HAUNTED: A Jenny Watkins Mystery

by Becky Durfee

  Haunted

  Book 8 in the Jenny Watkins Mystery Series

  Driven

  Betrayed

  Shattered

  Exposed

  Trapped

  Vindicated

  Possessed

  Copyright 2015

  Dedication

  I have so many people to thank, as always. First and foremost, my family gets a nod…Scott, Hannah, Seneca, Evan and Julia…thanks for supporting my writing career.

  Next…Danielle Bon Tempo and Bill Demarest, editors extraordinaire, have once again caught the things I never would have seen. More thanks go out to Dana Johnson and Ann Ellison for giving me feedback before the book went out for all the world to see.

  More thanks go out to all of you who voted in my “Zack attack” cover contest, as well as all of the potential Zacks who were good enough sports to participate. And to the winner, Tyler Call…you have my undying gratitude.

  Thank you to my flyer artist, Jennifer Darius, who not only painted my victim, but whose phone conversations are the source of a lot of what you read about in these books.

  Another shout out goes to Mark Brennan, my Marine consultant, for helping me get my vocabulary straight. While I’m at it, thank you to every Marine…and to all Veterans from each branch of the military. My ability to sit peacefully at my kitchen table and write books is all due to your sacrifice.

  More thanks to Colleen Ferreira from Rita’s Italian Ice, whose storefront is the backdrop for the cover. Rita’s doesso much for the community around here; please pay them a visit if you are ever in the area

  And thank you to you, my readers, for all of your support and encouragement. In this case, thank you also for your fifty cents (you’ll find out on the last page.)

  I hope you enjoy Haunted!

  Chapter 1

  “Okay, Jenny, just give it one more push,” Dr. Patil said calmly. “One more good push.”

  Jenny let out a short, deep breath to gather her strength and then gave it everything her exhausted body had. Due to the epidural, she felt nothing but immense pressure, so she had no idea how much progress she had actually been making.

  “Okay, stop for a second,” the doctor instructed. “The head’s out.”

  “Oh my God,” Zack said with amazement.

  Jenny looked down to see the doctor suctioning out the baby’s nose and mouth. She let out a laugh rooted in both excitement and fear. “This is really happening.”

  “Sure is,” Doctor Patil replied. “Alright, now give it all you got. It’s show time.”

  With a firm grip of the bedrails, Jenny closed her eyes and scrunched her face. Without breathing, she pushed with every ounce of strength she could muster. After a moment, she felt a huge relief from the pressure and a heard a small cheer from the doctor and nurses.

  Zack’s voice exuded pride. “It’s a boy.”

  Jenny looked down as they laid her new son face-down on her stomach. He was covered in white film and his head was misshapen, but he looked like the most beautiful child in the world to her. His intermittent cries led Jenny to believe he was healthy and strong, which was the answer to every one of her prayers.

  This was the happiest moment of her life.

  She wrapped her hands around her tiny little Steve, who continued to squeak his displeasure. Tears fell down her cheeks as she half-laughed, half-cried, with a million emotions hitting her all at once. “Can you believe it, Zack? This is your baby.” She stroked Steve’s tiny cheek with her finger. “Our baby.”

  “See, I told you it was a boy,” Zack replied, his voice reflecting a hint of emotion. “I never doubted it for a minute.”

  Jenny didn’t mind that she had lost the gender argument. She never had a preference for a boy or a girl; she only wanted healthy, and it appears she got it.

  Zack leaned down and gave Jenny a kiss on the forehead. “You did great,” he whispered. “I have to confess, I’m not sure I could have done that.”

  “I had no choice,” Jenny said with a weak laugh, “but it was totally worth it. Look at him, Zack; he’s perfect.”

  Zack leaned in even closer, his voice too soft for everyone else to hear. “Is he psychic?”

  She looked up at her husband, replying in an equally hushed tone, “He most certainly is.”

  The smile on Zack’s face was an image Jenny would never forget.

