by Becky Durfee
“But how do you get into a locked door?” Jenny asked.
Rod held up his hand. “Don’t you worry about it. The less you know about all of this the better. But I figure I’m an old guy—maybe people will think I’m Slim’s father or something. I think it might be less suspicious than if, say, Zack tried to get in.”
“I don’t know how to pick a lock,” Zack said, laughing goofily. “I’d be a lousy candidate for more reasons than one.”
Rod momentarily seemed to forget his anxiety and actually smiled. “Well, once I’m in, I want to take a look around and make sure it’s safe. No dog, no roommate, that kind of thing. Then I’ll give you a call and tell you to come in. Ideally I’d like to be in and out in less than five minutes.” He turned to Jenny, “Are you sure you know where the journal is?”
“As sure as I can be.”
With a deep sigh, Rod said, “Okay, well, I guess we’ll head out of here at sundown. I only hope
Slim has plans tonight.”
“He’s young,” Jenny noted. “Hopefully he does.”
“And mums the word on this, okay you two?” Rod continued. “If either Isabelle or Marcia find out we’re doing this I’m as good as dead.”
“I have no plans to tell my mother about this,” Jenny replied with a laugh. “Rest assured.”
With that Rod seemed to calm down. “I guess it’s nap time, then,” he said as he looked back and forth between Zack and Jenny. “I think we should all try to catch some z’s. It may be a long night.”
Jenny and Zack sat in the dark in her car, which was parked several houses down from Slim’s; there had been a closer spot, but Rod took it. At the moment Slim’s red car was parked directly in front of his house, and for the past hour it had remained lifeless.
“We should have brought cards,” Zack noted.
“I agree with you. If I had something to keep my mind busy, I wouldn’t be so focused on the fact that I have to pee.”
“Well, we could talk about baby names,” Zack said, much to Jenny’s surprise.
“You really want to talk about baby names?” Jenny asked with a smile. “That’s such a girly thing to want to do.”
“It’s got to be done eventually, doesn’t it? And we’ve got nothing else to do.”
“True.” Jenny reached down and lowered the seat back just a little bit, allowing her to lean slightly and get comfortable. This new position gave her bladder a little more room, invoking a tiny bit of relief.
“I have the feeling you’re going to like this name, but feel free to say so if you don’t.”
“Okay,” Jenny said, brimming with curiosity. “Shoot.”
“I was thinking we could name him Steven, after Steve O’dell.” Zack was referring to the first spirit to contact Jenny. “If it wasn’t for him, we never would have met. Not only that, but just about every other male Larrabee name is already taken. Believe it or not, I don’t know of any Steves in my family—at least not my immediate family. I’m sure there’s one running around somewhere, but it’s no one I know.”
“Steve Larrabee,” Jenny said thoughtfully. She smiled as she turned to face Zack. “I like it.” A thought occurred to her. “I’m assuming you’re okay with the baby having your last name?”
“Of course,” Zack said. “I certainly will never deny the little guy.”
With a deep-rooted smile Jenny looked back out the front window at Slim’s car, which continued to sit motionlessly in its spot. “But what about a middle name? Have you thought of that?”
“I haven’t gotten that far,” Zack replied. “Any suggestions?”
Jenny thought for a while, realizing she’d be able to think much more clearly if her bladder wasn’t so full. “I like the name Tyler,” she suggested. “Steven Tyler Larrabee.”
“Steven Tyler is the Aerosmith dude,” Zack replied. “And while I like the band, I don’t want to name my kid after that guy.”
With a laugh Jenny said, “Oh yeah. Maybe that’s why it sounded so natural to me. Um…let’s think, then. We could name him after my father… the guy who raised me, I mean, not Rod. While I certainly like him enough, I’m not crazy about the name Roddan.”
“What was your father’s name?”
“Francis, but everyone called him Frank.”
“Steve Francis was a basketball player.”
“Good grief,” Jenny said with pretend disgust. “It seems like every name is taken.”
