Page 20 of The Executioners Three

Freddie did not go back into the Village Square. She couldn’t stand the thought of her mom’s squealing or the Fortin students leering. Besides, she was in desperate need of legitimate psychoanalysis, and there was only one person on the entire planet she trusted for that.

Also, she needed to get rid of Lance Bass.

“Take him back.” Freddie’s eyes screwed shut and she held out the keychain like a toxic dead thing. “I don’t want him, Divya. His magic is broken, and now he feeds off only darkness.”

“Huh” was all Divya replied. She bent out of her family’s front door and examined the short space between porch and street. “Where’s your bike? Wait—did you just walk here?”

“From City-on-the-Berme, yeah.” Freddie shuffled inside, Lance’s dangling face kept as far as possible from her person. “It’s only three miles on the park path.”

“Yeah, but…” Divya frowned at the sky before shutting the door. “It’s, like, super dark outside and there might be a murderer on the loose.”

“I have bigger concerns, Div.” Freddie rubbed the side of her face. “Please just reclaim Lance. I am in great distress.”

Divya’s eyebrows shot high, and for the first time since Freddie’s arrival she took a long, hard look at her best friend. Then her eyes locked onto Freddie’s neck, and her jaw slung low.

“Oh. My. God.” She grabbed Freddie’s chin and tipped it up. “Is that a hickey ?”

Heat ignited on Freddie’s face. She nodded miserably. “Probably.”

“Oh, my dear Honey-Baked Ham, let’s go to my room.” Divya laced her fingers into Freddie’s and towed her out of the foyer, up the carpeted stairs, and into her bedroom, where sounds of Nirvana drifted through the wall from her brother’s room.

“Take Lance. Please, I beg of you.”

“Fine.” Divya snatched him back and pushed him into her own pocket. “Though it’s your loss, Fred.”

Once the door was shut, Divya flung herself onto her bed and Freddie flung herself onto the floor. Face down. Nose into the carpet. “I’ve made a huge mistaaaaake, Divya.”

“How?” Bed springs creaked as if Divya were shifting positions. “I thought you were madly in love with Kyle. Surely making out with him is what you want.”

Freddie moaned and covered the back of her head with her hands. “It wasn’t Kyle I made out with.”

“Wait, what ?” A thump shook the house. Suddenly Divya was on the floor beside Freddie and trying to peel back Freddie’s hands. “Who the heck did you make out with?”

Freddie groaned into the carpet.

“You don’t know anyone, Frederica Gellar.” Divya tugged and tugged. “Tell me right this instant who you made out with!”

Freddie curled into a sideways ball. “It’s the enemy,” she whispered to her knees. “The Leonardo DiCaprio to my Claire Danes.”

“The… Leonardo?” Divya’s voice pitched upward in confusion. “I don’t understand—”

“ Theo Porter, Divya. I made out with Theo Freaking Porter.”

Divya gasped—a great burst of air that was the loudest gasp Freddie had ever heard. Enough so that she thought Divya’s lungs might have seized and CPR was necessary.

Freddie stretched out, all ready to use her best Baywatch lifesaving techniques… only to find Divya was not in need of assistance. Oh no, Divya was lunging in close, grabbing Freddie’s wrists, and now pinning them to the sides of her head.

“ Please, ” Divya said, “tell me this is a joke.”

Freddie cringed and shook her head.

“So you actually kissed Theo Porter? The Theo Porter from Allard Fortin Preparatory School? The guy who dumped water all over us on Friday?”

All Freddie could do was nod. And nod some more while Divya continued to list all the reasons Theo Porter was a Very Bad Human Indeed.

“ The Theo Porter you got arrested last Wednesday? The Theo Porter that’s the sheriff’s nephew—”

“Wait, you knew about that?”

“Everyone knows about that.”

“I didn’t.”

“Because you’re a terrible pie.”

“PI.”

