The Curse Оf Hollister House

Friday

I’d spent most of the previous afternoon digging around on the internet, trying to find out what else I could about Hillary and Tracy. I knew in my gut that their deaths had to somehow be related to Stella’s; I just didn’t know how. All three girls had been twelve, all had been walking home from school when they were abducted, all three had fathers who worked in the construction trade, and all were either only children or at least the only child living at home. The only-child thing seemed like a stretch, and I doubted it was relevant, but having several similarities rather than just a few made it seem more like a list.

After looking over everything I could find, I realized that I was going to need help. Professional help. Cass was already working on Tracy’s murder, so it wouldn’t be all that much of a stretch to talk to him about the other two murders as well. He had known Stella, same as me. He must want to find her killer as badly as I did, even after all this time. That would have seemed an impossible task until Tracy. If she had been killed by the same person who killed Stella, that could very well mean that the residents of Foxtail Lake had a vicious killer living among them.

Gracie was sitting at the kitchen table sipping a cup of coffee and reading the morning paper when I came downstairs this morning. Alastair followed me into the room and headed directly to his food bowl. I checked to make sure that Gracie had already filled it before pouring my own cup of coffee and joining her at the table.

“It seems that Alastair slept with me again. I hope you don’t mind.”

Gracie looked up. “Not at all, dear. There are times in all our lives when we need a kitty in our bed, and I think right now that you need him more than I do. Would you like some breakfast?”

“Just coffee for now.” I took a sip of the hot brew. Gracie always had made the best coffee. She’d never shared her secret with me, but I thought she must add something to the grounds. Vanilla maybe?

“So, what are your plans today?” Gracie asked.

“I stayed around the house yesterday so I thought I’d go into town today. I need to run by the pharmacy to pick up some more of the cream the doctor has me using for my skin grafts, and I could use some shampoo and stuff. After that, I plan to head over the shelter to talk to Naomi about volunteering. Cass volunteers on Fridays, so I’ll probably stay to work with him. We may go out for pizza afterward, so you probably shouldn’t plan for me to be home for supper.”

“It sounds like you have a full day.”

“That’s the plan. Sitting around and feeling sorry for myself isn’t getting me anywhere.”

Gracie stroked Alastair on the head. “I ran into Paisley when I was out checking on my garden after last night’s rain. She mentioned that she’d asked you about piano lessons, but you told her you were busy.”

“I didn’t say ‘busy.’ I said, ‘not staying long,’” I countered.

“Is that true? Are you not staying long?”

I blew out a breath. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I like Paisley. She seems like a nice kid, and lord knows she has a lot to deal with right now. It’s just that I haven’t touched a piano since the accident, and to tell you the truth, I’m not sure I’m ready to do it. Maybe I can do something else with her, and you can teach her to play the piano.”

“That’s fine. I understand.” I could see that she didn’t. “I’ll talk to her. The poor dear really does need a friend, however, so if you have time to sit and chat with her, I think she’d enjoy that.”

I nodded. “I’ll make the time.”

Gracie and I chatted for a while longer and then I went upstairs to shower and dress. It was odd to be back living in my childhood room. Don’t get me wrong, it was a great room with its own bath and a large picture window that overlooked the lake. In addition to the bed and dresser, there was a seating area where a small divan and two armchairs framed a wood fireplace. Gracie had been talking about converting to gas for years because the fireplaces went a long way toward heating the house, but apparently, she hadn’t gotten around to it.

I sat down at my makeup table and stared into the mirror. I hadn’t figured out the next step in my life, but if I was going to stay for more than just a few weeks, I might want to think about making some changes. The pink-and-white-print wallpaper was dated, the linens on the bed almost two decades old, and even the white antique bookshelves looked out of date. My tastes had changed a lot since I’d lived in this room as a teen. Perhaps a room furnished in black and white, with black-and-white photos on the walls would be just the thing. Dark furniture, a light rug, and perhaps a patterned bedcover. The sofa was great, but the color was all wrong, so maybe I’d reupholster it in white and then do the armchairs in black. The bookshelves and dresser could be black as well, which would look nice against light walls. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the ideas. Of course, I’d need to talk to Gracie about them. This was, after all, her house.

The rain had returned by the time I drove into town. It was just sprinkling at this point, and the wind that had thundered through the area last evening had stilled to little more than a chilly breath. I doubted it would snow, but that was in our immediate future; I could feel it in my bones. Bones, I reminded myself, that were still healing from the pounding they’d taken in the accident. I still wasn’t sure what had happened exactly. I’d gone over the event again and again in my mind, asking myself if I could have done anything better or differently to avoid what would end up being a career-ending event. I’d been on my way to rehearsal, humming to a tune that seemed to have planted itself in my head when, seemingly from out of nowhere, a car slammed into me. I’d never even seen it coming. The man driving the other car had not survived the accident. I wanted to feel bad about that, but as hard as I tried, I simply couldn’t get there. They say that forgiveness is the key to moving on, but how was I supposed to forgive the person who’d decided it was a good idea to drink and drive only to end both our lives?

