Two days later, we were on our way back home with a DVD copy of Carla’s recorded statement and Carla’s written statement. Detective Roberts had faxed Chad a copy so he could start the ball rolling with the warrant to dig up the gun. By the time we made it home, they would be ready to do just that. Jerry Carter had a big surprise coming soon. He would never know freedom again.
"Where did you get off to so early this morning?" Blaine asked after we reached the interstate highway and was well outside Denver.
"I just decided to let you sleep late since you’d be first driver today, so I did a little shopping."
Blaine laughed and looked over at me. "You are a softie, Trisha."
"Did you know that Carla’s son makes all A’s in school and he wants to go to college and join the space program when he grows up? I think he will fulfill his dream."
"Wow! You could tell all that from meeting him?"
"Yes, I could. My powers seem to have advanced since the abduction. I don’t know how to explain it, it’s like they heightened, were mixed with . . . it’s hard to explain."
"So that is how you’d known so much about the security officer?"
I laughed. "When we walked into the station that officer was at the window talking to the lady we talked with. I saw the man wearing the green shirt snapping a couple pictures. After we walked up to the window, I sensed the ticket sellers’ emotions. Then when we went to the security man’s office, he hung up his phone. I sensed his wife’s energy when I touched the phone, his was on the paper I had my left hand on. The food thing, well, that was just dumb luck. The trash can had a couple sandwich wrappers in it with residual of condiments on them too. He had a picture on his desk of him and his son; the son’s eyes were telling."
"So when were you going to tell me that some man was walking around snapping pictures of a security officer?"
"When we reached the security office. Of course, it just came forth different from what I had intended announcing. He was a bit arrogant. I didn’t appreciate him questioning your integrity or mine."
"Trish! You should have told me immediately of that man’s snapping pictures! It could have been for other reasons he was doing it."
I looked over at Blaine. But, he was staring straight ahead, ignoring me. "Sorry, you are right, I should have. I really didn’t know then why he was taking pictures. I just suspected when we talked to the lady, and then was sure when we talked to security officer." Blaine cooled down, but it had taken over an hour of loud silence before he spoke to me again.
"So, when you first called and asked that I come over, you said you had some missions. You needed someone with police knowledge to help you, and go with you when you follow psychic leads. That’s what I have done with this special assignment, but I don’t know if I will continue to be on the DA’s payroll or have to go back to patrolling the streets after we get home."
I silently said thank you, God, we are conversing again, and smiled over at him. "No matter if you are a patrolman or on special assignment, I still need your help. I’ve set up my office in the house, and intend searching for the man who has kidnaped and killed those women. I have other missions in mind also, but I don’t want to talk about them yet, let’s take them one at a time." I told Blaine about the vision I had followed, where the energies had led and how I had not seen his face, just a profile.
"My God, Trisha, that was dangerous! What if he had been at that little building!"
"My Friend, that is why I called you. I trust you not to talk about my psychic abilities. Some people have always known but I’ve never really talked about them with anyone but Linda. Yes, I did tell friends a few things but they took it lightly and didn’t question my psychic strengths. Chad has given me access to all the old police files, and if I need to use those to help me find the bad guys then I will. However, my main objective now is to find the kidnapper killer and then work on the other mission I mentioned. We will see if more missions happen after those are cleared."
"Why didn’t you tell me about following him before now?"
"I wasn’t sure how to do this then but hoped you’d have some ideas on it. Then a couple days after we first talked, Chad sent us off to find Carla so there really hasn’t been time to discuss what I wanted to do."
Chad had not allowed me any peace until after I helped them find a couple of Jerry’s old accomplices, and I did what I could. They had dug up the gun, and finally gathered enough information to take to the grand jury. I had flown with a Detective Samuels and Blaine back to Denver, and again met Detective Roberts and picked up Carla. She had come back with us and was put up at a Motel. I had stayed with her during her stay. All the evidence and Carla’s testimony, along with the other witnesses convinced the grand jury to bring a true bill against Jerry Carter in the death of Michael Severs.
Meanwhile, I had been digging into the deaths of the women too, searching for the red-haired woman that I had seen him put in back of his F150 truck. But I wasn’t having any luck discovering the woman’s identity. And another woman had gone missing. He had apparently abducted a twenty-year-old from the local college campus.
Finding the killer wasn’t going to be easy. He is shrewd, and very cold individual. But I wasn’t giving up my mission.
"So you followed your connection to Leila from the store to that deserted building?" Chad asked when he, Linda and Blaine were all at my house.
"Yes, but no further, I realized that I was alone, that no one knew where I was, and I left the site. It’s where he takes them, or he did take them there. I think after I turned off on that dirt road that I was following his energy, and not where Leila wanted to take me."
"Do you think he was hiding anywhere around the site? That he knows you were there?"
"I can’t say, Chad. All I know is when I was there, I first saw the horrific acts he preformed with Leila then I saw a red-haired woman being loaded in back of his truck. The two events fused, and I’m not sure if he perpetrated some things I saw against the woman with red hair or if they were all against Leila."