They both thought silently for a moment before Jenny declared, “We could switch gears and focus on girls’ names.”
“That would be a waste of time.”
“Don’t you think we ought to be prepared? I mean, just in case…”
“I suppose I could humor you, as long as you don’t get your hopes up.”
At that moment Jenny saw Slim emerge from his house. “There he is,” Jenny said. “Stay still.”
Neither Zack nor Jenny moved a muscle as Slim headed down his front walk to his car. Soon after, his tail lights came on, but it wasn’t until a couple of minutes later that he actually pulled out of his spot.
Jenny let out the breath she’d been holding since she first saw him emerge from the house. Her nerves surged as her phone rang. As she expected, the caller was Rod.
“He just left, did you see that?” Rod asked.
“Yeah, I saw.”
“Okay, I have no idea how long he’ll be gone, so I want to work quickly. I’m going to head up there, but I want you to notice that I’m walking normally. I’m going to act like I belong there. You and Zack need to do the same. You’ll attract attention to yourselves if you look like you’re sneaking around.”
“Gotcha,” Jenny said. Now that nerves were involved, she really, really needed to pee.
She hung up the phone and watched Rod emerge from his car. As he had said, he looked quite natural as he walked up the walk. He reached into his pocket, pulling out what for all intents and purposes could have been a key, playing with the lock for a moment. Jenny held her breath as he fiddled, and a lot sooner than she expected he was able to open the front door.
Jenny closed her eyes, suddenly second guessing herself about the dog. Suppose Slim really had an attack dog in there? Was Rod actually in danger? She couldn’t stand the uncertainty. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to wait too long to find out.
Mercifully her phone rang. She answered it immediately, which was not easy while wearing latex gloves. “Are you safe?”
“Yup,” Rod said. “It’s all clear. Now please just get in here and let’s get this over with.”
Jenny hung up the phone and warned Zack to act inconspicuously as they got out of the car. She herself was aware that she was supposed to be acting naturally, which made her feel as if she was the most noticeable person in the world. Her mind was dizzy as they walked up the sidewalk. Was she really about to do this? They were risking so much…
They approached the house and Jenny noticed that Rod had left the door ajar. They walked in quickly, closing the door behind them. Immediately Jenny curled her lip and made a face. “It stinks in here.” She sniffed a couple of more times and said, “It smells like burnt plastic.”
“Never mind that,” Rod said. “Let’s get the journal and get out of here.”
Ignoring the nausea the smell was inducing, Jenny looked at the familiar layout of the house. She’d seen this house many times in her visions, so she knew the master bedroom was at the end of a short hallway off the living room. Upon entering the master bedroom she noticed it was furnished differently than she had remembered, but the window was exactly where she expected it to be.
But there was a problem.
“Shit,” she whispered as she turned around and headed back out into the living room where the men stood guard. “There’s a dresser covering the floorboard. It looks heavy. I’ll need you guys to move it.”
After whispering curse words under their breath, Zack and Rod wasted no time heading into the bedroom. Jenny took advantage of that
time to make a trip to the bathroom.
After she flushed and headed back into the bedroom, Rod said emphatically, “You used the bathroom?” He and Zack were struggling to lift the dresser without disturbing anything that rested on its surface.
“I had to,” Jenny replied. She thought about apologizing, but she wasn’t sorry.
“Damn,” Zack noted. “This thing is frickin heavy.”
“What’s that stuff on top of the dresser?” Jenny asked as she looked at what appeared to be small white rocks; they were everywhere.
“That,” Rod said as he strained, “is crack.”
Suddenly Jenny knew why Slim didn’t want anybody in his house.
Once the dresser was far enough away from the wall, Jenny worked her way around to the window, recalling in her mind exactly where the loose floorboard was. She pressed down on some boards, quickly finding the one that sunk downward, in turn causing the other end of the board to rise. She reached her hand underneath the newly raised portion of the floor, feeling around until her hand brushed up against the journal. “Bingo,” she said as she pulled it up. Replacing the board, she moved as fast as she could out of the way so Zack and Rod could put the dresser back.
