After a plane ride and an hour’s drive, Sidney pulled up to McBride’s Press in her rental car and stared at the shop. Her heart pounded with nervous anticipation. She took a deep breath and reluctantly got out of the car. Now changed into a pair of jeans and a black blazer, she looked around town. It looked even smaller than she had remembered. Sidney hadn’t been to Marilina since she went away to college. She hadn't even been home for Christmas in five years. Her parents were forced to travel to see her once a year, though they were out of place in New York. She closed the car door and smelled the fresh summer air. It was a smell she’d forgotten over the years. Sidney approached the press with its recently painted siding and newly hung sign. As she entered, a young man with acne on his youthful face stood behind the counter and greeted her with a smile.
“Good afternoon,” he said.
Sidney gave him a pleasant look. “Is Mr. McBride in?”
“He’s in the back,” the young man said as his eyes swept over her.
Sidney nodded her thanks and walked through the recently remodeled store. Her father had more items for sale than ever before. She approached the back and saw her father working with a new press. He allowed his frustration get the better of him then cursed and tossed down the manual. When he looked up and saw her, his mouth fell open. A smile immediately crossed his face, and he rushed to her from behind the counter. His hair had thinned and grayed since their visit to New York six months ago. He hugged her happily and didn’t let go.
“Oh, Sidney,” he practically cried out. “Can it really be my little girl, or am I just seeing things?”
Sidney returned the embrace and had to force him to release her after several minutes. “It’s me,” she said with a tiny laugh. “Against my will, I have returned.”
He gave her an odd look. “They didn’t fire you, did they?” He attempted to hide the grin that crept over his face. “You can always work here.”
She shook her head, although his enthusiasm for her losing her job was a little creepy. “No, nothing like that.” Sidney managed a tense smile. “Trisha called me early this morning.”
Herb stared at her with a look of surprise on his face then turned and adjusted some shelves. “Trisha, huh?”
His reaction surprised her. “What’s that look about?”
He spun to face her with a sparkle in his eyes. “Does Mom know you’re here?”
“No, I came here first,” she said.
“We have to get you home before she hears it from someone else,” he said with a soft chuckle.
“Dad, why did you make a face when I mentioned Trisha?” Sidney asked sternly.
He frowned and again looked away. “Trisha hasn’t been playing with a full deck the last few years,” he reluctantly informed her. “She’s really acting strange these days.”
Sidney drew a deep breath. “Trisha hasn’t been right for the past eight years,” Sidney pointed out. “Even counseling didn’t really help her.”
“Let’s not talk about that right now. We have to get home and see your mother,” he announced cheerfully and waved off his own tears. “She’ll cry for hours.”
“I need to see Trisha first,” Sidney insisted. “Where can I find her?”
“She works at the library.”
Sidney was momentarily set back. “The library?” she practically gasped. “She went to college for her teaching degree.”
He nodded but didn’t offer anything further. She handed him her car keys.
“I’ll meet you at the house,” she said simply. “Take my car. I’ll walk back.”
Sidney left the press and immediately headed toward the library, which remained in immaculate condition. It was quite an adjustment getting used to few people, no taxis, and limited traffic. She entered the library and saw Mrs. Randall at the front desk. She still appeared the same as she had eight years ago, except a little shorter and rounder than Sidney had remembered. Sidney decided it was best to look for Trisha herself rather than get caught up in a conversation with Mrs. Randall. She slipped passed unnoticed and walked down the hall of the old, converted house, and passed a door that seemed out of place.
There appeared to be doors all over the converted home. She never realized how much detailed woodwork lie behind the bookcases. It must have been an impressive house in its day. She found the stairs in the back that led to the basement. Somehow, she suspected Trisha would be working in the library archives. She walked down the old, rickety stairs covered with a new carpet. She wandered through rows and rows of reference books, historical magazines, and newspapers. When she reached the back, she saw Trisha sitting behind a desk staring at a computer monitor.
“Trisha,” Sidney announced almost timidly.
