by David Clark
“With the numbers you can at least link the girls together,” Megan suggested.
“That is a good point, and will help a bunch, but first I need to do something else. I need to find Jennifer Tate. Any chance you could point me in the right direction?”
Jordan studied their three visitors and saw Marie talking toward Megan, and Megan was listening while she drew on a piece of paper.
22
Waiting was not one of Jordan’s strong traits. He was a get in, get it done, and get out kind of person. Which went well with his role. Most of the time, any stake-out or long wait had already taken place. They would call him in when that part was done, and they needed him to review the crime scene, or any evidence collected. On occasion they asked him to talk to the suspect and render an ‘expert opinion’. He needed to keep what he had recently learned about his status as an expert from the rest of the bureau. As far as they needed to know, he was still the most experienced and knowledgeable para-psychologist around.
When Detective Kendal left, he told them to wait for his call, but gave no indication how long that might be, though Jordan had a feeling it would be awhile because he said “hang tight.” A law enforcement term for ‘have patience, this will take a while’. Since he left, they hung tight in a hotel room that was meant to be comfortable for two, but was rather cramped with five. Megan found a movie to watch that she and the girls seemed to enjoy, all gathered on a single bed like what Jordan imagined would be a scene out of any teenage girl’s slumber party. If you ignore the fact, you could see through three of them. Jordan sat at the table and went over his notes for anything he had missed, while trying to calculate the next step; two things he believed went hand in hand.
It was clear to him, and Detective Kendal, they needed more. Something more concrete to link the names on the list to the girls, and ultimately to what happened to them. With the power players on this list, they both risked getting burned by any false moves. Not to mention the impact to the case, which was really Jordan’s primary concern.
After an hour Jordan gave up on reviewing what he had any further. It was clear there was nothing more there and leaned back in the chair to try to relax. The giggling that came from the bed, helped. It was a joyous sound, at least before he remembered who was on the bed, and that he had heard two voices. His head jolted up and looked at the bed. “Who giggled?”
“Sorry, just something on the movie” Megan said, as if admonished by her parents.
“No, I mean. Who was giggling?”
“Me.” Megan raised her hand.
“Who else? I heard two.”
Megan sat up on the side of the bed with that, and Marie looked at her. “You heard us both?”, she asked, surprised.
“Yes, you were louder than the other, but the other voice was there under yours. Almost like from a television in the other room or something.”
Megan looked at Marie and said, “Say something.”
Marie’s mouth moved and Jordan jumped from the chair, sending it crashing backward with a thud, when he heard in the distance, “Can you hear me, Agent Blake?” It was a good thing he was in good shape. This day had challenged his cardiac health, and he had a feeling it wasn’t over yet. The voice asked, “Megan, can he hear me?” as he attempted to regain his previously calm and relaxed demeanor.
“Oh girl, I think he heard you just fine,” Megan said, delighted.
The voice was not what Jordan would have expected with her name or appearance. It was as southern as Miss Scarlett’s sounded when she stood on the front porch of the Tara plantation. Then he heard another voice, a new mature sounding one ask, “How can he hear us now, but couldn’t before?”
Jordan saw the mouth that moved when that voice appeared, and added, “Sharon, I want to know the same thing.” Now it was their turn to be startled.
“Immersion,” answered Megan. “While I could communicate with you immediately, his gift is a little different. He can see and sense when you are around, but the longer he is around you, the more connected you and he become, opening the lines of communication. It’s why some people can live in a house for years, and never notice a ghost, then slowly bit by bit they notice more and more until they see full blown apparitions that make sounds.”
“It has never happened before,” admitted Jordan, who was still a bit unsettled by this recent development.
“Me next,” Beth said, with a higher pitched voice than the others.
“Hi, Beth,” greeted Jordan.
All three bounced on the bed, and Marie shrieked. At first their reactions struck Jordan as odd, but then he understood. They were trapped and unable to communicate with the world that moved around them until now. Now, they had found two people who could hear them. It didn’t change the fact that they were dead, but this small detail seemed to make them feel normal, or as normal as they would ever be again.
Megan stood up and reached inside the top of her black Ramones t-shirt and pulled out the gold chain she wore around her neck. This has been a fixture on her since the day Jordan met her. He had noticed she only ever took it off to shower and always put it back on immediately when she got out. She didn’t even wait to dry off. At the end of it dangled what appeared to be a locket, which Jordan always assumed was something of a family heirloom considering how important it seemed to her. She had never shown him what was inside, nor did he ask, never wanting to pry, but this time she held the locket in her fingers and pried the heart shaped container open. What Jordan expected to be a picture was not, it was something clear. Glass? No, a crystal.
“This was handed down by my grandmother, just like her grandmother did for her. The ability to communicate with the spirit world is a family ability, but it skips a generation. My mother couldn’t no matter how hard she tried. Even with this crystal around her neck, nothing came to her. This crystal takes my ability and amplifies it so I can communicate with any spirit, no matter how weak they are or how new they are to me. When we get back home, I can give you one of your own if you want.” She closed it and let it drop back down the front of her shirt.
