by Rose Pressey
I’d never seen so much anger from someone. I backed away, unsure if he was ready to punch me. After a couple of seconds, I spun around and headed back to my trailer. His threat wouldn’t stop me from telling Caleb and Pierce about this. I’d done nothing to Danny to warrant a second threatening note. Or a first one, for that matter.
Based on his anger, I had to assume he was the one who’d left the notes. I didn’t even want to see if he was watching me or, heaven forbid, following me. Karla watched me again now too. She’d probably witnessed the whole scene with Danny. A slight grin appeared on her face before she finally went back to her craft work.
Maybe going to my parents’ house right now would be a good thing. I needed a break from the fair. I gathered up Van and his supplies from the trailer, and we hopped into the truck.
“Let’s get out of here, Van. Do you want to see your Pappy and Mamaw?” I asked.
He covered his eyes with his paws.
“Yes, I know they’re a bit quirky, but we love them.” I shoved the truck into DRIVE and pulled away from the fair.
I had the note with me, and I intended on letting Caleb and Pierce know about it as soon as possible. They probably wouldn’t believe me and would think that I’d been messing around Danny’s trailer again. They had to believe me at some point, though. It wasn’t like I failed to mention the truth that often. I always came clean when I’d done something they didn’t like.
As I drove down the road toward my parents’ house, I released a deep breath. It felt good to be away from the stress for a few minutes. Up ahead was the psychic’s place that I’d gone to with my best friend, Samantha Sutton—or Sammie, as everyone called her. I felt I needed to stop in once again. Maybe Madame Gerard could help me with all of this.
According to the truck’s dashboard clock, I had a bit of time to stop at the psychic’s place before I had to be at my parents’ house. They’d be upset if I was late, so I couldn’t stay long. Maybe Madame Gerard wasn’t even seeing clients right now.
I pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. “Okay, Van, we’re here to see Madame Gerard. You like her, remember?”
Again, he placed his paws up to his eyes as if he didn’t want to see.
“It’s okay, we won’t see any scary ghosts this time.” I picked him up and climbed out of the truck.
“Where are we?” Ama asked as she walked along beside me.
“Madame Gerard is a psychic medium. She talks to the spirit world. I bet she’ll be able to speak with you too.” I stepped up to the door.
The neon OPEN sign blinked. Other signs depicting palm reading and tarot cards covered the windows.
“You can see me and talk to me. Are you a psychic medium?” Ama asked.
I pushed on the doorbell. “Maybe. I guess I never thought about it.”
After a couple of minutes, the familiar sound of multiple locks clicking came from the other side of the door. I wasn’t sure why Madame Gerard felt she needed so many. What was she keeping out or in? The door eased open just an inch, and she peeked out around the edge. Our eyes met. Within seconds, she opened the door. The faintest of grins crossed her lips. I assumed that meant that she was happy to see me.
“Celeste, please come in,” she said with a wave of her hand.
Maybe Madame Gerard liked me after all.
Ama followed me as I stepped through the door. Surprisingly, Madame Gerard hadn’t acted as if she’d noticed Ama. I thought that would have been one of the first things she would have done. I’d brought a ghost to her door in the past, and she’d zoned in on the spirit right away. Maybe Madame Gerard was having an off day.
Madame Gerard gestured toward the room to the right, where she conducted all her supernatural business. A large round table took up the space in the middle of the room. Chairs circled it, and a white tablecloth was draped over the top. A crystal ball sat in the middle of the table. Ama trailed behind me as I stepped into the room, but she remained quiet as she peered with wide eyes. Madame Gerard still hadn’t noticed Ama. This was interesting. How long would it be until she picked up that there was a spirit in the room?
“Please have a seat, Celeste.” Madame Gerard pointed.
I slipped down onto one of the chairs and placed Van in the one beside me. He sniffed the air in Madame Gerard’s direction. She noticed him watching, and the right side of her mouth tilted up just a hint. As far as I knew, she wasn’t one for displaying affection. Madame Gerard walked over to the antique mahogany cabinet in the corner of the room and opened the double doors, displaying an assortment of candles. She reached for a couple of white ones. Ama stood beside the table as if she was unsure what to do next.
I gestured with a wave of my hand toward the chair on my left side. “You can sit in this chair if you’d like.”
Madame Gerard whipped around from the cabinet and focused her attention to the left of me. “Someone else is here.”
“I wondered when you would realize that,” I said.
Madame Gerard hurried back across the room and placed the candles on the table.
She narrowed her eyes. “Who is it?”
I studied Ama and said, “She came to me one day when I was painting down by the river. She lived on the land there.”
“A restless soul,” Madame Gerard said.
“She says she wants to help me find a killer, though I’m not sure why.”
“I’m sensing her energy now.” Madame Gerard closed her eyes. “She’s here not only to help you. There’s something else she needs.”
Ama’s brown eyes widened. “What is she talking about?”
“You’ve been in danger,” Madame Gerard said.
“I’m not in danger,” Ama said with a frown. “Am I in danger?”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
I knew Madame Gerard wasn’t talking about Ama.
