Garden of Darkness (26 page)

“I just saw the mayor on the news,” Graham told him. “He’s saying there’s no evidence of foul play and that people suspect Kristin staged her disappearance.”

Alastair sighed and tossed his hat on the couch. “I’d hoped the mayor wouldn’t go public with that statement yet. It’s a little premature.”

“No shit!”

“Watch your mouth.”

Graham didn’t care. “Does this mean nobody’s looking for her anymore?”

“People are still looking.”

His grandfather sounded calm. Too calm, which stirred Graham up even more. “Who? How many?”

“We don’t want men endangering their lives to find someone who isn’t even lost or missing. Some- one who’s trying to pull something over on us and the media.”

“That’s bullshit. Are they afraid to go out there? That’s what I think.”

“Of course they’re afraid. Two people have died in the area. We don’t have the perpetrator—whether it’s animal or human. This isn’t just a missing-persons case. We can’t allow innocent people with no police or tracking experience to wander around in the kill zone. That would be irresponsible.”

“But Kristin could be out there. She
is
out there.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You don’t know she isn’t.”

Where was the logic in his grandfather’s thinking?

Graham looked at him closely, trying to read his expression. “Are
you
afraid?”

Yes.
Something like queasiness—and even guilt— flickered across Alastair’s face. “You are, aren’t you?”

“Everybody’s afraid,” Alastair said. “I wouldn’t let that keep me from trying to find someone if they were lost and needed help. I hope you don’t think that poorly of me.”

“She’s been gone for two days.”

“Graham, I don’t think she’s out there. We’re going to keep looking until we have proof otherwise, but we don’t want the whole community traipsing around in those woods. Come morning we’ll start looking again. We can’t search for her at night.”

Maybe they couldn’t, but Graham knew some- body who could. He grabbed his car keys and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. Just out for a while.”

“I don’t want you to miss any more school. This is an important year.”

How could he even think about that? College had been a pipe dream anyway. He wasn’t getting out of here. He was going to be stuck in Tuonela forever, like everybody else.

It was getting cold; he grabbed his jacket.

How long could a person survive when temperatures were close to freezing? Had she worn any winter clothing? Probably not. She hadn’t struck him as the type to think ahead. She was spontaneous, with no caution in her.

“I’ll be back in a little while.”

He hated lying to his grandfather, but lying had been a big part of his life back when his mother was still alive. It came naturally. You did what you had to do.

For a moment he thought Alastair was going to physically restrain him. He took a step toward him; Graham flinched and raised his arm.

He’d had quite a few years of practicing that move too.

Alastair didn’t hit him or grab him. He suddenly looked sad and old.

Graham didn’t feel connected to his grandfather the way he felt connected to Evan. Even taking into consideration Evan’s weirdness and his new and strange persona. Maybe Graham would eventu- ally connect with Alastair. Of course, if he kept lying to him that would never happen.

“Ten o’clock,” Alastair said. “Be back by ten.”

Graham could see Alastair was just playing along. Pretending life was normal, like everybody else. That back-by-ten kind of stuff didn’t belong in this world. The world of skinned bodies and crazy moms and dads. Tuonela just couldn’t get away from the past. That’s what it was. The whole town was trying to pretend bad things hadn’t really happened, that it was really just a silly, zany carnival ride. Would people ever admit otherwise?

“I’ll be back by ten.”

He left and got in his dad’s returned car.

Low on gas. And he was broke because he’d spent a large chunk of his check on videotape for Kristin.

Would she do that? Fake her own disappearance to create a media buzz? He had to admit the idea was kinda cool.

Fifteen minutes later he pulled up in front of the Manchester house.

He slipped from the car, then paused at the narrow path that led to Old Tuonela.

Was his dad out there excavating like a crazy man? Graham decided to check the house first, circling around back to the kitchen.

He hadn’t seen Evan since the whole baby coffin incident. The impact of that memory brought along a giant wave of doubt. This was probably a bad idea. He had a lot of those.

