Cursed: Paranormal Women's Fiction (Mid-Life Haunts Book 1)

by Nhys Glover

  “Morning,” Jake said gruffly, coming up to join us. “Want to lead the way?”

  Wordlessly, Karl and I retraced our steps to the fallen tree. I pointed out the slight mound and Karl nodded his agreement.

  Jake directed his deputies to start digging carefully, so as not to destroy any lingering evidence.

  “I was lucky the principal of the middle school was on site early. She was able to tell me that there was a Cindy Kitchener registered for about three months, two years ago. She was a foster kid. The records say the family moved away. No request for educational records from her next school. She was fourteen,” Jake said softly so his deputies didn’t overhear him.

  “It makes me sick to think of people doing those things to a girl that young. She was little more than a baby,” I murmured back

  Jake exchanged looks with Karl, their expressions haunted. Both had probably seen many things that made them just as sick.

  “For the record, what are you giving as your reason for being out here?” he asked me, still softly.

  The scraping sound of soil being shoveled was the baseline for the bird chorus coming from the trees on the healthy side of the divide. Death and life blending, yet again.

  “I was out checking how far the border had grown. Karl, of course, came along. I wanted to do it before the family got up so it didn’t upset them. Karl noticed the uneven ground in that spot and suspected it to be a grave. He’s seen them before.”

  Jake nodded. “That’ll work. As soon as we find her remains, I’ll take your statements and you can go. I think I might need to talk to your girls again. The fact that both Cindy and Lauren were foster kids who’d recently moved to town tells me something bigger is going on here.

  “She had magic. Mom said she was one of us,” I told him softly.

  His surprise was unexpected. I suppose I should have mentioned that sooner. I took it as read that they wouldn’t be exorcising anyone ‘normal’.

  “I was thinking about what you said the other day about an internet network. Not of witches or magic-users, but of demon-hunters, for want of a better word. If there was something like that, then girls who were suspected of having demons might be listed on it. I’m not sure how… but it was just a thought.”

  Jake studied the deepening hole, the rasp of one spade after another digging deep and then lifting was all that filled the sudden silence. The birds had fallen still, she realized with a shiver.

  “I’ll talk to the girls,” Jake concluded, looking up to meet my gaze. “If there was someone who knew about them. Maybe friends or even a relative. It might have gotten them on some notice board. It’d have to be on the darknet. Or be a closed forum. The government trawls for white slavers and kids being used for prostitution. They couldn’t be too open about it.”

  A dull clunk had all eyes returning to the deepening hole.

  “Got something,” the smaller of the two deputies said irrelevantly.

  For the next few minutes the soil around the ‘something’ was carefully removed to reveal a partially decomposed skull, with clumps of dark hair still attached to it. I knew it was going to be there, I could feel the ghost anxiously waiting for it to be revealed, but it still hit me like a freight train when I saw it. And my legs gave way under me. Karl’s quick reflexes kept me from ending up on the ground.

  “I already put the crime scene guys on alert. I’ll let them know they can come on out. You can stop digging now boys,” Jake said, his voice too loud and harsh. “As I’m going to need to talk to the girls, I’ll take your statements when I come out to the manor later. You can get going now.”

  Jake was being kind. I could only imagine what I must have looked like at that moment. All I wanted was to be away from that ghoulish sight and the overwhelming sadness coming off every person, living and dead, standing over the grave.

  Karl had to help me cover the distance back to the car. He also took the driver’s side. I wasn’t in any fit state to drive.

  All the way home my thoughts revolved around Cindy, and what this news might do to Lauren. She had wanted to put it behind her and move on, but this would drop her right back in it. Would it be easier on her to know she wasn’t the first to be subjected to that horror? That she wasn’t the only weirdo to attract the attention of those monsters?

  I had no idea, but I knew I’d soon find out.

  14

  By the time we got home I had gathered my wits. To make it easier on Jake I’d decided to prep the girls for his arrival and his questions, even before I told them what we’d discovered that morning. If I could gently gain useful information without pressure, it would be far better than having them clam up when the sheriff started interrogating them. They’d already told me how hard it had been giving their statements the last time.

  Hilary was, in fact, hard at work making breakfast when we came in. Fred was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and Michael was chatting to him one-sidedly, as was always the way. The girls were just coming down the back stairs as we entered the kitchen. Both looked freshly showered and happy.

  I hated to spoil their good mood.

  For the next five or ten minutes I let the chaos of breakfast prep wash all the negatives away. It was only when all of us, including Karl and Fred, were seated, ready to eat, that I started my questions.

  “I’ve been trying to find magical networks on the net,” I said matter-of-factly. “There are a lot of sites that claim to be run by witches but few that seem to have real magical ability. Did you ever know anybody else with gifts?”

  I was looking at Lauren when I asked the question, so she knew I wanted an answer from her. She peered up through her lashes at the outsiders at the table. For a moment I thought she wouldn't answer. Then she lifted her chin and glared a challenge at Karl.

