Trace of Evil
Page 19
Natalie parked in front of Pioneer Memorial Park and got out. Historic homes lay snug against this upscale cemetery. She felt a shiver of wind kiss her skin. TRUST JESUS read the scarred monument at the ornate cemetery gates. The park encompassed twenty acres of conflicted history and boasted such esteemed family names as Buckner, Clemmons, Grimsby, Pastor, and Deckhart. There were a couple of Lockharts buried there as well, but Natalie’s loved ones resided in one of God’s more modest burial grounds across town.
She waited near a towering limestone angel with chiseled wings that watched over the well-manicured grounds and adorned postcards advertising the town’s historic charms. Among the gray graves, a lone trash bag fluttered in the wind. There were depressions in the cobblestones from centuries of foot traffic.
Natalie checked her watch. She was early, so she decided to call Teresa McCarthy’s parents, Violet and Hamm. She’d interviewed the couple last fall, shortly after she’d been assigned the Missing Nine. Violet was quiet and small; Hamm was large and loud.
“Hello?” a timid-sounding woman answered.
“Ms. McCarthy? This is Detective Lockhart. I’m sorry to bother you like this, but I need to ask you a few questions.”
“Of course. Please call me Violet.”
“Thank you, Violet. Did you and your husband visit Teresa’s grave recently?”
“Yes, on the fourth of April. The day she went missing.”
“Around what time?”
“Ten in the morning.”
“Was there anything written on the headstone?”
“What’s that?”
“Any graffiti? Something in chalk?”
“No.”
“Did you notice anything unusual at all that morning?”
“Just a man standing on the far hill.”
Natalie gripped the phone tighter. “A man?”
“I thought it was a little strange,” Violet said hesitantly. “The way he kept staring at us from afar. But grief can make you do strange things.”
“That’s all he did? Stare at you?”
“Yes. We both noticed. And finally, he turned and walked away.”
“What did he look like?”
“I don’t know,” Violet said. “He was too far away.”
“You can’t tell me anything about his appearance? Hair color? Fat or skinny? Short? Tall?”
“He was just a silhouette on the hillside,” Violet said. “The sun was behind him. He was just a shadow.”
Jules Pastor came slinking out of the shade trees toward her.
“And you didn’t notice anything else unusual?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, Violet. You’ve been very helpful,” Natalie said and hung up.
“Detective Lockhart?” Jules Pastor was a pale, thin twentysomething with a deep, gravelly voice, a leathery face, and eyes the color of dirt. “I’m Jules.”
“Hello.” They shook hands, and she noticed the needle tracks on his arms, along with an intricate circus of colorful tats crisscrossing his exposed skin. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” she told him.
“Hell, if Brandon says I should to talk to you, then I’ll talk to you.” He sprayed a little when he spoke.
The Pastors had deep roots in Burning Lake. Jules was distantly related to Jeremiah Pastor, the town elder who’d sentenced Abigail Stuart to death. But karma was a bitch, and life had a way of balancing things out. Jules’s father once owned five hundred acres of fertile farmland, and Jules would’ve been a wealthy man today if his parents hadn’t invested poorly and lost everything in the 2008 recession.
Now he was a confidential informant, or CI, for the Burning Lake police. The violent-crime rate had risen by five percent on the west side of town over the past couple of years. The drug problem was getting worse. It seemed almost impossible to Natalie, who’d grown up peddling her bike around town without a care in the world, but nowadays drugs and violence festered on the west side. Sometimes they bubbled over. Men like Jules helped the police prevent the worst of the worst from wreaking havoc.
“What’s this all about?” Jules asked. “Want me to wear a wire?”
She shook her head. “Do you know the Skinners?”
“Yeah. Paranoid motherfuckers.”
“I need to know what Riley was doing on the day Daisy Buckner was murdered. His family says he went MIA for a couple of hours that afternoon. I need to know where he was.”
“Sure, I can sniff around for you,” Jules said.
“What else could you tell me about Riley?”
