The Winter People(29)

“I mean,” her mother told her once, “I see that the boy is handsome, but he’s just not who I would picture you with.”

“And who would you picture me with?” Ruthie had asked, temper flaring.

Her mother thought a minute. “Someone who didn’t spend all his time searching the sky for flying saucers. He calls so much attention to himself that way. I saw a flyer at the farmers’ market—he’s started a UFO-hunting group of some sort. It said on the flyer that he thinks the Devil’s Hand is some kind of alien hotspot.”

Ruthie shrugged.

“That’s all we need,” her mother said. “Buzz and his merry band of wackos out roaming our woods.”

“They’re not our woods,” Ruthie said.

“Still,” her mother said, pursing her lips. “The boy needs to have some sense talked into him.”

“You don’t know him at all,” Ruthie had said, stalking out of the room.

Buzz was the most sensible, stable person she knew. Yeah, he had a few weird ideas, but so what? The guy was rock solid. She understood that her mother was distrustful of people she didn’t know, but, still, it pissed Ruthie off that her mother didn’t trust her judgment.

But now, with her mom gone, all of this felt silly and little-girlish. If her mother got back, Ruthie would do things differently. She’d insist on inviting Buzz to dinner, let her mother see how wonderful and unique he was once you got to know him. She’d even take her mom over to see his sculptures. Who knows, maybe, with all her mom’s craft-fair connections, she might have some ideas for ways Buzz could market his art, someday even make a living from it.

She joined Buzz on the bed, picked up Visitors from the Other Side, and flipped it over to look at the photo of her house with Sara Harrison Shea.

“It’s really bizarre that she lived here,” Buzz said. “I mean, I knew she was from West Hall, but—”

“Wait, you’ve, like, heard of her?”

Buzz sat up straighter. “Sure. Sara Harrison Shea is kind of the most famous person who ever lived in West Hall. I even read the book, but that was way before I met you. I guess that’s why I never recognized your house. Crazy.”

Buzz hadn’t done well in school—he was a learn-by-doing kind of guy and, back in high school, always had trouble memorizing things and then spitting them back out for tests. He did great with all the hands-on automotive-technology stuff, but give him a pop quiz and he was screwed. He was a very slow reader, and Ruthie suspected he had some degree of dyslexia, but never brought it up because he was so insecure about people thinking he was stupid.

“So she was famous because of this book?”

“Well, yeah. In certain circles, she’s a big name.”

Ruthie nodded. Despite his slow reading, Buzz was well read when it came to the supernatural and conspiracy theories. Of course he’d know all about the freaky lady who saw dead people.

“You mean, with people who believe in ghosts and stuff? What was she, like, a medium or something?”

“She wasn’t just a spiritualist—not in the traditional sense anyway. She claimed that the dead could really come back. Not like ghosts, but with actual flesh-and-blood bodies.”

Ruthie got a chill; she looked down at the photo of Sara on the back of the book.

“But I think she’s most famous for how she died,” Buzz continued. “And the journals her niece published, they read like a goddamn real-life murder mystery.”

“All it says in the introduction is something about her having been brutally murdered,” Ruthie said.

“I’ll say!”

“So what happened?” she asked.

Buzz scowled at her. “Are you sure you want to know?”

Ruthie nodded, seeing that he was clearly bursting to tell her. Besides, how bad could it be?

He took in a breath. “Okay. She was found in the field behind her house—I guess I should say, behind your house.” He paused for a second here, watching her, knowing he was creeping her out, and enjoying every second.

“She’d been skinned,” he said, making his voice as eerily Vincent Price–like as he could. “Peeled like a freaking grape. And you know the most messed-up part? They say her skin was never found.”

Ruthie squirmed, fought the instinct to give him a girlish Ewww! “I don’t believe it,” she said, sitting up straight to finish the last swallow of beer. “That’s totally made up!”

“No,” Buzz said, holding up two fingers, “Scout’s honor. They said it was her husband, Martin, who did it. The town doctor, who was also Martin’s brother, found him right beside her body, holding a gun, covered in blood and half crazy. He shot himself right in front of his brother.”

Buzz’s eyes were big and glistening. He was just as excited as when he was telling one of his alien stories.

“There’s more, too. My grandpa, he said his dad told him that after she died people would sometimes see Sara walking through town late at night.”

“What, like, her ghost?” Ruthie felt the same way about ghosts as she did about UFOs.

“No. Like some actual person all dressed up in her skin!”

“Okay, you’ve officially crossed the line. That’s beyond gross. Not to mention obviously bullshit!”