“I’ll bet,” she said quietly. “Did you get any grief from any of the other kids?”
He shook his head. “Nah. I think most of them have forgotten all about it.”
“Well, as callous as that is, it’s probably for the best. You don’t need to relive any of that.” She watched Sam making slow, careful strokes on a plate while Kenzie leaned in studiously. “It’s hard to believe it’s been three months already. The time goes by quicker than you think.”
Daniel didn’t say anything. He sat with his chin on the throw pillow and stared at his feet.
“I’m guessing being back at school kind of brings it all back again,” Lacey said softly.
She saw Daniel swallow forcefully before he answered. “Yeah, kinda.”
She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “I’m sorry. Time is the only thing that changes that. It will get easier, but not for a while. You just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other.”
He picked at the pattern on the pillow with his fingernail. “Some people tell me to get over it. Move on.”
Lacey sighed. “You know what? That’s not helpful. We all grieve differently, and we all do it at the different rates. There’s no one time frame for this. Ignore those people. Feel what you feel. Jason was your best bud for many years. There’s no shame in missing him. You take all the time you need.”
Daniel listened, hugging the pillow to his chest. After a long moment, he turned his head toward Lacey.
“Thanks,” he said.
Lacey smiled. “Sure. Hey, I think those two over there are going to be busy for a while. Want a little bit of ice cream?”
A slow grin spread over Daniel’s face. “Yeah. That sounds good.”
“Cool.” She tugged on his shirt. “Come on.”
~~~
Lacey was heartened when, on Sunday, Daniel offered to help his dad replace the broken back door of the studio. While Lacey and Kenzie did some more detailed cleaning, Sam took Daniel and Tori to the home improvement store to buy a door and lumber for a new frame. Between the five of them, the studio looked almost normal by the time they were done. Sam would still need to replace two shelves, but that was an easy fix. For the first time since the break-in, Lacey felt confident they would be totally ready for the open house.
“Theodora likes the new door,” Kenzie said.
“Does she? Good.” Lacey liked it, too. Sam had gotten a heavy-duty storm door with a double-paned window in the top half. It helped to brighten the studio’s interior.
“She doesn’t think the guy will come back.”
“No? Why not?”
Kenzie grinned and whispered to Lacey conspiratorially. “’Cuz she scared the poop out of him. Only she didn’t say poop.”
Lacey stifled a laugh. “Well, I hope he’s too scared to come back. He did enough damage the first time.”
The door secured, Sam prepared his fire pit out back for his firing of the unglazed pottery. He’d start that first thing Monday morning. This time Kenzie wanted to know all about the process, and Lacey felt a warm satisfaction watching Sam passing his knowledge to his daughter. She suspected Ben would be pleased to hear of it, also. Maybe they’d have to take the kids out to the res sometime soon, let them reconnect with their grandfather and their ancient roots.
By early evening when they dropped the kids off at Christine’s, both Sam and Lacey felt gratified by their progress. What had at first felt like a major setback had become more of a troublesome inconvenience, one they knew they could surmount.
Lacey told Sam what Kenzie had reported from Theodora.
“She’s probably right,” Sam said.
“She seemed pretty quiet today,” Lacey said. “At least I didn’t notice Daniel having to duck away from her at all.”
“I think she’s taking a break from embarrassing him in front of Tori.”
“Good. Poor kid can’t keep up a cool guy image when a ghost is blowing in his ear.”
Sam laughed soundlessly. “No, probably not, although I don’t see that bothering Tori at all.” As he wheeled the car into their parking spot, he had another thought. “That reminds me, did you ever hear back from that woman about the Kagel Canyon house?”
“No, I haven’t.” Lacey got out her phone to check, just in case she’d somehow missed a call. “Nope, nothing. It’s a little late to call back there now. I’ll try her again in the morning.”
