HAUNTED: A Jenny Watkins Mystery

by Becky Durfee

  “It isn’t easy, but that’s nothing new. The last few years of Aiden’s life weren’t easy, and then dealing with his suicide wasn’t easy. But it can’t be easy for that girl’s family, either…or for the family of that guy in the park. If I can help bring them a little bit of peace, it’s the least I can do if it does turn out that Aiden was responsible.”

  “Thank you for looking at it that way.” Jenny situated the baby for a burp, anxious for him to relieve the pressure from her other side. “And thank you again for doing this. I got laughed out of the police station when I went in there, claiming I had knowledge about the cases because of my psychic ability. If you go in there and say you suspect your step-son, it will have a lot more credibility, I think.”

  “I guess we’ll find out, now, won’t we.”

  “I guess we will.”

  “I’ll be sure to keep you posted with anything I find out.”

  “Sounds good,” Jenny replied. “Oh, and while you’re there…” She couldn’t help but smile. “Give Officer Stanley my love.”

  After handing the baby over to her mother, Jenny headed upstairs to see if any transformation had taken place. She found Mick sitting in the living room by himself wearing nothing but a towel, wet hair matted to his head. He was petting Baxter, who was apparently not proving to be a very good guard dog.

  “Oh, sorry,” Mick said, looking as if he wanted to cover up more. “I didn’t know you’d be coming up so soon.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Do you need clothes?”

  “Your husband is getting me some. I didn’t want to put my dirty ones back on…I’ve got to say, that was the best shower I’ve ever had in my life. It feels so good to be clean.”

  “See? I knew it would. Do you need anything to eat or drink?”

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  Jenny gave him a look. “I don’t believe you. Don’t be polite; be honest.”

  Mick smiled. “In that case, I’d love a little something.”

  “That’s better.” Jenny headed into the kitchen, making up a sandwich and a glass of water. She spoke loudly enough for Mick to hear her in the next room while she worked. “Is Zack at the store?”

  “Yeah…he guessed my size and said he’d be coming back with a few things.”

  “Do you know if he got a barber booked? We’re planning to have one come here so you don’t have to go out into a crowd.”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Zack walked in the front door just as Jenny came into the room with the sandwich. He pulled some flannel pants and hooded sweatshirts out of a shopping bag, announcing, “I wasn’t sure if you were a boxer or a brief kind of guy, so I got both. I can return whichever ones you don’t want.”

  “I’ve always been a boxer man,” Mick announced, and Zack tossed a pack of underwear in his direction. Mick disappeared into the bathroom with his new clothes, emerging a minute later in his slightly baggy but comfortable-appearing outfit.

  “How do they fit?” Jenny asked.

  Mick held his arms out to the side and looked down. “Good enough for me.”

  Within the hour, a woman showed up at the door, complete with her hairdressing kit. She ushered Mick into the bathroom, promising that he would come back out looking like a new man. About thirty minutes later, she reentered the living room with a smile.

  “Are you done?” Jenny asked.

  “Sure am,” she replied, still grinning. “I don’t think you’ll believe the difference. He’s just taking a quick shower, getting all the loose hairs off of him.”

  Jenny sat anxiously as she waited to see the transformation. Hearing the water go off, she focused her attention down the hall, where Mick emerged from the bathroom a couple of minutes later. His hair was extremely short on the sides, a little longer on top. His mangy beard was gone, which showed off his pronounced cheek bones. As always, his bright blue eyes were shining.

  He looked incredibly handsome.

  “Good Lord,” Jenny said, her filter still not fully in place yet.

  Mick simply looked down and blushed.

  Jenny said the words she heard between her ears. “Ain’t you just been dipped in shit?”

  Mick looked up at her. “That was him, wasn’t it?”

  “It certainly wasn’t me,” Jenny declared. “I don’t think it would ever occur to me to say such a thing.”

  “Rodriguez said it all the time.”

  Jenny smiled. “That guy was a piece of work, huh?”

  Mick looked nostalgic and a little bit sad. “Yeah, he was.”

