Scrapped by Mollie Cox Bryan Read Free Book Online Page A

year of high school.
    But tonight an air of fear seemed to permeate. The news that a second body had turned up had sent the town—especially the women—into a state of fear and shock. The victims were both young women from Jenkins Hollow, a place that seemed to be legendary for outcasts.
    “I just can’t believe it,” Sheila suddenly said. “Another murder.”
    “Did they ever find out who the second woman was?” DeeAnn asked Annie.
    “Yes, Rebecca Collins,” Annie said, pushing back the images that came to her from her morning at the landfill a few days ago. “We’re going to her funeral.”
    “Did you say that Bea went to Sarah’s funeral?” Sheila said, pushing her glasses back on her nose.
    Paige piped up. “Bea’s not going to miss a funeral.”
    The women laughed. It was true Beatrice Matthews didn’t miss a funeral within fifty miles of Cumberland Creek proper.
    Paige was one of the few croppers who still had deep ties to Jenkins Hollow. But she was recently ostracized by her church because her son was gay and she’d just reconciled with him. She stood up for him one Sunday during the preacher’s antigay rant, and that was the end of her church relationship. It was the church she was raised in, the one her family had always gone to, and it held many memories of weddings, baptisms, funerals. Paige was devastated, but also angry.
    “Of course, my mother wouldn’t miss one, either,” Paige said.
    Annie nodded affirmatively. “Both of us went and wished we didn’t. It was sad and bizarre.”
    “What do you mean?” Sheila said in a hushed tone.
    “Very few people were there. I mean, there were five of us. Bea, me, Detective Bryant, and her parents. There was no wake, no friends. Nothing.”
    It was the second Christian funeral Annie had attended since she moved to Cumberland Creek. The two funerals were a year apart from one another. This one was so different from Maggie Rae’s, which was attended by everybody in town, and then some. The wake was huge, with tables and tables of food. Sarah’s memorial service was sparse, and it left Annie feeling weirdly frightened. Was Sarah that isolated that she had no friends? Or was there a statement being made? If so, what was it? Or were people afraid to show up for some reason?
    Annie was met with silence from the scrapbookers.
    “That makes sense,” Paige finally said, her blue eyes lit. “It makes sense in some weird kind of way. Those people are very superstitious, very backward.”
    “Do you mean they think her bad luck would rub off?” Cookie asked with one eyebrow lifted.
    “I don’t know, really. Who knows?” Paige said, waving her hand. “But there’d have to be a reason for it, and I’m betting it has to do with one of their strange beliefs.”
    “I keep hearing about their strange beliefs,” Annie said. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is there a certain religion? What is it?”
    “Who really knows?” Sheila said. “No outsiders know all about them. Some Old Orders don’t even believe in funerals. Maybe people didn’t even realize she was gone at the time they buried her. They bury their dead quickly, sometimes before the service. One thing I can say for sure is that some of them may call themselves Old Order Mennonites, but they are not Mennonite.”
    “Oh, heavens no,” DeeAnn said. “That’s some odd brew of weirdness going on up there. They keep real close to themselves. I’ve heard of cousins marrying. I’ve heard of animal sacrifice. And even drugs and rituals.”
    DeeAnn, hailing from Minnesota, had married a local man and had settled in Cumberland Creek with him. She was a culinary school graduate and owned and operated her own bakery, yet Annie had always thought she was a bit sheltered.
    “Sounds a little far-fetched to me,” Cookie said.
    “Humph. This coming from a witch named Cookie,” Paige said good-naturedly and rolled her eyes.
    “They call me Cookie for one simple reason,