The Ghost in the Grove - Marcia (lightest ebook reader .TXT) 📗

of the other victims. Aaron Lawder was the son of a local mechanic. He was a quiet, shy, unassuming boy who was generally well liked. However because of his family’s lack of connections and money, no one really expected Aaron to become a hot shot anything. The general assumption was that Aaron would marry a good local girl, take over his dad’s garage and spend the rest of his life as a mechanic.

David’s reverie broke as the priest interrupted his thoughts, “You know before Vince died he was always talking about Aaron, talking about his potential and how his kid was going to get out of Meenrall’s hill and make a name for himself.”
Father Evans raised his eyes to the ceiling and took in a deep breath, “he said that he knew that folks thought Aaron was a mistake, but Aaron was no substitute.”
“How so father?” David asked.
“Well Vince mentioned that the killer seemed to him to be a collector of sorts, who ever this person is, they only seemed to go after the best; Gary’s son, on his way to becoming a pro football player, Ray’s kid, who was qualifying top in his class at med school.” He paused and looked at David. “Aaron had quite a bit of potential, he had been working and saving for a while now in fact he was due to leave at the end of summer, he received an internship at a large automobile corporation in the city. According to Vince they were all set to pay Aaron’s way through a college. He would have an opportunity to work with the best automobile designers in the world.”

The young detective stared at the priest.
“That certainly is something to consider, father. Like you said every little bit of information helps.”
The priest leaned forward and stared David straight in the eye, “Vincent begged, no pleaded, that I speak with you and make you understand that just because Aaron’s background was different, that the police should not disregard his death or treat it any less important.”
“Why are you telling me this? You know Ramose is the lead on this case?” David asked.
“Because when you became a detective you told me you wanted to make a difference. You are not yet hardened by your profession and I believe that will make all the difference.” The old man said with conviction.
David rose and offered his hand to father Evans. “Thank you for the vote of confidence father. I wish I could tell you that we are close, but I can promise you this; no matter how long it takes I will find whoever is responsible.”
Father Evans rose and took David’s hand. “Thank you, I hope I have impressed upon you how important it was to Vincent that this message could be conveyed. It was the least I could for him. You know he wanted to be buried with Aaron. But Aaron was the last grave at the old cemetery and the town would not allow another addition. Not even after all the begging I did.”
David looked at him sadly and said,” I will do everything in my power Sir.” With that he left the old priest alone in his study, staring out across the valley once again at the old cemetery.

David inhaled deeply as he walked away from the rectory. The priest had given him much to think about. He admitted to himself that he too wondered why Aaron had been selected as a victim. He did not come from money but then what the priest had said made sense, maybe the killer was a collector and Aaron happened to be a rare, uncut gem.
As it stood everyone in the police department were convinced that this killing spree was a vendetta against the rich folk of Meenrall’s Hill.
The parents of the victims were wracked with guilt and were throwing fistfuls of money into every resource available. Everyone wanted answers and so far the police were drawing blanks.

As David drove back to the precinct his thoughts went back to the lair the killer had created in David’s head. In truth the police were no closer to discovering who the killer was. It was as if though the murders were committed by a ghost. The Meenrall’s Hill police department had called in forensic experts from all over the country but even they were hitting brick walls.
David walked to his desk and sat staring at the case board dominating the main wall. It was covered with information and photographs of the victims and the settings they were found in. There was also a profile of the killer, which in itself was not much. It was assumed that the Lover was a gay male, between the age of 30 and 35. Because all the victims had been murdered and moved to the settings in which they were found, the killer had to be strong in order to immobilise and transport his victims to their final destinations. There was no way a woman could carry a 160 pound football player. They had considered that it might have been two people carrying out the murders. One of the experts called in was a profiler who confirmed what David already suspected; the killer liked working alone.

