by Alexie Aaron
Mia picked up the journal Whit had been struggling over. Mia smiled as fragments of pressed wild flowers were caught up in the bindings and had stained the pages. This was a romantic woman. Snatches of poems, wishes of a young heart, and fears of growing older were written out in a strong copperplate script. Obviously this journal was a labor of love. Mia enjoyed the musings of this woman and was disappointed when the entries stopped.
She placed it back in the box but not before tying a grosgrain ribbon around it. Her mother used them as bookmarks, and Mia had found a shockingly large supply of them. Muted blues, greens and yellows all tangled in a wad, waiting patiently to be placed between pages that would never be read again. Once Amanda had moved on, she never returned to reread anything.
Her cell rang, and she looked at the caller ID before answering. “Hello, Tom.”
“Just checking in,” he said using his official voice.
“Everything is fine here,” Mia supplied.
“Same here. The sheriff took the roadblock away from Cold Creek. We don’t have the manpower to keep it up.”
“You can’t control everything. Is the PEEPs team still poking around?”
“They were out at April Johnston’s yesterday. Amber is kicking up a fuss in the lockup. That chick-a-doodle isn’t right in the head. We may be sending her off to a facility better able to hand the mentally ill. The sheriff’s convinced she’s going to go for an insanity plea.”
“Whatever, as long as she leaves our area. I think she may be being influenced by...”
“Now don’t you start. I’ve had my fill from the PEEPs arguing her case.”
“I hear ya loud and clear. You can’t see it, but I’m saluting at the moment.”
“Mia, you’re a piece of work. By the way, you hear from Whit?”
“Just this morning before the plane took off.”
“Oh before I forget, Ma ordered flowers and put your name on the card along with ours.”
“That was kind of her. What’s my split?”
“I believe a cookie recipe was mentioned,” Tom said.
“Fine, I’ll write it out when I get back.”
“I’ll pass it on. Take care, and I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks, Tom.” Mia closed the phone.
She picked up another journal, passing over Abraham Whitney’s. She wasn’t interested in having her morning ruined by his pompous ramblings.
She juggled the slim volume with her gloves and was tempted to take them off. It was self-preservation more than fear that kept the clumsy salt-embedded hand coverings on. Mia held the book down with one hand and turned the pages with the eraser end of a pencil.
The faint scrawl of Rebecca Winfield, youngest daughter of the house, told of her disgust at being pulled away from her friends in Chicago that summer. Mia smiled as she identified the teenage angst as normal. Her own had been stunted with her “problem,” but she felt the same sense of wanting to be grown up and in charge of her life as this young woman had all those years ago.
“It would not be so bad if the scenery would change. Same old men fumbling at you under the guise of handing you out of the carriage. If my mother hadn’t intervened, Mister Steele would have had his hands under my chemise. He didn’t even act remorseful. If my father wasn’t afraid of him and his cronies, I think he would have challenged him to a duel. After all, he did ruin the Sprigs girl.”
Mia put the journal down. Daisy Sprigs was ruined by Morris Steele. Was this how she died? Mia jotted down some notes and carefully reassembled the box’s contents. She needed a break from the past. She decided the weather wasn’t going to hold for a zoo excursion so she opted for the Field Museum instead. Sure, there were a lot of dead things inside but very few that had any interest in her.
~
“See, I told you they’d backed off. After so many hours of investigation they have no other choice but to put the case on the back burner,” Mike said as they pulled up to the three houses in the area known as Cold Creek Hollow.
The trio of two and three-story buildings shone in the morning sunlight. With the exception of the house Sherry died in, there wasn’t any police tape to cross.
The trampled long grass and flattened briars told the story of the recovery of Rose’s body from the church foundations. Mike walked into the lot, bringing along his camera. Burt was looking around the graveyard, taking note of the lack of detritus around Daisy Sprigs’s grave. He had a feeling Mia had a hand in this but couldn’t prove it. The rest of the small graveyard seemed to contain only a few grave markers. He noticed that most of the residents of the graveyard had died the same year.
“Burt, come here!” Mike called beyond the yew hedge.
Burt made his way to the hedge and found a break in it that brought him flush with the foundation not three feet from where Mike was standing.
“What the hell...” a surprised Mike said. “How did you?” He looked behind him and back at Burt.
“Took a short cut. What’s up?”
“Here, look in the lens and zoom in,” Mike said as he handed him the camera.
“Where am I looking?” he asked.
“Use the stained glass window as a center point and move downward three feet from ground level.”
“Okay, I’m looking and... keys?” Burt focused in.
“Not just any keys, Rose’s from Restoration Realty keys.”
“Okay, dead Rose’s keys. What do you want to do, rob the dead lady’s house?”
“You are such a moron. Those are the keys to the three houses with all the activity.”
“Oh, I get you. We aren’t going to ask permission anymore at all, just sneak in and film.” Burt handed him the camera.
“Yes, it wouldn’t be the first time. Remember the insane asylum. They weren’t exactly accommodating either.”
“It was deserted...”
“Do you see anyone living in those?”
