Changing Seasons

By Mary Ferris

Heroine Anna Rogers is desperately trying to get the murder case of her childhood friend reopened, not knowing the murderer is following her every move. The novel is set in the small fictional Midwest town of Arbor, Ohio. Anna is an established photographer in town, and through a series of tragic life events, she struggles with her inner demons. After the murders mysteriously stopped ten years ago, they have picked up again in this sleepy college town and are identical to those of earlier years. Changing Seasons follows Anna on a daring journey, determined to find the serial murderer of not only her best childhood friend but of thirteen other girls as well. Eventually, she finds herself face-to-face with the killer and is now running for her own life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543431421

Mary Ferris

Mary G. Ferris grew up in the small university town of Oxford, OH where she graduated from Miami University. Her interests include writing, gardening, cross-stitching, her pets and family. She currently resides in Hamilton, OH with her husband and daughter, their Pug and two cats.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The light was perfect, and the young couple I had in my sights were clearly visible in the afternoon sun. The warm September afternoon had a hint of fall chilling the air, and it was exhilarating. So I did what came naturally to me; I shot them over and over again. It was really quite beautiful as I lost myself in the moment, thinking about how still the couple looked, like a statue frozen in time. The tap on my left shoulder brought me out of focus, and I looked up into the sun, shielding my eyes with my hand. The bride’s mother was beaming with love and excitement.

I wondered if we could get some pictures in the flower garden before the sun dips, she said with a smile.

My name is Anna Rogers. I’m thirty-two years old and a freelance photographer. I have been blessed to actually make a decent living doing something I enjoy. Late summer and fall tend to slow down as the flurry of weddings and graduations have passed, which provides the opportunity to pursue my other passion, nature and wildlife photography.

I gazed at Elaine McCormick, still shielding my eyes from the sun, with my hand acting as a visor. The newlyweds behind me were giggling like teenagers in love. Elaine wasn’t a tall woman, but not what would be considered particularly short either. She ever so slightly was becoming soft with age, but I could tell she took care of herself. Today she had her blond bob clipped on one side with a tiny yellow sweetheart rose, her brown eyes beaming with pride and joy.

That’s a great idea, Elaine. I’m done with this view anyway. Give me about ten minutes to move my equipment.

Thanks, Anna. I’ll get the kids some champagne and we’ll be right over, she said, looking over her shoulder.

I watched as she walked toward the kids—her daughter, now a woman in her twenties and newly married; no longer a child. That could have been me had things happened differently in my life. My own mother would have been a few years older than Elaine. I watched as the threesome hugged and exchanged kisses on cheeks. I shivered inside and began to gather up my things for the short move to the gardens. It was early September and the botanical gardens were still in full bloom with plenty of lush greenery and flowers. I would be able to get some great pictures with the harvest sun low in the September sky. The couple arrived in the garden just as I finished setting up. They were completely oblivious to my presence but were gracious with Elaine’s request for more pictures. I understand the desire to memorialize life events. I really do.

The reception was lavish and suited perfectly for the lakeside reception hall. The vaulted ceiling seemed to have magically dropped, draped with ivory chiffon, and the temporary crystal chandeliers seemed to be on fire. The decorations were top-notch and you would not have known that the place is otherwise just a shell of a room on any other day, waiting patiently for the imaginative touch of a decorator. The bride’s cake was an expertly decorated four-tier masterpiece. The intricate yellow roses made of icing were delicate, and edible pearl beading draped the sides of each tier. There was also a champagne fountain that appeared solidly built, but with the touch of a finger could come crashing down at a moment’s notice. Being the photographer, I usually prefer hanging in the background at such events; however, tonight I was actually enjoying myself. This was my last wedding of the year, and I was becoming wistful with the changing seasons. Before winter came to southwest Ohio though, we would be treated to the spectacular colors of a Midwest autumn.

