Lacey’s next message came in Saturday evening at 10:00 pm. She sounded sullen and angry. “Cleo, it’s me again. Where are you? I can’t imagine you’ve gone to bed so early. Maybe you went out and didn’t take your phone? By the way, the message you have on your phone has a cold feeling to it. I wouldn’t think you’d want to sound that way to your clients. It could hurt your business. But maybe you don’t want business. At least I’m beginning to wonder. Because you still haven’t called me back after all these messages. My number is 303-819-8203.”
That message was a definite turn-off. I don’t like it when people try to manipulate me. And her messages were moving beyond manipulation to practically stalking me. Elisa and Pablo’s warnings rang in my ears. But I also remembered Tyler telling me I needed to help Angelica because “she’s out there alone, body surfing in those mean waves.”
Lacey’s last Saturday message was at 11:30 pm. This time she sounded despondent and weepy. “Cleo, I sure hope you get my messages tonight. I desperately need to talk to you right now. Give me a call no matter how late it is. I’ll keep my phone on all night right next to my bed. It’s 303-819-8203. Okay, I’ll be waiting.”
The next message was early Sunday morning. She was back to loud and desperate. “Cleo, how many ways can I say this is a terrible crisis? You’re our only hope! My dad is such a jerk—you have no idea. He hasn’t cared about Mom for a long time. Angelica has a bad feeling about him. We can’t let him keep us quiet. I’ll do anything, pay whatever you want. Please can’t we at least meet and talk about this?”
No question Lacey was a drama queen. Her emotions were all over the place. If I took her on, she would be a challenging client, who I might regret ever having gotten involved with. But she needed help and her story was compelling, and her desperation was starting to haunt me. I knew very well what it felt like to have your father dismiss as nonsense what seems important to you.
I was also intrigued by what I’d seen of Angelica. She was an oddly remarkable child. My heart and my gut were telling me to sign on to help Mirabel’s daughters investigate her death. And Tyler was sure pushing me in that direction.
Bottom line, I like to help people. I feel all warm and tingly inside when I do it. All my life my friends and family have been telling me to step back and stop getting drawn in to other people’s problems. I’ve made some progress. I used to be a sucker for anyone in despair who wanted my help, but I’ve learned to set some limits. Unfortunately, I’m also on the high end of the scale when it comes to curiosity. If a problem involves mysterious circumstances—like last summer when I helped a young widow find out who pushed her husband off the rim of the Grand Canyon—I can be all over it before I take time to consider the risks.
Listening to those phone messages, I was well aware that I needed to be cautious about what I was getting myself involved in. Even so, I thought, it can’t hurt to just talk to Lacey. So I called her back and made an appointment to meet her and Angelica at my office on Wednesday.
Chapter 10
After all that fuss about meeting with me, Lacey and Angelica were fifteen minutes late for their appointment. Not a good start. Lacey was panting and sweating as she dashed in to the pinkish flat-roofed stucco former house that now serves as my office. Angelica walked calmly at her side. I was amazed at how much alike they looked—same fair skin, dark hair, wide blue eyes—and yet how different they were. Lacey rolled her eyes, frowned and waved her arms as they followed me through the waiting room into my counseling room. “I thought we’d never get here,” she said breathlessly. “I couldn’t find my keys, then we got stuck in traffic, couldn’t find a parking place. It’s like the universe is trying to put barriers in our way. But here we are, finally.” She pushed past me into the room as if she could barely last another second.
Angelica walked quietly behind me into the counseling room, waiting until Lacey’s tirade was over before she spoke. She looked slowly around, taking in the southwestern décor and gazing intently at my Gramma’s colorful paintings on the far wall. Then she turned to me with a welcoming smile. “Hi. I’m Angelica. Thank you for letting us come,” she said quietly.
“We asked my brother Shane to come too, but he’s obviously later than we are,” Lacey said, throwing up her hands.
