The Summoning: A gripping psychological thriller (Secrets of Redemption Book 4)

by Michele PW (Pariza Wacek)

  It was a clear, beautiful day. Not too hot, not too cold. The sun shone down, and a gentle breeze perfumed with the scent of marigolds, geraniums, and fresh grass ruffled my hair. Despite my troubled mind, I couldn’t help but enjoy the day. The smog, pollution, and noise of New York couldn’t compare to this. Not even Central Park.

  “Are you willing to pay the price?”

  The voice wasn’t much louder than a whisper, and for a moment, I thought I had imagined it. It sounded so much like my dream and the talking cat that I couldn’t help but cringe.

  “Are you willing to pay the price?”

  I shivered. The sun went behind the clouds, plunging the day into sudden darkness. The voice was louder, more incessant. I paused, looked around. I was alone on the street except for a homeless person who was bent over a shopping cart loaded with overflowing bags and boxes.

  I was about to resume walking toward Aunt May’s when the homeless person straightened up and turned to face me. “Are you willing to pay the price?”

  She wore layers and layers of colorful-yet-ragged clothes, even though it wasn’t all that cold. It was difficult to tell from her face how old she was as it was covered with dirt, old food, and who knows what else.

  “What price?”

  She smiled, revealing stained teeth. “The price for your destiny,” she hissed.

  Goosebumps rose on the back of my neck and down my spine. A sudden cold breeze whipped through my hair. A crow cawed as it landed on the street, its beady eye watching me.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked through numb lips.

  Her smile stretched further, cracking the skin around her mouth and causing flecks of dirt and crumbs to fall to the ground. “It’s here,” she said, gesturing with her arms. “It’s all right here.”

  The crow cawed again, hopping over to a balled-up fast-food bag stuck in the gutter and pulling at it. The homeless woman’s head snapped around. “You again,” she said to the crow. “Get away from me. Get away. Stop following me,” she shrieked, waving her arms as she stumbled toward the crow. The crow jerked at the bag again before reluctantly abandoning it, hopping a few feet away.

  I quickly took advantage of the commotion to hurry past her. The crow turned its head as I passed, its beady eyes studying me. It reminded me of those movies when a witch or warlock used a crow to spy on people.

  I shivered again and sped up. I definitely was letting my imagination run away with me.

  By the time I reached Aunt May’s, I was sweaty and out of breath, and my hair stuck to the back of my neck while rivets of sweat dripped down my spine. The sun was out again, shining with a vengeance, as if to make up for lost time.

  “Hey Charlie,” Claire called out. She was pouring a cup of coffee in a tall cardboard container. A tired-looking cop stood in front of her wiping his face with a paper napkin. “Perfect timing. I’m about to go on break. Grab a table and I’ll join you.”

  I had my pick of spots since the diner was mostly empty; there was just a handful of diners finishing their meal. It appeared the lunch rush was over. I slid into a booth, trying to figure out how I felt about having company. On one hand, I genuinely liked Claire and thought if I were to stay in Redemption, we could be good friends. On the other hand, I really wanted to be alone to sort out a plan.

  Claire handed me a menu. “I can put your order in if you want. What do you want to drink?”

  “A Diet Coke,” I said, quickly scanning down the menu. “And a tuna melt and fries.”

  She disappeared to fetch our drinks and put in my order. I decided to take a minute to go to the bathroom so I could wash my hands. I was hot and sticky, but more than that, I felt dirty. Between the phone booth and the strange encounter with the homeless women, it was like a thin layer of grime had stuck to my skin.

  When I returned, Claire had a Diet Coke in front of both of us, plus a club sandwich for her. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said, dabbing a fry in ketchup. “I only get thirty minutes.”

  I waved my hand, although watching her was making me really hungry. “Of course.”

  “Sue will bring your order out when it’s ready,” she said, tucking a few strands of loose strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear. “I’m so glad you stopped in. I’ve been dying to ask you. What happened last night?”

  I picked up my straw and started fiddling with the paper wrapping. “What do you mean?”

  “When you left, silly. Did that guy from the bar follow you?”

  I gave her a sharp look. How could Claire possibly know about that guy? “Did Jonathan tell you?”

  Her eyes widened with relief. “Oh, good. He was with you. I was hoping you weren’t alone.”

  “I don’t understand. If Jonathan didn’t tell you, how did you know?”

  She took a bit bite of her sandwich and paused a moment to chew. “The cops found him,” she said, around the mouthful. “On the street last night.”

  “Was he okay?”

  She nodded, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “He will be. They took him to the hospital to get checked out. So, what happened?”

  I shrugged. “Not much to tell. I told Jonathan I was fine and could walk myself home, but that guy followed me. Luckily, Jonathan noticed and came to my rescue.”

  “A regular white knight, our Jonathan.” There was something about the way she said it that made me think it wasn’t a compliment.

  “What do you mean?”

  She shook her head, which was bent over her plate so I couldn’t see her eyes. “It’s nothing,” she said. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything. Speaking of Jonathan, have you gotten an update about your car?”