  This was not the direction she wanted this moment to be heading. “Well, you look great,” she said cheerfully. “How do you feel?”

  “Honestly? Like a new man.” He smiled sheepishly.

  “You look like a new man,” she replied.

  “I also feel tired,” Mick added as he scrunched his face. “I’m looking forward to sleeping in a room with a locked door. Out on the street, you always have to sleep with one eye open.”

  It was a feeling Jenny knew all too well this past week and a half, although, for her, she needed to keep her ears open. “Well, let’s get you to that hotel…but first, do you have the toiletries you need? Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant…?”

  “No, no and no.”

  She thought for a moment, wincing as she asked, “Zack, can you possibly run to the store for those things while I grab a little nap? I’m rather exhausted myself.”

  “I can do that,” Zack replied, turning his attention to Mick, “as long as you don’t care what brands I get.”

  “No, man, I don’t care. I’ll be glad to have anything.”

  “Do you mind if I sleep while Zack’s gone?” Jenny asked. That nap sounded too good to pass up.

  “No, I don’t mind that. I might catch a few z’s myself, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Be my guest.” After Zack left, Jenny pointed Mick in the direction of the guest room, and she headed to her own bed. As she nestled under the covers, she imagined the only person in the world more comfortable than her at that moment was Mick. The thought of Steve being happy in Isabelle’s arms and Mick being warm in her guest bed provided her with such a relaxed feeling that she fell asleep almost instantly.

  “I need help.”

  The image of a blond woman appeared in front of her. She was on the ground, grasping her ankle, a pained expression on her face.

  Without saying a word, Jenny approached this seemingly-injured woman.

  “I hurt my ankle pretty bad; I can’t walk,” the woman explained, “and I can’t call for help—I don’t have any bars out here. If I give you the number, can you go back to the parking lot and call my roommate for me?”

  It’s a trap. The voice in Jenny’s head was determined. Don’t go there. The others are waiting for you in the parking lot. They’re going to ambush you.

  “Do you have a phone with you?” the woman asked, wincing with pain.

  Don’t answer her. She’s trying to engage you. It’s part of her plan.

  The woman on the ground started to show a look of concern.

  See? She knows you’re on to her. She knows she’s not doing her job as a decoy.

  “On second thought,” the woman said, “don’t worry about it. I’ll just get back to the parking lot myself. Thanks anyway.”

  Jenny continued to stand still as she listened to the voice in her head. She’s trying to get you to leave—to go to the parking lot. Don’t fall for it. They’ll get you there.

  The woman’s look of concern turned to mild fear.

  They’re going to get her, too, when they figured out she failed. They’re going to torture her. And you.

  Jenny and the woman engaged in a visual standoff while each tried to figure the other out.

  You can save yourself. If you show them you’re tough, they’ll leave you alone.

  Jenny felt instant relief—there was a way to avoid being ambushed.

  If you kill this one, they won’t get you.


  Kill this one. Jenny had never killed anything before. She wasn’t sure if she could do it.

  They’re going to kill her anyway, and they’d do it slowly. Painfully. You can do it quickly—it’ll save her from pain and you’ll be saving yourself, too.

  That sounded good, but Jenny was still unsure if she could actually do it.

  Jenny heard yelling, which momentarily confused her. She lifted her head off the pillow, unable to discern reality from her dream world. Realizing the scream had come from a man’s voice, she determined it must have been Mick shouting from the other room.

  Still partially in a daze, she put her feet on the floor and worked her way to the guest bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, so she gently pushed it open to find Mick wrestling around under the covers. He appeared to still be asleep, in the midst of a terrible nightmare.

  She walked over to the bed, resting her hand on his shoulder. He continued to thrash about.

  “Mick,” she whispered, giving him a gentle shake. When that didn’t work, she spoke a little louder and shook slightly harder. “Mick, wake up.”

  He shot up with a start, hopping out of the bed in one fluid motion, grabbing Jenny by the neck and pinning her against the wall. His blue eyes looked like those of a rabid animal, consumed with uncontrollable rage and hate as he stared at Jenny, inches from her face. He seemed more than willing to squeeze the life out of her at any moment.

