Ashlyn stood, waiting expectantly for Caden to object. The last thing she needed was to be delivered home to her grandmother in the back seat of a trooper’s marked cruiser. Surely Caden would know this. Surely, he’d insist on taking her home.
“I’ll see you later then, Ash,” he mumbled.
He followed his father out the door and through the parking lot. As she watched, Caden turned and gave a wave with an apologetic hunch of the shoulders. Arms crossed, Ashlyn didn’t wave back.
“Looks like somebody’s pissed." Kimble’s voice held amusement as he sidled up to Ashlyn. “Come on, I’ll give you a lift home.”
“I can walk,” she muttered.
Kimble chuckled. “Not a chance.”
Well, if Kimble was going to drive her rather than the uniform, maybe it wouldn’t be quite so bad. Detectives drove unmarked cars, didn’t they?
They did, she discovered as Kimble guided her to a plain black Impala. Unfortunately, at least a dozen people had already stopped to gawk. And they all saw her get in the detective’s car. At least it was the front seat.
“Yep,” Kimble said, as he drove out of the parking lot. “I bet you and the boyfriend won’t be parking anywhere for a good long time. Not if Professor Williams has anything to do with it.”
No question about it; Kimble was a real, genuine asshole.
And Caden was coming pretty close to that status, too, she decided, as she watched him and his father drive away.
Maudette looked like hell. Like she’d not slept a wink all night.
Or like she was currently watching her only granddaughter arrive home at dawn in a police car.
Yeah, that would be it.
As Maudette shuffled over to meet them, Ashlyn realized she wore bedroom slippers on her feet. And, oh, God, was that her housecoat she was wearing? Yep, her oldest housecoat, tightly-belted, complete with faded flannel pajamas poking out beneath. But why? The cops had called her hours ago. She’d had plenty of time to get dressed. True, Maudette was no diva, but it wasn’t like her to greet anyone in her nightclothes. Surely she could have run a brush through her hair, which always looked disheveled when she let it down.
Surely, she hadn’t been out here all this time since they called? Pacing the yard and waiting? That didn’t make sense.
But as Detective Kimble put the car in park and Ashlyn climbed out, her grandmother’s state of dishabille made perfect sense.
The radio was blaring. That’s why Maudette was out here.
Ashlyn cringed to the sound of the song that played — that same damnable tune. But it was playing even louder today. Though she still couldn’t make out more than the odd word here and there, she was sure that the volume was somehow cranked up. The dogs were howling along with it, as if even they could sense the urgency in the music. Of everything around them, perhaps.
Poor Maudette! How long had she been outside waiting for the radio to stop? Waiting for Ashlyn to come home?
And, what had that radio told her?
With wild-eyes, Maudette stared at her. Silently, begging her not to say a word about the radio in the presence of the detective. Ashlyn gave the slightest of nods. She held her grandmother’s eyes a moment longer in an attempt to communicate her apology as well. She hadn’t intended to cause her this kind of worry.
Maudette drew a long breath, steadying herself to speak to Kimble. “Thank you, officer, for bringing my granddaughter home. I … I trust she’s not in any kind of trouble.”
“Well, not with us, ma’am.” Kimble’s glance shifted from Maudette to Ashlyn and back again. “The coroner was around early this morning, and at first blush, it certainly could be natural causes. Most probably a fatal arrhythmia, he thought. But an unexpected death of this nature … well, it begs an investigation. How extensive it is will depend, of course, on the autopsy and the toxicological findings.”
Maudette’s face creased with pity. “Poor thing,”
“You got that right, ma’am. But it happens like that sometimes, even with young people. Electrical systems just go haywire. Fine one day, and the next—” He shook his head for emphasis.
Maudette nodded. Not believing a word of it, letting on that she did.
Officer Kimble chewed his cheek a moment. He ran a hand over his whiskered chin. “You know, it does seem there’s a bit of a history of that,” he said, obviously fishing. “Of people dying along the train tracks. Usually down by the bridge, or near the station. Never an explanation other than ‘natural causes’ — heart attack or aneurysm or something. Some people say there’s something supernatural going on around here.”
