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The follow story is a requested contribution for the web site. It was written by Heather Gregson, a talented writer I found at Absolute Write. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did.

Melissa looked up at the enormous tree in front of her.

"I really shouldn’t, my mom will be mad. I’m not supposed to climb trees since I fell last month. I just got my cast off my arm and everything."

"It’s okay. I’m here with you," her special friend said. "I would never let anything bad happen to you. Trust me. It’ll be fun. Besides it wasn’t your fault you fell, it was Dave’s. And Dave is a jerk."

"Dave is a jerk," Melissa agreed angrily. For as long as Melissa could remember, it had been just her and her mom. The two had been the terrific twosome, then Dave came along. Dave, her mom’s stupid new boyfriend. Melissa never would have broken her arm if it hadn’t been for Dave. The jerk had promised to catch her and missed. Not only did he miss catching her, but then the jerk had the nerve to tell Melissa’s mom that he had tried to stop Melissa from climbing the tree. Melissa told her mom that wasn’t true and that Dave had told her to jump and he’d catch her.

Melissa could still feel the sting from her mom’s slap. Her mom had slapped her for lying. LYING! Melissa hadn’t lied, Dave had lied. From that day the line had been drawn in the house. And that line left Melissa on the outside. Fortunately for Melissa, two days later while sitting in the front yard doodling on her cast, Melissa meet her new, special friend. 

Her new friend was just as lonely and on the outside of her family, as Melissa was. The two bonded immediately. They told each other their secrets, laughed at each others jokes and best of all. Both decided to hate Dave with everything they had.

Melissa really missed climbing trees. She was far enough in the woods that if she climbed just this one time, her mom would never find out. Besides, how many times had she climbed before and never fallen. Heck, she didn’t even fall last time.

"Come on. I want you to see what it looks like from up here," Melissa’s friend called from high up in the tree. "You can see the whole world from up here. Don’t let Dave being a jerk, stop you from having fun. 

"If your mom is going to believe Dave and not you, you have me believing you and you believing me. And believe me it’s too great up here to miss. Come one Melis, BFFs have to share something this great."

Her friend was right.

"I’m coming," Melissa called, beginning her climb. Pfft on her mom. Her mom would never know. She’d be up this tree and back home before her mom even knew she was gone from the yard. 

Melissa didn’t know how long it took her to climb to her friend. She just knew she was hot, sweaty and out of breath by the time she did reach her. She was also higher than she had ever climbed before.

Her friend greeted her. "I’m so glad you came up here. Isn’t it great how you can see everything from here?"

"I can only see leaves," Melissa said with a laugh, trying to bat the leaves away with one hand.

"Slide out here a little more. You can see clear to the other side of the world."

Slowly Melissa slid along the branch, until she emerged from under the leafy canopy. Her friend was right, she could see just about everything from up here. She was so glad she had climbed this tree. 

"I should build a house in this tree and never go home. That would serve my mom right. Let her stay with Dave, and I’ll stay here," Melissa said, closing her eyes.

"I’d stay here with you," her friend said.

Melissa opened her eyes and smiled, it was then she heard the crack. The branch she was sitting on jerked suddenly and in the split second it took Melissa to realize what was happening, the branch gave way. Melissa felt her back break as she bounced off lower braches, tumbling toward the ground. Her scream caught in her throat as the ground seemed to race up to meet her.

The ground was softer than Melissa thought it would be when she hit it. Or perhaps she was already so close to death that she couldn’t feel the pain of her innards rupturing.

"Now you won’t have to worry about Dave anymore," her friend said in her ear. "Good-bye Melissa, I really did like you, you know. But then, I like everyone who dies."

Melissa saw her friend disappear into the blackness that was closing in on her, and then she saw nothing else.

“Police in Seeley are still looking for ten year old, Melissa Campbell who disappeared from her home three days ago. There have been no leads in the girl’s disappearance and police have not ruled out foul play. There is---” Jonathan Brakman clicked the television off, tossed the remote control down and swallowed the bitter bile rising in the back of his throat. He threw his fork down, the cold remains of his dinner, untouched and unwanted.

He couldn’t believe the police only suspected foul play in Melissa’s disappearance. What did the police need? A full confession written in blood. Of course Melissa’s death was foul play. So were the deaths of the other twelve children over the last five years, including his beloved niece, Annie. Jonathan had called the local police and state police about the similarities in the deaths of the children, but the police didn’t see it. They ruled the cases accidental and saw no evidence of foul play. Desperate for someone to believe him, Jonathan called the FBI. They dismissed him within three minutes of answering the phone.

Jonathan was an unmarried, thirty-seven year old professor at the local university. He taught entomology. His specialty was the unglamorous, Jerusalem cricket. He spent hours crawling around searching for the cricket and tried to instill that passion in his students. He was brilliant, but tormented ever since the disappearance of Annie. He no longer had any friends and spent all of his free time obsessing over every detail of every missing child in the areas surrounding Heber, Annie’s home.

His eyes slowly turned to the map hanging prominently on his living room wall. He got up and stood before the map, staring at. It was a map of Southern California. There were twelve different colored straight pins in the map. Each marked the town where a child had gone missing and then been found dead. A hollow feeling filled the pit of his stomach as Jonathan took a new pin and placed in Seeley.

On the divan beneath the map was folder after folder. Each folder, color coordinated to a pin in the map. Each folder contained every newspaper article and bit of information Jonathan had found on the internet about the child’s disappearance. Each piece of information was painstakingly gathered, read, and catalogued.

Another child had been lost. Another child had fallen victim to this unknown killer. Another death would be mistaken as an accident. And the police would again miss another opportunity to find this serial killer of their children.

No amount of time would ever be able to heal the raw wounds of Annie’s death. Melissa’s disappearance just drove the knife deeper into Jonathan’s wound. Two years after Annie’s death, Jonathan still woke up hearing Annie crying out for him to help her. Now, he was just as unable to bring her killer to justice, as he was unable to find her and save her.

Annie was the only child of Jonathan’s brother, Bill and his wife Susan. She was petite with bright blue eyes, and curly brown hair. She was a bright, lively, intelligent and precocious child who was well aware that she had her mother, father and uncle wrapped around her finger.

