RAVEN'S HOLLOW (9 page)

“Move him farther down anyway. Another possibility is that we’re dealing with a split personality. It would account for the fact that the writing changed and obsession ultimately descended into death. Not to mention this morning’s reference to an inner monster.”

Sadie swore her brain was going to explode. “That’s not much of a comfort, is it? Go left at the next fork. The road improves, and my great-grandfather’s place is only a mile farther on.”

Eli glanced at her, then gave her hair a light tug. “Ninety-nine years old, huh? And living alone in the middle of haunted nowhere.”

His deliberately humorous tone eased a portion of her tension. “I know what you’re thinking. Major neglect on our part. But there’s a twelve-member family who make canoes and live in a collection of cabins half a mile west of Great-grandfather’s place. One or another of them checks on him faithfully morning, noon and night. He wasn’t happy in the Hollow, Eli. He’s very happy here.” She smiled. “He also loves to play chess.”

“How do you know I...ah, right. Rooney.”

“Man’s a font.” She relaxed more as the road leveled off. “I only wish he was clairvoyant. Or I was.”

“Are you completely convinced that Molly isn’t?”

“Yes, but you can decide for yourself. Before we left the Hollow today, she told me not to make any plans for Monday night.”

“Do I want to know why?”

“Probably not. She’s arranging a séance.”

Chapter Twelve

“You played a game of chess with that old buzzard?”

An outraged Rooney brought his cane down on the front desk of the Raven’s Hollow Police Station and made the deputy jump. Eli merely raised an eyebrow.

“That old buzzard beat the crap out of me in under three hours without a drop of alcohol in his system.”

“Probably smokes funny cigarettes instead.” Rapping his cane on the floor now, Rooney raised his voice. “Where’s the damn dog, Ty? My former grandson here says he’s a winner. He’s gonna get Brady to give him a once-over. Then he’s going to fetch Sadie from the
Chronicle
. I want her down at Joe’s bar to cover the fights.”

Ty came in with a brown and white bulldog on a leash. “I hope we’re talking televised fights.”

“Nope, live action. Cove versus Hollow. And no, I’m not naming names, because you always take it upon your chiefly self to lecture the participants until their morale is lower than Chopper’s jowls.” Rooney pushed the leash into Eli’s hands. “Take the dog to Brady, stranger, while I remind your spoilsport cousin who in this room is sixty-seven years older than whom.”

“Sixty-five.” Ty grimaced. “I wasn’t a model grade school student.”

The old man cackled. “I thought the pair of you would be forty before you graduated.” When Eli’s eyes narrowed, he waved his cane. “I meant Ty and Brady. You just trot Chopper over to the v-e-t for that exam while I lay a little guilt trip on your cousin.”

“It’s Sunday,” Eli reminded him. “Brady’s day o-f-f.”

“Then go up to his apartment and n-a-g him into doing an old man a favor.”

More than done with the spelling bee, Eli headed for the door. He turned up his collar against a whippy north wind and jogged with the bulldog down Main Street to the edge of the square.

Bad weather notwithstanding, it was good to be outdoors. He’d spent the better part of the day on his computer, studying Sadie’s Facebook and Twitter pages and poring over all the files he could access about the investigation into Laura’s death. He’d talked to several people at the
Chronicle
and others who’d known both Laura and Sadie since they were children. Although he’d come up empty in the clue department, he’d enjoyed looking at the vacation pictures Sadie had posted online.

It surprised him to see Orley through the clinic window, counting bags of dog food. Farther in, Brady tapped away on his laptop.

“No more favors,” Orley warned when the door swung shut behind him.

“This one’s on Brady.” Eli unzipped his jacket. “Why’s it so hot in here?”

“Molly brought Solomon in an hour ago. Emergency ingrown claw. The dog freaked, we sedated, then had to up the temperature to the high side of unbearable because Molly and Solomon want what they want and Molly doesn’t go away until they get it. I woke up with a screaming headache, and listening to Cousin McStrange bitch wasn’t something I wanted to add to an already poopy Sunday. We’re doing inventory,” she said heavily, and made another tick with her marker. “A little help would be nice.”

“Sorry. I’m picking Sadie up at the
Chronicle
after Brady checks out Chopper. She’s determined to talk to Ben Leamer, and I gather Ben’s equally determined to talk to her.”

“Meaning you’re gonna tag.”

“You got it.”

Brady came out, took the leash. “We’ll make this quick, in that case. Exam would go faster if you’d take Chopper’s temperature for me.”

“What, did hell freeze over and no one told me?”

“Coward.” Orley snickered over her shoulder. Then she made a sound of disgust as she stared out the window. “Seriously? Break bottles on your own sidewalk, Molly, not ours.”

“Perfect.” Brady appealed to his cousin. “If you won’t help with the dog, at least keep Orley from scratching Molly’s eyes out for whatever disaster just occurred.”

