Visions of Death

by B. T. Lord

  “I suppose you could say that.”

  “What happened?”

  He took a deep, steadying breath and slowly let it out, watching it vaporize before his face. Then he launched into a recitation of his dream, including the discovery of the muddied boots and clothing. She remained silent as he spoke, feeling his burden shift a tad as he gave voice to his disquiet.

  “I don’t sleep walk, or at least I never have before. So unless I flew through the air to Eagla, walked Watson Pond, then flew back, I have no explanation for what happened.”

  “First of all, let me start by saying, you’re not crazy. I don’t rent my bungalow to bat shit crazy people.”

  He relaxed somewhat at her joke. “So how do you explain my night-time adventure?”

  “Have you ever heard of bilocation?” He gave her a dubious side glance. “Hear me out. Then you can make a face. Bilocation occurs when you split your awareness into two places with two bodies. In other words, right now my physical body could be lying nice and warm under my blankets, with Beans snoring next to me, while what you’re seeing and speaking with is my spirit body. This happens consciously.”

  Ellis reached out with his finger and poked her heavily padded shoulder.

  “If this is your spirit body –”

  “Don’t say it,” she warned, adding under her breath, “smart ass.” He smiled as she continued. “Astral projection is when your astral or spirit body separates from your physical body. Many times this happens unconsciously, usually when you’re asleep or in a deep meditation.”

  “The dream was very vivid. But I wasn’t aware I was actually there until I found my boots and pants covered in mud this morning.”

  “Maybe you did a little bit of both,” she grinned.

  “You know how outlandish that sounds.”

  “Do you have a better explanation?” He had to admit he didn’t. “What concerns me more than your nocturnal jaunts, however, is the shadow figure you bumped into when you found the boat.”

  “He was unnerving.”

  “Did you get the sense that he was somehow directing you to find the rowboat?”

  Ellis thought back to that moment when he’d felt the presence, felt its evil reaching out to him. Its words rasping in his brain.

  “On the contrary. I think he was there to make sure I didn’t find it.” He glanced at her. “Are you trying to tell me you think that thing was real?”

  “From everything I’ve ever read about the phenomena known as shadow people, they’ve been around for centuries. They’re considered some sort of dark influence.”

  “But what exactly are they?”

  Chandra shrugged. “That’s still up for debate. They’ve been described as being aliens, ghosts, demons or inter-dimensional beings. Some people have reported being physically attacked by them, while others simply reported seeing them around.”

  “That makes me feel warm and fuzzy.”

  “There’s something about this case that has re-opened an old wound for you. A trauma you thought you’d locked safely away. That’s created a great deal of what I’d call lower vibrational energy around you”

  “Lower vibrational energy?”

  “Energy has a vibration to it. For example, think about how you feel when you’re sad or depressed or angry or worried. You feel heavy, don’t you? As if you’re walking through sludge. Or can’t seem to get out of your own way. Correct?” He thought about it and had to agree. “Now how do you feel when you’re in love? Or in your case, when you finally catch the culprit and you’re able to close an investigation. You feel damned good, don’t you?” He nodded again. “That’s what I mean by energy having a vibration. When you feel good, the vibration is high. When you feel like crap, the vibration is low. Now, if what the experts say is true, and the shadow people are a collection of dark thoughts and fears, maybe that’s why this particular one appeared last night in your dream. Or, if these things do exist, and with all the documentation compiled over the millennia there’s no reason to think they don’t, your troubled mind attracted it to you.” She gave him a penetrating look that went right through him. He knew she was referring to Patrick. Just as Dara had. “Then of course there’s the possibility that you’re prone to precognitive dreams.” Seeing the consternation on his face, she reached out and gently laid her gloved hand on his arm. “The sooner you heal that wound, the sooner the shadows will leave you alone.”

  “And the warning I heard?”

  “Fear feeds on fear. It could have been trying to frighten you”

  “Or it was telling me it’s not done yet.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “I’m going to need to figure that out.”

  “I’m here for you, Ellis. If there’s anything I can do, don’t hesitate to ask. Now before I turn into an ice statue, I’m heading back home where a nice hot cup of coffee with my name on it is waiting for me.”

  Chandra walked away, leaving Ellis to his thoughts.

  He turned his gaze back to the ocean and sighed. Once more, the Coffins had reached out and pulled him into its strange, unfathomable orbit. Where he was forced to question what was truly normal.

  His last case had taught him that not everything was neat and easily explained away. There were things that had no explanation. They just were. By taking this job and, more importantly, by still being here, he was acquiescing to accepting a way of perceiving the world he never would have found possible a few short years ago.

  The shadow man was part of that.

  Somehow, someway, he needed to find a way to stop it. Or at least appease it. If he didn’t, others were going to die.

  Perhaps even himself.

  A few hours later found Ellis standing on the beach at Watson Pond. The sun was shining, though the air was cold and biting.

  He’d decided to retrace his steps from the dream, if only to prove to himself that it had only been a dream.

  He took off to the left and immediately noticed how slushy and muddy the trail was. There were no boot prints, though he didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. As he was mulling it over, an odd sensation came over him. He stopped and looked around.

