Deadly Harvest (25 page)

A sightseeing carriage, drawn by a single horse, the driver a pretty woman with reddish-blond hair, rumbled by. He could see a hearse leaving the mortuary down the street, and a group of uniformed high-school-band members were heading back from the green, two chaperones in the lead, two more in the rear.

Life still went on, obviously, but under supervision. No one was feeling lax regarding security these days.

He walked around the back of the hotel, through the parking lot, and looked down the street with its treelined median. It was dark, and, except for a few people walking dogs, there was no activity going on.

And there was no boy.

He turned and walked back into the lobby, looking thoughtfully toward the elevators.

He told himself that he had simply seen a boy who looked like Billy, and who had gone up to his room. Squaring his shoulders, he reminded himself that there was nothing he could do for Billy, but there was a good chance Mary was still alive, which meant there were things he
could
do for
her.
He also reminded himself that Brad and Rowenna were waiting for him in the bar.

He strode back in, shrugging his shoulders as if, in doing so, he could shake off the memory of the boy he had failed.

R
owenna was glad to see Jeremy walk back into the bar. She was trying to be supportive, but she was having a hard time putting any more credence in Brad's theory about the Devil than Jeremy had. She'd tried to get him to order some food, thinking dinner might take his mind off his dire thoughts, but he'd announced that he wasn't hungry.

He was Jeremy's friend, and Jeremy could no doubt deal with him better than she could. She didn't want to admit it, but…

He'd been creeping her the hell out.

“Who was that?” she asked Jeremy as soon as he arrived, glad to have him back by her side. It occurred to her almost immediately that his phone call might have been private, that she was barely a part of his life, and he might just tell her it was none of her business.

But he answered right away, looking thoughtful and a little distracted. “That was Joe,” he told her. “First.”

She inclined her head, waiting.

Brad, too, had perked up to listen.

“They've found the guy who was with Dinah Green here at the bar. The Boston cops picked him up.”

“Oh, my God, has he said anything?” Brad demanded. “Does he have Mary?”

“He claims he wasn't here on Halloween, that he spent the night with a hooker in Boston. They're holding him, and I'm driving down with Joe to talk to him.”

“When?” Brad asked anxiously.

“First thing in the morning.”

“I'm going, too,” Brad said.

“No, you're not. You're too emotionally invested to be in on this, Brad,” Jeremy told him, his tone compassionate but firm. “I'm lucky Joe is letting me go along, and you know I'll ask all the right things.” Then he hesitated. “Besides, I'm sure he didn't do it,” he said after a moment. “But we have to clear him so we can get down to figuring out what
did
happen.”

Rowenna frowned, looking at him. “How do you know he didn't do it?” she asked. “How can you be so sure?” She would like nothing better than to find out that some Boston guy was the killer, because she hated the thought that someone she might know, might even think she knew well, could be the psychopath they were seeking.

“Our killer has too much local knowledge, for one thing. And for another…Gut feeling, and I've been around too long to ignore that,” he told her. He glanced toward the band, and at Eric Rolfe, who was talking to the keyboard player. “We need to be looking for a local, someone who knows who owns what land, who manages it and knows what's going on with it. Ginny MacElroy may own that land, but she doesn't go walking around her fields making sure her corn is growing well. She leaves that to the real farmers, and I doubt they inspect it daily, either, as if their lives depend on every stalk out there.”

“The cornfields,” Brad said, turning to look at them solemnly. “I'm going to walk through every damn one of those cornfields if I have to.”

“Brad, everyone who has anything to do with those fields has been alerted. They've been searching the fields for days,” Jeremy told him. “And they haven't found…anything.”

Another body. That was what he'd been about to say, Rowenna thought. Mary's body.

“I'm losing my mind,” Brad said. “I can't stand it. Not knowing where she is, how she is, believing she's alive—and knowing that every moment nothing is done brings her closer to death.”

Rowenna's heart went out to him.