He’d do it, Eli reflected, if only to escape the cloying heat.

Outside, Orley scowled at the sidewalk. “I am not getting down on my hands and knees to clean up a mess you made because you decided to wobble around on six-inch heels so Ty would notice your legs.”

Molly shrank into herself. “It’s only ink. It can be eradicated.”

“Oh, now, there’s a word. What do you think, Eli? Can indelible ink be eradicated?”

He didn’t know or care. And he didn’t listen to the rest of the barbed exchange. What he did do was look at Molly’s unrevealing face. Then down at the bright red ink that seeped like blood across the sidewalk.

* * *

“G
IVE
ME
FORTY
minutes, Ben.” Sadie glanced at the clock on the typesetter’s desk. “Maybe an hour. We’ll get it done today, I promise. I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Disconnecting, she raised her voice to her assistant. “Make sure those photos of Rooney’s first wedding don’t blur when they’re enlarged. And don’t remove the red from the eyes of the background ravens. It’s a cool effect.”

“Done and done. You sure you don’t mind if I leave early?”

“If I did, you’d feel the negative ions.”

“Like I did the time I failed to notice that the camera shop’s ‘Shot in the Dark’ ad layout ran with an
i
in place of the
o?
”

“Exactly like that. I’m off tomorrow, so bright and early, okay?”

“No problem.”

The door creaked open and closed, leaving Sadie alone with the cleaning crew and a welter of troubled thoughts.

She knew it was her own fault that she felt unsettled. While Eli and her great-grandfather had played chess last night, she’d foolishly gone over one of the many accounts he’d collected detailing their family’s sordid history.

She’d skipped the chapters that dealt with their persecution in Europe and zeroed in on Nola Bellam’s life in New England.

An unwed eighteenth century mother, Nola had never named the father of her daughter. Some speculated it was Hezekiah, and that the two of them had had sex after a Halloween-style party at Blume House without Hezekiah ever knowing the name of the young woman he’d bedded. Others claimed the child was Ezekiel’s, and he’d known exactly who Nola was.

Sadie didn’t buy either story. Her feeling was that Nola had simply fallen under the spell of a handsome stranger who’d been passing through the Hollow en route to parts unknown, and she’d wound up pregnant as a result.

Whatever the case, Nola had come to Hezekiah with a seven-year-old child.

Sadie had fallen asleep with the book in her hands while her great-grandfather and Eli continued their chess match. Of course the dream had snuck in and played out as usual. Until the end.

In this new, altered version, the cloaked shape that appeared after Ezekiel’s death missed the mark with its enormous knife. There was no pain in Sadie’s chest, no cry of triumph from inside the voluminous hood, and for the first time in memory, she hadn’t woken up gasping on the bedroom floor.

In her still-sleeping mind, astonishment had quickly given way to hope.

She’d unpinned her cloak and, twirling it outward, trapped the figure’s knife and arm with the hem. The figure had fought to free itself. As it did, the wind swirled up, filling the huge hood with air.

Though she’d never been able to in the past, this time she’d glimpsed a man’s face within the folds. Hezekiah’s perhaps, or Ezekiel’s. The features had been unclear, as if they’d been distorting before her eyes. Or maybe they’d been transforming. Into what or who, she couldn’t say.

As suddenly as it had swirled up, the wind died, the hood deflated and only darkness and death remained.

Alone in the silent woods, Sadie had heard the voice again. As the moonlight faded away, it had seemed to whisper directly into her ear.

“You are no longer mine alone, Sadie Bellam. The monster is awake....”

* * *

“Y
OU
SHOULD
HAVE
told me about your dream, Sadie.” Still parked in Ben Leamer’s farmyard, Eli stowed her camera bag. “Yes, I’m a cop, but I’m also a Blume. I was raised on similar stories. With Rooney, legend trumps history every time.”

“For me, legend crowned dream. Or maybe it was the other way around.” Mission finally accomplished in terms of Ben’s corn maze, Sadie leaned against the side of Eli’s truck while he opened the passenger door. “In any case, I had a much better second dream.”

Setting his hands on her waist, Eli boosted her onto the truck’s running board. “Any reason you didn’t mention that before now?”

“I thought about it.” She leaned into him. “The thing is, my great-grandfather’s not as sexually liberated as yours. Having been at the wrong end of a shotgun wedding himself, he’d have no qualms about threatening you with the same fate in the not-unlikely event that our jittering vibes, in combination with my überhot dream, had gotten the better of our personal resolves and sent us stumbling out to the backseat of your truck.”

“Your great-grandfather had a shotgun wedding?”

Laughing, she pushed an elbow into his ribs. “That wasn’t the point, Eli.”

“I got the point, Sadie. Hot dreams plus hot vibes create explosive situations.”

