by Kathi Daley
“I’m not crazy,” Alyson insisted, turning to Mac for support. “I know what I saw.”
Mac pulled onto the coast road. “I believe you. I do. But maybe there’s another explanation for what you saw.”
“Another explanation? Like what?”
“You’ve seen ghosts and otherworldly beings before,” Mac reminded her. “Zachary, the gypsy at Halloween, our friend from the cemetery…”
Alyson frowned. “You think the people on the bluff were ghosts?”
“It would explain why they didn’t find a body. If the couple you saw were ghosts there would be no body to find.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Think about it,” Mac interrupted. “What other possible explanation makes sense? Unless you really were smoking a funny little cigarette before you took your run.”
“As if.” Alyson glared at Mac through the darkness.
“Just kidding. Let’s get you home and we’ll see if we can figure this out.”
Mac pulled onto the narrow road leading back toward the coastline. When Alyson was forced to give up her life after she and her best friend had witnessed a gangland murder, resulting in the subsequent murder of her friend, she’d thought she’d never be happy again. Not only had she been required to leave everything she’d ever known behind—including her father—and given up her identity but she’d given up her sense of security to the realization that very bad men wanted her dead.
Then she’d met Mac and her other new best friend, Trevor Johnson, and somehow the life she’d left behind now seemed like little more than a distant memory. Not that she didn’t still miss her father and her friends back in New York terribly, but Amanda Parker was gone and Alyson found she very much enjoyed the life Alyson lived. There were times when she’d wake up in a cold sweat after dreaming that everything she’d built here had been stripped away, but overall, she’d begun to settle into her new life and her old one was something she didn’t think about very often.
Mac chatted about school as she made the short drive to Alyson’s oceanfront home. Once they arrived, Alyson let Tucker out of the cramped backseat and entered the house, where she tossed a log on the fire she’d left smoldering. Her mother was out of town, so the house was quiet except for the steady ticktock of the grandfather clock on the second-floor landing.
“I’m going to take a quick shower and put on some clean clothes,” Alyson announced. “Help yourself to a snack. I’ll be right down.”
Alyson stripped off her sweaty clothes and padded into the shower in her private bath. She stood under the spray and tried to make sense of everything that had just happened. She’d been sure she was being watched, although Tucker hadn’t responded in any way, and she was certain she’d seen a woman thrown from the cliff, although the police hadn’t found her body. What in the heck was going on?
After Alyson washed and rinsed her hair she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a large white towel. She combed her long blond hair straight and looked at herself in the mirror. She knew that in some small way she was still Amanda Parker, but she had long ago stopped feeling like an imposter playing a role.
Pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a large T-shirt, Alyson wiped down the bathroom and headed to the stairs. When she returned to the living room she found Mac had called Trevor and arranged for him to not only head over to Alyson’s house but to pick up pizza on his way.
“Great; I’m starving,” Alyson said as she turned on some music.
“I figured we could use an extra mind to help figure this out, and Trev always seems to be happy to be included. Are you feeling better?”
Alyson narrowed her eyes. “Yeah. I guess. I still think I saw something on the bluff, though, despite what the police said.”
“I know. And I believe you saw something too. I’m just not sure it wasn’t already dead.”
In the nine months Alyson had lived in Cutter’s Cove she’d seen a lot of really strange things. Maybe what she’d seen were ghosts, maybe they were something else, but one thing was for sure: in the end her visions turned out to be key clues in important mysteries.
Forty-five minutes later, Alyson, Mac, and Trevor were gathered around the kitchen table eating thick, cheesy slices of Pirates Pizza while Alyson filled Trevor in on exactly what had happened.
“Why is it,” Trevor plopped a large piece of pepperoni into his mouth, “that every creepy thing that happens in Cutter’s Cove seems to happen to you?”
Alyson shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.”
“So what now?” Trevor helped himself to a second slice. “Are we supposed to do something about this encounter with the Twilight Zone or just wait to see if it happens again?”
