Upstate Uproar (12 page)

“After we eat,” Vivian whispered back, then
took another bite of biscuit.

Kate set her fork down and looked at them.
“There’s something I need to tell y’all, and I don’t think you’re
going to like it.”

Vivian stopped eating and looked at her.
“What is it?”

“I had a dream last night. At first I was
scared, especially after hearing the story in the newspaper. But
I’ve been thinking about this while I eat, and along with my other
dream, I believe there are two women trying to send me a message.”
She paused. “I think we should stay.”

Wendy’s hand slipped and her coffee cup
clanked onto the table, spilling coffee on the white cotton
tablecloth. “Excuse me?”

“Yes,” Kate said as she fidgeted with her
bacon. She looked both of them square in the eyes. “I had a very
vivid dream last night. I was the woman who was buried alive.”

K
ate sat silent,
staring at Wendy and Vivian, who hadn’t moved since her
announcement that they should remain at Turlington Farms because of
a dream she’d had the night before. A dream where she was buried
alive.

Vivian broke the silence. “Kate, I realize
you have a history of helpful dreams, compliments of your sweet,
dead relatives, but you’re talking about strangers. People you’ve
never met. Not to mention dead people. Ghosts. Spirits. And other
spooky shit.”

Wendy spoke up. “I’m sure this is happening
because of yesterday. I mean, it’s not every day you run across
human remains.”

“Maybe, but let me tell you about the dream
and you’ll see why.” Kate picked at her sausage link and took a
small bite. “If we left now, I’d feel like…like…like I’m abandoning
them.”

Wendy dabbed a coffee splotch with her
napkin. “Okay, tell us about your dream.”

Kate leaned forward. “I was hiking in the
woods when all of a sudden there was a pain in my head. Next thing
I knew, I was trapped in a dark hole. The earth was all around me,
crushing me. It hurt to open my eyes, burned my lungs, my entire
body was being smothered. The weight of the dirt kept getting
heavier and heavier.”

The door swung open and Tracy walked in with
a carafe of orange juice.

Kate continued. “I had dirt in my ears, my
nose, my mouth. I tried to move, but it was useless. All I could do
was wait until there was no more air, and it was over. I was
dead.”

Tracy stopped in her tracks. “I’m sorry, I
didn’t mean to interrupt. I thought you might like some juice.”

“I’ll have a bit more,” Vivian said and
pushed her glass toward her.

Tracy reached over and poured, but she
overshot the glass, spilling juice on the table. Her hands were
shaky. “I’m such a klutz these days, I swear.”

Vivian tossed her napkin over the spill.
“You’ll need to wash the tablecloth anyway. Wendy sloshed her
coffee earlier.”

“Sorry,” Wendy said.

Tracy’s three-quarter sleeve inched up and a
purplish-green bruise peeked out.

“Ouch, what’d you do?” Vivian asked.

“Who knows?” She tugged her sleeve down to
cover it, but there wasn’t enough material. “I probably ran into
the doorjamb or something. There’s no telling.”

Vivian nodded but couldn’t get the thought
out of her mind that maybe Brandon had caused that bruise. Then a
really ugly thought popped into her head but was interrupted as the
front door opened.

Brandon walked in looking drained and tired.
He glanced at Tracy and forced a smile. “Morning, everyone. Mmmmm,
sure smells good in here.”

“Hi, honey. Can I make you a plate?” Tracy
set the orange juice on the table and turned toward the
kitchen.

“That sounds good, I’ll go wash up.”

Vivian wiped her mouth with her napkin and
picked up her plate. “I’m all finished.”

Tracy stopped in the doorway. “Just leave the
dishes. You’re our guest.”

Kate stood up and stretched. Her belly looked
like it had grown during breakfast. Wendy patted it. “Little Plum
is plumping up.”

Kate drummed her fingers on her bump. “That
she is.”

“Let’s go upstairs and regroup,” Wendy said.
“I’d feel better if we heard from Lucy.”

Vivian opened the door and almost stepped on
a piece of paper that lay on the floor in front of the door.
What’s this?
Vivian unfolded the paper. “Thanks for the
talk. You helped me put the honey in honeymoon. We don’t like
what’s going on around here and think you should leave, too. Take
care – M.”

