The Partners in Crime Collection, page 88
Jack took a sip of wine and watched Doc eat. “You want to tell me why you had a rough day?”
“Jessa Maine’s parents refused to claim her body for burial. They said if I couldn’t make their son look ‘normal’ they didn’t want anything to do with ‘it’,” Doc said. “It took every ounce of my willpower to keep from going over the table at them. It seems that Jessa became emancipated at sixteen, after they threw her out for being evil and against the Bible. She got a job, shared an apartment with four other people, and was due to graduate high school in June.”
“That poor girl,” Jack murmured.
“The school has a collection going to bury the three that died, but I’m going to make sure Jessa has a proper headstone with her name and her favorite quote on it,” Doc said.
“What quote is that?”
“It’s by Ralph Waldo Emerson, and it says, “To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.”
“That’s a wonderful quote. I’m sure Jessa will appreciate it. Did you see her?” Jack asked.
“No, I’m guessing she crossed over right away. You guys didn’t see her at the scene, and she wasn’t around the morgue. I just hope she’s found peace,” Doc said.
“Who’s working on the Olsen bodies?” Jack asked.
“Connolly. He’s been coming along. Doesn’t miss a thing, but gets awful twitchy when he’s being watched,” Doc said.
“You’re a good teacher, Kendrick. He’ll be fine. And you won’t be seeing their ghosts around at all. Mike flushed them,” Jack said with a shiver. “Evil fuckers. Acting like they were so giving and caring, and raping the children under their roof. Rachel lived with them for ten years and tried to keep them from going after the younger ones. We met when she wanted to talk to me and Jamie about what living there was like, and that Lia would only have snapped if they went after one of the babies.”
“You guys talked to the ghosts?” Doc asked.
“Yeah. They said the kids ‘owed’ them sexual favors because they kept them fed and sheltered. Sick people. I’m glad they’re rotting in hell, or whatever place the evil ones go.”
“I know we do what we do, because we’re called to serve,” Doc said. “But sometimes, it takes a little more effort to not let the darkness swallow the light. That’s why I appreciate you doing this dinner for us. It’s the moments where we stop and appreciate what we have, that help us stay strong.”
“So right, my love. Now, how about dessert?” Jack asked and leaned over to give him a kiss.
Dead Heat: Chapter Twelve
“Today was my funeral,” Blake said to Mike. “It was hard to watch my family be in so much pain.”
“How is Parker holding up?” Mike asked.
“They’re healing. They’ve not gone back to school yet. The folks are talking about having Parker finish the year from home, but I think that’s a mistake. I’m trying to convince Parker that they need to go back and get into a routine again,” Blake said.
“What’s the argument?” Mike asked. “I mean, what is the reason Parker is giving you for not wanting to go back?”
“They don’t care anymore. Depression was always a thing with us, and we’ve got medication and therapy that was helping, but this…” Blake said.
“Yeah, this just dumped a steaming bowl of crap into the middle of it all. Does Parker talk to you?”
“Sometimes. They’re not sure if they’ve lost their mind, or if I’m really there. Which brings me to why I’m here, now,” Blake said. “I was wondering if you’d come with me and talk to Parker with me, so they could see it’s not just me that’s around?”
“I guess I could do that. What if it freaks them out more?” Mike asked. “What if they decide they don’t want to see or hear you anymore?”
Blake chewed their lip then shrugged. “It’s a chance we’ve got to take. I can’t watch my twin spiral like this and not try to fix it.”
“Then let’s go talk to Parker,” Mike said. “But I need to get someone to hang out here and keep an eye on Lia, in case that asshole comes back.”
Mike got Tennyson to take over watching Lia who was spending the afternoon reading a book in her room at the psychiatric facility just outside of Harbor. It was specifically designed for kids and teens, and Lia seemed to be doing really well there.
When Mike and Blake showed up at the Collins home, there were people everywhere. Inside, outside, on the lawn, on the deck. Cars were lined up down the street and in the parking lot of the church a few houses away.
