Page 46 of A Dark and Stormy Night

Sirens sounded in the distance.

Kateri arrived, limping and leaning heavily on her walking stick.

She saw me, too. But then, she would.

With their attention captured, no one bothered to notice Walt. But I knew what was happening with him. Areila's blows had broken his nose, cracked his cheek and battered his throat. Blood clogged his breathing passages. His throat was swelling shut, and as it progressed, his struggle for air became progressively more acute. I watched and cheerfully considered how much he deserved this miserable death.

"My girls," he whispered. "You can't take my girls."

That brought the sheriff's attention back to him. "What girls?" Sheriff Jacobsen asked.

"The girls he's murdered," I said.

The sheriff put one finger in his ear as if trying to block the sound of my voice. But I didn't have a voice; he was hearing my thoughts in his head and he liked that even less. Yet he looked at me and answered, "That's impossible. This is a public park. I'm the sheriff. We would know if someone was killing women."

Areila said, "He's the park groundskeeper. He's quiet. He's non-descript. No one notices him. I didn't."

"He can always clean up the mess." With one shaking hand, Kateri pushed the fall of shiny black hair away from her face. "Mary Lees was my friend. I don't believe she would have left Virtue Falls without telling me. I really don't believe she wouldn't return her books first."

The sirens got closer. I could see red and blue lights flashing on the street.

Sheriff Jacobsen fought the truth. But he was a man of the law, a man of honor, and he acknowledged, "Last autumn, we had a tourist who went missing. One of the homeless women has disappeared. And I got a report from the FBI about a girl who ran away from home; they found her car in Virtue Falls Canyon and asked us to keep an eye out for her remains."

Areila made the logical leap and asked the logical question. "When we excavate Frank Vincent's grave — what will we find?"

"Bodies?" Kateri asked hoarsely.

Walt tried to speak, to demand his cache of murdered and mutilated woman remain untouched. But finally, he lost the power of speech, then consciousness.

Sheriff Jacobsen raised his voice. "EMTs needed here!"

Why?This killer deserved to die.

But people ran toward them, yelling. Police officers. Men and women with medical equipment.

I was so angry. I wanted to shout at them. Let. Him. Die.

Something distracted me. The faintest whisper on the wind . . .

Dearest. It sounded like Sofia.

I wrenched my head around.

Dearest, where have you been?

I looked. I couldn't believe it.

It was Sofia, mature, glorious, glowing with beauty and grace. She stood on the other side of the line of consecration, smiling.

Dearest, where have you been? I've been looking for you all my life.

Her voice. In my head. Warm, loving, exactly as I remembered it.

She extended her hand to me.

I didn't think. I didn't hesitate. I moved toward her. I reached for her hand.

I stumbled to a stop, bound by the rules that had governed me for more than seventy long years. I can't. I'm not allowed.

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