The Haunted Reckoning

by Michelle Dorey

  How many fathers turned a blind eye to their kid’s antics. Getting in fights was normal enough. But Cory had bullied and beat that crippled Graham kid so much that the parents threatened to sue. The kid had been a loser just like his old man. Cory having a hate-on for him was...well it was understandable. But he’d gotten caught. That was unforgivable.

  At least with the neighborhood cats, he’d been a little more discreet.

  But this. Killing his wife and daughter? The woman had been an immigrant so she didn’t count but the little girl? That was his own flesh and blood. He’d only held his granddaughter once after she was born. Cory should have taken the offer of a job and house in Poughkeepsie rather than totally lose his shit. Some family reunion that had been.

  He rolled his eyes at the memory. He had sucked it up and lined up a job for the boy. A hell of a lot better one than what he had going on at that stupid nightclub. But no…the kid had started in on him as soon as he realized that Dad wasn’t bringing in a fat check, just a job offer.

  From there things got even louder. The neighbors in that shitty subdivision had called the cops and that ended his relationship with his son.

  And now the kid was back asking for his help.

  Michael sat back in his chair and folded his hands across his belly.

  Fuck ‘im.

  If the cops dug up any dirt about his own past, the kid was toast. If anything from his own past came back to haunt him, he’d cut a deal and turn Cory in so fast it’d make their heads spin.

  He snorted, finally admitting to himself that stashing Cory wasn’t so much looking after his boy as maintaining an insurance policy.

  It was survival of the fittest, and it was beginning to look like his son wasn’t gonna make it.

  Chapter 19

  LATER THAT NIGHT PAIGE ARRIVED BACK AT HER MOTHER’S HOUSE and found a piece of paper wedged into the crack of the doorframe. She plucked it from the spot and unfolded it, holding it under the glow of the overhead light.

  Hi Paige. I heard from Jenny that your mom is sick. I would have called you, but I lost all my contacts when my cell phone took a swim in the toilet. Call me when you get in. I’d love to see you! If there’s anything I can do for you or your mother, I’m here.

  555 577 6732

  Hannah

  She smiled seeing Hannah’s hand-drawn sad-face emoji. Of all the friends she’d made while living in the small town, Hannah was the only one who made a real effort, trying to stay in touch. She was the center of the hub, passing along updates of the gang of friends who had scattered across the country like dandelion fluff.

  Maybe in a day or so, once her mother was home again, she’d give Hannah a call to catch up. Paige entered the house and locked the door behind her. As she was hanging up her jacket she noticed the light creeping out from under the spare room again.

  Her eyes squinted as she traced her actions before she’d left the house. Karen had stayed until almost noon. After she’d left, it had been a mad rush to get ready to get back to the hospital. There was no way she’d gone into that spare room. She distinctly recalled turning the light off and closing the door there shortly after she’d got up.

  Yet the light was on in there, once again.

  She walked down the hallway and opened the door. Her gaze immediately flew to the sea chest. Again it was open, the lid resting against the wall. A shiver skittered up her spine as she stood peering at it. That had definitely been closed when she’d left the room. She remembered feeling guilty looking into it. She’d been invading her mother’s privacy; there was no getting around that fact.

  “What the heck is going on here?” she whispered as she scanned the rest of the room. She cocked an ear, almost expecting a reply. Something very odd was happening in that room. The chest…

  She was hardly aware of wandering over and kneeling before it.

  As she was about to, once more, lift the top tray out, she paused. This was wrong. Going through and sorting her mother’s things in the other rooms was one thing, but this... It was nothing more than snooping into her mother’s private affairs. She was taking advantage of the fact that her mother wasn’t here and that the box wasn’t locked.

  She pulled the lid shut and then, for good measure, she set one of the heavy craft bins on top. It would take an enormous effort to lift the lid now. With a roll of her eyes she rose to her feet. It shouldn’t have opened in the first place, not all by itself.

