“Mr. Graves,” Williams began, “I am sorry for all that your family has been through. The purpose of the meeting tonight, though, is to discuss concrete security measures that fall within the town’s purview.”

“Just saying what everyone’s thinking.” He held up his hands. “But you go ahead. I’ll keep quiet.”

Williams placed her hands on the podium and took a breath. “Now, is there anyone who would like to begin?”

“I have a concern,” a voice called out.

I recognized the woman who had spoken. Jane Robertson. I didn’t know her personally, but, if I wasn’t mistaken, she taught piano lessons out of her home.

Williams stepped back from the podium and waved out her hand. She then took her seat with the other council members.

The mousey woman in baggy jeans and a mauve cardigan got up from her seat and walked toward the front of the room. I wasn’t too worried about what she might have to say until I caught her exchanging glances with Liz Coleman, who gave her a small nod.

Once Jane Robertson had positioned herself at the podium, she took a moment to smooth her hair and straighten her cardigan. The delay made it all the more shocking when she called out in a startlingly loud voice, “Citizens of Evenfall!”

Thankfully I wasn’t the only one who jumped.

“Tonight, I would like to talk to you all about the string of attacks that have ripped through our community. I’ve heard some of you call it vandalism, but that is not what it is. Wanton acts of destruction!” She hit the podium with her fist. “That’s what’s happening in our town, and we should all be afraid!”

Izzy and I again exchanged looks. Attacks? Wanton acts of destruction?

For a small, meek-looking woman, Jane Robertson certainly did have a presence.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Williams said. “But could you tell us specifically what acts you are referring to?”

“All the dead plants,” Jane said in a much quieter voice. “Someone or something is killing all my fall flowers.”

A small murmur ran through the crowd.

“I had three pots of yellow chrysanthemums. Bought them just last week. They’re all dead now. I don’t know why someone would do such a thing.” She looked at Nora. “It’s certainly not something a normal person would do. That’s all I have to say. Thank you.”

We all watched Jane Robertson scurry back to her seat. I guess her brand of passion was short-lived. Or she had run out of rehearsed lines. I looked over at Liz Coleman. She was trying to act cool, but there was something in her expression that led me to believe she had hoped that would go better.

Williams stepped back over to the podium. “Thank you, uh, Jane, for sharing your concerns. Although I’m not sure the dead chrysanthemums can be attributed conclusively to vandalism.”

“Right you are, Williams. The acts aren’t vandalism,” a new voice called out. “At least not of the mortal kind.”