Blur (Blur Trilogy)

by Steven James

  “You don’t think . . . ?” Nicole began.

  “I don’t know.”

  Daniel led them back to Emily’s grave, and Nicole and Mia attempted to brush the mud off the stuffed animals that’d been left there.

  “Should we say something?” Nicole cradled the teddy bear gently in her arms. “Maybe a prayer or a few words or . . . I don’t know. It just seems like we should . . .”

  Mia turned to Kyle. “You go.”

  He thought for a moment, then said softly, “When I walk in the ways of the night I breathe in gasps of ragged darkness; when I step into the melody of dawn the shadows begin to recede.” He paused. “I hope you stepped into the melody of dawn, Emily. I really do.”

  Grain by grain.

  Our moments pass away.

  And then we do.

  Nicole set down the teddy bear. “Wouldn’t they have been able to find out if Emily fell off the cliff? I mean, you’d think she would have broken some bones when she hit the water or have a lot of internal injuries.”

  “I think we would’ve heard about it if she had any broken bones.” Daniel recalled that his dad had told him they did an autopsy that hadn’t turned up anything unusual. He chose not to mention the location of the broken glasses that indicated Emily had most likely not fallen off Windy Point.

  Back at their cars, Kyle asked Daniel if he could talk with him for a minute, and the two of them stepped away so the girls wouldn’t hear them.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-FOUR

  “I don’t think it’s like the doll,” Kyle said.

  “What’s not like the doll?”

  “What’s going on here. I don’t think it’s like the doll in the window over in Minnesota. You know—from the story I told you about.”

  “I’m not sure I’m following you.”

  Kyle pulled out his phone. “I mean, about something happening and then a story coming along and finding it.” He tapped the screen, brought up the calculator app.

  “No, seriously, Kyle, not today. This isn’t the time.”

  “No, I just wanted to remind you of what you can do.”

  “I know what I can do. Put it away.”

  He held up the phone just to show Daniel the screen. “Listen, your mind, it calculates stuff no one else can. It does it subconsciously, in ways even you can’t figure out. Remember? Like me with music.”

  “Sure, but what does that have to do with what’s going on here?”

  “I think somehow you’re threading clues together, things no one else is noticing, like with Trevor, going out to the lake, the necklace Emily wears in all those photos.”

  “But how?”

  Kyle pocketed his phone. “You’re seeing this stuff, I don’t know, in the paper, from tweets, remembering it from when you saw her around school, I’m not really sure, but your brain is integrating it all.” He tapped the side of his head. “You’re solving things up here, but then you have these visions. The deal is we just need to decipher what your mind is trying to tell you.”

  “What about Akira? Why do you think I did that?”

  “To get us out to the graveyard.”

  “But that was originally your idea.”

  “True,” Kyle acknowledged. “But maybe somehow it jarred something in your head and you realized coming out here would help us. Or, like I said earlier, maybe it had something to do with thinking about Trevor.”

  “But why? And why would all this start now?”

  Kyle shook his head. “To solve how Emily really died? I’m not sure. You said it felt like flakes of reality were falling away. What’s it like when that happens? When you see these things?”

  “Reality gets blurred. I can tell something’s happening that shouldn’t be, but everything else is the same. It looks completely real. Sounds real.”

  “And it feels real: like when your arm was burned.”

  “Right.”

  “So this is different from daymares or hallucinations. And I don’t necessarily think it has to do with ghosts.” Kyle thought for a moment. “Call ’em blurs—I mean when you see these things.”

  Even if they were some sort of hallucinations, Daniel was glad to refer to them as something else. “Blurs sounds good to me.”

  “I think we should look more into how Mrs. McKinney died.”

  “So do I,” Daniel agreed. “As soon as we can.”

  “You mean tonight?”

  “Why not? Meet at my house?”

  Kyle considered that. “Let’s cruise over to my place. That way your dad won’t accidentally walk in on us and find you still looking into all this.”

  “Good point.”

  Since Daniel had told his father he wouldn’t keep investigating things, he felt a small sting of guilt, but moving forward on this, finding out the truth of what had happened to Emily, seemed to trump everything else, even the promise he’d made.

  Before leaving the graveyard they told Mia and Nicole what was going on and the girls asked to join them at Kyle’s. “We’re part of this now too,” Mia reminded them firmly. “We need to find out answers just as much as you two do.”

  “Okay,” Kyle said, “give me a chance to help tuck my little sister in—I need to tell her a bedtime story. Let’s meet at my place in an hour.”

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-FIVE

  The walls of Kyle’s attic bedroom were plastered with posters of his favorite bands. His electric guitar sat propped on its stand in the corner beside his impossibly cluttered desk.

  Mia was already there when Daniel arrived, but Nicole was still taking care of a few things at her house.

  “Well,” Mia said. “What’s the plan?”

  All three of them had their laptops open.

