by Amy Reece
I was lost in thought for a moment as I tried to think back to the last dream I had of her, the one in which I saw her reflection in the lens of the sunglasses sitting on her killer’s face. Why hadn’t I paid attention to the man in the sunglasses? Oh, yeah, because I had been so shocked to see a face other than my own in the reflection. I remember now. It was such a relief to be done with the nightmares; I hadn’t had a single one since I gave the book back to Ashley’s mom. “Was she raped?”
“There’s no way to tell after this amount of time. There was no soft tissue, only skeletal remains, so only injuries that involved bone are left. A fetal skeleton was detected.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry, Ally, if this is too much for you. I don’t need to share the autopsy results with you,” he apologized, mistaking my silence for disgust.
“No, I’m fine.” I shook my head. “I can handle it. I feel like I need to, for Ashley. She had to go through it, and she wasn’t much older than me.”
“Okay. Well, we need to review all the alibis again to see if we can spot any discrepancies. I’ve gone over them several times, but I could use a fresh pair of eyes. I don’t have enough time to devote to this case,” he groused. “I’m swamped with more current cases that have better chances of being solved.”
“Okay, well, let’s hear the alibis.”
He opened his notes and walked me through the alibis of everyone connected to the case, starting with Ashley’s parents. Both were at work at the time of her disappearance, verified back in 1984. David Moore was also at work, again verified. His wife, Shannon, was in Las Cruces with their two children. The Graves, across the street, were at work, Mrs. Graves arriving home at approximately five-thirty with her youngest son. The oldest son, 12 year old Mark, was at baseball practice until six-o’clock, but unfortunately was not questioned at the time.
“Why didn’t they question him?” I asked.
“I have no idea.” He threw his hands up. “That’s not the first example of shoddy police work I’ve found in this case. The lack of follow-up on Scott Alder’s whereabouts is also very disappointing, and is proving impossible to find thirty years later. He was allegedly at basketball practice, and didn’t leave school until at least five o’clock, but we have only his word on that.”
“What about other, random people? Weren’t there ever any other suspects?”
He handed me another, thicker file folder. “These are all the tips that came in from the tip line set up after Ashley’s disappearance.”
I flipped through a few pages. “Brian, there must be hundreds of them.”
“Yeah, and that represents thousands of hours of police follow-up work, looking into any leads that looked even slightly promising.”
“Did anything come from it?” I asked hopefully.
“Not a thing. Sorry, Ally. Scott is really the only viable suspect at this point.”
“Just because you don’t have a better suspect doesn’t mean it’s him. I’m telling you, he’s innocent,” I insisted.
Brian looked at me sternly. “Ally, I wish I could believe that, I really do. I know you like him.”
“Please don’t arrest him without telling me first, okay? Give us a chance to figure out who really did it. Please, Brian.” I wasn’t above begging.
He nodded briefly. “I’ll try. That’s all I can promise. Now, I really need to speak with Mark Graves. I’ve left messages, but he seems reluctant to get in touch with me for some reason.”
“Does he live here in Albuquerque?”
“No. He lives in El Paso. I really don’t need another road trip right now,” he groaned. “I’m trying to support your mother with all this wedding stuff, and I don’t relish another melt-down.” We had all been subject to my mother’s recent hormone-induced emotional explosions in the last few weeks.
“Definitely not for the faint-hearted,” I agreed. “And what about David Moore’s kids? Have you managed to track them down, yet?”
“I did speak to his youngest daughter, Karen, a few days ago. She said they moved to California when she was seven, about a year after the disappearance. I haven’t talked to the older girl yet.”
“Okay, what’s our next step?” I asked.
“I’m going to try to get the Graves to contact their son. I’ll let you know when I have something.”
“What’s in the last folder?” I asked as Brian tried to slip it under another.
“Autopsy photos. Personal effects. Nothing you need to see.”
