Back to Salem

by Alex Marcoux

  “Sure. Sorry that your special occasion was ruined last night.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I guess we haven’t spoken since the preview. I thought you did a wonderful job.”

  “Thanks. Oh…I almost forgot, Travis knows about us.”

  “Really? How?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I asked him not to tell anyone. I wish I could trust him more.”

  “Travis? He’s a little rough around the edges, but I think you can trust him.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  At the police station, Detective Perry pulled the case file, and then sat with Taylor and Jessie. “Well, Ms. Andrews, I’ve reviewed the complaint Mr. Rutledge filed regarding the letters and all. I also interviewed the suspect.” Detective Perry laid a mug shot down on the table for Taylor and Jessie to look at. “I’ve got to tell you—I don’t think he’s responsible for all your troubles.”

  As Jessie looked at the photograph of the young man, she knew the detective was right.

  “What’s his story?” Jessie asked.

  “His name is Brian Cambridge. He’s a senior at Central High. He claims that someone hired him to follow Ms. Andrews around and make some harassing phone calls. But that’s pretty much it. He says that he was warned not to hurt her in any way, just scare her.”

  “Who hired him?” Taylor asked.

  “That’s where his story gets a little fuzzy. He claims that he met the person in a chat room on the Internet.”

  “A chat room?” Taylor asked.

  “Apparently the kid was in a room discussing violence in schools. Somehow, a dialog started between the boy and someone else, who later propositioned him. He, or she for that matter, suggested that Brian make harassing phone calls to Ms. Andrews in exchange for cash. The kid agreed. He was provided with a phone number, which I’ve confirmed is your cell number, Ms. Andrews.”

  “How was the money exchanged?”

  “The kid got $100 cash in the mail, along with a note suggesting more would come if he did a good job. The kid said he made a few phone calls, then received another $100 cash with a note to go to another chat room at a specified time. And that’s how they’ve communicated each time. He would go into a chat room; this other suspect always approached him, then they moved to a private chat room. Brian said that he or she always had a different screen name.”

  “So this kid admits that he made some phone calls and followed Taylor around?”

  “Those are the only things he admitted to.”

  “Taylor, you said the subject matter of the letters and phone calls was the same, right?” Jessie asked.

  “Yeah. Always the same.”

  “The kid claims he was instructed on what to say on the phone through their chat room discussions. He wrote it down and repeated a few phrases over and over. The kid was pretty scared. He knew he was in over his head. The Buick Century wasn’t even his car. It was his father’s company car.”

  “Did his parents ever own a Mustang?” Jessie asked.

  “No. I already checked that. It’s very possible that he hired someone else last year.”

  “Did the kid say why he ran into Jessie’s car?” Taylor asked.

  “Yes. Brian admitted that he got scared and panicked.”

  Jessie studied the detective. “You believe him, don’t you?”

  The detective nodded. “I do believe him. I don’t think he did it all. I don’t think he’s a threat to Ms. Andrews now. But…there’s someone else out there that may be.”

  A couple hours later, Taylor and Jessie were sitting at Taggart’s waiting for their dinner to be served. The hostess had given them a private table away from other customers. Taylor had remained quiet since they left the police station. From beneath the table, Jessie took Taylor’s hand in her own, the tablecloth obscuring their affection from view. Taylor smiled at the contact.

  “Are you okay?” Jessie asked.

  “Much better, now.”

  “We’ll get this guy.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure we will. I just don’t want to see anyone get hurt in the meantime. Especially you.”

  “I’m not going to get hurt.” Jessie removed her hand from Taylor’s. She looked in her purse in the booth beside her and removed something. “I wanted to give you this last night.” She placed a long slender box in front of Taylor on the table.

  Taylor grinned as she eyed the brown box. “What is it?”

  “Open it.”

