Page 57

Hugging her stuffed bunny, Emily sang to herself as Carrie rolled her stroller gently back and forth.

They were in the shade, waiting at a bench in front of the old dance hall, when Carrie focused on a far-off vehicle. A pickup, like many in Clear River. She first noticed it driving from Cedar Breeze to the hall; it was behind her, its chrome push bar catching the sun.

Now she grew curious, studying it parked at a strip mall down and across the street. White with tinted windows. Nobody got in or out. Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe it’s a reporter , she was thinking when a green pickup wheeled into the empty dance hall parking lot next to her SUV.

A woman in her fifties with feathered gray hair got out.

“You’re Carrie?”

“Yes.” She stood and smiled. “Martha Porter, the manager?”

“Uh-huh.” Martha did not return her smile. Glasses atop her head, she stroked her purse’s shoulder strap while assessing Carrie. No apologies for the time, after telling Carrie to meet her in front of the hall at 9:30 a.m. “sharp.” It was closer to ten now.

“Tell me again, what is it you want?”

Clearing her throat, Carrie began explaining until she was talking to Martha’s palm.

“Get to the point—why are you here?”

“I’m trying to reconnect with the town and—” she searched for the words “—I thought I could maybe walk through the hall when it was empty, you know?”

“Ahh…reconnect. That’s it.” Martha nodded. “To be frank, when you called yesterday and said who you were and all, I was going to say no.”

Carrie remained silent.

“But I wanted to meet you myself. Around town, you’re somewhat famous, or infamous . Whatever.”

Not knowing how to respond, Carrie nodded.

Martha’s coolness warmed as she bent down to get a closer look at Emily.

“And this is your angel? What’s her name?”

“Emily.”

“Hi, darlin’.” Then to Carrie: “I got work to do in the office, so you might as well come in. And reconnect. ”

“Thank you.”

Martha’s keys jingled. As they moved to the door, Carrie turned the stroller, noticing the distant pickup pulling away from the strip mall parking lot.

Likely nothing , she thought.

Martha led her into the dance hall, the air carrying whiffs of cleaner, stale beer and swirling dust specks. The wooden floor creaked, echoing in the emptiness.

Surveying the area, Martha said, “I’ve managed this place for thirty years. We’ve had folks like Dolly Parton and Willie Nelson do shows here.

“We do receptions, ceremonies, and there’s the big high school party each Halloween,” Martha continued. “I remember the one you were at. Sort of stood out for folks because it wasn’t long after that the murders happened.”

Martha turned to her. “But you know that, don’t you?” She stared at Carrie for an icy moment. “Abby Hall was my niece.”

“She was? I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware.”

“We’re a big family. I read the story in the Chronicle , the one that got all the attention. It underlined the obvious: how you were the only one of the girls to come out of those woods alive.”

As she continued, Carrie grew uneasy, sensing that Martha had her own agenda for agreeing to this.

“Some of us felt that you led Abby and Erin into those woods. No one knows why. Sure, Hyde confessed. He’s gone. What’s done is done. Still, some of us can’t shake thinking that you set something in motion the day Abby and Erin died. That you were partly responsible for the chain of events. And you being the sheriff’s daughter, and unable to remember, well, it seems questionable. Even now. ”

Carrie finally found her voice. “Martha, Hyde tried to kill me, too.”

“Oh, you remember that, do you?”

“Are you blaming me? I’ve been tortured by this. Every day of my life. Do you want me to apologize for not being murdered?”

Martha shrugged.

“All we know is that something happened in those woods that day. And you’re the only living person who knows.” Martha shook her head. “Then, after all these years, you move back with your husband, a deputy. You got your baby here. Even old Vern is hanging on.”

“We came back for the time my father has left.”

“Point is, you got family, you got a life. Abby and Erin don’t have husbands or babies. They can’t reconnect from Oak Rock Cemetery. But you go right ahead, you reconnect . As Abby’s aunt, I wanted to say my piece.”

Swallowing hard, Carrie pushed back tears.

