Journey of Souls (The Mortality Series)

by Melanie S. Pronia

  The waiter seated them in a quiet, candlelit corner, which was almost too cozy for Justine's comfort. She did have to give Patrick points, however; he pulled out her chair for her and waited until she was completely situated before taking his own. His mother had at least raised him with manners, she decided. However, the “gentleman” part was still in question.

  Patrick's blue eyes danced like intriguing sapphire embers, stabbing into Justine's heart with a powerful force. He admired her heart-shaped pixie face, emerald eyes, silky chestnut hair, and the pointed stubborn chin that could be called nothing short of clever. She's beautiful, he thought. Naturally, tentatively, like a wild flower, beautiful just about to fully bloom.

  "Would you like a glass of wine, I know that after today I could use one,” he smoothly asked.

  "Oh, I don't know, then I'll get all tired and not want to research," Justine sighed, considering it.

  "Well that could be a good thing, maybe you just need to relax," he added.

  "Relaxing is a waste of time, my friend. Besides, I have a mind that requires being fed constantly." It was her best attempt to sound strong-minded and confident.

  "You're smart and gorgeous, this I already know."

  Justine flushed and felt herself sliding, realizing that it was getting harder to hold back each time from viewing him as a professional peer instead of the gorgeous man that he was. What really bothered her is that she was starting to question why she was holding back. She had her Masters degree. She was not so far from the age of 30. What was she waiting for? What was the point?

  As the waiter approached, the spark in Patrick's eyes ignited into flames as he ordered a sweet Asti wine. He then deviously smiled at the beautiful woman sitting innocently across from him.

  "Oh, but I can't have wine!" Justine exclaimed.

  Patrick chuckled mischievously.

  "One glass won't hurt," he replied lightly.

  The delicious meal went well, each of them sharing a bite from the other’s plate with separate, but identical, forks, and making small but comfortable talk. Justine's one glass of wine turned into three and she was feeling the warm indulgence of it.

  As they were walking out, Patrick asked,

  "Where do you live?" The question quickly sobered Justine.

  "Orange Park”, she paused, “Why?" she asked intently.

  Patrick gave her a knowing smile. "Because, I was thinking that we should skip the library tonight and instead check out the internet for any leads.”

  For the second time in one day, Justine was being forced to make a decision that might affect her working relationship with this attractive man. She stared up at him contemplatively, and weighed the varying options, her bold green eyes revealing a weakness, a wistfulness, that simply melted him.

  "Look, I promise you I won't touch you, well at least I promise I'll try not to. And I don't bite, unless you want me to." The sincere little boy in Patrick was back with his charming, wistful smile.

  "Okay, but no touching."

  Justine thanked the gods that she was a tidy housekeeper when she let Patrick into her apartment. She flipped on the lights and busied herself booting up the computer as Patrick looked around at her spacious furnishings done in bold, solid colors. The apartment's decor was a clever combination of modern rivaling with classic. Patrick couldn't help but smell the lovely, clean feminine scent of the woman who lived there.

  Justine grabbed a brand new notebook, then turned and thought to grab another for Patrick. She bought them in bulk and found them an invaluable resource, but insisted on only buying recycled paper.

  To Justine's delight and appreciation, Patrick seemed to be taking the research seriously as he pulled one of the dinette chairs up to the computer desk next to hers. Justine smiled at him as she began to access the World Wide Web.

  "Where do I start?" she mused, more to herself than to him.

  The ringing of the phone startled both of them as Justine was concentrating on the necessary keywords while Patrick was daydreaming about the silken gloss of her hair and how glorious it would feel in his hands, against his cheek, running over his flesh.

  "Hold on one second while I get that." She quickly jumped out of her chair and glanced at the caller I.D., not recognizing the number before she picked up the phone.

  "Hello?"

  "Yes, this is Officer O'Connell of the

  Jacksonville Sheriff's office, I'm trying to reach Justine Ramsey." The voice was serious and professional.

