A Killer's Mind (Zoe Bentley Mystery #1)(26)

Andrea was asleep on the bedroom floor, and the light made her sister shift in her sleep. Zoe quickly turned it off. It was the second night she’d found Andrea asleep in her room. Supposedly, her kid sister knew nothing about what was going on, but she could feel everyone’s fear, and she knew she couldn’t go outside to play anymore. She could obviously sense something was wrong.

Zoe curled up in her blanket, afraid to go back to sleep. The dream still lingered in her mind. It felt so vivid. Was that how Jackie Teller felt before she died? Or Beth?

No. For them, it had probably been worse. And there had been no waking up afterward.

“Zoe?” Her sister’s sleepy voice broke the silence in the room.

“Yeah?” Zoe tried to keep her voice steady.

“Was Jackie old?”

“What?”

“Jackie. The woman that Mom knew. Was she very old?”

Zoe wondered what Andrea had overheard and how much of it she understood. She was only five.

“No,” she said. “She wasn’t old.”

“But Mommy told Daddy Jackie died. And only old people die, right? Really old people.”

Zoe lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, remaining silent.

“Was Jackie old?” her sister persisted. This wasn’t going to go away.

“No, but . . . this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“But she died, right?”

“Yes. She died.”

“Do you think I might die? I don’t want to die.” A frightened sob. “Mommy said only really old people die. Older than Grandma.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Ray-Ray,” Zoe heard herself say. “Only old people die.”

“Older than Grandma?”

“Yeah, older than Grandma.”

“So I won’t die?”

“Only when you’re really old, Ray-Ray.”

“And will you die?”

“Yeah, but only when I’m really old. Go to sleep, Ray-Ray.”

“Can I sleep in your bed?”

“Sure,” Zoe said, partly relieved. “Come on.”

Her sister leaped into the bed, nearly killing Zoe with a knee to the stomach. Andrea snuggled against Zoe as she tried to catch her breath.

It seemed to take only seconds before her sister’s gentle breathing steadied. Zoe stayed awake, feeling as if she would never sleep again.

Her math teacher was sick Friday morning, and Zoe suddenly had two free blocks until the next class. Heather suggested they cut school and get some hot chocolate. Zoe was happy with the idea at first, but then a different, haunting thought popped into her mind.

She could go to Durant Pond.

There was no real danger. It was morning; there would probably be joggers there or people walking their dogs. She just wanted to have a look. And her parents would never know.

She didn’t have her bicycle with her. Dad had driven her to school that morning, but her house wasn’t far away. She could sneak out, get her bicycle, and ride to the pond. Take a quick look and then go back home, leave the bicycle, and get back to school on time for the next class.

She knew it was a strange thing to do, but the more the idea blossomed in her mind, the more she had to do it. She didn’t know why, but she just couldn’t let it go. She remembered how reassuring it had been to go to the White Pond Road Bridge. Maybe if she finally saw Durant Pond, she could stop thinking about Jackie Teller naked, hands tied behind her back, struggling for her life.

Zoe and Heather left the school premises, walking briskly toward Main Street. Though they had two hours, the nearest café was almost a mile away, and they had to hurry. A couple of seniors stood on the other side of the street. When they spotted the girls, they began catcalling Heather, whistling and jeering. Heather hugged her chest, embarrassed. She was always self-conscious about the way her breasts looked when she was walking fast.

“Idiots,” Zoe muttered as they walked out of earshot.

Heather was beet red. “Yeah.”

They reached Main Street, but when they got to the café, Zoe paused.

“Listen, I . . .” She hesitated. “I have to go do something.”

“What are you talking about?” Heather asked.

Through the café’s window, Zoe spotted a few girls from their math class and nearly changed her mind. It was a cold day, and some hot chocolate sounded great.

“I forgot my English notebook at home,” she lied. “I’ll just run and get it.”

“Get it later. We have more than an hour.”

“I’ll do it real quick. Go on—I’ll join you.”

Heather shrugged. “Sure, whatever,” she said and walked into the café. The smell of baked goods filled Zoe’s nose as the door closed behind her friend, and she felt like a moron.

Just a quick visit to the pond, get it out of her system, and she’d still have time to join Heather.

She half walked, half ran to her home and grabbed her bicycle. From there, it was just a fifteen-minute ride to the Durant Pond trail. She pedaled furiously, the cold wind whipping her face. She quickly got to Summer Street, breathing hard, fighting the gentle slope upward.

A woman glanced at her as she whizzed past, and Zoe had a moment of panic. Did that woman recognize her? Would she tell her mom? She convinced herself that she hadn’t been recognized, that it was just a stranger. But Summer Street was one of the busiest streets in Maynard. If she stayed on it, someone would spot her.