She looked at Joe. She thought she knew him. Thought she knew him well. And yet he had surprised her just a little while ago by actually defending Jeremy Flynn.
They had reached the edge of town, and Rowenna felt a strange sense of relief to see that even though it was still relatively early, the streetlights had come on. The homes they passed were beautiful—but looking a little indecisive. Pilgrim lawn ornaments were out in abundance, along with wagons heaped with pumpkins whose bright orange complemented the brilliance of the autumn leaves. But some people already had their Christmas lights up, as well. One house already sported a giant Santa and sleigh on the roof.
“Can’t we just get through the one holiday before starting on the next one?” Joe complained. “I mean, seriously. Could we just celebrate Thanksgiving without getting confused with Christmas? It’s a good old American holiday that deserves its due.”
“As American as apple pie?” Rowenna suggested with a smile.
“Yeah. Apple pie,” Joe agreed, as he pulled up to the curb in front of the museum. “Take care, you hear? I don’t want Jeremy coming after me with a mad-on.” He grinned, and then his expression turned serious. “And thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Joe. See you later.”
As she got out of the car and walked the few steps to the museum, Rowenna noticed that the night was coming on fast, almost as if the darkness were racing down from the sky.
She hurried up to the door.
There was a poster on the notice board outside, a poster with two photos, and it hadn’t been there when she’d left. She was certain that the same poster was up all over town. The notice below the pictures, which were identified as Dinah Green and Mary Johnstone, read: PLEASE HELP. If you have seen either of these women, please contact the Salem Police Department at 555-TIPS. Dinah Green went missing on approximately October 20th. Mary Johnstone has been missing since Halloween night. If you saw either of these women, particularly in the company of anyone suspicious, please step forward and help.
Rowenna found herself staring at Dinah Green’s photo. As she did, she once again felt as if the breeze suddenly started to whirl around her, catching her in its vortex. She could hear whispers in her ear.
The woman, crying and desperate.
The man, cold as ice, ruthless, merciless. Unstoppable.
She blinked, as a strange sense of cold surrounded her and her peripheral vision began to cloud. The darkness crowded around her, and the air grew redolent with the scent of growing things, as if she were still standing in the cornfield.
Taking a step back, she found her equilibrium again.
Poor Dinah. She was gone, and she had died in an agony of fear.
And Mary was still out there somewhere, in the possession of that same calculating killer. Rowenna was convinced that she was still alive, though she had no logical way to explain her certitude.
The killer played with his victims. They were toys to him. He was a god, and they were to worship him. He was kind. The harvest king. And they were to bow down and offer themselves willingly, lovingly, to the king of abundance.
She focused on the picture of Mary Johnstone. She was a gorgeous woman, with laughter in her eyes. The photographer had caught something gentle and sweet in her features, in her full and generous smile. She had been hurt, Rowenna knew, but she had forgiven, because she loved her husband.
The swirling sensation came again, along with that foggy darkness. She was there, but she wasn’t. She heard voices again, and she knew that she was hearing Mary Johnstone, feeling what Mary had felt, but when she’d been happy, not as she was now. She was laughing and sliding her hand into Brad’s, a sign of the trust she was willing to give.
She was Mary, or she was in Mary’s head, and she was walking along the street and then going into the museum.
“There you are.”
She was startled back to the present. Dan was standing in front of her.
“I was going to give you up for lost and call it quits for the day,” he said.
“Is it five?” Rowenna asked. It couldn’t be. She was sure that it hadn’t even been four-thirty when Joe dropped her off.
Had she been standing here staring at pictures for over half an hour?
“It’s five,” Daniel confirmed.
Her cell phone rang. She gave him an apologetic smile and answered it quickly, recognizing Jeremy’s number.
“I’m sorry. I’m running late. I’m close to town, though.”
“That’s okay.”
“You are at the museum, right?” he asked with a hint of skepticism.
“Yes.”
“I arranged for us to meet Brad for drinks at six, at the Hawthorne Hotel.”
“Okay, I’ll be there.”
“Are you alone?”
“I’m with Dan.”
“Okay, good.”
“Did you come up with anything else?” she asked Daniel once she’d hung up.
He grinned. “Well, I don’t know if the cops will think so. They’re pretty interested in the here and now. But I think you were right and someone is replaying the past, even though the cops aren’t interested in all the details.”