“Then what?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t think it’s him either. Because in my dream, she tells me he is coming anyway and I think she is right.”
“That he is coming for you?”
“It doesn’t matter, Quinn,” she said and stood to face him. “I see him everywhere, in everything. Do you know what that is like? To live your whole life waiting for the bogeyman to show up? I have dreams where the post-it note is on my door. Whether he is coming or not, I have let this man shadow me for so long it doesn’t matter. I see him around every corner, in everything. He lives in my mind rent-free. I had to come back.”
“But what if he’s still here?” Quinn asked. “The murder the other day…”
“It wasn’t him,” she said. “Do you know I was actually sorry when he told me it wasn’t Lord Halloween?”
“Why?”
“Because it would mean it is time to face my fears,” she said. “I don’t want to be afraid of him anymore. I want to find him and be done with it.”
“But…”
“I know it’s not sane, but would you do anything different? I can’t keep living like this, or if I do, he’s killed me already. So I actually wanted it to be that bastard’s return. Then I could get busy and find out who he is.”
“And you’re sure it wasn’t?” he asked.
“Aren’t you? You wrote the story.”
“I don’t know, Kate,” Quinn said. “The police confirmed it all, very easily. But…”
She waited for him.
“I felt good about it yesterday,” he said. “But today, it felt wrong. Like they wanted me to write that story. I actually had a voicemail from Brown’s assistant telling me it was a good story. It feels wrong.”
“I don’t think my source would have lied to me,” Kate said, but she looked troubled.
“Are you positive?” he asked. “Because if he…”
“My father was a cop. They were on the force together. He and my parents were friends. I played with Julia, their daughter. Why would he lie to me about this? Of all things…”
“I don’t know,” Quinn said. “Maybe he didn’t.”
She sighed and pulled her jacket closer to her.
“I have to find him,” Kate said.
“If it’s true, and he’s still here, how do you know he won’t find you first?” Quinn asked.
She looked at him.
“Maybe he will,” she said. “But I’ve been looking over my shoulder for so long, I think I have a leg up. I’ll be ready.”
“If you wanted it to be him, and you’ve come back for that, why talk about leaving?” Quinn asked. “You said outside the office you were going to go. Why?”
“Things are so weird, Quinn,” she said.
“They weren’t already?” he responded.
“It’s different now,” she said. “I have dreams, but they aren’t like before. Sometimes my mom is in them, but then there are these symbols and a word that I don’t understand.”
“Maybe your dreams are just catching up with your location.”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “And there has been other stuff.”
She paused.
“Like?” he asked.
“I’ll tell you, but only because you can already tell I’m crazy.”
“You aren’t crazy,” he said, and put his hand on hers without thinking about it. “I don’t think that.”
She looked at him.
“Thank you,” she said.
“So what is the other stuff?”
“One of the very first days I was here, when you gave me a tour of the Chronicle, do you remember that?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“When we were downstairs, near the printing press, I saw something,” she said. “I asked you and Janus about it.”
“I remember you pointing at the floor,” he said.
“But you saw nothing?”
“No, I didn’t see anything,” he replied.
“I saw something, Quinn,” she said. “Something that makes me worry I’m cracking up.”
“What?”
“There was blood,” she said. “There was a pool of blood all over that floor. I looked at my feet and it felt like I was walking in it. I could see it, shiny and deep red, so clearly. And you guys acted like it wasn’t there.”
“I didn’t see anything,” he replied.
“You see? That’s why I wanted to leave. Everything was so screwed up before and now that I’m here, it seems to be getting worse.”
“Did you see it again?”
“I haven’t been down there since,” she said. “I saw it as clear as day and then while I was talking to you, it disappeared. It’s stuff like that. The dreams, the blood, everything… The rational part of my brain keeps telling me to leave before I lose what is left of it.”
“Then why stay?”
“Because I think this guy is close, Quinn,” she said. “I feel it somehow. I know he will return. Maybe now or maybe next year. But he is still here and I have to find him.”
She stopped talking and looked back out across the pond. The wind drifted across it again, blowing her hair back. Her hands clenched the marble bench.
“You have to promise to keep this secret,” she said.
“Of course,” Quinn replied.
“I shouldn’t have even told you.”
“I think it’s about time you told someone,” he said. “You’ve been bottling this up for too long.”
“I know,” she said. “And I’m not going to leave. Whatever is going to happen, it finishes now, here. I’m through waiting for him to jump out of the shadows.”
“Look, I want you to stay, but…” Quinn said. “What if you are right? If this guy is back, this is the last place you should be. Particularly if he figures out who you are. Every bit of research on him shows he is one for the follow-through.”
“That’s why you have to help me, Quinn,” she said and gripped his hand. “You have to help me find him first.”
The stranger watched the two figures talking near the bench. He couldn’t tell if they were arguing or not, but they were certainly animated.
He wished he could hear what they were saying. The stranger sighed. Still, he was glad he had followed them out, if only to know for sure there was something going on between the two. He wondered what it meant.
