by Erin Huss
I explained to Mike that I was a doctor there to help him, and he could tell me anything. Mike said he didn’t want help but he was scared. I asked why he was scared, and he replied, “Because I see bad things in my dreams.” I asked what he was referring to, and he said, “I see things that are dead.” When I tried to get more information out of Mike, he stopped playing with the cars, walked to the corner of the room, and put his hands over his ears.
PLAN: It is my recommendations Mike have a full schizophrenia evaluation, and that I meet with Ms. Stopler regularly to deal with her own anxiety.
Oh, my gosh.
I was wrong. Margo wasn’t like me.
Mike was.
Chapter Fourteen
If Mike was like me, then is he still like me? Does Mike have the ability to speak to the dead? Does Mike have other abilities? Can he feel feelings? My mind flashes back to Medium Mind: A Step-by-Step Guide and the sections highlighted about having the ability to see the future. What if Mike knew Drew was going to break into their house and kill Margo?
I gasp.
What if Mike was able to identify Drew because he had a vision of the event before it happened? Oh, my gosh! What if they were going to San Diego because Mike knew Margo was in danger? He knew but he couldn’t save her.
… And please tell him my death is not his fault. I know he didn’t do it …
Is he Mike?
My arms erupt in goose bumps. This is incredible!
I’m not sure what any of this has to do with Sheriff Vance and Handhoff.
My mind works hard to put together the pieces.
But I really, really have to go to the bathroom, and I have a hard time solving puzzles when my bladder is about to explode. I snatch a notebook from the floor and find a broken pencil in a nightstand drawer.
I need to make a list of what I know for sure, and I flip through the book, looking for a blank page. But there isn’t one. What is there is a whole lot of notes from Margo.
She drew her own information web. Except in the center circle it says Brenda.
Holy crap. Have I been trying to solve the wrong murder this entire time?
I turn the page and read through Margo’s notes. She’d scribbled down phone numbers and dates, and there are a lot of words crossed out and phrases that don’t make much sense. But I take a picture of it with my phone anyway.
On the next page Margo wrote a timeline.
Sometime between 9:00 and 9:30 PM: crash occurred.
10:00 PM blue truck arrived at Handhoff Tow Yard.
Handhoff owns the tow yard next door? I guess it makes sense—the German Shepherd all but jumped the fence he was so excited to see Mike, but barked his heart out when he saw me (an intruder).
10:30PM: Vance called in the crash.
10:45PM: ambulance arrived
11:15 PM: I arrived with Mike.
12:01 AM: Brenda removed from vehicle and pronounced dead at the scene.
There’s a seventeen-digit number written down, which Margo has circled three times.
On the next page, Margo taped four pictures. The first is of a white Honda Civic wrapped around a tree, taken at night. The second is of a blue truck with a smashed hood, taken during the day in a tow yard. The third picture is of the deer, and much to my surprise (and relief) she appears injured, but not dead.
The fourth picture is of the seventeen-digit number, and I realize it’s the VIN from the blue truck. Underneath Margo wrote:
Registered to Portia Pepper.
Chapter Fifteen
Portia Pepper, as in Margo’s next-door neighbor. Portia Pepper, as in the woman with the cat café. Portia Pepper, as in Sheriff Vance’s ex-wife! Based on Margo’s notes, she thinks Portia was somehow involved in the car accident. Was the deer a cover-up? And if the truck was towed to Handhoff’s yard, then obviously Handhoff knew about it. Which would explain why Sheriff Vance has given Handhoff immunity all these years. This must be what Portia was hiding!
I need to get out of here. My phone still doesn’t work, but I have other methods of communication. I close my eyes, and visualize a door surrounded by light. I don’t bother asking for anyone by name. I call for help, hoping a spirit will respond.
A spirit who hasn’t killed anyone, preferably.
There’s a chill in the air, and a shiver runs down my spine. My fingertips go numb, and I know I’m no longer alone. There’s a spirit here. I can’t see him, but I can feel him.
“Person, what are you doing?” comes a familiar voice.
I almost cry. Willie MacIntosh, the first spirit I helped. “Willie, I’m so glad you came! How are you?”
“Remember my neighbor, Arnie?”
“The one you hated?”
“He died.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He’s my neighbor here, too.”
I stifle a smile. “That’s unfortunate.”
“He’s just as annoying dead as he was alive. How’s my car?”
Oh, um, gee. I don’t want to tell him a spirit keyed his baby. So I change the subject. “I’m stuck in a storage unit.”
“Did you try opening the door?”
“No, I’ve been sitting here wondering how I’m going to get out. Honestly! Yes, it’s locked.”
“How did this happen?”
I give him a brief rundown of the unfortunate events leading up until now, and he grumbles. I picture him rubbing his temples. “You’re too trusting, Person.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure this event will drum up a whole lot of trust issues. Can you help me?”
“I can’t open doors.”
“There’s another medium I want you to connect with. His name is Mike Handhoff, and he could be around here. Please tell him to open the storage unit.”
“Open the storage unit. Got it.”
“Oh, and please tell him not to be mad at me for breaking into his storage unit.”
