Dadgummit

by Maggie Toussaint

  “Today, it’s been on you,” Gail said brusquely. “I knew you were coming around when your respirations and heart rate changed. Are you lightheaded or dizzy?”

  After a quick self-check, I shook my head. “I feel normal.”

  Gail monitored my pulse, then my heart and lungs. “Your vitals are good. Ready to stand?”

  “Sure.” I pushed myself up. Larissa ran forward and hugged me. From the safety of her arms, Elvis, the little Chihuahua, licked my face. Charlotte moved forward to flank us. I wanted to weep at the family support. “I’d like to return to our camper.”

  The sheriff started to say something, stopped, then waved Deputy Duncan forward. “Take the Powells and Ms. Ambrose home. Stay with them until you’re relieved at shift change.”

  “You think we need a guard?” I asked.

  “A man is dead up here under suspicious circumstances, and you’re my best chance to figure out what happened. I would do the same for one of my officers.”

  “Tomorrow, I want you on the scene with Deputy Chief Mayes. He’s been called away today on a personal matter. Meanwhile, we’ll sift through the property digest and see who owns these parcels up here.”

  Was living with a name like Twilla Sue Blair sufficient reason to be so annoyingly despotic? I was too tired to argue. I glanced over at Deputy Duncan. “Which way?”

  He pointed to a large SUV. At least it was an upgrade from the police cruiser I’d arrived in. I must be moving up the food chain of the sheriff’s good will.

  We walked over, climbed in, and drove away. The inside of the spacious vehicle was quiet as a tomb, until Charlotte started talking.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Are you hungry? Did you get lunch?” Charlotte asked, rapid fire. “We had the most marvelous lunch, and the show was fantastic. Tell her, Larissa.”

  “It was amazing,” Larissa said.

  We sat in the backseat, with Deputy Duncan chauffeuring us to the campsite. Since Elvis was the only one of our pets here, I assumed Larissa and Charlotte had smuggled him along on their jaunt. I reached for my necklace, but instead of the usual surge of peace, I got nothing. I’d drained it on my dreamwalk.

  Not good.

  I realized Charlotte had said something else, and I’d missed it. “Sorry. I’m a little scattered from today. Do you mind if we catch up later?”

  Charlotte’s mouth formed an O. She nodded toward the officer like she got the message. “Absolutely. We’ll table this for now.”

  Larissa reached for my hand. I saw the worry in her bright green eyes, so like her father’s. I’m tired, hon. That’s all. I need to sleep it off. Nothing’s wrong.

  She gave a slight nod and squeezed my hand. What had I been thinking to take on a case so far from home? My blitz of adrenaline wore off. A yawn overtook me, and my eyes drifted shut again. Charlotte’s loud voice in my ear startled me awake. “We’re here. Wake up, or you’ll spend the night in this guy’s car.”

  Somehow, I clambered to my feet and trudged to my bed in the camper. I fell into it face first.

  * * *

  Pale light bathed the camper. I inhaled the faint citrus aroma of my detergent on the bedding, felt the welcome press of warm pets and Larissa on the firm mattress beside me. The light was thin and pink-tinged. Dawn. I’d slept from dusk to dawn.

  My stomach grumbled, letting me know I’d missed dinner. Come to think of it, I didn’t remember eating lunch yesterday either. That was some dreamwalk. Way longer than usual, and with a distressing void in my memory. After I’d heard from Haney, something else had happened, and it kept me out of my body for hours.

  I turned over onto my back, feeling the comforting energy of gemstones in the bed as the blanket shifted with me. My mom must’ve added those last night after I crashed.

  Wood smoke scented the air. Charlotte and Larissa were still in the camper with me. That left my parents or the deputy outside; most likely my dad was tending the campfire. I lifted the thin curtain and struggled to discern the shapes outside. Officer Duncan’s SUV was gone. In its place was a regular police cruiser, complete with another deputy.

  A quick questing of my other senses revealed two other people nearby. One at the fire and one in the camper. My parents. Joy replaced the worry in my thoughts.

