Read The Girl in the Woods Online
Authors: David Jack Bell
The Girl in the Woods (34 page)
"Dan?"
"I have to go, Diana. Jason's story is going to hit the news. I'm sorry."
He cut the connection. Diana flipped her phone closed.
She looked up the hallway and saw Deborah emerge from her mother's room and wave.
"She's fine now," Deborah said. "Perfectly fine. You can say good-bye now if you'd like."
Diana didn't move or respond right away.
"Are you okay?" Deborah said.
"Fine," Diana said. "I just got some bad news about a friend."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"It's okay." Diana walked toward the room. "I guess I'll say good-bye."
Diana wasn't sure if she'd ever see her mother again. She wanted to make sure nothing was left unsaid.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Nate Ludwig was in his office. A stack of student papers stood imposingly on his desk, begging for his attention by its very height. They should have been returned the week before, but he had given his time over to wandering country roads and isolated stretches of woods, searching for The Pioneer Club. Now that he believed he had found the spot, it stood to reason he would find time to catch up on all the neglected work that had piled up on his desk. Not so. Ever since his visit to Captain Berding's office—and its unsuccessful conclusion—Ludwig had found himself more distracted than before. A roiling impatience had taken over his body and mind, so much so that he found any task from his daily life—taking out the garbage, doing laundry, preparing lectures—to be a huge impediment to his real work and calling: the investigation into The Pioneer Club.
The radio played in the office, as always. Classical music from the campus public station, pointless noise that didn't even register in his brain. But at the top and bottom of each hour as news time approached, his ears perked and honed in on the voice on the radio like a divining rod for water. He thirsted for that news. He needed it.
A student knocked on the door. Ludwig looked up. He had forgotten he was holding office hours at that time, and the student's appearance seemed momentarily out of context and surprising, like having a long-lost relative show up unexpectedly on the doorstep.
"Dr. Ludwig?"
He didn't recognize the student. He didn't really recognize any of his students these days. This young man looked like all the rest of them. Ball cap. Baggy shorts and sandals despite the cool weather.
"Yes?"
"I'm in your Introduction to Folklore class? The one at ten o'clock?"
Ludwig hated this generation's habit of making everything sound like a question, even statements of fact. No wonder they were always so confused.
"I don't have the papers graded yet. Next week. I've been busy."
"That's cool. I'm not here about that."
"Oh?"
"I wanted to tell you about something. You know how we were talking about all those missing persons cases? And you know how that girl disappeared?"
Ludwig's interest rose exponentially. "Yes, yes."
"Well, my roommate's a cop here in New Cambridge. You know, he's a student and he's a cop. I think he's majoring in criminal justice or something."
"I understand. What's your point?"
"He told me last night that they're searching an area out in the country today. Apparently they think someone out there might know something, so they're going out to check it over."
"Are you kidding? Are you messing with me?"
"No, sir. I thought you'd like to know. I mean, he's not supposed to tell me stuff like that, and I'm not supposed to tell you, but I thought you'd like to know."
"Yes, of course. Thank you." The kid turned to leave, but Ludwig stopped him. "Who are you?"
"Josh Dillon, sir. Junior. Communications major. I sit kind of in the back—"
"That's great, Mr. Dillon. I'll remember. Hell, I'll give you extra credit for this if you'd like."
"Oh, no. That's not necessary. Not really anyway. I just wanted to—"
"Thanks for coming by. Next week on the papers, okay?"
As politely as he could, Ludwig shoved the student out of the office and closed the door behind him.
* * *
The minutes to the top of the hour ticked away like a slow death. Ludwig stared at the radio, silently urging the broadcast onward, cursing the classical music that began to sound like a fork scraped across a blackboard.
He looked around for something to distract his attention from the minutes crawling by, but finding nothing, sat back in his chair and waited. Finally, the news came on, and he leaned forward and turned the volume up as high as it would go.
This is it
, he thought.
, he thought.
The broadcaster started speaking.
"New Cambridge Police and officers from several jurisdictions, acting on a tip today, executed a search warrant at a private residence in rural Union Township. The authorities believed that evidence relating to the Jacqueline Foley disappearance might be found in the home. But after an extensive search of the grounds and questioning of the home's residents, the police determined that no evidence relating to the investigation into the missing Fields' student was found there. While disappointed at the dead end, Captain Dan Berding expressed optimism that the case would be resolved and soon.
"And sources inside the police department are reporting a vehicle that may belong to a missing New Cambridge police officer has been found on a rural road..."
"No, no," Ludwig said. "No. Didn't you find the grave? Didn't you stupid, fucking idiots find the grave in the woods?"
He yanked the plug from the wall and picked up the radio. He was about to throw it against the wall when he regained control of himself.
"Gah!"
He put the radio back down and took several deep breaths. He remembered his own father's temper, and the way the old man went face down into his mashed potatoes one night, dead of a heart attack at age fifty. Ludwig was a scholar, an educated man. He could solve his problems in a better way.