"I checked with the department of motor vehicle and discovered pages and pages of F150 pick-up trucks registered in the state," Blaine said. "I then sliced that list to all silver colored ones, but the list is still long. It’d take hours of manpower to check all of them."
Chad nodded agreement and turned to me. "Do you think you could go back to the site again?"
"I don’t know; all I know is that we were outside town and turned off, drove a couple miles then turned again. I was focusing on the energies of the deceased, at first anyway, and not the names of road signs. Blaine went with me to the store again but I could not reconnect with Leila. It’s like the connection to her closed." "I want the two of you to try and find that location; if you see his truck or find the building, call in the location and request more back-up. That is an order, Blaine. You," he said and turned to me, "as a DA I am telling you, never follow one of these visions of this man without first contacting Blaine, even if he is on duty. As a friend and a DA, good grief! Do you realize the danger you were in?"
I smiled. "Oh yes. I do. But when they come, it’s like they are calling me, and sometimes staying still isn’t easy and pushing them aside is not an option."
"Be careful, Trisha." Chad said and stood to leave. "Thank you for all your help."
I was becoming increasingly agitated with my lack of ability to reach Leila again. So, I gathered laundry and started the machine then called mom before I made an appearance at the furniture store. Afterward I did the shopping just to keep from thinking about the man who was killing.
When I returned home, I made myself a sandwich and took it into the living room with me and turned on the TV before sitting in the rocking chair that we discovered in the attic. I considered rummaging through all the papers we’d transferred from the desk to a tote and left in the attic. However, I couldn’t gather up the interest, it was as if the kidnapper was daring me to try and focus my energies on other matters.
I’d just gotten interested in the movie on TV when I felt a presence and turned slowly, wanting to see the presence, but it evaded me. The same thing happened nearly each time I sat in the rocking chair. I didn’t know who the presence was, why it hung around my house, or even why they had stored the chair away in the attic. But the visits raised my curiosity level.
"Come on, whoever you are, show yourself, tell me why you are here and what you want," I was whispering, trying to stay calm. "Are you upset I’m sitting in this chair, was it yours? It’s a nice chair, a comforting chair. Why is it that you only visit when I sit in the chair? Why not my visitors, are you not upset with them for making use of it?"
Nothing, the presence had gone, leaving me to my wondering of its identity and visits. I rested my head and closed my eyes.
The constant ringing bothered me, I wanted to sleep but it refused me. I rubbed my aching neck and reached for the phone; it was then I realized that I’d fallen asleep in the rocking chair, also that it was the doorbell that woke me and not the phone. Glancing at the clock as I went to answer the door, I saw I’d slept for several hours.
"You look terrible."
I stared at Blaine as he stood in my doorway wearing jeans and a Tee. "Thank you. You look nice too."
Blaine laughed. "I didn’t mean it that way! Have you slept?"
"Obviously before your arrival I did. I’d fallen asleep in the chair."
"Well, go get ready, we are going out to eat then maybe we can look for that road where you followed the F150 truck."
I moved from the doorway, and motioned for him to come inside. "We have food in the freezer. Grab something while I dress. I’m not in the mood for eating out today." I headed upstairs while a happy Blaine went to raid the freezer. When I came down an hour later, he’d warmed the spaghetti, made a small salad and garlic bread. I sat and smiled over at him. "I knew you’d grab the spaghetti and had made it with you in mind."
Blaine smiled back at me. "I need to hire someone to cook for me. I tire of tv dinners and take out but I am a terrible cook. Although I admit that I can grill a mean steak."
"You know you can raid my kitchen anytime. We always have meals ready to warm and enjoy."
"I don’t want to take advantage of our friendship."
"I’ll get you the door key but don’t take that as anything more than what it is.""I promise not to assume anything. So tell me, why are you having trouble sleeping nights?"
"I’ve had troubling dreams since I was a child, Blaine, so I’ve grown use to having restless nights."
Blaine had decided I was wrong with my right turn, he’d looked at a layout of the streets and the first intersection was a Y shape where it veered either right or left. He decided we should follow around the left and take a right at the first street from there. I couldn’t argue with his suggestion; we’d exhausted the other route during previous searches. According to his estimations on distance the first right was around 5 miles outside the city limits. I relaxed in the passenger seat while he drove. We’d barely traveled 2 miles outside town when I began feeling nervous and anxious, a pressure was in my chest, and my breathing became heavier.
Blaine noticed my laboring, "Are you okay, Trisha? Do you think Leila is trying to reach you?"
"I don’t know what it is Blaine." I rested my head on the headrest of my seat and closed my eyes. The pressure in my chest crawled to my head and my vision became blurred. "Stop."
"You mean me?" Blaine asked.
"Stop here! Now!"
Blaine pulled off to the roadside and I quickly unfastened my seatbelt and opened the door."
"Trisha, wait for me! I need to call backup!"
I ignored Blaine and took off through the dense vegetation going deeper into the forested area. Something inside was leading me, pushing me forward. What or who it was I didn’t know. I could hear Blaine cursing, calling for me to wait for him, but the need, the rush of impulsiveness to reach the end of the pressure inside my body was far greater than my safety. More importantly, I didn’t feel threatened and I knew Blaine could defend himself against any enemy.
