Rosemary Run Box Set

by Kelly Utt

  Pamela closed her eyes and nodded as Minerva said this. She seemed to appreciate the woman’s transparency.

  “Okay,” Phoebe agreed. “But Luke said maybe you could help me connect and interpret symbols I see. Is that accurate?”

  “Maybe. Let’s take it one step at a time. Do you happen to have anything that belonged to the person who is missing? And… Don’t tell me who it is. I don’t want a name or relation to you. But if you have something that belongs to him or her, it may help if I hold it in my hand.”

  Phoebe thought about the contents of her purse. She hadn’t been prepared for such a request. “Oh!” she exclaimed as something came to mind. “Keys! I have— the person’s— keys.” She was careful not to use the pronoun her.

  “Perfect!” Minerva replied. “Keys are especially good because we hold them in our hands. Objects we hold repeatedly soak up the energy that radiates from our solar plexus out to our hands.”

  “Great!” Phoebe said. She didn’t understand what Minerva was talking about exactly, but she was happy to have pleased her.

  Phoebe was loosening up now and was feeling more comfortable with Minerva. She was also gaining confidence about her own part in this process.

  She was especially glad that she had Eve’s keys. It was a stroke of luck, really. Phoebe had almost tossed them into the bowl beside Eve’s front door when she left the house that morning, but something told her to hang onto them because she might need them later.

  Minerva closed her eyes and took the keys from Phoebe’s hands, careful not to look at them. Phoebe realized what Minerva was doing, and why. The only key ring Eve had was a flat silver piece with her initials monogrammed on the front. Eve loved monograms and had them all over the place. Other than feeling the cursive font, Minerva probably wouldn’t be able to tell whether the keys belonged to a man or a woman.

  Minerva kept her eyes closed as she moved the hand with the keys out to one side of her body. With her free hand, she picked up the pencil and held it over the blank page on the sketchpad. “Pamela?” she asked. “Would you start my CD, please? I kind of got ahead of myself.”

  Pamela did as Minerva asked without speaking. She was there to record what happened and nothing more. She was being diligent about not interfering.

  Soon after Pamela pressed play, the sound of a babbling brook filled the room, followed by a series of chimes from singing bowls. The music was ethereal. It immediately slowed Phoebe’s heart rate and made her want to close her eyes along with Minerva.

  Phoebe could sense a seriousness in the air. It felt like Minerva was really doing something.

  “This music…” Minerva said softly. “It helps to open the third eye, cleanse the chakra, and enhance transcendental meditation.”

  “I’m sorry,” Phoebe replied. “I know some of those words, but not all of them. You may need to explain in a little more depth.”

  “Later,” Minerva said as her head swayed slowly with the beat.

  “Okay,” Phoebe replied, feeling like she might have spoken out of turn. She didn’t want to interrupt.

  “Quiet, please,” Minerva asserted as she scribbled on the sketch pad.

  Phoebe and Pamela watched as circles and letters seemed to pour out. This went on for several moments that felt longer than they actually were.

  Phoebe kept an eye on a wall clock in the small room. It ticked its rhythm, plodding on and reminding her of the precious moments passing them by. They had to find Eve. Tim had communicated the urgency. It had to happen soon.

  Finally, Minerva opened her eyes. She looked very sad, empathy on her face.

  “What did you see?” Phoebe asked. “Is it E…”

  Minerva grabbed Phoebe’s hand and looked deeply into her soul. “You’ve already lost someone, haven’t you?”

  Without warning, a tidal wave of sadness about Tim’s death poured over Phoebe. She had loved him like a son. She began to cry. Not just for the pain Eve had surely experienced seeing it happen, or for the anguish Tim must have gone through in the instant his spirit left his body. She cried for herself. She already missed Tim. She had grown close to him. And she knew that the longing for him to come back to them would only get worse.

  Tears poured down Phoebe’s face as she thought about how Tim had seamlessly integrated into the Blackburn family, as if he had always been a part of them.

