“Please stop…I can’t take this,” Claire screeched, placing her hands over her ears.
With a burst of strength, Claire managed to escape from the deathly grip holding her. She lunged at the beast hovering in midair. Intentionally releasing Kari, the unrighteous soul cackled as she watched Kari plummet toward the ground and land with a loud thump.
“Oh, dear God, what did you do?” Claire bellowed. “That was Kari….”
Claire's attention diverted from Kari's plight. The black soul wrapped its tight grip around her waist. “You’re mine,” it wheezed, boring her evil glare into Claire's eyes. “This time, I'll make sure I do the job, right.”
Startled, she recognized the terrifying creature hiding under a veil. Claire stared right back into the deep abyss of her black eyes. “Lisa…it’s you,” she softly voiced.
Lisa raised Claire high above her head and began spinning. Claire prepared for the worst. The beast's paralyzing grip froze her in time, and she closed her eyes. Lisa clutched Claire’s waist, and took aim at a large tree.
“Please,” Claire begged right before Lisa let go. Flung from her powerful grip, Claire flew like a sizzling bullet, nailing the tree and sliding toward the ground. She landed with a thud, and while she lay twisted like a pretzel, she heard Lisa’s evil laugh swarm her ears like angry bees. Stunned and trying to recover her faculties, she felt her grandmother’s presence whispering in her ear. It warmed her, encouraged her to go forth. She told Claire to sing like once before.
Her grandmother gave her the strength she needed, and she shot through the sky like a fireball, snatching Lisa by the front of her battered shirt. Higher and higher she flew, until the earth looked like the view from the Concorde. She stopped suddenly and drew the beast's face close to her own, glaring her love into Lisa’s tormented eyes. Lisa's blackened soul cried out for help.
“Look at me, Lisa,” Claire shouted. “Give me your hand and touch my face.”
A devilish grin danced around on Lisa’s mouth. “Never, I'll kill you first,” she groaned, but her voice sounded weak and gravelly.
Claire grew stronger with her demand. “Please, before it’s too late. Give me your hand, NOW!”
Black birds the size of hawks swarmed around the two and pecked at their clothing, a momentary annoyance, just another evil trick of Maddie Ann’s. Claire shooed them away with a wave of her hand, and they darted to and fro, screaming in agony. Birds or no birds, she wouldn't be deterred from her goal—giving Lisa back her soul. Claire was too weary to play these wimpy games. Claire grabbed her hand and held it against the side of her face. The moment the Lisa-beast touched her flesh, her entire body jerked convulsively. Claire's warmth and light flowed throughout her soul, purifying her. Lisa's eyes closed and she heaved a huge sigh as Claire watched the darkness seep from her body into thin air. The foul-smelling cloud of evilness melted into space.
***
Jennifer sat on her window seat gazing out at the sky while holding her grandmother's cross around her neck. She bowed her head and gripped the pendant closer to her chest. As the wind began to blow, she heard a whistling sound seep through the pane of glass, making it rattle and shake. She sat up on her knees and opened the window wide to allow the evening breeze to flow in. The curtains blew back and a tainted wind fanned the covers on her bed.
She chanted her mantra—Claire, Claire, Claire. She repeated it over and again. The sky started to darken. The rolling thunderous clouds gathered with lightning ferocity. Standing in the blustery gale, Jennifer stuck her arms out, wanting to sail through the air like a wild bird. The wind bashed against her face and through her flowing hair. Feeling free for the first time in weeks, she heard the wind whisper her name.
“JENNIFERRRR…fly…fly away.”
The plea touched her soul, so warm she couldn’t resist. Lost in her deepest thoughts, she leaned forward to fly from the open window when a strong manly hand yanked her backward and flung her on the bed. Her heart pounded inside her chest. Jennifer opened her eyes, and saw her dad hovering over her with his trembling hands fisted at his side.
“Good God, Jennifer, what were you thinking?” he asked, his face wreathed in fear. “You were about to jump out the window!”
She jumped to her feet, wrapping her arms around her dad’s neck, sobbing. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I don’t know what came over me. A voice called me to fly, and I felt powerless to ignore it.”
Steve pulled her teary face away from him and sat down on the bed with her. “Who called to you, Sweetheart?” he asked; his soft brown eyes full of worry.
“I don’t know…I don’t know who it was. I heard it in my heart, and it was so peaceful and comforting,” she said, choking back the tears.
“It’s fine, baby, Daddy’s got you,” he whispered softly. Holding her close, he rocked her to sleep. After laying her on the pillow, Steve walked over and secured the window.
Jennifer sank into a heavy slumber, facing another world filled with iniquity. In her dream, she reached her hands out in front of her. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom. A wooded area spiked with leafless trees appeared before her, while the sound of painful cries rushed through her like speeding bullets. A heap of sorrow coursed through her. She wept for whatever happened here.
Traipsing through the wooded area, flashes of movement caught her attention. A bright golden light came into view. She trudged toward it, and felt her legs move faster, like they floated without walking. The same voice called her name.
