“Another state with a lot of interesting history,” she said with a smile. “Jamestown, Williamsburg, revolutionaries, pirates, the Civil War...”
He laughed. “Yep.”
Eventually they left the restaurant. She had a feeling they were both sorry to go.
“Are you still planning to meet up with your friends?” she asked him. “Now that your ‘people’ are here?”
He paused at that. Essex Street was quiet. Most of the ghost tour guests had headed back to their lodgings. A few late-night bars were still open, but at that hour Essex Street wasn’t the hotbed of activity it was by day.
Until Haunted Happenings, of course, but that would come with the fall.
He nodded, looking around. “Not a creature is stirring,” he murmured, then smiled at her. “But do you think they’re watching?”
“Ghosts?” she asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Probably,” she said softly.
“And yet most people never even know they exist—or think about it on a daily basis. Anyway, back to your question,” he said, walking again in the direction of the car. “Yes. My ‘people’ are all nice, and two of them are from the area—assigned to the case for precisely that reason. They’ll have fun with my old crowd. You liked Jane and Angela, didn’t you?”
“Very much,” she told him, getting into the car.
“Good. That’s two people you’ll already know,” he said, and moved around to the driver’s side. “And Jack, of course.”
“Jack?”
“Detective Grail.”
“Oh! That’s right,” she said, remembering. “You two are old friends.”
“Yep. Never thought he’d be a cop. Another of our friends—the biggest slacker of us all—went to law school, and now he’s a successful attorney.”
Devin laughed. “All my friends, it seems, embraced the history of this town and opened stores or became guides. Or both.”
“You could certainly be a guide if you wanted to.”
“I love what I do, but who knows what the future will hold?”
As they drove back toward her cottage, Devin looked out at the streets of Salem. Yes, it was commercial. Yes, it was a tourist town. But people here also remembered their real history. And they honored it.
When they reached the house, he walked her up the path without asking.
Devin opened the door and looked in. “Auntie Mina?” she called.
There was no reply from her aunt, so she stepped in, and Rocky followed her.
“I’ll do the check-out-the-house thing,” he said.
As he’d done before, he went through every room, looking in closets and under the beds. When he finished and rejoined her by the door, he said, “I don’t want to make you paranoid, but it’s always a good idea to be careful. I just wish you weren’t out here alone.”
“I’m not alone. I have Poe and Aunt Mina,” she told him.
He gave a halfhearted smile. “You were pretty amazing tonight.”
“Pardon?”
“You know your history—the people, the victims, the accusers, the social climate of the time. And the more recent history, too, of course.”
She stood in the doorway smiling. “There’s so much about the people who lived here that’s so fascinating. Take the gray house that borders the cemetery. Nathaniel Hawthorne’s in-laws lived there, and he wrote a story about a house next to a cemetery that was filled with spiders. And wondering about his in-laws makes me wonder about him. What does our background have to do with the way we live our lives? Do we embrace it? Run from it?”
He laughed softly. “I know. From the area, remember? Where the girls first became ‘afflicted’ is actually Danvers today, and where Giles Corey had his property is Peabody now. But it was all Salem back then.”
Devin laughed. “Okay, so you did grow up around here. And I certainly don’t want to escape the area. It’s just that sometimes I feel I know it too well. Still, for better or worse, this is home.” She hesitated, looking at him. “You really think that Salem’s history is relevant to the case?”
“For some reason, yes. A hunch—maybe the way the victims’ bodies were arranged. Definitely the pentagrams.”
“I know I sound like a broken record, but the Wiccans here today have absolutely nothing to do with what happened in the past.”
“No—and yes. Don’t you think maybe the Wiccan community here has thrived because of history?”
“I suppose.”
He exhaled thoughtfully. “Here’s the thing—they used witchcraft in 1692 to spread terror and kill people. Whoever is doing this is using modern Wicca in some way, apparently for the same reason.”
“And does that help you?”
“Right now it’s about all we’ve got, even if it doesn’t lead anywhere yet. We have nothing physical. No trace evidence is almost unheard of. We have no hairs, no fibers, no blood from the attacker—nothing to go on forensically.”
“They haven’t found anything?”
“Not yet. But we will catch him—or her. This time.”
“You think a woman could be doing this?”
“Yes. There’s no reason a woman can’t wield a knife.”
“True.”
“You all right?” he asked her. “I can...well, I can stay on the sofa or in your aunt’s old room—I think she’d let me.”
She smiled. “I’m fine,” she told him.
They were standing so close together there in the doorway. For a moment she wondered how someone she found so seductive and attractive had come into her life—and why he’d had to enter as a consequence of a tragic murder. And yet, despite the circumstances, there was something chemical between them, she thought. Or maybe the bond was more cerebral.
Apparently they both spoke to the dead.
No, it wasn’t that. She smiled slightly.
As in her Auntie Pim books, maybe it was slightly magical.
She thought they were going to touch. Their lips were close.... They would touch, and then...
