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Someone left a cauldron filled with blood in the barnyard.
People left threatening messages on their phone (when they had a phone.)
Someone sneaked into the family graveyard on Booker Mountain and broke some of
the headstones, scribbled threats and profanity on others. A delegation from
the Foursquare Church performed an exorcism in front of their gate until
Madison brought out Jordie's shotgun and waved it at them.
    That didn't help.
    It was a nightmare that got
worse and worse. Carloads of thrill seekers started following her around,
hoping to catch her in the act. People refused to serve her in restaurants, and
refused to be served by Carlene. What friends she had melted away.
    Carlene was finally moved to
action when it looked like she'd lose her job. She called Rachel, and Rachel
offered Madison room and board and a job in Trinity. And her art teacher, Ms.
McGregor, told Madison how she could use college credit to graduate from high
school. Madison left Coalton County at the end of her junior year.
    And just like that, the fires
stopped. Which confirmed her guilt, some said.
    Her gut twisted up and she
shoved the memory away. She was done with that.
    The hallways had cleared by
the time she left the office, and the busses were gone. She eyed the students
hanging out on the front steps, thinking she might see Seph's tall, spare form
among them. But no. He'd said he'd meet her at Corcoran's and she was already
late. Luckily, it was just down the block. She crossed the parking lot and
headed up the street.
    She stamped the snow off her
boots in front of Corcoran's Diner, glaring at the plastic reindeer mounted on
the door, its lighted nose glowing cheerfully in the waning afternoon light.
The bells mounted on its collar jangled as she pushed the door open.
    Corcoran's was jammed with the
usual after-school crowd. Madison scanned the room—the red leatherette booths along the side, the
battered stools at the soda fountain.
    No Seph.
    Madison checked her watch. She
was twenty minutes late. Maybe he'd come and gone? She flipped open her cell
phone. No messages.
    Harmon Fitch and his
girlfriend, Rosie, were huddled over Fitch's laptop at their usual table in the
front window.
    Fitch looked up. “Hey,
Maddie. Pull up a chair.”
    He turned the laptop toward
Rosie, who flung back her long dreadlocks and began typing furiously. Probably
hacking into the Pentagon.
    Madison shook her head.
“Thanks. I can't stay. I have to get to work.” She shifted from one
foot to the other.
    Rosie passed the notebook back
to Fitch. He studied the screen and grinned savagely. “Brilliant. Let's
try this.” His fingers flickered over the keyboard, entering strings of
letters and numbers.
    “Um. Have you seen
Seph?” She tilted the portfolio toward Fitch. “He was supposed to
meet me here. I have something for him.”
    Fitch's fingers never stopped
moving. “Last I saw him was second period, sleeping through class, as
usual. He cut Calculus this afternoon.”
    “He what?”
    Fitch left off typing and
leaned back in his chair, regarding her thoughtfully. “He didn't show for
Math, and he wasn't on the absent list. You been keeping him up late or
what?”
    Madison flinched, feeling the
blood rush to her face. “Wasn't me.” Then who? She fought back a wave
of jealousy. She'd been avoiding Seph, making excuses. She couldn't complain if
he hung out with someone else.
    Fitch shrugged and leaned over
his computer again. “Anyway, he's in trouble. Garrity was pissed. It's the
third time this semester.”
    Fear pricked at her, warring
with guilt. It wasn't like him to miss class.
    Maybe he was sick.
    Even worse, maybe he was sick
because of her.
    But how could that be, when
she hadn't seen him in days? He'd texted her yesterday, asking for help with an
art project. He wouldn't ask unless he was desperate. She couldn't say no.
    “Well, if he comes in,
could you tell him to call me?”
    She tried his cell phone, but
it went to voice mail. She