  Jenny said nothing, letting her expression of fear speak for itself.

  She watched as the reality of the moment sunk in for Mick, the crazed anger in his eyes turning slowly to relief and remorse. He released his grasp of her neck, lowering his shoulders with a deep exhale. Hanging his head, he whispered, “You scared me.”

  Jenny cleared her throat, grateful for the ability to breathe. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you.”

  He remained close to her, wiping his hands down his face, taking an extra moment to feel the stubble that had just recently been a mangy beard. “See? This is what I’m talking about,” he said softly. “I don’t think I’m fit to live in society again. I’m like a fucking wild animal.”

  Jenny noticed he was shaking.

  “It was my fault,” she replied. “I should have known better. Given what you’ve been through and the fact that you were in the middle of a bad dream, it wasn’t smart to wake you.”

  They remained close and quiet for quite some time. Eventually, Jenny put her hand on his shoulder and whispered, “Do you want to go back out into the living room?” She gave his arm a reassuring rub.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. I think maybe I should just go back.”

  “Go back? To where? Under the bridge?”

  Mick nodded. “That’s the only place I belong. I’ll never make it anywhere else.”

  “You’re not giving yourself a chance,” Jenny said. “It’s only been a few hours. You can’t expect to just immediately be fine; it’s going to take some time…and you’re going to need some help.”

  He shook his head again. “I just don’t see it happening.”

  Jenny looked at this beaten-down man in front of her, sympathy surging through her veins. Before she even thought about it, she wrapped her arms around him, engaging him in a tentative hug. They stood awkwardly for a moment, Jenny unsure how he would react to the contact. When he didn’t pull away, she leaned into him, squeezing her arms tighter, resting her head against his shoulder. His trembling arms slowly worked their way around her back; she felt his cheek touch the top of her head. Soon, his whole body quivered as his tears surfaced, quickly turning into full-fledged sobs.

  Jenny held on to him as he cried, finding that she, too, was taking great comfort in the moment, just for a different reason.

  She hadn’t felt this much affection in a long time.

  Jenny’s phone buzzed while she was at the front desk of the hotel, but she ignored it. She had just gotten Mick settled in, and she wanted to make sure everyone was on the same page.

  “He can have anything he wants,” Jenny instructed the desk clerk, “except alcohol. Absolutely no alcohol, not in his room, not at the bar.”

  The desk worker typed the information in the computer with a nod.

  “He can charge all of his meals to this credit card; he has no cash...that’s my way of making sure he doesn’t sneak any alcohol into the mix.”

  “Got it.”

  “And please let the maids know he doesn’t want the room cleaned. He’s in a permanent state of do not disturb unless he requests room service.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Jenny tried to determine if any stone had been left unturned, but she felt as if she’d thought of everything. Bidding the clerk goodbye, she pulled her phone out of her purse as she scooted through the sliding double doors and into the parking lot. Returning the call that she had missed, she dialed Charles Littleton.

  “Hi, Mr. Littleton, how did it go today?”

  “Interesting,” he replied, his tone leading Jenny to believe the visit to the police station had been less than spectacular.

  “What happened?”

  “They sprayed for blood in my car, and they found some. It was in the passenger seat, and there was some in the cracks on the door. They took some samples to see if they could match it to the girl from Longfellow.”

  Even though she’d expected this outcome, Jenny still felt bad. “I’m sorry.”

  “Honestly, I’m not surprised,” Charles confessed. “Your claim didn’t seem that outrageous to me. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I never thought Aiden was violent…I just knew he was mentally compromised.”

  Jenny nodded with understanding but remained silent.

  “But, unfortunately for me, there’s been another new development.”

  “What’s that?” Jenny asked.

  The anxiety in his voice was obvious. “I think I’m now officially a suspect.”

  Chapter 13

  “Oh, dear,” Jenny said. “I didn’t see that coming.”