  But had she left it open that morning? It was the only reasonable explanation. But so much had been happening that defied logic. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and snapped a picture of the chest shut tight with the bin anchoring it.

  There. The photo was time stamped and proof that she’d shut it. If that lid opened again she’d seriously consider moving it to the basement. This was altogether too creepy for words.

  She went into the kitchen and plugged the kettle in. As she waited for it to boil to make a cup of tea, she started the task of tidying up. Sweaters hanging from the backs of chairs were swept up into her arms and toted to her mother’s bedroom. When she opened the closet a new set of problems met her. There was no room for even one more item!

  Tossing the sweaters onto the heap of clothes stacked on an easy chair, Paige threw her hands in the air. How could her mother live like this? It was small wonder with the jumble of “stuff,” that the woman had suffered a stroke. Hell. It was hard to breathe, let alone move around in there.

  As fast as the balloon of anger filled her chest it popped when a wave of guilt flooded through her. Her mother was sick. And not just physically. Hanging on to clothes, old pictures and even outdated magazines was a sickness. Her mother was a hoarder. This wasn’t going to be solved with a visit to the town’s dump. It was a problem that had to be carefully tackled. That is if she didn’t want to risk her mother stroking out again.

  She trudged back to the kitchen and unplugged the kettle. As she waited for the tea bag to steep, she looked at her phone, checking email and any news item. Nothing there about Cory, and the few emails from her friends at the office could wait. She was about to set it down when her thumb must have touched the photo app. A picture of the trunk and the heavy green bin flashed before her eyes. But that was not all. Instead of the butter cream wall there was a hazy bluish glow above the bin. Her fingers flicked increasing the size of the photo, moving it to center on the glow.

  Her eyes became wide searching the blurred area above the bin. Everything else about the picture was sharp, even showing a line of rust near the latch of the chest. That haze hovering above confirmed her darkest fear. There was nothing wrong with her memory. It was the chest. There was some kind of spirit attached to it that she’d caught a glimpse of in the camera lens.

  First the visions and dreams of the little girl and now this? In the house she’d grown up in! What the hell was happening to her? Shit! It was like she’d become some kind of psychic or something. The paranormal was becoming the norm.

  None of this should be happening. But it was. And it had all started when Aubree and Noele were murdered. Somehow, some way she had to help the little girl. She’d had every intention of doing that, but this stuff happening in her mother’s house underscored the urgency. There would be no peace in her life until the girl’s murderer was found.

  Goddamn it! She wiped her eyes. Every single goddamned time she so much as thought of Aubree, she started blubbering! She had cried more in the last few days than she had in her entire life!

  She took the bracelet from her pocket and held it up, gazing at it through tears. “I’m going to help you. But my mom needs me too. Just give me some time, will you?”

  But that haze over the chest kept niggling in the back of her mind. She walked across the kitchen and peered down the hallway to the spare room. Again the crack of light flowed out into the hallway from under the door. She sighed and threaded her fingers through her hair. She had definitely turned that light off when she’d left the room.

&nbs
p; C’mon, Aubree! Gimme a break!

  Should she open the chest again and see what could be in there? Maybe if she did all this spookiness with the chest would stop.

  But her mother’s face flitted over her mind’s eye. She would be hurt and probably angry. Plus, if Paige went through her stuff, she’d know. It was part of the reason that Paige had never lied to her. Her mother had some kind of sixth sense when it came to Paige trying to hide something from her.

  The woman was sick enough as it was. Finding that Paige had gone through her private stuff might set her back. Or worse.

  She couldn’t take that chance. In the meantime, she’d have to put up with this.

  She huffed an angry sigh. Goddamn it!

  Chapter 20

  Two days later…

  “WELL, MOM, WELCOME HOME,” Paige said, opening the front door with a flourish.

  When Cheryl entered the house she stopped dead in her tracks and gaped at her daughter. There was fire in her eyes while her mouth and brain warred trying to form words.

