COFFIN COVE a gripping murder mystery full of twists (Coffin Cove Mysteries Book 1) by JACKIE ELLIOTT (tharntype novel english .txt) 📗

face was contorted with anger. “Eight years old and she can’t write her own name! Or read one damn thing! What the hell are they teaching her at that damn school? Nothing except the damn Bible?”

Sue shrank back from Joe, appalled at his blasphemy. She had never seen him so incensed.

“That’s it, Sue. Sarah’s going to the Coffin Cove Elementary. I’m going there on Monday to register her for the new term. And until then, she’s coming to work with me. Tara says she’ll help with her reading and writing until she starts school.”

Sue stared at Joe. Who was Tara?

God had made the first move. Sue lost. She moved back to the valley, taking Sarah with her. Joe retained a lawyer from Nanaimo. Sue could not afford legal representation, and the court was unmoved by Fred’s insistence that Joe and his Jezebel would corrupt his granddaughter. They awarded Joe joint custody, and Sarah would go to Coffin Cove Elementary.

Sue paused, her hand gripping the rifle. The fog had lifted, and she could hear the roar of the river. Each step she made in the mossy ground left a pool of water, and she trod carefully, aware that the river had eroded the banks and the ground was unstable. She was at the old hatchery. Since Jim Peters and that woman reporter visited, Sue had felt the old unease return. God’s ominous gaze was on her again, she could tell.

For the last few days, on her morning hunt, she had gravitated towards these crumbling structures. Sarah had loved the hatchery. She defied her grandfather and volunteered here rather than attend church. Fred had bellowed his disapproval, but Sarah had refused to budge. Sue allowed herself a small smile as she remembered Sarah’s calm response to her grandfather.

“The salmon are a blessing, Grandpa. You told me that. God wants me to help.”

Sarah got her stubborn streak from Fred, Sue thought, and her drive and passion from her father. The thought of Joe made her palm sweat as she gripped the rifle tighter. The last time she saw Joe was at Sarah’s funeral. It was late October. Maple leaves blanketed the ground as Sarah’s coffin slipped gently into the earth. Joe had collapsed, wailing, as his Jezebel tried to comfort him.

Joe divorced Sue, but although she signed the legal papers, she knew they were still married in God’s eyes. Nothing would change that. So now here they were, still husband and wife, at their daughter’s graveside.

Sue stood beside Fred and Ruth. She held her mother’s hand, and it felt shrivelled, claw-like. Fred was stooped and withered, his thunder smothered by the shovels of dirt that hit the coffin with a rhythmic thud. Sue allowed their grief to swirl around her. She felt nothing but rage. It engulfed her. People seemed to sense it, as they clasped Joe’s hands and hugged him tight, but moved past Sue quickly, just murmuring their respects. She stood at the graveside, long after the mourners left. She was at war now. It would never end.

The police promised justice. But their justice did not interest her, and the police stopped driving out to give her updates. Until Jim appeared the other day, it had been years since she’d heard Mason’s name spoken aloud.

She clenched her hands, one clutching her rifle, the other digging in her fingernails to try to eliminate the thought of Mason from her mind.

Maybe Sarah was rebelling, they’d said. It’s normal for teenagers to sneak out. Lots of parents don’t know where their kids are half the time. Drinking and smoking, right? Isn’t it possible Sarah went to meet Mason?

Sue had felt sick. She had sat on the edge of the couch, looking at a police officer, trying to grasp what he was saying. She had said nothing, staring blankly at him. But inside she was screaming, Not Sarah, not Sarah.

“Not Sarah,” she whispered to herself. “Not Sarah.”

Sue glimpsed a movement in the corner of her eye. Not an animal, she knew. It had been the same for the last few mornings. Sue felt she was being watched. The first time it happened she imagined it was Sarah’s presence. If she stood still enough, she might be able to stretch her hand through the misty veil that separated their souls and touch Sarah’s soft spirit. She came back again the next morning, but the feeling was gone. And now, she was sure that her watcher was human.

“Who’s there?” she shouted suddenly, and startled ravens took flight into the rising fog, seeming to echo her voice with their cries.

Nobody answered. Maybe she was going mad. Maybe this was God’s final punishment, taking her sanity. After Sarah’s death, she had felt her grip loosen on reality. She was grocery shopping in Coffin Cove, months after Sarah’s death, lining up with her basket of items waiting for the cashier to serve her, when she caught sight of blonde hair cascading over a bright sweater out on Main Street. She dropped the basket and ran, pushing her way through the checkout, looking wildly from left to right in the street before she saw the blonde hair bobbing down the road towards the boardwalk.

“Sarah!” she screamed, but the blonde hair kept moving. Before she could move, concerned shoppers surrounded her. “It’s not Sarah. Sarah’s dead,” one lady was saying. “I’m so sorry.” They were staring at her, as if she were a madwoman. “I’m so sorry,” they repeated. What were they sorry about? Sue wondered.

It’s not Sarah, Sue told herself now. Sarah is gone, Sarah is dead, Sarah is gone, Sarah is dead, the ravens called. God’s messengers mocking her from high in the treetops.

Sue tucked the rifle under her arm. The old Nissan hut that used to be the hatchery office was overgrown with brambles. The old wooden steps were rotting, and they sunk under Sue’s weight. The door