  I groaned. “Unfortunately, yes.” Despite my intentions to not say anything, I found myself telling Claire everything Jonathan had told me about the car. While I was talking, Sue brought out my lunch, putting it in front of me with a quick smile, careful not to interrupt.

  When I paused to take a breath, Claire sighed, shaking her head sadly. “Cars are just the worst. I hate taking mine in for anything. It always ends up being three times what I think.”

  “Yeah, it was bad enough when it was just the transmission, but now with new brakes and everything else? I may have to promise my firstborn.”

  Claire smiled. “That’s for sure. So, how is this delay going to affect your plans? Are you going to have to cut everything short and go back to work? If you don’t mind my asking,” she added, almost apologetically.

  I played with a french fry. “No, it’s fine. I used to work, but I quit when I got engaged.”

  Claire’s eyes widened. “You’re engaged?”

  I winced. “Not anymore. That’s actually why I decided to go on this road trip. I wanted to clear my head after everything happened. Figure out what I’m going to do next.”

  Claire’s face fell. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  “Don’t be. It was for the best.”

  Claire’s face screwed up like she wanted to ask me more questions, but instead she said, “Well, at least you don’t have to worry about the time being away, although this probably cuts into your vacation budget.”

  I sighed. “Destroys it, actually. I’m trying to figure out how to make it all work.”

  Claire popped the last bite of sandwich into her mouth. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you come over for dinner? I get off at five. Meet me here, and I’ll drive you to my house.”

  I was already shaking my head. “Oh, no. I couldn’t impose.”

  “You’re not imposing. I’d love to have you. Doug’s not home, and there’s nothing good on TV.” She laughed and nudged my hand. “I’m kidding. It would be fun.”

  “Yeah, but how will I get back to my hotel?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll drive you back. It’s no problem. I mean, dinner won’t be much. I’ve got some chicken and
beer and wine. I may have some hamburger as well, if you’d prefer.”

  “Chicken is fine,” I said. “But ...”

  “No ‘buts;’ just say ‘yes.’”

  Even though I was feeling like I was somehow taking advantage of Claire, her enthusiasm was contagious. And it would be nice to have a home-cooked meal rather than more restaurant food. I’d be getting enough of those over the next week. “Let me bring something, or buy you lunch,” I said.

  She shook her head as she stood up, gathering her dishes. “No need for that. The diner pays for my meal. Unfortunately, I have to cut my break short. We’re shorthanded right now. Liz is on maternity leave for another month. Hey, wait a second.” She paused, holding her plate and glass in one hand. “Would you be interested in a job?”

  I stared at her. “What?”

  “A job. Here. Filling in for Liz.”

  “But,” I stuttered. “I’m not going to be here very long. Only a week or so until my car is fixed.”

  “Even a week would make a difference,” Claire said. “The person who was going to fill in fell through, so a week would be a godsend.”

  “But I’ve never waitressed before.”

  “You can bus tables, right? Be a runner and bring food out? Refill coffee and drinks? All that would be a huge help. The pay isn’t much, but we all share tips. Plus, you get a meal for every shift you work. And if you work a double, you get two.”

  “I don’t know,” I said hesitantly, but inside, my mind was racing. A temporary job. Could that be the answer I was looking for?

  Someone called Claire’s name, and she yelled she’d be there in a second. “Think about it,” she said over her shoulder. “We can talk more about it tonight.”

  A job. I turned the idea over and over in my head as I finished my sandwich.

  It had never occurred to me to get a job. Growing up, jobs were not encouraged. My sisters and I were groomed to find good husbands. Not so we could be lazy—far from it. Our way of contributing to society was through volunteer work and active board seats as we took care of our husbands and children.

  None of our trust funds were large enough for us to live on without having some sort of income. The unspoken rule was that it was for retirement and emergencies. Even if I could safely pull it all out without Alan tracking me, I wouldn’t be able to drive around the country forever, living in hotel rooms and eating on the road.

  But, if I were to instead find temporary jobs ...

  It’s not like I had anything else to do. I could easily work every day, and even take on double shifts. I never minded working. And, if I could make enough to cover my hotel and meals, even if I almost covered them, I could have Annabelle pay for the repairs and use the money she sent for traveling to a new town and finding a new job.

  It was like looking into a kaleidoscope and turning the lens until the entire picture came into focus. My future had just shifted, and I could now see a new long-term option—traveling from town to town and earning enough money to stay off the grid. Now, I wouldn’t have to worry about accessing my trust fund or calling my sister. I could take care of myself, for as long as I needed to. Until I was safe.

  I watched Claire joke with a couple of customers, two elderly women loaded down with shopping bags who appeared to be taking a break for coffee and homemade pie, and I felt a yearning in my chest. I wished I could stay longer … maybe even the full month until Liz was back. But I knew that wasn’t in the cards. The moment Annabelle figured out I wasn’t coming home, she would be on the phone with Alan.

  No, I couldn’t risk it. I would have to leave. At least for a while. Maybe a year or so. Maybe at some point I could come back, but not right away.

  The safest thing I could do for everyone’s sake was to leave. As soon as I could.

