Riggs skimmed the list of classmates staying at the inn while Stone drove, scrutinizing each name as a potential suspect. He tried to place faces with those who’d attended the meeting the night before, but over the years, classmates had aged and changed in appearance.
Stone parked in front of the abandoned lodge, which was set off the road on a scenic ridge near the top of Bear Mountain. The place had once catered to hunters and fishermen in the summers and skiers in the winter.
A rusted black pickup was parked to the side, beneath a sagging carport with a metal roof. The paint on the wood lodge walls was chipped and muddy, the windows cracked, the awning on the front hanging askew as if a storm had ripped it from the roof.
“Stay here,” Stone told him. “If Billy’s inside, he might be armed.”
Riggs grunted. “I’ll back you up.”
Stone gave him a stern look. “Keep behind me and be a lookout. I don’t want you getting shot on my watch.”
“Can’t say as I’d like that, either,” Riggs said with a wry chuckle.
Stone gripped his service revolver as he climbed from the police car.
As Riggs approached the deserted run-down building, he wished he had a damn gun. But carrying a weapon seemed counterintuitive to his job.
Riggs scanned the front of the building for signs someone was around. A curtain slid to the side in the room on the end. “Last room,” he told Stone.
Stone lowered his gun to his side but held it at the ready. Together they strode up to the door, and Stone knocked. “Sheriff Lawson, open up!”
A screeching noise erupted from the rear. Then a window opened and a man crawled through it.
“He’s running,” Riggs yelled to Stone. “Side window.”
Stone signaled Riggs to stay back and then eased toward the right. Riggs inched down the steps and darted behind a live oak flanking the driveway. The man dropped to the ground, hunched like a wild animal about to pounce.
Not Billy. But Billy’s old buddy, Woody Mathis. Dressed in tattered clothing and muddy boots, with several days of beard growth on his face, he looked as if he hadn’t seen a shower or a hot meal in days. His eyes appeared glassy, glazed over from drug use.
“Stop!” Stone shouted.
Woody hesitated then cursed and aimed his gun at Stone.
“Put it down, Woody,” Stone ordered.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Woody darted for the woods behind the lodge. But he must have decided escaping on foot was futile, so he turned and dashed toward the pickup.
Riggs couldn’t let him escape. Stone crept forward, gun still braced, but Woody pivoted and fired a shot. His hand unsteady, the bullet hit the dirt at Stone’s feet.
Stone threw up a warning hand. “Woody, don’t do this.”
Woody shouted a curse and reached for the pickup’s door handle. He obviously didn’t intend to turn himself in.
With Woody focused on Stone, Riggs took advantage, left the cover of the oak and jumped Woody from behind, knocking his gun to the ground.
An image of Kate’s face haunted him as Riggs slammed Woody up against the truck and jerked his arms behind him. “Did you mess with Kate McKendrick’s car?”
Stone jogged up to them, pulled his handcuffs from his belt and gestured for Riggs to let him handle the situation.
Instead, Riggs tightened his hold. He wanted answers. “Did you?”
“I told you I didn’t do nothing,” Woody said in a shaky voice.
“Then why the hell did you run?” Riggs growled.
RIGGS’S REMINDER ABOUT the security system taunted Kate as she parked at the school. She’d felt safe in her new house until that note and the fire. Now, she wondered if she was being stalked. Watched at school and at home.
The redbrick school, built in the fifties, had served the community for decades. Classrooms were held in four different buildings, one breezeway connecting them, another one leading to the gymnasium. At one time, the school had added overflow trailers to the mix because of the increasing population in Briar Ridge, but they had sat empty since the school shooting. So many families had left Briar Ridge because of the trauma and the national publicity had kept others from moving to town.
The plans for the new building were a different layout with everything housed in one building. There was only one main entrance, which would be locked during the day for security reasons. She hoped that would soothe parents’ concerns and that the new football field and stands would be a draw.
