The Forgotten Child

by Melissa Erin Jackson

  When she’d finally calmed down, she loosened her hold on him and took a step back, glancing up at him, not sure what expression she’d find. It was some combination of hopeless and devastated. She supposed she was getting good at reading his face, too.

  “If you give me some macho bullshit about it being your job to keep me safe, I swear I’m going to slap you,” she said.

  He tried not to smile. “I can’t help it. I don’t want anything to happen to you. And I know it’s stupid, but I feel guilty that he was creeping around outside and I didn’t even know.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  He huffed out a breath. “So what’s next?”

  “I send that conversation to Detective Howard and hope it’s enough. Then we eat pizza and watch a movie and pretend everything is normal.”

  “Can I pick the movie this time?”

  “Absolutely not. You’re still on probation after Monster Babes on Mars.”

  CHAPTER 25

  The following day, Riley took the tracker off her car and smashed it with a hammer in the parking lot. It was a weekday around noon—so she hoped not too many people saw the ridiculous girl in the lot breaking a small black box into a million pieces. She sent pictures of the destruction to Jade and Michael.

  Then Riley waited several more days to see what reaction she’d get from Francis. But he remained his usual flirtatious, disgusting self in IMs and emails. She didn’t call or text him; she didn’t want him to have her number.

  When nothing happened, and she didn’t see any mysterious cars following her home or loitering in random places, Riley finally followed up on the information she’d gotten from the séance. This dark room, whatever it was, was back at the ranch. Though it likely wasn’t the wisest decision to heed suggestions from dead serial killers, she couldn’t ignore the feeling that she needed to get back to Jordanville.

  How much time did Pete have before he disappeared? His beanie tied him to her apartment. She’d need to take it back to have any hope of restoring him back to what he was, even if she couldn’t find the dark room or his body. She’d rather have him trapped at the ranch again than being gone entirely.

  So Riley called the ranch bright and early on Monday.

  “Thank you for calling the Jordanville Ranch. This is Angela speaking; how may I help you?”

  “Hey, Angela. This is Riley Thomas. I—”

  “Riley! It’s so good to hear from you!” Then, in a stage whisper, she added, “You’re practically a legend around here now. Nina mentions you every time she starts her session in the cellar.”

  Riley sighed, but feigned excitement. “Oh, that’s so cool!”

  “Nina also told me about that séance you had,” Angela said. “She said Orin himself contacted you!”

  If this isn’t the gossipiest pair of women … “It’s true. And, well, I don’t know if this is even in the realm of possibility, but I’ve gotten a message from the other side that there’s something at the ranch I’m supposed to find. I don’t suppose I could come by some day and take a look around?”

  “I can check with the Fredricks, the owners, you know? But I don’t see why it would be a problem. There’s been a spike in reservations since we posted your story on the forum. The Fredricks know all about you.”

  I’m sure they do. “I’m hoping to bring a friend of mine—a police officer—just in case we find anything.”

  “Oh, goodness! This is exciting,” she said. “I’ll talk to the Fredricks and then give you a call. But let’s plan on two days from now, on Wednesday? We won’t have guests until next weekend, but there’s a wedding on Saturday so we’re prepping for that. Any time after three on Wednesday would work for me!”

  “Perfect.” Riley rattled off her phone number and hung up.

  After getting the all-clear from Angela later that evening, Riley called Detective Howard in the morning. “Hi, it’s me again.”

  The detective sighed. “Hello, Ms. Thomas. We’re putting together a case for you about Francis … Hank. My contact called you, didn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Riley said. “He’s very nice.” But they were still moving at a snail’s pace and Riley had a creepy motherfucker stalking her and a fading ghost child and she really needed to take control of this situation before she lost her damn mind. “Do you stand by what you said when we first talked … that you wouldn’t discount anything I presented simply because I’m a medium?”

  After a beat of silence, he said, “Yes?”

  “There’s something else about the ranch I haven’t told you.”

  He stayed silent this time.