  But Paige was prepared for this. “Mom! I didn’t throw your stuff out. It’s boxed up. We can go through it together to see what you need to keep.” She helped her mother out of her coat and hung it up. She’d even sorted through the jumble of scarves, jackets and coats, getting them put away in a spare closet. The hallway floor was actually visible now, replete with a good coat of wax on the hardwood.

  In a rush she continued. “Seriously. I was worried about you getting around with all the stuff you have clogging the hallway. The last thing you need is to fall and break your arm or something.” Paige tried to soften her next words, seeing the look of hurt appear in her mother’s eyes. “I wouldn’t throw anything away without your say so, Mom.”

  Karen stepped into the entryway behind Paige. “I’ve got a chicken casserole in the oven, Cheryl. You must be sick of hospital food by now.”

  Cheryl managed a smile and a quick nod of her head, looking at Karen. “Y...yes.”

  Paige’s eyebrows shot up, and she gripped her mother’s arm. “Mom! You spoke! That’s after only one therapy session. Imagine how well you’ll do after a week or so.”

  Her mother’s eyes blinked a few times. Struggling slightly, she repeated, “Yes.”

  Karen slipped by Paige and gave her friend a one-armed hug, “You’re going to be all right, sweetie.”

  Paige swallowed the lump in her throat seeing the bond between the two women. If not for that bond, things might easily have been much worse. Karen had spent almost as much time visiting her mother in the hospital as she had.

  “Mom? Do you want to take a nap before we have dinner? It’s still early.”

  Karen chimed in as well. “That’s a good idea, Cheryl. You don’t want to overwhelm yourself.” She glanced at Paige. “The same goes for you, Paige. Go out for a walk or visit one of your friends. You’ve been at that hospital for four days steady. I’ll get your mother settled.”

  The prospect of being alone for even an hour knowing her mother was in good hands was a welcome reprieve. She’d been a ball of nerves, flitting to the hospital, organizing the house, all the while pushing the thought of Aubree and that damned chest to the far recesses of her mind. She’d been tempted to move it to the basement, and it was only the sheer weight of it that prevented her.

  A walk to the shoreline, watching the swell of waves had always been therapeutic when she’d lived in the small town of Madison. She could use a walk to clear her head.

  “Are you sure, Karen?”

  But it was her mother who replied, “G...g...go.” She took a deep breath and smiled, proud that she’d managed to retrieve the word.

  “Okay. I’ll go! I can take a hint.” Paige gave her mother’s cheek a kiss. “I’ll only be an hour or so. Call me if you need me.”

  She headed out the door and paused on the front step inhaling deeply. The smell of burning leaves drifted in the air, and a column of smoke rose above the roofline of the house across the street. Old Mr. Crane was almost seventy, but he still carried on with yard work, clearing his garden and burning the refuse. It brought back bittersweet memories of life in the seaside town.

  Although she never understood why her mother had chosen to live in Madison, she was glad she had. The beach overlooking the Long Island Sound was only a ten-minute walk from her house. How many beach parties had she enjoyed there with the gang? She should probably give Hannah a call, but for now, the solitude of a walk to the shore was more appealing.

  Her hand slipped into her pocket, and once more she looked at the child’s bracelet. Aubree would never know the joys of growing up, tossing pebbles into the surf with friends, seeing sunsets dance gold and orange ribbons on the waves. Even walking along streets she’d walked a thousand times, the child’s memory haunted her.

  As she was about to cross the street and cut through to the walkway leading to the ocean, a red sports car came screeching to a halt next to her. She jerked back seeing the door pop open and a willowy blonde step out.

  The woman strode over to Paige, practically yelling, “Aubree! Just who the hell is Aubree, and why didn’t you call me when you got in?” The blonde woman yanked her dark sunglasses off and glared at Paige.

  Chapter 21

  OH. MY. GOD.

  Paige could only stare. Of course it was Melanie, but at the same time...what had happened to the sweet demure girl she’d hung out with? Melanie had blown past assertion going straight to aggression.

  “Melanie? What the—”

  “First off, how’s your mother?” Melanie gripped Paige’s shoulders giving her a little shake.

