Page 44 of A Dark and Stormy Night

That one night Sofia and I shared had been brief and in the end, bitter. Foolish man and careless lover that I am, it never occurred to me she would bear my child.

Areila said aloud what I was thinking. "You're my great-grandfather! That's the connection between us. I know it is!"

If I could have cried tears, I would have cried tears of joy — and of fear.

"Before I told you my suspicions, I wanted some proof. So I called my great-aunt Bea. Aunt Busybody the family calls her. She's a nice lady. Really. But she loves to gossip. I asked her about her sister's mother-in-law, pried really, and she spilled the whole story. She said Grandma Sofia married my great-grandfather, an older man, Facundo Baptista, a widower who already had four kids, and moved to the Yakima Valley. My grandfather was the first child born, six months after they got married, and Aunt Bea said Sofia insisted on naming him Frank Vincent. How about that!" As she told her story, Areila's eyes sparkled. She gestured, waved the shovel, pointed up at the treetops, down at the ground.

Ah. Now I saw the resemblance. She had inherited her exuberance from Sofia.

Areila continued, "The matriarch of the Baptista family was furious, said the child should have a Hispanic name, but Sofia wouldn't budge. Her husband was a cold bastard, and he didn't care what Sofia named her son as long as she put meals on the table, kept the house clean and sent his kids out to work in the orchards."

My darling Sofia had not gone on to make a love match. I was not glad; I had hoped that somehow she would find happiness.

"Aunt Bea said my grandfather, Frank Vincent Baptista, didn't look like anyone in the family. He looked like an Anglo, and the family gossip was that Grandma Sofia was in the family way when she married Facundo, and not from him. I asked if anyone knew who the father was and Aunt Busybody said the rumor claimed that Sofia was involved with a white boy. They had a fight, he joined the Army, deserted even before he went to war and Sofia never heard from him again." Areila took a breath, brought her tone down from that excited pitch, spoke to me warmly, sympathetically. "I think from what you told me —that's you. I think you died here trying to get back to her. I'm pretty sure I am your descendent."

She waited as if she expected me to answer her. And I wanted to. I wanted to so badly. I wanted to weep at the news that I'd left Sofia alone to bear our son. I wanted to turn back time, go to the beach in Virtue Falls and save that woman's life and my own, and return to Sofia.

Instead, I was mute, held by invisible bonds and all too aware of the menace growing behind Areila.

"Sofia and Facundo had two more kids. He died four years later. Sofia inherited the orchards and she tended them while she raised all the kids, his and hers, and got them into college and through college. She never remarried. I knew my great-grandmother. She was an amazing woman. She taught me so much about being independent and proud of my intelligence, and she said that I should follow my dream, whatever it was." Areila's voice caught. "She lived a long life — she outlived Grandpa Frank — and she died only two years ago."

So my darling Sofia was gone. She had moved on. I had given her passion and heartache and a child, and now she was gone from me forever. I had always known that was what had to be. But to face that truth, to know there was no other ending — I gave a wail of pure grief.

Areila looked around, up at the trees, down at the ground. As if she recognized the sound of my sorrow, she spoke in a softer voice. "Before I came here, I went to my great-grandmother's grave. I spoke to Grandma Sofia, told her what I had found, told her where you are and that if my suspicions were right — and we can find out with a simple DNA test — I would bring your remains to her."

I snapped to attention. The killer was close. Pay attention, Areila. Great-Granddaughter, listen for footsteps behind you. Don't be caught unaware!

Blithely she continued her story. "I came back to Virtue Falls and spoke to Sheriff Garik and the librarian, Kateri. I told them what I'd found and that I was sure you were buried back here where it's stuffy and dark." As if she sensed the cold hand of death on her neck, she shrugged restively. "The sheriff was maybe a little skeptical — he said even if we were related it was a far stretch to think I could divine your gravesite. But Kateri stuck up for me, convinced him that it wouldn't hurt to excavate the site, so here we are. I came early because I wanted to talk to you, explain everything. The sheriff is bringing Kateri. Walt, the park grounds keeper, has volunteered to help exhume your body."

No! The killer is here!

Areila glanced at her watch. "They should be along at any minute."

The sun was setting. One beam broke through the clouds, penetrated the branches and I saw it — the glittering sharpened point of the pickax raised high above her.

The killer brought it down with all his might.

I leaped.

My palm smacked the wooden handle.

The thump resonated through the grove.

Areila turned. Even as my grip dissolved, even as the handle slipped through it, she saw the threat. Without hesitation, she lifted the shovel and smacked Walt on the side of the head.

The gray metal clanged against his skull. He stumbled sideways. But nothing could dim the light of murder and madness that twisted his face. He lunged again.

She gripped the shovel with both hands and drove the edge toward his face. It broke his nose, slid off his cheek, opened a bloody gash that exposed the bone.

He gave a shriek of pain and surprise.

God, that noise did my long-silent heart good.

He swung the pickax sideways.

But the shovel's handle was longer and Areila didn't give up her advantage. She hit him again with the sharp, shiny edge, right on the center of his throat.

Gagging, he fell backward onto the ground. He put his hand to his throat, to his face, and looked at his bloody fingers as if he couldn't believe she had done this to him. He gave another shriek. "Bitch. You bitch! How dare you! You and your great-grandfather. I'll kill you!"

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