Trace of Evil

by Alice Blanchard

  “Sadie?”

  She turned with stunned-raccoon eyes. “Hi, Aunt Natalie. I waited, just like you said.”

  “Where is she?”

  “They ghosted about fifteen minutes ago,” Sadie lisped.

  “Do you have any idea where they went?”

  “India said she wanted to teach Ellie a lesson.”

  Natalie tried not to panic. “What lesson?”

  Sadie’s eyes were glazed; she had a difficult time staying focused. “They were laughing at us,” she said defensively, “because we made the mistake of looking at cute puppies on YouTube. I guess that’s a crime now. Anyway, they got angry and said we needed to grow up. They were mad at Ellie for quitting the coven.” She shivered and hugged herself. “Ellie tried to reason with them, but they wouldn’t listen.”

  Natalie clutched Sadie’s arm. “Where did they take her?”

  The girl’s eyes widened with fear. “They told me not to tell. They said they’d get me next.”

  Natalie softened her grip. “It’s okay. I’ll protect you. Where did they take her?”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she confessed, “Abby’s Hex.”

  53

  Natalie called Dispatch as she hurried back to her car. “We’ve got an underage party going on. Fifty or so minors. Drinking, possible drug usage.” She gave Dennis the address, then got in her car and headed for the lake, flying past all-night gas stations and convenience stores. She took the curving two-lane road that led to Abby’s Hex Peninsula and swerved into the near-empty parking area, braking hard, gravel kicking into her wheel wells.

  India’s Lexus was parked close to the trailhead. Natalie grabbed her flashlight out of the glove compartment and stepped out of the car. She could smell a faint trace of marijuana in the air. Above her head, a canopy of leaves sparkled in the moonlight.

  She took the trail into the woods, and for several heart-pounding minutes all she could hear were old leaves crinkling underfoot. Something darted in front of her, two devilish eyes caught in the flashlight’s glare. She froze while the raccoon lumbered into the thickets, leaving a rustle of air behind.

  She hurried along the trail, her flashlight probing the underbrush. She could hear several girls talking in the distance, their voices high and burbling. Clouds drifted overhead and darkness enveloped her for a moment. The lake beyond the trees was a yawning hole, without any reflection.

  Soon, the voices grew louder. The girls were having an argument.

  A scream.

  Fear ripped through her.

  Natalie broke into a run, all self-control gone. Wild-eyed. Do something. She raced through the thinning woods, swatting the branches aside and bounding toward the end of the peninsula, where she could see the three girls through the trees. Ellie was struggling to free herself from India and Berkley, her shrieks carrying across the lake.

  What happened next felt like slow motion. India and Berkley shoved Ellie into the fire pit, squirted lighter fluid on her, and tossed in a lit match.

  Whoosh. Ellie went up in a ball of flames.

  “Get down!” Natalie screamed, punching her way out of the brush and stumbling into the clearing. “Get down on the ground!”

  Ellie was flailing around in the fire pit, screaming, while India and Berkley stood transfixed, their eyes sparkling with malevolence, their mouths twisted with insane glee.

  “Help!” Ellie shrieked—her jacket on fire. Hair on fire.

  “Drop and roll!” Natalie barreled toward the fire pit and tackled her niece around the middle, knocking them both to the ground. She ate a mouthful of dirt and banged her head against one of the blackened stones. She flung herself on top of Ellie and rolled her around in the dirt. She didn’t stop until she’d beaten every last flickering flame out with her fists.

  Ellie lay dazed, in shock. Smoke wafting up from her jacket.

  Filled with incoherent rage, Natalie stood up and drew her weapon. “You’re under arrest. Both of you. Don’t move!”

  India dropped the lighter fluid on the ground. Berkley dropped the matches.

  “Put your hands up where I can see them.”

  They raised their shaky, skinny arms.

  “Please don’t hurt us!” India begged.

  “Get down on the ground. Now!”

  They looked at each other feverishly before finally complying.

  Natalie got on her radio and called for backup and an ambulance. Then she tucked her weapon into its holster and knelt on the ground next to Ellie, who was moaning and rocking her head back and forth. There were pine needles in her hair.

