“What I meant was… I think she’s moved on. Most spirits do,” Veronica said. “Otherwise, I’d see them all the time, everywhere. There wouldn’t be room for them all.”
“You don’t see them all the time?”
She shook her head. “No. I see them more in places like this, and sometimes they’re in places you wouldn’t expect, like a 7-11 or something. But most of the time the world looks the same to me as is does to you. No ghosts.”
Miguel looked down at his hands. “So do you… do you think she’s in… in heaven?”
Veronica wrapped her arms around herself. “I wish I knew the answer to that,” she said. “I don’t know where they all go.”
“Why don’t you ask one of the ones you do see?” Miguel said.
Veronica nodded. “Maybe next time I will. It’s just that—well, most of the time when I see them and they talk to me, it’s because they’re having a crisis or maybe because I am—it’s never like a nice chat over tea.”
Miguel let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I imagine it’s not.”
~~~
They drove back to Hector’s house more or less in silence. Veronica didn’t know what Miguel was thinking about, but her thoughts were tied up in knots over what could possibly have motivated someone to dig up Ariana’s grave.
When they arrived at the house Miguel left Veronica in the living room as he helped his father upstairs so the elderly man could lie down in bed. Hector’s complexion had turned an unhealthy looking gray on the way back and he started muttering, which Miguel said he did when he was very fatigued.
Veronica gazed at Miguel’s paintings one by one, but she couldn’t focus her attention on them—it was like reading a paragraph and then realizing none of the words had made it past your eyes and into your brain. Finally, she pulled out her phone and speed-dialed Daniel.
“Hey, Ronnie. I was just thinking about you,” Daniel said.
“Oh yeah?” Veronica said, a smile making her whole body feel lighter. “That’s nice to hear.”
“How’s the visit to the cemetery going?”
Veronica plopped down on a couch and was startled at how soft it was. She sank into the cushions with a sigh.
“That well, huh?” Daniel said.
She chuckled a bit. “You’ll never believe it.”
“Okay…”
“We went to see Ariana, but she was out,” Veronica said, laying back into the amazing pillows and closing her eyes.
“What?”
She roused herself, forcing her body to withdraw from the cushy heaven and sit up straight. She mustn’t be flip about the situation, though the weirdness of it and the frustration of trying to understand what happened was starting to get to her. “Someone dug up Ariana’s remains. There was a… a grave robbery.”
“What?”
“I’m serious.”
Daniel said nothing for a moment, and Veronica gave him time to process.
“The grave of this… this young woman… the one whose spirit you encountered in the jail…”
“Yes, Miguel’s sister.”
“And the daughter of former California senator, Hector Santiago…”
“Do you think it could be some sort of politically motivated act?” Veronica asked, suddenly feeling energized. She hadn’t thought of that possibility.
Daniel paused again.
“Maybe it was someone trying to create some sort of scandal,” Veronica said.
“Maybe…” Daniel said, but his voice conveyed skepticism.
“But?”
“Well, Hector Santiago’s been out of the politics game for what, six years?”
“Seven, I think.”
“Yeah. So it seems unlikely.”
“Yeah,” Veronica agreed, and let the defeat of the realization be an excuse to collapse against the cushions again.
“Are you sure that whoever it was specifically went for Ariana’s grave?” Daniel asked.
Veronica frowned. “How would I be able to tell that?”
“Were any other graves dug up? Was her grave easy to access from the street?”
“No and no,” Veronica said. “We passed dozens of graves and hers was the only one that was disturbed, and we had to walk pretty far from the street to get to hers.”
“I think it sounds pretty likely that this was a planned thing,” Daniel said.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Ariana was buried months ago, right? So it’s not like her grave looked recently filled in, which I imagine would be easier to dig up. That might still be a good reason for hers to have been a target of opportunity. So, it wasn’t a fresh grave. It wasn’t easy to access from the street. It wasn’t part of a larger effort to dig up a lot of graves.”
Veronica sat back up. “And they must have known about hers in particular,” she mused.
“How so?”
“Well, they dug a small hole. Ariana was cremated and they buried her in her mother’s jewelry box. The hole didn’t need to be very big.”
“They’d have had to know she wasn’t in a coffin. They must be someone close to the family.”
Veronica sighed. “Not necessarily. There was a newspaper article.”
“Oh. I take it the article gave details about the burial?”
“Yeah, though I haven’t seen it yet. Miguel’s going to show it to me.”
“Well, that does broaden the suspect list by a few hundred thousand.”
“Yep.”
“Well, did you guys notify the police?”
“We did. A couple of uniforms showed up. Miguel talked to one of the caretakers, too.”
“Just leave this thing to the police. It’s not your problem anyway, Ronnie.”
Veronica made a face. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I’m serious. This has nothing to do with finding the deed,” Daniel said. “Whatever this is about, it can’t be about that, right? You don’t need to get involved in this thing with the grave.”
“I have a feeling Miguel’s going to want to follow up about this.”
“Can’t he do that without you?”
“I think if you put a psychic on retainer and then the body of your sister goes missing, you kind of expect the psychic’s help finding her.”
