Revenge and the Wild(84)

“All a genius gets is a kiss on the head?” he said with a playful look that turned his eyes to slivers.

“If I find what I think I might, you’ll earn much more than a kiss.”

Alistair made a choking sound beneath his mask, his face flaring pink.

All Westie had to do was follow the trail of doll parts to find Olive’s room. Inside was a bed with a dirty pink canopy, a rocking horse, wicker furniture, and ruffles covering everything—

“The curtains,” Westie said, pulling the photo from her pocket.

She studied the crisscross pattern of the doll’s dress. It was a perfect match to the curtains.

A nagging feeling, a mix of hope and sorrow, shivered beneath her skin. “I think the people in this photo might be the real Fairfields. The doll’s dress was made from the same fabric as these curtains.”

Alistair did his own comparison, putting the picture right up to the curtains, his mask whirring. “I think you might be right.” Though she couldn’t tell by the sound his mask made, she saw excitement in his eyes.

As she brushed aside the clutter on the floor, Westie tried not to think about what might’ve happened to the little girl holding that doll. Alistair bent down to help.

“Yes!” Westie shouted, and began to laugh as she caught sight of the box beneath the bed. Even little girls had their habits.

She sat in front of the box a moment, just looking at it. It was painted pink with white stripes and the word TOYS in block letters. After a while she closed her eyes and prayed to the Wintu creator, the spirits, to Nigel’s god, and to anyone else who might’ve been listening, to please not let her fail.

With a shaking flesh hand and her machine, she pulled the box out from beneath the bed.

She lifted the lid. On top was a quilt of various colored fabrics stitched together. Beneath it were picture books, pretty and neat and unassuming. Westie took each thing out, one at a time, so she wouldn’t miss any clues. When she got close to the bottom, she cried out.

“Is that—” She covered her mouth with the back of her hand. “Oh God, it is.”

Several scalps with the hair still attached lay in a crumpled heap beneath the books. Though most of the hair was stained with blood, she could tell the hair had once been dark and curly, like that of the family in the photo with Amos and Mayor Lovett. There were five scalps all together. Olive had braided the ones with long hair and added bows. Over time, they’d turned to leather, but they still held a mild stench of decay.

“My God,” Alistair said beside her.

Westie pinched her nose against the smell and picked up the clusters of hair with her machine, setting them aside, revealing newspaper beneath, crusted in dried blood.

“It’s the missing newspapers from the library,” she said, carefully unfolding the pages, which had stuck together. To her disappointment, the first was the same picture she had, but there were no names mentioned. Fortunately, on the next page was a picture of Ben Chambers, his hands tied in front of him.

“Listen to this,” she said, and started to read. “‘Property advocate Ben Chambers, arrested for public intoxication and harassment after his third loss to James Lovett Senior in the race for position of mayor for the county of Sacramento.’”

When she turned the page over to read the next story, she sucked in a startled breath.

“What is it?” Alistair said.

Westie blinked several times to make sure that what she was seeing wasn’t something she’d conjured in her own mind. “‘Festus and Birdie O’Brian, arrested for thievery, their children taken into temporary custody by the state.’”

“Who are Festus and Birdie O’Brian?” Alistair asked, taking the paper from her. When he saw the picture beside the article, he said, “Oh!”

The picture was of the Lavina and Hubbard they knew, wearing the same clothes Westie remembered them wearing at the cabin when they’d killed her family.

“They must have met the mayor when they were in jail together.” Westie looked at the dates on the different stories. The O’Brians and Ben Chambers had been arrested on the same day. “It all makes sense now. Ben Chambers wanted to be mayor more than anything, but he had to get James Lovett Senior out of the way first. Only his greed didn’t stop there. He wanted the Lovett fortune as well. He couldn’t steal it—that amount of gold is too difficult to move without raising suspicion. An agreement must have been made between the mayor and the O’Brians to share the fortune. That’s why he’s so protective of them. He’s protecting his investment.”

Alistair folded the paper neatly and handed it back to Westie to put in a satchel she found nearby to keep dry. “But why would they stay in Rogue City for Emma after we’ve already accused them of cannibalism? It seems like too great a risk.”

Westie grabbed her satchel. “It does seem that way, but it doesn’t matter. This photo proves they’re imposters.” She took Alistair by the face, her smile bursting from somewhere deep within, and kissed the part of his mask where his lips would be. “We finally have them, Alley! Let’s get home. We’ve got a necktie social to plan for.”





Thirty-Eight


Standing outside the Fairfield home, Westie imagined the ghosts of the O’Brians’ victims wandering the empty rooms, looking for escape. How many horrifying, unspeakable things had those walls witnessed?