Two teachers’ cars sat in the lot along with the custodian’s truck. Although the teachers had worked in advance to clean out their classrooms, clearing the entire building of everything that needed to be moved was a major undertaking. The county superintendent of schools had hired a crew to transfer furniture, kitchen equipment, desks and chairs, bulletin boards and other large items. Kate wished they could afford brand-new furnishings for the new building, but the budget wouldn’t allow it.
She slipped into her office and spent a couple of hours cleaning out files, discarding papers and other expendable items. Then she packed some paperwork to take home.
For a moment, nostalgia wrapped her in its sentimental folds like a warm blanket. She ran her hand over the scarred wooden surface of her desk. The oak piece had belonged to her mother when she’d taught at Briar Ridge High. It was so special, Kate couldn’t bear to part with it.
After her mother died, Kate had moved the desk to her house. The place where her mother had once sat had served as a constant reminder of her strength, patience and positive attitude while Kate studied for her teaching degree and then her Masters.
The same desk and memories would travel with her during the next phase into the new building.
Another wave of nostalgia washed over Kate as she packed the photographs on the wall in her office. There were several of her mother, staff members and teachers, along pictures of Kate when she was a little girl. An eight-by-ten of her and her mother Kate’s freshman year at Briar Ridge, all pigtails, braces and pudgy awkwardness, resurrected a bittersweet memory.
One of the mean girls had teased her about her weight. After school, her mother had taken her to the bookstore, and they’d come home with a bag of magazines. Together they’d looked at photos of women in all sizes, shapes, colors and nationalities, Kate’s mother pointing out the beauty in each of the women. That day Kate had learned to love her body image and ignore kids who didn’t appreciate people’s uniqueness.
Unlike Brynn’s mother, Kate’s had embraced individuality and taught Kate to look beneath the surface. Her mother had also been one of the first in town to advocate for the immigrants who’d moved to Briar Ridge.
She hadn’t deserved to die.
Kate sucked in a pain-filled breath. Sometimes, out of the blue, the grief still swept over her in horrific waves.
Leaning forward, hands on her knees, she inhaled deep breaths to ward off her emotions.
Finally regaining her equilibrium, she pressed a kiss to her fingers and touched her mother’s face in the photograph. “You told me to make something good happen. I’m trying, Mama. I want you to know that and to be proud.”
The sunlight flickering through the window reminded her of the time, and she checked the parking lot. The teachers’ cars were gone, but Jimmy’s truck was parked in its spot. He’d worked at the school for over twenty-five years and never failed to do whatever she asked with a smile.
Suddenly the building felt cold and empty. The halls, normally filled with students’ and teachers’ laughter and chatter, echoed with an eerie quiet.
Anxious to leave, Kate spent another hour downloading files onto her laptop. Just as she finished, a noise startled her. Voices? Footsteps? Students or alumni stopping by for a last look before demolition?
She packed the laptop and other files in her computer bag then headed to the door. Her shoes clicked on the tiled floor as she left her carpeted office and walked across the entryway. The faces of past students swam behind her eyes, their voices echoing in her head. Memories of the first day of school, of pep rallies, debating competitions, science fairs and school dances made the building come alive with hope.
The wind rocked the trees and dark clouds cast a gray fog over the parking lot.
The moment she stepped outdoors, she stopped short, a cold chill ripping through her. The gym, attached to the main building via a breezeway, faced the drive. Across the cement wall in front of her, graffitied in large, blood-red paint:
Leave the Past Alone or Die!
“IS BILLY HODGKINS with you?” Riggs asked Woody as Stone pushed the man toward his police car.
“I ain’t got nothing to say,” Woody snarled. “I want a lawyer.”
Riggs rubbed the back of his neck in frustration while Stone’s expression never wavered. But his look indicated he would make Woody talk.
“Anyone else staying in the lodge?” Stone asked.
Woody shrugged, his face pasty white.