I wasn’t happy that they had invited Shane without discussing it with me first, but decided to let it go so as not to start our talk with a confrontation. There was enough going on without that. “It’s good to meet you Angelica, and to see you again, Lacey,” I said. “We don’t have a lot of time, so let’s go ahead and start without him, and we can catch him up when he gets here.” I motioned them toward chairs in my office. Lacey plopped down on the brown sofa and Angelica sat next to her, leaving the tan leather armchair for Shane. I sat in my usual cream-colored wing chair and started with a question.
“Lacey, you said in your phone messages that this is an emergency situation. Of course I understand the idea that your mother was murdered is horrifying to you and Angelica. But your mom died several months ago, so I need you to tell me why it’s an emergency today.”
“Someone is out there getting away with murdering my mother! Maybe you don’t see that as an emergency, but I do. We have to find out who killed her and put that person in jail.” Lacey sat rigidly, leaning forward and clasping and unclasping her hands.
“I need to back up a little. What makes you so sure your mother was murdered? Don’t you think the police would have seen the signs?”
“Yes I’d think so—but apparently they didn’t. We’ve tried to tell them, but they ignore what Angelica knows.”
I turned to Angelica, who was sitting very quietly with none of the fidgeting usual for a ten-year-old. “Angelica, can you tell me more about what you know about your mother’s death and how you know it?”
She looked intently into my eyes and nodded slowly. “I know she was murdered. I have a strong sense of her being pushed under the water and held there. But I don’t know who did the pushing. I’ve tried to reach her to ask her who it was, but I can’t get close enough to her. That’s why we need your help.”
This child had such a presence, such self-confidence that I found myself believing her at a gut level. I’d done a little internet research and found that some people believe Indigo children are unusually spiritually aware from birth and can see and hear things most of us cannot. But she could also be a depressed grieving child who had convinced herself she had special powers. I knew I needed more detail from Angelica. “That must be very upsetting for you. Can you tell me more about the sense you have of her being pushed under? Is it mainly a feeling or do you see it happening?”
Angelica squinted off to her left as if trying to make out a distant image. Then she turned back to me. “No it’s not like that,” she said. “It’s a feeling, a way I have of knowing. It’s very strong, but no clear details.” She sat there smiling softly like a Buddha, waiting for my response.
In contrast to Angelica’s calm demeanor, my thoughts were racing. She was persuasive, but she was also ten years old. And the police hadn’t thought her mother was murdered. And in the clear light of day this situation looked like trouble. Even though my gut was telling me to do what they wanted, my head and my sensible friends were warning me to stay away—especially from Lacey, who anyone would agree was a loose cannon. Some of my most difficult clients have been people like her, who thrived on drama.
Finally I said, “I’d like to help you, but I’m not sure the Contact Project is right for this situation. It’s about resolving grief, not solving murders. Also, like I told you the other day, I can’t do private work with one of my students.”
Lacey flew out of her chair and began pacing the room, waving her arms. “I can’t stand any more of this,” she screeched. “You don’t want to help us. If you did, you would. We have nowhere else to turn. My dad and Judith think we’re crazy. They don’t believe Angelica is an Indigo child—they don’t even believe there is such a thing as Indig
o children. Instead of respecting Angelica as a highly evolved spiritual being, they accuse her of being fanciful and not knowing the difference between what’s real and what she makes up.” Lacey was standing right in front of me by then and I felt like covering my ears to mute her yelling.
Instead, I stood up and faced her. “Enough, Lacey,” I said, managing to keep my voice calm. “You’re not going to bully me into helping you. So please sit down.”
Lacey deflated as quickly as she had blown up. “Sorry,” she mumbled, heading back to the couch. She sat down, scooted closer to Angelica, and gave her a big hug. Then she turned to me, tears streaming down her face, hands clasping and unclasping rapidly. “I told you that we had another sister Kari who died two years ago of anorexia. That almost killed Mom, but she finally managed to get through it. No thanks to Dad and his girlfriend, Judith. Then just when Mom was getting her life back together, someone drowned her. It’s so unfair. All we want is justice for her.”
