Paige looked over at the teacher. “A pall? That’s pretty somber.”
Nellie smiled and looked down at the floor. “Yeah, maybe. That sounds weird I know, but there was definitely a sadness that she couldn’t hide, or in retrospect, it was probably fear. Don’t get me wrong. She adored her mother. You could see they were close when she’d come in to pick Aubree up. It didn’t happen that often as she worked shifts, and most days Aubree took the school bus home. But they’d both light up like candles when they saw each other on the days she could come.”
Paige followed the teacher into a room where small chairs and tables were set in a semicircle. Shelves of books were set against one wall while a play area with a rug littered with sets of colorful cushioned blocks sat at the back. The teacher led the way to a desk which was bare of objects, unlike others where pictures and pencil crayons scattered over the surfaces. She didn’t need the teacher to tell her that it was the desk where Aubree had sat.
“You knew that things weren’t right at home for Aubree.”
The teacher’s head dipped to the side for a moment. “Well, there was a restraining order on the father. We were under strict orders. Only Mrs. Smith was authorized to pick Aubree up from school. That and Aubree’s attitude regarding going home told me plenty. I wish you’d called me as a witness during that custody hearing. It might have turned out differently. Why didn’t you?”
Paige’s mouth dried up, and she had to turn from the young woman’s gaze. Finally, she answered, “I’m sorry you didn’t testify. But, Miss Wenford—”
“Nellie, please. My students call me Miss Wenford.”
Oh God. This was going to be even harder. “Nellie. I’m ashamed to admit this, but I represented the father.”
“What?” The teacher’s chin dropped as she stepped backward. In a split second, the expression on her face changed. There was a coldness in her eyes that belied her former warmth. “What the hell are you doing here? What do you want, Ms. Wright?”
Paige’s hand rose, and her eyes closed for a moment. “Please. You have no idea how bad I feel about that.”
“Bad? I’m supposed to feel sorry for the person who enabled this to happen? You defended that monster’s rights and now Aubree’s dead!” Her arm rose, pointing at the door of the classroom. “Get out of here, right now!”
“I’m sorry!” Again tears welled in Paige’s eyes. “You have no idea how sorry I am! I’d do anything to change what happened, but I can’t.” She slumped lower, catching her hand on Aubree’s desk.
“Is that why you’re here? This is some kind of sick penance? Well if you’re looking for sympathy, it’s between shit and syphilis in the dictionary!” The teacher turned and strode over to her desk, putting it as a barrier between them.
“I’m not looking for sympathy. I’m looking for answers! I need to know about Aubree. What was she like? What does she want?” Even to her own ears, it sounded crazy. And this teacher wasn’t about to cut her any slack.
“What does she want?” The young woman’s face twisted into a knot as she rounded the desk to glare at Paige. “She sure as hell didn’t want to be choked to death by her own father! You’ve got some nerve—”
“Please! I’m seeing Aubree everywhere!” When the woman’s eyes narrowed she scooped her phone from her purse. She pressed the keys to retrieve her voice mail and in a rush of words, “Listen! Listen to this, and tell me if you recognize her voice.”
The teacher’s gaze flitted between the cell phone and Paige’s eyes. She held the phone higher waiting for the child’s voice to sound. But there was only dead air.
Frantically she hit the numbers again, mumbling, “Hang on. I just listened to this. Where is—”
“You’re nuts.” The teacher’s hands rose before her chest as she backed away. “I have no idea what you’re up to but I’ve heard enough. You’ll have to leave.” She lifted her arm and pointed to the classroom door. “Right now before I call the police!”
Chapter 10
PAIGE FELT HER CHEEKS GROW WARM AS SHE LEFT THE CLASSROOM. She didn’t blame the teacher. The woman had obviously cared for the little girl. Why would she show a modicum of empathy for the person representing the guy who’d murdered Aubree?