“Don’t be mad for breaking in,” Willie repeats. “Got it.”
“Oh, and I’m so sorry about the whole using him thing. And tell him he’s a good kisser.”
“You finally kissed a man?”
“Sure did.”
“Hot damn, look at you being an adult. I’m proud of you, Person. By the way, how’d the Hot Billionaire series end?”
“Judith and Gavin married after she got pregnant.”
“I knew he’d knock her up. I told you that, remember?”
“How can I forget? But, um, can you hurry? Because I really need to go to the bathroom, and I have a killer to catch.”
“Hold tight, Person. I’ll see what I can do.”
Willie’s spirit leaves. I wait, ringing my hands, pacing the room, and working hard to stay calm.
Finally Willie returns. “I found the kid. He’s here in the apartment, arguing with his dad, accusing him of taking a book."
Oh, no. He thinks Handhoff took Medium Mind: A Step-by-Step Guide when I’m the one that did.
“He’s not responding to me, though,” Willie says. “You sure he’s a real medium?”
“No, but I think he is. Try again. Tell him I’m in trouble. Tell him to hurry! Tell him to hurry, hurry, hurry!”
“Okay, but this is hard for me to stay here. Real exhausting.”
“Please.”
Willie leaves and returns again shortly. “Bad news. Mike is unconscious. The other guy knocked him out. You’re going to need to hide near the front.”
“Why?”
The door rolls open and, oh no! It’s Handhoff. He has a jug of lighter fluid in his hand.
Great.
He starts spraying.
“Get ready to get out of there, Person,” Willie says.
I shove the notebook under my shirt and crawl around the back of furniture, getting doused in driblets of gasoline.
I’m near the door, on my hands and knees.
Handhoff pulls the long butane lighter from his pocket and flicks it on. That’s my cue to leave. I make a mad d
ash for it. I can feel the flames against my back and Handhoff running after me. I keep going until Handhoff grabs me by the elbow and spins me around. The notebook falls out from under my shirt. We both look down. I contemplate grabbing it but decide it’s better to live instead and run.
After all, I took pictures of everything.
I get to my car and take off, speeding down the street. When I check the rearview mirror, all I see is fire and no Handhoff.
Oh no, Mike!
I shove the car into reverse and race backwards until I’m up and over the curb right outside the storage place. I jump out of the car and run to the apartment, looking through each window.
“Willie, are you there?” I ask.
“Barely, Person. You need to get out of there.”
“I can’t. Not without Mike. Where is he?”
“In a room with a television.”
I run around to the patio and peek through the window. Mike is lying facedown on the floor, next to a smashed lamp. I pound on the glass with both fists, but he’s not waking up. I look around trying to locate anything to break down the window and find a fire extinguisher.
That’ll work.
I smash the protective glass with my fist. Ouch! I pull out the extinguisher, send it through the patio window, carefully step inside, and fall at Mike’s side.
“Wake up!” I tap his cheek, because that’s what they do in the movies.
He’s not waking, and I can’t carry him!
Smoke billows in under the front door. If Handhoff was upset about Mike keeping Margo’s things, he could have had a bonfire with her belongings. He didn’t need to burn the whole building down! Honestly.
“Wake up! Come on!” Was he shot? Stabbed? I feel around Mike’s body. Nope, just a knock to the head. “Work with me, Mike. Work with me. Up!”
He’s still out cold.
Crap!
I slap him across the face as hard as I can, and he blinks a few times. “Oh good, you’re awake,” I say. “We need to go. The building is on fire.”
“W-what?”
“Time to go!” I pull him by his arm until he’s sitting upright. “Up, up, up.”
He slowly rises to his feet, and I wrap my arm around his waist, and we step through the broken window.
“What’s happening?"
“No time to explain. Get in.” I shove him into my car, and we go.
Fire trucks pass by us one by one by one.
I swerve onto Crawford Street, park at the curb, and turn off my lights. We’re in front of Beth’s house. Not that I plan to visit her now, but if anyone sees me here, it shouldn’t cause any alarm. Beth and I are coworkers, after all.
Mike is struggling to catch his breath. “My dad attacked me. I-I-I …”
“Shhh. Slow down.” I hold his hands. “Take a minute.”
“I-I-I think you might be right about Drew.”
“I wasn’t. Ignore me, please. Drew did kill Margo.”
“But you said he didn’t.”
“I was mistaken, and I’m sorry. Margo wanted you to know that her death wasn’t your fault.”
Mike’s bottom lip quivers. “You talked to Margo?”
“She visited me.”
Mike takes his hands back and rubs his eyes. “I knew you had powers.”
“Yes. Do you?” I ask cautiously.
He looks up at me. “You read about me in Margo’s journals?”
“No, I accidentally grabbed your mother’s journals, which were filled with recipes. I did find a file from your doctor.” I wince, unsure of how he’ll react.
Mike sighs. “I had a hard time as a kid.”
“Did you see dead people?” I ask.
He shrugs.
“Mike, I was the same. I burned down the house trying to make bacon for a dead death row inmate who was denied his last meal. Your mom or Margo printed out the article and saved it in a medical journal.”
