“Yes.”
“To expel a demon living inside her.”
“Yes.” I heard Ramsey swallow. “Later it came out that the girl was autistic.”
“Sonofabitch.” My skin tingled freezing hot as I leaned back in my chair. So this was what the good Father didn’t want to tell me. “Was Hoke charged?”
“No. Following an inquiry, the death was ruled accidental.”
Screw facts. I unfurled my theory about Hoke and his bullshit church.
“Look, Doc. The guy is several exits past weird, but accusing him of murder is pretty far out there.”
“Hoke suffocated a nine-year-old girl,” I snapped.
Humming silence. I could practically hear Ramsey clicking through the same faults in my thinking that Ryan had pointed out.
His next revelation surprised me almost as much as his first.
“We may have Strike’s laptop.”
“Are you serious?”
“A vagrant found an old Gateway while dumpster-diving behind Dunn’s Deli in Banner Elk.”
“Have you told Slidell?”
“I was about to call you, then him.”
“Where’s the thing been for five days?”
“The fine citizen held on to it, thinking he might make a few bucks. But the battery’s dead and he had no way to charge it. Failing to find a buyer, he decided to try for a reward by turning it in. He called us about two hours ago. The thing just landed here at headquarters.”
“What makes you think it belonged to Strike?”
“The initials HLCS are on the cover.”
Hazel Lee Cunningham Strike. The now familiar flicker of guilt went through me.
“Can you boot it?”
“We’re searching for a charger.”
“Skinny’s out with his girlfriend. Call. Make him look important.”
Of course I couldn’t sleep. A nonstop PowerPoint played in my head. Images. Recorded voices, two bullying, one frightened.
At two I gave up and went downstairs. It was becoming a pattern.
After making tea, I sat at the dining room table. Stared at the hated box, which stared back.
Ignoring the accusatory ruckus of unsorted receipts, I drew a tablet and pen toward me. Based on Ryan’s comments, I headed columns. “Victims.” “Cause of death.” “Place of death.” “Time of death.” “Motives.” “Suspects.” “Weapons.”
I eyeballed the empty lists. Got the same result as with the box stare-down.
I tore off and crumpled the sheet. Began a diagram. Nodes with names and notes. Lines connecting the nodes.
Cora Teague—Graduates high school, goes to work for Brice family. River dies, returns home, disappears.
Eli Teague—Dies at age twelve, ER doctor suspicious.
John Teague—Owns convenience store–gas station op. Religious zealot, pugnacious.
Fatima Teague—Housewife, submissive.
Owen Lee Teague—Failed at real estate, dog trainer.
Realizing I knew little about Fatima or Owen Lee, nothing about the other Teague siblings, I began a list of questions on a separate sheet.
Mason Gulley—NJF, disappears same time as Cora Teague. Johnson City, TN(?) Posts as OMG (?) about Cora Teague on CLUES.net, turns up dead at Brown Mountain overlooks.
Grandma Gulley—Catholic, judgmental. Big.
Susan Grace Gulley—Slips me information about Mason, spies on Cora during Mason’s stay in Johnson City, TN. Detests Cora. Angry, rebellious. Big.
I added questions below the one concerning the Teagues. Where did Mason stay in Johnson City? Why? Why wouldn’t Susan Grace divulge the reason Mason went to Tennessee?
Hazel Strike—Websleuth, finds CLUES.net post about Cora Teague, finds my NamUs post, finds recorder at Burke County overlook, confronts me with theory UID ME229-13 is MP Cora Teague. Murdered.
More questions. Why did Strike go on hiatus from websleuthing? Where was she murdered? By whom? How did her body end up in the pond?
Granger Hoke—Defrocked priest, Jesus Lord Holiness church, deviant brand of Catholicism, exorcist, accidental death of child during rite.
Joel, Katalin, River, and Saffron Brice—Disillusioned Jesus Lord Holiness members. Saffron, broken arm. River, SIDS.
Terrence O’Tool—GP, epilepsy, inadequate treatment, gold cross, uncooperative.
Fenton Ogilvie—Coroner, alcoholic, died in elevator fall.
I studied the jumble of lines and nodes. Felt my head begin to go up in smoke.
Tearing off a blank page, I created a new list labeled “Human Remains.”
1. Fragmentary leg and foot bones found at Lost Cove Cliffs Overlook. Sent to Marlene Penny at WCU.
2. Partial torso found at Burke County overlook. Sent to me. ME229-13.
3. Fragmentary bone and printless fingertips (Mason Gulley / NJF?) found on return trip to Burke County overlook with Strike and Ramsey. ME122-15.
4. Fragmentary bone and concrete mold (Mason Gulley?) found with Ramsey at the Devil’s Tail trail near Wiseman’s View overlook. ME135-15.
I reread the four entries. Threw down my pen in frustration. My unanswered questions far outnumbered my facts. The exercise had been as useful as a slap on the butt.
One more try. “Dates.”
1993: Cora Teague is born.
1996: Eli Teague is born.
2008: Eli Teague dies.
2011, Spring: Cora Teague graduates high school and goes to work for Brice family. River dies. Cora is sent home.
2011, July: Cora Teague and Mason Gulley disappear. (Gulley goes to Johnson City, TN?).
2011, August: OMG (Mason Gulley?) posts on CLUES.net about Cora Teague.
2011, September: OMG’s posts stop.
My hand froze. I closed my eyes and conjured an image. A conversation with a green-vestment-clad man on a windy day.
A high-voltage impulse fired in my brain.
I knew when and where Mason Gulley was killed.
I was awake until four. Fortunately it was Sunday, so I could sleep late. Tell that to my stoked-with-a-breakthrough brain.
I waited until eight to start dialing. Ramsey’s voice mail stated that he’d be out of contact until Monday. I left a message, then tried his landline at the sheriff’s department. Was told the same thing. Left the same message.
Slidell. Message.
Nine o’clock came and went with no call back from either. Ten.
I was working through the loathsome box, reading the same receipts over and over, putting them in piles, picking them up and putting them in different piles, when my cell finally warbled an incoming call.
I grabbed it.
“You were seen in the hall of the mountain king.”
“Sorry?” I kicked into nuance analysis mode, not sure if my mother was being cryptic or irrational.
“You were spotted at Heatherhill Thursday night.”
“Oh.”
“Were you secretly plotting with the wizards and shamans who oversee my well-being?”
“Mama, are you taking your meds?”
“Of course I’m taking my meds. Why is it if I wax the least bit lyrical you always ask about pills?”
“Sorry.” Resolving to phone Dr. Luna or Goose.
“Why didn’t you come to see me, sweetheart?”
“You weren’t in your suite.” True. “I figured you were with Dr. Luna or having a treatment.” Not so much. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Such a long trip to not interrupt.”
“I was up in Avery County anyway.”
I braced for a broadside of questions about the Brown Mountain remains. Didn’t come.
“Would you mind tackling that hideous drive again?”
“What do you need?”
“Time with my daughters.”
“You’ve called Harry?” Pulse kicking up at her use of the plural. At the implication of a dual offspring request.
“I have.”
“Are you unwell?”
“Really, Tempe. I love you. But you are so tediously predictable.”
I waited.
“I could not be better.” High melodrama sigh.
“Harry is coming to North Carolina?” I asked.