Sitting there, looking at the woman I loved, I suddenly realized why Gath frightened me so much. What she could do, the power she had, it made me think of Dad. It made me think of his long, dispiriting, and ultimately fruitless battle with the mind-ravaging effects of Alzheimer's. He was gone now, completely gone, suffering a fate in our battle with the Ghost Reaper that few if any ghosts ever had to face before: total oblivion. I still felt his loss every day. And yet, in many ways I had been losing him to oblivion for years, watching him disappear a little at a time, looking in his eyes, day by day, as his memories were slowly taken from him. Because what else are we but our memories? Without them, we're just empty shells.
There are few things more heartbreaking, I have found, than a son who's finally summoned the courage to tell his father he loves him, only to find that the father doesn't even know who he is.
But I still had Jak. Jacqueline Worthe. My Jacqueline. I had to remember, she wanted me to call her Jacqueline. As she stared out the window, her face luminous even in the gray, limp light, I was seized by the kind of powerful, gut-wrenching sort of love that actually hurts, hurts the way a boulder would feel crushing you to the earth, your chest tight, your lungs collapsing. It was both the best and worst feeling in the world at the same time.
She looked back at me, those green eyes lighting up. I almost proposed to her right then. Why not? The very thought of spending the rest of my life without this woman was too terrible to even imagine.
Yet I didn't have a ring. I wanted to do it right. I wanted her to know I meant it. Not only did I not have a ring, I didn't know how I'd even be able to afford a ring, at least a decent one that showed her that I actually cared. And, while I hesitated, the moment passed and Jak smiled.
"The ghost, the girl, and the gold," she said. "It's a riddle, isn't it?"
"It is," I said.
"Maybe we should take it a piece at a time. Who do you think the ghost is?"
"I don't know. Maybe it's Mary Rittles. She's a psychic, kind of a creature of the night. And I'm sure she deals with people's dreams a lot."
"Okay, but she doesn't seem that centrally involved in all this."
"Yeah."
"It could be this Felicity Langford, the animal woman. She's a ghost. Maybe she fits the bill."
"Could be."
I took the envelope out of my pocket and placed it on the table between us. One of the things I'd done back at the motel room, while Jak was getting ready for breakfast, was listen to the recording on my phone of Mary Rittles reciting the poem and transcribe it onto an envelope I'd found in the desk. Both of us taking sips from our coffee, Jak and I studied the words for a while before she pointed to the word "dream" on the third line.
"The ghost is the dream who owns the night," she said. "I mean, Gath described herself as a memory vampire, right? Vampires operate at night."
"But Gath isn't a ghost," I said.
Jak raised her eyebrows. "You sure? You haven't met her in person yet."
"Well, Natalie Corman saw her. You know, the real estate broker, when she showed Gath the house. And obviously those two thugs of hers, they deal with her. She was talking to them on the phone. Seems pretty definite that she's living to me."
"Think about it, though. It's possible, right? You told me some ghosts can make certain living people see them. What if Gath is a ghost who can make anyone see her? That would be a heck of a power, right?"
I almost responded that the idea was impossible, but then I thought about it some more, and the more I thought about it, the more I had to question whether what I believed was true. Yes, I'd never met a ghost that everyone could see, but that didn't mean such a person didn't exist. I'd met lots of ghosts that one person could see, sometimes a couple people, so it was certainly possible that a ghost existed who could make herself visible to everyone alive.
"That's a depressing thought," I said.
"Why?"
"If she isn't alive, how am I going to stop her?"
"I see your point. Maybe the gold? The thing that steals the sight. That might refer to her ability, right? She can see into people's minds, see into their memories. Maybe it's a ring or a necklace, something she has to wear."
"Possible. I'm still not sure I buy Gath being the ghost, though."
"Even if she's not," Jak said, "the gold might be the key to stopping her."
"Maybe. What about the girl? Who would that be?"