  “I had a dream similar to the one I had about Renee. Except in this one, it was a young boy named Peter Vonick. I believe Orin also killed this boy and his body is still on the property.”

  Riley heard the rapid clack of a keyboard.

  “Pete went missing in 1973,” she said, hopefully confirming what he saw on his screen. “I think he was Orin’s first victim. He was a reckless grab, so he won’t fit the MO of the others.” Riley waited a few moments, knowing the detective was searching for Pete—or at least taking notes. “He won’t be buried with the others either.”

  “I’ll look into this.”

  She tried not to grunt in frustration. “I … uhh … have a favor to ask. I know one of the employees at the ranch and she’s granting me access to the house tomorrow so I can look around.”

  “Riley …”

  “Would you like to come with? You know, just in case?”

  He didn’t reply.

  “It’s either you or I invite someone from Albuquerque Life.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Quite.”

  He sighed.

  “I’ve learned not to ignore these signs,” she said. “For some reason, I’m being told that now is the time to find Pete. Maybe it’s tied to Renee and Francis. But I’ll be making the trek tomorrow either way. I’d much rather have you there than a reporter.”

  “An inept reporter,” Detective Howard said. The pause stretched out for so long, she wondered if he’d forgotten he was still on the phone. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

  Well, it wasn’t a no.

  The following morning, Riley was abuzz with anticipation. She had no idea what she’d find at the ranch, but she was glad both Michael and Mindy were going to make the drive with her. Jade couldn’t get the time off work.

  Riley had been surprised Mindy volunteered to come with her, but the woman had jumped on the “things happens for a reason” bandwagon.

  “I was fully prepared to only use my therapy sessions to deal with what happened to me until you came along. Renee and Pete deserve better. I deserve better. If I can help them, maybe it’ll help my healing process or whatever the fuck,” Mindy said. “Besides, I’ve been in that cellar a bunch of times. Maybe being in there will help jog my memory and I can help you find the dark room.”

  “I’m still worried about traumatizing the shit out of you,” Riley said.

  “I’m already pretty fucking traumatized,” Mindy reminded her.

  Since they planned to get to the ranch around four, Michael—who had taken the day off work—and Riley swung by Mindy’s place just before noon. And then off they went, Pete’s beanie stuffed into her purse. When she’d taken it off the dresser, she’d gotten no flash of memory.

  She feared Pete was already gone.

  When they reached Santa Fe, she called Detective Howard and met him at the station. He was a black man in his fifties, rocking salt-and-pepper hair, a step above a dad bod, and an agreeable, clean-shaven face.

  After exchanging a few pleasantries in the parking lot, Riley, Michael, and Mindy piled back into Riley’s car, and the detective got into his dark sedan, Riley leading the way.

  The first three and a half hours of the drive were relaxed, though Riley often found herself drumming her hands on the steering wheel. Michael and Mindy had similar tastes in music and spent a large chunk of time talking
about bands Riley had never heard of.

  What if she was leading the detective on a wild goose chase and this dark room didn’t exist? What if this was all part of Orin’s plan from beyond the grave to lure more girls into the belly of his house?

  Michael placed a warm hand on her leg and kept it there.

  About half an hour away from the ranch, Riley rounded a tight turn, and when she straightened out again, the sedan was no longer behind her.

  “Where’d he go?” Riley asked.

  “Chill, girl,” Mindy said.

  But Mindy and Michael both threw occasional looks over their shoulders out the back windshield.

  Riley glanced up for the hundredth time and let out a shriek, the car swerving. The tires thud thud thudded along the rubble strip lining the right side of the road. If they went over the side, it would send the car into a ravine or headlong into a tree.

  Michael grabbed hold of the wheel, straightening her back out.

  At the same time that he yelped, “What? What happened?” Mindy shrieked, “What the hell?”

  Riley’s eyes flicked back to the image of Pete, still wavering slightly, in the back seat beside Mindy. He sat with a sheepish smile on his face, wayward curls peeking out from underneath his maroon beanie. “It’s good to see you, kid.”

