Rosemary Run Box Set

by Kelly Utt

“That’s right,” Holden said. “My mom is at the police station, and my younger brother is handing out fliers around town with his husband.”

  “Okay,” she replied. “I’ll want contact information for both of them. And for any other extended family. Where are your wife and kids, Holden?”

  “They’re home, and I’m sure they’d be happy to be interviewed.”

  “Good,” she confirmed. “We’ll see how much time we have, but I’ll probably swing by.”

  “Jake’s wife and kids would speak to you, too,” Holden added. “And you can find Mom at the station. We all want to help. I can’t say it enough.”

  Sharonda liked the sound of that. She continued, moving through her thoughts quickly. “And these volunteers… We'll want shots of them working. We will interview a few.”

  “Understood,” Holden said.

  “Anyone I’m missing?” Sharonda asked. “Margaret?”

  Holden looked at his dad again. Wilder sighed.

  “Whatever you think is best,” Wilder offered. “We can give you her mobile phone number if you’d like to track her down. She might be found at the police station with Phoebe.”

  “Phoebe is your wife?”

  “Oh, sorry. Yeah, Phoebe is my wife.”

  “I’m going to need notes on all of these names. Please be sure I get that before I leave. Holden, maybe you could jot that information down while I interview your father?”

  Holden agreed and left to find paper.

  Sharonda led Wilder to a chair in the living room that she had apparently thought had the best backdrop and natural lighting. Three large cameras were already set up on tripods, each with a cameraman to operate the equipment.

  Once Wilder was settled in a comfortable position, an assistant placed a mic on the lapel of his shirt, then powdered his nose and forehead.

  With flawless presentation, Sharonda spoke into the camera, describing Tim’s horrific death and Eve’s vulnerabilities. She sounded so eloquent, so compelling, and so official that Wilder dissolved into a blubbering mess, right there as the cameras rolled. Everyone in Northern California would witness it within hours.

  Sharonda said the footage would be shown on the evening news as the top story, along with carefully constructed interviews of other family members and volunteers. She implored Wilder to trust her and her team. She told him how she thought this feature had a good chance of helping Eve get back home. Maybe even before the sun should rise on a new day.

  “You think it will snow?” Wilder asked Sharonda as he and Holden walked her to the door, unsure if the weather would impact her getting the story on the air. He suddenly felt like this news story was their only hope. A feeling of desperation arrived suddenly and threatened to overtake him.

  “I don’t know,” Sharonda replied. “But I’ll get this piece together before it does. You have my word. You’ll see it on the five o’clock news. Featured story.”

  “Godspeed, Ms. Vinson,” Wilder said, placing one hand on his heart as he said goodbye. “Godspeed.”

  22

  Phoebe sat huddled in an uncomfortable black chair outside Luke’s office as she waited for Minerva Ellery to arrive from Sacramento. She wondered what it would be like to work with a real psychic. She hoped she wouldn’t be wasting precious time.

  Luke had given Phoebe a stack of glossy home and garden magazines to read. She had scoffed until he explained that staying calm and relaxed seemed to help Minerva with her process. Phoebe had reluctantly agreed.

  The Blackburn matriarch was flipping through an article about backyard chickens when Pamela walked over to tell her that Minerva had called and was due to arrive shortly.

  Phoebe thanked the woman, but she had a hard time making her voice sound anything other than devastated about the state of her life, in general.

  Phoebe wished she could be back at the family’s resort with nothing more to worry about than which was the most environmentally friendly chicken coop for Greta Garbo and Marilyn Monroe. She wished Eve could be there too, typing productively in her office and sipping coffee out of her favorite Hello Kitty mug, Tim safely at his place of employment.

  She wondered how things had gone so wrong. She thought about how it wasn’t even remotely fair. Phoebe knew that if Eve was alive and in her right mind, she’d be thinking the exact same thing. Fairness was a topic that had come up time and again during Eve’s therapy with Elaine.

