---

Chapter 26

Tigg cautiously opened her bedroom door a crack and peeked out. She could see that Pendergast was still seated at the kitchen table with his back to her, his attention focused on his opened laptop computer. When she was sure no one else was present, she quietly opened the door further and slipped into the living room. Her bare feet made no noise on the hardwood floor as she made her way to the kitchen. She had almost reached the table and was trying to get a glimpse of the computer screen when Pendergast turned around. He regarded her calmly and his ice blue eyes held a look of mild amusement. With as much dignity as she could muster, she walked around the table and lowered herself in the chair opposite Pendergast. They stared at each other for a minute before Pendergast spoke.

“I trust you have found the accommodations to be satisfactory?”

“Yes...thank you. Look, Pendergast, I—”

“I hope you remember that the sheriff will be stopping by some time this evening.”

“Yeah, well, I can just go back to my room. He doesn’t need to see me.”

“True.”

“I guess you will need a bit of time to get ready to see him yourself, otherwise you, uh, might have a little trouble explaining your...color change.”

“I find the contact lenses to be rather uncomfortable.”

“Oh...Well, anyway, I need to—”

“While we are waiting for Sheriff Mathies, I believe we will have sufficient time for a light repast. You may stay there, and I will prepare it.” He rose to the table and walked towards the refrigerator.

“You can cook?”

He nodded.

“Oh, sorry, that was...not polite. Speaking of, uh, rudeness, I need to apologize for my behavior earlier. I was...”

“Distraught?”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“Understandable, considering the circumstances.”

“Uh, yeah, right.”

Pendergast withdrew several items from the refrigerator and set them on the counter. He worked in silence and Tigg’s attention turned to the pile of documents next to the computer. She noticed a small wooden carving sitting next to the pile. She recognized it immediately, and pondered the reason for its’ presence. She then turned back to the pile of documents and carefully removed the first sheet of paper on top of the pile. It was the list she had seen earlier, containing the names of people connected to both her family and to Winstead. She studied it again, hoping to recognize more names, but the four she had noticed before remained the only familiar ones. She set the paper aside and reached for a thick folder which now sat on top of the pile.

“I do not think you are ready to view that yet.”

Startled, she snatched her hand away and turned around to find Pendergast standing behind her, a plate of food and some silverware in each hand. He placed one setting in front of her and carried the other around the table where he placed it in front of his own seat. Tigg looked down at the layers of red, green and white on her plate.

“What’s this?”

“Insalata caprese.”

She examined it carefully and then cut off a small piece and tasted it. She looked up at Pendergast, who seemed to be enjoying his own insalata and continued eating. Suddenly, she realized how hungry she had been and soon her plate was empty.

“I see the caprese was to your liking.”

“It was...a nice change from fried rabbit.”

Pendergast collected the dishes and carried them to the sink. He returned to the table and sat facing her once again. He nodded at the list.

“Have you found anything useful?”

Tigg pointed the first name she recognized.

“This one you already know about: Julia Manning.” She pointed to two other names. “These two also were at school with me. I guess you’ll want to go talk to them?”

Pendergast nodded.

“Anyone else?”

Tigg pointed to the fourth and final name.

“He went to school with my brother.”

“I see.”

“I seriously doubt any of those people had anything to do with either crime.”

“Appearances can be deceiving.”

Tigg started to retort but thought better of it. Instead, she stood up, reached across the table, and picked up the wooden carving. She set it down in the middle of the table and looked up at Pendergast for several moments. Finally she spoke.

“Let us talk about this, shall we? I’m going to guess that you purchased it from Gus Bridgier at the general store back in Black Hollow, probably after you spoke with me. Correct?”

Pendergast looked at her thoughtfully and nodded.

“You left it in plain sight, certain I would see it. You hoped I would decide to talk about it. Either you wanted to determine if it was worth what you paid for it...” Pendergast smiled thinly.

“Or you hoped it would serve as some sort of focus piece to prompt me to ‘open up’. I would start talking about my time on Black Mountain, and then, with a little gentle prompting and some carefully crafted questions, you would get me to reveal to you would you couldn’t glean from my journals.”

