by Clare Hexom
Mom threw her hands up to her face and pushed back her chair. “It can’t be!” She ambled over to Ben, patted his chest, and cradled his face in her hands. “You aren’t dead. Mallory, you have to call Judith!”
Ben chortled. “I never died, Mrs. Bain.”
“I can see that, but I don’t understand.”
“We were lied to, Mom.”
She stepped back, took in a deep breath, and paused to take it all in. When she grasped the meaning of what we’d said, she glanced down at Caleb. “Wash up for lunch, little man.” He obeyed and ran to the powder room off the foyer. “Who did such an awful thing?”
“Dana Norris,” said Ben. “She lied to break us up.”
Carl shoved his glasses on top of his head. He scooted his chair back.
“This is Ben Holland, Carl,” said Mom. “He’s not dead. Remember, I told you he’s that nice Canadian young man Mallory knew before Caleb was born.”
Carl stood partway to shake Ben’s hand, then sat back down.
“Half Canadian. My mother is from Thief River Falls.”
“That’s right. I knew that.” Mom stepped beside me and whispered, “Does he know about Caleb?”
My smile fixed on my face. “Yes, Mom. Ben knows, Caleb knows, you and Carl know. Everybody knows Caleb is Ben’s son.”
Ben cleared his throat and rubbed his fingers across his forehead.
I touched his arm. “What?”
“Question is, does Dana know?”
My stomach soured. “Yes.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Carl spoke up, looking up at Ben, who stood there open-mouthed. “You must know her motive for lying.”
“She wanted me with her,” said Ben. “She wanted Mallory out of the way.”
“And we were out of her way until we moved back.”
“Huh.” Carl snapped his fingers and tapped the tip of his forefinger on the table. He stared up at Ben. “She knows Caleb is your boy. Not good.”
“What is it, Carl? What is not good?” asked Mom.
“All of it. Ronnie run down. I told you, Diane, the driver knows her. That parking lot ordeal was intentional. Mallory falling asleep at the wheel and hitting that lamppost was no accident, either.” Carl pointed his finger at me. “Somebody drugged you before you got into that car.”
“Dana drugged you?” asked Ben.
I ran my fingers through my hair, panicked knowing all of the personal information that I’d shared with her.
Carl continued. “Another time, Mallory ended up in the emergency room with food poisoning and sedation again. And now that fella of hers is dead.”
My hand flew to my mouth.
Ben stiffened his stance. “Who died?”
I jumped in before either Carl or Mom. I wanted to explain Lance to him privately. “A friend of Erik’s. Lance Garner. We dated for a few weeks. He died recently. Poisoned.”
Ben winced, his expression pained. “People poisoned. Drugged. People run down and dead. Sounds like nobody is safe around here.”
“Mallory was poisoned,” said Diane. “I’ve said all along she’s being doped.”
“Mom. Please.”
“Your Lance was probably drugged, too.” Carl waggled his finger. “Too many accidents lining up to call coincidence.”
“Ronnie thinks Dana pushed her off a ladder few months ago.” I looked at Ben. “Lance suspected Dana had poisoned me. He switched his dinner plate with mine the last time we had dinner with the Fowlers.”
Carl stared up at Ben and me. “I am a retired cop.”
My eyes opened wide with surprise. “Mom never said.”
“Retired last winter.”
“I answered the detective’s questions, Carl. It would have been wrong to say we blame the Fowlers.”
“You did right. The investigation is up to them to uncover a murder, not you. But what I want to know is what Dana told Ben years ago.”
After we shared our stories with Carl and Mom had served lunch, Ben and I drove over to see Jack Grant and to pick up a few of Ben’s things. Jack was speechless. He greeted me with laughter infused with joyful tears. The three of us spent nearly an hour catching up on our lost time before we began discussing spirit encounters.
The laughter ceased. Grant grew serious. “Say we imagine for argument’s sake that we have a mutual acquaintance who died.” He plopped down in a black leather club chair across from us. “And let’s say their spirit is reaching out from the grave to all of us.”
