“All right. We’ll call you, and you call us if you hear from her. I honestly believe she’ll be right along,” Angela said.
“Go on, can’t hurt,” Jackson said.
Sam headed out into the street. Immediately, he saw Will performing, and Will, seeing him, looked concerned. “That way!” he said, working the words and a nod strategically into his act. “That’s magic,” Will cried to the crowd. “I say that way—and you look that way while I’m going the other!” Sam didn’t wait to see more. Will had indicated the road down to the cemetery by having him reverse his gaze.
He started out at a walk, then began to run. As he neared the graveyard, he heard screams.
People were hurrying out of the graveyard; he saw that a number of them had pulled out cell phones and seemed to be called the police.
He stopped one woman. “What’s happening? What’s going on?”
“There’s some maniac in there with an ax! He’s after a woman. Oh, God, I hope the police get here fast enough!”
Sam let her go and tore into the cemetery himself. He rushed through the wide-open gate and looked across the expanse of graves and grass.
And saw the horned god, and the ax. Jenna was desperately dodging and ducking his every swing of the blade.
And then she rushed him, making Sam’s heart nearly stop.
Knocking the figure down, she rolled herself off him to get away.
But the horned god was back up, staggering, reaching for his head.
Sam took advantage, letting out a loud roar as he raced for the figure. Crashing into him, he took the demon back down, sending the ax flying to the side, cracking the man’s head against a tombstone and falling in front of it. Sam stood quickly, crying out. “Jenna!”
“I’m here, I’m fine,” she said, hurrying to his side.
The horned god was still down, unconscious. Sam bent down and stripped the mask off his head. They both stared down in puzzlement. It was a man, a grown man. And it was someone Sam had never seen before.
“Do you know him?” he asked Jenna.
“No!”
By then, they could hear the police sirens. They stood a few feet from the man, waiting. Sam wasn’t surprised to see that John Alden was leading the pack of officers who came rushing into the cemetery. If John had heard the word about a situation in the cemetery from the dispatch office, he would have been the first on the scene.
“I should have suspected you two!” he said, walking up, pulling out his phone and telling the paramedics to move in. He bent down by the body, feeling for a pulse. “Still breathing. Wait, I did suspect you two. What the hell…?”
“Hey, I was just walking in the cemetery, and he came after me. With that ax!” Jenna said, pointing.
“And he meant business. I saw it,” Sam said.
“And—?”
“And I tackled him, right after Jenna rushed him, and if she hadn’t known something about defense, she’d be bleeding to death right now!” Sam said angrily.
“All right, all right,” John said, feeling in the man’s pocket for a wallet or ID. “Nothing, of course,” he said with disgust. “Let the paramedics through!” he called to his men. “We’ve got a live one here—and we need him alive!”
He looked at Sam and Jenna and sighed. “All right. Your attacker is out cold. Let the doctors do what they can for him. They’ll call me as soon as he can be questioned. You know the drill—it’s time for the paperwork.”
Before they left the cemetery, Sam called Jackson, to let the others know what was happening and that Jenna was all right. Jackson said that they’d head to Jamie’s and wait for them there.
The paperwork was tedious but didn’t take as long as it might have. The horned god ax-wielder in the cemetery hadn’t come to. Apparently the shot to his head was quite severe, and the man was in a coma. His prints, though, were taken at the hospital and run through the police system, so before they left, John Alden came and reported to Sam.
“His name is Gary Stillman. Does that mean anything to you?” he asked them both.
They shook their heads.
“He’s in the system for misdemeanors in Boston. Seems he has a crack habit, too. That’s expensive. But he wasn’t really out to rob you, was he?” John asked Jenna.
“Nope. Definitely there to kill,” she said flatly.
John scratched his head. “I don’t know what the hell is going on here. He didn’t kill the Smith family, that’s for sure. He was being held in Boston on drug charges the night that the Smiths were killed.”
“Gun for hire. We need to track a money trail on him,” Sam said.
“I told you, he wasn’t the Smith family killer. He was being held on drug charges,” John said.
“Yeah, and you’re hedging. Come on, John. Like you said, crack is an expensive habit. He was hired to kill Jenna. And you really know, somewhere inside, that no accident killed Milton Sedge. There’s a killer loose here, because you’ve got the wrong suspect behind bars.”
John stared at him. “Don’t you dare tell me I don’t know how to do my job, Sam!”
“I’m not!” Sam argued. “You were right to arrest Malachi—he was covered in blood. It’s my job to prove he didn’t do it.”
John waved a hand in the air. “Get out of here. Ever since you drove in, my life has been a nightmare!”
“I’ll see you at the school in the morning,” Sam said.
John gritted his teeth. “Yeah, yeah, first thing in the morning!”
An officer dropped them at Jamie’s house. Jamie hugged his niece fiercely, berating her for walking into danger.
Jenna hugged him fiercely in return.
“You’d have been in trouble if Sam hadn’t happened upon you!” Jamie told her.
Angela and Jackson kept discreetly silent.
Sam found that he had to step up to the plate. “Actually, Jenna does know what she’s doing, Jamie. She was holding her own.”
