The Haunting of Rachel Harroway- Book 1

by J. S. Donovan

  Rachel compared the pictures to the sketches that she drew at the warehouse. Peak kept silent at the uncanny similarities.

  “You think their parents or classmates are still around?” Rachel asked her partner.

  Peak shrugged.

  Down the hall, the briefing room opened and the officers, analysts, and other law enforcement specialists on the case flooded out. Wearing an unzipped windbreaker and holding a stainless-steel coffee thermos, Lieutenant McConnell approached Rachel and Peak. Rachel subtly closed her notebook and smiled. Peak swiveled around to his superior.

  “Having your own secret meeting?” McConnell asked, serious or jokingly, it was hard to tell which was which.

  “Inspiration struck,” Rachel said. “Apologies.”

  “Eureka moments wake me up in the morning. What did you find out?”

  “I was thinking about the clothing found on the skeletons and thought that the fashion aligned with the seventies. So I started digging, looking up missing locals from that decade that match the quota. Age, height, etcetera. I found these.” Rachel gestured to the monitor.

  “We’re going to see the parents and the next of kin, see if we can learn anything about these girls,” Peak interjected.

  McConnell sipped his coffee. “Why these seven?”

  “Out of all the results, they matched the evidence the best.” It was only a partial lie.

  McConnell watched for a moment. “Quick work, Detective. You have my permission to get started on this right away.” He took another sip from his thermos and walked away.

  Rachel sighed.

  “Ready?” Peak asked.

  Rachel nodded.

  It felt right to start with Dakota’s parents first. They lived in small, two-bedroom home on the far outskirts of town. The town of Highlands was constructed on a plateau and completely locked in by woods. Around it, the hazy Appalachian Mountains rose and dipped as far as the eye could see. Rachel gave their door a knock. After a few moments, an elderly man with thin salt-colored hair, thin lips, and a limp leg opened the door.

  “I’m Detective Harroway. This is Detective Peak. Do you have a moment to discuss your daughter?”

  The old man stared at her for a moment, as if processing every word she said. “What about her?”

  “I would feel better if we discussed this inside.”

  The old man looked at Peak with untrusting eyes. “Alright. Come on in.”

  The house was homey and smelled of mint. There were love notes taped to the refrigerator and a flower pot in the middle of the kitchen table. Mr. Mulberry sat down in the living room recliner while Rachel and Peak took the couch.

  “I regret to inform you that the Highlands Police Department found the remains of your daughter.”

  Tears welled in Mr. Mulberry’s eyes. “Where?”

  Rachel told him of the straggly unnamed path to the stream. “We believe she passed around forty years ago, right after you reported her missing.”

  Mr. Mulberry nodded. “I thought as much. Linda will be glad to hear it. To have closure. How did she...”

  “Murdered, we believe,” Detective Peak added.

  “Do we know who?” the old man asked.

  Rachel smiled softly at him. “That’s what we are trying to figure out.”

  Mr. Mulberry grunted. “Well, not like it will much good for us now.”

  Peak said. “It won’t bring her back, but you might find some relief.”

  “Did Dakota have any enemies?” Rachel asked.

  The old man flinched at the girl’s name. “It was forty years ago. I don’t know.”

  “Anyone at school that she might’ve gotten into a fight with?”

  “She was an honors student with ambitious college plans. She never got into fights. She knew such a thing could ruin her career,” the man replied.

  “I know it was a long time ago, but did she ever mention that she thought she was being followed the days prior to her vanishing?”

  “Not that she said, but she did seem distraught those final days.”

  “How so?”

  “Like she was frustrated about something. Not scared, but, I don’t know, it was like she was on a countdown.”

  Peak and Rachel traded a look.

  Mr. Mulberry continued. “It was probably just her homework. Though she had a loving heart, she’d get frustrated about it too.”

  Rachel pulled out printouts of the other missing girls. “Do any of these women look familiar?”

  Mr. Mulberry grunted as he reached over and grabbed the portraits. “Yes. They went to her school. I think some were honor students, too.”

  “Did you know that they all went missing before your daughter?”

