Page 59 of A Curse On Black Lake
“You said it’s a signature. You’ve seen it before?”
He nods absently.
“Were the others like that?” I ask him.
He rubs the back of his neck, flicking a look at me. “I can’t remember if it was all of them for sure. It was years ago. I distinctly remember a few with the flower, though.”
“Based on what you told me, he’s meticulous. Which tells me he would have the skill to be able to dry flowers like that. Again, it’s not that it’s difficult, but for something to be so perfectly intact means temperature control. A space for the flower to hang without being disturbed.”
“How do you know it’s a man?” Killian asks.
“I don’t know, but I find it hard to believe a woman did this.”
“I agree. I don’t like to assume, but I’ve always thought the same,” he says.
“So what now?” I ask him.
His jaw ticks as he thinks. “It means we have more information than Wyatt, at least I think. But this flower might mean more than simply anotefrom the killer.”
“Do you think he’s trying to communicate?” I ask him.
“Maybe,” he grunts.
I turn the page and on the back is a note from Grams, explaining that other Greer women have studied this flower, and that it’s tied to something else.
That’s odd.
Answers can be found in our past.The Spirits say.
“Does this have to do with everything else?” I ask them out loud.
“What?” Killian says.
It is possible.
“What are they saying?” Killian asks.
Ignoring him, I grab past journals from my ancestors. I don’t recall ever seeing this flower in the other journals, but it’s feasible that I missed it, assuming it was lilac or another flower.
“I think there’s more to this Death Flower.”
“How is that? These types of offenders are good at providing meaning that only makes sense to them. That’s partly why they call it a signature,” he says.
“That might be true, but I think in this case it means something else.”
“Like what?” he asks, tilting his head.
I can’t help but smile. He’s so cute. I’m not going to say it, but I want to.
But I won’t.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing, uh, I wonder if my ancestors have any information on this flower. It’s just so specific. You have to be ready to catch this weed. And the fact that it pops up at random times despite the fact people are dying all the time, especially here in Black Lake, is very strange.”
Everything has balance. Everything is linked.
My hands tremble, and my stomach hardens with their words. It feels like I’m starting to trudge into the swamp, and I can’t see what’s below me, but I have no choice but to plunge myself under the dark water.
