Young Ladies of Mystery Boxed Set

by Stacy Juba

  She carried the jewelry to her bed, ready to experiment with another programming technique. Dawn leaned against her pillows and pressed her thumb against each stone, visualizing herself beaming a ray of white light from her forehead, enveloping the crystals and sweeping negativity into a black hole. She closed her eyes, picturing white light cascading down the hole and summoning positive energy. Dawn adjusted the stones in the hollow of her hand.

  These crystals will only be used for love, light, and the good of all, she thought, using a phrase from one of the web sites. They will protect me from psychic attacks. Dawn mentally repeated the words twenty times, envisioning a protective shield of white light pulsing from the crystals.

  Through the light, whirled a flurry of images. They blinked into focus, a picture of two teenage boys in tee-shirts and shorts, and a young girl with light blue eyes. The kids stood on the beach, grinning for the camera.

  The girl was easy, despite her short bob with the feathery sides. Dawn had no trouble recognizing a younger version of Scott's mother, Susan, from the sad vision after his death. She identified Tim Travers’s father next. Jeff had referred to him once as Tom. Dawn had never seen him, but he looked exactly like his son.

  It was the third person that made her start, a teenage boy with shaggy blond hair and a familiar grin.

  Her stepfather.

  Jeff.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dawn searched the office for Jeff's high school yearbook, wearing her earrings and necklace. Gift from Serina or not, the crystals had already provided a clue.

  She had sent her mother a mental push to go upstairs and call a couple old friends, getting her out of the way. One of her mother’s newsletter layouts filled the computer screen.

  Maybe Jeff stored his yearbook in the attic or basement, if he’d even saved it, but something had directed Dawn into the office. Journalism texts and illustrated books about ships crammed the shelves. She sifted through a desk drawer of phone bills, credit card receipts and check stubs. Sighing, Dawn moved to a file cabinet.

  She found a rubber-banded stash of Christmas and birthday cards in the files, and nothing else. Dawn opened the closet’s double folding doors and crouched to examine a cardboard box of photo albums.

  Her hands quivered as she pulled out a flat navy book with Covington High School engraved in silver calligraphy. Dawn flipped through the smooth pages, picking out Jeff, Tom and Susan in the rows of senior headshots.

  There was no Serina in the class. Under two girls' names, a line in parenthesis read "Photo not available." Elaine Corbett and Alice Mitchell. Dawn concentrated. Neither name stirred up emotion.

  She turned back to the beginning, scanning every photograph. Color guard. Yearbook staff. Chess club. Spanish club. Newspaper staff, with Jeff identified as editor. It was hard to believe these kids were parents now. They didn’t look that different from kids today. Dawn studied the candid snapshots: Tom Travers dressed as a cheerleader for Halloween. Jeff helping his girlfriend Susan adjust her Homecoming crown on the dance floor. Jeff, Susan and Tom crowded around a beach bonfire.

  Dawn’s pulse rate increased. This was the same image she’d seen while programming the crystals. She touched the beach picture, inviting psychic impressions, waiting for something, anything, to reveal itself.

  She wasn’t prepared for the room to tilt and the walls to bounce. Suffocating darkness closed around her, and with a gasp, Dawn ducked her head between her knees. She felt herself falling, falling, falling, down an abyss...

  ***

  Elaine hesitated at the tarnished railing that separated parking lot from beach. On the other side, Jeff Magnuson flipped a hamburger on the grill. She wanted to tousle his blond hair and feel its softness. Ever since she moved to town in junior high, she dreamed of wearing his letter jacket and kissing him. Owning him.

  Could he really like her, as Lindsay had said? Elaine watched as Susan, Jeff's stupid girlfriend, reclined on the sand. Her red bikini top and cut-off denim shorts showed that she had gained a few pounds. Maybe he had noticed, too.

  Elaine still couldn’t believe Lindsay, the cheerleading captain, yearbook editor and most popular girl in the senior class, had asked her to a private party. Elaine thought back to their unexpected conversation during graduation rehearsal earlier in the week.

  "You should come to the beach Saturday," Lindsay had said as they waited in the gym to get their caps and gowns. "A few of us are hanging out the night after graduation."