  Taylor lifted the lid. From beneath a cotton lining she picked up a hand-carved wooden ankh. For a moment, Taylor’s vision distorted. As she stared at the ankh her world dimmed, then her hands morphed into another woman’s hands; those much rougher than her own and lacking the French cut manicure she had. Taylor ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the aged maple amulet. She turned the ankh over, noticing the initials “RJ” carved in the back of the wood. The coarse hands transitioned back to her smooth manicured long fingers. Her hands began shaking.

  “Taylor, what’s wrong?”

  Taylor closed her eyes and whispered, “I don’t know. I…” A moment later her eyes opened. “That was strange.”

  “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure. I just started to see…things that aren’t here.” Taylor looked around the restaurant, and then returned her attention to the wooden object. “Where did you get this?”

  “In an antique store, near Salem, Massachusetts.”

  “Salem? When did you go there?”

  “I went back to Salem about three years ago.”

  “Back to Salem? You’ve been there before, I take it?”

  “No. I don’t know why I said that,” Jessie lied. “I was doing some research on the Salem witch trials. I spent a day in Andover, which is about fourteen miles from Salem. I wandered into an antique store and the ankh was in a display case, marked ‘not for sale.’ I’m not usually into antiques, but there was something about it that called to me.”

  “If it was not for sale, how did you get it?”

  “Oh…everything’s for sale for the right price. I started asking the owner questions about it. He said that it belonged to one of the women that went to trial.”

  “This is interesting. I’ve always been intrigued with the Salem witch trials…as well as outraged,” Taylor admitted. “Did you know that 19 people were executed? They arrested over a hundred people. It’s outrageous. It was a terrible social injustice, and yet…most people aren’t aware of what really happened. It would make a good book.”

  “I take it you’ve read a lot on the subject.”

  “I have. Some theorize that mold from the grain that year produced LSD, and that the LSD caused afflictions in some girls. These young women pointed their fingers at people, alleging that they were witches, and the source of their suffering. This is what started the hysteria that led to the witch-hunt.”

  “Interesting,” Jessie said.

  “What were you doing research on?”

  Jessie hesitated, and then continued. “My lineage. I learned that a family member was arrested during the trials and I wanted to find out what happened to her.”

  “Did you?”

  Jessie shook her head. “I know she was arrested and sent to trial. I’m not clear on the outcome, though.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Rebecca…Rebecca Johnson.”

  Taylor turned the wooden object over. Her fingers traced the “RJ” carved in the ankh. “Was it hers?”

  Jessie shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t know.”

  “Jessie, I can’t take this.”

  “I want you to have it, Taylor. Please.”

  Chapter 22

  The following Friday night, Jessie was the keynote speaker during the opening reception for a writer’s conference being held in Orange County. Her speech was to be given after a buffet dinner. Taylor had been in New York City most of the week, so Jessie was looking forward to seeing her after the reception.


  Taylor arrived at LAX about eight o’clock that evening. She collected her belongings and took a limo to her home. It was about eight thirty when she arrived at the security gate. After punching in her code, the gate opened and the limo drove up to the house.

  Even through the large trees that landscaped the property, it was clear the house was lit up. As she entered her house, she was surprised that so many lights were on. From upstairs, she heard music playing. “Jessie?” she called upstairs. But there was no response.

  It was then she noticed the opened bottle of cabernet on the foyer table at the bottom of the spiral staircase. A single glass stood next to the bottle. She smiled, realizing that Jessie must be waiting for her in bed. Taylor poured a glass, took a sip, and turned to the stairwell. She smiled when she saw the delicate white rose petals on the stairs leading to her bedroom. The petals stopped at the top of the stairs, and candles illuminated the rest of her way. She must have missed me. The door was ajar and the music was louder now.

  Taylor took a sip of wine and pressed open the door. A gentle breeze flowed from the open deck door, candles lit the room, and fresh white roses were spread over the bed. The music seemed a little loud for the occasion, so she went to the music system and turned the volume down. Taylor saw the light beneath her bathroom door. Anticipating that Jessie was waiting for her in the bathtub she went to the bathroom door and was about to turn the doorknob when the phone rang.

