by Terri Reid
Ian leaned back in his seat and thought for a moment. “Okay, think about it this way,” he suggested. “You’ve fallen in love with an extraordinary woman...”
Bradley turned and winked at Mary. “Yeah, I’m with you so far.”
Chuckling, Ian continued. “And suddenly, everywhere you go you find connections. You go to the grocery store and see the peanut butter she keeps on her top shelf and you stop and grin at the jar for a few moments before you catch yourself, shake your head and move on down the aisle.”
Smiling widely, Mary turned to Ian. “Really?”
Bradley glanced up into the mirror again and met Ian’s eyes. “You’ve been spying on me,” he said.
Ian grinned. “Aye, I saw you in the market the other day,” he confessed. “If I didn’t know the truth, I would have thought you loony for sure.”
“Thanks, Ian,” Bradley remarked. “But that doesn’t...”
“Aye, it does,” he interrupted. “Suddenly, because of your relationship to her, your mind is looking for connections. Her scent, her walk, the color of her hair. Your mind is cataloging and sorting all kinds of new information because you’re in love with Mary. Think about it.”
Bradley was silent for a few moments and then he nodded. “Okay, I admit I’m a little obsessed with anything Mary, but what does that have to do with ghosts?”
“It’s the way our minds work,” Ian explained. “You watch a scary movie and suddenly your home is filled with creaks and noises you never heard before. Were they always there? Of course they were. But you didn’t pay attention because you weren’t making connections.”
“But after a day or so, the scary movie sounds go away,” Mary said.
“Because that connection was short-lived and you can convince yourself in a day or so that it was merely a movie, not real life, and so you replace it with other connections,” he said. “Bradley will be mooning over peanut butter for years...”
Mary smiled, reached over and grasped Bradley’s hand. “I certainly hope so.”
He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “I can guarantee it.”
“And now, because of the work they’ve been doing with you, Rosie and Stanley are making connections,” Ian continued. “They are looking for the quick movements out of the corner of their eyes, instead of ignoring them. They are listening for the whispers in the dark. They are paying attention to the movement of the doors. They are suddenly aware of the world of the dead, and I believe the dead are becoming bolder because they realize it too.”
“Are bolder ghosts more dangerous?” Bradley asked.
“It just depends on their relationship with the person they’re haunting,” Ian said. “If they only want to warn them or send them a message, a bolder ghost is more helpful because the message will come through clearly. But if they are malevolent and they mean someone harm, well then, it’s not so good.”
“I think Rosie’s ghost should be the first priority,” Bradley said. “And maybe a couple of us spend the night there.”
“Aye, I’d like to see the look on the ghost’s face when he cuddles up in bed and finds one of us in there instead of Rosie,” Ian agreed.
Chuckling, Bradley agreed. “It should be an interesting experience for all of us.”
Chapter Seventeen
For the next two hours the conversation about ghosts was replaced with developing a plan to find Clarissa.
“I’ve sent Sean a copy of the photo we picked up at their home,” Bradley explained, as they took the Sycamore exit. “He’s going to work with Social Services and see what he can do. He mentioned that we ought to speak with Bernie.”
“Bernie Wojchichowski?” Mary asked, alarmed that her brother mentioned the Chicago Coroner. “Does he think she might be dead?”
Shaking his head, Bradley explained. “No, Sean said that Bernie’s daughter, Zoe, does some investigative work in the city,” he said. “And she’s got some unusual contacts that might be able to help us.”
“I’m thinking Becca has run as far underground as she can,” Ian said. “Especially if she thought Gary had money and the law on his side.”
“So, we’ve gone through a list of all of the services she might use, we’ve developed a history of the schools Becca went to as a girl, the neighborhood she grew up in and any other contacts she might have made before they left Chicago,” Mary said, as she read through her pages of notes. “And we know that she needs her prescription from somewhere and might be able to track her with that information.”
“But we also know that she’s very smart,” Bradley said. “And quite paranoid and will avoid anything that a private investigator might use to track them down.”
Mary sighed. “We are literally searching for someone who is doing everything not to be found.”
“Aye,” Ian agreed. “But we’ll find her.”
Bradley nodded. “Yes we will.”
A few minutes later they pulled up next to the DeKalb County Courthouse. The large white stone building with its four massive pillars adjacent to the front entrance was an imposing structure with over one hundred years of judicial history.
“There’s already a crowd of reporters on the front steps,” Mary noted, as they skirted the front of the building. “Do you know any back ways in?”
Bradley guided the cruiser to the side of the building and parked in a lot filled with Sheriff Department vehicles. “One of the perks of being an officer of the law,” he said, “All we have to do is go in this side door and we should be home free.”
Bradley led them through a door on the side guarded by a county deputy. With a nod to Bradley, once Bradley had shown him his identification, they entered the building and walked to the large oak double doors that led to the courtroom.
Mary stopped in front of the doors and took a deep breath.
“How are you doing?” Bradley asked Mary.
She nodded, but bit her lower lip. Once inside those doors she knew she’d see him again. She closed her eyes and forced herself to breath calmly, but she could already feel her skin crawl as she recalled his hands on her, his voice taunting her and the total helplessness she had felt as his prisoner.
