The Third Eye of Leah Leeds

by Christopher Carrolli

  Today was December 22nd. Her deep blue eyes rolled upward in an arch, glaring at him until he backed away with his hands in the air. Dylan rubbed his stubbly chin to conceal the laughing smile that cracked just above it.

  “I’ve been studying the memoir once again,” Sidney said, in a more serious tone. “There are some things I would like to mention before we go.”

  “Go where?” she asked, turning her head toward Dylan.

  “That’s what I wanted to discuss with you, as soon as Sid got here,” he said, motioning to the conference table where they all resumed seats. When he had their attention, he spoke. “Leah, I’m sure you’re aware that if we go into Cedar Manor to investigate, there are procedures we must follow, of course. For one, we can’t just go out there, break in, and investigate, especially in the cold and the dark. I need to know who exactly owns the house now.”

  “It’s now fully owned by the city of Green Valley,” Sidney said, freshly on top of information he’d learned in the historical records at the library.

  “Then we have to obtain permission to enter the house from the city itself, which means we have to make a trip to City Hall. Susan had already expected this, so she briefed me on what our cover story will be. Since the police station is at City Hall, the police will learn of our efforts to enter the house, and they may suspect that our investigation has something to do with what happened the other night with the teenagers. Susan doesn’t want that.”

  Leah and Sidney listened intently, slouching back slightly in their chairs.

  “Leah, Susan wants us to use your dreams as the main reason for entering. She wants you to explain that returning to Cedar Manor, after all this time, may be a therapeutic catharsis, that returning might help put the memories behind you.”

  “Yeah, but isn’t that why we are going?” She asked, confused.

  “That’s the main reason,” Dylan said. “She doesn’t want us to reveal any investigation plan that has anything to do with the teens. Any investigation that we’re doing solely affects you in your therapy—that’s all. But, she also wants us to offer our services for a paranormal investigation into the murders as sort of a...an interest point—”

  “A bribe,” Sidney said quickly, before Dylan could finish. Dylan closed his eyes and waited for Sidney’s interjection to dissipate in the air.

  “There’s one more thing to consider,” he continued. “We must apply to have the utilities turned on. We can’t properly conduct an investigation in the dead of winter with no heat, as well as no electricity or lights. How would we see anything? How would we test anything?”

  “Yeah,” Sidney said. “Dark is one thing, dark and cold is another.”

  Dylan ignored Sidney again and stared at Leah eye to eye.

  “Leah, there’s no telling how long that could take.”

  She sighed and slouched back even further into frustration.

  “As I was saying,” Sidney broke their steadied gazes at one another. “I have an issue I would like to take up when we get there. There were quite a few items uncovered in that house after the discovery of the bodies in 2008.”

  Sidney unzipped his duffel bag and retrieved a file folder from it. He opened it and read from one of the many various papers inside.

  “One of those items was a handheld mirror, reported to be opaque, like one of those black mirrors used in occult rituals. And get this—it disappeared from the police evidence room a year later in 2009. But, it’s not so much the mirror that I’m concerned with, it’s something else that was found.”

  “Which was?” Dylan said.

  “A large, black book, said to have belonged to Angus Marlowe, was confiscated by the police. It was never mentioned what kind of book it was, but I have a feeling that it’s of vital importance to the investigation of that house.”

  “So, the book didn’t disappear?” Leah asked, and Sidney shook his head.

  “No, I assume the police still have it. If so, I’m going to request that it be remanded to us so that we may be able to investigate, as far as the murders are concerned.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense,” Dylan said. “One item is stolen, the other left behind, and the police have never made any mention of that book, or how it may have been connected to the murders.”

  “Interesting, isn’t it?” The look on Sidney’s face reminded Dylan of a blood hound on the scent. “I feel like I have to get my hands on that book, one way, or another.”

  They both looked at Leah, who remained silent, listening intently.

  “But, who would want something like that if it didn’t mean anything to them?” She asked the question with her eyes unblinking. “Most people wouldn’t even know what it was. If the thief were some kind of occult fanatic, then why not take the book also?”

  Dylan and Sidney exchanged quizzical glances at each other, both seeking to understand Leah’s point with this line of questioning. She looked at both of them.

  “Angus’ body was never found,” she said. “No one knows what happened to him. You don’t think he could still be alive, do you? After all, the mirror would only mean something to him.”

  Sidney leaned in toward her, and his stupefied expression made Dylan giggle.

  “Sweetheart,” he said. “Angus Marlowe would be close to eighty-three years old. If he’s still alive, believe me, he’s no longer a problem.”

  Dylan turned his head away, shrouding an unwelcome onset of laughter.

  “This isn’t funny, guys.” She said sternly. “The man was a murderer.”

  “I know, Leah.” Sidney said. “But, I don’t want you to go overboard with this and start thinking irrationally; it’s not like you. I’m only after the book because I think it may give us some clues as to what exactly occurred in that house, which may help us understand what’s in that house.”

  Leah took a deep breath and gave a half smile, recognizing her overreaction.

  “Feeling better?” Sidney asked.

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “Great,” Dylan said. “Then let’s roll.”

