The Thirteen Bends

by Shannon Reber

  He kept his eyes on the ground. “You’re proving my point too. Most people don’t want to hear, other than the person who sees the truth. I’m writing for the ones who are looking for the truth instead of a comfortable lie.”

  I knew that Darlene and Imogen had gone back into the house and that the other guy had left but I kept my voice low anyway. “If that is legitimately your reason for writing, I won’t stop you. But there’s a big difference between not stopping you and allowing you to use the things that have happened to and around me as your platform.”

  His eyes went wide. “Let me be part of your story!” he enthused, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “Let me investigate with you and I’ll write what I see. Come on. I’m a really good investigator.”

  “No,” another voice said from a little way behind me.

  I glanced back to find that Ian and Spencer had walked up, neither of them looking happy to see Keats there. I hadn’t realized Spencer would be coming back that evening but it was less important than talking Keats out of trying to be a paranormal investigator.

  I gave Keats the kind of look I’d given Serena’s new dog when he’d pooped on the floor in my room. “I don’t need an assistant. If you’re determined to write, then do it. Just stop using my name before I shut down your site for the tenth time,” I said and turned to leave again.

  “But you’re gold, Madison. You’re a genius, a hacker, a girl who doesn’t let the law stand in the way of doing the right thing. Your stories--”

  “Are mine,” I snapped, not turning around as I walked into the house with the others.

  Quinn let out a long breath as the door closed behind us. “If this is a normal day in your life, I’m not surprised by the amount of coffee you two can put away.”

  Ian smirked at her. “I only recently got Maddie into coffee. Most of her life she hated it.”

  Quinn looked around the crowded kitchen at all the faces looking back at her and gave a shrug. “Uh, hi,” she said, making it sound like a question.

  I waved my hand in her direction. “Guys, this is my sister, Quinn Turner. Quinn, this is my family,” I told her, waiting for the barrage of questions.

  They didn’t let me down. Spencer and Imogen were the only ones who didn’t look surprised. Those two stood back, smiling like they’d known all along that I had a sister or something.

  Serena let out a happy little shriek and hugged Quinn before she turned to hug me as well. “Oh, sweetie, I have no idea how all this happened but I’m so happy for you! I’ve been wanting to drive to Philadelphia and set Imogen on your mom ever since the first time you mentioned the woman. The idea that you have someone on your side, it’s just the best.” She sniffled happily and knelt down to pick up the little Yorkie yapping at her feet. “And this is my little Pip Squeak, the only man I love,” she said in a baby voice.

  Quinn chuckled. “That is the perfect name for him,” she said, looking amused as Darlene fell on her in another happy hug.

  After we’d all spent a few minutes getting acquainted, Serena, Imogen, and Darlene went into the living room, leaving me and Quinn alone to talk to the guys.

  I tipped my head to the side as I looked at Spencer. “Did you guys already deal with the werewolves?” I asked, confused about why he was there.

  He rolled his eyes. “Not even close. It turns out that the wolves can smell me. Erkens sent me home and plans to call me back in when he’s found their den. What about you? You have yours figured out yet?”

  I shook my head. “Not even close. I’m still trying to figure out if it’s ghost related or if it’s something else entirely.”

  “Ghost related is easy to figure out,” Spencer told me, taking his keys from his pocket and removing something from the ring. “One of my trainers when I was a teenager gave me this.” He handed the thing over in his usual low-key way.

  I took it, staring at what I’d always thought was a normal keychain. It was but it held a thumb-sized chunk of amber with what looked like a bubble inside it. It was both fascinating and beautiful, something that made me feel more secure than I had in a while.

  Spencer motioned toward it. “The crystal inside the amber changes color if it’s around something supernatural. If it’s a ghost, the crystal will turn a smoky gray. Things that are purely evil are black. Silver is for purity. I’ve seen it turn red, which turned out to be a vampire. I don’t know all the colors it turns. My trainers tend not to last long.”

