by Becky Durfee
Jenny sat at the kitchen table and opened the “Mom-To-Be” journal she stopped and bought on the way home. She read about what was happening to her body, noting that her baby was roughly the size of a poppy seed at that point. Looking down at her belly she made a face; how could a poppy seed be making her drop things? It didn’t make sense. She placed her hand on her stomach, trying to wrap her head around the fact that a little human being was living inside of her. While it was exciting, Jenny had to admit there was also an element of creepiness to it.
Returning her attention to the journal, she began to address the questions. “How am I feeling today?” Jenny read out loud. She clicked the pen in her hand and spoke as she wrote the word, “clumsy.” A small wave of déjà vu made itself known; Jenny froze and looked around the room with just her eyes.
She read the next question. “Foods I am craving.” She thought for a moment and wrote, “None yet.”
Her bright kitchen became dim around her. She sat quietly in a dark room, illuminated only by a single bedside lamp. Her whole body ached; tears drenched her face. Her pen scribbled down all of her thoughts in no particular order. She hoped the horrible feeling she harbored would somehow flow through the pen and onto the paper and she’d be rid of it.
Though that was always the goal, it was unfortunately never the case. While writing down the day’s dreadful events was an outlet, it didn’t provide the clarity she longed for. Why did this keep happening? What had she done wrong? What could she do differently to stop this? If only she knew.
Chronicling the events leading up to the episodes didn’t provide any answers, either. The outbursts seemed random at times, triggered by something that in no way involved her. Yet she bore the brunt of the anger. Somehow everything that had ever gone wrong was her fault, and she was required to pay for it.
The dog-eared pages she wrote on had seen better days. Fitting, she thought, because so had she. Hearing a noise, she quickly closed the book, tucking it under her pillow. Act natural, she told herself. He would kill me if he knew about this.
A second noise snapped Jenny into the present. Isabelle had popped open a can of soda that she’d just retrieved from the refrigerator behind her.
“Ma,” Jenny said with a jump. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry honey,” she replied. “I thought you knew I was here.”
“No, I didn’t.” Dismay filled Jenny’s voice. “I was actually having a vision.”
Isabelle sat down at the table with a look of concern. “A vision?”
Jenny nodded. “I was filling out my pregnancy journal when I got this image in my head of Patricia writing in a journal of her own. She apparently kept a record of Aaron’s behavior and how she felt about it.” She looked up at her mother and added with a smile, “And that just might be the tangible proof we need to free Brian.”
“The lawyer’s name is Michael Carter, according to this,” Rod announced, looking at an article he found on the Internet.
“I don’t suppose that has his contact information written on there with a nice, neat little bow?” Jenny posed.
“No such luck. But I’m sure he can’t be that difficult to find. He’s a court-appointed defense attorney. I would think a few phone calls would cut it, especially if we claim we can help him win a high-profile case.”
Jenny scratched her head. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“Why don’t you leave that to me,” Rod said. “I’ll figure out how to get a hold of this Mr. Carter character.”
“I don’t mean to be a downer,” Isabelle interjected. “But should you really tell the lawyer about a piece of evidence that may not even exist anymore? We have no idea where this journal is; for all we know Aaron may have found it and destroyed it.”
Jenny nodded. “I want to talk to the lawyer, journal or not. I will certainly make mention of the journal, but I mostly want to share what I know about Aaron’s abusive behavior.” She checked the time, noting it was early afternoon. “I’m hoping Darlene can get back to me soon, letting me know if she found any pictures of Patricia with marks or bruises. Those might be useful to the lawyer, too. In the meantime I’d like to make another trip out to Benning Penitentiary. I realize it’s a long shot, but maybe Brian has had a change of heart. And maybe—just maybe—he will have an idea about where I can find that journal.”
Isabelle’s face reflected her disapproval. “Please bring one of the guys with you.”
Jenny turned toward her boyfriend. “Zack?”
With a nod Zack replied, “I’ll go.”
They checked the visiting hours and determined it would be best to leave right away. Rod agreed to stay behind and track down Mike Carter’s contact information while they were gone.
Behind the wheel, Jenny asked Zack to dial her phone and put her on speaker. “I’d like you to call Darlene,” she said. “I want to know if she found anything incriminating in her old pictures.”
The phone rang on the other end until Jenny heard a shaky voice say a weak, “Hello?”
Darlene’s tone caught Jenny by surprise. “Darlene? It’s Jenny Watkins. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” she said unconvincingly. “Everything’s okay. They just called me a little bit ago to let me know they’d made a positive identification on Patricia’s body.”
“I’m so sorry, Darlene.”
“Don’t be.” Darlene let out a deep exhale. “I knew it was her. And really, I’m glad to finally have answers. It’s just hard to hear, you know?”
“Absolutely,” Jenny replied. “It’s the worst news anyone can receive.”
“This has all just been an absolute nightmare,” Darlene agreed. “For eight years now I feel like I’ve been living in hell.”
“You have been living in hell.”
“And Brian has it even worse than I do,” Darlene noted in a defeated tone.
