A Thousand Yesteryears (21 page)

Memory washed over Caden. “Loneliness. Exhaustion. Confusion.”

“Confusion?” Surprise echoed in Eve’s voice.

“Yeah. Like it was in turmoil or something. I
wanted
it to take off without being seen.”

Eve appeared breathless. “You got that close to it?” her eyes were wide, touched by an unmistakable glimmer of awe. “What was it like?”

“That’s just it. I can’t tell you.” He’d tried countless times to remember. To conjure an image of reaching for the impaled wing…placing his hand on that strange alien flesh and exerting pressure as he ripped the branch free. In his mind, he knew he’d done all those things, yet his memories were nothing more than impressions. The being had cluttered his mind with an outpouring of melancholy and extreme fatigue that had almost reduced him to sobs. It was something he tried not to think about.

“Did you see its face?” Ryan asked. “Its claws? How big was it?”

“I don’t know. Probably around seven feet like everyone says, but all I remember—” He bit off the words, unwilling to recall the wretched gloom he’d felt. He shook his head. “Just…confusion. It was tired.”

“Tired?’

Caden nodded.

As if realizing he wasn’t going to get any further with his interrogation, Ryan blew out a breath. “So you got the branch out of its wing and never told anyone about it.” He had reverted to his cop-neutral tone. “And that’s why it freed you the night the Silver Bridge collapsed.”

Caden stared until Ryan looked away, the answer obvious.

“But no one else saw the Mothman that night.” Katie sounded disappointed, forced to point out the obvious.

“There was a lot of chaos when the bridge fell.” Ryan appeared thoughtful. “I remember hearing about all the birds in the air. People said the bridge collapse upset nature. Some people reported seeing the Mothman, but we’ll never know how many.” He shifted his attention to Caden. “Whether I believe you or not doesn’t matter. However you survived that night, I’m grateful. What I question is the idea of traipsing around the woods looking for the body of Wendy Lynch, a girl who probably ran away.”

Katie sat straighter. “What would you do if it had been Maggie? Wouldn’t you want answers? Wouldn’t you want to know for sure?”

“Katie…” Ryan’s protest was silenced by the determination on her face.

Caden couldn’t blame her. How long had he been tortured by the thought of Maggie’s body at the bottom of the Ohio River, buried in the muck and sediment of an unmarked grave? She’d lain there for six months before being properly laid to rest. Before he was able to weep over her casket and tell her how sorry he was for not protecting her. Katie had no doubt felt the same torture for years, wanting to know what became of her sister.

“I say we do it.” Caden made his decision, directing his next remark to Ryan. “You’ve been scoping out the TNT, looking for clues to Amos’s murder. Do you think it’s a coincidence he died right after Rosie’s house was ransacked?”

Ryan frowned. “What are you suggesting?”

“Exactly what the thing in the igloo wanted Eve and Katie to know—the events are related, and it goes back to what happened fifteen years ago. To whatever it was Maggie saw in the woods.”

“Are you nuts? Amos didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“Maybe, maybe not. What’s it going to hurt to poke around?” Caden sent his brother a challenging grin. “If I’m wrong, you can rub my nose in it for the next fifteen years.”

When Ryan swore softly, Caden knew he had him. Eve and Katie seemed to sense it, too.

“I know where Maggie was when she saw the Mothman,” Eve said. “Near the large sycamore shaped like a woman with legs. I remember how we used to hang out there when we were kids and pretend it was a witch.”

Caden nodded. “It sounds like a plan. Tomorrow night.”

* * * *

The next day as Eve waited for Sarah Sherman to arrive for lunch, Ryan made an unexpected appearance in the lobby of the Parrish Hotel. Dressed in uniform, his dark hair still blessed with the wayward curl of youth, he looked a cross between the childhood friend she remembered and the law officer who’d been evident last night.

“Hi, Eve.” He nodded a greeting before focusing on Katie who stood behind the front desk. “Katie.”

Eve’s friend nodded in return, though her gaze quickly strayed to the guest registrations she sorted. Busy work.

