Ellie gave the couple a deadpan look. “That’s possible. Have you seen him or heard anything from him lately or in the last fifteen years?”
“I already told you this,” Ida said impatiently. “No, and I didn’t look for him either. Hetty and I were glad he was gone and out of our lives.”
“Did you think he was capable of murder, Joe?” Derrick asked.
Joe grunted and hugged Ida to his side. “I sure as hell did. I said good riddance to him so our family could finally live in peace.”
SEVENTY-NINE
Brambletown High
Kat was still contemplating the last journal entry as she left homeroom. Her mama did believe her father, Kat’s grandfather, killed Ruth Higgins. She and Hetty had heard screams and seen him carrying a girl?
Had she told the police? Was that the reason everyone insisted he was guilty? Or had she kept silent out of fear?
Kat slunk into her English lit class, anxious to read more. But her teacher always had work for them to do. She read the assignment posted on the whiteboard.
“Today we’re researching folklore surrounding death and the passing of a loved one.”
“Why are we talking about this stuff?” Tory Griffin, a meek girl who hardly ever spoke up asked. “It’s spooky and depressing.”
“Because the South is historically known for its folklore, and with the attention to the history of our town and the memorial at the graveyard, I thought we should explore some of it.”
Tory dropped her head but looked nervous. Others whispered and shifted, disturbed by the topic as well.
“Now get busy. I want a one-page paper by the end of class.”
More complaints rumbled through the room, but everyone opened their laptops and reluctantly started to work.
Kat was inspired though. She’d heard whispers about black crows, that they were an omen of death to come. But she was more curious about what happened after someone passed. Where did they go? Was there a heaven? Angels? Could you connect with a deceased loved one?
Her grandfather Earl certainly wouldn’t have been welcome in heaven. Instead, she was sure if he was dead, he was rotting in hell. Except now she’d heard rumors at the diner that some people thought he wasn’t dead, that he’d been hiding out all these years and was killing again. That someone in North Georgia saw him buying cigarettes at a convenience store last week.
Fear ripped through her at the thought and she googled life after death, then found an article on signs from the afterlife. Seconds later she was intrigued by the topic and the various accounts written by individuals.
A woman named Laura Jean wrote:
My mother always loved butterflies and kept a butterfly garden that she treasured. At her graveside service, a beautiful butterfly suddenly fluttered above her coffin during the service. I knew it was my mother’s way of letting me know she was at peace and happy.
A young girl named Bliss:
My father had a habit of finding loose coins, especially pennies when he was in the woods or in town on the sidewalk. He said they were presents from loved ones who’d passed sending a message that the loved one was okay and was watching over you.
Kat scratched her head. Her grandfather certainly hadn’t sent butterflies or left any pennies. She read on:
In ancient times, people believed that the deceased needed coins to pay for passage across the River Styx.
“Thirty more minutes,” the teacher announced. “Time to start composing your one pager.”
Kat read one more entry, a piece from a woman named Heather:
I’m so broken right now. I lost my husband of fifty years and have a hole in my heart and life. I keep looking for signs he’s at peace and in heaven. Today when I visited his grave, I saw one. While I was sitting beside him talking about all our wonderful memories and crying, I heard ducks in the pond by his grave. I looked up and this one duck stopped and preened his feathers, flapping them so loudly I felt like he wanted my attention. Then he sat still and stared at me for a long time. It was so odd I got a chill. The more he watched me, the more I sensed he was trying to tell me something.
Then he waddled up onto the bank and slowly came toward me. For a moment, he started to go toward the right but then stopped and turned back and stared at me again. Seconds later, he walked straight toward me, watching me pensively as he did. As he grew close, he stopped and stared at me again. Then suddenly he flapped his wings and swooped directly over my husband’s grave, flying low the entire length of the grave.
Then he swooped to the ground at the head of the grave and started walking off.
I sat for a few more minutes then said goodbye to my husband and promised him I’d be back. When I reached my car, the duck was close by. As I slid into the driver’s seat, hemoved and stood directly in front of my car and stared at me again. A chill swept through me.
