They walked along crunchy gravel paths, uneven sandy stretches, and a well-maintained trail of reddish sand. They crossed a small metal footbridge, paused when a startled jackrabbit loped down the path and into a bank of tall brush, and kept their senses peeled for signs from the woman who had been lost out here for well over a decade.
Off one of the trails, a wide sandy area suddenly opened up to their left. An unexplainable sensation caused Riley to veer off the man-made trail and onto the soft soil interspersed with little tufts of grasses. Beyond the soil stood a wall of vegetation—a combination of spindly brush, swaying cattails, and the occasional screwbean tree. In front of one such tree stood Emery. Her yellow dress was such a bright spot of color amongst all the green and brown, it was mind-boggling that no one could see her but Riley.
She only got halfway to Emery when she stopped in her tracks. Emery’s red-painted lips weren’t turned up in a smile anymore.
Olivia let out a gust of breath just behind her, placing a hand on Riley’s shoulder to steady herself. Then she placed her other hand on her own chest. “God. She’s … so damn … miserable. Sorrowful. Dejected.”
Riley nodded, swallowing down the lump in her throat. Even Carol at the thrift shop, who wasn’t a sensitive by her own admission, had sensed Emery’s sadness. Riley had seen it etched on Emery’s face when she’d stood forlornly at the foot of Riley’s bed. That had all been a fraction of what poured off Emery now.
“This is the spot,” Nina said, who stood beside Riley, her gaze sweeping the area but always skirting over the exact spot where Emery stood. Nina glanced behind them to where the pair of agents stood on the path, watching them silently. She pointed in Emery’s general direction. “She’s here.”
Samson’s expression was unreadable as he said, “Get as close as you can without disturbing anything.”
Nina eyed Riley. “You’ll be able to find the spot better than we can. I’ll stay with Olivia.”
Olivia still had a hand on Riley’s shoulder. “If we get bitten by snakes, I’m going to be so angry.”
Gently stepping away from Olivia, her hand falling away, Riley glanced back at her. Though her tone was light, Olivia had paled. Nina took Riley’s spot beside her and wrapped an arm around Olivia’s middle, giving her support.
“I’ve got her,” Nina said.
With a nod, Riley walked toward Emery. She hadn’t moved from her spot on the edge of the vegetation line, the branches of the screwbean tree her backdrop. When she reached her, Riley asked, “Can you show me the exact spot?”
Emery stepped forward, her bare feet on the sandy ground, though they stayed clean. One step, two, three. She stopped and looked down at the chipped white polish on her own toes, a few tufts of grass poking between them. The spot was covered in moss, grasses, and rocks. Nothing about it stood out as a sixteen-year-old graveside.
“I’ve got it!” she called out but didn’t take her eyes off Emery, who slowly backed up to where she’d been before, partially obscured by the foliage. She leveled her curious gaze at the approaching men. Riley put her own feet squarely on the spot Emery had indicated.
“And this is the exact spot?” Lee asked, his tone dubious.
Emery gave her a confirming nod.
“Yep,” said Riley.
The men placed their shovels on the ground, then removed their packs and plopped them into the sand. They squatted and unzipped the bags. Both strapped on gloves. Samson pulled out a device that Riley supposed could be anything from a metal detector to ground-penetrating radar.
Lee moved his bag off to the side and eyed Riley, picking up his shovel as he did so. “We’ve got it for now. We’ll just need some space.”
Nodding to them both, and to Emery, Riley walked back to Nina and Olivia. Olivia sat on the path, her legs crossed. Her head was in her hands, and elbows on her knees.
Nina was squatted in front of her.
“You okay?” Riley asked.
When Olivia finally lifted her head, her eyes were red, tears threatening to fall. “My grandpa was one of my best friends. He died unexpectedly in a car accident when I was twelve. Drunk driver. It was my first experience with grief. But I was also experiencing the grief of my family. Everyone was devastated. The emotions coming off Emery aren’t as bad as what happened when I was twelve, but it’s the worst I’ve felt since then.”
