by Becky Durfee
“That should make it easier,” Jenny noted as she typed the names into her own phone for future reference. “Although, we will probably have to rely on Kyle to get us information about these women.”
“Suppose more than one of them is yellow-haired?” Zack glanced at her with a crooked smile.
Ignoring the joke, Jenny simply said, “Ah, but remember how well Devon could point at the appropriate pictures? If we get photographs of all three women, hopefully he’ll be able to identify the correct one, even if they’re all yellow-haired.”
“But suppose the woman Devon was talking about wasn’t a victim?” At that moment their food arrived, prompting Zack to say, “I swear I don’t know how they do it. Mexican food always comes out so fast. Anyway, Devon only said there was a yellow-haired woman from the train…he didn’t mention whether she had died or not.”
Jenny outwardly appeared to be ignoring Zack, unrolling her silverware and quickly digging in to dinner, but inside she was contemplating what he had just said. “How will we find out her identity if she wasn’t one of those three women?”
“That’s exactly my point,” Zack replied. “I don’t know. I’m not sure if we can find out the names of the people who survived.”
“Maybe Kyle can.”
“Maybe.” Zack took a bite of his dinner, pausing a moment before asking, “Do you think Matthew knew someone else on the train?”
“Mary didn’t mention anyone else; she said it was just her and her parents.”
“Maybe Matthew knew this other woman, but his wife and daughter didn’t.” He looked at her with raised eyebrows.
“Are you suggesting that he was having an affair?”
“It’s possible.”
Jenny shook her head. “I doubt it. Well, maybe he was having an affair, but I don’t think he’d be stupid enough to put his mistress on the same train as Julia and Mary. Besides, if he loved his wife enough to linger this long trying to find her, I doubt he was cheating on her.”
“I guess you’re right,” Zack conceded.
“I think our best bet is to try to get pictures of the three female victims, but that will have to be through Kyle. I’ll shoot him a text now and ask him to look into those women for us. Maybe it is one of them and Devon will be able to recognize her. We could also talk to Mary and see if anyone else she knew was on the train.”
“There’s also a third thing we should do to help with this case.”
Jenny raised her eyes to look at Zack. “What’s that?”
“We should get you back to that train station and see if you can get another vision.”
Chapter 18
Jenny refused to mention her heartburn for fear of the inevitable I told you so. Although she had taken some antacids while Zack wasn’t looking, the pain was still trumping the medication.
The car made it down the trampled grass, coming to a rest next to the two hybrids that Delilah had described during their last visit to Eden. Jenny and Zack got out of the car and were greeted by several members of the communal group that currently lived in the house. Having been a guest at dinner earlier in the week, the couple was no stranger to the residents, who greeted them as if they had been life-long friends.
After some idle chit chat, Jenny asked for—and was granted—permission to wander the grounds. The residents didn’t go back into the house, so Zack and Jenny walked a good distance away to the edge of the manicured portion of the property. They remained silent as they wandered so Jenny could try to get a reading, but secretly she wondered if the pain in her chest was enough to prevent one from happening.
Jenny saw some motion out of the corner of her eye, causing her to glance up in that direction. Three goats marched toward the couple, and Jenny’s first instinct was to make sure they actually existed in the present day. “You see those?”
“I do. Maybe I get to pet one.”
Jenny smiled, having forgotten Zack’s previous desire to make friends with the goats. “Well, this looks like your golden opportunity; they’re coming your way.”
As soon as the words came out of Jenny’s mouth, one of the goats broke into a trot and headed straight for the couple, lowering his head and butting Zack square in the thigh with his horns. “Ow, you little bastard!” he shouted. “What the hell was that about?”
Unable to contain her laughter, Jenny watched as the goat backed up and repeated the process, despite Zack’s best efforts to prevent it. After that, the goat turned its focus to its mates, butting the other animals a few times before running in random zig zags back in the direction he had come.
The look of dismay on Zack’s face caused Jenny to laugh even harder; her urine flowed freely, but because she was prepared, she didn’t even care. The moment was just too funny for her to hold back.
“What the hell?” Zack said as the humor of the moment began to strike him. He rubbed his leg while a smile graced his face. “That’s going to leave a mark.”
“Do you still want to pet them? There are a couple more over there.” Jenny asked through a bitten lip.
“No, I think I’m good. Who knew those things were so nasty?”
The other two goats expressed little interest in the couple, choosing instead to graze along the plants that surrounded the manicured portion of the property. As Jenny watched the animals and her laughter subsided, a wave started to come over her, causing her to close her eyes. The goats multiplied and chickens appeared; the contour of the landscape changed slightly. An authoritative voice echoed in between her ears. “Everybody, line up. No funny business.”
Jenny could feel animosity and dread fill her body. It was happening again. She reluctantly faced the trees in her mind’s eye, seeing others do the same. Soon she was flanked by a woman on her right and a man on her left.
The angry man continued. “You are all being charged with possession of stolen property.”
A deep voice resonated within Jenny as she leaned over and whispered, “You hear that Music Maker?” Her masculine tone turned mocking. “Possession of stolen property.”