  The dogs edged into my warm spot on the bed as soon as I left it. The cats claimed the pillow. I kept the spare blanket around my shoulders, slipped my feet into sneakers, and exited the camper.

  My mother had already dressed for the day, and her thick gray braid hung over her right shoulder. I leaned down and hugged her. “Hey, you’re up early.”

  Mom’s entire body radiated love and comfort. “I hoped you’d awaken soon. I made you some of my special broth.” She patted the ground beside her. “Join me.”

  I took the offered bowl in my hands and drank it greedily. “Where’s Dad?” I managed between sips.

  “Sleeping. He had a restless night.”

  Mom’s voice sounded stilted. I noticed her rounded shoulders and became concerned. “Anything wrong?”

  “Nope. Just regular stuff.”

  A truth and yet not a truth. “Hmm.”

  Mom handed me my necklace. “I recharged this for you first thing this morning, and I brought along your spare.”

  My fingers closed over it, and the gemstone hummed happily in my hand. I clasped it around my neck, feeling worlds better by the second. “Thank you. I don’t know how you do the things you do, but you certainly are a blessing to me. After the long dreamwalk yesterday, I realized I was lucky you guys came along on the trip.”

  “Don’t fret. We’re happy to be here. I can’t recall the last time Tab and I visited our friends in the mountains. Annabelle’s meadow has such good energy.”

  “It’s nice, especially the scenery, except for wondering if Burl Sayer will blaze through here again. But our guard will take care of it if he does. Anyway, the strange death I’m working to help solve happened a few coves down the lake. I’m hoping that by now Sheriff Blair has more on Haney, which is the name the dead guy gave me in the dreamwalk yesterday.”

  “Your father spoke with Gail last night. She said Haney’s prints were in the system. Randolph “Haney” Haynesworth, son of working class parents, grew up less than an hour from here. He has a history of disappearing, including about two weeks ago, when the group home he lived in reported him missing.”

  “Does he have a criminal history?” Group home meant Haney had an issue and couldn’t live alone. “Is there something wrong with him?”

  “I don’t know anything more than what the cops told your father,” Mom said. “He has some petty theft charges. We’re looking at his known associates.”

  I met her steady gaze. “You thinking to investigate Sheriff Blair’s case? She won’t like the competition.”

  “Sorry. I misspoke. The cops are checking Haney out. Not me. I leave all the investigating in the family to you.”

  “I’m helping with the investigation because I owe Wayne for getting Larissa back from her Powell grandparents. I’d rather be hanging out with y’all, even though I am flattered they want my help. This case isn’t open and shut. It will take time to figure out what happened to Haney.”

  “You’ll figure it out. I have confidence in you.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not doing anything special. I use my talents same as you do when you retune the crystals. I couldn’t do my part without your help.”

  Mom blushed.

  The fire crackled and hissed. I set my empty mug down and stretched. “It feels weird, though, not knowing the people here, their background, or the place. I wish I had more context. Being an outsider makes an investigation twice as hard.”

  “You’re no ordinary outsider. You’ve got a direct pipeline to the victim’s thoughts. Every sheriff in this state wants you on their payroll.”

  I recoiled. “How do they even know about me?”

  “Word gets around.”

  Her simple statement r
ang true, but I didn’t want to believe it. “No, it doesn’t. Dad kept a very low profile. People all over the state didn’t know about him. He wasn’t invited to solve cases everywhere.”

  “Sorry to disillusion you, dear, but your father consulted on numerous outside cases.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The world shifted on its axis. Literally shifted. My body flashed cold then hot. I wanted to dispute Mom’s words, wanted to banish them to the depths of outer space where no one could hear them. I scrunched my eyes shut as I fought for control of my emotions.

  “I don’t believe you.” Lame, but I couldn’t think of anything better to say, even lamer when I admitted that truth rang in her words.

  I heard a noise, then my father stepped out of his camper. “I heard y’all talking about cases.”

  “Tell her about your pick-up work, Tab,” Mom said.

