by Catie Rhodes
“So you went back in time?” Mysti stared at the back of the bucket seat in front of her, her words slow and thoughtful.
“Sort of. Maybe. I don’t know.” I blew out a hard breath. I couldn’t quite form the words I needed to explain where I’d been. “The bathroom was new and clean, like it hadn’t been used much.”
“I heard you calling for us,” Griff said. “What did you do to try to get out?”
“It was like once I got there, I was trapped.” I used my hands to pantomime my words, irritated I couldn’t verbally convey what I wanted to. “I couldn’t get at the door to pull it open. There was this thing separating me from it.”
“Like what?” Mysti furrowed her forehead.
“It…it was like pushing at something soft but impenetrable. These ripples of color would appear.” I crushed my napkin in my fist. “It was like it was right on top of where y’all were.” I paused, studying both Griff and Mysti’s faces and seeing absolutely no understanding. “When Mysti started spelling, a rip appeared in the wall. The killer, it was like he knew what was about to happen. He shook the snow globe at me and said he’d see me soon.” The snow globe. My link to Susie Franklin. Was it the killer’s link to me, too? I remembered it going under the sink and then the killer tormenting me with it. Where had it ended up? I didn’t see Griff or Mysti bring it out of the restroom. Half raising on my seat, I peered into the cargo area, searching for it. “Where is the snow globe?”
“We didn’t see it in the restroom,” Mysti said. “You must have left it in the other place.”
“I’ve got a question about the visions,” Griff said. “The first two, you were inside Susie Franklin, seeing the world from her point of view.”
I thought about it a few seconds. “Yes. I was.”
“But the last vision, you had a God’s eye view. You watched the whole thing from above.” Griff tapped his fingers on his legs.
“That’s right.”
“What if the killer sent you the last vision to lure you out to the rest stop?”
Cold worked its way through my body, raising goose bumps on my arms. I recalled the strong desire I felt outside the motel room to come to the rest area on my own.
“So the killer’s a ghost?” Mysti glanced at me.
I tried on the possibility. It fit. Nobody but a ghost ever sent me a vision. I glanced between Mysti and Griff and shrugged. “Could be, but Susie had the snow globe when she got into the killer’s car. The killer could have kept it when he killed her. If so, do we still think Susie’s ghost put it in the bag Margaret Franklin gave us?”
We all stared at each other several minutes. None of us had any answers. Griff started the SUV and backed out of his parking spot. He didn’t speak until we were speeding down the road to Nazareth. “Margaret Franklin recognized the snow globe as soon as she saw it. Let’s find out everything she knew about it.”
None of us said much on the drive to Margaret Franklin’s house, but the air inside the SUV hung heavy with unanswered questions. Griff parked in front of her house, got out, and stalked toward the house. Mysti and I scurried behind him, almost running to keep up. Griff raised one clenched fist and banged on Margaret Franklin’s door. When she didn’t answer after a minute or so, he banged again, this time hammering until we heard footsteps. She opened the door, eyes droopy with sleep.
“W-wh-what is it, Mr. Reed? Is everything okay?”
“I’d like to ask a few questions about the snow globe.” Griff almost danced foot to foot in agitation.
A car crept by on the street. I kept my back to it but felt whoever was inside staring.
“May we please come in?” I took a few steps to stand beside Griff. Margaret held open the door.
“Come in the kitchen,” she said. “I still haven’t had coffee.”
We sat at a dainty breakfast set in front of a bay window. Margaret chattered at us while she made coffee, but none of us answered. Once she had the coffee pot gurgling, she joined us, her mouth set into a wary line.
“What’s this about? I feel like I’ve done something wrong.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“I had another vision of Susie.” I tried to pick my words carefully. “I saw her walking down a road and the snow globe was visible in her duffle bag. She took it with her.”
“Is that all you saw?”
Griff nodded yes for me.
“I need to know everything you can tell me about that snow globe, Margaret.” I stared at her face, searching for guilt or fear. I saw nothing but confusion.
“Gosh, it was just a cheap old thing,” Margaret said. “We saw it at a rummage sale hosted by the First Lutheran Church. Susie saw it and had to have it. Loved it ever since.”
