“I will.”
“Anyway. This one wants her space left alone, still convinced her daughter is down here, so she tends to throw things, and make a lot of noise when people come down here.”
“So how do you. . .do what you do?”
“We’ve tried several approaches, and so far nothing has worked. I left some of her daughter’s belongings over there, along with both of their obituaries. Emotions can be triggers, and so can thoughts, memories. She obviously can recognize and manipulate physical objects so hopefully she’ll be able to recognize what they are. She’s resisted all other attempts, seeing them only as interference in her search. If she knows her daughter is dead, she may leave to go join her.”
“What if nothing works?”
He sighed, nodding. “It’s possible they may have to destroy this great old place or simply learn to live with her. Still, even if tenants didn’t mind, the owner loses the basement space for storage, since she can be destructive. Practically, he’s worried about it bringing down the rents he can ask for.”
Sophie nodded, imagining how horrible it had to be for the woman who was trapped in time, searching for her daughter over and over again and never finding her.
“If they destroy the building, what happens to her?”
“She would either cling to the site, confused, or be lost I think. Again, it’s hard to say. Many unknowns.”
“Dr. Mason, we’re all set up,” Josh confirmed from across the basement, interrupting with a smile for Sophie. The guy was so cheerful, like a Labrador puppy with spiky fur, she couldn’t help smiling back.
“Maybe you’ll see something that will push you over the fence onto our side tonight. Either way, if you want, we could talk after we’re done here, or make another appointment.”
With that, he went to attend to business and what Sophie discovered as night fell and they all stood around waiting, was that chasing ghosts, or aspects of them or whatever, was a very boring business. A little over four hours later, making small talk in between bouts of quiet observation, nothing was happening. She’d found a seat on the damp basement step, as her back was killing her.
“Josh, how are you feeling?”
“A little warm, actually.”
Mason frowned. “That’s not right. Well, we’ll wait it out. If any of you have classes in the morning, you’re free to go, of course.”
Josh slid Sophie a speculative look. “Uh, Doc, I think it might be Sophie.”
“What?” Mason and Sophie said together.
“I picked up some heat from her earlier, and maybe she’s got some energy that’s overpowering the aspect’s,” Josh said with an apologetic shrug in her direction.
Sophie’s face turned hot in the cool darkness of the cellar, feeling as if she’d been “outed,” but she said nothing.
“Interesting,” Dr. Mason looked at her with increased interest and Sophie fought the urge to squirm. “I hate to be rude, but could you go outside for a few minutes so we can figure out what’s going on?”
“Sure, no problem,” she agreed, happy to put the camera down and head upstairs, away from scrutiny. She didn’t know what Josh was picking up on, but it certainly couldn’t be her. Maybe he was just flirting, making her feel special or something, even though she was probably six years older than him.
Halfway up the stairs, dizziness assaulted her, her head splitting. She swatted at something by her shoulder, suspecting a spider, and jumped away as her hand sliced through what she could only describe as ice cold slurry.
She twisted away, tripping into the closed door, the grief-ravaged face of a young girl dressed in a simple blue dress before her. The girl couldn’t be more than twelve, her blonde curls knotted and looking like they hadn’t been washed in weeks. Centuries was more like it. She peered at Sophie through sunken eyes then pulled back, shaking her head.
“Holy shit,” Sophie breathed, her eyes glued to the bloody lash marks on the girl’s back, visible when she turned and looked down the stairs. “Eliza?”
Waves of anger seemed to slam the walls in the small space at the top of the stairs, making Sophie feel ill. She tried to call out for help, but her voice stuck as the spirit turned back to her and seemed to multiply before her eyes, not one image of the girl, but three. One was fierce, her anger marring her features into a vicious snarl. The middle one stared blankly at Sophie with calm, dead eyes. The third was smudgy, not quite formed, but there, looking wildly around.
