Page 41 of A Dark and Stormy Night

During the telling of my story, I had not sensed the gathering darkness. But suddenly it was there, skulking closer. Closer.

Areila was in danger.

I leaned into her face, closer than I had been to any human being for decades. "Death stalks the park tonight."

She bent back. "What?" Then, "Are you okay?"

I didn't have time to explain. She had to leave. Immediately! I allowed my voice to rise to maniacal proportions. "Leave. Run. Escape now. Now!"

She stood as if my demand jerked her on strings like a puppet. "What's wrong? What will you do to me if I stay?"

She thought it was me, that somehow I would hurt her.

There wasn't much time.

I stood. I threw my arms above my head. I shouted. "Leave. Leave now!"

Dread contorted Areila's face. She turned and ran as fast as she could to the end of the walk. She disappeared toward town.

The killer stepped forward, his face crumpled with frustration and rage. He pointed a trembling finger at me. "You interfered. How dare you? You can try, but you are not allowed to interfere. You are not allowed to deprive me of my victims. Go. Go now! You have no place here!"

I wanted to deny him, to say I had every right to save the girl. But his words held the power of blood lust unsated, of hate that devoured, of madness that fed on slaughter.

Like leaves before the winter wind an anger-driven gust of wind blew me away.

I was banished. Gone and yet somehow . . . not released.

The Virtue Falls Library

Thursday night

When the door to the library opened, Kateri looked up from the quilting frame to see Areila Leon walk in looking disheveled, confused and excited.

The chatter died.

Areila hesitated, as women were wont to do when confronted by almost a dozen inquiring gazes, and studiously wiped her feet on the mat.

Lacey barked and danced over, eager to welcome the newcomer and at the same time surreptitiously inspect Areila with her instinctive doggie judgment of character.

Areila knelt beside the soft, girly, blond cocker spaniel and rubbed her ears.

Lacey sniffed and when she was satisfied, leaned against Areila's hip.

The verdict: Areila was a friend.

Kateri put down her needle — she was more than glad for an excuse to quit — and waved. "Areila! Come in and join us."

Areila gave the dog a final pat, hung her yellow puffy coat on the coat rack, and advanced to stand at Mrs. Golobovitch's shoulder.

Tonight they had a diverse and interesting crowd. Areila should know Rainbow Breezewing, the waitress from the Oceanview Café. And she probably knew Sheriff Jacobsen's foster mother, Mrs. Margaret Smith, the ninety-plus year old proprietor of the Virtue Falls Resort. Sheriff Jacobsen's wife, Elizabeth Banner Jacobsen was there, looking uncomfortable — her pregnancy had been fraught with difficulties and she had come to distract herself from her ill health. They had Bette Abrahamson, Gladys McKissick and Rosa Sage, who had driven in together from the county, Emma Royalty, an electrician from Berk Moore's construction crew, Lillie and Tora Keidel, sisters and best friends, and Frances Branyon Salak whose mother lived with her. Frances would do anything for a night away from the old biddy.

Mary Lees was missing. Again.

Kateri ignored the sinking feeling that gave her and told Areila, "Mrs. Golobovitch is the county quilting champion and she's supervising as we piece squares of worn old wedding gowns together. We're going to sell this quilt to raise money for homeless mothers and children."

"Wow." Areila stared agog at the patches of off-white silk, pure-white lace and ornate sparkling beads, then looked around at the old concrete block building. "That's beautiful. I didn't realize you did stuff like this in a library."

"The library is closed tonight, so rather than let the building sit idle, we do this," Kateri said.

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