Page 82 of The Executioners Three
For several minutes, the girls scoured the area in silence. They peeked under rocks and inside rotting tree trunks. They kicked up leaves and rustled around in hedges. Freddie was moving in a very meticulous counterclockwise course, letting her eyes move and her gut guide her, until suddenly Divya cleared her throat.
“So, uh, I know you’re not going to like what I’m about to say—”
“Uh-oh.”
“—but I think it’s worth mentioning.” Divya plunked to a seat nearby.“Have you considered the possibility that maybe Sheriff Bowman is the one who moved the water bottle?”
Freddie barked a laugh, grinning Divya’s way. Then she caught sight of her friend’s expression and realized Divya was Very Serious Indeed.
“Are you out of your mind?” Freddie straightened. “You think Sheriff Bowman—theSheriff Bowman who protects this town—moved the water bottle?”
“Think about it.” Divya hugged her knees to her chest. “She had access to both the bottleandthe film. Plus, you called her on Wednesday night. If she was out here murdering someone, then she could have conveniently avoided finding the dead guy when you called, and instead found the drunk party.”
Freddie’s face wrinkled with a frown. Like, sure, if she cocked her head atjustthe right angle, she could maybe see what Divya was saying…
But no.No. There was no way her hero, the Blue-Eyed Badass of Berm, was the murderer. Bowman had no motive. Plus, “Explain why Bowman would attack her own mother.” Freddie planted her hands on her hips.
“I don’t know.” Divya shrugged. “But you said yourself the sheriff wasn’t at the station when you tried to find help.”
Rubbing her eyes, Freddie shuffled toward her best friend. “I refuse to believe Sheriff Bowman is out here hanging people.” Her hands fell. “And she’s definitely not beheading them.”
“Beheading?”Divya squawked. She shot to her feet. “What the heck? When did that happen?”
“Sunday, I think”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because,” Freddie began, “I didn’t know until this… morning…” The words died on her tongue. Her attention was suddenly snagged by whatever Divya had just been sitting on. “What is that?”
“A trail marker.” Divya waved the question aside.
“There aren’t any trails out here.” Freddie pushed past her best friend and dropped to a crouch before a foot-high stretch of stone. Granite, maybe, and definitely carved by humans. And alsodefinitelynot a trail marker. There was fresh wax on it, like a candle had recently melted all over the top.
Just like the wax candles Freddie had seen at the Allard Fortin crypt.
“Gravestone,” Freddie blurted. Then, louder and excited: “Aha, eureka, and gesundheit, Div! I think you just found a gravestone!”
“Holy crap.”
“Look, you can even see the tops of letters here! We need to dig around it and see.”
“Um, do we?” Divya recoiled. “I thought we were out here for water bottles. Notgraves. Also, can we please get back to the beheading?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Freddie mumbled, searching for a suitable shovel. “A body was found by the lake without its head. That’s all I know.”
Now Divya was the one to exclaim, “Oh my god.” She clapped a hand to her mouth. “Maybe we should go back to the bikes.”
“The lakeshore is nowhere near here.” Freddie snatched up a sturdy branch.
“Nowhere near here? It can’t be more than half a mile!”
“Yeah.” Freddie nodded, because clearly this proved her point. “Nowhere near here. But look, if you help me with this”—she waved to the gravestone—“then we’ll get out of here faster.”
Divya seemed to realize Freddie wasn’t leaving until she’d uncovered the rock, so seconds later, she too was clearing away soil. Soon the letters were fully visible. Worn down, certainly, and with a few letters gone entirely…
But still, enough was left behind to read.
DAMIEN, LE PORTIER