Music Maker. Jenny’s level of awareness increased a notch, but not enough to cause her to lose the vision. She glanced to her left, taking a look at Music Maker—the man who once was Robert Morton, beloved brother and son. She studied his face, noting the kindness behind his smile, feeling a desperate need to tell him to run away from this place. She knew the horrible things that awaited him here, and he had a family back home who loved him dearly. Anxiety began to brew within her, but she forced the feeling down, knowing it had the ability to compromise her vision.
“Hands behind your back, everybody. You’re all going to jail.”
Jenny heard a female voice come from down the line. “What’s your bag, man?”
That seemed to anger the sheriff, who grabbed Jenny’s arms with excessive force and placed handcuffs on her wrists. “My bag? What’s my bag?”
While her arms hurt from the rough treatment, she didn’t say anything. She simply listened as the cop worked his way to Music Maker and cuffed him as well.
“My bag is that the Lewis family has had to engrave their names into all of their lawn tools—thanks to you people—and what do you know? Their missing rake is here on your property. How surprising.”
Jenny rolled her eyes. All of this because we borrowed a fucking rake. The pigs will find any excuse to hassle us.
The officer continued, “I don’t see how you can get out of this one. The stolen goods are leaning against your house. You all need to get used to the idea of sleeping in a jail cell, because that’s going to be your home for a while.”
“Jenny!” Zack’s voice penetrated the vision. Soon after, she felt a giant thrust against her backside, almost causing her to lose her balance. Zack grabbed her by her elbow and helped her stay upright.
She turned to look over her shoulder, seeing that same unruly goat disappearing into a retreat.
“My God, are you okay?” Zack seemed genuinely concerned.
&n
bsp; Although she could foresee a butt bruise in her future, Jenny said, “Yeah, I’m okay.”
“I didn’t see him until the last second. Sorry I couldn’t give you any more warning.”
“That’s okay.” She rubbed the area that had been struck. “He’s a strong little guy, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, he’s no joke.”
Two of the people who lived at the house came rushing over; one came to check on Jenny, the other chased off the goat. “I’m so sorry,” the unkempt young man who approached the couple said. “Are you alright?”
Jenny smiled politely. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“That’s Butthead,” the man explained. “I guess you can see how he earned the name.”
Zack and Jenny both laughed. “Is he always like that?” Zack posed.
“Afraid so. I’m not sure, but I think something’s wrong with him. We had him castrated a while ago so he doesn’t reproduce; we would never have him put down, of course, but I certainly wouldn’t want a whole field full of goats like him, either.”
Bewildered, Jenny asked, “You can castrate a goat?”
“Sure. Happens all the time. It prevents inbreeding…kind of like fixing a dog.”
Awe remained in her voice as she turned to Zack. “I guess you really do learn something new every day.”
“So, I gather you were having a vision when you got bumped,” Zack said. “What was it about?”
The man who lived at the house looked at her intently as she explained, “I saw myself getting arrested, and I could tell by my reaction that it was a routine occurrence. This time it was over a stolen rake...actually, a borrowed rake. I get the impression they only intended to use it for a while and then return it.”
“You know, that seems like sound logic to me,” the man said. “I would think that one rake could serve a whole community. It’s rather wasteful for every home to own a separate one. Imagine all of the wonderful things you could do with the money you’d save by not buying your own.”
Jenny thought about all of the things cluttering her home and her garage; that price tag would have inevitably added up. These people had a knack for making her feel guilty.
“I feel you,” Zack said, “but there are lots of people who make their living at the rake-making factory. If everyone suddenly started sharing rakes, those people would be out of work.”
The man looked at Zack for an uncomfortably long time. “A thinker,” he eventually said. “I like that.”
Jenny could see this conversation turning into a long and boring debate, so she said, “Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to see the vision through. Butthead had other plans for me.”
“Again, I’m so sorry about that.”
“Don’t be,” Jenny said. “Believe it or not, I find the little guy to be endearing. He’s kind of a think-outside-the-box goat. I had students like that in the past, and they always had a special place in my heart.”
“I’d like to put him in a box,” the man said. “That would keep him out of trouble.”
“I used to want to put some of my students in a box, too, from time to time, but somehow I didn’t think the principal would approve of that. But anyway,” Jenny added, turning to Zack, “I was able to get a good look at Music Maker. It made me sad, knowing what was going to happen to him and how much his family loved him.” She shook her head. “I wanted to warn him, but I guess the only thing I can do for him is figure out who did this. I hate that my role is always to avenge; I wish I could prevent.”
“You do prevent,” Zack told her. “Do you know how many people you’ve saved by putting Orlowski and Tate away?”
A defeated smile graced Jenny’s face. She knew Zack was right, but she would probably always focus on the people who contacted her—the ones she was too late to protect.
“You put some people away?” the man asked.
“Well, I helped the police put some murderers away.”
“Serial killers, to be precise,” Zack said. “Serial, as in would inevitably do it again if they didn’t get stopped.”