  Phoebe sat up straight, remembering Elaine for the first time since all of this had happened. She wasn’t sure how she could have forgotten, but she made a mental note to call Eve’s psychologist just as soon as she was finished talking dreams and psychic abilities with Minerva. Phoebe wasn’t sure if there was anything Elaine could do, at least not until Eve was found. But Phoebe thought it seemed important to let her know what was going on.

  Neil stopped to chat as he was walking back to his desk, presumably having finished with Margaret and the grief counselor. He sat down in a chair beside Phoebe and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Neil was a handsome man, much like the men in the Blackburn family.

  Phoebe remembered the buzz around town when he’d met and fallen in love with his wife, Cate. Her first husband had been killed less than a week before the two of them were seen around Rosemary Run having obvious feelings for each other. To make matters worse, Neil had been investigating the first husband’s murder, and Cate had initially been a suspect. It was quite the controversy in certain circles. But Phoebe also remembered the genuine affection Neil and Cate clearly had for each other from the beginning. The more time that had passed, the easier it was to see they belonged together. Most people had come around to their side, eventually.

  No one can deny true love. Not for long.

  “How are you holding up?” Neil asked.

  “Oh, fine and dandy,” Phoebe replied, doing her best to fake a smile. “How did things go with Margaret?”

  Neil sighed, biting his bottom lip. His eyes seemed sad, like a puppy dog’s. As Phoebe looked at him, she thought that he really did care about the people he encountered in his line of work. She thought it was probably rare to find investigators as caring as Neil and Luke.

  “Margaret is grieving,” he said. “And right now, she’s angry.”

  “I can understand that,” Phoebe replied. “Especially since Tim and Margaret didn’t have the closest relationship.”

  “You aren’t kidding,” Neil added. “We always think we’ll have more time to mend old wounds. But it doesn’t always happen that way.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Phoebe mumbled.

  Neil was talking to her more casually than Luke had. Phoebe knew Neil better. The two of them had known each other longer.

  “Hey,” he said. “I know you’re worried about Eve. I don’t know how things will play out, but I know that you’re an amazing mother to her. You shouldn’t have any doubt in your mind about that. Your daughter loves you. That much is certain.”

  Phoebe let her head lean gently on Neil’s shoulder. He reminded her so much of her own sons. “I hope you’re right,” she said. “I’ve tried to be a good parent.”

  “And you’ve succeeded. You’re a model for the rest of us.”

  Phoebe admired the way Neil had taken Cate’s kids in and loved them as his own. They’d suffered a terrible, unexpected loss when their father died. Neil was well aware that he could never replace Mick Brady, but he had become an irreplaceable addition to the Brady kids’ lives.

  “That’s sweet,” Phoebe said. “But we see what kind of dad you are. I’d say you’re the model parent around here.”

  Neil chuckled. “Then suffice to say it takes one to know one.”

  Phoebe agreed. She sat back up, lifting her head from his shoulder, figuring she should rally and muster her strength for Minerva.

  “Neil,” she began, “are you aware of what happened when Eve was a teenager? The… incident? Because you and I didn’t know each other back then. I want you to...”

/>   He sighed, choosing his words carefully. “I wasn’t on the force then, but I’ve read through the case files. And I’ve heard from some people who were around when the incident took place.”

  “I’d like you to know about it,” Phoebe said.

  “I’m not sure it’s relevant, other than to help us understand Eve’s particular difficulties.”

  “I agree,” Phoebe confirmed. “But I’ve been trying to hide the story for so long that I think I might feel better if I put it completely out in the open. It’s a heavy burden to carry… The shame, that is...”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Neil said softly, his voice barely audible over the background noise from the busy station.

  “I can’t help but feel like it was… It is.”

  “I don’t see it that way,” Neil reassured.

  “She’s my daughter,” Phoebe mused. “I brought her into this world… defective. How am I not responsible? And I can’t fix her. For all the rest of her life— assuming she is found safe— she’ll need to be watched over closely. She’ll need to remain on medication. Every single day. We were lucky that she had Tim. He was a Godsend for us all. But what are the odds that she finds a love like that again? Not very high, I imagine. And… Wilder and I… we’ll grow old.” Phoebe began to cry as she talked. “We won’t be able to take care of her for as long as she’ll need it. What’s a parent in that situation supposed to do?”

