Graveyard Games (16 page)

Dusty picked up the paper
on October tenth—
a month, hey, your
brother's been dead a month, want to celebrate?
she thought morbidly, watching Julia and her father, so
quietly separate in the early morning sunlight—knowing just what
she was going to find on the front page.

She’d heard about it yesterday at the
Starlite. She read the article, anyway, her head throbbing dully,
palm pressed against her forehead. It felt as if she were trying to
keep her brains in.

By Mike Murphy

Larkspur Staff Writer

LARKSPUR—Tom Connley, 27, was

found yesterday afternoon in the woods

on the eastern side of the Clinton Grove

Cemetery, another victim of the Clinton

Grove Cat. Larkspur officials had

believed the animal to be gone.

Connley was found by Larkspur officials

patrolling the area. "We're putting the

curfew back into effect. Nine o'clock.

We're working as hard as we can to

keep Larkspur safe."

Coroner Peter Friedman confirmed that

Connley was indeed a victim of some

animal, but refused further comment.

There was more, but Dusty stopped reading
and put the paper down on the table. Julia was walking her father
to the door.

"Have a good day," Julia told him.

Dusty just couldn’t finish the article. She
cradled her head in her arms, the dull ache in her head
intense.

Tommy Connley, who had chased her around the
playground in fifth grade. Tom Connley, who had asked her to prom
in their junior year. Tommy Connley, who had spent countless
summers with them as kids, who had played football with her
brother.

Tommy Connley was dead.

Why? That was the big
question, but it eluded her.
Who
was more concrete. If she could find out
who
, then maybe that
would lead to
why.

Shane.

She would have liked to put the blame on
him. Shane had been with Nick the night he was killed, she knew it.
Her heart wanted to convict him, but her mind, if she let it run
its course, led her on another train of thought. Shane Curtis could
no more have killed her brother than she could have.

The newspapers reported it was the Clinton
Grove Cat, but she couldn’t believe that either. Will Cougar had
stated the obvious— cats can't open doors. And another thing—dogs
and other small pets had started to disappear around town—Mr.
Cooper’s dog, Cody, hadn’t been the only one. For authorities, this
confirmed to them it was definitely a bobcat.

But something seemed wrong to her about that
theory, and she wasn’t sure what or why. She just knew there had
now been four murders in a month, and still no one was being held
responsible. Four dead people, one of them her brother, one of them
her once-boyfriend, and she knew nothing.

Nothing except…Shane had seen something. Or
knew something. Not only because Nick had told her he was going to
be with Shane, but because of the look in Shane's eyes when he
talked to her.

Shane knows something, she thought, and
maybe the rest of his little gang knows something too. She had no
power over them, but she knew she could get Shane to tell her—one
way or another.

* * * *

A bitterly cold wind swept leaves from the
trees and they fluttered down toward the coffin. Dusty watched
them, unable to look at the casket itself. The Connleys were
huddled together, Dusty didn’t know if for warmth or comfort, but
guessed it was a little of both.

She pulled her winter coat around her.
Autumn was fast becoming winter. A bitter taste for vengeance
filled her mouth. Dusty closed her eyes for a moment,
listening—quiet weeping, the rustle of leaves above her head, the
dull pounding in her ears. Four people dead. Dusty opened her eyes,
filled with bitterness.

Someone has to pay for this.

She looked at the coffin, one that looked
like her brother's had, and she fought tears.

I'm going to find out who
did this,
she thought.

And I'm going to kill him.

* * * *

"Hey, Dusty." Lee called her over to the
bar. It was just after two, and she was exhausted.

"Go see if you can hurry them up." He jerked
his head in the direction of the pool tables. Shane and Chris were
the only people left in the bar, finishing their game.

"Sure," Dusty said. "No problem."

"Nuh-nuh-no pruh-problem," Sam said in a
near whisper as she started toward the pool tables. She heard him
but didn’t look back.

