“We’ve got more than enough to go on,” Bill said.
“The money, the credit cards, the jewelry his parents were wearing—if Cody stole them, then why leave them here?” I demanded. “Why didn’t he take them with him today?”
Frank groaned. “I can understand why he didn’t. What if he were caught with them in his possession? He was afraid, wasn’t he?”
Since Frank was looking at me, I answered. “Yes,” I said. “He was terribly afraid.”
One of the officers walked in from outside. He held up a damp, badly wrinkled T-shirt. “This was in the washing machine out in the garage, along with a pair of jeans.”
“Wrap them up,” Dad said. “We’ll send them to the crime lab.”
Frank fell into a chair at the kitchen table and rested his head in his hands. “This is all so hard to believe,” he said. “Cody’s always been a good kid. He’s not the type.”
“There’s no ‘type,’ Mr. Baker,” Bill said. “As a rule, whenever somethin’ like this happens, neighbors and relatives say, ‘I can’t believe it. He’s always been such a nice boy.’ What triggers the change from a ‘nice boy’ into a killer? Maybe anger that’s built up over the years, or maybe an out-of-control temper that most people don’t see. Sorry, but we don’t have all the answers.”
Another uniformed officer came into the kitchen and began to talk to Dad and Bill. As Mr. Ormond joined them, I said to Frank, “I don’t believe, either, that Cody is the murderer.”
Frank lifted his head. His eyes drooped with sorrow as he looked at me. “I didn’t say I believed Cody didn’t kill his parents. I did at first, but now there’s so much evidence against him. Holly, I said it was hard to believe. That’s all.”
So many thoughts raced through my mind. I struggled to reconcile the inconsistencies.
Maybe I am stubborn. Maybe I’m just plain stupid, I told myself. But something here is all wrong. Why would Cody steal just a few pieces of jewelry and credit cards and then hide them? If he used the cards, he’d be caught. There’d be no point in taking them. And wouldn’t he try to pawn the jewelry?
I could see the Garnetts’ living room the way it had been when I visited it with Glenda. The answer had been coming toward me when I panicked and ran. Glenda had said we could try again. Did I have enough courage?
“Someone knows what happened in that room,” I said aloud. Maybe I can reach them. Maybe not, I thought.
“Who are you talking about? You don’t mean that old neighbor with all the stories to tell, do you?”
“Ronald Arlington? No,” I answered.
Frank straightened, staring at me intently. “Who is this person, Holly? What do you know?”
The memories of the room flooded my mind, and I shivered at the blood and the fear and the terrible red glow. “It’s at the house,” I whispered. “I can’t tell you now because I don’t know if I can …”
Dad came up and rested a hand on my shoulder. “Go home, Holly,” he said. “Sara’s waiting to drive you.”
Chapter Fourteen
As Sara pulled up in front of my house, I said, “I’m sorry I got you into that.”
“It’s okay,” Sara said. “At that moment it seemed like the only thing to do.”
“I thought I could help Cody, but I didn’t.”
“No one can help Cody but himself,” Sara said.
“At least now you can give it up, Holly. It’s all over.”
I shuddered. “That sounds so final.”
Sara put a hand on my arm. “They’ll catch him,” she said, “and he’ll go to trial. It will be awful for you to read about it and hear about it while it’s going on, but remember—I’ll be there with you. That’s what best friends are for. Right?”
“Right,” I said, “unless …” I tried to smile and couldn’t quite make it, but I mumbled, “See you,” and climbed out of the Jeep.
As I closed the front door behind me, I called out, “Mom, I’m home.”
Mom called back, “I’m in the kitchen.”
As I walked toward the kitchen, something on the coffee table caught my eye, and I stopped. Transfixed, I stared at the amber barrette! I’d hidden it so carefully.
“Mom!” I yelled, “where’d you find my barrette?”
I heard the click of Mom’s heels as she walked from the kitchen. “What are you shouting about?” she asked.
“My barrette,” I said and pointed to it.
“What about it?” Mom looked puzzled.
