Grave Doubts (A Paranormal Mystery Novel)

by Lynn Bohart

  “Okay, you’re going to have to help me a bit here.”

  Patrick held the small loop out for her to grasp. She didn’t respond. Her eyelids closed again so she could rest and listen to the chain.

  “Lee!” Patrick snapped. “Look at me!”

  Her eyes snapped open.

  “We both need to get off this beam. You have to concentrate. Extend your hand.”

  She looked at him, but didn’t move.

  “C’mon, Sis. Do it. Reach toward me.”

  It took every bit of energy she had, but she finally extended her hand along the beam. Patrick slipped the rope over her wrist and pulled the loop tight, making the rough strands of the rope cut into her skin.

  “Okay, I hope you won’t need it, but if you fall, it’ll hold you. ‘Course it might separate your shoulder, but…”

  He tried a smile, but his upper lip quivered.

  “Okay, now slide forward.”

  She still didn’t move.

  Just then, the distant blare of sirens made them both look up. Patrick quickly relaxed.

  “It’s the police. I called them when I found Maddox. But it will take them too much time to find us in here, so let’s keep going. You need to get off this beam. Trust me, Lee. And keep looking at me. Now, move!”

  She flexed her muscles to see if they would work. Then she began to inch forward. Keeping her legs and feet tightly wrapped around the beam, she scooted forward like she would if she were climbing a rope in gym class. Once her feet slipped on the beam, yanking her to one side, and she stopped in a panic, feeling the bile rise in her throat again. Patrick froze, too. He wasn’t in a position to help and could only wait until she regained her composure.

  “C’mon,” he chided. “You can do it. You won a medal once for something that looked much harder than this.”

  The remark was enough to get a rise.

  “Shut up,” she snapped. “The closest you’ve been to a balance beam was walking a straight line when you got stopped for drunk driving.”

  Everything seemed to work in slow motion, and it was a painful journey. But she kept moving. Her brother inched backwards. When his feet touched the carriage behind him, he sat up, straddling the beam. He reached behind him to the same handhold Andrew had used, and with a strong right hand, pulled himself up the few inches to the carriage ledge where he waited for Lee.

  She continued to inch forward, the clanking of the feed chain below matching her pace.

  “You’re almost there,” he encouraged.

  When she was within a few inches, he reached down and grabbed her wrist. Just the mere touch of his hand was enough to muffle the sound of the chain until it finally died away.

  “I’ve got you.”

  He pulled her gently forward until she lay below him on the beam.

  “I’m going to let go of your wrist now.”

  “No!” she cried.

  “It’s okay. You’re still tied off. Sit up. I’m going to slide my arm around your back. Keep your left hand down to steady yourself.”

  She arched her neck to look into his eyes, fear spreading across her face.

  “It’s okay. Really.”

  Her eyes never left his face as she sat up, both hands resting in front of her, her muscles shaking and exhausted. Patrick still held onto the bar behind him and leaned forward to slide his left hand underneath her right armpit, keeping contact all the time until he’d encircled her with his full arm.

  “C’mon, now. I’m going to lift up. You reach over my shoulders and grab the ledge. You’ll have to pull yourself over me. Think you can do it?”

  Her face was only inches from his. She knew she smelled of vomit, and her makeup had all but blackened her eyes. But she didn’t care. More importantly, she knew Patrick didn’t care.

  “Yeah, I can do it,” she said weakly.

  “Okay, one, two, three.”

  On three, he pulled her off the beam. Patrick grunted as she reached behind him and grabbed the bar. With quivering muscles, she climbed over him and up and over the railing, collapsing into a heap on the other side. In one, swift movement, Patrick was by her side. He reached out and pulled the rope off her wrist before hugging her close.

  “You’re okay,” he whispered.

  Tears flowed and she began to shiver as her body released all the tension that had kept her alive. He just held her more tightly. They didn’t say a word for several minutes. Finally, her tears stopped flowing. Then the shivering subsided. Finally, she leaned her head back against Patrick’s shoulder, wiped her nose and sighed.

