A few minutes into scrolling, he stopped short in confusion at a picture of Robin. Who the hell is posting pictures of our kid? It took him a few seconds to realize she wore a hideous shirt with brown, red, and blue horizontal stripes. He blinked, wiped his eyes, and blinked again.
Curiosity got the better of him and he clicked the link.
The website contained an article about the girl’s 1970 murder with a slightly larger version of the same photo, showing her from the waist up. He picked up a picture frame with his daughter’s portrait in it and held it side by side with his monitor. His stunned brain didn’t process the text in the article much at all, rendering it as blurry lines. Robin Kurtis looked too much like Robin Gartner to be possible. The old newspaper photo lacked sharpness, but it had enough that he could tell the two girls weren’t exact copies. Not identical twins, but way closer than even most siblings looked. Robin Gartner definitely had Mia’s eyes, and an argument could be made she also had a bit of Adam’s nose. Robin Kurtis also, oddly enough, had Mia’s eyes, but a slightly different nose. About the only real difference he could discern between their faces amounted to his daughter having a somewhat smaller—and cuter if he did think so himself—nose.
“Holy shit,” he muttered. “They say everyone’s got a double somewhere, but whoa.”
Forget simply not going public with the reincarnation research… as soon as I get home, I’m going to erase it all. He picked up a notepad and fanned himself while his mind jumped among random worries of the government whisking her away, to crazy internet stalkers, to plain old crazy people coming after her. He couldn’t do anything about the old article, and complaining about it would make him seem like a crackpot or call even more attention to her. He’d stumbled across that picture on the twelfth page of results after searching for paranormal activity near his zip code. No one outside the state would be likely to ever see it.
After the freak-out passed, he skimmed the article. It didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know about the case, merely a brief write up about a local girl found murdered, father arrested. The article ended with some links, one of which caught his eye.
Parents of murder suspect accuse police of facilitating his death.
He clicked over to that article, which contained a photo of Vic’s parents.
It explained that his mother tried to sue the police for being involved in his murder. She blamed them for not doing anything to save his life and even accused them of providing the murder weapon since her son didn’t have any firearms in the house. She also claimed that Evelyn had killed the girl and framed her boy, then murdered him at trial to keep the truth from coming out. The reporter had challenged the idea, asking if Evelyn had, in fact, successfully gotten away with framing Vic for the murder of the little girl, why would she shoot him in full view of a judge, police, and over fifty witnesses. The article quoted the woman’s response as ‘because she’s crazy.’
Another link led to a related article about Evelyn being found dead in jail while awaiting her trial for shooting Vic. It started with a two-paragraph summary of basic facts: she’d been discovered unresponsive in the morning by a jail guard with no evidence of injury. An autopsy failed to provide a conclusive cause of death. The larger portion of the article contained brief interviews with local officials and townspeople who knew the Kurtis family. Some believed the family suffered a curse, others said she died of a broken heart over her daughter. A handful suspected suicide and claimed the police lied about there being no injuries or drugs involved. Most of the people expressed some degree of belief that the woman would’ve been acquitted, with one woman (Deborah B) calling it a tragedy she died since ‘she would’ve walked.’ The last interview—with Weston Parker—blamed the Devil. He used his three sentences basically as a warning that people should stay away from that house.
Adam rolled his eyes. “The woman is dead and all you can do is use her death to scare people?”
He glanced at the clock at the bottom of the screen and smiled.
“One more hour…”
34
Small Town
Saturday, June 8, 2019
On a whim, Mia decided to stop at the Pinecone Diner for lunch on the way home.
She and Robin had gone to Syracuse to shop for some summer clothes. The girl loved dresses and hated shoes, hated socks too—except for frilly ruffled ones. Mia wondered if spending four decades stuck barefoot in a nightgown left a mark, or if being super girly had been some manner of defense mechanism to protect her from Vic. Today had been a compromise day: sandals, no socks. Mia didn’t stress the shoes issue at home, but the kid needed something on her feet when going into the city.
Robin so far hadn’t given her any trouble, never throwing tantrums or refusing to put shoes on when needed. About the most defiant she’d been over the past six years had been taking forever to finish broccoli whenever it wound up on the menu for dinner.
Adam suggested she behaved that way out of gratitude, which made Mia wonder how long it would last before the girl changed. Then again, some kids were that sweet. Not until she’d had the baby could Mia have ever imagined herself being so attached and devoted to a little person. Sure, she’d stood up for Timothy, but she wouldn’t have wanted to stop living if anything happened to him. Maybe she qualified as an overprotective parent, but Robin didn’t seem to mind.
Somewhere between leaving the city and arriving in Spring Falls, ‘I’ll make something at home’ gave way to lazy convenience. The local diner didn’t exactly break the bank. Like much of the small town around it, the owners still appeared to think time stopped twenty or so years ago.
The Tahoe made a funny squeaking noise when she cut the wheel to turn into the parking lot. Oh, that’s so stereotypical. Soon as it’s paid off, stuff starts breaking. Darn thing is only six years old. It shouldn’t be falling apart yet.
“Ooh. We’re going to a restaurant!” Robin cheered from her car seat.