  Taylor went to the telephone. “Hello.”

  “Hi, sweetheart,” Jessie said over the handset. “When did you get in?”

  “Jessie!? Where are you?”

  Jessie detected a note of concern in Taylor’s voice. “I’m on my way back from the conference. I should be there in about fifteen minutes. You okay?”

  Taylor turned around. She stared at the light beneath the bathroom door. “Jessie, when did you do the wine and candles?” A gust of wind came in from the deck screen doors, blowing out some of the candles, the room quickly dimming. The hair on the back of her neck stood.

  “What candles? What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, God. Someone’s in the house.” Taylor’s heart began to race.

  “Get the hell out of there. I’ll call the police, just leave now!”

  A loud noise from inside the bathroom startled Taylor. She dropped the phone and ran out of the room and down the stairwell. From behind, there was a sporadic thud and knock. But she never looked back and kept running, through her kitchen and mudroom and into her garage. She quickly flicked the light switch, and went to her Porsche. Inside the car, she pushed the garage door opener but nothing happened. A second attempt confirmed that the door wasn’t going to open.

  Taylor reached for the keys in the center console, where she always left them, but they weren’t there, instead she found a plain white envelope with “Taylor” printed on the outside.

  Taylor’s heart was pounding so hard it hurt her throat. Mustering up every ounce of strength, she opened the envelope.

  Taylor,

  Now that I have taken care of Kurk, the two of us can be together, forever.

  I.D.

  Tears swelled in her eyes. She dropped the note, got out of the car and ran to the garage door’s manual lever. She pulled the handle until her hand hurt, but it wouldn’t budge. Then she tried to open the other garage door, but it, too, was jammed. She never saw the crowbars wedged in the tracks, preventing the door from opening.

  Taylor was trapped. She knew the only way to escape was back through the house. Her heart pounded wildly as she climbed the stairs that lead her back toward the intruder. With no exit in the garage, she didn’t feel she had another choice. I hope I’m doing the right thing, she thought as she placed her hand on the doorknob and turned it.

  Jessie called the police immediately after she got off the phone with Taylor. The thought that Taylor was in trouble and Jessie was unable to help overwhelmed her. She raced to Malibu breaking all speed limits, running every stop sign and ignoring every traffic light. Jessie was about a quarter of a mile from the property when she saw the police at the security gate. A patrol car blocked the entrance of the driveway. Jessie honked at the police officers to move, but they did not budge.

  “I’m sorry Miss, this is a secured area. We can’t let you in,” one police officer said.

  “I’m the one who called the police. I need to get up there,” Jessie yelled.

  “We’re sorry, Miss. We have our orders,” the older man said.

  Jessie parked her loaner car, hopped out and proceeded to run past the officers at the driveway entrance. The younger officer quickly blocked her from getting past them. “I guess we didn’t make ourselves clear. This is a crime scene. Nobody goes in or out.”

  The words crime scene scared Jessie. The overpowering feeling of helplessness consumed her. In desperation Jessie asked, “Is Perry here?”

  “Yes. He’s at the house,” the older officer said. He seemed surprised.

  “Call him and tell him Jessica Mercer is on her way up.” Jessie passed the officer and continued walking up the driveway. She wondered if they were going to come after her. She heard an officer use the radio.

  A couple minutes later the patrol car drove up next to Jessie. “Get in,” the older officer said. “Perry wants me to take you to him.”

  Three patrol cars were parked in front of the house. Jessie got out of the car and ran into the mansion. “Taylor,” she yelled as she crossed the threshold.

  “In here!” Detective Perry yelled, his voice coming from the kitchen.

  The kitchen was empty, but shadows in a hallway led her to the mudroom where she found Perry. “Where is she?”

  “We don’t know. We just got here, too.”

  “Hey Perry, look at this,” a male voice called from the garage.