The pressure felt it was going to explode in my head. I stopped, leaned against a sturdy Cottonwood tree and then sit at its base. I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them before resting my head. Blaine had caught up with me. He was furious but I stayed as I was, drowning out his verbal lashing. When he paused, I pointed off to our right. A small mound covered over with dead leaves was visible but what was beneath it, he couldn’t tell until someone cleared away the dirt. I knew what was beneath the mound, the remains of a red-haired woman. However, the scene bothered me. The grave was old, not within the last year or even two years, it was much older.
Blaine and I could hear the sirens of the backup he’d called for, and when I looked up Detective Fuller was walking toward the site. He’d heard Blaine’s call and since he was nearer than other officers came to see what the commotion was. I wished any cop had come but him, he was the one who had handled my kidnaping case and wasn’t happy with my statement of the person who’d held me captive over a week. I’d sensed he had not totally believed my story. Detective Fuller was also a skeptic, and he had no patience for psychic phenomena.
I stayed where I was as the forensic people began slowly and methodically removing the layering of leaves and dirt from the grave. Detective Fuller had taken all of Blaine’s explanation of how we’d discovered the site and made notes while occasionally looking over at me. He remembered my name, my ordeal and I felt that he was wondering if they should consider me suspect. I stood and walked over to Blaine.
"I need to go, Blaine, this headache is massive and until I get away from this scene, it isn’t going to ease at all."
Blaine looked over at Fuller and nodded, and then walked over and held a whispering session before taking my arm and leading me back toward his car. "Miss Weston," Fuller called out, "I’ll get in touch with you at your home soon. I want to go over this in more detail."
"Fine," I replied, "Blaine can give you my address."
"I have it already, Miss Weston."
I turned and stared at him. "I no longer live at my mother’s house."
"I know, Miss Weston." Fuller held his eye contact with me. I turned away first, guilt ripping open the wound over not telling him the truth and whole truth about my brother taking me, and my biological father saving me. I had also sensed back then that he’d not have believed I’d come clean about those facts.
We’d walked about 25 feet along the trail leading away from a now taped off crime scene when I stopped. A picture formed in my mind and I stared at the ground beside Blaine’s feet. "What is it, Trisha? Please don’t say we have another grave."
"He stopped here, put her on the ground and then took off his cap and held it over his heart." I looked up at Blaine. "He said a prayer, then dug the shallow grave and put her in it. He crossed her arms over her chest before covering her with soil and spreading leaves over the grave."
"He prayed for her? Do you think the killer is some kind of religious freak who believes God tells him to kill?"
"I don’t know but I do know the person who killed this woman is not the serial kidnapper and killer you think it is, it’s a different man. She has been dead for years."
"Trisha, I don’t understand. You’d seen a man carrying a red-haired woman when you followed the killer and Leila."
"I can't sum my visions up in nice neat packages with just one visual, Blaine, they have to be sorted. Apparently this woman was trying to reach me when I was following Leila, and then the kidnapper’s thoughts. The two separate incidents fused. Everything isn’t always set in sequences of how they occurred; nothing is exact. I can’t be sure this woman is the same person as the one from the earlier visual. Just take me home because I need rest."
Blaine obliged my request.
The building looked bleak with its peeling paint and well-worn steps. High on the roof a steeple stood as a testament of better days, its bell long missing. She walked toward the steps, disturbing bugs that made their home in the tall limp weeds, thinking she’d probably be covering herself in ointment to stop the itch of their bites before the day was over. The steps creaked and moaned with her weight and the doorknob was stiff but it didn’t surprise her that the building was unlocked. As she pushed the door open further, she noticed a man sitting on the front pew, his grayed hair was thick and slick with oil and he had his head bowed as if in prayer. She noticed the pews had dust buildups, cobwebs hung from the corners of the ceiling. Straight ahead was the pastor’s podium, also covered in dust. Yet the pew the man was sitting on was clean, and the sunlight that filtered in through the door and stained glass windows shone off it. Trisha walked over to one pew and reached for an old hymen book, noticing as she opened it that the binding edges were tattered and the pages were yellowed. She replaced the book in its compartment and walked up to the podium. A woman, aged and tired looking came through a door to her left and toward Trisha.
"Don’t mind him, he never speaks," the old woman said. "I suppose you’ve come to see the church records."
I didn’t know why I had come to this place, just that something or someone led me. "Yes, that would be nice,” I said.
"Follow me, not many have come here since we closed the doors. I never understood but suppose he knew what was best."
"He?"
"Ah, so you are not here to buy this place? Why then? Looking for family from our congregation records? We kept good records with that, you know. All the baptisms and marriages preformed, the children’s dates of birth and death. Of course we have not listed all those. So many moved away."
