“Mr. Crandall?”
“This is he.”
“Hi! My name is Joy Roswell. You don’t know me but I got your number from one of your flyers. I’m calling to schedule an appointment.”
He blinked a few times, trying to connect the dots. An appointment. Of course. Cradling the phone, he yanked a drawer open and rummaged for a pen and a sheet of paper. As slow as business had been, it probably wasn’t necessary to write it down, but he didn’t trust himself to remember anything at this point. “Yes, of course. When would you like to come in?”
“Oh, as soon as possible. My poodle, Queenie, passed away just last night and I’m convinced she was poisoned. My neighbor - Mr. Duncan, not Ms. Moore - has had it out for poor Queenie since the day I got her and-”
Jason was as lost as a man in the Bermuda Triangle without a compass. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m afraid I’m not following you. What is this about?”
“My dog was murdered, Mr. Crandall, and I’d like to be certain that Mr. Duncan is responsible before I press charges against him.”
Jason’s mind reeled. “I’m not sure how I can help you with that, Ms. …” He looked at his paper. “Ms. Roswell.”
She was silent for a beat. “Well, aren’t you the guy that found Savannah Sturgess? The guy who does psychic readings?”
Psychic readings? Jason tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. “No. No, I don’t give psychic readings. I’m a massage therapist, Ms. Roswell, as it clearly states on my flyers.”
“But I thought-”
“I can’t help you, ma’am.” Jason ended the call. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Now I’m the local psychic, too? It was becoming more and more clear to him that what he really needed to do was get out of Shadow Springs for good. He didn’t like the idea of starting over again, but he couldn’t help thinking that moving here had been a terrible mistake. He was sick of this house, sick of Savannah Sturgess, sick of the whole town and everyone in it.
Except Hallie. That was the only problem with leaving: if he left, he’d be leaving her - and losing out on what might be. But he quickly nixed the thoughts. Who am I kidding? It was too soon for romance, and it would be for a long time.
So why do I feel this way?
He sighed and slumped into the living room, threw himself into the recliner, and let his eyes close.
And the moment he did, the terror hit.
A knife flashed, coming down at him. He felt the bite of the blade in the side of his neck, felt hot blood spurting from the wound. He gasped for breath, choking on the hot metallic fluid.
But he wasn’t disconnected from himself this time, and knew he wasn’t seeing through Savannah’s eyes now, but his own. He was looking at some point in the future. The near future. He could feel the closeness of the moment like a silent intruder breathing on the back of his neck.
He shot up in the chair and his legs gave out. Jason fell to the floor like something dead, his arms sprawled out and away. He couldn’t move them, couldn’t even feel them. With great effort, he turned his head, pivoting on his chin, his eyes shooting wildly around as his vision went darker, darker, so dark it was like looking into a bottomless well at midnight. The feeling was gone from his entire body now. He couldn’t see. His breath slowed, slowed, and came to a stop, his lungs seizing. I’m paralyzed! And then, even his thoughts locked up, dying like a stopped clock - and for a moment, Jason blinked out of existence entirely.
The next thing he was aware of was the feeling returning to his fingers and toes. Then his legs and arms. Next, his lungs sparked to life and he sucked in deep rasping breaths, coughing and gagging as the oxygen hit his bloodstream with a grateful hiss. Blood thudded wildly in his temples, and as he continued drawing jagged breaths, dots of light raced across his still-blind eyes.
His thoughts came back to him slowly, tangling together like vipers in a pit, none of them making any sense at first. Then, finally, he remembered where he was, who he was - and what had happened. His hand shot to his neck in search of the knife wound - but it wasn’t there.
And then he detected light - just a little at first. He blinked rapidly, hungrily taking everything in as the room and its contents slowly began gathering their shapes - he made out the sofa, the television, the coffee table. They came into sharp focus - normal focus - and for a space of about twenty seconds, Jason lay there, perfectly still, before realizing that his failing body had healed itself - had successfully pushed away the last vestiges of paralysis.