Bill’s family lived only 6 miles away in Heber. Jonathan used to make the 10 minute drive from his home in El Centro every weekend that he was able. And he made sure that he was able just about every weekend. Jonathan taught Annie about Jerusalem crickets and she spent hours crawling around on her hands and knees with her uncle, searching for Jerusalem crickets and any other bug she could find. Jonathan was delighted when Annie declared she was going to grow up and be the “bestest bug person ever and discover a great new bug.”

Many weekends Jonathan would drive down, pick Annie up and the two would travel to different places to search for the crickets. The weekend would be spent digging in the dirt, eating picnic lunches and in constant chatter. Annie chatted constantly and would bounce from one subject to another in the same breath. Jonathan used to joke how his ears were numb after spending the weekend with her.

He had just arrived home from the university when that horrible phone call came.

“Oh, Jonathan she’s gone, we don’t know where she is. What do we do? What do we do?” Susan wailed hysterically into the phone.

“Susan, what is going on?” Jonathan asked, a sick wave of panic flooding him.

“Annie’s gone. She was out in the yard and now she’s gone. Bill’s on his way home, the police are here. Oh, Jesus Jonathan, my baby--” Susan dropped the phone, collapsing into a sobbing heap.

“SUSAN! SUSAN!” Jonathan screamed into the phone, but all he could hear was distant sobbing.

Blind with fear, Jonathan bolted form his house, not even bothering to pack any clothes or lock his door. He prayed to every god of every religion, he had ever heard of that Annie would be found safely. Perhaps she saw a friend and went off with her. Maybe she had wandered off in search of the new bug she so wanted to discover. He reached his brother’s house in minutes but it felt like hours.

“Where’s my baby, Jonathan? Please find my girl,” Susan cried, clinging to him the second Jonathan stepped in the front door.

His brother Bill sat on the couch, clutching Annie’s favorite doll. His face was etched with pain and misery. The police were there conducting a search of the neighborhood and checking with Annie’s friends. The police were convinced Annie was probably at a friend’s house or had just wandered too far from home and couldn’t find her way back.

By the next morning, there was still no sign of Annie and the police were getting concerned. Bill and Susan were inconsolable. Neither could sleep nor eat. They sat at the kitchen table, Susan’s eyes were swollen and red, Bill couldn’t lift his head to look anyone in the eyes. Only Jonathan remained in control. He had to. His Annie was out there and she needed him. Jonathan demanded constant updates from the police, where they were searching, what they doing, and how the investigation was progressing.

“We have the situation under control sir,” an officer said. “You just need to let us handle it.”

Jonathan’s cellphone rang and for a brief moment, all thought Annie had been found.

“Hello,” Jonathan said, holding his breath. “Oh yeah, right, sorry,” He said, shaking his head. “I never even thought to call you. My niece is missing. I’m with my brother now. Okay, thanks.” he flipped his cellphone closed.

“Who?” was all Bill could ask.

“University, my class has been waiting for me. They got worried.” Jonathan shrugged indifferently. Who cared about insects now, let someone else handle the class.

Jonathan stood in the kitchen and wanted to scream. The police were still there, turning the house into a command center. Unable to take any more, he swallowed a mouthful of coffe and set his cup down.

“I’m going out to look some more,” Jonathan said, leaving the house. He walked for hours going to every place he and Annie had ever looked for Jerusalem crickets.

Bill and Susan’s neighbors fanned out helping the search. They canvassed the neighborhood looking in yards, barrels, anywhere they could think of. The first two days turned into an insufferable week. The longer Annie was missing, the more suspicious the residents of Heber became.

Reports were called into the police, if an unfamiliar car appeared in town. Innocent people were dragged into the police station and questioned, their only crime, being strangers in Heber.

Soon the shadow of suspicion was cast on Jonathan. Why was an unmarried man so devoted to his niece? And he said he was a professor of entomology. Why would anyone want to study bugs? And a bug that none of them had ever heard of, a Jerusalem cricket. They had all seen him spending his weekends with Annie. He had her crawling around on her hands and knees for hours looking for these supposed crickets of his.

“You’re out of your frigging heads,” Bill snapped at one of the neighbors when she stopped by with her suspicions. “Jonathan loves Annie as much as Susan and I do. Now unless you have something constructive to say, fuck off.” He slammed the door in her face.

It was the beginning of the second week when a call came into the police. The call was about an awful odor coming from an overgrown vacant lot. Some of the older neighborhood kids frequently hung out and partied in the lot. Arriving for a party, a couple of teens noticed a putrid smell. Knowing about Annie and being too afraid of being caught and what they would find, they called the police and fled the scene.

The police arrived en masse. Despite being told to wait at the house, Bill, Susan and Jonathan all went to the lot. It was densely overgrown. The fetid smell hung on the air, but the police walking the lot, found nothing. A police dog was brought in. The dog made a beeline for a clump of overgrowth. Donning masks and gloves, the police began investigating the area. Hidden in the overgrowth was the broken cover to a long abandoned well. People who had lived in Heber all their lives never knew the well was there.

The lead investigating officer shined a bright light down in the well and recoiled at what he found. Annie’s remains were wedged down in the bottom of the well. Rank, slimy water covered half her broken body. Bill and Susan ran to the well. Their screams of anguish echoed across the lot and propelled Jonathan to their sides. Annie, their beautiful Annie, was at the bottom of the well.

It took over an hour to remove her remains. When Susan collapsed, and Bill accompanied her to the hospital, Jonathan stood rooted to a spot near the well until Annie was removed. Over a week had made his precious girl almost unrecognizable. Jonathan had to make the funeral arrangements; neither Bill nor Susan could bring themselves do it. The three sat through the wake and funeral as if they were living some unreal nightmare.

By the time Jonathan returned to his home and work, he was an empty, broken shell. His passion for teaching was gone, as was his passion for the subject he taught. There was no enjoyment in searching for Jerusalem crickets, without hearing the excited shrieks of his Annie when she found a bug. How could he spend endless hours digging in the dirt without Annie’s constant chatter keeping him company? There was no point to anything anymore. None.

Jonathan pulled into the faculty parking lot. He reached for the car radio but couldn’t bring himself to turn it on. The last thing he wanted was to hear anything else about poor Melissa Campbell. Still, perhaps there was something new. He flipped the radio on. Perhaps this case would really be different. Perhaps this case would be unlike the rest. Maybe Melissa had been taken be her father, or perhaps she had run away from home. Jonathan shook his head. How could he actually hope a little girl had run away from home? Simple, he said to himself, so she could be alive.