Mia grinned at her via the center mirror. “Yep.”
“Do they have pancakes?”
“It’s lunchtime.” Mia pulled into a space and cut the engine. “You want pancakes for lunch? You had them for breakfast earlier.”
“I remember.” She grinned. “Okay, I’ll wait. Pancakes are Saturday morning.”
Mia got out, unbuckled Robin from her car seat, and held her hand while crossing the parking lot to the diner entrance. A passing elderly couple smiled at them in greeting, but when they noticed Robin, froze with confused expressions.
“Hi!” chirped Robin, waving.
The old couple exchanged a glance and seemed to get over whatever had bewildered them. Both smiled at the girl, the woman patting her on the head. They again waved to Mia and hurried off.
That was weird… She watched them amble over to a large maroon Buick sedan, turning away as they somewhat clumsily allowed gravity to pull them down into the car.
Robin squinted at the diner. “It’s too bright. Why is there shiny stuff on the wall?”
Mia laughed while leading her up to the door. “Because the people who own this place like it.”
She went inside, stopping short as a young woman, possibly not even eighteen yet, in a coral orange waitress uniform almost collided with her in her haste to rush down the aisle among the booth seats.
“Sorry!” said the girl. “Be right back.”
Mia stood there waiting for the time it took the teen to drop off a carafe on a table and hurry back.
“Hi.” The girl grinned at Robin. “Hello there, sweetie.”
“Hello.” Robin waved.
“Umm, you can sit over here.” The teen led them to the right, heading for a booth table almost at the end of the building.
Ten minutes after noon on Saturday, the Pinecone had a decent crowd of mostly older people. The lack of cars outside suggested many of them walked—or carpooled—as it didn’t seem likely this little town had a senior bus. Only three booth seats and four of the nine stools at th
e counter remained open.
People in various stages of eating or waiting for their food looked up as they walked by, initially either smiling or offering neutral glances. Robin waved at everyone, and as soon as she did, they all wound up staring at her. The child either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the odd reaction she elicited. The young waitress stopped at the empty booth one space away from the corner.
“Thank you!” chirped Robin. She hopped up into the seat and scooted over to the window.
Mia slid in beside her, both on the same side of the table.
“Oh, you’re adorable.” The waitress made a silly face at Robin, who laughed. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Milk please,” chimed Robin.
“Iced tea for me,” said Mia.
“Okay. Be right back.”
The old people at nearby booths kept peering over at them and whispering. The effect crept along the tables over the next few minutes. By the time the waitress had returned with their drinks and taken their lunch order, everyone in the place except for the young waitresses and a busboy gave them strange looks.
Robin’s happy demeanor faded to a sense of worry. She cuddled against Mia’s side. “Why is everyone staring at us?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I can’t see inside people’s thoughts anymore.”
“I’m not sure,” said Mia, low. “This is only the second time I’ve been to this place and it wasn’t this full last time. People in small towns sometimes don’t trust outsiders. We don’t stop here very often, so they don’t know us.”
“Oh. Are they mean?”
Mia looked over the room. Whenever she made eye contact with anyone, they shied away. “I don’t think so. They seem more confused than angry.”
“Good.” Robin squeezed her arm and whispered, “I don’t wanna die again.”
Choked up, Mia could only hug her back.
“Sorry for making you sad.”
“I’m not sad, sweetie. I’m beyond happy.”
Robin narrowed her eyes. “Your face is sad.”
“Thinking about that stuff makes me sad.”
“It makes me sad, too. I’m happy I’m not lonely anymore.”
Mia brushed her hand over the girl’s hair. “I wish I could take all those bad memories away.”
“It’s okay. I kinda ’member stuff, but not lots from when I was squishy. Sometimes I dream about it. I know I died once and you saved me.” Robin snuggled against Mia’s side. “I love you, Mommy!”
“I love you too, sweetie.” Mia hugged her back, struggling not to break down at the realization she completely got Evelyn—and grateful she’d chickened out of that psychic vision before looking directly at the girl’s body. She understood the woman’s mental state and why she’d done everything she’d done… from killing Vic to simply letting go of her hold on life.
“Don’t cry,” whispered Robin.
She took a few breaths to still her emotions.
The waitress returned with their food: chicken fingers and fries for Robin, a chicken salad sandwich for Mia.
“Thank you!” Robin grinned at the young woman, who smiled in return.
They chatted about the approaching summer. Robin wanted to go with her friends to the lake to swim. Mia cringed inwardly, worried at the thought. With all the ‘accidents’ that almost happened at the house, combining her precious daughter with a lake felt like taunting the forces of evil. Her mind tortured her with visions of drowning, or that fatal amoeba thing. A ‘we’ll see’ placated the girl for the time being. It had been years since Mia put on a swimsuit, but she might agree to a lake trip if she went into the water alongside Robin.
“Something watched me sleep last night,” said Robin out of the blue. “Can I sleep with you and Daddy tonight?”
Mia froze in mid bite. She lowered the sandwich away from her mouth and peered over at the girl, who continued nibbling on a fry. “Something was in your room? It’s protected.”