The old woman pulled down an old book from a shelf and laid it on a stained dusty table. I thanked her and the woman disappeared through the door. As I looked through the genealogy of the church members, I noticed that some were written in different handwriting, the dates more recent and within the last 15 years. I took a small camera from my pocket and began taking pictures of the pages to later download to her computer. It was then I realized coming here had a reason but I wasn’t sure what that reason was yet. Perhaps the records will give me a clue. "You could never destroy this Church or the graveyard, you know that don’t you?"
The voice startled me; I turned and saw a woman in her mid thirties standing the doorway.
"I am sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you. My mother had to go since she doesn’t have the energy to stay long. You will find what you need out there. The woman pointed out the small window; brush has covered it over, and winds have dislodged it from the earth that it stood in."
I closed the book and walked over to replace it on the shelf. "I’ll do that for you," the woman said, "you go and discover."
"Thank you," I said. "What is your name?"
"Emily, I just help mother sometimes."
"Nice to meet you, Emily, I’m Trisha. Who is the older man sitting on the front pew?"
"Him? Oh, that’s just somebody who lost faith, so don’t pay him any never-mind. Go now, look for that sign you need to find, but the steps on the old house are loose and could be dangerous. We had a couple accidents on them ourselves before it caught fire."
"Caught fire? I didn’t see any buildings except this church."
"Mmm, the trees and underbrush probably hide it now. But, it is there, standing empty all these years. Just like this silent church, forlorn and desolate except on Sundays."
"Well, thank you for the information and tell your mother I said thanks for her help too. I’ll take your warnings of the house seriously and be careful with those steps."
"I must go now," Emily said, "but you look around outside and you will find answers."
I was pacing my living room, unsure what I should do and confused with the events that had lead her to the church. I had been on her way home from The Furniture Store when something told me to follow the old graveled road behind her properties. I’d never noticed the road before today and when it appeared in my view it’d surprised me. Weeds had been mashed down, as if someone else had driven over the road recently. Who had been there before me, the old man, the woman and her daughter? I took out the camera and connected to the computer so the pictures of the church records would load. Maybe the answers were in them, maybe a reason could be found why I was taken to the rotted for sale sign that the younger woman mentioned.
I reached into my pocket and took out the paper I’d written the number on from the old sign and grabbed the phone book. A minute later, I heard a voice at the other end of the line say, Ritchie’s Realty. "Yes, this is Trisha Weston, I’d like to make an appointment for tomorrow to discuss a property that I believe you have listed.,". It was then my doorbell rang so I hurried off the phone after making an appointment for the next morning.
"Hello Blaine, come inside, the winds are getting cooler out."
"I came to see if you wanted to go do another search for that road where you followed the killer and his victim. They finished digging the remains at that grave site you discovered, and it was a full skeleton."
"Yes, the discovery was in the papers. I was thrilled that they did not mention my name.""We decided to just say I was out for a trek in the woods when coming up on what was a mound of dirt similar to a grave. DA Collins knew you wouldn’t want your name mixed with the find; the press would be all over your kidnaping again."
"Chad is a smart man," I said just as the doorbell rang again. "You go make us some coffee and I’ll get the door."
Carl Plumes smiled at me. "Miss Weston, could I speak with you a few minutes."
"Actually, you are just who I wanted to talk to, come in," I said and moved aside to allow him entry. We went into my office. "Can you take a few minutes to go with me tomorrow morning? I have some property I want to look at and really don’t want to go alone."
"Sure, that shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll get the men on their assigned duties and meet you here. Just let me know what time."
"Around 10 is the time that I’m to meet the realtor. What did you need to discuss with me?"
Carl was about to tell me when my doorbell sounded a third time. "I’ve got a busy house today, it seems. Let me get that and then we can talk."
Blaine had caught the doorbell and Detective Fuller was standing in the entryway. "Miss Weston, if I may have a few minutes of your time, I’d like to talk to you about. . . ." He hesitated and added, "what we discussed the other day."
"Sure," I said, "but I need to discuss something with Mr. Plumes first. I’ll be back in a few minutes."
"Miss Weston, you have other things to take care of right now and we can talk about the remodeling roadblock tomorrow morning when we meet." Carl said when I rejoined him. "Is 9:30 good for you?"
I smiled up at Carl. "That’s fine. I will see you tomorrow morning." I walked back to the door with Carl and then went into my kitchen where Detective Fuller and Blaine were having coffee.
I tensed, waiting for the accusing tone of his questions.
I accepted the coffee Blaine offered and sat across from Fuller, he stared over at me. "Well, it seems you have friends in high places, Miss Weston," he said.
"And who are these friends, Detective?" I asked."I think you already know the answer to that. They called me in to speak with a certain ADA."
I stayed silent, waiting.
Fuller stared into my eyes. "I’m not saying some people aren’t a little more intuitive than others, but, I’ll tell you the same thing I told that Maria woman, I am not into all this psychic junk."
"Then I’d say Trish is the most intuitive person I know," Blaine said. He was being defensive, protective of me.
I sensed Detective Fuller’s building frustration.
"Exactly what were you told, Detective?" I didn’t want Blaine to argue with Fuller; that could create tensions should Blaine ever have to work a case with the detective.