  "Hello, Officer O'Connell, this is Justine."

  A liquid warmth seemed to flow into the Officer's voice.

  "Justine, you asked me to call if I found out any information relating to the remains in the

  Timberbrook case."

  "Yes?" Justine had to keep herself from all but squealing.

  "Well, we have confirmed the bones are 30 years old, deceased age I mean. They belong to a young female child between the ages of five and eight." O'Connell paused before proceeding.

  "I did a search on the name Madeleine La Rue and I got a match. Arthur La Rue father, to Madeleine La Rue, was indicted on charges of abducting his seven year old daughter. The case was never solved, until now." Justine's mind was racing with both surprise and intrigue, peppered with sorrow.

  "He killed her?" Her voice was shrill and quivering with grief. Odd as it was, after having spoken to the young girl and seeing the life in her eyes, Justine felt as if she had known Madeleine.

  "That is the assumption we're making at this time. We've located the suspect, he's nearly seventy years old."

  "Oh, my god." The numbness and frustration hit her like a bomb. The beautiful little girl with a golden smile had been murdered by her own father.

  "Justine, are you there?"

  "Yes. Yes, I'm sorry, I'm just a little surprised."

  Again, there was warmth in O'Connell's voice.

  "I understand. Justine, I will call you when we know more." A breathy pause, then,

  "Thank you for your information. You've just helped solve a 30 year old crime." And with that, there was a quiet click on the other end of the line.

  Patrick noticed how pale Justine suddenly seemed to be. He stood up and guided her to the over stuffed cream-colored couch.

  "Is everything okay?" Gone was the look of seductive mirth. It was replaced with genuine concern.

  "The phone call was from the officer who took my statement last night at Timberbrook" Justine slowly, in detail, explained the events of the previous night and Officer O'Connell's revelations on the telephone.

  "Wow." Patrick said, falling back into the thick cushions on the couch.

  "Yeah."

  For a while the two of them sat in contemplative silence before Patrick noticed the adorable way that Justine had of nibbling on her full bottom lip. He raised a gentle hand and brushed the hair off of her face.

  In an instant their eyes were locked, and before Justine could prevent it or even question if she wanted to, Patrick's full, soft lips had gently descended upon hers. The kiss was warm and surprising in its softness. Justine felt her entire body begin to melt, but to her regrettable notice, the kiss ended nearly as quickly as it had begun.

  Patrick sat back, abruptly clearing his throat, but unable to clear the mood as easily.

  "I should be going." His voice sounded almost reluctant.

  Justine's heart burst with instant sorrow, but with her most determined voice, she replied, "Yes, I guess you should."

  It seemed an eternity as the two of them simply stared at one another. Blinding sapphire meeting shimmering emerald. The moment was lost in an undeniable desire and moment of intrigue and uncertainty.

  The inches between their mouths ever so slowly disintegrated as their kiss melded in them an understanding in a situation they were both completely unsure of.

  Patrick regrettably slid himself away, ending the enchanted kiss. He smiled warmly and stood to go, but stopped once more and turned to look at Justine before opening the
door.

  "I'll see you tomorrow, Justine, have a nice night." And like the wind, he was suddenly gone, and she was alone, suddenly so alone.

  Slowly, with heavy feet, Justine rose from the couch. Thoughts of a beer and a good book came to mind until she noticed that her computer was still turned on and appeared to be waiting anxiously for input from her.

  She stopped by the fridge and grabbed a cold bottled beer on her way to the computer, thinking to herself it had been a while since she had last checked her email. She opened her beer without taking a sip of it and typed in her User I.D. and Password. The computer let her know that she had five new emails. Probably just jokes and chain mail, Justine grumbled to herself as she read down the list of well-intended email, addressed from friends and family.

  That's weird, she thought to herself. Apparently she had sent herself an email. Justine sat back wondering. Certainly I wouldn't send myself an email and not remember it. And why would I even send myself an email?