As far as weddings go, dinner was delicious with an ample serving of perfectly cooked prime rib, fresh asparagus, and baby fingerling potatoes. After dinner and champagne toasts, the dance floor came alive. A line dance took form and I got some great group photos. After several more hours of picture taking and extending my last congratulations to the bride and her new husband, I slipped out of the reception quietly. It was well after midnight and I had started working at two in the afternoon the previous day, with little sleep the night before. Long hours were not unusual in business; I was tired but felt good. I quickly loaded my equipment into the car and headed home, looking forward to a good night’s sleep and a quiet morning.

*****

I was awakened early the next morning by a soft, wet nose in my ear. I opened my eyes wearily, squinting at the morning sun, and was greeted with a meow by my rescue cat, Tiny. Regardless of my work schedule or when I finally got to bed, Tiny had her own timeline of events, which usually revolved around eating. I groaned quietly and rolled onto my side to stare my patch tabby in the face. Her emerald green eyes appeared to glow when she saw that she had successfully disturbed my sleep. Like any normal cat, she stood up, arched her back, raised her tail up straight like a flag pole, and turned in a circle, showing off her backside. I had to laugh. I never understood why cats thought anyone would want to be greeted with their backsides! I gently folded her tail down, and with that she sat, her back to me, purring contentedly. I lay in bed for several more minutes until Tiny voiced the end of her patience with my lingering and got out of bed. We descended the stairs together to find some breakfast.

As we entered the kitchenette, I could feel the crisp morning air trying to gain entrance through the walls and windows of my house. Coffee would be the first order of business, and while that brewed, I opened a can of food for Tiny, who was now practically crying at my feet. Once she was settled, I stepped outside to retrieve my morning newspaper and take in the smells of the waning summer and approaching fall.

Chapter 2

It had been just over a week since the McCormick wedding, and my good friend and surrogate father, Sal Austin, had called to tell me that the contact sheets were ready to be picked up. When I had first gone into professional photography, I had done my own developing because I couldn’t afford to use an outside service. As my business grew, I couldn’t justify the added time it took to do it myself. I buy all of my equipment from Sal, and he introduced me to a place that develops professional contact sheets. By outsourcing the development side, I was able to spend more time drumming up business and booking more jobs. After I got off the phone with Sal, I called my best friend, Liz Carroll, to ask if she wanted to get lunch after I picked up the prints. We agreed to meet at a local pub later that afternoon.

After I got my things together, my first stop was the local flower shop for a small bouquet of fall flowers with bright oranges, yellows, and burnt umber. I would stop by the graveyard this morning and visit Alex. It was always difficult this time of year as her birthday was fast approaching. She would have been thirty-three years old. We were only two weeks apart in age, which is why, I suppose, we got along well as kids.

A short time later, I pulled into the cemetery and drove slowly on the winding narrow lane through the plots. Alex had been laid to rest in the southwest corner of the cemetery, and the grave stone was inlaid with a pearl angle, always looking toward the sun and heaven. I stopped the car and grabbed the cellophane-wrapped flowers and walked slowly to the site. This was always so difficult, and there was so much I wanted to share with Alex. I missed her terribly even after all of this time. The grass had dried from the morning dew, so I knelt down and lightly brushed away some of the leaves that had lost their hold on summer. Using my finger, I lightly traced over Alex’s name and the epitaph that had been inscribed in beautiful light cursive:

Remember me with laughter and smiles

For if you can only remember me with tears

and sorrow, then don’t remember me at all.

I removed the dead flowers that most likely James or Cindy had placed in the attached vase to the left of the headstone. I untied the bow on the cellophane of the bouquet I had brought and placed them in the vase. I sat quietly for a few minutes, thinking about how our lives would be today had so many things turned out differently. A car was slowly winding its way through the narrow lanes passing me as I sat. Sitting low to the ground and with the sun shining on the windshield, I could not discern if the driver was a man or woman. I wiped a lone tear off my cheek and stood. It was time to get on with my day. I drove slowly out of the cemetery, passing the car that had just arrived. The car was facing the sun, and the person in the car had on a baseball cap. They were gazing in the opposite direction as if looking for a headstone.

Once Anna was clear of the cemetery gates, Andrew got out of his car and walked the short distance back to the headstone that Anna had been visiting. He knew the gravestone well. He, too, visited Alex since returning to Arbor. Not as often, for sure, as Anna and James, but sometimes.

