I’m waiting and listening and starting to dose off. “I’m here to help you crossover. Tell me what you need before you can go.”
I can’t keep my eyes closed and stay awake too, so I toss everything to the nightstand. I feel like I’m falling through the bed. It’s so warm and comfortable. The room is velvety black, and I feel it tightening around me. Mojo is twitching in his dream world.
“Tell me who you are,” I whisper, as I fall into a deliciously lucid sleep. I’m with the man on the beach, and he’s talking to me. I can’t see his face or hear any of his words. Over and over, I’m telling him I can’t hear him. It’s making him angry and he’s shouting. He raises his arm and brings a black box down upon my head.
I sit up like the place is on fire. Mojo pokes me and goes back to sleep. My head is throbbing. I run my fingers over it and find a tender spot on the side. Now I’m awake and not at all eager to go back to sleep. I head to the kitchen for a glass of water then to the sofa to stare out the big picture window. It’s too dark and rainy to see farther than the cliff.
I get my laptop and search for Pratt again. This time, I search the court records in Massachusetts where he went to medical school. Bingo. There he is in 1996 with who I assume is wife number one: Jean Landy. According to the marriage certificate, she kept her maiden name. I don’t find Landy in Massachusetts or Washington. Guess she’s keeping a low profile.
Finally, I search for the woman in Oregon. No divorce records in either of the three states. I’m ready to give up when I search for local news reports, and there she is in 2009.
Police report the investigation into the disappearance of Jean Landy, wife of Dr. Douglas Pratt, is officially closed. Dr. Pratt reported his wife missing at the end of October after she had been gone for over a week. The couple was separated, but Ms. Landy was living in their home on New Powell Road. The Rustford police have determined that no foul play was involved and conclude that Ms. Landy left of her own accord. Dr. Pratt’s children remain in his custody.
Up and left the man. Can’t say that I blame her, but leave her kids? Kids as in more than one. Could be that she returned home and took a kid or more and left… I count on my fingers… left Mackenzie behind when she was just three years old. The woman could have gone anywhere and obtained a divorce, or she could still be missing and the other kid or kids went to live elsewhere.
One wife ran off and the other has a court sealed death certificate. Who seals a death certificate for a person who died of cancer?
I put my fingers over the news article. Getting a message through the writing of another is a long shot. “Jean Landy, please give me a vision.”
I’m falling asleep again and almost miss seeing, in my drifting mind, the image of the black box.
Chapter Eighteen
§
It’s Saturday morning and the Pratt house will soon be empty.
The doctor left me a phone message that he’ll be at the office until late afternoon. He’s made arrangements for Mackenzie to be out with her nanny until four. Jankovic is off today. Tala has been instructed to bring me a key, which I should keep until the next morning. After dinner, he and Mackenzie will leave so I can spend the night in the house.
Pratt’s accommodating me, but his attitude hasn’t much changed where I’m concerned. He’s still orchestrating my every move and giving commands like a drill sergeant.
I’m on my second cup of coffee before I recall seeing the black box late last night. The same black box that I saw when trying to sense the energy from Pratt’s signature on his property deed. The same box that hit me in the head after talking in my mind with the man on the beach.
What does a nine year old news article about Jean Landy have to do with property that Pratt bought three months ago as well as the mystery man on the beach?
Nothing, except a black box. A box that was long and narrow and shiny. One that I thought looked like a disc player, and nothing like a box you’d put a dead body in. Right. I don’t have to be hit twice on the head to know it’s important.
I’m still tying my boots when I hear screaming outside. I can also hear Mackenzie yelling at the screamer, and I know who’s responsible for both. When I go running out the door, I see Mackenzie shielding Mojo from a very frantic young woman with a stick, who I assume is the nanny.
After things calm down, the woman and I exchange introductions and she gives me the house key. Tala Borg has a pronounced Scandinavian accent that’s muddled by encroaching tears. Mackenzie has taken Tala’s stick and is thinking the wolfdog will run and retrieve it; something he would never do for her. He does not fetch for mere acquaintances.
