Page 110 of Stay Buried

He frowned at her, working his jaw like he was chewing on something. “What did you see?”

“A man. Wearing this”—she gestured to the mask and coat she’djust taken off, piled next to her on the floor of the cellar. “And he was riding Stella. She belongs to old Mr. Holland. I figured it out when I saw the red paint on her yesterday.”

“Mmm,” he said, rubbing his beard.

“So all that isproof,” she said, feeling quite triumphant, like a regular detective on the verge of cracking a case.

“Proof of what?”

“That he’s just a man. Not the actual knackerman crawling up out of his grave coming for us all.AndI think I know who he is,” she added, stepping closer to him.

Willy’s eyes got big. “Do you now?”

“When the knackerman was at my house that night, he dropped an old-fashioned pocket watch. Then I found out it belongs to Jack St. James—even though it used to belong to Thomas Endicott, it’s got his initials on it! Miss Prentice, she recognized it right away, and said that the watch is his.” She was talking fast, the words flying out like bees leaving a hive.

Willy’s face looked dark, serious. “And where’s the watch now?”

“I brought it to Mr. St. James, at the motel. I wanted to be sure.”

“Oh, Mini,” Willy said, shaking his head.

“He got real angry and shouted I should keep my mouth shut. This must be where he comes to put on the costume, to stash all the stuff he picks up. I think we should tell people. Go back into town and tell everyone that Jack St. James is the knackerman! He’s been stealing all the offerings and scaring people and—”

Willy cut her off. “It’s not that simple, Mini. You’re not seeing the whole picture. Just a piece of it.” He picked up the mask and looked down into the two dark eye sockets, gave a visible shiver. Mini didn’t like the way he looked so worried, scared even. Maybe he did believe. Or maybe, she thought, he was scared of something else. She eyed him suspiciously.

“Mr. Willy, sir, you haven’t explained yet whatyou’redoing up here.”

“Well, I came here because I think I know a way. A way to save you. And the strangers. And anyone else he goes after. I think I know a way to end it all.”

Willy stood up, swaying a little on his feet, and Mini was scared he might come tumbling down the stairs. She helped steady him.

“You okay, sir?”

“Fine, Mini. Just fine.”

His breath was hot and boozy, like a fire-breathing dragon.

“How?” she asked, unable to keep the doubt from her voice.

“I have a plan. But I need your help. I can’t do it alone. Will you help me? Will you help poor old Sad Willy?”

FORTY-SIXFRANKIE

March 15, 1919

Pearl!” I dropped to my knees beside her, pulled back the old brown coat, and looked at the wound.

My head swam when I saw the damage the gunshot had done, the amount of blood seeping from it.

It was bad. Very bad.

“I came back for you,” Pearl said, voice faint. Her breathing was fast and shallow. “I couldn’t go away. Not without you. I sneaked away from the others, followed our tracks back to town.”

“Shh,” I said, stroking the damp hair back away from her forehead. Kissing her there. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to carry you to the surgery.”

I gathered Pearl up in my arms, lifted her with some effort. Pearl groaned, draped an arm around my neck. “Chauncey,” she whispered. “He was going on and on about how we’d be married, how it was my father’s wish. How one day, Chauncey would run the factory. He spoke of the children we’d have—oh, Frankie, I couldn’t bear it.”

“Shh,” I said. “Save your energy.” Tears were running down my cheeks. My heart felt cold and my whole body thrummed with panic.