Even if Riley had clairsentience to some degree like Olivia did, she was selfishly glad in that moment that it wasn’t her dominant clair. Experiencing her own emotions was hard enough, thanks.
“Are you getting anything from her other than sadness?” Nina asked.
Olivia sniffed and tried to sit up straight, doing her best to concentrate amidst the onslaught of emotions. She closed her watery eyes. “It’s … she’s not just sad. It’s … betrayal. She blames herself for what happened. She blames him too, obviously. But she feels guilty that she ended up here.”
“Stay put until you can move,” Nina told her. “Breathe. Don’t rush it.”
Olivia nodded, sniffing hard again.
Riley and Nina stood, facing the men. The shovels slid into the earth, the sound of the spades slicing into the moist earth somehow comforting. It meant something was happening, that Emery was only a few shovelfuls of dirt away. The men stood six feet from each other, Emery directly between them in the distance. They settled into a rhythm, Samson’s spade sliding into the earth while Lee dumped his shovelful to the left of the growing hole. Back and forth—shovel, dump, shovel, dump.
Riley’s anticipation of what they would find, the hope she felt with this new bit of progress, warred with the tangle of emotion—sadness, guilt, self-loathing, devastation—coming off Emery. The more they dug, the stronger her emotions grew. Emery was undoubtedly stronger here than she’d ever been in Riley’s apartment, Jade’s garage, or Carol’s thrift shop. But just like in the grocery store with the pissed-off poltergeist, the mounting wave of energy from the spirit was causing Riley’s own to rise up to meet Emery’s. The closer the men got with their shovels, the more Riley was unable to tell where her emotions ended and Emery’s began.
You’re okay, she told herself. You’re okay.
But she didn’t feel okay.
She felt like she was being suffocated. It was grief, she realized. Just like Olivia had said. But it was Emery’s grief over the loss of herself. Over the life she could have lived if she’d made different decisions. Her chest and throat were tight.
Riley wanted to tell Emery that the fault lay entirely at the feet of the man who had robbed her of that life. That no matter what had put her in that man’s path, it wasn’t her fault that she trusted another human being to be decent. Yet Riley couldn’t project that thought any more than she could speak the words. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sob. She couldn’t pull enough air into her lungs.
Olivia let out an agonized groan, got to her feet, and stalked down the path, unable to take it. Maybe Olivia could have handled Emery’s emotions, but with Riley’s heightened as well, Olivia had to flee. Riley wanted to apologize, but she couldn’t get that out either.
Nina grabbed hold of Riley’s upper arms and gave her a quick bodily shake.
Riley’s watery gaze locked on Nina’s. It was like the time in the cellar all over again. Emery was nothing but a smear of yellow in the distance now. When Riley blinked, tears slid down her face.
“Focus,” Nina said firmly. “Don’t let her emotions crowd out your own. Find the root of those emotions. She’s been waiting for this for sixteen years. Center yourself and listen to her.”
Riley nodded, the rest of the tears immediately chased away by the shock of Nina’s sharp words. Nina was always a soothing presence, but Riley suspected that Nina’s claircognizance told her that what Riley needed was a verbal slap to the face.
Focus. Listen.
“Trust yourself and Emery both,” Nina said, her usual, softer tone resurfacing. “I’ve gotta go make sure Olivia didn’t
get eaten by snakes.”
When Nina let go and walked away, it was like having a warm blanket ripped off her. She glanced over her shoulder, watching Nina go, wanting to follow.
Her sixth sense tingled and she faced forward again, finding Emery standing a mere foot from her. Emery’s jaw clenched, her hands balled into fists by her sides. Riley’s fight-or-flight instinct was still leaning toward flight, like it had in the store when she’d been cornered by the angry ghost stalking her through the aisles like a predator. Who had snuck up on her. Who had seemed pissed at her.
In this case, Riley knew without a doubt that she wasn’t the target of Emery’s fury. Find the root of those emotions. She’s been waiting for this for sixteen years. Center yourself and listen to her.
