by Terri Reid
Ian turned to Adeline. “You wouldn’t happen to know the phone number of the police officer who stopped us?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes, he gave it to me so I could call him when I had to work late,” she said. “It’s his private cell.” She floated across the room, opened another drawer in the filing cabinet and pulled out an index card. “Here it is.”
“Call him,” Ian suggested.
Mary called the number and waited until it was picked up. “Hi, I’m the pregnant woman who was in the alley behind the library,” she said. “I think that someone is breaking into the library.” She paused. “How did I get your number?”
She looked beseechingly at Ian, who only shrugged. Then she took a deep breath. “Adeline gave it to me,” she replied. “She is also the one who told me that the mayor’s sister is stealing funds.”
She paused, and a smile grew across her face. “Thank you,” she said.
Hanging up the phone, she turned to them. “He’s just around the corner, and he’s coming through the front,” she explained. “So, we can try and make a dash for it, or remain here.”
Adeline shook her head. “You two remain here,” she said. “I’m going to make sure the culprit doesn’t escape.”
She slipped back through the door.
Mary turned to Ian. “I really want to watch,” she confessed.
Ian nodded. “Aye, me too,” he said. “But it will be hard to explain our presence in the library.”
“Do you think they’ll search the rest of the library?” Mary asked.
“It’s possible,” Ian said. “Do you want to call Bradley and warn him?”
Mary slipped into a chair in front of one of the computer stations, and her eyes widened. “Did you know the library has security cameras that can be accessed by this computer?” she said softly, clicking on a mouse.
Ian pulled up another chair and sat next to her. “Well, that makes sense,” he said. “If the librarian was in here doing research, she could see the front desk.”
Mary nodded, enlarging the screen for the front desk and turning to Ian. “And now we get to watch.”
Chapter Thirty-two
The camera feed only displayed in black and white, but it was a clear enough picture that Mary and Ian could see exactly what was going on. The librarian they’d met earlier in the day was behind the circulation desk with her purse in front of her on the counter. She was systematically pulling money out of the drawer and dropping it into her open purse.
“Do you think this is being recorded?” Mary asked.
Ian pulled out his cell phone, opened the camera app, pressed a button and pointed it at the monitor. “It is now,” he said.
They watched her walk over to the end of the counter where a donation display had been set up, pick up the bucket and carry it back to her purse. Taking a pair of scissors, she ripped the top off the bucket and turned it upside down over her purse, shaking out all of the bills into her purse.
“She is despicable,” Mary said.
“I wonder how often she does this,” Ian wondered.
“Look,” Mary exclaimed, pointing to a reflection in the window. “It’s the policeman.”
But they weren’t the only ones to catch the reflection. The crooked librarian turned and stared at the door for just a moment, then moved quickly to grab for her purse. But as she jumped forward, the purse moved, just out of her reach. She stared at the purse for a moment, stunned, then moved forward to grab it again. It moved again, noticeably away from the woman.
Her eyes wide, she stepped back, away from her purse, stumbling backwards over the chair next to her. The purse lifted into the air and swung slowly, back and forth, before the woman’s face. A moment later, when the police officer entered the library, the librarian ran to him, throwing herself into his arms.
There was no audio, but Ian and Mary could guess what she was saying as she gesticulated wildly in the direction of the purse that now sat quietly on the counter. The policeman moved her away from him and walked over to the counter. He looked at the purse, then pulled out a handful of dollar bills and held them out towards the woman.
Her initial face was one of defiance and shock. Mary could read her lips as she told the officer she had no idea how that money had come to be in her purse. The officer stared at her for a moment, then shrugged and headed towards the door. The woman screamed for the officer, so loudly they could hear it in the back room, but he continued to the door.
Suddenly, the purse was airborne once again, floating towards the woman but out of the sight of the police officer. The woman looked at the purse, then looked at the retreating officer. She yelled something, and he turned around. Nodding her head and pointing to various places behind the desk, Ian and Mary could tell she was finally confessing to the crime.
They sat in the back room watching for another fifteen minutes as backup arrived and the curt librarian was hauled away in a squad car.
When the only person in the view finder was the original police officer, Mary’s phone rang. She looked down and then looked at Ian. “It’s him,” she said. “It’s the officer.”
She picked up the call. “Hello,” she said tentatively.
“Would you please tell Adeline that I appreciate her help?” he asked.
“I would be happy to pass that on,” Mary replied. She paused for just a moment. “Um, would it be helpful for you to get an anonymous copy of the security camera recording what happened tonight?”
He chuckled softly and glanced up at the camera. “As long as you edit the Adeline parts out, it would be very helpful,” he said.
“You saw?” Mary asked, surprised.
“It was reflected in the window,” he said. “Very persuasive.”
Mary laughed. “Yes, it seems that it was,” she said.
“Oh, and Mrs. Alden,” he added.
Mary was silent for a long moment. “How do you know my name?” she asked.
“Caller ID,” he replied.
“Oh, of course,” she said. “I’m sorry. Yes. What would you like?”
