Susan snapped the book shut, laid it aside, closed her eyes and thought about how within hours after writing those lines, both Roselyn and her “Gerry” would be dead. Looking down at the two death certificates, she saw that both listed fire as Cause of Death. Flipping them up to lean against her chest, she quickly read through first Gerald’s and then Roselyn’s coroner’s reports. The documents stated that while out “parking” on Lover’s Lane, the car they were sitting in caught fire and both were killed before they could exit the vehicle. Along with the expected second and third degree burns, Gerald and Roselyn both had crushed ribs and severely damaged internal organs. When the doctor examined their lungs, there was no evidence of smoke inhalation. Once again ruptured blood vessels were found on the corneas of their eyes.

Shaking her head in disbelief that the coroners in all four cases had not thought to further investigate the odd findings, Susan secured the data regarding the 1955 murders together and set them with the other two piles. Rotating her shoulders and stretching her neck, she turned her attention to the last pile of documents, which were dated 1980.

This time the murdered couple was Henry and Ivy Gehlt. Susan knew from the family trees that Henry was the illegitimate son of Frances Gehlt and Robert Jones. As with his grandparents, Frank and Thelma Gehlt, there was a wedding photograph showing a young couple who appeared to be very much in love. Their marriage certificate was dated May 12, 1978, two years prior to the date on their death certificates. Fresh water drowning was listed on both certificates as Cause of Death.

Placing the documents aside, she looked at the pair of sketches portraying Henry and Ivy. Henry was shown sitting behind a large desk, with a law degree framed on the wall behind him. Apparently he was having a rough day, as his tie was loosened and askew and his hair was mussed up. Ivy’s pictured her as she jogged down a country road, her hair caught mid-bounce as her foot struck the ground. She was wearing sweat bands made of looped terry cloth on her wrists and around her forehead. Both drawings had the warning written on the back.

Next she found an unfinished letter, dated September 1, 1980, addressed simply to Mom, although judging by the handwriting she figured it was from Ivy. This assumption was confirmed as she read it. “Well Mom, so far Burnsville is a nice place to live. Although, there must be some teenage pranksters in town; I keep getting the oddest notes left in the weirdest places. Henry has gotten a few notes as well, but he’s not as worried about them as I am. He thinks they’re from some teens with too much time on their hands, but I don’t agree, since all of the notes are signed the same way: ‘You’ll never be unfaithful again.’ The messages themselves are troubling enough, but it’s the accompanying sketches that have me fearing the responsible party.” The letter continued on to discuss the recent unseasonable rainy weather and how more was forecast for the next few days. Susan returned the letter to its dirty envelope, before depositing it on the sofa.