  Dad met my gaze across the fire. “I helped other jurisdictions on some cases.”

  Truth glimmered in his words. I didn’t want to hear them, couldn’t believe my father had ventured from his carefully structured routine, from safety into danger.

  “I’m stunned. You never mentioned this to me. Not once.”

  “He didn’t want you to be concerned.” Mom patted my arm. “You had your life with Roland and Larissa. He did what he could to help others, though he always wished he could do more. He had to stop, though, because the toll on his health was too great.”

  “I had no idea.” I turned to my dad, my emotions simmering like the broth on the campfire. “Is that why Wayne keeps pushing outside cases at me? Because you set a precedent? I’m not you. And I most definitely do not want to be a freak show on the road. I’m supposed to be a human message board for the living and the dead, for communications between loved ones. Twisting that service around to a solely investigative purpose is wrong.”

  “Is it? With great power comes great responsibility.”

  I laughed, a dry cackling sound in my own ears. “That’s rich. You’re quoting Spiderman to me?”

  “The quote didn’t originate with Stan Lee. It’s attributed to Voltaire,” my dad said. “Look, I get your point, but try to see it from the law and order perspective. People in this century are still as messed up as they were two hundred years ago, maybe more so, or maybe it’s just that there are so many more people. Whatever the reason, our job is to make the world safer.”

  Conviction rang from every word my father spoke. He wanted me to be successful. I shifted my gaze to my mother. She seemed as open and supportive as ever. Why did our perceptions differ? I did not want to be That Person. The darling of the tabloids and the freak they called in to chat up murder victims. I already had my share of crime nightmares to deal with. I couldn’t imagine a steady diet of them.

  “No.”

  My father leaned forward. “No?”

  “My answer is no. I won’t take this show on the road. This is a one-shot deal for me. I’ll help because I owe Wayne a favor, but I’m not Dial-A-Psychic.”

  His eyes glittered. “No one calls you that.”

  “Sheriff Twilla Sue Blair came close enough, and you know how Gail Bergeron feels about me. I don’t want notoriety for myself or Larissa. My preference is to only work cases in Marion.”

  My father settled on the ground on the other side of Mom and cradled her hand in his. “All I ask is that you keep an open mind. Cops need evidence to nail bad guys, but they reach a point in every investigation where they know they can’t collar crooks the usual way. Those cops reach out to Wayne for your help. When I was the Dreamwalker, I couldn’t say no when a child was missing. I helped, but on my own terms.”

  “Why keep it hidden?”

  “Same reasons you’re grappling with. I didn’t want to be a scent-tracking dog or a public spectacle. But the truth is I closed cases, just as you and Wayne do. You’re good at this, Baxley. I know it. Wayne knows it. Gail knows it. You know it. Don’t let fear wall you in. Your mom and I are with you every step of the way.”

  His words buzzed around the campfire, wax-coating me in guilt. “You’re right. I am afraid. Not just of discovery, but of the things I’ve seen. The evil I’ve battled. I understand that I’m not an ordinary housewife, but I look like a freak with this white forelock and I spend a lot of time with dead people. I often question my sanity. And the nightmares. It’s a wonder all my hair hasn’t turned snowy white.”

  “You should have mentioned the nightmares before,” Mom said. “I have a tisane that will help you sleep.”

  “I’m not medicating myself to bed every night. My stock in trade is dreams. What kind of dreamwalker is afraid to dream?”

  “I wish my friend Gentle Dove had come with us,” Mom mused as if I hadn’t spoken. “She knows ways to expunge evil spirits from the mind.”

  “You’re saying I can block the crime scenes I’ve worked?”

  “Not block, love. Whitewash them and lock those memories in a safe place. You don’t need to forget, but you need to partition your thoughts.”

  “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Why didn’t you or Dad mention this process before?”

  My mother shrugged. “Didn’t know we needed to.”

  “Seems like there’s always more to dreamwalking than I understand. When will I get caught up?”

  “I don’t know, dear. But your father and I are proud of you. This year you’ve helped many people and that hasn’t gone unnoticed. Is it so terrible to help cops close their cases?”