“Well, I’m on my way to visit him right now. I actually had a vision a little while ago that might prove to be helpful…I’m under the impression that Patricia may have kept a journal while she was alive. That journal may provide a record of Aaron’s abuse. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“A journal?” Darlene asked, sounding as if she was deep in thought. “I can’t say for sure that she had one, although it wouldn’t surprise me. She always was a scribbler.”
“Do you know where she might have kept it if she did?”
“Well, wherever she kept it would be long gone by now. Aaron moved after she disappeared and took all the furniture with him. I’m sure if she stored it somewhere, Aaron would have already found it.”
“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” Jenny replied. “But I have a hard time believing that Patricia would clue me in on a piece of evidence that doesn’t exist anymore.” Jenny thought for a moment, but then she switched gears in her head. “Speaking of evidence, have you had a chance to look at some old pictures?”
“Yes, I have, actually. I’m sorry I haven’t gotten back to you on that. I’ve been busy making arrangements for Kathy and Chris to fly in from Colorado, and making some other appointments.” She paused for a moment. “You know, funeral arrangements.”
“I completely understand.”
“But I was able to find some pictures, not with bruises, but with Patricia wearing more clothes than she should have been. I noticed she wore a lot of turtlenecks, even when the rest of us were wearing shorts and t-shirts. She claimed she was always cold, so I never questioned that, but the turtleneck thing only started happening after she married Aaron.”
“I think that’s good information,” Jenny said.
“God,” Darlene whispered. “Why couldn’t I have figured that out? It was staring me in the face.”
“Don’t feel bad about that,” Jenny replied. “Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. If she told you she was always cold and didn’t act funny at all, why would you question that?”
“Because I’m her mother, and it’
s my job to look out for her.”
Speaking from her own experience, Jenny replied, “After a while, it becomes her job to start looking out for herself.”
Darlene didn’t say anything in return.
“Listen,” Jenny began again, “If I give you my email address, can you possibly scan some of those pictures and send them to me? I plan to go to the defense attorney’s office later today, and I think those pictures would be helpful.”
“Absolutely. I’ll be sure to include some pictures from ‘before Aaron’ where she dressed in t-shirts like the rest of us, just to show the turtlenecks didn’t start happening until he came around.”
“That’s perfect,” Jenny replied. “Thank you so much.”
“No,” Darlene said. “Thank you. But there is something else I wanted to mention to you.”
Jenny’s curiosity was piqued. “What is it?”
“The police asked me about a gun they found at the scene.”
“A gun?”
“Yeah,” Darlene said. “There was apparently a gun at the bottom of the pond, not too far from where Patricia’s body had been found. Did any of your visions involve a gun?”
Shaking her head, Jenny emphatically said, “No. There have never been any weapons involved. Aaron just always used his hands.” Confused, she added, “Are they sure the gun is related to this case?”
“No, I don’t think they are. That’s why they were asking me about it.”
“Well, if I had to put money on it,” Jenny said. “I would bet that the location of that gun was just a coincidence.”
Jenny was less frightened of Benning’s visiting room the second time around. She sat at the desk, patiently waiting for Brian to appear from behind the glass. Soon enough he came toddling in, his feet in shackles. He glanced in Jenny’s direction and flashed her a nasty look, but he still sat down and picked up the receiver on his side of the barrier.
“What do you want?” he asked.
Jenny’s small sliver of hope that Brian had changed his mind disappeared instantly. “I want to ask you about a journal your mother kept.”
Brian’s eyes once again flickered, although his tough demeanor remained. “A journal?”
With a nod, Jenny confirmed, “Yes, a journal. You wouldn’t happen to know where that journal may be, do you?”
“Nope. Sure don’t.”
Jenny sighed, trying to keep her frustration tucked away. “I think that journal chronicled the abuse she endured at the hands of your father. That journal could be the piece of evidence that you need to prove your case of self-defense.”
Brian shrugged, feigning indifference. “It won’t matter. You might as well not even look for it.”
Jenny studied his face. “Don’t you understand that this journal could be the key to setting you free?”
“Don’t you understand that I’ll never be free?” Brian once again hung up the receiver and motioned to the guard that he wanted to leave.
Jenny stood up from her chair and walked out into the waiting room. Zack glanced up at her and remarked, “That was quick…again.”
“It was very similar to last time,” Jenny replied. “Except I did learn one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That secret Brian is keeping?” Jenny looked intently at Zack. “You’ll find it in that journal.”
Mike Carter looked overwhelmed. This was probably the biggest case he’d ever had.
“I believe the case has more levels than just the matter at hand,” Jenny said with Rod and Zack sitting behind her.
“So what do you think is going on?”
“Brian’s mother went missing eight years ago. Yesterday some remains were found in a small pond a few miles from where her car had been abandoned. This morning the remains were conclusively identified as being Patricia Morris, Brian’s mother.”
“How is it that you know this and I don’t?” Mike asked.
“Because I’m a psychic, and Patricia Morris has been contacting me.”
Mike looked at Jenny skeptically.
