by Becky Durfee
He lowered his eyebrows. “A contact?”
“Yes, sir, a contact.” She bit her lip and added, “It’s probably best if I explain it to both you and Ellen at the same time.”
“So, how long have you known each other?” Ellen asked as they sat in the living room. Zack’s parents each sat in a recliner; the younger couple sat on the couch.
“We met last summer,” Zack replied. He turned to Jenny. “What was it, August?”
Jenny nodded with a smile.
“And when did you get married?” Ellen still seemed shocked.
“Just a few days ago,” Zack said.
“And you didn’t tell me? Why on earth would you have gotten married and not told me?”
“We kept it small,” Zack replied.
“You kept it small,” Ellen muttered. “There’s small, and then there’s secretive.”
Zack shrugged. “Okay, we kept it a secret.”
“But, why?”
Jenny was grateful that Zack was doing the talking.
“I could tell you,” he said, “but then I’d have to kill you.”
Apparently used to her son’s antics, Ellen just shook her head. “Can you at least tell me how you met without having to kill me?”
“He helped me with a case,” Jenny explained. “My first case, actually, where I had no idea what I was doing.” She patted Zack’s leg lovingly. “I don’t know what I would have done without him. He was absolutely instrumental in getting it solved.”
She noted Mr. Larrabee looked stunned at the prospect that Zack had actually accomplished something worthwhile. His expression only increased Jenny’s desire to rave about him.
“Case,” Ellen said. “What do you mean by case?”
Jenny told the story of how she discovered she had psychic ability when she was contacted by a spirit who had ties to the Larrabee family.
Zack chimed in, “Dad, do you remember when I asked you for pictures of Arthur? That was so I could help her.”
Zack’s father only grumbled in return.
Jenny’s smile in Zack’s direction exuded pride. “When I was working on that case, I was having a lot of marital trouble. My husband—at the time—wasn’t being very nice to me, and Zack here reminded me what it felt like to be treated with respect. Actually,” Jenny added, turning her attention to Zack’s parents, “remind is the wrong word. No one has ever treated me as well as Zack has, so I guess I should say he showed me what it was like to be treated well.”
While Ellen looked pleasantly surprised, Zack’s father demanded, “Zack, did you pay this woman to come here and say these things?”
“Andy, don’t be rude,” Ellen reprimanded with disgust. Turning to Jenny she softly added, “Don’t pay any attention to him. I, personally, am delighted to hear Zack is so good to you. I will admit I did worry about him a little bit, afraid that he still had too much growing up to do, but it sounds like he’s turned out okay.”
“Yes, ma’am, he’s turned out just fine.” She turned to Zack’s father, still sporting her smile. “And I assure you he didn’t pay me to say these things. I sincerely mean them.”
Andy looked at Jenny skeptically but didn’t say anything.
“Well,” Zack interjected, “I guess it’s time to bring up one more little thing.”
“Here it is,” Andy said, looking at Ellen. “He wants money.”
Jenny felt both anger and disappointment toward Andy. It seems Zack hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d talked about his father’s poor opinion of him.
Ellen, too, seemed to share in Jenny’s sentiment. She looked as if she was going to give Andy a good tongue lashing as soon as they found themselves alone. She made a dismissive gesture toward him, turning to Zack and saying, “What is it, honey?”
Zack put his arm around Jenny. “We’re due to have a baby on November eighteenth.”
Ellen’s jaw dropped. “A baby? You’re going to have a baby?”
Jenny smiled and nodded.
Ellen got up from her seat and walked over to the couch, cupping Jenny’s face in her hands. “Oh my goodness.” She kissed Jenny on the cheek. “Did you hear that, Andy? They’re going to have a baby.” She moved on and kissed Zack’s cheek as well.
“Yeah, I heard,” Andy said, clearly far less impressed with the news than his wife. He shook his head and said, “Babies are expensive, you know. Are you sure you’re going to be able to afford this?”
