Natural Reaction - A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book 6)

by Terri Reid

  Ian looked up at Mary over his reading glasses and smiled. “You found a contact?”

  She nodded. “Yes, a fellow from DCFS I dated a couple of times.”

  “Is he still talking to you after you broke it off with him?”

  She shifted on her chair and turned to him. “How would you know that I broke it off with him?” she asked. “He might have dumped me.”

  Grinning, he shook his head. “Only if he were a fool, both blind and daft.”

  “You say the nicest things,” she replied, her cheeks turning slightly red.

  “Ach, Mary, me love, I only speak the truth,” he replied, his eyes twinkling. “And would you be thinking about making lunch this afternoon?”

  She snorted. “Okay, you just ruined everything,” she said, “All that sweet talking for a bowl of chili.”

  “Is it chili you’d be making for lunch today?” he said, shifting on the couch. “Well, that’s a meal a man can get used to having daily. Would you be making those wee corn muffins with it?”

  She laughed. “Yes, I can make corn muffins too,” she said. “Let me make this call first, then I’ll get things going for lunch.”

  He looked back down at his computer screen and started tapping on the keyboard. “Just so you know,” he said, not looking at her. “The food had nothing to do with the statement about the laddie. You’re a fair bonnie lass, Mary O’Reilly.”

  “Thank you, Ian MacDougal,” she replied. “And you’re a fine braw laddie yourself.”

  He raised his eyes over his glasses and stared at her, surprised.

  “What? Do you think you’re the only one who can speak Scottish?” she asked.

  Grinning, he lowered his eyes to the screen. “The Internet is a grand place, isn’t it Mary?”

  She chuckled. “Aye, it is, Ian.”

  “Speaking of the Internet,” Ian said. “I’ve done a bit of research into the explosion at the high school. Sean’s been helpful getting some fire records opened for me.”

  “And?” Mary asked.

  “It’s a strange bit of work, here,” he said. “The initial fire report has been redacted, all kinds of interesting black marks appearing on the pages, especially when the fire investigator is looking for a secondary incendiary device.”

  “Really,” she said. “And what is the conclusion.”

  “Ach, well, there is no conclusion,” he said. “Because the case involved chemicals that were purchased from a local manufacturing company, they brought their own team in to investigate the fire. They ruled it an accident and stated the only secondary explosion was the cause of the teacher’s experiment in the front of the room.”

  “And you’re suspicious?”

  Ian chuckled. “Darling, I’m a researcher, I’m always suspicious. It’d be grand to learn more about what happened that night.”

  “I’m up for a field trip,” Mary said. “We could get Rosie and Stanley to babysit for a bit.”

  “Sounds like a cunning plan,” Ian agreed. “You make your calls and then let’s invite Rosie and Stanley over.”

  She picked up her phone and dialed the Chicago number. In a moment the phone was answered.

  “Harold Weller.”

  “Hello Hal. This is Mary O’Reilly,” she replied. “Do you remember me?”

  “Oh...wow...um...Mary...wow...Mary O’Reilly,” the voice on the phone nervously replied. “Yes...of course, of course I do. How are you Mary?”

  “I’m great, Hal, just great. How are you?” Mary asked, picking up a pencil and tapping it on her notepad.

  “I’m...wow...Mary, it’s so good to hear from you. Are you in town? Maybe we could get together...”

  Mary smiled and glanced over at Ian who seemed caught up in his work. Good, she thought.

  “That would be great, Harold. It’s really been a long time, but unfortunately, I’m not in Chicago. I’m still in Freeport.”

  “Oh, yeah, what in the world made you move that far away? I, I mean, we all miss you.”

  “Well, you know, after the shooting and all, I decided I needed some time away from the big city,” she explained.

  “Oh, Mary, that’s right. I’m so sorry. I totally forgot about that,” he stammered. “Are you okay?”

  Yes, but I’ll never be able to play the piano again, she thought wickedly to herself. Of course, I never could play it in the first place.