“Okay, so … you’re talking about a talented kid who’s throwing his life away, right? He’s tormented. He broods a lot. He’s a brooder. It’s all an act, though. That kid knows what he’s doing. Stoking the flames of sympathy—like performance art.”
She frowned. “You think it’s an act?”
“Well, look. He’s a James Dean disciple, know what I’m sayin’? Not too many people realize what a scam artist James Dean was. For instance, he was so nearsighted, he could barely see straight without his glasses. So he’d take them off and squint at people, and it drove the girls crazy. They fell in love with that James Dean squint, you know? Riley likes to twist his life all out of shape and then rap about it, yeah. He thinks it’s his route to fame and fortune.”
“What’s his relationship with India Cochran?” she asked.
Jules shrugged. “Those two are tight as ticks. They have a weird love-hate thing.”
“Really? They still hang out together?”
He scratched his head and looked around. “I wasn’t sure if I should open this can of worms, but … I was invited to a party in the woods about a month ago, my first underage contact. They’ve been meeting every couple months for about a year now. Anyway, these are smart kids. They know how to cover their tracks. It’s by invitation only, in alternating locations, and they only announce it at the last minute. So you won’t find it on any of their social media. It’s by print-out invitation only. Strictly hush-hush.”
“What’s that got to do with Riley?”
“Long story short?” Jules glanced around the graveyard. “Five years ago, I was attending community college, minding my own business, and I needed money for tuition and textbooks, so I decided to start dealing on a casual basis, right? I got pretty good at it, too, until one of my so-called friends ratted me out. I remember thinking, ‘I am so fucked.’ I couldn’t believe that eighteen grams of pot was enough to put you in prison. Anyway, that’s when I became Brandon’s CI. So here I am.”
Natalie nodded patiently.
“My last bust was three months ago, and I’m always on the prowl for my next score. So I figured the next underage party, I’m gonna bust Riley. But in light of what just happened, I’m going to have to pick another target.”
“And Riley attended these parties?”
“Yeah, he’s a hustler. He can flip anything. Weed, Special K, spice, booze. He’ll show up like King Party.”
“How many kids are we talking about?”
He scratched his head. “Not a whole lot. Twenty or so.”
“And this was by print invitation only?” she clarified. “Nothing on social media?”
“Once you arrive, you toss your paper invite onto the bonfire, very Mission: Impossible–style. Like Burn After Reading. Just your typical hellacious bullshit. Kids getting fried and holding séances…”
A trickle of sweat curled down her neck. She took out her notepad. “Do you have any names for me?”
“Just the usual suspects.” He cleared his throat. “Riley, of course. Kermit Hughes, Benjamin Lowell, Owen Kottler, Sadie Myers, Berkley Auberdine, Angela Sandhill, India Cochran…” His lips were stuck in a smile. “Ellie Guzman.”
A syrupy wave of nausea passed through her as she struggled to maintain her composure. “My niece was at this party?”
“I wasn’t sure I should mention it, but yeah … she was there.” He nodded.
It took
her strength away.
“Riley was selling weed. Lots of kids were buying … not your niece, though.”
“What about India?”
He rocked his head forward. “Oh yeah, she gets all her killer bud from Riley.”
“Riley’s her dealer?”
“You bet.”
Natalie put away her notepad. “What went on at this party?”
“Oh, you know,” he said with a shrug. “Glow sticks, Molly, brews, ganja. India and her crew were holding a séance.” He crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Now you know. I hope I did the right thing.”
“Did you tell Brandon about this yet?” Natalie asked. “Did you talk to Jacob or anyone down at the station about my niece being involved?”
“No. I was still scoping it out. Figuring out my next move.”
“Where were they being held? These parties?”
“Different places, like I said. The last one was at the Hadleys’ old farm.”
Another shock rippled through her—Willow had died on that property, behind the old barn. She’d bled to death in the grass.
“Just to warn you,” Jules added, and she could detect a faint animal-like odor as he inched closer. “I’ve been busting low-level drug runners for marijuana mostly … small-fries. I’d never rat out a friend. I always set up nobodies, which is to say … I won’t involve your niece in any of my busts. You have my word.”
