The Christopher Killer by Alane Ferguson

Author:Alane Ferguson [Ferguson, Alane]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
ISBN: 9781436212663
Publisher: Penguin Group
Published: 2006-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

THE SIDEWALK LEADING TO SCHOOL was cracked beneath Cameryn’s feet, uneven rectangles of cement with gaps sprouting a few hardy weeds. It felt good to walk, to stretch her muscles and move her body, to feel she could at least physically go forward even if she was frozen mentally. Nothing had been settled in the past twenty-four hours. Not the issue of her mother (her father had stayed overnight in Durango, so she’d been unable to talk to him) and certainly not Rachel’s death, the tragedy of which had triggered a media frenzy. Silverton was filling up with newspeople from as far away as California. Dr. Jewel himself was on the way. Trucks and vans had already rumbled into town, their tops bristling electronic spikes, their microphone cords coiling along Greene Street, snakelike. The Grand’s restaurant was bustling, so much so that last night her boss had called her in to work.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t,” she’d told him, and he hadn’t pressed. Then Lyric had called with the news that some Silverton residents, some of whom had never talked to Rachel in life, had suddenly become her best friends in death. “Everyone’s lining up to be interviewed. The only one not running a freak show is Jewel—he’s going to be here tomorrow! Did you hear he’s staying at the Grand? Don’t worry, he’s going to find Rachel’s killer. He was on the news, and he said this time the energy’s really strong. Jewel will get whoever did this—wait and see.”

Later that evening, Cameryn’s Mammaw had come into her bedroom. Cameryn had been lying there, her pillow tight over her face so she could block out everything, until she’d felt the bedsprings sag under a new weight, felt strong fingers kneading her backbone, heard her grandmother’s voice.

“You haven’t said a word to me since you’ve been back and you’ve not eaten a thing. Was it seeing poor Rachel?”

Cameryn had nodded beneath her pillow. She wanted to be little again, before people left or died, when she believed mountains were made of candy. Surrounded by her own things and near her own grandmother, she pulled the pillow from her face. Mammaw, tied into a red gingham apron, smiled at her, her forehead knotted in concern.

“What’s on your heart, girl? Tell me.”

“I don’t know if I can,” she’d whispered.

“Try.”

“It’s…Hannah.” She’d teared up but then forced them back. “What would happen if I had been the one who died? Could you…could you even find her? Do you even know where she is?”

Looking at her carefully, her mammaw had asked, “I don’t suppose this sudden interest in your mother has anything to do with that new deputy, does it? Oh, don’t look so surprised, girl. Patrick told me about his run-in with Deputy Crowley. I understand the boy’s got a message from your mother that’s he’s dying to give you. Well, I don’t like it but there’s nothing for it. I’ve always told Patrick that secrets, especially family secrets, never stay buried forever.” Her grandmother’s fingers had spread across thick knees.

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