Angelica remained calm, quietly stroking Lacey’s arm. “I feel what you’re feeling, Lacey,” she said. “But I know in my heart we will find out what happened to Mom.” Angelica seemed surprisingly centered and calm, especially for a ten-year-old who had recently lost both a sister and her mother. The more extreme Lacey was, the calmer Angelica became. I worried that she was comforting Lacey instead of the other way around. Apparently this was their typical behavior pattern.
Lacey’s genuine expression of grief spoke to the therapist in me. Yes she was difficult, but she was hurting and at some level I wanted to help her. Then I mentally flashed on the girl I had seen in the mirror at The Stanley. Was she the dead sister Kari?
I continued to watch Angelica. Despite her calm demeanor, I noticed three tiny tears trickling down her cheek. She said nothing, nor did she move her hand from Lacey’s arm to wipe the tears away. I felt tears welling up in my own eyes. I could make myself stand firm against Lacey’s histrionics but this little girl reached deep into my heart. Only ten years old and she’d already lost two of the most important people in her life. And the others weren’t doing much to help. Her father was more interested in his mistress than his daughter. And her older sister went off the deep end every other minute.
It looked like Tyler was right about Angelica being out there alone and needing my help. How could I walk away from this child?
“Yes,” I heard myself saying, “I’ll do what I can to help you contact your mother. But Lacey, you’ll have to drop my class. You’ll also have to restrain yourself when we’re working together. The contact process requires focus. Also, you both need to know that the contact process doesn’t always work and sometimes you reach someone other than the person you’re trying for. There are no guarantees.”
“No problem dropping the class. I’ll do it tomorrow.” Lacey jumped up, clapping. “Thank you, thank you. You won’t be sorry. And we understand. No guarantees. But I know it’s going to work! I feel it!”
Before Angelica could add anything, we were interrupted by a knock on the front door. I jumped up to answer it and found Shane—wearing torn jeans, a black Lord-of-the-Rings tee shirt and a charming smile.
Chapter 11
“I’m Shane. Are my sisters here? Sorry to be late.” He didn’t look sorry, but he did look agreeable so I took him at his word and showed him into the counseling room.
“Shane, what took you so long? I was about to give up on you,” Lacey said in an accusing tone.
“Chill, Lacey. I’m here. So what’s the big emergency?” Shane stood in front of the couch where Lacey and Angelica sat. Fortunately he sounded much more mellow than he had been when Pablo and I saw him at the wedding last weekend.
“Shane, why don’t you sit over there,” I said pointing to the tan chair between my chair and the couch. “Then we can fill you in.”
He sat and looked inquiringly at Lacey. “So this is more about you thinking Mom was murdered? You must know Dad thinks you’re crazy the way you keep bringing this up. What do you hope to gain by pushing this? Don’t we have enough trouble with Dad being disagreeable already?”
“Shane,” Lacey shrieked. “You need to quit being so lazy and pay attention to what’s happening. I’m the one who moved home after Mom died so Angelica isn’t alone there with Dad and Judith. I’m twenty-three years old and living at home to help out while you sit on your ass in your apartment playing that online game night and day, letting the real world go on around you like nothing matters.”
I noticed that Angelica was sitting quietly, not trying to calm Lacey like she often does. It was almost as if she had tuned them both out. Probably after years of practice.
But Shane was fully engaged and defensive. He took the bait. “Whatever, Lacey. Look, I did you a favor coming here today. And as usual, you fly off the handle without any reason.”
“No reason? To start with you’re twenty-five minutes late. Then you accuse me of being crazy.”
“I had to get to a good stopping place before I could leave. I was right in the middle of a major update for Gyaki-Birquit—or as you call it, that online game. And by the way, I don’t just play the game all day. I’m the community developer and they actually pay me for that.”
“Everything isn’t about money, Shane,” Lacey said dismissively. “Just look at Dad for a bad example of letting money run you.”
