Connections of the Mind

by Dowell, Roseanne

  “No, I...” Rebecca tried to speak; though interested in the town’s history, there wasn’t enough time to discuss it. But Kelly didn’t give Rebecca a chance to answer.

  “Him and his pretty wife came here from New England and purchased eight hundred acres of land. They laid out sixty-seven lots in 1819 which became the town.”

  Rebecca smiled and nodded. Apparently, Ms. Anderson didn’t notice her impatience. It was hard to interrupt some people. Hoping not to appear rude, she looked at her watch. “I’m sorry, but I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

  “Oh, sorry. Up the road to the right. Top of the hill. You can’t miss it.” The phone rang, and Ms. Anderson turned to answer it. “Young people today, always in such a big hurry,” she mumbled. “Good afternoon, Morrisville Daily, how may I direct your call?

  Rebecca seized the moment and left.

  Chapter Three

  Morrisville wasn’t difficult to navigate, and Ms. Anderson’s directions were simple enough. Like the map showed her, everything stemmed off Main Street. May as well check into the motel before looking for the hospital. Besides, her stomach churned from nerves. After all this time, the town finally became a reality. Meeting Jeremy was something else. Could she do it? Could she really look him up and try to explain this strange phenomenon?

  Darn, she sure as heck better after coming all this way. Rebecca found the small motel and parked in front of the office. No wonder they called it The Hills End. The back faced a cliff. Looked like a big rain might wash the whole building over the side. There wasn’t much ground before it went straight down. Hopefully that wouldn’t happen.

  She shrugged and walked into the office and stared into the dark eyes of a seventyish, scrawny, little man with thick glasses.

  “Ethan Prior here.” The man greeted her. “You looking for a room?”

  “Yes, I’d like it for a couple of days. Three at least.” She handed him her credit card.

  He slid the registration form across the counter. “I think you’re gonna like it here.” He smiled an almost toothless smile and immediately began a narration about Morrisville’s history.

  While she filled in her name and address, Rebecca learned the Morrises had five children. Two more died in infancy, one on the trip to Morrisville. Of the five remaining, two had settled in Morrisville.

  “Jebediah Cole built the first flourmill in eighteen and seventeen,” Mr. Prior’s voice filled with pride. “It later became the Cole’s Mill. Then around eighteen and twenty-one, Robert James opened a tavern.”

  Rebecca slid the form back to him, waited for her key, nodding politely, eager for an opportunity to interrupt. She tapped her foot, looked at her watch, and sighed. Lord, spare me from being rude, but so far, people seemed to think she had nothing better to do than listen to history about their town. Any other time, maybe. She loved historic towns. Loved hearing the history about them. Like Hudson or Medina, Ohio. So much history. Heck, even Cleveland and Parma had their history.

  If her nerves weren’t on edge, it would have been comical. Anxious to meet Jeremy, she finally interrupted. “I’m sorry, Mr. Prior, but I need to settle in and find the hospital. Can you direct me?”

  “Oh, my, yes, yes,” he mumbled. “I do go on so. I forget myself at times.” He handed Rebecca the key and directed her to her room. “The hospital is just up the road a piece. Go out the drive, turn right, go past the traffic light, and at the next intersection, Carol Street, turn right, and it’s just up the hill.”

  Surprised at how easy she had discovered Jeremy, Rebecca went to her room, unlocked the door, set her bag on the luggage rack, and looked around. Dated, but it did have a small coffee maker, blow dryer, iron, and ironing board. Worn, avocado green shag carpet covered the floor. The drapes, straight from another era, had lime green, yellow, and orange flowers and foliage with matching bedspread. Striped brown, orange, and yellow upholstery covered the two chairs next to the round table in front of the window. The pine dresser and desk showed definite signs of wear from worn finish and glass rings on the top to dings and dents on the fronts. The brochure on the desk boasted of cable TV and free Internet. That was a surprise. At least it looked clean.

