Death Prophets

by Steve Armstrong

  37

  Matt Harrison raced back to his office after interviewing Patricia Oliver, hoping to be there before Grace showed up. Though they had no standing appointment, the precedent established during the previous two days suggested she’d be there at 12:15 p.m., which was presumably her lunch break. He made it back with two minutes to spare. No one waited at his door. Provided Grace followed her previous patterns, he was on time.

  Matt unlocked his office. In his other hand, he carried a brown paper bag from the local Chinese restaurant. He had just set the paper bag on his desk when someone knocked on the door. Grace stood at the already open entryway.

  “Hi, Grace. Come on in.” Matt reached into the bag and pulled out a piping hot white takeout container. “I have sesame chicken; would you like some?”

  “No, thank you,” she replied, eyeing the Chinese food suspiciously.

  “Are you sure? There’s plenty enough to go around.”

  “No, I’m fine. I’m not really hungry.”

  “Okay, well have a seat.” As Grace sat down, Matt pulled out two bottles of water. He extended one to Grace. She took it, though with some hesitation.

  “Thanks.” She didn’t open the bottle, opting instead to set it on the chair next to her. “I took the medicine,” she announced.

  Matt bobbed his head up and down. “Good. I’m glad. I hope it helps you.”

  “I don’t feel any different, yet.”

  “It takes time.” He sat behind his desk and opened the takeout container.

  “I know; that’s what Dr. Driscoll said, too.”

  Matt took a big bite of his sesame chicken and then pushed it to the side for the moment. “Just try to hang in there and be patient,” he said after swallowing. Grace just nodded in reply. He wanted to say something else to her, something that would immediately impact her outlook on life. But he knew from experience such words didn’t really exist. There was no simple cure for Grace’s illness.

  “So, any developments in your dreams last night?” Matt asked.

  Once again, Grace reached into her bag and produced a new sketch. The man’s face was more distinct and well defined. Behind the man stood faceless bodies that resembled mannequins.

  “These are people?” Matt asked, pointing at the blank figures.

  “I think so. But I couldn’t see their faces.”

  “Does this mean they die, too? Or does it mean that because you can’t see the faces that they’re just bystanders?”

  Grace shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what the rules are.”

  Matt scrutinized the drawing further. Grace hadn’t drawn in any other details beyond the faceless bodies. One person dying was bad, but the dozen or so Grace now had penciled in? The stakes were rising.

  “Any idea where this is happening?”

  “I can’t tell. With Thomas Wilson, I knew he was outside. And that’s the other weird thing about this dream—I don’t know where I am. In the first dream, I felt like I was across the street, but this time, it’s almost more like someone is showing me a video of what happened.”

  Matt was tempted to ask her what she thought it meant, but such a question seemed impossible to answer, especially given her response to his previous question.

  “Did you find out who George Oliver was or any of the other people Richard Anderson saw in his dreams?” Grace asked, the slightest glimmer of hope present in her features.

  Matt brought Grace up to speed on what their investigation had unearthed regarding George Oliver and the rest of the people Richard Anderson dreamed about. She listened intently until he finished.

  “So there is a connection?” she asked.

  “Seems to be a really strong link between Stevenson Industries and the people you two have dreamed about. And so far, none of these deaths has been due to natural causes, per se. But I don’t know if that’s going to be enough for us to stop the next death from happening.”

  “Did you ask Felicia Monroe if it’s okay if I speak to her uncle?”

  Leaning back in his chair, Matt tapped his fingers on the desk. He hated to disappoint her. “Felicia didn’t think it was a good idea to speak to her uncle.”

  “Why not?”

  “It seems that Jack Walton, her uncle, runs some sort of paranormal research department at Stevenson Industries, which is pretty weird. She thought they might want to run tests on you and that in the past, they’ve been willing to bring people into their research facility against their wishes.”

  Grace looked down at her hands as she fidgeted in her chair. “Maybe people should run tests on me.”

  “No one is going to run any tests on you, don’t worry,” Matt replied, realizing she hadn’t voiced this as a concern, but as an appropriate thing that should be done.

  “So that’s it? We can’t talk to him?”

  Matt considered their options for a moment. Though he understood Felicia’s concern, he also knew how much Grace wanted the opportunity to meet the reporter’s uncle. “Aw, screw it; let’s go meet Jack Walton.”

  “But I thought you said you wanted Felicia’s permission?”

  “That’s okay. Even John seemed to think it wasn’t a big deal and that it might make Jack Walton think twice about certain decisions he’s making.”

  Grace stood up. “Should we go now?”

  “No, hold on. Since what Felicia said could happen, I think we shouldn’t visit Walton at his workplace; we should wait until he goes home tonight.”

  Grace’s expression didn’t change. “I hope we’re not too late.”

  Matt hoped so too, but much more for Grace’s sake than Jack Walton’s.

  38

  Up until the present moment, Josh had maintained his distance from Jessie. After her tumultuous relationship with Mike Sullivan finally combusted, she needed time and space to regroup. And she didn’t need another unstable man who kept assuring her that he loved her, even though his unmastered power and emotion threatened to destroy her.