  She would miss seeing him in his Phoenix Suns cap and the silly boat shoes he liked to wear on weekends. She’d miss their discussions about the local watershed and how to protect the rare grasses that grow down near the bay. And she’d miss seeing the smile on his face every time her daughter walked into the room.

  “I’m sorry,” Phoebe mouthed. “It’s painful.”

  “Take your time,” Minerva replied.

  Phoebe was beginning to like her now. Minerva was genuine, if a bit unusual.

  “You’re right. I’ve already lost someone.”

  “A son,” Minerva added.

  Phoebe nodded, not bothering to correct Tim’s status to son-in-law. Son was accurate enough.

  “And someone else you love is in danger.”

  “I think so, yes,” Phoebe barked between sobs.

  “A daughter.”

  “Yes.”

  Minerva gripped Phoebe’s hand tightly. “It isn’t too late for her,” she pleaded. “I believe she’s still alive.”

  Phoebe’s body heaved with relief at hearing this. She surprised herself by how much she believed what Minerva was saying. Logic told her that Minerva had no way to know for sure, but instincts told her Minerva was right.

  “And the dream you mentioned…” Minerva continued. “The son told you about the danger to the daughter.”

  “Yes, I…”

  “You knew he had passed before you received confirmation in waking life,” she affirmed.

  “Yes!” Phoebe said, getting excited now. She thought maybe this meant that specific information about Eve was coming next. The more Minerva got right, the more hope Phoebe placed in her.

  “And the burning questions center around how to find this daughter. Is her name something that starts with an E sound? Evie?” Minerva withdrew her hand from Phoebe’s and scribbled the capital letter E on her sketchpad as she spoke, still holding the keys in the other hand. “Eva?”

  Phoebe raised both hands to her face. She wondered if someone had told Minerva Eve’s name. She was blown away. “Eve. My daughter’s name is Eve.” Minerva nodded knowingly. “Did someone tell you that?” Phoebe asked. “Luke? Did he mention her name?”

  “No.”

  Phoebe thought it through. Eve’s name hadn’t been on the news yet. “Social media?” she asked Minerva.

  “No, I haven’t been online since last night.”

  “Tell me more,” Phoebe implored. “You’re on the right track.”

  “Alright,” Minerva confirmed. “I get the idea the son’s death was an accident. I’m seeing my symbol for a timeout, which is what I see when a life ends suddenly but no one is at fault.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Is Eve handicapped? Or is something wrong with her physically? Because I see the shape of a woman seated. That’s my symbol for a wheelchair or a handicap of some sort.”

  “Not physically,” Phoebe confirmed. “Mentally. We think she’s off her meds due to the trauma she experienced when her husband was killed last week.”

  “I see,” Minerva continued, closing her eyes again, still sketching. “And a baby? I see a baby.”

  “Oh, my God,” Phoebe blurted. “They were trying to conceive. That’s another reason I suspect she might be off her meds. Are you saying…?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but that’s what I’m seeing.”

  “Wow.”

  Minerva tilted her head again, as if the motion helped the gears turn inside her head. “I see your daughter in a safe place, but I don’t think she realizes it. I think the danger is what she might do to herself. I think she’s in a bad place
, mentally. A very bad place.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Phoebe affirmed.

  24

  Phoebe cried as she drove, all the way back to Tim and Eve’s house. It was mid-afternoon, and the sense that time was running out grew stronger by the minute.

  The wind had picked up and temperatures were continuing to drop. The snow that had been forecasted was coming, sleet already pelting the ground. It looked odd falling on green grass and plants. The entire day seemed bizarre, like something out of a bad movie. It hardly felt real to Phoebe, except for the terror and the pain that had overtaken her body. Those feelings were all too real.

  Minerva hadn’t been able to tell her anything much beyond what she already knew: that Eve was in danger and they needed to find her fast. When Phoebe had pressed Minerva for a location, the woman had come up empty. She had told Phoebe to trust her own instincts, but to get out there looking, and fast. She promised to keep working on it and to call the detectives if she received any additional information.