Quinn and Kate, sitting in a tree, not quite K-I-S-S-I-N-G, he thought. He idly wondered which one he should kill first.
Patience, his brain said. Not too soon. You have to take your time, hone your skills.
But it would be so easy, he thought. He could even take one right now.
Patience, that voice in his head said again. Not too quick or they’ll connect you. The police are dumb, but they aren’t that dumb. Don’t be sloppy. You’ve waited so long.
Kate seemed familiar to him, the stranger thought. She claimed to have never been here before, but there was this strange odor of familiarity to her. It seemed like something on the tip of his tongue-but he couldn’t think of it.
Had he known someone named Kate Tassel? He thought about it a moment. He did not think he did.
Breaking his line of sight with them, he moved back through the cemetery toward the grave where they had been standing. They had not been there long, but the stranger wanted to see. It might help him.
He found it and recognized the name immediately.
“Sarah Blakely,” he said out loud, just to hear it.
He clapped his hands to his mouth to keep a laugh from coming. No, he didn’t know a Kate. But he did know a Trina, didn’t he? Yes, yes he did.
Everything made sense now. Her familiarity — even as a child, she had been stunning to look at. And her outburst. He should have known it then. But the last name had thrown him.
It will take more than a last name to hide from me, the stranger thought.
She was little Trina-dear Trina-whose Mom thought about her even while
she was being gutted. She called out her name so many times.
He moved back into the line of trees at the back and carefully worked his way to see the couple now standing near the bench.
I have old business with you, Trina, he thought.
He watched as the two walked out of the cemetery together. He noticed they were holding hands. Yes, he was very glad he had followed them.
And this so easily solved the question of whom he would kill first.
“See you soon, Trina,” he said out loud as they disappeared around the bend. “See you real soon.”
Chapter 10
Thursday, Oct. 12
About the only thing that made Madame Zora’s waiting room any different from a doctor’s was the faintest smell of lavender in the air, Kate thought.
It was painted off-white with magazines like People stacked neatly on tables next to moderately uncomfortable couches. And there was no sign of what Kate had expected-scented candles, beads or voodoo dolls-not even new age music.
Instead the place had more of a sterile quality.
She was surprised a little by the number of people there-she counted eight. Apparently a lot of people need a psychic healer, or an “alternative medicine guru” as she styled herself now.
Maybe the crowd should not have been surprising. Madame Zora was one of Loudoun’s oldest business owners and if her establishment did not have much respect (jokes about it were common), it had at least endured long enough to command a loyal clientele.
Kate shook her head. It wasn’t that she disbelieved in something beyond the material world, but this? A semi-doctor's office dedicated to the occult? She found it hard to accept.
But she dutifully scribbled something in her notebook. An article on Madame Zora-Loudoun’s most famous (and presumably only) psychic-was to be her contribution to the Halloween section. And though she hated the section, she would at least write a good article. It was a matter of professional pride.
“Kate Tassel?” a sprightly teenage girl with a ponytail asked as she came out of the door on the far wall. She too had the air of a nurse-or doctor’s assistant-clothed in a white coat.
Kate gathered her notebook and stood up.
“Madame Zora will see you now,” the girl said and gestured for Kate to follow.
Kate followed her in and they proceeded down a long hallway with several closed doors on either side.
“Have you ever been with us before?” the girl inquired.
Kate shook her head.
“Well, you are in for a treat,” the girl said and smiled broadly. “Madame Zora is the best in the business.”
Kate wryly wondered what “business” they were talking about.
She was escorted to a red door near what Kate assumed must be the back of the building. The girl knocked, smiled again, opened the door and walked quickly away.
Watching her go, Kate stepped through the doorway and was astounded at the change.
She took a deep breath. This is more like what she had expected.
Rows of creepy dolls lined two bookshelves in the back, all positioned in different ways. A dark maroon drapery hung across one wall and a door in the back was semi-hidden by columns of beads. In the center of the room sat a small round table covered in a gold tablecloth with a single lit candle on it. Two empty chairs sat on either side of the table.
Kate smelled the air-the candle was definitely lavender-scented. She waited for close to a minute before she heard a small hissing sound. The room started to fill with smoke. Kate stood up and started to back away.
“Reporter!” a voice called from above her head. “Stay where you are!”
With some reluctance, Kate sat back down and quietly turned on her tape recorder.
“You are about to meet Madame Zora-the most powerful psychic in the world!” the voice said, and Kate noticed it had a vaguely British accent to it. “Be not afraid to look directly at her, for your heart will be filled with peace and you shall know contentment.”
With that, a plume of smoke shot up in the center of the room and when it cleared there was a woman standing there, dressed in a brightly colored robe. She faced away from Kate.
“Why have you come?” Zora asked.
Kate coughed, waved away smoke from her face and tried to speak…
“I shall tell you why you have come,” the woman continued before Kate could say anything.