Daniel groaned. “Why do I feel like this thing is going to go sideways before you can resolve either of these mysteries?”
Veronica smiled. “Look who’s playing psychic now?”
~~~
“Here’s the article,” Miguel said a few minutes after Veronica finished the call. “Sorry it took me so long. I had a hard time finding it.”
“How’s your dad?”
“He fell right to sleep.” Miguel sat down next to Veronica and handed her a flimsy piece of newspaper. Someone had cut the article out to save it, she surmised.
She read the article, making a mental note of the details that seemed relevant. The headline stated, Remains of Former Senator’s Daughter Found: Family Holds Touching Memorial. The article began with the disappearance of Ariana two years before. An unidentified family member described Ariana as “troubled” and talked about how hard her disappearance was on the family. The reporter digressed into an account of Hector’s illness. Then he returned to the recent events: Ariana was found when a psychic approached the family—Veronica felt her cheeks grow hot reading that—and her remains were recovered. The family held a memorial and buried Ariana at the Holy Cross Cemetery in a jewelry box belonging to her mother. “It was a favorite heirloom of Ariana’s,” a family friend stated. The reporter went into some detail describing the memorial service and burial, going so far as to list some of the items included in the keepsake box also buried with her: a red plush dog, a pair of amethyst earrings, a locket, a charm bracelet, and a book of poetry. “These were some of Ariana’s favorite things,” the unidentified family member asserted. The article ended with a few more words about Hector and the wish of the family that people who wanted to pay respects should do so by making a donation to the Socie
ty of Saint Vincent de Paul’s homeless shelter in Sacramento.
“Who was this family member, and the family friend?” Veronica asked.
Miguel’s face was stormy. “Probably the same person, and I wish I knew who. I’m guessing it was someone we employ. We have a cleaning woman who comes in every week, and there was a nurse for a while but I don’t think she’d have known about any of this stuff.” He shook his head. “It bothered me then, that the article had so many personal details about Papa and the burial, but I didn’t think about it much after a while. Now I’m pissed again.”
“You don’t think it was really a family member?”
“I guess it could have been one of my cousins or something. Especially if the reporter paid something for information. They do that when someone famous is involved, and my dad has just enough fame still clinging to him that it might have been worth it for some reporter to get the extra details.”
Veronica nodded.
Miguel took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you, Veronica, for coming out today.” He released her hand. “I didn’t realize it would be such an ordeal.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t see anything.”
Miguel shook his head. “I don’t know what to think about this whole thing.” He stood. “We should call it a day, though. It’s almost seven.”
“Really? I didn’t realize it was so late.” Veronica got to her feet. “I have to go pick up my dog from my friend’s house.”
“Let’s just rest up tonight. I have to decide where to go from here. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Sure, okay,” Veronica said.
“I’ll see you out.”
Chapter 5
First, she saw a cradle. It looked hand-made, the wood a little rough here and there, painted in an amateur fashion with blue teddy bears and yellow stars. She gazed at it for about a minute, then turned and looked out into the street.
The trash cans were out. It was before dawn, but some of the people in the neighborhood must have put them out the night before. Veronica was looking at them through a window, and she was aware of an awful, gnawing hunger that twisted in her gut. Next to her, a small girl climbed up to peer out of the window as well. Veronica noticed the small size of her own hands, resting on the back of a couch with worn-down upholstery that had once probably been a red plaid, but was now a pinkish brown. She must be a child.
“You going?” the little girl asked, her words uttered in the distorted speech of a three or four year old. The girl’s face was too thin, and it was dirty. Her dark brown hair was tied in matted ponytails.
Veronica felt herself nod, but she also felt her heart begin to race. She pushed herself off the couch and jogged through the house—a disordered, dark living room, a messy kitchen with dirty dishes everywhere—and she noticed she wasn’t very tall. Maybe three feet; three feet and a half at most.
The door in the kitchen was already ajar. A screen door remained closed, though it had holes in the screen. She pulled it open, but stopped when she heard voices behind her. She turned around and put a finger to her lips.
“Shut up,” she said in a child’s voice. A boy’s, she thought. “If Mommy sees me she’ll whup me.”
In the doorway she’d just come through was the little girl and a little boy. The boy looked no better than his sister. He was smaller, and if anything, looked dirtier. He held the hem of his tee-shirt to his nose, rubbing it between two fingers.
“Take Jonathon back to bed. I’ll come and get you when I’m done,” Veronica whispered.
Neither of the other two children said or did anything in response. They both remained exactly where they were, staring. Veronica’s host groaned and dug his fingernails into his palms, but a glance outside showed that night was giving way to cold dawn. She carefully pressed the button on the screen door’s handle and let herself out, holding the door as it shut to keep it from banging.
She hurried down the street to the nearest trash bin. With a quick look around, she pulled it over and tore open the plastic bags inside. They’d just think it was a dog, she knew. She dug with her small hands through the trash, grasping anything edible—a mound of tangled spaghetti, two pieces of burnt toast, an open package of cheese covered in white mold—and stuffing it into the wide front pocket of her sweatshirt.