Chris leaned against the wall while Shane
lined up a shot. Dusty watched for a moment, unnoticed. The muscles
in Shane’s arms showed, hard and sinewy, beneath the sleeves of his
black t-shirt. He was concentrating, the cue stick steady as he
leaned over the table, carefully calculating, although it was
obviously an easy shot.

Dusty grinned mischievously. "Hey guys!"

She clapped Shane—hard—on the back. The
motion sent him forward, making the cue stick hit the ball. It
rolled about four inches—and stopped.

"Aww." Dusty blinked innocently. "You would
have made that, too."

Shane turned to face her, smiling, but his
eyes were cold and dark. She took a step back. Chris did as well,
wide-eyed.

"I'm gonna kill you," he told her in a low
voice.

In that moment, as he advanced, she thought
he was serious. He grabbed her arm roughly, jerking her toward
him.

"Shane," she gasped. "I was only—"

He pulled her tightly up against him and she
tensed, waiting for him to do something, anything—and then he
kissed her, his mouth slanting harshly across hers. She opened her
eyes wide and gasped in surprise—it was all the opening he needed
and his tongue touched hers.

His hold tightened, his hands moving down
her uniform and then up the backs of her thighs. She relaxed
against him for a moment, stunned, and his mouth grew soft and more
gentle but still insistent, his hands wandering upwards. She gave
into him, responding with a soft moan, letting herself melt against
his hardness. She pushed him away only to stop herself, but she
still couldn’t break free from the tight circle of his arms.

"Let me go," she said, unable to keep her
voice steady, her eyes narrowing. Surprisingly, he did.

"You're a goddamned tease," he gasped, and
his eyes looked pained.

"No, I’m not." She felt herself trembling
and hoped he couldn’t see it.

He laughed softly, never taking his eyes
from her. Chris watched them, open-mouthed, but he wasn't their
only audience. Lee watched them, too, standing near the juke, and
Sam's eyes were glued to the scene as he leaned on his broom.

"Prove it, then." The dark look in his eyes
caught her breath and held it. He stepped in front of her, tilting
her slightly quivering chin up with one finger. “Meet me at the
path tomorrow at nine."

She hesitated, looking at him, hating him,
hating herself. She regained her voice by swallowing past something
lodged in her throat and narrowed her eyes at him, jerking away.
"It'll be a cold day in hell before I meet you anywhere."

His soft laughter followed her as she turned
and walked away.

Part Two

Accusation

Chapter Eight

"How do I look?" Dusty eagerly questioned
James Thomas once they were out on the front porch. He looked at
her in the moonlight, seeing her as she had seen herself in the
mirror five minutes ago, dark hair hanging in loose curls down her
back, dressed in jeans, boots with no heel, a white blouse and a
black suede jacket that had once been Nick's.

"Fantastic, as always," he
told her. "But are you
sure
you want to do this?"

"Yeah." She took his hand and started toward
his car. "Don't worry about me."

"He's dangerous, Dusty," James told her,
getting into the car. Dusty fastened her seatbelt. "If I take you
out there, you realize there's no phone within a two mile radius
and cell service is real spotty. So be careful, okay?"

"Yes, Daddy." She rolled her eyes and he
laughed. "Now will you please drive?"

James started the car and pulled away from
the house. Dusty looked back at it for a moment, thinking of her
father sitting in the living room watching T.V., Julia reading. She
felt a twinge of guilt.

"I still don't like the idea of you out
there without your own car." James shook his head.

"Oh, shut
up
already!" Dusty said,
not unkindly, flipping the radio on. Led Zepplin,
Stairway to Heaven
,
blared out of the speakers. Dusty turned it up until the sound was
distorted.

* * * *

"Maybe I should wait here with you," James
said as she opened the door. Dusty sighed.

"James, go home!" she cried. "I promise, I
won't do anything you wouldn't."

"That leaves it pretty much wide open," he
said with a grin. She laughed and shut the door. He leaned over and
rolled down the window. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Will you—"

"Go home," he finished. "Yeah, yeah, I'm
going."

