Page 127 of Rags's Awakening
“Yeah, but you almost weren’t,” he said, his voice low.
“It was probably someone from the neighborhood acting stupid,” she said, her voice muffled against his shirt.
“On a night like this? I don’t think so.”
Casey leaned back and looked up at him, their eyes locking. “Who then?”
“Someone dangerous.”
“Now you’re scaring the hell out of me.” A nervous laugh slipped from her lips.
“I’m serious. Tonight wasn’t a coincidence.” He brushed his lips across hers. “Have you noticed anything strange or off lately?”
Casey pulled away and chewed the side of her lower lip. “Maybe…”
Rags frowned. “What does that mean?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure exactly, but now that I think about it, a few strange things have happened. Not all the time, just little things that make me feel uneasy.”
“Okay. Tell me.”
“A couple of months ago I felt like someone was watching me. It was the night the play opened. I was walking to the parking lot, and I justknewsomeone was there, you know? I tried to talk myself out of it, but the feeling was so strong. When I drove away and turned onto Maple Street, I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a figure standing there. It was like he stepped out from behind that huge oak tree across from the theatre parking lot. It unnerved me.”
“Fuck, woman.” Rags’s jaw tightened. “Have you felt someone watching you since that night?”
“No. Not until tonight.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “What do you know about the string of young women murdered in this town in 1903?”
Rags shrugged. “Nothing. What’s that got to do with what we’re talking about?”
“You never heard about the unsolved murders?”
“No. I wasn’t around back then.” A grin tugged at his lips.
She ran her fingers along his cheek. “You’re too cute sometimes.”
He loved the way her eyes sparkled, pushing back the fear.
“But, hear me out. In 1903 a string of young women with dark hair were strangled in Pinewood Springs. The murderer was never caught. The eerie thing is the way he killed them, then posed them with their hair spread around them with flowers in their hair like a crown or something. It’s similar to what’s happening now.”
“Okay.”
She shook her head. “That’s too much of a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”
“Maybe. Could be whoever’s doin’ the killing now knows about those murders.”
“Exactly. That’s what I think. But what makes this really strange, scary as hell even, is that a book about those murders showed up on my desk one day. Someone put it there.”
A prickle of unease ran through Rags. “Whaddaya mean?”
“It was just there. I asked everyone if they’d left it, but they all said no. It gave me the chills. It still does whenever I think about it.”
“Do you still have the book?”
She crossed to the desk tucked into the corner of the room and opened a drawer. “Here it is.”
Rags took the book and flipped through the pages. “It had to be someone you know.”
“I agree. But who?”