As the guys worked quickly but carefully, Jenny began to feel funny in her head. She froze, closing her eyes, feeling nearly overcome with waves of energy. She took several deep breaths, clinging to the journal, trying to understand what was happening to her.
“Come on,” Rod said. His voice sounded distant. “We’re done. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Wait,” Jenny replied, holding up her hand.
“Wait?” Rod said impatiently. “No, there’s no wait. Let’s go.”
“Give me just a sec,” Jenny insisted.
“Jesus Christ,” Rod whispered. He began to pace in small circles.
After a moment, Jenny’s eyes opened and she walked with purpose toward the front door. With a quick glance in Rod’s direction as she passed him, she said, “Follow me.”
The three walked out the door in a single file line, Jenny in the lead. Rod, exiting last, closed the door behind him, and they walked casually to their cars.
Jenny drove down unfamiliar streets with Zack sitting quietly in the passenger seat. He continually glanced in the mirror, making sure Rod was still behind them. After a twenty minute drive, Jenny pulled into a church parking lot where she stopped, got out of the car, and continued to walk with determination into the nearly pitch-black graveyard behind the building.
She tried to remain mindful of where she stepped as not to treat anyone with disrespect. She was painfully aware that she failed in her mission, her feet occasionally landing directly above the deceased, but she didn’t allow that to wake from her trance. She figured she had a very important reason for being there and her carelessness would be forgiven.
She found herself in front of a double headstone, and it was there that the pull subsided. This was where she was supposed to be. It was too dark for her to make out the names that were engraved on the tombstone, so she pulled out her cell phone and turned on its flashlight feature. She squatted down in front of the slab and held out her phone, which was able to illuminate only a word at a time.
Zack and Rod waited behind her as she silently read the words that were unveiled. “Oh my God,” she whispered, turning around to look at the silhouettes of the men that had accompanied her. “This isn’t about Patricia.”
Chapter 16
Rod’s deep voice echoed through the darkness. “What? How do you know?”
Jenny turned back around and shone the flashlight on the headstones. “This says the grave belongs to Marcy Ann and Peter Michael Zeigler.”
“Zeigler?”Zack asked.
“Holy shit,” Rod said. “This is about Slim?”
“I believe it is.” Squinting to make out the poorly-lit dates, Jenny added, “It looks like she was born in 1963 and he was born in 1960—but they both died on the same day twelve years ago.”
“Oh God,” Rod commented. “That can’t be good.”
Confident that she wouldn’t be able to obtain any more information from the stones, Jenny stood up and flashed the cell phone light onto Zack and Rod.
“Do you have any idea why you got led here?” Zack asked.
“None whatsoever.” Jenny was a little freaked out by the guys’ shadowy faces that resulted from her dim cell phone light; she lowered her phone, directing the beam toward the ground.
“Well,” Rod began. “It looks like we need to do a little digging into the Zeigler family.”
Curled up on the couch in her sweatpants, Jenny found herself repulsed by the smell of the journal. It reeked of the same burnt plastic smell as Slim’s house with an added element of mustiness. “I can’t do this,” she said, handing the journal over to Zack with a wince. “Is there any way you can read this to me?”
He flipped quickly through the pages. “It’s pretty full. This is going to take a while.”
Jenny rubbed her forehead, preparing for the long evening ahead.
Zack began reading, struggling at some places where the ink had faded with age. Jenny held a package of sticky notes, ready to hand one over to Zack every time he read a significant passage. She found in the beginning the passages weren’t very incriminating, but the disturbing entries surfaced soon enough.
Aaron’s temper is getting out of control. He yelled at me tonight because I burned his steak. He called me the dumbest bitch that ever lived…said that I’m so stupid I can’t even get a goddamn steak right. He works hard all day, and he doesn’t deserve to come home to a shitty, burnt dinner.