The next thing she knew Sophie heard a crash and a scream from downstairs, cursing, and the girls were gone. Sophie’s knees gave way where she leaned on the closed door and she fell hard on the landing, slumping against the brick wall. There was a clattering noise, and she opened her eyes to see all four people from the basement crowding around her. Mason’s hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her, and it wasn’t until then she realized she must have blacked out for a second or two.
“What happened?”
“We have no idea. There was no reading until things started being thrown around the room, including our twelve-hundred dollar HD camera,” Dr. Mason said, holding up the wreckage of the camera, which looked like it had been put through a shredder.
“Apparently she doesn’t want her picture taken,” Sophie joked weakly, letting Dr. Mason help her to her feet.
Josh shook his head. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”
“We have to get you two to the emergency room,” Mason said
Sophie looked at Josh, her dizziness clearing. “I’m fine. What happened to Josh?”
Josh winced in pain, holding his hands out away from his body. “I don’t know. The energy was enormous. It-it burned me,” he said in more wonder than pain, showing her his blistered palms.
“That’s one angry mama,” Dr. Mason said, and Sophie shook her head.
“It’s not the mother, it’s the daughter. Eliza.”
Dr. Mason frowned. “How can you know that?”
“I saw her, I mean, them,” Sophie said.
“Them?”
“There were. . .three of her. . .” she trailed off, realizing she very likely sounded insane.
“I see. I guess we do have a lot to talk about. First, you’re both going to the emergency room,” he said definitively. “The university will have my ass if I don’t get you checked out.”
As her head spun a little more, Sophie nodded. Sometimes it was easier to give in.
* * *
Sophie leaned her head back against the wall above the small sofa she sat on waiting for Josh and Dr. Mason. By the time they’d arrived, she was fine and refused treatment. Still, she wanted to wait to make sure Josh was okay, though, and stuck around. It was taking a while, and she dozed off on the uneven, overused vinyl sofa.
There was a commotion and Sophie startled awake, sure she heard a familiar voice, and her name. She definitely knew the voice.
Matt Pereski.
Walking to the edge of the room, she peeped around the corner and sure enough, the detective was at the nurse’s station with two officers in blue.
Asking about her. This couldn’t be good.
Her first impulse was to run, but she stemmed it. She hadn’t done anything wrong and had no reason to run. He was very likely tracking her movements and wondered why she’d ended up in an emergency room. When he turned the corner of the lounge, his girth nearly filling the doorway with the two officers flanking him, he honed in on her like a fly on honey.
“Sophie.”
“Detective,” she said in the same tone.
Sophie frowned, staying at the farthest corner of the room, ignoring the curious stares of the other patients and onlookers.
“Care to come down to the station?”
“Why?”
“We have a few questions we’d like to ask you about Antoine Noble.”
“Who?”
“Antoine Noble, the heir apparent to Noble’s Jewelry. He was found dead this afternoon.”
“That’s awful, but
what does it have to do with me?”
“That’s what I’d like you to tell me.”
“As usual, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I can account for my whereabouts for the entire day.”
“Then you can come down and tell us your alibi, and when we check it out, you’ll be free to go.”
“Are you arresting me?”
“Not yet. But if you want, we can do this the hard way,” he added, dangling cuffs.
She saw the danger in his eyes. He’d hit her with anything she gave him an excuse to nail her with. “Fine. I can’t wait to make you look like a total ass, not that you do a bad job of that on your own.”
“You keep that up, Sophie. That’s good. You’ll need that attitude in jail,” Matt said, winning the battle, for the moment.
* * *
Pereski put Sophie in an interrogation room and left her there for what felt like hours. In fact, she saw it was less than an hour when she checked her watch. When the door opened, she expected Pereski, but saw Roger instead. Relief warred with apprehension. She was prepared for him to be angry, disappointed, yelling or cursing when she saw him walk in, but she wasn’t prepared for was the way the worry had drawn his expression tight, or the way he looked a little older as he crossed the space and pulled her into a deep hug.
