Heather Graham - The Hexed

“This is Agent Rockwell.”

Sometimes the handsome cop was the killer, she reminded herself.

“I asked Detective Grail to make sure that an officer was posted outside your house tonight.”

She found her voice. It was a squeak. “You think—you think he’s still out there?”

“Frankly, no. Whoever this is, he carefully stalks and kills his victims. It’s very possible he gets to know them, one reason why Carly Henderson might have left willingly with him, and why the victim you discovered may have stood unsuspectingly with her back to him.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything, just waited for him to go on.

“I think you’re fine—I promise. But I thought you might be nervous, and that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a patrol car in front of your house.”

“Thank you.”

She walked to the window, pulled the drapes and looked out. There was a patrol car, bearing Salem’s famous witch logo on the door.

“Thank you,” she repeated.

“Have the best night you can,” he told her, and hung up.

There was something she liked about his words, she realized. He hadn’t said anything inane like Have a good night.

No. He’d said, Have the best night you can.

She’d barely noticed anything about him earlier, but now memory kicked in.

The man was tall and well built, though it was hard to really tell what lay beneath the suit. He’d looked strong. A good man to have around when a murderer might still be lurking in the woods nearby.

Unless he was the murderer.

Oh, God, her imagination was making her crazy.

She hovered by the computer a while longer and then rose at last. She was too nervous to undress for bed. She turned out her bedroom light but left the other lights in the cottage on.

Sensible, she thought. She could see out, no one could see into her room.

She was finally beginning to drift off to sleep when her half-closed eyes turned toward the bedroom door.

Maybe she was asleep already. Dreaming. She could swear she saw Aunt Mina there with her delightfully rosy cheeks and her long white hair rolled into a bun.

“Sleep, my little darling, I’m here,” her aunt said.

And Devin managed to fall into a real sleep at last.

* * *

“Are you two ever calling it quits and going to sleep?”

Rocky looked up. He and Jack had spent the past several hours poring over everything they knew about Melissa’s murder, and the murders of Carly Henderson and the as-yet-unidentified woman whose body had been found that night.

The question had come from Haley—Haley Grail, Jack’s wife.

Haley, too, had aged well. She’d gone from being a cheerleader to a dance instructor. She and Jack had married five years ago. They had one child, a toddler son named Jack, after his father, and called Jackie.

Haley had been pleased to see him, genuinely pleased. Not surprising. They’d parted as friends. Tonight she had her pretty blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and was wearing sweats.

“Wow, I didn’t realize how late it was. Sorry,” Rocky said, rising. “My fault. I drove back into town and into a murder. And with the similarities to Melissa’s death, well...”

“It’s not all your fault,” Haley said. “Jack has been obsessed, as well.” She looked at her husband affectionately. “And I understand. You have to remember, Melissa was my good friend back then.” She straightened and went into parental mode. “But you two, if you’re going to be worth anything to anyone tomorrow, should get some sleep.” She smiled at them even as she nodded firmly. But then her smile faded. “He’s back, isn’t he?”

“Haley, we really don’t know—” Jack said.

“He’s back. The Pentagram Killer is back,” she said.

Rocky looked at Jack. He hadn’t known they’d given a nickname to the man who’d killed Melissa.

Jack shrugged. “You never heard that?”

“I never knew the news about the pentagram was out there,” Rocky said.

“It’s not. That’s just between us. Those of us who were there.” He stopped, flushing. “Of course, Haley and Vince and Renee and I have talked over the years. I guess we didn’t start using the nickname until after you went to college. It’s just between us. You never heard the term because...you were gone, and once your mom moved...you never came back. The kids growing up around here just call him the Backwoods Slasher. I think I heard it first at Salem College, where I wound up going. You know how urban legends start. In the dorm hallways people would see the ghost of Melissa, her throat red and bleeding, and she’d say, ‘Help me.’ When kids went parking out by the woods, they were warned to beware of the Backwoods Slasher.”

Rocky knew all about urban legends and ghost stories.

It was just different when you’d been there. When you’d really seen a woman lying dead in the dirt, a necklace of red around her throat.

When you’d really heard the words from somewhere in your mind.

Help me!

And when you’d completely failed to do so.

“Haley, that was thirteen years ago,” Rocky said. “We don’t know what’s going on here yet. We will find out this time, though.”

She smiled at him. “I know you will,” she said. “Meanwhile, you know you’re welcome to stay here. We have a little room behind Jackie’s. It’s yours, so long as you don’t mind tripping over Legos now and then.”

“That’s nice of you, Haley,” he said. “Thank you. But I’m at the new hotel on Derby Street. I’m okay. And now it’s time for me to go.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Jack told him.

As they headed to the car, Jack said, “Hell, you even look like a fed. Black suit, perfect tie.”

Rocky laughed. “And you look like a detective.”

“Oh, yeah, how’s that?”

“Nondescript,” Rocky teased. “I’m joking, of course. You look good. I’m sure you can still ‘go long.’”

“It’s softball for me these days,” Jack told him. “I’m a damned good first baseman.” He hesitated. “Vince is on the team, too. You can imagine what that’s like. When he hits the ball...well, if he gets a piece of it, we’re all rounding the bases.”

“I have no problem believing that. How’s the rest of our old gang?” he asked, then added softly, “You and Haley are married. What about Renee?”

“Renee is the eternal cheerleader—she’s coaching now. Obviously Vince is still in town, too. Believe it or not, he’s running for city council. He became an attorney,” Jack told him.

Rocky laughed. “Well, hell—Vince is going to show us both up. Good for him.”

Jack was thoughtful for a moment. “It changed us, you know? Melissa changed us. We were all cutups—except for you. But...maybe we realized how short life could be. I don’t know. But after the night she was found...after the grief counselors came to school...and after watching...waiting... for something horrible to happen again. I don’t know. We changed. Actually, I thought about you a lot. You could have done anything. With your grades, you had it all made. But all you wanted was to be a cop. Like your dad.”

“Did it have anything to do with wanting to solve Melissa’s case?” Rocky asked. “You deciding to become a cop?”

Jack shrugged. “Maybe. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Rocky admitted.

“And you walked right into another murder.”

“Technically, I was driving. Miss Lyle walked into the murder—or sort of, anyway.”

“How do you figure that?” Jack asked him.

“That she sort of walked into a murder?”

“Yeah.”

“She said she heard something. But according to the medical examiner, the woman was killed around five, and Miss Lyle didn’t even get home until it was at least six. By then...who knows what she heard. I’m going to talk to her again tomorrow—with your permission, of course.”