by Becky Durfee
“That’s it?” Isabelle asked.
With a shrug Jenny remarked, “I’m afraid so. I’m not sure what else we can do. I don’t know why we’re here, exactly, so we can only make a note of where we are and see if it becomes helpful later.” Jenny typed her home address into her GPS and pulled out of her parking spot.
“Are we going home now?”
“That’s the plan, unless there’s somewhere else you’d like to go.”
“Well, I was wondering if we could stop somewhere and get a paper. I always love to read the paper in the morning, and I’ve noticed you don’t have one delivered.”
“I think that’s a reasonable request.” Jenny stopped at a convenience store and purchased a newspaper for her mother before heading home. By the time they arrived, Rod was up, although Zack had yet to make his presence known.
“Hey,” Rod remarked with surprise as the women walked through the front door. “I didn’t know you were out. I thought maybe you were still sleeping.”
“No,” Isabelle said proudly. “We were out working on a case. Jenny got one of her feelings, apparently. She led us to this little house, although we don’t know why.”
“Really,” Rod said in an impressed tone. “I’m sorry I missed that.”
“Don’t be,” Isabelle replied. “It wasn’t a very nice neighborhood.”
Rod looked concerned. “You two weren’t in any danger there, were you?”
Jenny shook her head. “It wasn’t that bad of a neighborhood. The homes were just small and old, that’s all.”
“So did you learn anything?” Rod posed.
Plopping down on the couch, Jenny remarked, “Unfortunately, no. We got an address and a license plate number, though. Those things might end up telling us something later on.”
“Can you figure out the name of the person who lives there?” Rod asked.
“Probably, unless he’s renting,” Jenny answered. “I’ll look that up in a minute. First I need to just sit down for a second. I’m so dag-gone tired.”
Rod looked puzzled. “You didn’t sleep well?”
“No, I slept fine,” she replied. “Somehow it just wasn’t enough.”
“Well,” Isabelle proclaimed, “I guess I’ll take advantage of this time and go freshen up. I’m desperate for a shower and a toothbrush. You two enjoy catching up.” She walked over and patted Jenny’s leg. “And you…take it easy.” With a wink Isabelle tucked the newspaper tucked under her arm and disappeared out of sight.
“It says here the person who owns the house is named John Zeigler,” Jenny recited as she referred to her laptop.
Rod was sitting across the table from her enjoying some eggs and toast. “Is that the guy you saw?”
With a smile Jenny raised her eyes to meet Rod’s. “Maybe.”
“Did he look anything like that guy from your painting?”
Jenny thought back to the black-haired man lighting his cigarette on the front stoop. Slowly shaking her head she replied, “I don’t think so. This guy had much darker features than the man in my visions. And he was a lot lankier, too.”
Rod took a bite of his eggs. “You know, I have to admit how impressed I am with that portrait you painted. Faces aren’t easy to master, and you obviously created such an amazing likeness that I was able to channel his essence from it. That means it essentially had the quality of a photograph.”
Jenny smiled. “Thank you, Rod, but I’m not sure I can take the credit for that one. It’s funny; when I make a landscape, I’m very deliberate about it, but when a spirit has shown me a face in a vision, it’s as if the spirit is making the painting. It’s almost like a paint-by-number—my hand just seems to know what color to put where.”
“It still takes skill,” Rod noted.
Jenny shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe just experience.” Switching gears she added, “I’m glad to see things aren’t weird between you and Mom.”
“There’s no reason for things to be weird. We got together while she was separated from her husband, and then she decided to give her husband another chance. It was quite simple, really. I completely understood why she wanted things to work out with him; they had three kids together. In fact, I was actually hoping they could find a way to make it work. As much as I enjoyed your mother’s company, they had a family to consider. For the sake of those boys, I gladly bowed out of the scene.” Rod let out a laugh. “I guess that’s the long way of saying that we left things on a good note.”
“But she had your child and didn’t tell you,” Jenny said bluntly. “A lot of men would be very angry about that.”
Rod shook his head. “I don’t blame her at all. I probably would have done the same thing in her shoes, to tell you the truth. I was in no position to be a father. I was a young hippie, living where I could, earning a few dollars here and there.” He looked at Jenny with a sinister smile. “I borrowed other people’s houses for God’s sake. I would have made the worst father in the world. As much as I wish I could have known you before this, I do have to admit you were better off growing up without me in the picture. I only would have disappointed you time and time again.”
Jenny thought of her own baby, and fear began to grip her. Was Zack going to be responsible enough to give this baby what it needed? She had the finances to ensure the baby wouldn’t go without the tangible things, but kids need the availability of both of their parents. Would this child get that?
At that moment Isabelle, still without a shower, came into the kitchen. “Hey Jenny,” she said, unfolding the newspaper on the kitchen table. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t this look like the guy in your painting?”
Isabelle pointed to the photograph of a man on the second page. Waves of recognition consumed Jenny as she looked at the picture. “Oh my God,” Jenny said with awe. “That is him.”
Chapter 6
The headline next to the picture read: Son To Face Trial In Father’s Murder.
Without a word the three of them simultaneously scanned the short article.