“That's always the hardest part,” Jeremy said. “You know that. The waiting. Think of the hours that we've sat around together, scuba gear on, scuba gear off, waiting. Dive here, dive there. And then the next day, try farther over there. Or for the guys working the streets, it's watch that house, a pedophile lives there. Watch him. And then you go crazy with the boredom of sitting and sitting, and drinking coffee, and trying to stay awake. And then you get your chance. We're doing everything right, Brad. We stick to the plan, we eliminate everything we can, we follow every clue—and we'll find her.”

Brad stared at Jeremy and nodded, as if trying to believe.

Just then Eric walked up behind Jeremy and laid a hand on his shoulder. Jeremy turned to look at him, and Brad followed suit. Eric didn't seem to notice the way Brad's eyes narrowed at the sight of him.

“I hear he makes devil masks,” Brad whispered to Rowenna.

“Yes, he makes masks. Relax, Brad,” Rowenna whispered back.

“Mr. Flynn,” Eric said, “I've heard that you're an amazing guitarist. The band over there wants you to sit in.”

There was a dead, flat look in Jeremy's eyes for a moment. He turned to stare at her—as if it were
her
fault, she thought. Then something in his expression changed, and she was coming to know him so well, she realized, that she actually knew what he was thinking: that it wouldn't hurt to get tight with the locals.

Even the locals on his list of suspects—or perhaps
especially
the locals on his list of suspects.

Then he got up and walked over to the band, talked with them for a minute and picked up an extra guitar.

He really could play, Rowenna thought, remembering the times when she had seen him sit in with one of the bands on Bourbon Street in New Orleans.

She had wondered if he would touch a woman with the same knowledge and tenderness as he gave to a guitar.

And now she knew.

“Shit,” Eric said. “He
can
play.”

“Of course he can play,” Brad said indignantly, then looked at Eric and laughed. “You were hoping he'd make a fool out of himself.”

“No!” Eric protested. “Well, okay…yeah, I was.”

He wandered off, closer to the stage. Rowenna felt Brad staring at her.

“When are we going to find her? Will we find her
soon?
” he asked intently.

She felt a flow of crimson come to her cheeks. “Brad, I'm not sure what you think I can tell you.”

“I think you know things,” he said. “You told me not to give up hope. You keep saying she's alive.”

“And I do believe she's alive.”

“But we have to find her quickly.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

He grabbed her hand. “If there's anything, anything at all, that you can do, please, I'm begging you, do it.”

“I will, Brad. You know I will.”

His sense of urgency filled her, and she felt dread settle heavy in her heart. Time was of the essence. And the thing was, she had a feeling that there
was
something she could do. She just didn't want to do it.

The answer lay in the cemetery. She was sure of it.

Just as the thought came to her, she noticed Adam and Eve entering the restaurant, and for once they weren't arguing.

Daniel came in by himself behind them, said something to them, and then the three of them sat down at a table together. She was surprised, given that they weren't great friends, despite having known each other a long time. Daniel had a tendency to air his feeling about “failed Catholics” embracing pagan beliefs as a way to make money.

He looked up and saw her at the bar, waved, then looked around. He seemed surprised to see Jeremy playing with the band, and he drew Adam and Eve's attention to the musicians.

Eve grinned, then looked over at Rowenna and gave her a thumbs-up sign. A moment later, Daniel spotted Eric and walked over to where the other man was sitting. They chatted for a minute; then Daniel pointed out the table where he was sitting with Adam and Eve. Eric shrugged, and accompanied him back over to join their group.

More people began to file in, some going straight to the bar for a drink, others filling the tables and perusing the dinner menu.

When Rowenna saw Ginny and Dr. MacElroy enter, she nearly fell off her bar stool. It was almost as if people were flocking in just to be together and try to forget the horror that had touched their once-safe little town. She hadn't seen Dr. MacElroy in a while, so she excused herself to Brad, and walked over to the table Doc and Ginny had just taken.

“Rowenna, so nice to see you.” Ginny's face brightened at the sight of her.

“Rowenna, hello.” Dr. MacElroy had just taken his seat, but he rose, smiling. His given name was Nick, but he had been her pediatrician when she was a child and she could never bring herself to refer to him as anything other than Doc or Dr. MacElroy, especially to his face.