  “Well, you know, there were some residual effects,” she said. “But for the most part, I’m good. I opened up a small private investigation agency.”

  “Wow, that’s great,” he replied. “How’s it going?”

  “Well, that’s one of the reasons for my call,” she said, “Besides touching base with you after all this time.”

  “Yeah, it’s so great to talk to you again,” he replied. “What can I do to help you?”

  Mary turned the pencil in her hand and poised it for writing. “Well, this is such a long shot,” she explained. “And really, I don’t even know if you can help me. But when I encountered this issue, the first person I thought of was you. You always seemed to know your way around things there at DCFS.”

  “Well, you know, I do my best.”

  “Well, that’s what I’m going to need,” she said. “My client just found out his wife was kidnapped and murdered. While under the control of the kidnapper, she gave birth to a daughter at Cook County Hospital. The kidnapper posed as her husband and gave the child up to DCFS for adoption. He’s trying to find his daughter.”

  “Oh, wow, that’s crazy,” Harold replied. “Can you give me some dates?”

  Mary gave him the information and heard him entering it into his computer.

  “Does your client have any evidence yet?” he asked.

  “Well, the kidnapper confessed, but he’s still awaiting a court date,” she replied. “And they are exhuming his wife’s body in the next few days. So, he’s waiting for all of the legal work to get done. Oh, he’s also a cop.”

  “Wow, okay, yeah, let me see what I can do.”

  She waited a few more minutes.

  “Mary, these papers, they’re sealed up tight,” he said. “I don’t have a lot of information. Only the date of the adoption and the case worker assigned to follow up. But, okay, here’s what I can tell you.”

  He paused again.

  “Freeport,” he said.

  “Yes, I live in Freeport,” Mary replied, “But what about the little girl?”

  “Okay, well, that’s crazy,” he said. “The case worker that was assigned for follow-up, Kat Tinder, she was in the Freeport Office. So, the little girl must have gone to the Freeport area.”

  Mary dropped her pencil on the desk and sat up straight. “You’re kidding me?” she exclaimed. “She’s in Freeport?”

  Ian sat up and stared at Mary.

  “Do you have anything else?”

  “No, sorry, Mary,” he replied. “But, let me get a requisition and try to pull the original file. It’s going to take a while because it comes from the archives in Springfield, but I’ll get it to you as soon as I can.”

  “Hal, you are wonderful,” she said, after giving him her contact information. “Thanks so much.”

  “Hey, you ever get back in town?” he asked. “We could do lunch.”

  Smiling, she nodded. “Yeah, that would be nice. I’ll call you next time I’m there.”

  “Thanks Mary,” he said. “Good luck with your client.”

  “Yeah, well, at least we know where she lives.”

  “Where she lived eight years ago,” he reminded her.

  “Oh, yeah, that’s true. Thanks again, Hal. Bye.”

  She hung up the phone in a slight daze and turned to Ian. “Bradley’s little girl was adopted by a family who lived in Freeport,” she said, shaking her head. “How weird is that?”

  Putting his laptop down on the coffee table, Ian shook his head. “Actually, I don’t find it weird at all.”

  She turned her chair to face him and folded her arm
s over her chest. “Excuse me, Mr. Professor; you don’t think that’s strange?”

  He grinned. “Okay Mary, you and I already deal in a, let’s call it, psychic world. We understand there’s more to our existence than most people do, right?”

  She nodded.

  “And we’ve heard those stories about families moving and their pets getting lost, but eight months later the pet shows up on the doorstep, hundreds of miles away.”

  “Yeah, but what does that...”

  “There are psychic connections that we haven’t even begun to explore,” he interrupted. “The mother who knows her son has been shot in a war thousands of miles away. The infant who stops crying once he feels his mother’s touch. The husband who begins to pick up the phone seconds before it rings because he knows his wife is calling.”

  “Okay, but what does that...”