In a hot panic, he pushed himself to his feet and looked wildly around. There were no signs of anything wrong. Because it’s all in my head. He needed to get away, to get out of this room, this house, to be anywhere but here by himself. Grabbing his keys, he decided on the first place that popped into his mind: The Devil’s Triangle. More specifically, Hallie Bessner.
“I think someone’s going to try and kill me.” Even to his own ears, it sounded ludicrous - yet he knew it was true.
He and Hallie sat in their usual corner booth, away from the few patrons. In low tones, he’d told her what had happened. She’d listened without judgment, her face placid, showing no sign that she thought him unhinged. But when Jason told her he thought he was in danger, she went pale.
“I know how it sounds, but-”
“But why, Jason? Why would someone want to come after you?”
He shook his head. “I think I’m getting closer to the truth … too close.” He lifted a cup of coffee to his lips, his fingers trembling.
She searched his face. “And you don’t know who did it?”
“Not yet.”
Hallie watched him closely. “You really don’t believe Travis is guilty?”
Jason sighed. “I don’t know. What am I supposed to believe? If Savannah was at rest, she’d leave me alone, right? And if she’s not at rest, it can only be because the truth hasn’t come out yet - the wrong man - or woman - hasn’t been held accountable.”
“God.” Hallie sat back. “I never even thought of the possibility of it being a woman.”
Jason shrugged. “The M.E. said Savannah had been hit with a blunt object. Anyone could have done it.” He paused. “Regardless of whether it was a man or a woman, though, I’m 99 percent certain it wasn’t Travis Delgado.”
Hallie was silent. She looked uneasy, deep in troubling thoughts.
“The question is, what do I do now?”
She straightened. “I think you should go to Gregorio.”
Jason’s brows came down. “Gregorio? Why?”
“Ask him to reopen the case. Tell him you’ve been getting more information and that you think they’ve convicted the wrong man.”
“Jesus Christ.” He rubbed his temples. “I’m so tired of this. I don’t think he’d go for it, for one thing, and for another, do I really need any more enemies?”
“I don’t think you have a choice. We both know Savannah’s not going to leave you alone until it’s set right.”
“I’ll think on it. I just need some time to figure out how to approach this.”
“In the meantime, do you have a weapon?”
Jason thought. “Just the tire iron in the trunk of my car. And kitchen knives.” He shuddered at the memory of the knife stabbing the side of his neck.
“Maybe you should keep something with you.”
“I know.” Jason ran a hand down his face, exhausted. Everything was moving too quickly. He’d barely come to terms with being haunted by a dead girl, and now he was worried about being killed himself. It was mad - all of it. And yet, he knew it was just as true as it was crazy.
Hallie leaned in. “I’ve got a gun. Tonight, after work, I’ll swing by my apartment, pick it up, and drop it off.”
“You have a gun?”
She nodded. “A nine-millimeter. I think you should have it.”
Jason hesitated, then thought better of it. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. And you know how to shoot
?”
Jason nodded. The one good thing his father had done for him was insist that Jason knew how to protect himself. For many years, the urge to turn that gun on Daddy Dearest had been a great temptation. “I haven’t shot in a long while, but I know how, yes.”
“Good. I don’t want any accidents on my hands, but I think it’s important you have a proper weapon. The only trouble is, I don’t get off until ten. I’d leave early if I could but Sandy pulled a no-show and I’ve got to stay. I could give you my key …”
“No, I can’t-”
“Are you okay with me showing up so late?”
Jason shrugged. “It’s not like I’ll be able to sleep, anyway. Maybe you can stay and keep me company for a while.” For the first time, he smiled, aware of the role reversal. He felt a little like a damsel in distress. “You’re my lady in shining armor.”
“Anything to see you smile, handsome.” She offered one of her own, then looked at her watch. “I’ve got to get back to work before the boss comes out to remind me that my lunch break ended ten minutes ago.”
“Sorry for keeping you.”
“Not at all.” Hallie stood and tied her apron around her waist. “You’re welcome to just hang out here until I get off.”
“No. That’s hours away, plus I’ve got to pick up the kids from school.”
