Page 131 of Serenity Falls

Dax slides the next newspaper story into the centre of the table.

BOY, FOUR, DROWNS IN FAMILY POOL

There he is again, Sadie thinks. Davey Junior grins out from the page, the same picture as in the ‘missing’ leaflet. The date on the paper is 20th May, the Monday after he drowned: 19th May 1997.

Dax makes another note. ‘Okay, so we’ve got an alligator attack and a kid who drowned.’

They go through the rest of the stories, matching the dates on the list.

FAIRGROUND HORROR: TEEN DIES ON GHOST TRAIN

‘He’s one of the names circled.’ Ramona cross-checks. ‘Owen Green.’

Sadie looks at the date: 22nd June 1997. Not long after Davey Junior. Barely a month. Dax places another sheet of paper on top of the pile.

JILTED BRIDE HANGS HERSELF IN HOTEL

‘Weeping Wendy!’ Ellis exclaims.

‘Real name – Wendy Molton. Also circled.’ Dax makes another note. ‘Twelfth March 1998.’

The final two stories are smaller articles:

Coroner Dies in Gas Explosion at Work (13th April 2008) and Sheriff Dean Hatchett Retires (17th September 2012).

‘So,’ Dax says. ‘In summary, we’ve got almost eaten by alligator, drowned, crushed in Ghost Train, suicide, gas explosion and retired.’

‘And four of those are circled on the other list,’ Ellis says.

‘What about this one?’ Ramona asks. ‘Carrie Sanderson. Reporter?’

Sadie frowns. And then it clicks. Quickly, she shuffles back through the newspaper stories. ‘Look. Byline – Carrie Sanderson. She wrote all these stories.’

‘So maybe that’s why she ended up dead,’ Ramona says. ‘She started asking questions.’

Sadie stares at the newspaper articles again. ‘The sheriff and coroner. They would have been involved in all these deaths. Plus, Wendy Molton was a clerk at the sheriff’s office. Maybe they uncovered something they shouldn’t?’

Dax nods. ‘But what links the other three – alligator boy, Davey Junior and Ghost Train kid? Why are they important?’

‘Fuck knows.’ Ramona throws herself back in her chair.

They’re close, Sadie thinks. They just can’t quite see it. They don’t have all the pieces. She finds herself looking at the first story again. The teen who almost lost a leg to an alligator.

Aside from the former sheriff who retired, he’s the only other survivor. She guesses he’d be around fifty by now. She squints at the photo. Long, white-blond hair. Glasses. One of his eyes, the left, is a little lazy, and maybe it’s the light but it looks like … it’s a different colour to the right one.

She freezes. Milo Miller.

‘Shit.’

Ellis glances at her. ‘What?’

The limp, the walking stick. That mop of blond hair, now white and shorn to the skull.

‘This kid – Milo Miller. Don’t you realize who he is?’

They all stare at her blankly.

‘It’s Father Miller, the priest.’