“I thought I … uh … lost it. Where did you find it?”
“It was sticking up behind one of the sofa cushions. Is that where you lost it?” She smiled. “Any other questions?”
My gaze was drawn back to the barrette. The red-gold of the amber lay still and cool and deep. Maybe its appearance was a sign, telling me what I should do.
“Well?” Mom asked.
“Could I borrow your car?” I asked. “I’ve got a couple of things to take care of.”
“Like what?”
“Like …” I remembered two library books that were overdue. “Like the library, for one thing.”
“If you’re going to the library,” Mom said, “there’s a book you can pick up for me. They called and said it had come in. I’ll write down the name for you.”
Deliberately, I took my white barrette out of my hair, replacing it with the amber one. Under my fingertips the amber felt cold and hard.
I ran upstairs and picked up the library books just as the phone rang. I snatched it up on the first ring. Cody? But it was Sara’s voice.
“Holly,” she said, “what did you mean when you said, ‘Unless’?”
“What are you talking about?”
“What you said when I took you home. We were talking about Cody and how it was over for him, and then you said, ‘Unless’.”
“So?”
“Don’t play games with me, Holly,” Sara said firmly. “What did that ‘unless’ mean? What have you got in mind?”
“Sara, you are my best friend. I only meant that I’m going to try one more time to prove that Cody isn’t guilty.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I promise I’ll tell you if it happens,” I said and hung up. The phone rang again, but I ignored it.
As I reached the kitchen, Mom handed me the phone. “It’s Sara,” she said.
“I’ve got to go out. Right this minute. I promised I’ll call you later,” I said to Sara. Without waiting for an answer, I hung up.
Mom had finished writing the book information on a piece of notepaper. “Thanks,” she said and handed it to me along with her car keys. “When will you be back?”
“Soon,” I said. “Six-thirty or seven. In time for dinner.”
Wednesday. 5:00 P.M. It took less than five minutes to pick up Mom’s book. I jumped back in the car and headed straight for West University.
I parked in front of the Garnetts’ house. Then I ran across the street and up the winding path to Glenda Jordan’s front door. I knocked, expecting the door to open at my touch, but no one answered. I knocked again, but the house was silent. I walked down the driveway and peered into Glenda’s junglelike backyard, but it was empty. So was her one-car garage. Cautiously I reached up to touch the amber in my barrette. It was cold and lifeless.
Discouraged, I trudged back to Mom’s car, but I stopped, my hand on the door handle. If I were going to make contact with the spirits in the Garnetts’ house, it would have to be soon. Very soon. Tomorrow the cleaners would come to take up the rugs and scour the room. According to what Glenda had said, the atmosphere wouldn’t be the same.
I had no choice but to try it alone. Before I could change my mind, I stalked up to the front door, unlocked it, and closed it firmly behind me.
Slowly I crossed the entry hall and entered the living room. The air in the house had been stirred by the presence of others, and I remembered that the police would have been here, searching for Cody. “It’s all right,” I whisp
ered aloud. “They’ve gone and I’m here. It’s all right.”
Trying to duplicate what Glenda had done in every way possible, I went to the entertainment center, found a tape, and popped it in.
I sat in the chair I’d been in before and carefully repeated what Glenda had instructed me to do. Palms resting upward in my lap, I closed my eyes and began thinking about my toes, willing them to relax. My thoughts moved upward: hips and back, shoulders, and arms, and, last, my neck and head. My breathing slowed. In and out, in and out, along with the music that grew in volume and swirled through my mind. I could sense the amber glowing as its warmth radiated through my body. It was time to seek the spirits. It was time.
“M-Mr. and Mrs. G-Garnett,” I whispered, as I had before. “Here I am again—Holly Campbell. Cody’s friend. Help me learn the identity of your murderer. Show me. Please … show me.”
I pictured the room as I had before. In my mind I watched Cody place a CD in the player and turn to me, his arms outstretched. Then, as before, the music in my mind became harsh and discordant as the vision of Cody faded. I opened my eyes to a rush of hot red air that pressed against my back and head. The smell of evil was bitter and horrifying and wrapped itself around me.