  Ian lifted his hand to stop her. “A father who desperately searches for his wife and daughter is led to the town where his daughter lives,” he said, and then continued pointedly looking at her. “A woman searching for new meaning in her life is led to a town where she can reunite a father and daughter. Psychic connections.”

  “I prefer to think some of these things are guided by God,” she replied.

  Ian shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not saying they’re not. Why wouldn’t God use these gifts in order to help people communicate on a higher plane?”

  Mary ran her hand through her hair one more time. “This is a lot to consider,” she said, standing up. “I think I need chocolate.”

  Ian stood and followed her to the kitchen. “Aye, good idea. But then, we need chili.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bradley drove the cruiser down Galena Avenue, stopping at the light on South Street and then turning left towards Highway 20. The day was cold and overcast and everything seemed to be wearing a shroud of grey. It seemed even Mother Nature was acknowledging Jeannine’s death.

  Her parents had been a little confused with his request to meet with them. He didn’t want to tell them anything until he was there in person, instead needing to look into their eyes and explain what he’d learned about her death. He owed them that much at least.

  He drove past Springfield Street and merged onto Highway 20. The road, as usual, was fairly empty during the midday hours. He leaned forward to press the cruise control button when a slight movement out of the corner of his eye, caught his attention. He turned quickly to find Mike sitting in the passenger’s seat.

  “Holy shit,” he yelled, swerving the car into the left lane.

  “Really? You’re a law enforcement professional and you drive like this?” Mike asked. “I’m surprised you even have a license.”

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bradley asked.

  Mike shrugged. “Going with you. I figured you could use the company.”

  Shaking his head, Bradley was momentarily confused. “You’re going with me?”

  “Yeah, a guy shouldn’t have to be alone at a time like this,” he said.

  Bradley gripped the steering wheel, stared straight ahead and didn’t speak for a few minutes. “Thank you, Mike,” he finally said, his voice cracking. “I appreciate it.”

  “Hey, no problem,” he said. “So, have you thought about what you’re going to say?”

  Sighing, Bradley shrugged. “I’ve practiced this over in my head about a hundred times. But no matter how I say it, I know they are going to be devastated.”

  Mike nodded. “Yeah, even when you’re kind of expecting it, hearing the words out loud can be overwhelming.”

  Bradley nodded. “Yeah, it can,” he said. “I can still remember the shock I felt when I saw Jeannine at Mary’s place.”

  “You were pretty much an idiot about it,” Mike said.

  “Yeah, I was.”

  “But you’re a guy. We’re supposed to be idiots on occasion. It helps women feel superior.”

  Bradley snorted. “Oh, that’s why we do it.”

  “Keeps the world turning, bro, keeps the world turning.”

  “So, can I ask, how did your parents take the news about your death?”

  Mike turned and looked out the window for a moment, and then he turned back to Bradley. “I don’t know,” he said. “I wasn’t there for them. I didn’t know I was dead, so I was at Yellow Creek fishing. I could have fished for an eternity.”

  Bradley glanced over at him. “I don’t understand. How could you just fish and not realize something was wrong?”

  “It’s a time thing,” Mike explained. “When you’re dead, you can’t comprehend the passage of time, like you do when you’re alive. A year to you could be like ten minutes to a ghost. So, we don’t have the same urgency as you.”

  “So, Jeannine...”

  “Yeah, she waited a while for you to find her,” Mike said. “But, it was more like you being late for dinner rather than waiting for years.”

  “Well that makes me feel a little better,” he acknowledged.

  “But you still feel like you let her down, right?”

  Bradley nodded. “Yeah, how can I feel any other way? And now I get to go tell her parents I let her down.”

  Mike turned in his seat and faced Bradley. “You know, I’m not saying you shouldn’t grieve for her, because you have to do that. But, you’ve got to stop thinking you’re as powerful as God.”

  “What? I don’t think...”