Brian Morris, 23, of 75 Dixon Street in Hargrove is scheduled to go to trial next week for the stabbing death of his father, 48 year-old Aaron Morris. The murder occurred last July when an altercation ensued at Aaron Morris’s Courtland Avenue home. Prosecutors assert the killing was premeditated; the lawyers representing Brian Morris claim he was acting in self-defense.
The Morris family had also made headlines seven years earlier when Patricia Morris, wife of Aaron and mother of Brian, was reported missing. While foul play was suspected in her disappearance, no charges have ever been filed in the case.
“Now it makes sense,” Rod proclaimed once he finished reading.
Jenny hadn’t seen it that way. “What does?”
“The reason you were led to the prison. I bet the son is there awaiting trial.”
After thinking about that for a moment, Jenny nodded in agreement. “You’re probably right.”
“It says the father was killed in his house,” Isabelle posed. “Do you think that was the house you were led to this morning?”
“Afraid not,” Jenny replied with a shake of her head. “It wasn’t on Courtland Avenue.”
“So then why did we go there?” Isabelle asked.
Shrugging, Jenny slowly confessed, “I have no idea.”
“Well, let’s focus on the person who is contacting you,” Rod began. “It appears she must be Patricia, who, in the eyes of the law, is just missing right now.” He made finger quotes.
“She’s not missing,” Jenny clarified. “She was murdered…drowned by the man who was then killed by his own son several years later.”
Quiet ensued as the trio contemplated the latest development.
Eventually Rod’s deep voice penetrated the silence. “It looks like it’s time to delve into the personal lives of the Morris family.”
“The Morrises did live in that house we went to this morning,” Jenny proclaimed, looking at her laptop. She had since woken Zack and the
four of them were each doing their own investigation in the living room. “They didn’t live there last year when the father was murdered, but they were there at the time Patricia went missing eight years ago.”
Isabelle looked over at Jenny. “Could she have been murdered at that house?”
Recalling her vision, Jenny replied, “I don’t think so. She was held under water, but it didn’t seem like she was in a bath tub. She was somewhat upright, so she was most likely in a body of water, like a lake or an ocean or something.”
“Or a swimming pool?” Rod proposed.
Jenny nodded. “Or a swimming pool.”
“Did the house you went to have a pool?” Rod asked.
“I doubt it,” Jenny said. “I can’t say for sure, because there could have been one in the back, but the yards seemed very small, and the houses weren’t that fancy. If you could afford a pool, you could probably afford to live in a better area than that.”
“I found something about her disappearance.” Zack interjected, skimming the article as he spoke. “According to this, she just went missing, almost as if she disappeared into thin air. It was a Saturday afternoon and she went out to run errands. When she didn’t come home and couldn’t be reached on her cell phone, her husband drove around looking for her but was unable to find her. After that he reported her missing to the police. The next day her car was found abandoned in the parking lot of an old gas station that had gone out of business decades earlier. Patricia’s purse and keys were still inside the car, along with her cell phone, but there was little else in terms of evidence at the scene. The only thing that seemed out of sorts was that the driver’s seat was back too far. Patricia was apparently only five feet tall, but the seat was adjusted for someone much taller. But even though everything pointed to foul play, no real suspects have ever emerged.”
“We all know it was foul play,” Rod said with disgust.
“I’m surprised that nobody suspects Aaron. If he was as much of a monster as he seems to be, wouldn’t he be the first person they’d accuse?” Jenny was grateful Zack hadn’t used the word asshole in front of her mother, although it was most likely the term he would have preferred.
“Public Aaron and Private Aaron,” Isabelle remarked under her breath while she glanced subtly at Jenny. With more vigor she added, “I’m sure they did look at him…with scrutiny. The spouse is usually the first one they suspect. But sometimes the image a person portrays publicly doesn’t give any indication of what they’re really like. Maybe he seemed like a great guy to the police—and everybody else—and was able to pull it off. And if he did manage to successfully portray the whole grieving husband routine, people may have even felt sorry for him.”
“Imagine that,” Jenny said softly.
“The article claims he has an air-tight alibi,” Zack added as he continued to read. “He says he spent the afternoon running errands with his son, which the son corroborated.”
“Is this the same son that is now accused of killing him?” Rod posed.
Zack looked up. “The one and only.”
Rod interlaced his fingers and placed them on top of his head. “Okay, so we have an abusive husband whose wife goes missing, but we all know he killed her. He gets the son to be his alibi, and then a few years later the son ends up killing the father.”
“That’s some serious dysfunction,” Zack noted. “And I thought my family was bad.”
Rod smiled at Zack’s comment before continuing. “The mother has contacted Jenny, making her aware of the abuse and leading her to the prison where—presumably—the son is awaiting trial…”
Jenny took over as the message became clear to her. “…Awaiting a trial that is designed to portray the son as a callous, premeditated murderer. That’s got to be it!” she added with excitement. “Patricia wants to make sure Brian doesn’t get convicted of first-degree murder. She’s trying to provide evidence that Aaron was abusive to bolster the defense’s claim that Brian had acted in self-defense.” She looked at each person in the room. “I bet she is trying to get her son out of jail.”
