Nate removed his feet from the desk and stood, carrying it across the office to a back hall, past the bathroom to the storage room. He thumbed in 4-1-8-2 using the silver buttons on the mechanical keypad in the doorknob and entered a small room containing six metal shelves stacked with file boxes. Near the back left corner, he found the box he’d spent hours with over the years. Sergeant Kline had a mild obsession with the case despite everyone involved having died. The evidence box should’ve been disposed of decades ago, but for whatever reason, there it remained.
He removed the lid and picked up a manila folder, opening it to tuck the picture in. A report from Kline sat at the top of the stack of papers inside. Nate skimmed over numerous entries detailing calls about domestic violence from Evelyn. Kline’s notes didn’t appear to take her too seriously, but back in the sixties, no one really made that big a deal about a husband slapping his woman around unless bones broke. And even then, in a little backwater town like Spring Falls where everyone knew everyone, they all assumed Vic wouldn’t really hurt her. Even Sheriff Kline had remarked in his notes that Evelyn had been ‘overly excitable’ and didn’t think much of her saying she feared for her life.
“Guess that’s why you gave her the .38,” muttered Nate. “Guilt’s a bitch.”
A few documents later, Nate turned a page to reveal the booking photo for Evelyn Kurtis. He brushed his fingers down the face of a woman with strawberry blonde hair and hazel eyes. Something about her seemed familiar, yet if he’d ever met her, he didn’t remember it. He would have been a toddler at the time she died.
Her eyes held so much sadness, like she’d given up entirely on life and wouldn’t have cared if the deputy taking the booking photo pulled out a gun and shot her. Nate found himself overtaken by curiosity, that cop-sense telling him something didn’t quite add up. The shape of her jaw, but mostly her eyes spoke to him. He felt as if he knew her somehow.
Unsure why, he plucked that report from the file and carried it back to his desk. He stood there, gazing at the photograph, allowing his mind to wander in search of answers. When he pictured the eyes changing color, the familiarity deepened. Brown… and brown hair.
She looked an awful lot like Mia Gartner.
He glanced up from the photo, out the window at the three women still talking in the Pinecone’s parking lot. The little girl weaved around them, giggling.
Evelyn Kurtis had been thirty-six at the time of her arrest. As far as he knew, Mia was a few years younger. Take away the fatalistic gloom in Evelyn’s expression, tint the hair and eyes brown, and…
Wow… they could be sisters.
Robin clamped onto her mother, beaming a huge smile. She gave off so much joy that once again, Nate found himself unable to resist smiling at the sight of her. Mia had to have been born at least fifteen years after Evelyn’s death.
Mia randomly looked over toward the sheriff’s office. For a brief moment as she stared at him, worry invaded her features, making her expression match the woman in the photograph. Mia’s hair had to be twice as long as Evelyn’s but…
Maybe not sisters.
Nate raised a hand to wave in greeting.
Mia’s forlorn stare vanished to a pleasant smile. She returned the wave, then parted company with the two women. Lisa and Rebecca went into the diner while Mia and the girl headed for the Tahoe.
Deputy Wilmott rushed out from the diner, carrying a small box. He walked in a straight line over the parking lot, across the street, and in the office door, then set the box on the little table by the copier before fishing out two huge sandwiches wrapped in silver foil.
“Hey, sheriff. Sorry it took so long. Place is packed.” Wilmott handed over a hot turkey and cheddar sandwich with double bacon. “How are things going?”
The Gartner’s Tahoe rolled out of the lot and drove off to the left.
“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Nate picked up his mug, tossed back the last of the coffee, and muttered, “For this town.”
Wilmott chuckled. “Yeah, you got that right.”
36
Darkness Banished, Darkness Returned
Saturday, June 8, 2019
Robin left her sandals on the floor by the front door and dashed over to the sofa.
Mia put the TV on cartoons, then debated what to do with herself for the rest of the day—other than laundry. Adam should be home soon, but she figured leaving Robin alone in the living room for brief periods wouldn’t be too risky, especially with the mesmerizing effect of television.