My shoulders rounded. It could have come from anywhere, from anybody. The coffeemaker beeped, signaling the coffee was ready to drink. Margaret stood and shuffled to get her first cup. The sound of liquid pouring into a cup drifted over from the kitchen. “Anybody else?”
“We’re all coffeed out, I think.” Griff managed a polite smile. “Do you know anything else about the snow globe?”
Margaret rejoined us, took her first sip of the day, and sighed. “The snow globe belonged to Lucille DeVoss. There was a whole set of ‘em, each one a different city.” She held the warm mug between her hands. “Lewis said he was selling them because he couldn’t stand to look at them any more after she passed.”
DeVoss. I rolled the name over in my mind. It sounded familiar.
“Oh, Susie loved that snow globe when she was little. Then, after her trouble with Coach Bobby John, it came out again. She’d spend hours and hours looking into it. Once I even…” Margaret trailed off and shook her head.
“Tell us?” Mysti gave her the sweetest of smiles.
“During that awful time, I used to hear her upstairs talking. She’d always stop when she heard me walking up the stairs.” Margaret stared into the blackness of her coffee. “But one time, I snuck up on her. She was talking into that snow globe, like she was having a conversation with somebody.”
Sweat broke out over my scalp, and my lips began to tingle. “Had she always talked to the snow globe?”
“That was the first time I ever heard her doing it.” Margaret tapped at her cheek. “When she was little, it used to be her Barbie doll’s aquarium. The imaginary fish that lived in it was named DeVoss, since the globe used to belong to Lucille DeVoss.”
DeVoss again. Where had I heard the name? “Why does the name DeVoss sound so familiar?”
“You probably saw his signs as you drove into town. He owns all the land on both sides of the road for a good stretch. Sells both cattle and hay.”
And drives his tractor down the road where people might hit him. Lewis DeVoss was the first Nazarite I met.
“We need to talk to Lewis DeVoss.” Griff started the SUV and pulled away from the curb. “By the way you two acted back there, you know how to find him.”
“Wherever he lives, it’s near the rest stop.” A shiver worked its way through me.
Griff tapped the breaks and turned around in his seat. He stared at my face. “You’re serious.”
“More than,” Mysti said. “Not real sure where his house is, but he owns all the land.”
“And how do y’all know this?” Griff drove a few blocks until we sat in front of the Nazareth Area Public Library.
“He told us. I nearly hit him when we were driving into town. Remember I told you about seeing the people with burlap sacks over their heads and we decided it was that missing family? Well, I almost hit Lewis DeVoss right after I saw them.”
“Shit,” Griff muttered. “And you were going to tell me this when?”
“Mysti knew. I figured she’d tell you if it mattered.”
“It matters.” Griff took out his cigarillos and lit one. He offered me the pack, but I took out my own smokes and lit up. He glared at Mysti, then at me. “Is there anything else either of you’d like to tell me?”
“
Oh, come on,” I said. “You wouldn’t have wanted to question Lewis DeVoss if I told you about him within the first five minutes we met.”
“But I might have done more research on him. Give me my bag.” He held out his hand.
“You mean your man purse?” I pulled the messenger bag from the cargo area and handed it to him.
Griff stuck his cigarillo in his mouth and clamped his teeth down on it. He grabbed the bag from me, took out his laptop, opened it and plugged in his Internet anywhere card. He clicked keys for several minutes. Mysti and I sat in tense silence. His ass-chewing, while deserved, hadn’t been any fun.
“Griff, I’m sorry. My excuse is I see so much weird shit that I tend to let most of it roll off.” I had a feeling there was no way he’d hire me after all this, but I couldn’t give up. I needed to try to make it right.
“Fine,” he said. “Don’t do it any more when you’re working for me. Tell me. I won’t complain even if I can tell right away it won’t help.”
It wasn’t forgiveness, but it was an indication he might hire me again. I relaxed a little.
“Lewis DeVoss lives at 5467 State Highway 231.” Griff punched the address into his GPS and waited to see if it showed up. “Let’s get over there before he leaves the house to work on his ranch. We’ll never find him if he’s plowing the back forty somewhere.” He eased back into traffic and headed toward Lewis DeVoss’s house.