  “Don’t leave me…” she said, gasping in agonizing pain.

  “It’s okay,” Natalie whispered, terrified for her. “You’re going to be okay.”

  Ellie’s pupils were dilated. She was panting rapidly.

  Natalie allowed herself to take a sharp breath, and the smell of burnt flesh scorched her nose. “Stay awake, Ellie. Come on.” Clammy skin. Shallow breathing. Going into shock. Oh God, please be okay.

  Ellie struggled to sit up, but it hurt so much to move that she grimaced.

  “It’s okay. Lie still. Help is on the way,” Natalie promised.

  There was a shuffling sound behind her as India and Berkley got to their feet. Instinctively sensing Natalie wouldn’t chase them, not while Ellie’s life was in danger, the girls fled into the woods, shrills of drunken laughter trailing after them.

  Natalie leapt to her feet, reaching for her gun, a stark fury animating her limbs. “Come back!” she shouted, but it was pointless. What was she going to do—shoot them? Her father used to take her down to the firing range and teach her how to cock the hammer and pull the trigger. They’d spent many afternoons together, taking out targets. Bam. Rule number one—never fire your weapon unless your life is in danger. Restraint was necessary. Never use brute force. Don’t make it harder for the next man in blue. So far, Natalie had been lucky. She hadn’t fired a single shot in the field—not even the time she had caught a bullet in her vest during a SWAT response to a botched robbery. She’d always managed to deescalate the situation through dialogue but, realistically, at some point it would become necessary. She secretly dreaded that moment.

  Now she holstered her weapon and put out a BOLO with a description of the two girls, then attended to Ellie. “It’s okay. You’re safe now,” she promised.

  The girl burst into tears. “Why did they do this to me?” she sobbed.

  Natalie hated to see her niece cry. It broke her heart. “Shh. It’s okay,” she said. “I’m right here.”

  Ellie groaned in pain. Part of her jacket had melted into her flesh, revealing patches of charred and smoking skin on her injured arm. “Aunt Natalie, don’t leave me,” she pleaded through gritted teeth.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I can’t stop shivering.”

  Natalie could feel her own heartbeat at the base of her throat. Wind in the trees. Sirens across the lake. “Hang in there, sweetie. The ambulance is on the way.”

  “I was trying to make things better between us,” Ellie said with slowly unwinding focus. “I was trying to do the right thing.…”

  “Everything’s going to be okay, I promise,” Natalie assured her, letting the sadness wash over her.

  54

  Ellie was rushed to acute care at Langston Memorial, her left arm swathed in seeping bandages. She had suffered second- and third-degree burns from the top of her left shoulder all the way down to her left wrist. Miraculously, the rest of her body, along with her left hand, had been spared.

  The emergency personnel gave her drugs to blunt the pain, and now Ellie was so loaded up on painkillers she barely recognized her mother. Grace sat next to the hospital bed in the ICU, stroking her daughter’s cheek.

  Ellie opened her blood-riddled eyes. “Mom?”

  “You’re going to be okay,” Grace said a little too quickly, trying to absorb all of Ellie’s pain at once.

  “Aunt Natalie?”
Ellie said hoarsely. “Thanks for saving my life.”

  Natalie smiled back, all torn up inside—if only she’d arrived a few seconds earlier. “You’re welcome,” she said, brushing away a tear. She had a flash memory of two-year-old Ellie smiling happily in her crib, tiny hands clasping her tiny feet. First smile, first step, first word. First tragedy.

  Way off in the distance, a TV set droned. Natalie took a moment to check her messages. A patrol car had stopped the girls heading out of town on Route 87. They were being booked and charged with assault and battery.

  Soon the attending ER physician was back. Their time was almost up. They were going to prep Ellie for transportation to the burn unit in Albany. “How’s the patient?” Dr. Mendez asked, securing a cotton cuff around her right arm.

  “Better,” Ellie said bravely.

