Possessed (A Jenny Watkins Mystery Book 7)

by Becky Durfee

  Possessed

  Book Seven in the Jenny Watkins Mystery Series

  Driven

  Betrayed

  Shattered

  Exposed

  Trapped

  Vindicated

  Copyright 2015

  Dedication

  As always, my undying gratitude goes out to my family: Scott, Hannah, Seneca, Evan and Julia. They are both my inspiration and my motivation.

  Special thanks to my proofreaders Danielle Bon Tempo and Bill Demarest. Danielle is my editor; Bill is my fact checker. They both keep me on my toes.

  Even more thanks go out to the Foote family, namely Christopher (my cover model) and Altony(my cover photographer.) When I saw Christopher at my daughter’s Tae Kwon Do school, I just knew he was my Devon. I’m so glad his parents were receptive to the wacko lady who approached them with the offer for their son to be on a book cover.

  Lastly, my thanks go out to you, the readers, who have made this whole experience surreal for me. I am so grateful that you have stuck with me through seven books. I love to write this series, and I’m delighted that you continue to read it. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!!

  I hope you enjoy Possessed!

  Chapter 1

  “It’s hot,” Jenny muttered as she lowered the thermostat one more degree.

  Zack looked up from his laptop. “Seriously? You’re turning it down again?”

  “It’s hot,” she repeated, fanning her face with her hand.

  “It’s not hot; you’re just seven months pregnant.”

  “Okay then,” Jenny replied without animosity in her voice, “I’m hot. Either way it needs to be cooler in here.”

  “What’s it set at?” Zack zipped his jacket a little higher.

  “Sixty-six,” Jenny admitted with a giggle.

  “Good Lord, woman. Are you trying to force me to move out by freezing me out of here?”

  “I promise I’m not.” She placed her hand on her belly. “It’s just this baby is a giant furnace. It’s like I swallowed a heating pad that’s on stuck high. Besides, the way I see it, you can always put more clothes on if you’re cold, but I can’t un-pregnant.”

  “I’m not arguing with you,” Zack said. “I know better than that. I just can’t believe you’re actually calling this place hot.”

  The ring of Jenny’s phone disrupted the conversation; the number was unfamiliar and the area code indicated the call was coming from out of state. She hoped it wasn’t a solicitor. “Hello?”

  A female voice came through the phone. “Hi, I’m looking for Jenny Watkins.”

  Even though she had a new last name, Jenny responded, “This is,” and then braced herself for a sales pitch.

  The woman on the other end gathered her strength with a sigh, immediately causing Jenny to realize this was more than just a random phone call. “My name is Kayla Moore; I’m calling from Ashland, North Carolina.” She paused, clearly trying to formulate what she was going to say next. “I got your number through a friend-of-a-friend; she knows the owner of an inn in Virginia that you once helped with your psychic ability.”

  Jenny remembered that case. “Yes, her name was Jessica.”

  “Jessica…that’s right.” The fear in Kayla’s voice remained. “Well, the reason I’m calling is because I was wondering if you could possibly help me as well.” She cleared her throat nervously. “Actually, I need you to help my son, Devon.”

  Realizing this was a serious call, Jenny walked into the other room so she could devote her full attention to the conversation. “Sure. What do you need me to do?”

  “I don’t know what I need you to do,” Kayla admitted. “Provide me with some answers, I guess?” Another sigh indicated she was having a difficult time keeping it together. “Lately, my son has been saying some things…things that just don’t make any sense. He’s been claiming that his name is Matthew, and he keeps talking about a fire that he wasn’t able to escape from.”

  Jenny felt a chill.

  Kayla continued, “At first I just ignored it, thinking he had a vivid imagination or something. But it’s been two months now, and he talks about it almost daily. The fire has even been the focus of many of his drawings at school, to the point where his teacher has contacted me to voice her concern.”

  Drawings? “Wait a minute,” Jenny interrupted with a rapid shake of her head. “Just how old is your son?”

  “He’s five.”