  Elaine had faltered, stunned. Lindsay and her best friend Susan usually made fun of Elaine because of her clothes. Her grandmother insisted she wear frumpy dresses when everybody else was wearing jeans.

  "Me?" Elaine asked.

  "I know you and I haven’t exactly been friends, but we’re practically high school graduates," Lindsay said, tossing her waterfall of golden curls. "We should put all that dumb popularity stuff behind us. Jeff’s bummed because he never noticed how pretty you were. You like him too, right? I've seen you checking him out."

  A blush surged into Elaine’s cheeks and she fought to downplay her eagerness. "He’s okay."

  Lindsay leaned forward, bracelets slipping down her wrist. "It’s not too late. He's gonna dump Susan soon. You wouldn't believe how bossy she is."

  "He really likes me?"

  "Come to the beach party. You'll see. Make sure you dress up."

  "For the beach?" Elaine asked.

  "We're eating at the country club after. My dad’s getting us in. It’s real fancy. Susan doesn't know we're going, so she'll look like a slob."

  During graduation-week activities, Elaine tried reading Jeff’s mind to determine whether he really liked her, but her screen came up blank. Sometimes mind reading worked, but usually other people's thoughts flowed into her consciousness when she least expected it.

  But tonight as Elaine stood there taking in her surroundings, her inner radar picked up a threat of deception. Lindsay was dressed as casually as Susan, in a sweatshirt and jeans. Wearing tee-shirts and shorts, their boyfriends sipped sodas by the grill and adjusted the station on the boom box. Unless they’d brought clothes to change into, no one looked as if they were headed to a country club. Besides, why were they barbecuing if they were eating dinner out?

  Dusk dropped over the sky and a cool breeze disturbed Elaine’s ash blonde hair.

  "Come on, everybody pose for a picture," Lindsay called to her friends.

  Elaine fingered the salmon dress and string of pearls she’d found in her grandmother’s room. She had to get out of here before anyone noticed her.

  A funny smile touched Lindsay’s lips as she lowered the camera. "Well, well, well. Look who's here."

  Susan swooped up from the sand and followed Lindsay’s gaze beyond the railing. "What are you doing here?"

  "Lindsay invited me," Elaine said, her jaw clenched.

  "You thought I was serious?" Lindsay asked, rolling her eyes. "You’ll believe anything. You really thought Jeff would dump Susan for you?"

  Surprise flickered in Jeff’s eyes and Elaine knew Lindsay hadn’t informed him of her prank. She stared at him, praying he would rescue her. He glanced around at his friends and her hopes ignited. He was going to tell them off.

  Instead he nudged Tom. "I think we've got ourselves a party crasher," Jeff said with a grin.

  "What do you think this is, a wedding?" Tom snorted, gesturing to her dress.

  "Where did you get your dress, a funeral parlor?" Susan asked. "It looks like something an old lady was buried in."

  Elaine elevated her chin. She should never have come here. Her crush on Jeff had blinded her psychic abilities. And her common sense. "At least I don’t look like a tramp."

  "Ooh, harsh," Lindsay giggled.

  "You'd better make her a hamburger, Jeff," Tom said. "I don’t think she eats. Check out those skinny legs. They look like sticks."

  Jeff didn’t defend her, even as Tom went on, "Look at all the scratches on them. They're like table le
gs."

  Fists curling at her sides, Elaine backed away and bumped into the rearview mirror of a van.

  "What a klutz," Lindsay snickered.

  "You'll be sorry. You'll all be sorry." Elaine strode to her grandmother’s Oldsmobile, leaving their laughter behind.

  "That'll teach you to stalk my boyfriend!" Susan shouted after her.

  Rage exploded through Elaine's head, as it had when her father used to hit her. He'd slapped her face, leaving black and blue marks that lasted weeks. She told everyone at school that she'd walked into a wall or fallen down the stairs. Not many people asked. The others kids didn't care, but a few teachers pretended they cared.

  Her mother would sit on the bed and rub Elaine's back. "He's just doing it because he loves you," she’d say.

  Her mother never stood up to him, even when he belted Elaine for not washing the dishes or taking out the garbage. Her mother had her own bruises to hide. Elaine resolved that no man would treat her like that, and hated her mother for being spineless. Aunt Serina understood her pain and would let Elaine sleep over as much as her parents allowed.

