by J. K. Zimmer
“You speak of joy? Three, what joy do you want from me?” Anya’s words thickened with anger.
Sophie didn’t understand how she could possibly comprehend the words on the page. They weren’t yet translated, but they continued.
“I feel you are cruel and have held back from me. Olivia, one of your own speaks of how you make her completely content, happy.”
“No one can cause you to be happy, Sophie.”
She looked quickly to the gentleman on her right. He was asleep. She was sure of it. Sophie looked closer. His mouth was open with the sound of deep breathing.
“Who said my name?” she whispered her heart beating hard as her eyes looked blankly at the open page. Was it something in the diary?
“Books don’t speak, Sophie,” she said under her breath. Could the writings in the diary have anything to do with her? She shook her head and laughed. Don’t get all weird about this. It’s only a book, she reminded herself. Yet the words were distinct and full of life, spoken to her, not to an eighteen-year-old woman from Ireland.
“Man will steal the good, dear child. Look only to me for the good within and without.”
“I do not understand, Three. I do not understand your ways,” Anya’s tear-filled voice rang out.
“You will, my child. Read and listen to my words, and you will experience peace in the midst of your pain and suffering. Trust and lean on me in all things, and I will send you help.””
The words between the Spirit and the flesh and blood fell silent. The war going on within the young woman as she struggled with the words of Three permeated from the pages, thick with indecisiveness and her inability to trust. Sophie could taste the anger in Anya’s words.
Sophie was now able to close the diary.
“What just happened?” she asked, turning to focus on the cloudless blue expanse outside of the plane’s window. She had been consumed by the words of the diary, by the illusiveness of Three and his exchange with Anya. Was any of this real? No. Spirits are not real. She didn’t believe in that sort of thing. Besides, in the time in which the diary was written, attitudes of this type were common among the people, right? Strong attitudes of unworthiness, distrust, and a lack of respect for the powerless. Uneasiness draped her mind. “Be careful, Sophie,” sounded gently in her ears. Kevin? She sighed, rehearsing his words in her mind. What did he know that she did not?
Chapter Eight
Kevin
“This is great,” A. J. said, greeting Kevin with a slap on the shoulder. “Like old times, huh?”
Kevin smiled, laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Yeah, old times except for your signature preppy old guy look. What’s happened to it?” he asked, laughing.
A. J. ran his hands back through his thinning light blonde hair. “Been doing a little undercover work and needed a rougher look,” he said, smiling, rubbing his unshaven chin.
Kevin laughed again, and at that, he knew not to ask questions. If A. J. thought it was safe to talk about what he was doing, then he would.
“So what’s so urgent that we couldn’t take care of this over the phone, Gates?”
Kevin looked straight ahead. “Ah, you know, it’s been a while since I’ve been back and—”
“And nothing, Kev,” he said, his voice taking a serious turn. “There’s more to this sudden visit than just missing your old friend and boss, so let’s have it.”
“Take a turn here,” Kevin motioned. The two took a right into the Gettin' John’s coffee shop on the lower level of LaGuardia.
“I’m buying,” Kevin said as they stood and studied the menu on the wall. Kevin was saved from giving a response to his friend’s earlier comment when it was his turn to order.
“You didn’t answer the question, Gates.” A. J. followed Kevin to a table with a view of the incoming jets.
Kevin took a sip of coffee, pulling back fast, almost burning his mouth. His eyes met A. J.’s. “There are a few things that seem to be gnawing at my brain, A. J., and I just can’t seem to shake them.”
“Does it have anything to do with that college professor and her diary?” A. J. looked hard at Kevin over his large green cup.
Kevin adjusted his ball cap nervously. “Yes, it does.”
“You know Theresa has been all over that diary, right? Has she sent you any information on it yet?”
“No, nothing yet. Do you know anything?” Kevin leaned in, both elbows on the table.
“Not much, but according to Theresa’s translation, the diary starts out pretty status quo, but then the author changes, and things begin to get a little weird.”