  She checked out the bathroom. Brown and white mosaic floor tile, brown metallic wallpaper, white wall tile with brown flecks in the shower area and behind the sink, and only a single light fixture over the ugly marble laminate sink. No tub, but that was fine with her. Baths, especially in hotels, weren’t something she cared for. Rebecca settled in her room, plugged in her dying cellphone, and sat on the bed to call and reassure her brother and Allison everything was fine.

  “Lester,” Rebecca said when his voice mail picked up. “Just checking in. I’m staying at the Land’s End Motel. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Not that it mattered where she was staying, if Lester wanted to call her, he’d call her cellphone. She hung up and punched in Allison’s number.

  “So, tell me about it. What’s he like? Cute? Handsome? How old? Tell me everything.”

  Typical Allison, forever with the questions. “I haven’t met him yet.” Rebecca sat on the bed and laughed. “But if all the people are as talkative and friendly as the ones I’ve met so far, well it might take a while to find him. And I’m not sure how to explain the connection to him. I mean I’m worried how he’ll take it.”

  “Yeah,” Allison said. “Most people don’t believe or can’t handle the paranormal. Look how leery you were when I suggested it. But, I think he’ll understand, Beck, maybe he’s experienced it, too.”

  Rebecca fidgeted with the phone cord while they talked. Easy for Allison to say, she wasn’t the one who had to explain it.

  “Besides, what’s the worst that can happen? He’ll think you’re nuts, ignore you, or tell you to get lost, and you’ll be on your way home. Right?”

  Rebecca laughed at her friend’s logic, but she had a point. “I’ll call you later or tomorrow after I meet him. Promise.”

  Her stomach growled, but the way it flip-flopped, eating before she met Jeremy wasn’t an option.

  May as well get it over with. Rebecca grabbed the phone off the charger and hurried to her car. Just like Mr. Prior said, the street leading to the hospital was up a long hill. She parked, got out, and breathed in the fresh autumn air. The hospital sat nestled among the pine trees on the hill, high above the town. A gazebo sat in front of the woods. Nice.

  Normally, she would have checked it out. For some reason gazebos fascinated her. Something romantic about them. No time to check it out now; meeting Jeremy took top priority.

  Her stomach clenched as she hurried through the entrance and stopped at the information desk. “Excuse me. I’m looking for a patient, Jeremy Marlin.”

  The volunteer punched the information into her computer. “I’m sorry, Miss, Jeremy Marlin has been released.”

  “Oh, uh…thank you.” Why hadn’t she thought of that? After all, he’d been shot just a couple of days ago, why wasn’t he still in the hospital? But that could be a good thing. It meant he wasn’t seriously wounded.

  Disappointed at the news, Rebecca knew she couldn’t put off meeting him. Time for plan B. “Can you tell me where the police station is?” Darn it, she wanted to get this over and done with.

  “Go back down the hill. Turn left. At the first light, turn right, that’ll be River Drive. About a quarter mile or less, you’ll see it on the right. You have to go past it to turn in the drive.”

  “Thanks.” Rebecca left the hospital. Okay, now what was the plan to convince the chief of police to give her Jeremy’s address? She looked at her watch. Seven o’clock already. Maybe it was best to wait and tackle this tomorrow. Her stomach growled again, demanding food. There was a pizza shop in town and feeding herself suddenly became more important. Right, who was she kidding; this was a stall tactic. But still it was getting late.

  The smell of rich tomato sauce, blending with garlic and other spices increased her hunger, when Rebecca entered the small pizza shop. A man on roll
er blades sped toward her, nearly knocking her down when she opened the door. Spinning around, she looked up at him and grabbed his arm to steady herself. He darn near knocked them both over. Dark hair fell across his face, almost hiding deep-set coal black eyes,

  “Oops, sorry.” He caught her arm. “I didn’t see you. Have to get these pizzas delivered.” He dropped her arm and rushed out, knocking her into the “Seat Yourself” sign.

  “No problem.” Rebecca steadied the sign. The guy disappeared. Good grief, what the heck was his hurry? The small restaurant gave her a warm feeling. Although brightly lit, a candle sat in the middle of each red-checkered tablecloth. Typical, old-fashioned Italian restaurant. Not very original but cozy none-the-less.