"That the DA’s office trusted you, and you were the person responsible for finding a certain witness who helped put Jerry Carter away for a very long time. It seems Mr. Carter was responsible for the murder of the Governor Sever’s son a few years ago."
I sat quietly for a couple minutes. Detective Fuller stared and waited. "I suppose," I said, "I am now suspect with that case in your eyes also."
"I have never said you were suspect in anything," Fuller said.
"No, you haven’t, nor have you said I wasn’t suspect in anything, including my own kidnaping." My tone was accusing and Fuller matched it.
"I do feel strongly that you haven’t been completely up front about the situation surrounding those events, but I don’t think you had a part in planning the kidnaping. Does that ease your mind, Miss Weston?"
I creased my brow and nodded. "Was there another reason you came to my home, Detective?"
"Yes, Miss Weston. I have a photo lineup I’d like you to look at and tell me if you recognize any of the faces."
Detective Fuller pulled a few small pictures from his jacket pocket and placed them face-down on the bar. I began to feel pressure in my ears and head. Something, someone, was calling out to me, but it wasn’t my brother. I pushed my bar chair back and reached for my coffee cup. Blaine noticed my reactions and knew something was bothering me. I stood and walked over to the coffee pot. "Are those pictures of possible suspects in the death of the red-haired lady, or the person who held me all those days?"
"Possibly both, Miss Weston, we do not know how long this man has been killing. The day that you and Officer Anderson discovered the body, you said it wasn’t the same man, but how can you be sure of that?"
I breathed in and exhaled with a sigh. "Let’s get on with it, Detective. Do you want me to turn the pictures over, or you?"
"Your choice, Miss Weston."
I walked back over to the bar and placed the palm of my hand on the stack of pictures. "One man you’ve included is a violent man; he has killed before but was never questioned in that death. He killed a man a couple years ago, shot him and then left him where he died. In a vacant lot."
Detective Fuller stayed silent but I hadn’t expected him to comment before I looked over all the mug shots. I turned them face-up one by one and put my finger on the man I’d mentioned. "This man," I said, "he killed a young man, shot him execution style. However, the red-haired woman’s killer isn’t here, nor is the one who held me."
Detective Fuller looked at the mug shot of the man and back at me. "Where did you see him before today?"
"I haven’t seen him, Detective Fuller. All I know is that he killed a man, Hispanic I think, wearing baggy pants, dark color Tee, and tennis."
Detective Fuller gathered the pictures and slipped then into his pocket. He was reaching into his other jacket pocket when his phone rang. I knew he was about to pull out more pictures, but kept quiet. Something told me to not mention them, and I usually followed my instincts. Detective Fuller walked away from us so he could have privacy with his call and Blaine settled a question on his forehead.
"I don’t know the man’s name, Blaine. All I know is he, and two other men were in a vacant lot but only that man, the one I pointed out, shot the victim."
"Detective," I said, stopping Fuller as he was leaving after his apology for not having time to stay around to show me more pictures. "What are your plans for Sunday?" I paused momentarily. "Say around 11-ish."
"Why do you ask?"
I wasn’t sure why I’d asked, I just knew I was supposed to do so. "Meet me here. I’d like for you to go somewhere with me."
Detective Fuller stared at me a few seconds as if deciding if I were messing with his head. "I’ll be here," he replied and then left my kitchen.
I heard the door open and shut and the engine of his car as he left my driveway. I knew he was more curious about me than before; that was okay; I was curious about why I’d stopped his exit and asked he to go somewhere with me when I had no idea where I wanted him to go with me too.
I woke early with my stomach churning, but I knew I needed to start my day. Carl was joining me to meet the realtor from Ritchie’s Realty. I’d ridden with Blaine for a couple hours the evening before and we’d traveled farther than the previous trip where the red-haired woman had pulled me into her death. Or the killer had pulled me in; I wasn’t sure which had taken me into those woods.
At my insistence, Blaine had turned on a narrow and winding road. We’d driven about 2 miles when I began feeling ill, the farther we went the more ill I became and Blaine had gotten worried. He turned around and headed back into the city. We stopped at a service station and I’d barely made it into the restroom before I donated all I’d eaten to the local sewage system. Blaine told me I was as white as a sheet before I went in but when I came out, I looked like death. He insisted that he drive me home and had stayed with me until Linda made it home.
That I’d slept the early evening away was one reason I didn’t sleep a fitful sleep overnight. I was restless, and blamed that restlessness on my head feeling heavy. But I assured Linda I was feeling fine and left to meet with Carl Plumes. Blaine had called to ask about my health also and I smiled. He was a worrier. Blaine assured me he’d be over Monday after work to see me. He’d gone to spend the weekend with his parents; something he seldom had the opportunity to do since his acceptance on the force, and less since he’d been helping me. I knew his mother had to be curious why they'd not mentioned both him and me in the news report of the red-haired woman’s body discovery and would be questioning him.
