Page 16 of Confessions of the Dead

“You’re still fading in and out.”

He turned up the volume on his phone and stepped off the sidewalk. The town’s only cell tower was halfway up Mount Washington, and service was sometimes better with line-of-sight.

“I can hear you just fine,” she replied through a wall of static. “Just tell me what happened.”

Matt quickly rattled it all off, his voice picking up steam with each word. When he finished, his gaze was back on the front of the diner. Through one of the broken windows, he could makeout the silhouette of the strange girl; he couldn’t see her face, but he felt her eyes on him.

“Did she give you a name?”

“She hasn’t said a word.”

Ellie Pritchet came from a long line of local law enforcement. Her father had been sheriff before her, her grandfather before him. And while the sheriff’s office was an elected position, for the past twenty-six years, Ellie ran unopposed all terms but one, in 2010. A lawyer from Conway had thrown his hat in the ring, and if rumors were to be believed, he’d received only three votes—his wife’s, his own, and a cousin’s. A Pritchet on the ballot was considered a lock, and nobody since had been willing to suffer the embarrassment of a loss against such a legacy, a legacy coming to an end. Ellie had never married, and at sixty-one years old, any chance of producing an heir was long gone. Most locals considered Matt next in line. He still wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.

A thick roll of static, then Ellie said, “Do you think she was raped? That would explain the missing clothes. She in shock?”

“That was my first thought, too, but I don’t know. Doesn’t seem like shock to me. Breathing is normal. Pupils aren’t dilated …”

“So not drugs, either.”

“I don’t think so,” Matt said. “She doesn’t appear confused or anxious. Aside from not speaking, she seems … normal.”

“Normal people don’t wander the streets in their birthday suits.”

Matt crossed Main Street to the commons. The pump on the large fountain was off for maintenance, but it was still full of water. Dozens of dead birds floated lazily on the surface. Wings spread on some; others folded against their lifeless bodies.

“I’ve found Buck wandering in his skivvies once or twice,” he pointed out.

“I said normal people,” Ellie replied. “She look like a car thief?”

“Why?”

“I’m out on 112 near Lower Falls. Found a red Honda in the ditch. Door open, keys in the ignition, no driver.” She paused for a second, and when she came back, her voice was distant and then grew stronger. Sounded like she had him on speaker and was holding the phone as she walked around the vehicle, raised it back to her mouth. “No real damage to the front end, it rolled into the ditch slow, like it coasted. Manual transmission, stalled out in third. Didn’t run out of juice; still has a half tank. Driver-side window is shattered. No paperwork in the glove box. No tags. I’m thinkin’ a joyride gone bad.”

“She barely looks sixteen. How many teenagers you know who can drive a manual?”

“Good point.”

Matt reached into the fountain water and tentatively poked one of the birds. He pushed it below the surface with his index finger and watched it float back up. His finger came away sticky—the tip had some kind of black residue on it. He rubbed his thumb and index finger together, blackening both. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Do you know of any kind of oil or chemical leak around here? The birds are covered in something.” He looked back at the water. “It’s washing off in the fountain at the commons, staining the water.”

“Staining how?”

“I don’t know. Like black food coloring.”

“Oil is lighter than water, it would float on the surface. Wouldn’t mix.”

Not oil, then.

Ellie clucked her tongue again. “Take your girl over to the station and run her prints. Then tell Sally to try to find someone to take her up to the med center in North Hollow for a rape kit. Best to rule that out. Maybe a blood panel, if she doesn’t starttalking. General once-over. Ask for Dr. Joshi, he’ll know what to do.”

Half the town seemed to be out on Main, taking in the carnage. Most were snapping pictures with their phones; others were staring up into the blue sky. “Do you want me to tape all this off?”

“Birds die, Matt. Get Buck out to help clean up. It’s Sunday, I’m sure he can use the double time. I’ll wrap up here and meet you back at the station. I’m—”

Another rush of static poured from the phone, drowning her out. The call dropped, and when Matt dialed her back, he got voicemail. He wiped his finger on his uniform pants and crossed back over to the diner. The girl stepped aside as he came through the door, folded into the shadows next to the jukebox. Gabby was still at the Lockwoods’ table, patching people up. Matt knelt beside her and kissed the side of her head. “Ellie wants me to take our friend over to the station and wait for her to get back. Are you okay here?”

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