  A jukebox played country music in the background. Most of the tables held customers, but Rebecca spotted one in the corner, set apart from the others. No more than she sat down and a waiter appeared and handed her a menu.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Diet soda.” Rebecca opened the menu and studied it. Everything sounded good, but anything spicy this late in the evening, she’d never sleep. Not that she probably would anyway, but no sense adding heartburn and indigestion to the mix. Still, the aromas of all the sauces made her mouth water.

  The waiter brought her drink. “Ready to order?”

  Throwing caution to the wind, she looked at him and smiled. What the heck, she’d be up all night anyway. “Yes, I’ll have the spaghetti and meatballs, Italian dressing on the salad.”

  He wrote the order on his pad. His dark good looks weren’t lost on Rebecca. Not that he was old enough for her. Dark, wavy hair fell across his forehead, not too long, but long enough to look sexy. His dark eyes wrinkled at the corner when he smiled. A deep dimple sunk in his chin. Gosh, he was cute. If she were a few years younger, she’d flirt with him.

  A few minutes later, the waiter came back. “You just passing through, or are you planning on staying a while?” He set her salad and a plate of garlic bread on the table.

  “Not sure. I’ll be around for a few days anyway.” Sure didn’t take people long to question her intentions.

  “Well, enjoy.” He smiled, and went to pick up an order for another table.

  Rebecca devoured the garlic bread and salad while she waited for her spaghetti and meatballs. Darn she was hungrier than she thought. Amazing she could even eat the way her stomach tied up in knots every time she thought of meeting Jeremy.

  “Are you here alone?” The waiter asked when he brought her food.

  Rebecca hated to admit to anyone she traveled alone, even in a small town. Besides, he could be the suspect, though he didn’t look the type.

  And just what was the type, she wondered.

  “No.” Rebecca smiled and set down her glass. “A friend is joining me later.” There, word spread like wildfire in small towns. At least for tonight they’d think someone was joining her. As a precaution, she had registered two people at the motel. Paying the extra five dollars gave her a feeling of security. Everyone in town probably knew about her inquiries about Jeremy by now.

  After dinner, Rebecca went back to her room, and turned on the television. A quick shower might refresh her, but the bed looked more inviting. Exhaustion from the trip and her emotions took over her body. If she could just lie down for a few minutes, even though it was only nine. Pulling the covers aside, she climbed into bed, clothes and all, and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, Rebecca awoke to bright sunlight streaming through the window. Turning over, she stretched. It always felt good to sleep for a full night without dreams.

  She got up, pulled the drapes closed, and headed to the shower.

  After a quick breakfast of toast, orange juice, and coffee at the Coffee Mug Restaurant, her nerves too frayed to eat more, Rebecca went in search of the police station. Now to formulate a plan that explained why she needed Jeremy’s address. Several ideas came to mind. One, she wanted to interview him for a small magazine, but not without credentials. Darn, she hated lying. It wasn’t in her nature. But the truth was so off the wall. They’d probably throw her in the booby hatch. She snapped her fingers and came up with an idea. If she could just sound convincing.

  Victorian houses and shops lined the streets. The quaint little town resembled a postcard from the late 1800s. The only thing missing were the long dresses, horses, and carriages. Although modernized, the town square had managed to keep the quaint elegance of the Victorian era. Too bad she didn’t remember to bring her camera. Whatever happened with Jeremy, she’d definitely explore the town before she left.

  She turned onto River Drive and drove up the hill. It didn’t take long to find the police station. She pulled into the lot and parked, opened the door, and got out. This is it, kid. Hopefully the last step in finding Jeremy. It’s now or never. Rebecca walked into the office.

  The chief, himself, greeted her.

  “Hello there, little lady.” He smiled and extended his hand. “Chief Dan Casteel, and you are?”

  Rebecca shook his rough and weathered hand and looked him over. Mid-fifties, quick smile, and no nonsense attitude. She liked the gray-haired man, especially his drooping, gray mustache. Something told her he had a great sense of humor. Not sure what made her think that. Maybe it was the mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes, or his attitude.

  “I’m Rebecca Brennan. Hopefully you can help me.” She gave him her brightest smile, even flirted a little.

