by Becky Durfee
“My parents had gone out for the afternoon. They didn’t seem to be fighting or anything; they just went out. I was home, hanging out in my bedroom with headphones on. The next thing I know my father comes barging in my room and rips the headphones right off my ears. For some reason he was all wet and very agitated.”
Jenny knew why.
“He told me we needed to go somewhere, and he made it very clear I was to stay quiet and ask no questions.”
The long pause that followed made Jenny uncomfortable. “Where did you go?”
“Lots of places. Lots of places that didn’t make any sense. Well, first he took off his clothes and started a load of laundry, which was weird because I’d never seen him wash any clothes before. Then he made me drive my mom’s car to the gas station where they’d found it the next day. I was scared because I didn’t have my license yet. It was against the law for me to be driving, but he still made me follow him there. He told me to get out of the car once we got to the lot. He parked my mom’s car into one of the spaces and then wiped it down with a cloth. He left her purse and keys in there and then got back into his own car, making it very clear to me that we had never been there.” Brian’s face looked grim.
“Then we went to one of those self-serve car washes and cleaned out his car. After that we got new tires put on it…well, used tires, but new to us. Then we went out and got a bite to eat and did all kinds of things that we didn’t normally do. It seemed strange to me, but I knew better than to say anything. It wasn’t until later that I realized my mom was missing. I guess at that point I figured out what he had done.”
Jenny’s voice was little more than a whisper when she posed, “You knew he had killed her?”
Brian said nothing, but the shame on his face spoke volumes.
“You can’t own that, Brian. You didn’t do anything…”
“Exactly,” he said angrily, his sudden mood shift startling Jenny. “I didn’t do anything. I knew that bastard killed my mother, and I didn’t do anything.”
“You were scared for your life,” Jenny said immediately, “and rightfully so.”
“But what kind of person lies to protect the man who killed his mother?”
“A terrified one.”
Brian exaggeratedly ran his fingers through his hair and then pounded his fist on the table. Clearly this had been eating at him for the past eight years.
Fearing she was about to lose him, Jenny tried to switch gears. “So why don’t you tell me about what happened the day Aaron was killed?”
Brian’s face showed a certain ferocity she’d never seen before. “You want to know what happened that day? I’ll tell you what happened. The bastard got what he deserved, that’s what happened.”
Brian slammed down the phone and left his seat.
Chapter 17
Jenny hung up her cell phone and put it back in her pocket. She turned to Rod, who was reclined on the couch. “That was Kyle Buchanan, calling me with Amanda Zeigler’s address and phone number. I guess it’s a good time to try to figure out what message her parents were trying to send, provided that’s possible.”
Nodding with approval, Rod replied, “Sounds like a plan.”
Jenny tapped her foot nervously. “I hope his sister is more receptive than Slim—I mean John—had been.” Suddenly she felt guilty about trivializing him with a comical nickname; this was somebody’s son, and that somebody had something to say.
“Where does she live?” Rod asked, reaching for his tablet. He sounded as if he had something up his sleeve.
Glancing down at the note she’d written herself, Jenny said, “Sycamore Street in Garrisonville.”
Rod swiped and typed on his tablet, eventually concluding, “Garrisonville looks like an upper-middle class suburb.” After a few more taps he spun the tablet around and showed Jenny the façade of Amanda’s house. It was slightly larger than average with broad oak trees providing plenty of shade in the front yard. A basketball hoop was permanently planted into the ground next to the driveway. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but this doesn’t look like a crack house.”
“It does look a notch above John’s. But would you really call John’s place a crack house?”
“Well, it was a house that had crack in it. And remember that smell you didn’t like?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s what crack smells like when it’s smoked. His whole house reeked of it. Clearly he’s more than a recreational user.”
A million thoughts swirled through Jenny’s head. “So do you think Amanda and John are close?”
“Hard to tell,” Rod replied. “They could be. Or they could be estranged. Or he could be the black sheep of the family.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “You never know unless you ask.”
Growing increasingly tired of ambushing people with unexpected phone calls, Jenny acknowledged Rod’s comment with a simple dial of the phone. She put it to her ear and crossed her legs, her top foot rocking back and forth, evidence of her jittery nerves.
“Hello?” The voice that answered was male.
“Hi, is Amanda there?”
“No she isn’t, can I take a message?”