Leaning back in his chair David looked up at the tobacco stained ceiling. Nothing about this case made sense.
Molly the receptionist walked past and winked at him “Tough day detective?” she asked.
“A nightmare Molly,” David concurred.
She grinned at him and then turned a shade of bright pink, “Well if you not doing anything later I am making pot roast, you know, if you were going to finish up any time today.”
David blinked for a couple of seconds and smoothly said, “Wow Molly that is one tempting offer, it’s just that I have so much to do tonight. I tell you what though I definitely take a rain check on that.”
She gave him a small smile and said, “I know things are really terrible at the moment David. Maybe someday you will realise that you could actually have a life outside of this place. With that she turned and walked out of the precinct. David shook his head and cursed inwardly, Molly was really a sweetheart, all blonde hair, blue eyes and curves. She would be a brilliant distraction right now but he knew girls like Molly were there for the long haul and were not for detectives to work out their frustration.
David never had any issues with getting dates. At 6’2”, with his black hair, sky blue eyes and toned body the ladies were literally lining up. However David’s dad had taught him about work ethic from a young age.
“Work now and fuck around when the money is in the bag.” That was his dad’s favourite motto and it stuck with David to this day.
“The work is not done yet, LaRain,” David told himself.
The killer had left no trace of his presence, no hair, no fibre, and no finger prints. There was not even a foot print. The young police officer leaned forward and sat with his head in hands, chewing on his lower lip. He had more questions than answers. If only there was someone, anyone who could give him some clue or point him in the right direction.


CHAPTER 3

Present Day
Maria locked the library, turned and leaned against the door. She took a deep breath and let the rays of the setting sun play across her face. This was her favourite time of day. The town was winding down and the evening breeze carried with it the scent of home cooked meals, hot coffee and dessert. Smiling slightly to herself Maria took off towards Willow Grove.
For the last 5 years Meenrall’s Hill had been her home. It was a small successful town with a population of just over 60 000 people. The town was named after Mr Benington Meenrall, a farmer who had resided there over 200 years ago. He was famous for taking what was basically a main road with 5 families living on it and turning it into a thriving town well known for its supply of fresh produce, most especially cherries. Over the years Meenrall’s Hill had grown by leaps and bounds. One of the issues with a growing community was that the more people that lived there, the more people there were that died. There used to be a graveyard set on the hill just across the valley from the town centre. However over time it had become too small to serve the towns needs and so the new graveyard was developed a few miles from the town centre, with the old graveyard, not welcoming a new tenant for 40 years, becoming something of a relic and had acquired the affectionate name of Willow Grove.
The grove had a little chapel, which looked weathered and old, yet still retained its charm. The town council had employed a caretaker to tend the old graveyard, a kind good natured man called Willis. Under Willis’ care the place had evolved into a beautiful park, with huge trees and overrun with flowers.
Maria worked at the local library which was about 4km’s from where she lived. Taking the bus was entirely pointless and she halved the distance by taking a shortcut through the old graveyard. So she walked to and from work every day and on most occasions tended to linger while taking the shortcut.
It was one of the hottest days of the summer so far. The kind of day where the heat soaked into the earth during the day and in the evenings it teased the plant life into exuding their wonderful scents. There had been a book signing at the library that day and Maria had left much later than usual. On reaching the grove a spring came into her step and her eyes shone with relief. Twilight had descended at that time and while most people are squeamish about trekking through a graveyard in the dark, for Maria there was no place more calming or peaceful.
Maria paused on her way past Mrs Grensum’s grave. She worked as a local midwife in Meenrall’s Hill about 90 years ago. Now she rested under an oak tree and had jasmine vines growing protectively around her grey and crumbling headstone. The wind lifted slightly and carried the rich scent of jasmine on it. Closing her eyes and stretching out her arms, Maria felt the wind swirl around her legs, up through her fingers and weaving through her hair. She kept her eyes closed holding onto the delicious feeling. A small gasp escaped her lips as a wicked shiver raced up her spine.
The breeze began to feel less like a breeze and more like a caress, so subtle at first she barely noticed. There was this brush as if though a butterfly that fluttered against her skin and as Maria stood there the caress deepened.
The blood thickened in her veins and her heart thumped harder in her chest. The sensation was so comfortable and yet so incredibly sensuous; like being in a lover’s arms. A bird screeched in the distance and the spell broke instantly. Maria’s eyes flew open and she felt vulnerable and exposed. Looking around slowly she realised she was perfectly alone in the dark, quiet graveyard. Mentally shaking herself she took off down the path again. Her forehead was furrowed and her eyes blazed, she felt so foolish and gullible and was in no way impressed with herself. When she was almost at the gate leading out of the grove, she looked back up to the old Willow tree. Her heart skittered about