and a makeshift kitchen with a fridge that ran all the time.
The bathroom was so small he could barely turn around. It contained only a toilet and a standing metal shower stall. No sink. But as Brody said, “There’s a sink in the kitchen, and hell, it’s better than living on the street, right?”
Jonah would have much preferred the street. But living over the bar fit better into his plans. He closed the blinds and reached under the couch, pushing aside the ripped underlining for the thin shelf he’d attached to the frame. Carefully he withdrew the small, state-of-the-art laptop he’d sneaked in early this morning with the groceries, and booted it up.
Last night he’d been anxious to get on the computer, but Brody had kept him up most of the night, giving him the third degree about his expulsion from the FBI. Then he’d had his first shift at the bar early this morning, no doubt just so Brody could search his room.
Anxiously, he now typed in his access number, waited for the satellite online connection, then found himself typing “The Landing Gazette, archives, obit, Ridgemont.”
He told himself he was just curious. Kat said she was three when her mother died. If the mother had died in Moriah’s Landing…A list of obituaries for Ridgemonts appeared on the screen. Only four were female, two were much too old to have been Kat’s mother, the third too young. He brought up the fourth obit, startled by what he saw. Kat was the spitting image of her mother, Leslie Ridgemont, at the same age.
But that wasn’t the only thing that shocked and scared him. Kat’s mother had been murdered.
He clicked back to the archives and called up the stories on the murder, becoming more intrigued and worried as he read. The body had been found in the gazebo just feet from the witch-hanging tree on the town green—and only yards from the house where Kat lived.
A chill washed over him. The twentieth anniversary of Leslie Ridgemont’s death was only days away. He didn’t need to check the Farmer’s Almanac to know that the moon would be full on that night—just as it had on the night of her death.
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