Griffin cursed, wondering how the day had gone so quickly.
It wasn’t dark; darkness was still more than an hour away.
But here, around the Quabbin, the towering trees created shadowed canopies that seemed to rule even the light of day.
It was easy enough to find the road, and then the crossroad, where Devin and Vickie had been headed.
Griffin was in front, running, leaving Rocky to organize, to meet up with the others, to follow as silently as they could, lest they be seen, lest their arrival cause the high priest to demand instant sacrifice from those who served him.
It was a terrible, anguishing dilemma. They had to be so careful.
He followed what remained of the road; it disappeared into the trees.
He could hear a rush of water, and the thought that they were very near the reservoir, or one of the little streams leading to it.
The road was gone, but it seemed that a path remained. He hurried—as quietly as he could—along the path. And then he nearly tripped over a body.
He dropped down on his knees.
Yes, a body, lying prone on the pine needles. Griffin hunkered down, quickly trying to ascertain if the person was dead or alive.
It was a man. He quickly realized that it was Isaac Sherman.
Griffin felt for a pulse. The others were behind him, but Isaac seemed to need help—now. He’d been bashed hard on the head.
Blood dripped down his forehead.
He pulled out his phone, praying it worked out here. A signal! He spoke rapidly.
“Rocky, we need an ambulance, now. Someone has bashed Isaac Sherman on the head. He’s here on the trail. I’m going to keep moving forward.”
“Got it,” Rocky said. “Go.”
Griffin hesitated, moving away. “Are you close?”
“Yes.”
“Stay ahead of the med techs and others. I don’t know what’s going on. I believe that there might be someone following behind me. Keep close.”
“Gotcha.”
Griffin checked Isaac’s airway; the man was breathing on his own. He stayed hunkered down, trying to figure out how the hell he’d wound up where he was, beaten down on the path. The forest created such a strange darkness.
And finally, against the brush and the rocks and the shadows, Griffin saw a shape.
He drew his gun, and pointed it. “Get up, now. Show yourself.”
The shape began to rise. Slowly. And then he saw that it did, indeed, have human form.
“It’s not what you think. I didn’t do that,” the shape said. “I’ve been hiding. They used me. They knew that...that I wanted Jehovah so badly. I didn’t do it... I didn’t hurt that man. I didn’t want to be in the truck.”
It was Milton Hanson walking toward him. He was carrying a massive branch; Griffin couldn’t tell if it did or didn’t have blood on it.
“Drop it!” he told the man.
Hanson did. And, as he did, someone rushed through the trees, moving with strength and fury, coming straight at Griffin.
* * *
Vickie was so relieved that she began shaking.
She couldn’t let the girl see her shake. But Carly came back to where Vickie waited, wearing her red cloak and conical hat and mask.
Once in the trees, she began to divest herself of it as quickly as she could.
“Never, oh, God, never, never do I want to have this on me again! I don’t know why I believed. It was the stuff he gave us. It was so good and I was so happy here, for a while.”
“It doesn’t matter now. Go—just go. Quickly. Help is coming, really. They can’t be more than fifteen or twenty minutes behind me. Head out, head toward Route 9. Do you understand me?” Vickie asked her.
The girl nodded vigorously.
She impulsively hugged Vickie.
Then she turned and ran.
Vickie struggled quickly into the red outfit, making sure that her conical hat was on properly and that it allowed for the scarf-like face mask to fall well and conceal her face.
A mirror would have helped! she thought.
Then again, a nice big gun would have helped more!
She straightened herself and her clothing.
Then she walked out from her hiding place in the trees, straight toward the sacrificial table.
* * *
Griffin didn’t want to shoot; the sound would alert anyone nearby that someone with firepower was in the woods.
So he stepped aside, and the blurry figure coming at him pitched headfirst into one of the trees behind him before falling prone, jumping up, trying for Griffin again.
Easily enough, Griffin caught him by the shoulders, dragged him up and nearly belted him in the jaw.