  But now, Josh’s thoughts were shifting. Parker’s exhortation to cease his metaphysical deliberations and simply do what he wanted had pushed Josh back toward Jessie. Perhaps only by reconnecting with her could he master his abilities. It hadn’t worked the first time. But maybe without Felicia Monroe’s interference, Josh would have turned a corner.

  Josh worried over Parker’s reaction. His mentor had never suggested Josh pursue Jessie. But Josh hadn’t wanted the temporary high and anonymous sex that Parker had recommended; he wanted Jessie. So later that day, Josh did not reach out to the unknown woman Parker had put him in touch with; instead, he showed up at Jessie’s doorstep.

  Standing in front of Jessie’s house ended up being quite the chore. Not once, but twice, Josh had turned around on the Garden State Parkway and headed back toward Windfall. Doing what he wanted never seemed like a viable option, particularly after what had happened just two weeks ago.

  When he finally knocked on her door, Josh hoped Jessie would open it and not her parents. He didn’t fear seeing them. He suspected they knew nothing about him and might not even have known what happened to Mike or that the brute had abused Jessie in the first place. In fact, seeing them would have granted his presence an air of validity: he wasn’t just some fly-by-night man trying to whisk her off to commence some new life this time—he was a rightful suitor.

  Jessie did answer the door. Josh’s heart rate accelerated as soon as he laid eyes on the wispy-haired blonde. For a moment, she stared back at him, saying nothing. Before Josh knew her, and she was just some girl across the gym, he thought of her in ethereal, almost angelic terms. He always wondered why this beautiful sprite had ended up with one as coarse and common as Mike Sullivan. But she was no longer just a delicate flower in his eyes. Someone couldn’t absorb as many bumps and bruises as she did and not emerge stronger and more solid.

  “Josh, what are you doing here?” Nothing in her tone suggested she was scared of him; that was good.

  “I wanted to see y
ou again,” he replied. That was an understatement. Josh had thought of Jessie so much in the last month, recalling the feel of her skin, the weight of her body in his arms, and the tender moments they shared on that cheap motel bed, staring off into a suddenly hopeful future. He tried to read her face but failed to arrive at any definitive conclusion. Being there at that moment was a gamble. The last time she looked at him, her face was full of fear. He was the one who killed her ex-boyfriend. Did she believe he was some sort of monster because he had crossed that moral boundary? This conversation would answer that question.

  Jessie stepped out from behind the door onto the landing with Josh and closed the door behind her. Either her parents were home and she wanted privacy or she wanted to be somewhere out in the open with him. Dressed only in a thin long-sleeved tee, Jessie crossed her arms to brace herself against the chilly October afternoon.

  “How have you been?” Josh asked.

  “I’ve been okay. Got a job at Macy’s. Trying to figure out what I should do next. What about you?”

  “I’ve been fine. Same is true for me. I mean, not the Macy’s part, but trying to figure out what I should do next.”

  Both of them had side-stepped the colossal elephants in the room. Josh knew for his plan to work that both of these animals would need to be identified and addressed. But he also didn’t feel comfortable trying to deal with the large beasts in front of her parents’ house after not seeing or talking to her since he executed her ex-boyfriend.

  “Do you think we could grab coffee or something? Or maybe just go for a walk?” he asked, stumbling over the words.

  In a sense, Jessie’s response to this much simpler question would speak volumes about whether she thought of Josh as a threat or something else entirely and whether they could even attempt to navigate around the obstacles to their union.

  At first, Jessie didn’t say anything. Perhaps she was considering all the reasons she should say ‘no’, which were myriad, and probably far outnumbered the reasons she should say ‘yes’. Though Josh still couldn’t discern Jessie’s feelings at the moment, the fact that fear hadn’t commandeered her expression was encouraging.

  “We can go for a walk. Just let me grab my coat and sneakers. Okay?”

  Josh nodded and Jessie disappeared back into the house. Not even a minute later, Jessie emerged wearing a dark gray jacket and a black pair of Skechers with pink laces. She walked down the steps and onto the quiet, residential street where her parents lived. Josh followed her.

  “How has it been living with your parents?” Josh asked.

  “It’s been a little rough.”

  “Do they know anything about what happened?” Josh began tiptoeing around the elephants.

  “They know some things. They know Mike beat me. It was kind of hard to cover that up, given the way my face looked.” Josh nodded. Whatever else he might have been to her, he was one of the few people who could understand her current state of mind. “I’d rather stay with my sister. She’s expecting a baby and could probably use the help, but she doesn’t have room for me. I’d move out, but it’s hard to do that right now with how much money I’m making.”

  Once again, Jessie had danced around the elephants. Josh allowed her to maneuver around them without steering them back toward what happened on Prospect Street. In reality, Josh came hoping to establish a normal relationship with Jessie. Nothing about their relationship after he picked her up from her disabled car had been normal. Together, they had run from her abusive boyfriend, skipping over the typical things people did when they first met: like go on dates and get to know each other. Josh hoped to redo the beginning of their relationship. Perhaps that notion was hopelessly naive.

  “Was there any career you wanted to pursue?” he asked.

