Page 50 of The Girl on Hallow's Eve

George nods. “Not a pretty way to die.”

“But also not unheard of,” I say. “Horses kick and trample their riders sometimes. It’s not always fatal, but it happens. What was it about this one that fascinated you so much?”

“It didn’t feel right. I don’t know how to explain it any better than that. The details didn’t add up. This guy and his brothers had been on horses basically since birth. They knew how to take care of those animals. They worked with them every day, hitching them up to the equipment to work the fields, riding them out to the herds. They knew them and the horses knew them. This particular horse was known to be a little skittish and sometimes spooked, which might make him kick, but the injuries on this man were so much more extensive than they should have been for the situation.He was found in the barn by his brother, already dead. I’ve seen the police photos. There was blood everywhere. In the hay, on the horse’s foot and leg, on the wall. It just seemed excessive.”

“This happened thirty years ago?” I ask.

“July 23rd,” he says. “I’ll never forget it.”

“Hmmm,” I say. “My birthday.”

“Maybe not the best article to add to your birthday time capsule,” George offers.

“Probably not.” I think for a second. “Thirty years ago in July… that’s when Frank Morris went missing.”

“Who’s Frank Morris?” George asks.

“The brother of the man who shouted at you when you were reporting at the mall. He talked about his brother disappearing. That was him. He disappeared coming to this area for a job. He said it had to do with horses. Does that sound familiar?” I ask.

“Shit,” George whispers. “Yes. Right after Colby died, reports started coming out of a man going missing in the area. That he was seen near the farm. They didn’t call him Frank. I don’t remember what it was, but there was some sort of nickname. That happened a lot back then. People would decide to start a new life, they shed their old one. They picked up a nickname along the way and that became their identity. This guy disappeared and there were some whispers around town that he’d actually killed Colby and then ran off. But the medical examiner said it was a horse, so no one ever looked into it again.”

“Where was this? What farm?” I ask.

“It was called Briar Hill back then. It basically disappeared just a few years after Colby died, though,” George says. His eyes widen.

“Could you show it to me on a map?” I ask.

“Sure.”

I find the map I’ve been using the trace out the individual plots that were sold to use for the mall and show it to him. George looks at it for a second and I can’t tell if the expression in his eyes is fascination or sadness. He picks up a pencil and traces around a small section of land in the upper corner of the map.

“Right there.”

“That’s the abandoned piece of land where the fire was the other night,” I say.

“I couldn’t get a lot of information out of the real estate company working with the Calloway Group, big surprise, but I talked to Cary Rainey and Keilan Smith. It looks like that piece of land would have been snapped up with the rest of the acquisitions because of its position. Even if it is abandoned, they could find a way to work around ownership issues. But they both told me the same thing. The land was in a desirable location, but it was unusable due to ‘specific unavoidable features,’” I say.

“What features?” George asks.

“Cemeteries.”

“Cemeteries?” Sam asks, emphasizing the ‘s.’ “As in plural? Multiple of them on the same land?”

“It’s old land,” I tell him. “These are apparently family cemeteries and there are a couple of different plots, so the developer couldn’t use the land.”

“Colby is probably buried there,” George says.

“I thought it might be difficult to find the owner, but then I used the article you wrote, George, and the name you mentioned, Briar Hill, and I found him. Elias Carver,” I say.

“Right. Colby’s father. I could have told you that,” George says.

“I’m sure you could have. But would you have been able to tell me that he also owned this?”

I take the map and use the eraser of the pencil to outline the large area to the back of the mall property. It’s the largest plot of land that was acquired for the mall, consisting of the entire former farm rather than just pieces like with the other landowners.

“Why would he have sold off that huge piece of land like that and left another piece abandoned?” Sam asks.

“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out,” I say.

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