She kicked off her flip-flops and headed upstairs to get the first load of laundry started. They’d turned one of the unused bedrooms into a guest room, which had become basically Adam’s parents’ room for whenever they visited. That still left two empty bedrooms. Mia suspected her husband had been toying with the idea of suggesting they try for another baby. She smiled, expecting Robin would adore being a big sister. If he didn’t bring it up in another month or so, she’d drop a hint.
Her good mood at that thought lasted only until she entered Robin’s room to collect the contents of the clothes hamper. The air plummeted in temperature the instant she went past the door. Mia stopped short, stunned at the sight of her breath appearing as puffs of fog. Nothing visible manifested in the bedroom, though she once again felt as though a malign entity watched her. The palpable sense of anger saturating everything reminded her of the way the house had felt when they’d first arrived.
Alas, whatever psychic ability Mia had only allowed her to detect a presence. Other than shouting at it to go away, she had no real ability to make it leave. Wilhelmina and the others could handle that part. It had been a while since they cast a protection spell on Robin’s bedroom, perhaps those spells ran out of power eventually. Evidently, their effort to banish Vic hadn’t fully succeeded. Or, whatever defense it had offered wore off and allowed him back. Maybe he’d only pretended to go away, building power or choosing to bide his time for no good reason.
Mia backed out of the room without grabbing the laundry and poked her head into the empty bedroom to the left. It didn’t feel cold in there, nor radiate any unusual anger. The atrium to the right gave off a distinct air of creepiness, but also lacked the supernatural chill.
Is it the blood in the floorboards? That spot always attracted Robin’s ghost. Damn. We should have had it cleaned up.
A shadowy figure as tall as a man drifted around the near right corner, directly behind the washer/dryer nook. Mia whirled toward it, but only a wispy black tendril remained, seeping into the wall. She rushed out of the doorway, glaring at the washer and dryer area, but the creature had vanished.
Everything Adam ever said about shadow figures was really bad. She took a tentative step closer, bracing herself for the jump scare. Robin had hidden between the machines—a space no living child could fit into—and leapt out at Mr. Vaughan. Inch by inch, she edged closer, expecting something to burst forth from the dark space at any second.
The doorbell rang.
Mia screamed, jumping back with both hands over her heart.
“Mommy?” called Robin from downstairs. “What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing… just… bad energy.” She kept staring at the spot between the washer and dryer as she hurried past it to the stairs.
Robin ran over to the bottom of the stairway and peered up at her. “I feel it, too.”
Mia kept a death grip on the railing until she went down far enough that a fall couldn’t cause serious injury. Robin waited for her to go by, then returned to the sofa to resume watching cartoons. Trembling gave way to contained anxiety by the time she opened the door.
The sight of Weston Parker standing on her porch knocked the words out of her brain. He had to be nearing seventy, though other than his hair having gone full white, he appeared reasonably fit, if a bit thin. He had a small kink in his nose where the airbag broke it years ago. The same green Jeep Cherokee, long since repaired, sat in the driveway right behind the Tahoe, like the horses of two old rival
gunslingers having water together.
“Mia…”
She hadn’t seen the man face to face since the day he’d crashed into the tree. He’d occasionally shown up at the street with some of his people to pray, but that petered out a few years ago. Seeing him here came as a bit of a shock. While he might be a pushy religious wingnut, she found herself not necessarily objecting to having another adult around at the moment after what she’d sensed upstairs. And, he didn’t share her parents’ opinions about people like her brother.
Her antagonistic urge faded. She took a step back. “Hello, Weston. Come in.”
He nodded appreciatively and obliged.
“What did you mean when you said the Devil chose this house?” She glanced sideways at the stairs. “The place has been quiet for years, but I… just felt something upstairs. How much do you know about what really happened here?”
High-pitched cackling came from the TV along with a cartoonish explosion.