“And Caleb,” I added.
Grant nodded. “Your little guy, too. Because he is son to both of you. A connection. And now you and Ben are together again.”
I nodded.
“A child might be easier to reach because his thoughts aren’t as complex as an adult’s are,” said Ben.
“Good point. But the timing of this ghost contacting us confuses me,” said Grant. “Except, his message may reveal how he died.”
“Ronnie and I think the ghost is Harwood,” I said.
“Their ideas make sense, Jack,” said Ben. “Not much different from what we’ve been thinking.”
I looked back and forth between them. “Harwood was young and healthy. He could have died accidentally.”
“Or was murdered,” said Ben.
“Or he was not healthy,” said Grant.
“My aunt says the spirit haunting at Mom’s is seeking justice. Aunt Judith dabbles in spiritualism.” I rolled my eyes. “She thinks she has a ‘gift.’”
Grant rested his chin on his fist. “I wonder if the spirit is seeking justice for his murder. We might consider that Jack Harwood was murdered. Begs the question, by whom and how?”
I brought them up to speed on everything Ronnie, Caleb, and I understood about the presence, his whisperings, and his promptings. I described our experiences and reminded them that I had not shared much of anything with my mother, to keep her from worrying. I shared nearly all details with Ben and Jack Grant. I even spoke openly about Lance.
“Sounds like you two were close,” said Ben.
My mind drifted through the events of the past month, Dana’s soirée to standing in rain at the cemetery.
“The Fowlers introduced us a few weeks ago, and we’d only started getting to know each other when he died.”
“You weren’t serious?” asked Ben.
“This sounds private.” Grant stepped into the kitchen.
“We likely would have become serious,” I said. “I won’t lie. I liked him a lot. He was good to us.”
Ben quieted and momentarily withdrew into his thoughts. “Then, like me, he died and left you hurting again.”
“I am hurting and now I’m also happy. But the way I see it, Dana killed both of you, one way or another.” My eyes welled with tears for Lance I did not want to shed in front of Ben. “His death may have saved my life.”
He laid my head against his shoulder, kissed the bridge of my nose. “When was his funeral?”
“Last week.”
He tipped his head back. “No wonder you’ve been crying most of the afternoon.”
“It’s been a tough two weeks.”
“Had we never reconnected, I’m glad to know my family would have been in good hands with him.”
“I worried you’d be jealous.”
“I am jealous. But I’m all right with him knowing you. He made you happy after Chad. You deserved to love again. You did nothing wrong to me; you didn’t even know I was alive.”
“After one of our dates, the man in my dreams accused me of betrayal. Now I think he meant I betrayed you.”
Ben sighed heavily. “Only because the spirit knows I’m alive. He was trying to tell you.”
I sat upright and patted his chest. “Thanks for understanding. Hey, Grant. Did you get lost in there?”
He rejoined us with phone to his ear, then ended the call. “Sorry. Company call. Linked to the job twenty-four seven.”
Ben nudged me. “Hotshot exec over there. Company phone and p
ersonal phone. How many calls do you get in one day?”
“More than you, without a doubt. Never take the company phone on dates. Always stays in the car.”
Ben stood. “I need water. Let me get you a refill on the diet pop.”
“No, thanks. I’m good,” I said.
Ben called to me from the kitchen. “When will Ronnie be up and around?”
“She already is a little.”
“We should discuss the lady with the gift. Tell us how she works,” said Grant.
The telling was embarrassing, especially the incident that Thursday afternoon after baking. Truth be told, we needed facts on the table, no matter how strange, including her one-time connection with Harwood.
Grant leaned his elbows on his knees. “She undoubtedly is the perfect medium to hold a séance. They shared the same thoughts on death. Harwood talked through her once, he’ll talk again.”
“Whoa, Jack,” I said. “Having a ghost drop in uninvited is startling enough, but deliberately summoning . . . I don’t know. Especially if Harwood is alive, and say we end up summoning an evil—”
“Demon,” said Ben. He dropped down beside me. “She’ll know the difference and stop the séance.”