“You!” Charlie Oakley gasped.
There was a rush of sound behind them.
Milton Hanson was trying to escape. Griffin rushed after him, tackled him and brought him down to the ground.
“That bastard! He was in the woods ahead of us! He attacked Isaac,” Charlie said.
“No!”
Milton Hanson was beneath Griffin then, protesting. “No, no, you don’t understand. They kidnapped me. They seized me when I was hiking through the woods. They threw me in a cell. Oh, Lord! It’s still there. The Mariana Institute is there—the asylum! From the 1800s! That’s how no one knows...because no one goes there. The woods here, so dense...” He broke off. “I swear to you, I swear to you. I was kidnapped! I was taken. He’s going for anyone—anyone at all who might be able to figure out Ezekiel Martin’s rite or message or whatever...to find Jehovah!”
Griffin looked back. Charlie Oakley leaned against a tree, panting.
Griffin reached into his pocket for a set of plastic zip-tie cuffs; he put them on Milton Hanson.
He pulled out his phone, but this time he couldn’t get a signal.
Rocky would figure out where he was.
“Where is it?” he demanded, the rage and urgency in his voice enough to make Hanson flinch.
“That way. Keep following. It winds... They used me! They put me in the car on purpose. You were supposed to see me, I think, and kill me. Satan...he’s Satan. You have to see him. I don’t know who, I just know that...”
Griffin left Hanson cuffed and lying on the path. He turned around, but Charlie Oakley was already gone.
Griffin kept moving forward, dodging here and there, trying to ascertain just what was part of the path and what winding trail took him farther away.
Then he nearly tripped over another body.
He bent down.
It was a man. Another man. He felt for a pulse...yes. Slight.
He rose. He had to leave the man. No choice. He had to pray that Rocky and Devin and EMT help would reach him in time, as well.
He knew the killer.
And he knew he had to hurry.
* * *
The first thing she had to do, Vickie reckoned, was get Helena and Alex off the table.
They were both so weak...
She wasn’t at all sure how she was going to manage such a task. But, of course, Milton Hanson was back on the ground somewhere. Nothing could happen until he showed up. Their grand master, high priest or head man—whatever!
And still, she felt the frantic urge to get them out of there.
She thought desperately, and then she raised her arms high and started walking straight out into the middle of the clearing, toward the table.
She thought of all the Latin she had learned in church when she’d been young—and she thought of the spattering of languages she’d learned during her years of study.
She wasn’t really sure what she said.
She tried to make it sound as if she was preparing the two people for a grand offering.
She was pretty sure that what she was really saying had to do with buying chicken soup and bread in the market.
Nevertheless...
She’d gambled well. People, clad in their similar red robes, were milling about, preparing to come out for the rite. Three...four...seven. She counted about eight young men and women, and she was quite certain that more were in the building.
Help was coming; she held on to the idea that help was coming.
She made her way around the table. She stood behind it. She kept up with her flow of Latin, staring at the man who was behind the table, the one who had the knife.
She reached for the knife.
To her tremendous relief, he handed it to her.
She raised it over Helena and Alex. She kept up with a dramatic flow of babble.
She was pretty sure she was asking where to find the train for Rome at that point.
She saw that Alex was staring up at her. His expression was troubled and bewildered at first; then it was incredulous.
Alex had figured it out. Alex knew it was her.
She nodded slightly. “Si deve andare!” she said, using contemporary Italian to tell him that he must go.
But with his eyes, Alex indicated Helena. He wasn’t going anywhere without her.
Vickie nodded again.
Once more, she raised her voice. She made a massive display, waving the knife around over the two of them, and then she began to chant.
“Arise! Arise! Arise!”
She knew that it took every ounce of strength in Alex, but he rose. And, as he did so, he caught Helena’s arms, so that they seemed to rise together.
“Arise and go before us. Go into the forest. Go! And as he commands, see to the pleasures of the flesh, open the way for these, his faithful!” She had no idea what she was saying then, but it seemed she needed something for them to be doing.
