I hear a squeal of brakes, then a flash and a bang.
Chapter Seven
Heart…
The Wretched Soulz offered their hospitality to a lone biker on the road. Relaxed and surrounded by like-minded brothers, my tongue loosened by alcohol, I’d spilled everything about Crystal’s death, which led to sympathy all around. Maybe it was because I was minding my manners, but this time it was slightly easier to accept their compassion with more grace than I have been doing. Then thankfully, the Soulz had taken my mind off the subject and stopped probing when they saw my pain.
I’d been invited back a few more times, enjoying the camaraderie of like-minded men I hadn’t realised I’d been missing, being given a room to bunk down in when I’d had too much to drink. Before I knew it, another month had gone past, the dreaded Christmas season passing without note at the clubhouse except for a Christmas toy run they’d organised and a meal for all to enjoy.
Now it’s January, and at last the decorations in the streets have come down, and I breathe easier as the season my wife had so enjoyed is now over and behind me. And so is my time in San Francisco. I need to move on and cross off the next item on Crystal’s bucket list. Yeah, I’ve come to think of it that way, in part wondering whether it was also mine.
I’ve caused no trouble, and as quietly as I had arrived, leave the San Francisco Wretched Soulz, with an emphasised instruction to keep the dirty side down. Not too much of a journey, and I’ve come to San Jose to visit the Winchester Mystery House, purportedly the most haunted house in the world. Crystal loved this mysterious crap.
Whether its reputation is based on fact or not, it’s an experience to see such wonders as the door to nowhere, stairs that led only to the ceiling, and other strange constructions built to confuse the spirits of the people killed by the rifle her husband invented, and who Mrs Winchester had been convinced were after her. One hundred and sixty-five rooms in all, a hundred or so of which are open to the public, causing guides to warn us not to stray from the tour party, as it would be easy to get lost. The atmosphere even affected me, a hardened biker. A shiver ran up my spine at the haunting tales.
Crystal, are you with me here? Although it makes me feel alone, here is the first place and time I’m pleased not to feel a ghost’s touch to my shoulder.
Halfway through the tour, I start to get very uneasy. The spirits are waiting. The words of the coyote echo in my head. Dead man walking. Feeling cold air, a draught on my back, I shudder, then notice a man watching me almost accusingly, as though I’m the source of the spookiness around us. Am I? Could I be the cause? Is there an aura surrounding me? The palms of my hands grow sweaty as he turns away, and I try to laugh at myself. He sensed nothing about me, other than being taken aback seeing a biker on the tour.
The spirits are waiting.
I hadn’t thought about the coyote for weeks, nor the owl that seemed to stare at me. Well, I did once, I correct myself, remembering them when I saw a mouse run under the Wretched Soulz’ clubhouse, pausing to look back out at me through its beady black eyes. Now I feel a vibe in the air as though I’ve kept them waiting too long. The hair pricks at the back of my neck, and instead of soothing touches, I feel another cooling breeze on my face where there are no windows open and no fan. I’ve no trouble believing the rumours of haunting in this ghostly house. A noise has me spinning, but there’s nothing there.
I want out of this place. But abiding by the warning not to try to find an exit by myself, follow the guide. I put myself in the middle of the group, as though seeking safety in numbers. My heart’s thumping erratically, and I’ve a deep sense of dread.
As the tour guide helpfully tells us there are secret passages within the walls, I stare at the plasterwork, starting to hear whispering in the air, words I can’t quite take hold of. When we’re shown the séance room, the murmurings become clearer. I freeze. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
“Sir? Are you alright?”
It’s not just one man’s eyes on me now, but the whole group.
“You look pale. Do you need to sit down?”
Annoyed that I’ve brought attention to myself, I shake my head. What I want is to get out of here. This place feels like it’s a conduit to the other side, and while all I’ve wanted to do for months is to go to Crystal, I don’t want to join whatever I feel in this house. “I’m fine,” I say tersely.
The guide examines me for a moment then, seeming satisfied, continues his spiel.
Fuck it. I try to concentrate on his words, while feeling more like I’m on a roller coaster ride, eyes closed, holding on tight, just wanting it to end.