He cleared his throat and stepped back.
“Please tell me that you have me on speed dial,” he said.
She nodded and smiled, and stepped into the house. “Don’t worry. I’m not taking any chances. I’m young. I like living.”
“So do I,” he said softly. “Lock—”
“The door.”
He took another step back. “I’ll be listening for the bolt.”
She shut and locked the door, then leaned against it and closed her eyes, listening as his footsteps took him down the path to his car.
“Dearest girl, you should have kissed the boy.”
Her eyes flew open. “Auntie Mina!”
Well, she thought dryly, she wouldn’t be having any wild affairs in this house, that much was for certain.
Not when it came with a chaperone.
Aunt Mina wagged a finger at Devin.
“Men like him don’t come along often in life, my girl. Trust me. I lived long, and saw much. You shouldn’t throw away such a rare opportunity.”
* * *
Rocky returned to the hotel room to find the rest of the Krewe already set up in the suite that Sam Hall had taken; it had two bedrooms, one for him and Jenna, and one for Angela and Jane to share. There was also a good-size kitchen/dining area.
There were papers all over the table.
“There’s coffee in the pot,” Sam told Rocky.
“And a bottle of Jack if you need something stronger,” Angela offered dryly.
He poured himself coffee.
“All right, here’s where we are,” Jenna said when he’d taken a seat at the table. “First, still no answers on our Jane Doe in the morgue. I tried missing persons acr
oss the country and couldn’t come up with our woman. I also showed her picture to everyone I could think of. No one remembers her.”
“I went over the bulletins from agencies across the country. Came close a few times, but the best we had was a woman with horrible teeth,” Jane told him. “Not our vic, I’m afraid.”
“How does a woman just disappear and die—and no one even misses her?” Rocky asked.
“I don’t know,” Angela said. “Sad. But it happens all too often.”
“Poor thing,” Jane murmured. “But I was noticing, as I’m sure you did, that there are only a couple of general similarities between the dead women. Age doesn’t seem to factor in―Melissa Wilson was seventeen, Carly Henderson was thirty-two and the M.E. says our Jane Doe was somewhere in between—but they all had the same approximate size and build.” She paused and produced a copy of the drawing she had done earlier, only enhanced with color and shading. “Take a look. This is the woman Mina Lyle saw—a spirit trying to help, though whether she was an actress or a genuine Puritan, who knows. But if you compare all four women, there’s something similar in their faces. Not eye color, obviously, but the fine-boned structure. They all have a slightly fragile appearance—an innocent appearance.”
She was right. They didn’t look like sisters, but there was a similar quality about them.
“I saw her again tonight,” Rocky said, nodding at the drawing.
“Where?” Sam asked. “Did she speak to you?”
Rocky shook his head. “She was watching the tour. Devin wound up giving most of it—her friend was sick. Kept coughing. I think she was watching Devin.”
“If so,” Sam said, “we just have to hope Devin will communicate with her.”
“She will,” Rocky said.
“And we’d better hope we’re not putting her in danger,” Angela said.
Rocky tensed, heat flushing through him.
He should have stayed away from her. He should have told her to call Jack Grail for reports, if she wanted updates. He shouldn’t have gone to her house.
Or maybe he was berating himself for nothing. Maybe she wouldn’t have been as careful if he hadn’t insisted that she stay in, that she keep her doors locked. She might have gone off for a walk in the woods....
Bur the killer wasn’t just biding his time in the woods. He was going about his daily life; he was blending in with the crowd.
A crowd that just might include people Devin knew. People she considered friends.
“There are five of us. We’ll keep an eye on her,” Sam assured Rocky. “And if we need more manpower, you can call your buddy on the force.”
“I’ve got those numbers you were looking for,” Jenna told Rocky.
“And?”
“Dark SUVs? There are hundreds. People who own a dark SUV and fit the age range? Over half the group. But that dwindled down a lot when I looked for people who were here thirteen years ago and within the age range then as well as now. Then I took those names and looked into who we know has an athame.”
“And?” he asked again.
She looked over at him. “Down to eighteen people.”
Startled, Rocky got up to stand behind Jenna and look over her shoulder at the computer screen. Most of the names she pulled up meant nothing to him.
But there were several that did.
Jack Grail himself was on the list—along with their old buddy Vince Steward.
And Renee.
But they weren’t the only ones.
Theo Hastings was also on the list.
As was Devin’s old friend, the intrepid tour guide Brent Corbin.
* * *
“Ghosts appear in many different ways. There’s no way to fight it. Sometimes ghosts are the remnants, the souls, of those who’ve passed on. Sometimes they’re the remnants of knowledge in our minds. They’re there, but we can’t quite connect with them.”
Aunt Mina was talking to Devin. Except she wasn’t, not really—not even her ghost. She couldn’t be, because Devin was asleep. She knew she was asleep, and she even knew she was dreaming. But the dream was so much like life. It flowed, and she was trapped within it, unable to stop time or step outside it.