  When Aunt Serina died of breast cancer, Elaine lost the only person she'd truly loved. She would have traded her inherited gift of psychic intuition for more time with her aunt, but she hadn't had a choice. Some of her aunt's friends continued her training. And they were not as kindly as her aunt.

  By the time she was fifteen, Elaine knew she couldn't live with her parents. She needed to start over with her grandmother, in Covington.

  After her father stabbed her mother and then himself, everyone thought he'd gone crazy. No one suspected that Elaine stood in the kitchen doorway, controlling their every move.

  Aunt Serina would have been upset, but Elaine had no other choice. If only her mother had stood up for her, Elaine might have let her survive. Her grandmother had been better than her parents, but Elaine had suffered in school. For two long years.

  This betrayal was the worst of all. Staying hidden in the shadowy parking lot, she focused on Tom, Jeff, Susan and Lindsay as they stuffed their faces with hamburgers and listened to rock music. Afterwards, Susan and Jeff challenged their friends to a volleyball game.

  "You guys play," Lindsay said. "I hate volleyball."

  "You sure?" Jeff asked.

  Lindsay nodded, and the others positioned themselves in front of the net, two-on-one. She leaned back on her blanket and fiddled with the radio station.

  Elaine closed her eyes, a rush of energy tingling over her as she tried mind control for the second time in her life.

  Head toward the ocean.

  She sensed Lindsay pushing herself to her feet. Lindsay trudged across the sand, ignoring the volleyball her friends smacked back and forth in the darkening sky.

  Walk into the water until it’s over your shoulders.

  Lindsay waded in and halted.

  Don’t stop. Go deeper.

  Elaine's orders hit the block of Lindsay’s panic. Gritting her teeth, Elaine repeated the instructions.

  Icy waves washed over Lindsay’s bathing suit and salt water plastered against her hair.

  Don’t turn around.

  Feeling Lindsay struggle to face the other direction, Elaine bore down harder. Lindsay’s legs pushed her forward, making her walk into the cold and wet.

  Wade deeper until it’s over your shoulders.

  As her victim revolted, Elaine pushed the instructions harder: You’re a horrible person. Keep going. You’ll get what you deserve.

  Elaine felt Lindsay’s feet leave the sandy bottom. She rejoiced when Lindsay’s screams congealed in her throat.

  No one can help you. You’re going to drown. Your lungs will fill with water.

  Lindsay’s head bobbed under the moonlit surface as her group's far-off cries sank away into the distance.

  Elaine heard her final thought: I'm going to die.

  "Lindsay!" Jeff raced into the ocean, Tom and Susan close behind.

  Elaine's eyes snapped open, the connection broken.

  Jeff clasped Lindsay’s waist and pulled her to shore.

  Cursing under her breath, Elaine watched him lower Lindsay to the sand. He tilted her head and bent over her. Elaine heard the sputter of coughing from twenty feet away. She had failed.

  Susan brushed back her friend's stringy blonde bangs. "Lindsay! Lindsay! Are you okay?"

  "I don't know," Lindsay murmured. "What happened?"

  Elaine slipped back into the night.

  ***

  Dawn jolted out of her trance, the office sharpening into focus around her. Her revamped crystals had proven their value, all right. She locked her rubbery arms around her knees, breathing in and out.

  Though Dawn hadn't gotten a clear picture of Elaine, having experienced the scene from Elaine’s point of view, she knew that awkward girl had grown up into Serina. Dawn's blood thundered in her eardrums. Serina had killed her own parents.

  Gulping, Dawn fingered her blue star earrings. Serina hadn’t chosen the school logo by coincidence. The stars symbolized hatred. Revenge. Death. She’d avenged her enemies by having Candace kill off their children as payback. Susan and Tom were each mourning the loss of a son, but who was Lindsay? Had Serina settled the score with her yet?

  Dawn rifled through the yearbook and located Lindsay’s senior picture. Lindsay Hamilton. Her haughty expression reminded Dawn of someone. Could she have seen Lindsay around town as an adult?

  Dawn gazed around the office in bewildered misery. Among the notebooks, pencils and paper clips cluttering the desk stood a framed photo of Ken.

  As Jeff's son, he was next. Other than Lindsay’s offspring, if any existed, he was the only one left.