“If nobody else is going to say anything, I will.” Mysti half turned in her seat so I could see her face while she talked. “Lewis is alive. How could he be in Peri Jean’s vision and be in the present day world as well?”
“Bilocation. The ability to appear in two places at once.” Griff shrugged. “Look, I don’t know much about it, but there’s some mention of it in Greek philosophy. Aleister Crowley could reportedly do it.”
Again, Griff’s knowledge of weird stuff struck me. Exactly who was this man and what was his connection to magic?
“If we want to call Peri Jean’s visions a form of dreaming, which I’m not necessarily doing,” Mysti shot me a weak smile, “Matthew Hopkins described something similar in The Discovery of Witches.”
“So we’re going to agree it’s possible?” Griff glanced in the rearview mirror, meeting my eyes. “Consensus?”
“I’ll agree, but I still can’t fathom how it would work,” I said. “The only beings with which I’ve ever interacted are spirits.”
“Let’s not let ourselves get bogged down in the how.” He glanced at Mysti. “We’ve seen things on jobs I refuse to believe, and I saw them.”
Mysti nodded in agreement. How many of Griff’s cases were paranormal? Now wasn’t the time to ask.
“My big issue is DeVoss’s age.” I unbuckled my seatbelt and scooted forward so I didn’t have to raise my voice. “The man Mysti and I met didn’t seem too athletic. You said the most recent disappearance was this year, right, Griff?”
“Three months ago. A college-aged woman.” He rattled off the information, never taking his eyes off the road.
“I don’t think Lewis DeVoss could have easily subdued someone young and fit.” I called my memory of him, still seeing nothing more than a tired old man. “Unless he was faking the other day.”
“Let’s talk to him,” Griff said. “He may be a dead end, but that snow globe is a weird little footnote. I can’t leave it alone.”
We were silent the rest of the drive. Lewis DeVoss lived at the end of a two-mile-long white sand road so rutted driving over it felt like being caught in a drum kit. We pulled up in front of the house in time to see Lewis DeVoss headed across the pasture to his barn. He didn’t seem to hear our approach, so Griff honked. Lewis spun and almost lost his balance, then stomped toward us frowning. We climbed out of the SUV. DeVoss’s facial expression softened somewhat as he recognized Mysti and me, but then Griff came around the SUV’s side. DeVoss nearly stopped in his tracks. He approached us slowly.
“Ladies, good to see you again. Can I interest you in some honey? Canned figs? Don’t do ‘em as good as my Lucille, but they’re passable.” DeVoss glanced at Griff, offered him a small smile, and turned his attention right back on Mysti and me.
“Mr. DeVoss, I’m Griffin Reed of Reed Investigations.” Griff marched over to DeVoss and held out his hand. The older man glanced at Mysti and me and reluctantly shook hands with Griff.
“Lewis DeVoss. Surely you folks didn’t come to buy hay or a Black Angus cow?”
Griff turned to me and nodded. He expected me to talk? Umm, okay. I cleared my throat so DeVoss would turn his attention to me.
“When we met the other day, we mentioned we were working for Margaret Franklin in relation to Susie Franklin’s disappearance back in 1980.”
“Yep. I remember you’s working for poor Meggy.” DeVoss nodded and glanced back at his house. “As I ain’t getting no work done, y’all want to come inside, enjoy the air condition?”
We agreed and followed him inside. He showed us to the living room, an oversized room with cathedral ceilings and exposed beams. Built-in bookcases lined the walls, filled mostly with framed pictures and decorative storage boxes. The brown wall-to-wall carpet was about ten years past needing replaced and smelled like it. Griff, Mysti, and I sat on a plaid couch so worn the cushions showed through in butt shaped spots. Lewis DeVoss sat on a matching recliner bleeding yellowed stuffing.
“So this is about Susie’s disappearance?”
I glanced at Griff, who motioned me to go on and talk.
“Sort of. It’s about a snow globe Susie Franklin owned. Margaret said she bought it at a church yard sale, and it originally belonged to you.”
