The Box in the Woods (Truly Devious #4)(16)

Damn that business. Damn it to hell. Everything about it was terrible—but what was the point of ruining a young man’s life like that? Who would it have helped?


No. He really did not want another dead kid in Barlow Corners.

Susan Marks was waiting for them by the camp entrance along with a weeping Patty Horne. The look on her face confirmed the worst. When he stopped the car Susan immediately opened the back door and shooed Patty inside, then followed.

“What’s going on, Sue?” the sheriff asked.

“One of the counselors is dead. Eric Wilde. He’s been murdered.”

“Come on,” Don said.

“I’ve just about been able to keep this place under control. He’s up on the path toward the woods. Keep going and this road will join up with it. Hurry.”

Sheriff Reynolds didn’t have to be told twice. He started up the road with as much speed as he could manage without risking hitting a wayward camper.

“There’s more,” Susan said. “We have three more missing. Apparently they went out into the woods last night.”

“Who’s missing?” he said, glancing at her in the rearview mirror.

“Diane McClure, Todd Cooper, and Sabrina Abbott.”

“Sabrina Abbott? And Todd Cooper?”

“Shit,” Don said quietly.

The sheriff shot him a glance.

“Patty,” Susan said. “Explain to them what you told me.”





Patty burst into a torrent of sobs.


“Come on, Patty,” Susan said firmly but not unkindly. “We can’t waste any time. Tell them.”

Patty heaved, then brought herself under enough control to speak. “They went out around eleven. . . . They go out . . . Eric gets the . . .”

“Gets the what?” the sheriff prompted as he turned the car slightly to merge onto the dirt path.

“I . . . I can’t . . .”

“You can,” he said. “I don’t care what was going on, just tell me.”

“He . . . gets the grass. In the woods. They went out for the grass.”

“Shit,” Don said again, but he managed to keep it under his breath.

“Stop here,” Susan said. Don remained in the car to coordinate over the radio and watch Patty. Susan and the sheriff hurried down the path. The morning was eerily silent, the campers all gathered in the dining area. It was a stunning morning, soft and sweet, birdsong in the air. It made the sight of Eric’s discolored and lifeless body all the more grotesque. Magda McMurphy, the camp nurse, was with him, though it was immediately clear that there was nothing she could do aside from shoo away the flies.

“He’s been dead for some time,” Magda said. “A few hours at least.”

The sheriff squatted down next to the body.

“Let’s turn him over,” he said to Magda.





They rolled the body carefully, and the full extent of the carnage was now clear.


“What in holy hell happened here?” the sheriff said in a low voice.

“I can count six stab wounds,” Magda said. “There may be more. It’s hard to tell. He’s also got a massive head wound.”

Sheriff Reynolds took a long, steadying breath and sprung back to stand.

“Come on,” he said to Susan, then broke into a run back to the car. Susan paced him easily. He threw open the back door to the cruiser, where Patty Horne sat with her knees tucked up to her chest, her long hair pulled over the sides of her face like she was trying to cocoon herself away from the horror.

“Patty,” he said without any preamble. “Where do they go to get the grass?”

“In the woods. Up the road.”

“You’ve been there?”

“Once.” She nodded heavily. “I don’t know where, it’s just . . . in the woods somewhere.”

“Do you walk or drive?”

“Todd drives. We take his Jeep.”

“About how far up the road? How long do you drive?”

“I don’t know,” she said, still weeping but maintaining control. “Five minutes?”

“Stay here with Susan.”

Patty slid out of the car, looking terrified.

“Keep all the kids together,” he said to Susan. “I don’t even





want them going to the bathroom by themselves, got it?”

Susan nodded, and he knew she was more than up to the task. He got back behind the wheel, where Don regarded him in bafflement.

“What’s going on?”

“We’ve got a dead kid with half a dozen stab wounds to his chest.”

“Shit,” he said. “Do we call the mayor if Todd’s involved?”

“No,” the sheriff said, stepping on the gas. “We’re not getting him involved again. Keep him the hell out of this as long as we can. We call the state police and head out now, see if we can find the others. Get them on the horn.”

They took the bumpy road through the woods at a good pace. It didn’t take long to find Todd’s Jeep. Patty’s estimate had been correct—it was about five minutes up the road, parked off to the side on a slight diagonal. The sheriff pulled the cruiser up behind it. He retrieved his gun and holster from the locked glove compartment. Guns weren’t usually required in Barlow Corners; he’d only pulled it once in his career there, during a suspected robbery that turned out to be a raccoon in the wall.