by Mae Clair
“Doreen Sue,” she said, patting Eve’s hand. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”
She thought about denying her uneasiness again, but relented after a few seconds. Maybe Doreen Sue had seen the mutilated crow when she walked around the back of the house. Or maybe she would say it was the signature prank of some horrible neighborhood boy and Eve could stop worrying that someone was threatening her with omens of harm.
“What a dreadful prank,” Doreen Sue said after she’d finished sharing the tale. With a horrified grimace, the older woman fished through her purse and emerged with a pack of spearmint gum. She offered a stick to Eve who shook her head.
“You shouldn’t worry about it. All this pranking will die down now that school’s out and the kids can burn off their energy with swimming and ballgames.” Looking thoughtful, Doreen Sue folded a bright green rectangle of gum into her mouth. “You’d think they’d have learned from that mess with Hank Jeffries how pranks can backfire.”
Eve sat straighter, not liking the sound of what she heard. She’d thought about contacting Hank several times since returning to Point Pleasant, but wasn’t sure he would remember her. “I know Hank. He was a good friend of my father’s. What about him?”
“Oh, you poor thing.” Doreen Sue patted her hand again. “You probably don’t know he died.”
“Died?” Eve drew back, the breath rushing from her lungs as if she’d been punched. “But…” Bewildered, she could only stare. “How?”
Doreen Sue settled in her chair as if preparing for a long tale. “Maybe I will take that soda after all.”
Eve nodded numbly, her mind spiraling in a million directions. Had her mother known Hank was dead? Aunt Rosie? How long ago had he died? As she poured a Tab into a glass for Doreen Sue, she flashed on the image of a square-jawed man with deep brown eyes and a scruff of beard. He’d shown her how to fly a kite and where to look for tadpoles in the creek behind Aunt Rosie’s house.
“He was afraid of the Mothman,” she said as the memory surfaced in her mind. Returning to her chair, she slid the glass in front of Doreen Sue.
“Not afraid.” Doreen Sue sipped the soda and set it aside. “Terrified. He’d seen it not long before the bridge fell. Messed him up something fierce. Lots of strange things happened near his house through the years. Or so he said.”
Eve thought of the note she’d found from her father to her mother. Part of that had been about Hank.
Hank called spooked about the Mothman again. I’m headed over to his place to try to calm him down.
According to Eve’s father, Hank had spent many sleepless nights with a loaded shotgun at his side. Maybe his obsessive fear had finally gotten the better of him.
“Heart attack?” she guessed.
Doreen Sue shook her head. “Not even close. Hank liked to drink, you know.” She raised her glass as if toasting his memory, but set it down without taking a sip. “Got worse as he got older. Not a lot to do around here, especially for a man like Hank. He lost his job when Bruce Mechanical closed up shop. After that, he drifted from odd job to odd job, always looking over his shoulder for the Mothman. Everyone knew he was paranoid about the creature. It was kind of a joke.”
Eve felt bad for Hank. In a small town, gossip was the pinnacle of entertainment. Hank’s obsession with the Mothman would have made him a running punch line, the butt of countless gags and ridicule.
“Two summers ago, the Kline boys got it in their heads to play a prank on Hank.” Doreen Sue tapped her fingers lightly against the table as she recounted the story. “I heard they swiped some of their daddy’s beer, got liquored up, and went looking for fun. I guess they chose Hank because he was an easy target. Tim sprayed himself with gray body paint—you know—the kind they sell for Halloween. He even sprayed his hair. Then he nicked two road reflectors to use as eyes. Red, like the Mothman’s.” Poking a finger into her glass, Doreen Sue swirled the ice cubes against the sides. With her eyes lowered, her mascara-blackened lashes made spiky spider webs on her cheeks. “Anyone sober would have never mistaken him for the Mothman, but Hank had been drinking. A whole bottle of Jack Daniel’s, according to what Sheriff Weston found later.”
Eve’s stomach rolled over. She had a nasty sense where the story was headed. “I remember hearing Hank shot up his house once when he was drunk. He thought the Mothman was outside his window.”
