“His accent is clearly West Coast. Maine people have a distinct accent, and West Coasters have one, too, though that one’s almost a non-accent. And when I asked him where he was from, he said Bangor. Everyone knows Bangor; that’s the first Maine city that comes to everyone’s mind. If he was going to lie, the least he could have done was to find a better town or city to come from, one more obscure.”
“I didn’t even think about a Maine accent. You’ve been there?”
“I have, but even if I hadn’t, I would know that people from Maine don’t sound like he does.”
Perhaps Freddie had only recently moved to Bangor, but according to the references, he’d worked in Connecticut, which was close to Maine in New England terms, I supposed. And the woman I spoke to had at first had an accent that struck me as odd and forced. We hadn’t made Freddie fill out another application, just give us a list of references. Perhaps we should have asked him for the full application. I wondered why we hadn’t.
“That is interesting,” I said, distracted. My suspicions were continuing to build, but giving those suspicions leverage because of unexpected or unusual accents was a waste of time. “But he really is friendly,” I thought aloud.
“Apparently serial killers are some of the friendliest people you’ll ever meet. You might want to keep that in mind.”
A chill raised goose bumps over my arms. “I hope he’s not a killer.”
“Someone is.”
I peered into the gloom but there was no longer any sign of Freddie. I looked at the building, and there were no apparent signs that ghosts and a chunk of the past resided right inside, but I knew that they did.
“Sometimes it feels like everything’s an illusion,” I said.
“Ah. I say it’s all about perception, not illusion,” Jake said.
I sighed. “So, how about we get out of here and you can tell me what your ghost-o-meter found and I’ll tell you about my adventure. Did your camera really . . . what, record something?”
“Maybe.”
Once inside the Nova and when the doors were locked, Jake said, “Don’t leave yet, just in case . . . well, look at this.” He pulled out the flip screen on the camera. “I was so busy watching you go into the building that I didn’t even think about recording it.”
“Did you see me disappear?”
“Yep. One minute there, the next gone. Wiiiiyald.”
“I bet.”
“Anyway, I started recording after that and look at what I got.”
“Is this scary?” I asked.
“Not really. It’s just interesting. No faces or forms, just lines. Here, look.”
Jake hit the play button and the screen was suddenly filled with gray static except for a red horizontal line cut through the middle of it.
“Is that what this is supposed to look like?” I asked.
“No. It’s a camcorder, but it catches . . . it’s just supposed to show you a picture of what I aimed it at just like any other recorder. I thought I was recording the building and the surrounding debris. But when I went to play it back, I saw only this. Just watch the red line.”
In another few seconds, the red line moved. It started to jump up and down. It reminded me of lines on a lie detector machine or perhaps a heart monitor found in hospital rooms.
“How long does this go on?” I asked.
Jake shrugged. “I stopped recording about five minutes after you went into the building. Nothing was happening out here and I wondered if I would see anything unusual on what I recorded, milky shadows, hot spots, something. This is what it got, so it’s either broken or it does something I didn’t know it did. I’ll need to research. I should have just let it roll because I never started it up again after Freddie stopped and introduced himself. So, I neither know how long it might have gone on nor do I know exactly how you reappeared, or if it would have recorded your reappearance. You want to do it again and I’ll try to record it?”
It didn’t take any thought for me to say, “No, I’m good.” Not totally needing the tether Gram’s presence provided was comforting but I didn’t want to push it. “So, it must have been seeing something, measuring some sort of energy.”
“I didn’t think that’s what it really was supposed to do, but that’s the conclusion I’ve come to, too. I truly don’t know. I’m afraid I purchased this when you first told me about Jerome, but I hadn’t done anything with it until tonight. I didn’t read the instructions well, didn’t expect much, but now I wish I would have read everything closely. I’m pretty darn interested in what this is showing. No matter. I’ll figure it out. Tell me what happened in there for you.”
I started the Nova and drove us back the short distance into town. I told Jake all about my visit with Gent, what he’d said, and why I didn’t want Gram with me. I told him about my conversations with Evan and Morris. I gave him as many details as I had and then I asked him if he would do some “Mary” research. He didn’t balk or laugh about how ambiguous the clue was, and he agreed to check into it.
“Here’s another thought, Betts. It seems pretty obvious to me that the Cylas family must be buried somewhere on the bakery property. Their bodies were, quote unquote, moved. They were never found. The dark smudges. The entire family is there—well, sometimes they are there. Doesn’t that make sense?”
“Maybe. I still don’t understand how all this ghost stuff works, but it could just be the last place they were alive. Jerome and Sally couldn’t get into places. This is my first go-around with ghosts who couldn’t leave some place.”
I’d stopped at an intersection that was on the edge of the downtown boardwalk while I told him what had happened in the bakery. It was a quiet night and we weren’t in anyone’s way. I was about to turn right to take him home, but just as I put my foot on the accelerator, he stopped me.
“Hey, isn’t that Freddie?” he said.
At the other end of the street, the far end of the boardwalk, a man seemed to hurry toward the Jasper Theater.
“It sure looks like him,” I said. “He was going the other direction. How did he get back to town so quickly? And where’s he going?”