  She clicked on the email to open it, there was no subject.

  Justine,

  You have to help your mother. I miss you baby.

  Love, Dad

  Justine whipped her chair back and suddenly stared around the room no longer feeling so alone.

  "Daddy?", she said aloud.

  She waited a moment longer, but wasn't surprised when she didn't hear a response. She then checked the time and date the email had been sent. The day after her graduation and at 6:00 P.M. She had been at the Timberbrook Train Station at that time.

  A sheen of cold sweat ran over her body, turning into bone daggering chills. Quickly she glanced at the time, just past 8:00. She got up and grabbed the phone off the kitchen counter where she had left it after her call from Officer O'Connell. Quickly, she dialed her mother's phone number, trying to ignore the explosive pounding of her heart.

  The phone rang several times before she finally heard her mother's slurred voice answer the phone.

  "Mom, did I wake you?"

  "Oh, hi, Justine, no, you didn't. I just couldn't find the phone. How are you honey?"

  Justine's heart sunk as she felt trapped in an all too recent yet regular occurrence as she listened to her mother tangle her tongue over each word she spoke.

  "Momma, are you drunk?"

  There was a raspy chuckle on the other end of the phone.

  "No, baby, just had a glass of wine or two." Alice paused, before continuing. "How is work going?" Her voice dipped sharply as she let out a slurred laugh.

  "It's good."

  "So you still haven't figured out it is nonsense, and picked back up the violin yet?"

  This time her laugh was full out and hurtful to both Justine's ears and heart, but she decided to ignore it and instead asked,

  "Mother, how much have you had to drink?"

  "I told you Justine, a glass of wine or two." There was a barely disguised edge of anger to Alice's voice.

  "I'm coming over, Mom."

  Justine stood up, already sliding her feet into her sandals.

  "No, Justine, you are not. I am going to bed." The hardness in her mother's voice surprised Justine.

  "You can come see me tomorrow after work. I'll make you dinner. I bet you're not eating right. Good night, Justine." Before Justine could get in a word edge wise she heard a soft click.

  Chapter Four

  Morning came too soon for Justine the next day. She struggled to get herself out of bed, while trying to convince herself that after a hot shower and a cup of coffee, the world would seem more appealing.

  She took longer preparing herself for the day, trying her hair a thousand different ways only to eventually decide to just leave it down and long. She wouldn't let herself even question why she was so concerned about her appearance. Sometimes, some thoughts are better left unthought, she told herself.

  Taped upon Conroy's office door was what looked like a hastily written note, in large, messy handwriting: Meet in the Briefing Room.

  She walked into the briefing room and found that only Liz had arrived so far. Quietly, she sat down and gave Liz her friendliest smile.

  "Good morning," Justine greeted. Liz briefly glanced up from the newspaper she was reading to acknowledge Justine's presence. To avoid the coldness in the room, Justine pulled out her notes from the previous day’s investigation.

  Conroy quickly entered the room, whistling happily.

  "Good morning, Liz. Hello Justine." He smiled excitedly slapping down a folded copy of the local news paper in front of Justine.

  "I thought you should see this." The newspaper was ear marked on the third page in. The headline read: “Spectrum Industries has hand in solving 30 year murder”. There was also a large black and white photo of the Timberbrook Train Station.

  Justine glanced up at Conroy.

  "Officer O'Connell called last night to let me know. The little girl, Madeleine, was killed by her own father," Conroy's eyes softened.

  "Justine, in this business we get a lot of flack, but when we, you in this instance, can help solve a crime it's not only great news, it's also great for Spectrum. You should be proud. If not for you, who knows if that evidence would ever have been recovered."

  "No, if not for Madeleine, she was the one who showed them to me."

  "True, but you're the only one she ever showed them to, at least as far as anyone knows."

  Justine couldn't quite accept the praise as graciously as it was given. It didn't make her a hero, she thought, just someone a desperate little girl had reached out to.