“You have come to test the great Zora. You have come to see if she is a fraud.”
“Actually, I…” Kate started.
“Silence!” Zora shouted. “I know your heart. I know your fears. I know all.”
With that, she started to slowly turn until she faced Kate, but Zora kept her eyes closed and her arms crossed in front of her chest.
“I will give you what you seek,” Zora intoned. “I will tell you, Kate Tassel, that…”
At that moment, Zora opened her eyes…and stopped.
“Well, Jesus,” Zora said and her body language changed dramatically. Her voice now had a slightly southern lilt to it.
“Hell, I’m sorry,” she said and Kate felt her jaw beginning to drop. “I got all dressed up because I thought it was some reporter… and… well, crap.”
She laughed and shrugged in a you-know-how-it-is way. Kate didn’t get it.
Zora turned and pushed a button underneath her table.
“Lou Ann,” Zora yelled at the table. “Lou Ann, get your butt in here!”
Zora gave Kate an apologetic look. Kate stayed silent, not sure what was going on.
A moment later, the teenage girl reappeared.
“Yes, Madame Zora,” she said when she poked her head through the door.
“Why the heck did you tell me it was the reporter coming?” Zora demanded. “I got all dressed up, used my best show smoke and all. That stuff isn’t cheap, Lou Ann. I’ve told you before you need to pay attention to who you are sending back to me.”
Lou Ann looked guiltily around and then turned to Kate.
“But I thought you said…” Lou Ann said and looked plaintively at Kate.
“I am the reporter,” Kate said, looking at Zora.
Zora looked stunned.
“But you’re…” she said and her voice faltered. “You’re the Loudoun Chronicle reporter?”
Kate nodded. Lou Ann looked briefly vindicated and shut the door.
Zora appeared flustered and sat down in her chair.
“I don’t understand,” she said, but Kate had the impression she was talking to herself.
“You were expecting me to come,” Kate said, feeling a little defensive as if she was the one at fault.
“Yes, yes,” Zora said and looked back at her. “It’s totally my fault. Hell, that was impressive, though, wasn’t it? My performance? I mean, I felt pretty ‘on.’ Did I feel ‘on’ to you?”
“It was…” Kate started. “Impressive?”
“Yeah, it felt pretty good. And now I blew it. And I think that was a really good one, too. Oh well.”
“If you want I can go back out and you can start over,” Kate said.
“No, no,” Zora said and waved her hand. “It’s done. No use crying over spilled honey.”
“Don’t you mean milk?”
“Well, aren’t you little-Miss-literal?” Zora said. Then she sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I’m sorry to snap. It’s been a tough day and I had really been hoping to wow you. I don't get that many new customers anymore. It’s mostly the same people, with the same problems. You always want to jazz it up for the new people.”
“Why did you think I wasn’t the reporter?” Kate asked.
“Well…” Zora started. “I thought you were in the trade.”
“The trade?”
“I thought you were another, oh hell, what’s the latest term, ‘alternative healer.’ I just assumed really. It isn’t often…”
Kate waited.
“No sense me prattling on,” Zora said. “You can ask your questions. I’m not i
n the mood to give much in the way of answers, but we’ll see what we see, I guess.”
“Why would you assume I was in the ‘trade’?” Kate asked.
“Honey, you got vibes coming off you like a freight train,” she said.
The inner-editor in Kate noted that vibes do not come off freight trains, but she held her tongue.
“I still don’t follow…”
“Your aura?” Zora said. “You got a psychic vibe coming off you. I'm surprised I didn't notice it ‘till I saw you.”
“What did you see?” Kate asked.
“You’re psychic,” Zora said.
“I’m not psychic,” she replied.
“Well, I don’t really care if you think you are or not. You are.”
“Wouldn’t I know?”
“Not necessarily, honey,” Zora said and tapped her brightly-painted fingernails on the table. “Your aura-well, you got a lot of juice. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Okay,” Kate said and scribbled in her notebook.
“Believe me or not, sweetheart,” Zora said. “It’s your call.”
“Well, let’s get started with the interview then,” Kate said.
“You already turned on the tape recorder,” Zora said. “I thought we had started.”
Kate felt a little taken aback.
“I didn’t think you noticed that,” she said.
“I know all,” Zora said and smiled. Her far left visible tooth was gold-capped. “Well, I suppose this would go better if I was in character, wouldn’t it?”
“In character?”
“Okay,” Zora said. “You see all this bulldiddly around me, right? The beads, the kewpie dolls, the scented candles? That’s all a joke to you, right?”
“Well…” Kate said.
“It’s okay,” she replied and spread her hands. “It’s a joke to me too. Even the smoke machine, though I really do think it’s impressive. Had to order it special and everything.”
“Then why…”
“Why do it?” Zora laughed. “Because that is what people expect. Believe me, when I started out in this business, I didn’t want to be anywhere near this stuff. I thought I could remake how people saw psychics. But I was young and stupid.”
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