Jamie looked disgruntled. Jenna shot Sam a glance that held a speculative, wry smile.
“Uncle Jamie, I’m not quitting my job.”
“Well, you all need to stop—this is getting too dangerous!” he protested.
“Uncle Jamie,” Jenna said quietly, “living is dangerous. I love what I do. It’s important. And more people might die if we don’t get to the bottom of this. It’s always better to face danger head-on when you have to fight it.”
Jamie opened and closed his mouth several times. “I’ll get the stew,” he said at last, then gruffly added, “You set the table for me, eh, lass?”
“I’ll help, too!” Angela said, jumping to her feet.
They compiled the information they had all garnered during the day. Sam listened gravely to Jenna as she explained what she was certain the crime-scene photos told her. “It wasn’t as if I could say, ‘Oh, the person who did was left-handed or right-handed’ or anything like that. But it appeared that the Andres murder was just something to be accomplished, while the Covington murder showed a greater violence, and the Smith family was—well, pure rage. And, yes, I know, escalating violence is often part of the profile of a serial killer, but, in this instance, I can’t help but think there are distinct two killers.”
She looked at Sam expectantly.
“I thought that myself today,” he told her.
They both looked at Jackson, who nodded.
“So, we think that Andy Yates and Samantha Yeager are having an affair—and that they’re making sure that they each have an alibi for murder?” Angela clarified, a statement more than a question.
“It is a theory,” Sam said.
“A good one,” Jenna said. “I know that Michael Newbury, Jr., believes that David Yates has been disappointed in his father, that he believes his father hasn’t stood up for him enough. What better way to prove your love than kill the family of and incarcerate the boy who supposedly gave David the evil eye?”
“Why the others?” Angela mused.
“Peter Andres
—because he chastised David Yates,” Sam said.
“What about Earnest Covington?” Jamie asked. “What did he do to anyone?”
“In that instance, I believe that he was just there, collateral damage. He was in the community. The trail for finding out who had killed Peter Andres was growing cold. Bring it close to the Smith home—and have a son who will swear that he saw Malachi come out of the house—and you have a good fall guy. I think that the Earnest Covington murder was a setup, and when that didn’t work, the family had to go. And Earnest Covington was such an easy mark. He lived alone. He never locked his door,” Sam said.
“And the man in the graveyard tonight?” Jamie demanded.
Sam sighed. “Even John Alden will be looking for a trail on that. But,” he told Jackson, “you should get your computer whiz on it. I have a feeling that we’re not going to find out that any huge checks have been written. We need to look for alternate indications of money transfer.”
“Murder for hire is expensive,” Angela said.
Sam’s lips formed into a white line. “Expensive? That’s relative. Apparently, the guy from the cemetery was on crack. The kind that will make you do just about anything for money.”
“But what was it going to achieve?” Angela asked.
“Jenna’s death?” Sam stared at Jenna and let out a soft sigh. “I don’t know if our killers know what you all do, with ghosts and spirits and all that…but I do think that the killer is afraid of her. He or she—or they— believe that she can see more than most people, somehow.”
Of course, when they eventually went to bed, they didn’t sleep, not right away. Jenna wondered if her own brush with the edge of an ax had made her more appreciative of living that night.
She and Sam made love until exhausted, and as they lay together she wondered what he was thinking.
“Thanks, by the way,” she murmured.
“For?”
“Helping me out with Jamie.”
He was silent, and she wondered if her time with him was ending soon. Sad, for in such a short time she had realized that he was what she wanted desperately. Sam was the reason she’d never been serious before—she’d been looking for someone just like him, with his eccentricities, and his sense of honor and ethics. She cared far too deeply. He had what she needed in a man, and she was falling in love, even with his arrogance.
Sam rolled over to look at her. His eyes were deep and serious.
“Do you still think I’m a jerk?” he asked.
“Sometimes,” she said, threading her fingers through his hair, smiling.
“Good. Because sometimes I still find you scary as hell.”
“Because I see ghosts and have postcognition?”
“Because…because I thought I was going to die tonight when I believed you might have been struck by an ax.”
“You’re always out there on the front line,” she said.
“I’m an attorney.”
“Oh, now…that’s the truth, and not the truth. Last I heard, you defended a man who was entangled with the mob.”
“The son of a mobster, and he was innocent. That’s different…. I don’t know if I can bear being with you,” he said.
“It’s all right,” she told him.
“No, it’s not. Because I don’t know if I can bear not being with you.”
She rolled into his arms. He held her against him. “On this one, though, will you give in to me? Will you promise not to try to slip into the school? Call it silly, I have this weird premonition about tomorrow. I want you safe.”
“I won’t slip into the school tomorrow,” she told him.
She felt guilty, because she had no intention of telling him what she really was going to do. But they were going in circles. And she thought that she knew the way to end it.
“This is even crazier,” he murmured, rising above her.
“What?”
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he said.
She pulled him down to her. “I like crazy,” she assured him.
John Alden was true to his word; he was at the school, which had been in lockdown over the weekend. When Sam and Jackson arrived in the morning, the wardrobe mistress—the drama coach—swore up and down that Martin Keller had been telling the truth about the inventory, but other than that, she couldn’t vouch for what might have happened with the costume earlier.