Prior to Ryan’s arrival, the atmosphere had been relaxed, a pleasantness mirrored by the honeyed dusting of sunlight in the lobby. Outside on Main Street, an occasional car passed, offering a visible reminder the older areas of Point Pleasant hadn’t been entirely forsaken by the rerouting of traffic to the new Silver Bridge. Metallic paint, chrome, the glint of a windshield reflecting afternoon rays of sunlight. With a bit of imagination, she could almost visualize the gleaming muscle cars and sleek sedans of yesteryear cruising past, the doors open to a summer breeze as her parents manned the check-in counter, and guests lounged in high-backed rockers on the front porch. But now it was only Ryan’s sheriff’s car outside. Ryan shifted awkwardly as he watched Katie sort through the stack of guest registrations. If Eve didn’t know better, she’d think he was tongue-tied, an odd occurrence for the cavalier boy she remembered.

“Nice to see you, Ryan. I hope this isn’t an official call,” she said.

“Not entirely.” He shook his head, appearing grateful for her comment. “I just got back from the TNT. We found Amos’s car.”

Katie glanced up sharply. “Where?”

“Near the old north power plant off Fairground Road.”

“Didn’t you look there before?” Eve asked.

“We did, but just a quick once-over. The search was concentrated mainly to the areas off Potters Creek Road since that’s where Amos’s body was found. We would have spotted his car if it had been at the power plant.”

“So you’re saying it just turned up?” Katie sounded doubtful. “Out of nowhere?”

“I’m not sure what I’m saying.” He frowned, his brows drawing down over his eyes. “The weird thing is we couldn’t find any tire tracks around it, almost like it had been dumped there. Or dropped.”

“How could that be?” Eve had an inkling but hesitated voicing the thought.

“We’re still trying to figure that out.” Judging by his expression, he was baffled by the anomaly. “The roof was caved in like something had landed on it. Something big.”

She couldn’t resist sharing her suspicion any longer. “The Mothman?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But there have been more sightings.” She wasn’t entirely sure where she stood on Point Pleasant’s infamous monster, but couldn’t ignore the rumor mill that kept the Mothman front and center. “I heard Duncan and Donnie Bradley aren’t the only ones who saw it. When I stopped at the drugstore this morning, the woman behind the counter told me a friend of hers saw it near the public boat launch.”

“I heard that, too,” Katie confirmed. “And Sam said his friend’s sister spotted it near the fairgrounds.”

“Yeah. And a cab driver saw it near the county airport.” Ryan sighed, his expression weary. “I’ve heard all the reports. We’re getting hammered at the sheriff’s office trying to sort legitimate calls from the crazies.”

“So you think some of the reports are true?” Eve asked.

His frown twisted deeper. “What I think doesn’t matter. As a cop, it’s my duty to investigate any claim. Unfortunately, we’ve got a mass of whackos in the mix. Besides, why would the Mothman bother with Amos’s car?”

“Maybe it was trying to help.” The more Eve considered the possibility, the more she believed the likelihood. “It could have dropped the car in a place where it thought it would be found. It helped Caden before. Maybe it isn’t the evil monster everyone thinks.”

Ryan’s expression reflected doubt. “Maybe.” However skeptical, he was apparently too polite to disagree completely.

“Um, look, the reason I’m here…” Fidgeting noticeably, he focused on Katie.

Before he could say anything further, a pair of guests wandered down the stairway into the lobby. Eve recognized them as a married couple who’d checked in the previous afternoon for an overnight reservation—George and Glenda Whitmore. A few hours ago, they’d called down and asked to extend their stay. She’d been more than happy to accommodate them.

“Oh, hello.” Glenda, a skinny redhead who sported a slouchy top à la Jennifer Beals in
Flashdance
approached the desk with a twittering giggle. “Sure hope you can help us. George and I wanted directions to that munitions site. You know…” Glancing over her shoulder, she waved to her husband. “What’s it called again, George?”

“The TNT area. Like dynamite.” George, a thick-chested man with a mullet, scratched at the ridge of light stubble on his chin. “We heard some people in the café yesterday saying the Mothman was back. Thought we’d drive out to that wildlife area and check it out before we head home.”

Eve smiled pleasantly. The Mothman had been a continued draw for tourists to Point Pleasant. Having the legend revived was hardly bad for business. “Where’s home?”

“Gettysburg.”

“I’m not far from there. Harrisburg.” They chatted for a few minutes about familiar landmarks in Pennsylvania, then Eve asked Ryan to supply them with directions to the TNT. She thought about telling the woman she might want to change her cork wedged sandals for sneakers but decided against it. Once the woman got a look at the trails in the TNT, she probably wouldn’t venture from the car.