  “My cousin, Isabelle Winters, is a friend of Jeremy Marlin. I told her I was going to be in town, and she asked me to look him up. She said he works for the police department.”

  Chief Casteel leaned against his desk, crossed his arms over his chest, raised an eyebrow, and grinned at her. Of course he didn’t believe her. Everyone and their brother must be talking about her by now. They knew she went by the newspaper office. Knew she inquired about Jeremy at the hospital. What a dumb story to come up with. She could have done better than that. Oh well, the damage was done. Now what was she going to do?

  “So, your cousin’s Jeremy’s friend.” He rubbed his chin as if pondering her story. “So how’d they meet?”

  Heat burned her face. What could she say? She knew nothing about Jeremy. Well nothing that a friend of his would know that is. “Can I be frank, Chief?” Best to tell him the truth. What was the worst that could happen? He could send her packing.

  “Can we talk someplace, uh...?” Rebecca looked around the large open office. Though the secretary appeared to be working, she had one ear glued to their conversation. An officer sat at the other desk, openly staring at her. It wouldn’t take long for her story to spread all over town.

  “Sure. Come on.” The chief led her into a private office, motioned her to take a seat, and leaned against the edge of the desk, arms and legs crossed.

  Not a good sign, Rebecca thought. This might be a short conversation.

  “Okay,” she said in a weak voice. “This is going to sound strange. I mean I find it hard to believe myself. I don’t have a cousin Isabelle, and I don’t know Jeremy personally, but I know a lot about him. I know someone shot him a couple days ago.” She paused, tried to still her trembling hands, and looked at the chief’s uplifted eyebrow. If he didn’t believe her, she’d have to think of something else. Right now the truth was the best way.

  “Somehow my mind is connected to Jeremy. I see visions. I experience his pain, accomplishments, even his contentment.” Rebecca rushed on, trying to make the chief understand this strange phenomenon.

  The chief stood up, went behind his desk, and sat down. “Go on,” he spoke in a kind voice. “I’d like to hear more.”

  Encouraged with his calm, serious attitude, she explained the series of events leading to her search for Jeremy, ending with the newspaper article identifying him.

  “He’s in grave danger. I don’t know if I can help him, but I need to see him, to warn him.” Rebecca sat ba
ck, exhausted from the remembered emotions.

  Chief Casteel leaned forward, scrubbed his hands over his face. “That’s quite a story,”

  Great, he thinks I’m a nutcase. He’s not going to help. She knew there were other ways to locate Jeremy. The local phone directory listed several Marlins, but no Jeremy.

  The chief stood up. “I’ll take you to Jeremy. I want to see his reaction when you tell him your story.” The smile playing about his lips told her he wanted to outright laugh.

  He opened his office door. “Carolyn, call Julia Marlin and tell her I’m on my way over to see Jeremy.” He glanced at Rebecca. “Tell her I’m bringing a guest with an interesting story.”

  Rebecca followed him into the chief’s car, feeling a little tentative. If he wanted, he could take her to the loony bin, and no one would find her. That was ridiculous. When had she become so distrusting?

  “Jeremy’s like my own son. I watched him grow up these past twenty-eight years,” the chief told her. “His father was my best friend.”

  Rebecca wondered if Jeremy was married, but decided not to ask.

  “His father got kilt in the line of duty. Came as a big shock. Not many murders or such around these parts. Pretty peaceful here most the time, but every onct a while.” The chief’s hands turned white on the steering wheel. His jaw tightened. His eyes held sadness when he looked at her

  “I’m sorry.” Not much of a comeback, but what else could she say?

  “Remember the day well. It happened three years ago, right after Jeremy joined the force. Ours ain’t a big force, and we added Jeremy after Old Norb Tyler retired. It happened down on the highway. Mike, Jeremy’s father, tried to stop a speeder. He called for backup when the driver wouldn’t stop.” The chief shook his head.

  “By time we got there, Mike’s car lay in a ditch, wheels still spinning, the motor running. They must have shot from their window. Bullet hole went clean through the windshield, hit Mike right ‘tween the eyes. Yes sir, we never did catch who done it.”