Once Tala goes back into the house, Mackenzie is eager to talk about the phenomenon. She wants to know if I have the proper equipment, an electromagnetic field detector specifically. If I’m using a recording device, she wants a copy of any communications I receive– for her file.
She’s disappointed I’ll not be using any equipment at all. She wants to document each step in my process. I tell her I don’t have a process, but instead let my psychic abilities guide me. She laughs at me.
“Einstein is often misrepresented as having determined that ghosts exist,” she says. “That is simply absurd. He was merely referring to the law of conservation of energy, a principle spearheaded by Julius Mayer in the eighteen hundreds. Mayer’s work proved that energy is constant and can neither be created nor destroyed.”
“So you don’t believe the house is haunted?” I ask, letting slip an unapproved term.
Mackenzie makes a face that’s far too strained for a child. “Belief cannot play a factor in determining the existence of ghosts. As I was saying, Einstein received the accolades, but we must as well credit Italian scientist Luigi Galvani who, after applying electrical current to the legs of dead frogs, discovered that the nerve tissue contained charged particles. Alas, both left us with the question: what happens to the energy? Einstein said it was transformed, but into what?”
“Mackenzie, it’s time to go,” Tala says, looking around for, I suspect, the wolfdog.
“I want to stay and help Ms. Raven. I have information that will expedite the task my father asked her to accomplish.”
“It’s time to go.”
Mackenzie shrugs. “Sadly, Ms. Raven, my responsibilities today prevent me from assisting you. I will discuss the matter further with my father today, and perhaps, I shall stay in the house with you tonight.”
She doesn’t wait for my reply, and I’m not sure what I would say anyway. I wave as Tala drives away with Mackenzie looking very proper in the backseat of the woman’s shiny BMW.
I have about three hours of complete quiet and privacy to find transformed charged particles, and ask them to please leave the Pratt residence. But that will have to wait because first I want to find a black box.
I start in Pratt’s bedroom. I hate to be nosy, but I don’t have time to care. The black box is a message and I need to find where it is and what’s inside of it, provided it’s not in the soggy Oregon ground with Jean Landy’s remains.
The house has four levels including the daylight basement and attic. It’s two o’clock when I reach the top floor. So far, I haven’t found anything that resembles the black box.
The fourth floor is anything but an attic. It’s sparsely decorated with tasteful and uncomfortable looking straight back chairs arranged in three groupings. I don’t even want to know why they’re set up that way. At the far end is a large oak cabinet. Just the type that would hold a disc player and the recordings that unveil the mysteries of the universe, this haunting, and perhaps, Pratt’s secrets.
It might, but I may never know. The cabinet is locked and there’s no hidden key anywhere. Still, the thing is alive. There’s a distinct humming sound and the back of the cabinet is comfortably warm. Surveillance equipment? What else. Just what is being surveilled? Besides me, right here and right now.
I look around for the hidden camera then go downstairs. I’m scanning
the walls and ceilings for little spy holes. Pratt could be sitting in his office right now, watching everything I’m doing. I feel guilty and creeped out at the same time. It’s too late though because I’ve given Pratt the home court advantage.
I light my smudge stick and walk through the house in the same manner I did when searching for the black box. Mojo’s making the rounds with me, sniffing in various places. We look like two very professional ghost hunters. Still, it’s a poorly executed cover for my prior snooping and now I’m out of time.
Before the genius kid and her nanny return, I head back to the guest house. My mind is on the black box and what else it could possibly represent when Mojo does his werewolf howl and takes off running.
I’m running behind him and have no idea why. When I get close enough to see the guest house, I learn why. The door is wide open. I keep running towards the wooded area behind the house.
I think I see someone disappear into the woods and yell to Mojo not to follow. We head back to the guest house.
