by Dale Mayer
As she took one more step toward the tent opening, she felt something weird on her foot. She looked down, and, sure enough, the spider raced up her leg. She danced around, trying to shake it off. But it wouldn’t be. In the process she dropped her lunch container. And damn if the spider didn’t do a flying leap off her pant leg to land inside the container.
Still not sure what the hell was going on, she backed away from the spider. “You want the container? You can have the container,” she cried out.
And of course it didn’t say anything. What was it supposed to say? Or was she really expecting to hear a child’s voice in her mind again? It was the last thing she should want to hear. Yet that was what she’d heard the first time, and that was what had sent her to call Kirk.
Hearty condescending laughter filled the air.
The Watcher. She glared into the room. Can you see me?
Sure. Not all the time unfortunately, just at moments when you’re the weakest. And apparently that spider has got your number.
She gave a mock shudder. I hate spiders. It was a standard answer. This spider was special, but she didn’t want anyone to know. Especially the Watcher.
Do you? I wonder why. They’re really harmless, you know.
In the back of her head she was busy throwing up walls, finding out where this guy was seeing her and how he was talking to her. And she had been talking to the spider in the tent, so he could hear her as well then. Similar to Stefan but … different.
Definitely different, Stefan said in a dry tone in the back of her mind.
She froze, afraid the other guy could see or hear Stefan and know he was here. But the Watcher was talking now.
You know? Spiders are really a scientific marvel. So I don’t know what this spider’s problem is, the asshole said, because he seems to be attached to you for some reason, which I don’t understand. Not sure why anything would be attached to you.
Not sure what the hell Stefan’s presence meant but grateful he was here and could hear, she cautiously asked the Watcher, So do you know me, or are you judging me based on this little glimpse into my world you can see right now?
He gave a bark of laughter. Oh, good question. Glad to see you got your brains on. Not that you have too many of them, if your life is anything to go by. You’re a mess, aren’t you? I mean, look at the stupid questions you’re answering for people. You’re wearing your life force down at a level that’s dangerously low too. You should fix that. And then, almost as if with a casual wave of his hand, he disappeared.
At least she thought he had disappeared. She walked the room with her eyes closed, desperately trying to figure out where he’d come from and how she would know before he arrived next time and also how to make sure he’d left.
In the back of her mind, Stefan said, his voice low and calming, He’s gone.
She spun to look at him, and yet he wasn’t here. She reached up, wanting to pull her hair out of her head in frustration but instead massaged her temples. How can I be sure of that? she asked, but she could sense the emptiness.
Get a sense of what it felt like, what his energy looked like, what it smelled like, if there was a taste or color associated with it, Stefan said. What you’re looking for is that tingling that says he’s on his way or for the absence of that tingling to tell you that he’s gone.
Did you hear him?
No, Stefan said. But I could sense him. I couldn’t see him either, which is also unusual.
She snorted. Unusual? How is any of this normal?
Well, as you’ve already been working in this field for a long time, you know perfectly well nothing is normal about our lives or the things we can do.
Can you tell me if there’s anything special about that spider? It’s almost like he wants me to take him with me, or he wants my lunch container for himself.
Did you ever consider maybe you should take him with you?
You did get that part about it being a spider, right? She walked closer to the lunch container to see the spider curled up inside. I can’t imagine that a spider would want my lunch container, she murmured. There’s also a weird buzz when I get too far away from it.
What kind of a weird buzz? Stefan asked sharply.
She straightened. Well, that question made you wake up and take notice.
Anything that has a buzz is something that makes me stand up and take notice, he said. Now stop playing games and talk to me.
She raised her hands in mock surrender. When I’m about ten feet away, I get a weird crackling in my head. But the minute I step back toward the spider again, it goes away. The closer I am, the less buzz. The farther away, around that ten-foot mark, there’s a really strong buzz.
Interesting, Stefan said.
I don’t know about interesting, she said, but it’s definitely irritating.
When you talk to it, do you hear anything?
She wanted to smack her forehead. No, but there’s a weird buzz. Do you know what it is? Have you heard anything like it? This conversation was beyond ridiculous. She waited, desperate to hear his answer.
No, he said. I never have. But that doesn’t mean they can’t project that noise as some sort of communication.
Well, I highly doubt it. It’s one thing if it were some animal that everybody loves, like a dog or a cat talking back to you. But to have a spider? I don’t think so.
I don’t think we get to make that judgment. I’ve seen some pretty amazing connections between animals and people, birds and people, he said softly. I imagine it takes the right person to connect with our arachnid friends.
I’m so not the right person, she snapped. I don’t like spiders, nor do I like snakes and beetles. As much as I can tolerate them, I’d prefer not to have them anywhere around me.
He chuckled softly. Do you know if that buzz had anything to do with your visitor?
She frowned. How could that be?
I don’t know. I’m asking you. Stranger things have happened in our world.