Kevin pushed his cup to the side, “How so?”
A. J. smiled and took a drink.
Kevin’s eyes narrowed. “I studied a little of that diary myself—that is, what I could understand of the language. I found a turn of events, but I’m not sure I’d call them weird.”
“There’s abuse to a woman, Kevin. Seemingly a young woman named Anya O’Connell. We did a little premature checking and found that the O’Connell family was quite wealthy in that time period. And then, to add a twist, the girl begins to dabble in the spirit world introduced to her by someone named Olivia and the family servant. Now if that isn’t weird then—”
“What about the abuse, A. J.?” Kevin asked, wanting to go deeper.
“All Theresa said was that the woman was very graphic in her descriptions about what was happening to her.”
“I need to see Theresa. Can you make that happen?”
“Tonight? Are you crazy? People do have lives, you know. We’ll go downtown tomorrow during regular business hours and see how far she’s gotten, all right?”
Kevin hesitated then nodded his head in agreement. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little anxious.”
A. J. smiled, “Anxious about what? A two-hundred-year-old diary or a certain history professor friend of yours?”
“Her name is Sophie Hanes,” he said defensively.
“Hey Kev, listen, I didn’t mean anything.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, cutting him off. “Let’s get out of here and grab a bite to eat. I’m starving. And I’m also paying for dinner,” he said with a quick grin.
“In that case, you’re on,” A. J. said, sliding his chair out, then standing. He put his hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “Whatever’s going on, we’ll get to the bottom of it. You know that, right?”
He met his friend’s eyes. “Let’s just hope and pray that’s the case,” he said, his smile dissolving.
***
“So what do you know about Ms. Hanes?” A. J. asked after the waitress left with their order.
“Nothing out of the ordinary, really,” Kevin said, thinking back to some earlier conversations with Sophie. “She was raised in a well-adjusted home, has a married sister with a couple of kids, graduated top of her class in high school and college, and was just named top history professor at Pullman University.”
A. J. drummed his fingers on the table. “What about relationships, any past or present?” he asked, smiling, “besides you, Kev?” He laughed.
“Your undercover work must include stand-up comedy, huh?” Kevin said, shaking his head. “The only significant man I could find in her past was a guy named Trey. He seems to be on the up and up. The man is currently a pilot for a major airline and does some work on the side for a low-key ministry. I’m not sure, but I think he smuggles meds to a mission hospital somewhere in South Africa.”
A. J. shook his head, listening. “For the most part, the guy sounds decent.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. The way Sophie talked about him, their relationship had been different than any other she had experienced. She said he would refer to her as a treasure, someone he wanted to hide in his heart just to make sure she was safe.”
A. J. nodded his head. “So that’s it? No other relationships?”
“None that I could find, and in the time we’ve spent together, the subject just hasn’t come up.”
&nbs
p; A. J. took a long sip of lemon water then set it back on the table. “Either the girl doesn’t get around much, or this Trey guy meant a great deal to her,” he said, taking another drink and glancing at Kevin. “Maybe she isn’t completely over him.”
Kevin looked across the table, mirroring A. J.’s actions. “That’s the way it seems, and that’s almost fine with me.” A deep line crossed the bridge of his nose as he frowned. “It is a little funny, though—” He stopped before he said it, about the last time he touched her, their last embrace at the airport, how beautiful she was.
“What’s funny, Kev?” A. J. asked, shaking the ice in his glass.
Kevin regained his present thought. “That she hasn’t had more guys in her life. She’s been split with Trey for two years.” He leaned back in his chair. “Have I mentioned that Sophie’s a gorgeous black-haired beauty? And a pretty good cook to boot. But now that I think of it, she’s kind of cold,” he said, staring past his friend. “Sophie calls it her ‘private’ life.” Kevin straightened and shrugged his shoulders. “But I call it a challenge.”