  “Andrew fell into the chain,” she whispered, catching a sob.

  “I know. I saw,” he said. “But you’re okay. Don’t think about him now.”

  Her shoulders shuddered, and she wiped her eyes.

  “And I killed Maddox.” she exhaled, grabbing his arm. “I actually killed someone, Patrick. But they were trying to kill me.” She started to cry again.

  “I know. I found him. You had no choice,” he soothed her.

  Lee wiped her eyes and sat back. They were both silent for a few moments. Finally, she spoke up.

  “I’m sorry, Patrick,” she said softly. “Sorry about all the times you tried to get me to open up, and I shut you off.”

  “It’s okay,” he shushed her.

  “No,” she insisted, almost frantic. “You don’t understand. I need to tell you. Brad wasn’t murdered. He didn’t even die. He left me,” she choked out, starting to cry again. “I never told you. I never told anyone. I couldn’t.”

  Patrick only listened, keeping his arm wrapped snugly around her shoulders.

  “He was seeing another woman,” she continued, feeling like a rusty gate had finally opened. “I knew he was cheating on me for some time, but I couldn’t confront him.” She lowered her chin and pursed her lips as her sobs subsided again. “Damn him. He cleaned out our savings. He took every penny we’d saved together, plus the money Dad left me. He told me he was taking some money out to take me on a cruise. I guess he concocted the story so people would think he’d been killed when someone tried to rob him.” She laughed. “What an idiot. Why would he have all that money on him when he was out fishing?” She paused again as a painful memory surfaced. “That’s why he killed Perry, you know. To make it look like murder.” She clenched her right fist as it lay atop her knee, remembering the dog. “He didn’t realize I wouldn’t tell anyone about the money. The police assumed it was either murder or suicide. Without my help, the investigation just faded away. It was easier that way. I didn’t want people asking questions. I didn’t want to dredge up the rotten life we’d had together. I didn’t want everyone to say… I told you so.”

  “Especially Mom?”

  She sighed. “Especially Mom.”

  “For the record, I think she knows. We all suspected it. We were just waiting for you to acknowledge it. I always thought Brad was a jerk, anyway. I never thought he was good enough for you. Typical big brother stuff, huh? I was happy when he disappeared. I thought you lucked out.” He lifted his hand over her head to place it in his lap.

  “Who knows? Maybe I did,” she said wistfully. “I just wish I’d handled it better.”

  “We could all second-guess our lives, Lee − God knows I could.” He paused and sat back a little.

  “In a way, this forced me to deal with some things I’d ignored for a long time. You know, for not having dealt with Brad. For having argued with Diane. Either I had to see this through or pay the consequences.”

  “That’s pretty severe.”

  “I was paying for it with my life anyway, Patrick. You said so yourself. Something had to give.”

  They were both silent for a few moments. Then Patrick said, “Remember Dad’s nickname for you?”

  “Cricket,” she said with the hint of a smile. “Mom said he named me that because I made a funny sound when I was a baby.”

  Patrick stole a glance in her direction. “You probably didn’t know it, but he alway
s carried a picture of you in his wallet. You must have been about six years old. He called it his cricket charm. Said it brought him good luck.”

  Her face reddened and the tears threatened to flow again. “I didn’t know that.”

  “I’m sure there were moments in his life he wished he could live over again, too.” Patrick reached for her hand and squeezed it.

  Voices outside interrupted them as police officers searched the large facility. When two officers appeared at the big double doors with their weapons drawn, Patrick got to his feet and called down to them, telling them he was the one who had called them. Then he turned to Lee and held out his hand.

  “C’mon, it’s time to get off this thing.”

  She looked up at him, not sure her legs had the strength to stand. “By the way,” she said, stalling. “Why did you come here tonight?”

