Tommy Nightmare(79)

Ashleigh had been as insistent as she could, without breaking character, that they stay at the Mandrake House, a narrow five-story mansion with a few rooms on each floor. Tommy had already rented a room on the top floor, and Esmeralda would be driving Ashleigh's Jeep to Charleston to join them.

Seth and Ashleigh were staying two floors below Tommy and Esmeralda, which would make things very convenient.

“I wish Jenny was coming with us,” Seth said.

“Me, too,” Darcy said. In fact, she had advised Jenny not to go. She'd suggested that if Jenny didn't go, Seth would have to imagine life in Charleston without her, and might decide being with Jenny was more important than making his parents happy. “I really like hanging out with her.”

“Yeah, Jenny's great.” A smile appeared on his lips, and a distant look in his eyes.

Ashleigh wanted to slap him, and then rake her nails back and forth across his face, and then stomp on his dick a thousand times. He had dropped her practically overnight once he started hanging out with Jenny. This infuriated Ashleigh, not just because she'd been tossed out like an old sock, but because she couldn't stand not being in control.

“Do you ever think about Ashleigh?” she asked.

“Sometimes.”

“It's weird how she just disappeared like that,” Darcy said. “Like presto-change-o, huh?”

Seth looked at her from the corner of his eye, and his forehead wrinkled. He was probably struggling to think of what to say. “Yeah...A lot of people disappeared.”

“But you were with Ashleigh forever,” Darcy said. “Don't you miss her at all? I mean, if I was a guy, I'd totally want to be with her.”

“She wasn't as nice as she acted,” Seth said.

“Really?”

“She could be mean,” Seth said. “Manipulative.”

“Manipulative? Ashleigh?”

“I know you miss her, Darcy, but she was really kind of an evil bitch. She tried to kill me, but she screwed that up, too.”

Ashleigh snarled, but she fought it until it was a simple frown. “But everybody loved her.”

“Sometimes everybody’s wrong,” Seth said.

Ashleigh looked into the darkness ahead and tried not to snap. She couldn’t stand to hear herself talked about that way.

They turned off Esther Bridge Road onto Highway 63, the road that would take them all the way to Charleston.

Ashleigh had always liked riding in Seth's car, the expensive blue convertible that advertised you were somebody of value and quality. Too bad this would be the last time.





Friday afternoon, Heather got a visit at her office from Chantella Williams, a senior investigator with Homeland Security. The investigator laid a black file folder on her desk.

“This is everything you asked for.” Williams opened the folder. The first page showed a birth certificate for Maurice Goodling. “Maurice Goodling. Deceased in 2006, cirrhosis of the liver. Last known address, a Catholic mission in Memphis.” She turned the page over. The next one showed a snapshot of a withered homeless man’s corpse.

“That can’t be right,” Heather said.

“Looks like your Maurice Goodling is guilty of identity fraud,” Williams said.

“Oh!” Heather reached toward her keyboard. “Then I need to check—”

“Non-residents of Fallen Oak among the infected deceased,” Williams said. “You’ll find two: Waylon Humphries and Ruby McGussin. Wanted for six kinds of fraud in three states.” She turned the page, revealing police mugshots of a thuggish-looking young man with a mullet and moustache, and then a young woman with huge hairsprayed bangs and a death’s head moth tattoo on her shoulder.

If Heather squinted, she could just barely see them as the smiling, conservative-looking Dr. and Mrs. Goodling featured on the Fallen Oak Baptist Church website.

“You’ve had their bodies the whole time,” Williams said.

“What about—”

“No sign of the daughter.”

“You’ve done a lot of my work for me,” Heather said.

“Are you kidding? After that lab test you sent up earlier this week, this thing got prioritized. A lot of people still want to know what happened at Fallen Oak. Now it’s my turn to hear what you know about it. And what you speculate, too.”

“What about Jenny Morton?” Heather asked. “Did we look into her background?”

“Far as we can tell, she’s never been to a doctor,” Williams said. “No medical records. Home birth. Mother disappeared soon after.”

“Disappeared?”

“Could be post-partum depression, runs off…”

“Is it possible she died?” Heather asked.