Ryan shook his head after they left. “I guess we should be grateful for tourist dollars.”

“And the Mothman.” Eve plunked an index finger against his chest. “Now, tell us why you’re here.”

“Oh, um…” He offered a one-shouldered shrug, looking out of his element. “I wanted to apologize to Katie.”

“To me?” Katie blinked in surprise. “What for?”

“Last night.” Another shrug as Ryan worked the words from his tongue. “I know I was belligerent…the whole idea about looking for Wendy’s body. If I came across like a bulldog, it had nothing to do with you.”

Katie plainly hadn’t expected he’d given the matter a passing thought, much less that he’d offer an apology for his behavior. Clearly, he was more than a little smitten with Eve’s friend and apparently didn’t want Katie to think badly of him.

“Uh…thank you.” A flush of color touched Katie’s cheeks. Lowering her eyes self-consciously, she fiddled with the registrations on the counter. Seconds later, a horn blared in the distance, shattering the awkward moment.

“That doesn’t sound remotely official,” Eve pointed out to Ryan, recalling his reference for the visit.

“You’re right. I also wanted to ask about Amos.” Growing confident with a shift to law-enforcement mode, Ryan focused on Katie again. “I’ve talked to Doreen Sue a few times, but she hasn’t been able to shed any light on someone who’d want to kill him. Whoever did it left him with his wallet, two credit cards, and forty-eight dollars in cash.”

“Not a robbery.” Eve had a sense where he was headed. “So you think he knew his killer?”

“It’s a good possibility.”

“A lot of people knew him, but he didn’t have many friends.” Katie’s mouth pinched into a frown. “Mostly drinking buddies. He liked women, alcohol, and shooting pool, and couldn’t be bothered with fishing or hiking. I have no idea why he would have gone to the TNT.”

A touch of sympathy colored Ryan’s gaze. Reaching forward, he laid his hand over hers where it rested on the counter. “Doreen Sue’s better off without him.” The contact lasted only a second before he withdrew. “Amos either met someone at the TNT, or someone jumped him while he was there. We haven’t ruled out a vagrant. Someone passing through who killed for thrills.”

Eve had noted the touch as well as the flush that rose in Katie’s cheeks. “If that was the case, you’d think Amos’s wallet would have been missing.” She studied him openly. “Why not take the spoils?”

“Exactly. Which brings us back to Amos meeting someone. Probably someone he knew.”

“I’ve got another suggestion.” Katie looked uncertain whether or not she should venture the idea. Lowering her eyes, she fingered the registration slips spread out on the counter, then shoved them aside as if arriving at a decision. “If you want my opinion, I think Amos’s death is related to what happened at Rosie’s house.”

Eve raised her hand to her throat. “You mean the vandalism?”

“If that’s what it was. You said someone used black spray paint.”

“Yes. On the second floor.”

Ryan appeared skeptical, waiting for her to continue.

“Amos was out late that night,” she explained. “Sam and I stayed with my mom because she wasn’t feeling well. I remember hearing Amos come in somewhere around three AM. The next morning, I saw his shirt in the laundry room, and it had black paint on it.”

Ryan remained cautious. “It could be a coincidence.”

“No.” Katie shook her head. “Amos was allergic to paint. It did something to his gut and made him sick. He could only stomach it in small amounts, otherwise he’d throw up.”

“There was hardly any spray paint damage,” Eve murmured, recalling the single squiggle on the wall in Aunt Rosie’s dark room. A light bulb flashed on in her head. “What if the person who ransacked the place
was
searching for something?” She built on her friend’s scenario. It was what Caden had been saying all along. “What if the spray paint was an afterthought to make it look like vandalism?”

Ryan drummed his fingers against the counter but said nothing.

“And the person doing the vandalism couldn’t stomach the odor, so they barely used any paint at all.” Katie quickly took up the thread. “They were clumsy with the can because it was something they never used. As a result they—Amos—ended up getting paint on his shirt.”

Drawing a breath, Ryan relented at last. “You two make a good argument, but even if I buy it, it’s still coincidental. And it fails to address the most important issue. The basis of the whole theory.”

Eve titled her head questioningly. “Which is?”

“What was Amos looking for in Rosie’s house?”

The answer hit her like a fist to the gut. “Gray vines.”

Unfortunately, Eve was no closer to understanding the meaning now than when she’d first heard the phrase.