“Are you sure?” Her eyes were dark and serious.
“Yeah.” He stood and drained the last of his coffee.
“Call me if anything else happens? Or even if you just need to talk. Okay?”
Jason nodded. “Okay.”
“Be careful.” She leaned in and planted a quick kiss on his cheek, then turned and headed to the swinging doors that led to the back of the diner.
It occurred to him that under other circumstances, the kiss might have had his heart leaping right out of his chest - but as it was, it only gave a dull little bump. There was too much darkness inside him to allow room for much else beyond icy, cold dread.
After many hours of deliberation, Jason finally decided to take Hallie’s advice and call Ed Gregorio. He knew now that he should have done it before picking the kids up, but he’d spent the afternoon trying to talk himself out of it, then once he had made up his mind, it had taken some time to work up his nerve. But the closer night came, the more certain he was that if he didn’t do something, he might never sleep again. He went upstairs now, slipping from the room as Amber and Brent watched an episode of Good Witch.
Steeling himself, he punched in Gregorio’s number, refusing to think about it anymore. It rang and rang. Simultaneously relieved and disappointed, he was about to hang up when the man finally answered.
“Ed? This is Jason Crandall.” His voice cracked like a prepubescent boy’s. Clearing his throat, he continued. “I know it’s a little late in the day but I wondered if I could speak to you about something.”
Gregorio hesitated. “What can I do for you, Mr. Crandall?”
Jason plunged right in. “I wonder if you could tell me how we might go about reopening the Savannah Sturgess case.”
Silence. Then, “Reopen it? Why would we do that?”
Jason sat on the bed. Outside, lightning flashed and thunder growled. “I’ve experienced some things in the past days that have convinced me that Travis Delgado isn’t responsible for her death.”
The line was silent long enough that Jason began to worry he’d lost the connection. At last, Gregorio replied. “We’d need substantial evidence in order to reopen the case, Mr. Crandall, and I’m afraid we don’t have that. Not unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“No. There’s nothing. Just the, uh, visions.”
Gregorio sighed. “Why are you doing this, Mr. Crandall?”
Jason knew he didn’t have an answer that would satisfy the attorney.
“Travis Delgado was convicted, and you should be content with that. As a matter of fact, you should be thrilled. If he’d been proven innocent, that would put you back under the microscope. It was your visions, after all, that led to the discovery of the body.”
“Yes, they did, which proves I’m not making this up. But they never showed me who Savannah’s killer was, and now … well … I think they’re trying to. And … Mr. Gregorio ... I don’t think it’s Travis Delgado.” He practically winced as he made the admission.
“Then who is it?” Gregorio’s no-nonsense tone cut through the line.
“I … don’t know. Not yet, but-”
“Can I give you some advice, Mr. Crandall? Just leave this alone. If you’re wise, you’ll walk away before you draw anymore unwanted attention to yourself.”
“But-”
“I’m not reopening the case, Mr. Crandall. There’s no reason to. Now, please, just drop it. Walk away and be glad it’s Travis Delgado rotting in prison and not you.”
Jason’s mouth worked but no words came.
Thunder boomed, rattling the window.
“Mr. Greg-”
“I’m not reopening the case, Mr. Crandall.”
Jason felt the ground give way beneath his feet. What now? He hadn’t a clue, but it was obvious the attorney would be of no help. Resigned, Jason said, “I understand. Thank you for your time, Mr. Gregorio.”
“Yep.” Gregorio ended the call.
Jason sat, hands clasped in his lap, staring at the floor. He wished he’d never called. What was I thinking? A shadow moved in the crack beneath his bedroom door. It stepped away and Jason heard the creak of footsteps - too heavy for Amber. Brent had been listening. Wonderful. Jason wasn’t looking forward to another scene with his son. He’d be furious that Jason was poking around again.
Not wanting to face the boy, he picked up the ghosts and hauntings book on his night stand and thumbed it idly, hoping to find something - anything - that might give him some idea of where to go from here.