  * * * *

  Obtaining permission to enter the house would entail a different route than usual, Susan had warned, but she advised them to proceed as normal. She’d been right, and now the investigators were redirected to Detective Tom Goddard since the police were concerned with the recent incident at the location. They sat in the waiting room only minutes before being called into his office.

  Detective Goddard was a man in his fifties, though he appeared younger with light-gray eyes and a serious, yet friendly, expression. Leah remembered him well.

  “Hello, Leah. How are you? Please, come in,” he said, holding the door open wide.

  “Thank you, Detective. It’s been awhile.”

  “Mr. Pratt,” he said, patting Sidney on the back, and they exchanged greetings.

  “Sir, I’m Dylan Rasche, the leader of the team. We met once during Leah’s visit in 2008.” Dylan reintroduced himself, unsure if the detective would remember him.

  “Yes, I recall,” he said. “Please take a seat.”

  They took seats around his cluttered desk and tried not to stare too hard at the mess.

  “So, it’s been brought to my attention that you all want to enter Cedar Manor, for I assume, an investigation?”

  “Well, Detective,” Leah said. “It’s not so much an investigation, though Sidney here has some issues with the past murders he’d like to address. I’ve been haunted lately by constant dreams of that house, nightmares, actually, and I haven’t been sleeping as a result. My psychiatrist feels that if I were to enter the house and confront the past, as she calls it, that it might be therapeutic in putting it all behind me.”

  “Sounds like a wise decision, Leah,” he said. “I remember you swore adamantly that you’d never return to that house. I’m no shrink, but it sounds like it might be good to put it all behind you. I was hoping to help you accomplish that back in 2008, when I asked you to go in with us.”

 
Leah remembered that he’d tried to convince her to go in, claiming the police had a far better chance at discovery with her along, but she’d refused. She remembered telling them everything she could, right here, at the police station.

  “Yeah, well, I think now may be the time,” she said.

  “I take it you’ve all heard about the incident with the three young people,” Goddard said. “I hope that hasn’t sparked your decision to go in there. I know that rumors may be circulating, right now. But it was an accident, after all.”

  “No, Detective, that’s not our reason for going there,” Dylan maintained. “But, Leah wants us to bring our equipment anyway, just in case.”

  “That’s right, Detective,” Leah said. “Also, I wouldn’t doubt anything those young people may have had to say. I saw many things in that house also.”

  He looked at her and nodded before speaking.

  “They said their friend was forced from the roof of the canopy by some black, ominous figure standing on top of it. Then they recanted, said what they saw could have been anything.”

  The three investigators remained silent, not divulging that they’d already met Snake and Hollywood. Susan had insisted on the utmost discretion, a common practice of which they’d grown intimately accustomed. They waited for him to say more.

  “Either way, it was a shame, a senseless tragedy that could’ve been avoided. And then having to see that young man in his casket before Christmas, and watching the grief of his devastated parents was something, in my career, that you hope you’ll never see. Hopefully, if you all go into that house and find nothing, it might dispel the constant barrage of teenagers and fanatics seeking out that place.”

  “I’m sorry, Detective,” Leah said. “But, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  The looks on both Dylan and Sidney’s faces caught her attention, silently telling her not to go too far. Detective Goddard met her gaze, and she was sure he knew what she’d meant, he’d read her memoir. But now, Leah wondered if he’d only read the part about the basement.

  “But, Detective,” Sidney intervened with a quick diversion and a slight stutter, “there is some investigating I would like to do when we go there. In researching, I discovered that in 2008, the police retrieved a black book that had belonged to Angus Marlowe. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, Sidney, that’s correct.”

  “Detective, it would be of great benefit to us as an investigative society, if we could take possession of the book for the investigation I have planned. I feel that it may help shed some light on the murders that happened all those years ago.”

  Goddard asked him to explain.

  “We feel that if we could examine that book, it might tell us what type of ritualistic activity occurred in that house. It may further describe Angus Marlowe’s motives; as well as provide us with clues as to what type of haunting exists in the house. But, we can’t be sure of anything, since we don’t even know what type of book it is.”

  Leah could see that the usually outspoken Sidney was now cautious before continuing.

  “Also, Detective, I remember something about an opaque, handheld mirror that was discovered along with the book. Is it true that it disappeared from your evidence room?”

  Goddard nodded his head and arched his eyebrows at the mention of the mysterious incident. His response was open and straightforward, recalling the day in question.

  “It was a year later when I was doing some final paperwork before the case was officially closed. The book, the mirror, and a few other things were logged into our evidence room, so I went there to retrieve those items. Everything was accounted for, except the mirror. It was obviously stolen, but by whom, is anyone’s guess.”

  This revelation unleashed a thousand butterflies through Leah’s stomach.

  “We figure it could have disappeared anytime from October 2008 to June 2009, and I can assure you,” Goddard said with a laugh, “no one here is into that sort of thing. The strangest part is, our surveillance cameras outside of the room showed no intruders, no one leaving with the mirror. It’s yet another mystery left behind by the story—that and the disappearance of Angus Marlowe.”

