normally, the shop was open earlier in the season, but the owner, Mr. Bergeron, had been preoccupied this year.
“Ugh, I hope not,” Penelope answered, giving one final kick to the wedge of wood under the door. “Mr. Bergeron never really showed me how the machines work, and I’d like to get a little practice before my first customer. I’m surprised he even let me open at all.”
“Well, I know someone who’d be more than happy to serve as a guinea pig while you train.”
“I bet you do.”
Penny was a little over a year older than Venus. Both were smart girls, but where Penny focused her sixteen-year-old intellect toward long-term goals, Venus had a purely academic mind, allowing her to skip ahead a full grade. The older girl tied her shoulder-length blond hair into a ponytail before slipping it under a sheer net. The accoutrement did little to damage her looks. Penny was considered a striking young lady, and there was no doubt that she knew it. To her mother’s infinite relief, her daughter seemed to have little interest in playing the dating game, focusing instead on her plans to become an athlete or, failing that, a prestigious lawyer in Montreal. Once her hair had been secured and she’d washed her hands, she started the various ice cream machines and carefully poured a generous cone of soft-serve chocolate ice cream for her friend.
“There you go, Aphrodite.”
“That’s not my name,” replied the younger teen, accepting the frozen treat despite her obvious irritation.
Penny often teased her about her name. Venus had explained at length that she was named after the planet, not the Roman goddess of love. Her mom had told her she’d one day be among the stars, a whimsical prediction that delighted Venus to no end as a child. It had made her want to become an astronaut, which was probably the driving force behind her academic success. That career goal was eventually replaced with plans to become an archaeologist, then a marine biologist. These days, academics seemed to be enough on their own. Her focus would shift from one subject to the next, dancing between biology, physics, and math. She was often skipping one class to read about another in the library.
“Are you gonna let me work behind the register once in a while?” Venus asked before taking a bite out of her cone.
“Nope.” Penny leaned on the counter, looking out the front window. “Mr. Bergeron had three strict rules. Number one: never close if there are still customers who want something; and number two: don’t let Venus behind the counter.”
“Damn . . . Wait! He has a rule just about me?”
“Well, not you, specifically. Anyone, but I’m pretty sure you’re no exception.”
“What’s the third rule?” asked Venus as she finished off her cone, flicking the crumbs at her friend.
Penny fell silent and turned around to prepare another frozen dessert. She mumbled an answer that was drowned out by the sound of the ice cream machine. Venus spun back around and was presented with a perfect chocolate-and-vanilla swirl ice cream cone. She dutifully ignored it.
“C’mon, what’s the third rule?”
“The third rule”—Penny swallowed—“was not to give any ice cream to Audrey.”
“Oh.”
Both girls became very quiet. Audrey Bergeron, the daughter of the local entrepreneur behind half the businesses in town. The jolly, rotund, middle-aged man was a powerful force in Saint-Ferdinand, driving the local economy and, with the help of his wife, leading the community’s social activity. His daughter’s bright, innocent smile and unbound enthusiasm had charmed everyone in the village. Her body had been found a week earlier at the home of Sam Finnegan.
Audrey’s death was a terrible loss not just for her parents but for the whole community. Yet it was the shock of finding out that Finnegan had a second life that had most people talking. The old man may have been strange, but he had never been considered dangerous.
“You know he used to help me practice batting for Little League?” the older girl said, breaking the silence. “And Abraham’s dad hired him to clear his driveway every winter.”
“He got my cat out of a tree last summer,” added Venus. In truth, everyone in Saint-Ferdinand had a story of Old Man Finnegan doing something for them. Even thou
gh he might not have been all there, he could fix a bike and build a tree house better than anyone. Between Audrey’s death and the discovery of Finnegan’s blood-soaked secret life, the village was deeply shaken.
But something positive had come out of the tragedy. With Sam behind bars, it signaled the end of a killing spree that had lasted nearly a generation. The murders and disappearances had become so much a part of the townspeople’s routine that stress and fear had also become part of their everyday lives.
“My uncle Randy says she died of natural causes,” said Venus. “So Sam didn’t kill her.”
