by Terri Reid
“Like a burden had been taken off my chest, like I didn’t always have to be strong,” he said and then he sighed deeply. “I have a lot to learn about being a good father.”
She turned to him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “You’re doing a fine job.”
Chapter Thirty-nine
Katie, Clifford and Maggie arrived at the funeral home about twenty minutes later. Katie hurried over to Mary and Bradley as soon as she walked in the door. “I am so sorry we are late,” she said. “Clifford insisted on coming and he was delayed at work. How are things going?”
“Things are fine, Katie,” Bradley said. “Thanks for coming.”
“How’s Clarissa doing?” she asked.
Mary looked across the room to where Clarissa still sat with her parents, now chatting happily with them. “I think she’s doing fine,” Mary said. “And I think having Maggie here is going to do her a world of good.”
Maggie looked around the room and saw Clarissa. She hurried over to her, excited that this was her very first funeral. She hadn’t been allowed to come when Clarissa’s daddy had died. “Clarissa, I’m here,” she said, as she approached her.
“Maggie, guess what,” Clarissa said, slipping off the chair she’d been sitting on. “I have lots of grandparents now. These ones are from Mary.”
“Grandparents are great,” Maggie said. “They let you get away with all kinds of stuff.”
Margaret chuckled. “We’ve heard about you, Maggie,” she said. “It sounds like you’ve been a great friend to Clarissa.”
“We’re best friends,” Maggie informed her.
“Well, that’s the best kind,” Margaret said.
“Do you want to see my mommy?” Clarissa asked.
“Is it okay to look at her?” Maggie asked. “Cause she’s dead.”
“Uh huh, everyone does it. It’s so you can say goodbye to her.”
“Okay,” Maggie said hesitantly. “I guess.”
Clarissa led Maggie across the room to Becca’s casket and the two little girls peered at the woman lying inside. “It kind of looks like your mom, but kinda not,” Maggie said.
“That’s ‘cause it’s not really my mom anymore,” Clarissa explained.
“Why not?”
Clarissa turned to Maggie. “My grandma told me that our bodies are like gloves and our spirits are like hands,” Clarissa explained. “When we’re born, our bodies slip over our spirits, just like gloves slip over hands. And they move when we move and talk when we talk, just like gloves move when our hands move. Then, when we die, we leave our bodies here on earth, like taking off a glove. And our spirits get to go live with God.”
“That’s why your mommy looks like that,” Maggie said. “Cause the most part of her went to live with God.”
Clarissa nodded her head. “Uh-huh.”
“But don’t you miss her?”
“I miss her lots,” Clarissa said. “And it’s okay to be sad and miss her. But she and daddy Henry are in heaven watching over me.”
Mary came over and joined the girls. “How are you two doing?” she asked.
“Clarissa’s mommy and daddy are watching her from heaven now,” Maggie said.
Mary pictured the two standing over their daughter’s bed last night. “Yes, they are,” she agreed. “And they will always be watching over her.”
Steve Turner, the funeral director, crossed the room and spoke with Bradley and then came over to where Mary and the girls stood. “It’s time for the service,” he said. “Are you ready?”
Clarissa nodded and they all moved forward to take their seats at the front of the chapel. Mary looked around the room and saw Ian stop and speak with Katie. She was relieved he was keeping an eye on her. But her curiosity was peaked when she watched them leave the room together.
“Katie I wonder if I can speak with you for a moment?” Ian asked.
“Sure, Ian, what do you need?” she replied.
“I’m wondering what you know about hypnotism,” he said. “Have you ever been hypnotized before?”
Chapter Forty
An hour later, Clarissa sat between Bradley and Mary in the main funeral car, following the hearse, as they headed to the cemetery. “How are you doing, sweetheart?” Bradley asked.
“I’m doing better,” she said. “I’m still sad, but it doesn’t hurt as much.”
“I know just what you mean,” he replied. “We’re going to have your mommy, Becca, buried next to your daddy.”