“Okay, you’ve made your point. So how are we going to get down there and retrieve the keys?” Burt examined the terrain and didn’t see an easy way down.
“I’m thinking of going over to April’s and bringing back a ladder,” Mike said.
“Fine, let’s get going. The daylight is a wasting,” Burt said, tucking his morality away in a deep dark corner of his mind.
Chapter Thirty-five
“Stop, her money’s no good here,” a nasal voice shouted, scaring Mia and the ticket clerk in front of her. “Her father is Doctor Charles Cooper, the Charles Cooper.”
This meant little to the person issuing the tickets.
Mia mouthed, “Sorry,” and did her best to stop a blush from taking over her entire body.
She turned around to see a tall, thin elegantly-dressed black gentleman. There was a slight graying at the temples. She knew him, but time combined with pill residue made her memory faulty.
“I changed your diapers, lord knows your mother didn’t have a clue,” he hinted.
“Uncle Benny!” Mia lunged forward and wrapped both of her arms around his tiny waist.
“Uncle Bernard, Benny sounds so...”
“Familiar. How wonderful to see you.” Mia beamed up at him.
He looked her over. Putting his hand on her face, he lifted up her sunglasses and tsked, “What happened here, a domestic?”
“Long but interesting story. Are you still heading up the...”
“Culture Department. Yes, but my days are numbered. Alas, Ralph wants to move to France.”
“The question is does France want Ralph?” Mia smiled. “How is he?”
Doctor Bernard Wesley looked around the lobby. “Dear girl, we are causing a scene. Let’s grab a coffee and head into the bowels of the museum where we can talk about Ralph’s, well, bowels.” He laughed at his own joke.
He flashed his badge at all the right people and pushed Mia ahead of him, claiming she was his daughter from that other mother.
“You’re going to get me thrown out of here.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time. Oh, remember old Bill? Is he still here?” He spun Mia around until she faced the Hall of Gems on the second floor.
Mia climbed a few stairs and smiled as she saw the old gangster leaning on the balustrade, keeping an eye on the prize that brought him to his death.
She climbed back down. “He’s still there,” she reported. “I remember the first time I saw him.”
“I believe you screamed and brought all the storm troopers in.”
“I was four. How was I supposed to know that other people couldn’t see him?” Mia admonished. “Storm Troopers?”
“The security guys. That’s Ralph’s new name for them.”
“I can’t see calling Amos Jones a storm trooper.” Mia shook her head, visualizing the eighty-year-old museum guard.
“Amos died three years ago.”
“Oh.” Mia, puzzled, said, “I thought for sure I saw him at the east door.”
“Damn, that was his spot,” Bernard said. “Still working.”
“He did love the place.”
“Maybe he’ll be able to nab old Bill if he ever summons up enough energy to actually take the yellow diamond.”
They had made their way to the corner bakery, and Bernard insisted on several pastries along with their coffee served, “black as I am.”
“Why don’t we sit in here, so we don’t have to be interrupted with museum business.”
Mia followed him to a corner table. They divided up their booty between them before Bernard sat back and told her to begin.
Mia had to admire the older man. He sat and listened without interruption the entire time. Calmly, he sipped his coffee and tore apart his croissant to delicately put it in his mouth. They went through the first cups of coffee, and with a wave of his arm, a carafe was brought to the table.
“So here I am in Chicago, over at Father’s place reading about Cold Creek Hollow.”
“You Coopers are an interesting bunch.”
Mia lifted an eyebrow. “I never thought I’d be lumped in with the glorious and the published.”
A smile broke from ear to ear. “Oh, you’re a nut off daddy’s tree alright.” He sipped his coffee. “PEEPs, I haven’t heard of this group.”
“Wannabes out of Kansas.”
“The problem with these groups outside of the academic world is that they don’t do things procedurally. Father Santos would love to get a look at the young lady.”
“She’s sitting in the sheriff’s holding pen at the moment.”
“I’ll let him know. Not often we get a... what did you call it... ghost overlay. Why not just say possessed?”
Mia just shrugged her shoulders. “It looked like Amber was contained in a film that was moving her to its whim.”
“I have missed you child. These discussions are so much more interesting than budgets.”
“Any advice?”
“Definitely continue with the materials you have right now. When that resource is exhausted, then give me a call. I may have an in with a certain group of local historians. If Blackwell was in the money then he will be documented in Chicago’s Who’s Who, or more correctly, who was. Maybe the preacher, what was his name?”
“Abraham Whitney,” Mia supplied.
“Ah, time for me to get to work. How long has it been since you were here?”
“High School, just before the fire.”
“Too long. Come and see Ralph and me at home before you leave the city.”
“I promise.”
They exchanged phone numbers and hugged. Mia gained power from his embrace. She walked home with a straighter back and even winked at the fireman as she passed his stoop.
~
Mike had called Beth and Ted to meet them out at April’s where the four of them loaded the ladder into the PEEPs command center vehicle.
Ted was indifferent to the legality of their being in the hollow. Beth asked to be left out of it. They left her with the SUV at April’s where she would continue to investigate the farm. She was bound and determined to catch the mysterious rider on film.