  “No. And Mom said nobody in her family was weird like me. She said it had to have come from Dad. I can sort of remember him. I think I can remember him teaching me how to move things. I was maybe six? I don’t know for sure. I think it freaked Mom out, so that’s when I started keeping it a secret. But I heard her complaining about me being weird to her friends one time after Dad left. She said I was the reason he left. But that didn’t make sense. Why would he help me learn how to use my ability if he was going to reject me for it?”

  “I didn’t know that,” Faith piped up. “I wish I’d known him.”

  “What was his name? Do you remember?” I asked carefully.

  “You’ll laugh,” Lauren snapped, her expression souring.

  I shook my head, as did my kids. I knew Karl and Fred wouldn’t. Showing any kind emotion was rare for them.

  “Larry Potter,” she mumbled.

  Oh, that was an unfortunate name for someone in a magical family. I decided to skim over that aspect.

  “So, was your last name Potter?” I asked.

  Lauren shook her head. “I think Mom married her second husband before Faith was born and we both took his last name. For convenience, Mom said.”

  “Did Child Services try to track him down? Or any of your parents’ families?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I guess. But the Joneses got us pretty quick. Like a few days after Mom died. How much looking do you think they did in that time? And then we were taken out-of-state. I bet Dad couldn’t find us now, even if he wanted to.”

  I heard the sadness and grief in Lauren’s voice. It must have hit her hard when her dad went away. And having her mother blame her for his leaving… How cruel was that?

  “Maybe the sheriff can find him,” I suggested before getting back on task. “So, your mom told people about your ability, but she didn’t know about Faith’s?”

  Lauren had been pushing her bacon and eggs around her plate, barely eating any of it. I should have let her eat first. The girl was still underweight and needed to get as much good food into her as possible.

  “She’d get me to do ‘tricks’ for her girlfriends, to prove she wasn’t lying about me being weird. But not after our ste
pdad moved in. He wouldn't have liked knowing what I could do. Mom told me to not let him know, because then he’d leave us too.”

  “That woman deserves the Mother of the Year Award,” grumbled Fred through clenched teeth.

  I had to agree.

  But my mind was turning over this new information. Quite a few people knew about Lauren’s abilities. She’d shown them off to her mom’s friends. After the accident, there wasn't a lot of time put in to locating relatives. They were quickly assigned foster parents, who changed their last name and took them out-of-state. That sounded very shady to me. Very shady.

  * * *

  A couple of hours later, Jake arrived, looking harassed and tired. It was barely mid-morning and he appeared to have worked a full day already. I knew why.

  Seeing him standing there in the doorway was a bit of a shock, though. But not because it reminded me of the last time he came to my place. No, it was the fact that he looked like a kid going up to the haunted house door on a dare. I thought he was passed all that.

  “Come in, Jake. I’ll just get the girls,” I said, ushering him into the second sitting room, which still had furniture.

  I had fresh furniture on order for the parlor, but it wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow. Every time Lauren passed the empty room, she grimaced.

  While the girls settled in across from the rumpled looking man—who still looked way too handsome—I asked Michael to get Jake some coffee and cookies. I doubted he’d had time for breakfast, since I’d called so early.

  The edgy fear the sheriff came in with was soon replaced by edgy concern for the girls he questioned. I knew why. He was about to break the news of the grisly discovery, and he didn’t like it one bit.

  When Lauren began to realize the questions he was asking them were the same as those I’d asked over breakfast, she preempted whatever plan he’d had for breaking it to them gently.

  “What’s going on, Sheriff? Why the sudden interest in our past?” she demanded.

  Jake looked over at me. I’d made a point of remaining in the room while he interrogated the girls. Not only was it a legal requirement, as they were under-age, but because I knew I could prompt them if they grew wary about sharing certain information.

  I nodded, giving my permission for him to come clean about what we suspected.

  “Another victim was discovered this morning. We’re starting to think that what happened to you wasn’t an isolated incident.”

  “Another girl? Who? Did she have magic like us? Where did you find her?” Lauren demanded, anxiously falling over her words in an effort to get them out as quickly as possible.

  For the next few minutes Jake explained what had happened, without mentioning me. I wasn’t sure why he left me out, or why I was glad he did. It would likely come out some time, but for now we needed the girls to keep their focus on the girl, not my part in it.

  When he had finished his explanation and asked all the questions he could think of, Jake rose and headed for the door. “I’ll look into Larry Potter from Philly, and into the agency that arranged for you to be fostered to the Joneses. It’s too soon to say for sure, but I think you girls were targeted. How they found you is just one of the questions I plan to find answers to.”

  * * *

  To keep everyone from brooding, I set them to work on cleaning rooms in readiness for the furniture that was arriving the next day. I had ordered not just new furniture for the parlor, but a pool table, ping-pong table, flat screen TV and more beds for the empty bedrooms upstairs. I knew Faith liked my sister’s old room, but Lauren was in my old room, Michael in Lucy’s old room, while Hilary had Gran’s old room, which only had a small twin bed and minimal furniture in it.

  I had never questioned Gran’s minimalist tastes, or why her room had no bed big enough to fit a husband, unlike Mom’s room which I now occupied. I knew there had been a husband, but I’d never known him, and I had no idea when he disappeared out of our lives. He was in many ways as much a mystery as my own dad had been in the early days. It was a given that men just didn’t hang around Channing Manor for long.