Suddenly wishing she’d rehearsed a speech, Jenny tried to sound professional as she ad-libbed. “Hi, my name is Jenny Watkins, and I’m working on a case involving 4628 Mason Road. I believe that address belongs to Amanda’s brother.”
“Yes, it does,” he said in a tone that implied he’d received plenty of these calls in the past. “What did John do now?”
“Actually, John didn’t do anything. It involved the property, more than anything else, but John isn’t being cooperative.”
“Imagine that,” the man said sarcastically.
“If you could possibly have Amanda give me a return phone call that’d be great.” Jenny recited the number, and this man assured her she’d receive a phone call.
“Damn,” Jenny whispered as she hung up the phone. Turning to Rod she added, “I was hoping to get a little more information than that so I could think about something other than Brian this afternoon. I’m going to make myself crazy thinking about him, and there’s nothing I can really do about it.”
“Well, if you need something to sidetrack yourself, you can always take your old man shopping. I’d like to go with you to Patricia’s service tonight, if you don’t mind, and I didn’t exactly bring any memorial-appropriate clothes with me.”
Jenny flashed Rod a smile. “Okay, big guy. You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Jenny’s phone rang as she sat outside of the men’s changing room. She didn’t recognize the number, but it had a local area code. “Hello?” she said curiously.
“Hi,” the woman on the other end said. “This is Amanda Hobson; I’m looking for Jenny Watkins.”
Recognizing Hobson as Amanda Zeigler’s married name, Jenny surged with excitement. “Hello, Ms. Hobson. Thank you so much for returning my call.”
“Unfortunately, I’m getting used to this,” she said with a discouraged laugh.
“Well, your brother isn’t in any trouble—specifically. But he does live in a house whose previous owners are involved in a murder investigation.”
“You know, I read about that,” Amanda said with recognition in her voice. “Isn’t that the woman who was just found recently? Well…her remains were found.”
“Yes,” Jenny confirmed. “That is the incident I’m talking about. Anyway, when I went to that residence to investigate the previous crime, I came to realize something else might be going on in that house.”
At that moment Rod emerged from the dressing room with a huge smile on his face. While the new shirt he was wearing fit him quite nicely, the pants were about three inches too short. Jenny laughed silently to herself as she covered her face, protecting herself from the multiple poses Rod was assuming to highlight his dorky appearance. As much as she wanted to, now was not the time for Jenny to begin laughing.
“Yeah,” Amanda said reluctantly as Rod disappeared back into th
e fitting room, “there’s a lot going on in that house.”
“Well, I think you and I are talking about two different things.” Jenny took a deep breath and prepared for ridicule. “I’m a psychic, and I believe I was contacted by your parents while I was there.”
Amanda remained silent, undoubtedly sporting the same expression everyone else did when Jenny said those words.
Jenny stepped away from the fitting room in case Rod came out in something else outrageous; she couldn’t afford to be distracted. “I was…investigating…the property, trying to get a handle on what had happened to the previous owner, when another spirit intercepted me. I was led to the cemetery behind Emerson Baptist Church—more specifically, I was led to your parents’ headstone.”
“You were led to my parents’ headstone?” Amanda said with disbelief.
“Yes, ma’am. Sometimes spirits lead me to significant places. I think one of your parents, if not both, wanted me to know who they were, so they led me to the headstone. Otherwise I may have assumed the contact had to do with the other case I’m working on. In fact,” Jenny added. “That was actually pretty clever; I probably would have made that mistake. I’m glad they brought me to the cemetery.”
“I-I-I don’t know what to say.”
“I know,” Jenny said. “This is certainly an unexpected phone call. But I can’t help but feel that your parents might be trying to tell me something. Based on the limited interactions I’ve had with John, I get the sense that he might be in a little bit of trouble. If I had to guess, I’d say your parents are worried about him.”
Amanda didn’t say anything.
“If it would be okay with you, I’d like to meet with you and discuss your brother. I don’t charge any money for these things; I just like to help the deceased get their message across.”
“Wow,” Amanda replied, “I’m not sure how I could say no to that. When would you like to meet?”
“Well, I have a memorial service to attend tonight…for the woman who used to live in your brother’s house, in fact. But I could probably meet in the morning.”
“That would be fantastic.” Jenny made arrangements to meet with Amanda at her house at ten in the morning. Rod came out from the dressing room with pants that fit, and they went back to the house and got ready for the memorial.