She nodded numbly.
“Brandon and Jacob told me to pick a new target, but my sources keep drying up. Word gets around. People look at you funny, so I’m constantly casting a wider net. But I swear, if a deal is about to go down … I’ll warn your niece beforehand. I’ll give her a heads-up, so she can get her underage booty out of there.”
Natalie gave a soft exhalation that wasn’t quite a breath.
“In the meantime, I’ll find out what Riley was up to last Wednesday.”
“That’d be helpful.”
“Would you do me a favor, Detective? Will you put in a good word for me down at the station? I’d appreciate it. Let the chief know I’m on top of things.”
“Sure.”
“Excellent. I’ll get back to you.” He slipped into the shadows and vanished.
27
Natalie struggled to keep her emotions in check as she navigated her way through the school corridors, while a barrage of metal lockers banged open and shut. Pop, pop, pop. It sounded like gunshots.
She pushed through the heavy exit doors and crossed the athletic field toward the field house, where the ball courts and pool house were located. Natalie remembered coming here with Willow to watch Grace compete for the state championship in the butterfly stroke, which Grace specialized in. There was no utilitarian purpose for the butterfly stroke—it was hard to learn and quickly exhausting—but Grace had mastered the powerful, dolphin-like movements through the water, and she was devastated when she’d earned only second place. But Willow had told her, “A winner is just a former loser who never gives up.”
Outside, the midafternoon sun filtered down through the canopy of newly green leaves. Inside, the gymnasium’s high-gloss hardwood floors squeaked beneath a barrage of reversals and assists from the girls’ sophomore basketball team. They rammed their skinny, aggressive bodies into one another, trying to steal the ball. Two teams of feisty young athletes, darting back and forth. Jumping and scoring.
About a dozen more girls sat on the collapsible bleachers, cheering their teammates on. Now the coach blew her whistle and said, “Nice job, ladies. Next time we’ll focus on jump shots. Okay, everyone to the showers.”
They spilled out of the gym like a basketful of apples.
Natalie waved at Ellie, who came running over, her heart-shaped face beaded with sweat. “Aunt Natalie, what are you doing here?”
She handed Ellie the scarab bracelet. “I think this belongs to you.”
“Oh my gosh!” She laughed excitedly and put it on. She admired it for a moment, and then said, “Thanks so much! Where’d you find it?”
“India had it.”
The girl’s mouth dropped open.
“She was conducting a séance in the woods yesterday.”
Ellie squinted at her aunt as if she were trying to read between the lines. “She was?” she asked in a small voice.
“You, India, Berkley, and Sadie—is that the coven you were talking about?”
She nodded.
“Then why was Angela Sandhill there yesterday, instead of you?”
“Because,” she said softly, “I quit.”
“You quit the coven?” Natalie drew back. “Since when?”
Ellie glanced across the echoey gymnasium toward the locker room door. They could hear distant, mocking laughter. Teenage girls never changed, Natalie thought. Only the target of their revolving-door cruelty did.
“Why did you quit the coven, Ellie?”
Her face fell. She seemed to recognize the depth of Natalie’s concern and hardened herself against it. “I really don’t want to be late for my next class.”
“Ellie, I’m trying to figure out what’s going on. Can you help me out here?”
She bowed her head. “I can’t,” she mumbled.
Ellie used to love watching Gilmore Girls, Friends, I Love Lucy reruns, Nick at Nite. She used to daydream about owning a pony. She’d loved each and every one of her stuffed animals. None of that was true anymore.
“I’m not judging you, okay?” Natalie assured her. “I’m sure your mother has told you about some of the crazy stunts she pulled off in her youth. We’ve all done it.”
Ellie took a deep breath and said, “I quit right after I heard about Ms. Buckner.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know.” The girl’s shoulders slumped. She looked around for an exit. “I seriously can’t be late for my next class, Aunt Natalie.”
Looking down at that perky face, she suddenly pictured her niece lying dead, and it sent shivers racing across her flesh. Silence enveloped them. The evasions were piling up. Natalie felt a nauseating sense of disorientation, as if the room were shaking furiously. “Tell me about these underage parties you’ve been going to,” she said.
