The Forgotten Child

by Melissa Erin Jackson

  “I think so,” Megan said, nodding emphatically. “The doctor is hopeful. Leo totally fell apart at the appointment this morning when the doctor told us everything was looking really good.”

  “He’s a kicker, that’s for sure,” Riley said.

  “He?” Megan asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I—”

  “Trust your instincts,” Nina said.

  Megan and Charlotte were given a few seconds to pull themselves together. Charlotte had a harder time than her sister.

  How had that just happened? Where had the sensation come from?

  Jade stared at her in wonder.

  “Breathe, Riley,” Nina said.

  Riley listened to her. She could mull over the details of her “gift” later. She needed information from Orin so she could do something rather than just waiting around for the police. She needed a solution for Pete who was disappearing more and more every day. She wanted to believe that when Pete wasn’t haunting her apartment, he was back at the ranch, full energy at his disposal. But Riley knew Pete was fading. That after he’d tagged along with her, after he’d moved over two hundred miles away from his body, he’d gotten stuck in some in-between place. Not able to move on, but not able to manifest either. She was tormented again by the implication of it. What happened when he could no longer make contact with the physical world? Would he just disappear forever?

  But there was also Francis to worry about. What happened when he got bored of their current arrangement and decided to push the issue of “exploring their relationship”? She really couldn’t think about that right now.

  A message via Nina came through for Teddy from his grandmother about checking the pipes below his house because they were sure to burst soon. In the middle of Teddy asking a question, Riley suddenly felt something behind her. Felt him behind her.

  “He’s here,” Nina said, voice a breathy whisper, cutting Teddy off. He didn’t seem to mind.

  Riley’s palms sweated. Why did he always have to hover? It was like a black tsunami rising up behind her, leaving her feeling like a tiny fishing boat caught in the shadow of inevitable destruction.

  “You can ask questions, Riley,” Nina said. “Just start with simple ones that only require yes and no to start.”

  Something ran across the length of her neck despite her hair being down. She tried to rub the feeling away with her shoulder, both of her hands still clasped by Jade and Megan. It happened again and Riley squirmed uncomfortably.

  “Riley,” a voice whispered right next to her ear, though she felt no accompanying breath.

  He was screwing with her. Trying to unsettle her.

  “What is the dark room?” she asked, her heart thudding as she tried to control her breathing. Her palms felt slick.

  “Simple questions, Riley.”

  But she’d been plunged back into the cellar. Or her mind was. She couldn’t be sure.

  Images overlapped. First, the cellar from thirty years ago with massive anatomy tomes open on tables, shelves lined with books and jars and gleaming tools, then the cellar from a month ago with empty, worn wood shelving, a pair of pristine stainless-steel tables pushed end to end, and a string of small, lit bulbs ringing the ceiling.

  She stood in front of one of the empty shelves.

  “What do you see, Riley?”

  Was Nina there with her? No. Riley felt the chair under her, the hands in hers. Could make out the faint, distant scent of lavender.

  Something shoved her. Pushed her toward the shelves.

  “Dark room.”

  Whether that had been in her head or not, she didn’t know.

  When she tried to turn away—look away—from the shelves, she was wrenched back. Shove. “Dark room.”

  Riley tried to explain what was happening, unsure of what—if anything—the others saw or heard.

  “Maybe the dark room is a whole other room,” said Jade, sounding as if she were on the other end of long hallway. “Maybe you have to push on the shelf to open a door.”

  It took her a few seconds, like waking from a deep sleep, but Riley opened her eyes to look at her friend, brow cocked.

  “What?” Jade asked. “Haven’t you ever seen a spy movie where there’s a hidden passage behind a bookshelf?”

  Fair enough. With a slow breath, she closed her eyes again. “What’s in the dark room?”

  “You.”

  The hair rose on the back of her neck.

  “Is that a threat?”

  “You,” he said. “Go.”

  Oh. Well. Returning to the ranch was on the top of her Oh Hell No List, but she kept that to herself and switched the focus of the “conversation.” She cleared her throat. “What did Hank lie about?”

