Midnight Showing by Megan Shepherd

Author:Megan Shepherd [Shepherd, Megan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-03T00:00:00+00:00

WINTER OF THE WICKED

© 1947 Sigil Pictures

INTERIOR—BARN—NIGHT

A single dying CANDLE shows Farm Wife cowering in an empty stall with her two daughters. ANIMAL SHRIEKS AND MOANS come from outside. Hooves slam against the barn door. The barricade splinters but holds.

A POSSESSED MOUSE with bloodshot eyes slips through a crack and bites Younger Daughter.

“SHE’S OUR DAD’S COUSIN, Kylie. His cousin.”

Outside the Chocolate Lounge after our meeting with Patrick Kane, I paced tightly along the stretch of sidewalk that spanned from the clothing boutique to the bookstore, feeling like my legs had gone boneless. Kylie leaned against the bookstore window, toying anxiously with her earring.

Now that I thought back to Tree Pose—Miracle Acosta—I saw everything with fresh eyes.

“Do you think she knew who we were?” Kylie asked.

“She had to,” I said emphatically. “She approached me, not the other way around. I think she completely made up that story about finding Joao’s ‘journal’ to test me. And I’ll bet you anything it wasn’t a coincidence she just happened to also be awake and outside at one a.m. on the night of the storm. She was watching us.”

“Why not tell us who she was?”

I didn’t have an answer for that. I slowed to a stop as I dug out my phone and punched in a number.

“Who are you call—” Kylie started, but I held up a finger as someone picked up on the other side.

“Hello?” I said into the phone. “Candace Elliot? It’s Haven Marbury. You might remember—Yes. Listen, you mentioned someone else had been trying to get into your funeral home to examine Joao’s body. A woman. Did she have a slight accent, by chance?”

At Candace’s response, I hung up and pressed my fingers against my eyes.

“Candace verified it,” I muttered. “The other woman investigating Joao’s murder wasn’t Nanette. She had an accent, so it must have been Miracle. It was her that Rafe saw searching the crime scene during the storm.”

Kylie slumped further against the bookstore’s window. Its display of literary thrillers soured my stomach. I was afraid to look too closely at the titles. Afraid I’d see an Amory Marbury or an Adelaide Martin or a Patrick Kane—as though forces beyond our control were reaching out, forming connections that should never be made.

Kylie’s eyes darted toward a nearby couple looking at the menu posted outside the Chocolate Lounge. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Do you think Miracle killed Nanette?”

Honestly, I didn’t know what to think. That night had been so dark, turbulent. My glimpse of the mysterious shapes I’d seen had spanned a single lightning flash—person or monster or tree, I hadn’t been sure.

I slumped onto the bookstore windowsill next to her. “If she did kill Nanette, why? What does Nanette have to do with her nephew’s murder?”

Kylie gave an involuntary shiver. “Unless Miracle killed Joao, too.”

When I let out a small exhalation of surprise, Kylie jabbed a matter-of-fact finger against her palm. “Think about it. Maybe Miracle was at the campground to return to the scene of the crime.

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