Message of Murder Trilogy Complete Collection, page 11
The coffee maker sputters in response.
The pounding of the music in my earbuds matches the pounding of my feet on the gravel jogging path at the park. I need to run today. I’m going to be late to work, but I don’t care. With everything going on and now the fight with Lucas, I deserve an hour to myself. Herbert will just have to deal with it.
I haven’t run since the morning Dustin called me about finding Karen. That feels like weeks ago to my mind and to my legs. I tire more quickly than usual. The covered bridge looms ahead and I turn to the refuge it offers. The wooden planks shake as I thump across them. Half-way across, I stop to catch my breath.
The river rolls away below me as I lean over the dusty, splintered sides of the bridge. Weak light filters through the roof, dapples of beauty surrounding me. I pull out my earbuds and listen to the water flowing below, the wind whipping through the bridge. This bridge is a tourist attraction of sorts in River Bend, but the cold, windy weather has driven everyone away.
I have the bridge to myself.
I can’t get Karen out of my mind. She’s been dead for years, but she’s trying to tell me something. Last night’s dream echoes through my memory, niggles at my mind. Karen saying “You stole me,” and her hand disintegrating replays on a loop.
The wind picks up, sharp and biting. It fits my mood. My usual running jacket is no match for the October weather. My tattoo begins to burn and I try to rub it away. There’s no one around, no one that needs me.
I’m alone in the cold.
I unzip my pockets, shove my hands inside to keep warm.
Something hard in my pocket nearly burns me and I pull my hand away with a startled squeal. Confused, I put my hand back in my pocket and take out the object.
Karen’s hand bone lays on my gloved palm.
My tattoo tingles, and my mind swims.
I slide off my left glove and clasp the bone in my fist.
The vision of Karen standing next to me hits so hard, so clear, my legs collapse beneath me and I lean against the wooden walls of the bridge.
“Protect my boys, Gabby. Protect Patrick. They deserve so much more than I gave them by leaving.”
Karen looks over her shoulder, listening to someone I can’t see.
“Look after Rachel, too. We were stolen from our children, can’t protect them now. They grew up without us, that was never our plan. You have to protect them now. You are all we have Gabby.”
I struggle to speak, to ask questions. My voice finally works and I scream “Who did it?!” But Karen is gone.
I’m alone on the bridge.
Pain and loss sear through me. I throw the bone across the bridge in terror. It rattles across the planks, rolls to a gap in the wood floor and nearly slips through. I lunge across the floor, landing hard on my knee. Ignoring the pain, I snatch the bone before it disappears forever. I shove the bone back in my pocket and back up against the wall again.
Huddling against the wooden wall, loss overwhelms me. Sobs tear my chest, hot tears slide from my tightly clenched eyes. I miss my own father. Torn away from me, replaced with this ability to see pain and fear. Karen’s loss mixes with my own, an unbearable shredding pain. I wrap my arms around my knees, lower my head and give into the misery as the cold wind whips through the bridge.
I cry for her death, for the pain left behind for her family to bear. I cry for Steven murdered and left in a field. Mostly, I cry for myself. Guilty, choking sobs of grief for the life I lost when my father was killed and my mother taken away. I cry for the shattered pieces of my life I can’t seem to fit back together.
Something cold and wet touches my cheek, startling me out of my tears.
“JoJo, leave her alone,” a woman says to a small black and white dog on a leash. Her presence startles me. Lost in agony, I didn’t hear her steps on the planks.
I stare up at the woman, guiltily wiping at my tears. “Are you okay, dear?” Crinkles of concern etch her face.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I hastily climb to my feet, embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable state.
The woman looks me over closely, the way I imagine a mother would. “I’m sorry we intruded, but JoJo insisted on walking this way.”
“That’s okay. I was just-.” I don’t know how to finish the sentence.
“You don’t need to explain. Sometimes all we can do is cry it out, you know.” The woman stands patiently, waiting for me to get myself together. JoJo, the dog, sits at her heels, cocks his head at me in curiosity.
I quickly put my glove back on and try to think of a polite way to get out of the conversation.
“You’re the psychic woman helping with that murder case, aren’t you?” The woman sounds impressed, not angry, but I’m weary just the same.
“Uh, yeah.” I dart my eyes to the end of the bridge, anxious to get away.
She stretches her hand and pats me on the shoulder. “God bless you for what you’re doing.” Her words surprise me more than the touch from a stranger. “There’s no way Patrick Jennings killed his wife and her friend. Someone has to find out the truth.”
“Do you know Patrick?” Thoughts of fleeing are gone. Finally, someone believes me.
“Known him for years, poor man. Thinking Karen walked away from him and the boys
nearly broke his heart. And all this time, she had been murdered. She and the Rawlings man.”
She has my full attention now. “Did you know Steven too?”
“I knew them both. I was a math teacher at the high school for 30 years, retired now. I’ve taught nearly everyone in this town, or their kids. River Bend was a much smaller town back when Karen and Steven disappeared. Everyone was talking about it. When they never contacted their families, both Patrick and Steven’s wife tried to file missing person’s reports, but the police weren’t interested. Said they ran off and started a new life. I knew Karen would never just walk away from her boys, or Stephen from Rachel, for that matter. It never sat well with me.”