“So what’s the problem, Gates? Is she playing hard to get, or is it that hunch of yours about the diary and Pro—”
“Yes, it's Professor Smith and the trip she’s on. The whole thing feels wrong to me. I just told you she’s a knockout, and a private person, and more intelligent than anyone I’ve ever met—no offense, A. J.,” he said with a straight face.
A smile spread across A. J.’s face as he raised his glass of ice water. “None taken, my friend.”
“Say, has any information come back from the crime lab on Professor Smith yet?”
“No, not as of last night. We can check on that in the morning, too, all right?” A. J. knew by the unsettled look on Kevin’s face that tomorrow morning wouldn’t come soon enough to suit him. “So not to change the subject, but does Ms. Hanes have a clue about what you do for a living, Gates?”
It was Kevin’s turn to shake the ice in his glass. “She knows I’m a photojournalist.”
“For the FBI?” A. J. asked, his voice raising a couple of decimals.
Kevin’s eyes dropped to the glass in his hand. “She doesn’t need to know that part of it.”
A. J. laughed. “You’re quite the guy, Kev.” He leaned on the table. “Man, listen to me. Things can happen to relationships when you’re not totally up front about important matters, or have you forgotten?”
A. J.’s statement brought back one of the reasons Kevin was transferred to Washington State at his own request. The girl he had been so enthralled with didn’t like the fact that his work took him all over the world. That’s when he finally had to tell her why he was gone for weeks at a time. His job demanded his life and total trust. That’s what Kevin had wanted from Beth—trust. He trusted her, but his deceptive character, whether it was for a good reason or not, wasn’t something Beth could deal with in the end. It was his fault for not telling her the entire truth about what his occupation from the beginning of their relationship. The flashback brought a pang of regret, but his loyalty to his work overrode the sensation, at least for the moment.
“A. J., do you remember the case we were on a few years ago in Ireland?”
“Smooth, Gates,” A. J. said, admiring his friend’s ability to drop a hot topic and turn to a cold case. “Yeah, two teachers and a history buff ended up missing. We never solved that one.”
“That’s right. We never solved it. We didn’t even come close before all went quiet. It still ticks me off that that guy is still out there and…”
“Oh, so that’s it. You think Ms. Hanes might be walking into a trap? What have you been watching on TV, my friend?”
“A. J., listen to me. I’m hoping this is nothing. But, well…this could be our case reopening itself.” He took a long drink from his sweating glass. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but Smith sent Sophie an email. The sentence structure of parts of it, along with some of the wording, looked and sounded familiar to me.”
A. J. studied Kevin’s face. He’d seen that look before—the look of knowing something, feeling something, but having the answer hidden right under your nose.
“I’d like to look at that email, Kevin. Can you get your hands on it again?”
Kevin smiled. “Okay, I know it was wrong, but I sent a copy of it to my address while Sophie was in the kitchen the evening I found it on her laptop.”
“You really can’t be trusted, can you?” A. J. said, knowing Kevin was one of the best in the business. He was smart, and he only took things he thought would benefit the case he was on. Or in this instance, the one he would soon be on.
“We’ll check that out tomorrow, too. You know, Kevin, this whole thing could be very innocent and clean. Try not to stress about it so much. It’ll give you gray hair.”
Kevin smiled but remained unconvinced. “A. J., can you get me to Dool, Ireland any time soon?”
“Let’s check your email and discuss your hunch with some of the team. We’ll go from there. But for right now, I’m not sending you anywhere. Besides, we have a diary to read, and here comes my dinner,” he said, settling his eyes on the blonde coming toward them with two steaming plates in her hands.
Kevin laughed, taking notice himself of how well-proportioned the girl was. He checked his phone. Sophie hadn’t called him yet, and it had already been two days. He glanced once more at the waitress. Sophie’s beauty trumped that of the waitress in his mind, and what he suspected she was getting into filled the pit of his stomach with something toxic. There was something not right about this trip. He was sure of it.
“I owe you one A. J.,” he said.
“You bet you do, and you’d better be ready to pay up at a moment’s notice,” A. J. said firmly, his eyes still fixed on the waitress.