At the edge of my consciousness I began to hear footsteps again. And as before, they slowly came closer … closer … closer.
Painfully clutching the arms of the chair, I forced myself to be still and wait, I won’t run. I won’t. I can’t! I silently screamed at myself.
A sudden stillness overpowered the room, and as I watched, unable now to look away from the door, the red haze parted. Out of the stillness and into the doorway stepped … Cody.
Chapter Fifteen
Holly?” Cody said, and the vision shattered. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
I was too shaken to answer. I remembered what he had said: I want to be honest with you. There’s something I have to tell you. Sara had interrupted him, and he hadn’t finished. Had he been going to confess to the crime? I’d believed in his innocence without question. I’d worked so hard to prove it. Was all my effort for nothing?
I was too numb and hurt and sick to be afraid of Cody. “The police were here, looking for you,” I said.
“I know. I spotted the car. I waited, then drove into the garage after they’d left.”
“How’d you get in without a key?”
“I got my keys back. Didn’t I tell you?”
He walked over and sat in the chair Glenda had chosen. “It’s funny,” he said. “I thought I could run somewhere, just get away from everything. But there’s nowhere to run. They’ll be back here. The neighbors will watch for any sign that I’m around. And the lake house will be watched too.” He leaned back and sighed. “There’s nowhere to run, Holly. Nowhere at all.”
“They found the murder weapon,” I told him. “And the money and credit cards and the jewelry your parents were wearing.”
Cody just shrugged. Then he closed his eyes for a moment, and his face sagged with exhaustion. “Oh, Holly, you don’t know how much I wish I hadn’t gone back. The first argument I’d had with Mom and Dad was bad enough, but then I came home again to get the keys and we were all so angry we were shouting at each other, and I threatened my parents. Why did I do it? I hate myself for it. Now, when I try to remember them, I can only think about the arguments.”
“Wait a minute, Cody.” Shocked, I suddenly realized exactly what he’d just said. I’d heard the words before, but they hadn’t registered. “What can you tell me about the murder weapon and the things taken from your parents?”
He opened his eyes. “Nothing. I don’t know anything about them.”
“But your Uncle Frank does.”
“You mean the police showed him?”
I wiggled to the edge of my chair. “Cody, where’s your sleeping bag?”
“What?”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t have one. I borrowed Frank’s.”
“Is it the same sleeping bag you brought back from your parents’ lake house?”
“Yes. When I told Frank I was going to drive to the lake to pick up some clothes, he asked me to bring the bag back for him.”
“So your uncle knew you were going.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Cody!” I grabbed his arm. “Frank told the police—and us—that your parents had complained to him about your threats. If you threatened them when you came back for the keys, then Frank was at the house after you left the second time.”
Cody struggled to take in what I’d said, and when it finally made sense, his eyes grew wide. “Frank was in the house after I left?” Cody shook his head. “No, Holly. You’ve got to be wrong. Frank couldn’t have killed my parents. He’s a nice guy. He’s tried to help. He’s taken good care of me.”
“And he’s been appointed as your guardian.”
“Well, yeah. He’d pay the bills and sell the house and …” Cody broke off, groaned, and clapped his hands to his forehead.
“Frank made it look like I did it, Holly? Can that be true? Why?”
“Greed,” I said. “He wanted the money.”
“But won’t he have to put most of it in trust or account for it to the courts?”
“If he’s dishonest, he won’t follow the rules.”
“I don’t get it. He could have killed me, too, but he didn’t.”
“If you were murdered with your parents, then Frank would have looked guilty. This way you’d go to prison, and he’d have the use of your money. Or maybe you’d run away. If the police saw you and chased you, you might even have been killed.” I shivered at the thought. “Frank encouraged you to run, didn’t he?”
Cody couldn’t shake the horror. It twisted his face. “What will we do, Holly?” he asked. “Nobody will believe us.”