Her eyes narrowed. Why hadn’t that message on the phone played? Three times in the car it had gone off without a hitch. True, she’d been upset, but could she have accidentally erased it? Damn it. The teacher would have been able to confirm that it was Aubree’s voice if the message had played.
When she reached her car, she scanned the phone for any indication that there’d been a message and that she’d erased it. But nothing came up—not even call history. She stared ahead, seeing nothing while her mind replayed everything from leaving the church to deciding to visit the school. She’d heard it three times! But now there was no record of ever getting a call.
This was crazy. She gave her head a shake and started the car. It was time to go home and try to put this behind her. Either that or make an appointment to see a shrink. Guilt and remorse were understandable, but at this level; making her see the little girl...hell, even hearing a message...it was way over the top.
Still...setting this aside was easier said than done.
When she arrived home, she clicked on the computer for any news that maybe Cory Smith had been found. But there were no new headlines. Nothing. How hard could it be to find the guy when his picture was plastered on every news site in the country? Surely someone had seen him.
She hadn’t eaten since having a piece of toast earlier, but the thought of lunch made her stomach roll.
She wandered into her bedroom and picked up the book she’d been reading. It was a mystery novel. It might succeed in taking her mind off the murder of that little girl. After settling on her bed, she read and then reread a few pages, but the words weren’t registering.
The scene in the courtroom, Noele’s testimony played in her head. Why hadn’t she seen the sincerity, heard the abject pleading in her voice? Her dark eyes had filled with tears describing a scene where Cory had grabbed Aubree’s arm, his other hand raised to strike the young preschooler. When the mother had intervened, he had turned on her. She claimed that he’d beaten her yet she hadn’t called for help. A couple of days had even passed before she went to the police.
If only she’d heard the cry for help instead of blindly pointing out the inconsistencies in Noele’s account.
Maybe if she hadn’t been so willing to fight for a father’s rights to raise his daughter, she would have.
A father’s rights.
Her jaw tightened. Her own mother had denied those same damn rights to her father. If her mother had allowed the man, who was Paige’s father, to even meet his daughter, maybe she wouldn’t have defended Cory’s case so hard. It wasn’t like Paige had never asked about him. But her mother had always refused to let her know anything about him.
She huffed a sigh. It was the only thing her mother refused when it came to Paige. Even though Mom never made that much money, she made sure that Paige never wanted for anything—the latest fashion or gadget that all her other friends owned. But knowing who her father was never made that list. It was the one thing she’d never forgive her mother for.
She set the book aside and slid lower on the bed. That line of thinking was getting her nowhere fast. And considering the horrible night’s sleep she’d had, a nap might make her feel better. Certainly, second-guessing the past wasn’t helping. She tugged the comforter over herself, even tucking it over her head. In less than a minute she was out like a light.
***
Paige awoke with a start, her heart beating fast. She’d had that dream again! But this time the backyard had seemed even more real; there were details now that hadn’t been there before. There’d been a bee flitting in a mound of orange chrysanthemums next to an aged wooden fence. And the little girl—who had to be Aubree—was wearing a red plaid jacket above stonewashed jeans. The same damn coat the child in the park
had been wearing! She could feel the girl’s panic, staring at the back door of the house. Even the details of the home, a mustard-colored bungalow with burgundy shutters stuck out in Paige’s mind.
A glance at the clock on her bedside table showed that it was only a half past four. The light coming in her bedroom window was dull reflecting the sun lower in the sky. It was still early enough. She threw the comforter off and sat up, only then aware of coming to a decision.
She had to visit the girl’s house. There was no way her mind was playing tricks on her earlier that day. She had seen the child! Three times in fact, and she’d heard the girl ask for help, specifically saying her name. She might regret this decision later on, and even question her own sanity for doing it, but for now, it was the right thing to do.
She grabbed her jacket from the chair where she’d left it. After verifying the address of the house on Victoria Avenue, from the news article, she popped her phone into her bag. The surge of adrenaline that she’d woken with was still pumping fast, but her sense of calm told her she was correct in doing this.