  Daniel got things started. “We need to find out whatever we can about Mrs. McKinney’s death. Also, there are stories about other people drowning at Windy Point. I want to know if those are just the kinds of things kids say, or if there really have been other cases of people who’ve died out there.”

  “I’ll search for stuff about Windy Point,” Kyle offered.

  “I’ll take Mrs. McKinney,” Mia said.

  “Alright.” Daniel contemplated things. “I’ll look into Mr. McKinney’s past, see what I can learn about him, if there’s anything suspicious that pops up.”

  They worked in relative silence. After a little while Mia asked them to fill her in more on what was going on. “I mean, what’s really going on. There’s something you two aren’t telling me.”

  “That’s either presumptuous or perceptive,” Kyle said.

  “Perceptive. I’m a girl. Go on.”

  When she pressed them, Daniel finally ended up explaining about the hallucinations.

  Mia took it all in. “Sort of like macropsia.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When I was doing research for my novel on inexplicable things people see, you know, for the ghost-sighting parts, I came across this really bizarre disorder: macropsia. Rather than seeing things as they really are, people who have it see certain objects as if they’re enormous. A girl’s brush might appear bigger than the girl. Or it might look like her doll is the size of a house, or her folded-up blanket is as big as a mountain. Micropsia is the opposite. You see stuff as way smaller than it is.”

  “How is that like what’s happening with me?”

  “Well, it’s about perspective and differentiating between what your mind is telling you is real and what actually is real.”

  “So,” Kyle said, “how do you tell if your eyes are playing tricks on you?”

  “See, that’s the thing. Our eyes don’t play tricks on us; it’s our mind that does. We see what our brains tell us to see, not what our eyes do. It’s why optical illusions work. Your brain is trying to make sense of things, but ends up getting confus
ed.”

  Yup.

  That was a pretty good way of describing what was going on: his brain was trying to make sense of things, but was getting confused. Very confused.

  Nicole arrived, and since Daniel had just told Mia what was happening, he brought Nicole up to speed as well.

  She listened in silence. It was hard to tell what she was thinking. “That’s why you were asking me about ghosts and demons the other day?”

  “Yes.”

  For a moment no one spoke.

  “You know,” Daniel said at last, “the flowers weren’t the only thing on Emily’s grave. There were stuffed animals, that pinwheel, and some photographs from Mr. Ackerman’s studio. He’s the guy who takes pictures at all our football games. You see him in the hall sometimes getting photos for the yearbook. He was set up to take portraits at the homecoming dance.”

  “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?” Mia asked.

  “I don’t know. I saw him at the funeral. If we’re going to look into Mr. McKinney, we should probably find out what we can about Mr. Ackerman too.”

  “I’ll check the website for his studio,” Nicole offered, “see if there are any pictures of Emily or Mrs. McKinney, anything like that.”

  They searched.

  Time passed.

  Mr. Ackerman?

  Mr. McKinney?

  Was it really possible that one of them might actually have killed Emily?

  But what about Grace McKinney? Is her death connected to Emily’s?

  Too many questions, too few answers.

  Finally, they gathered in a circle to share what they’d found out.

  “Well,” Mia said, “from what I can see online, Mrs. McKinney was swimming alone when she drowned. Her husband was downstairs doing some kind of woodworking project—at least, that’s what he told the police. He said that, through the window, he saw her dive in and never come up. By the time he got out there it was too late to save her.”

  Nicole looked at her inquisitively. “Let’s say he’s lying. What possible motive could he have had? Was there some sort of life insurance policy or inheritance if she died?”

  “It didn’t say. It doesn’t look like he was ever a suspect.”

  “But then what about Emily?” Kyle asked. “If he really did kill them both, he would’ve needed some other motive to drown a girl from his class, right?”

  “I guess,” Mia acknowledged. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

  “Motives are pretty much like eels,” Daniel said, remembering something his dad had told him one time. “They’re twisty and slippery and as soon as you think you have one in your hand, it slides away from you. Was it greed? Was it anger? Hate? You’ll always come up short when you try to nail down the motives people have—and there are almost always more than one in there swimming around.”

  Kyle didn’t come across any evidence that anyone else had died at Windy Point. As far as he could tell, the rumors and legends were just that—the kind of stories kids make up and that eventually end up with a life of their own, just like the stories about the doll in the window in Janesville, Minnesota.

  “Okay.” He turned to Daniel. “What do we know about Mr. McKinney?”

  “Well, not much that’s very helpful. From what I can see—his profiles on social media sites, that sort of thing—his hobbies are deer hunting, fishing, and caving, he likes country music and Jason Statham movies, and he moved to town three years ago. He’s a member of Whitetails Unlimited, lists himself as not being in a relationship, no kids, graduated with honors from UW–Madison twelve years ago.”

  “So, nothing earth-shattering,” Mia said.

  “No.”

  With nothing more to share about Mr. McKinney, Daniel took the conversation in a different direction. “I still want to know how Ty found out what was in Emily’s notebook.”