“The Devil attacked that poor family. Evelyn wanted to pray with us, but that man refused to let her.”
Mia bristled, sensing deceit. Joining his church aside, she had a feeling the woman tried to seek help from Weston in regard to Vic beating her… and been blown off. She could just imagine a twenty-something Weston, a new pastor, telling her she had to honor her husband or some bogus nonsense like that. The same bullshit her father used to believe in. Women and girls belonged in the kitchen, quiet and obedient.
“They were like you,” said Weston in a regretful tone. “Didn’t hear The Word. The Devil got into him, made him break his vows. Got into her, too. Made her defy him.”
“I’m sorry, Weston, but it’s not 1960 anymore. A woman fleeing an abusive husband is not defying him. Women are people, not slaves.”
“Vic had an… affair. The Devil changed him. Made him angry, drove him to Johnny’s. Drinking made him angrier. Evelyn got wind that he’d known another woman, but she respected her duty as a wife and did the good Christian thing, forgiving him.”
Bile rose in the back of Mia’s throat. “She didn’t forgive him. If an affair happened at all, she would’ve been too terrified to do anything. Evelyn wanted to leave him before he killed her.”
Weston shifted his jaw back and forth. “Well, be that as it may, for whatever reason, she stayed, hoping he’d change back to the man he’d been when they first met. She confided in me that she feared him, but try as I might, I couldn’t make the man hear The Word. One night, the daughter had enough of him hitting her mother and asked him to stop. He slapped her for it. I believe that’s when Evelyn made the choice to leave him. The Devil loves nothing more than to ruin anything sanctified by God, like marriage.”
If God loves marriage so much, he would’ve protected them. She bit her tongue.
Sirens and cartoony gunfire came from the TV along with a nasal voice repeating ‘stop in the name of the law.’
“The Devil got into him too far to save, and he took his daughter’s life.” Weston looked down.
“And Evelyn shot him during his trial, then died of a broken heart while sitting in jail. No devil made her do that. Absolute grief did.”
Weston snapped his head up, staring at her. “How did you know that?”
“It was in the papers. I might not have been alive when it happened, but I can read.”
“Oh, well… yes, but… You need to take your family out of this house before the same thing happens to you.”
“What’s he doing here, Mommy?” Robin sidled up beside Mia and clung to her left arm while giving Weston a nasty look.
He blinked, raising a shaking hand to point at her. “W-who is that?”
“That’s my daughter, Robin. But you know that already don’t you?”
“H-how?” Weston backpedaled toward the door, his eyes glassy, cheeks pallid.
“Are you okay?” asked Mia with a feebly suppressed smile. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Robin giggled.
Weston twitched, a tic in his left eye. A book leapt from a shelf beside the television and flew at Weston. He raised an arm fast enough to protect his face. The book bounced off with a dull thump and hit the floor.
“I didn’t do that, Mommy,” whispered Robin. “I can’t do stuff like that anymore.”
The old pastor pointed at the child. “It’s too late for you, Mia. You’ve allowed the Devil into your heart.”
“Your god did nothing to protect the life of an innocent. Don’t you dare call my daughter ‘the Devil.’ She’s a child. Have you considered the universe might not work the way you think it does? Ever hear of reincarnation?”
Weston stared into Mia’s eyes for a long, quiet moment. “Yea though I walk through the valley of—” He froze, still as a statue, staring past Mia.
She twisted to follow his gaze.
A thick, vaporous shadow coalesced in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. Robin tucked close to her side, cowering from it.
The shadow rushed forward at Weston.
He screamed and bolted out the door. At the arch between living room and dining room, the shadow figure exploded into a burst of darkness that faded away. Mia shuddered as a wave of tangible malevolence shot past her, seemingly going right out the front door—though she couldn’t see anything.
The Jeep’s engine roared to life.
“Watch out for trees!” yelled Robin. She glanced over at the book on the rug, then up at Mia. “I don’t think bad daddy likes him, either.”