  “Sure you do,” Mike interrupted. “You think you should have prevented what happened to her. You should have known your crazy neighbor would decide to kidnap her. You should have been at the hospital when the doctor injected the drug that accidentally killed her.”

  “No, that’s not what I think.”

  “Oh, really? Then how can you say you failed her?”

  Bradley didn’t say anything for a while. He changed lanes and passed a milk truck, and then moved back into the right lane. “I’m alive and she’s dead,” he whispered. “How am I supposed to feel?”

  “Like crap. Like the world isn’t fair. Like you got the raw end of the deal,” Mike said. “Even mad as hell. But, taking her death on yourself is not going to help anyone, least of all you. I should know.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “When I was ten years old I lived out in the country. My family had a dairy farm. My dad and my uncles had run it together ever since my grandpa had been killed when a tractor flipped on him. Because dad was the only one with kids, we got to live in the old farmhouse. It was a great place to grow up.”

  Taking a deep breath, Mike paused for a moment.

  “I had this friend, Timmy Beck,” he said. “We were inseparable. We went fishing, played baseball, slept out overnight in my tree house. I knew we were going to be friends forever. So, then one summer day Timmy and I were supposed to go fishing together. It was a safer world back then, but we always had the buddy system, you know, we always go as a team. So, Timmy gets to my house, he’s carrying his fishing pole and tackle box. I start to pick up my stuff when my mom calls me. I was supposed to clean the chicken coop and she just discovered I didn’t do it.”

  “It’s amazing how moms find those things out,” Bradley said.

  Mike smiled slightly. “Yeah, she had ESP where I was concerned. So, I got in trouble and had to go clean out the coop instead of going fishing with Timmy.”

  “Sounds reasonable.”

  “Yeah, but instead of going back home, Timmy decides to go fishing by himself.”

  Turning away from Bradley, Mike looked out the window for a few moments. “They found his body a couple of days later,” he said softly. “He’d been molested and then strangled to death. My best friend. If only I’d cleaned the chicken coop when I was supposed to, he wouldn’t have died.”

  “You don’t know that,” Bradley said. “You both could have been victims.”

  “Yeah, it took me a long time to figure out that I didn’t kill my best friend and I wasn’t responsible,” he said. “But I wa
s messed up for a long time.”

  “So, did they find the bastard?”

  Mike nodded. “Yeah, turns out the school bus driver did it. I couldn’t believe it, he was such a nice guy. But they found a bunch of stuff from all of the victims. Four boys were killed that summer.”

  “You don’t expect something like that to happen in a small town.”

  “Yeah, almost makes it worse when it’s one of your neighbors, one of your friends.”

  Bradley took a deep breath. “Yes. Yes it is.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “So you have those two adorable Brennan children staying with you?” Rosie asked, as Stanley helped her slip out of her coat.

  Nodding, Mary closed the door behind them. “Yes, for at least a couple of days. Katie called me this morning, the surgery went well, but recovery isn’t going as well as they’d hoped. So, I might be able to keep for a little longer.”

  “Keep ‘em,” Stanley growled. “It ain’t like they’s puppies or kittens.”

  “No, they are much more fun to play with,” Mary laughed. “They are so incredibly clever and little Maggie has the biggest crush on Ian. It’s so cute.”

  “Ah, well, the feelings mutual, I assure you,” Ian said, coming into the room and sitting on the couch’s arm.

  “No matter what age, them dames will fall for a foreigner more times than not,” Stanley said, walking over to Ian.

  “So, it’s not my sparkling personality?” Ian asked in mock dismay. “She just loves my accent?”

  “Harrumph,” Stanley muttered. “If you can’t speak English you shouldn’t be living here in America.”

  “Um, begging your pardon, Stanley,” Ian inserted. “But I do believe that we invented English before America was even considered a country.”

  “Yep, and we beat the pants offen you and your countrymen during the Revolutionary War.”

  “Actually, many Scots fought with America against the British.”

  Stanley paused. “You don’t say.”