Find Me by Debra Webb

restricted by the rules. Sarah didn't buy it for a second. "Why don't you walk me through what's been going on in the community for the past week or so, since the first girl went missing."
    Confusion lined Deputy Brighton's forehead but her eyes gave her away. She'd just locked down like the Pentagon during an unexpected alert. "I'm not sure what you mean. I think you'll find everything you need in the reports there."
    The proverbial Mexican standoff.
    Conner repositioned in his chair twice in the ensuing silence.
    This was going to take a while. "Let's see…" Sarah plopped her bag on the floor by her chair, then unzipped her coat and shrugged it off, letting it drop onto the back of her chair. "Talk in the village is that this case is related to the one twenty years ago. One reporter interviewed five Youngstown citizens and got the same story. The new property development coming to town awakened a curse the village founder predicted would befall anyone who desecrated sacred ground. Sacred, apparently, primarily translating into whatever he held dear."
    Karen glanced at Conner. Sarah waited patiently for her to decide how she intended to evade giving an answer.
    "It's true," she said finally. "Thomas Young, Youngstown's founder, warned the settlers some two hundred fifty years ago that a horrible fate would befall the village if its history was disregarded or otherwise disrespected." She shrugged noncommittally. "Some believe the development going in on the Young estate has spurred that curse. They point to the out-of-season storm we experienced a few weeks ago as the first warning."
    "Like twenty years ago," Sarah suggested. "The unearthing of a cemetery set off a chain of events that culminated in murder."
    "That was a mistake," Conner chimed in. "The cemetery wasn't recorded. No one knew it was there. The high school expansion was well under way before the problem was discovered. What happened after that was no curse, Ms. Newton. It was just a run of nasty weather and bad luck that ended in tragedy."
    "But the murders," Sarah countered, "were somewhat similar to Valerie Gerard's." Earlier Conner had argued that they weren't, but that wasn't exactly accurate.
    Again that look was exchanged between the deputy and the newest village councilman. "The similarities aren't consistent with a repeating M.O.," Karen allowed, "even though on initial examination they might appear to be."
    "How so?" Sarah wasn't giving up until she knew all that the police knew. If Deputy Brighton wanted to test her staying power she could have at it.
    The deputy pressed her lips together for a moment, ensuring she appeared to give ample thought to the question before responding when her real intent was to keep the unauthorized answer from popping out. "All the victims"—she looked straight at Sarah—"then and now, were mutilated. But not in the same ways. This kind of murder is never pretty, but the hack-and-slash act of killing doesn't mean that every hack-and-slash case is related."
    Now she was patronizing. "No evidence then or now. It's my understanding the killer didn't leave a message last time."
    Another of those she-couldn't-possibly-know-this shared glances. "According to what we've been told by the chief," Brighton said carefully, "who was involved in the investigation twenty years ago, there was no message left by the killer back then. The files on that case were lost in a fire in the old Public Safety building."
    Sarah might have considered that rather convenient except that the timing didn't really lend itself to a conspiracy. "But this time was different," Sarah prompted. She resisted the urge to lean forward in her intense examination of the other woman. Karen Brighton wasn't a very good liar; it would be easy to spot. "This time the killer left a message."
    Conner stood. "We should get you settled at the inn."
    Relief flooded the deputy's face. "I'll let the chief know you have more questions. I'm sure he'll make time for