It wasn’t a direct question. But it was out there. Had he heard of the crazy Caverhill’s and their psychic connection? The legend of the radio?
Kimball waited.
And then he waited a little bit more through Maudette’s steady silence.
We’ll be here all day, Ashlyn thought, forcing back an oh-I’m-so-freakin’-tired hysterical laugh.
Even the dogs stopped their howling, seemingly concentrating on Maudette themselves. And that’s when Ashlyn heard it. Not all of it, but some of the words coming from the radio. A chill ran completely along her spine, and stayed there are she listened.
…be there another time … when she comes … the line
…when she comes…
…ain’t going to stop till…
…when she comes….
Almost frantically, Lolly-Pup resumed her howling. She jumped, slamming her front paws on the chain link fence of the enclosure. The other dogs joined her again in the chorus. But less than twenty seconds later, they all suddenly stopped. Just after the radio silenced.
Ashlyn’s shoulders slumped in relief.
Maudette’s shoulders did not. Not yet.
Kimball cleared his throat. “Well, I’d best be going. Lots of paperwork to be done.”
“Thank you for bringing Ashlyn home, Detective,” Maudette said.
“Yeah, thanks,” Ashlyn said, again keeping her sarcasm in check, this time for Maudette’s sake.
“I’ll be in touch if we need anything more,” he said to Maudette. “If there are any more questions to be asked. Or any more concerns about your granddaughter’s involvement.”
“That’s fine, Detective, but if so, you’ll be asking them in the presence of our lawyer.”
Kimble shot her a look. “Ma’am?”
Ashlyn did a double take herself.
“I believe you heard me. If you or any of your colleagues have any more questions for my granddaughter, our lawyer will be present. This has been horrible enough for her, Detective. She’s already told you everything she knows, and I don’t want this unpleasantness prolonged unduly. I won’t have her harassed, sir. Not by the police. Not by anyone.”
Kimble’s face reddened, but he said nothing more.
Ashlyn watched as he got back in the shiny black Impala, adjusting his big belly behind the steering wheel.
“Oh, man, thanks, Maudette,” she said, and she meant it. “For the lawyer … well, everything.”
The old woman nodded, watching after Kimble as he sped from the property.
Ashlyn felt the full weight of the long night then. She was cold and aching and tired. Damn tired. She’d been up for over twenty hours. But the chances of Maudette actually letting her crawl into bed without at least a few lecturing words were slim to—
“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been, young lady?”
—none.
“Maudette, I’m sorry.” And she truly was. “We didn’t mean—”
“You went to see the train!” Anger and dread filled her voice. “You went to the tracks when you heard it coming! I know you did Ashlyn!”
“You … you heard the whistle, and just knew?”
“I heard it from the radio! That no-good radio! When it spoke your name, I couldn’t turn away from it. I had to go down and listen. It told me where you were. You and Caden and that evil, evil conductor! It told me one
was already dead. I was terrified it was you!” Maudette’s voice broke. Her green eyes filled with tears. “I … I had to stay in the basement and listen and hear that damnable song, playing over and over again. I sat on the stairs for hours while the radio played, waiting for more word of you. Just by luck I heard the phone when there was a pause in the music. If … if the police hadn’t called to tell me what was really going on … I don’t know if I could have stood it much longer, Ashlyn. I’d thought you’d gone….”
Guilt crashed down hard on Ashlyn. “I … I wouldn’t get on that train. No matter how close I got.”
Maudette scoffed. “You don’t know, Ashlyn. You don’t know the power of what you’re dealing with here in Prescott Junction. You don’t know who you are in the scheme of this….”
“Wait! What do you mean by that? Who am I in the scheme of things?”
Maudette raised a hand to her throat. “Nothing. No one. I … I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m tired. I … I meant nothing by that.”
She was lying. Ashlyn knew it right down to her bones. But she also wasn’t in much of a position to call her out on it.
