18
Natalie gathered up her paperwork while the rest of the guys headed back to their cubicles and Luke remained seated at the conference table. He was on the phone. He prevented her from leaving, motioning for her to sit back down. She figured he wanted to discuss a few more details of the case with her, so she took a seat and waited.
Soon her phone buzzed—it was Brandon. All she could hear was his cotton-mouthed breathing. “Brandon? Is that you?”
He hung up.
Natalie phoned him back, but the call went straight to voice mail. She left a message. “If you want to talk, Brandon, seriously … I’m here for you.” She hung up.
Luke was gesturing for her notebook and pen. She handed them over, and after a few moments of scribbling, he hung up. “That was Benjamin Lowell, one of Riley’s buddies I talked to this morning. Seems Riley was planning to meet up with some friends at the Mummy’s Cabin on Wednesday afternoon. To sell drugs.”
“Great.” Natalie stood up. “Let’s go.”
The Mummy’s Cabin was named after Frederick Moth, a mentally imbalanced drifter, who’d holed up inside the remote cabin in the woods one long-ago winter and killed himself the following spring. It was a gruesome suicide—he’d wrapped his entire head in duct tape, like a mummy, and consequently choked on his own vomit. The police found bottles of Carlo Rossi lying around. The sensationalized newspaper headlines at the time declared, DERELICT MUMMIFIED IN CABIN. The name stuck.
Now Natalie followed Luke’s Ranger northwest of town through a complex topography of cliffs, valleys, ponds, and forest-covered hills. Fifteen minutes later, they parked by the side of a fire road and stepped into the breezy April late-afternoon.
They took a serpentine footpath into the forest, where the trees creaked and rubbed in the wind. White spruce, red pine, bear oak, American beech, and balsam firs all thrived in the conservancy lands and protected woods. The sugar maples grew to seventy feet tall and lived for three hundred years. Burning Lake could feel as quiet and remote as the Canadian outback, with its sun-drenched meadows, panoramic vistas, and miles of hiking trails. In the spring, the forest bloomed with frothy myrtle and patches of sea lavender nestled along the creek beds. By the fall, everything turned as golden and fragrant as honey.
After a strenuous ten-minute hike, they came to a small clearing where a bevy of wild roses and sweetbrier grew. The Mummy’s Cabin was nestled on the edge of the woods, looking blown-out and desolate, overrun with weeds and caught in a net of climbing hydrangea. The windows were broken. The splintery door stood open. Natalie could hear voices coming from inside. Chants. A soft, eerie sound.
She unfastened the safety on her gun—just a precaution. Scattered throughout these hollows were dozens of abandoned cabins where drug deals were known to take place, and violence could erupt at any second. Still, she kept her arms down by her sides and didn’t draw her weapon. Luke kept his weapon holstered but unfastened.
“Police,” the lieutenant called out. “Come out with your hands up.”
The chanting stopped. The voices fell silent.
“Step out of the cabin with your hands over your heads,” Luke demanded, the strain showing in the tendons of his neck.
Shadows stirred inside the cabin. Moments later, six teenagers filed out with their arms in the air—Kermit Hughes, Owen Kottler, India Cochran, Berkley Auberdine, Sadie Myers, and Angela Sandhill. Angela was one of Ellie’s second-tier friends who got invited to all the sleepovers and parties, but who wasn’t part of her inner circle. The six of them were dressed in black, like a flock of ravens.
“Keep your hands out of your pockets where I can see them,” Luke cautioned. “Do you have any drugs in your possession? Any weapons?”
“No,” the raven-haired India responded, speaking for the entire group.
“What are you doing up here?” Luke asked.
“Holding a séance.”
Natalie fastened the safety on her gun and glanced at the open door of the cabin. “Is that all of you?”
“Yes,” India told her stiffly.
She was relieved Ellie wasn’t among them, but couldn’t help wondering where her niece was, since Ellie and India did everything together.
Luke walked over to the cabin door and peeked inside. “You lit candles,” he said. “That’s against park regulations. And I see a couple of liquor bottles in there.”