“I’ll be working in my office.” Martha swept the air with her hand. “Be my guest, stroll down memory lane.”

Martha’s steps echoed like a hammer on nails, driving guilt into Carrie’s heart. She wanted to leave. Coming here was a mistake. Confused and helpless, she grasped at yesterday’s video call with Dr. Bernay, who’d encouraged her to return to the dance hall.

“I know remembering the tragedy continues to be difficult, Carrie,” Dr. Bernay had said, “but you’ve made great strides, sorting through the rumors and speculation, getting to genuine memories. More will come when your mind is ready to release what you’ve blocked. It’s been happening, with the actions you’ve taken, and events you’ve experienced since your return. Little by little, your mind is freeing up puzzle pieces of the past.”

Suddenly, again, the crime scene photos burned in Carrie’s mind. Abby on the ground, her clothes tangled and blood-soaked, her eyes half-open. Erin and the blood-drenched soil, her wild hair, her vacant eyes staring out.

Why were we there? Why did I survive?

Carrie clenched her eyes tight.

Recalling the horrifying images was painful. She felt like a psychological detective, pursuing her own dark mystery. Dr. Bernay was right. By going to the school cafeteria, by talking with Denise Diaz, studying the police files, returning to the woods, she was inching closer to the frightening truth.

I can’t run away now. I’ve got to keep going.

She needed to keep traveling back, revisit the past, untangle the memories and work through the trauma.

Hands shaking, she adjusted them on Emily’s stroller while walking slowly along the edge of the hall, her thoughts reaching deep into the shadows, memories flickering in the darkness…

…the Halloween party…first weekend after the cafeteria… She doesn’t have a shift at Whataburger, and she’s a wicked witch wearing green face paint, a long, pointed nose, a black-and-green corset dress…a cape and hag-hair wig… The music is blasting…a request for a classic, “Sympathy for the Devil,” the song throbbing…lights flashing, strobing, on zombies, vampires, werewolves. Everybody’s dressed up…masked…can’t tell who’s who…except Abby and Erin…dressed as—what else?—cheerleaders…matching glitter blouses, vests, shorts, white cowboy boots…game-day makeup… How pretty they are…talking with ghouls and monsters…music hammering… Carrie dances with a werewolf…then a mummy…a demon. She’s sweating…it’s so hot…needing fresh air…going out…into the night…into the parking lot…low laughter rising in a cloud…the pungent smell of marijuana from a huddle of movie killers. She goes far from them…to a secluded corner before…a whispered call from the darkness…

“Carrie! Over here! Carrie!”

Glitter twinkles from between two parked pickups…the cheerleaders are alone…waving to her in near panic… Abby and Erin…urging her to them…

“Carrie! Hurry don’t let anyone see you!”

Not mean-girl voices…but still, her guard goes up. She nears… What do they want? Is this fallout from the cafeteria?

“Carrie, we were looking for you…” Their eyes glistening under the makeup…they’re afraid…or acting like it… Abby checks for privacy… Erin cups her hands to her face…removing them… “We’ve heard something so terrible!” Behind the makeup, something’s got Abby and Erin scared…

“You must swear to God you won’t tell anyone!”

Keeping her guard up…she’s wary… “What’s going on.”

“Carrie…oh, my God…” Erin’s got alcohol on her breath…upset, fanning herself… “It’s so scary it might not be true. We have to show you.”

“Show me what? What’re you talking about?”

Another waft of alcohol…they’re terrified.

“Meet us at the woods…”

“The woods? Now?”

“Tomorrow at three…you can’t tell anyone…keep it secret until we know…don’t use your phone…absolute secrecy…swear…”

Shaking her head… “No, no, you’re getting back at me…setting me up…”

“Oh, God no! Nothing like that!”

Are they drinking vodka?

Abby seizes Carrie’s wrists. “Carrie! You have to be there!”

Yanking her wrists free…the moment surreal—the wicked witch and two cheerleaders.

“Carrie, it’s deadly serious! You have to meet us at the woods tomorrow!”

“Why?”

“It’s about your dad.”