A Haunting Dream

by Joyce Lavene

  Ann opened the front door and ran out to greet Kevin with a big kiss. She kind of wrapped herself around him, then faced me.

  “I hope you’re not too disappointed about the girl,” she said.

  “You mean because the FBI said it was okay for you to look for her?”

  She smiled tightly. “Kevin, didn’t you tell her?”

  He looked away. “Ann, you know how I feel about this.”

  “Kevin has always been an optimist. What he was supposed to tell you is that the Sparks girl is dead. I’m sorry. But there it is. We all have to face the truth.”

  Chapter 15

  I glanced at Kevin, but his face was expressionless. I stared instead at Ann with her equally expressionless face and cold eyes. “What do you mean? Do you have some information I don’t?”

  “Let’s go inside,” Kevin suggested. “I have two guests staying here that love to gossip.”

  “Not that it matters.” Ann took his arm. “Everyone will know the truth soon.”

  I followed them inside, passing the two older ladies Kevin had been talking about. I didn’t recognize them, but they were probably here visiting family or friends. They certainly didn’t need to hear and spread what Ann had just told me.

  I was furious with Kevin for bringing me here. Had the FBI given them some heads-up? Why hadn’t someone told me? Why was I at the Blue Whale?

  We went into the big kitchen where two staff members were making lunch for the ladies who were still out on the veranda. Kevin had hired a few people from Duck to help him run the three-story inn. It may have been shut down for more than thirty years, but it hadn’t taken long for people to find out it was open again.

  “Would you like something to drink, Dae?” Kevin asked quietly.

  Why is he acting so normally? “No. Not really. I want to know what’s going on.” I felt as though someone had punched me in the stomach with no explanation. How could they be so detached?

  “What’s going on,” Ann said, leaning toward me, “is that Kevin could never stand an unhappy ending, right, sweetie? He always wanted us to find the kids while they were still alive, even though that didn’t happen very much.”

  “I think that would be preferable,” I remarked impatiently.

  “Of course. But it can’t always go that way.” She picked up an apple from the basket on the table and bit into it.

  I rounded on Kevin, ready to spew out fire and brimstone, as Gramps used to say. “Is Betsy dead or not? If so, how do you know about it? Where did they find her?”

  “Please sit down, Dae, and let’s sort through this.” As though to encourage me, Kevin grabbed a bottle of water and sat down.

  I refused to go along with any of it. Besides, I didn’t think I could sit still until I’d heard it all.

  “What Ann is trying to say,” he explained, “is that she believes Betsy is dead. She feels that all the signs are there. She thinks Betsy has been dead the whole time you’ve been talking to her, which is why you’ve been able to communicate with her.”

  I sat down. “What?” I glared at Ann, who was happily munching away like a child who doesn’t know any better. “What signs?”

  Ann swallowed the apple she’d chewed. “I picked up on your little dreams. I’m good at attuning myself with other psychic connections. I saw what you saw.”

  “That’s crazy.” I glanced at Kevin for support. I felt sick and violated. What else had she seen?

  “It’s part of psychic warfare these days.” Ann smiled maliciously. “She has the doll in your dreams. You found it in the house. She can’t have it physically. The only way you could see her with it is if she manifested it after she died. It happens with children and their favorite toys. The second thing is that she knew her father was dead. Children who are still living don’t know things like that much less accept them rationally. When you were talking to her and saw yourself in a grave—in my experience—that was her grave.”

  Her voice was so cold and analytical. Chills coursed down my spine as I listened to her describe the reasons Betsy had to be dead. I felt betrayed, as I had when Ann had come to the shop to take over looking for Betsy. Her conclusions were all based on invading my mind.

  “I don’t believe it.” I glared at her again for good measure. There had to be some way to keep her out of my head from now on. I just had no idea what it was. “I’m not giving up on such a small amount of evidence and some bad experiences you’ve had.”

  “I don’t believe it either,” Kevin said. “I think we can still find her—alive.”

  “You can believe what you want,” Ann said. “But you’ll be wasting your time. I’m going to tell Agent Kowalski my findings. It’s up to him after that.”

  “How can you be this way?” I demanded, still angry. “That’s a real person out there who needs us. We can’t just give up because you think she’s dead.”

  “You’re a little crusader, Dae,” she retorted. “Just like Kevin described. No wonder the two of you were an item for a while. You’re a perfect match.”

  She smiled and kind of floated out of the kitchen, not looking back.

  “This isn’t like her.” Kevin sounded apologetic. “When we worked together, she never gave up until she had no choice. Sometimes I thought she was part bloodhound. She’s not thinking clearly. That may be why she’s so defensive.”

  I got slowly to my feet. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can work with the two of you. I know you want to help her get her groove back, but this is new to me. I don’t think I can handle all the drama. I feel like I need aluminum foil on my head or something to keep her out. I need a clear, Ann-free brain if I’m going to help Betsy.”

  “I know it doesn’t seem possible right now, but the three of us working together is the best bet that little girl has. Ann may not seem like a resource, but she is. Like you said, you don’t have much experience, Dae. She does. But you have the inside track on Chuck and his daughter. Don’t throw all of this away because of how you feel about what’s going on between us.”