  Liz glanced up from her own paper just long enough to roll her eyes. Justine wasn't sure if it was meant conspiritually between her and Justine over Conroy’s delight, or if it was intended to indicate that she was not impressed.

  Sluggishly, Patrick made his way into the room, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. The second he entered, Liz beamed such a stunning smile at him that Justine couldn't help but feel inferior.

  "Good morning, Patrick," Liz said in a warm, sing-song voice.

  "Hi, Liz," The smile was forced but bloomed into a bright light as he turned his attention to Justine.

  "Hi," he said, his voice so intimate it seemed to reach out and caress her. Justine felt suddenly speared with the intent eyes of Conroy and Liz, almost as if they knew about the kiss that Patrick and she had shared.

  Thankfully, Brian hurried through the door and broke the tension, his voice loud and booming.

  "Good morning, everyone! We got some great stuff yesterday!"

  After Claudia and Rich finally entered, Conroy waited for everyone to quiet down before getting to business.

  "You all did a wonderful job yesterday. Today we spend it in the lab. Tomorrow we do a night investigation on the Park Street-Riverside Haunting."

  Night? Justine knew that there was no way she could sleep in that house, but then again she would be there to investigate, not sleep. The entire group was quiet upon hearing the news, almost as if a silent groan had hushed the room. Conroy looked at the faces before him.

  "Yes, I know that's the last thing any of us want to do. But we need to record some night investigation hours so that we can conclude our entire

  investigation. And, as you all know, night

  investigations always generate more positives, if indeed there is a positive there. Which, by the way, we have most definitely confirmed not only one entity but three." This time a gasp could easily be heard throughout the room.

  Conroy passed each of them typed reports that included both infrared pictures and digital pictures attached to each. The front cover of each report was labeled Park Street Investigation, Status:

  Confirmed/Still Open, Number of Entities:

  Approximately 3, 2 adult males and 1 young adult female.

  Conroy's eyes narrowed in on Justine and Patrick before he spoke.

  "Apparently, the two of you had a friend with you the entire time you investigated the interior of the house, a female entity that appeared to be between the ages of
eighteen through twenty five."

  Stunned, Patrick and Justine looked at one another in amazement.

  "She was in almost every picture you took inside the house."

  Conroy leaned forward, flipping through the written part of the report until he reached the photos, about 150 of them. In the photo group labeled as “JR & PM”, there was a young woman with large, sad eyes wearing a beautiful white peasant dress. In nearly every photo of the interior, she was either next to Justine or hovering in a nearby shadow.

  Justine jerked back, sensing all eyes on her. She suddenly felt both flushed and faint at the same time. Five sets of eyes appeared to be open with curiosity while one pair seemed to glare with vicious envy.

  "Tomorrow night, Justine, unless you wish to decline, you will be the core, the center of the investigation. We will be placing you in the dining room, by yourself for 15 minute intervals. There will be a camera constantly on you, and of course, we'll be running the EVP and thermal scans."

  Justine's eyes flew to Conroy. Was he crazy? Did the man think SHE was crazy? The core? The bait was more like it! Justine stood up so quickly she nearly knocked her chair over behind her.

  Frantically, Conroy closed in on Justine's visual plane blocking out everything else in the room but his face.

  "Justine, I can guarantee you that you will be safe." His soft brown eyes bored into her soul. "I promise."

  Justine considered herself a patient, calm women, but this was stretching it.

  "Why me? I'm brand new!" Her voice echoed the unsteadiness of her heart.

  "Justine you are a natural portal, which is probably what led you to get into this business in the first place." He stared at her, willing her heart to slow down, willing her to see his side of the situation. "We have done this type of thing before with Claudia and I assure you that we will employ extra safety measures. I'd do it myself, but I'm not appealing to them in the way that you are."

  "What type of measures?" Her voice was unsteady as she spoke, but she made an effort to rationalize by sitting back down before her knees collapsed out beneath her.

  "Salt."

  "Salt?" Had the whole team lost their minds?