I tended to agree with him, but something stopped me. “I think I do, Brian,” I said quietly.
“You sure?” I nodded and he silently handed the folder over to me.
The first set of photographs was of the skeletal remains. It wasn’t disgusting, like a recent dead body would be, but the starkness of what was left, nothing more than a collection of dark brownish bones, arranged into the semblance of a body, with a skull at the top, was incredibly sad. This collection of discarded bones was all that was left of a once-vibrant 18-year-old with her whole life ahead of her. The skull showed the damage that had caused her death. To the side of the body was another tiny collection of bones: Ashley and Scott’s baby. I had expected to be unable to hold back tears when I saw it, but was surprised by the intense anger burning inside my body. Somebody had cut short these two precious lives before they even had a chance to live. I made a silent vow, right there at the table: ‘I will find out who killed you and your baby, Ashley. I know it wasn’t Scott. I will find out who did this, so you can rest. I swear it.’ I know she heard me. She was there with us, just like I dreamed she had been with me ever since I opened her book in the hotel in Galway. I turned to the last set of photographs, her personal effects. The tattered remains of her shoes and clothing were lying beside a crusted pendant on a chain. I had to look closely to be able to tell what it was: a small, silver dolphin. Of course. She had loved the Madeleine L’Engle novel, A Ring of Endless Light. It was all about dolphins.
“Brian, where is this necklace now?”
“In evidence. Why?” he asked.
“Is there any way we could take it to Mrs. Hayes? Could we give it back to her?”
He looked at me with his head tilted for a second. “Yeah, I think we could do that. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
I flipped through the pictures again and shook my head. “It’s not here. Is this everything that was found near the body?”
“Yes. Why? What are you not seeing?” He reached to take the pictures and look at them.
“Well, it’s just that if she disappeared between school and home, she would have had school books and probably a backpack or bag of some kind. She would have a purse or something. Girls always have all sorts of crap with them. Where is Ashley’s crap? Why didn’t she have anything with her? Or if she did, where is it?”
Brian looked back and forth between me and the photos before nodding. “Shit. I can’t believe no one thought of that. Good catch, kid. You think her mom will have some information about what Ashley usually carried.” He said this last bit as a statement. “I’ll find out about the necklace and then we’ll go talk to Mrs. Hayes, okay?”
I nodded.
“Let’s get back to your mom. I probably need to approve of some wedding invitations and taste cake or something. I’m starting to wish I had insisted on eloping to Vegas,” he grumbled.
***
Now that Tara was with Mat, I was curious to find out who Rémy had his eye on. That’s the problem with friends pairing up: you want to see everyone happily settled in a couple. I watched him closely, but he didn’t seem to be flirting with anyone in particular. Knowing Rémy, if he wanted a girl, all he would have to do is crook his finger and one would come running, at least at this school. So, being the intrepid investigator I clearly was, I decided to take things up a notch.
“Rémy, Tara and I are hosting a little party this Friday and we want you to come,” I said as we met before school.
“Of course, chérie. Tell me when and where. I wo
uld not miss it for the world,” he said this while kissing my cheeks in greeting, which still made Jack growl. I’m 99.9% sure that’s why Rémy continued to do it.
“Well, feel free to bring a date,” I suggested.
He smirked knowingly. “Well, I’ll see what I can do. Do you have any suggestions?”
“No. Isn’t there anyone you want to bring? I could, you know, invite her.”
“No, mais no. Don’t go to any trouble for me.” He laughed. “I’ll probably come alone.”
I looked to Jack for help. He shrugged. “I got Mat and Tara together. You’re on your own for this.”
“You are seriously taking credit for that? Unbelievable!” He laughed. “Rémy, who is it? Come on, tell me,” I wheedled. “I could help.”
“Do you honestly think a Frenchman needs an American girl’s help in getting a date?” he asked, appalled. “No. How about you are surprised on Friday?”
“Fine. If you don’t want my help…” I tried to sound offended.