“You scared the shit out of me when I couldn’t find you tonight,” he said, holding on a little longer, retreating to sit in the other chair.
“You were looking for me? Why?”
“You were supposed to show at the store, and you didn’t. Then we couldn’t get you on the phone or at Dr. Mason’s office, and I thought the worst, that something had happened with Bledsoe, or whoever killed Patrice had caught up with you,” he said calmly, but she detected the tension in his frame and radiating through every word. “Then I got word from Matt about Antoine Noble, and I have no idea what to do with this. Why don’t you have a lawyer in here?”
“I don’t need a lawyer. I didn’t do anything wrong. I have an alibi.”
“I heard. You were up at Harvard, doing some research or something?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Bledsoe, but things weren’t exactly good for talking about it after the call from Mason, and, well, you know.” She shrugged.
“We can talk about that later. So where were you all day?”
“After I got out of Bledsoe’s office, I was at an internet café, and then I went to the library to look at. . .uh, I needed to do some research in the archives, you know. Nothing important. But I had to sign in for the day, and probably twenty people saw me at the café”
“Know any of them?”
“No. They were just other people there, like me. One of the clerks might remember. Then I went to the library, and I tried to get to the store, but realized I was running late, so I went directly to Dr. Mason’s, but I missed him. He canceled our appointment, but I ended up meeting him in Charlestown instead. I was with him and his crew the rest of the night, which I’m sure they’ve confirmed.”
“Why couldn’t we reach you?”
“I’d shut off my phone while I was with Dr. Mason. He was checking out a site, you know, for a paranormal investigation.” She jerked upright, suddenly alert, running a hand through her hair. “Oh, God, how could I forget this? It’s just been such a crazy day,” she said excitedly.
“Forget what?”
“There was a man, in the shop, the other day. Margaret saw him, too. And I saw him on campus, and on the train, and I think he was following me. I ran, and he chased me. I ducked into a shop, the herb shop, and the girl there, Claire, showed me a back way out, so I could make it to Dr. Mason’s office.”
“Who was this man? You recognize him?”
“No, but I can describe him. He was real, Roger, and he was following me. He would have known where I was all day. Maybe he’s the killer!”
“And you couldn’t call to tell anyone this? Someone is following you, and you don’t call for help? You don’t call me?”
She stiffened, the warm fuzzies morphing into prickly things. “I wasn’t aware I had to check in with my every move.”
“When there’s a killer out there, and you insist on putting yourself in harm’s way, yes, you do.”
“Actually, no, I don’t,” she maintained stubbornly, even though she was sorry she’d worried him, she wasn’t about to admit it any more than she had in the face of his dictatorial attitude. “I am not responsible to you, Roger. We’ve been through a lot together, but I am my own person, and I think you need to remember that. I also thought we’d agreed to get a little space while this was working its way out.”
“Fine. Listen, did Patrice ever mention anything about some receipts to you? For necklaces?”
Sophie frowned and shook her head. “Receipts?” It dawned on her, and she nodded. “Actually, yes, there was a receipt. She had it stuffed in her pocket and when I was reading for her, she remembered she had it, said it was for her mother’s necklaces, and she put it in her purse so she wouldn’t lose it.” She paused. “That was from Noble’s. Do you think that’s why she was killed? For the receipt?”
Roger looked pensive, bordering on worried. “Maybe. You’re sure she put it in her purse? It might have dropped on the floor, where anyone who came in the store could have found it, picked it up by mistake? Maybe this guy who was following you?”
“No, I definitely watched her put it in her purse. Roger, what’s this about? What are you getting at?”
The door opened suddenly, and Pereski walked in, nodding to Roger, who didn’t get up. “Thanks, Roger. I’ll take it from here,” Pereski said in such a way that Sophie’s hands turned cold first, the iciness working its way up to her voice as it became clear what was going on
“Wait. You were interrogating me? For him?”
Roger didn’t look in the least repentant. “This has all been hard on you. I thought it would be easier for you to talk to me.”
