“Have you always had this ‘gift’? That would have made school tough, I imagine.”
I look out the side window remembering the times I was beat up by the bullies at school. Even in kindergarten the other kids had picked up on the fact that I wasn’t like them. And when you’re young, being different is the last thing you want.
“Yeah. School was no walk in the park. And yes, I was born with this, like my granny. She used to talk to me about it. She warned me against telling people the things I see but hey... you know me.”
“Snatching defeat out of the jaws of victory. Yeah I’ve seen you at work in the bar.” He flips the turn signal on and pulls into a driveway bordered by lawns that could shame a golf course.
The house is huge and perfect. Everything outside is elegant and perfectly displayed. A birdbath is set on the lawn and is spotless; at the end of the walkway are two cast-iron chairs that have never been sat in, judging from the perfect lawn below them. It’s more like a museum than a home. I follow Mike up the granite steps and wait as he pushes the doorbell. We’re quite the pair of professionals. Him in a suit that’s way past its ‘best before’ date and me in scruffy jeans and a Pearl Jam T-shirt.
The door opens and a dark-haired woman in an oversized blouse and yoga pants stands there. Her grief and worry is palpable even if you didn’t notice bloodshot eyes and a red nose from all the tears she’s shed.
“Lisa Jefferson? I’m Mike Drogan. We spoke on the phone this morning.” He casts a glance at me, “This is Adam Rafferty, my assistant.”
She extends a limp hand. “Pleased to meet you. Come in.” She opens the door wider and then stands back to let us enter. “I hope you’ll find my Chauncy boy.”
“We’re certainly going to try. It’s been my experience that the sooner you get looking the better your chances of recovery are. Can we check out the backyard? There might be something there that will point us to whoever took him.” Mike follows the woman across the foyer and into a bright, spacious kitchen.
I’m right behind, looking for any chew toy or object the dog might have left an imprint on. The dog’s bowl and water dish are in the corner, next to a set of French doors that open up to a large deck and yard.
Lisa is barely able to speak as she tells Mike about letting the dog out and her horror when she discovered he was missing. All the while she’s talking I’m running my hand over a plush designer dog bed on the opposite end of the room. For a moment it’s like I’m inside the dog, hungry for breakfast and fighting the urge to take a pee on the leg of the table. That’s Chauncy’s life. Once the biological needs are squared away, his joy lies in the touch of this woman’s hand scratching his belly.
Outside, I’m in my own head, ignoring Mike and the woman. Instead, I’m following Chauncy’s usual pattern. He marks the two fruit trees before going to the corner of the yard to take care of the rest of it. But before he’s there, two men come through a gate in the fence, coming toward him. One guy is tall, skinny and bald but the other one, the one with the raw steak in his hands, is burly with gray hair. The hackles go up on Chauncy’s back, and his throat rumbles in a growl that I can feel in my windpipe. These guys are strangers invading his space. But that steak... I’m even salivating, licking my lips like Chauncy.
“What are you doing?” Lisa has been watching me, and now she’s curious, coming over to me.
I place my hand on her arm, and her life, specifically the nightmare divorce she’s going through, hits me like a hammer. The soon-to-be ex has vowed to destroy her after catching her out in an affair. Funny thing, though; she’s only concerned with the missing dog. There wasn’t a lot of love for the husband at any point in the marriage.
Mike answers her question. “Adam has psychic abilities, Lisa. I won’t lie to you. Finding a missing person is hard but a missing pet? Is there anyone who may have taken Chauncy to get back at you?”
I pipe up before she has a chance. “Your ex. He didn’t take the dog but he hired people to do it. They lured Chauncy with a T-bone.”
Her eyes go wide staring at me. “What? You know...?” She recovers from the shock of my perception pretty quickly, her face contorting in anger. “You think Tom did this? That little weasel. I’ll kill him if he hurts Chauncy! Tom never liked him. Chauncy was always my dog.”
She sidles closer, clinging to me. “Find him. Please, I’ll do anything to get him back.” Her fingers begin to knead the flesh of my forearm.
I nod, extricating my arm and edging closer to Mike. This is crazy, but I’d swear there’s more she’s offering here than just Mike’s fee. And it isn’t all about the dog. Her gaze lingers as she’s taking in my ripped jeans and back up to lock eyes with me. Her tongue darts out and touches her lower lip so quickly I almost miss it.
Oh my God. This woman, almost old enough to be my mother is attracted to me? No. No. And triple no. Not gonna happen.
Mike senses the oddness that infuses the situation like a bad smell. He speaks quickly, “We’ll do what we can, Lisa. But we have to go now. Give me the contact info for your husband. I’ll cover that base while Adam does his thing.”
When Lisa is busy with Mike, giving him the address and phone number, I wander to the wooden gate. Her house is the last one on the block, and there’s a side street next to her backyard. An image of a white cargo van peeling away flashes in my mind’s eye. But all I could make out of the plate was that it was a New York license starting with the letters DCC or DOC.
I manage to evade Lisa’s outstretched hand and race back to the house. There’s a tennis ball missing half the bright yellow shell on Chauncy’s bed. I slip it into my pocket and then hurry to the front door.
