Bumpy Roads - A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book 11) (The Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery Series)

by Reid, Terri

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bradley winced when the front door squeaked as he opened it sometime around midnight that night. He had followed up on some leads on the missing girl, had spoken at length with her distraught parents and worked with the local FBI office to fill them in on the pertinent information. He was exhausted, but he was also so wound up he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep right away. He kept seeing the face of the girl, in many ways she reminded him of Clarissa. His heart broke for her parents because he couldn’t imagine what he would do if his daughter was missing.

  He quietly laid his coat over the back of the closest chair, put his gun in the safe in the closet. He was about to flip open his laptop and work a little longer when he stomach growled and he realized he hadn’t eaten anything since he had grabbed a quick sandwich at lunch.

  Walking into the kitchen, he wondered if he would have to settle for peanut butter and jelly. But when he opened the refrigerator, he found a plate of food already made for him, with a yellow sticky note that had a heart drawn on it.

  Mary. His burden suddenly seemed a little lighter. Pulling out the plate, he noticed a tray filled with white ramekins, the kind Mary used when she made stuffed French toast. His smile widened. Being married is great.

  Carrying his food into the living room, he turned his favorite cable news station on low and flipped open his laptop, sharing his time between both as he ate his food. The FBI reports on the missing girl were linked to some older cases in Stephenson County. He clicked on the oldest one as he bit into the steak sandwich. Courtney Rasmussen, he mused, she was one of the first.

  The agent from the Rockford office had been very helpful, but Bradley was a little chagrined to discover in the past ten years they had had an epidemic of missing children cases in the area. He knew their computer software wasn’t compatible with neighboring towns and with the county, but there had to be some way they could all share data.

  He yawned widely and stretched. Kicking off his shoes, he decided to just stretch out on the couch for a few minutes, and then he’d have the energy to go upstairs and get ready for bed. He closed his eyes and the world around him disappeared.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The room was dark and Mary was trying to understand why she was there. She moved forward tentatively, trying to find an exit door or a light. She didn’t feel afraid, but she knew she didn’t really belong there. A low sound, like the thrum of a bass note, was pulsing in the background, over some hidden speaker system. Everywhere she went, the sound was present. She continued forward and she heard another sound, soft and whispered, in the distance. The sound of a child’s cry. Dismissing caution, she hurried forward toward the source of the sound, running down dark corridors that turned and twisted. Finding herself at a dead end, she turned back and found a staircase that hadn’t been there before. She jogged up stairs and down stairs, still following the elusive cry.

  The alarm went off at six o’clock. Still half asleep, Mary jumped up, still searching for the child. Realizing it had only been a dream, she turned, seeking comfort in Bradley’s arms. But her eyes widened and she was at full alert when she realized that not only wasn’t he there, but his side of the bed hadn’t been used the night before. Did something happen to him at work? Had he been shot? Surely someone would have called me! What if my phone wasn’t working? What if no one knows? What if he had been ambushed on the way home?

  Leaping from her bed, her heart in her throat, she grabbed her robe and rushed out of her room. She turned too quickly next to the staircase and rammed her toe into the post. Biting on her lip to keep from yelling in pain, she hobbled down the stairs.

  She could hear the soft tones of the news station before she reached the first floor. The living room was still dark, but the glow of the television lit it enough for her to see that Bradley was stretched out on the couch, snoring slightly. She quietly moved closer and saw the remnants of his meal still on the coffee table in front of him. His clothes were rumpled and his shoes were laying on the floor right below his feet, as if he had kicked them off at the last moment.

  Really? She thought. You couldn’t have just walked up the stairs and come to bed? Instead you decide to give me a heart attack the first thing in the morning.

  A part of her knew she was being unreasonable. A part of her realized he looked worn out. A part of her even had sympathy for the man slumbering on the couch. But another part of her was still reacting to her initial panic and her throbbing toe. And that part was really angry.

  Taking a deep breath, she stepped away from him. I’ll just go up, shower and get dressed, and then I’ll make breakfast. And when he wakes up, we can talk about our schedules.

  No sooner had Mary walked upstairs and closed her bedroom door than Bradley’s phone began to ring. Groggily, he reached into his pocket and brought the device to his ear, his eyes still closed. “Alden,” he said roughly into the mouthpiece.

  Slowly his eyes opened and he sat up on the couch. “Yeah, really?” he said, becoming more alert. “Don’t the FBI ever sleep?”

  He rubbed his face with his hand, wiping away the sleep and then ran it through his hair. “No, hey, it’s not your fault,” he said. “I got a couple of good hours of sleep. I’m good, really. And the sooner we can get them working on this case, the better.”

  He slowly looked around, saw the television was still on and the rest of the first floor was empty. “It looks like Mary and Clarissa are still asleep,” he said. “So, I’ll come in right now, shower at the office and change into my extra uniform. Yeah, I can be there in ten minutes, so you can brief me before the seven o’clock meeting.”

  Stretching and trying to work the kinks out of his back, he finally reached over and slipped his shoes back on his feet. I probably should leave Mary a note, he thought.