He browsed until he found the chapter on making contact with the dead - and that’s when he saw it. He read, astonished that he hadn’t thought of it before. According to the author, a dead person’s belongings were a direct link to the deceased, and were often used to make contact - and it was a two-way street. Not only could a spirit haunt that item, but a living person could use it to make contact.
Savannah’s necklace … is that why she’s haunting me? Is that the reason for all this? It was a family heirloom, she’d said. It was very precious to her. Of course!
Jason tossed the book down and hurried to the basement toward the massage studio where he yanked the drawer open and stared at it - a heavy gold cross, with ‘S’ engraved on the back. He was almost afraid to touch it, but he pulled it out, inspecting it. This is why. There was no other reason she’d come to him but this necklace; he knew it. He could feel the truth of it.
He clutched the cross and closed his eyes. “Savannah,” he whispered. “Tell me what you want me to do.” It occurred to him that he didn’t even feel silly walking around the room, clutching a cross, trying to make contact with a dead girl. “This has to stop, Savannah, and I don’t know what else to do.” He waited. Nothing happened.
Unsuccessful, he went upstairs to the bathroom, ignoring Brent’s accusatory stare as he passed through the living room. Locking the door behind him, he turned on the hot water in the sink as well as the shower, and waited, watching as the steam fogged the mirror. “Tell me,” he said. “Tell me what you want me to know. Who did this to you, Savannah?”
Nothing appeared in the mirror.
“Please. Help me. Tell me …”
After several minutes, he gave up, frustrated and angry. “Fine. Have it your way.” He left the bathroom and headed for his bedroom, his mind trying to grasp something just out of reach. Then it hit him: The book had also said something about the place of death - that going to the site where the deceased had passed away also opened the channels and made contact easier.
But Savannah, as far as he knew, had been killed in the woods behind the fairgrounds, then later taken to Tabitha Cooper’s grav
e. But where in the woods? His visions had given him no clear indicators - just lots of trees. It could be anywhere! The woods stretched for miles.
He thought of Tabitha Cooper’s grave. The cemetery. That was where his visions and dreams had almost always taken place. It wasn’t where she had been killed, but it was where she’d been buried - twice.
He shoved the gold cross into his pocket, hurried down the stairs, and grabbed his coat and keys.
“Where are you going now?” asked Brent, suspicious.
“Nowhere. I want you watch your sister for-” He paused. If someone was intending to kill him, how could he leave his kids home alone? “Actually, I’m taking you to Dottie’s. Both of you. Come on.”
“Dad,” Brent whined. “Why?”
“I can’t explain right now. Get your stuff. Let’s go.”
“But I’m too old to be babysat!”
“I’m not arguing with you, Brent!” Even to his own ears, Jason’s voice sounded half-crazed. “Now get up and let’s go!”
Amber looked up from her position on the floor, eyes wide.
With some reluctance, Brent got off the couch, and the three of them traipsed next door.
Dottie agreed to watch the kids without asking too many questions and after saying he wouldn’t be gone long, Jason got into the Legacy and headed toward Shadow Springs Cemetery.
As he drove, he remembered that Hallie was planning to come over tonight with the gun. He looked at the clock. In half an hour. Maybe I should just wait. Or better yet, tell her to meet me at the cemetery. He searched his pockets for his phone and realized he’d forgotten it. He almost turned around but decided against it. It was better not to involve Hallie, anyway.
19
Unveiling
Walking against the torrents of rain, the earth squelching under his feet, Jason made his way through the dark cemetery toward Tabitha Cooper’s grave. The night was cold, the moonlight coming and going as black clouds scudded across the lightning-torn sky. Thunder boomed and a chilly breeze ran its fingertips over the back of Jason’s rain-soaked shirt. The heady smells of ozone, rain, and wet earth surrounded him like a cloying fog as the wind picked up, sweeping through the trees, lifting and snapping the long branches of weeping willows, reminding him of fleshless questing fingers. Uncertain of what he was looking for, and even more uncertain whether he wanted to find it, he spotted the gravesite several yards away and paused, feeling as if, somehow, the tall stone edifice itself was staring back at him.
Sleep Savannah Sleep Page 26