Mike looks puzzled when he gets into the car and starts the engine. He shoots a look at me, “Again you lit out of there like your ass was on fire. Granted she’s old enough to be your mother but you were kind of rude, kid.”
“Are you kidding? She cheated on him. That’s why he’s filed for divorce. I even picked up on the guy she was with. He’s built like a quarterback with tree trunks for thighs. So why me? I’m not exactly Mr. Six-Pack Abs. I don’t think it was my boyish charm either.”
Even though his face is twisted in disbelief he ponders. “Maybe your luck’s changing, kid. I mean you had a lock on that redhead last night. And now Lisa? Funny, I would have thought she’d be attracted to me. She wasn’t bad-looking either.” He wheels the car out of the drive and then clicks the radio on.
The tinny voice of a woman reciting the news blares through the speakers. “The woman found next to a dumpster in the Food City parking lot early this morning has been identified as Cynthia Brooks. Miss Brooks was an early childhood educator at Linklater School. Police are asking for any information from people who may have seen Miss Brooks in the last twenty-four hours. Miss Brooks had been brutally assaulted resulting in her death.”
The air is suddenly sucked out of the car’s interior. My heart pounds fast as I look over at Mike.
I point at the radio. “Mike… that was the redhead in the bar last night. Cynthia Brooks.”
NINE
His jaw drops, and his eyes widen in a double take staring at me. He has to swerve quickly to avoid running into a parked car. “Shit, Adam! Are you sure? Maybe there’re a few Cynthia Brooks in this town.”
It’s hard to get the words out when my mouth has dried up like a mud puddle on a hot day in July. “Yes! Cynthia worked as a teacher with small kids. There can’t be two of them!” Oh my God! That poor, poor girl. What a waste of her life.
“You’ve got to go to the police station, Adam. Hell, I saw her last night as well. I’ll need to make a statement too.” Mike’s face is tight glancing over at me. “You went home last night when you ran out of the bar, right?”
“Well, yeah!” This time it’s my turn for the jaw drop. “You don’t think I had anything to do with her death, do you?” But immediately following my outrage is remembering the crazy monkey sex with that specter. My gut sinks throug
h the plush leather seat. That thing has something to do with what happened to Cynthia. It’s too coincidental. It killed her. I don’t know how I know this, but I do. I’d stake my life on that fact.
“Do you have anyone who can corroborate your story?” His voice has taken on an officious edge which gets my back up even further.
“What the hell, Mike!”
“Look, I know you’re innocent, okay? But the police are going to want a suspect, and you, my friend, will be a person of interest to them. Don’t worry, I still have amigos on the force. I can maybe pull some strings.”
“Will you listen to yourself? I’m innocent!” It pops into my head, Doug’s knock on my door this morning. “Hey. My roommate heard me last night. He even commented on it this morning, so he can back me up.”
“Whaddaya mean he ‘heard you’? What the hell were you doing?” Now he thinks I’m a total perv, from the look he shoots me.
I dry-scrub my face, buying time. Should I tell him everything? Either way he’s gonna think I’m crazy. After taking a deep breath I turn to him. “Do you believe in demons, Mike?”
Again, his eyes flash almost as wide as his gaping mouth. “What? What are you talking about?”
We’re back in the town center again, and the police station is just up on the next block. “Pull over. This is a long story that you need to hear. But believe me when I say it’s true.” This is gonna be tough. I can hardly believe it, and I experienced it!
From the look on his face, he thinks I’ve lost it, but he stops the car to hear me out.
Turning slightly to face him. “Okay, let’s try another angle. Do you believe in God, heaven, and angels? The Bible?”
“Yeah, for the most part. I was raised Episcopalian and—”
“If there’s a God representing good then it stands to reason that there’s a polar opposite, representing evil. It’s that whole thing about balance in the universe.”
“Wait a minute. You’re telling me you can see these things too... angels and demons?” From the way he’s gripping the steering wheel, white knuckled, it’s a toss-up as to whether he’s fascinated or horrified.
“Not usually. Of course I see spirits all the time. Not everyone who dies is ready to cross over to the next realm. People who die suddenly or who love another person so much that they don’t want to leave them... I see them.”
I take another deep breath and keep going, “As for angels, I’ve seen people who glow with silver auras. I believe they’re either angels, or people who are so highly evolved that they’re the next best thing. The Dalai Lama is definitely one.”
“And people like Ted Bundy, Charles Manson... you think they’re demons? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never met either of those guys. For sure, they’re psychopaths. Maybe there’s a demonic influence going on with people who commit horrible atrocities. But to get back to my point...” I swallow hard and continue, “I saw a demon yesterday. It’s the same one I saw when I was twelve.”
He’s silent now, waiting for the connection to Cynthia.
“When you see a demon, Mike, you don’t forget it. Believe me. They’re dark and very foul. I almost threw up when it touched me.” Even now as I tell Mike about this my gut rolls and the scratches it put on me, burn. “It’s become attached to me somehow. It’s in my head sometimes, saying things.”
“What kinds of things? Like to kill someone or something?” He edges closer to the door.