Trisha turned her head and looked at Sidney. She was thinner and far paler than Sidney had remembered. She had dark circles under her eyes, indicating she wasn’t sleeping in addition to not eating enough. Sidney barely even recognized her own friend. She looked at least five years older than her actual age. Trisha sprang to her feet and ran to Sidney, hugging her with giddy delight. Trisha finally pulled away and studied Sidney with amazement.
“You look fabulous!”
Sidney smiled gently and raised her brows while looking over her friend. “You look as if you haven’t slept in days,” she announced candidly. “What in the world is going on?”
Trisha’s expression dropped slightly. She turned toward her desk, removed some papers in a folder, and spun back to Sidney.
“I knew you’d come,” Trisha said while grinning. “Let’s take a walk.”
Trisha took Sidney’s arm and practically pulled her from the basement.
Chapter Nine
They walked through town at a leisurely pace and talked about Sidney’s job, but it was obvious there was more on Trisha’s mind. When they approached the woods, Sidney hesitated. Trisha turned toward her and grinned.
“Come on. It’s okay.”
Sidney took a deep breath and entered the woods with her friend. They walked a short distance before reaching the bridge. When they walked across, Sidney’s eyes strayed to the rock on the bank and felt alarm sweep over her. Someone had painted red lines on the rock after Alex was convicted and sentenced to life. Sidney shivered slightly when she realized it was just red paint.
“I spoke to him,” Trisha announced timidly.
Sidney turned her head and gave her a puzzled look. “With whom?”
Trisha raised a sagging brow. “With Alex Trexler,” she said and handed Sidney the folder.
Sidney opened the folder and shuffled through the various papers. Every paper had something to do with Emily Fisher’s murder. There were copies of old newspaper articles from the murder and the trial, photocopied pages from Trisha's journal, a copy of the police report, and notes from her conversation with Alex.
Trisha sat on the bridge wall and smiled proudly. “Pretty detailed, if I may say so.”
“Trisha,” Sidney said firmly and looked at her friend. “They tried and convicted Alex Trexler for her murder. He’s served eight years of a life sentence. Just let it go, okay?”
Trisha cocked her head to one side. “No, it’s not okay. He didn’t do it.”
Sidney’s mouth fell open with shock and surprise. “Trisha, his semen matched what they found on her body,” she insisted firmly. “We testified seeing him running from the scene of the crime.” Sidney violently shook the papers in the folder. “We helped send him to jail! How can you forget? How can you sit there and claim he’s innocent?”
Trisha didn’t flinch. Her brows rose confidently. “You have to read those papers to understand,” she said simply. “I’m not crazy. For the first time in eight years, I’m not crazy.” Trisha slid off the wall and turned toward the bank. She pointed toward the painted rock. “Right out there a woman was murdered,” she said and looked at Sidney. “You explain three things to me, and I’ll let this entire thing rest.”
Sidney glared at her friend and frowned with i
rritation. “What three things?”
“What’s the significance of the lines drawn on the rock? Why would she purposely put two vertical lines in blood on that rock?” Trisha demanded while cleverly raising her brows. “If she didn’t do it, why would someone else?”
Sidney closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. The image was still burned into her mind. She opened her eyes and studied her psychotic friend.
“They found nothing on her body,” Trisha said simply.
Sidney stared at Trisha without understanding the significance of that statement. “What does that prove?” Sidney asked sternly. “What should they have found?”
“A folded piece of paper,” Trisha informed her. “You said yourself that she placed a folded piece of paper in her pocket. Possibly a note of some sort.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Sidney snapped. “You’re being completely ridiculous. She had plenty of time to throw that away. It was just a stupid piece of paper.”
“Not a stupid piece of paper,” Trisha snapped with a cocky smile. “It was a note which she took time to fold carefully and place in her pocket. That could be the answer to this entire case right there.”
Sidney rolled her eyes and groaned. “You mentioned three things. What else?”
Trisha casually leaned against the wall and raised an evil brow. “Why did your boyfriend disappear just one week later?”
Sidney’s mouth opened slightly with surprise. “Surely you’re not suggesting Harlan--?”