  Minerva had seemed to be legitimate, at least. Phoebe couldn’t come up with any other explanation as to how she knew what she did.

  As Phoebe walked in the door, she made a beeline for Wilder. He was seated at the table alongside a handful of volunteers, talking on the phone. She forced his arms open and pressed herself against his chest.

  “I need to call you back…” he said into the receiver, pressing the button to hang up before waiting on a response. “What is it, honey? Come here. I’ve got you.”

  Phoebe continued to cry, unable to stop herself. Wilder stood up and guided his wife into a bedroom where they could have some privacy. He closed and locked the door behind them, then climbed onto the bed.

  “Lay down with me,” Wilder said. “I’ll hold you.”

  “I… Eve is out there…” Phoebe mumbled. “I can’t just lie down in bed.”

  “Shh,” Wilder said, wrapping his arms around his wife and stroking her hair. “There are dozens, if not hundreds, of people working to find Eve right now. You can rest.”

  Phoebe continued to sob, her eyes puffy and red. She’d never cried so hard in her life. “Aren’t you going to ask me what happened with the psychic?”

  “Why, sure,” Wilder confirmed. “What happened with the psychic? How was she?”

  “Strange, but nice,” Phoebe said. “She knew things that were right. But she didn’t know where we could find Eve. All she could tell me was to trust my instincts.”

  “Did you tell her about your dream?”

  “Yeah, and she didn’t tell me anything about how to reconnect with Tim,” Phoebe explained. “I’m beyond exhausted. I’m frazzled. I can’t begin to know what to do with myself. And we’re running out of time. Minerva— the psychic— thinks Eve is in a bad mental space and in danger of harming herself. I think so too.”

  “Phoebe, hon,” Wilder said gently. “I don’t know anything for sure right now, but maybe the best thing you could do is go to sleep. Maybe Tim will return to you and tell you where we can find her…”

  Phoebe looked at her husband, desperation thick like fog around them both.

  “I’m serious,” Wilder confirmed. “How about you take a rest? I’ll watch over things and wake you up the minute anything big happens. I promise.”

  “I am really tired,” Phoebe sobbed. “Bone tired.”

  “Then rest. Maybe ask Tim to come talk to you in a dream? It’s worth a shot, don’t you think?”

  “Will you stay here at the house? Near me?” she asked. “I don’t want to be away from you right now. I’m not sure I can do this by myself, Wilder. I need you.”

  “I’ll be right here. Trust me. You have my word.”

  “Okay,” Phoebe said reluctantly, slipping under the covers and adjusting a soft pillow under her head. “But… the snow?” she said, her level of alarm rising again.

  “I know,” Wilder said. “We’ll get through it. I’ll keep watch. You rest.”

  And she did.

  Phoebe fell peacefully asleep, pausing just long enough to ask Tim to come and talk to her. It was a long shot, and way outside of what Phoebe or Wilder ever thought they’d be doing. But it felt like the thing to do. They had to try.

  25

  When she had realized Saul’s body wasn’t on the floor, it sent Eve into a full-blown panic.

  As she sat up and looked around again, she felt the strange tingly feeling like she sometimes did when she was coming out of an anxiety attack. She couldn’t be sure if her panic was on the rise, or if the peak had already come and was on its way down.

  Day blurred into night. Eve had no idea what day it was or how long she’d been at Saul’s house.

  She still couldn’t trust her own mind. And she hated herself for her body’s failings.

  But Eve knew what she had seen. It was all vivid in her mind. Right here, beside this brown couch, Saul was dead. The vomit. Their dance. Their party. The sex. The whiskey. And the heroin. She remembered it all.

  So, what if she had made some bad decisions? It wasn’t her fault that Saul was dead.

  Or was it?

  Eve reached for her hair like she did when she was anxious. She began smoothing it, then pulling it, so hard that she ripped strands from her scalp.

  Think. Where is the body?

  She wondered if she had moved it and then forgotten.