“I’d buy that,” Zack noted. “So now we just need to come up with some proof that Aaron killed Patricia so he can be seen as a viable threat to Brian.”
“And how do we do that?” Isabelle asked.
Jenny once again looked around the room. “I have no idea.”
Looking up from her laptop, Jenny glanced over to Rod. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Here you flew across the country to see me and I’m ignoring you.”
“Are you kidding?” Rod asked. “I’m loving every minute of this.” He was on his own tablet in search of a decent photograph of Patricia so he could channel her spirit. “Are you guys having any luck?”
“I may be on to something, actually,” Zack began as he referred to an article he’d found on his computer. “We all know Patricia’s car was found in an abandoned gas station parking lot, but when I map it and zoom out, I can see that the car was a few miles from a small pond. Do you think it’s possible she could have been drowned in that pond?”
“It’s certainly possible,” Jenny remarked. “One question would be whether or not other people would have been there on that day. If other people were around, he probably wouldn’t have been able to get away with drowning her in a public place.”
“What month did she go missing?” Rod asked.
Jenny referred to her notes. “October.”
“I doubt you’d see swimmers at that time, but there may have been some fishermen,” Rod announced. “Provided that fishing is allowed in that pond.”
“It doesn’t seem very big,” Zack noted. “I’m not sure how many fishermen it would attract.”
Jenny spoke slowly as she scribbled down the words on her notepad. “Field trip to pond.” She underlined the phrase with vigor. “I think we’ll need to check it out for ourselves.”
Zack raised his finger. “That’s a great idea.”
Jenny looked up at the others and added, “There’s actually another field trip I’d like to take.”
Nobody replied, but they all looked at her curiously.
“I’d like to go to Benning Penitentiary and visit Brian.”
“What?” Isabelle exclaimed with disbelief. “That’s crazy. I don’t want you going to a prison.”
Somehow Jenny knew that would be the reaction she’d get from her mother. “Ma, it’ll be completely safe. I’ve never been to a prison before, but as far as I can tell we’ll be on opposite sides of a glass wall with guards everywhere. Besides, if our theory is correct, Brian isn’t really a danger to society—he acted in self-defense against a man who had already proven that he was capable of murder.”
Isabelle disapprovingly pursed her lips, although her resolve seemed to soften. “I still don’t like the idea. Can’t one of the men go instead?”
Jenny shook her head. “I think I need to, just in case Patricia tries to send me another message while I’m there.”
“It should be completely safe,” Rod assured Isabelle. “But if it makes you feel any better we can all accompany her there. Based on my own personal experiences, I just think they’ll only allow one visitor in to see him at a time.”
Isabelle’s face reflected her displeasure, but she didn’t say anything.
“Maybe if I tell him that I know about his father he’ll open up to me. Maybe he can even fill us in on what he knows about Patricia.”
Zack, who had been busy typing on his computer, announced, “Benning has visiting hours this afternoon from one to five.”
The group exchanged glances. Finally Rod said, “It looks like we’re going on a field trip.”
Jenny sat nervously at the desk, facing the glass in front of her. There was a phone to her right and a matching phone on the other side of the divider. For the moment the seat in front of her was empty; soon enough Brian Morris would be occupying that chair. Unsure of what to expect, Jenny was a bundle of nerves.
The door opened behind the glass
wall, and in walked Brian—a defeated-looking young man in an orange jumpsuit, being escorted by a guard. His brown hair was disheveled, his eyes distant. Handcuffs connected his wrists and his ankles were shackled, causing him to take baby steps as he approached the seat. The guard said something as he freed Brian’s hands; then the guard walked into the corner of the room and stood at attention.
Brian took the seat across from Jenny, giving her a puzzled look. He picked up the phone and Jenny did the same, although she promptly let the phone slip through her fingers onto the desk. She tried to recover quickly, scooping up the phone nonchalantly and placing it to her ear, but she already knew she’d made a very bad first impression.
“You with the press?” Brian asked immediately.
Jenny shook her head. “No, I’m not with the press. My name is Jenny Watkins, and I’m just here to talk to you.”
He didn’t reply; he simply used a fingernail to remove something from between his teeth, glaring at Jenny with a look that silently dared her to continue.
“I’m a psychic,” Jenny added.
Brian flashed the skeptical look she had seen a million times before.
Undeterred, she continued. “I’ve been contacted by your mother, Patricia.”
He leaned back as far as his phone cord would let him, looking as if he was not at all amused by her claim. “You’re telling me that my mother hired you? That’s a fucking joke.”
Shaking her head slightly, she replied, “No, I guess I wasn’t clear. Your mother didn’t contact me.” She softened her tone. “Her spirit did.”
For a moment a light flashed in Brian’s eyes, but he quickly stifled the flicker and resumed his cynical demeanor. “You expect me to believe that?”
Used to that reaction, Jenny replied sympathetically, “No. I don’t expect you to believe that. Not yet, anyway. But I do want you to hear me out, and maybe before this conversation is over you’ll become convinced that I’m for real.”