“Looks like a lot of people came to be here for your family,” Mike said. “That’s a good thing.”
“Yeah, but it means finding Parker alone is going to be a problem,” Blake said as they led Mike through the wall of the house into Parker’s bedroom. “Or not.”
Parker sat on one of the beds, arm in a sling, suit coat on the back of a chair. They’d kicked off their dress shoes and the tie was balled up on the dresser.
“Oh, gods. They hate dressing in suits. It’s too masculine,” Blake whispered to Mike.
“Do they prefer dressing as a girl?” Mike asked. “No insult intended, seriously – I’m just trying to understand.”
“Neither one of us likes being told we’re a boy or a girl. We prefer neutral outfits. Parker’s favorite color is green, and we both love soft blue jeans and good hiking boots. They even have a blousy shirt they love that looks great with a green embroidered vest that was my favorite.”
“Okay, that makes sense. I’ve only met a few non-binary people and it’s something I’m still learning about, so thank you for educating me – even though that’s not your job. It’s mine, to figure it out and learn so I can be more understanding,” Mike said.
“Wow, that’s really cool that you get that,” Blake said. “People like to put gender on clothing, when it’s really not necessary.” They went over and crouched in front of Parker. “Hey, twinnie. You should get out of those clothes and into something comfortable.”
“You’re not here, and I can’t because Dad made me promise,” Parker said.
“I am here, and the funeral’s over. You can change now. Come on, get changed and let’s go for a walk down to the creek,” Blake said.
Mike and Blake went through the wall and waited while Parker changed their clothes. A few minutes passed and Parker opened the bedroom window and climbed out to join them. The three of them headed around the side of the house and into the trees before anyone could stop them. Soon they were under the green canopy of spring leaves, following a well-worn trail through the undergrowth.
“There’s a creek down here with a couple of huge rocks we like to sit on,” Blake said. “It’s one of our favorite places to go when we need to think.”
“I can’t keep seeing you and talking to you like you’re here,” Parker said. “They’ll put me on stronger drugs if they find out and I don’t like feeling like a zombie already.”
“That’s why I brought Mike with me,” Blake said. “You can see him, right?”
“I can see a guy with you, yeah,” Parker said.
“Hi, Parker. I’m Michael Donovan. I was a detective before I was killed a couple of years ago. Now I help solve crimes and work with the spirits on this side now.”
“Why are you here?” Parker asked Mike.
“Because you needed to know that seeing ghosts is not a psychosis. Some people can, some can’t. It’s like being good at math or a fast runner. It just is,” Mike said.
Parker turned to Blake and sniffled. “I wish I could hug you. I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole, but I don’t know how to do this without you.”
“You’re not doing it without me,” Blake said. “I’m here. Sorta.”
“Look, it’s an adjustment,” Mike said. “I get that. But you’re lucky to have each other. Blake wouldn’t be here if they didn’t have you, Parker, to be an anchor. Just like I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have my partner and friend, Jamie. And now I get to do stuff that really helps Jamie and the rest of his team. We work together to solve murders and help the victims find peace.”
“So if I don’t want Blake around, they’d disappear?” Parker asked, a touch of panic in their voice.
“No, not quite. See, Blake wants to be here to help watch over you. So they get to stay. If they didn’t have someone they wanted to be here for, they’d have crossed over. Usually. Sometimes, spirits stick around because they want justice, or have unfinished business.”
“What happened to the guy that hit us?” Parker asked.
“He’s in a coma and they don’t think he’s going to make it,” Mike explained. “But he didn’t do that, not really. The evil entity, a revenant, took over his body and did it. My friends and I are hunting this thing down.”
“How’d something take over his body?” Blake asked.
“Tyler is his name. He’s a veteran and had a TBI – a traumatic brain injury. He also has PTSD. So, he was susceptible, or vulnerable, to this thing taking him over. It’s taken over a couple of people and done some horrible things. That’s why my friends and I are watching and listening. We’re trying to catch it before it kills again.”