  “Oh,” said Mindy, side-eyeing the empty seat next to her. “Awesome. I’m sitting next to a ghost.”

  Michael turned in his seat, scanning the area behind him. After several long seconds, he waved and said, “Hi, Pete,” despite being unable to see him. He sounded vaguely disappointed.

  When they pulled up to the open gate, Riley heaved a sigh of relief. Angela had said she would be on the property that day, but over on the dude ranch side where the wedding reception would be. She’d said the house would be unlocked and to just let herself in. Riley wouldn’t have been surprised to find out later that she’d been hiding out, hoping to catch a glimpse of something exciting to add to the website.

  The little gravel lot to the left of the house was empty.

  Once they all piled out of the car, Pete disappeared again. She hoped he was inside somewhere, restored. Pulling the beanie out of her purse, she shoved it into her back pocket.

  Riley turned to Mindy. “You sure you want to come in?”

  “I never thought I’d see this godawful place ever again.” Mindy stared at the house, her chest heaving slightly. “But I’m sure.”

  Riley gently took hold of Mindy’s elbow. “If you start to panic, I’m right here, okay?”

  “What, you mean don’t run off?”

  “I just want you to be safe,” Riley said.

  Mindy shook out her arms, rolled her shoulders. “I’ll be all right.”

  “Detective Howard should be here any minute.” Riley couldn’t call him to see how far out he was, given the lack of reception.

  They loitered for about ten minutes, but still no sign of him. The air had a bite to it and Mindy’s teeth started to clack.

  “Should we just go in?” Michael said. “At least we know anyone we could run into in there is already dead.”

  Riley and Mindy looked at him, heads cocked.

  “I realize that could have been worded better.”

  With a laugh, Riley headed for the front door.

  Once over the threshold, Riley stopped dead in the middle of the rug just inside the door. She had talked to Mindy about panic, but she hadn’t accounted for how hard being here would hit her. She’d been nervous about failing Renee and Pete. Of wasting Detective Howard’s time.

  But the panic at experiencing what she had in the cellar, of encountering the dark, looming presence of Orin again, hadn’t fully registered as a possibility until that moment. Her gaze shifted from the chairs she’d sat in with Michael, to the spot where Pete’s spirit had stood in the middle of the lobby, to the closed door of the cellar beyond the barrier of the reception desk.

  “I’m right here, okay?” Michael asked, his voice pulling her back to the surface, his warm hand on her lower back.

  “Me too,” said Mindy from her other side.

  “Orin is helping you for some reason,” Michael said. “He told you where to find this other room. Chances are it’ll be more of a Casper the Friendly Ghost situation rather than a vomiting pea-soup possession type deal.”

  “Thanks … I think.”

  Riley squeezed her fists into tight balls, then marched forward. She would not freak out, she would not freak out.

  The house being dark and deserted without the faintest trace of life didn’t calm her nerves. It felt as if the building waited, holding its breath. Hints of wedding preparations were scattered here and there. Large boxes sat stacked randomly throughout the room. A set of giant white wreaths lay on the dining table. The corner of a creamy white cloth poked out of an open box on a chair.

  The candles were unlit in their sconces along the stairs.

  She would not freak out, she would not freak out.

  Pulling open the door to the narrow, claustrophobic hallway that eventually led to the cellar, all Riley saw was white walls eaten up by shadows and she couldn’t do it. She pressed her back against the wall near the now-open door and shut her eyes. Her breath came shallow and quick.

  She was freaking out.

  “Hey. Hey, look at me, Ry.” Michael had a hand on either side of her face, gently tipping her head back so they’d make eye contact once she got up the nerve to open them. She did. “I’m with you, okay? This is for Renee and Pete.”

  “What if there’s something really awful in there?”

  “There probably is. We’ll likely both have nightmares.” He shrugged. “I know a really great therapist.”

  She laughed, despite everything.

  “We’ll deal with it—whatever it is.”