  Dawn went down to the kitchen and stuffed Candace’s plant into a garbage bag. She pushed the ceramic bowl all the way to the bottom and flattened the vibrant green leaves. Dawn twisted a tie around the top, hefted the bag to the barrel in the driveway and buried it with a twinge of regret.

  What a waste, but plants couldn’t be re-programmed like crystals. She couldn’t afford the negative vibes from Candace’s gift inhabiting her house.

  Next on her list was grounding herself through nature. Dawn strolled along the sidewalk, soaking up energy from the trees and grass, inhaling fresh air into her lungs and the autumn scent of burning leaves. Dogs barked from backyards and a flock of birds skimmed across the cloudy sky.

  She walked for more than an hour in the invigorating crispness. Once her mind was clear and her legs fatigued, Dawn turned back to her house. Ken and Jeff were home, their cars parked in the drive.

  The peppers and onions aroma of meatloaf, Jeff’s specialty, bathed the kitchen. Dawn sidled up behind her stepfather in the living room. Ken and her mother must be upstairs. Her mom had never come looking for her, following the order to mind her own business. Good. Dawn needed space.

  "Feeling better?" Jeff glanced up as he glued a miniature cannon onto the deck of his model.

  Dawn shuffled closer, surprised at his progress. His collection of parts finally resembled a ship with a cabin, stairwells and masts. She pulled out a chair at the card table and cupped a miniature life boat. Too bad it couldn’t carry her away, deliver them all away, from Serina. "Yeah. Do you know what I heard? Serina went to school with you. Her real name is Elaine Corbett."

  "Elaine Corbett," Jeff repeated. "Yeah, I remember her. She was a quiet kid. Got picked on a lot. That’s Serina? Why would she lie about living in town?"

  Dawn opened her mouth, then clamped it shut. She couldn’t tell him the truth. He might confront Serina again and get himself killed.

  "I guess she wanted to reinvent herself," Dawn said. "By the way, do you know Lindsay Hamilton? Vicky met somebody who wants to contact her."

  Jeff stared at her oddly and lowered his brush of clear glue to the table. "I’m surprised Vicky doesn’t know about Lindsay. I thought it was common knowledge."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Lindsay’s daughter goes to your sc
hool, with a different last name. I hear you’re well acquainted with her. Renee."

  The lifeboat slipped out of Dawn’s hands and capsized onto a sheet of spread-out newspaper. Of course, she should have connected the resemblance, both in appearance and personality. No wonder she’d had the impression that Renee’s mother didn’t kill herself. Serina must have interfered, forcing her to write the goodbye note and drink the poison.

  But why had she gone after Lindsay, not her daughter? It didn’t match the pattern.

  "What happened to Renee’s mom?" Dawn pretended ignorance about the so-called suicide. She needed as many details as she could gather.

  "She drank a glass of water laced with Sodium Cyanide, at least that’s the rumor," Jeff said, his lips compressed into a line. "It was last year, shortly after Lindsay’s divorce. She and Renee were living in New Hampshire. One day Renee came home and found her mother dead."

  Dawn’s stomach nosedived, the stench of meatloaf making her queasy. Renee had entered her house expecting it to be like any other day, and discovered her mother’s corpse. Worse, Renee believed her mother killed herself.

  "That’s awful," she murmured. "Where would Lindsay get Sodium Cyanide? You can’t just buy it in a store, can you?"

  "I heard she pilfered it from the jewelry manufacturing company where she worked," Jeff said. "It’s used commercially in metal recovery, extracting gold or silver from their ores, and in electroplating metals like gold, silver, copper, and platinum."

  Dawn sat stiffly, fingernails embedded into her lap. Lindsay hadn’t stolen that poison willingly. Serina had used mind control to make her steal it. Make her drink it. Maybe she’d even stood in the room and watched her die.

  "All my high school friends have had some tragedy happen. I'm getting paranoid." Jeff couldn’t quite carry off the light tone. "We’ve got a few minutes until dinner. Want to help me glue some parts?"

  Dawn nodded. She busied herself positioning the lifeboats and steering wheel, the tediousness steadying her earthquake hands but not allaying her convulsing thoughts. When the phone rang a few minutes later, Dawn knew who was on the other end.