  Exhausted, she rested her head on her pillow and continued to gaze at the baby. The staff was busy for a while, doing things to Jenny that she was completely oblivious to, when the doctor finally asked, “Would you like to cut the cord, Dad?”

  “Sure, I guess,” Zack said, seeming a little unsure.

  “There’s no skill involved,” Doctor Patil assured him with an amused grin. “If you can use scissors, you can do this.” A nurse lifted the baby off of Jenny’s stomach and held him up. The doctor told Zack to cut between the clamps, and within seconds the baby was his own little person.

  “We just need to borrow him for a few minutes,” the nurse said to Jenny. “I’ll give him back, I promise.”

  Jenny couldn’t keep her eyes off little Steve as he was placed on the scale; he was such a little miracle. The fact that she had created him was nearly impossible to believe.

  “Eight pounds, two ounces,” the nurse declared. “That’s a good sized baby.”

  “Eight pounds, two ounces of pure muscle,” Zack noted. “Just look at those arms—he’s totally buff.”

  “Buff,” one of the nurses repeated with a laugh. “I guess those are chisel marks on his arms, then, and not fat rolls?”

  Zack puffed out his chest. “Absolutely.”

  Because of the sides of the bassinet, Jenny could only see tiny hands and feet as the nurses worked on Steve, but soon she was able to see a stream of baby pee shoot up into the air. The nurse working on him covered him quickly, declaring, “Well, we know his boy parts work.”

  “Look at that,” Zack said proudly. “Did you see that? Like a champ.”

  The nurse only laughed and shook her head.

  The doctor continued to work on Jenny as the baby was subjected to a series of tests. As a nurse pressed on Jenny’s tender stomach, she wished they would just leave her well enough alone. After nearly twenty-four hours of labor pains and pushing, she was eager to stop being prodded.

  And eat something.

  And sleep.

  And maybe grab a shower.

  “It appears you have a very healthy baby boy,” the nurse working on Steve declared. “Now we just need his little foot prints and to fill out his birth certificate, and you can have him back. What is his full name?”

  “Steven Andrew Larrabee,” Jenny replied.

  The nurse wrote the name down. “It says here you plan to breastfeed; is that correct?”

  “That’s right,” Jenny said, desperately wishing the doctor could finish up whatever she was doing and leave her be. She rested her head back on her pillow.

  “You’ll want to try that soon,” the nurse explained. “The baby is awake for now; that won’t last long. You’ll need to take advantage of this time and try to get a little food in his belly.”

  Jenny nodded with understanding.

  One of the nurses made imprints of Steve’s tiny feet and wrapped the baby up in a traditional hospital blanket—white with pink and aqua stripes on the ends—and put a matching hat on his head. Walking over in Zack’s direction, baby in hand, she asked, “Dad, would you like to hold your son?”

  The words were magical to Jenny’s ears.

  She looked at Zack, who apparently found the request to be much less enchanting. “What if I drop him?”

  “You won’t,” the nurse assured
him, handing the baby over.

  Zack couldn’t have looked more uncomfortable if he tried. His rigid posture exuded fear, as if he was somehow going to break the baby if he coddled him in any way.

  “Zack,” Jenny began, “you can relax. Just hold him naturally.”

  “There’s nothing natural about this,” he replied. “I’ve never held a baby this small before.”

  “Never?” Jenny asked.

  “He’s, like, a minute old.”

  “What about your nephews?”

  “I never held them when they were this little. I usually don’t interact with them until they’re old enough to wrestle.”

  Jenny felt a twinge of disappointment; she thought he would have taken to this a little better. She also thought she would have been holding the baby by now—what could have possibly been taking the doctor so long? Was a full reconstruction in progress?

  “He looks fragile,” Zack noted, appearing more than eager to pass the baby off to someone else; Jenny, on the other hand, was positively desperate to be that person.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the doctor finished what she was doing, and Jenny was allowed to sit upright and hold her baby. The moment wasn’t as magical as she would have hoped, however; almost instantly, the nurses were instructing her to begin nursing.