“Give me at least five minutes before you come out of the back room,” he said. “That way I will be two blocks away, and I won’t need to detain you tonight.”
“You trust us?” she asked.
“If you’re working with Adeline, I trust you,” he said. “And if you need my help, you have my number.”
“Thank you,” Mary said. “Thank you very much.”
Chapter Thirty-three
Bradley looked down at Clarissa sleeping peacefully in her bed and bent down to tuck her in. Then he turned and quietly turned the audio and video monitor on so he could watch her from the other room. He also adjusted the Rem-Pod, a device that not only measured shifts in the magnetic field but would also detect changes in the ambient temperature of the room.
Mike appeared next to him. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“Could you make sure the Rem-Pod appears in the video feed?” he asked.
“The what?” Mike asked.
Bradley shook his head. “This little doohicky with the blinky lights,” he said. “Make sure it shows up on the computer’s TV screen downstairs.”
“Okay, now you’re being a little snarky,” Mike said, disappearing and then just as quickly reappearing. “Yes, you can see the little doohicky with the blinky lights on the computer’s TV screen.”
Bradley shrugged. “You’re right,” he said. “It did sound snarky.”
Mike shook his head. “I get it,” he said. “We’re all a little on edge. So, now that Clarissa’s asleep, I can tell you about my quick visit with Mary and Ian.”
“You saw Mary?” Bradley asked, momentarily forgetting to lower his voice.
“Shhhh, big guy,” Mike reminded him. “Let’s go downstairs and talk. You can sit next to your computer’s TV screen.”
With a final glance at his sleeping daughter, Bradley quietly slipped out of the room and headed downstairs. The entire living room h
ad been outfitted in electronics, from motion detectors and EMF readers to smoke detectors and security cameras.
He stood in the middle of the room and slowly looked around. “You were right,” he said. “Katie Brennan is an electrical genius.”
Mike glided over to him. “Did you see this little gem, hidden behind the couch?” he asked.
Bradley shook his head. “No, what’s there?”
“A backup power source in case somehow the shadow guy is able to take out the breakers,” he said. “We’ll still be monitoring him.”
“I actually feel secure,” Bradley said.
“Good,” Mike replied. “Because we need to make the shadow kid think that Mary’s here with us and not out investigating with Ian.”
“How do we do that?” Bradley said.
“I can take care of the majority of the decoy,” he said, “but I need you to act like Mary’s here.”
“You mean, I should talk to her or something?” he asked.
Mike shook his head. “No, you need to convince yourself that she’s here,” he said. “You need to play a mind-game with yourself that Mary’s upstairs sleeping, or in the shower, or wherever. But in your mind, you need to feel like she’s here.”
“Why?” Bradley asked, not convinced.
“Well, this is going to sound a little crazy,” Mike started.
“Oh, well, not a day has gone by since I met Mary that something hasn’t sounded a little crazy,” Bradley replied with a smile. “So why should today be any different?”
“We put off different vibes, some people might call it auras, depending on our modes,” he said. “Especially when we love someone, our auras kind of connect with each other. So, it’s obvious to those of us who read auras when you’re lonely, frightened, tired, all of those things.”
“And those of you who read auras are…” Bradley asked.
“Spiritual beings,” Mike said. “Because your spirit is the part of you that sends out your aura. Just like your face—your mouth and your eyes—communicate feelings to humans, your aura does the same thing to spiritual beings.”
“So, if I can fool my aura into thinking Mary is safe and sound and nestled upstairs in bed, it’s going to send out positive waves?” Bradley asked.
“Actually colors,” Mike said. “Positive colors.”
Nodding slowly, Bradley met Mike’s eyes. “What color is my aura now?” he asked.
“Pissed off dark red,” Mike said with a grin. “You’re going to have to work on that.”
Bradley took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Okay,” he said, closing his eyes. “Give me a second.”
He pictured Mary coming down the stairs in his sweatpants, four times too big for her. He pictured her smiling at him as she grabbed another Christmas cookie.
“Good,” Mike said. “Good, you’re turning green.”
Bradley opened one eye. “Isn’t green for jealousy?” he asked.
Mike shook his head. “No, green is for love.”
Bradley closed his eyes and thought about loving Mary. He remembered the last time they were upstairs and she was in his arms…
“Whoa, cool it there, big guy,” Mike said with a smirk. “You just went from balanced green to passionate red. Let’s just keep it at green.”
“So you can see my aura, right?” Bradley asked.
Mike nodded.
“Okay, I’ll keep thinking my Mary thoughts,” he said. “And if I get off kilter, you remind me to get back in place. Deal?”
“Deal,” Mike agreed.
“So, if we are having this Mary decoy here,” Bradley asked, “does that make Rosie and Stanley safer?”
Shrugging, Mike shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “Katie did say she was going to go over there this evening and help them set up their electronics. But, that’s really the best we can do.”
“I really hate that they’re in danger,” Bradley said.
“You offered to let them stay here,” Mike reminded him. “When you called them this afternoon.”