“But, really, they’re in heaven, right?”
“Exactly,” Mary said. “This is just the place where we put the gloves.”
“Exactly,” Clarissa repeated.
“The gloves?” Bradley asked.
Mary smiled at Clarissa and winked. “We’ll tell you all about it later,” she said.
The service at the graveside was short and soon Mary and Katie were following Clarissa and Maggie across the lawn to get back in the cars. Mary was eager to find out what Ian and Katie had been discussing.
“Katie, I was wondering…,” Mary began.
“Ms. O’Reilly. Ms. O’Reilly,” Nick came rushing across the grounds towards them. “I really need to speak with you.”
“Nick? Nick Kazakos?” Katie asked. “I haven’t seen you for years.”
“Katie Mahoney?” Nick asked.
Katie nodded. “Well, I’m Katie Brennan now. How are you doing?”
“As well as can be expected when you live your life without the person who was supposed to be your soul mate,” he snapped back at her.
“Oh,” she said, confused by his anger. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, well it’s nice that one of us can live happily ever after,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” Katie repeated. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, maybe you should have said something twenty years ago when Hope was looking for a friend,” he retorted. “Maybe if she’d had a friend, she wouldn’t have killed herself.”
Katie took a deep breath and shook her head. “If I had any idea,” she began. “If I could have done anything…”
“Yeah, easy to say now,” he interrupted.
Katie stepped back as if she’d been slapped. “I’d better go,” she said. “Mary, I’ll meet you at the cars.”
Katie hurried away, following after the girls.
“That was not only rude, but it was stupid,” Mary said. “Katie would have been Hope’s friend if Hope had let her. Hope assumed Katie was Faith’s friend and so she didn’t speak to Katie.”
“I don’t believe that,” he said. “And I don’t believe you.”
“What good would come from me lying to you?” Mary asked.
“Well, maybe you’re trying to save your friend’s life,” he said.
Mary caught him by the collar of his shirt and pushed him up against the nearest tree. “Are you telling me that you killed those other women?” she asked.
His eyes grew wide and his voice shook. “No, no, I didn’t mean that at all.”
“What did you mean?” she asked.
“I only meant that if people thought she wasn’t Faith’s friend, whoever was killing her friends wouldn’t kill Katie. That’s all.”
Mary loosened her hold. “I’m watching you, Nick,” she said. “Nothing had better happen to my friend or I’ll come looking for you.”
“You can’t do that,” he insisted. “You can’t threaten me like that.”
“Oh, I can’t?” she asked. “What are you going to do about it?”
“I’ll call the…,” he stopped as he watched Bradley hurry towards them.
“Mary, is everything okay here?” he asked.
“Nick, I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Chief of Police Bradley Alden,” she said pointedly. “You do understand my message now, don’t you?”
Nick nodded.
“Good, have a nice day, Nick,” Mary said, and then she slipped her arm around Bradley’s and let him escort her to the car.
“Basic intimidation practice,” she said. “He’s on the short list of the people who’ve been killing off Faith Foley’s friends and I just wanted to let him know that Katie Brennan was off limits.”
Bradley stopped walking and looked back over his shoulder. “You think he killed those women?” he asked.
“Well, I don’t have any evidence,” she admitted. “I just didn’t want him to think that taking out Katie was going to be easy.”
“And what was the message you sent him?”
“I told him that if anything were to happen to Katie, I’d come looking for him,” she replied. “And then he told me that he’d call the police.”
Bradley chuckled softly. “And that’s when I walked in.”
She squeezed his arm. “Your timing was impeccable.”
“Yeah, but remember, I don’t know anything about this,” he said.
“About what?” she asked with a smile.
“Exactly.”
Chapter Forty-one
Nick watched them walk away, his anger building. He could tell they were laughing at him. Just who was she to tell him what to do? She was nobody! She was less than nobody! He’d show her. But what could he do?