Doreen Sue nodded. “Only this time when he shot the place up, he hit Tim Kline square in the face with a shotgun blast. The boy was just eighteen years old.”
Eve gripped the edge of the table, repulsed and saddened by the story. A prank gone horribly wrong. She wasn’t certain who she was angrier at—the Kline boys for doing something so stupid and cruel, or Hank for feeding his irrational terror with booze.
“When he realized his brother was dead, Parker Kline took off running.” Doreen Sue shook her head, slowly turning the glass in her hand as if looking into a crystal ball. “Hank was a basket case, at least that’s the story. When he realized what he’d done, he called the cops, blubbering and sobbing. Polly, the dispatcher—she comes to my salon to have her hair done—told me she could barely understand him. By the time Caden Flynn arrived on the scene—”
Eve hitched down a startled breath. “Caden?”
Doreen Sue’s gaze flicked to her face. “You know he used to be a sergeant with the sheriff’s department, right?”
“I didn’t realize he was a sergeant. He told me he quit because of a bad call.”
“Hank Jeffries,” Doreen Sue confirmed. “When Caden got to his place, Hank was outside, wailing his head off, Tim Kline in his lap like some broken doll. I heard the boy’s face was gone. Real grisly, if you know what I mean. And there’s Hank screaming he’s gonna end it all, that he can’t live knowing he killed the kid. Caden tried to talk him out of it, but by that time, Parker Kline came back. The sheriff figures he ran to his truck about a mile down the road.”
Doreen Sue cocked her head, visibly rethinking the matter. “Well, actually, his daddy’s truck. Apparently, the boys had grabbed it for the night without telling their father. I know for a fact Floyd kept a gun under the seat. Not legal, but he did it anyway. I dated him for a while after his wife died, and he told me ‘You never know when you’ll be forced to shoot a snake.’” She shook her head. “I didn’t think he was talking about a reptile, so I broke it off. My men aren’t always gentle, but I won’t put myself in harm’s way of a bullet.”
“That’s smart, Doreen Sue.” Eve tried to move the story along. She admired the woman for setting standards—even if they could be considerably higher—but wanted her to get back to Caden and Hank. “What happened when Parker got there?”
“Can’t you guess? The boy was all torn up with grief. Caden said he kept shouting it was a prank, just a stupid prank. He blew Hank away, and poor Caden had to shoot him. He didn’t kill the kid, but it was touch and go for a while. Enough to make Caden turn in his badge.”
Eve’s stomach had congealed into a mass of tightly constricted knots. No wonder Caden had walked away from a job with the sheriff’s department. “What happened to Parker?”
“He recovered.” Doreen Sue shrugged. “Physically, but not in the head. Turns out the whole prank was his idea. Knowing he was responsible for getting his twin brother killed reduced him to a nutcase.” She tapped a tapered pink fingernail against her temple. “The last I heard, he was in the state mental hospital for criminals. He thinks he can talk to UFOs now.”
“What a dreadful story.”
“That’s why kids shouldn’t play pranks.” Doreen Sue finished off her soda and glanced at her watch. “Do you mind if I use your phone? Martin Ward asked me and Sam to meet him for ice cream after the movie, and I haven’t had a chance to get back to him.”
“The phone’s on the wall.” Eve pointed toward the rear of the kitchen by the screened porch, dazed from the story she’d heard. Caden would have known Hank, maybe even had an occ
asional beer with him at the Riverside Café. And he would have watched the Kline brothers grow up, probably saw them every Sunday in church along with their parents, or at local baseball and football games. After all the grief he’d experienced—the Silver Bridge tragedy, losing Maggie, his mother’s unstable state of mind—it was unfair he should suffer this, too.
“Martin’s such a sweet guy,” Doreen Sue offered pulling Eve from her thoughts. “He’s been checking in on me now and again ever since Amos died.”
“That’s nice.” It obviously hadn’t taken long for Martin to come calling, but according to Katie, Martin Ward was a hard worker with good ethics. Unlike most of the men Doreen Sue dated in the past, Katie actually approved of him.
