Divine Evil

robed figures standing in a circle. It was almost reverent. He wondered if she knew. In silence he turned the pages, studying each one. A woman spread on a slab of wood, a cup between her naked breasts. A single figure, robed, with the mask he recognized from his research as the Goat of Mendes.
    “Was this your father?”
    “No. He wore another mask. A wolf.”
    He studied another drawing. One man stood with his arm raised while the others faced him and the woman. Beside them flames rose out of the ground. Another drawing showed a small goat, a knife held at its throat.
    Clare turned away then.
    After a brief glance back at her, he continued through the pad. She'd drawn the men, masked and naked, circling the fire while another copulated with the woman. Cam focused on the man in the wolf's mask, the blood dripping from his fingers.
    She was only a baby, he thought, and had to force himself not to shred the drawings into pieces.
    “Do you know where this place is?”
    “No.” She faced the window, looking out into the wet, dreary night.
    “The way you've drawn it, it looks like a clearing.”
    “There were trees. A lot of trees, I think. Then it all just opened up. It seemed like a very big place, but that could have been because I wasn't.”
    “After this last scene you've drawn, what happened?”
    “I don't know. I woke up in bed.”
    “Okay.” He went back over them, searching for details she might not even be aware of including. One of the men she'd drawn was short, stout with a thick neck. It could have been Parker. Maybe he just wanted it to be Parker.
    “Clare, when you drew these, were you just relying on impressions, or were you able to picture it all clearly?”
    “Both. Some things are very vivid. The night was clear, lots of stars. I could smell the smoke. The women had very white skin. Some of the men had farmers′ tans.”
    He looked up sharply. “What?”
    “Farmers′ tans. You know, brown faces and necks and forearms.” She turned back. “I didn't remember that until today. Some of them were pale all over, but it was still spring. The one in the goat mask—the one in charge—he was very thin, milky pale. The way you are when you don't get any sun.”
    “What about voices?”
    “The one in charge, his was very powerful, authoritative, mesmerizing. The others were always mixed together.”
    “You've drawn thirteen figures. Is that right?”
    “Did I?” She walked over to look over his shoulder. “I don't know. I didn't think about it, really. It just came out that way.”
    “If it is, and our theory is right, at least three of these men are dead. Sheriff Parker, Biff, and your father. That means, to hold the number, they'd have recruited three more. Where is this place?” he murmured.
    “Somewhere in the woods. Lisa ran out of the woods.”
    “We've been over every foot of Dopper's Woods. Bud and Mick and I, and men we drafted from town. We split up into three groups over two solid days and combed every inch. Nothing.”
    “It would take ten times that number to search every wooded area in this part of the county.”
    “Believe me, I've thought of that.”
    She glanced over his shoulder at the sketches again. “I guess this wasn't as much help as you'd hoped.”
    “No, it's plenty of help.” He set the pad aside before reaching up for her hand. “I know it was tough on you.”
    “Actually, it was purging. Now that it's done, I won't have to think about it. I can get back to work.”
    “When this is over, I won't be bringing the job home with me and dragging you into it.” He brought her hand to his lips. “That's a promise.”
    “You didn't drag me into this. It's beginning to look as though I've been in it for a long time. I want to find out what my father did or didn't do, and put it behind me. Maybe that's one of the reasons I came back.”
    “Whatever the reasons, I'm glad you're here.”
    “Yeah, me, too.” She made an effort to shake off the mood. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she began to rub the tension from them, smiling when he let out a satisfied
ah.
“Anyway, I'd be really disappointed if you didn't bring the job home. How else will I keep on top of all the gossip?”
    “Yeah. Well, this afternoon Less Gladhill's girl spun out coming around to Main from Dog Run and creamed Min Atherton's Buick.”
    “See?”
    “Between the two of them, they had traffic backed up from one end of town to the other. Min was standing inthe intersection