“How do you know they had the article?”
“I’ve been trapped in your storage unit for the last hour and found it. I was there when you came in looking for Medium Mind. Why do you have extra locks by the way?”
“My dad has broken the lock a few times, and I keep extra in the dresser … wait, you were there? How’d you know what I was looking for?”
“Um … I can feel feelings.”
“Feel feelings?” Mike arches an eyebrow.
“Yes, I can feel other people’s feelings, and I can see their thoughts as they pertain to their current mood,” I say.
Mike massages the back of his neck, taking this all in. “I thought my dad stole the book. That’s what we were fighting about when he attacked me.”
“Is that why you were so … um … frustrated in the storage unit?”
“You saw that?”
I nod. “I didn’t need to feel your feelings to know you were mad.”
“It’s just …” He pauses to blow out a breath. “I’d been trying to connect with Andrew Foster for the last twenty-four hours, and I haven’t been able to. I thought the book might help me.”
“Oh, my gosh, you’re the reason he was being pulled.”
Mike gives me a look. “Huh?”
“Andrew has been with me. He left right after you locked the storage unit.”
“Wait, was he with you the last time we were here?”
“Yes.”
“And when we were at your house?”
“Yes.”
“And when we kissed?”
“He’s been with me consistently for the last three days.”
Mike drops his face into his hands. “I knew you had powers,” he mumbles.
“Just like you.” I nudge him with my elbow.
“I thought I was crazy,” he says. “I’ve spent the last sixteen years ignoring this. I remember being visited by a deer, and she told me that my mom swerved to miss a blue truck.”
Hold on. “What?”
“The spirit of a deer. She told me the blue truck hit her then spun around a few times, and my mom swerved off the road to avoid being hit and rammed into a tree.”
I work hard not to show emotions. Mike is visited by dead animals. Okay, I didn’t see that one coming. To be fair, I’ve seen the spirit of a dead dog before. He didn’t talk, but that’s neither here nor there.
“Have you ever seen the spirit of a person?” I ask.
Mike shakes his head. “Just animals. A lot of animals. And … sometimes I can see glimpses of the future.”
“Did you see what was going to happen to Margo?”
Mike shifts in his seat. “When I told her about the deer and the blue truck, she didn’t believe me because, well, what sane person would? She took me to a few doctors, and they tried different medications. My memories are blurry, but I can vaguely recall Margo’s childhood cat visiting me, and when I told her about it, she came around to the idea.” He laughs. “It sounds ridiculous.”
“Not to me.”
“It does to me,” he says, studying his hands. “The Mercedes man you asked about. That was an ex-boyfriend of Margo’s, and he used to be a private investigator. She asked him for help finding the blue truck, but she never told me if he found out who it belonged to.”
“She had a notebook with all the information in it. Didn’t you look through her stuff?”
He gives a feeble shake of his head. “Too painful. The truth is she’s dead because of me.”
“Why would you say that?”
“I had the vision of her death at least six weeks before it happened. It was so clear. I even saw the face of Andrew Foster. He lifted the mask to get a better look at a piece of jewelry. I saw him rummaging through our stuff. I saw him get freaked when Margo entered the home, and I saw him hit her on the back of the head with a big candlestick. I thought the break-in happened during the day, because in my vision, it was light out. I’d told her the attack would happen during the day. But I must been confused. There’s no way she would have tried to fend off the intruder if s
he’d thought she would die.”
“You were so young, Mike. That’s a heavy vision to have.”
“I know, but if I had gotten it right she would still be here. We were leaving that night. Margo came home from work, threw all our stuff into big trash bags, and told me we were moving. We’d gone to the store to buy boxes, so she could ship our stuff to wherever we were going. When we returned, Margo told me to go get the mail. When I got in the house, she was dead, and I saw the man in the black mask running away.”
So that explains why Mike wasn’t in Portia’s memory.
“Oh, Mike. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was.” He looks out the window. “When you told me Andrew Foster didn’t kill Margo, I thought I got that wrong, too. I’ve tried to ignore this ability of mine for so many years. When I heard the rumors about you claiming to be able to speak to the dead, I didn’t think you were crazy like every other idiot in this town thought. I figured if you weren’t hiding your powers then I shouldn’t hide mine. I thought you and I could work together. But I can’t talk to dead people.”
I smile. “Well, I can't speak to dead animals. So maybe we do make a good team?”
Mike frowns and his eyes go distant. “We’re going to a small gray room.”
“Huh?”
“I see us in a small gray room, but not together.”
After spending hours in a storage closet, I have no desire to spend any time in any small room of any color.
“And we’re both in cuffs,” he says.
Cuffs?
The vein on Mike’s neck pulses again. “We’re about to be arrested.”
Flashing red and blue lights appear behind us, and I turn around.
It’s Sheriff Vance.
Chapter Sixteen
How many times is Sheriff Vance going to try to arrest me? It’s like déjà freaking vu!
“Oh, good,” Mike says with a sigh. “It’s just Vance. We’ll be fine.”