“I really don’t, chérie.”
***
I had another appointment to meet with Cassie that afternoon. She was trying to help me work on my communication methods, specifically my ability to mentally talk with other Seers without touching them. I was now fairly adept at reading what someone was thinking about if I touched them, frequently practicing on Mom and Grams. Jack and Tara were frequent volunteers, as well, but I hesitated to use them because they had no ability to see anything I was thinking. It made me feel weird to use them like that. Plus, the impressions I got from non-psychic-type people were really fuzzy. The person I had the greatest success with was Rémy. He and I seemed to have a strong psychic connection, a fact I didn’t stress too much as it irritated Jack. Rémy was far better at it than I was, perhaps because he was so much older, something I delighted in teasing him about. He was also very good at blocking me out, which annoyed me and kept me from finding out which girl he was interested in. I was currently bugging him about teaching me how to do it better; I still had to concentrate so hard to keep anyone blocked.
Rémy had been adamant I not tell anyone besides Jack he was a Seer. He relented and let me tell Tara, but refused to countenance the idea of Grams, Mom, and Cassie knowing about him. We both had great hopes the two Seer clans could be unified someday, but he wasn’t ready to expose himself right now. Our clan believed his clan had kidnapped and stolen the Oracle, which, according to Rémy was not true. He said she had run away with her lover, a member of the Gaulish clan. He should know, as the Oracle was his grandmother. He felt it was imperative we keep between ourselves for now the fact the clans had connected. I wasn’t sure this was the best idea and thought perhaps Rémy was letting his love for spy thrillers interfere with real life.
“All right, Ally, let’s get started,” Cassie began briskly, bringing me back to what I was supposed to be doing. “We’ll get warmed up by doing some readings with you touching me. Then we’ll move apart slowly.” Cassie was also very good at blocking out what she didn’t want me to see or what she considered inappropriate, so all I got were some scenes of her shopping and planning for her own wedding, which was coming up about the same time as my mother’s. I’d had all I could take of nuptial preparation, so I focused on other, more interesting things in her mind, managing to get through some of her blocking attempts to see her and Gregory, her fiancé, kissing. “Okay, that’s enough of that. You’ve obviously been practicing,” she said in an irritated manner.
“Sorry. This mind-reading stuff crosses some serious personal boundaries. I’ll try to be more careful,” I said contritely.
“That’s good. Why don’t we move on to the next step?” she replied a bit coolly.
“Yeah. Good idea.”
She moved across the room and sat down on the sofa. “You stay there and concentrate on what I’m thinking—only on what I’m thinking.”
“Okay, okay,” I muttered. Jeez, I said I was sorry. I closed my eyes, focused intently, and heard…nothing. Absolutely nothing. I opened my eyes and peeked at Cassie. She met my gaze with raised eyebrows. I closed mine again, clearing my throat. “I feel ridiculous.”
“Concentrate, Ally. This is really important. You must learn to develop your powers if you are to take your place as the next Oracle.”
“Well, maybe I’m not the next Oracle. Maybe you and the council are wrong, did you ever think of that?” I sounded petulant, but I couldn’t help it.
“Do you believe that, Ally?”
“I don’t know what I believe,” I whispered.
“I know,” said Cassie sympathetically. “For now, let’s try this.”
I tried again. I concentrated, fiercely, trying to see into Cassie’s mind while sitting across the room from her. For the longest time I saw nothing, no matter how hard I tried. Then, finally, I got the slightest glimmer of a thought from her. She was thinking about balancing her checkbook and cleaning her toilets. I opened one eye and peered at her. “Seriously? I said I was sorry.”
“Yes, well, I don’t want to parade my love life around for your vicarious pleasure.”
“Ouch.” Sensitive much?
“Okay, why don’t we call it a night? I think you’ve made great progress, Ally. Keep practicing.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“The weight of this sad time we must obey;
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
The oldest hath borne most: we that are young
Shall never see so much, nor live so long.”