The place has been vandalized. My things are scattered from the bedroom to the living room. I hear a car at the main house and go to see who it is. Mackenzie is already making her way to me with Tala behind her.
“Everything all right?” Tala asks, when she gets a good look at me.
“No, someone was in the guest house. My things have been gone through.”
She looks worried and hurries to get Mackenzie into the house. The kid is laughing. Tala yells that she’ll call Dr. Pratt to let him know, and I go back to the guest house.
A few minutes later, Tala is standing in the doorway peeking in. “Dr. Pratt asks that you not call the police.”
“Why’s that?” I ask. I hadn’t thought about calling them, but it’s really not the man’s decision.
“He doesn’t like anything that would intrude upon his privacy. You know how bitterly the news services report things. Dr. Pratt says he will compensate you for any damaged or missing items.”
“I’ll make a list,” I bark at the poor woman who seems totally terrified.
“The doctor instructed me to have the lock changed. I’ll call someone to do that promptly. You can stay in the house until then if you’re frightened.”
“Don’t bother calling a locksmith. I didn’t lock the door when I left.”
“I see.” The woman bites her lip and looks past me. “Perhaps it was children out misbehaving. It is the weekend. I’m sure there is no reason to be concerned.”
“Is the home’s surveillance equipment connected to the guest house?”
“Surveillance?” Her eyes shift and she looks worried. “I’m not aware of any surveillance equipment—
“It’s on the fourth floor. I’d like to take a look at the footage. Do you have a key to the cabinet?”
“I’m sorry, I must get back to Mackenzie. I cannot leave her alone.” Tala turns to go.
“Will you ask Mackenzie for the key? I’d like to watch the security footage as soon as possible.”
“You must talk to Dr. Pratt about such matters. I have no knowledge of them, and it is not for me to discuss,” she says, as she hurries away.
I lock the door and head to the woods. Mojo’s doing his wolf tracking and I follow his lead. The woods are no more than a buffer zone between Pratt’s and Martin Beck’s properties.
Mojo sniffs his way across the thick vegetation. When I can see Martin’s house, I tell the wolfdog to stop. Martin’s in his car making a mad dash out of the development.
Chapter Nineteen
§
I go through every inch of the guest house looking for surveillance cameras then I pick up my things. Other than leaving a mess, it doesn’t seem that my intruder did any damage or that anything is missing.
I spend some time trying to connect with the energy left behind by my unwelcome guest. My clothes seemed to have gotten the most attention. Pieces breadcrumb their way to the door. All I get is a sense of urgency. I would rather agree with Tala that it was kids who were up to no good than to think it was Martin. Though I doubt that kids would be so interested in my clothes or that they would leave a laptop behind.
It’s after eight when Pratt knocks on the door. He looks tired and worried and scared of Mojo. He comes inside and clings to the door then asks about the break-in.
When I tell him nothing was taken or damaged, he acts relieved– that is until I tell him I suspect that Martin was the intruder. He claims the man is ill-mannered but harmless. I don’t agree but don’t argue; I have something else on my mind.
“Are there surveillance cameras in here?” I ask.
His eyes dart away and his face twitches. “No, of course not.”
“Why of course not? They’re in the main house. I’d like to review the footage tonight. Have you checked to see if the apparition was captured?”
Pratt is looking past me. “No. It never occurred to me to look. I had the system installed when I first moved in. I’ve never had cause before to concern myself with it. An oversight on my part.”
I want to say an unbelievable oversight but don’t. “I’d like to review all the footage tonight. Shall we go back to the house so you can show me how to use it before I speak to Mackenzie about what she’s observed in the house?”
Pratt’s rubbing his finger and thumb together; he looks like he needs a drink. “No, I’m sorry. The recordings are overwritten every twelve hours. I doubt there’s anything to review.”
“That’s disappointing. Still, I’d like to review what’s available.”