  No, she knew she hadn’t. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to move a grown man’s dead body, anyway.

  The sound of sleet on the window startled Eve. It took a minute for her to realize what the sound was. She didn’t think she’d ever heard of sleet in Rosemary Run. Only on vacations with her family to snowy winter places, like Lake Tahoe. The thought of frozen precipitation falling from the sky in the here and now scared her. It seemed out of place. Unnatural.

  Did it snow in Rosemary Run?

  Eve didn’t think so.

  She was sure that she was in her hometown of Rosemary Run. She remembered Wingman’s Pub, then going back to Saul’s place. But what if her mind had been playing tricks on her then? What if she wasn’t in Rosemary Run at all?

  Where am I? Has someone taken me? Have I been… kidnapped?

  Eve’s heart beat hard in her chest like a bass drum, a shrill ringing sound filling her ears and making a harsh cacophony.

  She pulled her knees to her chest and rocked back and forth as she retraced her steps. Her body odor was growing more and more pungent. Eve scarcely noticed it.

  Think. Think!

  She remembered the flight from Florida. Tim had purchased tickets from Miami into San Francisco because they were the least expensive. He had said the drive to and from the airports would be fun. Part of their adventure. But the flight back to California hadn’t been an adventure at all. Not without Tim. Eve had slept on the plane, her head pressed awkwardly against the wall beside her window seat. She had been in such shock from Tim’s death that she could barely focus minute to minute.

  She was still numb.

  What happened next? Before Wingman’s Pub? How did I get there?

  Eve balled her hands into fists and slammed them against her temples. She was angry with her mind for withholding important information. It was in there somewhere. It had to be.

  She screamed. A long, loud sound that came from the depths of her. Beating her temples harder and harder, she yelled, then cried. Then yelled some more. The anger burned inside of her like hot lava. Her veins seemed to carry piping hot liquid. Her blood felt like it was boiling.

  “It’s okay,” a woman’s voice said.

  Eve jumped, then pulled her knees in tighter.

  Who is that?

  “Who’s there?” Eve asked timidly.

  “I’m a friend,” the woman said, the outline of her figure coming into view.

  Eve couldn’t make out details, but she could tell the woman was tall and thin. She had shoulder-length hair that curled at the ends. Eve didn’t respond, instead trying to determine whether t
he woman was real or a figment of her imagination.

  “How are you feeling, Eve?”

  How does she know my name?

  Eve squinted at the woman as she came closer. She could make out more now. Black hair. Red lipstick. Close to her own age.

  Staying quiet, Eve looked at the woman curiously.

  “I’m glad you’re awake. Is there anyone I can call for you? Your family maybe?”

  What is this woman talking about? Just like Saul, wanting me to call someone. I can’t call my family.

  “No,” Eve admonished, pulling at her red hair. “No, no, no.”

  “It’s okay,” the woman said again. “Stay calm. You’re okay.”

  This banter was making Eve angrier. She resented being told what to do.

  Is she real?

  “I know you told Saul to think of you as Eve Smith, but I’d love to know your real last name,” the woman said.

  Eve’s eyes widened, like a deer in headlights.

  She knows Saul?

  The red-lipped woman persisted. “I told you, I’m a friend. You can talk openly to me. I already know what happened between you and Saul.”

  A hand shot up to Eve’s mouth, terror coursing through her. “What do you know?” she mumbled.

  “He told me everything you talked about. I’m up to speed.”

  Oh, no. I’m in trouble.

  “Who… Where…?” Eve stammered.

  She knew Saul was dead. But she couldn’t quite determine if this woman was real. She cursed her faulty mind once more.

  Think, dammit.

  “He couldn’t be here today, so I came instead,” the woman added.

  “Who are you?” Eve asked. “Wait. Elaine? Is that you? Did you change your hair?”

  “No, sorry. I’m Nell.”

  “Nell?” Eve replied, growing more confused by the minute.

  “Nell Caraway. Pleased to meet you.”