Inside the house he flipped the wall switch, dowsing the room in a faint red light. “Evan?”

He shouted into the depths of the house: “Evan!”

He heard a crash—like the sound of someone stumbling and blundering around, then heavy footfalls coming from the bowels of the building.

Graham had never been in the basement. He’d opened the door and looked once, but it smelled like mildew and age. Nothing he wanted anything to do with.

Evan appeared at the top of the steps. In his hands he held a dirt-encrusted sword that he leaned in the corner, near the basement door. He paused and blinked owlishly against the dim light, then surged forward to grab Graham by both arms. “Hey, I’m glad to see you.”

Graham was shocked by his father’s appearance.

He shouldn’t have left him out here by himself.

“You’ve lost more weight,” Graham said. “Haven’t you been eating?”

Evan let him go and waved his words away with a weak hand.

He was dirty. His hair looked as if it hadn’t been washed in weeks. He needed to shave, and his eyes were bloodshot.

“What are you doing here?” Evan asked. “I thought you were staying with your grandfather.”

Should he even mention Kristin? Evan wasn’t in any shape to help look for her; that was for damn sure.

“What’s wrong?” Evan prodded.

Graham could see his father’s mind jump ahead, see the panic set in. “Rachel? Is Rachel okay?”

“She’s fine. Or at least, I think she’s fine.”

“Your grandfather?”

“He’s okay.”

“But something isn’t right. I can tell.”

“Yeah, well . . . A friend of mine is in trouble.”

‘What kind of trouble?”

“She disappeared. Vanished into thin air, if you listen to the cops.”

Evan was immediately alert. More like the old Evan. “Where?”

“Aspen Grove.”

“She was a friend of yours?” Evan frowned. “I thought she was from Minneapolis. Some officers were here asking if I’d seen anything. Of course, I’m going to be the first person they suspect.” Just stating a fact.

“I met her at the museum.”

Evan nodded as if to say,
These things happen.
Girls happened in a guy’s life.

There had been a very brief period of time when Graham thought Evan and Rachel would
happen.
But apparently he’d been wrong about that, and now Rachel was going to have a kid.

“There were no signs of foul play,” Graham said.

“But her camera was found, isn’t that right?”

“Yeah. Some people think it’s a scam. A publicity stunt.”

“You don’t?”

Graham shook his head. “I don’t know her very well, but I don’t think she’d do that.” He thought about how she’d almost stolen the videotapes. He hadn’t thought she’d do that either. “I don’t think anybody’s trying very hard to find her. It’s really cold out. And people have been killed. Skinned . . .”

Evan was already moving. Opening drawers, grabbing things like flashlights, a backpack, blankets. He seemed taller and stronger.

The old Evan.

And not.

Because the old Evan had sometimes seemed like two people: one, a quiet and reclusive writer; the other . . . someone forceful and dynamic and fright-eningly intense.

Graham experienced mixed emotions. He was glad somebody was doing something, but he wondered if Evan was the right guy for the job. Evan Stroud in any form didn’t exactly instill confidence.

Graham moved toward the door.

“Stay here,” Evan commanded.

What?
Now
he decided to play dad?

“We could be gone for hours.” He gave Graham a level look. “There’s no telling what we’ll find.”

A skinned body.

That’s what he meant. “I don’t care. I want to come. If you find her, if she’s still alive . . .” His words trailed off.

Evan smiled.

When had Graham last seen him smile? “It wouldn’t be good for her to see a vampire looming over her?”

“Yeah. That’s right. And a familiar face might not hurt either.”

“You’ll need warmer clothes.”

Graham spun around and darted upstairs.

“Gloves! A hat!” Evan shouted from below.

Underneath his concern for Kristin, Graham felt a strange thrum of excitement put in motion by his father’s sudden clarity and the fact that they were doing something massively important together. Father and son.

He forced those selfish emotions down, but they wouldn’t stay.

Was he an adrenaline junkie? He’d heard of people who, after making it through some traumatic event, were unable to live a normal life. They started doing risky things so they could experience that high again.