They were standing on a hill. Gallows Hill. But it wasn’t the Gallows Hill of the witchcraft trials, because no one knew exactly where the executions had taken place. The town fathers had stipulated that the hangings were done outside of Salem proper. It wasn’t the Gallows Hill of today, either. What the city had designated as Gallows Hill was a recreational area.
But none of that mattered in the dream. She simply knew she was on Gallows Hill on a long ago day. There was a cart track that led to the hill, winding through heavy trees. She saw that a path had been created to lead the condemned to the heavy branch of a certain old oak.
Panic seized her. She was floating in the air and still some distance away, but she could see what was happening. And she didn’t want to see. She didn’t want to see people dying horribly by strangulation or a snapped neck. She didn’t want to hear the tears—or the silence of those who had come to see their loved ones’ passing and yet dared not protest.
People were arriving by cart. Five, she thought. She tried to turn away. And then she heard the whispers. She didn’t know where they came from, couldn’t tell if they were male or female. But there were two of them.
“She’ll be the death of us all.”
“We must do something. When one is accused, it seems all around them, all who support them, are accused, as well.”
“You have children. Many children have been accused and now rot in jail.”
“I know.”
“What will we do?”
Devin heard something. A prayer...and then something like a choked-off sob. She turned and saw the body of a woman swinging beneath the heavy branch of the old oak. Head bowed, neck broken...
Or so Devin prayed.
But death was not so merciful and quick. The woman kicked and squirmed. It was horrible to see, until finally...
She was dead, strangled, and the deed was done. And in Devin’s dream the clouds roiled overhead and darkness descended.
She awoke drenched in sweat, almost screaming aloud. A moment later, a worried Auntie Mina was there in her room, trying to comfort her.
“Just a nightmare, love. You had them when you were a child, too.”
“I did?”
“You did, sweetheart. Don’t worry. You’re safe. I’m watching out for you.”
A ghost was watching out for her.
She smiled. “Thank you, Auntie Mina,” she said.
“I love you, dear. Now try to get some sleep,” Aunt Mina said. And then she disappeared.
Devin stared at the ceiling for a moment. Just days ago she’d had a comfortable life, a good career, friends, and she’d been...
Normal.
And now a ghost was reassuring her after a nightmare.
Out in the parlor, Poe let out a sudden caw.
She could almost swear the bird had said, “Nevermore.”
* * *
Rocky found James Jefferson, the second name on Jenna’s list, living in Lynn and running a mom-and-pop grocery store.
He’d already been to see Mary McCafferty, first on the list. Mary hadn’t driven in ages—she’d broken her leg in several places three weeks ago on a hiking trip to Colorado.
James Jefferson was an affable man, and he recognized Rocky’s name from years past. “I think you were the great white hope when you were here,” he told Rocky. “You don’t remember me—and you wouldn’t. I was only a freshman. Boy, could you throw a football!”
As it turned out, Jefferson had been on vacation in Florida until two nights ago. No, he said in answer to Rocky’s question, his children didn’t use his c
ar. They didn’t even live in the state.
Just as Rocky left the grocery store, he got a call from Jenna and Angela, who had been interviewing the people who lived in Lynn. One, Cindy Marks, had been working a church school carnival the day their Jane Doe had been killed, and half the parish could attest to that. Another, Roger Garcia, was a salesman, and he’d been in Buffalo on the date of Carly Henderson’s murder.
Fourteen. They were down to fourteen names. Then it was thirteen. His next call was from Sam, who had gone down to Boston where Jordan Michaels, a magician by trade, was playing at the convention center. Michaels, it seemed, had been playing to sold-out crowds around the country for the entire summer. Tens of thousands of people could attest to his whereabouts. He’d also been out of state until just a week ago.
“You sure about this list?” Sam asked him.
“No, I’m not sure at all. But we had to start somewhere.” Rocky didn’t like the fact that the parameters he had settled on to narrow down the suspect list involved people he knew. He paused for a moment. “I think I’m going to plan a get-together tonight.”
“Pardon?” Sam said, an edge of disbelief in his voice.
“With three of the people on our list,” Rocky added.
“Ah.” Sam was quiet a minute. “Sorry I doubted you.”
“Yeah. Thanks. Just be ready to party—and pay attention.”
“How are you explaining us?” Sam asked.
“Using guile and a clever ruse—I’m going to tell the truth,” Rocky told him.
When he hung up, he called Jack. He explained that due to simple process of elimination, they were “suspects” and need to answer a few questions.
Jack sighed. “Well, let’s try not to piss off Haley,” he said. “I’d do anything to catch the killer, but don’t forget—I have to live with Haley.”
“Right,” Rocky said. “I’ll be careful. You want to call Vince and Renee, or should I?”
“You don’t really think it could be one of them, do you?”
“No.”
“Then—”
Heather Graham Krewe of Hunters Series, Volume 4 Page 41