  Giving herself a short mental pep talk, she nodded. Then, with another deep breath, she pushed away from the wall.

  Mindy stood a few feet away, wide eyes focused on the door, a finger running back and forth under one of the leather bands on her wrist.

  “You good?” Riley asked.

  Mindy’s attention snapped to her and she dropped her hands to her sides. “Yeah. I can do this. I didn’t do anything for Renee back then. Maybe I can now.”

  Michael went in first, flipping on a switch that illuminated the single bare bulb in the middle of the ceiling. Reaching a hand out behind him, Riley laced her fingers through his. Though she appreciated not walking into the cellar first, not even Mindy’s presence behind her, the woman’s hand on her shoulder, could stop the hair on her neck from standing on end.

  Riley could almost feel the looming presence of Orin behind her, herding her down below the house as he had with so many others before her. As he had with Mindy before. Her free hand out to her side, Riley let her fingertips graze the smooth drywall, finding comfort in the solid feel of it.

  Michael turned left, led them down a short hallway, and then stopped at the cellar door. He turned the knob and pressed the door open. As he flipped on another switch, light cascaded over the deep steps. They let go of each other’s hands so they could brace themselves against the walls as they made their way to the cellar floor.

  Quietly uttered words poured out of Mindy behind her.

  “You’ve got this, Mindy,” Riley said. “You’ll—”

  The feeling hit her. That otherness of Orin. Not nearly as overwhelming as before. He merely watched now.

  When they made it to the base of the stairs, they just stood there, shoulder to shoulder.

  “Dear god. I can’t believe I’m in this fucking hellhole again,” Mindy said, breath coming in quick, shaky bursts. Eyes wide and roaming, as if she saw all those dead girls crawling out of the walls and creeping toward her, Mindy’s hands opened and closed into fists. She stepped back.

  Riley took Mindy’s face in her hands, just as Michael had done to her. Mindy’s wild eyes locked on Riley’s. “Breathe. Slow and steady.”

  Mindy took a
deep pull in through her nose and slowly let it out her mouth.

  “Again.”

  Mindy obeyed.

  “Orin is dead,” Riley said. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

  Though Riley didn’t know how true that was, given his presence in the room. When Mindy had calmed, Riley let her go and surveyed the cellar.

  The only light in the room came from the dim glow of the bulb above the stairs. All three of them pulled out their useless cell phones and turned on their flashlights. Well, partly useless.

  On the long sides of the room stood two tall shelves—almost to the ceiling—flanked by a short one on either side. The individual shelves were about four-feet long and three-feet high. They looked sturdy as hell, as they’d been used to hold massive anatomy tomes, thick glass jars, and metal tools. According to Riley’s ghostly intel, the bookshelf in question was one of the tall ones to the left.

  They swept their lights across the room, casting eerie shadows. Orin’s presence was still here, observing rather than circling and assessing.

  The string of shattered bulbs ringing the ceiling had been taken down but not replaced, the glass gone.

  Michael stood before the left wall of shelves, the pair of stainless steel tables to his back. “You sure it’s these ones?” he asked, fingers running tentatively over empty shelves and bookcase backs.

  Riley closed her eyes and tried to remember what Orin had shown her during the séance. But all she could recall was seeing these bookshelves and experiencing the sensation of being pushed.

  Michael started pushing on the bookshelf’s frame. But that immediately felt wrong. If it was that easy to find the dark room, the police would’ve done so already. Or some guest who came down here for one of the investigations would’ve leaned against the wall and accidentally triggered something. There had to be a reason why no one found it.

  “Shit,” Mindy said.

  Michael and Riley turned to her.

  Swallowing hard, Mindy pointed at the shelves in question. “There was a day Hank and I were in here—cleaning up, you know? And Hank was goofing around by the bookshelf, jumping around like he was trying to reach the top shelf, and saying that if he found the right book, he could show me something cool. I didn’t know what the hell he was on about, and Orin came in while he was hopping around and screamed at him to get back to work before thwacking him upside the head so hard, he hit the ground.”