  “Five?” Jenny couldn’t believe he was so young.

  “Exactly,” Kayla replied, “and he’s an only child, so it’s not like he has an older sibling watching violent movies in front of him or anything. His father and I are very strict about what he sees on TV, and the only computer he has access to is a little tablet designed for kids, so he’s not getting any horrible images there. I honestly can’t imagine where this is coming from, so that’s why lately I’ve come to accept that maybe something very real and very frightening is happening to him. And that’s where you come in.”

  Jenny couldn’t imagine the despair that this mother must have been feeling.

  “I understand that you have the ability to receive messages from the deceased…and it sounds like, from what Devon describes, this Matthew person died in that fire. If there really is a Matthew, and he is trying to relay a message…” Kayla’s voice became shaky, most likely due to tears. “I wonder if you can figure out what that is so he will leave my son alone.”

  “You said you’re where?” Jenny asked. “Ashland, North Carolina?”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  Glancing at the clock, Jenny replied, “My husband and I can be there by sundown.”

  Jenny hadn’t met Devon yet; his father had taken him out for dinner at one of those crazy, child-centered pizza parlors that housed an arcade. This allowed Jenny to have a quiet conversation with Kayla at the house so she could have a better grasp of what Devon had been experiencing.

  Jenny sat in the center of the Moore’s couch, flanked by Zack and Kayla. “These are some of his drawings,” Kayla said as she handed over a small stack of papers. Once Jenny had a firm grasp on the pictures, Kayla went back to wringing her hands.

  “My God,” Jenny whispered when she saw the horrific nature of the drawings. Fire, indeed, was the prevailing theme in all of them, although Jenny noticed something different in one particular image. “Is that blood?” She pointed to a red crayon mark on the picture.

  Kayla shook her head slowly. “I don’t know. I guess I should have asked, but I’ve always tried to downplay these drawings. Instead I try to focus on the more appropriate pictures he comes home with.”

  Jenny covered her mouth with her hand and furrowed her brow; she could see why Kayla had been upset enough to call her.

  “And look,” Kayla continued as she pulled out another drawing. This one showed what appeared to be a young boy playing happily with an animal of some kind, although kindergarten artwork was often difficult to decipher. “In pictures like this, he draws himself as black—which he is, obviously.” She pointed over at one of the violent drawings in Jenny’s hand. “But in the ones that feature fire, he draws himself as white.”

  Zack spoke for the first time. “So, it appears this Matthew person was white?”

  “That’s what I’m assuming,” Kayla replied.

  As this case became odder and odder, Jenny’s heart bled more intensely for this little boy she had yet to meet. “When, exactly, did this start? I know you said it was a few months ago, but when was the very first time he mentioned Matthew?”

  Kayla sat up straighter. “It was on our way home from vacation. We went to Disney World in July, and we
were driving home when I heard him say from the back seat, ‘Hi, Matthew; I’m Devon.’ He had been asleep, so I just figured he was dreaming and thought nothing of it. Then, when we got home, he said, ‘Mom, did you know Matthew got burned in a fire?’ I was disturbed by the comment even then, and at that point I didn’t know just how much this would take over his life.” She shook her head, looking as if she were battling tears.

  A thought occurred to Jenny. “Do you remember where you were in the trip when he first said hello to Matthew?”

  Kayla thought but ultimately said, “I’m afraid I have no idea. We were driving overnight, so it’s not like I can even say it was lunch time or anything.” She thought some more before adding, “I think it was near the end of the trip.”

  The sound of Kayla’s ringing phone permeated the room. “I’m sorry,” she said, “it’s my husband; I’m going to get it.” As she stepped into the kitchen for privacy, Zack turned to Jenny.

  “This is some crazy shit, huh?”

  Drawing in a breath, Jenny nodded in agreement. She didn’t reply, her mind too preoccupied with her own unborn baby and the prospect that this child may have had a future that looked very much like Devon’s.

  Zack continued, “Do you think he may have picked up a spirit on the way home from vacation?”

