by Terri Reid
A real giggle burst from Mary’s lips and she shook her head. “No, it’s not a minivan,” she replied. “And I’m sure, I can drive myself home. You’re safe, Alex. No one will see you driving a mom car.”
He smiled at her. “You know, for you I would drive it,” he replied.
“Yes, I know,” she said. “And thank you.”
The ambulance pulled behind Bradley’s cruiser, and the EMTs hurried to the back to unload the stretcher. Bradley turned to Alex. “Would you direct them while I walk Mary back to her car?” he asked.
“No problem,” Alex said. “If you have a brush and a camera, we could try to get rid of some of this snow and see if we can locate any frozen footprints.”
“Good idea,” Bradley said. “Why don’t you guide the EMTs around the long way, just so they don’t disturb the area.”
Taking Mary’s elbow to help her over the uneven ground, Bradley guided her away from the crime scene. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “You’re not just putting on a show for Alex?”
“Yes,” she replied, shaking her head impatiently. “Even though, you must realize, that my greatest goal in life is to impress Alex.”
Bradley chuckled. “Mary, all you have to do is breathe to impress Alex,” he said. “I can guarantee that he would have never offered to drive a mom car for anyone but you. I’m afraid the man is completely and utterly smitten.”
She stopped at the car and turned to him. “Really? Smitten?” she asked.
He met her eyes. “Of course,” he said, lowering his voice. “But don’t you forget who is coming home to you tonight.”
Smiling up at him, love shining in her eyes, she shook her head. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “I could never forget that.”
He bent down, kissed her lightly and then leaned against the car. “When you get home,” he said. “I’d prefer if you kept the doors locked.”
“Why?” she asked.
He slowly scanned the area and then looked back at Mary. “This is not one of your usual cases,” he replied, keeping his voice low. “Ruth was killed recently, and you’ve been spending quite a bit of time in his area. You could have already piqued the killer’s interest. Now that her body has been found, we’re going to have a killer out there who is going to be trying to cover his tracks. I’d just rather have you overcautious and secure.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll make sure I’m careful.”
He kissed her one more time. “Good,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”
He walked away and Mary slipped into the car and started it up. “Okay, Ruth,” she said aloud. “Now we’ve got to figure out who killed you and why.”
Chapter Six
It felt strange to turn the lock on the deadbolt in the middle of the day, but Bradley’s words of caution kept running through her mind. Could someone have been watching her during her trips to the cemetery? Could she have aroused their suspicion? Was her family in danger?
She heard a noise, and her heart accelerated. Then she saw Lucky jumping from the couch onto the coffee table, knocking the magazines onto the floor. Shaking her head, she took a calming breath and started walking into the living room.
“Boo!”
“Ahhhhhh!” Mary’s scream echoed throughout the room as she turned to face the intruder.
“Mary! Wait! It’s just me,” Mike yelled.
At the sound of his voice, Mary leaned back against the wall, her breath coming out in gasps and her hand on her chest. “Mike,” she wheezed. “Oh, Mike. You scared me.”
He hovered closer, concerned about her suddenly pallid complexion. “I am so sorry,” he said. “I was just teasing. I never meant…”
Still breathless, she shook her head. “No. No,” she stammered. “Not your fault. I’m…I’m just a little jumpy.”
“You need to sit down,” he insisted, hovering around her like a worried mother hen. He shook his head. “After this, I need to sit down.”
That comment brought a smile to her face and, after taking one last, unsteady breath, she stood, walked over to the nearest chair and sat down. Lucky jumped up into her lap and started purring. Mary began to stroke the cat automatically.
“Now,” Mike said, kneeling down next to her, “tell me what happened. You never act like this.”
“When I was out at the cemetery this morning, I found a dead body,” she said.
He stared at her for a moment. “But aren’t there lots of dead bodies in a cemetery?” he asked. “Isn’t that, like, the point of a cemetery?”
“No. I mean, yes, that’s the point of a cemetery,” she explained. “But, it wasn’t one of those kinds of bodies, and to be exact, the body was in the field next to the cemetery.” She paused to catch her breath. “Mike, a young woman was murdered and I found her body.”
“Mary, that must have been awful for you,” he said.
She nodded and clasped her hands together, but Lucky batted at her hand until she began petting her again. “I know I’ve seen dead bodies before. When I was a cop, I worked homicide,” she said. “But for some reason, this was different. I can’t seem to calm down.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“It feels like my heart is racing, and my nerves are on edge,” she replied. “I feel like I can’t catch my breath, and I feel like the room is closing in around me.” She glanced at him, her eyes round with fear. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before.”
“Call Gracie,” Mike said, referring to Mary’s friend and a psychologist for the Chicago Police Department.
“I can’t do that,” Mary argued.
“If you had a broken arm, would you go see your physician?” Mike asked.
Mary shrugged. “Yes, but…”
Mike sat up on his knees so he was face to face with Mary. “Listen, you’ve been through a lot in a couple of years,” he said adamantly. “Just like your bones and muscles, your mind can get a little bumped and bruised, too. And you need to talk to a professional when something like that happens. Call Gracie.”