“Okay, good.” Sam let them in the apartment and tossed his keys on the counter. “I’m hoping we’ll hear something from Price about that well tomorrow, too.” He eyed the unfinished ceramics on the dining room table. “Meanwhile…”
Lacey laughed. “Meanwhile, if you want to get a little more work in, you’ve got time. I haven’t figured out what to fix for dinner yet.”
“Too bad there’s no leftover pizza,” Sam muttered. But he was already pulling up a chair at the dining room table.
~~~
TEN
Immediately after breakfast, Sam left to go fire his pots. He’d decided to put up new shelves while he monitored the fire pit, so there were two big steps toward readiness for the open house.
Now their case. Lacey dialed the number for Yvonne and again it went to voice mail. She left another message, hoping her impatience wasn’t bleeding through into her voice. A callback would be nice.
She tossed the phone down and pulled her laptop to her. She couldn’t just sit and twiddle her thumbs. She decided to go back to the genealogy site for Jean Hawkes to see what she could glean.
She found a death record for Jean’s husband, Vernon. He’d died in 1982, but not in California. His place of death was Bend, Oregon. Weird, Lacey thought. Hadn’t title on the house gone from the couple to just Jean before that? She looked back through her notes. Yes, there it was: 1964. Had they divorced? Lacey searched for divorce records but came up empty.
She did a new search for Vern’s obituary and scanned the details.
Died in 1982, fifty-one years old. Worked for almost twenty years for Boise Cascade, avid fisherman and hunter. Predeceased by his parents and his daughter Lynette. Survived by his wife, Delores, two sons, Gary and Milton, and daughter Yvonne.
Wife Dolores? Had Lacey missed the divorce record? She searched again, but found nothing. Then she searched for a marriage certificate, but came up empty on that, as well.
Interesting, she thought. She did remember that St. Odelia’s was mentioned in Jean’s obit—a Catholic church. Perhaps the woman was old school, didn’t believe in divorce. Yet her husband clearly moved on. If he’d clocked almost twenty years with Boise Cascade in Oregon, he must have left Jean in the early ‘60s. About the same time the title on the house changed.
What else? Lacey drummed her fingers on the table. She scanned Vern’s obituary again. Predeceased by his daughter Lynette, just like Jean. When had Lynette died? Another search.
And… jackpot. The girl had been born in 1958 and died in 1961; only three years old. Cause of death on the death certificate: succumbed to injuries from a fall.
A fall… into a well?
She found the obituary, short and sweet as befitting a toddler. Taken too soon, blah, blah, blah… tragic accident. Lacey thought falling into a well would qualify. She did a new global search and found a short article in the San Fernando Sun.
Toddler dies in fall.
Los Angeles Police were called to a home in the 8900 block of Kagel Canyon about a child who had fallen into an old well. The recovery effort took several hours and the child was pronounced dead on scene. The girl was identified as three-year-old Lynette Leslie Hawkes. The mother reported that the girl and her sister were playing in the yard when the mother saw the girl disappear into an old well, practically obscured by tall grass and weeds. It was estimated that the well was almost forty feet deep, and that the child died instantly.
Was that what Jean had seen from that upstairs window? Perhaps casually folding clothes or making a bed like on any other day, glancing ou
t the window and… suddenly her baby daughter—gone.
What followed was probably just as tragic, but not unusual. Jean turning to drink to drown out the grief, she and her husband drifting further apart. What Lacey had said to Daniel the other day resurfaced in her mind: everyone grieves differently. It would be perfectly understandable if Jean’s way—drinking through the days—did not match up with Vern’s. Jean, it seemed, could not relinquish her grip on the painful past; Vern was ready to move on.
Lacey went back over her notes. Did her fanciful imaginings correspond to Sam’s findings? Deep grief and unforgiving guilt. The grief was obvious; the guilt was built in. A stay-at-home mother was responsible for her children. Responsible for their safety.
Had Jean even known the well was there?
Lacey’s phone rang. Hoping it was Yvonne finally responding, she grabbed it.
LAPD.
“Hello?”