  Natalie listened to the dull pump of the inflation bulb and the snakelike hiss of the air-release valve as the doctor pressed his stethoscope to Ellie’s chest to assess her heartbeats, in sync with the heart monitor’s rhythmic blips.

  “Is she going to be okay?” Grace asked.

  “She’s in guarded but stable condition,” he answered, tearing off the Velcro strap and jotting a few notes on the clipboard. “Her left arm sustained most of the damage. Albany has a great burn unit. They can fix this. She was lucky. It could’ve been much worse.”

  “Mom?” Ellie whispered. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

  Grace shook her head. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, sweetie.”

  “You’re crying. Why are you crying?”

  “Shh. Doesn’t matter.” Grace traced a finger down her daughter’s velvety cheek and watched her fondly, the worry lines on her forehead beginning to soften. “Listen to me, Ellie. I love you so much.”

  “Love you, too, Mom.”

  “You make me proud every day.” Grace brushed a veil of hair off Ellie’s face. “Now get some rest.”

  The girl’s eyes dragged shut.

  Grace turned to Natalie and said, “We need to talk.”

  “Buy you a cup of coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  They took an elevator car down to the hospital cafeteria. Tears rolled freely down Grace’s face as the elevator descended.

  “Hey, hey. Everything’s going to be okay,” Natalie reassured her. “You heard what the doctor said. They can fix this.”

  Her sister’s teeth chattered involuntarily. She had a lost, terrified look—sweaty forehead, shallow breathing.

  Natalie grew worried. “Grace?”

  “I’m okay,” she said, giving into waves of involuntary shuddering.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head stubbornly. “Like you said, everything’s going to be fine.”

  Downstairs in the brightly lit cafeteria, Natalie fetched herself a cup of coffee, while Grace grabbed a can of Coke.

  “My one guilty pleasure lately,” Grace muttered. “Sugar and caffeine in one brilliant package.”

  Natalie didn’t respond. There was no click. No ah-ha moment. Just the dull thrumming of blood inside her skull.

  “I’ve got this, Natalie.” Grace rummaged through her big leather bag. “Oh, shit … did I forget my wallet at home?” She dumped everything out on a nearby table—lip balms, ballpoint pens, her phone charger, a tube of sunscreen, hand wipes, loose tampons, Tic Tacs, her car keys. Grace found her wallet, but among the spillage was something that made Natalie’s heart go glacially still.

  A vintage leather-bound pink diary with yellow daisies on the front cover.

  Daisy’s missing diary.

  Grace suddenly went rigid, her stunned eyes acknowledging that something vital had passed between them. She set the Coke down on the countertop, grabbed her keys and took off, leaving the entire mess on the table.

  “Grace? Where are you going? Grace?”

  When Natalie realized she wasn’t coming back, she shoved everything back in the leather bag and ran after her sister, her heart going supernova.

  55

  Natalie’s hand grasped the railing as she circled down the concrete-and-steel stairwell, until she’d reached sublevel one of the hospital’s enormous underground parking garage. She pushed open the metal door and shouted, “Grace! Wait up!”

  She jogged past row after row of parked cars in search of her sister’s Mini Cooper, but couldn’t find it anywhere. She heard the screech of tires echoing throughout the cavernous space, and it took her a moment to realize Grace was gone.

  She went bounding back up the stairs to level two and got in her Honda SUV, chucking Grace’s leather bag in the backseat. She fumbled for her keys, gunned the engine, and backed out of the parking space, fear galvanizing her as she turned the wheel sharply through the descending levels. Something damp touched her psyche as she punched her ticket, paid the fare, and shot out of the garage.

  Now where to?

  Natalie dug her iPhone out of her bag and dialed Grace’s number, but of course the ringtone began playing inside her own car. “Beautiful Day” by U2.

  “Fuck!” She spotted a distant set of taillights taking a right onto Garland Drive—Grace’s Mini Cooper. She followed the car along a series of back roads until she finally caught up with her sister, who was driving erratically through a residential neighborhood, red taillights dancing on the road ahead like a pair of drunken, blood-soaked eyes.