“Jennifer, where are you? Come here and let me see you.”
Letting her spirit go, she closed her eyes. Her body floated toward the light.
“Come here, Jennifer, we’ve been expecting you.”
Jennifer held on tight, trying not to let go of the enchanted voice, sounding so much like a pleasing classical sonata to her ears. A smile teased the corners of her mouth as she stepped into the light. She opened her eyes to see Kari, Claire, and Lisa smiling at her. Her eyes sparkled with joy, and she fell into their arms in a group hug. Holding them close to her, she never wanted the moment to end.
“I’m here where I belong with my friends,” she whispered. “And I will never leave you again.”
***
Steve walked out of Jennifer's room to tell Cindy what had happened. His daughter’s behavior shocked him to the core. She would have injured or killed herself if she had jumped out of the two-story window. Instead of her progressing, she declined minute by minute. As he approached the staircase to call for his wife, Cindy started up the steps to check on them.
“Wait, she’s asleep now,” he said quietly. “Something, I don't know, some urge told me to check on her. I walked in and saw her standing in the open window and it looked like she was ready to jump. I caught her just in time. I held her like when she was young and rocked her to sleep. Leave her be, she needs her rest. God knows she hasn't had much of that lately.”
“I have to go check on her.” Cindy gently opened the door and tiptoed over to the side of the bed. She sat down on the edge of the mattress and caressed Jennifer’s delicate cheek. “I’m here, angel. I so want you to get better. Mommy will fix it, I promise.” She kissed her cheek. “My god, Steve, she’s like ice.” Cindy gazed down at Jennifer's peaceful face. “Come and look how pasty she looks.”
Something was wrong. Jennifer’s eyes rapidly moved. A sigh escaped her blue-tinged lips.
“Jennifer, sweetheart, wake up,” Cindy said, raising her voice. She sat on her knees and picked her daughter up. She rocked Jennifer back and forth trying to wake her. “What is the matter with her, Steve? Please tell me she’s going to wake up.”
“I don’t know what to do,” he shouted. “She seemed fine a few minutes ago.”
“She looks and feels dead. She’s not responding. Call the doctor.”
Steve reached for the phone, and realized even in Jennifer's sleep, evil once again found her. He hastily called the doctor. He explained the problem while stuttering his words, but the do
ctor understood and said he'd be right there. Clutching the phone like a lifeline close to his ear, Steve stood hanging his head.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Cindy’s bit her nails while Steve paced the floor waiting for the doctor to arrive. Agitated and keen, Steve went down to the living room to wait for him. The moment his foot stepped off the last step, the doorbell sounded. He nearly threw himself at the door.
“I'm glad you're here, doctor. She’s in her room,” he motioned up the steps. “First door on your right.”
The doctor took the steps two at a time. Entering the uncommonly warm room, Jennifer’s shallow breathing sprung him into action. Immediately he felt her pulse. He then checked her reflexes and listened to her heart with his stethoscope. With a worried look on his face, Cindy became scared.
“Well, what’s wrong?”
“Besides that it's 90 degrees in here?” He told the Cravens to sit down, while he put his instruments away.
“She felt so cold. I wanted to warm her up.” Cindy moved to turn the room thermostat back to 70.
The doctor flipped through the paperwork on the clipboard. “Jennifer’s suffered some severe psychological trauma. She can probably hear what we say, although there's no clinical data on the subject, but she’s not able to open her eyes or interact with the real world. There's nothing wrong with her physically I can detect, unless you know of a head injury she's had recently. Barring that, she’s in a self-induced psychological coma.”
Cindy lunged for her daughter, shaking her lifeless body. “I refuse to accept what you say, doctor. Get up, baby, please. Jennifer, wake up,” she ordered, sobbing.
“Cindy, it’s no use, you heard what the doctor said. Let go before you give her a whiplash.” Steve pried her hands from Jennifer's arms. Cindy lost the wind in her lungs as he yanked her back.
“Mr. Cravens, I’m going to call an ambulance,” the doctor said.
Cindy leaped to her feet. “You’ll do no such thing. I’m sick of the damned hospitals. Jennifer is fine right where she is,” she said. Her demanding tone startled the doctor.
Steve directed him to Jennifer's bedside phone. As he stood, back allowing the doctor to do his job, Cindy’s anger heightened. She wanted normalcy again, not spending days on end stuck in a hospital watching Jennifer being poked with needles and hooked to machines. The doctor said there was nothing physically wrong with her. She'd wake in her own bed. It didn’t seem fair; one more health crisis for Jennifer, but then again, life didn’t treat anyone else in the family fairly, either.
“Stop, I said! She is not going to the hospital. She’s staying right here where I can take care of her,” she roared, sounding much like a mother lion.
“Mrs. Cravens, if she stops breathing, she'll need a ventilator,” he explained.
