by Rachel Lucas
She nodded and gave me a slightly relieved look. Fortunately, Barbara was a safe topic for the moment. I decided to do a little research on Barbara and to let Lizbeth help me.
“Great. Why don’t you tell me what you know about your mother’s childhood and her family.” I began.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lisbeth was remarkably clear-headed and lucid as we talked. Between her memories and a few things I had picked up over the years, a clearer picture of Barbara’s background began taking shape.
Barbara had been born in a small mid-western town in Iowa. Her father, Henry, had worked at a local flour mill and also worked their small farm. Her mother, Ida, drove the school bus for the local public schools. Barbara was the youngest of five children and the only girl. Her brothers were big and beefy, good Iowa stock with more brawn than brains. They enjoyed having a frail, thin little sister to tease and bully.
Her parents were strict Christians with prayers said at morning, at night and at every meal in-between. The Good Book was read before bed every night and church was attended at the small Baptist church in town like clockwork. Barbara didn’t mind the religious fervor so much until she began getting older and realized that her father held a double standard where she and her brothers were concerned. It was acceptable for her brothers to have a little fun, to sow some wild oats. Boys will be boys. But a girl, his only daughter, she had to be pure, chaste, virginal and untouched.
She wasn’t allowed to date like the other girls her age did, and as she grew older, her father seemed to grow even stricter in his rules for her. He would drink more and more and his temper flared frequently. Both she and her mother soon became afraid of him.
She was made to wear dresses with long skirts and long sleeves, even in the summer. She wasn’t allowed to cut her red-brown hair, it was a sign of her purity, he said. After a while, the more fanatical her father became about her chastity, the more curious she became about boys.
Ironically, it was a boy she met at Vacation Bible School that drew her attention. Finally, there was a boy, Bobby Marshall, who looked past her unfashionable, high-necked dresses and hair so long she often sat on it, and seemed to be interested in her. It only took one time in the pastor’s storage closet to change Barbara’s life.
She hid the pregnancy as long as she could, afraid and worried about what to do. Back then, and in a small town, it was a real disgrace to be an unwed mother.
When her mother finally saw the signs and realized Barbara was pregnant, she went into a complete panic. Fearing God would never sanction a wedding under such circumstances and fearing her husband even more, Ida secretly met Barbara and Bobby at the local courthouse and agreed to sign the paperwork for the license and the brief ceremony.
Henry refused to speak to his daughter after that and disowned her for her disobedience and impurity. Her mother, always submissive to her husband, followed suit.
Barbara’s new husband was a virtual stranger to her and she would soon learn he had big ideas of his own. He had heard there were good jobs out west at the steel mills and they were paying well for hard workers. Before long, she found that instead of graduating high school she was moving off to Utah to live in a small suburb, in a tiny apartment, while Bobby worked at Geneva Steel.
The newlyweds didn’t know each other well and didn’t really get along. Bobby didn’t like the hard, dirty work at the mill and had little patience for a young, lonely wife left home alone all day. Barbara should have been going to high school, socializing with her friends, helping out on her family’s farm. Instead, she was in a strange place, hundreds of miles from her nearest family, and expecting a baby she didn’t know how to take care of.
As her due date drew nearer, Bobby’s temper flared more frequently. The day after she came home from the hospital with her new daughter, Elizabeth, Bobby had left for parts unknown and she had a child to raise on her own. Too proud to return to her family and not wanting to go back to her father’s temper, Barbara did what she thought was best and made a life for her and her daughter.
As far as Lisbeth knew, Barbara never did try to contact her family again. She had received divorce papers from Bobby a few years later from a town in New Mexico. Barbara had signed them and sent them back, not pressing for child support because she didn’t want Bobby to have visitations with their daughter.
Barbara was an eccentric person who seemed to revel in her freedom from religious restrictions. She gravitated towards New Age ideas, fantasy and magic. She didn’t have grand ideas of big houses and fancy cars but was content with her small trailer and her minimum wage job at the book store. Her daughter became her whole life and she fluctuated frequently between being a parental figure and trying to be her daughter’s best friend.
We sat for a few enjoyable minutes, reminiscing about Barbara and some of our childhood memories. Lisbeth was finally relaxed and calm, and for the first time in a long time, she was more like the young girl I was such close friends with.
“Do you remember when she used to tell all the kids in the neighborhood that she was a real witch?” I smiled.
“And she would burn black candles and she had that stick she cut from the aspen tree down by the river that she called her wand?” She laughed. “I used to have friends come to me and ask me to get magical spells and potions from her for getting revenge on their boyfriends.”
“Where did she even find black candles anyway?”
“There’s no telling. Probably from that bookstore she used to work at.” It was good to see a genuine smile on her face for a change. “Do you remember that one Halloween when she made the voodoo dolls and had the landlord at the trailer court convinced she was a voodoo high priestess?”
I laughed at the memory. It was a long time before he bothered her about paying her rent on time after that.
“Then there was that one Halloween where she decided to have a séance and we dressed in black and she brought out that Ouija board….”