  The pond was serene, with only an occasional breeze blowing up and rippling its surface. It was too cold for birds to be out chirping. The only sounds were his own breathing.

  Yet he wasn’t alone.

  Someone was watching him. And waiting to see what he did next.

  Was it the sinister shadow?

  Like many investigators, Ellis had developed a sixth sense that had saved his life on more than one occasion. Knowing there was someone out there observing him, he could call off his search of the area and head back to his office. Although he was armed, he was alone. And very vulnerable. Or he could continue, his senses on full alert.

  His curiosity caused him to choose the latter.

  The sense of being watched increased as he resumed his walk. Just as in the dream, he felt compelled to keep going.

  With each step, he was amazed at what he was seeing. Before the discovery of Mallory’s body, he’d never been out to Watson Pond. Once she was pulled from the water, Ana and her forensics team had the situation well under control, relieving him of the need to walk the perimeter of the pond himself. Now, however, he was recognizing oddly misshapen trees and spots in the path where the tree roots were particularly high that he’d seen in the dream the night before.

  Only one thing will tell me definitively if I really was here last night. Or if what Chandra said about me having precognitive dreams is true.

  After twenty minutes of walking, he reached the spot where the hill evened out. He paused and looked up the sky. A moment ago it had been sunny. Now dark clouds rolled in, giving the effect of dusk.

  Just like in the dream.

  Before his courage deserted him, Ellis scurried up the hill and right into the grove of oak trees. He looked to his left and saw the oddly shaped shrub that had caught his attenti
on in the nightmare.

  Here goes nothing.

  He forced himself forward. Squatting in front of the shrub, he pushed the branches aside. At first his heart gave a leap when he saw nothing.

  Thank God. It really was just a dream.

  He started to pull his hands away when a flash of blue caught his attention. With his heart pounding, he slowly pushed aside another branch.

  And found the mermaid staring back up at him.

  Shit.

  So the dream hadn’t been a dream. Somehow, someway he’d come to Watson Pond during the night and gotten his boots and pants splattered with mud.

  The sky grew darker.

  The feeling of being watched increased.

  There was one thing left that would prove whether he was re-living the dream. But could he do it? Could he turn around and look across the oak grove. Did he want to?

  The wind suddenly blew up, beating itself against his face and hair. He silently counted to three, then willed himself to turn his head.

  There was a flash of light and he caught his breath, only to realize it was a beam of sunshine hitting the trunk of one of the oaks.

  The shadow man wasn’t there.

  He almost laughed out loud with relief. He stood up and took out his cell. After calling Ana and informing her of the discovery of the boat, he dialed Cade. If there was anyone on the island who might be able to identify the boat, it would be him.

  “I’m out here at Watson Pond,” he explained when the selectman answered the phone. “Do you know who owns a rowboat with a blue mermaid painted on its hull?”

  There was a long pause. “Huh,” Cade finally said.

  “Is that a yes or a no?” To his shock, he heard a click. “Hello? Cade? Are you there?” He stared at his phone in astonishment. “The little bastard hung up on me!”

  As he tried to figure out why Cade would do that, his cellphone rang. When he picked up, he heard Cade’s overwrought voice. “That’s my boat, dammit. I just went out to the barn where I keep it and it’s gone!”

  “When was the last time you saw it?”

  “Last fall when I put it away. I want it back. There’s a lot of memories tied up in that boat.”

  This was the most he’d ever heard Cade speak. “I can’t release it to you. Not yet anyway. It may be part of my investigation.”

  “You think someone used my boat to do what they did to Mallory?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’ve called Forensics and they’re on their way.” Cade went into a tirade, but Ellis refused to budge. “We’ll get it back to you as soon as we can.”

  He hung up before Cade could offer any more protest. He then made himself as comfortable as he could to wait for Ana. It would take a few hours for her team to arrive. In the meantime, he’d try to figure out the dream, the muddied clothing.

  And the shadow man.

  Dara carefully maneuvered the three bags of groceries, the gallon of 1% milk and her oversized shoulder bag out of the backseat of her car. She swung the door shut with her butt and walked down the alleyway to her front door.

  A pain shot up her arm as the bags started to slip. She always did this – overburdened herself trying to carry all her grocery bags at the same time. But who wanted to climb up and down those steep stairs a thousand times? Besides, she was going for the gold medal in grocery bag carrying. How many bags could she sling onto herself before her arms fell off? Or the bags fell to the ground and she spent the rest of the afternoon chasing after runaway gummy bears?

  Today was a good day. She managed to get the milk and bags onto the porch without dropping them. She was digging through her purse for her keys when she suddenly froze.

  “Hey freak!”

  Her stomach clenched. She hadn’t heard that name in a long time. It belonged to high school and the nightmare of those years. She thought that was all behind her now.

  She wanted to throw up.

  Dara didn’t turn around, hoping against hope she’d be left alone. If only she could disappear or shrink to a tiny size. Though, with her luck, they’d see her and step on her. They were those kinds of people.