“Then again...” Seated now, she bent forward to brush her lips over his cheek. “As a cop, you’d be accustomed to excessive heat.”

“Then again.”

Her eyes sparkled as she slid a finger over his jaw. “Is that your subtle way of suggesting we abandon our personal resolves and fumble around in the backseat before we head over to Joe’s bar? Because, I promise you, one swig of his green beer, and hot sex will be the last thing on your mind.”

He kissed her fingers before closing the door between them. “Is that why Ty doesn’t drink?”

“No, he doesn’t drink because he likes to be in control of his faculties at all times. He’s quite particular about that.”

With a look at the darkening sky, Eli climbed into the truck. “Tell me, Sadie, how did it happen that you very nearly married a fussy old lady?”

“He’s not...” she began, then remembered that Eli and Ty were cousins and gave his leg a gentle swat. “Ty’s a good man, and I wanted, or thought I wanted, Andy Griffith. You know—Mayberry, the fishing hole, Sunday dinners, that kind of thing.”

“You wanted to marry Andy of Mayberry?”

“No, I wanted the front porch swing—and you’re laughing at me.” Her next swat wasn’t quite so gentle. “I’m baring my soul here, Eli. Haven’t you ever wanted normal?”

His lips twitched. “Okay, first of all, no TV family was ever normal. Second, you don’t strike me as a porch swing kind of woman. And third, where you’re seeing white picket fences in Mayberry, I’m seeing you waking up one morning and suddenly realizing you’re in Stepford.”

She sent him an exasperated look. “When I said Ty liked to be in control, I didn’t mean he wanted to turn me into a robotic zombie with a perma-smile and no will of my own.”

A shrewd brow rose. “You don’t think he’d have tried?”

“No.” But after a quick search of her feelings, she shrugged. “Maybe. To some degree. He’s a little old-fashioned.”

“He’s the apple that fell from the tree, Sadie. You’ve met his parents, right?”

“Not since I’ve been back. His father’s asthmatic. They moved to Santa Fe a year after Ty graduated from college.”

“Daddy’s choice, not Mommy’s.”

“Asthma is a medical condition, Lieutenant, not a choice. Where are you going with this, anyway, because you and I both know Ty’s not stupid enough to believe he could have run roughshod over me, no matter how close the apple fell or where the parental tree currently lives?”

“You said it yourself, he still loves you.”

“I also said he’s not in love with me.”

“It’s a small step from one to the other.”

“It’s a huge step from love to obsession, which I realize now is what you’ve been hinting at since this conversation began. Ty’s a straight guy. He doesn’t drink, he doesn’t obsess and he would never threaten someone he cared about.”

Eli sent her a fathomless look. “Anyone can have a monster lurking inside, sweetheart. I was part of a team that brought down a serial killer three years ago. The killer ran a family supermarket in Yonkers. He did the baking himself every morning. He had a wife and three kids, and he came to Manhattan four times a year for conventions and ball games. Every time he left, there’d be at least two less women alive and working the streets.”

She sighed. “Look, I can understand, even appreciate your mistrust. I just can’t believe I’d have missed seeing it if Ty had a side to him as evil as the spirit that possessed your ancestor. How old was Ty when Laura died? Sixteen, right?”

“Just.”

“But you were fourteen. Funny, when I was young, I thought you and Ty and Brady were the same age.”

“Nope. I squeaked through grade school at the usual pace. Ty and Brady had a hate-hate relationship with a couple of our teachers and took a bit longer.”

Amusement stirred. “Would one of those teachers be Mr. Hart?”

“Heard about him, huh?”

“Heard about and met.” She widened meaningful eyes. “Your Mr. Hart is Orley’s father.”

* * *

E
LI
HAD
TO
look twice to be sure she was serious. “Orley’s father? How the hell did I miss that?”

“Raccoon on the road,” Sadie warned. “Eyes forward, Lieutenant, and I’ll give you the easy answer. All girl babies born to Bellam females are given the Bellam surname. It’s tradition. My dad’s is a Winter, Molly’s is a Prewitt and Orley’s is a Hart. Orley claims he was nicer at home than at work, but my family’s situation being what it was, we didn’t interact a lot. Plus, I was ten years younger than her. Your situation being what
it
was, however, I’m surprised you were never forced to endure weekend dinners. Maybe your dad and hers didn’t get along. Does your father hunt?”

“No.”

“There you go, then.”

Elbow propped, Eli ran a finger under his bottom lip. “I’m trying really hard here to picture no-Hart with a kid. Does he still live in the area?”

“Nope. North Dakota. Could be that’s why Ty and Brady felt it was safe to take jobs here.”

Eli geared down when the moon slipped behind a cloud and the wind booted up to kick the side of his truck. “Is it ever not blustery in this hollow?”