Downstairs Evan was waiting.

“Aren’t you wearing a hat and gloves?” Graham asked, annoyed that he’d told Graham to dress warmly when he wasn’t doing the same.

“I don’t get cold easily.”

They left the house.

Other than running around the track at school, Graham wasn’t used to doing anything physical. But Evan, for all his weight loss and the dark circles under his eyes, seemed powered by something unknown. They took a straight path to the grove of trees where the first murder had occurred. They made a circle, then stopped in the center of the grove.

Silent.

Still.

Evan made an intense visual sweep of the area. “She’s not here.”

They headed back toward the Manchester house and Old Tuonela. Graham checked his watch. A little after one.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go inside?” Evan asked once they reached the starting point.

Graham was exhausted. His feet and fingers were frozen.

Something brushed his cheek, and it took him a second to realize it was snow. Just a few random flakes.

Graham shook his head. “No. I want to come.”

They went through the gate, then down the narrow path that led to Old Tuonela. Graham’s heart began to slam in his chest, but Evan was in his comfort zone, moving forward as if it were broad daylight.

The flashlight was deliberately dim, and Graham stumbled along behind, determined to keep up.

They walked. Up and down hills. Over streams, ripping their way through dense, tangled vines.

Graham lost track of time and direction, and he began to think Evan had been right: He should have stayed at the house. His legs grew weak, and he trembled inside from cold and exhaustion. Another hour and he wouldn’t make it out under his own steam.

There seemed to be no pattern to Evan’s approach.

Graham had seen stuff on TV about search teams. He knew they were methodical. What his father was doing was totally random, with no plan, no purpose except to walk and keep walking.

There had been many times, as Evan spent the nights digging away for what seemed no real reason other than to keep moving, when Graham had wondered if his dad had obsessive-compulsive disorder. Now he found himself wondering that again. Had his sudden concentrated energy simply been because he now had yet another project he could man-ically throw himself into?

Graham turned away from his thoughts to focus once more on the physical. In his state of fatigue, his ears were doing weird things.

Whispering. A constant
sh,sh,sh
that sounded like a thousand voices. Like faraway conversation. Like being in a crowded train station or theater where you were unaware of the noise until it stopped.

Sh, sh, sh.

He needed to get home. Get some rest. Get warm. Get some sleep.

Had he ever had a good idea in his life? Maybe from now on he should take every idea and do the opposite. Maybe that would work for him.

Graham opened his mouth to say they should go back when Evan stopped dead and put a hand to Graham’s chest. In silent communication, Graham strained to make out the area illuminated by Evan’s dim flashlight.

A splash of color embedded within the gray landscape.

Fabric.

Clothing.

Chapter Forty-two

They hurried toward the splash of color, Evan in the lead and moving surely. Graham followed behind, his legs weak, this time from fear of what they would find.

He wanted to call her name, but the sound caught in his throat.

Evan reached her first. Graham hung back, unable to make himself step closer.

And then came Evan’s next words: “She’s alive.”

Graham let out a weird, shuddering sob and ran to join his father, crashing to his knees beside him.

In the back of his mind, he questioned how Evan had found her when teams of searchers hadn’t been able to. Some kind of primal intuition? He seemed to be plugged into a network the rest of them couldn’t see or feel. Or was it something more sinister? Had he known because he’d been involved in her disappearance?

Graham pushed those thoughts away. Kristin was here. They’d found her. She was alive.

Graham looked at her and recoiled.

Dead.

She was dead.

But then her head turned very slowly.

“What’s wrong with her eyes?”

They looked so weird. Empty. Completely empty.

“Slow pulse. Breathing is shallow,” Evan said. “She’s suffering from hypothermia.”

It was like staring at something dead that was somehow still moving. There was no consciousness behind her eyes. The skin on her cheeks looked like mottled marble. Her lips were blue.

“She isn’t shivering. That’s good, isn’t it?”

“She’s beyond shivering. We have to get her to a hospital so her core temperature can be brought back up.”