Mac carefully picked the bell peppers off her second piece of Pirates Combo. “I think we should look into it, at least to the extent we can with the limited amount of information we have. Alyson may have stumbled across some isolated otherworldly encounter, but it might be a portent of something that’s yet to happen.”
“Okay; where do we start?” Trevor scooped up the neat pile of discarded toppings Mac had left on her napkin and put them on top of his own pizza.
“I guess we could try to find out whether anyone was ever thrown off that cliff in the past,” Alyson suggested. “Maybe I stumbled onto some kind of rerun.”
Mac set her pizza on her plate, wiped her hands on a napkin, walked over to the counter, and took her laptop out of her bag. She plugged it into a nearby wall socket and booted it up. Mac was not only Alyson’s best friend but a genius and computer savant of sorts. Given enough time, there was nothing she couldn’t hack into to retrieve information they might need.
“We can start by trying to get a list of murders in Cutter’s Cove.” Mac typed a few key words into a search engine. “Wow, there’s more than I thought there would be. Let’s see if we can narrow it down.”
Alyson watched as she continued to type. Mac was involved in an internship at a local software company, which allowed her to increase her skill level, but Alyson knew Mac wanted more. She wanted to expand her knowledge to the point where she could breech the few barriers that still eluded her, so she’d applied to a summer program for master hackers and programmers. It was difficult to be accepted into, but once in, the road ahead was usually paved with dollar signs.
“You going to finish that pizza?” Trevor asked Mac.
“No,” Mac answered. “I’m done. You can have it.”
Trevor smiled as he scooped up what was left of Mac’s dinner. There weren’t a lot of certainties in life, but Alyson knew this for sure: If food was available, Trevor would find room in his stomach to polish it off.
“Have you found anything?” Alyson asked after a pause.
Mac continued to type for a few more seconds and then nodded. “I found an obituary. Samantha Roberts, a senior at Cutter’s Cove High School, was found dead at the bottom of Dead Man’s Bluff on May 27, 1992. It isn’t known whether she met with foul play or simply slipped. No evidence of a struggle was found at the scene. It was reported by some of her classmates that she had recently begun acting strange and may have just jumped.” Mac looked up from the screen. “The rest of the article just lists her family members and talks about arrangements for a memorial service.”
“That was twenty-five years ago, almost exactly. Maybe, as I suspected, I did happen across a rerun,” Alyson concluded.
“Are there any other victims?” Trevor asked.
“Let’s see.” Mac began typing again. “I went back two hundred years and cross-referenced strange deaths and Cutter’s Cove. I found several shootings, quite a few drownings, deaths by bludgeoning and strangulation, drug overdoses, and hey, a hanging in the town square. I guess I need to narrow my search a bit. Hang on. I’m going to search for deaths reported at Dead Man’s Bluff.”
Alyson dumped the pizza box and discarded paper plates and napkins into a white kitchen trash bag as she waited for Mac to narrow her search. She tied the red handle in
to a knot and set the bag near the back door.
“I’ve got one,” Mac informed them. “Andrea Jenner. Hey, that’s weird.”
“What’s weird?” Alyson asked.
“Andrea Jenner was found dead at the bottom of Dead Man’s Bluff on May 27, 1967. It was believed her death was an accident because no signs of foul play were discovered. Several family members reported that Andrea had been acting strange in the days leading up to her death.”
“Almost exactly fifty years ago.” Alyson scooted around behind Mac so she could see the screen. “See if you can find other deaths on May 27. So far we have reports of deaths in that spot twenty-five and fifty years ago.”
Mac typed in new search parameters. “There are, wow, there are several others dating all the way back to 1892.”
“Let me guess.” Trevor chimed in. “In 1917 and 1942.”
“Exactly.”
“So why hasn’t anyone ever noticed this pattern before?” Trevor asked.