Her voice trailed off and her expression seemed frozen.
“I wasn’t there that year, remember?” I tried to bring her out of the stupor she had fallen into. “My parents made me take Zac to a Halloween party.”
Still, she sat frozen. This wasn’t a good sign.
“The Dragon.” The voice was deep and whispery. I wasn’t even sure I heard her right.
“What did you say?” I asked.
“The Dragon was born that night.” Again, the same low voice. It wasn’t Vesper, it wasn’t Mick or Chad. I’d never heard this voice before. Her eyes took on a glazed look, and her face visibly paled, as though she was no longer in control of her own body. Involuntarily, I leaned back away from her, not knowing who I might be dealing with.
“Who are you?” My shaking voice asked.
“Slayer.” The one word reply sent a chill to my bones. I couldn’t help glancing toward the double mirror, hoping the doctors were watching and on standby in case I needed them.
“You said the Dragon was born that night? What did you mean?” I tried to keep my voice steady. So far, her body was completely still, she had made no physical actions to show me how dangerous Slayer might be. Just the voice was eerie enough for me.
“That’s when I saw the Dragon for the first time. The Dragon is deadly. The Dragon is a threat. The Dragon did it. Find the Black Dragon with the glowing red eyes. That’s where she hides. Then you’ll know the truth.”
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until she blinked her eyes and let out a deep sigh. I released my breath and watched her face transform. Her face looked more pointed, chin sharper. Her eyes seemed to slant as she gave me a measured look.
“You have to get us out of here, Caitlyn,” Jade said in her demanding voice. She was careful to keep it low enough so the doctors in the other room didn’t hear too much. “We’ve had enough of this stinking hell-hole. Get us out of here.”
Jade wasn’t easy to deal with but it was still preferable to Vesper or some of the others
.
“Do you know about Slayer, Jade?” I had to ask.
“Who in the hell is Slayer?” Her eyes narrowed and I knew she was telling the truth. The truth as she knew it, at least.
“Let me speak with Lisbeth,” I pleaded.
“What do you think this is?” She sneered. “Do you think you can just snap your fingers and change us back and forth, like using a remote to change the channel on TV?”
“Please, Jade, I need to talk to her,” I insisted.
“Well, I’m not going to…” Her voice trailed off again. There seemed to be some kind of internal struggle. I watched several emotions flicker across her face before she finally squeezed her eyes shut and brought her fingers up to pinch the bridge of her nose, as though fighting off an on-coming headache.
“Caitlyn, I’m really tired.” It was Lisbeth’s exhausted voice whispering to me. “Would you mind if we cut our visit short? I want to go back to my room and rest.”
“Ok,” I readily agreed, knowing how much the transition sapped the energy from her sometimes, “but could you tell me one thing before you go?” She had stood up and was walking towards the door with almost a shuffle. She turned back with a puzzled look.
“Do you know who Slayer is?”
She gave me a blank, confused look, shrugging her shoulders.
“Never heard of a Slayer before. Who is it? Some character in a video game or a book?”
“No,” I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll talk more during our next visit.”
“Ok,” she gave a relieved smile and walked out the door. “Just don’t make it so long before your next visit.” Her voice trailed after her down the hall.
Before I could gather my purse and head for the door, Dr. Ross was blocking the way, wanting a debriefing. It was the last thing I was in the mood for at that moment.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Stomping out of the building more than an hour later, I fought to keep my temper in check. Dr. Ross could be so infuriating. The “debriefing” felt less like a discussion and more like an interrogation. I felt as though I had just spent the last hour on the witness stand with seven annoying lawyers throwing questions at me one after the other. The four residents and two med students were endless with their curiosity bested only by Dr. Ross and his avid interest.
Dr. Ross refused to believe that I had never dealt with Slayer before. He pushed and pushed, expecting me to pull out some distant memory of an encounter I’d had with him. Finally, he gave up and began furiously typing notes into his computer, grumbling to himself as he typed.
I was more concerned with what Slayer said than the fact that I had met another member of the family. What did he mean by “find the Black Dragon with the red glowing eyes” and “this is where she hides”?
The entire drive back I thought through my brief encounter with Slayer and what had prompted his appearance. It seemed as though something had happened the night of the séance, something that may have caused the split creating Slayer. What did he mean by “the Dragon was born that night”? I’d always thought the “Dragon” was just a nickname Lisbeth called her mother when she was angry. Could it mean something more?
Was he the one who had written the second page of the note? Was he trying to tell me something?
I was grateful Dr. Ross hadn’t caught on to the importance of that Halloween night, although I’m sure he would eventually. He seemed more likely to spend hours pouring over the footage and analyzing every word and expression.
I tried to think back to which Halloween that was and how old we were. It had to have been during the year we were in separate schools. I must have been about fourteen, Lisbeth fifteen. What had happened that night?
It wasn’t until I was taking the freeway exit for my apartment that it hit me.
“Find the Black Dragon with the red glowing eyes”.
I took the exit but back-tracked south for several miles on a busy city street. I wound my way through the outskirts of a few small towns, heading towards the memories of my childhood.
