The Siren and the Spectre

by Jonathan Janz

  The mayor looked at him in mock surprise, more like a televangelist than ever. “All sorts of interesting facts have come to light this morning. How you sowed unrest in this home. How your overtures toward my daughter have caused a rift between her and her husband.”

  “Your daughter is a sex-crazed psycho—”

  “David,” Harkless said.

  “—who broke into my house and tried to force herself on me.”

  Harkless took him by the biceps. “David.”

  “She’s a pitiful excuse for a human being, much less a fit mother.”

  “You pathetic, conniving little shit,” the mayor growled.

  “Let’s go,” Harkless said, dragging David away.

  “Go to hell,” David snapped, “you fucking child molester.”

  The mayor froze, the televangelist gone, in its place something scarlet and slithery, an ancient reptile with a thirst for blood. “How…dare you say such a thing? Do you have any idea who I am?”

  “We know,” the woman from CPS said. “Unfortunately.”

  “You’re out of a job,” the mayor said, poking a forefinger at her. “By the end of the day, mark my words.” He turned to David. “And you…I will scourge you.”

  “That sounded like a physical threat,” Harkless said. “I need to take you in?”

  “You won’t take me anywhere, Georgia. Your career is over.”

  Harkless’s expression didn’t change. “You’re only one vote, Jim.”

  The mayor turned to David and jabbed the air with a forefinger. “You’ll pay dearly. You put my granddaughter in peril. You nearly had my grandson handed over to strangers. I promise you, Mr. Caine. There’ll be an accounting for what you’ve done.”

  David started to answer, but Harkless jerked his arm so hard he nearly stumbled. She was short, but she was a good deal stronger than she looked. They went out to the lawn, the CPS woman following Harkless and looking glum.

  “We’re screwed,” the CPS woman muttered.

  “Nobody’s screwed, Tina,” Harkless said. “Least of all you.”

  “Would one of you….” David started, dragged a hand through his hair. “Just what the hell happened with Ivy?”

  Harkless shrugged. “She evidently let herself into her house this morning some time between three and five a.m., so that by the time we arrived to start our search, her folks were awake and in full attack mode.”

  “What could they possibly say?”

  “That Ivy wants her family like it used to be,” Harkless said, looking like she’d smelled something awful.

  “This came from Honey and Michael?” David asked.

  “It came from Ivy,” Tina said. “That’s why it’s so troubling. I’ve been out here half a dozen times over the last year and a half, and it’s like pulling teeth getting that girl to say anything. But…it’s like she aged ten years overnight.”

  David looked at Harkless, who nodded grimly. “She said you were the problem, David.”

  “What?”

  “Claimed you brought all the sorrow – she used that word – to the peninsula. Said once you left, it would all be better.”

  David searched Harkless’s face. “You heard her say this.”

  Harkless dropped her gaze. It was answer enough.

  Tina sighed, started back to her car. “I gotta get some work done. This is a nightmare.”

  She started her car, reversed around the mayor’s Escalade, and trundled into the forest.

  David watched after her. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, but this doesn’t make a damned bit of sense.”

  “You’re right. It doesn’t.”

  “Why is Mike Jr. here? I thought he was—”

  “Ivy changed everything,” Harkless said. “The stuff she told us this morning, plus the entrance of Mr. Smug Politician in there, it put us in a bad position.”

  “What did Ivy say?”

  “That her mom and dad drank sometimes but they were good people. That they were only squabbling because you were flirting with her mom.”

  “How the hell could she say that? Aside from all of it being untrue, she’s four, for Christ’s sakes. How would she even know what flirting is?”

  “Tina said it right,” Harkless said. “It’s like Ivy aged ten years in one night.”

  The rage was bleeding out of him, in its place a desolation that was far worse. He shook his head. “I can’t accept this. The kid I know, she’d never say those things.”

  Harkless regarded the sky, which showed some incipient sun. “One thing I’ve learned in this job…people can surprise you. Sometimes in good ways, more often in bad.”

  “But Ivy….”

  “I know, David. I know.”

  Head down, he took a few steps toward the path, but Harkless called out to him. “About Jessica.”

  He turned, regarded her wearily.

  “You got her wrong,” Harkless said. “She was here this morning. For the search. Said you’d told her off last night.”

  “If she would’ve been honest from the start, we never would have—”

  “You wanna find enemies, you’re looking in the wrong place. Jessica’s good people. Remember, you sought her out, not the other way around.”

  With that, Harkless moved toward her cruiser. David headed toward the path, thinking not of Jessica, but of what Harkless said about looking in the wrong place for enemies. He was nearing the Alexander House when the thought clarified:

  Chris and Katherine.

  He took a shower, ate breakfast, and within fifteen minutes was on the road to Williamsburg.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  In a little over an hour, he found himself in an upscale neighbourhood. Not gated, but otherwise everything he’d expect from a couple with money to spare and no children to spend it on.

  David parked, rang the bell, and waited. He was opening his mouth to lay into his so-called friend when a woman he’d never seen before answered.