Pendergast’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“You don’t need to use any tricks with me, Mr. Pendergast. I said I would help, and I will. I’ll tell you what you need to know when and if I see it or remember it.”

Pendergast said nothing and continued to gaze a Tigg with an expression she couldn’t read. Exasperated that she had been unable to prompt some sort of action from him, she continued.

“As of right now, I don’t really have anything for you. I’m hoping something will click soon. I want to catch this guy as much as anyone. If that means reading something you think I am not ‘ready’ to see, I’m willing to do so.”

Pendergast appeared to contemplate her statements. They sat is silence for several minutes. Finally he spoke.

“I will prepare the file for your viewing. Please excuse me for a moment.” He picked up the file and walked to his room. Tigg sat at the table, drumming her fingers on the surface, and mentally smacking herself for the way she had handled the situation. Unable to sit still any longer, she got up and started to clean the kitchen. The process of performing such a mundane chore helped to calm her nerves. When she was finished, she turned back towards the table and was surprised to see Pendergast seated there, watching her with an unreadable expression. He rose from his chair and held out the file.

“This is the case report from the Zoller murders. I have removed some of the more...unsettling photographs. You may now peruse it at your leisure.”

“Uh...thank you. I’ll see what I can do.” She walked to her room and glanced back at Pendergast. His back was towards her and he appeared to be absorbed in something on the computer screen. She walked into the room and quietly closed the door behind. She stood with her back to the door for a moment, mentally preparing herself for what she was about to do. She walked over to the bed, set the file down on it, and reached for her knapsack. She withdrew several worn books from the sack, placed them on her bed next to the file, and then opened the file. She opened the top book, set it down next to the file, and began to read.



As he pulled out of the driveway, Quinn glanced over at Amelia. She was staring straight ahead, her arms were crossed over her chest and she looked pissed off. He decided not to press his luck by talking to her. Quinn started to go over the information he had gotten from Woodward in his mind as they drove back to Amelia’s house. The mixture of emotions he had felt when Woodward made his request remained: embarrassment, anger, disgust, and doubt.

What if I am wrong? If there is someone else, I don’t even know where to begin. I’ll never live this down, and I’ve made at least two people very angry with me. Nice going, Charlie. So much for cop instinct.

He was starting to think how he would make amends to Amelia when he saw a sign for the Pine Mountain Methodist Church and Cemetery. Something clicked in his memory, and he decided to pull off into the small parking lot and stop. Amelia turned to him with a look of anger mixed with curiosity.

“Going to pray for forgiveness?”

“Were the Eastmans Methodist?”

“Yeah...why?”

“Are they buried here?”

“Do you really think there are two Methodist cemeteries in a town this small? Of course they are. Why do you care?”

“The Zollers were Methodist, too. Maybe this is some sort of...religion thing.”

“Seems a bit of a stretch, even for you.”

He ignored her comment and looked through the open gates into the cemetery beyond.

“I think...I’m going to go find their graves.”

“What the Hell for?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I will ask them for forgiveness.”

“You don’t need to take that tone with me.”

“Sorry. It’s just something I need to do. It might help me make a connection.” Quinn got out of the car and started walking towards the open gate. Amelia gritted her teeth, opened her door and followed.

“I’ll show you. It’s over this way, near the south wall.”

They had walked for maybe a hundred yards when Quinn saw a large black tombstone with the family name carved across the top.

As they approached the family plot, Quinn could see that it had been well cared for, and what appeared to be fresh flowers had been carefully placed on the base. He stopped in front of the large tombstone and read the inscription.





“ ‘KBTG’? What does that mean?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. It was added about five years ago when she was declared legally dead. Her guardian apparently requested it, but didn’t give an explanation.”

Quinn was staring at the stone again when something else occurred to him.

“Lucas isn’t on here. Why not?”

Amelia sighed.

“There was a big outcry from some influential members of the community. They didn’t want a ‘mass murderer’ in the same bone yard as their beloved relatives. The minister was also worried about vandalism. I guess the people handling the estate decided it would just be easier to have him buried somewhere else.”