The ladder was placed as near as they could to the keys. The stability of the foundation was in question. Nature had done its best to reclaim the area. Small trees had taken hold, and moss and stagnant pools of water made moving on the lowest level treacherous. The three took turns holding the ladder as each descended.
They moved single file with Mike in the lead and Burt bringing up the rear. Ted was more concerned with his iPod than with taking readings around them. Had he been more diligent, they might have noticed the fast approaching shadows behind them.
“Oh my god, do you smell that?” Mike complained. The smell of sulfur was strong.
Burt pulled the neck of his T-shirt up over his nose. Better to endure his body odor than continue to smell that. He felt a tug on the back of his shirt. Surprised, he whirled around to find nothing there. He stood still for a moment trying to figure out whether he’d imagined it when his knees were taken out from under him. “What the hell!” he shouted as he fell forward onto the moss-covered stones.
Mike turned around and saw Burt hit the ground hard. He pushed Ted aside as he tried valiantly to get to his friend.
Burt had rolled over in pain, oblivious to the ledge he was precariously close to. He felt hands pulling on him as he fell over the ledge and down into a dark abyss.
“What the fuck just happened?” Mike screamed at Ted who was still staring mutely at where Burt used to be.
The two of them moved as quickly as was safe to the hole that had seemed just a shadow when they passed it a moment before.
Burt had hit his head hard. He was disoriented and unable to move. He hoped the fall hadn’t broken his back. He concentrated and found he could move his fingers and toes. It was his arms and legs that seemed as if they were being held down. An image preceded by a foul stench was moving towards him. This didn’t look good. He fought the invisible bonds with everything he had.
Mike and Ted scrambled to bring the ladder to where Burt had disappeared. Ted turned on his flashlight and let it fall. They looked over the edge and saw Burt withering in agony. As fast as was possible, Mike placed the ladder without coming into contact with their fallen comrade. Mike swung onto the ladder and made a quick descent. He picked up the light and moved carefully towards Burt.
“Let go, damn it!” Burt said as he managed to free his arms and sat up. Keeping an eye on the mass that was developing human characteristics and hovering in the dark corner, he dug into his pocket and reached the saltshaker he had taken from the B&B. He flung it towards his legs, and whatever held them released its grip. Silently he thanked Mia and her salt obsession as he tried to get up.
Mike felt something tug at his sleeve as he stepped off the ladder. He whirled around to confront whatever touched him. Mike’s flight instinct was conflicting with his need to help his friend. Ted finished his descent, and together they moved forward.
The air was thick, but it and the smell broke the moment the duo hit the area where Burt was trying to fight dizziness in order to stand.
Mike reached him first. “Burt, it’s me Mike. Ted and I are going to get you out of here.”
Burt groaned and tried again to stand up. He threatened something out of their sight with a saltshaker. His eyes were wild. “Keep them away from me,” he pleaded.
“Burt, everything is okay,” Ted said as he grabbed ahold of him. “Can you stand?”
Burt looked past Ted to the corner. The entity had vanished. “Yes, I think so.” He accepted Ted’s and Mike’s assistance, and soon he was on his feet.
“Let’s get you out of here.”
The men left the ladder and half-carried the big man to the PEEPs vehicle. They sped to the hospital, making up a lie between them that Burt fell into the well on April’s property.
~
Doctor Walters wasn’t surprised to see Burt Hicks again, but the shape he was in disturbed the young surgeon. He had sustained a large head wo
und and was clearly concussed. His clothes weren’t wet. Unless the well was dry, he wasn’t buying the story made up by the PEEPs team and would be reporting the incident to the Sheriff’s Department.
After he stitched Burt’s head and sent him down for a MRI, he consulted Mary Margaret. He set the chart down in front of her and pointed out the description of the bruises he found on his body.
M&Ms looked at him. “Remind you of someone?”
“Mia Cooper.” Doctor Walters and the nurse were of one mind. “You wouldn’t have her number around?”
She dug into her pocket and flipped through a small notebook. She copied the number down and handed it to him.
Chapter Thirty-six
“Miss Cooper,” the doctor began, “This is Doctor Walters.”
“Tall, handsome, with a stethoscope,” Mia said sweetly. The trip to the Field Museum and the talk with Bernard had improved her mood.
“Okay, you’ve passed the eye test. I have a strange question for you.”
“Go ahead.”
“Where are you?”
“Birch Street, not far from the University of Chicago. Why?”
“Okay, I’m just going to blurt all this out unprofessionally and hope you’ll understand.”
“You have my curiosity.”
Doctor Walters described Burt’s arrival at the emergency room, his condition and the odd explanation. “And since you brought him in the last time, I thought you would have an idea of what went on. Obviously this is news to you, but I’m at a loss here.”
Mia struggled a moment. “Are you aware of what happened to Sherry Martin?”
“The suicide?”
“Before you label me as crazy, just try and take a leap of faith here. Yes, well, I think the three clods went into the hollow. There is something evil there. Real or paranormal, I couldn’t say, but it seems that Burt experienced some sort of an attack.” Mia’s voice faltered, “Oh, god. I’m stranded here until Friday.”