“You mean you thought I would say more to you, things I might hold back from him,” she accused in a voice that didn’t quite sound like her own. “Is that even legal? Isn’t that some kind of entrapment? Using my lover to lure me into saying things?”
“No, Sophie, it’s not like that-”
“You can go now, Rog,” Matt said more pointedly and Roger turned on him.
“I’ll tell you when I’m ready to go, Matt,” he said in the same tone, and this time, Matt didn’t argue, but cast an irritated glance toward the mirror. Sophie thought she might throw up.
“No, I’d rather you leave, too. I’m fine. In fact, I’d rather deal with Matt,” she said scathingly.
“Sophie, I was trying to help. To make it easier-”
“Yeah, thanks for that.” She stared at him without saying another word, and didn’t plan to.
Nodding in stiff resignation, Roger stood and moved to the door, stopping to say something very quietly to Pereski, something that Sophie couldn’t hear, but which had the other detective stiffening his back, his eyes angry and maybe a bit worried.
When Roger left, she looked at Pereski directly and crossed her arms over her chest ready to do battle instead of admitting that she was falling apart inside from the impact of Roger’s betrayal.
“So, I assume you’ve checked my alibis? Note that I have more than one, by the way.”
Pereski nodded. “Sure, that’s true, while we have to wait until morning to confirm some of it, but all of this is pretty easy to poke holes in Sophie. You must know that.”
“What do you mean?”
“We can trace your logins at the internet café. You were on the computer there from a little after noon until one, and you signed in at Pusey Library at one-fifteen. Antoine Noble was killed around two-two-thirty, and you could have slipped away any time in between your sign-ins, and you never signed out of the library. While you were there, you had plenty of time alone. There’s more than enough opportunity to slip over to Noble’s to get the job done, change or ditch
your clothes, hide the necklaces, and go on with your day. It’s plausible. Added to the circumstances of the other murder, it’s becoming more and more plausible. Besides, we have this,” he said with a smack of satisfaction. “We found it on the counter.”
He shoved a copy of a receipt contained in an evidence bag across the table at her. Sophie looked at it, seeing the name S. Turner scrawled on the line.
“I never signed that. It’s not even my handwriting.”
“We’ll have an expert look at it, but people can change their handwriting.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Some might say the same for you.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“We spoke with Dr. Thomas, who said that you came in for a check-up, and that he had prescribed some anti-depressants, meds to stabilize you. And this Dr. Mason, he’s a psychologist?”
Sophie knew that would come back to bite her in the ass and didn’t reply. What could she say? “Yes, he is, though I wasn’t seeing him in that capacity.”
Pereski went on. “Well, Roger is concerned, which is why he thought he could talk to you, and not get you more. . .upset. But what are you so upset about, Sophie, that’d you’d be seeing a shrink? That you need meds to calm you down? What’s going on inside that pretty little head of yours?” Pereski inquired.
She said nothing, and he sighed, shaking his head as if she were a recalcitrant teen.
“We have the receipt, which, by your own admission, Patrice Bledsoe had and showed you when you read for her—before she died—and that receipt was no longer in her possession when her effects were cataloged. You had opportunity to kill Antoine Noble, and the necklaces for which the receipt was needed are gone. Connecting the dots isn’t difficult.”
“None of that makes me a killer. What about the man who was following me? I assume you heard me tell Roger.”
“Very convenient, don’t you think?”
“He was there, and he chased me.”
“Okay fine. We’ll get his description later,” Pereski said with notable lack of interest. “Maybe this mystery man is a computer hacker like you? It’s not a huge leap to assume that the killer is a person who had the technical skills to hack into the store’s security system and wipe the digital recordings, resetting the system entirely? Your advisor, Professor Fitzsimmons, says you’re particularly talented with that kind of thing, and moreover, the system you were supposed to be working with for your midterm project is very similar to the one the store was using. A little extra credit work, Sophie?”
Past Tense Page 10
