Кэти Дэйли - The Curse Of Hollister House

“Is Hope in?” I asked the woman at the counter.

“She is, but she is working on quarterly reports today. Can I help you with something?”

“I’m actually just here to say hi and to inquire about volunteering for the Harvest Festival. Can you let her know that Callie Collins is here? And let her know if now isn’t a good time, I can come back.”

“Okay. Please wait here.”

The woman disappeared down a short hallway, entering the office at the end. I looked around while I waited. The little library hadn’t changed all that much in fourteen years. It looked like the walls might have been painted, and the carpet had been replaced with a wood floor, but otherwise, it looked much the same. Hope had been a decade older than me when we’d met, but we seemed to have a lot in common and had become fairly good friends before I left.

“Callie Collins.” Hope held her arms out to me. I stepped into them and accepted her hug. “How have you been?”

“Actually, I’ve been better,” I admitted.

She offered me a look of sympathy. “I heard about your accident. I’m sorry. Why don’t you come back to my office and we can chat?”

“I’d like that.” I followed her down the short hallway. She indicated that I should take a seat across the desk from where she sat, and I did.

“I’m glad you stopped by,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to stop by your aunt’s house to say hi, but…”

“I heard about Tracy. I understand that she was your goddaughter.”

Hope nodded. “Her mother and I were college roommates. Beth came to Foxtail Lake to visit me right around the time you graduated high school and left town. She met Steve, Tracy’s father, and stayed.” She dabbed at the moisture in the corner of her eye. “I just don’t understand how this could have happened. Tracy was such a sweet girl. Why would anyone want to hurt her?”

“Do you remember Stella Steinmetz?” I asked

Hope nodded. “Sure. She was that girl who was found murdered while I was away at college. I’m afraid I don’t remember the specifics; I was busy with my own life then, but I seem to remember you saying during one of our book club discussions that the murdered girl had been your friend.”

“Best friend. And the reason I bring it up now is because Tracy’s death and Stella’s are very similar.”

“How so?”

I explained the similarities, including the claw marks.

“That is odd.” Hope was frowning by this point. I could tell that she was considering the ramifications of what I’d told her. “Do you think the same person who killed Stella killed Tracy?” she finally asked.

I nodded. “I think that might be the case. The fact that the murders occurred twenty years apart would make it seem that the cases couldn’t be connected, but I found a third victim, another twelve-year-old girl on her way home from school, who was found in a shallow grave ten years ago. She didn’t live in Foxtail Lake, but she did live in a town nearby, and her remains also revealed evidence of claw marks.”

Hope leaned forward, resting her forearms on the desk in front of her. She steepled her fingers, tapping them lightly against one another. “So if the same person killed all three girls, how do we prove it? An even better question, how do we figure out who it was?”

“I don’t know. Yet. I’ve been looking into it, and of course, Cass has been working on it. It seems to me that if we can figure out why the specific victims were chosen, we might be able to figure out who would have wanted to kill them.”

“Makes sense.”

“I know quite a bit about Stella. Her habits, her hobbies, her friend and family connections. We were, after all, best friends. I’m here because I hoped you could tell me about Tracy. Maybe if we can find commonalities between the two, we can find a link to the third girl.”

Hope opened her desk drawer and took out a yellow legal pad. “Is it okay if I take notes while we chat?”

I shrugged. “Fine with me.”

Hope wrote down Tracy’s name, and then she sat for a minute drumming her pen on the pad beneath her hand. I waited, figuring she was searching for a place to start.

“Tracy was a friendly and popular girl. She did well in school, had a lot of friends, and participated in several after-school activities, including soccer and dance. She had two half brothers who were much older and never lived with her. She seemed to get along with her parents as well as a twelve-year-old girl can.” Hope paused. “She was artistic. She even had some drawings in a local art show. She was funny, and she smiled a lot. Her eyes sparkled when she laughed. God, I miss her.”

I leaned forward and placed a hand over Hope’s. “I know. I’m sorry. I know it is hard to talk about this. To be honest, I’m not sure that talking about the girls will help, but I feel like I need to do something, and it’s the only thing I can think of.”

Hope took a tissue from her drawer and wiped her eyes. “It’s fine. I agree that if we can find a significant link, that could help us narrow in on the killer.” She looked down at her pad. She wrote the words middle school . “Both Stella and Tracy went to the same middle school. Maybe the killer works there.”

“I had the same thought, though Hillary was killed walking home from a school thirty miles from here.”

Hope rolled her eyes, tapping her pen on her pad. “Okay, what about a substitute teacher? A sub might work for both our middle school and the one in the next town.”

My eyes widened. “That’s good. I hadn’t thought of that. A substitute teacher who has been around for twenty years might be a good lead to follow.”

“Or a support person who might work as a temp for, say, the office or cafeteria.”

“Also good leads.” I leaned back just a bit. “I wonder how we can get a list of people who might meet that criterion.”

“I guess we tell Cass what we figured out and ask him to get the records. Once we have them, I’d be willing to look at them to see if anyone stands out as having a particular link to Tracy.”

“That would be great.” I scooted forward in my chair. “I’ll call you after I talk to Cass. He will want to speak to you as well.”

“I’ll be here or at home.” Hope jotted down a phone number. “This is for my cell. You can call me at this number at any time. Let’s find this lowlife and make him pay for what he did.”

“I’m with you all the way.” I stood up. “By the way, I almost forgot. I seem to have quite a bit of free time on my hands, so I thought I’d volunteer for the annual Harvest Festival. I understand that you are the person to see about that.”

“I am, and I can use all the volunteers I can round up. There is a meeting tomorrow at ten right here in the library for everyone who has offered to help out. We’re on a tight schedule, so by the end of the meeting, I’m hoping that everyone will have their assigned duties. Can you attend?”

“I’ll be here.” I looked at my watch. “Right now, I need to get over to the shelter. I have an appointment with Naomi to talk about a volunteer gig with her as well. But I’ll be here in the morning, ready to do whatever needs to be done.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear. I’ll see you then.”

Chapter 8

Naomi and I might have been close in high school, but she tended to be a friendly extrovert who spent a lot of her time involved in both school and community activities, and I was something of a loner who, other than hanging out with Cass, spent most of my time daydreaming in the attic or practicing the piano. Not that I didn’t have friends, but other than Stella and Cass, I can’t say that I really had many close friends. Naomi was nice enough, and I enjoyed spending time with her during our volunteer hours, but I supposed in my heart I knew I was leaving this sleepy, small town as soon as I was able, so why put a lot of time into cultivating intimate relationships there? I’m sure there were those who would say that I was afraid of bonding with anyone after I lost Stella, and perhaps they’d be right.