I noticed a crackling well before he came. At the same time, it seemed to me it happened well before he arrived, but it was probably only minutes.
What if that spider was letting you know of this visitor’s arrival? Stefan said thoughtfully. I know that’s pretty far out there, even for me.
You think? She shook her head, reached down and picked up the plastic container. It’s barely alive.
Maybe, but, if it was sending you a message or setting off some alarm system, then it would need time to recover, right?
I have no clue, she snapped again. This is just crazy.
Maybe. Are you ready to tell me the truth yet? He waited a split second; then he said, Right. I’m gone. And he disappeared from her mind.
She picked up the lid of the container, and, holding both carefully, she walked out of the tent, refusing to look back inside again. She headed to her car. She’d had more than enough for today.
*
Kirk sat at his desk, wondering if he should check out Bonnie Jenkins’s property. In the back of his mind he couldn’t forget what Queenie had said. But he had no concrete proof. He had no boat either, and it was damn hard to get money from the chief to justify renting a boat. Now, if the sheriff had one available, that would be a different story.
Reaching across the desk to his phone, he picked it up and called him. “Sheriff, this is Detective Kirk Sanders. Do you have any news?”
“Not yet,” he said. “Starting to think she might be gone.”
“Yeah, me too. You don’t happen to have a boat available up there, do you? To take a trip around the lake?”
“Yep, got one here at the office. You want to come on up? If you can spend half a day here, we can search the lake.”
“I’m thinking about it,” Kirk said. “Hardly have the time for it, with all the other cases, but I can’t let it go.”
“I hear you. Pick a day this week. I’ll make time. We’ll take a run around the lake. It’s big, but it’s not huge.”
“
We can pretty well only check the shores, as the water will be too dark to see her unless we get lucky,” he said, “It’s not like we have money to drag the lake or to get divers in. We need to have a whole lot more reason to believe she’s in there than what we have so far.”
“Exactly. Don’t have much budget money for things like that,” the sheriff said.
Kirk made a quick decision. “How about tomorrow?”
“Yeah, Friday? What time?”
“How about I be there elevenish?”
“Okay, I’ll see you then.” The sheriff hung up.
It was late in the afternoon, and he wondered whether Queenie was still at the amusement park or not. He checked his watch to find it was dinnertime.
He had to admire a sheriff who answered the phone even though it was well past business hours. It said much about who the man was.
He called Queenie, but the phone went to voice mail. She could be driving; she could be sleeping. He didn’t know. He didn’t have a current address for her either. He could run by the amusement park; chances were somebody there might have seen her or would know where she was. But would they tell him? For all intents and purposes, he still looked like a cop, and some people could smell that a mile away.
He closed down for the day, grabbed his jacket, picked up his cell phone, sliding it into his pocket, and left. He didn’t say a word to the others. They’d just bug him about seeing Queenie again. As he walked out, Peter walked in.
Kirk stopped and said, “What? Did you forget something?”
Peter chuckled. “Nah. I had to run by the hospital and talk to a doc.”
Kirk nodded. He didn’t really give a shit what Peter was up to. The guy was obnoxious at the best of times. Kirk walked out to his car, hopped in and got to the intersection, only to find he was in the turn lane. That lane would take him to the amusement park. Swearing softly to himself, he took the corner. Ten minutes later, he drove into the parking lot at the amusement park. He hopped out, navigated through the crowds, all the events and the man calling out for the games to find Queenie’s tent with the drapes down and a sign reading Closed. He frowned, pulled back the drapes and stepped inside. It was empty.
He stepped back out again and saw no sign of her. He looked around for somebody to ask and realized he should have asked at the ticket counter at the entrance. He still had the stub. He checked it to see that the park was open for another three hours. Beside him was a woman making doughnuts. He stopped in front and asked, “Do you know if the psychic is coming back again today?”
The massive woman fisted her hands on her ample hips. “And what do you want to know for?”
He held up his ticket stub. “I paid the entrance fee so I could ask her a question.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the kind of question she expected either.
“That’s what they all do.” She snorted. “What’s the matter? Can’t figure out your own love life?”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say hell no. But he held back the words.
She stared at him, as if trying to get his measure, and then she nodded. “I think Queenie is gone for the day. She wasn’t looking so hot.”
Interesting. He managed to keep the frown off his face, nodded politely and said, “Thank you.” He turned and walked away when she called out behind him.
“But you didn’t want her for that, did you?”
He turned and said, “For what?”
“The same questions everyone in that long line outside her tent was asking today?”
He shrugged, not knowing what she was talking about.
“It’s personal, isn’t it?”
He smiled. “Absolutely it’s personal.” He turned on his heels and started to walk out. But he hadn’t gotten more than ten feet before a massive man stepped in front of him, his arms crossed.
“Why is it personal? What’s your business with Queenie?” he barked.
Surprised to see she had friends, maybe even defenders of her, in the park, Kirk stopped. “I’m an old friend.”