Carl’s eyes rounded when he pulled up behind me at the church and was at my car door as I shut it. I smiled. "I know. You are wondering why I’d want to look at this property," I said. Carl nodded and raised his eyebrows questioning and waiting for my explanation. I think he’d become protective of me, fatherly in his actions."I’d like to know if you can clean this place up, find the old road that leads to the graveyard and home that are behind the church. I need access to it if I decide to purchase this land.'
"Are you going to tear down the church and build a new home? A graveyard, did you say a graveyard?"
"No. The church must be kept. I want to clean all the land, the church, and see what we can do about the home. Those overhanging tree limbs need trimming away from the church, they cast a dark shadow over it, and with the brush grown so high it covers the windows, this place looks ominous. A church should not look ominous, it should look inviting."
Carl was staring at me. He was wondering what the heck I was thinking and was about to question me further when the realtor pulled in and parked beside his truck. I walked over and introduced myself. Carl walked off to inspect the land, looking for the road grown over with weeds.
A little later the realtor and I took the path Carl had made for us with his weed-eater and stared at a house that was in various stages of disrepair. Rotted and broken steps and a porch with loose and weakened boards led up to the front door. Carl said I’d have to replace the porch if I repaired the home. The interior of the home fared the test of time much better. I turned down the offer of going around the back of the home and asked the realtor when we could sign papers to put a hold on the land. I was ready to sign, to discover why they brought me to this place and why they intended that I buy and improve the property.
When we’d walked inside the church, I’d noticed all the pews and pastors’ podium were dust covered. We had to unstick doors leading to both the small office and classrooms with hard jerks before they finally opened. I knew for sure then that the older lady, her daughter and the man who’d sat on the front pew with his head down while he sang "Just As I Am’ had not been living individuals. I had spoken to and assisted by ghost of the past church members. I felt a tingle move down my spine that stayed with me throughout the meeting back at the realtor’s office and my drive back home.
The rest of the day was restless. I was wanting to investigate the church more in-depth, to discover who the man and two women were. Why did they draw me into their afterlife? Since it was Friday evening the courthouse was closed, I couldn’t go there and search for the history of the property. I knew who’d put the land up for sale but knew nothing of him except he was now deceased and monies he’d allowed for property upkeep had long since dried up. I went to my computer and searched but without success. I needed more, names of the congregation and burials from the record book the woman had shown me. However, I couldn’t do much with the photographs I’d taken of the pages so reading them was near impossible. The church record book held a clue. Why else had she shown it to me.
I wanted to go back to the church and retrieve the book, but knew I couldn’t do that before the property was legally mine. I was at a blocked junction, with no way to blast a clear path until Monday. So I did what any daughter with loving parents would do, I went home.
And home is where mom and Aunt Betty found me later that evening, fast asleep on my bed with Arms under my cheek. Mom eased my bedroom door shut and motioned for Aunt Betty to go downstairs. "She has been in the attic again, Betty."
"Yes, I see that the door isn’t shut tight. What is she digging for up there now?"
"Probably some childhood memory she’s realized she had," Mom said.
"Too much death and violence surround her, much too much death. Her observations have strengthened since her kidnaping. Something happened to her during those days and she isn’t talking about what it was. Something other than discovering I was her biological mother.""Don’t be worrying over chickens before they are hatched, Betty. She was probably just digging in her old notebooks up there in the attic. I agree with you about her abilities, they have strengthened. Have you ever wished you’d followed your instincts more as a child? Built up from those dreams you had and made something more of it?"
"No, I couldn’t have handled knowing about all the things I saw in my dreams. After I saw my Uncle beat his wife, I blocked them all and finally they stopped. Not entirely but enough that I could live and not worry about other people’s troubles."
"I wish Trisha had done that also. I tried to get her to stop but it didn’t work.” Mom said. “Oh well, since she does use her talent for good, I suppose we must stand beside her and be here to support when she needs us to be."
"And that is why she is upstairs now. She knows she can come home. Still, I worry about her helping the police like she is and digging into the past."
Mom smiled over at Aunt Betty and nodded an agreement.
When I woke, I felt calmer. I grabbed my briefcase and went downstairs to join Mom and Aunt Betty. "Hi you two." After a couple hours of discussion about what is happening with Linda and Blaine, mom and Aunt Betty’s next book read and an explanation of why I couldn’t stay the night, I headed home. Thoughts of where I was suppose to take Detective Fuller was heavy in my thoughts and I worried.
"So, are you ready for your adventure this morning?" Linda asked when she discovered me up early Sunday morning.
"No, I am not; I have no idea where I am taking Detective Fuller; I have no idea why I asked him to go with me; I suppose I am to follow my instincts when we drive around. I hope he doesn’t think me even more nuts than he already does when it turns out to be nothing more than an excursion around back roads or through some residential area. The skies are very overcast this morning and that isn't going to make for a particularly good trip; with my luck, it will start storming and that storm will equal what Fuller thinks of me."
Linda laughed and I couldn’t help laughing with her. Detective Fuller was on time, he arrived before 11 and immediately showed the question mark on his forehead. I smiled up at him. "Would you like coffee before we leave?"