I look at the woman, curious if I can trust her.
I choose to trust.
“I just talked to Karen, and Steven.”
I drop the words on her, judge her reaction. Her eyes open wide, but she believes me. JoJo, the dog, yips quietly from his place by her heels. “You did?”
“Just now. Here. She asked me to protect their kids.”
“Sounds like Karen,” the woman shakes her head. “You have an amazing gift. I wish I could help like you are.”
My earlier misery has morphed into excitement. “You have been a help. At least it’s nice to know someone other than me knows Patrick is innocent.”
“God bless you. It can’t be easy doing what you do.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“The police seem so eager to blame Patrick. You might be the only one who can save him.”
The weight of the responsibility settles on my shoulders, dampens my mood.
“Don’t worry, dear. You’re a strong, smart woman. You will figure it out. You were right about the fire at the basketball game. You are right about this.”
The infamous basketball game incident has come back to haunt me again.
“Don’t look so startled,” the woman says. “I was at that game. I’ll never forget your face when you came running in yelling fire. You were so scared. And so brave.”
“No one else thought I was brave, everyone hated me after that.” I sound sullen and petty, even to myself.
“I heard directly from administration there really was a fire in the utility room. If it wasn’t for you, the school could have burned down, or worse.”
“But no one believed me.”
“Doesn’t mean you didn’t save the day.”
JoJo jumps against my legs. He’d been standing quietly while we talked, but is eager for attention now.
“See, JoJo believes in you.”
I pet the little dog. “I’m glad you wanted to walk this way today, JoJo.”
“Maybe he has some of your powers,” the woman suggests with a smile.
Chapter 19
DUSTIN
They try to hide it, but I catch the sideways glances and whispered comments. I don’t have to be a detective to know everyone at the station is talking about my sister’s stunt on the news yesterday.
A message from Regina in dispatch doesn’t help my mood any.
“Your sister called about an intruder last night. She didn’t want me to tell you, but asked for Detective Hartley instead. I just thought you should know.”
Anger stabs me. The petty vandalism the other night bothered me enough, but an intruder? I rub the tension in my neck. I should call and check on her, but decide to call Lucas first and get the story.
He’s with her this morning.
Why does everything with her have to be so complicated?
Lucas looks ragged when he arrives at the station. He’s wearing street clothes and badly needs a shower and shave. The set of his shoulders keeps me from mentioning it.
We settle into my office with coffee. The bitter taste lingers even with plenty of sugar and cream. Nothing like the mocha lattes I prefer. Lucas swallows his in quick gulps.
“Bad morning?” I ask, trying to lighten the heavy cloud he brought with him.
“Bad couple of days. Your sister’s going to ruin me.”
I sip my bitter coffee and wait for him to go on.
“Someone tried to break into her house last night,” he finally says.
“I read the report. Some freak in a clown mask.”
“She thinks it might be the killer coming after her.”
This thought had already crossed my mind. We’re pretty sure Jennings is guilty, but until we can make an arrest, nothing is certain.
“Is that why you stayed there last night?” I can’t keep from asking.
Lucas eyes me suspiciously.
“It wasn’t like that. She was pretty shook up, so I offered to sleep on the couch to keep watch.”
I don’t pursue that line of questioning. They’re both adults, what they do is their business. Plus, she’s my sister, and there’s some things I don’t want to know about.
“Do you think she’s in danger?” I ask.
“She thinks she is, that’s all that matters.” There’s an undercurrent to his words, and I get the feeling I’m being chastised.
I stare at the pale concrete blocks of my office wall, try to push away the guilt. Gabby asked for his help, not mine. “Maybe we should keep a closer eye on her, just in case. She won’t like it.”
“She’s going to the corn maze tonight with some guy.” Hartley drops the words.
“What guy?”
“Her neighbor. He was with her when I arrived last night.”
I mull this information over. Gabby rarely dates, barely has friends, even. I don’t know much about her private life, but Grandma Dot keeps me informed whether I ask or not.
“Let’s check this guy out, just to be sure he’s not the threat.”
“Already planned to.” Lucas watches me over his coffee cup, a smug expression on his face.
“I think Alexis and Walker would enjoy going to the corn maze, too,” I add.
Lucas stands abruptly, slaps me on the shoulder. “Good man, McAllister.”
Chapter 20
GABBY
After the intruder last night, my fight with Lucas, and the vision on the bridge this morning, I don’t feel like going to work. Between explaining to Herbert why I need time off, or just going in, I choose work. I struggle through the day, try to focus on the customer’s needs, but my mind keeps drifting to the murder. I wish Karen would just tell me who killed her and be done with it. I’d still have to prove it, but I’d have something to go on.
The hours drag by, but eventually the work day ends. I stretch my back and grab my coat, anxious to leave.
“Gabby, wait up,” my friend Haley catches me at the front door. “Got any plans for the weekend?”
The normal question catches me off guard. Not for the first time, I’m jealous of “regular” people and “regular” concerns. I haven’t been “regular” for years. I like Haley, and for the moment I indulge myself.