“A shadow on the wall. I don’t wanna be alone.”
Was Vic trying to get through the wall but couldn’t?
Another young waiter walked by, smiled at them, and kept going.
Still, the elders all glanced at them, whispering.
It’s only old people… Mia idly fussed at Robin’s hair. The girl smiled at her despite a mouthful of chicken. She looks so much like she did as a ghost. I bet they recognize her. Despite her appetite fading, she forced herself to finish the sandwich. The house is getting darker. While rambling about the crazy old pastor, Adam mentioned he said something about the Devil selecting their house. With Robin no longer trapped there as a spirit, maybe they should move? It made little sense given everything that happened there, but Mia had developed a strong possessiveness toward the house and didn’t want to lose it. They’d never be able to afford a place anywhere near that size at a normal price. Also, she had no guarantee Vic wouldn’t simply follow them.
“Do you think we should go somewhere else to live?” asked Mia.
Robin looked up from her food. “If you want to. People here don’t seem to like us.”
“I meant the house… the bad stuff there.”
The girl shrugged one shoulder. “I dunno. You and Daddy made it nice there, but the bad daddy didn’t go away yet. It’s okay if you wanna move. It’s okay if you wanna hit him in his stupid face.”
Mia chuckled.
“And I’m not scared of those people staring at us. They’re old and gonna die soon.”
“Umm…” Mia gawked. The tone of it carried ambivalence, not cruelty, so she didn’t think the girl wanted them all to die, merely stated a blunt—if indelicate—fact. Then again, this child once threw a hair dryer at her bathtub and made Weston drive into a tree. Oddly enough, both of those actions had been motivated by affection. “It’s not polite to say stuff like that.”
“I’m sorry. But it’s not polite to stare either.”
“You’re right.” Mia kissed her atop the head.
“Bad Daddy got mad when you didn’t listen to him. But you don’t gotta be scared of him now.”
“Okay. We’ll make him go away. You don’t need to be afraid either.”
Robin picked up her last fry, but paused before biting the end off. “I’m scared ’cause I’m only six. You’re not afraid of him anymore, Mommy.”
Yeah, I am… just good at hiding it.
The waitress returned. “All set? Can I get you anything else?”
Robin patted her belly and puffed out her cheeks.
Mia looked over their plates of crumbs. “Thanks, I think we’re done. Just the check please.”
35
Out of the Ordinary
Saturday, June 8, 2019
Nate Ross sat back in his chair, feet up on his desk, sipping his ‘noon coffee’ while observing Main Street.
So little happened in Spring Falls, he didn’t mind the six-day work week. Getting paid to sit in his office, occasionally break up a fight at Johnny’s Bar, or give a local a jump start made for the perfect life. So what if he put in ten-plus hour days? Most of it involved doing what he did at present… sitting there watching people. Not like he had a wife or kid waiting on him. He didn’t much feel any great pull toward obtaining either one. Alone suited him fine. No one to feel guilty about not paying enough attention to or spending enough time with. No one to stay up late worrying about. He had plenty of people to worry about already by virtue of being sheriff—like Chris Wilmott, the youngest deputy. Good kid, couple months past his twenty-second birthday.
A new real estate development west of downtown, a whole mess of condos, threatened the quiet peace he’d grown accustomed to here. New people, most of whom wanted the benefits of a city job in Syracuse but the quiet life of the boondocks, flocked there. With more people came more taxes, and Mayor Charles finally saw fit to add a third deputy.
Across the street, a glint of sunlight flashed from the door of the Pinecone Diner.
Mia Gartner and her daughte
r emerged from the front door, holding hands. The woman exuded protectiveness toward the child, who hovered close to her but grinned and waved at everyone who looked her way.
Nate couldn’t help but smile back at her contagious happiness. He followed them with his gaze until they stopped to talk to two of Wilhelmina’s friends—Lisa and Rebecca—then glanced to his right at the corkboard on the wall by his desk… specifically at a newspaper clipping old Sheriff Kline had kept from the Spring Falls Gazette showing the face of the little girl who died when Nate had been one year old. She smiled at him every damn day from that clipping since he’d taken the job. The same little girl had just walked across the parking lot across the street.
She lived in the same house, hell, even had the same first name. The way she skipped along behind her mother reminded him of something he thought he’d seen about six years ago when Weston introduced his Jeep to a tree.
He took a long sip of coffee, savoring it for a moment before swallowing. Nate set the mug on its coaster and reached up to unpin the child’s picture from the wall. It had been there so long the paper around the tiny hole where the pushpin covered appeared visibly whiter.
The grainy photograph of a child taken in 1969, a photo no doubt obtained from the house by a reporter, showed a smiling six-year-old in a hideous striped shirt. Though she appeared happy, those eyes held a permanent undercurrent of fear. He couldn’t tell if he picked up on it due to knowing all about Vic or if his keen perception and law enforcement training would allow him to recognize the same look in any other child terrified of someone close to them. The girl who emerged from the diner moments ago didn’t have that quality in her eyes. She looked genuinely happy.
The Spirits of Six Minstrel Run Page 27