When the tour group finally emerges into the sunlight, I don’t even look back at the house, not ashamed to say I’m scared of what I might find looking out of one of the windows. I’d promised to join Crystal. But I went back on my promise. I’m still breathing.
I’d thought to have a look at the firearms museum, but all I want to do now is put distance between myself and that unearthly place. Going back to my bike, I hear a loud cawing above me, and the shadow from a bird flying overhead crosses my bike. Even free of the house, the bird’s loud call makes my chest pound and my scalp tingle. Something niggles at the back of my mind. Coyote, owl, mouse, and crow. Omens or portents, predicting misadventure I believe, recalling a conversation I’d had with Mouse, sure he’d mentioned something like that.
Wanting nothing better than to get myself away from here, I get back on my bike and give myself a mental shake. Birds fly overhead all the time. I try to laugh, but it’s not easy to rid myself of the weight of the house and the things I had seen. There’s no guarantee you’d be going to the same place as Crystal. I don’t want to join the entities of the house where I’d just been. For the first time since I left Tucson, I pull away from the kerb taking greater care. Crystal, forgive me. But I don’t want the likes of these spirits to take me.
When I’d left San Francisco, I’d started on the Pacific Coast Highway, and now, after the brief detour that I wish I never made, I rejoin it, my dark thoughts slowly dissipating as I leave the haunted mansion behind. Resuming my journey, I continue down to Monterey, where I treat myself to a meal of snow crab at a restaurant on a pier watching pelicans dive from the sky and sea otters floating on their backs eating fish. Such a peaceful place, it eases my soul. You seeing this, babe? Fuck me, you would have loved it.
A few more miles under my belt, and I stop for the night.
“One room, sir?”
“Please.” Christ, the simple word reminds me how I’d been forgetting basic pleasantries up to now. I even remember to thank the woman as she hands me the key and give her a wink as she blatantly studies me, her eyes gleaming with interest. I won’t be going there, no insult to her, no woman would be able to arouse me, but there’s no need to be rude.
She puts me in mind of another woman, a woman I haven’t spoken to in a while—the rat bike riding cop. One side of my mouth turns up as I think about the voice that’s kept me company on the road, suddenly realising it’s strange for her not to have been in touch for so long. Maybe she hasn’t any new information to give me? Or perhaps she did what I told her not to do and went to visit the head of the Herrera family, and now her body’s lying in a ditch.
I go cold, and this time it’s got nothing to do with spirits. Maybe I’m overreacting. She’s probably got a new case is all, and the lonesome biker is long gone from her mind. Why should that concern me? I know Crystal’s murderer is dead and delving deeper could only expose the club. I should be pleased that the cop’s finally leaving me alone. If there is anyone else involved, anything left to handle, I’ll speak to Drummer when I get back in, what is it? Only a couple more months now? Fuck, where does the time go?
Well, I’ll be fucked. My shoulders draw back as the direction of my mind’s ramblings hit me. It’s the first time I’ve even considered going back to Tucson. When I left, I’d had no intention of ever returning. Could I really stand to go to the place whic
h holds such memories? Perhaps it’s best to destroy my cut, get my ink blacked out and just keep going on the road. I never envisioned revisiting the place that holds so much pain for me. And Crystal, who’s only a…
Goosebumps cover my skin. Shit, going to that house today must put spirits on my brain. I can’t think of Crystal as a ghost.
Suddenly wanting to hear a friendly, living voice, before I can reconsider, I pull out my phone, scroll through the few incoming calls that I have, and get to the right number. Hoping that my fears for her are unfounded, I press to connect.
“Hello?”
That’s not her. Have I selected the wrong number? “Who is this?”
“This is Marcia Hannah’s phone.”
Marcia. I smile. So much more appropriate, but somehow less fitting than Marc. “Can I talk to Marcia?”
“She’s sleeping at the moment. I answered her phone so as not to disturb her. Can I tell her who called?”