37
Outside the Cycle
Sunday, June 9, 2019
Forks and knives scuffed at plates, the loudest sound in the dining room.
Mia, Adam, Robin, and Wilhelmina sat around the table working on eggs, hash browns, and sausage. The girl kept making silly faces at Wilhelmina, who returned them like a sixty-two-year-old going on seven.
“So, the feeling’s back,” said Mia.
“Hmm.” Wilhelmina pushed hash browns into a pile on her plate. “I think he might have returned as well. Or maybe he never quite left.”
“Did something go wrong with the banishing?” asked Adam.
“It’s difficult to say. Spells aren’t an exact science, so to speak. I can’t really tell for sure if an entity is driven out or simply chooses to leave because it’s tired of hearing us pester it.”
Mia stabbed a bit of egg and smiled at Robin. “Your magic clearly does work.”
“Uh, huh.” The girl beamed. “I remember seeing a tunnel, an’ it pulled me, tryin’ to pick me up. I knew it went to Mommy, so I jumped. Saw a hole in the ceiling, but when I went through it, I was a baby an’ this man was holding me.” She flailed her arms. “That was so annoying. I couldn’t do anything.”
“Interesting…” Wilhelmina made a pensive face. “So, you went from being a spirit straight to birth as though it happened in an instant?”
“Yeah,” said Robin.
“Hmm. Guess she slept for nine months.” Adam chuckled.
“Oh, she was very much awake for at least the last three.” Mia rubbed her stomach.
Robin shrugged. “I don’t ’member that part.”
“You’re sure you’re not reading a latent imprint?” Adam swiped another sausage from the serving tray.
“No. That shadow figure didn’t feel like a ‘recording.’”
Adam grinned. “Well, at least we agree with him about Weston.”
Robin raspberried.
“It is certainly odd that he should show up here out of the blue like that.” Wilhelmina furrowed her brow. “Vic, I can understand. Men like that can’t stand to lose. He did what he did to hurt Evelyn, to punish her. I wonder if our changing things might have made him restless.”
Mia smirked. “Wouldn’t he be in hell?”
Wilhelmina laughed. “If only. I feel that when a soul returns to the Pool of Life, they become part of creation again. Like if you scoop some cookie dough out of the bowl, then stir it back in, no matter how hard you try to scoop
it back out, you’re not going to get the exact same lump. Some of the dough is going to be different. Every spirit from ants to humans goes around in an endless swirl, waiting to return and reincarnate. The ritual we did isn’t required for someone to reincarnate, though it did basically allow Robin to remain the same lump of cookie dough.”
“I’m not a lump.” Robin stuck her tongue out through a grin.
“Souls do not need such a ritual to reincarnate.” Wilhelmina smiled at Mia. “Though it is rare that they closely resemble the person they used to be. If something like that were to occur, it would surely speak to that soul’s strong drive. Or perhaps they sensed an opportunity to set a horrible event right they believed they played a part in causing.”
Adam shrugged, nodding. “The internet is full of stories of people who claim to have been reincarnated and remember pieces of their past lives. And there’s that old wives’ tale that everyone has a double somewhere.” He fiddled with his phone for a moment, pulling up a post with a dozen historic photos that resembled modern celebrities. “Coincidence or reincarnation?”
“Regardless of why a particular soul managed to reincarnate so close to the person they once were”—Wilhelmina reached over and rested her hand on Mia’s arm—“the fact remains that you have a shadow problem. Some, like Vic may have had the strength of willpower sufficient to keep themselves outside the cycle. I’m sure he seethed with hatred and anger. He would not rejoin the Pool until he let go of whatever desire kept him here.”
“No devil?” asked Adam, grinning.
“I do not believe he fell victim to a negative spirit, though I’m also not saying such things are impossible.” Wilhelmina loaded her fork with some eggs atop hash browns. “That man was enough of a demon unto himself. He didn’t need outside help.”
The Spirits of Six Minstrel Run Page 28