“Where?”

“I have no idea. Now, can we go, or do you want to get out your Ouija board and question them, too?”

Quinn turned and gave her a dirty look.

“Have you always been such a smart-ass?”

“Have you always been such a...never mind. Let’s go.” She stalked off towards the car and Quinn followed.



They drove in silence for a couple miles. Finally, Quinn spoke.

“Are there any relatives of the Eastmans left in town?”

“No, why? Did you want to harass them, too?”

Quinn ignored her barb.

“Someone has been taking care of the family plot. I was just wondering who it was.”

Amelia wondered if it was wise to give Quinn any more information. Finally she decided to answer.

“He’s not a relative, but when they were alive he was practically part of the family. “

“Who?”

“Gabriel Montgomery. He was Eleanor’s...friend from high school.”

“Where does he live?”

“Just south of Charleston. He comes down here every weekend to visit and tend to things.”

“How far—?”

“We’re not going up there tonight. You can call his office in the morning and make an appointment.”

“What does he do?”

“He works for the Department of Children and Family Services.”

“He’s a social worker?”

“Yeah. A very well respected one, too.”

“I guess I’ll have to borrow your phonebook when we get back.”

Amelia gave him a dirty look.

“You can call from your hotel room. I’m sure they’ll have one.”

“I...don’t have a hotel room.”

“Then I guess you better find one.”

Quinn was about to retort when he decided he deserved that. He drove on silence until he saw the sign for Amelia’s road. Quinn guided the car around the corner and was almost run off the road by a car going at high speed in the opposite direction. He pulled off onto the shoulder and looked back, trying to catch a glimpse of the license plate.

“Damn kids,” muttered Amelia. “They must know it’s open season with the cops so busy and all. I—.” She heard Quinn’s door open and turned to see him stepping out of the car, his gaze fixed on the woods several yards away.

“What are you doing?” She got out of the car and followed his gaze. The tops of the trees were illuminated by a strange orange glow that seemed to originate just beyond the woods.

“What the Hell?” Suddenly, she realized she could smell something burning.

“Is that—?”

“Let’s go,” said Quinn, and they climbed back into the car and took off down the road towards Amelia’s house. When they reached her driveway, they could see flames shooting up above the trees. Quinn drove as close to the house as he dared and stopped just in time to see the flames completely engulf the building. Amelia stared, open-mouthed and speechless with horror. Without a word, Quinn jammed the car in reverse, backed down the driveway, and accelerated away from the house with a screech of tires against the gravel.

I was wrong, thought Amelia. Yesterday was not the worst day of my life.



Mathies stepped out of the elevator onto the fifth floor of Good Samaritan and walked towards the Nurses’ Station. He went over what he was going to say, knowing full well that there was no easy way to break such news to someone. He always had hated doing notifications, delivering bad news and standing uncomfortably while the recipient struggled to comprehend. He knew this notification was going to be particularly difficult.

“Well, hello there Sheriff Mathies. What brings you here this evening?”

He turned towards the voice and saw Marilyn Carter, one of the senior nurses. She was looking at him with an expression of friendly concern.

“I need to speak with Rebecca Jenkins. In private.”

Marilyn’s face fell. She knew exactly what such a request meant.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“There’s been...an incident. I really need to talk to her.”

“I...I’ll go and get her.” She walked down the hall and disappeared around a corner. Mathies waited, feeling more and more uncertain that he would be able to handle this.

Soon he heard the squeak of rubber soled shoes on tile and turned to see Rebecca Jenkins walking towards him with Marilyn following close behind, a look of extreme worry on her careworn face. Rebecca raised her hand in greeting and froze when she saw Mathies expression.

“Mrs. Jenkins,” began Mathies, “I’m terribly sorry to have to tell you this, but...your family...”

Suddenly, as if struck, Rebecca collapsed to the floor. Mathies rushed forward.

“Mrs. Jenkins? Rebecca?”

Marilyn knelt beside Rebecca, trying to awaken her. Mathies knelt down next to Marilyn and looked at Rebecca with deep concern.