“There are no new leads in the Melissa Campbell case and police are saying little---” Jonathan snapped the radio off. Please let her have run away, he silently hoped. Wearily, he climbed out of his car and closed the door.

“Hey Jonathan, how are doing?” Jane asked, approaching him. Professor Jane Gilman was another entomologist who also taught at the university. She was petite to the point of being tiny. More often than naught, she was confused for a young girl. She didn’t help the matter by keeping her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Jane’s specialty was butterflies. She was as passionate about them, as Jonathan was about Jerusalem crickets. Jane had traveled around the world studying them, collecting specimens, but unlike other scientists, Jane never took a live butterfly for display purposes.

For Jane, the ultimate butterfly was the Monarch. She loved everything about the Monarch butterfly; from its regal orange and black markings, to its delicate wing movements. Jane dedicated more time to the Monarch then any other butterfly she studied.

“I’m okay, I guess,” Jonathan answered. He liked Jane. She was genuine and had a good sense of humor. He always wondered why she never married. Many of the professors admired her beauty and pursued her. All were rebuffed.

“I’ve been worried about you since Melissa. I can’t imagine how this has been for you,” she said, as they walked in the building.

“It’s like I’m losing Annie all over again.” he shook his head.

Impulsively, Jane reached over, grabbed Jonathan’s hand, and squeezed. She let go almost as quickly as she grabbed him. They walked the rest of the way to their classrooms in comfortable silence.

“I’ll see you after class,” Jane said, as they stopped outside Jonathan’s classroom.

“Okay,” he agreed, feeling better than he had in a week. Jane waved goodbye and walked to her classroom.

Once in his classroom, Jonathan entered his office and placed his briefcase on his desk. He picked up the picture of Annie.

“I promise, I’ll stop this monster. I know he got Melissa and she will be his last victim. I swear it to you,” he said to the picture of Annie and then returned it to his desk.

His classes passed in uneventful normalcy. Today the lectures were about the environmental impact of construction on native insect habitat. Riveting to only the most die hard of entomology student. Jonathan relished the mundane simplicity of the lectures and how they kept his mind occupied. The map and its horrible toll, briefly and thankfully pushed to the back of his mind.

As the day wound down, he emerged from his class to find Jane standing in the hall. She had a very serious look on her face.

“I just heard on the radio, the police have taken Melissa’s mother and the mother’s boyfriend in for questioning. Her neighbor is all over the news talking about how she heard the mother slap Melissa. And how it was Dave who broke the girl’s arm,” Jane said, shaking her head.

Jonathan stood stunned. If this were true, maybe the killer didn’t get Melissa. Maybe this would be another horrible case of a mother not protecting her child. Maybe Annie’s killer would not have struck again.

“I can’t believe---” Jonathan started to say, but was cut off by Jane.

“I swear if it’s true. I’ll be first in line to pull the switch and fry that bitch. I can’t say the depths of hatred I feel for women who allow their boyfriend’s to injure or kill their children. They must have a special place in hell for those bitches,” Jane seethed, as the two started walking.

“Why didn’t the neighbor say something sooner?” Jonathan asked, eager to get to a radio and hear the news for himself.

“She’s such a good mother. I just didn’t want to believe she could have been involved in something like that,” Jane simpered in a mocking voice. “You know, I can never begin to imagine what it must have been like and still be like for you and your family. So many people have kids and could care less about them. Then there are families like yours, families who love and cherish their children and lose them.”

“I miss her every day and every day I feel I failed her,” Jonathan said, surprised at himself for doing so. They stopped at his car.

“If you ever need to talk,” Jane offered.

“Thanks,” Jonathan said, glad of the offer, but doubting he would ever take it.

Jane waved and walked off. Jonathan got in his car and turned the radio on. He sat in the parking lot transfixed by the news.

“Police have not said why Cindy Campbell and Dave Timmins have been brought in for questioning. They are refusing to say whether Cindy and Dave are suspects in the disappearance of Melissa. Although a source close to the investigation has said the two are under a cloud of suspicion stemming from a broken arm suffered by the little girl merely one month before her disappearance.

“In national news---” Jonathan clicked the radio off. As much as Jonathan hated to hope that the little girl had been harmed by her mother or the mother’s boyfriend, he could not bear the thought of Annie’s killer claiming yet another child.

Jonathan put his car into gear and left the parking lot. As he turned into traffic, a nagging voice in the back of his mind that kept saying Annie’s killer had in fact struck again.

“So why don’t you tell me what you did to Melissa,” Detective Tony Snow said to Dave Timmins, the boyfriend of Cindy Campbell, Melissa’s mom.

“Nothing,” Dave said, sweat covering his brow.

“Oh really, and her arm just broke itself, did it?” Snow asked rhetorically.

“Listen,” Dave began his mouth so dry, it felt as if his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. “That was an accident. I never meant for it to happen. I didn’t mean to drop Melissa, I really didn’t. I don’t know how I missed her. I just---”

“Told her mother you tried to stop Melissa from jumping. Lied to Cindy and let her believe that Melissa had injured herself. Let the little girl take the blame for you. Tell me, Timmins, how many other times did you accidentally injure Melissa? How many other times did that poor, sweet, innocent girl bear the brunt of your rage, your anger, your indifference?” Snow accused, his voice dripping with venomous disdain.

“Screw you! The only things I’m guilty of is failing to catch Melissa that day and lying to protect my ass. All I could think was that if Cindy knew the truth, that would be the end of it. I’d be gone and never see her or Melissa again.”

“Well, you got that half right,” Snow countered, and left the room.

He crossed the hall and entered another interrogation room. Cindy Campbell sat in the stark room. Her hands were folded on the table in front of her. Her eyes were blank. The past week had drained the life and spirit from her. Looking her over, Snow saw little more than a hollow shell. By all appearances, Cindy had nothing to do with Melissa’s disappearance. Snow wouldn’t let her know his assumption though.

“So tell me how Melissa broke her arm?” he asked, sitting in the chair opposite Cindy.

“She fell out of a tree,” Cindy answered her voice flat and emotionless.