Maudette smoothed her wild hair. “I’ve fed the dogs, but I’m too damn tired to run them. Caden will have to do it when he comes over this afternoon. And I want a word with that young man. I’m going back to bed now, Ashlyn. I suggest you do too.” She turned and started walking slowly toward the house.
Ashlyn could feel her own tiredness weighing impossibly heavy on her young frame. If she felt like crap, she could just imagine how the much older Maudette must be feeling after her sleepless, extremely stressful night.
She knew she shouldn’t ask. Really, she should just let it go for now. Let her grandmother go to bed. But somehow the words spilled out, as if she had no choice in the matter.
“Maudette, what were the lyrics? In the song this time. I … I know the lyrics have changed. But I could only hear a bit of it.”
Maudette’s back stiffened as she stopped. She spoke without turning around. “Stay … just stay in your bed at night, Ashlyn. We all do in Prescott Junction. But you … you especially should.” She turned then, her face wreathed in fear and desperation. “You must!”
With that the old woman continued across the driveway and into the house. Ashlyn followed after.
Chapter 14
IT WAS SHORTLY AFTER ten o’clock in the morning when they hit Bangor. They’d made the trip in Caden’s parents’ SUV. And Ashlyn was pretty sure his folks weren’t too happy about it, either.
Ashlyn had been so mad at Caden a week ago, after he’d disappointed her. He’d been so concerned with what his uptight father thought that he failed to give her the comfort of his arms when she’d needed it and hadn’t given her a ride home. A split-second decision for which she briefly hated him. She’d spent the next days fuming about it and hardening her heart against him. Or rather, trying to. It hadn’t worked, mainly because he’d spent the week proving to her and to everyone — much to his parents’ dismay, she imagined — that he would stand by her.
He’d done that privately by coming by every day, simultaneously defying his parents and facing up to Maudette’s slowly deflating ire each time.
He’d done it publicly by holding her hand at the memorial service for Paulette Degagne, whose body had been released by the Coroner and shipped home to wherever home was.
And he’d done it most convincingly by helping her hatch a plan to infiltrate the psychiatric ward so Ashlyn could visit her mother.
For that latter assistance, she was undyingly grateful. So grateful, in fact, that when he pulled the car to a stop in front of the uniform shop they’d found through a Google search, she reached across the console to thank him again. She knew defying his parents — particularly his father — came hard to him. They’d seen to it that loyalty and obedience were deeply ingrained in him. Yet, here he was, with her, preparing to do something that would have his parents hyperventilating.
She put all her gratitude into it as she kissed him. Together with the ever-present yearning, it was a potent mix. Judging by the way he kissed her back, he was feeling it, too. Desire pooled in her belly like liquid sweetness, and she put a daring hand on his thigh, digging her nails in lightly before gliding her palm higher….
He broke the kiss and captured her roaming hand. “Whoa, Ash. Easy.”
She grinned. “What? You don’t like how I say thank you?”
He groaned. “I like it too much, baby. But I’m not doing this — not helping you — for that. Whatever happens, I don’t ever want you to think you owe me sex. Don’t ever let a man make you feel beholden or obliged in any way. Even me.”
She tipped her head back and laughed with a lightness of heart that surprised her, given what they were here to do.
“Oh, Caden, thank you. That’s about the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.” She lifted a hand to tenderly wipe the sheen of her lip-gloss from his lower lip. “But honestly, do you really imagine I could keep my hands off you, no matter what we were here for?” Though she’d turned it into a joke, it really was very sweet of him. Most guys — at least the guys she’d known — would have pressed their advantage. Anything to improve their chances of getting laid.
“Well, that’s a relief,” he said, smiling into her eyes in a way that made her toes curl. He took her hand and brought it back to his lips, kissing each finger, then opening his mouth on her palm.
She dragged in a sharp breath at the unexpected lightning bolt of sensation.
He chose that moment to pull away. He nodded toward the uniform shop. “You better get going.”