  “I’ve thought about going back to school for sociology so I could be a counselor and help other women facing abuse. I’ve also thought about nursing,” she said.

  Josh nodded. “I could see you doing either one of those things. You’re really caring and compassionate.”

  Jessie looked at him and almost smiled. “Thanks. It’s just hard to go back to school. But I guess if I ever was going to, now would be the time.” They reached the end of the street, which terminated in a little circle in front of a wooded area. A small wooden sign marked a trail that threaded through the trees. Josh hoped Jessie would continue on the trail because that would demonstrate her current comfort level with him and extend their time together. She looked back at him for a second, worrying Josh that she was just going to walk the outside of the circle and then turn back. But, much to Josh’s delight, she crossed the boundary of asphalt onto leaves and dirt.

  Now, sequestered by the bare trees from the rest of the developed world, Jessie apparently felt protected enough to ask a more probing question. “Why are you really here now, Josh?”

  As soon as she asked the question, Josh realized how simplistic his thinking had been. They could never simply reset their relationship and start over again. Too much—both good and bad—had happened. But he still had to fight for her.

  “I want you in my life, Jessie. Maybe with all that’s happened, that’s not possible. And I’m not asking for your future, right now. But I’d like to take you to dinner. I’d like to get to know you. I’d like to earn a relationship with you. And if it all works out, I’d like to earn your future, too. Maybe we could have a normal relationship, despite everything that’s happened.”

  Jessie stopped and turned her entire body toward Josh. What would she say? Would she call him a murderer? If she did, she would have been right, three times over. Would she call him a rapist? Jessie probably would’ve been right about that one, too. Would she call him unstable and dangerous, despite his best intentions? He’d have a hard time rebutting her.

  Instead, Jessie placed her hand in his. “I think you’ve earned this.” Once again, Josh reveled in the electric feel of their skin touching. “And I think you’ve earned this, too.” Jessie leaned into him and kissed him on the mouth. She lingered there, her lips pressed against his, before finally withdrawing, her hand still in his.

  “You’re not scared of me?” Josh asked. Even though she had given him exactly what he wanted, he almost felt guilty, as if he was taking advantage of a woman in a damaged and vulnerable state.

  “No. You saved me. Again. If you hadn’t come when you did, Mike would have killed Detective Harrison, Felicia Monroe, and me. He was evil. He tortured me for months and deserved to die.”

  Josh, of course, agreed with Jessie’s verdict. But the devastating simplicity she uttered her view of Mike Sullivan with shook him. In truth, Jessie had far more reason to hate her abusive ex than Josh did. If anyone should have been going on a grass-roots vengeance spree on abusers, it was Jessie, not him. But Jessie had always been so innocent in his eyes.

  “What’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted?” Jessie asked, reading the uncertainty in his eyes.

  “Yes, it just seems so much easier than I expected it to be.”

  “Easy? What’s easy about rescuing me from a psychopath like Mike or about anything else we went through?”

  “It’s just that the last time you looked at me, you were so scared of me.”

  “I just needed a little time and space. I needed to realize that Mike deserved what happened to him. I know it sounds stupid, but when I saw Mike dead, I forgot about the pain he caused me. The person I spent the last year of my life with was gone. Even if he was a sociopath, I needed to accept that.”

  Josh nodded slowly, processing this information. He wanted to be more measured in his approach toward Jessie this time. But she wasn’t helping.

  Her eyes remained fixed on his. “You say that you want to earn my future, well you have. You saved my life more than once and you walked away from me and let me go when you thought it was in my best interest. What else could you do to earn my future than that?”

  She leaned toward him and kissed him again. He gave in, though a sector of
his mind hesitated. After she backed away, Josh placed his hands gently on her shoulders.

  “Jessie, I know our relationship can’t be a normal boyfriend-girlfriend kind of thing, but right now, can I just take you to dinner? Maybe I’ve earned your future, maybe I haven’t. But before we get there, I want you to know who I am. And I want to know you, too. So can we do that?”

  She smiled. “Yeah, of course. Whatever it takes.”

  “Okay.” He smiled back. “So let’s keep walking.”

  The two continued down the path that snaked along a hillside, gradually climbing toward the precipice. They held hands as they walked. Their conversation flowed smoothly. They spoke of their respective childhoods, dreams, and aspirations. Every bit of information felt like something new and vital that changed the shape and orbit of the earth. Periodically they kissed and each new episode increased in duration and passion. By the time they reached the summit of the hill which overlooked different sides of the town, Josh was ready to give his future away, too. Jessie hugged him, placing her face against his. Now that her back was turned to his field of view, Josh locked his eyes on a medium sized rock. The rock slowly began to rise in the air.

  “Huh,” Josh said softly, as the rock sat suspended in the air. Maybe he had had his epiphany.

  39

  Felicia Monroe followed the paver stone walkway that led to the house of Dr. Emmet Crane. The retired Medical Professor lived in a quiet community in northern Westchester County, about forty-five minutes south of Woodside. As expected, the white colonial with red trim where Crane resided was neat and well-maintained with a sprawling yard in front and in back. A number of trees dotted the front yard while the back looked much more open, at least with the limited glimpse Felicia was able to catch from the driveway.