“So you’ve said before. What I don’t understand is why you slapped Melissa for telling you Dave dropped her when he told her to jump from the tree?” Snow asked and waited.

Cindy’s head jerked as if Snow had just slapped her.

“I---”

“Don’t deny it. Warm weather, open windows and a resounding slap. Funny, so many people forget how sound travels,” Snow said, cutting off her expected denial.

“I can’t believe I ever slapped my daughter over something so minor,” Cindy countered. “I wasn’t going to deny that I hit her. I can’t believe I slapped my baby and now she is gone,” Cindy sobbed, tears spilling down her face.

“Dave did drop her,” Snow said, curious to see Cindy’s reaction. It was instantaneous.

Cindy lurched to her feet. Her eyes no longer hollow they were now filled with rage.

“He dropped my baby!” she shrieked. She ran towards the door. “Where is he? I’ll kill him with my bare hands.”

Snow jumped to his feet and easily restrained Cindy. She went from raging banshee to sobbing heap in seconds.

“My baby. He hurt my baby and I didn’t believe her. OH GOD!!! I slapped my precious baby and she was innocent. Why! Why didn’t I believe her,” Cindy sobbed, clutching Snow’s shirt. “And now she’s gone. Gone and I’ll never see her again.”

“Why do you think Dave would have lied about Melissa breaking her arm?” Snow asked, helping Cindy to her feet.

“He might not be the brightest bulb out there. But he knows damn right well, if I knew he had been responsible for Melissa getting hurt, I’d have kicked his ass,” Cindy said, her voice laced with cold malice. Her grief lost in a mask of anger.

“So why didn’t you believe Melissa?”

“Because Melissa had no fear, never did. She wasn’t afraid to do anything. The risk of falling or getting hurt never seemed to occur to her. ‘But Mom, I never fall’ was her favorite come back when I would tell her to be careful. It would have been just like her to climb too high, thinking she could.

“And I really never believed Dave would ever hurt Melissa,” Cindy’s voice began to crack and break. Fresh tears streamed down her face.

Snow fell silent, as did Cindy. The two sat in suffocating silence for five long minutes. The silence was broken by the electronic beep of Snow’s pager. He clicked the pager and rose to leave the room.

“I might have been stupid, but I didn't do anything to my daughter,” Cindy said to Snow.

He didn’t answer her as he left the room.

“What?” Snow asked the uniformed officer who approached him.

“A body has been found,” the officer said.

Snow stood outside the wooded area. He looked around. These woods were a third of mile from Melissa’s house and had been searched twice in the days immediately after Melissa’s disappearance. A uniformed officer approached.

“The witness was walking his dog in the woods. He let the dog off leash and the dog went over to this tree and kept pawing at something. The guy goes over, brushes some of the leaves away and finds the body. He freaked, but God love the guy, before he bolts, he ties the dog to a nearby tree so the barking could lead us back,” the officer said, leading Snow about fifty yards in.

Familiar yellow crime tape cordoned off an area around the tree. Snow approached once the scene was photographed and knelt at the base of the tree. It was no wonder they had missed Melissa in their previous searches. She was almost completely covered in leaf litter. Carefully Snow cleared the debris away from Melissa. Every creepy crawler and nibbler had gone to work on her.

Melissa’s mouth was open, a large dark stain spread out from her abdomen where a large broken branch was protruding from her. Her left leg was bent into three impossible angles. Her right arm was stretched out to the side. One thing was certain. Melissa’s death had been violent and painful. The question was, was it an accident?

Snow stood back up and stared up into the tree. How far up in this tree had she been when she fell? He started to remove his jacket.

“Why don’t we call a tree specialist?” an officer on scene asked. “No offense, but when was the last time you climbed a tree?”

Snow looked at the officer and chuckled. The officer handed him his cellphone. He had the listing for local arborists. Snow made the call. It was almost an hour before the arborist arrived. During that time, the police collected all the evidence they could, photographed Melissa and had her remains removed.

The arborist arrived. He approached Snow.

“I’m Richard Dodge. What information can I give you, Detective?” Dodge asked, shaking Snow’s hand.

“Well as I said, we found a little girl’s remains at the base of this tree,” Snow said.

“That would be Melissa Campbell,” Dodge said.

“Yes, I want to know how she came to be at the base of this tree. I want to know if someone was up there with her. I want to know if she was enticed to jump. If she fell. I want to know whatever that tree can tell you,” Snow said plainly.

“I see,” Dodge said almost casually. He walked over to the tree and looked at the empty spot where Melissa’s body had been. The branch had been left on scene for Dodge to see. He looked at the branch from several angles. Paying particular attention to the end that had broken from the tree.

Without another word, Dodge opened his bag and put on his tree climbing gear. He walked around the tree, studying the bark. With the same methodical precision that he put his gear on, Dodge began his ascent, stopping every so often and studying the bark, pressing his hand to the tree in places. He disappeared into the leaf covered height of the tree.

The uniformed officer and Snow looked at each other. Snow shrugged and stared back up the tree.

“Lookout,” came a shout from above. A tape measure floated to the ground at the base of the tree. “Detective, hold the tape measure flat to the ground,” Dodge yelled.

Snow did as Dodge shouted down.

“Very good,” Dodge called down and wasn’t heard from for over an hour.

Dodge made his way back down the tree. He went over to his bag, removed his gear and stowed everything neatly away before walking over to Snow.

“Melissa was fifty-eight feet, four inches in the air when the branch she was sitting on broke. The base of the branch is still attached to the tree. Where the branch attached shows minor signs of disease but was healthy enough to hold her. A canopy of leaves covered the branch closest to the trunk.

“It appears Melissa moved toward the edge of the branch to see beyond the leaf cover. There the disease was more progressed and the branch gave way under her weight. She hit several branches on the way down. It doesn’t appear she was able to make any attempt to stop her fall. The bark has not been torn at.

“The bark also shows no sign of heavy weight or pressure being applied. None of the branches show signs of cracking. So I doubt they had to support the weight of an adult. If anyone was in that tree with Melissa, it could have only been another child. However, there is no indication of anyone coming down in a panic. The bark is completely intact. If there was a child in the tree with Melissa, the child was either in such a state of shock he or she moved like a zombie---or” Dodge stopped.

“What?” Snow asked, already formulating his own idea.