“At least I have a job, not hanging around the university like you taking extra classes after you’ve already graduated. Anyway, as I was saying before you interrupted, Gyaki-Birquit is a very complex game and I have to play at least several hours a day to stay in touch with the player base and with what’s going on in the game. I also manage a huge Gyaki-Birquit fan site, so I actually need to be sitting on my ass in front of my computer most of the time.”
I had been letting them go on to get a sense of how they interacted, but at this point I’d had enough of their bickering. The dynamics of this family posed a challenge for sure. I was expecting more enthusiasm and less hostility. I decided to bring Angelica in to get the discussion back on track. “Shane, we’ve been talking about Angelica’s belief about what happened to your mom,” I said, turning toward the young girl. “Angelica, why don’t you fill Shane in on why you and Lacey came here today.”
Angelica perked up and turned to face Shane. “Shane, you know I’m an Indigo and I see things differently than most people do. So when I tell you I know someone pushed Mom under the water, you have to believe that.”
Shane closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and looked at Angelica. “Who do you think pushed her under?” he asked.
“I don’t know. It might have been Dad and that horrible Judith. She has the worst muddy dark red aura. She’s a mean-spirited person, but Dad can’t see that at all. She has no respect for me, doesn’t believe I’m Indigo. Like the other day when my teacher called Dad complaining that I hadn’t turned in some stupid math homework. I told him that the homework was a waste of time and I didn’t want to waste my time, so I refused to do it. Judith was listening and she started yelling at me that it wasn’t up to me to decide what is or isn’t a waste of time at school. She called me a spoiled brat who thinks I’m better than anyone else.”
Hmm…she did sound a little arrogant about the whole homework thing. I could see where Judith’s spoiled brat comment probably came from. Was Angelica indeed a highly evolved Indigo child or was she a stubborn little girl who had found a rationale to get her own way? And if she was special, did that give her license to refuse to do schoolwork?
Shane scowled. “I can see why you don’t like her,” he said. “And she’s not one of my favorite people either. But would she kill Mom? And would Dad be involved? That’s a huge leap. And how are you going to know if it was her—or them? You can’t just accuse them.”
“I know that,” Angelica said leaning forward in Shane’s direction. “I’ve tried to reach Mom and ask her about it, but I haven’t been able to. Lacey found out about Dr. Sims’ project that helps people conta
ct spirits who have passed on. We came here to ask her to help us contact Mom and she’s agreed to do that.”
Shane leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes in thought for a minute. Thankfully Lacey stayed silent as we waited to see what he would say. So far he didn’t seem all that open to Angelica and Lacey’s theory, which admittedly didn’t have any basis in fact so far. His answer definitely surprised me.
“Okay, Angelica,” he said. “Let’s say for a minute that I accept your belief and agree that someone pushed Mom under the water. I don’t think it would have been Dad and Judith. Why would they kill her when Dad could easily get a divorce?”
Lacey jumped in. “If she died, he’d inherit a lot of her money. With a divorce, he probably wouldn’t get any of it. His business has been a sinkhole in the last few years. He was desperate for money. Maybe couldn’t see any other way out.”
Shane shook his head. “No, if you think someone killed her for money, I’d look at the Scientologists. You know Mom left them a lot of money in her will. Dad said he argued with her about it and he thought she was going to make a new will that left them out. Grandad is the one who did her will, and he says he didn’t draw up a new one for her. Still, if they thought she was going to cut them out, they probably would have wanted her to die before she did it.”
Angelica looked interested. “Two Scientologists used to visit Mom at home just about every week. A guy named Brian and a woman named India. Dad hated them,” she said. “He said they were just after her money.”
Uh-oh. A Scientologist named Brian? Could that be my ex-boyfriend Brian? He did say he knew Mirabel and he came to the gallery to see Angelica’s show. I put that thought out of my mind to listen to Lacey, who was speaking to Shane in a civil, almost friendly, tone.
Too Far Under Page 7