Once I reached the little downtown section of Foxtail Lake, I decided to park in the public lot and then walk up and down the street gathering the items I’d need. I’d brought my large shoulder tote to put everything in, and while the rain had steadied just a bit, I figured a little rain never hurt anyone. When I’d lived in New York, I’d actually walked quite a bit, preferring not to hassle with public transportation. I’d enjoyed the hustle and bustle of city life, but now that I was home in this tiny little town by the lake, I found the peace and quiet suited me as well.

“Callie Collins, is that really you?” asked Walter Bowman, the local pharmacist.

“It’s really me,” I replied.

“I heard you were back. It’s so good to see you. It’s been a while.”

Pretty much everyone I’d run in to so far had made a similar comment, but I supposed they weren’t wrong. “Too long,” I agreed.

“So, how can I help you today?”

“I have a couple of prescriptions I need to have filled. I spoke to my doctor, and she said that if I got a phone number, she’d fax them over.”

Walter handed me a form. “All the information you’ll need to supply is right here. Are you staying long?”

“For a while. Long enough to need to transfer my prescriptions. Do you have any idea how long it will take to fill them once you receive the information from my doctor?”

“Depends on what you need. If you want to leave a phone number, I can call or text you when the prescriptions are ready.”

I jotted down my cell number. “A text would be great.” I looked around the tiny shop. “Does Jayme still work with you?”

Jayme, his daughter, worked the counter when I lived here before.

“She got married and moved to Aspen. She has two kids now and another one on the way.”

I smiled. “That’s great. I bet you love being a grandpa.”

He bobbed his head. “I do at that. Even been thinking about selling this place and moving to Aspen so I can be close to her family. I’m the only one here in Foxtail Lake now, so it feels like it might be time to move on.”

“I’ll miss you if you go, but I totally understand. It seems like a lot of the folks who lived here when I was last in Foxtail Lake have moved away in the past fourteen years.”

“Seems like it is getting harder and harder to make a living here. Besides, once young folks such as yourself move away, that only leaves us old geezers to carry on.”

I supposed Walter had a point. It did seem that a larger-than-average percentage of the local population was qualified to receive a senior discount.

“The community board is near overflowing with homes for sale all of a sudden,” he continued.

I glanced at the bulletin board, which was provided for locals to use to advertise community events, as well as items for sale. It did seem as if there were a lot of houses for sale. More than I remembered seeing in the past, not that I’d been old enough to pay all that much attention to such things when I lived here before.

I plucked one of the flyers off the wall. “It looks like they still need volunteers for the haunted barn.”

“Last I heard, they were looking for volunteers for pretty much everything relating to this year’s Harvest Festival. If you have time and are so inclined, you might want to talk to Hope Mansfield over at the library. She’s the one who is organizing things this year. Or at least she was. I guess you heard about Tracy Porter.”

I nodded. “It really is tragic.”

“Hope was Tracy’s godmother. It’s understandable that she has been taking things hard. If I had to guess, the festival committee might have found someone to take over her duties so that she has the time she needs to grieve.”

“I remember Hope from when I lived here before. I wasn’t aware she was so close to Tracy. I should stop by to offer my condolences.”

“Not sure if she is back to work yet. I know she took a few days off when Tracy’s body was first found. Such a darn shame, the whole lot of it.”

I thanked Walter and continued on my way. I hadn’t planned to stop by the library, but if Hope, who I’d actually been friends with as a teen, had been close to the victim, I really did want to stop by to let her know how sorry I was. I remembered how hard it was for everyone when Stella died. It was like the light that shone down on the town went out completely during those first dark days of trying to deal with the reality of what someone had done.

The library was located at the end of a narrow lane off the main street that ran through town. As I climbed the somewhat steep hill leading to the small building as I had so many times before, I remembered the first time I’d been there. Hope was a young and eager woman who’d recently graduated college and started work at the library. Being full of the enthusiasm and energy of youth, she’d started a weekly book club. At the time, I was a high school freshman flunking English. When my teacher offered me a lifeline in the form of extra credit, I jumped at it. As it turned out, the extra credit I’d been offered consisted of joining and participating in Hope’s book club for the rest of the semester. Not only had Hope and her book club helped me to get my grade up to a C, but Hope and the other members helped me to view reading as a pleasurable pastime and not simply the chore I’d always felt it to be.

“Is Hope in?” I asked the woman at the counter.

“She is, but she is working on quarterly reports today. Can I help you with something?”

“I’m actually just here to say hi and to inquire about volunteering for the Harvest Festival. Can you let her know that Callie Collins is here? And let her know if now isn’t a good time, I can come back.”

“Okay. Please wait here.”

The woman disappeared down a short hallway, entering the office at the end. I looked around while I waited. The little library hadn’t changed all that much in fourteen years. It looked like the walls might have been painted, and the carpet had been replaced with a wood floor, but otherwise, it looked much the same. Hope had been a decade older than me when we’d met, but we seemed to have a lot in common and had become fairly good friends before I left.

“Callie Collins.” Hope held her arms out to me. I stepped into them and accepted her hug. “How have you been?”

“Actually, I’ve been better,” I admitted.