  “That’s not that big of a mystery,” Mia replied. “I think one of those guys who hangs out with him has a brother who’s a freshman. Even if Emily wasn’t popular, it would’ve been easy enough for him to overhear something.”

  Nicole reported on Mr. Ackerman—no pictures of Mrs. McKinney or Emily on his site. Nothing else really struck her as unusual there. No link between him and Mrs. McKinney, apart from having his home studio near their house.

  When Nicole finished, they all processed things for a moment, then she noticed the time and told them she needed to be heading home.

  “I’ll walk you to your car,” Daniel offered, and grabbed his windbreaker.

  The night was chilly and brisk.

  He offered his jacket to Nicole and she draped it over her shoulders. “Thanks.”

  “Sure.”

  “It must have been terrifying to see those things,” she said. “Ghosts, whatever.”

  “Blurs.”

  “Blurs?”

  “It’s Kyle’s term. Seems to fit. It’s when the line between what’s real and what couldn’t possibly be real becomes fuzzy to me.”

  Or actually doesn’t exist at all.

  “Listen,” she said, “remember when I said Jesus proved to his disciples that he wasn’t a ghost? How he told them to touch him because ghosts don’t have flesh and bones? That’s what convinced them he was a real person after he rose. Touching him.”

  “But what if the ghost touches you? At the funeral Emily grabbed my arm. It left a mark. So, according to what you’re saying, I shouldn’t have felt that, right?”

  And if they’re just hallucinations, would you feel anything anyway?

  Well, you felt her hand on your arm.

  It was hard to know what to make of things.

  “Hmm . . .” Nicole seemed to be thinking aloud. “I can’t say I understand how it all works, but it’s worth a try, isn’t it? I mean, the next time you see Emily, reach out and try to touch her.”

  “You have no idea how unappealing that suggestion is.”

  “Now that I think about it, I see your point.”

  The night eased in around them.

  He couldn’t quite figure out how to say good-bye. A small hug might have been in order, but his nervousness around girls swept over him again, and instead of a hug he just laid his hand gently on her arm. “If someone really did kill Emily, we’re going to find out who it was.”

  “Yeah.”

  Mia stepped out of the house. “Hey, you two.”

  He realized he still had his hand on Nicole’s arm and lowered it again. “Hey.”

  Nicole took off the jacket and handed it back to him.

  Daniel held back on the hug, they all said goodnight, and then he returned to Kyle’s room to touch base before taking off.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-SIX

  “Tomorrow is a parent-teacher conference day,” Kyle said. “Is your dad taking you to meet with any teachers?”

  “No. My grades are good enough.”

  “Me too. My mom’s cool with how I’m doing. So, what are you up to?”

  “Well, we still have football practice at three thirty, but that’s it.”

  “Mr. McKinney will be at school before that.” There was a hint of mischievousness in his voice.

  “And?”

  “And that means he won’t be home.”

  “Obviously, so what are you . . . Oh, you’re not suggesting that we—”

  “Yeah. Go to his house, have a look around outside, you know, check out the pool where his wife drowned, see if we find anything.”

  “That was two years ago. I doubt that at this point we’re going to find anything that would implicate him.”

  “But what about the basement window? We could check the sight lines to make sure he wasn’t lying about seeing her dive into the pool.”

  “What if the neighbors see us?”

  “Maybe all we need to do is wal
k past his house. There’s nothing illegal about that. Maybe from the way it’s positioned, if the angle’s right, we’ll be able to see into the backyard from the road. He’ll be at school anyway, meeting with parents. If he really did kill Emily—kill his wife too—we need to find out as much as we can about him before going to your dad.”

  Telling his father about what was going on made sense, but right now all they really had was conjecture. They certainly needed something more solid if they were going to go to the sheriff.

  “I suppose walking by and having a peek at his place wouldn’t hurt anything,” Daniel said. “What time are you thinking?”

  “Well, I have to work later in the afternoon and you need to be at school to change for football practice. What, a little after three?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How about one o’clock?”

  “That should work.”

  They found Mr. McKinney’s address online.

  “I know that neighborhood,” Kyle said. “There’s a strip of forest behind his house over near Mr. Ackerman’s place—Mia’s friend had her senior pictures taken there at his house. We could just slip through the woods, have a look around, and be gone. In and out. Fast and clean.”

  “Fast and clean?”

  “I read it in a book somewhere. Something this one FBI agent likes to say. So, what do you think?”

  “Yeah, the woods sounds better than walking by the house. Besides, there might be a fence around the pool and we wouldn’t be able to see it from the street out front.”

  “Alright.”

  “And there’s a road on the other side of that forest?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We can leave our cars there,” Daniel said.

  “Sweet.”

  This was probably not a good idea in any way, shape, or form, but as Daniel drove home, he figured that just walking through the woods and having a look around wasn’t that big of a deal.

  Especially if this guy really had killed two people.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-SEVEN

  All the lights in the house were off when Daniel got home. He figured his dad had already gone to bed, so he was careful to be quiet as he went to his bedroom.