  He gave her a rueful smile. “Because when I was at the house, Alan called to tell you that Bud Maddox had been implicated in a hit and run. A woman was killed. She worked in the hospital lab with Maddox and the police are handling it as a homicide. I decided you needed to know right away. And,” he stressed, “that you needed protection. I guess I was a little late.”

  Lee nodded and took his hand.

  “Late or not, I’m just glad you’re here,” she said, as he pulled her to her feet. “And I’m glad it’s finally over.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  It was late afternoon when Lee emerged from the grips of a haunting dream with the ring of a familiar voice in her head. It took a moment to realize she was actually holding the phone and listening to Robin.

  “The police searched Andrew’s office early this morning and found a notebook with names and addresses of some local VIPs,” she said, “along with deposit slips for regular amounts of cash. Ruth, from up in the lab, is helping them look for hard evidence on the hospital computers.”

  Lee rubbed her eyes. “Mmm…” she murmured.

  “You gunna be okay?”

  Lee mentally checked the bruises on her body − inner thighs, wrists, forehead, shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll be okay. I just want to sleep…for another week, or so.”

  Robin chuckled. “Okay. I’ll give you a call later tonight. Alan and I are going to a Boy Scouts spaghetti fundraiser, but we should be home by 8:30 or so. Get some rest.”

  Lee thanked Robin and hung up. She was tired and didn’t really want to think anymore about what had happened at the sawmill. By the time she had climbed off the rake carriage, the police had found someone to turn off the chain. Lee hadn’t been able to stay in the building. She just couldn’t. So they allowed her to be interviewed in a nearby office, while police technicians arrived and attempted to remove what was left of Andrew from the chain. It was after three o’clock in the morning when Lee finally got home and into bed. Two sleeping pills helped her relax, yet sleep was anything but restful. Not only had new nightmares disturbed her, she’d been awakened once, when Amy called around seven o’clock because she had heard a report on the news. Lee had insisted she was okay and went back to sleep. A half hour later, Marion had called and offered to come over. Again, Lee had thanked her, but said she just needed sleep.

  Now, the sun that filtered through the lace curtains in her bedroom made her squint. She turned to hide her face in the pillows, but groaned when her muscles came alive with pain. Soldier stood up and rested her head on the bed, her big tail swinging back and forth. Lee opened one eye to locate the dog, whose muzzle was only inches from her face. The message was clear. She had to go out.

  Lee willed her body to move, but it protested loudly. When Soldier gave a frustrated bark, Lee swung her legs out of bed with a hefty shout and hobbled to the bathroom. Then, as Soldier raced ahead of her, Lee hobbled downstairs, her legs moving as though every muscle had shortened significantly overnight. She let the dog into the backyard and then shuffled back to the kitchen where she began the arduous task of making tea.

  She hadn’t realized how many separate movements went into making a simple cup of tea, but reaching for the sugar actually made her cry out as the muscles along the underside of her arms stretched for the first time. She finally grabbed a couple of saltine crackers and made her way to the living room, where she collapsed into a heap on the sofa. As she spread her quilt across her lap, Soldier wiggled into the room.

  “How do you get back in?”

  Soldier sat beside the coffee table panting in Lee’s direction, her eyes alight with a dog’s natural enthusiasm.

  “Jeez,” Lee waved her hand in front of her face. “You’ve got bad breath.” She pushed the dog away. “Okay, I get it. You’re very proud of yourself.” Lee paused, but the dog refused to answer. “Well, next time, I’ll close the back door tight, and you won’t be so smart.”

  She made a face, but Soldier ignored the rebuke. When the doorbell rang, Soldier went to stand at attention in the hallway.

  Lee cursed under her breath as she put her tea down and pulled herself off the sofa to peek out the window. It was Carey. The dog hadn’t even barked, and Lee wondered at the dog’s uncanny ability to sense a friend.

  “I hope I’m not bothering you, Lee,” Carey apologized, watching Lee lean weakly against the open door. “I heard about what happened last night. How are you feeling?”

  Lee stepped backward, jerking slightly when her muscles responded a half second after her brain gave the command.