“Lacey? It’s Rod. How you doing?”
Lacey pushed her laptop aside. “I’m okay, Rod. How about you?”
“Fine. I wanted to let you know what we have—or don’t have, I should say. Sam was right; we couldn’t pull a single print.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Yeah, it is. This guy’s not new to breaking and entering. He was very thorough, very clean. I’d bet dollars to doughnuts he’s got a rap sheet.”
“I agree.” She sighed. “If we could just identify him…”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about that.” Rod paused. “I know back when you guys were tracking that serial killer, Sam described him to our sketch artist. With what he said the other day—”
“Theodora! She gave Sam a great description.”
“Uh, yeah. I’m not quite sure how this would work, but do you think Sam and… the ghost… could, maybe…”
“Yes!” Lacey sat bolt upright in her chair. “Yes, I think they could. Hang on, Rod and let me get Sam on the phone. He’s at the studio. Just a sec.”
Lacey put Rod on hold and dialed Sam. She laughed out loud as she waited for him to answer. She wondered if Captain Shaw knew about Rod’s idea, and thought if he did, he was having kittens about now.
“Hey, Lacey. I’m right in the middle of putting up a shelf. Can I—”
“Sam, put the shelf down. I’ve got Rod on the other line. He’s got an idea.”
Lacey three-wayed Rod in and he explained, uncertainly, about what he had in mind.
“That would definitely work,” Sam said immediately. “Only you’ll have to bring the sketch artist down here to the studio.”
“Uh, bring…?”
“I can’t bring Theodora to the station. You’re gonna have to come to her.”
“Oh.” It was obvious to Lacey that Rod did not have a good grasp of ghostly limitations. “Okay. Are you going to be there, um, for a while?”
“Sure,” Sam said. “I’ll be here most of the day. What time is good?”
Lacey checked the time as Rod probably was on his end. Ten-thirty.
“How about one-thirty?” I’ll get Marty and we’ll meet you there.”
“That’s fine. Lacey, you want to come down?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “I’ll pick up some lunch and be there a little after twelve.”
“Okay, then we’re all good. Now I’m going back to fixing this shelf.”
Lacey hung up the phone with a feeling of satisfaction. Great idea; why hadn’t she thought of that? No matter. This could lead them to the vandal. She felt more hopeful about this than the case. Even though she felt like she was making progress, she couldn’t validate that without talking to Yvonne.
While she had a gut feeling that she was on the right track, they needed to be sure. Releasing ghosts relied on two critical pieces of information: the ghost’s identity and the ghost’s story. Once they understood the entire context, Sam could acknowledge the spirit’s pain and offer forgiveness—and a way forward to the next level of existence.
She read over her notes again. Was it enough? Was it the whole story?
She’d talk to Sam about it over lunch and hope so.
~~~
ELEVEN
She brought a half dozen tacos and two large sodas to the studio. Sam had the shelves up, and cleared a spot for lunch at his work table, pushing aside his tools, nails and brackets.
“The shelves look good,” she said as she unpacked the bag. “How’s the firing?”
“Cooking away,” he said.
“Good.” They needed to have a few things go their way. If their luck would just hold until Friday…
Lacey told Sam what she’d found about Jean, Vern and Lynette.
“It all matches up pretty well,” she said. “I just wish Yvonne would call me to verify it.”
“Still nothing from her, huh?”
“Not a peep.”
“It definitely matches up, though,” Sam agreed. “Let me think about it a little bit. You may have it all figured out.”
Pleased that he thought so, she allowed herself to relax and enjoy the simple lunch. Sometimes she was too relentless in her research for her own good.
Just before one, Lacey’s phone chimed. She grabbed it out of her pack. “The Reeds,” she told Sam. “Hello?”
“Lacey? It’s Price. I just got done talking to an engineer at the water company. Is Sam there?”
“Yeah, he’s right here. I’m going to put you on speaker.”
“What’s up?” Sam asked.