  Paige was still reeling seeing the fire in Melanie’s eyes, the expensive leather coat and tight jeans topping spiked-heeled boots. She was even wearing makeup, and her hair was a crafted mess of toppled curls! This wasn’t the same Melanie Walker who’d always been a chameleon blending into the background.

  To say nothing of the fact that it had been years since she’d talked to Melanie. Yet, here she was giving Paige the third degree! And how did she know about Aubree?

  Paige’s face tightened, and she blared right back at her friend. “Mom’s fine! Well, not fine but she will be! And what do you know about Aubree? How the hell—”

  “I dream about her every night—a little girl playing in a sandbox! What the hell? But the really weird thing is that you’re there too!” Melanie stepped back, and for the first time she folded into herself, the way she always had. She even chewed at the cuticle of her thumbnail, staring down at the sidewalk. This was the Melanie that Paige knew.

  But how was it possible that Melanie was involved in this too? The same dreams?

  Paige thrust the bracelet in front of her friend’s face. Melanie didn’t need to say anything; the horror in her eyes said it all.

  “That’s hers. How did you get this?” Melanie pulled her shoulders back, her eyes now hard and glittering. She tried to take it from Paige, but her fingers only clawed at Paige’s sleeve. “Give it to me!”

  “No!”

  “Let me see it, dammit!” Melanie reached around Paige’s back, scrabbling at the bracelet. Paige held it up as high as she could while shoving the woman back.

  “No! It’s mine. You’re not having it!”

  Melanie made one last swipe of her hand, but Paige held it high. Considering that Paige was almost six feet tall while Melanie barely topped five three, it was a no brainer. There was no way Mel was getting it.

  Melanie stopped her clawing and crossed her arms. “Goddamn it, Paige! You’re acting like Golem in Lord of the Freaking Rings! I swear to God, if you say ‘precious,’ I’m gonna brain you!”

  Paige’s mouth hung open in shock, and then she laughed lightly. Still keeping her distance, she said, “Melanie, I had those same dreams. I went to her house and found this.” Paige felt tears stinging the backs of her eyes, and she took a deep breath to avoid breaking down in front of her friend. “I know why I had those dreams, but what I don’t get is why y
ou’re dreaming of her. How are you connected? Were you in Albany? We need to talk. C’mon.” She grabbed the sleeve of Melanie’s jacket and tugged her along, crossing the street.

  Melanie yanked her arm away but kept up the fast stride alongside Paige, her heels clacking on the asphalt. “Why didn’t you answer my calls? I went through some serious shit a few years back. I tried to contact you, left tons of messages. What the hell happened to you? You just vanished off the face of the earth? We were friends. At least I thought we were.”

  Paige’s chest sunk lower. It was true. Melanie had left messages. “Wait a damn minute; I did return your call!”

  “Yeah, once, and you left a voice mail. I called back, and left you a voice mail.” Melanie turned her hands over each other as she continued. “Then I left you another. And another…” She stopped and stared at Paige. “Until I realized you didn’t want to hear from me.”

  Paige sighed. “It wasn’t that; I was busy!”

  “Oh for the love of God…” Melanie made finger quotes. “That busy?”

  “Yes, actually.” Paige held out a finger. “First of all, I was working a full-time job while also studying for the bar.” She stabbed a finger in the air. “I was a walking zombie for most of that time, functioning on five hours of sleep a day.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  Paige cut her off with a chopping motion. “But nothing! It was tough! And now...” She sighed. “Let me tell you, working at my firm makes all the stuff before that look like a part-time job! I’m in the office at least seventy goddamn hours a freaking week!” She looked around her old neighborhood and her voice grew quiet. “Since Aubree died and now my mom…this is the first time in four years I’ve had more than two days off in a row!”

  Melanie chewed her lip. “Hey…”

  “So, yeah, Melanie…” Paige’s voice softened. “I’ve really, really been busy, okay?”

  Melanie closed and opened her eyes. “Okay.”