  Chapter 9

  “Ready?” Claire asked me, adjusting the strap of her purse around her neck. She still wore her waitress uniform, jeans and a white tee shirt, but her apron was off.

  “Yep,” I said.

  “Let’s do it.” Claire pushed open the door to Aunt May’s, and I followed her out.

  The sun was starting to dip in the sky, casting shadows against the sidewalk. The air was cooler as well, and I was glad I went back to the hotel to fetch my favorite soft-as-butter leather jacket.

  In the distance, I saw a figure hunched over what appeared to be a shopping cart. The sun was behind the figure, casting it in shadow, so all I could see was the silhouette. Even though it was impossible to tell if it was the same woman who had accosted me earlier, watching the figure struggle with the shopping cart left me feeling a deep sense of unease.

  “Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice bright. “I thought Redemption was a safe place.”

  Claire had been digging in her purse for her keys, but she half-turned to eye me. “It is. Well, as safe as any place nowadays. Why?”

  “Well, first that guy followed me from the bar last night, and earlier today, a homeless woman started yelling at me.”

  “Oh, you must mean Maude,” Claire said. “She’s harmless. Don’t let her get to you.”

  I blinked. “You know her name?”

  Claire fished her keys out with a flourish. “Oh yes. Everyone knows Maude. She’s been on the streets for well, since forever, I think.” Claire laughed as she beckoned me to where her old blue Chevy was parked. “You’ll meet her eventually. She usually stops by Aunt May’s at least once a day for a meal.”

  I was floored. “You guys do that?” I was trying to imagine my favorite diner in New York giving even one free meal to a homeless person. Of course, in their defense, they would probably end up spending all their time giving out free meals rather than running a business.

  Claire shrugged as she unlocked my door. “Everyone takes care of her. She’s not well. She has some sort of mental illness, untreated of course.”

  “Instead of giving her food, why don’t you give her medicine?” I asked, opening the door and getting in. Even though it was cool outside, the inside had clearly been baking in the sun all day and had that thick, hot-car odor.

  Claire let out a short bark of laughter. “You think we haven’t tried? Trust me, everyone has. She refuses. Says they’re poisoning her or tracking her or something. Cleary paranoid. We all do our best. We make sure she’s fed and has a warm, dry place to sleep when the weather is bad. It’s not ideal, but she’s been trucking around without many issues for years now. What do you do? We can’t force her to take her meds.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it like that before,” I said. “Needless to say, things are a bit different where I’m from.”

  Claire eyed me before adjusting her sunglasses and putting her key in the ignition. “That’s probably an understatement. Hey, I thought I’d give you a quick tour of the town before I take you home. You’re not in any real hurry for dinner, right?”

  “Not in the least,” I said, sitting back against the cloth interior. “That tuna melt was filling.”

  Claire gave me a quick smile and started the car. She drove around downtown pointing out a few local hot spots near the lake, including a place up a hill called “The Rock” where the teenagers liked to hang out. She chattered like a tour guide the entire time, pointing out restaurants and shops, as well as what to avoid and what to definitely try. We both rolled down our windows to allow the fresh breeze in, which carried with it the scents of car exhaust, flowering crab apple blossoms, and even a whiff of freshly made pizza as we drove by Rocky’s.

  “I have one more surprise,” she said mysteriously, driving through a residential neighborhood full of children playing. “We’re really close to my house, so it won’t take long.”

  In one yard, a couple of youngsters were running through a sprinkler, screaming and laughing. “Kind of cold for that,” Claire remarked as we passed them. “Although it was such a brutal winter, even t
hough there wasn’t much snow. Sucked for the kids. I guess they were bound and determined to put their bathing suits on as soon as they could.”

  I stared at the kids, feeling a lump in my throat. I wanted to tell Claire to never mind about the surprise … to just go to her house, or better yet, to take me back to my hotel, but I couldn’t make my mouth work. I was paralyzed, unable to move or talk, as Claire blithely drove me to what somehow felt like my doom.

  She turned down a cul-de-sac. On one side was a huge expanse of farmland, and in the distance, I could make out a farmer ploughing the field. On the other side were thick, dense woods with huge mature trees showcasing their new leaves for the spring.

  “There,” Claire said, pulling over to the curb. “That’s the Witch House, Redemption’s most ‘famous’ haunted house. Not that anything in Redemption is all that famous.” She snickered.

  I was barely paying attention to her; I was completely transfixed by the house.

  It was the house—from my dreams.

  A huge, rambling farmhouse with white siding and black shutters. A red porch. Towering pine trees next to it, and bushes lining the front.

  Before I realized I was moving, I was out of the car and standing on the sidewalk in front of it. Birds chirped around me, and the breeze pushed my hair.

  It actually existed.

  How could I dream of a house I had never seen before in my life?

  The more I stared at it, the more I noticed how rundown it was. The bushes were straggly, and the grass was faded and overgrown with patchy yellow spots. A shutter on the second floor hung crookedly. The porch swing needed a new coat of paint.

  None of it mattered. It was the house.

  It was MY house.

  “Charlie?” Claire was next to me, speaking into my ear. “Are you okay?”