  No reply.

  She simplified it. “Did Hank lie?”

  Still no reply.

  As she tried to think of an equally simple question, her right arm jerked. Then again. And a third time.

  Jade and Riley looked at each other, then down at their hands. Riley’s arm slid forward an inch, bunching up the tablecloth.

  “What’s wrong?” Jade whisper-hissed. “Does it itch or something?”

  “I’m not doing it on purpose!” Riley whisper-hissed back.

  “Everything okay over there?” Nina asked.

  “I … uh … my arm keeps twitching.”

  “As if someone is pushing it?”

  “Yes.”

  “It might be a call to do some automatic writing.”

  “Say what now?”

  “You essentially grant the spirit access to your body to write messages,” Nina said. “It allows for more complicated responses.”

  “But it … what, possesses you?”

  “In a way. Channeling him is a better description.” Before Riley could protest, Nina said, “Automatic writing isn’t for novices, so I wouldn’t recommend you be the one to do it. If he’ll cooperate, I can write, and you can continue to ask questions. It’s too easy for something like this to go sideways if you undertake it without practice. Plus, Orin’s spirit is volatile. I’ve had a lot of experience with protecting myself.”

  Riley managed a nod.

  Without a word, Teddy let go of Jade and Charlotte’s hands and riffled through the drawer beneath the stereo. He placed a pad of paper and pen in front of Nina, then sat again, clasping hands with his partners.

  Megan and Charlotte let go of Nina’s hands and each clasped one of her forearms. Riley assumed this was to keep their circle of energy in place while Nina wrote. At least it was clear they’d all done this before.

  “I’ll need to prepare myself mentally, so please give me a few moments. I’ll nod when I’m ready for you to begin.” With that, Nina picked up the pen, hovered the tip over the paper, and closed her eyes.

  Lord, this whole thing was weird. Riley’s palms were slick, her heart raced, and she combatted her leg’s desire to bounce uncontrollably. Jade gave her hand a squeeze and she glanced over.

  Offering her a tight-lipped smile and a nod, Jade whispered, “You got this.”

  Though Riley could still feel Orin’s presence, it shifted. He no longer loomed behind her. Scanning the area around Nina, she couldn’t see a silhouette—though Riley wasn’t sure how much of what she felt had been from a solid, physical entity.

  She didn’t pretend to understand any of this.

  What felt like centuries later, Nina nodded.

  Megan squeezed Riley’s hand. “I’ll read the answers.”

  “Are you Orin Jacobs?”

  It took a few seconds, but then Nina’s hand jerked to life. Riley couldn’t make out the individual letters from where she sat, but she could tell the handwriting was in all caps.

  “Yes,” Megan read.

  “What did Hank lie about?”

  “Name.”

  “Yes. His first name is Francis and his last is Carras, not Gerber. What else?”

  “Mindy.”

  Riley’s brow furrowed as she quickly went throu
gh everything Mindy had told her about both men. Francis had lured Mindy to Orin.

  “What did he lie about in regards to Mindy?”

  “Escape.”

  After Mindy had clocked Francis over the head and ran, Francis obviously hadn’t died there in the forest as Mindy had feared. Had he gone right back to the house? Had he told Orin that Mindy had overpowered him somehow, and not that Francis had purposefully let her out?

  Nina’s hand moved again. “Hank said I would be safe if I didn’t talk. Jail time minimal for only one kidnapping. I would be free if they didn’t find others.”

  Then it clicked. “Francis was the anonymous tip.”

  “Yes,” Megan read. “And it’s underlined.”

  Not only had Francis lied about not knowing Orin, he’d known the inner workings of the ranch enough to alert the cops about the others. Had he hung up after he dropped the anonymous tip on the cops, then just walked away from it all? Riley knew Francis’ stunt to get Orin arrested had had little to do with his sudden growth of a conscience, and more to do with his panic about being caught after what he’d done to Renee. And he’d known Orin couldn’t rat him out, as Orin hadn’t even known Francis’ real name.