  Zack untied the shoulder to her gown, allowing the baby access to her breast. The nurse helped Jenny get situated, grabbing and manipulating the more private parts of her body in very strange ways. Once the baby appeared to latch on, the nurse posed, “Is he eating?”

  Jenny could feel the baby’s mouth sucking, and she could only assume that was a yes. “I think so,” she replied, “but I’ve never done this before.”

  Once again comfortable because the baby was not in his arms, Zack said, “I’m sure he’s eating; he’s my kid...and it’s food and it’s a boob. Those are two of my favorite things.”

  “Great,” Jenny replied sarcastically. After the baby had eaten a while, Jenny wondered if it was time for her to switch sides. How would she know when to do that? Her breasts didn’t come with measurement marks. For that matter, how did she know that anything was even coming out? Was the baby going to starve without her knowing it?

  So much to think about, and she hadn’t even left the delivery room yet.

  Eventually, the nurses informed her it was time for her to switch sides, and Jenny did as she was told. Once the baby finished nursing, they took him back and turned their focus on Jenny. “Okay, there, mom…we can wheel you down to the maternity ward and get you all set up, but first you have to prove to us that you can pee.”

  Jenny looked at the nurse strangely. “I have to prove I can pee?”

  “Yup,” the nurse replied, “I know it sounds strange, but some women have a very difficult time doing that after birth.”

  “I can barely feel my legs,” Jenny confessed. “I will need a little help getting to the bathroom.”

  “Of course. We won’t let you go alone.”

  The nurse held on to one of Jenny’s arms; Zack held the other. She stood up off the edge of the bed and immediately heard a splattering sound. Looking down at the puddle on the floor between her feet, Jenny glanced back up and said, “Well, that was easy.”

  Although Jenny wanted to be there as her mother gawked at the baby through the nursery glass, her fatigue was getting the best of her. She’d been awake for more hours than she could count, and she simply couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. Nestling her head into the uncomfortable hospital pillow, she felt sleep quickly wash over her.

  She reached out her hands. They were the large hands of a white man, fitting easily around the neck of the woman in front of her. Considering the woman had been tied up with rope and was trapped in the passenger seat of a truck, she wasn’t even putting up a decent fight.

  Although, her face reflected sheer terror.

  Jenny looked into the brown eyes of this dark-haired woman in her grasp, watching the panic subside and a glossy, far-away look take over.

  Jenny lifted her head with a start, momentarily forgetting where she was and why she was there. She looked around the unfamiliar room for a minute, first trying to see if that beautiful young woman was near her and could potentially be saved. Releasing a breath, she realized that moment had passed. She was in the hospital room, by herself, having just delivered her baby. She plopped her head back on the pillow with both defeat and exhaustion.

  Unfortunately, this vision had ruined her ability to sleep. Not only was she too elevated to truly relax after seeing something so horrific, but there was a beautiful baby boy down the hall with her name on him. She couldn’t wait to lay her eyes on little Steve again.

  Just as she was about to press the button to call the nurse’s station, the door opened, and in walked a woman pushing a bassinet on wheels. “Oh, you’re up,” the nurse declared happily. “Perfect. Somebody’s hungry.”

  Jenny held the baby as she recounted the story to Zack and her mother. Wiping the fatigue from her eyes, she said, “It was awful. There’s no doubt I was seeing it from the killer’s point of view.”

  “Who was it?” Zack asked. “Do you know?”

  Helpless, Jenny shook her head. “That’s the sad part—I don’t. I have no idea who I was or who the victim was.”

  “Can you paint her?” Isabelle asked. “I know you’ve done that before.”

  “I’m sure I could, but probably not until I get home. I don’t think this is the right place to bust out my easel.” Jenny scratched her head and added, “Although, I have to admit, I’m having a difficult time picturing what that woman looked like. I’m just so tired. I’m not even sure I could paint my own portrait right now.”