  “Hello,” she said, her face and voice pleasant. She was sixtyish, with curly peroxided hair and a lot of eye shadow.

  David put on what he hoped was a disarming smile. “I’m an old friend of Chris’s. We went to school together. I was hoping I could talk to him.”

  Evidently deciding David wasn’t a threat, she smiled an apology. “They’re in the Colonial District having brunch.” She gestured over her shoulder. “You’re welcome to wait. They should be back within an hour or two.”

  He started down the steps. “That’s okay. I’ll surprise them there.” He paused. “You are…?”

  A smile. “I clean for them once a week.”

  “Ah,” he said, and thanked her for her time.

  Ten minutes brought him to colonial Williamsburg. While at William & Mary, he, Anna, and Chris had spent a great many evenings here eating in the restaurants, strolling down the brick streets, and buying books from Barnes & Noble. Unless Chris had changed completely, David had a good idea where he’d be.

  David passed under a poplar tree and stepped onto the porch of the Dog Street Pub, a place they’d once frequented when they had the money. From the looks of Chris’s waistline, his old friend was eating plenty these days.

  David was greeted by a skinny guy in his mid-twenties. “Dining alone?” the guy asked.

  “Meeting friends,” David said and moved past.

  Chris and Katherine were about halfway in at a window table.

  David was fifteen feet away when Chris saw him, paled, and looked around as if searching for a place to flee. David snagged a chair from a vacant table and sat down between Chris and his wife.

  Katherine smiled. “David! So happy to see you.”

  He ignored her, said to Chris, “How did you do it?”

  Chris opened his mouth, shut it.

  “Do what, David?” Kat
herine asked, unruffled. The woman had the poise of a veteran news anchor.

  “I can’t imagine you’d have the guts to pull it off,” David said, his eyes never leaving Chris’s reddening face. “So you must’ve hired people.”

  Katherine’s voice was rapturous. “Sounds to me like Mr. Caine has experienced the wonders of the Alexander House.”

  “If you mean I’ve seen weird things,” David said, “you’re right. But that doesn’t mean I believe in ghosts.”

  “The spirits need no validation from you, David.”

  “You need to leave,” Chris said.

  David turned back to his friend, whose short-sleeved polo was pitting out badly. “I’m sorry about Anna,” David said. “But you’re a bastard for being complicit in this.”

  “Tell us what you saw,” Katherine said, leaning forward with her chin on her fists.

  David glanced at her. “How does it feel to have a husband who’s in love with a memory?”

  The occasional Katherine – the freezing one – surfaced. “You have absolutely no business talking about that.”

  David took in her hissing sibilants, her fierce gaze. “You hate me because I immortalised your husband’s lovesickness.”

  “He is not—”

  “It’s an exorcism,” David said to her. “You knew Anna died in that house, and you hate her for it. Now if you can make money from it, exploit Anna and the rest of the house’s history, you can cheapen her memory.”

  “She’s dead because of you,” Chris said, pounding the table. The silverware jumped, and Katherine jerked backward, her shoulder brushing a curtain.

  David scooted his chair nearer to Chris, so close their legs were touching. David grasped him by the shoulders. Chris tried to pull away, but David pinned him effortlessly in place.

  “I’m going to say this one time, old friend, and you better listen. Not a day has gone by in the last twenty-two years that I haven’t regretted leaving the way I did. If I’d known what would happen—”

  “You did know!” Chris shouted, causing several people to turn. “You knew, and you did it anyway!”

  David took a steadying breath. “Maybe I suspected what Anna would do. That hurts worse than anything.” When Chris started to speak, David cut him off. “I deserve that pain. I deserve the knowledge that a…wonderful person would still be alive if not for me. You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I’ve begged for the chance to take it all back?”

  Katherine’s voice was haughty. “You don’t believe in the supernatural.”

  He ignored her, gave Chris’s shoulders a squeeze. “I’ve made mistakes, I’ve been a bad person at times. But I’m not the monster you’re making me out to be. And I sure as hell don’t deserve the shit you’ve been pulling.”

  Chris’s eyes twitched to something on David’s right. David looked up and saw the greeter standing there, the young guy’s face tight. “Do I need to call security?”

  “Do what you want,” David said. He nodded at Chris, gave his shoulders a final squeeze, and got to his feet.

  Reminded of David’s size, the greeter took a step back.

  David said to Chris, “You need to stop living in the past.” He glanced down at Katherine. “And I’ll tell you something, because I know you’ve been wondering.”

  She showed her teeth. “This ought to be funny.”

  “Anna Spalding was a hundred times the woman you’ll ever be. I don’t blame Chris for being obsessed with her. Or for ignoring you.”

  He left Katherine openmouthed behind him.

  * * *

  He took a detour through a fast-food drive-thru and made it to Jessica’s house by one o’clock. He was sure she was gone, but he rolled up the drive anyway and got out expecting to hear Sebastian woofing at him from inside the yellow ranch.