The way the two stumbled, she thought, hot Satanic sex was probably out of the question, but she was pretty sure that wanton fornicating was probably part of the rich rewards promised, and sending the two of them off as if they were an evil Adam and Eve might just be the ticket.
She kept talking. She watched them go.
They staggered away.
“The time is coming! Take this time! Find what you will! Find who you will!”
* * *
Griffin’s phone was on vibrate; he caught it the minute it started to buzz in his pocket, looking up and silently thanking God that, somehow, the satellites in the sky were being kind—and they had phone service.
He answered in a whisper.
“We’ve caught a few men,” Rocky told him. “They were sent back to make sure that the men who were attacked along the way were dead.”
“You still close?”
“On your tail. Wendell Harper is just behind with his men. Those who need it are getting medical attention.”
“I’m almost there. I’m moving fast.”
“I’ve got your back.”
Griffin hung up.
He was ready...
Griffin looked to the sky again.
He prayed he was in time. He turned his focus before him, wishing that the forest wasn’t so thick—that there weren’t different ways to go.
Then he saw her again.
The beautiful blonde woman who seemed so sad.
She beckoned to him.
Griffin began to move through the trails again, following her as quickly as he could.
* * *
Vickie tried to figure out how to make her own getaway. She kept talking, switching from Latin—My, what a beautiful cat you have!—to English. “Follow in his ways, do what thou will! Follow, frolic, taste the pleasures of this earth!”
She stopped talking. One of the figures was coming toward her, head bowed.
He was followed by three others. Two went to Vickie’s left side. One went to her right.
She gripped the knife hilt tight in her hands.
The one red-clad figure was just across the garden table altar from her; he raised his head.
Satan!
He wore a mask. A ram’s head mask.
As if he were, indeed, a fallen angel, the embodiment of all evil.
Milton Hanson had been in the passenger’s seat of the truck that had hit them; this man—or at least a man wearing this mask!—had been driving.
She couldn’t see behind the mask—it hid all, except his eyes, and in the weird glow of the torches and the dying green-tinted light of the evening, she thought that his eyes burned like red fire.
“Well, well, well. Thank you, brave, sweet Vickie! You’ve cleared the table for me. Your friends are gone, and here you are.”
He stared at her; she felt her knees tremble. And she tried to place the voice, because it was, of course, a voice that she knew.
“Where’s Jehovah?” he asked.
“You don’t really give a damn about these people or Satan. You’ve sacrificed a number of women, and had people commit suicide, for pure greed,” Vickie said. She hoped that Alex and Helena had made it away. Far away.
She couldn’t see, but she felt sure that the face behind the mask was lit up with a wicked smile.
“More can die. All I do is say the word, and they slip little pills into their mouths, every last one of them.”
“I don’t know where Jehovah is.”
“Yes, you do. Alex was close. Hanson was close. You, looking for the both of them, hearing what was out here... I’m certain you know where Jehovah is!”
She smiled. “You don’t really give a damn about finding Jehovah in order to raise Satan. You’re looking for Ezekiel Martin’s family treasure. You think that if you find Jehovah, you’ll know where it’s buried.”
“It hasn’t been a bad gig, being high priest, Satan’s rep in the flesh. I do really enjoy sex, and I guess I’ve always had a thing for young blonde women. Of course, your hair is as black as sin, but I’ll live with that. I mean, at this point, there’s no time. You’ll do just fine as a sacrifice.”
Vickie realized that the figures close to her—his right-hand men or women?—were slowly creeping closer, hemming her in on both sides.
But others were milling around, watching. They all seemed to waver, as if they were uncertain.
Vickie raised her voice. “Did you hear that? He doesn’t give a damn. Satan is definitely not coming. None of this is real. It’s all a sham. There’s no reward here on earth for you for listening to this man—for watching him kill!”
“Um, actually, there is a reward,” the figure nearest Vickie said.
And Vickie turned. She studied the figure—a woman.