  “Oh, Phoebe,” Neil said. “I hear you. It’s sad. And hard. But defective is a harsh word. I don’t think it’s helpful to think of it that way. These things happen.”

  “But it goes against the ways of the natural world, you know?” she continued. “Parents are supposed to raise kids who can care for themselves completely when the parents are old… and die. Not to mention, it’s nice when the kids can take care of the parents in their final years. Thank God we have three sons who will hopefully do that.”

  “Not hopefully. They will. Holden, Jake, and Ty love you and Wilder— and Eve— fiercely. You are a close family. It’s obvious to everyone who knows you.” Neil placed a hand on Phoebe’s shoulder as he continued with his pep talk. “In fact, I’d wager that the boys would watch over Eve after you’re gone, should the timelines work out that way.”

  “Maybe…” Phoebe replied. “But they shouldn’t have to. All three of my boys have kids of their own.”

  Neil turned in his chair to face Phoebe squarely. “You’ve got to reframe that whole thing in your mind,” he said. “Life is messy. It’s sometimes horrible. But it’s sometimes beautiful. And that’s what makes it worth living. There’s no perfect scenario. Believe me, I know from experience. If someone had told me I’d fall in love with a woman in Cate’s position, and then quickly become a step-dad to three grieving kids, I never would have believed them. I mean, I was a bachelor, living in a little house with my dog and going to work every day. I spent my spare time reading fiction. Or watching TV. These days, I’m taking kiddos to sports practice, helping with homework, and comforting them when they cry about missing their dad. And you know what, Phoebe?”

  “What?”

  “I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I’m exhausted. I’m stressed. But I’m happy with the good. I take the bad along with it. I’m sure you do the same in your own life… with Eve. Everything feels harder right now. I promise, you will get through this.”

  Phoebe smiled, a fresh tear in her eye. “You’re right. I don’t mean to sound so sad and dramatic.”

  “No apology necessary,” Neil affirmed. He patted her shoulder. “I’m here to listen to whatever you want to tell me… including what happened when Eve was a teenager. Okay?”

  Before Phoebe could answer, she saw Pamela heading their way with a pretty brunette following closely behind.

  “Mrs. Blackburn,” Pamela announced. “Meet Ms. Minerva Ellery.”

  23

  “Hello, Phoebe Blackburn, is it?” Minerva said as she reached a sun-tanned hand out.

  Minerva appeared to be in her late thirties, younger than Phobe but older than her kids. Her nails were clean and painted a subtle shade of peach, but that was the only thing subtle about her. At least, as compared to the way women typically dressed in Rosemary Run.

  Minerva looked every bit the part of a witchy woman in a flowing, faded brown dress with long sleeves and buttons all the way up and down the front. The hemline nearly reached to the floor, but thanks to undone buttons from mid-thigh down, the fabric flowed behind Minerva’s calves as she walked. Underneath, she wore leather, knee-high gladiator sandals with crisscrossed straps, and apparently not much else. Phoebe could see Minerva’s nipples protruding through the thin fabric across her braless chest. Adornments to top off the look included bangle bracelets, hoop earrings, and a necklace with a large hemp-leaf pendant dangling down into her exposed cleavage. Minerva’s long, wavy brown hair danced around her shoulders and stretched all the way to her waist.

  Phoebe gave Neil a look as if to ask if he was serious. He returned her gaze with an expression that said he was, indeed.

  “What?” Minerva asked. “Am I not what you pictured?”

  “Oh,” Phoebe began, working to collect herself. “It doesn’t matter what you look like, right?”

  Minerva cocked her head and looked quizzically at Neil. He jumped in to help Phoebe save face.

  Phoebe was a beautiful woman herself, but Minerva oozed sex appeal, and Neil suspected it was rattling for Phoebe to encounter under these circumstances. Neil thought maybe he and Luke should tell Minerva to consider toning it down a little next time.