She looked at her watch. He was right. “Just let me tidy up. If I go in there looking like this, I’ll raise some eyebrows.”
Five minutes later, she went into the shop. Without wasting time, she approached the lone clerk. “I’m going to be starting next week over at the hospital’s psychiatric ward. They recruited me out of Canada.”
“I can hear that for myself,” the clerk said dryly.
Ashlyn blushed. “I brought some old uniforms with me that I had from my residency back in…” — Quick! What province was close to Maine? — “…New Brunswick. But this is my first real job, and I really want to fit in. So I was wondering….” She let her lips twist in a wry, self-deprecating smile. “Can you kind of point me to something that will help me at least look like I know what I’m doing?”
The clerk smiled. “Of course, sweetie. I’ve got just the thing for you.”
Fifteen minutes later, she hopped back into the SUV.
“Success?”
“Natch.” She smiled complacently. “Okay, what’s next? The pictures?”
“Yep.”
They drove straight to the downtown. They both got out, but Caden was the one who had to do this part. Ashlyn was just an observer. After forty-five minutes, he felt like he’d gotten enough quality shots. Then they went to a Starbucks in the mall while he uploaded the photos to his computer and began manipulating them. Half an hour later, he’d created a credible looking portfolio of professional photographs of one art gallery and one luxury hotel, both their exteriors and a few interior shots. He would have liked to get a municipal building to lend his portfolio a more corporate edge, but apparently they didn’t open on Saturdays.
“God, that looks great! You really could do this for a living, Caden.”
“Animals, maybe. Nature, possibly. Heck, maybe even people. But buildings? I don’t think so.”
“But the pictures are so good! You make the buildings look way more attractive and way more … moody … than they really are. No one would ever guess you didn’t have a passion for it.”
“Ah, but that’s because I do have a passion for fooling the hospital CEO. And this should just about do it.”
She squeezed his arm. “Thank you again, Caden,” she said. “I don’t think I’d have the courage to get past the lobby if you weren’t marching right in there with me.” They’d scoped out
the layout of the hospital earlier. Once they got by security to get to the administrative offices, all she’d have to do is ride the elevator up one more floor and walk down one short corridor.
“Hey, my pleasure.”
She doubted that. Not that he wasn’t happy to help her, but she knew he’d take no pleasure in deceiving the CEO. He’d already said that if they bought his pitch and hired him, he would carry out the work, then donate his fee to the hospital foundation. That eased his conscience sufficiently to let him proceed.
“Next stop, Wal-Mart, for instant photo developing,” he declared.
She checked her watch. They’d have to be fast if they were going to land at the hospital during the lunch hour, when rounds would be finished and more importantly, when half the nurses would be at the cafeteria. The fewer people around, the better. She finished her latte in one gulp. “Let’s get moving then.”
Twenty minutes later, Caden had created for himself an official looking portfolio of impressive photos. It contained not just the ones he’d taken this morning of the buildings, but a number of portraits of people he’d taken over the years — some of his dad’s fellow profs and random other people who’d needed a good head and shoulders shot for one purpose or another.
Upon arriving at the administration office, they were met by the CEO himself, a Mr. Albert Ross. Caden apologized for necessitating a Saturday meeting, reiterating that it was the only time he had as he was moving through the area.
“Happy to do it, son. You made some very astute observations about our image. I hadn’t really given it much thought until I got your email.”
Caden smiled. “It’s very easy to get comfortable with what you’ve got,” he allowed. “So comfortable, you don’t really see it anymore. That’s when you need new eyes. Objective eyes.”
“Yes, yes, exactly.” He glanced at Ashlyn. “Is this your assistant?”
“My girlfriend, actually.” Ashlyn smiled at him on cue. Caden turned back to the CEO. “I don’t usually work on Saturdays either,” he said. “But this job really spoke to me. People need to see compassion in your corporate face if they’re going to feel good about leaving their vulnerable loved ones in your care. I think I can help you do that, present a kinder face.”
Ashlyn's Radio Page 17