“Oh, Vickie, Vickie, Vickie!” she said. “Of course there’s a reward.”
“Audrey Benson!” Vickie said. “I wondered when we’d find you. But it had to do with the café—you were one of the first followers in this ‘Satanic’ cult. You were sent to get Alex—and to watch out for Hanson and me. The leader got to you first—whoever he is.”
“Doesn’t matter. You can just call me rich when we’re done!”
To her other side, one of the figures was laughing softly. Again, Vickie was sure that she recognized the voice, even in laughter.
“Cathy and Ron Dearborn! You two are good—how did you get sucked into this? You could have...done well.”
“Well?” Cathy Dearborn said. “Playing two-bit coffeehouses and parks where the kids spill grape juice on us and the babies poop and vomit in the middle of our numbers? Please.”
“Vickie,” Ron Dearborn urged, “you don’t have to die. If you just show us the way to Jehovah, we’ll drag someone else to the table.”
“Sacrifice another woman? For your treasure hunt?” Vickie asked.
“Lie down on the table, Vickie. Lie down,” the ram’s head mask, red-clad, would-be Satan said. “If you tell me where to find Jehovah, I may let you live. But hey, my faithful are gathering. You’ve lost me Alex and Helena. What I have is you. I suggest you start telling me everything you can about Jehovah. That way, you may live.”
She shook her head. “You were crazy before—now you’re as crazy as can be. The law is right behind you.”
“The law has been right behind me for years. They can’t find this place. No one knows it exists. Get on the table. Do what I say.”
“Why would I do that?” Vickie asked. “I’ve got the knife.”
“For now,” he said menacingly, as he and the Dearborns moved even closer.
“How the hell have you gotten away with this so long?” Vickie demanded. “Charlie Oakley! You killed her, didn’t you? You killed Sheena Petrie over thirty years ago. You let Syd Smith find her. You let the cult in Fall River take the blame—and then you used what you learned about the cult to start up your own. Why did you kill her, Charlie? Because she turned you down? You were a cop—you were supposed to protect her!”
“Sheena Petrie was a bitch. A frigid bitch. I know why her husband left her.”
“Did you kill her by accident?” Vickie asked.
“You need to hurry,” Ron Dearborn, sounding nervous, warned Charlie. “Cops are coming. They’re about to find this place. Come on, we’re in this for the money. Kill her or leave her, and let’s get out of here. We can keep looking—we can find Jehovah ourselves.”
“She’s going to give me Jehovah! Milton Hanson is dead. I just saw your precious Griffin Pryce, Vickie, and he thinks he saved Milton and I’m sure he’s going to think that he’s saved Isaac Sherman and Robert Merton, but my people were going back. They’re all going to be dead when the cops get to them. We’re always a step ahead!” Charlie said, waving his gun in the air.
He looked at Vickie and spoke again, fury filling his voice. “So, you want the story now? Sure! No, I didn’t kill Sheena Petrie by accident. I slit her throat—and I liked it. I liked seeing her blood flow out. Guess what? I get a kick out of drinking blood. And if you take blood from people and keep them on drugs, you can really do whatever the hell you want with them. And you can make them believe anything—anything at all. So, yes...when Brenda was found last year, people started snooping around out here. I started with the Boston attacks so people would look at Boston. Then I saw all the hype about Alex Maple in the news, after he was attacked. Figured if anyone could find the Martin family treasure, it would be Alex. But I was wrong. Then what about Hanson? But they’re both academic asses. And you’ve got about sixty seconds to tell me what you know.”
“You’ll be caught. Federal charges. You could face death,” Vickie said.
“I won’t be caught. A dozen kids will be found in these robes. I’ll be long gone—with my true faithful, these friends right here. Oh, not to worry—anyone who might have suspected me is dead along the trail. If they haven’t expired yet, they will, soon enough.”
“You know what? I do know where Jehovah is, Charlie,” Vickie told him quietly. “And I will never, ever tell you!”