She grabbed the bag and shook it, hoping for more finds amid the papers, empty cartons, grease and slime she couldn’t identify, and a jar tumbled out, shattering on the pavement of the sidewalk. A dog started to bark behind the nearest fence.
Veronica’s host dropped the bag and bolted for his own yard as a light went on in the house where he’d been raiding the trashcan. As he lunged into the kitchen, the screen door smacked the wall with a sickening crack. The girl and boy rushed to him and he dug the prizes he’d found out of his pockets, stuffing the pasta into the boy’s hands and the toast and cheese into the girl’s. The two littler ones ran out of the back door as a shadow spilled into the kitchen from the living room. Veronica’s eyes fixed on the shadow as it moved across the floor toward her. She didn’t raise her eyes as it slipped over her, darkening the light.
“What the fuck are you brats doing out there?” It was a man’s voice. “How’m I supposed to sleep with all this racket?” His voice was slurred.
“I’m sorry,” Veronica’s host said, his voice very small. “We were playing.”
The blow came from the left, knocking her to the ground and making lights burst in front of her eyes. “You shut the fuck up when I’m sleeping, Simeon! You know that!”
~~~
“Veronica!”
Confused, she blinked at the light that suddenly flooded the room. When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she jerked away, but she couldn’t go far. Something was wrapped tight around her legs. “What…?”
“Veronica, it’s okay. You’re okay.” It was Daniel
Her pounding heart told a different story. Veronica sucked in air, covering her face with her hands. She tried to regulate her breathing but she was on the verge of hysteria.
Daniel touched her shoulder again, his fingers tentative. “It’s okay. You’re okay,” he said again.
She rubbed her eyes and opened them. As she looked around their bedroom—familiar, though it was still new—her heart began to slow to a more normal rhythm. A glance down at her legs told her the only thing restraining them was the bedclothes. She tugged at them until they loosened and freed her.
“That must have been some nightmare,” Daniel said. He was sitting up in bed, his chest bare, the covers still over his legs. Ordinarily the sight of his body would have been a treat, but Veronica couldn’t shake the dread from the dream.
Veronica shuddered and climbed out of the bed. She needed to walk around. She had felt so trapped, and she just needed to remind herself that she was okay, she was an adult, she wasn’t powerless…
“Want to talk about it?”
Veronica took a deep breath. “Yeah,” she said. Now that she was feeling calmer, though she kept pacing from one side of the bedroom to the other, she could try to make sense of the dream.
“Was it something to do with Ariana? Or the deed?”
She frowned. “No. It’s so weird. It’s the second vision I’ve had in twenty-four hours having to do with this—these people…”
Daniel leaned his arms on his knees. “What people? Do they have something to do with Miguel’s family?”
Veronica shook her head, pausing in her pacing. “No, nothing at all. They don’t have anything to do with anyone I know,” she said.
“That does seem strange. When did you have the first vision, and what was it of?”
Veronica explained about the pregnant woman at the clinic, and the vision of the beach. “So I think the guy’s name was Gerry Wallace, and hers is Liz something. And they said they would name the baby Simeon Sunset Wallace, because they were naming him after the place and time where they decided to keep him.”
Daniel’s brow was knit. “Okay. I m
ean, not exactly your typical name…”
“Melanie thinks it’s cruel because he’ll go through life being reminded they thought about aborting him in the first place.”
Daniel raised his eyebrows and nodded. “I can see that, but it doesn’t explain what you’re supposed to do about it.”
“I know, right?”
“So what did you dream?”
“I was Simeon. I was five or six years old. I had a little brother and a little sister, and we were all hungry,” Veronica said. As she continued pacing, she described the events of the dream.
“So it sounds like the vision earlier was from the past,” Daniel said. “And this was of the future.”
“I guess so. But can we even be sure of that?”
Daniel nodded. “I think so. You said Liz said she wasn’t ready to be a mom, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then, at the time of the first vision at least, these other two kids hadn’t been born yet. You said the woman was pregnant. I guess she could be expecting one of the younger ones, or even a fourth baby, though. That would make both the visions from the past.”
“I can’t even be sure the kids are hers, though. I didn’t see her in this dream, and technically, I didn’t even see the guy. I mean, I think it was Gerry Wallace. It could have been him. But Simeon never raised his eyes up to look at him before I woke up.”
Daniel shook his head. “Yeah, but you were Simeon, right? That’s what the guy called you?”
Veronica stopped pacing again. “Yes.”
“It’s not exactly a common name. It can’t be a coincidence. No. I think it’s most likely you saw a moment a few months ago, earlier today. And now you’ve seen something five or six years in the future. Simeon’s future.”
Veronica rubbed her hands together, feeling troubled. “Okay. Okay, yeah. You’re right.” She chewed on her lip. “But what does it mean? What am I supposed to do about it?”
Daniel gave his head a small shake. “That I don’t know.”
“I mean, it sucked. You know, of course it did. Seeing those two other little kids so skinny, and feeling the hunger, and how desperate they were, and then the fear and the pain. I mean, if I’m supposed to realize that Simeon’s life is going to be like that—I get it, you know? It’s awful. But what am I supposed to do?”
The Gamble and the Grave (Veronica Barry Book 4) Page 8