She parked the car on the quiet residential street and looked at the house. She hadn’t needed the house number to find it. Ribbons of yellow police tape draped along the front step blocking the entrance to the crime scene. But it was the house itself that took her breath away. It was that same mustard yellow with burgundy shutters from her dream. Any doubt that she had been right in going there evaporated in that moment.
There was no way she was going to cross that police tape, which wasn’t really a problem anyway. It was the backyard that had been the focus of the dream; that’s where she saw the child playing, and that’s where she was headed.
She looked down the alley between the house and the one next to it, and got out of the car. Just a peek at the yard. A quick glance up and down the street showed that all was quiet. No neighbors out or even anyone out walking their dog. The houses were uniform wartime small bungalows, popular for young families and those on fixed incomes.
She walked quickly down the strip of grass, brushing by a garden hose looped on a hanger and low-lying shrubs lining the concrete foundation. A four-foot wooden fence with a gate was just ahead at the corner of the house. And, thank God, no yellow tape. Peeking in, she gasped seeing the old tree with the swing and the sandbox off to the side. Even the orange flowers, tucked in next to the worn wooden fence, made her heart skip a beat.
It was exactly like her dream!
She pressed the latch and pushed the gate wide. Although the fence was high and the possibility of being seen by the neighbors was remote, Paige crouched a little as she stepped into the yard, closing the gate softly behind her. She stayed close to the fence, watching the swing sway slightly in the breeze. It wasn’t hard to imagine the little girl on the tire swing, swooping higher and higher in the air. She swallowed hard as her fingers touched the rough rope.
The sandbox pulled at her gaze where a red plastic shovel poked up from a small mound. She approached as slowly as a pallbearer. At the edge of the play space, gazing down at the innocent toy, she felt tears sting the back of her eyes.
The sharp bang behind her made her almost jump out of her skin. Spinning around she saw it was only the screen door that had blown wide, thudding against the frame when the spring yanked it closed.
Turning back to the sandbox she bent down and scooped up a handful of sand, letting it drift through her fingers—the same sand that Aubree had played in. She was about to reach for the plastic shovel when a half-buried object caught her attention. A circle of pink beads lay half covered by the light sand. She picked it up. It was a child’s bracelet, colorful beads encircling a silver medallion.
The familiar MedicAlert logo, a serpent coiled around a staff inscribed with Diabetes-Type One glinted back at her. The bracelet was barely big enough to enclose her fingers, even though the pearly pink beads were threaded by elastic. She slipped it into her palm, closing her hand around it.
Aubree.
This MedicAlert bracelet had been hers. A picture of the child flashed in her mind, the little girl intent on creating a castle in the sand, never noticing that the bracelet had caught on the handle of the shovel. The next scene in her mind was Aubree slowly backing away, staring at the back door. Paige could feel the terror in the little girl’s body, watching her father approach.
Tears ran down Paige’s cheeks as she hunched next to the sandbox. Everything in her dream was exactly as what she saw here. The little girl had somehow reached out to her for help, first appearing in her bathroom last night, and then in the park and her car. She’d even used the time where Paige had been in the church seeking solace to leave a more concrete message, although there was no trace of it now.
The peace that seeped into Paige’s body was further confirmation that she’d been meant to come here, to find this.
She sniffed and took a deep breath looking at the bracelet. “What now? I’ve found this, but what does it mean?”
But this time, only the silence in the yard answered.
Chapter 11
AS PAIGE PREPARED DINNER, her gaze was continually drawn to the bracelet on the kitchen table beside her laptop. Should she try to contact any living relatives of the child to give it to them? Surely a grandparent would want it as a keepsake. But they’d also wonder how she got it.
The knife she gripped slipped from the cucumber and nicked her finger. For a moment she stared at the blood seeping from the cut before giving her head a shake and turning on the kitchen faucet. It stung really bad—like a kind of penance. She kept her finger under the faucet gritting her teeth at the pain. When it subsided she swathed the wound in a paper towel to staunch the bleeding.