  So, Lauren needed better furniture, as would Hilary when Clay came home. And then there was the furniture for the baby. By the time we’d finished shopping online for everything we thought we’d want, the bill had been astronomical. But my budget was big enough for it all, and I knew it would make us all feel more settled to have furniture and new soft furnishings that were all our own.

  By the end of the day I was feeling tired but happy. The girls had asked questions about Cindy throughout the day, but only in passing. It seemed my attempt to keep them focused on their new future was working.

  I had just showered and was preparing for an early night when my cell phone rang. Hastily, I grabbed it up, hoping this was Jake with news.

  It was.

  “Are you free to talk?” he demanded briskly, as soon as I picked up.

  “Sure, I’m in my bedroom. What have you found?” I said, skipping niceties as he had done.

  “The agency that scooped up Lauren and Faith after their parents were killed doesn’t exist. There is no record of the girls with any branch of Child Services. So I doubt anyone looked for their father. It’s not all that surprising that they fell through the cracks. Nobody would have questioned the authenticity of a case worker’s credentials. Cops are just happy to hand kids over to someone else so they can get on with their job.”

  His tone was bitter, as if he knew from personal experience how little time or inclination cops have to check the authenticity of government employees. As long as they looked the part and flashed an ID, nobody would look deeper.

  “I haven’t been able to track down a Larry or Lawrence Potter yet, but I’ve got one of my guys on it. We’re also having trouble tracing Cindy Kitchener. If she was taken in the same way as your two girls then her birth name would be different. And she wouldn’t turn up on any database for missing kids. I’m hoping dental records will help, but that’s a massive job. As expected, there was nothing on the body to indicate who she was or where she came from.

  “Is there any chance you could talk to her again?” he asked tentatively, clearly uncomfortable with asking for help from a dead victim. Or even believing it was possible.

  “No problem. I’ll go out tomorrow after you guys have cleared out.”

  “We finished up out there late this afternoon. There’s crime tape, but as long as you stay outside it, you should be fine.”

  “Okay. I’ll go early, before the kids get up. I don’t know why it doesn’t feel right to let the girls know it was me and my abilities that found the body. Maybe it’s because I want to keep them as emotionally distant from the new crime as possible.”

  “I agree. Which brings me to some interesting findings I was able to dig up on our favorite pastor. It seems no Henry Herbert attended seminary school anywhere in the country. An on-line company issued him with a qualification, but it’s a pretty Mickey Mouse thing that’s barely legal. Henry Herbert is actually an eighty-five-year-old man who died in his sixties from heart-disease. So our guy’s using a fake ID. Which got me curious about the real identity of our pastor.

  “I started by looking into any criminal cases concerning exorcisms or demonic possessions anywhere in the country. There have been a few carried out by Catholic priests that went badly, but it’s the ones done by churches not affiliated with mainstream denominations that interested me.

  “I found a trail of them across the country over the last thirty years. A couple of phone calls to colleagues and I now know that Pastor Henry Herbert has been Pastor Lewis Sinclair, Pastor Robert Richards and Pastor Morton Edwards over the course of his less-than-stellar career. He has been investigated in multiple cases of kidnapping, false imprisonment and assault, but except in the first instance—when he was eighteen, for fuck’s sake—he’s never been charged.

  “I have a feeling that if I check the membership of these churches he leads, the same parishioners will appear. T
he name of the church changes, the pastor’s name changes, but little else does. Each is set up the same way as a registered charity so all income from the properties they own is tax free. I’m thinking that if I can’t get the good pastor on murder charges, I can do an Al Capone on him and get him on tax fraud.”

  He paused to draw breath, and I took the moment to process all I was being told. It sounded a lot like there was a whole army of these monsters roaming the country, like locusts, moving from one area to the next when their activities began to get them in too much hot water. They were too visible and vocal in their vicious diatribes to stay under the radar for long.

  “Were any of the victims foster kids?” I asked.

  “Nope. They thought they were, but when a check was done, they weren’t registered with any agency. For all intents and purposes they were abducted. Now, in each of these cases a girl had escaped captivity and reported the crime. We have no idea how many other girls didn’t survive. Like Cindy. This could be a ring of serial killers.

  “And what’s really getting to me is that it seems incredibly coincidental that all these girls had parents who died shortly before they were fostered to members of our pastor’s church, whatever name it was going under at the time. All were killed in car accidents.”

  I gasped. “They killed the parents? How would they justify that in their crazy minds?”

  “You tell me. I’m thinking they decided the parents had demons in them that they couldn’t exorcise, and killing them was therefore justifiable. Maybe only kids could be ‘saved’.”

  A cold shiver ran up and down my spine that had nothing to do with a ghost being present. “I wonder if I’m going to have a car accident in my near future.”

  “I doubt it, but I can’t be sure. You need to be even more vigilant. Right now, what I have is all circumstantial. I’ll need to build a case before I can bring the pastor or any more of his flock in for questioning. And I don’t want to spook them. If they know I’m onto them they’ll run, just as they have before. This has to stop here. Now!”