  Only Francis and Mindy knew the secret about Orin’s accomplice, and seeing how neither one had ever planned to tell said secret, it would have gone with them to both their graves had Riley not gone to the Jordanville Ranch and met a little ghost boy named Pete. The spirit who’d started this whole thing. Without Pete, Riley never would have met Mindy. Would have never had a run-in with Hank, or learned about Renee, or met Walter, or been in contact with a detective.

  She thought about Pete’s Batman pajama pants and Scooby Doo shirt with the floppy ear. She thought of his curly brown hair sticking out from beneath his beanie. The way his eyes had lit up when she offered him a bag of tiny marshmallows for his hot cocoa—hot cocoa he desperately wanted but would never be able to drink again. The laughter that had bubbled out of him as his father spun him in a circle, his mother watching with a grin stretched wide across her face.

  Laughter that had been snuffed out because of the monster now lurking in the shadows.

  “Where is Pete Vonick buried?” Riley asked, something like anger roiling in her stomach now.

  “Not buried.”

  “Where is he?”

  A small, slow smile inched up Nina’s face. Her eyes remained closed. It was not Nina’s smile.

  “That’s enough, creepy bastard,” Charlotte said, taking hold of the pad of paper and yanking it out from underneath Nina’s hand.

  That act seemed to sever whatever connection Nina had with Orin, because the smile vanished in an instant. Nina’s brow wrinkled, and she put a hand to her temple, eyes still closed. Another prayer was muttered, and Riley heard both the words “goddess” and “goodbye.”

  The crucial step Riley and Becca had missed with the Ouija board.

  Riley couldn’t feel Orin in the room anymore.

  Even still, Riley held her breath and fast to Jade’s hand; Megan had already let go. Riley waited for Nina to open her eyes and prove she was still Nina and that she hadn’t been body-snatched by a long-dead serial killer, because Riley’s nerves wouldn’t survive that.

  Nina’s eyes fluttered open.

  “You okay?” Riley asked.

  “Yep.”

  Letting out a dramatic sigh, Riley let Jade go and slumped back against her chair. “Oh, thank god. I was worried we’d need to call in a priest for an exorcism.”

  Charlotte and Teddy laughed.

  “We’ve only had one time we genuinely thought a spirit had taken her over,” said Megan. “We didn’t break the contact soon enough. Now we know to cut it off as soon as things get dicey.”

  Nina looked over the words and phrases she wrote, then up at Riley. “Get the answers you need?”

  “Enough for now.”

  “Any time you want to come back, girl, you’re more than welcome,” Nina said. “Let me show you the ropes and you can even start conducting your own.”

  Michael’s words came back to her. “This could be your calling.”

  She glanced over at Megan, her hand resting almost protectively on her stomach. Megan smiled at her. Initially, Riley had hated the idea of turning her gift into a profession.

  But she wasn’t so sure anymore.

  1983

  Orin shouldn’t have been surprised that he had rivals and betrayers. John Hunter had them, too. Men of renown were always plagued by those jealous of their skills and innovation. Why would he be any different?

  Orin’s Edward Jenner had morphed into an odious, mean-spirited Jesse Foot. John Hunter and Orin both had attempted to teach their rivals, tried to bring them into their fold, and yet when both men realized their abilities were vastly outdone by their superiors, they turned petty. Vindictive.

  Jesse Foot had spread lies and slander about the incomparable John Hunter wherever he could. Hank Gerber now undermined Orin’s entire life plan.

  He knew the moment he returned from one of his carnal outings with Roxanne—the prostitute who dressed like a Catholic school girl for him—that something had gone horribly wrong. Hank had been frantic when Orin pulled up to the house, his eyes swollen, his broken nose spewing blood down his face.

  Despite coming twice with Roxanne—she’d let him choke her that evening, which he always had to pay extra for; just the feel of her struggling for breath beneath his hands had given him his first release—Orin felt a twitch in his pants at the sight of Hank’s mangled face. He wondered what his nose breaking had sounded like. The twitch was even sharper then. He had to think about something else.

  “What the hell are you doing out of your room?” Orin asked, trying to be stern without focusing too hard on the blood.