  “Well, maybe you’ll get that vision again when you’re more rested, and you’ll be able to remember it better,” Zack noted.

  “God, I hope not. Do you know how horrible it was to actually do that to someone?” Jenny shuddered as she lifted Steve up so she could kiss his innocent little cheek.

  “Well, you got that contact for a reason,” Zack said. “You probably shouldn’t ignore it, no matter how unpleasant it was.”

  Jenny didn’t like that answer.

  “What could this killer have wanted?” Isabelle asked. “Don’t the people who contact you usually want something?”

  With a nod, Jenny said, “They do.”

  “I don’t get it, then. I mean, I could understand if the victim was giving you the vision, because she’d want her killer caught. But what on earth could possess the killer to be contacting you?”

  Jenny shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe he wants the same thing.”

  “What do you mean?” Isabelle asked.

  She looked at her mother. “Maybe he wants to be caught.”

  “But he’s dead, apparently.”

  “He still might be sorry.”

  Isabelle pursed her lips, making a face that Jenny hoped she wouldn’t grow to inherit.

  Zack changed the subject. “So, how’s the big guy doing?”

  Jenny glanced down at the beautiful little miracle in her arms. “Amazing,” she replied, the love for the baby oozing from every pore. “He’s by far the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  Chapter 2

  Jenny marched into the bedroom with purpose. “Zack, I swear to God, if you don’t take this baby from me right now I am going to wrap him in blankets, put him in a basket, drive down to Our Lady of Peace, put him on the front steps, and walk away without ever looking back.”

  She alarmed herself with how much she meant those words.

  Zack slowly raised his head off the pillow. Opening one eye, he glanced at the clock. “It’s three in the morning.”

  “Yes, I know,” she replied angrily, “and I haven’t been to sleep yet. This friggin baby will not stop crying.”

  He rolled over in the bed, covering his eyes with his hand. “What does he want?”

  The baby’s wails continued.

  “I
f I knew what he wanted, he wouldn’t be crying.”

  Zack didn’t make an attempt to get up. “Why don’t you get your mother to help?”

  Just when Jenny thought she was as irritated as she could possibly be, that comment showed her she could still get angrier. “Because it’s not her baby…it’s your baby, and you need to get out of bed and start doing some parenting.”

  Reluctantly, Zack sat up and put his feet on the floor. “I’m not really sure what you want me to do about it. I mean, if you can’t figure out what he wants, how the hell am I supposed to be able to figure it out? You’re the one with experience with babies.”

  “Because you’re his father, that’s how. It’s been a full week now, and you need to start doing your share of this. I’m so friggin exhausted I can’t even think straight.”

  “I can’t help that I don’t have the boobs,” Zack declared, somewhat grumpily.

  Jenny wanted to punch him in the eye. Instead, she handed him the baby, which was actually a worse form of punishment, and crawled into bed. She let out a shaky sigh; she would have started crying, but she simply didn’t have enough energy to produce tears.

  She heard the sound of Steve’s cries get quieter as Zack walked him down the hall, but even the distance couldn’t drown out the sound entirely. Every scream felt like somebody was playing the harp with Jenny’s nerve endings. She pulled Zack’s pillow over her head, making the cries only barely audible—at first. The screams grew louder and louder, eventually reaching the point where Jenny had to get out of bed and see what was going on.

  She threw the blankets off of her and marched down the hall, only to find Zack sound asleep on the couch with the baby screaming on his lap. “What the hell?” she immediately shouted with anger, but that emotion was quickly overshadowed by despair. She hung her head and lowered her shoulders as she picked up the baby, tears flowing mercilessly while she sat back down in the recliner with Steve on her shoulder.

  She was absolutely miserable—beyond miserable. Had she known this was what parenting was going to be like, she would have never done it—especially not with Zack. Yet there she was, in an irreversible place, forced to deal with this screaming baby all alone because her husband couldn’t find it in himself to do ten minutes’ worth of parenting.