He straightened his tie and grabbed his coat. He had to go talk to that captain again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
You have to go. It has to be you.
Diana drove home, exhausted. She hadn't slept.
Her mom's words rang in her ears. The words of a sick, crazy woman, living in an institution. Diana hadn't listened to her mother in years, hadn't given her thoughts or words credence since childhood.
So why start to listen now, as her mother slipped deeper into the darkness of Alzheimer's?
Simple. At last, Diana believed her mother's words were true.
* * *
Back in her apartment, Diana found the phone book and looked up the address of the Donahue house. She didn't expect it to be listed, and if it wasn't listed, she didn't know how she'd find it. But the number was there in the directory. A Roger Donahue in Union Township. She committed the address to memory and decided that the fates must be on her side.
Or were they working against her, pushing her toward some twisted goal, one with an unpleasant end for Diana? She told herself she didn't care. Better to have an end to all of it, pleasant or not. In fact, the notion that it might be pleasant seemed laughable. How could anyone imagine anything good coming of this trip to the woods?
With that in mind, Diana went to her closet and brought down a shoebox. When she left the force, she purchased her service weapon, a Glock 22. She hadn't taken it out of the box since. No time like the present, she thought, and slipped it and its holster onto her belt. She also brought out a canister of pepper spray for good measure, and even as she did, she wondered what good these weapons would be against the visions that were haunting her. If it were that simple, she would have taken the box down several months ago. But where would she have aimed it? At her own head? Into her own mind?
Diana pushed the disturbing thought out and considered the possibilities before her. She could go to the Donahue property now, in the wake of the police search, and possibly encounter the agitated and harassed landowner, someone who might be a killer, or short of that, someone who might be pissed off enough at the invasion of their privacy to call the police on her, which would bring an end to any hope of finding anything on that land.
Or she could go later, when the sun was going down, making it easy to slip into the property undetected.
Diana shivered at the idea, and for a brief moment, considered letting it all go. But she couldn't. She knew she just couldn't, so she paced the floor, waiting for nightfall.
* * *
Before Diana left that evening, she called Vienna Woods and asked to speak with Deborah. She didn't think the jangling social worker would still be on duty since it was just after six o'clock, but the woman quickly came on the line, her voice full of a mixture of good cheer and healthy concern.
"Is there any way for me to speak to my mom?" Diana said.
"Oh. Well, we don't have phones in the room. And she's asleep now anyway. They give them a round of medication after dinner, and it usually knocks them out. Is there something I can help with? Would you like me to pass a message on?"
"No, it's okay." Diana thought about hanging up but stopped herself. "Just tell her I was thinking of her."
"Will do, dear. Will do. And are you sure you're okay?"
Diana didn't know how to answer that question, so she didn't.
"Have a good night, Deborah."
Diana took a last look around the apartment, then stepped out into the cool evening, heading for her car.
* * *
On the way to the Donahue address, with the night falling down around her, Diana took a slight detour. She found County Road 600, the presumed sight of Jacqueline Foley's abduction. She cruised the empty, quiet road, her headlights catching a portion of the fencing and fields that stretched out into the darkness. She went nearly half a mile before she came across the impromptu shrine that had been erected in the Foley girl's honor. Diana pulled to the side of the road, allowing her headlights to illuminate the scene. It looked just like the roadside memorials people erected in honor of those who died in car accidents. There was a crude wooden cross, a collection of notes, a votive candle long burned out, and a small teddy bear holding a silky, red heart. Diana didn't get out of the car right away but studied the shrine from inside.
Then she took a small notebook and pen from the glove compartment and wrote a short note. She pushed the driver's door open and carried the paper over to the shrine. She laid it down among all the others, leaving it face up so anyone coming by could see if they cared to. It said,
Off to find the girl in the woods. DG. If I don't come back, remember us all. Rachel, Janet, Margie, Jason, Jackie.
Off to find the girl in the woods. DG. If I don't come back, remember us all. Rachel, Janet, Margie, Jason, Jackie.
When she returned to the car and dropped it into gear, the pain began at the base of her skull. It slowly spread up the back of her head.
"No," she said.
It's starting...
Just as quickly as it began, the pain subsided. Diana felt a momentary relief, but then she understood.
It was giving her just a taste, just a warning.
She knew she was getting closer.
* * *
She stopped her car at the end of the long driveway to the Donahue house and cut the lights. The driveway sliced through a thick stand of trees so she doubted anyone inside the house could have seen the car as she pulled up.
Did it matter anyway?
She touched the gun nestled against her hip for reassurance, and for just a moment, found a small measure of it. It was possible her former colleagues were correct. They had searched the place and interviewed the owner and found nothing. Searches led to nothing all the time, and if the perpetrator of the crime lived somewhere out in the large rural area around New Cambridge, then he could be living in any one of hundreds of houses. Why did she think this was the place?
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