“Well, Mark, Michael, Amy, Greg from the grocery store, um… Scott, Mark’s client…. Scott, Scott, Scott… Oh my God… Oh my God!” Grace’s eyes grew wide, as the realization hit her like a ton of bricks. “I know who that voice belongs to! I know… Oh my God… Christie.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Barb is onto me,” Grace told Mark as they made their way down a side street that joined The Spray’s back alley.
“I’m pretty sure Barb has always been onto you, but I think a part of her doesn’t even want to know what you are up to. If you told her about the visions, I think it’s safe to say she would laugh hysterically.”
Grace and Mark pressed their bodies to the back of a sandwich shop as a group of bike riders passed them in a flurry.
“Slow down!” Mark joked to the leader, who happened to be a client.
“So, any ideas how I can approach Christie about her mystery call?”
“I’m not getting involved in that one.” Mark held up his hands in front before he pulled open The Spray’s back door. “I gotta stay outta this one if I want to keep Scott as a client. Just try to be nonchalant about it when you ask her. Maybe tell her you were reviewing old tapes or something.”
“Well, you guys must be turning into regulars if you think it’s okay to enter through the back door.” Marty looked over her shoulder from the bar, where she was sliding a shot of whiskey toward a man with wrinkles so deep they looked like they’d been carved into his skin with a knife. The man held up the shot glass before him, then tipped his head back and poured the liquid into his open mouth. His ruddy cheeks shook as the poison went down. After swiping a hand across his lips, he smacked his palms on the bar and pushed himself up before staggering to the front door.
“You got one heck of a wine selection,” Grace said as she slid into the newly empty seat. Mark dropped onto the stool beside her and arranged his feet on the bars so his legs splayed out.
“I’ll take that as sarcasm.” Marty poured a glass of Sutter Home red wine and presented it to Grace with a small napkin. “This is as fancy as I’m gonna get. You’re lucky I like you.”
“Wow, you got a napkin,” Mark joked. “I’ll take a Heineken, please.”
“So, what are you kids up to?”
“Date night.” Grace took a sip of her wine, using her tongue to move around the bits of cork that had seeped into her glass. The wine was as stale as the smell in the bar.
Grace ran her eyes from one end of the bar to the next. It wasn’t as busy as it had been in the past, and Judy McNeil’s seat at the opposite end of the bar was empty.
“Actually, you might be able to help us with our future date nights. Grace and I want to take sailing lessons, and we heard some guy named Stephen Cassidy is like a legend when it comes to sailing. Do you know how we can find him?”
“Surfer Steve? Shit, I haven’t seen that guy in a couple of years. He used to come here all the time. Hey, Ronnie, you seen Surfer Steve around? These kids want to take a sailing lesson.”
A middle-aged guy with gray hair swept over a bald spot on top of his head looked up from a newspaper. He adjusted the glasses on his nose and appeared to sort the question out in his mind before responding.
“Surfer Steve…the last time I saw him I was at the club. It was for some event. He was in rare form. Ain’t seen him since.” Ronnie’s eyes settled on Grace and Mark before he went back to reading his paper. Grace couldn’t tell if the man just moved slowly or if he was cautious about what he said. He moved at the same speed as a sloth and had the same wideset, round eyes and protruding snout.
Another confirmation that Surfer Steve hadn’t been seen since the night at the sailing gala two years ago had Grace raring to declare that he had, in fact, died that night. She just wasn’t sure exactly how it had happened. Just as she was about to nudge Mark under the bar in a gesture that said, “We have all we need to know; let’s get out of here,” the door opened and in walked Judy McNeil. She was headed toward her usual spot at the bar, two seats down from Grace, but deflected her route when she saw them. She walked to the opposite end of the bar without purpose, her shoulders slouched, and eyes directed at the floor.
“Usual, Judy?” Marty turned around, bent over and pulled open a cooler that housed a variety of different domestic beers. The labels were barely visible behind the accumulation of fingerprints on the cooler’s glass door.