  “Mindy escaped.”

  All other thoughts flew out of his head. “What did you do?”

  Hank darted out of the way as Orin went tearing into the house. He wove around boxes and cages and pounded up the steps, calling Mindy’s name, voice echoing in the open air of the bonus room to his left. The windows opposite him showed not a trace of light beyond.

  Mindy couldn’t be out there. Not alone in the dark. She was such a delicate thing; she’d never survive on her own.

  Hank’s door had been kicked down, the wood around the lock smashed and splintered. Mindy’s door stood open. Her bed was empty.

  Orin wanted to go after her. Would she think he didn’t care about her if he didn’t find her? She’d run from Hank, not him. She was his girl. They all were.

  A deep, guttural sound came from a place Orin didn’t know he had. He’d break the rest of the bones in Hank’s scrawny little body. His manhood gave another twitch.

  Hank was still outside when Orin came charging after him. Despite Hank frantically pleading his case, Orin grabbed him by the back of the shirt and hoisted him up, heels dragging and scrabbling against the wood as Orin pulled him inside.

  “Mindy tricked me!” and “You were right: Mindy doesn’t love me!” and “Mindy needs to be caught before she ruins everything for us!”

  Us.

  Ha! As if Orin considered him part of his operation anymore. He wondered how long it would take to dig another grave. What could he learn from burying someone alive? But he needed to hit him first. The ache between his legs grew almost unbearable. How many times would he have to pummel Hank before he got his release?

  As Orin dragged him through the house, Hank grabbed hold of a box to slow their progress; the whole tower of boxes toppled, sending magazines spilling out onto the floor, their slippery covers sending them sliding every which way. Orin might just strangle the boy right there in the middle of the living room. The feel of his fragile neck beneath his hands would be even more satisfying than Roxanne’s.

  He grunted, making a fist and digging his fingernails into his own hand to keep himself from finishing right there in the middle of the room. The mere thought of listening to Hank’s dying
gurgles for breath nearly put him over the edge.

  If only he had Roxanne to bury himself in.

  “What if she runs into someone out there?” Hank asked, voice full of desperation. It sounded ridiculous to Orin, though, given the nasally tone. His nose had definitely broken. Massive bruises had welled up on either side of it, his eyes puffy and swollen.

  “Not likely, boy.”

  “But she might! If she finds a park ranger or something …”

  Orin halted a few feet from the door to the cellar. He still had Hank by the back of the shirt, holding him up, the tips of his shoes barely touching the ground. It reminded Orin of Hank just a few days ago, walking in with a pair of rabbits, holding them up by their ears.

  “We gotta go find her,” Hank said. “If she talks, we’re screwed.”

  Yes, getting her back was the priority. He needed his girl back. He’d deal with Hank later.

  Orin growled again, then dropped Hank, who fell awkwardly to his feet, his knees almost giving out. “Which way did she go?”

  They ran out the front door and into the dark. Orin wasn’t sure how the boy had grown to know the dark woods so well, but he hardly stumbled even with only faint assistance from the moon.

  After reaching the road, they ran alongside it, Hank heading up toward the highway, Orin heading down toward the neighboring dude ranch. Orin kept his ears peeled for the sound of something crashing through the underbrush, the sound of a crying girl. But the night was eerily silent save for the occasional hoot from an owl or the screech of some other night bird.

  Running downhill, some of his wind returned, but his lungs still burned.

  Almost to the turn-off for the neighboring ranch, a sweep of headlights through the trees startled him. Crouching low, he watched as a car pulled onto the road, a couple in the front seat, and—his heartbeat stumbled—Mindy in the back.

  He stood as they rushed past, his body hidden behind the trunk of a ponderosa pine. Mindy looked out the window at him. Through him. She hadn’t seen him. She was leaving him.

  His Mindy.

  Hank waited on the porch for Orin. The boy looked a frightful mess. Red stained his shirt and a smear of dried, cracked blood ran from one nostril, his nose crooked. His normally pretty face was a rainbow of blue and pink and purple. Orin was sure the boy had been crying just before he walked up.