Chapter Nine
Sophie
Sophie woke to the sound of the Atlantic crashing on the jagged moss-covered rocks. She rolled onto her side, clutching the pillow tightly in her arms. The jet lag had finally vanished, and she was ready to enjoy a few weeks exploring the countryside and learning more about the diary that had originated in the area in which she was now staying.
She stared at the ceiling, thinking about what had transpired thus far in her reading of the diary. Fear, loneliness, and dread were written all over each page. And then there was Three. Who was Three? A spirit guide or someone Anya could really see and talk to? The questions circled in her head like an annoying housefly. Either way, she felt a deepening connection to Anya as if she was a part of her somehow. But how? How could she be a part of someone’s life that existed in the past?
Sophie sighed, hitting the sheets with both hands. “I can’t lie here all day and try to figure this one out,” she said, flinging her legs over the side of the bed and allowing her feet to dangle just above the cool, wooden floor. “This place is going to tell me everything I’m supposed to know, Anya,” she whispered, looking out the window through the slit in the country green curtains.
Sophie put on a pot of coffee, dressed, and then stepped onto the porch, letting the screened door close gently behind her. She breathed, tasting the salty ocean air. Yes, this little place was going to serve its purpose well, she thought, smiling as her eyes scanned the deep blue and green water. As a child, she had seen plenty of water. But this was different. Its white caps moved in time, with grace, and seemed to be driven by a force that was hidden from view but present all the same. Sophie took a sip of the hot Irish coffee from the cup in her hand. “Umm,” she murmured as she savored its boldness. “Kevin,” she breathed. She had promised to call him when she was settled in, but she had been so tired, sleeping on and off for almost a day and a half. Her phone was tucked in the bag close to where she was relaxing on the front porch. She reached for it and slid it open. Kevin had asked to put his number in her phone before they left for the airport and said he’d left a surprise for her that she’d find when she went to contact him. Sophie touched his name, “Gates.”
Pictures of the two of them began to scroll across the screen. “How did he do that?” she asked in surprise, smiling and reminiscing as each picture passed. She held the phone to her ear. He picked up, and then there was a loud thump. Sophie listened curiously. What was going on? All she could hear was a bunch of scuffling and words she couldn’t quite make out.
“Yeah, Gates here,” he finally said, sounding winded.
“Kevin, are you all right? You sound terrible, and what was all that noise?”
“Sophie? Girl, are you okay? I’ve been waiting for you to call! It’s been two days, almost three. And do you have any idea what time it is here?”
She had forgotten about the time difference between them. That would explain why he sounded like he was hung over. “Kevin, I’m sorry for waking you.”
“No Sophie, don’t be sorry. I’m so glad to hear your voice. You can’t believe how worried I’ve been.” He was fully awake now and wanted to keep her on the phone as long as he could. He not only wanted her voice, but he had installed a tracking device in her phone that needed to be activated, and that could only happen if her phone were on for three minutes or longer.
“Tell me, babe—now that I’m not just dreaming of you—tell me where you’re sitting, what you’re wearing, and what kind of coffee you have in your hand,” he said, lying back on his bed.
Sophie laughed. “Are you for real, Mr. Gates? You sound like a reporter trying to get a story.”
“I am a photojournalist, remember? So give me all the angles, Sophie.” His voice grew quiet as he pictured the two of them together. He didn’t wait for an answer from her. “I wish like anything I was there with you. I miss you. I miss holding you on the couch while we watch stupid reality shows, I miss kissing you, I miss—”
“Kevin, stop,” she said, her words gently interrupting his convincingly sexy voice. She swallowed hard. The sound of his voice always had a way of moving her into his world, and for the first time, she had to admit that she missed him, too. “I’m sitting on a porch overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. There are dark-colored cliffs that have black and red ribbon-like lines running through them. They stretch as far as the eye can see—they’re beautiful. And as for what I’m wearing, I’m wrapped in my white bathrobe And the coffee? Well the coffee is black, very black.”