“The child is cold, calculating, and indifferent to their friend’s death. But that’s quite a stretch. According to this tree, Melissa’s death was a tragic accident.” Dodge offered his hand to Snow, who shook it. “If you need anything more, you have my number.” Dodge picked up his bag and walked from the woods.

Snow stood at the base of the tree and looked up. Dodge’s assumption had been the same as his; a child luring another child to her death. It seemed too far fetched to believe. Besides, Melissa’s friends were all accounted for at the time of her disappearance.

Snow stood outside the interrogation room where Cindy Campbell was still being held. An accident. Melissa’s death was an accident. Now Snow had to tell Cindy she had been right. Melissa had done what her mother had always feared she would do. She had climbed too high, been too daring and paid for her youthful daring with her life.

Snow opened the door; Cindy looked at him, her eyes searching his. They gave her the answer she so desperately needed. Her Melissa had been found dead.

“She fell from high up in a tree. The branch broke and gave way under her,” Snow said apologetically.

“NO!” Cindy wailed. She sat sobbing for twenty minutes. When she had cried herself out she finally looked at Detective Snow. “I want to see my baby.”

“Not yet. She’s in a fragile state,” Snow said, the image of what time and the insect’s handiwork had done. “Let the coroner’s office do the autopsy and then have an undertaker take care of her.”

“I don’t care, I want to see my baby,” Cindy protested.

“Cindy, you don’t want to see her like this. This is not the way you want to remember seeing Melissa. Let them fix her. I know some good undertakers who have worked with other victims.”

“Other children have been killed?” Cindy asked.

“No. Victims of other crimes, accidents,” Snow said, walking Cindy to the front desk. “Do you want to wait for Dave?” he asked.

“No.”

Snow went through a desk drawer and found the list of undertakers. He copied it and gave the list to Cindy.

“I’d like to attend the funeral, if it’s all right with you,” Snow said.

Cindy took the list and nodded. She grabbed Snow’s hand.

“Thank you. As much as I can’t stand the thought of my baby being dead, it’s better than knowing nothing at all.”

Snow nodded and Cindy left. He then went to tell Dave he was free to go. A nagging thought was now milling over and over in the back of his mind. Was there a child killer out there?

Jonathan stood looking at the map, the news of Melissa’s discovery still burning in his heart. So Annie’s killer had claimed another victim. He thumbed through the folder he had for Melissa. He ached for the pain her mother must be feeling. Melissa’s wake would be public, her funeral private. Jonathan felt compelled to go to Melissa’s wake. Somehow he felt he had failed her, the same as he had failed Annie.

Jonathan put the folder down and left for work. He was actually looking forward to getting to the university today. For the first time, he decided to take Jane up on her offer of listening to his troubles. Perhaps he would ask her to accompany him to Melissa’s wake. The idea of going to the wake unsettled him, and he thought having someone there might make the ordeal a little less painful. As it was, every time he thought of the wake, his stomach knotted and pain coursed his chest.

He pulled into the faculty parking lot and beeped. Jane stopped in her tracks and waved. She waited for him.

“How are you?” she asked, having heard about Melissa’s discovery that morning on the news.

“Lousy. I failed Melissa, like I failed Annie,” Jonathan confessed.

“You’re not a cop, Jonathan. There is only so much you can do. Have you ever told anyone else about your suspicions?” Jane asked, as they entered the university building.

“I’ve tried the local police departments in the towns where each one of the children was killed. Hell, I even called the FBI. I think they might have opened a file on me as a nutjob to be watched, instead of looking for a serial killer of children,” he said with a bitter laugh.

“You’ve done all anyone in your situation can do, Jonathan. You’re not sitting on the sidelines saying ‘Oh well, there’s nothing else I can do. It’s someone else’s problem.’ You’ve done all that anyone could have asked of you. You haven’t failed Annie. She’d be proud of her uncle, proud that you never gave up,” Jane said, stopping outside his classroom.

“Thanks. Listen, there’s going to be a public wake for Melissa. I have to go. I don’t suppose you would go with me. I could use the support,” he added, not wanting the invitation to sound like a date.

“Of course I’ll go with you. Let me know when and what time,” Jane said and walked off to her classroom.

Jonathan taught his class with a lack of enthusiasm. His mind kept wandering to Melissa and her wake. He really didn’t know if would be able to cope with seeing another child laid out in a casket. Annie’s parents had a closed casket at her wake and funeral but Jonathan had seen his precious niece placed in the casket. Time had not been kind to her body after her death but the undertaker had done a good job. The image of what she looked like coming out of the well, was not one he would ever forget. He hoped Melissa’s mother didn’t see her daughter in a similar condition.

Jonathan and Jane waited outside the funeral home in a line that stretched around the block. Hundreds of people were attending Melissa’s wake. It seemed that all of Seeley had shown as well as every person who had heard about Melissa on the news. It was a solemn, somber gathering and the line moved slowly.

“I’m glad you asked me to come with you. I was thinking about attending the wake, but felt awkward since I don’t know the family. But I guess most of the people here don’t know the family,” Jane said, looking at the gathered crowd.

“There was a turnout like this for Annie’s wake. I still remember ever detail, including the smell of the flowers. There were hundreds of flowers, bouquets of every size and flower type. I don’t know why people send flowers when someone dies. The dead person can’t enjoy them and the living have to throw them away when they die,” Jonathan said, staring off into space, seeing something that was not there.

Jonathan and Jane waited for two hours before they stood in front of Melissa’s small casket. Jonathan reached out a shaky hand and offered a silent prayer.

“You and Annie can play now,” Jane heard him whisper. And they slowly stepped back from the casket.

“Thank you for coming Detective Snow,” Cindy said, reaching out her hand. She stood alone at the head of Melissa’s casket.

“It’s the least I can do, and please, call me Tony.” Snow looked around. “No Dave,” he whispered to Cindy.

“No, I kicked his ass out,” Cindy hissed softly in his ear.

Snow nodded and smiled. Truly alone, Cindy put her head on Snow’s shoulder and he held her tightly. She was shaking and he feared if he let her go she would collapse.

Jonathan saw the exchange and knew Cindy was holding on by the thinnest of threads.

“I’ll get her some water,” Jonathan said to Snow, who nodded.