“No, I won’t let it happen. If you insist on a nurse, I'll get one to care for her right here,” she shouted, sitting down beside her daughter protectively. “You call Hospice and have someone send over the necessary equipment.”
“That is an irrational request, don’t you think? What’s wrong with you, Cindy? We can’t keep her here. Why can’t you understand what the doctor and I are telling you?” he asked, trying to stay calm. “How can you possibly think we can give her the proper care she needs? Maybe I need to call an ambulance for you instead.”
Getting up from the bed, Cindy stood up in his face, pointing her finger in his chest. “Don’t you get it, Jennifer’s under Maddie Ann’s spell and if something destroys Maddie Ann, Jennifer will wake up and it will all be over with.” She sat back down on the edge of the bed wringing her hands. “Give me a chance to find out about this curse thing and if she gets worse, I promise, she can go to the hospital. But until then, just trust me on this.”
Steve nodded and the room went silent.
***
“So, how’d it go in there, chief?” Jake asked, grinning at the size of the bandage covering half of Tom's face.
Tom slammed the car door. “Doc gave me some ointment and said it should heal. And…well, the nurse gave me a shot. Two of them. I hate shots.” He rolled the window down and turned his face to the wind.
Jake guffawed as he started the car. “You are such a baby. Here, have another Krispy Kreme. That'll make you feel better.”
Tom glared at him and stuffed a doughnut in his mouth, failing to see the humor. Needles hurt. When they got to the precinct, he stormed in to his office and threw his briefcase on the floor.
Jake flopped into the deskside chair. “Putting all jokes aside, we’ve got to go talk to those two boys today, don’t you think? I mean, it’s long overdue and if we don’t do it now, they'll ditch any evidence.”
“Who's kidding who? You know we’ll never get ten minutes alone with them. If the higher ups—meaning their illustrious parents—have anything to do with it, we’ll be the ones looking for a job,” Tom explained, scratching his head. Judge Styles and Mayor Mackenzie both refused to allow questioning of their sons and without talking with Mitch and Aaron, the hope of finding the truth would remain elusive, at best.
Looking at Jake's forlorn face, he surrendered. “You won't be happy until we go check it out, so let's go.”
They left the station and got in the car; Jake turned south down Main Street. Tom figured those boys had left town for a while, and he felt sure they engaged in a wild-goose chase. But as they swung by the Styles' house, he spotted a Mercedes parked in the driveway and he hoped their luck had changed. As Jake pulled into the drive, Tom unfastened his seat belt and reached for the door handle.
Jake put a hand on his arm, stopping him. “Wait, I’ll go to the door. You'll scare them with that mummy face of yours. You stay here and if I need some backup, I’ll call you on the 2-way,” Jake told him as he got out of the car.
Jake crept toward the side of the house and peeked through the open shade hanging halfway down the window. A woman was baking something in the kitchen, when he stepped on a twig and her head swiveled. She looked right at him. Damn! She saw me. He raced to the front door, knocking loudly. Jake heard footsteps coming and then the door opened.
A busty, apron-clad woman with graying hair stood in the entryway. “Why are you peeking in my windows? I ought to call the cops,” she said, an angry scowl on her face.
“I'm sorry, ma’am, I wasn't sure if anyone was home. Are you Mrs. Styles?”
“You could have come to the front door like normal people do. Who are you and what do you want?”
He flipped open his ID badge. “I’m Detective Jake Kelly from the OCPD. I was wondering if you could answer a few questions about Mitch.”
She gave him a strange look, but instead of slamming the door in his face, she said, “Why not? I'm waiting on my cake in the oven, so come on in.” She wiped her hands on a dishtowel slung over her shoulder.
He trudged through the kitchen, and she invited him to take a seat at the table.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, getting comfortable on the chair.
“Please, call me, Rachel. Now, what is it you want to know?”
Jake’s stomach fluttered with nerves. For some odd reason, the woman’s appeal bothered him. She looked like everybody's mama. He forced the words out of his mouth, feeling uncomfortable with using her given name. “Mrs. Styles, ‘er, Rachel, I know it might seem awkward, but I need to question your son about his involvement in a mass murder scheme,” he replied.
Immediately she rose from the table, and paced the shiny hardwood floor in front of him.
“Are you, all right, Ma’am?” he asked. She turned to face him with one hand on her hip and the other across her forehead, trembling. He figured he'd hit a sore spot by asking her about Mitch, and his antenna went up. “What’s going on here, Mrs. Styles?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “You know something about those girls’ disappearance, don't you?”
Her feet kept shifting positions as she avoided his eyes. Obviously trying to regain her composure, she walked over to the wet bar
, pulled out a glass and a bottle of brandy, and poured herself a stiff drink. She guzzled the booze down then slammed the glass on the bar. She slowly turned, looking him straight in the eyes. “There is nothing you can do to my son and you know it,” she said with fury in her voice. “You can't question him without our permission.” Her eyes began to glow from within, like little fires. “At any rate, he had nothing to do with those dead girls.”
Maddie Ann s Playground Page 40