She thought about it for a moment. It really did make sense. Besides, what was the harm? Gracie would probably just tell her she was over-hormonal and to take a nap.
“Fine,” she said, pulling out her cell phone and accessing Gracie’s number. “I will.”
“Gracie Williams,” her friend’s familiar voice answered on the first ring.
“Hi, Gracie. It’s Mary,” Mary said.
“Girl. How are you doing?” Gracie asked. “You haven’t had that baby yet, have you?”
Mary smiled and shook her head. “No, he’s still a big lump. He’s not due until January.”
“It sure seems like you’ve been pregnant forever,” Gracie replied.
“Tell me about it,” Mary said while Gracie chuckled on the other end of the line.
“What can I do for you, honey?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Mary said, feeling a little foolish. “Maybe it’s nothing.”
“Or maybe it’s something,” Gracie inserted. “What’s going on?”
Taking a deep breath and receiving an encouraging look from Mike, Mary nodded. “Okay, so today I found the body of a young woman in a field outside of town,” she began.
“See, I told you those rural towns were scary,” Gracie replied. “You need to get yourself back to the big city.”
Mary chuckled and felt a little better, but the tension was still there. “Gracie, the young woman had been murdered,” she continued. “Bradley suggested that I lock the doors when I got home because I was out near that field a number of times in the past few weeks. If the murderer was watching the area, that he or she might think I knew something.”
“So, your handsome police chief was protecting you,” Gracie replied. “That’s not unusual.”
“You’re right,” Mary said. “He’s generally overly protective.”
“And you generally roll your eyes and do what you damn well please.”
Nodding
her head slowly, Mary smiled. “Well, yes, that’s true.”
“So, what’s different?” Gracie asked.
Chapter Seven
Mary paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. What was different? Why was she reacting this way?
“This time, I took his words seriously,” she said slowly. “All the way home I worried about someone waiting for me. I was actually panicking from the idea of a stranger watching me, waiting for me. When I got home, I locked the door, and I was jumpier than I’ve ever been. More than jumpy, almost paranoid.”
“Like you were having an anxiety attack, maybe?” Gracie asked.
“Does an anxiety attack feel like you’re scared to death and losing control all at the same time?” Mary asked.
“Yes. Yes, it does,” Gracie replied.
“Okay, then. Yes,” Mary said. “I could have been having an anxiety attack. Is there something wrong with me?”
“Honey, are you sitting down?” Gracie asked.
Mary could feel tension returning to her body. She picked up the cat and placed it on the floor, preparing herself for the worst. “Yes, I’m sitting,” she replied, her voice tight.
“Well, honey, first of all, you’re pregnant,” Gracie said.
Mary released her held breath. “I know that,” she said.
“You’re pregnant and you’re vulnerable,” Gracie said. “You’re not as fast or flexible as you used to be. You’re a bigger target, if you’ll excuse my bluntness, and you have a little person inside of you that you need to protect. The danger isn’t just about you anymore. It’s also about your baby, so you are going to react differently.”
Eyes widening, Mary nodded. “Okay, well, that makes sense.”
“And you have hormones playing with your emotions when you’re pregnant,” Gracie continued. “Which is why you often cry or laugh more than you used to. You react with a greater amount of emotion when you’re pregnant, and fear is an emotion.”
Mary breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, if that’s all…” she began.
“Oh, honey, that’s not all,” Gracie said. “Within the past three years you have experienced trauma to your mental health that most people don’t experience in a lifetime. When was the last time you actually found a murder victim when you weren’t specifically looking for one? When you hadn’t already prepared yourself emotionally for finding a body?”
“I don’t know,” Mary said. “I guess not since I was on the force.”
“So, you just experienced another emotional trauma,” Gracie said. “And now that you’re not a police officer, finding a body is not routine. There are a lot of feelings swirling around inside you.”
Mary thought about the emotional reaction she had at the scene of the crime and nodded. “Yes, I did react emotionally,” she admitted. “So, am I messed up? Mentally?”
Gracie’s soft chuckle eased Mary’s mind. “Oh, honey, we’re all messed up,” Gracie said. “But you’re no more messed up than me.”
“So what do I do?” Mary asked. “I can’t walk around being afraid all the time.”
“That’s right. You can’t,” Gracie replied. “So don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t walk around being afraid all the time,” Gracie said. “Walk around being normal. Get yourself busy with your life, your family, your job, and all the things you love to do. Don’t let fear paralyze you. You can make that choice.”
“I can?”
“Honey, anxiety isn’t a disease. It’s a reaction,” Gracie explained. “When we worry, stress and are afraid, we create anxiety. Let me ask you, do you know if the murderer is watching you?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Do you know if the murderer is somewhere in Illinois?” Gracie asked.
Mary shrugged. “I guess I don’t know that either,” she said.
“So, why are you living with fear in your life when you might not have anything to be afraid of?” Gracie asked. “If you pay attention to your surroundings, if you’re practicing situational awareness as you’ve been trained, what do you have to fear?”