A woman answering? Checking the time on my phone with a groan, I notice it’s the middle of the night. Is she a lesbian? A grin comes to my face as I consider it, and suddenly I want to pry. “And you are?”
“I’m her nurse.”
Her nurse? Fuck. All at once I’m sitting up straight. “A nurse? What’s fuckin’ happened? How’s Marc, Marcia? Is she hurt? What the fuck’s going on?”
“And who are you, sir?”
“I’m a…” What the fuck am I? A case? “I’m a friend.” I soften my tone. “Please, tell me how she is and why she’s in the hospital.”
“I didn’t tell you she was a patient.”
I sigh with relief. But then why is she sleeping? And why are you, a nurse, there? What else can she be? “Please.” I put a whole world of pleading into that one word.
There’s silence as the nurse thinks. “She’s not got many friends, has she? No visitors have come to see her.” Another brief pause, then, “Look, I’m not telling you anything that’s not been all over the news. There was a bomb thrown into her residence. She’s lucky to be alive, escaped with minor burns and a concussion.”
Fuck! Marc, what have you been doing? “How bad?” I ask through gritted teeth. “Is she gonna be okay?”
“I can’t go into details, sir. But she got off fairly lightly… Oh, sorry, hon, I didn’t mean to wake you.” The last doesn’t sound like it was addressed to me.
Then I hear a murmured conversation, and then to me, “Who is this, please?”
“Heart.” She relays the information, and then a more familiar voice speaks into the phone.
“Heart? Hang on a moment.” More muttering, and then more relaxed, I take it the nurse has been dismissed. “Heart. I was going to call you when they let me out of this place.”
“What the fuck happened?” I need to know. Pleasantries can wait.
A sigh. “I really have no idea. I was up late one night—lucky, if I’d been in bed, well, we wouldn’t be talking. I heard a car, there was a flash and a bang, and my bedroom exploded. The door blew open, knocked me across the room. I lost consciousness and… There was a fire. I didn’t know it, but my neighbour’s a firefighter. He kicked down the door and ran in, luckily pulling me out before I got too badly burned. I’ve got burns to my left arm and a freaking big lump on my head. If he hadn’t come in…” Her voice trails off and I complete the sentence for myself.
Fuck it! Someone does want her dead. A fucking bomb? “When was this?”
“A couple of weeks ago.”
“You’ve been in the hospital for two weeks?” Why hadn’t she let me know? Why the fuck should she?
“Yeah. I played your trick, stayed in a coma for a while. They were worried about the fracture to my skull.”
Sitting on the bed, I cross one leg over the other. I don’t like the words that I’m hearing at all. “Fuck, woman. I told you not to go sticking your nose into things.” If I sound angry, it’s because I am. Another woman in danger because of me. That’s what I’m certain is at the bottom of this. She wouldn’t let things drop and got so far that someone tried to take her out. Permanently.
“I’m a police officer, Heart. It’s what I do.”
Suddenly I’m hyperventilating. “No, this has to stop. Whatever’s going on, you need to pass it on to your superiors and then leave it the fuck alone.”
She sighs. “Great idea, if I knew who to trust, Heart. Please, don’t go on about this. I’ll just be more careful in the future.”
“You’ll have to fuckin’ be.” I’m incensed, and I’m not sure why. I don’t want to talk anymore right now. We’ll only end up arguing, and with a head injury that’s the last thing she’ll need. “Look, I’ll let you get some sleep. I’m sorry for ringing so late, I didn’t realise the time.”
“Please don’t go, Heart. Please.”
It’s a heartfelt plea, she sounds so desolate. The words the nurse had said go through my mind, that she’s had no visitors. When I’d been laid up, my brothers hadn’t left me alone, not even for a minute, one always beside me. I wipe my hand over my face and can’t fail to remember the debt that I owe her. Lowering my voice, I ask more gently, “What do you want from me, Marcia?”
“Marc. Please. You call me Marc.” There’s desperation in her voice, as if I’m her only friend in the world.
She sounds so lonely, but it shouldn’t be me she’s speaking to. “Have you got family to come visit?”
I don’t understand the sob until she explains. “I’ve got no family.”
“Friends?”
