A Thousand Yesteryears (17 page)

Katie swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the notebook in her hands until her knuckles were white. At least she hadn’t suggested Eve be committed to an asylum.

“Why would Mrs. Flynn say my sister is connected?” she asked. “Do you really believe she talks to Maggie?”

Eve hadn’t wanted to go there. “I don’t know, but I’m getting desperate in my attempts to understand what’s happening…how Aunt Rosie was involved. I’m willing to try anything.”

“What about the igloo at the TNT?”

“The what?”

“I’m surprised you don’t remember.” Katie wet her lips as if uncertain how her suggestion would be received. “The bunker where the Mothman was seen.”

“I thought he was seen at the north power plant? Out by the fairgrounds?”

“The first time, but after that he haunted the igloos, too. Don’t you remember how people used to flock to the area?”

Eve hadn’t been to the TNT since she’d returned, but knew the old WWII igloos were recessed in the ground, their domes covered with grass and briars, many crowned by trees. They’d been constructed so the webs of foliage camouflaged them when viewed from the sky should an enemy plane breach US airspace. From what she understood, most were now accessible to the public; a few of the bunkers still housed archaic shells. Caden had told her that occasionally one exploded, prompting the army to close that area of the TNT temporarily.

“What about the igloo?”

“Maybe you can find an answer there.” Katie set her notebook aside, leaning forward to converse more urgently. “Eve, I’m worried about you. Especially after what happened to Amos. What if his murder is connected?”

She bit her lip, a sensation of dread unraveling in her stomach. “I’ve thought of that.” More than she wanted to admit. God forbid if her mother ever learned the details. She’d insist Eve pack up and head home at once.

“Then you need to do whatever is necessary to stay safe,” Katie persisted. “I know Caden and Ryan are looking out for you, but don’t discount the igloo because it sounds silly. A lot of people believe there’s some type of supernatural force or being inside.”

“The Mothman?”

“No, something else.” Katie looked thoughtful. “Connected to the Mothman, perhaps. A few local photographers, including Rosie, have taken shots that clearly show floating orbs.”

“Are we talking ghosts?” The idea that her aunt had participated in what was, for all intents and purposes, a ghost hunt seemed absurd. Aunt Rosie was a free spirit—at least she had been before the Silver Bridge fell—but she’d never been one to embrace superstition or the supernatural.

“Maybe.” Katie twisted the emerald ring on her finger. “I never wanted to examine the idea too closely. All I know is what I’ve heard. If you go inside and ask a question, ‘something’” —she made air quotes with her fingers—”might answer.”

“Did you ever go?”

Katie hesitated. Finally, she nodded. “I asked about Wendy. I never believed she ran away.”

“Did you get an answer?”

“No, but I’m not sorry I made the effort.”

Eve thought back to what she knew of Wendy. The girl had been sixteen when she vanished. She’d taken off once before, only to be brought back by the sheriff. Eve hated to ask, but had to state the obvious.

“What makes you think she didn’t run away?”

Katie frowned. “My sister got in her share of trouble, but she would have told me if that’s what she had planned. The first time she ran away, she confided in me. She said she was going to miss me, but was tired of all the men Mom trotted through the house. Of the way we lived. She said she had to get away. When she disappeared the last time, it was different.
She
was different.”

“How so?”

“She was happy, upbeat. She hinted around about a new boyfriend, but said it was too soon to share the news. The next day she vanished.”

“Did you tell the sheriff that?”

“Of course I did.” Katie waved the notion aside in disgust. “But he’d already made up his mind about Wendy, just like everyone else in town. Sure, he and his deputies made a show of sniffing around and asking questions, but after a few days, they wrote her off as a runaway.”

“Maybe it’s possible she really did take off.” That was a better alternative than thinking something might have happened to her.

Katie sucked on her bottom lip. “She would have tried to contact me by now. A letter or a phone call. Something. I can’t even talk to my mom about her because she’s convinced Wendy ran away, too. So last year I drove to the TNT and stood in that bunker night after night for a period of two weeks, asking the same question—‘Where is my sister?’ If there is something supernatural in the place, it didn’t answer.”

“And you still think I should go?”