“That sucks for Tyler. I hope he makes it, because it’s not fair to lose everything just because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Blake said.
“Life’s not fair,” Parker replied. “But at least I’ve got you around to talk to.”
“I’m gonna head out, you two. Take care of each other, and you can always call for me if you need me. And you,” Mike said to Parker. “Reach out to Detectives Kennedy and Forbes if you need anything. They’re my friends and they can see Blake, too.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you, sir,” Parker replied.
Mike walked back down the path a bit, so he could listen to the twins as they started to talk about the funeral guests. He laughed when he heard Blake ask Parker if he’d seen what Jenny Hawkins was wearing and if Jenny thought it was appropriate funeral attire. They both laughed, and Mike sighed. They were going to be okay, so he headed back to Lia.
Dead Heat: Chapter Thirteen
Mike popped back in, and Lia was asleep on her bed, but Tennyson wasn’t in the room. He started to call out, and felt a pulling that told him someone was in trouble.
On the outside of the wall to Lia’s room, Tennyson was in a fight with a figure all in black. “Matty Joshin! Let him go!” Mike yelled.
The figure paused, then reached out and Mike watched in horror as it tore a claw through Tennyson’s throat. Laughter poured out of Joshin’s mouth as he threw his arms wide and disappeared.
Mike ran to Tennyson’s side and held the other ghost in his arms. “I don’t know what to do,” Mike said to his friend. “I’m so sorry.”
“Help me cross,” Tenny said. “It’s time. I don’t want to just fade away.”
Mike lifted Tenny in his arms and turned away from the building. “May your crossing be one of peace, and may you know how much I valued your friendship. Light and love to you, Tennyson.”
The light grew from a soft glow to a brilliance that hurt his eyes to look on it, as Mike laid his friend down and backed away.
The light drew closer, and Tennyson whispered, “Thank you, my friend.” Then it flashed brilliant white and disappeared, taking Tenny with it.
Mike’s heart ached at the loss of his friend and his true second-in-command that he relied on for the past couple of years. That pain soon gave way to fury. “Matty Joshin, I am going to take you down, you fucker. Count on it.”
Essie Johnson pulled another batch of cookies out of the oven and smiled. The scent of chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies filled her house and, to Essie? That smelled like love.
It had been a while since Essie had felt up to baking again. That stroke she’d had right around Christmas had set her back a bit. But with spring coming, the neighborhood kids would be out and about again, and she always had a cookie for the kids. Most people kept a cookie jar in their kitchen, but Essie kept hers by the front door, so when she sat on the porch with her coffee, she didn’t have to go far to get the kids their cookies.
There was something off about the last couple of batches, though. Essie couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She couldn’t exactly taste them herself with the diabetes and all, but they looked right and smelled good, so it was probably just her own self-doubt. It had been a while since she’d baked, and to be honest? She’d surprised herself with the overwhelming desire that morning, and the strength and stamina to actually do it.
It took less than twelve hours from when that last batch came out of the oven, for the first child to end up in the emergency room of Harbor General. Within twenty-four hours, eighteen kids had been admitted and two had died. Six adults had also been admitted with the same symptoms and Jerry Dalton, a postal worker, had died in a wave of vomit and pain.
Jack and Jamie spoke to the kids, the parents, and the adults that were all showing signs of ethylene glycol poisoning.
“When Tallie came home, she was fine?” Jack asked Missy Lowe, Tallie’s mother.
“She was. She’d been out playing with the other neighborhood kids. It’s one of the nice things about living on a cul-de-sac. There’s a big spot for the kids to ride their bikes or skateboards that doesn’t have a lot of traffic, and they all get to know each other. Tallie loved to ride her scooter with Grace and Keelie,” Missy said as she stroked the hair back from Tallie’s forehead. The child looked lost in the big bed, but the soft beep of the machines told them she was still alive. “They say she’ll need a kidney transplant, and dialysis until that can happen. Grace is the same. Keelie didn’t get as sick, but the Brown family? I don’t know how they’re going to manage. Georgie was such a cute little boy.”
