Page 44 of The Executioners Three
Divya wagged her head. “Just tell me everything that happened, please.”
Freddie’s head lolled back. She stared at Divya’s ceiling, covered in glow-in-the-dark stars. “So my mom is making me do the Lumberjack Pageant, right? And today was the first rehearsal…”
It was fully night by the time Freddie left Divya’s. She called her mom (on Sabrina!) to tell her where she was, and then she set out for the brisk walk home. It led her through downtown Berm, where people hurried by, shivering on the sidewalks. A marquis sign on the Fortin Theater advertised a screening ofScreamfor Halloween. Lights flickered inside the tens of jack-o’-lanterns, and a smell like cinnamon filled the night.
Normally Freddie loved this walk. Right now, she was too focused on her own internal miseries to really notice. Why had kissing Theo Porter seemed like such a good idea at the time? Where had her logical detective brain gone?
Freddie hurried past Fortin Park with its brass statue of the second Allard Fortin (André) and a new scattering of fallen maple leaves. Then past Mr. Binder’s shops: Pottery-a-Plenty (closed), the Frame & Foto (also closed), and West End Wine (open and crowded). A block after that, and Freddie left downtown behind. She had just reached the intersecting road that would lead to her house when she spotted a figure farther on, hunched and hustling.
Freddie instantly knew who it was: Mrs. Ferris—who also happened to be Sheriff Bowman’s mother and lived a few doors down from her.
And actually, now that Freddie was considering it, that also made Mrs. Ferris Theo’s grandmother.
Wow, shereallyshould have made all these connections sooner. For such a small town, people really weren’t talking enough.
Every day, Mrs. Ferris power-walked around the neighborhood.You don’t stay healthy at age eighty-seven otherwise,she liked to say. Then she’d ask if Freddie had a boyfriend—or a partner of any gender because she was Very Progressive Indeed—and when Freddie would inevitably say no, Mrs. Ferris would laugh and say, “Good. Stay away from love. I went through three husbands after my Mr. Porter died, and not a one was worth the hassle. Plus, my son gave up everything for love, and look where that landed him.”
Freddie had never actually known where that landed him, since Mrs. Ferris’s son (and presumably Theo’s father) had never lived in Berm. But now, Freddie had many questions—although they would all have to wait, since this wasn’t Mrs. Ferris’s usual strolling time and she was moving at three times her usual pace.
In a heartbeat, Freddie’s gut started growling. She kicked into a jog. “Mrs. Ferris!” she called. But the wind gusted Freddie’s words away.
So she just dropped her head and pumped her legs harder until at last she’d caught up to the ancient lady farther uphill (and well past Freddie’s own house now). “Mrs.… Ferris,” she panted, slowing to a walk. “Are you… all… right?”
Mrs. Ferris didn’t even glance at her. “Frederica, you should get home.”
“So should you.” Freddie dragged a sleeve over her forehead and wiped away sweat—though the wind was doing a serviceable job of drying it. “It’s after nine. Way too dark for a walk.”
The old lady didn’t respond to this. Instead she asked, “Is the old path to City-on-the-Berme still there? The one that cuts through at the end of this street?”
Freddie’s face scrunched up. “Yes, but it’s not lit. And it’s also not safe.”
“Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter. I’m already too late.”
“Late for what? Mrs. Ferris, please.” Freddie grabbed for the old lady’s arm. “Stop walking.” Freddie’s fingers closed around Mrs. Ferris’s jacket, the down compressing until she reached a feeble elbow.
And the woman finally paused. She turned her wrinkled face toward Freddie. “Ican’tstop, don’t you see?”
Freddie definitely didn’t see. “Mrs. Ferris, that path is completely dark at night.”
“Yes, yes. I brought a flashlight.” Her eyes homed in on Freddie’s face again. “But you need to go on home now, Freddie. It’s not safe out right now.” With far more strength than Freddie would have thought possible, Mrs. Ferris yanked her elbow free and set off up the street once more.
“Wait!” Freddie cried, desperate now. She launched after Mrs. Ferris. “I know it’s not safe. That’s whyyoushould go home too.”
Mrs. Ferris’s face folded inward. “No, Freddie. You just have to trust me. Now go on home before it’s too late.”
“Let me give you a ride,” Freddie begged. Yet Mrs. Ferris didn’t slow, and Freddie hadn’t really expected her to.
With a gulp, Freddie spun around and aimed once more for home. She needed help. Her stomach felt like it had tentacles, and they were squeezing the life from her lungs. She would never be able to convince Mrs. Ferris on her own, and she couldn’t justify tackling an old woman.
In seconds, Freddie skidded to a stop before Sheriff Bowman’s house. But the lights were off and no cars filled the driveway. So, she shoved once more into a sprint, and moments later, she slung through her own front door and shouted,“Mom! Steve!”
Steve’s head popped out from the kitchen. “What is it, Fred?”
“I need to take… your… truck.” She was gasping for air—partly from exertion, but partly from fear. “It’s Mrs. Ferris. She’s walking up toward the park trail, and she’s being really weird. Can I please take your truck?”
Instantly, Steve abandoned whatever he’d been doing and strode toward her. “Let’s go.”
Freddie had never loved her stepdad more.