“Dad will. We’ll tell him. Your uncle won’t get away with his plan.”
“Yes I will. It was a good plan.” Frank spoke to us from the doorway.
Cody started to rise, but Frank pointed a handgun at him. “Stay where you are, Cody.”
Frank turned to me and said, “You should have done what Cody told you to do. You shouldn’t have come here.” He smiled. “Especially after telling me that whatever it was you were going to investigate had some connection with this house. All I had to do was come here to find you.”
I was almost too frightened to breathe. My chest hurt so much it felt as if someone were standing on it. Frank had committed one murder, and I knew he’d kill us. Who’d be able to stop him?
The telephone was next to my elbow, but it was useless. I’d never be able to call 911 or Dad. Close to panic, I thought: Oh, Dad, Dad! I wish you were here! I wish you could hear me!
Someone can hear you.
As the words came into my head, I pictured Glenda. She had reached my mind before, hadn’t she? Maybe she could again. With all my energy and will, as Cody talked to his uncle, I tried to contact Glenda. Help us, Glenda! We’re in danger! Help us! ran like an unending tape through my mind.
“You had a key I didn’t know about,” Cody said.
Frank nodded. “I knew about the extra key in the garage. Getting a duplicate made was easy.”
Cody’s eyes filled with tears. “How could you kill your own sister, Frank? How could you do any of this?”
Frank shrugged. “Holly told you. Money. I badly needed money. Your parents had it, and I didn’t.”
“You won’t shoot us, Frank. You can’t. There won’t be any way to explain it.”
Frank smiled again, as if he was having great fun with this game. “I won’t have to explain it,” he said. “The police will come and tell me all about it. Holly knew where you were going. You arranged to meet her here. She wanted you to give up, but you wouldn’t. So you shot her, then killed yourself. Very touching. Very, very sad.
“Get up,” Frank suddenly said, but before we could obey him, he waved the gun at us. “No. I changed my mind. Stay where you
are. That’s as good a place as any.”
Glenda! Desperately my mind cried out, Glenda! Send someone to help us!
I heard a car screech to a stop outside the house. Another followed it. “Police! Open up!” a voice yelled. As the front door shook with hammered blows and the back door slammed open, I grabbed Cody and dived for the floor.
“I was about to call you, Detective Campbell.” Frank’s voice was smooth as Dad, Bill, and some backup police charged into the room. “I caught Cody and Holly here and planned to hold them until you arrived.”
“No way!” I yelled as an officer hauled me to my feet and another one grabbed Cody.
“Dad!” I shouted. “Frank committed the murders and tried to make it look like Cody did it. And he was going to kill us!”
Frank shook his head sadly. “Poor Holly. She’s so determined to prove that Cody’s innocent, she’ll say anything.”
I forced myself to calm down. “Just listen, Dad. You told me you were fair, and you are. So just listen. Please!”
Frank smiled. “She’s probably going to tell you some wild, unbelievable story,” he said.
“I’m not going to tell you anything,” I answered, thankful that I’d repeated every single one of Glenda’s actions. Now it was my turn to smile. “I’m going to play a tape for you. Everything that was said in this room has been recorded.”
After Frank had been taken downtown to homicide headquarters, Bill made arrangements with someone from Child Protective Services to take care of Cody.
Cody grimaced. “I’m not a child,” he insisted.
“You’re sixteen, son,” Bill told him. “Legally, that means you’ll get the supervision and care you need.”
Dad told me to go home, but he let Cody walk to the door with me.
“Holly,” Cody said, when we were out of Dad’s hearing. “Remember, when we were at my uncle’s house, I told you I had something to tell you?”
I nodded, and he said, “It’s hard to say after all that happened and all that you did for me. I’ll never forget it. Never! It’s just that you and me … well, I mean, we’ve always been good friends, and I hope we always will be. I didn’t want you to think you had to wait around for me if I was convicted and sent to prison. That would have made me feel terrible, because you deserve to have a life.”
Spirit Seeker Page 14