“Sorry about the candles,” India said. “Those liquor bottles aren’t ours.”
“A lit candle started a forest fire in Elizabeth Falls seven years ago,” Luke reminded them. “Empty your pockets, please.”
“What for?” India asked, blinking innocently.
“Just a precaution,” he said, but when that didn’t seem to convince them, he added, “Drug possession and underage drinking are still illegal, as far as I know.”
“We weren’t drinking or taking drugs, Lieutenant Pittman, I swear. We were holding a séance, that’s all.”
“Empty your pockets, please,” he repeated—leaving little room for argument.
The teenagers emptied their pockets and put everything on the ground. Spare change, smartphones, keys, wallets. Sadie Myers placed two phones on the ground—her iPhone and a Samsung—and Natalie grew immediately suspicious.
“Why do you have two phones, Sadie?” she asked.
“I … um…” Sadie’s eyes welled with tears. Freckled and elfin, she had enough facial piercings to set off a metal detector—earrings, nose rings, a tongue stud that exaggerated her natural lisp. “I don’t know.”
The teenagers grew visibly nervous as Natalie picked up the Samsung. The battery was low. She scrolled through the call logs, then opened up the contact list. She tapped on India’s name and held the phone to her ear.
India jumped when her ringtone burst to life—Selena Gomez’s “Wolves.”
“Who does this phone belong to?” Natalie asked, already knowing the answer.
“It’s Riley’s,” Sadie quickly confessed, blushing crimson.
“Why do you have Riley’s phone, Sadie?” Natalie asked her, hanging up.
“Kermit wanted me to hold it for him. He was afraid he’d get caught with it.”
They all nodded their heads. Kermit shuffled his feet. India averted her eyes.
“How did you get Riley’s phone, Kermit?” Natalie asked him.
“He told me to hold it for him, right after Officer Buckner showed up at Haymarket Field,” the boy explained with a wince. “Am I in trouble?”
“No,” Natalie said. “But I’m going to hang on to this.”
“Can we go now?” India pleaded, a warm breeze raking her long hair in ribbons and waves.
Natalie checked through the most recent calls on Riley’s phone. “According to his call logs, he phoned you five times yesterday, India. And it looks like you called him back twice.”
India grew defiant. “Is this an interrogation? Because we have our rights, you know. You can’t keep asking us questions without our parents’ permission.”
It was true. These children were minors. They weren’t obligated to cooperate with the police, even if they’d witnessed a crime. You could only push things so far, and India’s father was an attorney. Timothy Cochran, Esquire, was known as Burning Lake’s super-lawyer, a diminutive man who planted his intellectual weight into every step.
“We heard Riley came up here to the cabin yesterday,” Natalie said. “Do you know anything about that?”
“No,” India said. “I told you. We haven’t done anything wrong. We aren’t doing drugs. You can’t detain us for holding a séance in the woods. It’s not against the law. And you can’t keep asking us questions without our parents’ permission.”
Luke took this as his cue to intervene. “Step away from the cabin and go stand over there, please.” He pointed at a swath of Douglas firs growing shoulder-to-shoulder on the north side of the cabin. “All of you. Pick up your belongings and go wait in front of those trees. We need to look inside
the cabin, and then we may have a few more questions. Okay?”
The six of them grudgingly collected their belongings and went to stand on a bed of needles in front of the fir trees. Natalie activated her flashlight. The interior of the cabin contained a post-apocalyptic feel. There was the dilapidated sofa where Frederick Moth had allegedly taken his own life. The walls were covered with superimposed layers of graffiti. Decades of wind had swirled the trash deep into the crevices.
She aimed her beam at the Ouija board in the middle of the cabin, five lit candles placed around it. The planchette hovered above the word “No.” A foot or two away, on the pine-needled floor, was a rumpled black T-shirt. Natalie squatted down to blow out the candles, while beams of dying sunlight shot through the broken windows. The wooden floor smelled of piss.