“Let me think about it. I promised my daughter we’d go to a movie tonight. If we’re to make it on time, we need to leave now. I came to make sure you’re all right and it seems you are. I would appreciate it if you would make sure the guest house is kept locked at all times.”
“You said I could talk to Mackenzie. Of course, you can take the lead. I’ll be careful—
“I’m sorry. I ran late at the office. As I said, I promised her a movie and due to the hour, we don’t have time.”
“Doctor, I’m concerned once again that you aren’t fully cooperating. Mackenzie’s input and the footage could prove invaluable. If you’ll give me the key to the cabinet, I’ll figure out how to operate the recorder. I’d like to review whatever is still available before it’s overwritten.”
Pratt puts his hand on the back of his neck then jerks it away. “Do you have any idea what it would do to my reputation if some… some ghost has been documented and that gets out to the public? I’ll never treat another patient, work in another hospital.”
“Do you have any idea what this situation is doing to you and your daughter?”
Pratt glares. “Yes, Ms. Raven, as a matter of fact I do. You have the house until ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Please come to my study at three o’clock to report your progress. We can discuss the surveillance footage at that time. Good evening.”
When the door closes behind him, I look at Mojo. I swear he rolls his eyes. I do the same.
After I meditate and smudge me and the wolfdog, I make sure the door is locked behind me and head to the main house.
I’m sure a ghost scandal would be bad for Pratt’s professional life, but what is he hiding? Whatever it is will have to wait. Tonight I need to forget about it and focus on the spirit that probably wants to leave this place even more than I want to release it. It’s got my deepest sympathy having to live with the man.
The first thing I do is walk through the house with my smudge stick, starting in Jankovic’s shrine of a bedroom. I still haven’t gotten around to researching more about her lidérc.
After Pratt told me she’d worked for him for years, I’d dismissed her involvement in this haunting. Now I’m not dismissing the possibility that the woman is fed up with the man and wants me gone so she can carry on with her lidérc loving mischief.
I open Agustina’s protection potion and draw a cross on Jankovic’s door before I close it tight and listen. No growling or hissing or c
hicken clucking. I smudge the downstairs, which seems cold even with the heat turned up high. Then I go to the top floor and check that Pratt didn’t turn off the surveillance equipment. There’s humming behind the doors, which are still locked. I dip my finger into the potion jar and cross the doors.
Next I go to Mackenzie’s lab. She’s left a bubblegum pink phone on her desk and her computer is on. I’m curious about both, but the camera’s eyes have me cautious too. After I smudge the room, I go to the hallway where she told Pratt she saw the shadow man.
I sit on the floor with my back pressed to the wall. Mojo’s left me, probably to go lie on Pratt’s bed; one of the doors is slightly open. The light in the entryway is on, giving it a warm yellow glow. The rain has started again and I think I can hear it on the roof, which I hadn’t noticed before.
I light Agustina’s white candle and pray to Saint Benedict and the Great Spirit. After a few minutes, I ask the apparition to make itself known. I jump when the furnace clicks on; I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard it. “If there is a spirit here, know that I’m here to help you.”
My eyes are closed and my breathing is deep. Sadly, I know I’m alone. I gather my things and go to Mackenzie’s bedroom. With the light on, it seems an unlikely place for a spirit to haunt: too pink and purple and fuzzy cute. It was probably decorated without Mackenzie’s input as it doesn’t seem anything like the little child professor.
It’s time to get down to business in Pratt’s bedroom. I turn off Mackenzie’s light and make my way down the hall, smudging as I go.
As suspected, the wolfdog is spread eagle on the bed, a discouraging sign. He seems to sense nothing but the need to sleep. He looks up when I enter the room and watches me as I spread out my Navajo blanket and set out the four corners: smudge stick in a orange cockle shell, the white candle, the wine potion, and a black onyx.
The Shem Bay Haunting (Jack Raven Ghost Mystery Book 3) Page 9
