Page 29

I gave him a sympathetic look, because I understood him completely. Whoever was doing this was no longer human. The damage they had done and the lives they had taken were unimaginable.

Brooks turned his focus back to Darren, who was already wrapping things up. I looked at the two names added to my list. Old Man Baker was likely to be the rancher many assumed was the Watcher, but I wasn’t entirely convinced. I stole a quick glance over my shoulder at him and was shocked to see his icy blue eyes trained on me. I turned back quickly, my cheeks pinkening at being caught, but my heart rate rose knowing he was looking at me.

I hadn’t seen Mrs. Lavelle, or Candace, as I knew her. She came up in my research a bit and was known as a busybody. I couldn’t see her being responsible for all of this, but she was strong enough and agile enough to commit the crimes. I glanced back at Brooks to ensure he wasn’t watching and wrote his name on my list. I didn’t think he was involved, but I couldn’t leave anyone out.

Darren wrapped up the meeting and everyone stood. Few stuck around for idle chatter, but most were up and out of the high school, presumably to head home or monitor the streets for the Watcher to strike tonight. I wandered toward the door slowly, watching as people threw glares Brooks's way as he stomped out, avoiding the community.

I was stopped when a hand grasped my arm suddenly, cutting off my momentum.

I looked up to see Old Man Baker, who I could have sworn was on the other side of the room. He was staring at me again, his blue eyes trying to find their way into my very soul.

“What the hell?” I protested and tried to shake him loose.

He gripped me tighter, the force now bruising.

“Marigold,” he spoke clearly, but quietly. I don’t know why I would have expected a rasp from the older man, or maybe a jumbling of words, but his tone was concise and incredibly clear.

“Excuse me?” I asked and tried to pull away again.

“Marigold Taylor,” he spoke again, his gaze darting past my shoulder for a fraction of a second—just long enough to track something in the shadows behind me—before locking back onto my eyes, unblinking. His voice lowered a decibel, just above a whisper now. I could hear heavy steps coming my way, ones I recognized as Darren’s. “Tell Marigold Taylor to run. He’s coming for her again. The one who got away. Tell Marigold to run, and to run far. Tell her to go where the witches were burned.”

“Peter,” Darren spoke from behind me. Old Man Baker… or Peter, I guess… looked up and let me go. “Do you need help getting home? I can arrange a ride for you.”

Peter shook his head. “N-no. I can walk. I like to walk.”

He turned on his heel and ambled out of the high school gym toward the parking lot.

Darren came to my side and watched a receding Peter through the open doors before turning to me. “Are you okay? I know he can be…” He paused as he carefully thought of his next words. “…off-putting. He’s harmless, truly.”

I looked down at my arm, where I knew a bruise would be forming. “Why do so many people think he’s the Watcher?”

Darren shrugged. “Internal bias? I’ve checked him out; like I said, he’s harmless. Not all there, but I don’t think there’s a bad bone in his body.”

“Not all there?”

“He…” Darren trailed off and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Look, Peter is a great guy; he just comes up with these theories about the Watcher and every other major crime. He’s a conspiracy theorist with a screw loose, but harmless nonetheless.”

“Hmm,” I answered, unsure of what to say, because my sore arm showed otherwise. As did his unnatural speed in getting to me from the other side of the room.

“What was he saying to you?” Darren asked, his interest obviously piqued.

I shrugged. “The girl who survived? He told me to find her.”

I left the rest of it out because I wasn’t even sure what it meant. It seemed intentionally designed to scare me, but I couldn’t figure out why. Was it because I had figured out when the Watcher would strike?

“Good luck tracking her down. She all but dropped off the face of the planet when her family got her out of here.” The words came out with a sigh, his discomfort at never speaking to her obvious, but his gaze stayed trained on me. “She’s the only surviving family member I haven’t interviewed. I even managed to interview her brother, who was on the other side of the country, but never her. She’s also the only survivor. I can’t help but wonder if she holds the key to all of this.”

I nodded in agreement and started my way out of the gym, turning over my shoulder at the door. “I have a long drive ahead, but good luck tonight. I really hope I’m wrong and the Watcher doesn’t… well, I hope everyone wakes up in the same bed they fall asleep in.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Thanks, Goldie. I hope you’re wrong, too, just to buy us more time.”

I smiled empathetically and left the gym, pulling out my notebook and writing down Peter’s words to me, hoping I could decipher them. I groaned, knowing I needed to share this all with Lexington, and that meant finally facing him. I pulled my hood back on as I headed into the rain.

Outside, the gloom officially took over. Rain pounded down in blinding sheets, blurring the ancient trees and old high school into jagged, looming shapes. I made a mad dash for my truck, tore the door open, and hurled my notebook onto the passenger seat. The slick leather offered no grip, and the book bounced straight onto the floor.

“Shit,” I mumbled, reaching down into the footwell to retrieve it, only to knock it even further out of reach.

Exhausted, wet, and thoroughly creeped out by the dead silence of the parking lot around me and the chilling words of Peter, I gave up and sat back in the driver's seat. I reached for the door to pull it shut—just as my world went pitch black.