“Whatever.” Divya released Freddie’s wrists, and pushed back onto her haunches. “You can’t tell anyone about this, Fred. We just made some actual friends outside of the book club, and if they find out what you’ve done, they’ll ditch us.”

“I know.”

“And I really like Laina, okay?”

“I know .” Shame coiled in Freddie’s lungs. “And I don’t want to screw it up for you and President Steward.”

“Good. Thanks. That means you haven’t told anyone about this, right?”

“Um…” Freddie gnawed her lip. “Actually, a whole swarm… or is it a nest? Doesn’t matter. A bunch of Fortin Prep students saw us and—”

“Nooooo, Freddie. Say it isn’t so.”

“—but, they didn’t see all of it.” Pushing Divya back, Freddie hauled herself into a sitting position. The room spun. “All they saw was the part that looked like a prank. By me .”

Divya wagged her head. “Just tell me everything that happened, please.”

Freddie’s head lolled back. She stared at Divya’s ceiling, covered in glow-in-the-dark stars. “So my mom is making me do the Lumberjack Pageant, right? And today was the first rehearsal…”

It was fully night by the time Freddie left Divya’s.

She called her mom (on Sabrina!) to tell her where she was, and then she set out for the brisk walk home.

It led her through downtown Berm, where people hurried by, shivering on the sidewalks.

A marquis sign on the Fortin Theater advertised a screening of Scream for Halloween.

Lights flickered inside the tens of jack-o’-lanterns, and a smell like cinnamon filled the night.

Normally Freddie loved this walk. Right now, she was too focused on her own internal miseries to really notice. Why had kissing Theo Porter seemed like such a good idea at the time? Where had her logical detective brain gone?

Freddie hurried past Fortin Park with its brass statue of the second Allard Fortin (André) and a new scattering of fallen maple leaves.

Then past Mr. Binder’s shops: Pottery-a-Plenty (closed), the Frame & Foto (also closed), and West End Wine (open and crowded).

A block after that, and Freddie left downtown behind.

She had just reached the intersecting road that would lead to her house when she spotted a figure farther on, hunched and hustling.

Freddie instantly knew who it was: Mrs. Ferris—who also happened to be Sheriff Bowman’s mother and lived a few doors down from her.

And actually, now that Freddie was considering it, that also made Mrs. Ferris Theo’s grandmother.

Wow, she really should have made all these connections sooner. For such a small town, people really weren’t talking enough.

Every day, Mrs. Ferris power-walked around the neighborhood.

You don’t stay healthy at age eighty-seven otherwise, she liked to say.

Then she’d ask if Freddie had a boyfriend—or a partner of any gender because she was Very Progressive Indeed—and when Freddie would inevitably say no, Mrs. Ferris would laugh and say, “Good. Stay away from love. I went through three husbands after my Mr. Porter died, and not a one was worth the hassle. Plus, my son gave up everything for love, and look where that landed him.”

Freddie had never actually known where that landed him, since Mrs. Ferris’s son (and presumably Theo’s father) had never lived in Berm.

But now, Freddie had many questions—although they would all have to wait, since this wasn’t Mrs. Ferris’s usual strolling time and she was moving at three times her usual pace.

In a heartbeat, Freddie’s gut started growling. She kicked into a jog. “Mrs. Ferris!” she called. But the wind gusted Freddie’s words away.

So she just dropped her head and pumped her legs harder until at last she’d caught up to the ancient lady farther uphill (and well past Freddie’s own house now). “Mrs.… Ferris,” she panted, slowing to a walk. “Are you… all… right?”

Mrs. Ferris didn’t even glance at her. “Frederica, you should get home.”

“So should you.” Freddie dragged a sleeve over her forehead and wiped away sweat—though the wind was doing a serviceable job of drying it. “It’s after nine. Way too dark for a walk.”

The old lady didn’t respond to this. Instead she asked, “Is the old path to City-on-the-Berme still there? The one that cuts through at the end of this street?”