Zack’s patience was obviously running out. “Dad, we’re fine. Money is not a problem.”
“Last I checked you don’t have a job.”
Zack looked like he was ready to blow, so Jenny jumped in quickly. “Oh, he does. He is my partner in my psychic business, and the income is…substantial.”
“Psychic business?”
“Yes,” Jenny replied, remaining calm, “we’ve turned my ability into a business. When spirits contact me, we find out what it is they want, letting their living loved ones know.”
Andy still didn’t seem impressed. “And people pay for that?”
“Well, we’ve actually only had one paying customer—Elanor Whitby. That first case—the one that brought Zack and me together—involved figuring out what happened to her missing boyfriend. As you probably know, Miss Elanor passed away last year; what you may not know is that she left me the bulk of her estate. That inheritance alone resulted in eight figures.” Jenny took great pleasure in making that statement, although she kept her tone matter-of-fact.
Andy appeared as if he was searching for a way to put a negative spin on her words, but he was unable to do so. “Eight figures, huh?”
“Yes, sir.” Jenny interlaced her fingers. “Without decimal points.”
Zack and Jenny got undressed in the guest room, which Ellen had quickly prepared since it had a queen bed. “I swear to God, I hate that man,” Zack said. “Now do you see why I haven’t spoken to him in months?”
Jenny patted his arm lovingly. “Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry, honey.”
“It’s not your fault the man’s an asshole.”
“But your mother seems nice,” she replied, hoping that would be a consolation.
“My mom is great,” Zack said. “And so is my sister. It’s my dad and my brother that drive me up a fucking wall.”
“Would you rather stay in a hotel?”
Zack didn’t reply; he only shook his head as he turned down the covers. The image of Zack looking so defeated made Jenny sad.
“If it makes you feel any better, I think your father is doing a lot of thinking right now…trying to figure out how his screw-up son turned out to be a husband and a father and a multi-millionaire.” Jenny climbed into bed, realizing at that moment just how tired she had been.
“Yeah,” Zack scoffed, “and I’m sure he’ll find a way to make me look like an asshole by morning.”
Jenny leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Well, you should keep doing what you’re doing and be the bigger man. You know what they say…living well is the best revenge. You don’t need to get into a shouting match with him; let your success speak for itself.”
“That’s a good theory,” Zack noted, “but I make no promises.”
Jenny nestled into the bed as Zack turned off the light. Her brain threatened to be her own worst enemy again, as it immediately conjured up the horrible image of Stella Jorgenson suffering from her stab wounds on the floor of Rob Denton’s house. There she was again, looking at Jenny, reaching out her bloody hand in a desperate cry for help.
This time, however, Jenny paid attention to the one little detail she had overlooked before. She immediately sat up in bed, reaching over and turning on her lamp.
“What’s up?” Zack asked, looking over his shoulder.
“I was just thinking about the Jorgenson case.” Jenny shook her head subtly. “I think we have it all wrong.”
Chapter 4
“What do you mean we have it all wrong?”
“Can you call up that article again?” Jenn
y asked. “The one you read in the car?”
Zack reached over and grabbed his phone, clicking the same links that had led him to the article the first time. “What do you want to know?”
“The knife,” Jenny said. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but Willy Sanders said he saw the murderer running out of the house with the knife in his hand.”
Zack skimmed the article. “That’s what it says.”
“Well, when I played the vision in my head one more time, I distinctly saw the bloody knife on the floor a few feet away from Stella.” She turned to Zack. “How could Willy Sanders have seen the neighbor’s kid running out of the house with the knife in his hand, only to go inside the house and see the knife still there?”
He thought for a moment. “Two knives?”
“Have you ever heard of a murderer using two knives?”
“Two killers?”
Jenny considered the notion. “Maybe. Either way, something is up.” With the wheels turning in her head, she asked, “Is there any way we can see if Mr. Willy Sanders is still alive?”