I know it’s the alcohol making him so nasty, but he doesn’t see it. He says it’s me. According to him, I’m the reason he drinks. If I could just stop screwing everything up, he wouldn’t need to drink so much.
Sometimes I think I should just leave, but that would devastate Brian. He needs his parents together. Every boy needs his father.
If only I could get Aaron to see that the alcohol is really the problem, then things could go back to the way they used to be.
Jenny handed Zack a sticky note. “That one’s pretty telling; it signifies the beginning of the end.”
He continued to read similar entries, and together they decided if the message was unique enough to merit marking. About two-thirds of the way through the journal, Patricia’s description of the ugly scene in Brian’s bedroom surfaced.
Aaron caught Brian and Derrick kissing today. It was the angriest I’d ever seen him. He choked Brian to the point that I was afraid he was going to kill him. He beat Brian up pretty badly, saying it was for his own good. He was “beating the queer out of him,” according to Aaron.
I took a bit of a beating, too. I’ve got marks on my face this time that I don’t know how I’m going to explain. Although, I guess I should feel lucky that this is all that happened. Aaron literally looked like he could have killed one of us.
I feel like this is my fault. I saw this coming, but I guess I just hoped it would never happen. I knew that if Aaron ever found out about Brian and Derrick he’d react this way; I just hoped Brian would be able to keep it a secret until he became an adult. I suppose Aaron would have taken it out on me, then, if Brian came out in adulthood. Of course he’d blame me for this. He blames me for everything. But I’d rather see myself get beaten than Brian. I am the one who chose this man; Brian didn’t ask Aaron to be his father. Poor Brian doesn’t deserve any of this.
Jenny handed Zack another sticky note. “Do you know what upsets me the most about this?” she asked, her voice reflecting the numbness she was beginning to feel.
“It’s hard to say,” Zack replied. “There’s a lot about this that’s upsetting.”
She released a sigh. “It’s that Patricia blamed herself for all of this. In one of my previous visions I got the distinct impression that she thought there was something she could do to get Aaron to stop being abusive. If she could just figure out what th
at was, life would become pleasant for everyone again.”
“In order for life to become pleasant again, Aaron would have had to have been hit by a bus.”
“I know that,” Jenny said. “And you know that. But it seemed Patricia thought there was something she could do about it.”
“That is sad.”
“And what did she just say there?” Jenny asked, pointing at the journal. “That she’s the one who chose Aaron, and Brian didn’t deserve this? Does that mean she felt like she did deserve it?”
“The only thing she did wrong was choose the wrong husband,” Zack noted. “I don’t think that makes her deserving of getting the crap beaten out of her.”
Sympathy and sadness gripped Jenny as she whispered, “I chose the wrong husband.” It was not lost on Jenny that she and Patricia had made similar bad choices, yet Jenny sat comfortably in sweatpants on a couch while Patricia’s remains were being examined at autopsy. The thought was almost too overwhelming to bear. “I need a break,” she declared.
Zack peered up at Jenny, his sympathetic expression leading her to believe that she looked just as bad as she felt. “Why don’t you go to bed,” he suggested. “I got this. I’ll mark the pages that are important and I’ll give you the highlight reel in the morning.”
“Are you sure?” As much as Jenny wanted to stay up and handle this matter personally, she knew she didn’t have it in her. Between the pregnancy, the emotion and the horrible smell of that journal, she had reached her limit.
“Positive. You go ahead and get some sleep.”
She smiled lovingly at Zack, aware of what a good guy he was. “Thanks, hon.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
As Jenny shuffled into the kitchen, she was surprised to find Rod sitting at the table. “Hey,” she said in a hoarse voice, “you’re up early.”
“Well, I was anxious to share what I found out last night.”
She rubbed her eyes in a feeble attempt to wake herself; she didn’t know she’d need to be alert the second she woke up. “Okay,” she said, sitting at the table across from Rod. “Fire away.”