Finding answers would have to wait. Natalie and Luke spent the next thirty minutes processing the cabin, searching for proof that Riley had been there recently supplying controlled substances to buyers. After sorting through the rubbish, they collected three marijuana stubs, four empty liquor bottles, two pink pills, an old sock with traces of what looked like marijuana inside of it, and a receipt from a supermarket for a packet of beef jerky and a box of plastic sandwich bags, purchased at 3:22 P.M. on the Wednesday afternoon in question.
Around twilight, they headed down the trail toward their vehicles, while the setting sun cast dying shadows on the pine-needled ground. Luke’s flashlight illuminated the path ahead, laced with faded brown leaves and twigs from last autumn. Natalie stepped on a branch and it crackled loudly. Funny, she’d lived in these woods her entire life, but they still managed to overpower her at times.
They put away their equipment and got in their separate vehicles. “Meet you back at the station,” Luke told her, and took off.
Thirty yards down Drummond Lane, Natalie spotted a homeless woman pushing her shopping cart by the side of the road and pulled over.
Thirty-six-year-old Bunny Jackson wore mismatched layers of clothes she got from local charities. She and Grace had once been close in high school—together with Daisy and Lindsey Wozniak, they’d formed their own coven—but Bunny had subsequently suffered a schizophrenic break in college and was never the same again. Everyone in town cared about Bunny’s well-being, but none of these well-meaning people could convince her to get the help she needed.
Bunny wasn’t looking particularly well today. She had a cold and was thin and jaundiced. Her short hair had gone prematurely white, creating a fine mist around her head. Natalie rolled down her window and said, “Bunny? Can I give you a lift?”
“No, thanks, I’m fine,” she muttered, eyes downcast. She wore that smelly old army jacket year-round. It was her favorite item of clothing. Written on back in gaudy pink and purple sequins was the message: I’VE GOT THIS. Some of the sequins had fallen off, but Bunny never went anywhere without her beloved jacket—winter, spring, summer, or fall.
“You’re a long way from home,” Natalie said, opening her wallet. She took out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to the disoriented woman through the rolled-down window. “Remember me? Natalie?”
Bunny’s face lit up. “Yeah, of course I remember you. You’re Grace’s sister. Sure do. Thanks, Natalie. You’re so kind.”
“When was the last time you ate? Hop in. I’ll take you to the women’s shelter. It’s supposed to get pretty cold tonight.”
“No, I’m okay.” She tucked the money into her jacket pocket.
“Bunny, you’re shivering,” Natalie coaxed. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”
“No, thanks,” she said grumpily.
Bunny rarely ventured this far out of town. The A&P was her favorite haunt. Goodwill came next, then the food banks and the women’s shelter. She refused to stay in one place for very long, because she believed that malevolent forces were chasing her.
Natalie unbuckled her seat belt and stepped out of the car as a ghostly fog rolled in and night descended. “What are you doing way out here?” she tried again. “Collecting cans?”
Bunny’s mouth drew taut. “Those kids are up to no good.”
“Kids?” Natalie repeated quizzically. “What kids?”
“They asked me for a cigarette,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t smoke.”
“Who asked you that?”
“Those damn kids. I’ve seen them out here before.”
“In these woods?” Natalie took a stab. “Heading for the Mummy’s Cabin?”
Bunny shivered and rubbed her arms. “Temperature’s supposed to drop tonight.”
“It’ll be warmer at the women’s shelter.” Natalie made a gesture of reassurance, but she drew abruptly back.
“Don’t.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just concerned, is all.”
Bunny’s eyes lit up. “Guess what, Natalie? I’m getting married.”
“You are?” Natalie had dealt with Bunny’s delusions before, and over time she’d discovered it was best to humor her. Anything less could set her off. “Congratulations.”
“The Devil and me are getting married. See?” She held up a dirty wad of rolled-up newspapers about the size of a baseball. “Here’s my wedding ring.” She unwrapped the sheets of butcher paper and newsprint, letting them flutter to the ground. She peeled off the last stained sheet and displayed a small round rock. She backed away slowly. “He’s watching us now. The Devil.”
“Maybe you should come with me,” Natalie suggested.
Bunny grabbed the greasy handle of her shopping cart and tried to push it away, but the rattling front wheels got stuck in a rut. “The Devil gets inside us. Each and every one of us.”
“Bunny, please…” She snagged her by the army jacket sleeve, not wanting her to run away again—not while she was off her meds and hallucinating about the devil.
“Leave me alone!” The homeless woman tugged herself free and, panicking now, picked up a heavy broken branch from the ground. She brandished it threateningly. “Don’t you come near me! I’m warning you!”
“It’s okay.” Natalie was forced to step back. “I just want you to be safe.”
Stark fear flooded the poor woman’s face. She hurled the dead limb at Natalie’s head, missing by inches, then abandoned her cart and fled into the woods.
“Bunny, wait!” Natalie headed after her, but Bunny was surprisingly nimble, scrambling swiftly through the undergrowth, impervious to the brambles that eventually prevented Natalie from moving forward. “Bunny, hold up!”
Soon she’d vanished into the woods, and Natalie couldn’t help feeling like shit—it was her own stupid fault. She’d practically chased the poor woman into the state park. She thought briefly about calling her contact at the Department of Wetlands and Woodlands, Jimmy Marconi. The New York DWW Forest Rangers were stationed throughout the state, and Natalie had known Jimmy since she was in grade school. She remembered laughing at his bow legs. Forest rangers served as first responders. They protected visitors to the state forests and parks. Their duties were varied, but they were often called upon to assist with search-and-rescue efforts. They’d been trained to administer first aid and CPR. Some of them specialized in climbing and dive rescues. Jimmy and his crew had even searched for some of the Missing Nine.
But that would’ve been an overreaction. You only called the DWW when you’d exhausted all your options. Besides, the social workers and civil rights lawyers had made it clear that not even family members could force the homeless to do what was good for them without violating their autonomy—it was a fine line, legally and socially, and it burned a hole in Natalie’s gut. In short: She could only protect Bunny if Bunny allowed it.
She decided to wait for her anyway. Ten minutes later, just as Natalie was about to give up, she heard a rustling sound in the woods. Bunny returned, shoulders hunched, disheveled and bleeding from scratches to her hands and face. Her eyes in the headlights’ glare were round and drained. She walked up to the driver’s side window and said in a contrite voice, “Can you give me a lift back to town?”
“Yes, of course,” Natalie said, getting out of the car.
“What about my cart?”
“We’ll put it in back.”