Page 38 of The Sister's Curse

“Yes. I wanted to call because I’m worried about your daughter—”

“Did she do something?” He seemed awfully quick to jump to that.

“No, no. She’s done nothing wrong. It seems like a pattern is emerging, that there are peculiar near drownings associated with the children in your church. I’m concerned for Leah.”

“Leah isn’t allowed in the water. Too much temptation there. Water awakens lasciviousness in women.”

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I mean to say that I think you should keep an eye on her, just in case something happens.”

“I always do, Lieutenant, as a concerned parent. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s late.”

“I—”

The line went dead before I could begin to ask him about the disappearance of Dana Carson. I made a face at the phone.

“Let’s assume for a moment that these guys were indeedresponsible for the disappearance of Dana Carson, and that they killed her. What doesn’t make sense to me is that they still seem to be buddies,” Monica said.

“Yeah, that’s strange,” I agreed.

“Right? Usually, when a group is involved in a homicide, they break up. One turns on the rest. Or at the very least, they disperse. It’s very odd that they’re still friends. Some strange fraternity.”

“You’d think they’d want to start fresh at a new location. Have a clean slate, start over.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I thought of Nick, and his wanting to leave this place.

Damn. Maybe Bayern County had some weird hold over all of us.

10

Salt

I didn’t want to dream again.

I meant to stay awake as late as I could.

The supernatural was trying to creep into my head again. That madness. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to go back to that place again, where I couldn’t distinguish reality from fantasy. I needed to stay on this side of the line, grounded. In control.

I hobbled into my house, where I was immediately bowled over by Gibby, who was in a rush to fall all over Monica. She knelt to receive the full magnitude of dog slobber that Gibby had been saving up for her.

“Who’s a good boy?” she cooed at him. “Does my good boy want a piece of jerky?”

He grinned in adoration and slapped his tail on the floor.

“How about I walk him and give him a treat?” she suggested.

“Thanks.” I wasn’t relishing stomping around in the dark while Gibby sniffed every tree stump and toadstool from here to the creek.

She headed out, Gibby bounding behind her.

“Watch out for skunks!” I called. Gibby, God bless him, didn’t have the sense to leave other animals alone. He truly believed every animal he met was either a friend or potential lunch. He’d gotten sprayed earlier this spring, and Nick had had a miserable time washing him in vinegar and tomato sauce.

I changed into yoga pants and a T-shirt. I stared at my angry red leg. I’d had worse injuries before—much worse. It would heal, and it was better the less I thought about it. I poured myself some water and took my first dose of antibiotics, with ibuprofen.

Monica returned with Gibby and threw an empty bag of beef jerky into the kitchen trash. She was holding her phone. “He peed four times, and pooped at the edge of the woods.”

“Awesome. Thanks.”

“Also got a background check back on Drema’s college stalker.” She put her phone into her pocket.

I sucked in my breath. “Maybe he’s our guy?”