After witnessing her communing with the dead once before, I had no idea what she could or would do.
“Let’s contact your aunt,” said Grant. “Find out when we can meet her. In the meantime, we want to see Ronnie.”
“Hopefully, she will appreciate visitors tomorrow,” I said.
Ben tucked in Caleb, Edgar, and Monster. I watched from a nearby chair with an unrestrained smile. Ben had stretched out in bed next to his son and read a bedtime story like my father used to read to me. Caleb finally fell asleep watching his dad’s face. I rose to tuck his covers up around his shoulders, and then kissed him goodnight.
“You did good, Daddy. You are a natural.”
“I better be,” Ben whispered, “he is my natural kid. He is incredible. When I woke up this morning, I was ordinary Ben Holland—nobody special. Tonight I’m a father. When you said he was my son, my love for him started pouring out as though I’ve always known him.”
“That’s how I felt when the nurse laid him in my arms. I’ll show you pictures tomorrow. But now, it’s my turn.”
Ben took my hand and pulled me against him. “Which story do you want to hear?”
I pressed my cheek against his and whispered, “Do not make me laugh. We’ll wake him.” I stepped back, wrapped my fingers around his, and gently tugged until he rose from the bed. “The story with the happily ever after ending.”
“I know that one by heart.”
He took my hand and walked me toward my room, our room, after he secured Caleb’s windows. He clicked the bathroom doors closed, and paused beside the window. I watched him from the edge of the bed. He moved about the room as if he had never left.
“Nothing is out there.” He let curtain drop.
“Maybe whatever Caleb imagined won’t bother him now that you’re here. I still can’t believe you are. I want to keep touching you to make sure you’re alive.”
He sat down on the bed beside me. “You still want to pick up where we left off?”
“I do.”
His eyes met mine and his arms slipped around my waist. I was finally home, lost in his embrace. My arms welcomed the firmness of his back, the leather of his arms. His honey breath warmed my cheek when he slid his mouth over mine.
I traced his face and spread my fingers through his hair. “I see you, I hear you, and I touch you.” A twinge of trepidation crept in, allowing fear to make me think he had changed or that Chad ruined me enough to make Ben decide against ever loving me again. “All those years gone. I’m scared you’ll disappear.”
He smiled and his eyes sparkled. “I’m here and I’m staying.”
Our bond had never died.
His fingers entwined the strands of hair near my neck, and he pressed his mouth against mine. His kisses trailed until my body shivered for more. His lips parted and I gave in, letting fear fade into nothing.
As he felt my body relax, he slid his hand under my satin gown and glided upward to the small of my back. Pulling me against him, he lowered us onto the bed, and switched off the lamp.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Sam welcomed us in, not fully grasping the identity of the men to whom he’d been introduced. Ronnie’s disposition brightened. Despite her pain and injuries, she gave them such long hugs, I wondered if she would ever stop. She uttered mouthfuls of expletives at an absent Dana along with tearful expressions of happiness at seeing Ben alive with Grant standing beside him.
Sam helped Ronnie settle into her chair. He and Grant sat on either side of her.
“What are your plans now?” she asked.
“Diane is treating me like a long-lost son and she’s fine having me there,” said Ben.
“I’m too happy for words,” said Ronnie. She gave herself a hug.
“Dana’s lies are appalling,” I said.
Ronnie flushed. “She had no right!” She slapped the arm of Grant’s chair. “Damnit anyway, Jack! Seven years wasted.”
He patted and soothed her fist into an open hand. “She has serious mental issues.”
Ronnie nodded assent. “She’d have to have an overinflated sense of entitlement to assume Ben could want her after losing Mallory.”
Ben gently squeezed my hand. “We have to appreciate how those lost years strengthened us to love each other even more going forward.”
I smiled but not long. “Dana succeeded in keeping us apart for a time, but she never married Ben, which is what she wanted. Maybe still is, in spite of Erik.”
“Mallory says there is a lot of tension between those two,” said Ben. “She’s not finished.”
