The Unkindness of Ravens by M. Hilliard (readera ebook reader .txt) 📗

was locked that night. She was the last to go to bed.”

“So, Marjorie got out of the house and froze to death,” I said.

Mary Alice nodded.

“She wasn’t far from the house—on the path to the water. But she was in her nightgown, so the cold took her fast. They didn’t find her until late the next day because of the blowing snow.”

“My God, that’s awful,” I said. I’d read the story, but Mary Alice had made it vivid. I saw it all in my mind. The little girl on a sunny day, playing in the woods, and then in the cold water, struggling. The old woman, her very essence dissolving as her mind shut down, searching endlessly for her lost child, wandering barefoot in the snow, answering a plea only she could hear. And Joanna, fierce and brave, lying cold and still at the bottom of the stairs. That part I had seen for myself.

This wasn’t just awful, it was evil. Evil because it was deliberate in some way, and Joanna had guessed, and so had to die.

Nevermore, nevermore.

Whatever, whoever—would be stopped. This would end here.

“Did you know Marjorie Douglas well?” I asked.

“I knew her to speak to, but only because I would help out in the office when Dave’s receptionist was out.”

“What about Millicent? Were they friends?”

Mary Alice gave a wry smile.

“I’m not sure Millicent has any close friends, but they were friendly, yes. They played bridge together, as I recall.”

“Hmph,” I said.

“Is there some connection here, Greer?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure Joanna thought so. It all keeps coming back to the same people. Vince and Matthew and Felicity and Millicent, and all of them in and out of the manor their whole lives.”

Mary Alice frowned. “That’s true, and you could actually see the old Prentiss house from the manor, at least when the trees weren’t in full leaf. But I don’t know if that tells us anything. What about the little Barrett girl? Any news there?”

I filled her in on what Jack and Meadow told me. Mary Alice thought for a moment and shook her head.

“Still doesn’t make any sense to me, but I don’t like it. I’m glad the police know, but I’m still keeping a sharp eye on that child when she’s here. It worries me that she saw something that night.”

“Me too. But I’m not sure what else we can do.”

“I’ll talk to Dave tonight and see if he remembers anything else about Marjorie Douglas.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. I did some discreet web searches related to the new information I had, but found nothing useful. A quick read-through of information on Alzheimer’s and dementia only made me angrier, but I made some notes and bookmarked the site. I had some time between the end of my shift and the ride home Jennie had arranged for me, so I checked out a Miss Marple video and went back to the office. In addition to the usual stack of mail there was a box on my chair. It was addressed to “Hogan/Goodhue” care of the library.

Joanna had mentioned in her note that she was ordering some things for the girls. I slit open the box and checked the contents. All books, and all from the list I had given her. I waited for the familiar sadness to wash over me, but felt only cold resolve.

Nevermore.

The raven from my dream cawed in my head. I saw them standing at the end of the hall, Danny in his suit, Joanna in her hoodie.

It’s a message. It’s the answer.

That persistent whisper again. I had all the pieces. I had to put the puzzle together. A lawyer friend once told me, “Trust, but verify.” I checked the time and pulled out my phone.

I had questions for Vince, but delivering the books was out of the question. I didn’t have a car and I didn’t want to be alone with him. Meeting at the library would be my best bet. Tonight was out but the morning would work.

I called the Goodhue home number and got voicemail. I left a message saying I had something for Vince and wanted to make arrangements to give it to him, asking him to call my cell. With any luck, he’d presume it was the missing flash drive and call as soon as he got the message.

While I waited, I printed out the annotated booklist I had made for Joanna and tucked it in with the books. I resealed the box and stashed it under my desk. My phone rang as I finished.

“Did you find it?” Vince asked as soon as I said hello.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have the drive, I have something else,” I said, and explained the situation. I implied that I had the box with me and wasn’t at work. I didn’t want him to stop by and get them after I’d gone for the day.

“So, since I’m busy for the rest of the evening, I was hoping you could come by the library tomorrow morning,” I said.

There was a brief silence and then Vince agreed to meet me. We set a time and hung up. I gathered my things and waited by the door for my ride, hoping it would be Jennie. No luck. It was my prom date from earlier in the week, who explained that Officer Webber was tied up elsewhere but would be in touch, and that there would be a police presence on my street all night. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or alarmed that I rated this much attention from a small- town force, and hoped someone was keeping an eye on the Barrett kids as well.

I had a lovely dinner with Henri, who listened carefully to what I’d learned. I was hoping he’d be able to shed some light, but after reading through the newspaper articles he shook his head.

“I confess I cannot see the connection,” he said, “except, as you say, the players are the same.”

“What about this donation of