"No thank you, but I would like to know where you want me to go and why you want me to go."
"I will just grab a sweater then we can leave. You will discover where we are going when we reach the destination."I walked toward my car but the detective went to his. "No,’ he said, " I am driving."
I smiled inward and nodded. My head was beginning to get a heaviness about it and I knew someone was trying to reach out to me. I hoped that someone was who I needed to guide me on this journey. As we neared the end of my drive, I told the detective to take a left. We rode in silence until the scratching of his radio interrupted. Detective Fuller reached over and turned it off. A that very moment a flash appeared in the shape of an arrow. I glanced over his way and knew where to take him. "Take a left," I said.
"Left into the woods, what is back here, are you taking me to yet another body?"
I stayed silent as he drove near a mile and I motioned for him to turn into the long drive of the church. He pulled up and cut the car engine. "Now what, Missy?"
I reached for my door handle and smiled over at him. "We get out."
I was shocked to see the drive full of cars and trucks, some older than I was." Detective Fuller did not see all these vehicles, what he saw was the freshly cut path Carl had made for us when we’d met the realtor. He also saw the tire tracks. I noticed his eyebrows raise and that he stepped over them as he followed me to the church door. His eyes were scanning the whole situation, setting the scene in his mind. He reached for the doorknob, I did not hear the squeaking nosie it made, but he did. He did not see the spotless pews and pastor’s podium nor did he see all the souls filling the pews. I saw them, some better than others, some orbs and others completely vaporous. He did not see the same man I’d seen when I was here before sitting on the front pew, far right side, with his head bowed and the bible he held with both hands against his forehead. Detective Fuller did not see the mother and daughter sitting on the pew behind the old man, dressed in their Sunday best clothes.
I motioned for him to move into the last pew and he did. I sat beside him. As I sit, I noticed a soul reach out and tug at Detective Fullers, hair. A smile I tried to hide made it’s way to my eyes as he instinctively reached back with his right had and rubbed the spot. A couple minutes later the whole congregation stood in prayer and then a song. I stood with them; so did the detective. As the pastor, a tall man, with a well-groomed beard preached he had tears falling from his eyes. His sermon was about the evil we hold inside us, the hate we allow to take us over. Detective Fuller did not hear this sermon, but he sat quietly beside me as if he did. He did not see the hymnal I was holding as we stood in song but he looked down at my hands as if he did. Or wondering if I’d lost my mind and how he was going to convince me to sign myself in at a local mental facility for observation and help.
After the pastor again prayed for our souls, he motioned for the congregation that it was time to go. Souls silently walked out the church in a single line behind the pastor. The old man stood and looked back at the mother and daughter then slowly walked out into the center aisle. When he reached me, he looked down and placed his bible in my lap. He bent down and whispered in my ear, ‘be careful of assumptions, search for the answers you seek." I nodded and stayed seated, waiting for the last members, the older woman and daughter, to exit the church before I took the bible in my hands and stood. "We can go now, Detective Fuller," I said.
As we reached the steps of the church Detective Fuller stopped but I walked around him and walked toward the narrow path Carl had made to the back of the church and the house. He watched me as I disappeared into the high weeds. He had more questions showing on his forehead than I could or wanted to answer at this time. Besides, I was busy searching for a reason I was headed to the back of the church. Holding the bible tightly against my stomach, scared if I loosened my grip it’d disappear just as the souls and vehicles had when they left the church service. I wondered if this was what my life had become, just a tromp through others desolation in a search for their answers. It was at that moment I heard the crunching of dead leaves nearby. I turned to see if Detective Fuller had followed me but no one was there. I inhaled, what if the kidnap-killer was nearby or an angry soul that didn’t care who he or she harmed? Here I was, basically hidden in brush and the extending church rooms, although I was on a previously cleared path, and at risk of disappearing. My grip on the bible tightened. What did I have as a weapon to defend myself if someone jumped out at me? The bible? I gave a low grunt of laughter. I guess I could preach, using the bible as my weapon. A few steps later I stopped dead, hearing more brush rustling; okay, I silently told myself, time to go back to the car and safety with Detective Fuller. Again, a rustling noise, this one caused me to stop dead still. I heard a whispering voice; I didn’t discern what they said, only that it was more than one whisper. “Who is there?” I asked with a nervous voice as I slowly made my way back the way I’d came. Nothing. Silence followed my question. I tried hard to peer around the trees and high brush but darkness invaded my vision. A rumble of thunder sounded overhead. ‘Great,’ I whispered, picking up my pace.
When I reached the church front, Detective Fuller walked to the passenger side of the car and opened the door before walking around to the driver’s side. The same old sickness of the past soul search quest had reached out and was invading my body. My head felt it was going to explode and my stomach cramped into a knot that refused to relax. Still, I didn’t relish revealing to Detective Fuller that I was becoming very ill and could faint at any moment. As I reached the car, I turned back to the woods; it was then I saw the man. My knees weakened but I held myself erect by grabbing hold the car door handle. I’d heard his words, clearly. ‘The answer is in the past.’ I clutched more tightly on the bible, fearing I had heard another word in that statement. Your. I shook my head in an attempt to diffuse it, thinking my imagination was interfering.