Some of the parents were at the school; although the boys that Sam really wanted questioned were the seventeen-year-olds, he had nothing against the parents being present.
Joshua Abbott was brought in to speak with John, Sam and Jackson alone—without David Yates there to tell him what to say or give him leading gestures. Just when they were about to begin, Joshua’s father, Ben, arrived.
Sam thought that he’d be belligerent, angry that his son was being questioned. But Ben Abbott was just the opposite.
“Damn it, Joshua! This is serious. Perjury. You follow that Yates kid around like a puppy, but you straighten out right now. You want to go to college? You want a football scholarship—you want a life? You’re not in any pact with David Yates. You’re just a kid, and he’s just a kid, and the two of you might wind up with jail time. Tell the truth!”
Joshua looked at his father miserably and lowered his head.
“Did you see Malachi Smith leave Earnest Covington’s house the day he was murdered?” Sam asked quietly.
“The truth!” Ben Abbott repeated.
“Yes,” Joshua said. Then he looked up. “I mean—I didn’t actually see him, but David did. And David wouldn’t say that he saw him if he didn’t. He said that people might not believe him if someone else didn’t say the same thing. And then…then I had to stick to it because…because I’d said it, and I couldn’t turn on David and…Dad! Dad, I’m sorry. But David wouldn’t lie to me—we’re friends.”
With that, John, Sam and Jackson thanked Joshua for his honesty and stepped out of the room. “John, listen to me, please, and I know that this is hard. I honestly believe that Councilman Yates and Samantha Yeager conspired to commit these murders,” Sam said once the door had closed.
John stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. Sam spoke quickly, with Jackson’s help, explaining that it was his belief that Samantha Yeager had engaged in an affair with Andy Yates. On her part, it was sheer greed. She wanted Lexington House. Andy Yates had watched what he thought was his son’s terrible suffering; he had to right a wrong.
“You’re crazy!” John said, looking at him.
“John, help us out here, please. Half the parents are here. Can you get Andy Yates to come down? If we can all talk to him with his son present…?”
John sighed. “All right. I’ll get him down here.”
“You want to what?” Angela demanded.
“I want to get back into Lexington House,” Jenna repeated.
“Oh, Jenna, I don’t know if that’s necessary. Why don’t we wait and see what happens at the school today? When they actually get to the kids…”
“No. Angela, I’ve been twice. The first time, I saw Eli Lexington kill his family. The second time, I saw the day that the Braden son killed his parents. My cognitive self might be working in a time pattern. If I can get back in there one more time…”
“Maybe you’re right. But, still—”
“If we wait, Sam will have to call John again, and what I’ll probably get won’t actually be proof, just an idea of the direction we should take to find proof. They’re about to go in with cleaning crews. We’ve got to go now—before they do that,” Jenna said.
“I’m still uneasy about it. The killers are out there. They hired people to look for you, for God’s sake.”
“And they wouldn’t dare do it again, not so quickly,” Jenna said.
While Angela drummed her fingers on the table, Jenna’s phone rang. It was Sam.
“Joshua Abbott’s dad came in and gave it to him, and he admitted he’d been lying,” he told her.
“That�
��s a start.”
“It gets better. John is bringing Councilman Yates in, saying that he wants him present when David is questioned. You never know what happens when you get that kind of dichotomy going. We could get somewhere today.”
“That’s great!” Jenna told him. “Keep us posted.”
“Will do,” he said, and hung up.
“No one is going to be out to get me,” Jenna assured Angela. “They’re bringing Councilman Yates to the school.”
Angela nodded. “Maybe the ghosts will talk to me, too, today….” She groaned and rolled her eyes. “We’re going to go under the police tape, huh?”
“We’ll put it back, just the way it was. No one will ever know.”
“Where’s Jamie?” Angela whispered.
“He went back in to spend some time with Malachi. Angela, I feel that I have to do this.”
“All right,” Angela agreed. “Then…let’s go.”
Jenna drove. As they pulled out of Jamie’s driveway and headed down the street, Angela frowned and looked into the rearview mirror.
“There’s a car following us,” she said.
“Oh?”
“Nope, never mind. It was just a woman, I think, on her cell phone and following too close. The car turned off. We’re good.”
Jenna was careful to park a few blocks down on the street. As they exited the car, Angela said, “If I head to the cliff area—the park-not-really-a-park—I can easily see Lexington House. I’m thinking that I should keep an eye out and warn you if someone does come. And then, after you’ve taken a try at reading the place, I can go in, because I want to see if there are ghosts in there who will talk to me.” She smiled apologetically. “We both know that ghosts are as strange and moody as—well, as they were when they were living. And sometimes, they’ll feel an affinity with one person and not another. You can keep watch and I’ll go in if you don’t get anything.”
“Ah! Now there’s a plan,” Jenna said.
In front of Lexington House, they split, moving quickly. Jenna looked around; the neighboring houses were few, and she was pretty sure that the workday had already begun for most people in the area.
The Evil Inside (Krewe of Hunters) Page 27