“The engineer had a whole crew out here this morning. You were right. The outside walls of the well are eroding away. It’s basically turning into a sink hole. He said those heavy rains we had last winter probably triggered the erosion. He also said we were very lucky no one was killed.”
Sam let out a low whistle. “He’s more right than he knew. The daughter of the woman who owned that house died from a fall into that well back in…” He looked to Lacey.
“Nineteen sixty-one,” she supplied.
“Oh, no, really? That’s terrible.”
“Yes, it is,” Sam agreed. “I’m guessing that may have been when they capped it with that concrete slab, but that didn’t stop the degradation down inside. Did the engineer say what they’re going to do?”
“They put barricades all around it,” Price said, relief evident in his voice. “They’re going to come back out on Wednesday and fill it in. I was actually surprised they’re moving that fast, but I’m glad, too. I’m guessing they don’t want any liability issues coming back on them.”
“Good,” Sam said. “And their doing that may just help with your other problem, too.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. We believe the ghost is the mother of the girl who died in the well. As I told you, she was actually trying to protect your girls by keeping them away from the well, so once that’s filled in and no longer poses a threat, she’s going to have less need to be vigilant. That could help her let go and move on.”
“Oh, good. Well, that’s great. But, uh, how will we know?”
“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we come back Wednesday evening? With the well filled in, I’ll be able to feel her energy, see if it helped. Based on what we know, we should be able to convince her to let go. And with any luck, that will be the end of it.”
“That would be terrific,” Price said, his voice animated. “Yes, please, if you can squeeze us in, let’s do that. I know you’re busy with your open house…”
“Did you see that on TV?” Lacey asked.
“Yes, just happened to catch it. Sounds like a great enterprise. We may have to stop by.”
“Please do,” Lacey said, grinning at Sam. “You just might find a new accent piece for your home.”
Price chuckled. “We might. We both have a liking for Native American art. Yes, we’ll make it a point to come by.”
“Terrific,” Lacey said. “The more the merrier.”
“All right.” Price sighed again. “Well, I can tell you, I feel much better than I have i
n months. I’ll be so glad to have this… issue solved.”
“We will, too,” Sam said. “Okay, we’ll see you Wednesday. Seven o’clock good?”
“Yes, perfect. Thanks so much.”
“You’re welcome. See you then.”
Lacey keyed off the call and glanced at her watch. “Rod should be here any minute.” She crumpled her taco wrapper and tossed it in the bag. “I guess we’d better make room for Marty.”
By the time Rod and the sketch artist arrived, Sam and Lacey had cleared the table of their lunch debris and were ready for the group session.
“Good to see you again,” Marty Hammond said, shaking their hands. “I’m glad this case isn’t quite as intense as the last one we worked on.”
Lacey laughed. “Yeah, a burglary subject is just a little less distressful than a serial killer. Come on over here, Marty. Set up at the table however you want.”
Marty took a seat at the table and pulled his sketch pad and pencil from a backpack. “So who’s giving me the description?” he asked.
“It’ll come through me,” Sam said. “But it’s actually coming from a ghost.”
Marty glanced around uneasily. “Rod said something about a ghost, but I guess I didn’t… Is the ghost here?”
“Yes, she’s standing right behind you,” Sam said. “She and I will both be looking over your shoulder. Hope that’s not a problem.”
Marty ducked his head a little, rolling his shoulders. “Uh, no, of course not. It’s a she? I mean, she’s a she?”
“Her name is Theodora,” Lacey said, hiding a grin. “This was her house. That’s her picture over there.” She pointed to the self portrait on the wall.
“Uh, okay.” Marty glanced at the picture, then shuddered with a slight chill. “Is she, uh… I mean…” He batted nervously at his ear.
“Come on, Theodora,” Sam said. “Give the guy a break, would you?”
Marty’s eyes widened and he stared at Lacey across the table.
“Sorry,” Lacey said. “She’s quite playful. Just ignore her.”
Revenge Walk Page 6
