“Well,” Vickie said, aggravated. “I don’t believe that the real killer here—the man behind it all, head Satanist or whatever—believes in his cause. He’s a horrible human being, evil—for real! But there’s something else he wants that has nothing to do with Satan. Griffin, call Barnes again, please,” Vickie said. “We really need to know if he’s found Milton Hanson yet.”
Griffin pulled out his phone, although he looked as if he wanted to tell her that he would have let them know immediately if they’d found the man.
He spoke briefly with Barnes. “No Hanson,” he told Vickie. “But he said that it’s important that we get out to the Quabbin as quickly as possible.”
“Something has happened there?” Vickie asked.
He nodded.
“Another body has been found.”
*
Griffin was glad that young doctor Evan Graves was the medical examiner they met when they reached the end of the road—literally, the end of the road, as it continued, but did so right into the water. Graves was knowledgeable and serious, and he was with the remains—which had been removed to the back of an ambulance—when they reached the spot.
“Remember what I was telling you about our other victim?” he asked Griffin. “This girl is down to bone. And, of course, the bone is why I know that we’re looking at a young woman. Probably about the same age as the last victim we found.”
“But this girl was killed earlier, right?” Griffin asked.
“I’d say she was killed a month before the other girl. You have two victims here...and I’m afraid that a year ago we also found another body. I wasn’t working here at the time, and they had it down as a bear attack.”
“The divers will have to keep looking for...more bodies,” Griffin said.
“Yes,” Dr. Graves told him. “Look. Look here.”
He paused and pointed to what should have been the victim’s neck. There was barely anything there anymore—and whether what was there was muscle or sinew, Griffin didn’t know.
“Right where I’m pointing,” Graves said.
For a moment, Griffin couldn’t see anything. Then he saw what appeared to be a slight scratch on the bone.
It was easy enough to see, once it had been pointed out to him.
The flesh was all but gone.
“Her throat was slit,” Griffin said.
Graves nodded. “Her throat was slit. I have a feeling that, if we disinter the young lady supposedly killed by a bear attack, we’ll find similar marks. Here’s the thing. I’m taking nothing away from the previous coroner. The victim—Brenda Noonan—was found in a terrible state, completely decomposed, just about. We have had a few bear attacks in the area. Lost in the woods, wandering... Even if the bear hadn’t killed her, it was more than possible that a bear had mauled her remains, or that other creatures had set in on her.”
“We were already looking to disinter Brenda,” Griffin told him. “My colleague was working on paperwork to make it happen earlier today,” he assured him.
Graves looked unhappy. “There’s talk, you know. There’s always talk around here. Wild parties out in the forest! Usually they tend to be frat parties—kids who come out here from Amherst, or one of the colleges in Worcester or elsewhere around the state. Most of the time, when we hear about something illegal going on, it’s because of a bunch of drunk frat boys. But...”
“But?”
“There’s talk. There’s always talk. A tourist heard something crashing through the woods. Bigfoot, usually—and, if bigfoot were to exist, hell, why not in the midst of deep woods like these. They’ve reported hearing music. Oh, of course people hear all kinds of things, late at night, in the woods. Ghosts. A lot of people enjoy creating drama. There are stories that there were old farmers who didn’t want to leave the Swift River Valley—they died, flooded out. There are stories that all the graves weren’t moved when the valley was flooded—the ghosts of those who were ignored rise above the water at night, calling out for help.”
“Dr. Graves, we believe that there is a Satanist cult alive and well and working in the area somewhere.”
“And I believe they’re killing a girl once a month,” Dr. Graves said.
Griffin hadn’t realized that Vickie had come to stand beside him at the back of the ambulance. She was staring in at the corpse—at what remained of the corpse.
“I think that Dr. Graves is right,” she said. “Maybe Brenda Noonan was his first victim—and he hadn’t learned how to dispose of the bodies. Or maybe he was just learning with her. But I do think that he’s killing once a month. Once a month—possibly when the moon is full. Referencing many religions and cults, there’s power in a full moon.”
“Just two days to go until the next full moon,” Dr. Graves pointed out.
“Just two days,” Griffin murmured.
He looked around. Night was falling on the Quabbin. The water glistened, bizarrely serene and peaceful. In the half-light, it was all exceptionally beautiful.
Endlessly big, or so it seemed. Old mountaintops now perching here and there in the water, having become little islands.
The forests grew darker, cloaked in mystery as the day came to an end.
“Forty-eight hours,” Vickie said. “Griffin, two days. If that’s true, we have just two days to save a woman who is being held out there somewhere. And Alex... Alex is out here.”
“There’s a slim chance. Vickie, we all want to catch this guy—just as quickly as possible.”
“Of course. But this guy has something special planned. He wants to know where Jehovah is. And he’s killing a woman a month now, at every full moon! I am so afraid.”
Griffin realized that he didn’t know if the woman was or wasn’t alive; he didn’t know if Alex Maple was still living.
He was very afraid that someone else was going to die.
And, looking at Vickie, he was suddenly very frightened that the killer intended for it to be her.
14
“I know you’re going to argue with me, but I really believe that it’s absolutely too dangerous for you to stay here,” Griffin told Vickie.
She stared back at him, frustrated. That afternoon—between Gloria’s words and reading the book by Nathaniel Alden—she felt as if she was coming closer than she’d ever come before to figuring out just what was going on.
She shook her head.
With all the officers from various departments milling about, and Griffin by her side, she couldn’t feel safer, really.
“Griffin, that’s just being ridiculous,” she said. Though she was uneasy. She hadn’t mentioned anything to him about the part in her nightmare where it had been indicated that she might be in danger. She didn’t understand why he had suddenly decided that she shouldn’t be involved.
“Ridiculous? You’re a civilian,” he reminded her.
“I was a civilian when you came and asked for my help during the Undertaker case!” she reminded him. “Griffin, you need me. And where are you going to send me? Helena Matthews from Rhode Island was apparently abducted in Fall River. We don’t know where the other victims came from—because we don’t know who they are. Seriously, just where would you send me?” she demanded.
“Virginia,” he said flatly.
“What?”
“Virginia. Let me finish—if they know you’re out of the picture, it may be a catalyst,” Griffin told her. “Someone might make a mistake. It could help us.”
“Or get someone else killed,” Vickie snapped.
“Okay, sorry, stepping in here!” Devin said, glancing at Rocky and then taking a deep breath and literally standing between Vickie and Griffin. “Vickie, we can keep in contact with you daily. Or they can. I can go with you. We—as in the Krewe of Hunters—have a safe house in Virginia with all kinds of alarms and bells and a half dozen agents on call at any time. You can be in constant contact, but there, you’re also safe. If this killer has a thing for you, as we suspect from the things Gloria said, it doesn’t have anything to do with being a civilian, or less capable, or anything of the like. Sometimes we have to step back. If we’re being targeted, we just have to step back.”
Vickie looked at her. Devin had spoken earnestly. She was speaking the truth.
But it wasn’t right.