  “Trainers for what?” Quinn asked, her head tipped to the side as she squished her brows together.

  Spencer cleared his throat uncomfortably, sighing in what looked like relief when his phone beeped. He dug it out fast and nodded. “Erkens needs me.” He turned to rush into the living room to say goodbye to Imogen, glancing back at us before he went. “Be careful, okay? If it is a vengeful spirit, it’s not going to go quietly.” And he rushed out of the room.

  I turned to the back door. “I know the cops are going to be keeping an eye on the sight but I want to at least try.”

  Ian blew out a breath. “I hate to say this but I think we should wait until later. Like the middle of the night. If we’re seen, it’s going to look really bad. It might even get us arrested. If we wait, they might be finished anyway.”

  Quinn kept her eyes fixed on the door Spencer had exited from. “Ian’s right. But if the spirit is active, going in the middle of the night is just as bad an idea. We’re going to need some kind of protection so it can’t--”

  I pulled my necklace out from under my shirt to show it to her. “We know what we’re doing. The helm of awe as well as a few other things will protect us if it is a ghost or demon or . . . a lot of other paranormal beings.”

  She took a small step closer, her lips slightly parted. “How do you know all this? And who is that guy?” she asked, waving her hand toward where Spencer had gone.

  Ian stuck his hands in his pockets. “Spencer is a mystery to everybody other than Maddie and Imogen,” he said, taking a quick step out of the way as I swatted at him.

  I looked at Quinn and shook my head. “It’s not our story to tell,” I repeated the words she’d used on me, hoping she wouldn’t continue to pry.

  She gave me a slow nod. “Okay. I understand that better than anyone. But just tell Spencer to stay as far as he can get from the company I work for.”

  A feeling of nervousness moved its way over me. Why did it all have to be so mysterious? I was desperate for one clear-cut answer. But that answer was right in front of me.

  After years of feeling alone in the world, I had a sister. That was enough at least for the moment.

  SEVEN

  Tria Hewitt slumped back in her chair, her eyes aching from that long day at work. Her runner spirit had not been able to find Edith and fear for the girl was pulling tight in her belly. All she had received was a headache and a burning desire to know more.

  She rubbed at her temples, trying to soothe the throb but nothing worked. What she needed was sleep but she had to keep trying. It was her responsibility.

  She almost groaned aloud when someone knocked on the door of her office. The man walked in before she could say anything, just setting a file down on her desk.

  Dr. Renat was a tall man in his late fifties, with short, gray hair, and dark-rimmed glasses. His white lab coat and dress shirt were both neatly pressed, not a hair out of place or speck of lint on him. His eyes stayed fixed on her as he stood, waiting for her to read the file.

  Tria picked it up quickly, aware he would not wait long. “Tillie Klimek?” she asked as she opened it.

  Dr. Renat didn’t speak. He simply stood, waiting as she read through the information.

  Tria’s mouth fell open. “She’s a serial killer,” she whispered, flicking her eyes toward the man.

  He nodded. “It is far less common for a woman to become a serial killer. We would like for you to draw her spirit back so we can--”

  “I won’t,” Tria said in the most commanding tone tha
t had come from her in years.

  Dr. Renat raised his brows in an incredulous way. “You won’t?” he asked like he didn’t understand the statement.

  Tria trembled inwardly but slowly shook her head. “I can’t. What if she gets out like the last spirit did? What if she starts killing again?”

  “We are interested to know if she will remain in this area where she was drawn out or if she will return home, to the city of Chicago.”

  “You want me to draw out the spirit of a serial killer so you can see if she will murder people in Pittsburgh or Chicago?”

  “Precisely,” he said with a smile, appearing pleased that she had cottoned on.

  A gasp of horror came from one of the spirits around her. “No!”

  “Tria, you cannot do this.”

  “If you agree, you will be crossing a line that you may never be able to come back from.”