The area had grown a great deal since I’d been here last. Streets had been widened, new businesses and restaurants dotted every corner. It was all bright and bold with car dealerships and shiny new cars glittering under the city lights. Winter was nearing and the days were growing shorter now, making it feel later than it was.
Just a block away from the bright lights of the businesses, I turned off a side street and was in a residential area. The houses were older, dating back to the days of large brick homes and spacious yards. Another turn and I was in a small, aging trailer court. I drove down to the third street and automatically stopped before the second trailer on the left.
From my car I could see the turquoise blue trim on the white and silver trailer, the wooden steps leading up to the front and back doors. There was a white lattice trim around the bottom of the trailer, and a cracked cement sidewalk leading up to the steps. Yellow police tape still trailed around the yard in places, tattered and flowing in the slight breeze.
I stepped from my car and slowly walked up the sidewalk, memories assailing me from every direction. I thought of all the summer nights, sleeping out under the stars in sleeping bags on lawn chairs in the small yard. Sunny days with blankets spread on the grass, sketching pictures and creating fantasy worlds. Meals shared at the tiny kitchen table….
The narrow metal door loomed before me. Drawing closer, I realized that the windows were boarded up and additional locks had been put on the doors, protecting the crime scene. The photograph Mark Jacobs had shown me flashed into my mind, reminding me of what was waiting on the other side of that door. As much as I resisted the idea, I had to get inside to take a look around. Maybe there was something there, some sign.
“Go away! Shoo!” The elderly voice made me jump and turn towards the trailer next door. A tiny figure wrapped in a thick sweater twice her size came charging around the corner. “Get away from here! This isn’t some side show. Leave or I’ll call the police!”
“Mrs. Robins?” I peered through the dark night, hoping I recognized the voice correctly.
“Do I know you?” She halted in her tracks a few feet away and adjusted her thick glasses on her nose. She didn’t even come to my shoulder. Her back was hunched over and bent and her silver-white hair was done up in rollers.
“It’s Caitlyn, do you remember me? I used to be friends with Elizabeth.” She leaned a bit closer, looking me up and down, searching for signs of familiarity.
“You mean that blond little wisp of a girl always trailing along with Elizabeth?” I smiled at her description of me and nodded. She let out a grunt in reply.
“Well, I guess it’s been a lot of years. There’s not much to see here,” she seemed to warm up a bit but was still cautious. She looked about at the dark, empty trailer then back to her own home next door. “Everything is locked up right tight. We get an occasional group of teenagers come by and gawk now and then, but I usually chase them off.”
She’d always been a nosy little thing. She hadn’t seemed to age a day, still looked like she was in her sixties, although she had to be a good twenty years older by now.
“Were you the one to call the police the night it happened?” I decided to ask.
She nodded sadly. Her thin shoulders hunched into the sweater against the breeze.
“I heard them arguing. I knew Barbara had invited Elizabeth over for dinner. She’d told me so herself that very day. The trailers are so close, you know. We used to chat now and again. She told me how worried she was about her daughter, that she didn’t think Elizabeth was taking very good care of herself. She thought a nice, home-cooked meal would help.”
I looked at the distance between the two trailers. Less than twenty feet separated the two. I could see where a neighbor would be able to see much of went on over here.
“I heard Elizabeth slam out the door when she left and watched her car drive away. I thought it was just another one of their arguments.�
�� She gave a deep sigh and shrugged her shoulders. “I went to bed and didn’t think much of it,” her voice quieted to a whisper, “but Barbara never turned her lights off and went to bed. Her lights shine in to my bedroom window and she never stays up past eleven. She never turned out her lights.”
She left the rest unsaid, shaking her head in sorrow. When the lights stayed on next door she probably called or went to investigate. Coming across the crime scene must have been quite a shock. She must have called the police right after that.
“Well, my dancing show is on and I have to see who’s getting booted off tonight.” She started shuffling back around the corner. “Don’t stick around too long, it’s not safe around here these days.”
“Thanks for talking to me, Mrs. Robins,” I called after her. She waved back and kept going.
Looking back at the dark trailer, I again measured the difficulty of getting inside. I couldn’t break in, especially with Mrs. Robins so close. The locks seemed secure and the windows boarded tightly. There had to be a way to get in to look around.
Finally ready to give up, I walked back to my car just as my cell phone rang. Looking at the caller ID I gave a relieved smile.
“Hi, Logan. I have a really big favor to ask.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Logan agreed to meet me back at the trailer the next day. It was Friday and my class schedule was the lightest. He thought it would be best to search the trailer during the day, better light and less suspicious to the neighbors. I agreed.
When he got out of his red Dodge Charger I noticed that he had his weapon and badge displayed prominently. That way, Mrs. Robins or any other neighbors wouldn’t question our presence here. He had on a navy dress shirt that was open at the collar and a pair of dark gray dress pants. His dark hair was slicked back as though he’d just gotten out of the shower and I had to admit, the welcome grin he gave me sent butterflies fluttering through my stomach.