Trisha bolted upright. “That’s precisely what I’m suggesting!” She pointed demandingly. “He was here, in the woods, when she was murdered. I believe he claimed he was photographing in the area when he heard me scream. He arrived five to eight minutes after I screamed. He knew nothing; saw nothing. Yet Miss Fisher stopped at the press to see him around three thirty-five, just after leaving school--looking very fine. Fifteen minutes later, lover boy leaves with his camera.”
Sidney raised a cold brow and frowned. “And I suppose that makes him a murderer? They didn’t find his semen on the body, Trisha.”
“Alex Trexler admitted having sex with her by the stone house between three forty-five and four o‘clock,” she announced. “He claimed he left her in the woods at four-fifteen and rushed to work, returning just half an hour later. At four forty-five, he found her dead when he panicked and ran.”
Sidney shook her head and rolled her eyes. “No, Trisha. He’s playing you for a fool,” she insisted. “Why are you letting this consume you?”
Trisha dropped her arms to her sides with a surprised look. “Consume me,” she cried out. “I don’t sleep, Sidney! You ran away. You wanted to forget!”
“You’re damned right I wanted to forget,” Sidney shouted in anger. “She’s dead, and her killer is in jail. It’s over! Destroying yourself isn’t going to bring her back. Don’t you get it?”
Both stared at each other with fire in their eyes while breathing heavily. They relaxed after a couple of minutes.
Sidney placed her hand against her forehead and groaned lowly. “I never should’ve come back,” she muttered.
Trisha drew a deep breath and exhaled softly. “You read those papers and read them very carefully. Keep an open mind. Pretend you saw nothing,” she remarked. “But before you leave, let me tell you a story.”
Sidney sighed with disgust and folded her arms across her chest while clinging to the folder. She leaned against the bridge and glared at Trisha.
“September twenty-fifth, eight years ago, Sidney McBride writes a love letter to Harlan Brendan, a stranger to Marilina. A young, horny man, who enjoyed visits from an exceedingly beautiful, raven-haired beauty. He reads the love poem and assumes it has to be from the lovely schoolteacher, so he responds with his own letter,” Trisha informed her. “Perhaps he asks her to meet him in the woods. In turn, she thinks it’s from her boyfriend, wanting to make up. Meanwhile, the real boyfriend intercepts her in the woods, knowing which way she went home. Everyone knew she went home that way. Harlan stumbles across the couple engaged in intercourse. When she’s alone, he kills her in a fit of rage. He removes the letter from her pocket and discards the murder weapon down the old stone well.”
Sidney continued to glare at her friend. “You’re blaming me for Miss Fisher’s death?”
Trisha ignored the comment. “One week later, lover boy skips town and is never heard from again.” She raised a brow and smirked. “Rumor has it he moved to California. I hired a private detective out there to locate him.”
“I can’t believe you,” Sidney gasped.
“Just read those papers,” Trisha announced then turned and headed back to town.
Sidney watched her friend leave then looked at the folder in her hand. She drew a deep, nervous breath then looked back at the stream. Every memory came rushing back in a tidal wave. Her thoughts strayed back to Harlan. He had been in the woods that day. Trisha had an interesting point, but she was wrong. Sidney heard voices from within the woods. She spun around and saw some teenage kids approaching the bridge. It was early June, and school was just about over for the summer. One of the boys was wearing his football jersey, although the football season had been over long already. The boy with a huge number fifty-two on his jersey approached her and leaned his back against the wall. Sidney remained facing the stream.
“Haven’t seen you around Marilina before,” he announced with a bold smile.
Sidney looked at him and attempted to be polite. “I’ve been out of town the past five years.”
He turned to face the wall also. “Really? Did you go to school here?”
“Graduated five years ago,” Sidney replied.
One of the girls from their group approached and joined their conversation. “Then you probably remember that teacher who was murdered here.”
Sidney took a deep breath and shivered. “I’ve tried very hard to forget.”
“You, uh, friends with Miss Allister?” the jock asked with a hint of a smile.
Sidney looked the boy directly in the eyes. “Yes, we’re friends.”
The girl moved closer to them. “Did Mr. Malcolm kill her? Or was it that photographer?”