Relaxing the tension in her shoulders, Riley blew out a long shaky breath. “Can you tell me what happened? Was it John Anderson?”
Emery cocked her head, clearly confused.
Did she just not know the name?
Riley fumbled to get her purse open with her quaking hands. It felt like the time she’d downed an energy drink before a job interview and had the shakes so badly, they’d probably thought she partook in recreational drugs. She took out the picture of Emery and held it up for the woman to see. “That’s you. Did John Anderson take this picture? Is that who did this to you?”
Beyond Emery, the agents were still busily digging. If they noticed Riley having a conversation with a ghost, they didn’t acknowledge it.
Emery’s forehead creased. Her image flickered for a moment, like a glitching picture on a TV screen. Riley had a flashback of little Pete in her living room when he’d tried so desperately to manifest using his quickly dwindling energy. The last time Emery had tried to speak to Riley, it had been in Jade’s garage. Even Jade had felt the drop in temperature as Emery attempted to pull in energy, yet she’d only managed a single word before the effort had caused her to wink out of existence—at least visually.
“Show me,” Riley said quickly, concerned that if Emery kept trying to use speech to communicate, she’d burn out her ghostly battery. “Think in pictures. If it wasn’t Anderson who did this to you, show me who did.”
Emery thought about that a moment, then nodded and closed her eyes.
Almost instantly, images popped into Riley’s head.
Emery sat on top of what appeared to be a boulder. A quick scan of her person revealed that the dress she wore was forest green, not yellow. Looking down from her perch, a handsome man in his forties peered up at her with an expression of longing so deep, even Riley’s breath hitched. Though, while Emery’s stomach had flipped at the sight of the man, Riley’s had flopped.
If Riley hadn’t already known that Emery was a modern woman who had lived only sixteen years ago, this man would have made her think this memory was from the ’70s. He wore a short-sleeved white shirt tucked into high-waisted tidy brown slacks. The pants were held up by a white belt, and on his feet were brown tassel loafers. The only thing out of place with the ensemble was his very light blond hair, which had been styled into a neat buzz cut.
He held out a hand and helped Emery off the boulder. He smiled warmly at her. Emery had no doubt been attracted to him—and something akin to hope was flitting about as well, but Riley’s instinct was to recoil from his touch. He was too close, held onto her hand for too long, and peered down the front of her dress with a little gleam in his brown eyes.
They spoke, the words slipping past Riley like sand through her fingers. Perhaps after this long, the memories of what he’d said had been lost to Emery, too.
The man handed Emery a business card. She took it, the white polish on her nails matching the crisp white of the card.
Bruce Trager
BT Photoworks
Headshots ~ Graduations ~ Weddings
A voice rang out in her head then. A male voice. “Oh, and if we do end up working together, might I suggest that you wear yellow?”
Riley stumbled back, breaking the memory. She tried to organize her thoughts, remembering her first dream of Emery. Of her preparing to get ready to meet Bruce who had texted her, the pair excited about their meeting. They’d planned to meet in a parking lot first. He’d asked what she was wearing, and she’d said yellow, just as he requested.
“Were you coming out here for a photoshoot?” Riley finally asked.
Emery nodded, then closed her eyes again.
The images that filled Riley’s mind were of Emery arriving in the same parking lot the agents’ SUV sat in. It was late—or possibly early—when she arrived. Faint hints of color dotted the horizon. Now that Riley knew what it looked like here in the early morning, her guess was that Emery had arrived in early evening. The parking lot was empty except for one other car. She got out of her own and locked the door, dropping her keys inside her purse. Glancing into her back seat, she spotted her laptop bag. In her haste to get home from work, shower, and then to the park to meet Bruce, she’d forgotten to bring it back inside. No matter. She’d get it later. She pulled out her phone at the sound of a chime.
Bruce: I’m in the blue sedan.
Emery looked up, noting the car on the other side of the lot. Her phone beeped again.
Bruce: I brought a bunch of gear with me. Could you help me carry some of it? I might have gone overboard. I guess I want to make up for the idiot who thought he had the chops to photograph a beauty of your caliber.