“Mrs. Lowe, did Tallie say anything about her day when she came home? Did the kids see anyone different, or go anywhere together?” Jack asked.
Missy shook her head no, her attention on her child.
“If you think of anything, here’s my card. Call me, okay?” Jack said and handed over a business card then left the room.
Jamie stood outside in the hallway, tapping notes into his tablet. “Anything?”
“No, but she’s pretty focused on keeping her kid alive,” Jack said.
“CSU hasn’t found anything that could’ve hit all of these people at the same time,” Jamie said as he read the information on his tablet. “But Doc is doing the autopsies on George Brown and Amy Eames. He said it looked like it was something they ate. Cookies?”
Jack turned and went back into the room. “I’m sorry to bother you again, Mrs. Lowe, but did Tallie say anything about someone giving the kids cookies?”
“Oh, Essie Johnson always gives out cookies. She bakes them herself. She’s like the neighborhood grandma,” Missy said, then paused and dug into her purse. “I have one here. Tallie brought it home for me.” She held out a giant chocolate chip cookie, wrapped in paper towel.
Jack hurried over and grabbed a plastic bag off of a side table. “Put it in here, and go wash your hands.”
Once the cookie was in the bag, Missy gave Jack a puzzled look. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“They think there’s something in the cookies,” Jack said.
“That’s not possible,” Missy insisted. “Miss Essie is the sweetest woman. The whole neighborhood rallied around when she had a stroke at Christmas. We took turns cleaning her house and bringing her meals. She had a nurse stopping in for a bit, but she doesn’t have kids of her own, or any family nearby. She’s our family.”
Jack shook her head. “It’s probably an accident. We’ll go talk to her and see if we can get to the bottom of this. Go wash up, okay?”
Missy gave a faint nod to Jack and went to the bathroom to wash her hands.
Jack stepped out and held up the bag. “Cookie. Essie Johnson, the neighborhood grandma, makes them and hands them out to everyone.”
“Let’s go talk to Essie Johnson,” Jamie said.
Dead Heat: Chapter Fourteen
When Estelle Johnson opened the door to Jack and Jamie, Jack had to agree that she looked like a grandma. Essie had short, curly salt-and-pepper hair, sepia skin with a map of wrinkles that spoke of years of laughter, and dark brown eyes that took in their badges with careful scrutiny.
“Come in, come in,” Essie said as she stepped back to give them room to enter. “I can’t imagine why the police are at my door.”
“Have you heard about the children, Miss Johnson?” Jamie asked.
“Land sakes, what’s wrong with the children? What happened?” Essie asked as she put a hand on the back of a chair to steady herself. Then she stopped and shook her head. “Would you like some coffee? I just made a pot.”
“No, thank you. Have you had any of the cookies you baked?” Jack asked.
“No, I can’t eat them. I’ve got the diabetes,” Essie said, then stared at Jack in horror. “Something in my cookies made them sick?”
Jamie nodded. “Yes, ma’am. That’s what it looks like.”
Essie pointed to the two-gallon jar next to the front door. “They’re all in there. Take them and throw them away. I don’t even want to touch them if it made those precious babies ill.”
Jack went to Essie and guided her over to a seat while Jamie opened the jar and took a look inside, then closed it up again.
“Tell us about making these cookies,” Jack asked, her tone gentle.
“I’ve had a rough go since the stroke at Christmas. Didn’t really feel strong enough to make my cookies for the kids until the other day,” Essie said. “One minute I was sitting in my chair, watching my stories, the next I was in the kitchen, pulling the first batch out of the oven. I don’t remember how I got there, but I was just so happy that I’d felt strong enough to do it.”