  He did hear Sebastian barking, but the dog’s voice, which sounded more like a wheezy cough, seemed to originate from the backyard. David moved through the side yard and discovered Jessica inspecting a canvas on an easel, a paintbrush in her hand and the midday sunlight revealing hints of scarlet in her hair he’d never noticed before. She wore a droopy grey University of Virginia tank top with a black sports bra showing at the sides and a snug pair of black capri pants.

  Sebastian ceased barking when he saw David.

  “Can I talk to you without getting shot?” David asked.

  She didn’t look up from the canvas. “I have the sheriff on speed dial.”

  He went over, scratched Sebastian’s head.

  “You were awfully cold last night,” she said.

  “You punched me in the face.”

  “You deserve worse.”

  Sebastian allowed David to scratch him, but the dog kept his eyes on Jessica, as if awaiting instruction.

  She studied her painting, which David could not see from where he stood. “Was that how you treated my sister?”

  David lowered his eyes, the ache in him instantaneous. “I…I shouldn’t have—”

  “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?” she said, and now she made no pretence about being absorbed in her painting. She was watching him with a rawness that was so like her sister’s that David could scarcely meet her gaze.

  He said, “I’m sorry for everything.”

  She glowered at him. Sebastian nudged his hand to recommence the petting.

  “I’m sorry for lumping you in with Chris and Katherine,” he said.

  Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “You still believe it’s a hoax?”

  “Has to be,” he said. “I confronted them today and they acted guilty as hell.”

  “Katherine is intolerable,” Jessica said, returning to her painting. “Chris is….”

  “Ineffectual?”

  “He’s that,” she agreed, “but there’s more to it. He’s desperate. Cowardly. That’s a dangerous combination.”

  David took a step closer. “How’d you meet them?”

  “I remembered Chris from my sister’s funeral. I met Katherine recently. They wanted me in on the ghost tour. Figured I’d provide a juicy backstory. They came by one afternoon and—damn.” She made a face, went over to the little café table, retrieved a plain white sheet of paper, and began to dab at the canvas. “Got distracted,” she murmured. “They even offered me a fee – a pittance – to exploit my sister.”

  “You tell them to get lost?”

  “With a couple profanities,” she agreed. “Chris looked like a puffer fish. I thought he’d explode with embarrassment. But Katherine, it was almost as if she enjoyed it. I must remind her of my sister.” Jessica paused, squinting. Then she reached out, gently pressed a corner of the white paper to the canvas.

  “Hey, Jessica?”

  “Mm.”

  “I’m a horrible person.”

  She became motionless before the canvas. “I’m listening.”

  “It doesn’t matter that I justify my behaviour according to some code. Not if the rest of the world lives by a different…better set of rules.”

  “People prey on each other every day. Cheat on each other. Abuse one another. Why do you think I got divorced?”

  That stopped him. “I didn’t know you were married.”

  “You didn’t show any interest in my past. We were too busy talking about you.”

  He groaned softly. “You’re right. I’m a selfish bastard.”

  “Maybe you are,” she said, returning to her canvas, “but at least you’re aware of it. That’s a start.”

  “You don’t give in much, do you?”

  “Never,” she said, smiling.

  He scratched behind Sebastian’s ears. One of the dog’s hind legs began to hammer the patio. “I suppose it’s too late to start over. You knowing what a bad person I am.”

  “Maybe that was the problem.”

&nbs
p; “Huh?”

  “Not knowing the truth about each other. I knew who you were right away. The ghouls – Chris and Katherine?”

  He nodded.

  “They mentioned bringing you here. That was their big play. They’d use you to drum up publicity for the house. Then they’d start the tours and include all the salacious details about my sister.”

  “Did they talk about trying to scare me? Hiring actors to play the ghosts?”

  Jessica gave him a long, calculating look. “Come here.”

  David stepped over to stand beside her.

  And felt his legs liquefy.

  The canvas depicted the ghostly woman he’d seen his first night at the house. The scene was bathed in deep blue night; the moon cast a snowy luminescence over the river and the figure floating above it. Her bare toes not quite skimming the water’s surface, the woman’s creamy white dress seemed to undulate before David’s eyes. The arms were spread in supplication. There could be no doubt the face was Anna’s.

  “How many times have you seen her?” Jessica asked.

  David found his voice. “Once.”

  “She’ll come again.”

  “I take it you’ve seen….”

  “Anna,” she finished.

  David swallowed.

  “I bought this house five years ago,” she said, “and I’ve seen her at least once a month since then.”

  “My God.”

  “Ready to believe?”

  He stared into the depthless eyes, the incalculable pain and yearning captured in Jessica’s brushstrokes. “I guess I have to.”

  “That’s not good enough.”

  He couldn’t behold the painting any longer. He turned away, gazed sightlessly toward the forest.

  “I can’t….” he began.

  “Look at me, David.”

  Grudgingly, he did.

  “If you don’t have the strength to admit what’s right in front of you, the rest is pointless. We can’t go on unless you can be honest with yourself.”

  He sighed. “Okay.”

  “No,” she said. She nested the brush in the slim trench beneath the canvas, wiped a hand on her hip. He saw a tiny comma of magenta paint smeared on her black capri pants.