Emery had flushed at the compliment. Riley’s heart was in her throat.
The sound of the trunk popping open pulled Emery’s attention away from her phone one last time. Stuffing her phone back into her purse, she walked across the lot to the car. She wore delicate yellow flats.
The man, Bruce, hadn’t gotten out of the car yet, so Emery made her way to the trunk to grab a few items. She noted with some curiosity that the license plate had been removed. Looking inside the trunk, she found it empty. Not even an umbrella lay inside. Now Emery’s dread matched Riley’s.
The heat of someone behind her. A finger pressed into a sensitive pressure point. Vision tunneling to black. Something pierced Emery’s neck and she swayed on her feet. Bruce Trager’s charming smile had morphed into a predatory leer. He bodily shoved her into the trunk. Emery’s legs were weak, her stomach sick. It had all happened so fast.
It was clear to Riley and Emery both that he’d done this before, and their dread doubled.
Emery’s vision came and went in fuzzy waves.
He aggressively snatched her purse from her, making sure her phone and keys were inside. “Can’t have you trying to run off now, can I?” He looked away from her for a moment. “Did you leave anything in that car of yours? I’ll check it before we head out. We’re going to have such a good time together, but I need to make sure we won’t get interrupted.”
Emery could only groan in pain.
“So beautiful,” he said, his tone adoring. He stood at the trunk with both hands on the door, her purse hung from his shoulder. “Anders was right. You were worth every penny.”
Emery’s vision solidified for long enough that she noted the Amity Trucking logo on his crisp navy blue polo shirt. Then the door slammed shut, throwing her into total darkness. Unconsciousness followed a second later.
Riley gasped and stumbled back so forcibly, her heel caught on the thin line of wood that lined this section of the path and she almost fell. She righted herself, then placed her hands on her knees, taking in deep pulls of air into her nose.
That fucking monster.
She stood, eyes closed, rubbing her own stomach in slow, methodical circles to help calm the churning nausea. She was honestly unsure if her sick stomach was because of her disgust at what had happened to Emery, or the memory of the drug that had been shot into Emery’s neck.
When she finally opened her eyes, Emery still stood there, expectant. Her out-of-control emotions had settled a bit now that she’d shared this with someone. Nina and Olivia hadn’t returned yet.
As the t
hreat of throwing up passed, Riley’s mind went into hyperdrive, trying to piece it all together. The camera, the surveillance pictures, John Anderson, rangefinderanders, Bruce’s declaration that Emery had been worth the money.
“There are two of them,” Riley said to Emery, since she was currently the only one in earshot. “Anders tails women and collects information on them. He did that with Carter, too. He watched him long enough to figure out when he’d be out of town. Either Anders collects information on women to sell it to whoever wants it, or people like Bruce pay him to collect it. I don’t think Anders is the killer. He’s the collector. Bruce is the one who does the dirty work.”
She started to pace on the path, the reddish sand crunching under her tennis shoes. Emery still stood in her peripheral vision.
“Anders must have seen that picture of you in the paper and figured Carter either had access to his recently lost cameras, or at least the film that had come out of one of them,” Riley said. “Since both you and Shawna were on the roll, he must have realized that the person who had the film developed potentially has incriminating evidence that could be used against him. Not only for himself, since at least two women he took surveillance photos of ended up dead or missing, but for the person who either hired him for the specific task of stalking women, or who had purchased the information Anders had collected for the sake of selling it.”
The idea that someone like Anders had been in Carter’s house made her stomach churn all over again. There was no way to know if Anders himself was as violent as Bruce, but he at the very least was morally corrupt.
“We got something!”
She whirled toward the agents. Emery had materialized across the sandy expanse again, hidden amongst the foliage.
Riley started running before she realized she’d made the decision. The pounding of footsteps told her Nina and Olivia were on their way, too.
Samson was torso-deep in a hole, bent over—Riley could only see his back.
Shuttered Secrets Page 33