  “That makes two of us,” Charles replied. “I agreed to come back for a polygraph tomorrow afternoon, which will hopefully exonerate me, but they spent quite a bit of time grilling me. They asked what I was doing the afternoon Elaina was killed, but that was a long time ago. I couldn’t just rattle off where I was; I’m going to have to look into my records.”

  Jenny got into the car but didn’t turn the key. “Well, I know the case out in Wyoming has DNA evidence; if that can be matched to Aiden, hopefully that will be enough to shift the focus of the Tennessee crimes onto him as well.”

  “The girl’s, maybe…but as soon as I mentioned the possibility of Aiden also being responsible for the homeless man’s death, the police insisted the cases weren’t related.”

  Wiping her eyes, Jenny said, “Yeah, they said the same thing to me when I spoke to them. But I may have somebody who can place Aiden at Hammond Park that night, although I’m not sure he’s going to want to talk to the police. It’s the guy who used to sell Aiden his marijuana.”

  “Yeah, he probably won’t be all that cooperative with the police.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” Jenny replied. “But, you know, we don’t necessarily need to get law enforcement on board in that case. As long as Timothy Reynolds’ kids know who the killer was, the family can rest a little easier, and that’s really all I want to accomplish. It’s not like we’re looking to press charges.” Her tone became quieter. “His kids just want answers.”

  “I’m sure they do,” he said solemnly. “I can’t imagine having someone in my family murdered and not knowing who did it. I just hope it’s not too much for my wife if we find out for sure that it was Aiden.”

  “I’ll talk to your wife, if it comes down to that,” Jenny said. “I know what Aiden’s mindset was at the time of the killings; he wasn’t an animal. He was an ill man. In fact,” she added, “I actually feel sorry for him.”

  A short silence ensued, after which Jenny said, “Oka
y, I think I remember you saying that Aiden had a sibling…is that correct?”

  “Yes, he has an older brother, Jason.”

  “Is that a full sibling? The same mother and father?”

  “Yup.”

  “Do you think Jason would be willing to submit to a DNA test? Like I said, they have some DNA from the case out in Wyoming. I know they can’t compare that to Aiden himself, but they could probably determine if it came from someone who was related to Jason.”

  “I’ll have to check with him,” Charles said. “I don’t know if he’s going to want to do anything that will show his brother was a murderer.”

  “Well, he’d be helping to prove your innocence.”

  He remained quiet for a moment before saying, “Yeah, I guess that does put a new spin on things, doesn’t it?”

  “Afraid so,” Jenny replied.

  Charles let out a sigh. “Alright, I’ll get in touch with him and see what he says.”

  “On behalf of Seneca Lynch’s family and friends,” Jenny said sincerely, “I thank you.”

  Steve screamed mercilessly, just as he always did in the evening. Even though she’d had breaks the past two days, Jenny still found herself intolerant of the crying. She was jealous of the mothers of generations past who actually believed the wails were good for the baby’s lung development—she would have been the proud mother of the child with the best set of lungs in the world.

  Zack had gone into the bedroom, although he didn’t explain why. Jenny was sure it was to get away from the baby, a notion which didn’t help with her mood. Somehow, even after their conversation the night before, there still seemed to be this unspoken rule that the baby was primarily Jenny’s responsibility. Zack had the ability to just walk away; Jenny had to make sure someone was looking after him before she could do the same. The inequity was enough to make her want to run away from home.

  As she paced the living room, bouncing the inconsolable baby in her arms, her mind wandered back to that embrace she had shared with Mick. It had been nothing more than a hug, but it held so much meaning, as did the moment when Mick had touched her hair under the bridge. She couldn’t deny the attraction she felt for him when he made his grand entrance after his transformation—he was a good-looking man. A sickening rock formed in the pit of Jenny’s stomach when she once again considered that she may have jumped the gun when she’d gotten involved with Zack so quickly. Should she have held out? Was Mick going to turn out to be an even better match for Jenny? It was certainly too soon to tell that. All that Jenny knew for sure was that she hadn’t had such meaningful moments with Zack in a very long time.