Jonathan sidestepped the crowd and made his way to the water cooler near the entrance. He filled a cup and carefully made his way back to Cindy and Detective Snow. Jonathan handed the cup to Cindy, who took it in a shaky hand and took a long swallow.

“Thank you. I don’t know you,” Cindy said, looking at Jonathan for the first time.

“You’re welcome for the water and no, you don’t. Jonathan Brakman. I’ve been following Melissa’s story, I had to come” he said.

“Jonathan, this is Detective Snow, he investigated Melissa’s disappearance,” Cindy said, introducing the two.

“Jonathan, why don’t you talk to Detective Snow for a moment? I’ll wait with Cindy until you return,” Jane said and immediately turned to Cindy. “I’m Jane Gilman, Jonathan and I teach at the university.”

Cindy was about to open her mouth to protest. She didn’t want Snow to leave.

“They should talk,” Jane said again, looking at Jonathan.

Detective Snow looked from Jane to Jonathan and then to Cindy. She nodded and he agreed.

“Shall we?” he motioned toward the front door.

Neither spoke as they exited the funeral home. They walked across the street, away from the waiting crowd.

“You’re friend seems to think we need to talk,” Snow said, when they were far enough away from the mourners. “Why would that be?”

“Because I think the same person who murdered my niece, murdered Melissa,” Jonathan said bluntly.

“Melissa’s death has been ruled an accident,” Snow said, a chill racing down his spine. God, he hoped Jonathan had more to say than just a suspicion.

“My niece disappeared two years ago in Heber. Over a week later she was found in the bottom of a well. A well that even the old timers didn’t know was there. Over the last five years, twelve children have disappeared and later been found dead. Each death ruled an accident.

“I don’t see it that way. Each one of these children was lured away by someone. Lured to an isolated place killed in a way that would make each death look like an accident. There’s a serial killer out there, and I want the son-of-a-bitch stopped.” Jonathan waited for Snow to scoff and dismiss him.

“Why haven’t you gone to the police?” Snow asked, a list of questions forming in his mind about each child.

“I’ve gone to each police department and called the FBI. I’ve been dismissed by all.”

“I’m assuming you have more than just your opinion, if you called the FBI,” Snow said.

“Oh yes, I do,” Jonathan said, a wave of euphoria washing over him. Snow believed him. He finally had someone in law enforcement who believed him.

“Let me talk to Cindy. I---” Snow was at a loss for words.

“I’ll tell Jane.”

Jonathan and Detective Snow made their way back into the funeral home. When Jane saw Jonathan she nodded. He knew she had told Cindy what the two had been discussing.

“Find this person,” Cindy whispered in Snow’s ear.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, returning her embrace.

“I’ll take Cindy home, and catch a cab home. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jane said to Jonathan. Her last statement indicating full well she would want all the details.

He nodded and left with Detective Snow.

“Do you think someone murdered my baby?” Cindy asked Jane.

“Yes,” Jane said honestly.

Cindy put her head on her new friend’s shoulder and wept.

Detective Snow stood in front of Jonathan’s map and stared at it. It was two in the morning. He had read each of the twelve folders. With each folder he read his heart slammed harder in his chest. They contained five years of a serial killer’s legacy.

“You know, we had an arborist go all over the tree that Melissa fell from,” Snow said, thumbing through Melissa’s folder. “He said if there was someone else there with Melissa, it would have been a child because none of the branches appeared to have supported an adult.

“Given that it appears this killer has been at it for at least five years that would rule out a child. But it wouldn’t rule out a small adult. A child might be more than willing to trust an adult who wasn’t physically intimidating.”

Jonathan thought about how often Jane had been mistaken for a child. And she wasn’t the only adult out there who was small.

“How will you go about finding this guy?” Jonathan asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never dealt with anything close to serial killer before. I do know first thing tomorrow, well later today, I’m calling the FBI and kicking their ass into gear. I want their top people out here. Do you mind if I take these and have copies made?” Snow said, holding the folders out.

“Please, take them. You can take the map too. It’ll---” he stopped.

“What?” Snow asked.

“It’ll be both a relief and letdown not having it here. It’s been my bane for two years. My vow to Annie to not let her killer go free.”

“Annie and Melissa’s killer won’t go free. You’ve seen to that for two years. Now I’m going to see it through to the end for Annie, Melissa, Cindy and the rest of these kids and their families. And for you. You’ve carried this too long on your own.”

Jonathan and Snow took the map off the wall and mounted it on a corkboard to keep it intact.

“I’ll call you after I talk to the FBI,” Snow said, standing at the threshold of Jonathan’s front door.

“If I’m in class, leave a message, I’ll call right back. Hell, I’ll probably leave class for that call.”

“Thank you,” Snow said and shook Jonathan’s hand.

“No. Thank you,” Jonathan said, returning the handshake.

Snow left with two years of evidence; two years of Jonathan’s life.

Unsure what to do, Jonathan paced around his living room. He wasn’t tired, but threw himself in the chair and forced himself to close his eyes. They snapped back open. Maybe he should call Jane and give her the news? No. It was nearly three in the morning. He decided to take a shower, dress for school, and wait.

It was barely six when Jonathan left home for the university. He would be early, but didn’t care. He wanted to tell Jane everything that had happened last night, and he wanted to thank her. If she hadn’t gone with him and made him speak to Detective Snow, he would be sitting at home eating breakfast and staring at that damn map. Now the map was in the hands of law enforcement and something was finally going to be done. He knew what he was going to do when after he told Jane everything, he would ask her to dinner. A date, a real date.

When he pulled into the parking lot, Jonathan was stunned to see Jane’s car already there. He hurried into the building and up to her classroom. Funny, they usually met and parted ways at his classroom. Jonathan found her classroom unlocked, he entered.

“Jane,” he called out.

“In here,” she called from her office. “Jonathan what happened?” she asked, coming to her office door.

“He believed me,” Jonathan said in a rush. “He took everything I had about all the cases and is calling the FBI today. I can’t believe it”

Jane ran up and grabbed him in a hug. The two stepped back and looked at each other. Jonathan kissed Jane and she readily kissed him back then stepped back, blushing.

“Umm, I, yeah,” she stammered.

“Would you like to have dinner with me on Saturday?”