“You are not Jeannine,” Ian whispered into her ear. “You are Mary O’Reilly and you can kick his arse.”
Mary smiled and turned to Ian. “Thank you,” she took another deep breath and finally met Bradley’s eyes. “I’m good. I’ll be fine.”
“Of course she’ll be fine, she’s an O’Reilly,” Sean said as he approached the group.
“Sean,” Mary said, throwing her arms around her brother. “It’s good to see you.”
“Well, I had to be here to watch my little sister testify,” he said with a wink. “Besides, they have me on the docket to testify today too.”
“Why are you testifying?” Bradley asked.
Sean shrugged, “Because I was part of the investigative team, I suppose.”
He turned to Ian. “How about you? Are you taking a turn on the stand?”
“Aye, but only as a witness to Mary’s kidnapping,” he said. “The other information is...not quite standard testimony.”
“Yeah, they’d carry you off to a padded room if you start telling them about ghosts,” he agreed. “But that’s okay; we have him on this one. There’s no way he’s going to walk.”
They entered the courtroom and walked towards the bench behind the prosecutors table. Bradley and Sean flanked Mary on either side, and Ian walked behind her. As they approached the front of the courtroom, a door near the judge’s table opened and Gary Copper entered the room. He was restrained in handcuffs and wore a bright orange jumpsuit. Two burly deputies escorted him towards the defense table.
As he scanned the room, his eyes came to rest on Mary. His face widened into a leering smile. “Why Mary, you’re looking lovely today,” he said, his eyes slowly taking in every inch of her body. “I’ve thought about you as I’ve sat in my cell. I thought about you a lot.”
A f
risson of terror rushed through her and although she wanted to run, she couldn’t move.
“Tell me you missed me too,” he purred and then he pursed his lips and mocked a kiss.
Mary’s stomach clenched and she felt light-headed, but she wasn’t going to let him win. “I didn’t think of you once,” she said, trying to appear unaffected.
He smiled at her again and met her eyes. “Don’t worry, Mary, next time we’re together it will be unforgettable. I promise.”
She gasped and felt the bile rise in her throat. Bradley stepped in front of Mary and glared at the deputies. “Get him away from here, now,” he ordered.
The deputies pulled him over to the table and locked his handcuffs to the bolt under the tabletop so his motions were limited. Sean put his arm around Mary’s shoulders and guided her to the bench.
“Good girl,” he whispered. “You didn’t let him get to you.”
“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” she whispered.
“Well, don’t do it now,” he said. “I’m wearing my best suit.”
She looked up at him in disbelief. “I’m going to be sick and you’re worried about your suit?” she asked.
“Well, I’ve got to wear it this week-end to Rosie and Stanley’s wedding,” he explained. “And if it smells bad, I’m going to tell them it’s your fault.”
“You are an idiot,” she whispered.
“But you love me anyway,” Sean said, and then he put his thumb under her chin and lifted her head so he could look into her face. “Better?”
She took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, I am, thanks,” she said.
Ian slipped in next to Sean and leaned around him to see Mary. “How’re you doing, darling?” he asked.
She smiled weakly at him. “Good,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I’m not going to let him get to me.”
“You’re quite a warrior,” he replied. “There’s got to be some Scottish in you somewhere.”
That comment earned him a growl from Sean and a grin from Mary.
“Don’t be jealous, Sean, me boy,” Ian said. “I’m sure if Mary has some Scottish, so do you.”
After conferring with the deputies, Bradley came around the other side of the bench and sat next to Mary, taking both of her hands in his. “You don’t have to do this,” he whispered. “We can walk out right now.”
She looked up into his eyes, and then over to Ian and Sean, and felt her body relax. I’m such an idiot, she thought. Not only am I stronger than Gary Copper ever was, but I have a group of men who would never let him get near me again. What in the world am I worried about?
She exhaled softly, smiled at the men hovering over her and then laughed out loud, releasing the rest of her tension. She stood up and looked around. The judge and the attorneys were not yet in the room. She didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize the case, but she needed to wipe the smirk from Copper’s face.
Standing, she scooted past Bradley. He caught her hand and looked at her with a question in his eye. “Don’t worry,” she said, nodding with total assurance. “I’ve got this one covered.”
Walking over to the deputies, she extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Mary O’Reilly,” she said.
“Yeah, Ms. O’Reilly, we heard about you,” one of the large men said. “What can we do to help you?”
She glanced beyond them to Gary, sitting smugly in his seat. “I just want to respond to his last comment,” she said. “That’s all. Is that alright?”
“Well, ma’am, it’s fine with us,” he replied. “But you don’t need to put yourself out.”
She smiled at him. “Oh, no, it’s something I really need to do.”
She approached Gary and this time it was her turn to look him over, studying him like he was an insect on the floor. Then she placed her hands on the edge of the table and leaned towards him. “Perhaps you forgot how I kicked your ass the last time we met,” she said. “And that was when I was drugged and weak. If there is a next time for us to meet, it will be unforgettable, because I won’t be holding back and you won’t be intimidating anyone.”