  “You must not agree,” her spirit group called, making her feel like her head may explode under the onslaught of their emotions.

  Tria’s breath caught in her chest as her body tensed. “You released the spirit who’s now killing on the thirteen bends,” she accused, her heart pounding. “And you want me to draw out another killer for another of your experiments?”

  “Indeed,” he said without shame.

  “How dare you!” she shrieked at Dr. Renat, rising to her feet and leaning her palms on her desk. “Just because you have the ability to do something does not mean you have the right to do it. These are people’s lives you’re experimenting on!”

  Dr. Renat tipped his head to the side with a slight smile. “And because of the experiments we have done, your son is alive and well when he didn’t have a hope of survival past the age of four. And your son is now seven-years-old because of us, isn’t he, Tria?”

  Her whole body trembled with horror. She had known their motivations were questionable. She had never grasped how heartless, how unethical they were.

  Dr. Renat went on before she could collect herself. “Without the treatments we give him, your son will die a slow and very painful death. Do you want us to stop giving him those treatments?”

  Tria quailed. He was asking her to trade her son’s health for one of their experiments, one that would cost people their lives. There had to be a way to stop them.

  But for right then, she would play along. She would have to work hard to hold the spirit of Tillie Klimek in the spirit capsule, not to allow them to free her.

  Tria knew she was walking a dangerous line but she had no other choice. She had agreed to help find a way to stop the PSA. She would never be able to look her son in the eye if she didn’t do everything she could to keep them from hurting others. She had to find a way . . .

  EIGHT

  The fact I had thought that I would never want to be on that part of Campbells Run Road in the middle of the night made being there even creepier. I was aware of all the things that truly did go bump in the night.

  Being in a place where so many urban legends had been formed was not my favorite thing. I liked to think of myself as a strong, independent woman but if Ian hadn’t been there, there was no way I would have stayed.

  He was just such a reassuring presence to me. Equally reassuring was the snarky presence of Quinn. In the few hours we had known each other, it became clear to me that she and I would have been friends if we had met randomly.

  The fact we were family made everything so much easier. “Quinn, do you mind if I ask about your adoptive family?” I queried as we sat in Ian’s car, waiting for the road to clear so we could check out the murder sight.

  She picked up her phone and tapped it a few times before handing it to me. “My parents are the best. I didn’t always appreciate them but I do now. I learned a lot about how wonderful they are when I moved out and figured out how much they did for me,” she chattered in a sweet, nostalgic way.

  Her words made me feel even sadder. I didn’t feel that way in the least. Being away from Mom had been the greatest relief of my life. There wasn’t a single thing about my life with her that I looked back on with a fond smile.

  I looked at the pictures on Quinn’s phone and a twinge of jealousy filled my heart. Her parents looked like they thought she hung the moon. Their eyes were filled with such obvious pride in Quinn, it made me wonder.

  I turned in my seat to look more closely at her. “You said you started looking for your biological family when you were eighteen but why? Why would you care whose sperm you came from when you have such an amazing looking family?”

  She laughed. “That’s such an elegant way to put it, Madison,” she teased, giving a slow shrug. “Being an adopted child, even when your adoptive family is wonderful, it’s hard. There’s always simple curiosity but more, it’s a need to know who you are. My parents understood that. Even if I had met Cici and she had welcomed me with open arms, it wouldn’t have changed anything between me and my parents. They raised me. They fed me. They taught me everything good I know. They supported my dreams and encouraged me when I was down. Cici Meyer did give birth to me but Mom and Dad are the ones I love.”

  I tried to understand her reasoning. It just didn’t make sense to me. I had grown up in a house where Mom had berated me, belittled me, isolated me, even lied to me. If I had been the one who’d been adopted, I would have jumped at the chance to find my real family.

  Quinn already had a real family. Even in picture form, the comparison between her people and mine was like night and day. Why would she look into a craptastic life like mine?