A pause, then, “No, not really. Only work colleagues. And in the circumstances, I’d rather not see any of them.”
“Because you can’t trust them.” She’s got no one on her side, that’s why she’s clinging to me, wanting to keep me on the other end of the line. I could do without this, but I do know only too well the loneliness in the middle of the night, and nightmares, of course. If she was any other woman, I’d get one of my brothers to check up on her, but they wouldn’t go near her because of her job.
Partly to assuage the guilt that she got hurt investigating something I already have answers to, I summon up some of the humanity I thought I had lost. Changing the subject, I pick the first thing that occurs to me. “So, darlin’, you never told me. How you get your handle?”
“Marc? I was a tomboy, and that’s what my brother called me.” Past tense again. She said she has no family. It suddenly hits me how she might understand the process of grieving so well.
“You lose him, sweetheart?” One handed, I take out a pack and tap out a cigarette. Reaching for my Zippo, I light it.
“Yes.” Her voice wobbles.
Shit, my aim was to get her talking to cheer her up. Not send her into worse depths of despair. But now I’ve opened that Pandora’s box, I breathe in smoke. “You wanna talk about it?”
As she goes quiet, I give her the space to decide, slowly inhaling and exhaling my nicotine fix.
My cigarette’s half burned down by the time she answers. “You’re lucky, Heart. You have no memory other than Crystal happy and riding behind you on the bike. I remember everything. Every fucking thing.”
I can’t remember having heard her swear before, it takes me by surprise.
She starts speaking in a monotone. There’s hardly any emotion in her voice at all as she relates, “I was eighteen, Heart. We’d gone out on a family outing. Rented a seven-seater, you must know the type. My older brother was driving, my father beside him. In the rear were my mom, my sister, and sister-in-law. I was in the back, my four-year-old nephew sitting next to me. We were making silly faces at each other. I was sticking my tongue out to keep him amused. All the inane things I remember.
“Suddenly, I heard my brother exclaim. We were on a two-lane highway just coming up to the brow of a hill, two Mack trucks were coming in the other direction, you know, one trying to overtake the other, only gaining inches at a time. They were neck to neck as they breached the top.”
I don’t speak, don’t prompt,
just fill in the gaps for myself and let her finish her sad story.
“I was the only survivor. Everyone but my younger sister was dead at the scene. My brother did what he could to evade the truck, but it slammed into us on the driver’s side, we rolled and rolled… I was trapped for hours, hearing my sister’s moans gradually becoming weaker. Trapped with my whole family, and me the only one alive.”
All at once I realise how lucky I am not to have those kinds of memories. Fuck, if I’d seen Crystal injured and had been unable to help her, I’d never have survived. Marc’s a strong fucking woman, there’s no doubt about that.
“How did you do it? How could you come back from that?”
“Like I’ve been telling you, one day at a time, Heart. One day at a time.”
“Are you… are you over it?” If she can recover from that kind of nightmare, perhaps there’s hope for me.
“No. And I never will be. I’ll never stop missing them, wishing I could speak to them, touch them. Wishing they were here with me. But I’ve stopped thinking about it every minute of the day. I’ve stopped longing to have them back, as it’s not possible. I’ll never forget them or the way that it happened, but I survived for a reason, Heart. I have to believe it.”
Jesus. I pull at the strands of my hair. And while she’s injured in the hospital, she’ll be missing them more than ever. How can she do it? “You think there’s a reason to all this? Some greater good to come from surviving? Fuck, woman, I feel your pain, but I can’t comprehend what you’re saying.”
“The driver of the truck that hit us, he walked away without a scratch. The investigation was fucked up. He got off the manslaughter charge on a technicality.” Her voice has gone cold. “It’s what made me do what I do.”
“So you joined the police…?”
“To put the bad guys away. To follow the law and do everything right. To give others the satisfaction that I never had.”
I realise this woman on the end of the phone blows me away. That happened to me? I’d have had my brothers behind me and the truck driver would have died a painful death. But I don’t tell her that. Instead, I tell her the truth. “I think you’re a stronger person than I am.”
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