“What happened? Will she be all right?”

“Not for awhile,” said Marilyn in a shaky voice. “This was just too much for her. Don’t worry Sheriff Mathies. We’ll take care of her.”

“I...I’ll need to speak with her eventually,” he said, feeling worse with every second.

“I know, Sheriff,” Marilyn said sadly. “I know.”

Two other nurses had rushed to the scene and were staring at Mathies and Rebecca. Marilyn turned to them.

“Well, what the hell are you gawking at? Go get a gurney. We need to get her downstairs. Move!”

The nurses scurried away. Marilyn turned to Mathies.

“I...think its best if you left now, Sheriff. She’s not going to be ready to see you any time soon. You really don’t want to make matters worse, do you?”

I don’t think that’s possible.

“You’re right. Please let me know when she’s ready, will you?”

Marilyn nodded slowly. After one last look at the crumpled figure on the floor, he turned and made his way back to the elevator.



For a long time, Mathies sat in his cruiser, unmoving, the scene in the hospital playing over and over in his mind. He slammed his fist into the steering wheel in frustration and anger.

No one should have to deal with that! No one!

His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. With a feeling a trepidation, he withdrew the phone from his pocket and checked the number. A flood of relief rushed over him and he immediately flipped the phone open and pressed the SEND button.

“Bonnie Lynn Mathies, where in the Hell have you been?! Your mother and I have been worried sick about you!”

Silence.

“Bonnie?”

A low, hoarse chuckle emerged from the other end. It sent chills down Mathies spine. After another moment of silence, a voice he had never heard before spoke.

“I’m sorry, Sheriff, Bonnie can’t come to the phone right now. She’s a little...tied up.”

“Who is this?” asked Mathies in a croaking whisper.

“Oh, I think you know, Sheriff. You’ve been looking for me for quite some time. Almost two weeks, in fact.”

“You—!”

“You didn’t think I was finished now, did you? I’ve got lots more...fun planned.”

“Fun! Because of your ‘fun’ two innocent children are dead!”

“Children? I’ve killed no children, Sheriff. Surely you must be mistaken.”

“A copycat. Another decided to do the same thing, thanks to you!”

The killer chuckled again.

“I see. Someone was inspired. Well, you know what they say: imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“You sick bastard!” Mathies could barely control the fury he felt.

“Tut, tut, Sheriff. Such brash insults hardly become you. You mustn’t...jump to conclusions. Besides, shouldn’t you be concentrating on something else? Dear, sweet little Bonnie.”

Mathies felt as though his veins had suddenly been filled with ice water.

“Where...where is she? What have you done to her?”

“Oh, nothing special. I’ve just been giving her a history lesson. But then again, I don’t really know how she’s faring now. Poorly, I suspect. How long, do you suppose, someone can survive in that state? No food, no water. Nothing but darkness.”

“You—!”

“Let us see how good your investigative skills really are, Sheriff. If you can find her, I won’t stop you from taking her back. If you find her. Focus on that, Sheriff. After all, one’s own family is the most important thing, right? Forget your other cases.”

“I...I can’t do that!”

“Pity. I guess you’re not the father you’ve been made out to be. Poor Bonnie will be so disappointed...if she lives to find out.”

There was silence on the other end. For a moment, Mathies thought the killer had hung up, but then he heard a mocking, sing-song voice.

“My Bonnie lies over the ocean...my Bonnie lies over the sea...my Bonnie lies over the ocean...so bring back my Bonnie to...me.”

Mathies heard one more hoarse chuckle and then the connection was broken. He stared at the phone in his hand, gripping it until his knuckles turned white. After a long moment, the phone fell from his grasp. Slowly, he put his hands to his face and sobbed.

From the shadows of the hospital building, the Sheriff’s grief was visible to the one who delighted in it.

I know you’ll try to find her, Sheriff. You’ll spend your time and effort on that...and maybe on chasing down the “copycat”. You’ll be so occupied with your own tragedy you’ll never see the next one coming.

A cold, cruel smile crossed the killer’s face.

Perfect...

---