Katie shrugged. “What will it hurt? If you buy into the idea Maggie is talking to her mother through dreams, and that your aunt and my sister are connected, why not give it a try? It’s no more bizarre than anything else you’ve said.”

That was the hard, crazy truth. She really had nothing to lose.

As she thought it over, the whir of a vacuum cleaner sprang to life in the hallway. Someone from housekeeping sweeping the carpet. No doubt they’d be poking their head into the ballroom, too.

“I’ll go with you,” Katie offered.

“Seriously?” The thought of having someone tag along made the prospect far more appealing. The TNT had always creeped her out as a kid. She hadn’t been looking forward to venturing there alone, and she certainly couldn’t tell Caden or Ryan. A tentative smile crossed her lips. “You’d really do that?”

Katie nodded. “I know what it feels like to be up against a wall, and I do believe your aunt was hiding something. As much as I loved her, Rosie had secrets.”

“The gray vines.”

“I’d forgotten about that.” Katie laid her hand over Eve’s on the table. “It has to be connected to the notes on your windshield. We need to find out what it means.”

“We?”

Katie smiled. “I think we’re in this together now.”

* * * *

It was dark inside the igloo, the shadows in direct contrast to the afternoon light streaming from beyond the roughly hewn stone walls. Eve crossed the threshold, followed closely by Katie. A dank odor reminiscent of old metal, black earth, and mold greeted them. A shiver ran down her back as she thought of the ammunition once stored there and the contamination that had leached into the ground.

There were legends, too, folklore she’d heard as a child. It was said even George Washington had encountered strange phenomena when surveying these grounds prior to the Revolutionary War. It made her wonder if some ancient power lingered in unseen ley lines that crisscrossed the TNT.

Thankful she’d thought to bring a flashlight, Eve played the beam around the bunker, picking out splotches of graffiti—crudely scrawled names and dates, a reference or two to the Mothman, strange symbols she didn’t recognize. Hopefully, they weren’t satanic in origin. Blown away by the idea of Katie venturing here at night, she turned to her friend, impressed by her courage.

“What do we do?” The eerie hush of the surroundings caused Eve to whisper and sent a string of goose bumps scampering down her arm.

“Ask your question.” Katie spoke just as quietly, as if she, too, was affected by the unnerving silence.

Uneasily, Eve raised her eyes to the darkened dome that arched above their heads. Even with the doors open, there was something claustrophobic about standing inside the bunker. She tried not to think of the creeping, crawling, and slithering things that might be lurking in the corners. Pitching her voice to carry, she addressed whatever manner of creature called the igloo home.

“I need to know about my Aunt Rosie.” Her heart thundered a loud drumbeat in her ears.

No answer.

“A question,” Katie whispered. “You have to ask a question.”

Apparently even in the supernatural realm there were rules. Eve thought for a moment, focusing on the secret everyone seemed to think Aunt Rosie had taken to the grave. “What was my Aunt Rosie hiding?”

Silence reverberated through the dome. She waited, holding her breath, every muscle in her body tensed for flight should some malevolent power suddenly appear.

Katie looked at her wide-eyed. “Try something else.”

Exhaling, she nodded. As creepy as it was, the visit was starting to feel like a waste of time. Did she really think she was going to receive an answer from a disembodied voice in an abandoned World War II ammunitions bunker? Still, she’d been desperate enough to entertain the notion, driving up here and trekking through the woods. She couldn’t back out now.

“Maybe you’re being too specific,” Katie suggested. “Try something more general.”

“Okay.” Eve thought a second, then spoke in a clear voice. “Was my Aunt Rosie hiding something?”

Ten seconds of silence passed. She was about to brand the whole thing useless and suggest they leave when something moved behind her. Spinning, she stumbled backward with a gasp.

“Yes”.

The voice was in her head, a rasping grate like dry wood scraping over pitted stone. The sense of
something
in the igloo grew, a presence that clotted the air and weighted her beneath a heavy shroud. A single glance at Katie revealed her friend felt it, too.

“Did you hear that?” Katie whispered, her eyes enormous in the darkness. “It said ‘yes.’ The answer was in my head.”

“Mine, too.” Her heartbeat ratcheted higher.

“Ask something else. There’s something in here with us.”