“Doesn’t make the other people he killed any less dead,” Penny was quick to specify. “Ms. Benjamin used to teach my mom in grade school. From what I hear, her body was stuffed in a fridge, arms and legs sawed off, eyes and tongue plucked out, and something had eaten her liver.”
Rumors about the bodies discovered on Finnegan’s property had run wild in the last week, and they’d gotten more gruesome with every telling. Penny’s grim description silenced the younger girl, but only for a moment.
“Poor Audrey.” Venus sighed. “And poor Mr. and Mrs. Bergeron. That girl was their whole life.”
“It’s been a messed-up week. Are you going to the funeral?”
Venus leaned her chin on the counter and stared into the distance behind the register. The funeral was today, and it really felt like she should be there. After all, both she and Penny had spent enough time with Audrey. Penny frequently babysat the child to make a few extra dollars, and Venus often joined her. In time, the two had become like big sisters to the bubbly little girl. Venus had loved Audrey as much as anyone, but she was afraid she’d feel like a fraud going to the church. Her parents, having their own, more secular set of beliefs, had never taken her to church, which would make the proceedings all the more alien and awkward.
“Nah,” said Venus. “If I go, I’ll just start crying again. And . . . I wouldn’t know what to do there.”
“Duh, it’s a funeral,” Penny said, picking up a bottle and a rag. “It’s just a way to say good-bye. Pay your respects. People expect you to be there.”
“Not my parents. They’re not going. Besides, it’s easy for you to say that; you have a perfect excuse not to go.” Venus waved her arm, indicating the ice cream shop.
“I’d go if I could. I’m gonna miss the little mouse.”
Penny kept on cleaning while Venus absentmindedly ate her second cone. As the minutes wore on, the weight of their conversation dissipated. The girls had already gone through the worst of their grieving. When Lieutenant Bélanger had walked up to William Bergeron’s farm with a lady from out of town, it hadn’t escaped the attention of Ms. Dwight, who lived across the street. When William broke down, weeping on his front porch, the neighbor had no trouble figuring out why and immediately got on the phone. By sunset, not a soul in Saint-Ferdinand was unaware of the tragedy. At that time, the medical examiner had yet to turn in a verdict about the little girl’s cause of death. The population separated into two camps: those who went to the police station, demanding the monster who had done such a thing be brought to justice, and those who rallied at the Bergeron farm, offering what comfort they could. Venus’s parents stayed home, of course, but she went to the station, according to her curious nature.
She also knew she’d run into her uncle Randy there. As luck would have it, she arrived just as he was about to leave for the hospital. As she wiggled between the other bystanders, her attention was immediately drawn to the bright yellow ambulance. She’d known what she would see before she had cleared the last row of onlookers, yet she’d persisted. When she had gotten close enough, she managed to catch a few words of her uncle’s conversation with Inspector Crowley and Lieutenant Bélanger. She didn’t hear much, just that Audrey had no wounds beyond a few scrapes and bruises, and that it was likely her defective heart had given out. The conversation took a strange turn from there and Venus had been intent on eavesdropping, but then her eyes settled on the stretcher and her interest evaporated instantly.
The black plastic body bag had seemed almost empty, only a small lump suggesting its contents. The rest of the world sort of vanished at that moment. Venus didn’t know how long she stood there, staring at the tiny remains of Audrey Bergeron. Venus only snapped out of her daze after the ambulance had driven away. By that time her uncle was long gone, and only a handful of people still congregated outside the police station. Venus cried the whole ride home, struggling to keep from falling off her bike.
It all seemed like so long ago now. So surreal. Perhaps that was why she didn’t want to attend the funeral. As long as she stayed away from any reminders of the events, Venus could pretend they’d never happened. Penny seemed to be holding herself together much better. Venus found herself envying her friend’s strength.
Just as these stray thoughts crossed her mind, a series of cars drove by the shop. Penny stared, putting a hand over her mouth. Other bystanders stopped to look at the procession too. Alice Merret’s grandmother crossed herself. David Radford, who did accounting for most of the village shook his head while his partner Shawn blew his nose in a tissue. In the middle of the line of cars was a hearse, and inside it they saw a pile of colorful stuffed animals.
