LIFERS. Epilogue, part one.

For the past forty-eight hours, a team of thirty forensics officers had been going over Martinsville, and, after scratching only the surface, had uncovered the corpses of sixty-seven young girls, along with skeletal remains of dozens of adults, both male and female, with more remains being found by the hour.

Jill had told the police the whole story of what happened in Martinsville over that one night, starting with her and Vicky losing their way and ending with the plan to blow up the cinema. A story she knew would be hard to believe, even with the loosest of imaginations, but she told it as it was.

Celia Brontrose was questioned with regard to the actions Mason used against Brenda Wise, which she denied all knowledge of, telling the police that as far as she was aware, he and Miss Wise were reporting the discovery of the body in the car to the police, and she had no involvement with anything Mason chose to do with regard to Miss Wise. She also denied any knowledge of the blue Ford’s current location.

With regard to Celia knowing the whereabouts of the missing teenagers, she once again claimed to have had a premonition, and without Thomas Martins’ journal, it was Larry’s word against hers. So the stance from a police point of view was simple, without any solid evidence to bring charges against Celia Brontrose; the case would only be hearsay, forcing them not to persue the matter any farther.

Marianna returned home to a hero’s welcome for saving the lives of the two young girls, the press calling her “Supergirl” in light of what the police reported seeing shortly after they arrived.

Gregg and Nick were taken to a private hospital in Richmond well away from the prying eyes of the press, and all paid for by Marianna. Nick’s right arm and shoulder were set in plaster and his right leg had been operated on and heavily bandaged.

Gregg suffered a broken left arm, snapped his right femur in two places and sustained a deep gash to the forehead. He wore two plaster-casts and was also heavily bandaged; plus, he died that day. But what hurt him more than all those things was the bullet-hole in his favourite jacket, and losing a good pair of boots in the process.

In the room visiting them were Larry Kessler, Jill Gordon, and a very much alive Brenda Wise.

Jill stood at the foot of Nick’s bed; she wore blue jeans, a white T-shirt, and a bright smile. ‘Here you go, Nick,’ she said, and produced a plastic bag from behind her back. ‘I thought you might want to keep these.’

Nick’s eyes widened and his spare glasses almost slipped from his nose. ‘I thought they were lost after the garage was destroyed, how did you get them back?’

‘I found them on that old oil drum, just before Alicia and I drove out of town. I didn’t think you’d want to leave them behind and you were way too busy sorting out the trucks with Gregg. And I know they’re evidence of what went on there, and I should have given them to the police, but if I did you wouldn’t have seen them again.’

‘Hey, Nick,’ Gregg said. ‘Isn’t tonight the final night of that convention you talked about?’

‘Yeah, but there’ll be another one next year. Say, why don’t you two come along with me? With your testimony and these photographs I’d be the main attraction for sure.’

Gregg and Jill looked at each other and exchanged a smile. ‘We’ll think about it,’ they said.