“The phone might be on the fritz,” Eve said as she carried Doreen Sue’s glass to the sink. “I’ve been getting a lot of strange calls with screeches and clicks. I had the phone company check it out, but they couldn’t find anything wrong with the line.” Whatever their verdict, she still wasn’t convinced the odd calls weren’t the fault of an electronic malfunction.
“Screeches and clicks?” Doreen Sue paused mid-dial, pressing the receiver to her chest. “I’ve heard that happens sometimes when a family member dies.”
Eve rinsed the glass with water, then set it in the drain board to be washed later. Something cold slithered down her back. “Excuse me?”
“Your Aunt Rosie.” Doreen Sue bobbed her head as if the answer was obvious. “She might be trying to communicate with you.”
Eve started to laugh, then quelled the instinctive reaction when she noted Doreen Sue’s expression. The woman wasn’t joking.
“Spirits often try to converse through electricity and everyday instruments like TVs, lights, and phones. I know it sounds silly, but I follow all of that stuff…horoscopes, psychics, UFO theories.” A wave of her hand said she took only half of it seriously. “I’ve seen some strange things around here, especially by the TNT. I’ve never seen the Mothman, but I remember reading an article about a medium who was convinced her dead husband tried to communicate with her through phone calls. She heard things like amplifier feedback, insect noises, and strange clicks whenever she answered the phone.”
Eve felt her face drain of color. After talking to a disembodied “thing” in an igloo at the TNT, she should have no problem believing her dead aunt was reaching out to her. She’d sat in the living room only days after arriving and voiced that wish aloud. Aunt Rosie, I wish I understood what was going on. I wish there was some way you could talk to me. The phone calls had started not long afterward. Fluke or answer to her request?
“It could just be a problem on the line,” she said at last.
“Probably.” Doreen Sue pressed the hang-up button and redialed. A second later her voice turned playful and sultry. “Hi, Martin. It’s Doreen Sue. Sam and I would love to have ice cream with you after the movie.”
Listening to the purr of her voice, Eve turned and gazed out the rear window. She thought of Hank Jeffries, Caden, the Kline brothers, and pranks. The dead crow was still in her yard. If the bird had been intended as a sick prank to scare her away, then the culprit must be the same person who’d left the notes on her windshield. In all likelihood, her personal ghoul was letting her know he’d moved past written threats.
She wouldn’t be surprised to see someone lurking beneath the trees in the distance. A shiver of fear swept through her despite the frivolous play of sunlight on the grass, a lightly cloud-scaped sky overhead. What happened when her stalker decided slaughtering birds wasn’t enough? When he came after her?
Closing her eyes, she listened to Doreen Sue prattle on in the background. Aunt Rosie had hidden something in her house. The being in the igloo had told her the item—whatever it was—was still here. Somehow, the unknown thing and her stalker were tied to Wendy Lynch, Maggie, and Aunt Rosie.
At all costs, she and Katie needed to convince Caden and Ryan of that critical truth.
Chapter 8
Eve slid a shovel beneath the dead crow and wriggled it to the center of the spade.
“That is so gross.” Katie held a black plastic trash bag as far away from her as she could, her face twisted in revulsion. “I want you to know I’m doing this under protest.”
“So you said.”
“I still think we should tell Caden and Ryan about that thing the moment they get here.” Katie made a gagging sound, more than a little green as Eve dropped the mutilated bird into the bag. “Why do you have to bury it anyway?”
Setting the shovel aside, Eve took the bag from her, careful to hold the revolting thing at arm’s length. Drawing a breath of clean air, she tried to banish the stench of carrion. “It deserves that much.”
“It’s evidence. Evidence shouldn’t be buried.”
“We don’t know that it was left deliberately. It could have been mauled by a cat.”
“You don’t believe that any more than I do.”
Now wasn’t the time to argue the point. Caden and Ryan would be arriving any moment. Fortunately, Katie had shown up early, shortly after her mother left, giving her the chance to talk to her friend alone. Eve had led Katie outside and shown her the butchered crow. Horrified, Katie insisted she leave the bird where it was and show it to Ryan when he arrived.
But Eve wouldn’t hear of it. She needed Ryan and Caden focused solely on Wendy Lynch tonight. A discussion about the crow would send them all off track. Enlisting her friend’s help, Eve decided to dispose of the crow temporarily, bagging it and hiding it behind the shed until she could bury it later.