  The man rubbed his veiny cold hands together. “Yeah. We knew. Everyone in town did. Girls started going missing. We thought that they were runaways at first and then, after the second went missing, everyone got their guns and flashlights and started combing the mountains. We found nothing. A few months later, there’s news of another missing girl, and then another. Finally, it got around to my daughter.

  Mr. Mulberry’s eyes glossed over. “I’d rather have time alone.”

  Rachel thanked him for his time and handed him a card. “Call if you think of anything.”

  Rachel and Peak climbed into their car.

  “What are your thoughts?” Rachel asked Peak.

  “I don’t think Mr. Mulberry knows much of anything. He’s a grieving father.”

  “Let’s hope we have better luck with the next ones.”

  The parents of the Dummer twins had a huge house with acres of farmland and a half dozen horses. Rachel and Peak went through the familiar sympathies and told them that law enforcement was doing everything they could to uncover the true murderer. They took the news worse than Mr. Mulberry.

  “They’re dead? Both?” Mrs. Dummer exclaimed. “Has the DNA test come back?”

  “It will in a few days, but we are 95% sure it is your daughters.”

  “So there’s still hope.”

  “I wouldn’t hedge your bets,” Peak said. “It’s been forty years.”

  Rachel gave her partner a stern look and then addressed the parents. “What can you tell us about Cara and Tiffany?”

  “They were two of the smartest students in their class,” Mr. Dummer explained.

  “Never missed a day of school or a club meeting.” Mrs. Dummer added.

  “Where happened the day they vanished?”

  “We’d bought them a car for Christmas,” Mr. Dummer said.

  “Only one car that they would have to share,” Mrs. Dummer clarified. “A lesson in compromise and responsibility we thought would prepare them for Duke University.”

  Mr. Dummer continued the story. “A few days after the holiday, they drove off. They didn’t tell us where they were going, only that they wanted to see the town. We waited until midnight that night to call the police. The police never found them, and their car was never discovered.”

  Mrs. Dummer grabbed her husband’s hand. “We believed they ran away all these years.”

  “What can you tell us about the car?”

  Mr. Dummer smiled. He left the room for a moment and returned with a little coffer full of documents. Sifting through paper stained with age, he pulled out the car title. “Ford Granada. 1975. Big car, that.”

  Heather Lee’s next of kin was her brother Arnold. Their parents had both died of cancer. Arnold worked as a mechanic in Waynesville.

  “I can’t say I know much about her or her friends,” Arnold replied, wiping a black smudge from his forehead with his hairy forearm. “I was fourteen at the time. A little hellion. Heather was by the books, so to speak. Beautiful, loving, wanted to save herself for marriage. One day she went to class and never came back. Though Mom and Pop didn’t believe the worst, I did. Sad to hear now, though.”

  He didn’t add anything to investigation.

  One of the victims, Louise Richardson, was raised by a single moth
er who was now living in Colorado. Rachel gave her a call.

  “At least I know,” the woman said with a sigh on the other side. “Her sisters will be glad to have some closure.”

  “Did Louise have any enemies?”

  “Track and field can get cutthroat, but never like this.”

  “Stalkers?”

  “One old man. He’s dead now.”

  “Jealous boyfriend?”

  “She didn’t leave the house very often.”

  The sun began to set at their last stop. Amber Catiline’s home. Her father was sixty-two and fit as a fiddle. He came right out with the truth. “Someone was following Amber days before she vanished. I don’t know who, but I can guess why. She was born too pretty.”

  “What did she tell you about this stalker?”

  “She spotted this strange car out on the street every few days, and it wasn’t owned by the neighbors. She was good at picking up details and stuff like that.”

  “What did they drive?”

  “Khaki-colored 1970s Ford Granada. I’ll never forget it. Kept my eye out for it since.”

  After a few more remedial questions, Peak and Rachel went to Chan’s to grab a quick bite. It was only slightly crowded, and the sight of the food made Rachel’s belly rumble.

  They enjoyed their meal of dumplings and chicken while discussing their discoveries. “You know that car the Dummers bought their daughters?” Rachel asked as she studied her notes from the day’s interviews.