“What’s that?” Kate asked as she sat in the
high-backed chair.

“A note from Mitzie.” Vivian smiled to
herself, happy she could help with the “honey.”

Wendy ran a brush through her long brown
hair. “Did they leave?”

Vivian kicked off her shoes and lay down on
the bed. “Yes, and she advises we do the same.” She looked at Kate.
“So you really feel like we should stay? Because I have to tell
you, I’m ready to pull up TripAdvisor and find something else. I’m
having second thoughts about Brandon. Did you see that bruise on
Tracy’s arm?”

“I saw it,” Wendy said, looking at them
through the reflection of the mirror. “He seems like an okay guy,
but we have to consider… what if he killed his first two wives? Who
was buried on Haystack Mountain?”

Vivian grabbed the newspaper and pointed to
p. 4. “Apparently we’re not the first people to think Brandon had a
hand in what happened to his wives. Here it says that his first
wife was a strong swimmer, and she
drowned
. Hello? That
doesn’t sit right.”

“Let me see that,” Wendy said and took the
paper. “He had her declared dead? That seems harsh.” She passed it
to Kate.

As Kate skimmed it, she shook her head.
“Look, I realize they were just dreams, but I never felt anger
toward Brandon. Seems like I would have felt something.”

“Who do you feel anger toward?” Vivian
said.

Kate looked at her, annoyed. “It’s not like
that. Trust me, if I knew Brandon murdered Mary Beth and had
something to do with Rebecca’s disappearance, we’d be out of here
already. I don’t feel any threat from him toward us, but I feel
like the women in my dreams are asking me for help. I can’t shake
it.” She stood up and went into the bathroom.

Vivian heard water running and Kate brushing
her teeth.

Wendy grabbed her laptop and sat on the bed
next to Vivian. “What do you think?”

Vivian shrugged. “The breakfast rocks and my
bed is comfy. He doesn’t come across to me as a killer, but
still... ”

Kate leaned out of the bathroom door and
pointed her toothbrush at Vivian. “I remember a certain short
Mexican guy saying that about you not too long ago.”

Vivian laughed, thinking of Shorty. “And he
was right, so maybe we should give Brandon a chance.”

“Let’s do some Google-ing and see what we can
find.” Wendy booted up her computer and soon was tapping away at
the keys. “After this, I hate to say it, but we’ve got to take
Austin back to the shelter.”

“There’s a fall festival in town later
today,” Vivian said. “I read about it in the paper. Maybe we can go
when we take him back.”

“That sounds fun,” Kate said, joining them.
“I wish Lucy was here to go with us.”

“I found something,” Wendy said, pointing to
her computer. “It’s Mary Beth’s obituary on the funeral home
website. Says she was 27, a teacher, survived by her husband,
Brandon Holt, and several aunts, uncles and cousins.”

“Guess she was an only child,” Kate said,
looking over Wendy’s shoulder. “She was really pretty. Kinda cute,
you know?”

Vivian scooted over to see the picture. Mary
Beth was smiling, at ease, wearing a polo shirt with a school logo.
Brown, wavy hair fell below her shoulders, and she had a dimple in
her left cheek.

“That was probably her teacher photo,” Wendy
said.

“Sad,” Kate said.

Wendy recalled the Google results and pulled
up the next link, an article in the
Lake Placid News
written
by Earl Jones, two days after Rebecca disappeared. He reported
about Rebecca basically disappearing into thin air. Her purse and
house keys were gone, but nothing else was missing or out of place
in the house.

The article asked for people with any
information to come forward. A picture of Rebecca smiling as she
stood at the lake’s edge sent a chill down Vivian’s spine.

Wendy clicked on more links from the Google
search and found articles written in the weeks after the
disappearance. Wendy read the interesting parts aloud, but much of
it was the same as what they’d already read. She clicked on a link
from the
Chicago Tribune
and pulled up Rebecca’s
obituary.

“Guess that’s where she was from,” Wendy
said. “Says she went missing at the age of 43. Wow, she had a big
family. In addition to Brandon, she was survived by her father, two
brothers and four sisters, aunts, uncles, etc. She was a graduate
of Northern Illinois University. Then there’s a whole story about
her life, things she was involved with before her first husband
died. Then it says she married Brandon and moved to Lake Placid,
New York.”