  He sounded so sensible—like he always did. It drew me in, like always. He was a calm center in the eye of any storm.

  But he was wrong this time.

  I didn’t need Ann or her jaded point of view to find Betsy. I didn’t need his daily presence reminding me of my heartache either. That pain was clouding my judgment. I needed to be clearheaded. This was the most important thing I had ever used my gift for.

  “I’m sorry, Kevin. This isn’t going to work for me.”

  “Look, I know this is hard. I know you don’t want it to work because we’d have to be together. I’m sorry it has to be this way, more than I can say. But what if you’re wrong? What if you refuse to work with us and the girl isn’t found until it’s too late? Give me a chance to pull your and Ann’s strengths together on this. I know it will work.”

  I wanted to believe. I wanted him to be right. And it was true, I was just fumbling around, not sure what to do. He obviously had a plan.

  I managed to push aside my feelings and prepared to hear him out. “What did you have in mind?”

  Kevin brought out a big whiteboard that he sometimes used to announce specials in the dining room. He put it up on the steamy kitchen wall while the aromas of broccoli and cheese casserole and apple pie wafted around us.

  “For now, let’s get everything up here that you’ve experienced, Dae. When we see it as a whole, it can make a difference.”

  So we started from the beginning—the medallion that had belonged to Chuck’s mother.

  “I don’t understand why they didn’t arrest Derek Johnson,” I complained.

  “He had a perfect alibi,” Kevin explained. “The police in Wilmington were questioning him about another crime they thought he’d committed when Chuck was killed. Time of death from the medical examiner’s office confirms that. As far as the medallion was concerned, he said he saw the sign in the store, was interested in it and made up the story about being its owner and offering
a reward. No one can really argue with that. It’s plausible.”

  “That doesn’t explain why he had a gun when he got to Old Man Sweeney’s house.”

  “He’s been in and out of jail since he was a kid. People like that tend to carry weapons.”

  “Or he was cleaning up after the person who shot Chuck. Maybe they were worried about the medallion giving them away.”

  “That’s possible. I don’t believe Derek’s story—neither do the police. But they can’t prove otherwise.”

  We talked about seeing dead Chuck the first time—and after. Then we focused on Betsy.

  While we were working, Ann came back to the kitchen and sat down. Kevin went to check on the cheese sauce for dinner that night.

  “I don’t know why he doesn’t trust me,” she muttered. “He knows I understand these things better than he does.”

  “Maybe he’s just not ready to give up.”

  “It’s not giving up.” She turned to face me. “It’s being realistic. Do you have any idea how many of these cases I’ve worked?”

  “No, I don’t. And you’re right—I haven’t been doing this for very long. I definitely don’t have your experience. But I also don’t have your fatalism about it. I can feel that she’s still alive.”

  “The earmarks are all wrong.”

  “I don’t care about the earmarks. This is only one little girl, not the ones you’ve worked with before. Until I see her dead body, I’m not giving up.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ll play the little game. I don’t have anything else to do.”

  Kevin returned, looked at both of us, then went back to the whiteboard. “We have a visual on the suspect Dae thinks is responsible for Mr. Sparks’s death. If he’s been arrested before, Dae will be able to ID him from police photos.”

  Ann didn’t say anything. She doodled on a piece of paper while Kevin went over everything we had talked about.

  I looked at the paper she had in her hands. A man’s face was emerging from her pencil. Thick dark hair, craggy, deep lines in his face, a square jaw and piercing eyes.

  “That’s him!” I said, almost jumping out of my seat. “She drew him from my thoughts. I didn’t even tell her what he looked like. I can’t believe it!”

  Kevin looked at the sketch. “I don’t recognize him. Ann, do you get any kind of vibe from him?”

  She continued to doodle. “He’s a powerful man, used to giving commands and having them obeyed. He’s spent his whole life in and out of trouble. He’s not from this area, but he’s interested in working here.”

  “Good.” Kevin added those characteristics to the whiteboard. “If you’ll give me that sketch, I’ll make some copies of it. We’ll give one to Agent Kowalski.”

  “How did you do that?” I asked Ann after he was gone. “How could you see that in my brain?”

  “I don’t know. Like you, I was born this way. Unlike you, my parents wanted me to do something with my gift. They sent me to a school in Europe where I received specialized training. While most kids were playing with blocks, I was developing my abilities.”

  I continued to watch her. She was now drawing on a second piece of paper. It was another face. “Who is that?”

  “I’m not sure. He’s in your head. You don’t know him?”

  “No. I don’t recognize him. I’ve never seen him.”

  “You will.” She handed me the sketch and smiled. “Like I said, you have a lot to learn, Dae. But you’re very talented. Maybe if you joined the FBI, you’d pick up more.”

  I looked at the sketch and wondered who the man was. “I don’t think so. It’s not easy doing this on my own, but I don’t want to make a career out of looking for missing children. I like where I am right now, helping where I can. I don’t know if I’m cut out for more.”

  “I don’t blame you. So what if your full potential never develops. You aren’t out to impress anyone, are you? I wish I felt that way. It must be nice to have a home somewhere. No matter where I go, I’m never home.”