  With her heart pounding in her chest, Dara quickly scrambled in her bag trying to find the damn keys. Maybe she could get inside before hell descended on her. Maybe she could --

  “Hey freak, I’m talking to you. Didn’t you hear me?”

  Her hands began to shake. But she’d learned long ago never to show fear. It only made her a bigger target. She steadied herself and slowly turned around.

  “My name isn’t freak.”

  Richard walked towards her. “Of course it is. It’s been freak since you were born.”

  He came to a stop inches from her. His uncomfortably close proximity made her want to back away, but she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. She refused to relinquish her personal space. That would only show he had the upper hand.

  “What do you want?” she replied, fighting to keep her voice steady.

  “Just wanted to say hello. And to tell you you’ve been packing on the pounds. You trying to look like a psychic football?” His laugh was harsh.

  Dara felt the hot blush of embarrassment on her cheeks, almost sending her into hysterics. She couldn’t show how much his remark hurt. She just couldn’t.

  Suddenly Richard’s face changed, and he bent down until they were practically nose to nose.

  “What did you do to Mallory?”

  Despite her resolve to keep calm, his words caused her to jump.

  “Richard, please. You need to stop this.”

  “Why? What are you going to do? Cast some kind of spell on me like you did to Mallory?”

  “I didn’t do anything to Mallory. And I don’t cast spells. I’m not a witch.”

  “Of course you are. Your whole bizarre family were witches. You went after Mal because you hated her.”

  “I did not!”

  “Of course you did. And she hated you. Shit, everybody hates you. You refuse to fit in. You wouldn’t know normal if you fell over it. The worst part is how much you pretend to be some kind of powerful psychic. You love going around scaring people by claiming you can see into the future.”

  “Richard, go away. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Are you going to sew up my mouth and eyes too? Jesus, Dara, you are such a sick shit.”

  Before she knew what was happening, Richard reached out and gave her a hard shove. Unable to catch herself, she tripped over the grocery bags and smashed her lower back into the step. Yelping in pain, she swallowed her groans when he stood over her and shoved his finger in her face.

  “You don’t get to decide who lives and dies on Eagla, bitch. You can scam all the summer visitors you want. But I’m not going to allow anyone else to suffer at your hands, you got that? I can’t prove you killed Mallory, but I’m going to be keeping an eye on you. If anything happens to anyone else, they’ll be fishing out your body from Watson Pond.”

  “Richard, what the hell are you doing?” John yelled as he came up beside Richard.

  “Making sure Dara understands we’re not putting up with her woowoo bullshit anymore.”

  “Get back to the truck and calm down. You don’t want to get into trouble.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass.”

  “But your father does. Remember what happened in Portland last month.”

  That brought Richard up. He glared at Dara and cursed her before stomping out of the courtyard.

  John waited until he was gone before he leaned over and helped Dara to her feet. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Don’t apologize for your gorilla of a friend,” she exclaimed, furious at her inability to stop the tears from welling up.

  “Let me help you with the groceries.”

  “You can help me by leaving me alone. And keeping him away from me.”

  “Dara, he didn’t mean—”

  “He meant every word. He’s a bully and always has been.” She angrily wiped the
tears from her face with the sleeve of her coat. “Now please, just go away.”

  John watched her wince in pain as she tried to pick up her grocery bags. Not knowing what else to do, he had no choice but to do as she asked and leave. Once he was gone, Dara fell back onto the stairs and burst into uncontrollable tears.

  “Why did you have to do that, Richard?” she sobbed. “Why?”

  DeeDee lay tossing and turning in her bed. She’d taken one of her mother’s sleeping pills to make sure she got some much needed rest, but the damned thing didn’t seem to be working. It was 2 am and she was still wide awake.

  Staring at the ceiling, everything rushed in on her again -- her fears about Mallory’s killer, her fears about the dream and her fears about calling the Deputy.

  Had she somehow made it worse for herself by telling him about the conversation she’d overheard? Of course she’d left out the part, with both the deputy and Tim, that she’d deliberately listened in on Mal’s conversation. Now she deeply regretted it. Why had she done it?

  Because it’s what you do. It’s what you always do.

  “Oh shut up,” she grumbled aloud as she sat up in bed.

  It was true though. She did have a bad habit of eavesdropping on conversations. She’d been doing it since she was a child. It was like an addiction. All those fascinating and juicy things she’d learned about her family and friends. But now it had backfired on her. There was a killer out there, intent on murdering her because of a conversation that – for the first time in her friggin’ life – she hadn’t had or deliberately overheard.

  There must be a way to let the murderer know she had no clue Mallory was pregnant. The question was how. She certainly couldn’t put it in the local paper. Or distribute flyers. At least Tim had spoken to their friends. She could only hope that would be enough.

  At least she was safe. The deputy and Cade McHadon managed to put together a group of men who took turns patrolling her house. Her father thought she was being ridiculous. He’d always considered her melodramatic; she’d overheard enough conversations between her parents in which he’d made it perfectly clear what he thought of her behavior. Her mother wasn’t too happy about having men walking around her house all night either. But somehow, Deputy Martin had convinced them that for the time being, at least until they caught Mal’s killer, it was prudent to keep DeeDee safe.