Niceville

kind of procedure—from what I can figure out, it was very likely an abortion.”
    “Resulting from a rape?”
    “Probably. The guards at Candleford House were utterly corrupt. Little better than animals. No, worse. At any rate, during her recuperation, she broke her restraints and ran away. Three days later her dress and shoes were found at the edge of Crater Sink. Her body was never found.”
    Silence.
    “But how did this story connect with all those disappearances?”
    “The disappearances began soon after Clara’s escape from Lady Grace. And all the victims were people who had, in one way or another, injured Clara Mercer, either by being members of the Teague … I don’t know … 
faction
, if you like, or because they put her, or allowed her to be put, in Candleford House against her will.”
    “Dad. You’re a historian, not a Victorian novelist. The whole thing is … crazy.”
    “I couldn’t agree more. I’m just giving you the facts as they presented themselves to me.”
    “Did you ever tell Nick any of this?”
    “Yes. I did. He dragged it out of me, just as you’re doing. Not in this kind of detail, but the basics.”
    “When?”
    “I guess maybe a month ago.”
    “What did he think?”
    “Same as you. Found the whole thing crazy.”
    “But he listened?”
    “Kate, he was there when they pulled Rainey Teague out of Ethan Ruelle’s grave. You may not like this—neither do I—but there’s no denying some kind of pattern here.”
    She uses the mirrors
.
    In her mind she could see the writing on the linen card—
    With Long Regard—Glynis R
.
    “
She uses the mirrors
? That’s what Mom said?”
    “Yes.”
    “Who do you think ‘she’ was? Was it Glynis?”
    “Glynis Ruelle is dead and buried.”
    “Nick didn’t tell me about any of this.”
    “I didn’t think he would.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because you’re a Walker. One of the families.”
    “You mean he’s afraid someone is stalking me?”
    “You could say that.”
    “The same person who is stalking the other members of the families? Do you really think that?”
    A long pause.
    “I’m
wondering
about it. That’s all.”
    “Dad. Think about it. You’re saying that people have been disappearing in Niceville since the late twenties? There’s no way one person could have done all that. He—or she—would have to be …”
    “A reasonable guess would be a hundred years old. Possibly older.”
    “That’s impossible. Is that really what you think?”
    “No. Of course not. It just nags at me. You asked me what was wrong with Niceville. I agree that it’s absurd. If there really is anybody behind this, it will probably turn out to be a descendant, a relative, acting out a private obsession. But the fact is that Clara Mercer’s body was never found.”
    “Dad, nothing that goes into Crater Sink ever comes back out. Everybody knows that.”
    She shook her head, waved it all away with an open palm, a gesture her father couldn’t see but one he sensed as she did it.
    “And
this
is what’s wrong with Niceville?”
    “Perhaps something more basic is going on, Kate. Evil invites retribution, evil generates chaos and cruelty. You and I both know that bad acts have a way of reverberating down through families. Dealing with that sort of thing is how you make a living, Kate.”
    After a time, Dillon spoke again.
    “You may have heard this. The Creek and the Cherokee both have a legend about a cursed place, a place where some kind of evil presence lived. It’s in the archives, recorded by a fellow named Lanman, working back around 1855. The Cherokees believed that somewhere in the vicinity of the Savannah River—Lanman was vague about exactlywhere—there was a high stone bluff, and at the top of the bluff was what he called ‘
a terrible fissure.
’ From his description, I gathered it was some sort of crack or opening in the mountain.”
    “Dad. You’re not trying to tell me that Crater Sink—”
    “Crater Sink has been here longer than we have, Kate. Far longer. Thousands, perhaps millions of years. And it’s a very strange place, you’ll have to grant. It’s not surprising that the Cherokee would have some mythology around it. We do ourselves. I mean, we Niceville people.
Things go into Crater Sink, but nothing ever comes out
? You just said it yourself. You grew up with those stories. We all did.”
    “Campfire tales. Ghost stories to make the kids shiver. Every town has some scary