Jenny held up her hands. “Look, I know it’s crazy, but we don’t have time for this.” She gestured to Rod and Zack. “We were able to find Patricia’s remains because Patricia herself led me to them. The only way I would have known where they were is if she told me, or if I was the one who put them there—which I wasn’t.”
Mike looked at his three visitors. “You found her remains?”
“Yes. We found them yesterday.”
Mike typed frantically into his laptop.
“I believe she’d been drowned…by her husband Aaron. She’s been giving me messages, letting me know that Aaron was abusive.”
Mike stopped typing to stare at Jenny. “Can any of that be substantiated?”
“That’s just it,” Jenny confessed. “Not as of now. But I am under the impression that Patricia kept a journal that documented the abuse.”
“You’re under the impression she kept a journal?”
“Yes, sir. That’s my belief.”
“And do you know where this supposed journal is?” Mike asked.
Jenny shook her head, looking down at her lap. “I wish I did.”
Mike leaned back in his chair. “So what you’re telling me is that you think Brian truly did act in self-defense that day, and somewhere there’s a document that can potentially prove that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We go to trial soon,” he noted. “If this case stands a chance at all, we need to find that journal.”
Jenny nodded. “I’ll do my best to try to find it,” she said looking around, desperately hoping Patricia had heard that as well.
Switching gears, Jenny continued. “We do have something else that may help, although it’s largely circumstantial.” Jenny handed Mike the pictures she’d printed out from her computer, explaining that Patricia’s style of dress had changed once Aaron entered the picture. “In my very first vision, I could see Aaron strangling her. He has her pinned to the wall by her neck.” Jenny pointed to the collar of Patricia’s shirt in one of the photographs. “You’ll notice here that she’s wearing a turtleneck on a day that is clearly warm enough for a short-sleeved shirt. A lot of these pictures show that very same thing.”
Mike nodded as he contemplated the picture, but he didn’t say anything.
“There is one more twist that you might want to know about, if you don’t already,” Jenny added with a wince. “Are you aware that the police are theorizing that Brian may have also killed his mother?”
Wiping his hands down his face, Mike replied, “No, I was not aware of that.” Looking like he was at his wits end he added, “And just how do you know that? Is this another one of your messages from beyond?”
“No, this time Patricia’s mother told me. That’s the spin they were putting on the story when they interrogated her after the remains were found.”
“Jesus Christ,” Mike whispered.
“Their thought process is that if Brian is capable of killing Aaron, which he openly admits he did, then he also would have been capable of killing Patricia eight years earlier.”
Mike hung his head and rested his elbows on the table. This poor young lawyer was quite obviously in way over his head. Looking up at Jenny he eventually remarked, “If this kid stands any chance at all of acquittal, you have got to find that journal.”
Exhausted from the pregnancy, Jenny excused herself early and washed up for bed. Feeling extremely comfortable in her pajamas, she slid between the sheets, grateful to let her head hit the pillow. She closed her eyes as waves of sleep quickly came over her, and before she knew it she found herself back at the house Patricia had shared with Aaron.
Several moments later Jenny shot up in bed with a gasp, looking around to make sure she was still physically in her own bedroom. Both excited and terrified, she jumped out of bed and headed down the hallway. She reentered the living room, receiving curious looks from the others.
With a deep exhale Jenny a
nnounced, “I know Brian’s secret.”
Chapter 11
“What?” Isabelle exclaimed. “You know the secret?”
“I do.” Jenny took a seat on the sofa next to Zack. “I just had another vision, and it was very telling.” She lowered her shoulders. “And disturbing.”
Zack reached over and rubbed Jenny’s back.
“So what happened?” Isabelle posed.
Jenny began the story. “Well, I found myself heading up the walkway leading to the house that the slim man now lives in—the house Patricia had owned before she went missing. I heard frantic shouting from inside the house—male voices. Then a teenage boy busted out the front door and ran toward the street. I called for him, saying, Derrick, what’s wrong? But he didn’t reply. He briefly glanced my way, looking both panicked and apologetic at the same time, but he just kept running.
“At that point I felt sheer terror as I ran up the stairs into the house. Once I got inside, the shouts became a whole lot louder. I knew they were coming from Brian’s room, so I rushed around the corner to find Brian sprawled out on the floor with Aaron straddling him, pinning him to the ground by his neck.
“I heard myself scream, What the hell is going on here?”
Jenny deliberated before continuing, noting the upcoming curse words might have been offensive to her mother. Deciding that the story needed to be told, she pressed on.
“Aaron looked up at me and shouted, He’s a fucking faggot, that’s what’s going on in here! Then he lifted Brian up off the ground and slammed him into the floor with each syllable as he said, A God damn mother fucking faggot!” Jenny demonstrated the violence with her hands.
“Oh my God,” Isabelle said with a look of concern, “that’s terrible.”
“I know,” Jenny agreed. “Aaron was pulverizing the poor kid.”
“So then what happened?” Zack asked. “Was that the end of the vision?”
Jenny shook her head. “At that point I ran over to Aaron, trying to pry him off of Brian, repeatedly yelling, Get off of him!