“So, without that, you can’t talk to spirits?”, Jordan asked.
“I can, it just takes more work, or more time; like you just experienced,” explained Megan. “This is probably your first time experiencing this because you have never spent this much time around the same spirit, have you?”
Jordan had to think about it and realized she had a point. His job is mostly in, give his opinion, and get out. Rarely does he spend hours in the same spot. Probably the longest ever was maybe thirty minutes at a crime scene, and at that one he sensed nothing spiritual, nor did he find any evidence that anything paranormal or occult was going on. “No, I haven’t.”
“As a medium, at times I will sit in the same spot attempting to reach out to a spirit for hours. Some have done it for days.”
“You mean Fionna Johannsson?”, Jordan asked what he felt was a natural assumption considering Megan’s obsession with her.
“Yes, Fionna once sat for two days with no food or water to help a mother reach her child.”
This is where Jordan would normally scoff at such a claim, but at the moment, considering everything that had transpired, he may never scoff at such a story again. “What’s the longest you have ever spent?”, he asked, curiously.
Megan thought, and then answered, “With the crystal, maybe ten minutes. Without, four hours, but that was a test my grandmother put me through. She was interacting with a spirit and wanted to see the depth of my ability. It took me maybe half an hour to feel it there, but another three to hear it, and then another twenty minutes to be able to hear it clearly and talk to it just as if I were talking to a human.”
The phone rang, giving Jordan’s heart another mini-jump. At this rate, he should be used to the jolts, but each took his breath away. He picked it up and answered immediately, while four sets of eyes watched him pace back and forth.
“Found her,” Detective Kendal said on the
other end before Jordan said a word. “Right where you guys told me. At least that family can have some closure now. I also made up a story about going back to the house and finding the phone. I told forensics I wanted to know the owner of every number on that phone in an hour. They just called me and read me the list.”
“That’s great,” Jordan said. He looked to the others and mouthed ‘they found her’. A sense of relief spread across the faces of all three girls.
“It is, and it isn’t. My list is worse than yours I’m afraid,” said Detective Kendal.
“How bad?”
“Let’s just say the President of the United States isn’t on it. That is the only addition that could make this worst. Are you guys hungry?”
“What?”, Jordan asked, surprised.
“Dinner. I am sure you and Miss Tolliver eat. I am not so sure about the others, though. Let’s meet for dinner in, say... forty-five minutes, and we can review the list. I have one idea to run past you guys, that I want to see if it might give me the material evidence to start pulling things together. I’ll text you the directions.”
Detective Kendal didn’t wait for a response, and it only took a few seconds before the text arrived with an address. Jordan conveyed the message to Megan, who quickly hopped up to go take a shower while saying something about feeling like she smelled like swamp thing after their walk through the woods earlier. She didn’t take long to get ready, opting for something a little dressier than a t-shirt and jeans. It was the standard black shirt, and long flowing black skirt, a look she often wore on “America’s Medium”
Before they walked out the door, Jordan felt concerned about leaving the girls alone in the room, and asked, “Are you going to be okay alone?”
“We will be fine,” answered Sharon. Hearing her disjointed voice still sent shivers down him. “We will be here when you get back.”
“No where else to go,” added Marie.
“What should we put the television on—-.” Jordan started to ask, but then stopped as the channel changed on its own.
“I got that,” said Beth.
Jordan laughed and put the remote on the dresser. “I have seen that trick before. It doesn’t scare me.”
23
“Indian Food, I am impressed Detective Kendal.”
“Well, Miss Tolliver, what did you expect? A donut shop?”, the detective said as he greeted both Megan and Jordan at the door of the South-Eastern Fusion restaurant. Jordan wasn’t looking too forward to this meal. Spicy foods never really sat well with him, but that is another way he and Megan were opposites. She loved it. Jordan wasn’t there for food, though he was hungry and hoped he could find something that had a survivable amount of curry in it. More important on his mind was what the detective had found.
The stocky detective walked up to the hostess stand where a woman with a beehive, not of Indian descent in the slightest, asked, “How many hun?”
“Three?”, he said with hesitation. He turned back to Jordan and asked with a whisper, “The others aren’t coming, are they?”
“No, they stayed in the room,” he said, and watched relief flood on to Andrew’s face.
“Three.”
“Mmmkay, follow me,” the hostess said and led them into the dining room.
They were more than a few feet in before Jordan heard a murmur in the room and felt dozens of eyes focused on them. In his opinion, it was probably unavoidable. Everything about Andrew Kendal’s appearance screamed cop. The slacks and sports coat over a white buttoned up shirt. Closely buzzed blonde hair above a face with a square and chiseled jaw line that appeared to have never attempted to smile. Even the way he walked with confident, long, and fast strides screamed cop. The only thing that was missing was his revolver and badge, which Jordan didn’t doubt was on him somewhere, Jordan had his on him.