A few moments later, I was parking my car a short distance from Sal’s shop and entered with the door chiming as it shut behind me.

Hello, my Anna, Sal said with a slight Kentucky drawl. His green eyes were beaming as I walked into the shop.

Hi, Sal, I said as I reached up to return his hug.

Sal is tall and quite fit for a man in his late sixties. When most men his age are buying stock in hair rejuvenation products, Sal boasts a full head of solid white hair, which he keeps neatly trimmed. He is an avid outdoorsman and seems to sport a perpetual tan even in the middle of an Ohio winter.

So, what’s new with you now that wedding season has come to a close? Any book projects on the back burner?

I’ve got a couple. One I’m almost done with, and another yet to start. That will keep me busy for the next few months, at least through Thanksgiving.

What about boyfriends?

Oh, please don’t start that again.

Sal was always concerned with my romantic life or the lack of it rather.

Anna, when are you going to settle down? I worry about you being alone all the time. A young, pretty woman like you should have men buzzing around all day long. Grandbabies, Anna! I would like some grandbabies.

I’ll try to work on that.

Yeah, yeah, always the same run-around from you, honey, he said, pretending to pout.

I spent a little too much time at the shop going over the contact sheets and proofs and looking through the newest camera equipment catalog. I invited Sal to join me and Liz for lunch, but he begged off, saying he had plans already. As one of Arbor’s most eligible widowers, there were several women in town that were quite smitten with him. I suspected he would be meeting one of his lady friends at the local retirement community, which has a nice restaurant and bar. I bid my farewell to him, and we promised to get together soon. Sal is the only person I considered family since the death of my parents. Of course, there was James, Alex’s brother, but there was tension there. I began to feel the pressure rising in my chest as it did when I begin to feel sorry for myself, so I pushed the thoughts of family back into the shadows.

I ran some other menial errands around town and arrived at the restaurant about ten minutes late. My stylishly dressed friend was already sitting at the bar with a glass of wine. Liz is barely 5'4", flat-footed, and loves her stilettos, making her deceptively tall. She sported a sprinkle of perfectly placed freckles across her nose that spilled onto her cheeks and matched her light brown eyes. With her young and flirty style of dress, no one ever truly knew her age, and she certainly didn’t offer it up freely.

Hey, sweetie, we both said at the same time and gave each other a hug.

I put my purse on the bar and settled into the stool next to Liz. The bartender, Cecile, walked over as I got settled.

Hey, Anna, would you like a Merlot?

Yes, thanks.

Need a menu today?

No, I’ll have my usual.

Perfect, she said and turned to the computerized register to enter my order.

So what’s new in the posh world of architecture? I asked, sipping my wine.

Well, I’m leaving for the Big Apple sometime soon. There’s a high-rise that a development company bought, and they are looking for input on how to structure it into high-end condos. I can’t wait to go shopping.

I laughed. Do you ever really work on these business trips? I asked, making air quotes around business trips.

Of course, I do, honey! How else could I afford to shop? she quipped back.

Will you be in town for Oktoberfest?

Not sure yet, she said, taking a sip of wine.

Well, let me know. Sal wants to go, and I think he’s bringing a lucky lady.

Liz oohed and aahed. That man has more dates than I do!

Well, maybe you should join the local bingo club and improve your prospects.

Liz paused and then asked the underlying question begging to be forgotten, How are you doing?

That was all it took. I puddled up on cue, took three deep breaths, and said, Not great. Just trying to not think about it.

Anna, I’m so sorry.

This time of year is always tough for me, and Liz knew that. With the end of my busy photography season and the upcoming anniversary of my parents’ death, I always struggled. Plus, there was Alex’s birthday looming around the corner.

Anna, with your work about to slow down, you should get out more, meet new people.

What do you mean get out and meet people? I’m surrounded by the damn living every day! I watch them get married; take pictures of their baptisms, weddings, graduations, of their dreams and successes. I help them to memorialize their life events. I watch foals turn into mares or studs, kittens and puppies find new homes. What more am I supposed do? I said, ending with a tearless sob.

She blinked twice in