“Yes, but can we go out Sunday instead?” Jane asked. “I’m going down to Calexico to catch and photograph Monarchs on Saturday. There’s a great field down there with the best flowers, I always find good Monarchs there. It’s one of my favorite places to photograph. I’ll draw you a map and if you’re not doing anything, maybe you can come down for a bit,” Jane said, walking back to her office and sitting at her desk.

“Sounds good and Sunday will be great for dinner,” Jonathan said, following her in and sitting on a corner of the desk. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Grading papers. I stayed a lot later with Cindy than I planned. She’s blaming herself for Melissa’s death. She thinks if she hadn’t believed the ex-boyfriend about Melissa’s broken arm, she never would have gone off. I feel bad for her. She doesn't have anyone. I can't imagine having to go through something like that alone,” Jane said with a sad sigh.

“I know the feeling. I wonder if something I said or did made Annie more vulnerable to her killer. I think everyone who looses a child thinks that.”

“Cindy hopes you’ve put Detective Snow on the trail of Melissa’s killer.”

“Me too,” Jonathan stood up and turned toward the door. He froze, partially visible behind the open door was a map. A map that was almost a duplicate of his map, complete with pins in almost the exact same places as the murdered children. Slowly, he walked over and closed the door enough to reveal the rest of the map. There were slight differences in this map and Jonathan’s map. In this map, there were pins in several places in Mexico.

Children had been killed in Mexico? Jonathan’s stomach rolled as his heart began slamming in his chest. No, Jane wasn’t the serial killer. This was just a strange coincidence. There had to be an explanation. Maybe Jane kept her own map of the murders. But why would she, he had only just begun discussing them with her?

“Jonathan?” Jane asked, waving her hand in front of his face.

“Huh? Sorry. Fazed out for a second there. I never slept last night. What’s this?” he asked, trying to calm his heaving stomach.

“Where I photograph Monarchs. I catalog the photos and always go back to photograph more, hoping to see if any from the long lived Methuselah Generation have returned,” Jane said, handing him a hand drawn map.

“Oh, I’d better go get ready for class. I’ll see you after,” he said, and forced a normal smile. “Thanks,” he said, folding the map and tucking it in his pocket.

“Okay,” Jane said and returned his smile.

See there’s a logical explanation for the map. Monarchs. She’s just mapping her butterflies, Jonathan mentally argued with himself walking back to his classroom. Jane couldn’t be a serial killer. Hell, she was ready to flip the switch and fry Cindy, when it looked like her boyfriend might have been involved.

A small adult, Snow had said. And Jane had become very friendly with Cindy instantly. Was it because she had gotten away with killing Melissa? No. Jane had been the one to insist that Jonathan talk to Detective Snow.

Jonathan walked into his classroom and went straight to his office. He looked around. Everywhere he looked there was something relating to his Jerusalem crickets. Why wouldn’t Jane have a map of where she photographed her Monarchs? She was as crazy over them, as he was over his crickets. Still, he dialed Detective Snow’s cellphone.

“Hello,” Snow answered.

“Hi, it’s Jonathan Brakman.”

“Hey, you’re early. I was just about to call the FBI.”

“Is there anyway to find out about murdered children in Mexico, right along the California border?” Jonathan asked.

“Why?”

“Jane, the woman I was with last night---”

“Yeah, Cindy really liked her. She was a big help to her last night,” Snow said automatically.

“She has a map almost identical to mine,” Jonathan said in a rush.

“What?” Snow choked.

“Yeah, on my map I only have pins on the U.S. side of the border and nothing on the Mexican side. She has pins in the US side, almost the exact same places, and pins on the Mexican side. I never thought about the other side of the border. Jane says it’s where she has photographed Monarch butterflies, but it’s just---”

“Too much of coincidence,” Snow finished. “How long have you known her?”

“We’ve been teaching together for eight years. We’ve always been friendly, but never close close. Not until recently. She did attend Annie’s funeral, but a lot of faculty did.”

“Let me see what I can find out. Is there anyway I can see her map?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll stay late today. Come to the university, Billings Building come in the west entrance, fourth floor at five o’clock. My classroom is 1214. I’ll bring you to her office.”

“I’ll see you then and Jonathan, play it cool,” Snow said.

“You got it. I’ve come far to let anything screw this up,” Jonathan said, and flipped his phone closed.

Detective Snow clicked off his cellphone and turned on his computer. He surfed around until he found a map of the California/Mexico border. Jotting down the names of the towns within driving distance of the border, he went in search of Officer Manuel.

“Hey Julio, I’ve got a favor to ask of you,” he said when he found the officer. “I don’t speak Spanish and I need some research done.”

“Sure, what do you need?” Officer Manuel agreed.

“I need you to look for any articles in these towns,” he handed Officer Manuel the list “to see if there were any children found dead after disappearing. And I need it by four.”

“No pressure,” Officer Manuel said with a short laugh. “Is this related to Melissa’s case?”

“I don’t know yet,” Snow said honestly.

“If there’s something out there, I’ll find it,” Officer Manuel vowed.

Snow was on the phone with the FBI for hours. He went over each case with their serial killer investigation unit. Perhaps it was because he was a law enforcement officer and not a bereaved relative, this time they agreed. The evidence was suspicious enough to warrant an investigation.

Snow did not reveal the information about Mexico. At this point it was little more than speculation and he hadn’t heard anything back from Officer Manuel yet. That entire idea might turn out to be nothing at all and he didn’t want to go running to the FBI with nothing. He wanted their support and investigative knowledge and resources.

When the call had concluded Snow was confident whoever had killed Melissa Campbell and Annie Brakman would be caught. He wanted to call Jonathan with the news, but didn’t. He called Cindy Campbell.

“The FBI sees enough similarities that they’re going to investigate. If anyone was responsible for Melissa’s death they’ll be caught. If her death was an accident, there will be no doubt in any of our minds,” he said.

“I hope it was just an accident and Detective---Tony, thank you, for everything. And don’t worry, I won’t say a word to anyone,” Cindy said.

“I’ll call you later on tonight. I have something else I’m looking into. I’m not going to leave anything to chance,” Snow said, he decided to end the call because Officer Manuel had just entered his office, a grave look on his face.