–Shakespeare –King Lear (5.3.325)
Brian and I had an appointment to see Mrs. Hayes early in the week. He picked me up after cheerleading practice and we drove over together.
“Are you as sick of all these wedding plans as I am?” I asked as we pulled away from the curb in front of the high school. On days like these, when I had something to do after school, Jack or Tara would pick me up in the mornings so I wouldn’t have to take my car back home before heading out with Brian.
“Yeah, but do not repeat that to your mother, okay? I want her to have the wedding of her dreams, and I know it’s stressful planning one so quickly.”
“I’ve said it before, but you’re a good guy, Brian Keller, you know that?” I said, somewhat grudgingly.
“Why do you have to sound so surprised by that?” he asked.
“Don’t take it personally, Brian. The teenage daughter is supposed to give the new guy in her mom’s life a hard time. It’s in the script.”
He laughed. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t get the memo. So, what are your goals for this afternoon in questioning Mrs. Hayes?”
“I get to question her?” He nodded. “Wow. Okay. Well, I guess I’m hoping she remembers what Ashley carried around with her—you know, a purse, a backpack, or whatever. I think we need to know what happened to her stuff. It might tell us something about where she was that last afternoon before she was killed.”
“You’ve got the makings of a pretty good detective, Ally.”
“Thanks,” I said, a bit surprised. I never expected to get along with him so well. Am I supposed to like the guy who knocked up my mom? Oh, well, water under the bridge, I guess.
“So, what are your plans for the future? Career-wise, I mean,” he asked.
“You know, I’m not absolutely set on anything yet. It sounds kind of lame, but I might be interested in teaching.”
“Why is that lame? Your mother is in education,” he said.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem ambitious enough, somehow.”
“I don’t know about that. It seems like a great career choice to me,” he argued.
“So says another under-paid civil servant,” I pointed out, reminding him how he had once described himself.
He chuckled. “Yeah, very true. But life’s not all about money. I make enough to get by. I guess it comes down to what is really important to you.”
“Hmm.” We arrived at the Hayes’ residence and were invited in by Ashley’s moth
er. Once we had tea in front of us, I took the dolphin necklace out of my bag and handed it to Mrs. Hayes.
She took it with a confused look. “What…how did you get this?” she whispered.
Brian chimed in. “It was found with Ashley’s remains, ma’am. We thought you should have it.”
I reached out to lay my hand on her arm, unintentionally picking up waves of sadness rolling off her. “Mrs. Hayes, we don’t want to upset you, but we were wondering if you remember what else Ashley would have carried with her on a regular school day. Did she take a purse or a book bag of some sort?”
She continued to stare at the dolphin pendant, oblivious to my question. Tears were streaking down her cheeks. “Scott gave this to her for Christmas. He knew she loved dolphins.” She set it down on the table and reached for a tissue. “I’m sorry. This brings back so many memories. What was your question?”
“What kind of purse or bag did Ashley carry with her to school? Do you remember anything about that?” I repeated gently.
“Well, I don’t remember much about her purse although she always carried one, but I do remember her backpack because it was so silly,” she said, laughing slightly as she wiped her eyes.
“Silly?”
“Yes. She insisted on carrying what was really a child’s backpack, plastic, with bright colored dolphins all over it. She loved it. I guess it was in style, I don’t know.”
“Ally?” Brian asked, clearly at a loss.
I finished Googling dolphin backpacks on my phone and showed the picture I thought most likely to Mrs. Hayes. “Does this look familiar?”
She gasped. “Yes, it looked exactly like that! How did you find it?”
“It’s a Lisa Frank design,” I said as I clicked on the image and read. “It was a company that was popular in the 80s and 90s. It’s still kind of popular, mostly with young girls.” I showed the picture and brief article to Brian. “Mrs. Hayes, where is her backpack and purse? Neither was found with Ashley.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