“I don’t believe you,” he whispered. “I don’t believe you at all.”
He stormed back to the small apartment he kept over the maintenance garage. The room was sparsely furnished, mostly with odds and ends he picked up at garage sales or discarded pieces of furniture left by the curb for the garbage collectors. The only thing he spent his money on was his computer system. His apartment had the fastest internet connection and he had been able to master the art of hacking in his spare time.
“I’ll find out who you really are,” he said, as he entered information into his search engine, punching the keys of his keyboard angrily.
“Mary O’Reilly,” he whispered, “what do you really do?”
An hour later, Nick pushed himself away from his computer and walked to the window that overlooked the cemetery. He had never believed in ghosts. Never really thought much about what happened to someone once they died.
He looked over the grounds surrounding him. The tombstones and monuments cast long shadows in the late afternoon sun and the fog was starting to develop once again. Were their ghosts down there? Spirits who were restless because they still had unfinished business?
He jumped as a bird flew past his window.
He had never been spooked in his apartment before, until now.
He turned on a few more lights and grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry. Then he sat back in front of his computer and reread the newspaper articles about Mary O’Reilly. She was no researcher. According to the information he’d read, she solved murder cases. Why would she be interested in Hope? Hope wasn’t murdered, she committed…
His thought process froze.
Everyone thought Hope had killed herself. What if she hadn’t? What if she’d been murdered?
That really made much more sense. She would have left him a note.
He sat back in his chair and thought back to the night she died. He’d followed her home, tried to get her to talk to him, but she’d refused. He’d even gone to the door, but her mother had shooed him away. But he couldn’t leave, not after Hope had seen what he’d done. He corrected himself, what Faith made him do. He would have never been unfaithful to Hope if Faith hadn’t seduced him.
He leaned forward once again and found the link he’d been looking for. A couple of years ago he’d hacked into the Coroner’s computer system because there was some missing information on a death certificate and he hadn’t reviewed the paperwork until the night before the funeral. Now, he cruised the data, picking up tidbits of information about the deceased members of the community the papers left out.
He searched the system and finally found the report. Scanning the form he hurried down to the comments section. Subject was a Caucasian woman, sixteen years of age. Cause of death: asphyxiation from hanging. Subject was found by her mother hanging from a heavy duty electric cord…
An electric cord? A vision suddenly flashed into his mind. Faith had come out of the house and walked over to the gardening shed. He nearly came out of his hiding place, thinking it was Hope. But, he realized quickly that it was Faith. He could always tell them apart, even when they were little and looked much more similar. Faith went into the shed and came out with an extension cord.
He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. He’d always assumed Hope had used a rope. But Faith got a cord! Faith carried it into the house! Faith murdered Hope!
He stood up and started to pace around the room. What could he do? Who would believe him now? It had been twenty years and Faith, well, Faith was a Foley. No one would believe him.
He didn’t care if anyone believed him. He needed to avenge Hope.
Chapter Forty-two
Mary, Bradley and Ian sat at the kitchen table with a white board in front of them. They had outlined the timeline of Hope’s death and the other victims. They also listed all of the pertinent facts they had found in the police reports.
Mary sat back in her chair, took a bite of a gingersnap and shook her head. “I know I’m missing something,” she said. “But I can’t see it. Not yet.”
“It’ll come to you,” Ian said. “You have to stop thinking about it.”
Bradley got up, walked into the kitchen and pulled another Diet Pepsi out. “I have one question for both of you,” he said. “Why? Why would Hope pretend to commit suicide? If the whole thing was a deception gone wrong, what was her point?”
He brought his soda back to the table and sat down next to them.
“Most teens who have tried to commit suicide say they felt they were trying to escape from a situation that seemed impossible to deal with,” Mary said. “They don’t really want to die, but at that moment, they don’t see that they have other choices.”
“There are always choices,” Ian said.