“I’m not sure. Give me a minute.” Jenny waited patiently as Zack did his research. Eventually he added, “According to the white pages, he is very much alive and still lives in the house next door.”
Jenny looked at Zack with wide eyes. “Okay, so it appears he’s not the one contacting me after all. But then who could it be? Who else had been in that house?”
“The neighbor kid was,” he noted. “The one who confessed to killing her.”
“What was his name again?”
“Nate Minnick.”
She scratched her head and repeated his name in a whisper. “What was his sentence? Did the article say?”
After a little bit of reading, Zack announced, “Life without parole.”
“Okay, let’s see. If Nate was eighteen when the murder happened in 1988, that means he was born in 1970…which means he would be in his forties now. And if he’s been in jail this whole time, unless he was murdered in prison, he would have had to have died of natural causes.” She glanced at Zack. “Isn’t forty-something a little young for that to happen?”
“It is,” he reasoned, “but it’s not out of the question. Even children can die of natural causes.”
Jenny placed her hand on her belly and pretended she hadn’t heard that. “Can you find out if Nate is still alive?”
“I can try.” Zack spent the next fifteen minutes searching sites on his phone, only to concede, “I’m sorry, but I can’t find anything.”
“That’s okay,” she replied. During Zack’s search, fatigue had really crept into Jenny’s bones; she yawned before asking, “Does it say which prison he went to?”
“Enon State Prison.”
“I’ll call them in the morning. Do you think they’d tell me personal information about one of their inmates?”
“I have no idea,” Zack said. “Are they bound by confidentiality?”
Jenny didn’t know the answer to that. “Forget it. I’ll just call Kyle Buchanan in the morning; he’ll be able to figure it out easily, I’m sure.”
“Is that the world’s best private investigator?” Zack asked.
“The one and only.” Jenny’s eyes got as bright as her level of exhaustion would allow. “Hey…we’re in Evansdale. I can actually go in to his office and see him instead of just calling him.”
Zack let out a little laugh. “You seem awfully excited about that. Is he hot or something?”
“No, he’s not.” Jenny conjured his image in her head, recalling that he was a slightly-overweight and disheveled middle-aged man. She spoke with emphasis. “Not at all. It’ll just be great to see him in person considering how many times he’s helped me.”
Zack stretched with a loud groan. “So, is that the plan for tomorrow?”
“I think so,” Jenny replied as she turned out the light. “That, and contacting the folks at the chairlift store.”
Kyle Buchanan stood up with a smile from behind his messy desk. “Jenny Watkins. How great to see you again.” He extended his hand, which Jenny eagerly shook.
“It’s nice to see you, too.” She didn’t bother to correct him regarding her name.
He gestured for her to have a seat, and she obliged. “So, is this a social call, or do you have more business for me?”
Jenny blinked repeatedly, emulating southern charm. “Why, I do have some work for you, if you have the time.”
“You’re a very generous tipper,” Kyle noted with a wink. “Therefore, I always have time for you.”
“And that is why you are the world’s greatest private investigator,” she replied with a laugh. “I was actually wondering if you could tell me if a man named Nate Minnick is still alive.”
He flashed her a strange look. “I assume you’d like his contact information?”
“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “I just want to know if he’s alive.”
“That is quite an unusual request.” Kyle leaned forward on his elbows with a playful smile. “What, exactly, is it you do with all this information I give you, Ms. Watkins?”
“I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you,” she replied with an equally playful look.
He leaned back in his chair. “Well, I think I can honor this request easily enough. Do you happen to have a last known address of this Mr. Minnick?”
“I do. Enon State Prison.”
“That’s maximum security,” Kyle noted.
“I’m aware.”
After a short visual standoff, he remarked, “At least that should make it easier to find out his information. I can have an answer for you this afternoon, most likely.”