  “Phoebe has had a long couple of days,” Neil inserted. “As Luke probably told you on the phone…”

  “Nope,” Minerva said, holding up a sun-kissed finger to stop him.

  She looked to Phoebe like she had just returned from a tropical island. Where she cast spells. And maybe even lured sailors with her enchanting music and singing voice to shipwreck on a rocky coast.

  “Don’t tell me,” Minerva continued. “I don’t want to know anything. It interferes. Better for me to go in blind.”

  “Okay,” Neil said. “I do remember that now, from the last case you consulted on. My apologies.”

  “No one needs to apologize,” Minerva emphasized. “Let’s just get started. You called me here for an important case. And I dropped everything to make the trip. Let’s do what we’re here to do, friends. Sound like a plan?”

  Phoebe nodded, perplexed by the woman, but eager to see if she might help.

  Neil led them to a small room at the back of the station that looked like it used to be someone’s office. “In here,” he said. “No one will bother you. I’ll make sure of that.”

  “You aren’t staying?” Phoebe asked.

  “I thought I’d send Pamela in to record the session,” Neil replied. “I’m better used on other aspects of the investigation. But I’ll be around. If you get anything, I’ll be right back to hear all about it. I promise.”

  Phoebe half-smiled, growing nervous.

  “Relax,” Minerva said. “I don’t bite. I promise.”

  “Okay, then,” Phoebe replied. “Pamela will be great. We’re good.”

  Neil closed the door softly. Less than a minute later, Pamela arrived as promised, recorder in hand.

  When all three ladies were seated and ready, Minerva began.

  She had brought a large bag with her. Phoebe almost expected the strange woman to pull out a cauldron and various witch’s brew ingredients. Instead, Minerva retrieved a recording device of her own, a CD player, and a sketchpad and pencil.

  “What’s all of this for?” Phoebe asked. “Or I guess I should ask… How does this work?”

  Pamela pushed the record button and gave a thumbs up to let Minerva know she could proceed, on record.

  “There’s no set way that it works,” Minerva explained. “Strange as that sounds, it’s different for me almost every time.”

  “Okay,” Phoebe replied.

  “T
he recording Pamela is making will be for police department records,” Minerva continued. “But I like to have my own. Sometimes, I get additional information from thoughts or dreams or instincts after sessions like this, and it helps to be able to refer back to everything that was covered.”

  “I understand that,” Phoebe replied. “Luke decided to connect us because of a dream I had…”

  “Wait!” Minerva said, holding up that finger again. “I know you’re eager to tell me your story, but I need you to wait. I don’t want what you tell me to act as a suggestion that steers my mind one way or another. Interpreting my psychic abilities is difficult enough without those types of suggestions. So please, wait until I ask.”

  “Alright,” Phoebe said sheepishly. She was way out of her element and just wanted to get on with things.

  “This CD player holds a disk with meditation music on it that helps me get into the right frame of mind. It’s Tibetan music, with singing bowls and rushing water in the background. I can’t explain why, but it seems to get things flowing for me. If it bothers you, I have headphones I can put on.”

  “It won’t bother me,” Phoebe confirmed.

  “As for the sketchpad and pencil,” Minerva explained. “Much like the music, it helps with my flow. I’ve found if I just let my hands sketch things that I see, it helps get them out of my mind.”

  “So, you see things, like in your mind's eye?”

  “Yeah, I do,” Minerva confirmed. “I also hear things. And sometimes, it’s as if a package of information is dropped into my brain. I can then sort of unfold that package and interpret it. It isn’t an exact science. Over the years, I’ve developed certain symbols that whatever higher power’s sending me this information seem to use. For example, when I see a white rose, it means that someone has passed on.”

  “Wow,” Phoebe mused, fiddling with the edge of one shirt sleeve. “Do you think this information comes from a higher power?”

  Minerva readjusted her long hair, flipping a section of it behind her shoulder. “I can only guess,” she explained. “But something is working in conjunction with my mind. Like I said, I can’t explain it. Which reminds me... Before we get started, I should warn you. I don’t always interpret things correctly. I don’t want you to place hopes on what I say and then I turn out to be wrong.”