Ronnie leaned her elbow on the arm of her chair as if struck with sudden pain. “I wonder how far she will go now once she learns you’re in Minneapolis again.” She added with a small chuckle, “How on earth will she ever get rid of Erik?”
“Hearing about poison, drugs, and accidents, I’m guessing divorce isn’t an option,” said Ben.
Sam patted Ronnie’s hand. “I oughta confess.” He glanced at me. “I told her about the ladder and the break-in.”
“I should have told you, Mallory, but Dana is your friend,” said Ronnie.
“That friendship was a scam. Obviously.”
My eyes rested on Ben while he and the others continued the conversation. He and I shared the opinion that at any time during those lost years, Dana could have come forward with the truth. It was unlikely that Jack Harwood completely disappeared and was still alive. If she wanted us dead and succeeded in killing Lance, it stood to reason she killed Jack. If true, she was capable of inflicting harm to the rest of us far greater than we could imagine. She had to be stopped.
Ronnie was telling Ben and Grant about her research. “I scored my biggest find on the Norris family this morning. Sam, bring my laptop and file from the spare room, if you don’t mind.”
He disappeared down the short hallway to our left.
“Information on Mr. Norris, I hope,” I said.
“Better. He did have a heart attack, it seems. Nothing reprehensible like we thought.”
Sam returned laptop in hand.
“Thanks, hon.” Ronnie let Sam hold the hardcopy files while she clicked away at the keyboard. “It seems,” she paused, “Dana’s sister, Adrienne fell to her death from the third-story balcony of their San Diego home. That was about eighteen months before Dana and the parents relocated to Minnesota.”
“When Dana was only sixteen,” I said.
“Fifteen.” Ronnie turned the laptop for Grant to see the screen. She continued. “Nothing proven either way that Adrienne fell accidentally or someone pushed her.”
Grant scrolled down. “This sister was how old?”
“Nineteen.”
“I suppose a younger sister could kill an older one,” said Gra
nt.
“You bet,” said Ben. “Surprise the girl, flip her over the rail. Girls are nearly full grown at fifteen. A fair match, unless the nineteen-year-old is significantly larger or stronger.”
“I’m not seeing any stats on the dead sister,” said Grant, turning the laptop back to Ronnie.
“I found mostly academic ones. Honors program in high school. UCLA student,” said Ronnie. “One photo. Not nearly as pretty as Dana.”
“I reckon she hated her sister enough to kill her,” said Sam.
“She might have, from what she told me,” I said, “Adrienne beat her. The parents sided with Adrienne and punished Dana for tattling.”
“Are you convinced she wasn’t born a pathological liar?” Grant leaned to see the computer screen again. “You would think the parents or teachers would have seen bruises.”
“That’s what I say.” Ronnie clicked away at the keyboard. “I found a different article that reports a neighbor seeing Dana wearing a backpack and standing on the Norris’s front porch before the police arrived.”
“So Dana was there,” said Ben.
“Which is why I’m excited about this find, except the article doesn’t blame her. It says she found Adrienne dead, and refers to her as ‘the sister of the deceased.’”
“Any information on how she found her sister?” asked Ben.
“The article goes on to say the neighbor watched Dana enter the house minutes before the police and ambulance arrived.” Ronnie grimaced when she shifted position in the recliner and let out a small scream.
“Pain pills.” Sam jumped up from his chair.
“Assuming Dana murdered her sister,” said Grant, fluffing Ronnie’s pillows, “she pushed the girl off the balcony, snuck out a backdoor and around the house to enter through the front.”
Ben leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “There must be a note about the time lapse between when the neighbor saw her enter the house and when the EMS and police arrived. From what I’m hearing, it seems like Dana made a beeline for the body.”
“And she may have,” said Ronnie.
I added, “No stopping in the kitchen for a snack. No going to the bathroom. Any signs of a struggle? Defensive injuries on either girl?”
“Not mentioned. The neighbor had a routine, though. She let her dog play in the front yard the same time every day. Clockwork.”