Madame Gerard opened her eyes. “Not the spirit. You. Celeste. You’re in danger.”
“Why am I in danger?”
I had asked, although I probably knew the answer already, considering there was a killer running around and I was seeking that killer. That had put me in a bit of hot water.
“You are after something,” she said, staring into the crystal ball. “Or someone.”
“Yes, I suppose you could say that,” I said.
“But I think this something or someone you’re seeking will find you first, and that’s very dangerous.”
I released an audible gasp. “You’re saying I shouldn’t try to track down this person?”
“No, you should not.” She fixated squarely on me.
Would I follow her warning? In my mind, I didn’t have a choice. Besides, how dangerous could it be? Policemen were watching the fair. And I wasn’t doing anything too dangerous, just kind of snooping around a little.
“What makes you think it’s so dangerous?” I asked.
“The person you’re searching for is evil, and I don’t think they will tolerate much more of you snooping around.”
“Do you see this person in the crystal ball?” I pointed to it.
She waved her hands. “No, when someone is bad, all I see is a silhouette, as if the evil blocks out the features. Sometimes I’m able to get it to come through, but it takes a while, and it’s very draining.”
“You will let me know if you do find out?” I asked.
“I will absolutely let you know, but you will take my warning, right?” she asked.
“Yes, I will take your warning,” I said.
I had just lied to her, because I wasn’t going to take the warning seriously. Well, maybe seriously, but that didn’t mean that I would stop searching for the killer. Sometimes life was dangerous and risks had to be taken.
“Do you see anything else?” I asked, leaning forward and gazing into the crystal ball as if I would actually see something too.
Madame Gerard peered into the ball again. “There is nothing there. I’m sorry.”
CHAPTER 12
You
can barter with others. They might have services they can trade in exchange for a lovely haunted painting.
Madame Gerard had warned me about what I already knew. I had hoped for new information about the killer.
“There was a murder at the craft festival. I suppose you heard about that,” I said.
“Yes, I heard. You are there, and the killer is nearby.”
I had assumed that as well, although hearing it still sent a shiver down my spine.
“I want to find the killer before they have a chance to do this to someone else,” I said.
“The police are searching for the killer. I’m not sure that you need to do it,” she said.
Now she sounded like Caleb and Pierce.
“More help seems like a good thing to me,” I said.
“Not in this case.” Madame Gerard focused on me.
“Well, I guess I’d better go. I have to be at my parents’ house.” I stood up from the table.
“Tell your father to watch out for the hole that he dug in the backyard. He has a tendency to forget about the dangers around him,” Madame Gerard said.
I knew that, in this case, she meant the dangers that he created for himself.
“I’ll make sure to tell him. I doubt he’ll listen, though,” I said as I picked up Van.
Madame Gerard walked with me to the door. Ama trailed behind Madame Gerard. Once again, Madame Gerard had missed Ama. Either she wasn’t using all her energy to pick up on Ama or Ama was just good at blocking out Madame Gerard. I wondered if Ama did that on purpose.
“Please be safe, Celeste,” Madame Gerard said when I reached the door.
“I will,” I said.
Madame Gerard watched as I walked back to my truck. She still hadn’t seen Ama trailing along beside me or paid attention that she was still with me.
When we got in the truck, I asked, “Ama, are you intentionally hiding yourself from the psychic?”
“Not on purpose, but she didn’t seem to notice me much.” Ama beamed as if she was proud of her accomplishment.
“I guess some spirits are just trickier than others,” I said with a wink.
We headed down the road toward my parents’ house. Was Ama ever in for a treat when she met my family. I wasn’t sure if I should warn her ahead of time or just let her experience them without any previous knowledge. Sometimes it was better to be blissfully unaware of what was about to happen. After meeting my family, I wouldn’t be surprised if Ama left for good. I wouldn’t say that I would blame her if she did.
As we neared my parents’ house, I spotted smoke billowing into the sky. I knew right away that it had to be coming from their house.
“What do you think the smoke is for?” Ama asked.
“I have a feeling it’s not good.” I pushed the gas so that I would get there a bit sooner. Would the fire trucks be right behind me? When I pulled into the driveway, my brothers had something on fire in the front yard. I jumped out of the truck, leaving Van there for safekeeping until I could secure the area.
“What are you thinking? What are you doing?” I asked, putting my hands on my hips.
“Oh, hey, sis,” my brother Stevie said. “We were just having a little experiment.”
“One that’s gone wrong, I see,” I said.
Just then my mother came out the front door with the fire extinguisher. Ama stood beside me in shock. My mother calmly walked over to the fire. She doused the flames with the foam from the fire extinguisher.
She pointed a warning finger at my brothers. “Now knock it off.”
Without saying a word to me, she just walked back into the house.
I went over and smacked Stevie on the shoulder. “What’s the matter with you? Don’t you think mom doesn’t have enough to worry about with dad. She doesn’t need you all adding to the stress. Now stop the nonsense.”
“It was under control,” my other brother Hank said. “You worry too much.”