  He walked over to the desk and picked up a pen when his phone rang for a second time. “Chief Alden,” he answered, dropping the pen. “Oh, traffic was better than you thought? Well, isn’t that great. Yeah, sure, we can move the meeting up to six-thirty. No problem. I’m heading in right now.”

  Well, crap, it sure feels like this is going to be one of those days, he thought as he picked up his gear and hurried out of the house, closing the door softly behind him. I’ll just call Mary later, she’ll understand.

  Mary heard the click of the door as she exited her bedroom. No, she thought, hurrying down the hall to the stairs, he wouldn’t just leave.

  Rushing down the stairs, she froze on the bottom step and looked into the living room. Bradley was no longer stretched out of the bed, his shoes were no longer on the floor and his coat was no longer on the back of the chair. She sat down on the steps, put her head in her hands and sighed. “Well, I guess the honeymoon is now officially over.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The young girl lifted her head from the bed and gazed around the small room. Everything around her seemed fuzzy and her head felt like it was in a fog. Somewhere deep inside of her someone was screaming for her to run away, but she couldn’t get her body to respond to the command. A door opened and bright light entered the dim room. She squinted, but didn’t look away.

  “Well, good morning. You’re finally awake,” the man’s voice seemed to echo in the room and through her head. “Don’t worry; sooner or later I’ll get the portion right. I don’t want to give you too little because we don’t want you running away, do we? And we don’t want to give you too much because then you could die, and we’re not ready for that just yet, are we?”

  Her hair was yanked and she collapsed against the bed, her head bent back. She gagged as the medicine was forced down her throat, and although she tried to move her face, it was caught in the iron grip of his hand.

  “Now swallow it all up,” he said. “That’s a good girl.”

  He stroked her hair and her face. “Just relax,” he said. “Just relax and everything will be just fine.”

  She whimpered softly. “Mommy,” she whispered.


  “Oh, honey, your mommy can’t help you now,” he said. “You’ve fallen down into the monster’s lair and there’s nothing anyone can do for you.”

  “Please,” she begged.

  “Look at the photos on the wall,” he said, pointing to a collection of framed photographs. “Each of those girls was where you are now. And each of those girls learned what happens when you skip school. Then they all graduated. And you’ll graduate too. Once I’m done with you.”

  “I don’t want to die,” she pleaded.

  “I didn’t say nothing about dying,” he said. “I said you’d graduate, just like you would have if you hadn’t decided to skip school. But, don’t worry, if you’re nice to me, I’ll let you stay down here with me for an entire school year.”

  He stroked her again. “Now, you just sit back and let that medicine kick in. Then we’ll play some fun games before I have to go to work.”

  He tightened the strap that held her to the bed. “I’m just going upstairs to get ready, but don’t you worry, I’ll be back.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I’ve spent last night getting to know you,” Celia said as she entered Mary’s office.

  “I beg your pardon?” Mary replied.

  Smiling, Celia slipped off her coat and hung it on the coatrack near the door. “I did some Internet research on you last night,” she explained.

  Sitting back in her chair, Mary pushed slightly away from the desk, took a sip of her Diet Pepsi and nodded. “Did you learn anything interesting?”

  Celia nodded. “Yes, actually, I did. It’s amazing how much you’ve done with your gift.”

  “I didn’t realize I was even on the Internet.”

  “Not only in the news, but there are a lot of discussions about you on forums, especially paranormal forums,” Celia added. “Some of it’s quite fantastic and some isn’t very flattering.”

  “Well, you can’t believe everything you read,” Mary replied with a smile.

  Studying the woman in front of her, Celia wondered if she was indeed some miraculous psychic who was led by spirit helpers to solve murder cases or, on the other hand, if she was the crackpot detective wanna-be that others on a few Internet forums suggested.

  “Which should I believe?” Celia asked.

  Laughing quietly, Mary nodded. “Good question. I think the best answer to that is that you need to determine for yourself who I am and if I’m crazy or not,” she said with a self-depreciating smile. “I’m fine if you want to reserve judgment for a little while. Work with me, but hold back if you need to.”

  “So, what is it like?” Celia asked unexpectedly.

  “What is what like?” Mary asked, a little confused at this turn in the conversation.

  “Dying.”

  Taking a deep breath, Mary nodded slowly and put her soft drink on the desk. “Getting right to the heart of the matter, so to speak, that’s fair.”

  Sitting forward in her chair, she placed her elbows on her desk and rested her head on her heads, meeting Celia’s eyes directly. “Well, the getting shot part is not something I’d recommend. But the going to the light part is…” she paused for a moment, looking down at the desk, trying to find the right words. “It’s like having amnesia. You forget about any problems or worries, you’re just free and walking toward something you know is going to be great. You have this amazing sense of tranquility and peace…and there’s also a familiarity about it. Like you’re finally going home.”

  Mary looked up to find Celia’s eyes filled with tears. “And then?” Celia prompted; her voice thick with emotion.

  “Well, for me, that’s where it ended,” Mary explained. “I was given a choice and I choose to return and I suppose you know the rest of the story.”

  “And you’ve been working with ghosts ever since?”

  “No, I’ve been working with people ever since,” Mary replied. “It just so happens that some of them are dead.”