“You mean, the party last month?” Ellie winkled her nose. “Because I only went to one.”
“Does your mother know you were at an underage party?”
Her eyes widened with alarm. “Please don’t tell her, Aunt Natalie.”
“Then explain it to me. What’s going on?”
“All my friends were going,” she said. “So I wanted to go, too. But I didn’t do drugs or get drunk or anything like that, I swear. I just wanted to hang out with them.”
Natalie couldn’t help herself. The incipient lecture leaked out. “Right, you’ve never gotten stoned with your friends or tried alcohol or anything like that.”
“I’m not stupid,” Ellie whispered fiercely. “I’ll take a sip of beer once in a while to fool people, so they won’t think I’m a narc or a total loser. But I’m not dumb. Some of my friends will get stoned and post it on Instagram, and it’s totally humiliating. I don’t want to end up like them. I’ll pour a little beer in a cup and carry it around with me. But then, at the end of the night, I’ll dump the rest out.”
“Why even pretend? What happens if one of your friends takes a video of you pretending to be drunk and posts it online?”
“They wouldn’t do that,” she said stubbornly.
“Why not?”
“Because they’re my friends.”
“Right.” Natalie shook her head, recalling her own self-indulgences in high school. Getting stoned, getting wasted—Friday nights you didn’t want to be alone. Boys came and went. Nameless crushes. She experimented with drugs in order to find herself, but instead got lost inside her woolly mind. She snuck drinks with her friends in order to numb the pain but ended up racked with grief.
Across the gymnasium, the locker room door opened and girls’ raucous laughter rang across t
he basketball court. Natalie saw India and Berkley watching them from behind the cracked-open door before it slammed shut again.
“I didn’t realize India and Berkley were like this,” Natalie said. “You can’t be involved in these parties anymore. I’m worried about you. You have to tell your mom—”
“No, please!” Tears sprang to Ellie’s eyes.
“You’re only fifteen,” Natalie said. “You have your whole life ahead of you.”
“I should’ve known you wouldn’t get it,” she said fretfully.
“Oh, believe me. I’ve been there. Look, I understand you’re under a lot of pressure. Too much pressure, maybe. SATs, ACTs, thinking about college, I get that. It’s tempting to do something crazy, something that doesn’t have the approval of the entire adult world. But you’re going to have to tell Grace about this.”
“I can’t,” she whimpered.
“Why not? She needs to know.”
The bell rang.
“Great, now I’m really late,” Ellie fumed.
“Tell your mother tonight. Otherwise, I’m going to have to do it.”
“No, please … I’ll tell her, Aunt Natalie. I promise,” Ellie pleaded. “Tonight. But I have to go. Seriously. I’m late for next period.…”
Natalie nodded.
“Thanks,” she said, looking vastly relieved that the conversation was over and hurrying away.
28
Natalie found Grace’s biology class on the third floor. Grace was grading papers at her desk. Beams of sunlight wove through the dusty, old-fashioned windowpanes. Natalie knocked, and Grace looked up and smiled.
“Come on in, Nat.”
“How are you feeling?”
She put down her pen. “Like a safe just dropped on my head.”
“Been a lousy couple of days,” Natalie sympathized.
Grace leaned back and folded her arms. “I thought coming to work might take my mind off things, but my students have been so sweet and considerate, it breaks my heart all over again.”
Natalie nodded solicitously, then glanced at the diagrams hanging on the wall, full-scale renderings of the Invisible Man and Invisible Woman, their anatomy exposed. Natalie wasn’t the only sibling who’d been affected by their father’s profession. When your father was a cop, you learned not to fear the human body. He used to leave crime-scene photos lying around, and Natalie and Grace would sneak a peek, fascinated at an early age. As a family, they used to watch Law & Order, NYPD Blue, and Hill Street Blues together, and afterward Joey would interrogate the girls about the shows’ procedural accuracy. He wanted to make sure they understood which stories were factual and which ones were false.