  The night felt colossal and immense as she followed her through the countryside, snaking around corners and hitting potholes. They were heading for the eastern end of the lake, where the granite cliffs rose eighty feet or more. Natalie stubbornly dogged her sister’s taillights down one pitch-dark meandering road after another. She caught her breath every time Grace swerved across the center line.

  The Mini Cooper surged over the next hill, and Natalie floored the gas pedal, speeding after it and grinding up the incline. As soon as she’d crested the hill, she could see the accident down below. Grace had crashed into a tree.

  Natalie roared downhill toward the scene, feeling her pulse in her neck, then hit the brakes and swerved onto the soft shoulder. She switched on her high beams, threw her elbow into the door panel, and got out. All she could hear was the muffled thundering of her own heart.

  The Mini Cooper was wedged against a tree, hissing steam. The front end was crumpled. The back windshield was cracked. The doors were blown open, and things that’d once been inside the vehicle were strewn across the road.

  “Grace?” She ran toward the wreckage and looked inside. It was empty. The interior smelled of burnt rubber. There was an old parking sticker on the windshield. The keys were in the ignition. She straightened up and looked around.

  “Grace, where are you?” she called out.

  Her sister was nowhere to be found. Stars glittered overhead. A throbbing pain began at the back of Natalie’s head, like two fists hammering against her eyeballs.

  “Grace?”

  The wind caressed the moonlit trees. In front of her was the steeply wooded hillside that led up to Devil’s Point. She heard a rush in the thickets midway up the hill—twigs cracking and popping. She stood very still, craning her neck toward the noise. Her sister was taking one of the hiking trails to the top of the cliffs.

  “Grace?” she hollered. “Whatever’s going on, we can deal with this.”

  No response.

  “Grace? Answer me!”

  Natalie stepped back and looked around for the trailhead. She spotted a road sign for Devil’s Point ten yards away, grabbed her flashlight from the glove compartment, and jogged down the road. She took the overgrown trail into the woods, anguish gripping her. Willow had once humiliated Grace up there, many years ago—egging her on, pushing her into a dangerous situation. Now they were both in danger. Natalie dug her heels into the steep grade and it felt like running underwater.

  Clouds were gathering overhead. Another storm was moving in. Natalie’s legs burned on the rugged ascent. The trail wound treacherously through thick woods, pa
st huge boulders, thorny thickets, and clusters of poison ivy. She shouldered her way up the hillside trail, adrenaline coursing through her veins, and braced herself for confrontation. Near tears, she shouted, “Grace, wait for me, okay? I’m coming!”

  She kept her flashlight aimed at the undergrowth, avoiding pitfalls, while sweat poured down her face. She stepped gingerly over gnarled roots that grew across her path. As the wind picked up, blowing through the pitch pines with an eerie wail, she took a series of crude steps carved into the rock face all the way to the top, where the trail leveled off. Natalie stepped out onto an exposed granite ridge.

  Grace was standing on the rocky overhang with a panoramic view of the lake. She was weeping silently, hugging her fleece jacket close.

  Natalie’s world froze. “Grace?” she whispered so as not to alarm her.

  Her sister was balanced on the precarious overhang, just a few feet beyond which was a deadly plunge off the cliff. Grace’s back was to the woods and her gaze was pinned on the lake—silently debating what to do next.

  Natalie’s stomach cramped. “I’m right behind you,” she said. “Be careful.”

  Grace spun around.

  “Be careful!”

  Her sister looked like a specter—glassy eyes, a halo of golden, punked-out hair.

  “Whatever happened,” Natalie said, “we can figure it out together. Okay? But first, I need you to step away from the ledge, Grace. You’re scaring me.”

  Her sister swayed a little. “You don’t understand.” Eyes pinwheeling. Labored breathing. “Bunny will talk. Lindsey will talk. They’ll all talk.”

  Natalie struggled to comfort her, but words failed her. On the far side of the lake, trees feathered toward a darkening sky.

  Grace shook her head. “It’s so freaking ironic.”

  “What’s ironic, Grace?” Natalie asked with a helpless look.

  She brushed away the tears. “Nobody can keep a secret in this town. And yet, the four of us did. For years.”