  “Sure. What of it?” Peak replied.

  “It matches the description of the car that stalked Amber Catiline.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.” Peak pointed the fork in her direction as he talked. “The Dummer twins vanished in December of ‘76. Amber vanished in February of ‘77.”

  “The killer could’ve used their car instead of his own,” Rachel said.

  “Risky move,” Peak said. “The Dummer family had a notice put out on it.”

  “After Amber, Dakota was killed a month later. The killer didn’t bother to move her body. I wonder why?” Rachel thought aloud.

  “Perhaps he was getting nervous or he was in a rush. I’m sure your Orphans would know.”

  “I haven’t seen them since the precinct. Good thing too, they can be very distracting.” Rachel replied.

  Peak refocused the conversation. “Well, now we know the victims share at least two similarities.”

  Rachel nodded. “Yes. The car connection, and every one of them was part of the same high school honor roll society.”

  As Rachel finished her food, a man in hunting camo passed by. The back of his head had a bloody hole the size of a baseball. He stopped and stared at Rachel for a moment. Peak and everyone in the restaurant paid him no mind.

  Rachel thought of her herbal smoothie and how soon she could solve this case.

  5

  Old Wounds

  There was one high school in Highlands, North Carolina. It was right off Main Street and had less than four hundred students from K-12. Despite the lackluster size, the single-story brick building had a certain homey appeal to it, accentuated by the bell tower above the entrance doors.

  “I went here, you know,” Peak said as Rachel parked the Impala. “Eighth through twelfth grade.”

  “Enjoy yourself?” Rachel asked, grinning.

  Peak turned to Rachel with a serious face. “This place made me an atheist.”

  Rachel was taken aback by the response and asked, “How so?”

  Peak shrugged. “Everyone wore a pretty mask. They talked a lot about faith but don’t practice it.”

  “You were one of those angsty kid in high school, weren’t you?” Rachel teased and got out of the car.

  Peak slammed the door. “Less than you would think. I participated in what few clubs they had, BSed with the guys, played soccer… all the normal drivel. I faked smiles like the rest. It gave them some comfort in their meaningless existence.”

  They passed through the entrance doors. Hands in his back pocket and a sour face, Detective Peak craned his neck back and studied the various portraits of past faculty members that hung in the hall. Rachel leaned through the open door to the principal’s office.

  From behind a finely furnished oak desk, Principal Godfrey, a plump man with a round head, buzzed grey hair, and a childish smile, took his hands off his laptop. “How can I help y’all?”

  Rachel flashed her badge. “Detective Harroway. Do you have a moment?”

  With a confused smile, Godfrey stood, the buttons on his shirt straining at the outward curve of his belly. “Um, sure. Come on in. Have a seat.”

  Rachel shook the principal's small but meaty hand before landing herself at the cushioned chair adjacent to him. If the principal was the rope-wielder that Dakota had sketched on the fogged mirror, he’d have to have some resilient gloves. Not a single callus existed on the man’s palm.

  Detective Peak silently slipped into the room and found a seat in the chair parallel to Rachel.

  “You’re a fellow Highlander, aren't you?” the principal asked him cheerfully.

  “Regretfully,” Peak replied.

  With the same perplexed grin, Godfrey cocked his head at the response and lowered himself into his chair, speaking to Rachel. “Might I ask the reason for your visit?”

  “Between the years 1976 and 1977, seven teenage girls vanished, all of which were part of the Highlands High Honor Society. We were hoping to look through the student records for those years.”

  “Sure thing,” Godfrey replied and swiveled his chair to face his laptop. He plucked away at the keyboard while he spoke. “Gosh, I remember those girls. Everyone said they were part of some sort of runaway pack, if there’s such a thing. I was pretty torn up about it. I had the biggest crush on Amber Catiline.”

  “What can you tell me about them?” Rachel asked.

  “They were the smartest, prettiest girls in school. Way out of my league.” Traces of sadness were in Godfrey’s chuckle. “They’d spend time a lot of time together. That’s expected of the honor students, though.”