  Jessie went into the garage with Perry. Two officers were looking at the garage doors while one held up a piece of paper for Perry to read. Curious as ever, it was Jessie who read the note aloud: “ ‘Now that I have taken care of Kurk, the two of us can be together.’ Shit!”

  “What does this mean? Who’s Kurk?” Perry asked.

  “It means Kurk Warner was murdered,” Jessie said. She turned to go back into the house.

  “Here’s blood,” an officer said. The officer followed a trail of blood along the concrete and up the stairs. “There’s some on the doorknob, too.”

  Jessie brushed past the policeman and went back to the foyer. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the open bottle of cabernet at the base of the stairwell. She bolted up the stairs, passing the rose petals and candles. As she approached the bedroom, she heard voices and music. Abruptly, she rushed into the room only to find two young officers with guns drawn on her.

  “Freeze,” one of them called out nervously.

  From behind, Jessie heard Perry talk. “Roberts! Rodriguez! Relax—she’s with me.”

  The officers lowered their guns.

  “She’s not here?” Jessie asked.

  One of the officers pointed to the bathroom door. “The door is locked. We were just going to break it in.”

  Perry nodded and the man went to the door, gun in hand. As Jessie stared at the door, her mind went crazy thinking of what could lay on the other side. The officer pounded the door and on the third bashing, it opened. They went in guns drawn.

  Jessie followed the officers. The first thing she noticed was marbles spread all over the floor. An overturned silk flower arrangement that had been on a platform beside the whirlpool tub had fallen to the floor. The curtains on the window next to the platform blew gently in the wind.

  “The wind must have knocked over the arrangement,” Perry surmised.

  “But where is she?” Jessie asked.

  Another officer joined the group in the large bathroom. “We’ve searched the house. There’s no sign of her.”

  “This isn’t right.” Jessie left the bathroom and looked around the bedroom. Candles were spread around the room. Some wer
e lit while most had blown out by the wind through the deck door. The telephone handset lay on the bed amid white rose petals. Random music was playing from Taylor’s iPod Shuffle, blasting on a Bose SoundDock system. Where are you Taylor? She opened the screen door and wandered out onto the deck that overlooked the beach and ocean. Where are you?

  As Jessie stood overlooking the beach, the iPod shuffled and started playing “Daniel’s Heart.” Jessie closed her eyes, and within seconds, she felt warmth and fullness in her chest. She had grown accustomed to the heart connection with Taylor, at times taking it for granted. Feeling their connection, she wondered if she had it within to get more information which could lead her to Taylor.

  Eyes closed, Jessie prayed for insight to her whereabouts. At first, the light flashed and then colors came to Jessie’s third eye. Her heart started beating wildly. Anxiety and fear came upon her. There was pain in her right hand and in Jessie’s mind’s eye she saw Taylor’s right hand turning the doorknob. It was bleeding.

  Jessie felt Taylor’s terror as she opened the door from the garage and ran through the mudroom, kitchen and out the front door. At first, the darkness swallowed Jessie, but as Taylor’s eyes adjusted to the light, so did Jessie’s and as if Jessie were Taylor, she fully experienced her girlfriend’s plight. Jessie saw the ground she ran on and recognized the steps that led from the back of the house down to the beach.

  As Taylor ran down the steps, she sporadically looked up toward the house. Jessie could feel Taylor’s fear that someone was following her. She missed the last step, and fell hard to the beach sand and rocks, skinning her knee. Frantically, Taylor got to her feet and bolted down the beach, eyeing a neighbor’s gazebo. Taylor turned and glanced back toward the house to see if someone was following, but Jessie’s need to go to Taylor brought her back to reality.

  Jessie opened her eyes. Quickly, she looked toward the neighbor’s gazebo, but it was too dark to see anything. Without saying a word to the police officers, she bolted through the bedroom, down the stairs and out the front door. Frantically, she retraced the steps that her mind’s eye had revealed to her. Once on the beach, she repeatedly called for her. “Taylor? Taylor? Taylor?”