Katie picked up the shovel and followed her. “I can’t believe anyone could be so sick,” she said after Eve deposited the bag out of sight behind the small gardening shack.
Eve pulled off her gardening gloves. “I’ll try to bury it tonight after everyone leaves. Otherwise it’s going to stink and attract animals.”
“You should show it to Ryan after we’ve told him about Wendy,” Katie countered. “He’s a cop. Don’t discount this. It isn’t a kid’s prank.”
She was right. The vicious mutilation of the bird was far more sinister than the usual end-of-school-year shenanigans. “Let’s just see how things go,” she said as the two walked back to the house.
Inside, they both scrubbed their hands thoroughly with hot water and soap, then Eve poured them each a glass of Pinot Grigio. Standing with her back to the sink, she swiped a hand across her brow. “I should probably go freshen up. I’m sure I look a mess.” If nothing else, she felt grimy and sweaty after toiling with the bird.
“You look fine,” Katie assured her, “but go ahead.” She sipped her wine, then set it on the kitchen table. “I can take care of whatever you need done down here.”
Eve had already set the dining room table with Aunt Rosie’s fine china and crystal stemware. She hoped she wasn’t being too ostentatious for the guys, but had wanted to make the table look pretty. Another time she’d have everyone over for pizza or hamburgers on the grill, but tonight was all about presentation—right down to what she and Katie planned to share with them.
“Would you?” She smiled at her friend, realizing how much she’d miss her if she ever went back to Harrisburg.
If?
In the past it had always been when. Lately, she seemed to be thinking as though she planned to remain in Point Pleasant.
Eve pulled two boxes of flavored crackers from the cupboard and pointed out a few serving platters. “I was going to set out some cheeses and dips before dinner,” she explained. “Everything is on the center shelf in the fridge. The cheese just needs to be cut up.”
“Go freshen up.” Katie shooed her toward the doorway. “I’ll take care of it.”
By the time she returned ten minutes later wearing a fresh blouse, her hair neatly brushed, Katie had the cheese, crackers, and dips arranged on two platters. When Caden and Ryan arrived a short time later, she gave Caden a kiss and Ryan a hug.
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��Will your mother be all right by herself, or do you have someone staying with her?” she asked.
“She’ll be fine.” Caden kept his arm linked around her waist with casual familiarity. “We try to make sure she isn’t alone overnight, but don’t always worry so much during the day. Sometimes Mrs. Alderidge stays with her, other times she’s on her own. She told me to say hello.”
Eve smiled, remembering her last conversation with Mrs. Flynn. Everything the woman said had been reiterated by the being in the igloo. She was starting to think Mrs. Flynn was in full control of her faculties and Maggie really was speaking to her through dreams. “I’ll have to take a dinner plate over to her later.”
“She’d like that,” Ryan said, appearing relaxed.
Initially, she’d been worried how he might view the dinner invitation, fearing he would think she was trying to set him up with Katie. But her childhood friend seemed happy to be included and had already stolen more than a few glances in Katie’s direction. Maybe that hadn’t been such a farfetched idea after all.
After some chit-chat over drinks and appetizers—the guys opting for Miller Genuine Draft instead of wine—she served dinner in the dining room. Cranberry chicken and wild rice with a green salad and corn muffins. She was far from a gourmet cook, but the meal was a hit. Afterward, they had Katie’s homemade dessert, a decadent chocolate cake with peanut butter icing. Eve made a full plate with a little of everything, including dessert, and ran it next door to Mrs. Flynn. By the time she returned, the guys were relaxing on the screened porch and Katie had cleaned up the kitchen.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Eve told her friend, finding her finishing up at the sink. Katie had put away all of the dishes, a sign she had probably been a regular dinner guest of Aunt Rosie’s and was intimately familiar with the house.
“I know, but I wanted to expend some nervous energy.” Drying her hands on a dishtowel, Katie shook her head. “I can’t believe we’re going to tell a sheriff’s sergeant and an ex- sheriff’s sergeant that we need their help to dig up a body.”