  “In what way?”

  “Most, if not all, in the honor society find themselves in a leadership position around Highlands. This is the Appalachia. We might do well to hide it, but we’re a close-knit group.” The principal paused for a moment and rubbed his rounded chin. “Huh.”

  Rachel shot a quick glance to Peak and back to the principal. “What’s up?”

  “Records for those years aren’t in the database.”

  “Try ‘74 through ‘79.”

  “Already did. Principal Murphy must’ve overlooked them when we went digital in the early ‘90s. Not to speak ill, but the man wasn’t the most technically inclined individual.”

  “Murphy still around?” Rachel asked.

  “Him and his widow went to heaven in ‘02. He was head Highlander for fifty good years, God rest his soul. I can take you to the library if you’d like. You can peruse our physical records there as long as you don’t mind a little dust.”

  Principal Godfrey led them through the school’s corridors, past the elementary fifth-grade wings, and toward the library. The lockers were painted with fresh coats of blue and red. Light bounced off the glossy floor, and old oak and spruce trees swayed outside the window. The school was clean, sterile and deceptively larger than how it looked on the outside. Through the horizontal classroom door windows, students, illuminated by the glow of their iPads and tablets, listened attentively to their teachers.

  Principal Godfrey turned into a hall that connected to the library, bragging about the school’s impeccable test scores.

  Rachel leaned into Peak, talking lowly. “When you were attending, were there any rumors regarding the girls?”

  “Into high school gossip now?” Peak joked. “In truth, no one ever mentioned the girls. That happened nearly two decades before I attended.”

  The library was a large room with several round tables interspersed throughout. The libraria
n, an elderly woman with a crooked beak, rimless glasses, and intimidating eyes watched them enter. A few shelves back, Rachel saw a few senior students seated around the table with textbooks opened before them. A girl with silky brown hair chewed the top of her Bic pen as she read. She smiled at Rachel before returning to her studies.

  Godfrey asked the woman at the desk to see the records. She eyed him suspiciously and got out of her seat. Removing her key ring from her pocket, she waddled toward a nearby door. She twisted a key into the lock, and the door opened into a closet with dusty metal filing cabinets. Godfrey scanned the dusty drawers, mumbling to himself. The librarian lingered by the door, giving Rachel and Peak a nasty scowl.

  “That’s Miss Crawford,” Peak whispered. “The Highlands Witch is what we used to call her.”

  Rachel smiled at the elderly woman. “I’m Detective Rachel Harroway. Can I ask you a few questions?”

  Crawford glared at her through the glasses that rested at the tip of her nose.

  “Would you happen to remember the members of the honor’s society from 1976-1979?” Rachel asked.

  The woman shook her head. “No.”

  Crawford’s hostility gave Rachel chills. She knew immediately that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with this one. Godfrey returned with a folder and an old yearbook. He beckoned Rachel and Peak to a nearby table and opened the file.

  “There you have it,” the principal said.

  Rachel took the yearbook while Peak examined the documents. That was more Peak’s thing, anyway.

  “These are the girls.” Peak said, studying their flimsy transcripts and straight A report cards.

  Rachel flipped through the yearbook pages and found a wide shot of the Highlands Honor Society of ‘76. Eight girls: Dakota, Louise, Amber, Cara, Heather, Tiffany, Kensie, and Jennifer Blankenship, a seventeen-year-old with a wide smile, alluring eyes, rich brown hair, and long legs. She wore bell bottoms and a maroon blouse. Rachel took note of the final girl’s name. Jennifer was the only female shown who wasn’t discovered at the burial ground. Is she dead too?

  There were six boys, too: John Parkman, a dashing young man with an athlete's body, nice clothes, and welcoming smile. Albert “Al” Jacobson, a short, stocky teen with a smug grin. Michael Umphrey, a tall, lengthy fellow with thick glasses and a clenched jaw. Tristan Ball, an unassuming teenager with a square face and faint mustache. Gunnar Thompson, medium height, military haircut, and buck teeth. Lastly, Liam Harroway, Rachel’s father.