Charlie Oakley let out a bellow of rage. “Get her down!” he commanded the Dearborn brother and sister. “Get her on the table.”
They reached for her.
Vickie wasn’t going down without a fight. She turned with the knife in her hand and she stabbed out at the man and the two women trying to force her onto the table. She stabbed at them blindly, shouting all the while, screaming that there was no great power coming that day, only the downfall of everyone involved.
Audrey and Cathy were yelling, shouting, screaming and bleeding, as well—she’d gotten them good.
There was blood everywhere...
Hard to see against the red robes.
And then one of them had her arm, her wrist, wrenching the knife away from her, and she was pushed onto the table. Charlie—in his ram’s head mask—was over her; Audrey, Cathy and Ron were holding her down.
Charlie had the knife.
He held it over her.
“Where is Jehovah?” he demanded.
“Fuck you!” she told him.
He started to lower the knife. She saw it, saw it coming toward her...
And then, in a flash, the knife was gone.
Charlie was gone.
She kicked out with all her might; Ron Dearborn went flying back. Audrey was shoved aside.
Audrey, letting out a scream of fury, came at her again.
But then the sound of bullets firing into the air filled the night.
Vickie punched Audrey, hard. She staggered back.
Suddenly, there were cops and agents everywhere; chaos reigned. Vickie slipped to the ground in front of the altar, trembling. And then she saw Griffin.
Someone was walking away with Charlie Oakley, his hands cuffed behind his back. She saw that Devin was taking Cathy Dearborn into custody.
Rocky was there, cuffing Ron.
None too gently.
Griffin was coming toward her. She smiled.
He took her into his arms.
“Vickie, my God, Vickie. I’ve been so scared. My God...”
She hugged him. She cupped his face between her hands. “I love you! Griffin, I did it! I found them. I stopped them! I was actually pretty darned good. If I’d just been armed. Griffin, I want to go through the academy. I’m going to meet your bosses and I’m going to beg them and—”
“Hey!” He rose, drawing her to her feet, holding her tight.
“Let’s just get through tonight, huh?” he asked.
She smiled.
“Sure. I can tell you where to find Jehovah tomorrow!”
Even as she spoke, it seemed that the darkness of the night fell for real. For a moment, they were together in a field of black velvet.
Then the moon broke through the clouds. It was a day away from full, but it was huge and red-rimmed in the night sky, casting down a glow that seemed to light up everything around them.
“Okay, okay, so...maybe tonight. As soon as the chaos dies down a little!”
* * *
“Well, everything helps,” Vickie said. “That’s what research is. I mean, you go to all the sources there are, and you seize whatever little piece it is from each source that goes into solving your puzzle.”
The compound was down to almost empty—all that remained were Rocky, Devin, Griffin and Vickie, Wendell Harper and a number of his men.
Vickie had ditched the red robe she’d had on over her clothing. She’d worried that she’d been injured in all the tussling.
She had not, thank God. Tomorrow, she’d be sore, and she might have a few bruises, but she hadn’t suffered any serious injuries.
The cultists had been taken away. The group was grateful not to have lost a single soul—not that night. Not one of the remaining red-clad figures had taken the suicide pills they’d carried.
Many had seemed relieved to be arrested.
Isaac Sherman, Robert Merton and Milton Hanson were in the hospital—as were Helena Matthews and Alex Maple, who clung to one another like a pair of long-lost lovers. Vickie was happy to have seen them, if only for a minute.
All this...
And it was just midnight.
“Okay, okay!” Devin said, and laughed. “We all appreciate your mad research skills. Come out with it. Where is Jehovah?”
“It’s all in the words,” Vickie said.
“‘Hell’s afire and Satan rules, the witches, they were real. The time has come, the rites to read, the flesh, ’twas born to heal. Yes, Satan is coming!’” Griffin quoted.
Vickie nodded. “And, luckily, the moon is high enough for you to see. In fact, if you turn, the rise of granite right behind us looks red. ‘Hell’s afire,’” she said.