  Quinn shifted around and blew out a loud breath. “Okay, I’m going to run out into the trees for a minute. If I get nabbed by a spirit, we’ll know your silver ward didn’t work. And if I fall and break my butt, we’ll know I’m as big a klutz as usual.” She got out before either of us could say a word and bounded out into the trees.

  It really wasn’t a good idea to go off alone in the middle of what was essentially a stakeout. Hopefully, everything would be okay and no one would notice her peeing in the woods.

  Ian reached over to rest his hand on my knee. “You okay?” he asked me, his eyes probing me in the dark car around us.

  “Fine. Why?” I asked, my voice sharper than I had intended for it to be.

  “Because you just saw the life you needed. I’m guessing you’re jealous.”

  I glowered at him. “So what if I am?” I shot out, feeling tears prickling at the back of my eyes.

  “I don’t blame you, Maddie.”

  I folded my arms and did my best to hold back the flood of tears that wanted to fall. I didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. I was jealous of Quinn’s life. I wished it had been mine.

  Ian squeezed my knee. “My parents have always loved you,” he reminded me, his voice soft and soothing.

  A single tear slid its way down my cheek as I laid my hand over his. He was right. I had not lived a loveless life. I’d had Emma, Mr. and Mrs. Gregory, even Dad once I’d figured out that Mom had lied to me about his feelings for me.

  Despite that, it still made me wonder how different I would have been if I would have grown up in the kind of life Quinn had. Then again, it looked like I was seeing that by seeing Quinn. We were very much alike but Quinn had an assurance in her own worth that I’d never had.

  No. I could not allow myself to focus on what if’s. Cold, hard facts. The cold, hard fact right then was that we were working a case.

  I had to fix my mind wholly and fully on that. Gina was my priority. I had to prove that she was innocent. I believed it. I had to.

  “Do you think we’re wasting our time?” I asked Ian, realizing that he hadn’t said if he believed Gina’s confession or not.

  Ian shrugged. “I have no opinion but I’ve learned to trust you. If you think she’s innocent, I believe you,” he told me earnestly.

  That annoyed me. I wanted him to form his own opinion, not follow mine blindly. It wasn’t like him.

  Ian always had an opinion on things. It had been his
defining character trait through his childhood, the ability to argue if he believed what he was saying or not.

  Irritably, I removed my hand from his and took out my phone. I understood that I was being unreasonable. I didn’t care.

  It had been a long day. A lot had happened and I had a right to be annoyed, maybe not at Ian but definitely at everything that had happened. I would not allow myself to feel guilty.

  I kept my eyes on my phone as Quinn got back into the car. I needed a minute to push back all my emotions. There were a lot of them simmering inside me, so it took me longer than it normally would.

  As I waited for my mind to clear, I looked at Gina’s arrest record again. My mouth fell open when I saw that something had been added to her record. “Gina had to be taken to the hospital,” I told them, my heart rate starting to rise with worry.

  “Suicide?” Quinn asked in a way that sounded entirely unconcerned.

  I had gotten into Gina’s medical records earlier, so it was easy enough to reopen that door. I scanned through and confusion wrapped around me. “Broken ribs, dehydration, hyponatremia, and an electrolyte imbalance,” I said, baffled as I thought back through our interaction. “I gave her a coffee but she didn’t drink it. She just held it. And memory loss is a symptom of hyponatremia.”

  “Wait, what is that?” Ian asked.

  “Low blood sodium.”

  He gaped at me, obviously on the same wavelength I was. “Salt is a natural ghost repellent.”

  I nodded. “Exactly. But how could a ghost have drained the salt from Gina’s body?”

  Quinn huffed. “You two are making some very large leaps here. The woman confessed to bashing in the side of her girlfriend’s head and impaling her. The fact she’s dehydrated is probably just a coincidence or some kind of ploy for sympathy.”

  I frowned at her but what she’d said was logical. The only thing that made me doubt was the niggling feeling in my gut. All it was, was instinct.