  Jenny could no longer dwell on her own worries; there was too much staring her in the face. “That’s what I’m thinking, which is why I asked where they were, specifically, when the talk of Matthew first started. I figure if she knows the exact location, it could give us an idea of where to start looking for a Matthew who died in a fire.” She stifled a shudder at the thought of dying so horrifically.

  Kayla returned to the living room. “They’re about two minutes from the house,” she announced with a worried look on her face. “Are you ready to meet him?”

  Jenny stood and smiled brightly. “I would love to meet him.” Seeing the look on Kayla’s face, Jenny walked over and placed her hand on the nervous mother’s shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she said compassionately. “It’s going to be okay.”

  The words seemed to have a calming effect on Kayla, albeit minimally. Jenny was reminded of her own first psychic experience, when a more seasoned medium named Susan had said something similar to her. Susan’s composure had been comforting to Jenny—she’d need to keep that in mind when talking to Kayla.

  The front door opened, and in walked a very tall man and an adorable young boy in a plaid, button-down short sleeved shirt. The boy stopped in his tracks immediately upon seeing Jenny, furrowing his brow and looking at her as if she had three heads.

  Kayla seemed surprised by his reaction. “Devon, honey, what’s the matter? These are my friends Miss Jenny and Mr. Zack.” Kayla turned apologetically to the Larrabees. “I’m sorry about this; he normally is so friendly. I thought he was going to come in and talk your ears off.”

  “It’s okay,” Jenny said reassuringly. She knew why Devon was acting strangely, and his reaction was perfectly reasonable under the circumstances.

  In an attempt to appear nonthreatening to Devon, Jenny walked in his direction slowly. Kneeling before him, she gently held out her hand.

  Devon responded by taking a step backward and hiding behind his father’s leg.

  “Hi, Devon,” Jenny said in her most compassionate tone. “I know what you’re feeling is weird, but it’s okay.”

  Devon continued to look at her skeptically.

  “What’s happening?” Kayla whispered.

  “He can feel it,” Jenny explained quietly. She never let her eyes leave the boy’s face when she added, “He has the gift.”

  Kayla sounded short of breath. “The gift?”

  Jenny nodded. “He has psychic ability…and when psychics are in the presence of other psychics, they know it. I imagine he’s never met anyone else like him before, and he doesn’t know what to make of what he’s feeling.”

  Devon’s father squatted down to be more at his level. “It’s okay,” he said encouragingly. “She’s not going to hurt you.”

  “It feels funny, doesn’t it?” Jenny said with a pleasant smile, fully aware that the words déjà vu would mean nothing to a five-year-old. “Almost like you’ve met me before, even though you haven’t.”

  With his brow still furrowed, Devon nodded so slightly it was almost imperceptible.

  “Touch my hand,” Jenny said. “It’ll feel nice; I promise.”

  Devon looked at his father for approval.

  “Go ahead,” his father said. “I’m right here.”

  With that, Devon reached out his little fingers and wrapped them around Jenny’s. Affirmation surged through Jenny’s veins, a feeling similar to the exhilaration of holding hands with a new love. She had just been touched by a fellow psychic; the sensation had no other explanation.

  Devon relaxed his eyebrows, looking at Jenny with what could have been interpreted as the beginnings of a smile.

  “See?” Jenny said with a smile. “It’s okay.”

  Devon removed his fingers from Jenny’s, only to look up at Kayla and say, “Mom, why are you crying?”

  Jenny glanced over her shoulder to see that Kayla was indeed wiping a tear from her eye. “You’re just a very special boy, that’s all,” she managed to say.

  Jenny had to acknowledge that this couldn’t have been easy for Kayla to watch. After all, it had been hard enough for Jenny to recognize the ability within herself; she couldn’t imagine sitting helplessly by and watching the person she loved the most struggle with that realization—especially when that person was a five-year-old child.

