“I gave them to India,” she admitted.
“Why?”
“Because … she said they were powerful.”
“Powerful?” Grace gasped. “He stabbed your aunt Willow twenty-seven times. My God, don’t you dare feel sympathy for that bastard. Nobody’s going to weep for Justin Fowler when he’s gone. I mean … how could this happen? I didn’t raise you to act this way.”
“At least it’s out in the open,” Natalie said quietly, trying to keep everyone calm.
After a choked-up moment, Grace said, “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” She went upstairs. The door to the master bedroom thumped shut.
Once they were alone together, Natalie asked Ellie, “You told me you quit the coven right after Ms. Buckner died. Why did you quit at that moment?”
Ellie was looking stunned, dazed—but she sounded relieved to be unburdening herself. “Being a witch was fun for a while, but then…” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “After Ms. Buckner died, it stopped being fun anymore. Besides, I didn’t think anything bad was going to happen to her … otherwise I never would’ve done it.”
“Done what?”
Ellie whispered, “Put a death spell on her.”
“A death spell?” Natalie repeated, stunned to hear these words coming from her niece’s mouth. “Are you talking about the poppet doll?”
She nodded. “We all made it together. India, Berkley, Sadie, and me.”
“And you buried it in Daisy’s backyard? When?”
“About six months ago. We snuck over there when nobody was home.”
“Why?” Natalie asked, struggling to understand.
“Because we wanted to curse her. We all hated her,” Ellie admitted.
“Hated Daisy? Why?”
Ellie took a sharp breath, eyes shiny with innocence. “Because Mr. Hathaway was in love with her. And India said we should do something about it.”
Natalie’s heart pulsed with a dull ache. She was losing altitude fast. “So you put a death curse on Ms. Buckner because you were jealous of her?”
The girl’s face crumpled with remorse. “It’s not like we expected anything to happen. We only wished she was dead. And we definitely didn’t kill her, Aunt Natalie, I promise. We felt horrible about it when we heard the news.”
“And you did this because you had a crush on Mr. Hathaway?”
She took a swipe at her tears and nodded glumly. “We loved him.”
“All of you? You all wanted Daisy to die?”
Her voice wobbled. “She was fucking him.”
Natalie drew back. “How do you know?”
“Everybody knows. The whole school knows. You could tell by the way he looked at her. The way he talked to her.” Fresh tears scaled down Ellie’s cheeks, and she brushed them away.
Natalie couldn’t square the circle. She felt a throbbing pain inside her head. “Ellie, promise me you didn’t have anything to do with her death. Tell me the absolute truth.”
“I would never do anything like that,” Ellie protested.
“What about India?”
She burst into tears. She collapsed on the arm of the chair and sobbed.
Natalie was overcome with pity. She moved closer to her niece and rested her hand on the girl’s trembling shoulder. “Shh. Everything’s going to be all right. Please stop crying.” She waited for the sobbing to subside, terribly conflicted. Afraid for Ellie, but at the same time relieved. Maybe now the truth could come out. Maybe now the case could be solved. But her niece couldn’t possibly be involved. Could she?
Ellie regained her composure and gazed at Natalie through a glaze of anguish. “India threatened to put a hex on me if I didn’t write to Justin. She said she’d ruin my life.”
“Why?” Natalie asked.
Grace was standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding her leather bag and looking at her daughter. “India threatened you?”
Ellie hunkered into herself, curling up in the wide embrace of the armchair.
“Why did India threaten you?” Natalie pressed. “Why were Justin’s letters so important to her?”
“I don’t know,” Ellie insisted. “But she made me do it.”
Natalie suspected that all four girls, including Ellie, had wanted to see what would happen if she wrote to Justin Fowler in prison. She figured her niece was attempting to push the blame away from herself.
Grace sat down on the sofa and turned to Natalie with agonized eyes. “How can this be?”
“Ellie, do you know who killed Ms. Buckner?” Natalie asked, pressing the point.