Lewis started nodding about halfway through my recitation. “Know just the one. Camden—my son—was furious I sold his mama’s snow globes. They were older than him. His mama bought them when she was a teenager on a cross-country vacation.” He worked his mouth and shook his head. “Pulled such a fit, I went back to get ‘em. Embarrassed the hell out of me.”
“They’d all been bought?” I asked.
“Nope. They’s all still there, except for the one Meggy bought Susie. I’s so ashamed I bought the damn things.” He snorted and shook his head again. “You believe Camden wanted me to go ask Meggy Franklin for the last one back? I couldn’t do that. Susie ‘us just a little girl. Woulda broke her heart.”
This was going nowhere, and I didn’t know where to take it. “Does your son still have the other snow globes?”
DeVoss shook his head. “He ain’t got nothing no more. He went off to college in New Mexico. Never saw him again.”
So Camden disappeared? What did DeVoss mean? I raised my eyebrows at Griff in a silent plea for help.
“Did Camden still have the snow globes at the time he disappeared?” Griff asked Lewis DeVoss.
The old man shook his head and scratched his ear. “I never found ‘em.”
“How long’s it been since you heard from Camden?” Griff fixed his gaze on DeVoss, staring at him so intently I was glad it wasn’t me getting stared at.
DeVoss rocked back in his recliner, staring at the dusty beams on the ceiling. He laced his hands over his ample gut and became so still I watched his chest to make sure he kept breathing. Griff, Mysti, and I exchanged puzzled glances. The time crept by. I occupied myself looking at the pictures on the wall.
A few showed a much younger Lewis DeVoss with a bouffant wearing wife and a shaggy haired pre-teen son. Where have I seen him? He’d be all grown up, but we don’t change much. I spotted another picture of the same kid wearing a cap and gown, but it was across the living room. I couldn’t make out the kid’s features. I kept returning my gaze to the picture of Camden DeVoss before he reached adolescence. There was something about him. Quietly as I could, I stood. Griff raised his eyebrows. I crept across the room to take a look. I choked on my own spit. Camden DeVoss’s features had sharpened, and his eyes had hardened. I knew this man. I spun to face Griff. At the same time, DeVoss sat up straight.
“I’m going to tell you folks something nobody in this town knows.” He leveled his gaze on Griff. “Hopefully, it’ll clear up some matters for you. But I’d like your promise you won’t gab it all over town.”
I motioned at Griff, but he gave me a sharp head shake. “You have my word, Mr. DeVoss.”
“My son’s dead. Graduated high school in 1975. Got into a college in New Mexico. Couldn’t wait to get away from me. Died in a car wreck the same year.” DeVoss frowned at the couch and searched the room for me, finding me standing in front of his son’s graduation picture. His mouth opened and closed. “That’s my Camden. He never got no older.”
I turned back to study the picture, seeing more of the guy I saw carrying Susie Franklin’s body in my vision with every second.
“Got his death certificate right in this-here box.” DeVoss appeared next to me and reached for a blue box sitting next to Camden’s graduation picture. He approached the couch and set the box on the long, low coffee table in front of it. He took out a piece of parchment paper lying on the top and handed it to Griff, who glanced at it and handed it back.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. DeVoss.” Griff’s red-tipped ears and the strawberry splotches on his neck indicated a different emotion, but I didn’t blame him for trying to save face. “I have one question, if you don’t mind.”
Without speaking, DeVoss drew a glossy photo from the box and set it on the coffee table for all of us to see. I walked over to get a clear look at it. The car was nearly smashed beyond recognition, but I recognized it as the one from my vision. My heart rate picked up to the level of discomfort. Sweat broke out on my back. I did everything I could to stay outwardly calm.
“I bet I can guess your question,” DeVoss said. “Why’d I tell everybody he was missing, right?”
Griff nodded, the redness from his ears spreading onto his face to perch high on his cheeks.
“Before I lost Camden, losing my Lucille—my wife—was probably the worst thing I ever had to experience. But you know what made it worse?” He paused for a few seconds as though one of us might want to guess, but nobody did. “Townsfolk trying to help me feel better. Oh, they meant well, but they like to have drove me crazy. Got where I didn’t want to talk about Lucille, didn’t want to think about her, didn’t even want to look at her stuff.”