Jenny wanted the conversation to stop being about her; compliments were still difficult for her to accept. “Anyway, I’m not sure how insightful this visit was, but I am invigorated. I absolutely want to figure out what happened all those years ago—for Joe Forte and Robert Morton and all of those people.” Her face grew sad as she looked up at Zack. “They weren’t bad people, and they shouldn’t have died.”
Jenny looked fearfully at her breakfast plate. A plain bagel, some cantaloupe and a yogurt—those things couldn’t possibly cause heartburn, could they? She gazed longingly at Zack’s mound of fattening food, dripping with butter and syrup, knowing it wouldn’t cause him any pain or a single extra pound. Life was certainly not fair at times.
Her phone rang from inside her purse; the number indicated it was Kyle. She picked up eagerly. “Hello, sir. How are you this morning?”
“Doing just fine, Mrs. Larrabee, and how are you?”
“Good,” she replied. “Excited. Were you able to find anything?”
“I sure was. I’ll start with Joe Forte, who was born and raised in Tyson’s Bend, Alabama, a little dot on the map that nobody’s ever heard of. He had a bit of a sad story, really. He lived in a house up until he was fourteen, when his father got arrested and they had to move.”
“Uh-oh,” Jenny said. “What did the father get arrested for?”
“Embezzlement. He ran the books for a local farm supply store, and it seemed he kept a chunk of the money for himself. The boss caught him and pressed charges. After that, things changed for the worse for Joe and his family. The mother, who had previously stayed home, had to go to work, and they had to sell their house and move into a trailer park, which is where Joe found his way into trouble.”
With a wince, Jenny braced herself and asked, “What kind of trouble?”
“Drugs, mostly. Truancy from school. Victimless crimes, so to speak.”
“So, he was not a violent person?”
“Violent? Not that I can tell. He did get in trouble at school, though, for outbursts against his teachers and principals. It seems he had a bit of a chip on his shoulder regarding authority after his father’s arrest, but his episodes were always just verbal, never physical.”
“Well, I can’t honestly say that I blame him. Not that I’m excusing that behavior or anything—outbursts against your teachers are never acceptable—but I’m sure he was genuinely angry about what happened to his family. Granted, he was taking it out on the wrong people, but I think any hostility he had was understandable. He’d been dealt a pretty crappy hand, through no fault of his own, and that’s tough for a fourteen-year-old to handle.”
“No argument here,” Kyle said assuredly. “I see a lot of kids dealing with bad situations in my line of work—they go through hardships that would be tough for an adult to handle. I wonder, sometimes, how they do it.”
“Not always productively, unfortunately.”
“Usually not. Anyway, our friend Joe Forte’s number came up in the draft in early 1966, and after that, he disappeared from the radar. Nobody reported him missing or anything, but nobody knew where he was, either. It seems like his loved ones knew he was avoiding the military, but they didn’t know exactly how.”
“He stopped being Joe Forte, that’s how,” Jenny replied, “and he became Winding River.”
“So there he is, in a nutshell,” Kyle said. “Is there anything else you need to know about him?”
“No, that should do. I just wanted to get a feel for who this guy was; I always like to know a little about the people I’m dealing with.”
“Well, let me know if you need any more information about him. As for your other request, I got some pictures and descriptions of the three female victims of the train explosion. I have that all saved in my computer; it might be easier if I just email them to you.”
“Sounds good,” Jenny replied. “I’ll be looking for your message.”
She finish
ed up her call with Kyle, noticing Zack had eaten his entire plate of food during the short conversation. He was about to get up for seconds when he saw Jenny hang up; he aborted his mission and focused his attention on her instead. “I assume that was Kyle; what did he have to say?”
Jenny recounted the story about Joe Forte. “You know,” she added, “that makes sense, if you think about it.”
“What does?”
“The animosity toward the police. It may have started long before the harassment at Eden. I mean, you and I both know Joe’s father created his own fate by stealing from the store he worked for, but it probably looked quite different from Joe’s point of view. What he saw was the cops arrest his father, and then his life went downhill after that. He may have blamed the police for what happened to his family.”
“Don’t you think he’d eventually figure out that his father was the dumbass?”
“That type of thinking requires maturity. I’m not sure he was allowed to get old enough to do that.”
Zack shrugged. “And what did Kyle have to say about the train victims?”
Jenny’s phone chirped. “We’re about to find out about that now.”
Chapter 19
Zack refilled his plate while Jenny called up the email. Once he returned, she gave him the details.
“Okay, it looks like the first woman on the list is Diane Collins; she was forty-two years old and had what appears to be jet-black hair. Jacqueline Crespi was twenty-four, and look…” She held the phone out and showed Zack the picture. “Blond.”
“And hot,” Zack noted.
While Jenny did have to agree she was a beautiful young lady, that comment made her realize just how long it had been since Zack had said something similar about her. Acknowledging that now was not the time for such petty thoughts, she returned the phone to face herself and continued, “Last, we have Sally Marsh, who was thirty-seven and brunette as they come. So, if anything, it looks like Devon must have been talking about Jacqueline Crespi.”