Freddie’s face scrunched up. “Yes, but it’s not lit. And it’s also not safe.”

“Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter. I’m already too late.”

“Late for what? Mrs. Ferris, please.” Freddie grabbed for the old lady’s arm. “Stop walking.” Freddie’s fingers closed around Mrs. Ferris’s jacket, the down compressing until she reached a feeble elbow.

And the woman finally paused. She turned her wrinkled face toward Freddie. “I can’t stop, don’t you see?”

Freddie definitely didn’t see. “Mrs. Ferris, that path is completely dark at night.”

“Yes, yes. I brought a flashlight.” Her eyes homed in on Freddie’s face again. “But you need to go on home now, Freddie. It’s not safe out right now.” With far more strength than Freddie would have thought possible, Mrs. Ferris yanked her elbow free and set off up the street once more.

“Wait!” Freddie cried, desperate now. She launched after Mrs. Ferris. “I know it’s not safe. That’s why you should go home too.”

Mrs. Ferris’s face folded inward. “No, Freddie. You just have to trust me. Now go on home before it’s too late.”

“Let me give you a ride,” Freddie begged. Yet Mrs. Ferris didn’t slow, and Freddie hadn’t really expected her to.

With a gulp, Freddie spun around and aimed once more for home. She needed help. Her stomach felt like it had tentacles, and they were squeezing the life from her lungs. She would never be able to convince Mrs. Ferris on her own, and she couldn’t justify tackling an old woman.

In seconds, Freddie skidded to a stop before Sheriff Bowman’s house. But the lights were off and no cars filled the driveway. So, she shoved once more into a sprint, and moments later, she slung through her own front door and shouted, “Mom! Steve!”

Steve’s head popped out from the kitchen. “What is it, Fred?”

“I need to take… your… truck.” She was gasping for air—partly from exertion, but partly from fear. “It’s Mrs. Ferris. She’s walking up toward the park trail, and she’s being really weird. Can I please take your truck?”

Instantly, Steve abandoned whatever he’d been doing and strode toward her. “Let’s go.”

Freddie had never loved her stepdad more.

By the time they’d backed out of the driveway in his Silverado, Freddie had managed to offer a slightly coherent explanation of Mrs. Ferris’s behavior—and Steve had also started to panic along with her.

“She’s always been kooky, but this could get her killed.

The trail entrance is almost a mile away, and people drive really fast on that road. ”

Freddie nodded. She wanted to puke. Her gut was screaming at her to hurry. That she was probably already too late.

She couldn’t stop thinking of her dreams from the night before. And while sure, she knew dreams were not reality (because life was not The X-Files ), dreams were manifestations of real-life fears rooted in real-life problems.

A problem such as Mrs. Ferris heading toward a forest where someone had been murdered.

In a squeal of tires and a cough of exhaust, Steve veered onto the main road. Freddie strained to see ahead, but all the blips of light beneath the streetlamps were empty. There was no one on the road, and soon enough the truck had zoomed the full mile to where the trail began.

But still Mrs. Ferris was nowhere to be seen.

Steve yanked up his parking brake, and the truck sputtered into silence before the trail’s shadowy entrance.

“She probably went down there.” He kicked open his door and hopped out.

He had to yell over the wind. “I’m going to look for her, and I want you to call Rita! ”

Freddie nodded. “Be careful!” she shouted, already plugging in the number to the police station—and cursing herself for not having done so sooner. She wasn’t used to having Sabrina.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” Freddie murmured, her knees bouncing like crazy. “Pick up !” No one did. She got the station answering machine.

Which left her calling 911.

Yet before she could hit Send on that call, her phone screen lit up.

Steve.

“Yeah?” she said after hitting the answer button.

“I found her, Fred.” Wind roared into the phone. “She’s unconscious, just beyond the tree line. Someone… or some thing attacked her.”

Freddie’s breath choked off. “I’ll call nine-one-one right away.”

“Do it. And let’s hope we’re not too late.”