Grace looked down toward the end of the bar, where Judy sat with one hand holding up her head and the other tapping away on the bar surface in a nervous gesture. She nodded and continued to look straight ahead.
Grace knew she had to make a move and braced herself for the visions she would see. Before Mark could stop her, she pushed herself up and away from the bar and headed toward Judy purposefully. She planted herself on the stool beside her and didn’t waste any time before asking questions.
“So, it’s good to see you again. You come here an awful lot.”
“Is that a crime?” Judy turned toward Grace as she accepted the beer Marty slid across the bar.
A layer of dirt clung to the little girl’s delicate features. Lifeless, gray lips peeked out from behind loose dirt and pebbles, and the image was bookmarked by strands of dark, tangled hair. Grace breathed deeply as she maintained eye contact, trying to appear calm and control herself from assaulting the woman beside her.
Suddenly, there was a flash of the little girl opening her eyes wide in a state of shock. The girl’s mouth opened at the same time, revealing a set of spaced-out teeth as she gasped for air. Grace saw flashes of the little girl’s arms flailing all around like she was fighting her way out of something.
“Nope. Just thought a woman like you would want to spend her free time with her grandchild, that’s all.” Grace dropped the bomb and prepared herself for the aftermath.
“So, let me guess: you know my son.”
“I’ve chatted with him once or twice.” Grace could feel Mark’s eyes on her and sensed him silently urging her to think before saying anything else. When Grace was confronted with situations like this, the hardest part was not giving herself away or using physical force to respond to the visions that affected her so deeply. “Seen him around, he has an adorable baby. Do you get to see the baby very often?”
“Sometimes. But my son thinks I’m a drunk, so he doesn’t like me around his precious kid.”
“I don’t blame him. I mean, from what I hear, you don’t have the best reputation with children.” Grace started to push herself away from the bar when Judy suddenly stopped, twisted her neck so she was facing Grace and, with what felt like a punch in the gut, Grace saw a pair of hauntingly bright blue eyes pop open from behind the dirt, filled with tears and pleading for help. The eyes were nearly identical to Kloe’s, and that’s when Grace was certain this woman played a role in Annabelle’s death. Grace pushed herself up and away from the bar and walked backwards until she bumped into Mark, who was starting to make his way toward her to stop her from going any further.
“Let’s get out of here.” Grace turned and was face-to-face with Mark’s chest. She pushed him toward the back door before they spilled out into the back alley. In their wake, Grace could hear Marty asking why they were leaving so soon.
Mark rubbed Grace’s back as she leaned over, her body in the shape of a C, her heart racing. “It’s the little girl, what the hell did she do to that little girl? Her eyes, it’s like they were begging me for help. Why the dirt? Mark, where is she, where is Annabelle?” Grace looked up, catching her breath and realizing how lost in the vision she was and how much of a hold it had on her.
Mark’s eyes greeted hers with sympathy, and for the first time Grace knew just how sorry he felt for her for having this so-called gift, for being born with something she would never be able to get rid of. Her gift wasn’t something curable through a surgery or hypnotism or by eating certain foods. It was forever; she would forever see visions of pleading eyes and colorless faces, begging for help when
it was too late. It would always be too late by the time Grace saw the vision, and the realization hit her like a ton of bricks.
Chapter Sixteen
Grace heard raindrops beating against the window before she opened her eyes. She had been dreaming of the rain; she was clawing at the wet earth, digging in a panic, as a storm became alive around her. The dream, which felt so real, left her with feelings of deprivation when she couldn’t find what she was seeking below the muddied ground. She cried, tears colliding with the rain, as her wet body slipped everywhere. Sharp pebbles dug into her knees as she burrowed her fingers into the ground, holding on so tightly that blood started to surface at her cuticles, and her palms were creased with cuts. The last thing she remembered about the dream was holding on, holding on to something she didn’t understand.
“Hey, you’re awake.” Mark leaned over onto his side, letting his bulky fitness book spill onto the bed between them.
“What happened?”