“Okay, so then?” Rocky asked.
“There’s where it gets tricky,” Vickie admitted. “The ‘rites’ weren’t rites. They were rights, as in the direction. If you look at the old maps, there were three natural twists in the roads, the earth and the rivers, just below that giant ‘red’ slab of granite. One was a hillock, one a river and one a natural path between. The water has been diverted, but we’re standing about where the three would most closely converge.” She hesitated. “This place was chosen for the insane asylum for a reason. It sat on a barren plateau—barren, compared to all else around here!—that was referred to as—”
“The flesh!” Devin exclaimed.
“Exactly,” Vickie agreed.
“So, he was here all along? Charlie Oakley was hiding out at Jehovah—looking for Jehovah?” Rocky demanded.
“So I believe,” Vickie said. “I don’t know where to go digging, but if they get out here with metal detectors, I’d say that way...just by the clearing before you wind up back into the thick growth of trees. I think that’s where you’ll find the treasure.”
“Not only that,” Griffin said quietly, “but it’s where Missy Prior was killed. It’s where Ezekiel Martin had her ‘sacrificed’ when she despised him so much that he wanted her dead.” He smiled at them all. “We’ve wondered which blonde has been haunting Vickie’s dreams. Rocky, we saw her at the morgue today. It’s been Missy Prior. She was murdered here, and I think she’s been trying to stop the killing ever since.”
“Hopefully,” Vickie said, “we may have brought her peace at last.”
She looked up at the moon again. It was strange; it was beautiful.
Not quite full...one more night.
“Look!” Griffin urged. The sky brightened suddenly as a gorgeous glitter of gold and red seemed to light up the night.
For a moment, the blonde appeared to be standing before them.
She smiled.
She was surrounded by a small group of others who were like her, and not quite like her.
One of them might have been Brenda Noonan.
Another...Sheena Petrie.
The sky seemed alive with the beauty of the shimmering light.
And then they were gone.
Griffin pulled Vickie close.
“Peace!” he said softly. “Maybe we managed that much. We gave them peace.”
Vickie smiled, resting her head on his chest.
“And, for Helena, life!” she said.
“For Helena, life!”
* * *
Back at the bed-and-breakfast, they had to spend at least an hour calming down Mrs. McFall.
She was grateful, of course, to know that Isaac Sherman was going to be fine.
And that it was over.
The ghosts of Dylan Ballantine and Darlene Dutton were there for all the explanations, so Vickie didn’t have to repeat herself.
Eventually, Vickie and Griffin were alone together in their bedroom. Griffin stood before Vickie, his eyes enigmatic as he looked at her. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips and said, “Griffin, I know what you said. I mean, what you said about staying in the car...”
“Yeah, I noticed. Getting out of the car and hiding after the crash—yes, that made sense. Let me see...putting on a red robe, taking over the altar in the middle of a group of cultists—not so sure about that one.”
“I had to,” she said softly. “I had to. They might have died, Griffin. Helena and Alex, not to mention others.”
“I know.”
“Please understand. I mean, I’m sure I have to pass some tests, but I am young, healthy, fairly bright—”
“Some of the time.”
“Amusing! Griffin, I need to go to the academy.”
“You’re damned right.”
“What?”
“Well, let’s face it. I’ve figured out that it is truly a thankless job, trying to keep you out of trouble. If you’re going to keep on getting into trouble, it’s going to make a hell of a lot of sense for you to go through the academy and work with other agents, especially other Krewe agents.”
She laughed and kissed him.
And kissed him...
And they began to work at each other’s clothing.
“Quiet...” Vickie murmured.
“Thin walls...”
Clothing fell away. It had seldom seemed quite as incredible just to feel her naked flesh against the heat and vitality of Griffin’s body, Vickie thought.
Making love...
Such an affirmation of life!
A sound of sheer pleasure escaped her.
She gasped and admonished herself. “Quiet!”
And he came to her and whispered softly, “Whatever!”
They laughed, and the night went on.