“I don’t see any joints or blister packets, do you?” Luke said, kicking an empty cartridge box across the debris-strewn floor.
“Here’s a drug pipe.” She scooped the glass pipe off the floor. “But it looks old. The residue is hardened, and the bowl’s broken.”
Luke nudged an empty liquor bottle with the toe of his shoe. “If Riley was here yesterday, then we’ll need to find out who he met with and for how long.”
India came to the door just then, interrupting them. “My father says we don’t have to talk to you. He told me to leave. He said we haven’t done anything wrong.”
Luke sighed. “All right, you can go.”
“Thanks.” She flashed them both a resentful smile before scurrying away.
Natalie picked up the rumpled black T-shirt from the floor and unfurled it. “Wait, you forgot your—” Out dropped Ellie’s missing scarab-link bracelet.
Little pools of fear flared inside her.
She sat motionless as she cradled the delicate bracelet in her palm. Braided throughout the interlocking scarabs was a piece of knotted red twine.
“Ellie lost this bracelet at school today,” Natalie told him. “And look, this is knot magic. A piece of twine, knotted nine times, binds the spell. Only when the knots are untied will the spell be broken.”
“So who were they casting a spell on? Ellie?”
Fright spread across her scalp. “Let’s go ask them,” she said.
But the kids had scattered. They were gone.
19
Finding answers would have to wait. Natalie and Luke spent the next thirty minutes processing the cabin, searching for proof that Riley had been there recently supplying controlled substances to buyers. After sorting through the rubbish, they collected three marijuana stubs, four empty liquor bottles, two pink pills, an old sock with traces of what looked like marijuana inside of it, and a receipt from a supermarket for a packet of beef jerky and a box of plastic sandwich bags, purchased at 3:22 P.M. on the Wednesday afternoon in question.
Around twilight, they headed down the trail toward their vehicles, while the setting sun cast dying shadows on the pine-needled ground. Luke’s flashlight illuminated the path ahead, laced with faded brown leaves and twigs from last autumn. Natalie stepped on a branch and it crackled loudly. Funny, she’d lived in these woods her entire life, but they still managed to overpower her at times.
They put away their equipment and got in their separate vehicles. “Meet you back at the station,” Luke told her, and took off.
Thirty yards down Drummond Lane, Natalie spotted a homeless woman pushing her shopping cart by the side of the road and pulled over.
Thirty-six-year-old Bunny Jackson wore mismatched layers of clothes she got from local charities. She and Grace had once been close in high school—together with Daisy and Lindsey Wozniak, they’d formed their own coven—but Bunny had subsequently suffered a schizophrenic break in college and was never the same again. Everyone in town cared about Bunny’s well-being, but none of these well-meaning people could convince her to get the help she needed.
Bunny wasn’t looking particularly well today. She had a cold and was thin and jaundiced. Her short hair had gone prematurely white, creating a fine mist around her head. Natalie rolled down her window and said, “Bunny? Can I give you a lift?”
“No, thanks, I’m fine,” she muttered, eyes downcast. She wore that smelly old army jacket year-round. It was her favorite item of clothing. Written on back in gaudy pink and purple sequins was the message: I’VE GOT THIS. Some of the sequins had fallen off, but Bunny never went anywhere without her beloved jacket—winter, spring, summer, or fall.
“You’re a long way from home,” Natalie said, opening her wallet. She took out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to the disoriented woman through the rolled-down window. “Remember me? Natalie?”
Bunny’s face lit up. “Yeah, of course I remember you. You’re Grace’s sister. Sure do. Thanks, Natalie. You’re so kind.”
“When was the last time you ate? Hop in. I’ll take you to the women’s shelter. It’s supposed to get pretty cold tonight.”
“No, I’m okay.” She tucked the money into her jacket pocket.
“Bunny, you’re shivering,” Natalie coaxed. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”
“No, thanks,” she said grumpily.
