Page 64 of The Premonition at Withers Farm
The only way to shove it back into its grave for good was to confront it. Reveal the ghostly remains of the past so that the dying present could be restored.
“Where are we going?” Sid waved at her kids as Molly drove out of Sid’s driveway. It was such a benefit that Sid and her husband shared child duty. Allowing Sid these middle-of-the-day interactions made Molly feel less alone.
“The library,” she answered.
“The library?” Sid quirked an eyebrow as she moved to buckle her seat belt belatedly.
“I want to look into the Cornfield Ripper, and I need your brains to help me sift through the information.”
“The Cornfield Ripper?” Sid’s curiosity was piqued. “Well, that’s digging deep into the past. Is this because of Trent’s cousin?”
“January?” Molly gripped the steering wheel tighter than she’d anticipated. “Yes. I need to know why she was here. Why she was poking into the family ancestry, and why she was researching the old killer.”
Sid finally wrestled the seat belt buckle into place. “Is her sister still bugging you?”
“Gemma hasn’t talked to me since the coffee shop fiasco. But some of what she said—it makes sense. I mean, she has legitimate questions. What if January stumbled onto something? What if that’s what got her killed?”
Sid looked doubtfully at her. “The Cornfield Ripper lived over one hundred years ago. No one alive even cares about that story anymore, outside of historians, conspiracy theorists, and people who like to tell creepy stories.”
“January did. Enough to figure out that Trent and I bought the house the victims lived in.”
“Really?” Sid’s voice squeaked. She composed herself and shook her head. “Happenstance.” Sid clucked her tongue.“Everything and everyone in Kilbourn is connected. Small-town curse, you know?” She laughed. “Heck, if we dig deep enough, we’ll probably find outwe’recousins.”
Molly couldn’t discount that. They drove in silence until they reached the library. Once inside, they reserved a station, and within moments they were skimming through microfiche newspapers from the 1900s.
“Oh, there’s a report on a local boy killed in a farming accident.” Sid stopped Molly’s intensive scrolling to point at the screen.
Molly paused and skimmed the article. “It’s not about the killer.” She continued scrolling.
“Hold up.” Sid’s hand settled over Molly’s, stilling her. “What exactly are we looking for? What is the primary goal here?”
“I don’t know. I ... I’m not sure, but I feel like there’s got to be something. January didn’t justdiefor no reason.”
Sid scrunched her lips in question. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around this. The police are obviously going to be investigating anything that’s connected to January’s death. Why do you feel you have to?”
It was a fair question, though not an easy one to answer.
“There are ghosts,” Molly began.
Sid’s head shot up in surprise.
Molly quickly continued, “I mean, the past always seems to collide with the present. One affects the other. The problem is, we can’t always understand why or how.”
“But a century-old murder case?”
“Maybe?” Molly shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. But it seems January found it important that Trent and I bought the old Withers farm.”
“You think she stumbled onto something?”
“Maybe,” Molly said again, feeling more defeated the more questions Sid asked. This really was a pointless goose chase.
“Whowasthe Cornfield Ripper?” Sid’s question prompted Molly to lean back in her chair.
“According to what Gladys told me, he was never identified. He killed and then disappeared after he had fun stalking and taunting the town of Kilbourn.”
“Right, but what do actual historical facts say? Not the stories handed down by the people of Kilbourn.”
“Funny meeting you here.” The voice made Sid jump and Molly wince, knowing instantly who had come up behind them.