  Celia smiled. “I like that; it makes them seem less scary.”

  “When you get the chance to know them, most of them aren’t scary at all,” she said. “They just need some help finding their way back home.”

  Pulling out a tissue and blotting her eyes, Celia nodded, “So, what should we do first?”

  Mary smiled. It seemed that Celia had already made her up her mind about her. She moved a folder to the middle of her desk and opened it. “The first question I have is about other cases that are similar to Courtney’s case,” she said. “If there have been other disappearances, perhaps we can link things together and see if there are any connections.”

  Pulling out her own folder, Celia opened it and pushed it across the desk toward Mary. “Although the police haven’t made any connections,” she said. “I’ve been doing research on missing children, especially girls, in the area and I’ve found quite a few that I think match the profile.”

  Mary flipped through the newspaper articles from the various small towns in the areas and the Amber Alert press releases attached to the articles. “Why don’t the police believe these are connected?” she asked.

  Celia sighed. “Well, to be fair, I’ve never shown these to the new police chief,” she admitted. “But the former police chief didn’t seem to have any interest in these cases because there were in other smaller towns in the county. And, we don’t have a database that links one jurisdiction to the other, so the connections might get overlooked.”

  “But what about the FBI? Wouldn’t they have linked the disappearances?” Mary asked.

  Shrugging, Celia sat back in her chair. “It could have been that they were far enough apart from each other that the connections weren’t made,” she said. “And it didn’t help that the police department had to install a brand new computer system four years ago. A lot of the cases never got transitioned to the new system.”

  “So there might be other cases, older cases, that relate to Courtney’s case?” she asked.

  “Yes, I suppose so,” Celia said. “But we have to go into the archives to get them.”

  Standing up and putting the files into her briefcase, Mary was ready for action. “Let’s go down to city hall and get access,” she said.

  “But how are we going to get permission?” Celia asked.

  Mary smiled. “Let me worry about that,” she replied. “I know a guy who owes me.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The preschool playground was empty, so Maggie and Clarissa hurried to the swing set as soon as they were released for recess. Through an unspoken agreement, neither child said anything until they had seated themselves on adjacent swings and set them barely moving.

  “So, what happened last night?” Maggie asked. “Did Mike tell on you?”

  Shaking her head, Clarissa smiled at her friend. “No, he just checked on me before I said my prayers and asked me if I had learned my lesson,” she replied.

  “So, what did you say?”

  “I told him I learned my lesson really well,” she said with a grin. “But he doesn’t know the lesson was not to get caught.”

  Maggie didn’t laugh. “I’m still worried about that man,” she said. “I think we need to tell someone.”

  Clarissa swung in silence for the next few moments. “Bradley didn’t come home last night,” she said quietly.

  “What?”

  “He didn’t come home from work,” Clarissa replied. “It’s already starting. He doesn’t want to spend time with me.”

  Skidding her swing to a stop, Maggie turned to her friend. “I just can’t believe that,” she said. “He loves you.”

  Shrugging, Clarissa continued to swing. “Well, maybe he did,” she said. “And Mary was pretty upset about it too. I’m sure she doesn’t want to be stuck taking care of me.”

  “Did she say that?” Maggie asked.

  Forcing herself to be honest, Maggie shook her head. “No, she didn’t. She was nice to me and she was trying hard to be happy. But I could tell she was upset,” she said. “And later on, I hea
rd her talking to Mike. And Mike asked her if Bradley was abandoning Mary and me.”

  Pushing her feet against the sandy dirt, Clarissa started the swing moving higher into the sky.

  “What did Mary say?” Maggie demanded, jumping off her swing.

  Clarissa shrugged once again. “I don’t know,” she said. “I didn’t want to hear any more, so I closed my door.”

  “Well, was he there when you got up this morning?” Maggie asked.

  Shaking her head, Clarissa pumped her legs to bring the swing even higher, trying to hide her watery eyes from her friend. “No he wasn’t,” she said. “And I don’t even care. If he wants to abandon me, I’ll be fine. I did just fine by myself in Chicago and I can do fine in Freeport.”

  Maggie climbed back onto her swing, angrily pushing off the ground. “Of course you care,” she said. “You can’t lie to me, Clarissa. Did you ask Mike about it?”

  “No,” Clarissa replied angrily. “’Cause all he would do is lie to me.”

  “Angels can’t lie,” Maggie said. “So he would tell you the truth.”

  Clarissa continued to swing in silence while Maggie waited for her response. Finally, after a few minutes, Maggie sighed and just swung next to her friend in silence. They swung back and forth, the metal chains squeaking as they moved back and forth over the round casings that held them in place. The sun came out from behind a cloud and the girls could see their shadows gliding back and forth over the playground sand.

  Finally Clarissa spoke. “Maggie.”

  “Uh, huh?”

  “I didn’t ask Mike because I was afraid he would say yes,” she said softly.

  “Isn’t it better to know?” Maggie asked. “That way you can make plans?”

  A single tear slipped down Clarissa’s cheek and she brushed it away quickly. “I guess,” she said. “But he loved me before he and Mary got married. He always had time for me then.”