“Penny?” Venus stood slowly from her stool. “Mind if I come back in an hour or so?”
By the time Venus caught up with the funeral procession, the cars were already empty. Her father had once told her that Saint-Ferdinand boasted a graveyard twice the size of any similar village. It had taken her a few years to learn that this was due almost solely to the Saint-Ferdinand Killer. The cemetery had perhaps two dozen rows of headstones and a small mausoleum. Once she made her way past the wrought-iron gates, she could easily make out the small crowd of people that had gathered to pay their respects to Audrey.
Everyone was wearing their Sunday best, and Venus suddenly felt self-conscious about her jean shorts and white tank top. Thankfully, there were plenty of large maples and dense weeping willows behind which she could conceal herself. She got as close as she dared before kneeling behind an ancient headstone (she didn’t think the owner would mind, his name having been all but eroded from the monument) and resting her arms and chin on top. It was a perfect spot: close enough to hear everything but far enough that she wouldn’t be seen.
Venus took stock of the scene. A sharp stab pierced her heart when she laid eyes on the tiny white casket resting next to a diminutive hole in the ground. She couldn’t help but wonder what kind of cruel world made coffins for children a necessity. Equally heartbreaking were Audrey’s parents, William and Beatrice, who were huddled together, their eyes swollen from days of grieving.
This wasn’t the first time Saint-Ferdinand had rallied around the Bergerons in their time of need. When Audrey was born over a month premature, she was underweight and too weak to survive on her own. The doctors at the hospital in Sherbrooke had kept constant vigil on her, despite the odds of her survival being very low. The community had stepped up as well. Many of William’s employees volunteered to cover his shifts at his many businesses, while several villagers, including Penny’s mom, had cooked meals for the new parents and delivered them to the hospital. It had been three weeks before Audrey was able to breathe unassisted. Twenty-three days after giving birth, Beatrice Bergeron had finally been allowed to hold her baby. She and William had been warned that their little girl’s heart and lungs would always be fragile, and they’d doted on her accordingly.
A priest whom Venus didn’t recognize, probably from another village, went through this same history, regularly interrupted by Beatrice’s loud sobs. He did his best to comfort the mourners by reminding them that while Audrey was gone, her time spent among them had been happy. From the very day she had come into the world, she had brought out the best in everyone, and in her eight short years had done more good than many could aspire to in a lifetime.
Venus decided that the priest was right. The little girl had been a positive
presence in her life since Venus’s family had moved to the village. Every time she stopped at the ice cream shop or ran an errand for her mother at the drugstore, Audrey had been there, making customers smile. Every winter for the past four years, the little girl could be found skating on the lake or sledding down a hill. She wasn’t the only child her age in Saint-Ferdinand, but she was easily the happiest, and her joy was infectious.
Eventually, the tiny white coffin was lowered into the tiny dark hole. It was troubling to think that the button-nosed, platinum-haired little girl would be covered in dirt and left to rot. Once the grave was filled, each person filed past the shiny new headstone, depositing one of the stuffed toys that had filled the hearse. Most left behind brand-new plush bears, Audrey’s favorite, while closer friends and family members left behind older toys that had belonged to the child. The most battered of all was a small, dirty, matted, and obviously much-beloved bear with a red felt hat sewn to its head. Beatrice lovingly laid it at the foot of the mountain of plush toys. She knelt there, her husband crouched next to her, leaving the priest and the rest of the attendees to quietly depart.
By the time the Bergerons pulled themselves to their feet, the only other people in the graveyard apart from them were Inspector Crowley and Venus’s uncle Randy. The four of them spoke for a long while in quiet whispers that Venus strained to hear, but without success. Once it became obvious that the bereaved parents were ready to go, the inspector exchanged a few words with Randy before escorting the Bergerons to his car and driving them away.
Curiously, Venus’s uncle did not immediately leave after watching the inspector drive around a bend. Venus was almost tempted to step out from behind the headstone to talk to him, but something in her uncle’s eyes made her decide against it.
At a brisk, almost nervous pace, Randy made his way back to where the attendees had just paid their respects. Once standing on the freshly turned earth, he looked nervously around before crouching to pick something up. He stowed his prize inside his jacket and walked back to his car.