  Except with Kevin.

  The words came to me like a whisper, but not from her lips. I wasn’t sure whether I’d actually heard her thoughts or only imagined that she felt that way.

  Kevin came back with the copies, and we decided to go to the FBI hub at the police station. We were getting into his pickup—Ann in the middle—when my cell phone rang.

  “Hi, Dae.” It was Trudy. “There’s a man here who says he has something for you. It’s about some kind of gun. I told him you still own Missing Pieces—you’re just never here.”

  “Thanks, Trudy. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  Ann and Kevin were looking at me when I closed my cell phone. “I have to go to the shop. I could meet you at the station later, but I made an appointment before all of this came up. I just forgot about it.”

  “Not a problem,” Kevin said. “It will probably take some time to research this man’s face. I’ll call you if it goes faster.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll see you later, Dae,” Ann said. “Kevin and I will take care of the big, scary stuff. You can go on with your normal little life. We’ll let you know if there’s anything else you can do.”

  I turned down a ride to Missing Pieces. Kevin was right about Ann. She was very good at what she did, finding missing children, and needling me. I needed some time to get my thoughts in order.

  They were very professional together. It was easy to imagine them working at the FBI, and falling in love. They made a striking couple. It was like they knew what to do and say without even discussing it. It made me feel a little insignificant, even though a lot of my information had led to the new discoveries.

  I walked from the Blue Whale toward the downtown area. Kevin waved as he and Ann passed me in the truck. I wasn’t sorry I wasn’t going with them.

  I noticed Mad Dog at the corner setting out a few smaller signs, pounding them into the sandy ground. I hoped he wouldn’t notice me, but what were the chances? Even though there was a good crowd of walkers out on Duck Road, I’d never blend in that well.

  “Hello, Dae!” he sang out. “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it? How do you like my little poster next to the inn? Very impressive, right?”

  “I didn’t notice,” I lied with a pleasant smile. “I do hope you aren’t violating any sign ordinances. You know the public works guys are always on the lookout for that.”

  “Speaking of the public works department, I heard the most vicious rumor about you and Chris Slayton. Did the two of you really hire our workers to dig for some treasure you’re looking for? Because that would be a total violation of your power as mayor of Duck. I don’t think the other members of the council are happy about it either.”

  In other words, he’d heard the rumor and called everyone else on the council. Digging for treasure. That’s what happened sometimes when the grapevine went haywire.

  “It’s been a while since I dug for any treasure, Councilman. Excuse me. I have to run over to Missing Pieces. I’ll see you later.”

  “Indeed you will!” he yelled after me. “I’m going to ask for a special meeting of the council to discuss all of these goings-on. Enjoy being mayor—while you can.”

  I guessed Mad Dog was conspiring to become mayor without an election. It was possible. He was the mayor pro tem. Should the council issue a vote of no confidence against me, he would automatically take my place. A special election would have to be held later but not until after he’d been mayor for a while. It was too late for new candidates to file for office. We have an early filing period in Duck.

  I hurried by him, through traffic, up the stairs and down the boardwalk. Nancy was outside town hall, smoking, as I went by. “Hey! We need to talk, sweetie. There are some bad things coming down the pipeline that you should know about,” she called out.

  “In a few minutes,” I yelled back, already aware of the bad things coming my way. “I’m late!”

  I was a little breathless by the time I
got to the shop. Trudy and my seller were out on the bench in front. They seemed to be hitting it off.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I apologized.

  The man beside her stood up and held out his hand. “That’s okay. It gave me a chance to meet your friend and ask her out for dinner.”

  I shook his hand and looked into his face. My whole body went cold.

  He was the second man Ann had sketched from my thoughts.

  Chapter 16

  People from across the Southeast frequently contacted me—usually via the Internet—with items to sell. Buyers looking for specific items did the same. It was nice when they matched up. I got a fee for brokering the sale, or sold the piece outright. Not to mention the thrill of seeing and holding some very old and expensive antiques. Very sweet!

  In this case, the buyer who’d contacted me was looking for a single-shot Flobert pistol with an original fruitwood grip. It was very rare, only a few left in good shape. I just so happened to find the Flobert last year at an antique rally in Charleston.

  Port Tymov was a nationally known antiques dealer. We’d never met, but we’d spoken on the phone and worked together through the Internet. When I told him I had the Flobert he was looking for, he told me he’d come to the shop with the money.

  He was a good-looking man, probably in his early forties, but his features were sharp and his eyes struck me as being greedy. There was a lot of money to be made in antiques. Many dealers weren’t in the business for the thrill of finding the rare items. They just wanted to make money. I didn’t hold it against Port.

  After Port had confirmed that Trudy would meet him at Wild Stallions that night, we went into Missing Pieces and I took out the pistol case.

  I was still trying to process how Ann had seen him in my thoughts even before I’d seen him—when I noticed him staring at the pistol case. It was emblazoned with a gold swastika. “If it offends you, I can get rid of it.”

  “No. I’m just surprised to see it. The buyer will be thrilled to have the original case.”