  “He is a special boy,” Jenny said as she stood up, “and he’s going to need some guidance. But I promise, Mom, with a little love and support, he’s going to be just fine.” She took a step closer to Kayla. “You’ll notice I described what he has as the gift. If handled properly, that’s what this is—a gift—that he will eventually learn to appreciate.”

  Kayla nodded, although her hands continued to shake.

  Jenny introduced herself to Devon’s father, who said his name was Randall. Zack also joined in the greeting.

  They all resumed their places in the living room, including Devon, who sat on his father’s lap in a recliner that matched the sofa. “So,” Jenny said to Devon in her best teacher tone , “I hear you have a friend named Matthew.”

  Devon fidgeted all around, proving to be like many other boys his age who couldn’t sit still. “Uh-huh.”

  “Can you tell me a little bit about Matthew?”

  After more squirming, Devon announced, “He died in a fire.”

  “Do you know when he died?”

  “It’s been a long time now.” He slid off his father’s lap. “I take karate.”

  At this point, Jenny inwardly acknowledged this case was going to come with a unique set of challenges. Nonetheless, she emphatically said, “You do? Let me see some of your moves.”

  After a short display, Jenny and Zack both applauded. “Remind me never to mess with you,” Zack said.

  “Okay, see, now he’s warming up to you,” Kayla warned. “You will be hard pressed to get him to stop talking.”

  “I want to get a dog,” Devon added, “but my mom says no.”

  “We have a ferret,” Kayla told Devon. “The ferret and the dog might not get along.”

  “Yes, they will.”

  Jenny looked over at Kayla. “This isn’t how the gift works. He can’t see the future; that’s just a five-year-old boy trying to talk you into getting a dog.”

  “Oh, I’m not getting a dog,” Kayla said. “No worries there.”

  Jenny turned back to Devon. “Honey, do you know Matthew’s last name?”

  “Nope.” Devon galloped in a circle. “All he says is that his name is Matthew.”

  “Is he a child?”

  Devon stopped and looked at Jenny. “No, he’s a grown up.”

  “A grown up. Do you know how old he is?”

  “I don’t kno
w. Like, fifteen?” Devon resumed his circle around the room.

  Kayla turned to Jenny. “Last week he told his teacher that his father was fifteen on an All About Me assignment. I think every grown up is fifteen to him.”

  Jenny released a deep sigh; this was a child after all. Accuracy was going to be hard to come by, even though brutal honesty would most likely flow freely.

  Returning to the matter at hand, Jenny asked, “Devon, can you do me a favor?”

  He once again stopped running and looked at her.

  “The next time Matthew comes to visit you, can you ask him what his last name is?”

  The little boy scrunched his face, as if trying to understand the request. “He doesn’t visit me. He becomes me.”

  Jenny understood what he meant. “You see the stuff that he saw, don’t you?”

  Bouncing around as if he’d had way too much caffeine, Devon said, “I see the fire.”

  Jenny straightened her posture, recognizing that the visions this boy had were probably far worse than any of her own had ever been. “Is the fire all around you?”

  Devon threw punches at an enemy that wasn’t there. “Un-huh. I can’t get out. There’s no place that isn’t on fire.”

  Almost afraid to hear the answer, Jenny asked, “Does the fire hurt you?”

  “No. It doesn’t hurt me…but it killed Matthew.”

  “How do you know it killed Matthew?”

  Still swinging his arms, he said, “It goes black.”

  Jenny’s eyes shifted to Kayla, who appeared to have aged a decade since they’d arrived. Kayla rubbed her eyes, wiping her hands down her face, ultimately revealing a plastered-on smile that was clearly insincere.

  While Devon seemed like he could have continued the conversation forever, his mother did not; she looked as if even another minute would have been torturous. “Devon, if it’s okay with you, I want to go into the kitchen and talk to your mommy for a while.”

  He didn’t acknowledge the comment, choosing to head-butt his father in the stomach instead.

  Kayla walked quickly into the kitchen, closing the door as soon as Jenny had entered the room behind her. She hung her head as tears freely fell; Jenny handed her the box of tissues that had been on the kitchen island.