“Looks like he’s heading down and across the street. He could be going into the back alley.”
Broken Rope performers stored their props and costumes in sheds behind the Main Street buildings. In between the sheds and the buildings was an alleyway that was a popular spot for breaks or grabbing some fresh air or spending some downtime.
I pulled out my cell phone and called Cliff, who answered on the first ring.
“Hey, meet you in about an hour?” he asked.
“Sure, but I need to tell you something I’m witnessing first.”
“Go.”
I told Cliff about running into Freddie, using Jake’s historical interests to briefly explain why we were at the bakery in the first place. Cliff knew about the questions we had regarding Freddie, but he didn’t indicate if he and Jim had looked at him any closer. After I told him about Freddie’s disappearance into the back alley, he assured me he’d check it out right away.
“Cliff will check it out. I’m not interested in chasing anyone down a dark alley,” I said to Jake as the call ended.
“Me, either.”
After dropping Jake off at his house, I took a detour on the way back to my own. The Tied and Branded was a busy hotel, and I thought that there must be other students staying there, at least temporarily. I was pretty sure Jake and I had seen Freddie, but not one hundred percent. I parked in the side parking lot and went inside to the front desk.
“Hi, hey, I was wondering if you could connect me to Freddie O’Bannon’s room,” I said as I put my hand on the house phone at the front desk. The desk was decorated with two large wagon wheels and someone had glued a spur onto the phone’s handset. The woman behind the counter looked flustered but she forced a friendly smile as she moved a computer mouse.
“It appears that we don’t have anyone by that name staying here,” she said.
�
�You sure?”
“Uh, yep, I’m sure,” she said after another long look at the screen. “No, no Freddie O’Bannon. Sorry.” As the phone rang, she looked at me with raised eyebrows.
“Thank you. Go ahead and get that.”
I wanted to call Cliff again, but if he was chasing or talking to Freddie, I didn’t want to interrupt.
I’d see him soon enough, or at least I hoped I would. I hoped Freddie hadn’t been up to something that might result in another tragedy. I hoped I’d called Cliff soon enough.
I hurried home and waited.
Chapter 13
I couldn’t sleep. I was exhausted but I couldn’t get my mind to shut down, to stop thinking about . . . everything.
I turned and looked at Cliff and smiled. He was a quiet sleeper who always placed his head on his clasped-together hands, just like those old-time pictures of children whose faces were always chubby and peaceful as they slept. I thought it was an endearing trait though Cliff claimed he was not a “cute” sleeper and I was making it all up.
Before we’d gone to bed, he had told me what had transpired between him and Freddie.
Cliff had found him in the alley behind the Jasper Theater. When asked what he was doing, Freddie said he was just looking around, just curious about the town. He hadn’t been able to sleep so he’d been roaming.
Cliff informed him that it was a little late to be “roaming,” particularly in the back alley. Then he offered—enthusiastically—to drive him back to the Tied and Branded. Freddie accepted the ride and Cliff observed Freddie going into his room. I’d asked Cliff a number of times if he was positive that Freddie had, in fact, entered a room. Cliff wasn’t doubtful, and his patience level lowered a little with each time I asked.
His last answer was something like, “One of the important police rules I learned had something to do with observation, being aware, and paying attention to details. I remembered that rule tonight, Betts, I promise.”
And when I asked if investigators found anything at the school, I’d managed to whittle away his patience so much that I got no words with his answer, just raised eyebrows.
But along with whatever might have been found at the school and Freddie and what was going on with the Tied and Branded’s faulty computer system, my mind couldn’t let go of Gent and his story, and someone named Mary. I knew I would have to talk to Gram, probably tell her about my subversive mission to speak with Gent alone. She wouldn’t be happy, but I’d deal with it.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Relax, relax, and let your mind go blank.
Suddenly, the scent of wood smoke filled my bedroom.
My eyes opened wide and I sat up with a jolt, rocking the bed and causing Cliff to stir slightly.
“Hello, Isabelle,” Jerome said. He was leaning against the door frame, and he tipped his hat as he smiled.
I was dumbstruck, frozen silent and in place for a good half a minute as I looked at the fully formed, fully dimensional cowboy ghost. He was as close to real as any ghost could be, his form filled out in the darkness. Rugged, that’s what he was. Good, old-fashioned rugged. Strong, put together just right, and topped off with the deepest, most beautiful and most pained blue eyes I’d ever seen. Even when he smiled, even when he was playful and kind of silly, his eyes were sorrowful. I suspected I knew what that sorrow was, the tragedy from his life, but at that particular moment, that half a minute when I was trying so hard to find my breath and find my voice, I wasn’t so sure.
Oh, God, there was something else, too. Just looking at him made my stupid heart flutter. I put my fist on that spot and hoped it would calm down.
And then I realized I wore only a skimpy tank top and some undies.
So the first words I said—quietly so as not to wake my living boyfriend—to the ghost I’d been pining away for were, “Uh, can you turn around a second?”