“You basically passed out and fell asleep as soon as I got you home. I think you were overwhelmed by the visions.” Mark pushed a strand of hair behind Grace’s ear with his index finger.
“How long have I been out? What time is it?” Grace could hear the sleep in her voice, her words fuzzy.
As if on cue, Mark handed her a glass of lukewarm water from the nightstand. She sipped it, grateful that in the short time they had been together, he had already picked up on her quirks, including how she liked her water: iceless and at room temperature.
“For about eight hours. You needed it though.” Mark looked at his sport watch, shaking his wrist to bring the screen to life. “It’s 5:00 AM.”
“Crap! I gotta go, I gotta get to work.” Grace sprung from the bed, hitting the ground instantly on a foot that had fallen asleep. Her entire body needed rest, but she had no time for this; she had to solve Annabelle’s case. “Ouch!” She got up on her knees, rubbing her tailbone.
“Grace, slow down.” Mark pushed himself off the bed and tried to catch up to her as she hobbled on one foot toward the closet. “Listen.” He grabbed her shoulders, stopping her in her tracks. “You hyperventilated last night and then passed out from exhaustion. That’s a sign that you need to slow down.” He grabbed her face between his hands. “You’re not gonna do yourself any good if you don’t let your body rest. In fact, your mind will be mush. Trust me, I just read about the mind-body relationship in that beast of a book over there.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll slow down, but I do have to get to work, so can I get dressed?”
Mark held his palms facing forward in front of him, defeated.
“Fine but promise me you will go to bed at a decent hour tonight.”
“Yes, doctor.”
***
Grace closed her office door behind her and slipped into her seat as she took a bite of a cold bagel. Her first mission of the day would be to friend Christie on Facebook. As a detective, Grace had been warned about becoming friends with people on social media but doing so certainly had its advantages.
Because Grace was already friends with several hundred Bridgeton residents, Christie’s name popped right up in the search bar. Without wasting another second, she clicked on the Add Friend tab and waited anxiously. She had changed the name on her account to be listed as Grace Smith to hide from criminals, but her profile picture was a very obvious photo of her—a close-up shot of her head mashed up against Brody’s.
She started to put away the few files that had piled up on her desk over the past few weeks and looked at her schedule for the day. Home visits for new school registrants, check in with Michael, teach CPR class at the community center. Summer was slow with the routine things, but it always ended up busy with random calls. Grace was pulled back to her computer when she heard a quick ding, alerting her that Christie had accepted her friend request. She felt like a kid invited to sit at the popular lunch table and immediately started typing a message to her, wasting no time…
Hey Christie, thanks for accepting my friend request. I was wondering if you wanted to meet for coffee today?
Her excitement increased when a bubble popped up on the screen, indicating that Christie was typing back. Waiting impatiently, Grace’s knees bounced up and down underneath the desk.
Christie: Hi Grace! I’d love to! I’ll have Kloe with me though…is that okay?
Grace: Of course! Does 11:00 at the Bridgeton Depot work for you?
Christie: Perfect, I’ll be ready for another cup of coffee by then!
Grace felt as if she was getting ready for a first date. It was only 9:00 AM and she had two hours to get some other work done and prepare herself to ask Christie about the mystery call. Christie had no qualms about meeting up for coffee, so she certainly didn’t seem to be hiding from anything. Or maybe she was just a friendly person who jumped on the opportunity to meet up with her ex-boyfriend’s girlfriend. The wheels in Grace’s head started to spin… What if Christie was still hooked on Mark and wanted to get the inside scoop on him? That idea was squashed in less than three seconds and Grace summed the woman’s interest in meeting her for coffee as a new friendship opportunity.
The sun broke through the clouds just in time for their date, so Grace walked the short distance from the police station to The Bridgeton Depot. The smell of summer was never more prevalent than after a good rainstorm, right after the trees and flowers got their sustenance and the streets were rinsed and refreshed from the showers that lasted from the early morning until now.