“Yeah, but maybe I should have been more insistent,” Bradley said. “If anything happens to them…”
“They’ve got just about as much stuff as we do,” Mike replied. “And they know not to take any risks. They’ll be fine.”
Bradley ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “I sure hope we can send this kid packing soon,” he said. “I want my family back to normal.”
“Yeah, whatever that is,” Mike replied.
Chapter Thirty-four
“Whatever this is,” Ian said as he read through Dr. Buus’ notes, “it’s certainly not normal.”
Mary sat curled up in a chair across the room from Ian, sipping a cup of tea and looking through the newspaper clippings from the library files. “Not normal as in abnormal or not normal as in paranormal?” she asked, looking up and then took another sip from her cup.
“As in both,” Ian replied, closing the folder and leaning back in his chair. “As in this kid was seriously messed up.”
“Seriously messed up?” Mary asked. “That’s your diagnosis?”
Ian smiled at her and shook his head. “No, I agree with Mark,” he said. “This is a textbook case of psychopathic disorder. This young man had no moral compass. He showed no emotion or remorse for what he did to his family.”
Mary put her cup down on the little table next to the chair. “None at all?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. He felt that because they didn’t give him the attention he deserved, they deserved to be punished,” Ian explained. “When he went downstairs on Christmas morning and did not find the bike he wanted, he was angry. They made him angry, so in his mind, punishment was justified.”
“And when he discovered they had purchased the bike for him?” Mary asked. “When he found out he was wrong?”
Ian nodded. “Ah, well then, according to his sessions with Mark, it was their fault for not having it under the tree where he expected it,” he said. “There was no sorrow or even acceptance of fault for what he did.”
“Did Mark ever see any relationship bonds between Tony and the other residents?” Mary asked. “Did anyone ever touch his heart?”
Ian smiled at her. “Ever the romantic, aren’t you?” he replied kindly. “There is a great possibility that he didn’t have the ability to do that. There have been some studies that say that psychotic behavior is hard-wired into our brains.”
“Born evil,” Mary replied.
“Well, not necessarily evil,” Ian said. “There are plenty of high-functioning psychopaths out there who lead very full and satisfying lives. Psychopaths are charming, although it’s superficial. They are generally quite smart and articulate. And, because they feel no remorse, guilt or anxiety, they display an inordinate amount of confidence in themselves and their actions.”
“So, they use their traits for good?” Mary asked.
“For their own good,” Ian replied. “They are always aware of what’s best for them. They tend to be narcissistic, manipulative, and never feel bad about their actions.”
“Sounds scary,” Mary said.
Ian shrugged. “Or useful, depending on your point of view,” he said. “Ian Fleming, the author of the James Bond series, modeled James Bond after a British World War II spy who had very strong, successful, psychopathic tendencies.”
“Then what differentiates successful and criminal psychopaths?” she asked.
“Well, that’s the kicker,” Ian said. “We don’t know. It could be environment. It could be other personality traits, or it could be something we haven’t discovered yet. But there is something quite interesting in a lot of the studies.”
Ian sat forward and clasped his hands together. “They have found many cases where psychopaths, especially criminal psychopaths, felt they were led or guided by a voice.”
Mary’s eyes widened. “Paranormal influence?” she asked.
He smiled and nodded. “Aye, well that’s probably an avenue they
didn’t investigate,” he said, “seeing as most of the analysts don’t believe in the paranormal.”
“But you believe…” she began.
“Aye, as I’ve studied criminology and the paranormal, there are some connections between influence on weaker minds and, let’s just say, paranormal entities,” he said. “But I don’t have enough data on psychopaths.”
She picked up her tea and sipped again, her mind racing as she thought about the implications of Ian’s words. “So, are you saying that Tony might have been influenced to do what he did?” she asked.
“Do you believe people are born evil?” he asked, answering her question with one of his own.
She shook her head. “No, I don’t,” she said. “But I believe that they can be born with tendencies to do evil. They just have to choose which way they want to go.”
He met her eyes and remained silent for a moment. “Or they’re guided.”
Chapter Thirty-five
“I don’t think I care for all these highfalutin electronic devices hanging around our house,” Stanley said, eyeing the various instruments with disdain. “Ain’t no guarantee that they won’t set the house on fire themselves.”
Rosie looked up from her novel and shook her head. “Stanley, we promised Bradley that we would keep them on until they’ve dealt with the shadow thing,” she said. “And if you don’t want to do that, well then, we can always spend the night at Mary’s house.”
Stanley grumbled, got up from the recliner and walked across the room to Rosie. “I ain’t no girly-girl having to have an overnighter ‘cause I’m scared of some shadow,” he said. “We ain’t had nothing bother us afore, and we’ve been working with Mary longer than Bradley has.”
“Well, that’s true,” Rosie agreed. “But this one is different. This one hasn’t come to get help. This one seems like it just wants to start trouble.”
“I ain’t never been afraid of trouble,” he said.
Rosie sighed and put her book down on the couch. “Stanley, you know that I have the utmost confidence in your bravery and your abilities,” she said. “Don’t you?”