“Oh. Yes, ma’am.” Jerome turned and leaned his other shoulder against the door frame, but he dipped his head slightly, his ratty cowboy hat angling downward. “Sorry to surprise you like this, Isabelle.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered again. I looked at Cliff, who was soundly asleep, and then gently scooted out of bed. It was warm outside, but I reached to the bottom drawer in my antique dresser and pulled out a long-sleeved sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. I was overcompensating for almost flashing Jerome, but I felt the need to be covered. “I’m good now.”
He led with the cowboy hat as he turned around again. He seemed momentarily surprised by my attire but he quickly smiled. “Hello again, Isabelle.”
I smiled, too. “Hello, Jerome. You remember my name?”
He nodded. “I do. I remember everything.” He glanced at Cliff. “He can’t hear me, but even with all your whispering, he might hear you. Should we go into the kitchen?”
“I have a better idea. Come on.” I stepped awkwardly past him though the doorway and led him out of the front door and then to the small side yard next to my house.
“The woman who lives next door can’t hear a thing. We won’t disturb her. We won’t disturb anyone here.”
“Good plan.”
For another long moment, Jerome and I just stared at each other. I had so many questions; perhaps he did, too, but I wasn’t sure where to begin.
Finally, I said, “May I hug you?”
His eyebrows rose, but then he said, “Yes.”
I moved forward as I saw uncertainty flash in his eyes.
I put my arms around his waist and my cheek into his solid chest. At first, he seemed hesitant but then his arms closed gently around my shoulders. It was unlike any hug I’d ever experienced. I felt him and I was sure he felt me. We were in complete darkness after all. But the sense of touch had been only that—touch. There was no body heat coming from him and I wasn’t sure how much of my heat, the blood rushing way too quickly under my skin, he could feel. I stayed there just long enough to begin to feel guilty.
I disengaged and stepped back about a half a step too far. I laughed uncomfortably. “It’s good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too,” he said with a strained smile and a squint.
“Jerome.” I shook my head.
“What, Isabelle? Did I scare you? I thought maybe you’d be used to the ghosts by now. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not scared.”
Jerome laughed. “Bothered, then? Again, I’m sorry.”
“No, just . . . surprised maybe. Your timing is interesting.”
“You’re sweating up a storm and you’re as twitchy as a horse’s tail in a summer swarm of flies.”
It was my turn to laugh. I was sweating, he was right. The outfit I’d chosen and the warm evening made a bad combination. I wasn’t willing to take off the sweats though, so I’d have to deal with it. I was sure I was also twitchy from the overwhelming nervousness I felt, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that, either.
“Jerome! I’ve thought about you. I’ve wondered . . . I’ve wanted you to come back. I’ve . . . well, I think I developed a very unhealthy crush on you. It’s a little sick, I know, having feelings for someone who’s dead, but I can’t help it. I’ve tried to stop thinking about you. I’ve tried,” I gushed, but it felt good to get it out there.
Jerome rubbed at his jaw as I vented. The smile had left his eyes but the squint came back with a vengeance.
“I’m sorry, Isabelle. I’m truly sorry.”
“Wait—no, don’t be sorry anymore. No, I’m just explaining why I’m behaving this way. I’m not looking for you to have the same sorts of feelings.” His eyes flashed but then normalized quickly so I continued, “I know it’s impossible. It’s stupid. I just want you to know, to understand. There’s something that’s safe about it all, too. You’re dead, I’m not. I . . . aw, hell, I just needed to say it. To you.”
“Isabelle, I need to tell you something. It’s why I’m here. It’s why I came back, I’m sure.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling suddenly dragged to an
emotional halt.
“Darlin’, you’re in danger. I’m here to warn you that you need to watch yourself. Be careful.”
“In danger? You mean from the person who killed one of our students? Roger Riggins?”
“Oh, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know one of your students had been killed. That’s horrible, and, yes, of course, you should be careful. No, I’m talking about the Cylas family murderer. You need to stay away from the Cylas family and that old building.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand. Maybe you’ve forgotten how much time has passed. The Cylas family’s killer is surely dead by now.”
“No, Isabelle, I know exactly what time period it is and was. I know. And the Cylas family killer might very well be dead, but some things are just meant to be left alone, and this is one of them. I knew you were in danger. I’m back to tell you to be careful.”
I blinked. “Wait. You knew? Hang on. You remember? You said you remember everything from your last time here?”
“Everything.”
It was a good thing it was dark. The intensity with which he stared at me made me blush deeply. And it had just been one silly kiss.
Jerome took off his hat and ran his hand through his messy hair. I wondered if he knew that his hair never changed shape even after he ran his hand through it.
“Isabelle, I don’t completely understand why everything is different, but I do remember. Thank you for . . . your help.”
“You’re welcome.”
Jerome half smiled as he put the hat back on his head, this time it was tilted back a little, reminding me how young he could look.
“So they were killed, and their bodies were removed. It’s true, then?” I said.
“I think so.”
“Who killed them?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I wish I did. I’ve been trying to figure it out. If I do, I’ll let you know.”
“How do you know I’m in danger? How could I possibly be?”
“The same way I knew to save Missouri and her own mother from that fire all those years ago. That’s the best way I can explain it. I just knew.”
If Bread Could Rise to the Occasion Page 12