* * *
They found the treasure—Ezekiel Martin’s family trove—the following day. The amount of jewels, jeweled crosses, bracelets, necklaces and more that were found in a chest couldn’t even be given an approximate value until they were studied.
A number of the plundered relics were clearly from Catholic churches.
So much for Satan.
Riches had been worshipped, and nothing more.
A week later, they talked about it—back at the coffee shop where Audrey was no longer working, and where the Dearborn duo would no longer play.
It was a charming group—they’d met there before heading to dinner.
Rocky and Devin were there, of course. And Alex—with Helena. They were now a couple, one with an exceptional bond that probably would never be broken.
And Roxanne was there—with Officer Jim Tracy.
She and Alex thought that it was tremendously funny that Vickie had never intended to fix up the two of them.
“What really happened?” Alex asked Vickie. “I mean...you heard me calling to you, didn’t you? You knew right away I was in trouble.”
“I heard something, yes,” Vickie said. “Some of it was intuition. And logic. You’re just not rude enough to stand a girl up.”
Alex laughed. “Thank you for that.” He looked over at Helena. “I thought I was seeing a ghost.”
“And it was me!” Helena said. She shivered. “And I was so close to being a ghost!”
“But one thing is still confusing. You were seen with Milton Hanson,” Devin said. “The Milner brothers saw you with him.”
“It was Hanson, right?” Roxanne said. “Our sketches are good!” She squeezed Jim Tracy’s hand.
“I never knew his name. We were both just pumping gas. He was making conversation. He said he was there looking into the cult murders. I didn’t even really know about them. I think that Milton Hanson is a jerk—a bit of a lecher—but I do believe now he was trying to find Alex, and maybe have the prestige of finding Jehovah, too. But he was no killer.”
Griffin glanced at Vickie. She shrugged and smiled.
“Well, it’s over,” she said. “Oh! Except who took you, Helena? You were kidnapped by the cult, right? I mean, we’d all assumed that, but who, when, how?”
“She was indeed kidnapped,” Griffin said, answering for Helena, who didn’t look ready to talk about it. “By Cathy Dearborn—who is, naturally, swearing that Helena came with her willingly after the Dearborns had been playing at the park.” Turning his attention to Helena, he continued. “None of law enforcement believes that—you are truly an amazing and solid citizen. We firmly believe that, from the beginning, you were drugged, and kept on drugs. The good thing is that you are alive—and with some good friends who are here to help, you have a full life ahead of you.”
“For sure!” Vickie said.
Helena smiled hopefully and leaned into Alex.
“Definitely. Barnes is dealing with the press, and we’ll be heading out soon,” Griffin said.
“You’re really going to Virginia?” Alex asked Vickie.
“It’s not that far. We can all Skype—stay friends!” Vickie said.
“To staying friends!”
They all raised their cups and toasted friendship.
Vickie saw that, just a table away, Dylan and Darlene had taken up pretend cups, as well.
“To friendship!” her ghost told her.
She smiled back at him, and nodded.
“We really are amazing creatures,” Alex said. He looked at Vickie. “We are capable of so much that is horrible, and so much that is so good. I am alive because of you.”
“Well, no, really, because—”
Devin broke in, laughing. “Hey! To the Krewe of Hunters!” she said, lifting her cup again. “And to Vickie! May she soon be among our number!”
Vickie smiled at that.
It was a good night. A very good night.
And when it was over, they went home. For a moment, she paused in the parlor she would soon be leaving. They were going to keep Griffin’s apartment in Boston, but not hers. They just didn’t need two places, especially since her parents still had a room for her, as well.
Griffin came up behind her; his arms went around her waist. “Goodbye to this place,” he said softly. He turned her to face him. “We really should give it a fitting farewell!”
She laughed and kissed him.
“Yes, and loudly...” she said.
Leaving the apartment didn’t really matter.
She was leaving with him, and that did.
* * * * *
Read on for an extract from A PERFECT OBSESSION by Heather Graham.