“All of the incidents were determined to be accidents or suicides. I doubt any formal investigation ever took place. In every case the victim was said to have been acting strange before her death.”
“They all saw what I saw,” Alyson realized. “I’m willing to bet they saw the murder, probably reported it, were accused of being nuts or on drugs or something, and then ended up dead at the bottom of Dead Man’s Bluff on May 27. I’m not sure why I’m so certain that it’s the entire sequence that repeats, but somehow I am.”
“Oh my God, that means…” Mac looked up from her computer.
“That if we don’t figure out what’s going on I might be the next victim to end up dead on May 27.”
“There’s no way I’m letting you anywhere near Dead Man’s Bluff on May 27,” Trevor asserted.
“Today is May 21. We have time to figure out what’s going on. Maybe we can put a stop to the cycle if we can find out why it got started in the first place. Mac, I need everything you can find about the incidents themselves, the victims and their movements on the days leading up to their deaths. Anything that will help us understand why the victims were chosen and exactly what happened to them. And see if you can get a look at the police reports. We need to know exactly what each victim reported and when. Did all the victims have a vision on the 21st?” Alyson turned to look at Trevor. “Trevor, go down to the newspaper and see if you can find out anything that may not have been reported on the Net. Hard copies of old newspapers, maybe magazine articles. Check the library archives while you’re at it. I’m going to go visit Booker. He seems to know everything about anything having to do with local history. We’ll meet back here tomorrow at around six.”
“I hate to bring this up, but we haven’t even gotten started on the project for our history final,” Mac pointed out.
“Maybe we could work on it at lunch tomorrow. Or after we meet tomorrow night. Plan to have dinner here. My mom’s out of town, but I’m sure I’m capable of whipping something up.”
“You’re here alone?” Trevor asked. “Oh, I don’t think so. One of us should stay.”
“I’ll stay,” Mac volunteered. “I’ll go home to get a change of clothes, then come back.”
“I’m fine. Really,” Alyson insisted. “No one has to stay. I have Tucker if anything strange happens.”
“There’s no way we’re leaving you alone.” Trevor was adamant. “If it doesn’t work out for Mac to stay I will. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“I should be able to stay.” Mac got up and started to put her stuff back into her backpack. “I’ll go get my stuff. You can stay until I get back.”
“Guys, I’m not a baby. I’m perfectly capable of staying alone.”
“No, Trevor’s right,” Mac insisted. “Who knows what happened to those girls in the days leading up to their deaths? One of us should be with you, at least until your mother gets home.”
“Okay, I give. If you want to stay, stay. But be warned: I snore.”
“No, you don’t. I’ve stayed over before,” Mac reminded her.
“Oh, yeah.”
“You shouldn’t take this so lightly,” Mac scolded. “You have no way of knowing what happened to those girls. The vision you saw tonight may be the first of many.”
“Yeah, you’re right. It’s just been a long time since I’ve had to be babysat.”
“If I was the one who saw the vision would you be leaving me alone?” Mac asked.
“No, I guess not.”
“Okay, then. I’ll be back in a jiff.”
Chapter 3
Monday, May 22
The next day they met at their usual table in the lunchroom. It was franks and beans day, so most of the students were eating fruit and salads.
“You’d think the school could come up with a menu that didn’t include franks and beans,” Alyson complained as she sat down next to Trevor.
“Hey, I like them,” Trevor said, defending the school menu.
“Really?”
“Yeah. They have protein and fiber, and I’m assuming those little green things in there are some type of vegetable.” Trevor stabbed one of the green things and held it up for inspection before plopping it into his mouth. “You should try it. It’s good.”
“Thanks. I’ll pass.” Alyson took the lid off her salad.
“What’d anyone find out?” Mac asked, taking a bite of her apple. “About last night’s nocturnal showdown, I mean.”