His eyes widened for a moment and then tightened as he glared at her. “Bitch,” he whispered angrily. “You don’t scare me.”
“Then you are a very stupid man,” she stated unemotionally.
She met his eyes for one more moment, she was resolute and unafraid. The she turned and walked away from him.
Chapter Eighteen
Clarissa hurried down the tall black steps of the CTA bus and turned and waved to her mother through the window. The doors closed with a whoosh of compressed air and the bus pulled away from the curb next to Clarissa’s school, carrying her mother on to the restaurant where she worked. Even though the daily cost of a bus ride caused their budget to be even tighter, the two mile walk from the apartment building to the school was more than her mother could handle, especially when the weather was below freezing.
Clarissa readjusted her backpack and waited for the light to turn green, so she could cross over to the front of the school. She had barely stepped off the curb when she was joined by a group of older boys from the school. She had seen one of the boys hanging around in front of her apartment building, talking with her babysitter, Mrs. Gunderson.
“Hey, ain’t you Clarissa?” he asked, as the rest of the boys circled her. “I seen you talking with my auntie.”
She nodded. “Yes, I’m Clarissa,” she replied.
“You love your momma?” he asked, and the other boys laughed and slapped him on his back.
She nodded and fear began to creep into her heart.
The boy smiled, but the smile wasn’t in his eyes, it was a mean smile. “Well, that’s good, ‘cause you don’t want your momma to die, do you?”
Shaking her head fervently, she tried not to cry. “I don’t want my mother to die,” she whispered.
They stopped her on the other side of the street, before she was able to enter the tall iron fence of the school yard. “Then you just gotta do what you’re told,” he said. “You got money in your backpack?”
She started to shake her head.
“You lie to me, girl, and your momma dies.”
She thought of the envelope with the crisp dollar bills her mother had carefully counted out that morning. The money to pay for the babysitter. She slowly nodded to the boy. “I have money, but it’s s’posed to go to Mrs. Gunderson,” she said. “It’s not my money. I don’t have money. It’s your aunt’s money.”
“That bitch don’t need this money,” he said. “I do. And you need to give it to me so your momma don’t die one of these nights when she comes home from work.”
She looked into his face and knew he wasn’t lying. She had seen the fights in the alleyways next to the school. She had seen the knives carefully hidden in backpacks. She had heard about classmates who no longer came to school because they had been killed in drive-by shootings, had heard Mrs. Gunderson talking about the murders in their neighborhood. She had no doubt the boys would do exactly what they said.
Reaching inside the zippered pocket of her backpack, she grasped the envelope. “Don’t kill my mother,” she said, her hand shaking as she held out the money.
He grabbed it from her and stuffed it into his pocket. “You just saved your momma’s life,” he said. “But if you tell anyone about this, even your momma, I’ll find you and I’ll kill both you and your momma. You understand?”
Clarissa nodded.
“Now, you best go to school little girl,” the boy laughed. “And I’ll be back next month for your next payment.”
Clarissa ran down the street, away from the boys mocking laughter. Her heart was pounding and she felt like she was going to be sick. When she walked into the schoolyard a teacher approached her. “Are you okay, Clarissa?” the kindly teacher asked. “Did those boys bother you?”
Clarissa took a deep breath and did something that was becoming easier and easier every day. She lied to her teacher. “Oh, no, Mrs. Jankie
wicz,” she said. “They just live in the same apartment building as I do. I know their aunt.”
Mrs. Jankiewicz looked over at the boys and then back at Clarissa. “Are you sure there isn’t something you’d like to tell me?” she asked. “I promise you won’t get in trouble.”
Clarissa shook her head, her heart beating wildly. Would they think she had spoken with the teacher? Would they hurt her mother?
“No, but thank you Mrs. Jankiewicz,” she replied firmly, taking a step away.
“But Clarissa...,” the teacher insisted.
“Sorry, I have to go,” Clarissa interrupted and walked away from the teacher. When she was halfway across the schoolyard, she glanced back at the boys. They were still watching her. Mrs. Gunderson’s nephew nodded his head slightly and she let out a shuddering breath. Her mother was still safe. She walked past the playground equipment and sat by herself on a bench near the school. She wrapped her arms around her body and shivered from the cold as well as the fear growing in her stomach. She would have to be sure her mother never realized the babysitting money had been taken. No one could find out.
She looked up into the cold blue sky and watched as one fluffy white cloud floated by. It was long and narrow and looked like an angel. She sighed deeply. “I miss you, Daddy,” she whispered, wiping a solitary tear from her eye. “I miss you lots.”
Chapter Nineteen
Rosie came down the stairs at Mary’s house a full two hours after Mary and Ian had left, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Morning, Rosie,” Stanley offered cautiously from the kitchen table. “How’d you sleep last night?”
She yawned and stretched. “Oh, I had an awful sleep,” she admitted. “The snoring from downstairs was just awful. It shook the house.”
Stanley stood and pulled out a chair for her. “Don’t I know it,” he said. “I don’t know how a man that young can have breathing issues like that. Must be all that time spent in drafty castles.”