Sidney glared at the girl, surprised by the question. “Her boyfriend murdered her,” she said sharply. “What makes you think Malcolm killed her?”
The girl shrugged. “Miss Allister said--”
“Miss Allister is under a lot of stress,” Sidney snapped lowly then straightened. “I used to love this place when I was your age, but anymore, it just smells of death. If you’ll excuse me--”
Sidney walked past them and headed in the direction of her parents’ house on the other side of the woods. Sidney hurried all the way home, but no matter how fast she went, the voices followed her. Every memory from that night returned. It was Trisha’s fault for planting the evil seed.
Chapter Ten
After a joyful reunion with her mother, Sidney went to her old bedroom, shut the door, and sat on the bed. She stared at the folder beside her and frowned. As gruesome and unpleasant as it was, she felt the need to read the articles. Sidney started with the police report, though she didn’t know how Trisha got her hands on a copy of it. The report didn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know. There was the location of the sexual assault by the old, stone house, the location and position of the body near the bridge, the condition of the body, and how long she had been dead when they arrived.
Miss Fisher had been punched several times in the face, leaving several bruises and lacerations, before being stabbed with a pocketknife of some sort. She died a few minutes after being stabbed. By the position of the body and the blood on the rock, it was evident that the markings were deliberate, either by the victim or the assailant. The reason behind marking the rock remained unknown. Witnesses reported the fight between Alex Trexler and Emily Fisher in the school just hours before her death. She read about her and Trisha witnessing Alex leaving the scene in a hurry, and old man Taylor nearly hitting
him on Cressman Road. The tire tracks left behind matched the tires of both old man Taylor and Alex’s cars. There was a matchbook from Sam’s Tavern alongside the road with Alex’s fingerprints on it. Semen samples proved Alex had intercourse with Emily before she died. Sidney shivered at the thought of what Miss Fisher had gone through prior to and after being stabbed.
Sidney set the paper aside, collected her emotions, and then read copies of newspaper articles that told the same story with a little more drama. They were the same articles she’d read shortly after the murder eight years ago. She read her own statement, Trisha’s statement, and Harlan’s statement to the police. Harlan’s statement was rather vague. He was just a passerby with nothing significant to add to the case. Alex’s statement told more of what she’d already known. He claimed to have caught up with her in the woods, knowing which way she went home, and apologized to her from their earlier fight. He stated they had made up, and Emily willingly had intercourse with him by the stone house. Just after, he hurried back to his car on Cressman Road. His story seemed to fall apart when he admitted he’d returned half an hour later to ask her to marry him. Who did that? When he found her dead by the bridge, he panicked and ran.
Sidney read the notes from Trisha’s prison interview with Alex from just a couple of weeks ago. He insisted he never killed Emily Fisher, though he had been jealous of other men. He professed his undying love for her. Trisha asked if he had given Emily a letter that afternoon in the school. He denied ever giving her a letter. It was a lengthy interview, but it didn’t really support his innocence. The last couple of pages were from Trisha’s journal. She started writing a journal the day after the murder but started with the events that unfolded the day preceding the murder. She wrote in detail about Sidney’s love letter to Harlan, Miss Fisher’s relationship with everyone, including students and teachers, and her own relationship with Miss Fisher. Sidney never knew how close Trisha had been to her.
She wrote about Miss Fisher’s fight with Alex, the note on the desk, and then great detail about what happened until the time they found their teacher murdered. The journal entries in Trisha’s handwriting read, “Three o’clock. We left school. Went to the junior high to pick up homework. Three thirty. Miss Fisher took her film to the press. Left five minutes later. Three forty-five. Miss Fisher met with Alex Trexler in the woods. Had sex. Three-fifty. Harlan Brendan left the press with his camera. Four-ten. We arrived at McBride’s news press. Four-twenty. We had ice cream floats at the diner. Four-twenty. Alex left Miss Fisher at the stone house. Four-fifty. Alex returned to the woods to find Miss Fisher dead. Five o’clock. We left diner. Five-ten. Found Miss Fisher murdered.”
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