Bunny rarely ventured this far out of town. The A&P was her favorite haunt. Goodwill came next, then the food banks and the women’s shelter. She refused to stay in one place for very long, because she believed that malevolent forces were chasing her.
Natalie unbuckled her seat belt and stepped out of the car as a ghostly fog rolled in and night descended. “What are you doing way out here?” she tried again. “Collecting cans?”
Bunny’s mouth drew taut. “Those kids are up to no good.”
“Kids?” Natalie repeated quizzically. “What kids?”
“They asked me for a cigarette,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t smoke.”
“Who asked you that?”
“Those damn kids. I’ve seen them out here before.”
“In these woods?” Natalie took a stab. “Heading for the Mummy’s Cabin?”
Bunny shivered and rubbed her arms. “Temperature’s supposed to drop tonight.”
“It’ll be warmer at the women’s shelter.” Natalie made a gesture of reassurance, but she drew abruptly back.
“Don’t.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just concerned, is all.”
Bunny’s eyes lit up. “Guess what, Natalie? I’m getting married.”
“You are?” Natalie had dealt with Bunny’s delusions before, and over time she’d discovered it was best to humor her. Anything less could set her off. “Congratulations.”
“The Devil and me are getting married. See?” She held up a dirty wad of rolled-up newspapers about the size of a baseball. “Here’s my wedding ring.” She unwrapped the sheets of butcher paper and newsprint, letting them flutter to the ground. She peeled off the last stained sheet and displayed a small round rock. She backed away slowly. “He’s watching us now. The Devil.”
“Maybe you should come with me,” Natalie suggested.
Bunny grabbed the greasy handle of her shopping cart and tried to push it away, but the rattling front wheels got stuck in a rut. “The Devil gets inside us. Each and every one of us.”
“Bunny, please…” She snagged her by the army jacket sleeve, not wanting her to run away again—not while she was off her meds and hallucinating about the devil.
“Leave me alone!” The homeless woman tugged herself free and, panicking now, picked up a heavy broken branch from the ground. She brandished it threateningly. “Don’t you come near me! I’m warning you!”
“It’s okay.” Natalie was forced to step back. “I just want you to be safe.”
Stark fear flooded the poor woman’s face. She hurled the dead limb at Natalie’s head, missing by inches, then abandoned her cart and fled into the woods.
“Bunny, wait!” Natalie headed after her, but Bunny was surprisingly nimble, scrambling swiftly through the undergrowth, impervious to the brambles that eventually prevented Natalie from moving forwa
rd. “Bunny, hold up!”
Soon she’d vanished into the woods, and Natalie couldn’t help feeling like shit—it was her own stupid fault. She’d practically chased the poor woman into the state park. She thought briefly about calling her contact at the Department of Wetlands and Woodlands, Jimmy Marconi. The New York DWW Forest Rangers were stationed throughout the state, and Natalie had known Jimmy since she was in grade school. She remembered laughing at his bow legs. Forest rangers served as first responders. They protected visitors to the state forests and parks. Their duties were varied, but they were often called upon to assist with search-and-rescue efforts. They’d been trained to administer first aid and CPR. Some of them specialized in climbing and dive rescues. Jimmy and his crew had even searched for some of the Missing Nine.
But that would’ve been an overreaction. You only called the DWW when you’d exhausted all your options. Besides, the social workers and civil rights lawyers had made it clear that not even family members could force the homeless to do what was good for them without violating their autonomy—it was a fine line, legally and socially, and it burned a hole in Natalie’s gut. In short: She could only protect Bunny if Bunny allowed it.
She decided to wait for her anyway. Ten minutes later, just as Natalie was about to give up, she heard a rustling sound in the woods. Bunny returned, shoulders hunched, disheveled and bleeding from scratches to her hands and face. Her eyes in the headlights’ glare were round and drained. She walked up to the driver’s side window and said in a contrite voice, “Can you give me a lift back to town?”
“Yes, of course,” Natalie said, getting out of the car.
“What about my cart?”
“We’ll put it in back.”
20
Trace of Evil Page 14