He turned the car around and she watched as
he left, going out the only entrance and exit there was to the
path. The little car fit easily between the long path of trees, but
Dusty had seen trucks come down with only a foot of room on each
side.

She turned back to look at the circular
stretch of land. Cars were parked haphazardly around a large
bonfire burning brightly in the center. The entire stretch of land
was surrounded by pine trees, the bare, unbranched part of their
trunks taller than she was.

She began walking between cars, looking for
Shane. A few radios competed and most people sat on their cars or
on the grass, drinking, smoking, making out.

"Hey, Dusty! What are you doing here?" Billy
came up behind her, giving her a strange, puzzled look as she
whirled around.

"I'm looking for Shane," she told him
matter-of-factly, ignoring the surprise on his face. "Have you seen
him around?"

"Sure, come on, I'll show you." He took her
arm and started to lead her, but then he slowed and stopped,
looking down at her. The bonfire blazing brightly next to them
threw shadows on his face and she waited for him to speak.

"I don’t know if you want it, but I have
Nick’s guitar," he told her finally. "I thought I should tell
you…offer it to you." He stopped and looked away. Dusty saw him
fighting tears. "God, I miss him."

“
You can have it, Billy.”
She blinked back her own tears, hating the way they came like that,
as if she weren’t in control of her own body. “I didn’t even know
he played.” Dusty took Billy’s hands in hers, giving them a
squeeze.

“
I was teaching him.”
Billy gave her a sad smile. “Said he wanted to learn before…” His
voice trailed off and he turned and looked into the fire. “Anyway,
he was actually really good. He learned fast.”

“
He was good at everything
he ever did.”

Billy nodded, shoving his hands deep into
the pockets of his ripped and faded jeans. “He was the best.”

There was laughter and talking and music all
around them, but a sudden, silent understanding between them in
that moment.

"Come on," Billy said finally. "This
way."

She followed him and saw Shane sitting on
the hood of a black Mercury. He was laughing, his arm draped across
the shoulder of a girl who was also laughing, tucking her blonde
hair behind her ear. His profile in the fire light made Dusty’s
chest tighten. He leaned over and whispered something into the
blonde's ear that made her giggle. She kissed him on the cheek.

Three cars made a
semi-circle around the fire. A bunch of six-packs sat on the roof
of the Mercury and Aerosmith wailed
"Sweeeet Eeeemoooooooootion..."
out
of someone's car speakers.

Jake and Evan sat on the hood of Shane's
black Mustang, tossing beer caps into the fire. Chris swayed with a
dark-haired girl Dusty assumed was Teri, his wife, although it
seemed absurd to be dancing slowly when Aerosmith was on.

A girl came up behind Billy, covering his
eyes with one hand. In the other, she was holding a beer.

"Guess who?" She giggled. Billy turned
around and hugged her around the waist, swinging her around. She
squealed. "You're going to make me spill!"

"There’s always more where that came from,
Meg. Right, guys?" Billy called, starting toward their circle, his
arm wrapped around Meg's waist. He motioned for Dusty to follow
them.

"We got plenty." Shane tipped a beer at them
and winked, but when he lifted the bottle to his mouth, he saw
Dusty and met her eyes, lowering it slowly. For a minute he looked
stunned and pale, even in the glowing light from the fire. Billy
sat next to them on the hood, pulling Meg onto his lap. Dusty
stopped about six feet away.

"Well." Shane smiled slowly, shaking his
head. "I never thought..."

"Thinking really isn’t your strong suit.”
Dusty closed the distance easily, standing in front of him and
hooking her thumbs in her belt loops.

"Same old Dusty."

"Same old Shane," she countered, glancing at
the blonde girl.

"Oh, where
are
my manners?" Shane
exclaimed, and Jake and Evan found this statement hilarious, going
off into gales of laughter. "Dusty, this is Beverly." He squeezed
Beverly's shoulder. "Bev, this is Dusty." He gestured his
introduction with the beer bottle.

"Hi,” Dusty said.

"Hi." Beverly was looking at Shane, but his
eyes were on Dusty.