“I have a date tonight.” Her eyes flash wide.
“Ooh, nice. Where’re you going?”
“The corn maze,” I shrug.
Haley laughs. “That’s so Indiana.” We push out the doors into the parking lot. “What’re you going to wear?” Haley is only two years younger than me, but right now I feel old.
“I haven’t thought about it.”
“I know you’re busy with this investigation and being on the news and all, but it’s okay to have some fun. Go buy a nice outfit. Always makes me feel better.”
“Maybe,” I shrug.
“Want me to come with you?” Her open expression invites, but I turn her down anyway.
“I’ll be fine, but thanks.”
“Call me if you change your mind. Enjoy your date!” Haley turns away with a wave.
I sit in my Charger in the parking lot, watching the other employees get in their cars and drive away to their various lives. A heavy, familiar loneliness settles on me. I suddenly wish I had taken Haley up on her offer to shop with me, even pick up my phone to call her. I don’t want to look desperate, and put my phone away again. I do have my date with Preston tonight, but in my current mood, even that doesn’t excite me.
“Well, get excited, kid. This is your life,” I mutter to myself and drive to the store.
Once at the store, I don’t feel like buying a new outfit. I have a few hours until Preston is picking me up, and I don’t want to go to my empty house alone. Instead, I take my usual seat at the coffee shop in the superstore and people-watch. I’m not really paying attention, though, and when a woman with three small children approaches me, I jump.
“Gabby, are you okay?” the woman asks. Her face is vaguely familiar, but her voice I recognize instantly from my 9-1-1 call last night. “Did Detective Hartley take care of you?” Regina asks. I hear the tiny undercurrent of insinuation in her words, but I ignore it.
“Yes, he took care of it. Thank you. Sorry I was so rough with you. I was pretty freaked out.”
“I can only imagine. How terrifying.” Uncomfortable silence settles around us. I’m not good with small talk. Regina has two small children hanging on her and one in a stroller.
“Cute kids,” I finally say to fill the space.
“They keep me busy.” She absently ruffles the hair of the tallest child and gently rolls the stroller back and forth to keep the toddler quiet. She obviously has something on her mind and I wish she would get to it.
“Do you really think that man is innocent?” she finally asks.
“Yes, I do.” I state simply.
She looks out across the store, deep in thought. “I remember when they left. Or were murdered, I guess.”
“Did you know Karen and Steven?” she has my interest now.
The toddler in the stroller starts to fuss. Regina rocks him a little faster, her mind still far away and an uncertain expression on her face.
“I didn’t really know them, but my brother dated Rachel in high school.”
Just then the little one in the stroller hollers and throws his toy. A pink stuffed pig drops on the floor of the coffee shop, rolls against my foot. I hand it back to the boy. He grabs it with a pudgy hand, but lets out another wail.
Her child’s cry brings Regina back to the present. “Guess, he’s tired of sitting still,” Regina laughs nervously.
“Cute pig toy,” I offer.
“He loves pigs. Has to have it with him at all times. We bought four identical ones just to be sure he always has one near.”
“Good idea,” I have no idea what else to say. I open my mouth to ask about her brother, but the toddler hollers again, cutting me off.
“I better get moving,” Regina says. “Glad everything worked out okay for you last night.” Regina hurries away with the stroller and the two other children in tow.
I almost expect my house to look different after last night’s violation. Except for the knife marks on the front door, the small house looks the same. I’m the one who’s changed. I look around the neighborhood and sit in my car. I feel vulnerable and anxious.
“Crap on a cracker, Gabby. Just go in.” Frustrated with my dramatics, I shove the car door open with a screech and strut with pretend confidence to my front door.
A hot shower and carefully applied makeup improves my mood and I find myself looking forward to my date with Preston. Wrapped in a towel, I scan my closet for something to wear. The usual collection of jeans, sweaters and long sleeve t-shirts stare back at me. I wish I had listened to Haley and bought something cute for tonight. My lack of social life shows in my wardrobe. I rarely have need for anything other than basic comfort.
Doing the best I can with what’s available, I settle on a black sweater, my tightest jeans and ankle boots. Preston has only seen me in my usual sloppy clothes and still likes me. I console myself he isn’t expecting a beauty queen. Chester rubs against my leg and purrs. At least he likes the outfit.
Grandma Dot gave me special curl tamer oil, but I rarely use it. I feel indulgent tonight, and apply liberal amounts to my usual wild mass of hair. The oil smooths my curls into soft ringlets. I study myself in the mirror, and hardly recognize the reflection. Feeling inspired, I add silver dangling earrings.
The girl in the mirror smiles and raises her chin. “You clean up pretty good, kid.” I meet my own eyes in the mirror, the corners crinkled from my genuine smile. “You can handle this,” I tell myself, talking about more than the date. “You’re stronger than you think. God’s got your back. Just follow him and it will all work out.” A surge of peaceful confidence pumps through me, straightening my back and pulling my shoulders straight.
A knock at the front door intrudes on the moment.
“Just a minute,” I call to Preston.
A quick glance back in the mirror, and I grab my mascara. A few extra swipes on my eyelashes and I feel ready for my date.
