Captain Jones looked away from them for a minute before continuing. Then his voice began again. Quieter. “Not long after, we found Hank and Angel DeVries, both of them lying dead together in bed. I can’t tell you how disturbing it was to walk into that bedroom and see the two of them lying there, her in a nightshirt, him just in some boxers, both of them with a pumpkin on their pillows. Those pumpkins were smeared in blood and looked to be screaming.
“I tried to convince myself it was a copycat killer,” he whispered. “There were a lot of differences from the original murders. For one thing, the original Pumpkin Man killer only killed children. For another, those kids’ bodies were disposed of, hidden. Though we found them eventually.”
“Tried to convince yourself?” Nick repeated. “So, you really believe deep down that this guy has come back from beyond the grave? Or do you think they killed the wrong guy?”
The captain looked them each in the eye before he answered. “I think that the only man I’ve ever seen carve a pumpkin that realistically has been in his grave for more than twenty-five years. Still, the new murders continued. The third ‘new’ Pumpkin Man killing took place a month after the last. Also at night. Also an adult. This time it was Dave Traskle. Once again, the body was found without a head, with a pumpkin carved in such detail that it looked as if the face had been not so much cut into it as transferred.”
“So the killer studied pumpkin carving,” Nick muttered.
The captain’s lips pursed. “At the very least. And you might think this is simply some new nutjob with a twisted carving skill—except for one thing. The victims were parents of the kids killed twenty years ago.”
“Them?” Jenn asked. “Why now, after so long?”
“People have theories about the wait, but the
Jones pursed his lips and gathered his thoughts before continuing. “Well, somebody didn’t forget or look the other way. Somebody planned and schemed and worked for twenty years to bring your uncle back. And the bulk of that scheming probably happened right here in this room.”
“What are you saying? You think my aunt raised him from the dead?” Jenn asked, incredulous.
The captain’s face remained stoic. “I think she found some way to get revenge. I know you probably think that sounds ridiculous. But you haven’t lived in River’s End your whole life. You don’t know the things that have happened here. The things connected with this house, and your aunt’s husband’s family. People here avoided anyone named Perenais long before your aunt came to town.”
“Didn’t you question her?” Nick asked. “I assume she was a suspect?”
The captain nodded. “I talked to her a bit after Charlie’s murder. She acted shocked and upset that someone had tried to re-create the whole horror of what happened so long ago. I didn’t press her too hard at the time because it was just a single murder. There was no pattern yet. But, after Hank and Angel were killed I had a hunch that she knew more than she was saying. We called your aunt a couple times but she didn’t answer. Then I found out why. I drove up and found her dead on the floor, right here, in front of the fireplace. Just like the others, her head had been cut off.”
Jenn shivered. Her dad had never told her Meredith was murdered! She’d never really thought too hard about where or how her aunt died either. She hadn’t wanted to.
“But . . . assuming it was even possible that he was brought back from the dead, why would Jenn’s uncle hurt Meredith if this was all about revenge for him?” Kirstin asked.
“He wouldn’t,” the captain agreed. “It wasn’t him. Whoever killed your aunt was not the same person who killed Charlie and the DeVrieses.”
He stood up and walked toward the fireplace, paced back and forth while he talked. “Meredith’s murder was different. Not to be disrespectful,” he added, addressing Jenn, “but the way the killer took off her head was not like the others. No finesse. And the pumpkin he left in its place was . . . remedial. Crudely carved triangle eyes and mouth. A hack-job jack-o’-lantern. Not like your uncle at all.” He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t done by the person who killed Erik and Charlie. Whoever killed your aunt was different. I figure he didn’t want her to talk. She knew something about all this, and I would bet my life that she set it all in motion. But she must have had help, and whoever was helping her got scared and tried to stop it.”
“But it didn’t stop,” Jenn said.
Jones shook his head. “No, it didn’t stop.”
Nick stared at a stone on the right side of the fireplace, the stone that covered the Ouija board. “Genie’s out of the bottle,” he said.
Jenn was quiet for a moment before she looked at the captain. “You say the heads of those kids were never found?”
Jones nodded.
Kirstin frowned. “You don’t think . . .”
Jenn nodded. “I think you might find them kids just outside our back door. Someone kept a bunch of skulls in our kitchen, locked in a drawer.”
Jones released a long sigh. “Of course they were. Let’s take a look.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
The day that Brian died never seemed to end. After watching cops march back and forth through the house for a couple hours, their numbers slowly growing, an ambulance team arrived. Two burly men disappeared into the back bedroom and reappeared a short time later with Brian’s body on a stretcher. He was covered in a white sheet.
Captain Jones took Jenn, Kirstin and Nick back to the station to get formal statements, and so they all relived the night and morning yet again. He took them one by one into his office while the others waited in a small room with an older woman named Edie. She appeared to be the captain’s secretary as well as the station’s dispatcher, receptionist and barista. She kept coming out from behind her desk to refill their cups from a coffeepot kept on a warmer next to her.
They were still at the station when Officer Barkiewicz returned. The captain excused himself so that he and his subordinate could talk. The two stepped into a conference room with a window facing the reception area, and Jenn watched Barkiewicz gesturing animatedly behind the glass. The captain only nodded. At last, the captain opened his mouth to speak, patted Officer Barkiewicz’s shoulder and then reopened the conference room door.
“We’re going to need a day or two to comb the house,” he announced to Jenn. “I’d like you to stay someplace accessible, in case we need to talk.”
“Are we suspects now?” Kirstin asked, her forehead lined from frustration or exhaustion.
The captain shook his head. “Given what I told you about earlier, you’re not very high on my list. But I need to know where you are.”
“We don’t really know anyone—” Jenn began, but Nick cut her off.
“They can stay with me for a couple days, if it’s okay for us to go back to San Francisco. I need to get back to work. I can give you my contact and my bosses, if that helps.”
The captain thought a minute and then nodded. “Let Edie know where you’ll be and how I can reach you.”
The woman seemed to appear out of nowhere with a clipboard, and Nick wrote down his address and phone number. Then he passed the clipboard to the girls, who added their cell phone numbers.
“We’ll need to get some clothes and things from the house,” Jenn said. “Will they let us in?”
The captain nodded. “I’ll let them know on the radio that you’re coming.” He handed Jenn a business card with his name and RIVER’S END POLICE DEPARTMENT typed on it in neat, nondescript lettering. “Check in with me tomorrow, if you would. Officer Barkiewicz will drive you back.”
The trio followed the younger cop out into the bright sunshine of midafternoon, squinting. The day seemed