“I called Booker,” Alyson started. “He’s back from Europe, so I told him I’d stop by after school.” Booker was the nickname of a man who’d once been the school librarian but had since retired. He had an extensive library in his home and a keen understanding of most of the books contained therein. He’d helped them on previous cases by giving them the background they needed.
“I’ll go with you,” Mac volunteered. “Trevor can meet us at your house later.”
“And what delicacies do you have planned for our dining enjoyment?” Trevor asked Alyson.
“I’ve been told I do a mean grilled cheese.”
“You didn’t inherit your mom’s cooking gene, I see.”
“’Fraid not.”
“I’ll bring Chinese,” Trevor volunteered.
“Smart choice.” Alyson tossed her salad bowl into the trash can near the table. “I have many talents, but I’m afraid cooking isn’t one of them.”
“Girls these day spend all their time getting prettied up, but they’ve forgotten about the basics: cooking and cleaning.” Trevor leaned back and looked around the room, as if including the whole population in his statement. “When a man comes home from a long day’s work he expects to find a clean house and a hot meal.”
“Oh please.” Alyson kicked Trevor under the table. “You might want to step out of the fifties. Besides, I spend very little time getting ‘all prettied up,’ unlike some people, one of whom is approaching from five o’clock.”
Trevor turned just as Chelsea Green, head cheerleader and major pain in everyone’s backside, sat down next to him.
“Nice sweater, Mac,” Chelsea drawled in the sarcastic manner she’d perfected. “It’s so you. I have to say I admire your bravery. I can’t think of another person in the whole school who would have the guts to wear something so… colorful.”
“Thanks, Chelsea. That blouse you’re wearing is great too. It does wonders for your complexion. It’s not everyone who has the guts to wear something so close to their own skin tone. What do you call that, Coppertone orange?”
“Well, at least I have a skin tone. Pale is so out this year.”
“Did you want something?” Alyson asked Chelsea, interrupting the banter that always seemed to ensue when Chelsea and Mac were together.
Chelsea flipped her hair over her shoulder before she answered. “I saw you guys sitting over here and figured that, being the social outcasts you are, you might not have heard the latest scandal.”
“I can’t say we have. Do tell,” Trevor said.
“Hi
lary Baker just told everyone in home economics that Jessica Henderson is pregnant.”
“Jessica? Really?” Mac frowned.
“It seems some guy, whose identity is the best-guarded secret in Cutter’s Cove, got her drunk at Tommy Bilson’s party and knocked her up.”
“Jessica just doesn’t seem the type,” Mac murmured.
“According to Hilary, Jessica swears someone must have put something in her drink, but I think she’s just covering. I always did suspect the whole holier-than-thou image she tries to portray is fake.”
“I wonder why she’s protecting the guy,” Alyson said.
“Hilary thinks Jessica was so drunk she can’t even remember who it was she slept with and is too embarrassed to admit it, so she’s keeping her mouth shut.”
“Poor Jessica,” Mac sympathized.
“Didn’t anyone else at the party notice who Jessica was with?” Alyson inquired.
“I don’t know. Hilary didn’t say.”
“Jessica doesn’t seem like the type to drink a lot,” Mac asserted. “In fact, I’ve never seen her drink at all.”
Chelsea straightened the hem of her too-short skirt. “She told Hilary she only had one drink, but she has to be lying. No one gets drunk off one drink.”
“Unless it was spiked with something harder than alcohol,” Mac insisted. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone was slipped a roofie in a drink at a high school party.”
“If Jessica was drugged what we have is a case of date rape. Has she gone to the police?” Alyson wondered.
Chelsea shrugged. “I have no idea. Who knows what really happened? Maybe Jessica just got a little overly randy at the party and made up the whole thing about the drink. Maybe she’s even been sleeping with the father for months but made up the party story to cover her ass with her parents.”
“Maybe, but if she was date raped we might have a real problem on our hands. There could be other victims,” Alyson pointed out. “Someone should talk to her.”