The Bridgeton Coffee Depot was empty except a mom and two young kids, one sitting quietly and coloring and the other falling asleep in a nearby stroller. The mom swiped through her phone, pushing the stroller back and forth with one foot in an effortless move that rocked the tot to sleep.
The emptiness made it easy for Grace to swipe the table tucked in the corner far enough away to keep a conversation private from nosey patrons.
“Detective, what’s the word on the street?” Suzanne looked up from a book she was reading. “You read this book yet?” She held up a book with a girl on the cover whose face was frightened and splattered with specks of blood. “Supposed to be good. You know how I dig my horror books.”
Grace had enough horror in her life and preferred to read fluffy, quick reads, the kind that involved zany friends getting together in New York City.
“Can’t say I’ve read it yet but let me know how it is.”
“Usual?”
“Actually, you know what…” Grace perused the neon sign presenting the available drink options. “I’ll take an iced green tea today with that moocha stuff you put in it.”
“You mean Matcha?” Suzanne laughed as she pulled a plastic cup off the top of the stack beside the cash register.
“Yeah, I think I’m good on the caffeine for the day. It doesn’t have caffeine, right?” Grace had been so edgy lately and wanted to hide her anxiety in front of Christie.
“Not as much caffeine as coffee, at least from what I’ve read, so you should be good.”
Grace watched the nearby mom answering a multitude of questions being asked by the little boy sitting across from her. The mom managed to answer them all while hastily punching away at the keys on her phone. Why does my head hurt when I eat ice cream, mommy? How many more weeks until my birthday? Why does it only snow in the winter?
Grace imagined there was some type of degree or certification all mothers had to have before their child could speak, so they could answer questions like this.
“Here you go, detective. You should be good on the caffeine levels with this one.” Suzanne slid the green drink across the counter while Grace peeled the paper off the straw. She popped the straw in the cup, took a hesitant sip and gave a thumbs-up to Suzanne before making her way to the corner table. Just as she looked down at her watch, she heard the bell on the door jingle and Kloe’s voice.
“There she is, mama, there’s the lady police officer.” Struggling to unsnap the helmet fastened below her chin, Kloe po
inted to Grace.
“Honey, she’s not just a police officer, she is our friend too, and her name is Grace.” Christie unsnapped the helmet and gave Anna her order. “Sorry, I’m sure you get sick of people referring to you as the ‘lady police officer’ in town. I’m trying to teach Kloe that girls can do all the same things that boys can do, so as you can imagine, we’ve had a lot of conversations about this. You come up in our household quite a bit, Grace.” Christie laughed, her hand reaching for her belly in what was a gesture that naturally accompanied every emotion.
“No worries, I’m honored.”
“Okay, Kloe, can you sit here and color while mommy has a coffee with Grace?” Christie gathered a stack of coloring books and crayons from a nearby shelf and set them on the table before Kloe.
“Mommy! You’re not supposed to have coffee!”
“I’m allowed some coffee Kloe. This is only my second cup today, I promise.” Christie looked over at Grace, caught in the act. “Sorry, she overheard my doctor at one of my appointments talking about how I need to cut back on my coffee intake during the pregnancy. Trust me, it’s the hardest thing about having a baby. I’d go through an extra hour of labor if I could add another cup of coffee to my daily allotted intake.”
“I bet. I’m a big coffee drinker myself, although today I tried out this moocha thing.”
“Matcha!” Anna yelled from the counter at the back of the store, where she was stabbing at a salad.
“Mom, go easy on her, not everyone is fluent in coffee and tea speak.” Suzanne looked up from her book.
Grace would have a hard time not being overheard in this place, and her nerves started to spin at the thought of how she’d tackle the conversation about the phone call to the station.
“I don’t blame you. I mess up words all the time, especially now that I’m pregnant. It’s like my mind no longer belongs to me. This baby is sucking out all my brain cells.”
“I can’t even imagine. I don’t know how you mothers do it, juggling everything the way you do. It’s really amazing.”
Buried Secrets Page 17
