“And after the fire started, you lost sight of Harlan?”
“Yes, sir. And that girl, she was just standing there, off to the side, watching as everything burned. She was smiling, almost like she was proud.”
“Thank you, Mr.Northrup. I won’t ask you any further questions. You’ve been through enough.”
One by one, Bellflower calls more witnesses. People I’ve tended while sick. Men and women Granny has known since they were babies. They tell their tall tales—each one wilder than the next. A man, made of shadow, walking backward through a cornfield. A cat with human eyes. Children bitten and scratched in their sleep by unseen entities. Blood coming up from wells and springhouses instead of water. A black wolf with glowing, red eyes.
The specter of a beautiful woman, singing in Sutter’s holler.
I believe that story, told in a soft, hesitant voice by little Corinne Baker, because I’ve seen her, too. Anneliese.
The rest are Bellflower’s parlor tricks.
The same kind of nonsense he told me he manifested with the Sutters: Disembodied voices. Doors slamming of their own accord and bedclothes stripped from virgins’ beds. Unseen lovers in the night.
With each witness, the tension grows inside the packed church. The sun drops low in the sky. The light fades to a sickly yellow green,like it does before a storm. I blow at the hair falling into my eyes, sweat beading along my brow and sliding down my neck. Somebody throws open one of the windows, and a blast of humid, dense air rushes in, sending the chandelier above the center aisle rocking.
Bellflower looks straight at me with a smug grin. “I call MissCalvina Watterson to come forward and bear witness.”
I swallow hard. Calvina may be the only person he’ll call that might speak up for me. I hope she’ll hold true to her word.
She makes her way to the front, dressed in black with a corsage pinned to her dress. It’s a mourning bouquet; orchids tied with black ribbon. Her mama must have died, just as she feared. My heart jumps to my throat.
She takes a seat at the altar and pokes a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She won’t meet my eye. It ain’t a good sign.
“MissWatterson, is it true that your mother passed away yesterday?”
“Yes, sir. She did. At the hospital up in Springfield.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. And what was her cause of death?”
“She had complications of a broken hip. Arthritis.”
“But lately, she’d made a full recovery, isn’t that right?”
Calvina’s eyes dart to me, and then flicker away. “Y ... yes. For a bit. After your healin’ service, sir.”
“Can you tell us what led you to believe MissDoherty might have had something to do with the recent fall that brought about your mother’s death?”
He’s leading her—coaxing her to say what he wants. I stand up. “You’re full of horseshit, Bellflower.”
“Goddammit. Sit down!” Sheriff Murphy yanks me back down onto the hard wooden seat.
“So sorry for the interruption, ladies and gentlemen.” Bellflower smiles beatifically. “Now, could you please answer the question, MissWatterson? You told me that your mother saw something right before she fell. Something unnatural. It swooped down from the trees.”
Calvina grips the handkerchief so hard her brown knuckles turn white. “I can’t recall, sir. Things have gone fuzzy the past few days.”
At this, Bellflower frowns. “Are you sure? Because I remember quite well. When you came to me, just last night for counsel, you told me a creature that looked like MissDoherty, but had leathery wings and sharp talons, came swooping out of the pines. Your mother took off at a run, tripped over a stone, and fell.”
Calvina presses her lips together and looks away. “I don’t know about that.” For once, I wish I couldreallyread people’s minds, so I could know what Calvina’s thinking.
Behind me, the talking gets louder. Some people start moaning and carrying on again.
One lady near the front points up at the ceiling. “I see a creature! Can’t you see it? Up there by the light. It’s perched atop of it!”
Sure enough, the chandelier starts swaying harder, as if something or someone is pushing it back and forth. The wind has died, so it’s not that. I wonder if it’s another of Bellflower’s distractions.
Bellflower bangs the gavel. He’s getting frustrated. Angry, even. For the first time, he looks to be losing control. “MissWatterson, did you or did you not tell me that a foul, demonic creature accosted your mother?”