“Yeah, I worry about the house being burned down.”
“Do they do this all the time?” Ama asked.
“Yes, they do,” I said without thinking.
My brothers laughed, holding their stomachs for emphasis.
“She’s lost it again.” Stevie twirled his index finger next to his temple to demonstrate my level of insanity.
There was no way I wanted to tell them about Ama right now.
“Never mind,” I said as I headed for the house.
I stepped inside and called out for my mother.
“In the kitchen,” she yelled out when she heard the door.
Somehow, she’d always sensed when I would be around. It was like she had eyes in the back of her head. The smell of a mixture of foods filled the house. I knew there would be cornbread and pie. That was something that could be counted on at every family meal, as sure as the sun came up every day.
“Where’s Dad?” I asked as I stepped into the room.
The message from the psychic still played in my mind.
“He’s outside.” My mother pointed toward the backyard.
I raced over to the back door and scanned the area. My father was walking across the backyard. Things were getting ready to play out exactly as the psychic had said they would.
“Dad, stop,” I yelled.
“What in the world is going on?” my mother asked. “Why are you yelling?”
My father stopped in his tracks and peered over his shoulder. I ran out of the house and over to him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked with a scrunched brow.
I pointed at the yard. “Don’t you remember that hole you dug?”
He peered down. “I guess I was getting ready to step in it, huh?”
I pulled on his arm to put some distance between the hole and his foot.
“How did you know I was about to step in that?” he asked.
“I guess I just remembered,” I said.
“You’ve got your mother’s memory,” he said.
“Good thing you saved your father,” Ama said.
“What was that? Did you hear something? It sounded like a voice,” my father said.
Had my father heard Ama?
“I’m not sure,” I said.
He peered around. “Must have been your mother talking inside the house.”
My mother was soft-spoken, and he knew it, though she could be loud when it came to my brothers and my father. It was the only way they’d listen to her.
“Let’s get inside for dinner,” he said.
Ama followed us as we made our way across the yard to the kitchen door. My father scowled almost as if he sensed her. I’d never known him to pick up on anything supernatural. As a matter of fact, he never believed in that sort of thing. I wanted to tell him about the ghost, but he thought I was just using my vivid imagination anytime I mentioned the paranormal. I would just have to keep this to myself.
Delicious aromas struck me again as we neared the screen door. My mouth watered instantly. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I’d arrived. Van was in the kitchen, standing at my mother’s feet as she prepared the food. I’d have to watch my dad because he always wanted to share food with Van. Then Van would end up with a bellyache.
My brothers burst through from the living room. Even though my mother tried to remind them of the table manners she’d taught them as children, they mostly ignored her instructions. At least they used silverware and napkins. That was probably as much as we could hope for from them. They sat down at the table and stuffed the napkins into the front of their shirt collars. They grabbed their forks and stabbed at the chicken breasts on the platter.
“Slow down, guys, the chickens are already dead,” I said.
“Funny,” my bother said as he slapped a pound of mashed potatoes onto his plate.
Ama stood by the kitchen door and watched the scene unfold. Would my family scare a ghost away? Watching my brothers’ lack of table manners would be likely to frighten the paranormal world.
“What’s
going on at that craft fair?” my father asked as he reached for the potatoes.
My mother took them away after he went back for a second scoop.
“It’s good. I’ve sold quite a few paintings,” I said.
“Not that . . . I want to know about the murder and why you’re still hanging around there,” my father said.
“She’s crazy, that’s why,” Stevie said.
“Don’t talk about your sister like that,” my mother warned.
“I have to sell my art,” I said as I pushed the food around the plate with my fork.
“You don’t want to die in the process,” my father said.
“No, of course not. There are detectives there, so I think it’s safe.” I poked at my food with my fork.
“Oh, she thinks it’s safe, so that should make us feel better,” Hank said.
“Is one of the detectives Caleb?” my mother asked with a wink.
“I still don’t know if I trust that guy. He wasn’t truthful in the beginning,” my father said, gesturing with his fork.
“He was undercover, so he couldn’t tell me he was a detective,” I said. “And yes, he is there now. Along with Pierce.”
My parents had met Caleb. The fact that he still talked to me after meeting my family said something about Caleb. My family hadn’t met Pierce yet. I had to pace myself with introducing them to friends.
“Pierce? What is he, a movie star?” Stevie asked.
I scowled. “No, he’s with the FBI now.”
Hank held his hands up. “I hope he doesn’t arrest me.”
I rolled my eyes. And they wondered why I didn’t want to come to dinner.
“What are they doing to find the killer?” my father asked.
Thank goodness, he didn’t know that I’d been trying to find the killer too. Plus, I didn’t want them to know that I had received threatening notes. They would force me to leave the craft fair.
“They have been interviewing people,” I said, trying to be vague.
“Like who?” my mother asked.
“They don’t tell me the specifics,” I said.
My mother raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe that. You talk to Caleb, and probably this Pierce, all the time. Plus, you are nosy. I’ve seen the text messages on your phone.”
