Divine Evil

teenager. It was an arrangement that suited Atherton and the town perfectly.
    “Coffee?” Cam asked and automatically signaled for the waitress, though she was already heading their way, pot in hand.
    “Thank you, Alice,” Atherton said as she poured.
    “Get you some breakfast, Mayor?”
    “No, I had mine already.” But he eyed the plastic cake plate on the counter. “Those doughnuts fresh?”
    “Just this morning.”
    He gave a little sigh as he added cream and two whopping spoons of sugar to his coffee. “I don't suppose you've got any of those apple-filled-with the cinnamon on top?”
    “Got one with your name on it.” Alice gave him a wink and walked off to fetch the doughnut.
    “No willpower,” Atherton said as he took his first delicate sip of coffee. “Between you, me, and the gatepost, it frustrates the wife that I can eat like a horse and never put on weight.”
    “How is Mrs. Atherton?”
    “Min's just fine. Got a bake sale going this morning over at the middle school. Trying to raise money for new band uniforms.” After Alice set his doughnut in front of him, Atherton picked up a knife and fork. His napkin was spread neatly over his lap.
    Cam had to smile. No slurping up sticky apple chunks for the mayor. Atherton's neatness was as dependable as a sunrise.
    “Heard you had an unusual disturbance last night.” “A nasty one.” Cam could still see the dark, gapinggrave. He picked up his cooling coffee. “We took pictures last night and roped off the site. I drove by early this morning. The ground was hard and dry. No footprints. The place was neat as a pin.”
    “Kids, perhaps, playing an early Halloween prank?”
    “My first thought,” Cam admitted. “But it doesn't feel right. Kids aren't usually so tidy.”
    “It's unfortunate and upsetting.” Atherton ate his doughnut in small bites, chewing and swallowing before speaking. “In a town like ours, we don't expect this kind of nonsense. The fact that it was an old grave and there are no relatives around to be affected helps, of course.” Atherton set down his fork, dusted his fingers on his napkin, then picked up his cup. “In a few days, the talk will die down, and people will forget. But I wouldn't like to see such an incident repeated.” He smiled then, just as he did when a slow student managed to cop an A. “I know you'll handle it all with discretion, Cameron. Just let me know if I can help in any way.”
    “I'll do that.”
    After taking out his wallet, Atherton drew two crisp, uncreased singles out, then tucked the corners under the empty plate. “I'll be on my way, then. I have to put in an appearance at the bake sale.”
    Cam watched him stroll out, exchange waves with a few pedestrians, and walk down Main.
    He spent the rest of the day with paperwork and routine patrols. But before sundown, he drove out to the cemetery again. For nearly thirty minutes, he stayed there, brooding down at the small, empty grave.
    Carly Jamison was fifteen and mad at the world. Her parents were the first focus of her disgust. They didn't understandwhat it was like to be young. They were so dull, living in their stupid house in stupid Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Good old Marge and Fred, she thought with a snort as she shifted her backpack and walked backward, thumb stuck out jauntily, on the verge of Route 15 South.
    Why don't you wear pretty clothes like your sister? Why don't you study and get good grades like your sister? Why can't you keep your room clean like your sister?
    Fuck, fuck, fuck!
    She hated her sister, too, picture-perfect Jennifer with her holier-than-thou attitude and preppy clothes. Jennifer the A student who was going to freaking Harvard on a freaking scholarship to study freaking medicine.
    As her red Converse high tops scrunched over gravel, she imagined a doll with pale blond hair that fell into perfect curves around a perfect heart-shaped face. The baby blue eyes stared blankly, and there was a superior smile on the full, lovely mouth.
    Hi, I'm Jennifer
, the doll would say when you pulled the string.
I'm perfect. I do whatever I'm told and do it just right.
    Then Carly imagined dropping the doll off a high building and watching its perfect face smash onto the concrete.
    Shit, she didn't want to be like Jennifer. Digging in the pocket of her girdle-tight jeans, she hooked a crumpled pack of cigarettes. One Marlboro left, she thought in disgust. Well, she had a hundred and fifty dollars, and there was bound to