When they reached the table, Jordan and Andrew stood until Megan sat. As Jordan sat, he noticed the eyes of the restaurant on them again. This was just one more thing that would add to the uncomfortable feeling of the day. He scooted his chair up and reached forward and pulled two menus from the center of the table, handing one to Megan. The hostess had left before he had a chance to ask what the special of the day was. After a single glance at the menu, Jordan became more curious about what the special could be. He didn’t expect to find the theme a blend of Indian and southern comfort food. Curry fried chicken and dumplings and Fried Chicken Biryani. Not a combination he would have thought of, but interesting.
Jordan looked up over the top edge of his menu with every intention to make a snide comment or two about the choices available, when he spotted over Megan’s shoulder, two people creeping up behind her. The two hacky coughs he made only drew a quick look from her. She had looked back down at the menu before he gave a sudden head jerk to try to get her to look behind her. He did it a second time, and again just a quick glance. The third attempt drew a bit more of a glance, and a “why don’t you take a sip of water”, from Megan as she reached over and slid his water glass closer to him. They weren’t even married, and already he felt like an old married couple.
“Megan, you might want to turn around,” Jordan said, taking a more direct approach this time, after his more covert attempts failed.
She was slightly startled when she turned and found two young girls, probably no older than pre-teen, standing there, pen and what looked like a paper napkin in hand. Off in the distance behind them, Jordan saw two interested parents watching. He gave them a quick wave with a smile.
“Well, hey there girls,” Megan said. “What can I do for you?”
Both girls lit up when Megan spoke to them. The one holding the pen and napkin held it forward, and squeaked out, “Can we have your autograph, Miss Tolliver?”
The spotlight was on and Megan never failed to perform. The smile went on, and her eyes rivaled the stars on the clearest night. She took the napkin with an, “Of course. What are your names?”
“Susan and Kim.”
Megan scribbled out a message quickly and handed it to the girls. “Here you go, and by the way, just call me Megan, okay?”
“Yes, Megan,” one girl said with a giggle, before they both turned and ran across the restaurant to their parents. The mom, with a smile as large as Brooklyn, mouthed, “Thank you.” Megan smiled and waved.
It wasn’t more than a few moments later before a few others made their way to the table. At no time did Megan ever say no, or act in any way other than that was what she was there for. Even when she was signing an autograph while ordering her Marsala pasta.
“Happen often?”, Andrew asked.
“All the time,” chuckled Jordan. It happened every time they were out somewhere, and it never bothered him. He kind of liked it. The shine of her star warmed them both. “Hand cramping yet?”, Jordan playfully asked Megan. She stuck her tongue out at him in response.
“We ran those numbers, and found a few more hits than you had,” reported Andrew.
Jordan was sure if he had really run the numbers through his resources, he would have matched more than just a few more, but he didn’t want to take the chance that someone would notice him using bureau resources on his day off. “So, who else did you find?”
Detective Andrew Kendal leaned back in his chair and plunged his hand deep into his coat pocket. As he did, Megan was approached one last time for a quick picture, which she obliged. In the background, Andrew handed a sheet of paper across the table to Jordan. Most of the names were familiar. They were the same ones they found through just google searches, including the names provided by Jennifer, Beth, and Maria, but there were a few new ones. Not particular names, but locations. Seeing a number belonging to the University of Richmond didn’t surprise Jordan as much as he may have thought it would. Having someone on the inside to help identify and tag prospective targets would almost be a necessary position in this scheme. Of course, it didn’t narrow it down to who that person was. That was the problem with most of the other new names on the she
et too. They were just businesses. Then you had the ones with no names at all. Jordan knew without asking that those were burner phones. Those could be anything from a prepaid or stolen phone, or an application installed on a phone to allow messages and calls to be placed through another number. It didn’t matter which type they were, each were next to impossible to break through and find the person behind them.
“So, now what?”, Jordan said as he passed the paper back.
“Toxicology is back on Sharon. Overdose of gamma-hydroxybutyric acid,” Andrew said while shoving the paper back into his jacket pocket.
“GHB,” mumbled Jordan. “Makes sense.”
“The date rape drug?”, Megan asked. “So, she was raped.”
“Not necessarily,” Jordan said, but he paused as he looked at the detective across the table. He shook his head to confirm what Jordan hoped was the finding by the medical examiner. “GHB is used for a lot more than what its street name says. It’s common, which is why it makes complete sense they used that.”
Megan looked back and forth between the two men seated at the table.
Jordan filled her in on what he had to assume Andrew already knew. “It’s easy to make. Pretty much anyone can make it in their kitchen without any special pharmacy skill. It is common on almost every college campus. Especially with the party scene which these girls were seen in. So, if they showed up dead from a GHB overdose, like they did, no one would think anything other than another tragic death because some college guy was trying to drug a girl and gave her too much. A common crime on a college campus that wouldn’t be cause for anyone to look much deeper. At the next party, they would catch some guy with the drug and probably now become suspect number one of the lead detectives on the case. All efforts would be focused on linking him to the crime. Am I right?”
Jordan glanced over at Detective Kendal, who agreed, “100%”
“Oh,” Megan said, deflated. “So, what now? We can’t let these guys get away with what they did to those girls.”