  The detective redirected his focus toward the book.

  “As far as the book is concerned,” he said, “I only looked it over maybe once. I couldn’t make heads or tails out of it, so I saw no reason in wasting any more time. The department had suspected Marlowe for many years and was unable to prove it. We had our proof; the bodies were walled up in the basement, and Angus Marlowe was a killer as originally suspected. The case seemed cut and dry. I’m pretty sure the book is still here. Let me see what I can do.”

  “Does that mean you’ll grant the permission we need to enter?” Leah donned the crack of a fake smile upon her face.

  “Leah,” he said. “You were responsible for those dead women receiving justice and their families finding closure many years later. You were the one who identified the picture of Angus Marlowe as the same man in the vision of your bedroom. If you hadn’t worked with us then, this case would still be unsolved today. Of course I’ll help you. I’ve been waiting to return the favor.”

  They exchanged their thanks, and sighs of gratefulness were heard. Then, Dylan requested that the heat and utilities be turned on for the brief excursion, an accommodation that would be paid in full by the society.

  “That’s another matter,” Goddard said. “Give me a few moments.”

  He left them for nearly ten minutes, during which they exchanged whispers of excitement. After a few minutes of quickly spoken chatter between them, Leah sat back, the nervous look reappearing on her face.

  “So, this is really going to happen?” she said. “After all this time, it’s really going to happen.” She sighed and looked at them. “I hope I make it out of there alive.”

  They were about to dismiss her emphatic statement when Goddard returned.

  “I got your request for the utilities granted; however, it’ll take forty-eight hours to go into effect. Everything should be on and ready to go two days from now—Christmas Eve. I know that’s not exactly what you had in mind, but it was the best I could do.”

  * * * *

  Sidney felt heat surge through his body at the words ‘Christmas Eve.’ He turned his head toward Leah and stared at her as the unfamiliar look of detachment held her face. He wondered when the significance of that day to Cedar Manor would dawn upon her. He could see that she hadn’t realized that in two days, Christmas Eve would mark forty-five years since the murder of Sheila Barton. She shrugged at the best Goddard could do, having no choice.

  “Well, it’s not exactly how any of us wanted to spend our Christmas Eve,” Dylan said. “But, this is extremely important to Leah, and as I said before, we’ll be there with her.”

  Dylan squeezed Leah’s hand, and Sidney watched as Leah sighed and rolled her eyes, a familiar expression whenever thoughts ran through her head. When the anniversary of the last murder hit her, he hoped it wouldn’t add fuel to a fire that was about to blaze.

  “What about the book, Detective?” Sidney asked.

  “That evidence has been stored away in a vault, at this point in time. I’ll retrieve it for you, but it may take me a day or so. After all, the case has been closed for some years now. In light of how your society has helped us, you’re more than welcome to it.”

  They thanked him and Goddard told Sidney he would call as soon as he had the book. The Detective advised them of one last thing.

  “I’m not sure if you’ve heard the weather reports or not,” he said, “but, there may be a snowstorm heading our way. Are you all sure you want to go out there? They say it could be another monster storm, like last month, barreling right through our area.”

  “Thank you for the warning, Detective,” Leah said. “But as I told Dylan, I would like this to be over before Christmas. I’d hoped to have gone sooner, but everything will be fine.”

  “Well, if things get risky, don’t hesita
te to call us.” Goddard was insistent, and the investigators agreed.

  They went over a few formalities, including signing documents, and soon, they were back in Sidney’s van. Sidney asked Dylan to drive so that he could focus on his notes from the library. They weren’t out of the parking lot before debating their concerns about Christmas Eve and the impending storm.

  “Did either of you hear anything about another storm?” Dylan asked. “It’s been snowing, off and on, but I didn’t hear anything about a storm.”

  He pressed the button on the van’s radio and flipped through the stations, searching for local news. A voice interrupted the fast moving, musical collage.

  “A winter weather storm could be headed our way, just in time for Christmas. For those of you dreaming of a White Christmas, you may just get it. Forecasters are predicting what could be another monster snowstorm, fresh off the tails of the last one, a month ago. They’re calling for at least ten to twelve inches in the low lying valleys and fifteen to eighteen inches in the mountainous regions of our area. Those of you traveling for the holidays, please be cautious and careful while driving on the roads, and have a safe and happy—”

  Dylan clicked off the radio. Sidney found it impossible to refrain from the sarcasm.

  “Snow in Pennsylvania, in December, what a nice change.”

  Dylan looked over at Leah, and she at him, both surpassing Sidney’s wisecrack.

  “What, Dylan?” She goaded him. “The report said ‘if’ it makes it our way. Are forecasters ever right? I’m going in. If you guys don’t want to go, fine; let me go in there alone.”

  “That is never going to happen,” Dylan said.

  “Then trust me,” she said. “I will get this over with, once and for all.”

  “I hope you’re right,” he said.

  They sat in silence for most of the way back to the university, contemplating Christmas Eve at Cedar Manor and the world of chaos they might be entering into. Sidney thought now was the best time to broach the subject.

  “All in all, I think you two are forgetting something important,” he said.