The big man shook his head. “Not sure friend qualifies,” he said. “Queenie doesn’t have any contact with anybody from before.”
“Before what?”
“Before she joined us,” the woman called from behind him. “We’re her friends. And, if you’re such a friend, why the hell haven’t you been around to help her out these last few years?”
Feeling cornered and not having any decent answer, he said, “I didn’t know where she was these last few years. She just called me a few days ago, and we reconnected.”
He watched the two of them look at each other as if assessing his answer and trying to figure out if they believed him or not before the big guy stepped off to the side.
“If you’re really a friend, then don’t be such a stranger. And, if you’re not a friend, stay the fuck away from her.”
Kirk walked away, happy for Queenie that she had a champion but sad she apparently had no friends. At least friends from before, the ones she should have had. That would have been him and his cop buddies. There hadn’t been time for a whole lot more. There had been a couple doctors she dealt with, but, other than that, she knew few people. One shrink had enjoyed spending time with her. When Kirk saw her at the hospital, there had been nobody. Everybody had already scattered from her life and weren’t particularly interested in collecting around her again.
But then Queenie would have been the first to say they wouldn’t be around her now because she couldn’t do anything for them. She’d always upheld that the cops were only her friends because of the cases she could close for them. And, when that last case blew up in their face, there was an immediate backlash, and they had turned on her.
Well, it was pretty easy to understand why. She had such a negative view of them all. And, as he looked back, he admitted their behavior had been less than friendly, more like she was a tool to be used. She worked for them for free, but she did the work especially for the families of the deceased or the injured or the kidnapped. She’d always been about helping others.
But so many people didn’t give a shit. Maybe he’d been in that camp. When he realized just how much damage it had caused her, he’d wanted her to stop. But, at that point, she’d been so focused on getting through all these cases that she couldn’t hear what he was saying. This was his fault too as he was the one who had sent her down that path.
Still, years had passed. What he needed now was to confirm any slight details about this woman in the lake, so, when he went up there with the sheriff, they didn’t waste the slice of time they had to possibly find Bonnie. He had no way to know that Queenie’s dead woman in the lake was the missing Bonnie Jenkins, but it sounded like she might be. But he had to find Queenie first. He pulled out his phone and called her again. This time she answered.
A sleepy voice said, “Hello?”
“Queenie, it’s Kirk.”
She sighed, but there was sadness to it. “What do you want, Kirk?”
He winced because, of course, that was what she’d always figured. People only contacted her when they wanted something. And here he was, once again proving her right.
“The woman in the lake,” he said abruptly. “I’m going out late tomorrow morning with the sheriff. He’s got a boat, and we’ll go out on the lake. I was wondering if you could give me any pointers as to where she is.”
“Across the lake from her property,” Queenie said. “If you’re at the top looking down, you’ll see her. She’s about two feet down, floating, but caught in the plants close to shore.”
“Directly across from the property? Like if we put in the boat at her dock and go straight across?”
“As much as I can tell. It’s almost like the woman’s head is pointing directly at the property. But, of course, there’s a lot of leeway within that.”
“Any idea what she’s wearing?”
“Blue jean capris and a pink blouse,” Queenie said. Then her voice changed. “I don’t know if you’ll find her though
.”
“Why is that?”
“Feels like something’s over her face now.”
“Seaweed?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to see. Maybe.” But her voice sounded puzzled.
“We should see the pink top though.”
“Maybe,” Queenie said. “But again I can’t help you with that. I really don’t know anything more to tell you.”
He tried to hear if there was a note of apology in her voice. He hoped there wasn’t, but of course there was. “You’ve helped,” he said warmly. “I didn’t want to have to question you about the details, but you’re the one who told me about her in the first place.”
“True enough,” she said, her voice quiet.
“Are you okay?” he asked sharply.
“Sure, just tired,” she said.
But something more than tiredness hung in her voice. He frowned. “Did you eat today?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice a little stronger. “I do know how to look after myself, you know.”
He let that one slide because, of course, a lot of times when they were together, she did forget meals, lots of them in fact. “Are you at dinner now?”
“No, I haven’t cooked anything yet.”
And instinctively he knew she didn’t have any food around to cook. “I’ll pick up something and drop it off,” he said without thinking. “As a thank-you for giving me the information on the woman.”
There was an odd silence at her end of the phone. Then she said, “Are you sure you don’t want to wait? You might not find her now.”
“True enough. But at least there’s a file open on her, and her daughter knows we’re doing something for her now.”
“Don’t bother about food,” she said. “I’m just going to go to bed.”
“Oh, no you don’t. I know this is a one-way path. You need to eat. You need to eat healthy.”
She gave a broken laugh. “Why bother? Everything else inside my world is a disaster. What difference will a little bit of nutrition today make?”
“A lot,” he said, forcing a cheerful note into his voice. “I need your address.”
And again there was that hesitation.