“Great.” Jenny stood up and put her purse over her shoulder. “I guess I’ll let you go so you can get started. Oh, and let me pay you now. Do you think one hour will cover it?”
“It should,” Kyle said. “I’ll let you know if it’s longer.”
Jenny reached into her purse and handed him four hundred dollars in cash. “There’s your regular rate, plus a little tip for you.”
He shook his head. “You scare me a little, Ms. Watkins. How do you always have so much money to throw around?”
She opened her purse again and pulled out one of her business cards. “Here,” she said, placing the card on his desk. “This may answer both of your questions in one shot.”
“I’m nervous,” Jenny declared as the car rolled to a stop in front of Rob’s house. “Suppose he’s insulted by the offer.”
“I know, I’ve had the same thought,” Zack replied, “but hopefully he’ll understand it’s rooted in good intentions.”
“I guess to be safe I should try to get the reading first, just in case he kicks us out.”
The couple got out of the car and approached the house. Zack lowered his voice to a near whisper and said, “See, I’m thinking the ramp can go out a little bit and then turn toward the driveway.” He outlined the path with his hand. “There are only five steps in front of the house, so the angle won’t be too steep, even though the distance is short.”
Jenny could picture Zack’s description, and the thought of Rob being able to get around more easily warmed her heart.
Since their visit was expected this time, Rob didn’t come to the front door. His daughter let them in and Rob met them at the top of the stairs. “How are you guys doing today?” he asked casually.
“We’re okay,” Jenny said. “Thanks for letting us come back. I’m getting the impression that I misinterpreted some things last time I was here, and I’m hoping to clear that up.”
“That’s fine,” Rob said kindly. “Y’all are just lucky I work from home; otherwise you’d be coming to an empty house.”
“What do you do?” Zack asked.
“I’m a database administrator for the county government. I have to run a lot of reports and manage security clearances, but it’s nothing I can’t do from here.”
Zack’s face reflected his approval. “That’s not a bad g
ig.”
“It saves us a bundle on daycare, that’s for sure.”
“Okay, I hate to ask this of you, but is there any way I can be in the living room alone for a few minutes?” Jenny asked. “Since I’m not feeling a pull this time, I’m going to need to focus if I stand a chance at getting a reading.”
“That’s fine,” Rob said. “I have work to do anyway. Zack, do you want to come with me? You can hide out in my office. If my daughters get their hooks in you, you’ll get roped into playing Barbies.”
Zack smiled and gave Jenny one last look of encouragement before following Rob down the hall.
Jenny took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders before descending the first two stairs toward the front door. She stopped and turned around, facing the area where Stella had once lay dying. With her body relaxed and her eyes closed, she was eventually able to see an image of the room as it had looked twenty-five years earlier.
A floral couch sat along the wall, and the overturned coffee table in front of it indicated a struggle had taken place. The dark brown carpet was plush and hid the blood stains well, although Jenny was sure there must have been a pool around Stella—she was far too bloody for there not to be a mess on the carpet. She had the same look of horror on her face as she did in the previous vision, and she once again reached out, positively desperate for help.
Jenny noted the knife on the ground a few feet from the victim. “Miss Stella,” she heard herself say in a deep, male voice. She ran toward the bloody woman, stopping for a moment to pick up the knife and look at it, trying to grasp what had happened. With the knife still in hand, Jenny knelt at Stella’s side; her knees became blood-soaked from the invisible puddle on the carpet. Stella grabbed Jenny’s shirt with both hands, covering it with blood. Even more blood spurted from a wound in Stella’s abdomen, soaking the bottom part of Jenny’s shirt.
Stella looked as if she wanted to say something.
A loud bang, presumably from the girls playing in the basement, caused the vision to disappear instantly. Jenny stood still for a moment, absorbing the implications of what she’d just witnessed. It appeared that not one, but two injustices had occurred back in 1988, and while she could do nothing to stop one, she knew she was being tasked with rectifying the other.