She tossed the vegetables into the salad bowl and took it over to the kitchen table. A few clicks on the laptop to her favorite news site showed the same things she’d already heard. No update that they’d located the father. Cory was still at large.
Taking a bite, she again gazed at the bracelet. There was no doubt that she’d been directed to finding it. First the dream last night and then again that afternoon. She’d caught glimpses of the young girl, and heard her plea for help.
Toying with the small bracelet, her fingers rolled the beads softly. She would keep the bracelet. For some reason Aubree wanted her to find it.
She sighed reading the silver inscription. Diabetes-Type One. She’d gone to elementary school with a kid who had that. He’d been able to manage it with pills, but still, there were days when he’d had to sit in the classroom while the rest of the kids went outside for the afternoon recess. Had Aubree been tired too? But the teacher hadn’t mentioned anything about that.
She finished eating and slipped the bracelet into her pocket. After she tidied up the counter, she was about to stack her cutlery and bowl in the dishwasher when she paused. A comforting billow, like the warmth of a fireplace on a winter’s night, rolled over her.
She couldn’t say she was happy. Two people were dead, and she couldn’t deny her part in their deaths, but she wasn’t overwrought like she had been.
It was more than that. It wasn’t just the absence of agitation, but she felt a sense of peace. She never thought she’d feel that way again. It was even greater than what she’d felt leaving the church.
Her hand slid over the small bulge in her pocket where the bracelet was nestled. It was because of that bracelet.
Aubree had directed her to it.
Which was a crazy thought. The child’s dead, so how…? Paige took a deep breath and huffed it out. It doesn’t matter. As crazy as it seemed, she knew it was true.
But now that she had the bracelet, what was next?
She continued with the kitchen cleanup and was about to leave to go into the living room when her cell phone rang. It was probably Sheila checking in on her. She grabbed it from her handbag and glanced at the screen.
Karen?
Her heart did a somersault while she gaped at the phone. There had to be something wrong a
t home for Karen to call.
“Hello? Karen?”
“Hi, Paige. I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your mother...she had a stroke. She’s—”
“Is she all right? Is she alive?” Paige’s eyes were wide staring at the floor, seeing nothing. Oh my God.
“Yes. She’s in the hospital. She’s in intensive care and they’re doing tests. They won’t know the extent of the damage for twenty-four hours. The doctors said it was lucky I found her and got her in so quickly.” Her voice broke. “We always watch The Price Is Right together! That’s how I found her.”
Paige’s eyes teared up. The two women were next door neighbors and best friends, like something out of a TV show. “She’s lucky to have you, Karen.”
“You’re coming here, right?”
“Of course. I’ll leave right away. Are you at home or at the hospital?”
“I’m at the hospital. I’ll stay until you get here.”
“Karen, it’s a three hour drive.” Maybe two and a half if she punched it, but still.
“Don’t be silly. Someone has to be here. Maybe they’ll know something sooner than they expect.” The poor woman sounded worn out. This was hitting her hard too.
“I’ll see you soon as I can.” With that, Paige clicked the phone off and put it back in her bag. She grabbed her coat and was about to head out when she stopped. She’d probably be gone for a few days. Rushing to her bedroom she grabbed her suitcase from the closet and threw some clothes in it. Next the laptop.
Oh my God. Tears threatened to spill, but she took a deep breath heading out the door. Karen had said her mother was okay, that she’d gotten medical help in good time. She had to think positive thoughts. Furthermore, how could she drive if she was bawling her eyes out?
She got in her car and headed for the highway. Three hours away. Her gut sank remembering how she’d dismissed the earlier thought of visiting her mother. There’d been too many times when she had been too busy, too caught up in her own life to make that trip to see her mother. And now this? This is what it took to get her home?
The Haunted Reckoning Page 4