  “I’m okay. Barely,” she tried to smile. “Please, come in.”

  Realizing she didn’t have full control over her body yet, she followed Carey carefully into the living room.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I suppose,” Lee exhaled as she lowered herself against some pillows. “I certainly wouldn’t want to repeat it.”

  “I can’t imagine what you went through. It’s all so awful.” Carey sat awkwardly on the edge of the wing-backed chair, twisting her purse strap as she had at the cemetery.

  “Yes, but you must feel better,” Lee offered hopefully. “At least Diane has been exonerated. She didn’t kill herself.”

  Carey glanced at her hands as they worked the leather into a knot. “I don’t know if feeling good is how I would describe it. When I was told Diane had committed suicide, I was devastated. I couldn’t believe she would do something like that. Now, I’m angry because someone took her life instead.”

  “At least they paid for it.”

  “I suppose,” she said, looking down.” If they were the ones who killed her.”

  Lee looked up. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. Something,” she shook her head slightly. “Just the way the policeman described what happened to you last night. The attack on you sounded so brutal. Diane’s death was so clean, so simple.” Carey paused and then looked directly at Lee, her chin held high. “Thank you, Lee. You vindicated my sister, me too, in a way.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  Carey paused, losing the momentary brilliance. “I think you know that Vern and I are having trouble.”

  “I suspected,” Lee responded.

  “In his own way, Vern tried to provide a good life for us. But when his clients began to dry up, he didn’t know how to regain his balance.” She paused again to brush a strand of hair from her eyes. “He’d always been too controlling. It seemed like every minute of our lives had to be planned and accounted for.” Carey’s head dropped lower before she continued. “From the beginning, he took a sadistic pleasure in berating me in front of others, especially the boys. He’d criticize my clothes, my cooking, how I cleaned the house. Nothing was ever right. Never enough. Eventually, he was successful in getting the boys to join in. It was just teasing at first. But as they grew older, the teasing became cruel. Suddenly, I was the retard mom, or the stupid mom.” She lowered her voice so that she was barely audible. “The real problem started the first time Vern slapped me. It gave him a kind of power I don’t think he’d ever had. I could see it in his eyes. A week later
, he did it again. But that time, he used his fist.”

  Carey paused for a long moment. Lee just waited.

  “The last time, he grabbed my neck just before the funeral. We got into an argument about Diane’s death. He was afraid I’d make a public spectacle of myself.”

  “I would have thought he would want to find the truth,” Lee rose to Carey’s defense as if it still mattered. “It wouldn’t have made any difference in the end. The insurance company would have paid either way.”

  “Yes, but, you see, Vern doesn’t know about the life insurance policy. I never told him. The policy names me as the beneficiary, and I’ve contacted the company directly.”

  “Good for you.” Lee couldn’t help smiling.

  “Yes, and now I plan to use that money to get free,” she said, lifting her chin. “I’ve left him, Lee. And, the boys I’m afraid. They’re not mine, anymore. Maybe I’ll have a chance with them when they’re older.” Tears suddenly appeared in her eyes. “I contacted the insurance company this morning after I talked to the police. Then I packed up my belongings and moved out. I have a little bit in savings, and my mother will help out until the insurance money arrives.”

  “Wow,” was about all Lee could say.

  Carey had found a new voice.

  “I figured now was my best chance. If Vern ever got a hold of that money, I’d never see it again. This way, it can give me a new start.”

  “I’m impressed, Carey. I really am. Diane would be proud of you.”

  “You think so?” she brightened up. “I’ve thought so much about her the last few days and what advice she would give me. I think she would have told me to go for it.”

  “I know she would have.”

  Carey glanced over at the erase board where Marion had written Vern Mathews’ name. Lee noticed the surprised look on Carey’s face and was immediately embarrassed.

  “We were just speculating,” Lee began to apologize. “We didn’t have any real theories.” Her voice trailed off as Carey stood up and went to the board.

  “So, Vern was a suspect.”