“They’re all saying Riley did it,” she answered flatly.
“What about India? Could she or Berkley have had anything to do with it?”
“No.” She recoiled. “None of us had anything to do with it.”
“Are you sure?”
Doubt creased her brow. “Sadie and I were really sad after it happened. We were both shaking. We couldn’t help thinking … maybe those curses worked? Sadie and I felt terrible about it, but India and Berkley … they were cracking jokes. Almost as if they were glad she was dead. That’s why I quit the coven.”
“The day after Ms. Buckner died? Last Thursday?”
“I couldn’t deal with it.”
“Do you think Riley killed her? Do you think he might’ve done it for India?”
“I don’t know.” She blinked as if she hadn’t thought of that before.
“What’s so appealing about him? Mr. Hathaway?”
Ellie brightened a little. “He’s different from most of our teachers. He doesn’t lecture you for fifty boring minutes. He says, ‘Forget the notes. Eyes and ears, people.’” She warmed to her topic. “Once, he put up a Nerf basketball hoop in the back of class, and we shot baskets while reciting poetry. It was fun. He makes things exciting. He cares about us.”
“Tell me where you were last Wednesday,” Natalie said.
“Over at Berkley’s.”
“Doing what exactly? Tell me everything.”
Ellie glanced warily at her mother.
“Could you give us a second, Grace?” Natalie asked.
Grace bit her lower lip, trying to contain her fear. She got up from the sofa, red-faced, and went into the kitchen.
Once she was gone, Ellie admitted softly, “Riley dropped by.”
“He dropped by, and then what?” Natalie coaxed. “What did he do?”
“I don’t know. I had to leave, because of the deathiversary. But Riley came over around four thirty, and I left a little before five. I rode my bike home.”
“What happened between four thirty and five?”
She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and said, “We just talked.”
“Was Riley part of the coven?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Girls only.”
“But he’s into witchcraft?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes India would let the boys hang out with us. But other times, she didn’t want them around. She changes her mind a lot. Once, she put a curse on Riley because he sold her a bag with too many twigs. She said it was karma.”
“So then, India does buy her drugs from him?”
Ellie cringed. “She doesn’t do hard drugs.”
“Weed? A couple of joints?”
“Ellie, don’t tell me you smoke pot,” Grace said, stepping into the living room.
“Mom, no,” Ellie pleaded, emotionally fragile. “I never hold the smoke in my lungs. Same with drinking, like I told you.”
“Okay, that’s enough, sweetie.” Grace went over to her and put a hand on her daughter’s arm. “Stop talking.”
“Why?” Ellie asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Natalie, I’m sorry,” Grace said. “You have to go.”
“But, Mom…”
“Don’t say another word, Ellie. Go upstairs. Now.”
Ellie gave her aunt a hesitant look before hurrying up the stairs.
“Sorry, Natalie,” Grace said, escorting her to the
door. “But I can’t let you continue to grill her like this.”
“Grace, think about it. I’m trying to find out who killed your best friend.”
“I know, but you have to understand. My daughter needs me right now,” she said. “I won’t always be able to protect her from all the bad things in the world, but I can protect her now. Right now, when she’s the most vulnerable. Good night,” she said, closing the door in Natalie’s face.
46
It was half past midnight by the time Natalie pulled into her driveway. Lethargy had set in. Exhaustion claimed her. She trudged up the porch steps and went inside.
She’d spent the afternoon and evening searching for Bunny, following up on any new leads. Now she checked the Weather Channel. Another storm front was headed their way. Today’s search had ended in failure. They would have to start again in the morning. Every year, thousands of missing person cases were investigated by SAR teams across the country. They used survivability statistics to determine when to call off a search. It was always a tough decision. This one would continue for ten more days—or for as long as Bunny would be able to survive in the wilderness. That window could narrow, depending on the severity of the storm.