“They must not have thought he had something
to do with her disappearance, if he’s mentioned in the obit,” Kate
said.

“I guess,” Vivian said. “But did they even
really know him?”

Wendy closed her laptop. “So what’s the
verdict? Are we staying or going? I personally think we should
leave. It’s too much. Something’s not right here.”

Kate walked to the window and stared out,
then turned around. “I really feel like these ladies need my help.
They’re constantly on my mind. I need to stay.”

Vivian looked from Kate to Wendy. “I would
die if something happened to Little Plum. Are you sure about this,
Kate?”

“Absolutely.”

Vivian took a deep breath. “Okay, we’re
staying.”

Wendy put the computer into her laptop bag.
“I’m not leaving y’all. I’ll just steal a knife from the kitchen
and keep it under my pillow. Now let’s get out of here. We’ve got
to take Austin back.”

Decision made, they dressed for the day in
jeans, sweaters, boots, scarves and jackets.

The girls grabbed their phones and purses and
headed downstairs. As Vivian opened the screen door she saw Brandon
toss a stick across the yard for Austin, who bounded after it. She
couldn’t help but cringe as thoughts of yesterday flooded her mind.
She shook off the willies and the burning desire to wash her hands
as she walked to the car. Austin jumped around them in circles.

“Time to take him back to the shelter, huh?”
Brandon asked.

“Yeah. This is hard,” Wendy said. “I don’t
want to take him back.”

“We have to,” Vivian said. “Does someone want
to take him home?”

“I would love to, but I can’t,” Wendy said.
“Wish I could. Damn this dog for a day program!”

Brandon scratched Austin on the head and took
the stick from his mouth. “See ya later, buddy.” He turned around
and cracked the stick in half over his knee, then tossed it into a
bush and went inside, the door slamming behind him.

That’s callous,
Vivian thought.
Oh,
god. I hope we’ve made the right decision.

O
n their way to the
animal shelter, Vivian called Lucy three times, and three times she
got voice mail. It was tough to say goodbye to Austin, so only
Wendy went inside to drop him off. When she returned to the car her
eyes were red and watery. No one said anything. Then:

“So where’s this famous Lake Placid fall
festival?” Kate asked, trying to sound perky.

“I think the paper said it’s at the community
center,” Vivian said, digging in her purse. “I wrote down the
address. Aren’t you proud of me?”

“Very,” Wendy said. “I think I’m rubbing off
on you.”

Wendy was known to be the planner, prepared
and practical. She usually had an array of medications, bandages,
defensive devices, and other fun gizmos in her purse.

Vivian plugged the address into her phone and
gave directions to the community center. They drove past the
festival the first time because they were captivated by a
beautiful, vibrant tree with orange leaves. They circled back and
parked behind the small, gray metal building.

“Not many cars here,” Kate said as she hit
the lock button on the rental.

They opened the doors to the fall festival,
and it was as if someone yanked the needle off the record. Time
stood still. Everyone turned and stared at the girls.

“I get the feeling we’re not in Kansas, I
mean Texas, anymore,” Wendy said under her breath.

“Maybe I’ll find the kids a souvenir while
we’re here,” Vivian said, walking up to a booth filled with
journals and hand-carved wooden pens. A lady in overalls sat
cheerfully awaiting customers. She was makeup free, and her
ponytail was pulled tight.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” she
asked.

“No, we’re from Texas,” Kate said. “How can
you tell?”

“We’re a pretty tight-knit community. I’ve
just never seen your face before.”

Kate smiled and rubbed her belly. “I smell
chocolate.”

“There’s a hot cocoa booth a few rows
over.”

“I love your journals,” Vivian said, flipping
through one.

“Thanks. I make them all by hand, even the
paper and the binding.”

“Wow. I can’t make squat,” Vivian said. “I
used to be semi-crafty, but not anymore.”

“I’m going to find the cocoa booth,” Kate
announced and turned on her heels.

“Me, too,” Wendy said and trailed after
her.

Vivian chatted with the woman awhile, then
asked, “So how much?” The woman shared her price.

Vivian resorted to her Mexico-learned
bargaining techniques. She ended up with four for the price of
three, one for herself, Wendy, Kate and the absent Lucy.