A fat slug of fear crawled to life in Eve’s belly. Fresh goose bumps prickled her arms. If she dwelled on the unseen presence for any length of time, she’d end up shrieking and fleeing in terror.

Pretend it’s a Ouija Board…like you used to play with Maggie and Sarah.

Rooted to the spot, she tried to quell the jackhammer thud of her heart. Aunt Rosie had hidden something, taking her secret to the grave. It had to be related to the vandalism.

“Is something hidden in Aunt Rosie’s house? Something related to the secret?”

“Yes.”

The answer came quickly this time, delivered in the same scratchy murmur.

Stifling a mushrooming bubble of terror, Eve forced herself to continue. Not only had the air grown thicker, it had grown colder, too. She feared her teeth would chatter and make her appear more frightened than she was. “Is it still there?”

“Yes.”

Would the being share more than a single word answer? “Can you tell me what it is?”

Silence.

Katie touched her hand, mouthed the words
my sister
.

“Was Aunt Rosie’s secret related to Wendy Lynch?” Eve asked.

“Yes.”

Beside her, Katie made a choked sound and raised a hand to her mouth. “Did my sister run away?” she blurted.

Silence. When it dragged on for ten seconds, Katie nodded to Eve. “You ask it.”

Was it possible only one person could speak to the entity at a time? Dear God,
what
had they summoned? “Did Wendy Lynch run away?”

The silence dragged, all-encompassing, like a weight pressing from above. It built in Eve’s chest, sparking a sickening realization. If Wendy didn’t run away, only a single alternative remained. She hated voicing it, but Katie deserved to know one way or the other. “Is Wendy Lynch alive?”

“No.”

Katie gave a choked cry. “What?” She gripped Eve’s arm, her fingers tightening in hopelessness and fear. “That can’t be.” Panicked, she looked to Eve.

“I’m so sorry. But it explains what you said about Wendy.” She tried to soften the blow. “You said she was different those last few days, excited about her new boyfriend. A person like that doesn’t pick up and run away.”

Katie looked desperate, tears glimmering in her eyes. “Unless that boyfriend asked her to leave with him.”

Eve wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Her friend was shivering, too. “I’m sorry, Katie. I don’t think that’s the case.” The air thinned as if the thing in the bunker prepared to withdraw. The sense of pressure diminished, the air warming with its departure.

“Don’t go,” Eve cried. There was so much more they needed to know. Somehow Aunt Rosie was tied to Wendy Lynch and her death. What had she been hiding? What had she known?

“Was Wendy murdered?” If the girl was no longer living and hadn’t run away, odds were she’d either died accidentally or was killed. Maybe Amos Carter’s death was too fresh in her mind, or maybe she was just traumatized by the thought of speaking to a supernatural entity, but Eve immediately latched onto the uglier possibility.

The air thickened again and an icy finger of cold swirled around Eve’s throat. The silence lasted barely a second.

“Yes.”

At her side, Katie wept softly, one hand pressed to her lips to choke back sobs. Eve tightened her arm around her friend. Aunt Rosie couldn’t have been caught up in something as heinous as murder. “Was my Aunt Rosie involved?”

“No.”

Thank God for that. “Did she witness Wendy’s murder?”

“No.”

She tried to think, unable to fathom what tied the two together. “Did she know Wendy was murdered?”

“No.”

Growing frustrated with the seemingly impossible web being spun, she bit her lip. Katie, at least, seemed to be pulling herself together. She straightened, her eyes watery, but tears no longer falling.

“Eve, maybe it has something to do with Maggie. Wendy disappeared right before Maggie saw the Mothman in the woods. Do you think the two could be connected?”

Had Maggie really seen the Mothman?

Your Aunt Rosie knows.

Somehow all of the events had to be linked. Even Mrs. Flynn had said as much. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of a question that would result in a yes or no answer.

Katie pressed her lips together, looking grimly determined. “Ask it if Maggie saw Wendy’s murder.”

“No
.”

The voice spoke for the first time to Katie’s question. She exchanged a startled glance with Eve. There was no doubt it was a strange experience to ask something of the air and have it answer. Her mind conjured images of the thing they couldn’t see—an extraterrestrial. A demon. A ghost.

More goose bumps rolled down Eve’s spine. “If she didn’t witness Wendy’s murder, how can everything be tied together?”