"Olivia's the obvious choice," Jak said.
"Yeah. Grace did say that she got a dream from Olivia. That makes her the dreamer, right?"
Jak studied the poem again. "Or it could be Grace. She certainly seems like she fears the fight."
"Could be."
"Heck," Jak said, "depending on how you define 'girl,' it could be me. I'm still young enough that some people might call me a girl, right?" She laughed. "I don't know about the whole fearing the fight thing, though. If you weren't going to strand me here, there's no way I'd be hiding out in some motel room while you get to have all the fun."
Her laughter had been a bit hollow, and her smile now was a bit forced. She was putting on a brave front, no doubt, but she was definitely afraid. Maybe it wasn't all about Gath, maybe a lot of it had to do with these strange episodes she'd been having, but she had every right to be afraid.
"A lot of possibilities," I said. "I just don't have enough pieces to put it all together. Maybe this poem is garbage anyway. Just the ranting of a drunk, dead psychic. Maybe she wasn't even drunk. It's not like she was really drinking. She might just be conning me."
"Do you really think that?"
"Not really."
"I didn't think so."
"At least, I don't think she's intentionally conning me. I just don't know whether to believe all this Unbound crap."
"What else do you have to go on?"
I sighed. "That's my problem."
"What are you going to do?"
"Find this Felicity Langford."
"Seems like your best bet. Just go where there are animals. While you're doing that, I guess I'll, uh, work on my tan." She tilted her head toward the window, where there was little sun to be seen through the drizzle. "Or maybe not."
"I promise it won't be for long. Watch some movies. Read some books at the library. Go shopping at the outlet mall."
She arched one eyebrow.
"I'm just saying, you could enjoy it and take a breather. Or get some work done on one of those secondary writing projects you've been telling me about. Like I said, I brought your laptop."
"Well, gee, you just thought of everything, didn't you?"
"Jak, come on. Work with me here."
"Mmm. Fine, I guess I can find some kind of distraction in this podunk town. Do you think they have a singles bar?"
"That's not exactly the kind of distraction I was talking about."
"Yeah, well, you leave me here alone and all bets are off. I am a woman with needs, you know. I get antsy when I don't have my man around to satisfy them."
"Uh huh. Even you should be able to last a couple days."
She stuck out her tongue at me. Our food came, and the conversation moved to more mundane matters while we chowed down our banana pancakes and cinnamon French toast. We made fun of the tourists driving by in their cars. We wondered what it might be like to live in Barnacle Bluffs, and what the people who weren't retired did for jobs other than work at the outlet mall, one of the ticky-tacky tourist shops, or at Golden Eagle Casino down the road. I doubted there was enough work for a private investigator unless he was independently wealthy, which I definitely wasn't.
My credit card had just enough room on it to buy the tank of gas that would get me home. If I'd been trying to fill up anything other than a Prius, I would have been stuck right along with Jak. I'd only been able to afford the motel because I pleaded with the clerk to give me the AAA discount even though I wasn't a member of AAA.
When we were finished, I drove her to the motel. Neither of us spoke. With th
e electric engine purring quietly at the slow speed, the silence was all the more profound—an uncomfortable silence that I wanted to break, but I couldn't think of anything to say. The sun was desperately trying to fight its way through the clouds, the golden rays unfurling like banners before almost immediately vanishing.
I parked in front of the motel, a rather plain two-story building with flaking gray paint and a rusting metal staircase, its only redeeming quality the view on the other side it afforded its occupants.
She looked at me, blinking teary eyes. "I can't change your mind, then?"
"No."
"All right, then."
She started to go. I snatched her arm and pulled her close, leaning across the car and kissing her hard on the mouth. When she pulled away, I could see my own hazy reflection in her dilated pupils. The look on her face, some mix of emotions I couldn't describe even if I tried, broke my heart. Without another word, she turned abruptly and got out of the car. I thought, Say it now, ask her, don't let her get away before she agrees to spend the rest of your life with you.
