It was cooler than it had been the day before, and she wore a light sweatshirt with a zipper up the front, mainly to cover up the gun that rested against the small of her back. Still, though, when the sun shone through the trees, it grew quite warm.
Molly heard Jack's voice. With her eyes closed, in that sliver of a moment, she was almost certain she heard another as well. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw Jack standing in a clearing where a ring of stones had once been used as a makeshift fireplace. A shaft of sunlight illuminated him as he stood there talking to the air around him, talking to nothing at all, talking to phantoms of people murdered horribly in these woods.
After a moment he sensed her eyes on him and turned toward her. A sweet, lopsided smile appeared on his face, and he muttered something to the spirits before striding through the trees toward her.
"How far do you think we are from the Jeep?" Molly asked.
"Maybe half a mile. Probably less," Jack replied.
"Want to carry me?" She massaged her calves.
"Be glad to," he said.
Molly unfolded the map in her hands and studied the red marks they'd made to indicate the locations of the murders of the ghosts Jack had spoken to. Though the spirits wandered the area, they did not stray too far from the places where their deaths had occurred. So far they - or, actually, Jack - had spoken to fifteen of them, not counting Phil Garraty, who had apparently paved the way with the other ghosts for Jack. The murders stretched back nearly seventy years, and all of them were in the surrounding area, but not in Buckton.
Though Jack was still communicating with various ghosts he encountered as they hiked around the area, they had begun to visit the actual murder sites marked on the map. Now Jack crouched down to look at the map with her. He pulled the red felt-tip pen from his pocket and marked a spot on the map, right in the middle of the most densely forested part of Pine Hill, not far from two other red marks. Molly frowned as she studied the map.
"Weird. That's the only cluster we've come across, those three."
"I noticed that, too," Jack replied. "Don't know if it means anything, but we should check it out. Two of the three who were killed there said they saw ruins, a chimney and stuff, like there'd been a house there once. That should make it easier to find."
Molly gazed up at him, putting on her most pitiful expression. "Today? I have to confess I was wondering if we could quit early, have a relaxing afternoon, maybe go to the movies tonight, if that place even shows anything that isn't in black and white."
"Hey," Jack protested. "There are a lot of good movies that were made in black and white."
"So, we're going to the movies?" Molly asked.
He laughed. "Sounds good. And I wasn't talking about today anyway. If there used to be a home there, it would have to be on surveyors' maps. That should make it a lot easier to find the exact spot. And it might be interesting to find out who owned that property."
Suddenly chilled, Molly stood and zipped her sweatshirt all the way to her throat.
"Let's get back."
A little past eleven o'clock they drove back into town, intent upon a trip to the town surveyor's office. Jack felt his stomach rumbling and regretted not having eaten something more substantial at breakfast.
"You up for an early lunch first?" he asked.
In the passenger seat, Molly had her eyes closed, a content expression on her face as the sun shone through the window, warming her.
Is she sleeping? Jack thought. "Don't tell me I got you that tired out?" he ventured uncertainly.
"Hmm?" she moaned lazily. Her eyes fluttered open and she let her head loll against the seat as she looked at him. "Sorry, were you talking to me?"
"Who else would I be talking to?" Jack teased.
Molly raised an eyebrow. "Well, you never know, do you?"
Jack started to respond, then just laughed. "Touché."
Up ahead, he could see the theater marquee. Apparently the Empire made a habit of showing a new movie - or as new as they got this far into nowhere - and a classic as well, on different screens. The new film was not something that interested him, but the other was Key Largo with Humphrey Bogart. Buckton might be about as far removed from Boston as America had to offer, but there was something to be said for quaint.
"What's going on there?" Molly asked.
Jack slowed the Jeep and turned to see Molly pointing at a small congregation of people on the sidewalk. A police car was parked in front of the Paperback Diner, and he saw Deputy Vance on the sidewalk talking to a waitress.
"Good question," he said softly.
They parked the Jeep up the block, stashed the guns they had been carrying in the glove compartment, and walked back toward the diner. People were milling about, including a few whose faces he thought he recognized from around town. Quietly, without drawing attention to themselves, Jack and Molly merged with the crowd, and Jack tried to peer in through the glass door. Inside, he could see the sheriff and a number of people who looked like they worked there. The place was a mess, plates and books strewn all over.
A great many books. It suddenly occurred to Jack why they had called it the Paperback Diner.
There was a lot of whispered talk amongst the spectators. The waitress Deputy Vance was speaking to seemed very upset, and Jack wondered if maybe she was the owner.
A jostling in the crowd jarred him, and Jack turned to see that people had made way for a fiftyish man in dark pants and a button-down shirt with no