She checked her watch. Luke was coming over in twenty minutes for a debrief. He hadn’t been to her house since she and Zack had thrown a barbecue last summer, and now she looked around the place, trying to see what other people saw. Last autumn after Zack took off, Natalie had painted the kitchen green and the hallway yellow in an attempt to brighten up the place, with disastrous results. Now she stood in the living room, assessing the mismatched furniture and ugly throw pillows, her books in their rifled-through boxes, a pile of laundry on the sofa, stacks of files on the chairs. Nostalgia usually clouded her vision, but tonight everything looked cheap and embarrassing. No wonder Zack had disparaged her “crib,” but the fact that he’d called it a crib in the first place should’ve clued her in.
There wasn’t enough time in the day to do all the things Natalie wanted to do with her life, so she’d let it all drift. The house, the yard, her personal issues. She couldn’t seem to change directions. She couldn’t get unstuck.
Maybe she was waiting for something. A catalyst. An idea to magically beam itself inside her head, like a sci-fi movie. Like The Day of the Triffids. A foreign body burrowing into her and transforming her into a whole new person.
Anyway, her big excuse … she had her hands full.
Now she did the dishes, took out the garbage, and cleaned up as best she could.
Just as she finished, a pair of headlights flared across the ceiling, and a car engine died outside. She peeked out the living-room window. Luke stepped out of his Ford Ranger, a tall athletic-looking man washed in amber moonlight, like a sepia-tinted photograph.
She’d been expecting him but couldn’t help feeling a nervous flutter in the pit of her stomach. The house was a mess. She was a mess. He rang the doorbell. “Just a minute!” She smoothed her hair behind her ears and opened the door.
He handed her a bottle of wine. “Housewarming gift.”
“Hey, thanks.”
“You’re officially no longer on-call.”
She stepped aside, and he moved into the house with a loping, predatory grace, carrying a woodsy smell in with him.
“Nice paint job,” he observed.
She cringed at the yellow hallway walls. “Yeah, well, I’m quietly mortified.”
“Didn’t these walls used to be white?” he asked.
“A few years ago.”
“Don’t they sell white paint at the hardware store anymore?”
“Ha. You’re funny. Two days in a row. I swear I’m going to get my act together eventually. In the meantime…” She showed him into the living room. “Have a seat.”
He balked. “Any suggestions?”
“Create a space.”
He moved a bunch of reports off a chair and sat down. “Some days it seems all I do is push paperwork from one side of my desk to the other.”
“Sucks to be you.”
He laughed. “You like paperwork, do you?”
She smiled.
“Seriously, though. How’re you holding up?” He folded his arms and studied her carefully.
“Not great,” she admitted. “I can handle the workload. It’s just that there’s a lot of information to process.”
“So let’s start with this morning. Walk me through it.”
Natalie debriefed him on the day’s events, and when she was done, Luke said, “They buried the poppet in Daisy’s yard?”
She nodded. “Ellie admitted to everything. They were jealous of Daisy. They found out about the affair. Daisy and Hathaway weren’t as discreet as they thought they’d been. Anyway, Ellie insists she and her friends had nothing to do with the murder.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I believe my niece, but she could be wrong about her friends. I asked if she thought it was possible India might’ve persuaded Riley to harm Daisy in some way, and Ellie waffled. Apparently India and Berkley were laughing and joking on Thursday, after the news broke. Now this thing with the letters—I think it’s possible that India, Berkley, and Sadie, along with Angela Sandhill, their new recruit … were hexing Ellie for abandoning them. Or else she knows something, and they’re trying to intimidate her into silence. Grace stopped the interview as soon as Ellie admitted they were smoking pot.”
He nodded slowly. “So Ellie might know something about it, but she’s too scared to tell you.”
“It took her a long enough time to fess up,” Natalie said with a heavy heart. “Meanwhile, Grace has gone into protective mode. I’ll give her a call tomorrow, after she’s calmed down. Maybe I can persuade her to bring Ellie into the station for a formal interview. I’ll tell Grace we need to eliminate Ellie as a suspect, that might motivate her.”