But then she was gone, hustling up the steps without even a backward glance, giving me just one glimpse of her anguished face as she turned on the first landing and disappeared from view.
During the drive to Portland, I thought about that anguished face a lot. The first thing I did, after I pulled off my exit, was buy a diamond ring in Jak's size at a nearby pawn shop. The guy wanted a hundred bucks for the ring and I got him down to fifty.
It wasn't all the impressive, a tiny stone set in a flimsy band, but it would do for now.
It would do just fine.
Chapter 14
Despite the snow, the Portland Metropolitan Zoo had remained on its normal operating schedule for a Friday in December. It turned out to be a good thing, as the main lot was nearly full. Judging by the number of parents toting bundled-up children toward the front gates, plenty of people had decided to take advantage of school being out to visit the animals in a winter wonderland.
I hoped that made it likelier that Felicity Langford was around.
After finding a parking spot near the back, I stood shivering in line until I had my ticket—thank God the credit card went through—and I was cramming into the zoo behind two little boys more interested in their Game Boys than what lay before them.
The sky, an uneven mixture of gray, black and white, made me think of a mop bucket after it had been well used. The light was so poor it could have been dawn or dusk or anything in between. Stinging my face, a slight breeze swirled a fine, dust-like layer of snow over pavement that was otherwise shoveled bare. I wished I'd brought a hat. Or gloves. Or a scarf. As it was, I had to settle with keeping my head down and my hands shoved deep in the pockets of my leather jacket.
Long-tailed billy goats. Bulky Appalachian boars. Long-horn elk, huddling in a herd. Most of the animals nearest the gate were uninterested in the wintery transformation of their pens, gathered inside their dens and caves, peering out as if hoping all this white stuff would all go away soon. I saw a few ghosts, an old man shuffling along in a tuxedo and a top hat, a little girl in nothing but a swimsuit playing in the big field outside Zootopia Cafe—obvious ones, but neither of which could have been the woman I sought. Then it suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea what Felicity Langford looked like.
In the elephant enclosure, I leaned against the back wall and mulled over the problem. The benches were all taken, mostly by children standing on them to peer over the throngs of people at the three elephants beyond the glass, including one baby elephant small enough that I could barely see its leathery gray head over all the parkas and wool hats. The children's gleeful laughter rebounded off the concrete walls. The air smelled musky, of animal sweat and wet hay, with just a whiff of the popcorn, peanuts, and cotton candy.
How could I find Felicity Langford? I started with my smart phone, something I should have done in Barnacle Bluffs but hadn't thought to do because I'd been so focused on Jak's welfare. A couple minutes of searching resulted in little but a few scant mentions on a couple of ancestry websites—one that indicated she'd died in the eighties. Other than that, I now possessed the helpful knowledge that she had both Irish and German relatives.
That was the problem with people born pre-Internet. Unless they'd been famous somehow, the digital age only seemed to care about people born within it.
No social media presence.
No previous employment.
No pictures.
Frustrated, I called up Alesha. Fearing that Gath would sense her importance to me, I'd been hesitant to involve her, but I was at a dead end. She answered before it rang twice.
"Yeah?" she snapped.
"Hello to you, too," I said.
One of the elephants picked that moment to trumpet loudly. The children all cheered, and I plugged my left ear so I could better hear Alesha.
"Where the hell are you?" she said. "It sounds like—"
"Yeah, the zoo."
"I was just going to say. I mean, unless you're watching the nature channel pumped up to ten. What are you doing at the zoo? You're looking for a missing girl, one whose father was just murdered, and you're making time to feed the yaks?"
"I don't think they have any yaks."
"Cute. Have you lost your mind?"
"I don't think so. No more than usual, anyway. I just … I come here to think sometimes."
"Uh huh. While watching the monkeys fling their shit at people?"