Taking a deep breath, Mary released it slowly. “Nothing,” she said.
“You need to get busy with your life,” Gracie said. “That’s my professional prescription. You make some calls, you do some holiday shopping and you get on with your life. And if you get those feelings again, take a deep breath and realize that it’s just an emotional reaction. And you can deal with it because you are one damn strong lady.”
“Thank you, Gracie,” Mary replied. “You always know just what I need to hear.”
“Oh, honey, that’s why they pay me the big bucks,” she teased. “I love you. You take care of yourself, hear?”
“I hear,” Mary said. “And thank you, again.”
“You’re welcome,” Gracie said. “Now call your momma. She’ll help you get your life back to normal.”
Mary laughed. “You’re exactly right,” she agreed. “I will.”
Chapter Eight
Alex Boettcher watched as the ambulance pulled away from the edge of the road and turned around towards Highway 20. There was no need for a siren or flashing light. Rushing to the hospital would not help their passenger this time.
“You okay?” Bradley asked, standing up and brushing snow and dirt off the knees of his pants. The yellow crime scene tape had been secured by small wooden stakes, and Bradley had just hammered the last stake into the cold, partially frozen ground.
“Sometimes I hate my job,” Alex replied softly.
Understanding immediately, Bradley nodded. “I got a call from Dorothy at the station. Ruth’s parents live up near Winslow. Do you want to call them?”
“No,” Alex said with a long sigh. “I can drive up to Winslow in twenty minutes. The least I can do is deliver the news in person.”
“Want some company?” Bradley offered.
Alex looked over at his friend and nodded. “Yeah, actually, I would,” he said. “Thank you.”
“No problem. I’ll let Dorothy know where I’m going,” Bradley replied. “Let’s take my car. It looks more official than your little sports car.”
“Good,” Alex replied, with a half-smile. “Then I won’t get my car muddy from the gravel roads.”
Understanding Alex’s need to try and interject a little humor into the depressing situation, Bradley mustered a small smile. “Because we both know mud on your baby would break your heart.”
The levity fell flat, and with a sigh, both men walked away from the crime scene towards the road. Before they reached the cruiser, Alex stopped and turned to Bradley. “Okay, I have a question for you.”
“Shoot,” Bradley replied.
Alex studied his friend for a few moments and finally spoke. “When the EMTs lifted the body, there was a bloodstain on the front of her sweatshirt, just as Mary described,” he said slowly. “We both know that Mary didn’t disturb the body before she called us. And, with the snow covering and the way Ruth fell when she was shot, there’s no way Mary could have seen the stain.”
Bradley continued to meet his friend’s eyes, but didn’t say anything.
“Damn it, Alden, you’re going to make this hard on me, aren’t you?” Alex growled.
“Make what hard on you?” Bradley replied, feigning innocence.
“How does she do it?” Alex said. “How does she know this stuff?”
Bradley studied his friend for a few more moments and then nodded. “You really want to know?” he asked.
“I think I need to know,” Alex said.
“A couple of years ago, Mary was a cop in Chicago,” Bradley began.
Alex nodded. “Yeah, I think I knew that.”
“They were at a drug bust, and one of the perps was trying to escape. He had a gun and turned and aimed at Sean, Mary’s brother. Mary saw it and stepped between the bullet and her brother.”
Alex exhaled sharply. “Not many people would do that, even for their family.”
“
Not many people are like Mary,” Bradley replied easily. “She was rushed to Cook County with a bullet wound to the stomach.”
“Damn, gut shot,” Alex whispered.
“Yeah, painful and…deadly,” Bradley replied. He took a deep breath and continued. “She actually died.”
Pausing for a moment, Bradley looked out across the field while he regained his composure. Then he cleared his throat and tried again. “She died on the operating table. The trauma to her organs was too much.”
“Wait. What? She died?” Alex exclaimed.
“She remembers going toward a light,” Bradley continued. “She remembers it was peaceful and all the pain was gone. She felt safe, secure and loved.”
He looked at Alex. “I had a similar experience about a year ago,” he related. “And I can tell you that it’s really hard to come back.”
“So, why did she?” Alex asked.
“She heard someone call her name and give her a choice,” he said. “She was told that she could continue on if she wanted, or she could go back and be with her family. But, if she chose to go back, things would be different. She would have a different calling.”
A truck rumbled by on Highway 20, and both men paused to watch it pass by. Then Bradley continued. “She was able to look back, down on her family waiting in the hospital lobby,” he said. “She watched her father fight back tears, her mother sobbing and her brothers anxiously awaiting news. And she knew, no matter how wonderful the light might have been, she had to go back and be with her family. She couldn’t let her brother live with the guilt of her death. So, she made her choice.”
“When she recovered, she soon discovered what changed in her life,” he continued. “She knew there would be a difference. But she had no idea that she would now be able to see and talk to ghosts.”
“But there’s no such thing…” Alex automatically began and then he stopped. “Okay, that was dumb.”