“Look,” Luke said, leaning forward. “I don’t believe Ellie’s guilty of anything, either. I’ve known her since she was a kid. But the question is … did she witness a murder? Did any of these girls witness the murder? Or was it worse than that? Did they participate?”
Natalie shuddered at the thought. “Ellie left Berkley’s house shortly before five o’clock and rode her bike home. If we can verify that, then she’s got an alibi.”
“Okay, that leaves the three of them, plus Riley.”
“We can’t forget about Hathaway,” Natalie reminded him. “No alibi. He didn’t want to break up with Daisy. She could’ve been carrying his child.”
“When’s the polygraph scheduled for?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
“How did Hathaway act at the funeral?”
“He stayed in the background and left early. I was surprised he showed up at all, considering the affair’s out in the open now, but he clearly had deep feelings for her.”
“Or else he’s a Machiavellian sociopath.”
Natalie nodded. “Let’s see what the polygraph tells us. Meanwhile, I got your message about the supermax facility. Thanks for setting up an appointment with the warden.”
“Tomorrow morning, nine o’clock sharp.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Are you ready for this? Would you like some company?”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
Outside, a strong breeze stirred the fir trees.
“Anything else?”
“Not that I can think of.” She thumbed the numbness out of her eyes.
“Running on fumes?”
“Pretty much.”
“Get some sleep.” Luke’s phone rang, and he picked up. “Hello? Yes, sir.” He cupped his hand over the receiver. “It’s the chief. You all set here?”
“Yeah, thanks for the wine.”
“Don’t drink it all tonight.” He smiled at her, then headed out the door.
Natalie got a bottled water from the fridge and took a couple of Ambiens, wanting the fog of sleep to roll across her brain and snuff her out like a candle. She wondered if she could handle t
he demands of the task ahead, but, like Joey used to say, “If you can’t handle it, just pretend.”
47
Merryville Correctional Facility was situated in one of the most beautiful places on earth, twenty miles south of the Canadian border. The morning sunlight sharpened every lime-green bud on every tree for miles around, and in the distance you could see the mountains with their toothy spires and ragged fissures.
The supermax prison sat on eighty acres of pristine wilderness and housed some of the state’s worst criminals. The staff was polite and professional. Natalie filled out a visitor’s form and stopped at the security checkpoint for a pat down.
A beefy guard with a crew cut escorted her to the warden’s office in the east wing. Warden Edward Northcutt had the look of a man who’d forfeited his soul a long time ago—weathered, rumpled, and as if he hardly ever slept. “Welcome to MCF, Detective Lockhart. Please, have a seat.”
“Thank you, Warden.”
“First of all, I wasn’t aware of the situation until I received Lieutenant Pittman’s call last night. You can rest assured, this sort of thing won’t ever happen again.”
“I appreciate that, but I’d like to know how it could’ve happened in the first place.”
“I promise you, we’ll be looking into it,” he said gruffly. “Our policy is to examine all incoming and outgoing mail, so I assume that one of our department staffers made an error in judgment.” Northcutt started typing on his keyboard. “Any contact between inmates and minors is restricted—the child would have to get her parent’s permission.” He opened a database on his computer. “What’s the name again? Ella?”
“Ellie Guzman.” She spelled it for him.
“Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.” He typed Ellie’s name into the database. “Ah. I see what the problem is. The correspondences weren’t flagged by our records office because your niece contacted Inmate Fowler through an outside registry.”
“A what?”
“An outside registry for prison pen pals,” he explained. “There are hundreds of them. Anybody can go online nowadays and communicate with our inmates. We encourage them to stay in touch with the outside world as much as possible, since it keeps them hopeful while they’re doing time. We’ve found that, statistically speaking, those who have contact with folks on the outside are less likely to re-offend. Anyway, we have our own registry at MCF, but your niece appears to have used an outside source. There are so many of them nowadays that, unfortunately, we can’t police them all.”
Trace of Evil Page 29