“Puebla, Hermosilla, Progresso and Nuevo Leon, a child in each town died after disappearing. The longest disappearance was one month, the shortest six days. All the deaths were ruled accidental. Two were found at the base of tree, one at the bottom of a ravine and the other at the bottom of a high cliff,” Snow said sitting on the edge of Jonathan’s desk.

The news hit Jonathan like a lead weight.

“I think whoever is doing this, is luring the kids to places where they can scare them into running. The kids just panic and run blindly, never seeing what’s ahead of them, or they climb out on a limb to get away until the branch breaks.

“You’re sure she’s gone?” Snow inquired.

“I walked her out myself,” Jonathan said, standing. He looked out his office window to the faculty parking lot below. He double checked that Jane had not returned.

Jonathan led Snow to Jane’s classroom, the door was unlocked and the light was on.

“Jane,” Jonathan called in frowning.

“No, it’s Ben, Professor Brakman,” the janitor called out.

“Jane was supposed to give me directions before she left. She didn’t, I just want to check to see if she left them on her desk,” Jonathan lied.

“Sure, I’m done in here anyway,” Ben said, nodding. The janitor left and nodded a hello to Detective Snow and went about his business.

Jonathan and Detective Snow went into Jane’s office and looked at the map. Pins were in Puebla, Hermosilla, Progresso and Nuevo Leon. The two just looked at each other. Jonathan reached into his pocket and pulled out the directions to where Jane would be tomorrow.

“She’ll be here tomorrow,” he said and handed the paper to Snow. “I told her I’d try and come down.”

“We both will.”

They turned off the lights, locked the doors, and left.

Jane sat back on her heels, tilted her face toward the warm sun and sighed. She had caught, photographed and released fifteen Monarchs, and she had only been in Calexico for an hour. Best of all, Jonathan said he would try and join her. If not, she would see him tomorrow for dinner.

Eight years of a secret crush and now her dream guy was real. From the moment she had first seen Jonathan, Jane had wanted him. She never felt pretty enough or worthy of his notice. Sure, they were professionally friendly and talked at work, but Jane never thought Jonathan would ever see her as more than a butterfly obsessed co-worker. Then when his niece died, Jane did what she could to support Jonathan, including attending his niece’s funeral. And more recently listening to his suspicions and attending Melissa’s wake. Somehow she knew if she gave Jonathan a friendly ear to confide in, he would come to appreciate her.

Shrieks and giggles behind her caught Jane’s attention. A young girl of about eight was playing in the field. Jane looked around to see where the girl’s parent or babysitter was, but didn’t see anyone. Why would anyone let a child play here alone? This field was on a raised bluff that had a sharp drop off. Sighing at people’s stupidity, Jane got up and started over to warn the girl, her butterfly net still in her hand.

“See, I told you this was the best place ever,” the girl’s special friend called out to her.

“Wait, I can’t keep up. You’re too fast,” Chrissie said with a shriek and a laugh.

“Come on, Chrissie, you can catch me,” her friend said, laughing and racing on ahead.

Jonathan parked the car and got out. Detective Snow climbed out of the passenger side and looked around. Jonathan was the first to spot Jane. She was heading toward a young child.

“Jesus Christ,” Snow barked, following Jonathan’s gaze. The two broke into a run, but Jane and the girl were so far ahead.

“Hey,” Jane called.

The girl and her friend stopped and turned around at the sound of her voice. They were too far away to hear exactly what Jane was saying.

“She’s come to take me away. Look she has a net. She wants to take me away,” the Monarch butterfly Chrissie was playing with, cried out in a panic. “Chrissie, don’t let her take me!” the butterfly flitted in a panicked zigzag around the girl “Help me Chrissie. Help me.” The butterfly raced away.

“No! Don’t! Stop!” Chrissie screamed, chasing after her friend.

“Oh for the love of,” Jane grumbled and started to run at full tilt. The stupid girl was heading straight for the edge. “STOP! Come back,” Jane screamed at her.

Neither Jonathan nor Detective Snow could hear the exchange. They just knew Jane had something in her hand and was screaming at the girl. Who was running and screaming in terror.

“No. No,” Chrissie shrieked chasing her friend. She looked back at the woman with the net. She was gaining. Her friend, her special friend would be taken away. “Leave us alone,” Chrissie cried and ran faster. By the time Chrissie looked in front of her it was too late. Her foot went off the edge and she cascaded down the thirty foot ledge.

The rocks tore and ripped at Chrissie as she bounced along them. She was dead, long before she hit the bottom. Jane collapsed to her knees at the edge and looked down in horror. The poor girl. Why had she run like that? What could have made that poor girl run off the edge like that? She looked for a way down to try and help. There was none.

“Hmm, would you look at that. No matter how many times they do that, I never get tired of watching them fall,” the Monarch butterfly said.

Jane looked around. The butterfly was fluttering in front of her.

“Yes, I spoke and yes, I’ve killed every one of them. I love watching them fall.”

Jane lurched to her feet and screamed.

“JANE!” Jonathan screamed running past Detective Snow. It looked like Jane was carrying a pipe or something similar.

Jonathan. Jane turned at the sound of his voice. He was here. Oh Thank God he was here. A Monarch butterfly. A butterfly had killed all those children, including his Annie.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jane saw the butterfly flutter toward Jonathan.

“No,” she screamed and ran toward him.

The shot hit her square in the chest. Snow’s aim had been dead on. Jane fell back on the grass with a soft thud.

“I’ve never gotten an adult before. I think I could have liked you. I like everyone who dies. I forgot to tell Chrissie that. But she was dead before she hit the ground. La la la la. La la la la. La la la la la la la,” the butterfly sang, as it flitted high overhead.

“The butterfly,” Jane said, as Jonathan knelt next to her. Blood ran from her lips, the butterfly net still clutched in her fist.

Jane watched the butterfly flit around Jonathan and then she saw nothing.

Snow reached the two. Jonathan looked up.

“You were right,” was all he could say. “I never would have guessed Jane could have, would have---my Annie,” Jonathan sobbed.

“It’s over now,” Snow said, looking at the dead woman with contempt and loathing.

“Hola,” the Monarch butterfly said.

“Hola, eres una mariposa. Usted puede hablar,” the little girl said in amazement.

“Si. Quieres ser mi amiga especial?”

“Si. Soy Esperanza,” the girl said.

Copyright 2009 Heather Gregson

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