“Stay here with him.” Stone angled his head so Woody couldn’t hear him. “And don’t touch him, Riggs. The last thing we need is a lawsuit. A jail cell and a few hours without a drink or whatever drug he’s on will likely loosen his tongue.”
Riggs gave a slight nod.
After Stone secured Woody in the back seat of his squad car, Stone went to see if he could dig up the bullet casings to send to the lab. Riggs leaned closer to the car window and pinned Woody with an intimidating look.
“Did you come back to town for the reunion?” Riggs asked.
Woody cut his eyes to Riggs. “I ain’t never left.”
Riggs frowned. He hadn’t seen Woody around town, but they didn’t exactly hang around in the same circles or frequent the same places. Riggs went to work then home and hung out with the other men in his firehouse. Woody probably frequented the bars and places where he could score drugs.
“Were you at the meeting last night?”
Woody’s jaw tightened and he looked down at his lap. Scrapes marred his knuckles and his thumbnail was bloody. Either he worked with his hands or he’d messed with Kate’s car.
“How’d your hands get beat up?”
“Construction job,” Woody mumbled.
Possibly. “How do you feel about the old school being torn down?”
“I don’t give a flip,” Woody mumbled. “Ain’t got nothin’ to do with me.”
Riggs made a low sound in his throat. Was Woody spouting off what he thought Riggs wanted to hear or was he telling the truth? “What about Kate McKendrick?”
A snarl curled Woody’s lips then he whistled. “She’s got a nice rack on her.”
Riggs balled his hands into fists to keep from slugging the jerk. “I meant do you support her plans for the new school?”
“I told you I don’t care one way or the other. I ain’t got kids.”
Riggs mulled that statement over. Woody didn’t appear to be the political, sentimental or family type. His biggest concern was probably where he’d get his next fix.
“This is no joke, Woody. Did you tamper with Kate’s car?”
Woody raised two bushy eyebrows. “You serious? Someone tried to kill her?”
“Did you mess with her car?” Riggs said between clenched teeth.
The sound of Stone’s footprints echoed across the gravel. His expression looked worried as he approached. Riggs expected a verbal chastising from Stone for questioning Woody while he was gone.
Woody looked up, fake innocence written on his face as Stone joined them. “I want a lawyer.”
Before Riggs could speak, Stone climbed in on the driver’s side. “A call just came in. We need to go.”
Riggs tensed at Stone’s tone then slid into the front passenger side. “What’s wrong?”
Stone fired up the engine. “Kate called. Someone painted a threatening message on the school wall.”
HE HOVERED IN THE SHADOWS of the wooded area by the school and smiled at the look of fear on Kate McKendrick’s face as she studied his message.
She should be afraid.
The witch had stirred up old hurts and secrets no one even knew existed.
Ned Hodgkins had been troubled. A loner. A kid who’d been bullied by his classmates and invisible to the people who should have helped him.
Ned had ruined lives seeking revenge against those who’d wronged him.
He understood the need for revenge.
Only he didn’t want the limelight or attention.
He wanted the opposite. To go unnoticed. To fade into the woodwork until he could escape this god-awful town.
But Kate was dredging it all up. Opening painful wounds that would never heal, reminding everyone that Ned might not have acted alone. Raising questions as to Ned’s motive and if there were secrets that hadn’t yet been exposed.
Of course there were.
There was more to the story than anyone suspected.
Secrets he did not want revealed.
Kate moved closer to study the message on the wall, and adrenaline spiked his blood.
The message was intended as a warning.
He raised the match he held in his hand, struck it and watched the flame burst to life. It sizzled and burned, the hiss of the tiny blaze a balm to his tattered soul. He’d always liked fire, ever since he was a little boy and had hidden in the shadows to watch his mother light her cigarette.
The beauty of the flames eating the matchstick excited him the way nothing else ever had.
If Kate didn’t leave the past alone, she’d find out what it was like to feel the heat of the flame against her skin. To watch her precious life go up in flames just like the match between his fingers.