“I’m sure the police will be around with a picture to find out if she was in the shop,” Rowenna said. She reflected for a second, then grimaced. “Wait. I know the police—and probably Jeremy, too—will be around with a picture.”
“I know he’s really gotten involved in this because Brad’s his friend,” Eve said. “But it’s still possible that the murder and Mary Johnstone’s disappearance aren’t related, right?”
“It’s possible. I certainly hope they’re not,” Rowenna said.
“I have to get back,” Daniel said, checking his watch. “I’m worried I might have left the reading room door unlocked.”
He sounded so serious that Rowenna turned away to hide her grin. She just didn’t think there were too many people who plotted each morning to get into his reading room, but she was ready to move on. “All right. Just give me two seconds. I just want to quickly buy something to change into. I’ve got to get out of these filthy jeans.” Eve wound up supplying her with an entire new outfit. Rowenna wasn’t certain that the skull bra-and-panty set would have been her personal choice, but they were comfortable and well made, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. She picked up another set of undergarments—this set decorated with cherubs—just in case she didn’t get home again that night.
Finally she and Daniel headed back to the museum to see to the safety of his books.
At least he didn’t mind when she slipped in a bookmark wherever she found a section of text that she thought the police and Jeremy should read.
She was reading about the third notorious murderer from the tableau when Joe arrived. He chatted with Daniel for a minute, but it was evident that he didn’t have time to spare, so when he asked Rowenna to take a stroll out with him, she cast a quick excuse-me look Dan’s way and headed out with Joe.
“Turn up anything interesting in all those old books?” Joe asked.
“There may be something there,” she said, and quickly explained what they’d found.
“What do you think about Brad Johnstone claiming he saw cornfields in the crystal ball? Is he making too much of this Damien person?”
She stopped walking. People were strolling by, looking into windows, enjoying the day. She looked Joe squarely in the eyes, took a deep breath and spoke.
“I’ve been having dreams about the cornfields. They started right before Halloween. I kept seeing them as they were when I was young, maybe twenty years ago. Remember when the town used to run competitions for best scarecrow? Eric Rolfe always created the scariest one. In my dream, I’m approaching one of his scarecrows, but I know it isn’t going to be a scarecrow, that it’s going to be real. And when I get there, it’s a rotting body, just like…just like the one I found.”
He looked back at her solemnly.
“You didn’t happen to dream about what the killer looked like, did you?” he asked. His tone was dry, but there was an odd hopefulness in it, too.
“Come on, Joe, if I had any idea, I would have told you right away.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said wearily.
“I don’t know why, but I feel as if reading about the past is very important. I mean, beyond the obvious—that someone is playing off things that have happened before.”
“We have to go back to that field,” he said.
“We?” she asked warily.
“The crime-scene people have gone through it with a fine-tooth comb. Harold and the lab staff have found everything the body and the clothing can tell us. We’ve got nothing but some crow feathers, and I can hardly lock up a crow.” Joe sounded disgusted. “I have a suspect of a sort, some guy named Damien. Of course, no one can put him near the cemetery, no one saw him come into town and no one saw him leave, not to mention that no one knows who the hell he really is or where to find him. At least we know who the victim is now. I’ve got fliers circulating now, so with any luck we’ll know soon if she spent any time in town. I can only pray that someone can give us a lead, because right now, I have an invisible man and a bunch of birds. And Mary Johnstone’s husband, of course, but assuming that his wife and Dinah Green were victims of the same perp, Brad is starting to look very much like a man in the clear.” He paused for a moment. “I need to call the parents and tell them that their son-in-law is most probably just as innocent as they are. Meanwhile, I know it won’t be easy, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d come back out to that cornfield with me.”
“What do you think I can find that all your techs missed?” she asked. She knew she sounded skeptical, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to go back to that cornfield. Not ever.
“I don’t know what you’ll find with your own strange brand of logic,” he said. “But I sure as hell hope you’ll find something.”
“When?” she asked, feeling a sense of fatality settle over her.
“Now,” he told her gravely.