  “Not terrible. But not good, either. More like going to the dentist for a procedure. It has to be done or worse pain will follow.”

  “This was good,” Mom said, covering a yawn. “We’ve been meaning to have this talk with you for weeks now, but the timing wasn’t right. Always remember that you’re not in this alone.”

  I’d been so focused on me that I hadn’t considered anyone else’s needs. My parents wanted and expected to help me. Chances are that Mom kept watch by the fire so my father could sleep. In addition to watching over us, she’d recharged my crystals and managed to cook her special soup. Could I ever repay her for her many acts of kindness?

  “I’m good now, Mom. Why don’t you get some rest?”

  “I will. Thanks.” She unfolded gracefully and got to her feet. Her white braid hung over her shoulder, her thin cotton jumper and tie-died jacket seemed inadequate for the mountain air. Had she overdone it?

  “She’ll be fine,” Dad said as I watched Mom climb into the other camper.

  I turned to find his steady gaze on me. “What? You can read minds now?”

  He inclined his head. “I saw when it hit you, when you turned your needs off and realized Lacey had been up all night.”

  The logs on the campfire popped and crackled. I was glad to see a ring of rocks around the fire and a bucket of water nearby. My father’s handiwork.

  “What now?” I asked. “Do you know anything more about the case?”

  His eyes lit up with amusement. “Oh, yeah. But first, you need to tell me why you were so zonked last night.”

  “I don’t know what happened. The transition through the veil was flawless. I encountered Haney right away. He freaked out when he learned he was dead.”

  My father clucked knowingly.

  Encouraged, I continued, “I had a brief conversation with a guide on the Other Side. The whole experience should’ve taken half an hour or less. Instead, I have no memory of the next five hours.”

  “Interesting. Something wiped your memory, but only a portion of it.”

  “Did that ever happen to you?”

  “Can’t say that it did.”

  “It bothers me.”

  Dad nodded. “You were exhausted last night when you arrived at the campsite. Not even Elvis was enough to keep you awake. I was plenty worried, but your mom said you’d be all right.”

  “Mom’s amazing. Until recently, I never realized how much she must have helped you.”

  Smiling broadly, he said, “Couldn
’t have made it this far without her.”

  His praise faded beneath the sudden intrusion of high-beam headlights attached to a jet-black Hummer driving on our grassy lane. Our police guard got out of his car, one hand on his sidearm.

  The identity of our visitor must’ve hit him the same time as I recognized the vehicle because he noticeably relaxed. Gail Bergeron had arrived. Oh, goody.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Morning,” I said, lifting a mug of broth Gail’s way. My father took one look at the state archeologist’s intense expression and bolted for the lake to watch the sunrise. Our guard ran a lap around the campsite and returned to his vehicle.

  “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by,” Gail said, settling on the fireside cushion my father had vacated. She’d dressed in slate gray and styled her hair. She’d even applied lipstick and tossed on a matching mauve scarf.

  She’d be in good shape if the fashion police happened by our campfire. In my jeans and faded T-shirt, I was my usual fashion disaster. “Oh?”

  “I phoned Mrs. Kinsey once I realized her cabin was a vacation rental. I’m tired of the sameness of hotels.”

  This vacation kept getting stranger and stranger. “You’re staying there?”

  She nodded. “I thought we might chat a few minutes this morning about my cold case.”

  I unclenched my back teeth. “I’m on vacation.”

  “But you’re working Twilla Sue’s case. It wouldn’t be anything more to work mine as well. This one with the dead child—”

  “I hate cases with children. Their faces haunt me.”

  She brushed aside my reservation. “DNA confirms this victim was a state senator’s child. One who was missing for five years. Her remains were recently found. The family initially believed Regina had been abducted for ransom, but the call never came.”

  The name struck a familiar chord. After his daughter’s disappearance, the senator had a breakdown and withdrew from politics. Knox Sandelman became a recluse, refusing all interviews. Charlotte had talked my ear off about the politician when the story first hit the news.