I shake my head. “Nothing that overt... yet. It kind of taunts and goads me. And that girl, Cynthia, at the bar—”
“So, you’re possessed?” His voice on that last word had come out kind of squeeky, so he clears his throat before continuing, “Just so ya know, this isn’t helping your case regarding that poor girl’s death.”
He doesn’t have to remind me how bad this looks. I can’t tell the police all this supernatural shit, but for some reason I need Mike to understand it. I shake my head and continue.
“Not possessed exactly. But it was with me last night in the bar. It was a voice in my head, coaching me on what to say to her. Total bullshit lies, playing on her kindness and it was actually working!”
“Yeah...?”
“It was that thing! That demon. I even saw it when I went to the bathroom. There was a darkness surrounding me that I’ve never seen before. That’s why I bolted from the bar. I didn’t want to take advantage of Cynthia. And believe me, that horrible thing wanted me to, desperately.”
I tug the bottom of my T-shirt up to my chin. “It made these marks on me last night when I went home.” My face warms up, but I have to come clean about everything. “I think it also molested me during the night. It got pretty wild. My roommate heard the commotion. He commented on the noise coming from my room.”
He rolls his eyes and there’s disgust in his curled lip. But it’s better that he knows. I continue on, “I don’t know how, but that bastard is responsible for Cynthia’s murder. If it could cut me like this, what did it do to her? It hates the fact that I resisted doing what it wanted me to do with her. So it killed her to get back at me. I know it did.”
He blinks hard a few times. “You’re saying Cynthia’s murderer is a demon?” Shaking his head, he continues, “That’s not gonna go down well with the cops, Adam. You’ll be lucky if they don’t lock you up or put you in an insane asylum.”
Funny thing is, even though he’s shocked, I know he believes me. And getting this off my chest feels right. Aside from Amy, Mike is probably the only friend I’ve got who is able to hear this and not think I’m doing cheap drugs.
He turns to me, and there’s a fiery determination in his stare. “Call me crazy, but I believe you. I read people pretty good so I know you’re not lying. But you can’t tell the police about this demon thing. For God’s sake, leave that part out. You have a witness who’ll attest to you being in your room all night. So that will clear you.”
He turns the key in the ignition, “Now let’s make our statement to the police and then find Lisa’s dog.”
TEN
I’M ONLY A LITTLE LATE when I arrive at my delivery job. Phil tries to score points with his Aunt Hilda, making it more of a big deal than it is. After hearing about Cynthia’s death, making a police statement as to my whereabouts last night, doing some sort of horizontal mambo with a demon and getting scratched in the process, I think I’m pretty well qualified to know what constitutes a big deal.
“Are you all right, Adam? You look pretty pale.” Hilda ignores her nephew coming out from behind the counter to examine me.
“I’m fine. I had a rough night last night. I was awake most of the night after eating some bad food before bed.” I smile when I see the concern on her face ease. I might as well go for consistency with the story I told Doug this morning. I think even the police detective—a friend of Mike’s, which helped my case—bought it too.
“It’s kind of a light day so far.” She plucks the order sheets from the counter and hands them to me.
Phil looks up from his cell phone long enough to throw what he considers a zinger. “Just don’t take advantage of that and be running the roads on our dime, Adam. Oh yeah, and thanks for that delivery in the boonies. I almost got a hernia lifting that statue into the van. Nice to know we can count on you—NOT!”
“I hope those porn sites you’re always plugging into don’t charge by the minute. Hilda might have to mortgage the business to pay the internet bill.” I grab the keys from the counter and head out. But not before I notice the look of shock on Hilda’s face become a glaring world of trouble for Phil. Looks good on him.
The first assignment, picking up three orders of flowers to go to the funeral home puts me on the east end of town. After dropping off the flowers I sit in the parking lot and take the dog’s tennis ball from my pocket.
I close my eyes. I’m instantly transported into the dognappers vehicle. The drone of the van’s wheels on blacktop, cars and transports whipping by come
s through in my mind. The husband, who’s behind this caper would want to get the dog as far away as possible.
I grip the ball tighter and really focus all my energy into Chauncy. Where are you, dog? If you can sit up and see the countryside, maybe there will be some kind of sign or marking to let me know where you are. I see fields flitting by in a flash, and a four-lane highway separated by a wide median. But this could be anywhere.
Wait! The marker passes in a blur, too quick to see the number only the familiar logo. He’s on I-81 heading south. One other sense comes through from Chauncy. He’s gotta pee, bad. He’s even whining a little.
The gray-haired guy turns and fixes beady eyes on the dog before he says something to the man driving. Maybe... just maybe.
I’m putting every cell in my body to work on this. The van’s turn signal is flashing and it’s pulling off the main route. Yes! I see the sign announcing the small town of Pulaski. I grab my phone from my pocket and punch the numbers to reach Mike. He answers on the second ring.
“Mike. The dog’s in a white van with New York plates. First letters DDC or DOC. They just pulled off the I-81 in Pulaski. Do you know any cops in that town?”
“On it.” A click follows.
Haunted By The Succubus Page 6