He welcomed her with a grandfatherly hug, then he held her away for a moment, studying her as if she were still a child and might have grown since he'd last seen her. “You look as lovely as always. Ginny says you're doing well.”

“Very well, thank you.”

Doc MacElroy was slim and dignified. His hair was thinning and white, his eyes a powder blue, like Ginny's. He held out a chair for her, and she perched on the edge, explaining that she could only stay for a second, because she was with friends.

“Nasty business, this. Very nasty business,” Dr. MacElroy said sadly, shaking his head. “You sure you're all right? Ginny said you found that poor woman's body.”

“I'm okay. Really.”

“Your young man came by,” Ginny explained to her, a sparkle in her eyes. “He'd been out to meet Eric, so he dropped by to see me, too. He knew
I
hadn't been out there running around in the corn, but he hoped maybe I had heard something, seen a car, anything unusual. But I'm afraid I'm a homebody and never notice much of anything outside the house.”

“She watches game shows with the TV on full blast,” Dr. MacElroy said fondly. “Of course she never notices anything.”

“But I
do
own that land. Father left it to me,” Ginny fretted.

“Ginny, please, you can't let that worry you,” Rowenna told her.

“She's been upset ever since, well, you know. So I thought a nice dinner out would be a good idea,” Dr. MacElroy said, looking around the room. “I'm seeing half of my patients in here tonight—all grown up now, of course. Time does fly,” he added softly.

“And to think I've lived to see a time like this,” Ginny said. “It makes you wonder what this world is coming to.”

“Ginny, bad things can happen anywhere,” Rowenna said. After all, she thought ironically, the witch trials certainly counted as bad things.

“At least the harvest festival is coming up to take people's minds off things,” Ginny said. “I'm helping out with the costumes this year, and I've made a beautiful dress for you.” She frowned. “You'll have to come by soon. The festival starts in a few days.”

“Of course. Day after tomorrow, will that be all right?” Rowenna wanted to get back to her research tomorrow.

Ginny nodded. “So long as I have time for alterations, anything suits my schedule.”

Dr. MacElroy nodded toward the band. “Is that your young fellow playing the guitar, Rowenna?”

She smiled. It seemed so strange to hear Jeremy referred to as hers.

“That's Jeremy Flynn, yes,” Rowenna said. “Well, I've left Brad alone at the bar long enough. I'd better get back.”

“Of course. Good to see you home,” Dr. MacElroy said.

“And it's good to see you out, Ginny,” Rowenna said.

“We were out not so long ago. Halloween night, and it was lovely.” She frowned suddenly. “That was the night that poor woman disappeared. Your friend must be in agony, wondering if they're going to find her in a cornfield, too. Oh!”

She broke off, staring in horror. Rowenna turned to see what Ginny was looking at, but the only thing she could see was a column.

“Ginny, what is it?” Dr. MacElroy asked in concern, clearly as puzzled as Rowenna was.

Ginny stared from one of them to the other. “Lights. I saw lights.”

Rowenna and Dr. MacElroy exchanged worried glances.

“Oh, stop it, you two! I haven't gone daft. I just thought of it suddenly, being here, talking about that woman. I haven't heard anything, but the other night, I woke up and looked out toward the northwest, and I swear, there were wiggly-waggly lights out there, like a UFO.”

“Ginny, there's nothing out there but brushland,” Dr. MacElroy said.

Ginny turned to Rowenna. “You make sure you tell that man of yours what I said. He told me it was important to tell him anything—anything at all—that came to mind.”

“Of course I will, Ginny. Thank you,” Rowenna said.

She left them at last, and paused on her way back to the bar to say hello to Adam, Eve and Daniel. Eve kissed her cheek and said, “He's really good,” as she tilted her head in Jeremy's direction.

“A regular rock star,” Adam said, smiling, then asked, “How did Ginny seem to you?”

“Fine, why?”

Adam shook his head. “I don't know, I think she's starting to slip. I'm kind of worried about her. She called me at midnight about a week ago, asking about a costume, and thought it was early evening.”