“Sure, that’s easy for you to say,” Mary replied. “But when you’re in the midst of it, the future can look pretty terrifying. They’re not thinking of their choices or what they’d be missing.”
“Aye, and there’s the point,” Ian said. “Instead of playing through and seeing the outcome, we’re trying to cheat the game. All we end up doing is cheating ourselves and our families.”
“You sound like this is hitting pretty close to home, Ian,” Mary said. “Are you okay?”
He sighed and finally turned and faced both of them.
“My father died when I was thirteen,” Ian said. “It was an accident, a horrible accident, and my mother took it very hard. She didn’t talk to me…she didn’t talk to anyone; she would just sit in his study and cry. I lost both my father and my mother. I was alone with my grief and I really didn’t know how to handle it. One afternoon I decided that it would be better to be with my father than my mother, and I grabbed my hunting rifle and went on a walk on the estate.”
“Oh, Ian,” Mary cried.
He sat back against his chair and put his hands behind his head. “I can remember the day like it was yesterday,” he recalled. “The sun was shining, reflecting in the brook that runs through the woods. The birds were singing. The sky was bright blue. And I was determined to die. I walked to the spot my father and I used when we would hunt. It was a quiet glen, hidden away and peaceful. I got out the gun, loaded it and sat down on a large log.”
“And then my father came striding out of the woods behind me,” he said with a sad smile. “He asked me what in blue blazes I thought I was doing and I told him, through my tears, that I wanted to be with him. I didn’t want to be alone any longer. I couldn’t take the pain.”
He took a deep breath. “My father sat down on the log next to me, as he’d done hundreds of times, except this time he was a ghost. He asked me if I knew what it felt like to die and, of course, I said no.”
Ian stopped and chuckled.
“I can remember his words so clearly,” he said, lowering his voice a bit deeper and thickening his accent a bit, “Then why in the world would you give up something you know and take a chance with the unknown. What if you don’t like it? What if it’s worse? What have you then? A big waste of your life, that’s what you have.”
“But I’d have none of it,” Ian said. “But I’m so unhappy, I told him. Mother doesn’t love me anymore because she misses you. The lads at school think I’m daft because I can see ghosts. I really don’t fit in here in this world.”
“What did your father say to that?” Bradley asked.
“He put his arm around me. It was a strange feeling, like electricity, but milder. He asked me about the ghosts I’d seen and if all of them were happy and satisfied. I shook my head and told him that no, they were mostly sad and had issues. Then he cuffed me gently on my head and asked me why in the world I thought my problems would go away in death, if the ghosts I dealt with still had all of their problems.”
“I guess he had you there,” Mary said. “I’d never thought of that.”
“I put the rifle down and turned to him,” he continued. “Then what am I supposed to do? I asked him. And he told me that I was supposed to be brave, but know there were going to be times when I felt afraid. I was supposed to love, but know there were times when my heart was going to be broken. I was supposed to look to the future, but know there were times when I would need to reflect upon the past. And when things get too hard to bear, I was just supposed to take tiny steps and look for the little daily miracles that showed me God cares about me and loves me.”
Mary wiped a tear from her eye. “That was profound.”
Ian smiled. “Aye, he had a way with words,” he said. “So, I unloaded the rifle and walked home, with the sun on my back, the birds singing and the sky as blue as a robin’s egg. And when I got home, I was greeted by the local constabulary. It seems my mother had gone into my father’s study and loaded his hunting rifle and taken her own life.”
“Oh, Ian, how could you go on after that?” Mary asked.
“I really didn’t think I could,” he said. “It was like this was a great joke God was playing on me. But I thought about what my father had said and I took tiny, really tiny, steps for a while. Getting out of bed was sometimes all I could accomplish in a day. But, it was a step. I didn’t look too far into the future, because I couldn’t handle it yet. And finally, I could look back on all my tiny steps and realized I had moved forward. I had survived and I could begin to see the little miracles.”