I had barely reached for my seatbelt when Detective Fuller stared at me and ask who I had met around back of the church.
My hand stopped in midair. “Met?” I said and continued to tug at the belt, refusing as I did to let go of the bible I was clutching with my left hand.
“You are ill, I can see that. Your boyfriend told me you had a propensity of fainting during these little excursions. So who did you see behind the church and why?”
I stared out the front windshield and saw the man standing there with his arms crossed and legs apart, daring me with his stance to deny him. “My father,” I answered.
Detective Fuller’s eyes hardened. “Don’t BS with me, Miss Weston! Your father is dead!” He was loud with his anger and it reverberated off my eardrums so strongly that I let go of the bible and raised both hands to my ears. You’ve been clutching this,” he reached over and took a picture from my lap and shook it at me, “against your stomach since we stood to leave inside that dark, dusty church. What the hell are we doing, if it wasn’t because you wanted to meet someone?”
I stared at the picture as he shook it in my face, it was of a young boy, one I didn’t recognize. I glanced down and for a split second saw an open bible. For the rod of the wicked shall not rest upon the lot of the righteous; lest the righteous put forth their hands unto iniquity.
Psalms 125:3. I didn’t understand it. What happened to the bible? Detective Fuller obviously didn’t see it, but he did see the picture. I was confused and didn’t know how to answer his questions.
“Trisha, I’m sorry if I yelled but I need answers. Why did you want me to come here with you?” I wondered that myself.
“All I know is that I was supposed to ask you to come,” I said. “They haven’t explained it to me.”
Detective Fuller let out a heavy sigh of disbelief. “Are you sure you didn’t see or speak to anyone in back of that church? I heard you talking, who was it you talked to?”
“I didn’t talk to anyone; I heard noises and asked who was there, actually, I figured it was you, following me.”
He sent me another of his disbelieving looks. “Are you sure that is all you have to say? No way will I let you use me as an escape goat for some clandestine meeting with a killer?”
“As sure as I am that a young girl pulled your hair while inside the church,” I said. “She and two adults sat on the same bench we sat on.” Detective Fuller’s voice had been harsh but had softened some with his question, until that is, he said what he had about being an escape goat. “So, you think I am using you? For what, Detective? Some illegal action? I assure you, this property is mine. We’re not breaking any laws. I’ve placed a hold on it until I can sign papers tomorrow.” I removed the picture from the dash where he’d thrown it, stared at it, then slipped it into my purse, an action Detective Fuller noticed. No name was on the back of the picture so it was up to me to discover who the person was.
Detective Fuller reached for the ignition and started the car. “I’ll ask you again, why did you want me to come with you today? Is it because you’re afraid of something, of someone? And your boyfriend is not available as a witness?”
He thought he’d catch me in a lie. I knew the truth was that he may have if I didn’t just shut up so I stayed silent refusing his sparing match attempt. Detective Fuller put his car in reverse and backed before turning his car so he could leave the property. I wondered, since he could’ve easily made the turn without backing up, if he wanted to come back and investigate. It wasn’t until we reached the entrance that I knew we had to drive more. I told him to keep going, it wasn’t time to go back to my house. He drove, both of us silent, waiting for directions, me from whomever it was leading me and him from me. ‘Take a right up ahead.”
“Oh God, no.” My stomach was turning over and automatically my hand covered my mouth. I gagged, and Detective Fuller slammed on his breaks. I got the car door open in time.
Detective Fuller reached into his console and pulled out some hand wipes. “Sorry, this is all I have.”
“Thank you.” I shut the car door, “keep driving.” He did as I asked without questioning my reasons. I was thankful for that because at this time I didn’t know the reasons. I saw it then, “another right,” I said and pointed. A little later I advised him to take a left.
He did a quick turn and a couple minutes later I yelled, “Stop!” My hands were shaking and the ringing of my cell was creating a more intense pounding sensation in my head. “Dear God, I’ve got to learn how to better control these headaches.” I dug around in my purse and found the phone just as it stopped ringing.
“Hmm, Detective Fuller said. “What’s here or are you just conveniently sick again?”
I exited the car, walked about five feet and pointed. Detective Fuller stared at the small building and then back at me. His expletive was the last I heard before I hit the ground and the clouds opened up, drenching us both. The rain brought me back to life. Detective Fuller had me in his arms and was putting me in the passenger seat of the car. He popped his trunk and removed a blanket and paper towels. He sat in his driver’s seat, wrapped the blanket around me before handing me some dry towels. The rains caused a chill and I was shaking and wishing I could vanish beneath the blanket; he put on the car heat and headed back the way we came.
“I hope you remember the way back to that building because I’m not sure I will,” I said in a low quivering voice.
He looked over at me. “I will but there is nothing we can do in this storm. Supposedly, it’s to worsen later today. Why don’t you just tell me what’s there?”
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I have completed it and will post it in a day or two. I've also written another story with new characters that I'll post.