"I'm taking the zoo really isn't your thing, is it?"
"I'd rather chaperone a high school prom than hang out with a bunch of stupid, cooped-up, pooping and peeing hairy beasts all day—most of which would love to tear me to pieces if given even half a chance."
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you just described the Homicide division of the Portland Police Bureau."
"Shut up. You going to tell me the reason you're calling?"
"Felicity Langford."
"Who?"
"Exactly. I don't know anything about her, and she could be a lead."
"What makes you think that?"
I debated how much to tell her. I'd already involved her more than I wanted, enough that Gath might start paying closer attention to Alesha, but I wasn't sure how much I could tell her even if I wasn't worried about her safety. "I can't answer that question," I said. "My source has to remain confidential."
"Right. Same old story."
"I'm sorry. Can you help me?"
She made me wait, an old game. I heard paper shuffling, distant male laughter. I didn't like lying to her, but it wasn't exactly a lie, not really. My source had to remain confidential because otherwise I would have to reveal my secret to her, and I wasn't ready to do that, at least not now. Maybe not ever. I was afraid of how that knowledge would change things between us if she knew.
Why? Why did that matter? I still couldn't figure it out. There may have been feelings between Alesha and me, complicated feelings that went along with our complicated history, but I was in love with Jak. I reached into the pocket of my jeans and found the ring, felt reassured by it.
"All right," Alesha said, ending my purgatory of punishment, "I'll look into Felicity Langford for you. Anything in particular I should be looking for?"
"Her DMV picture sent to my phone would be a great start."
"I can do that."
"Maybe her last known address."
"Uh huh. You want fries?"
"Can I make a substitution for onion rings?"
"Sure," she said, "but there's an extra charge."
"How much?"
"Ninety-nine cents … plus one night of pool and beer with yours truly."
"Hmm. Steep. But I think I can agree to that."
"Good," Alesha said. "I'm going to hold you to it, though. No backing out."
"Great. Be fun."
"And just the two of us. No big-busted teenage tagalongs."
"Alesha, come on. She's not a teenager, for God's sake."
"Okay, okay. Touchy."
"It's just getting old, all right? These constant put-downs. I know you don't like her that much, but I wish you'd try a little harder. I mean, if I'm going to spend—" And I caught myself just in time.
Alesha, sharp as she was, didn't miss the slip. "Going to spend what?"
I heard something in her voice that hadn't been there before, an edge of anxiety, an undertone of worry. "Nothing. Just … spend a lot of time with her, you know. If I'm going to spend a lot of time with Jak, it'd be a lot easier if you two got along. You and Jak are the two most important people in my life. It tears me up, you two going at it all the time."
She was silent long enough that I began to wonder if she was going to call me on my bullshit. I looked up and saw two elephants, mother and child, moseying outside. Much of the crowd followed.
"If this is some weird way of asking if I want to have a threesome with you and your girlfriend," she said, "you can forget it."
"Alesha—"
"All right, all right, I'll try harder. She doesn't make it easy, you know? All that Miss Little-Know-It-All crap. Makes me want to punch her in the face."
"I'll ask her to be nicer, too."
"You better. I'm still not doing a threesome, though."
"Fair enough. But the fact that you keep bringing it up makes me wonder how much you think about it."
"Yeah, you wish. Probably your wildest fantasy, getting us into bed together. But if she plays nice, I'll try not to treat her like absolute dirt. That good enough for you?"
"Very magnanimous."
"Uh huh. Anything else?"
On the surface, it was an innocent enough question, and her main intent may have been about Olivia Ray or the case in general, but there was a strange lilt to the tone at the end, something that betrayed her deeper feelings.
"Not right now," I said.
"Okay," she said, and clicked off before I could say anything further.
* * *
She texted me a grainy color picture of Felicity Langford before I'd even left the elephant enclosure, along with a last known address. Fast work.
The Ghost, the Girl, and the Gold Page 16