She offered me a look of sympathy. “I heard about your accident. I’m sorry. Why don’t you come back to my office and we can chat?”

“I’d like that.” I followed her down the short hallway. She indicated that I should take a seat across the desk from where she sat, and I did.

“I’m glad you stopped by,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to stop by your aunt’s house to say hi, but…”

“I heard about Tracy. I understand that she was your goddaughter.”

Hope nodded. “Her mother and I were college roommates. Beth came to Foxtail Lake to visit me right around the time you graduated high school and left town. She met Steve, Tracy’s father, and stayed.” She dabbed at the moisture in the corner of her eye. “I just don’t understand how this could have happened. Tracy was such a sweet girl. Why would anyone want to hurt her?”

“Do you remember Stella Steinmetz?” I asked

Hope nodded. “Sure. She was that girl who was found murdered while I was away at college. I’m afraid I don’t remember the specifics; I was busy with my own life then, but I seem to remember you saying during one of our book club discussions that the murdered girl had been your friend.”

“Best friend. And the reason I bring it up now is because Tracy’s death and Stella’s are very similar.”

“How so?”

I explained the similarities, including the claw marks.

“That is odd.” Hope was frowning by this point. I could tell that she was considering the ramifications of what I’d told her. “Do you think the same person who killed Stella killed Tracy?” she finally asked.

I nodded. “I think that might be the case. The fact that the murders occurred twenty years apart would make it seem that the cases couldn’t be connected, but I found a third victim, another twelve-year-old girl on her way home from school, who was found in a shallow grave ten years ago. She didn’t live in Foxtail Lake, but she did live in a town nearby, and her remains also revealed evidence of claw marks.”

Hope leaned forward, resting her forearms on the desk in front of her. She steepled her fingers, tapping them lightly against one another. “So if the same person killed all three girls, how do we prove it? An even better question, how do we figure out who it was?”

“I don’t know. Yet. I’ve been looking into it, and of course, Cass has been working on it. It seems to me that if we can figure out why the specific victims were chosen, we might be able to figure out who would have wanted to kill them.”

“Makes sense.”

“I know quite a bit about Stella. Her habits, her hobbies, her friend and family connections. We were, after all, best friends. I’m here because I hoped you could tell me about Tracy. Maybe if we can find commonalities between the two, we can find a link to the third girl.”

Hope opened her desk drawer and took out a yellow legal pad. “Is it okay if I take notes while we chat?”

I shrugged. “Fine with me.”

Hope wrote down Tracy’s name, and then she sat for a minute drumming her pen on the pad beneath her hand. I waited, figuring she was searching for a place to start.

“Tracy was a friendly and popular girl. She did well in school, had a lot of friends, and participated in several after-school activities, including soccer and dance. She had two half brothers who were much older and never lived with her. She seemed to get along with her parents as well as a twelve-year-old girl can.” Hope paused. “She was artistic. She even had some drawings in a local art show. She was funny, and she smiled a lot. Her eyes sparkled when she laughed. God, I miss her.”

I leaned forward and placed a hand over Hope’s. “I know. I’m sorry. I know it is hard to talk about this. To be honest, I’m not sure that talking about the girls will help, but I feel like I need to do something, and it’s the only thing I can think of.”

Hope took a tissue from her drawer and wiped her eyes. “It’s fine. I agree that if we can find a significant link, that could help us narrow in on the killer.” She looked down at her pad. She wrote the words middle school. “Both Stella and Tracy went to the same middle school. Maybe the killer works there.”

“I had the same thought, though Hillary was killed walking home from a school thirty miles from here.”

Hope rolled her eyes, tapping her pen on her pad. “Okay, what about a substitute teacher? A sub might work for both our middle school and the one in the next town.”

My eyes widened. “That’s good. I hadn’t thought of that. A substitute teacher who has been around for twenty years might be a good lead to follow.”

“Or a support person who might work as a temp for, say, the office or cafeteria.”

“Also good leads.” I leaned back just a bit. “I wonder how we can get a list of people who might meet that criterion.”

“I guess we tell Cass what we figured out and ask him to get the records. Once we have them, I’d be willing to look at them to see if anyone stands out as having a particular link to Tracy.”

“That would be great.” I scooted forward in my chair. “I’ll call you after I talk to Cass. He will want to speak to you as well.”

“I’ll be here or at home.” Hope jotted down a phone number. “This is for my cell. You can call me at this number at any time. Let’s find this lowlife and make him pay for what he did.”

“I’m with you all the way.” I stood up. “By the way, I almost forgot. I seem to have quite a bit of free time on my hands, so I thought I’d volunteer for the annual Harvest Festival. I understand that you are the person to see about that.”

“I am, and I can use all the volunteers I can round up. There is a meeting tomorrow at ten right here in the library for everyone who has offered to help out. We’re on a tight schedule, so by the end of the meeting, I’m hoping that everyone will have their assigned duties. Can you attend?”

“I’ll be here.” I looked at my watch. “Right now, I need to get over to the shelter. I have an appointment with Naomi to talk about a volunteer gig with her as well. But I’ll be here in the morning, ready to do whatever needs to be done.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear. I’ll see you then.”