Jenny, Zack and Rod entered the funeral home, immediately greeted by the hush which often blankets such occasions. Scanning the crowd, Jenny noticed no familiar faces aside from Darlene’s, although that was to be expected. She was quickly able to locate the easels of poster boards featuring pictures of Patricia throughout her life. She nudged Rod, gesturing toward the photographs, and they silently headed in that direction.
The pictures were displayed randomly rather than chronologically. Images of Patricia as a young, carefree child were situated next to photographs of her holding Brian in his infancy. While the ages and the settings of the pictures changed, her intoxicating smile remained constant. She could have brightened any room. Even in those shots where she sported a turtleneck on a hot summer day, she managed to look happy. No wonder Darlene had no idea what was really going on.
One shot in particular caught Jenny’s eye. The image featured Patricia and Brian when he was probably about eight years old. They were at a picnic or maybe even fourth of July fireworks, seated together on a blanket, smiling for the camera. A wave washed over Jenny as the walls of the funeral home disappeared from around her, replaced by the much smaller confines of young Brian’s bedroom.
She sat on the edge of the bed next to her son, whose posture and facial expression indicated he was having a tough time. “Robbie Fullerton makes fun of me,” he said sadly. “At recess.”
“Oh yeah?” Jenny reached out her hand and rubbed young Brian’s back. “What does he make fun of you about?”
“He laughs at me because I like to play jump rope with the girls instead of kickball or basketball with the boys.” He looked at Jenny helplessly. “I just don’t like kickball or basketball.”
“Sweetie, first of all, let me tell you…jumping rope is hard work. Do you know what good exercise that is? It’s something that professional athletes do to stay in shape.” She touched the tip of Brian’s nose with her fingertip. “I bet some of those boys who play basketball wouldn’t be able to last nearly as long as you if they tried it. And I bet if they did try it, they wouldn’t make fun of you anymore.”
Jenny scooted back further on the bed, placing Brian’s pillow behind her so she could lean comfortably against the wall. Young Brian also changed his position, lying face up on his bed with his fingers interlaced on his stomach.
“But you know what else?” Jenny continued. “I’ve told you before…God made everybody different, and that’s a beautiful thing. Imagine how boring life would be if everybody acted the same. I mean, how would you choose your friends? One of the cool things about meeting someone new is discovering what they like to do and what they don’t like to do. If you like to do a lot of the same things, you become that person’s friend. If you don’t, you’re still nice to them, but you just don’t hang around them as much.”
“But Robbie isn’t nice to me.”
“I know that, honey. Unfortunately in this world not everybody is nice, but you have to understand that some people may have tough situations at home. Maybe he has a big brother who always makes fun of him, so he feels the need to make fun of other kids. You never know.” Jenny rolled over onto her side so she was facing Brian. She reached out and lovingly brushed some of his hair out of his face. “But the one thing I do know is that you are a very sweet, gentle soul. God made you to be one of the nicest people I know. I mean, you would never make fun of a kid for acting different, would you?”
Brian didn’t look sad as he shook his head no.
“Exactly. Because you are a sweet little man, and you are too kind for that. So do you know what you should do when Robbie makes fun of you?”
Little eyes peeked up at Jenny, eagerly waiting for the answer.
“Nothing. Let him say what he wants. Who cares if Robbie Fullerton doesn’t like jump rope? I sure don’t, and you shouldn’t either. But what you need to remember is that you are kinder than he is, and you are destined for better things. If you just stay true to yourself and you keep being that sweet young man that God made you, you will have a bright future.” Jenny rolled onto her back again. “In fact, maybe you should even feel a little sorry for Robbie. Kids aren’t going to like him if he’s mean.”
“He is mean,” Brian noted.
Jenny nodded her head. “Yup. Some kids are. But those people are going to have a much tougher time being grown-ups. But you…” She poked him with her finger. “You should be just fine.”
She could see the wheels turning in young Brian’s head. “So you think I should keep playing jump rope?”
“Absolutely,” Jenny said emphatically. “If that’s what you want to do, then by all means do it.”
A faint smile appeared on Brian’s lips. “Thanks, mom.”
“No problem,” Jenny said, scooting to the edge of the bed and giving him a pat on the leg. “I’ve got to go start dinner now. Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah, mom, I’m okay.”
She crossed the room and was about to head out the door when she turned around and saw that beautiful, innocent little boy looking at her. “Just remember this,” she added. “Always remember this. You are who God made you.” She gazed tenderly at the face she loved more than anything in the world. “And God made you wonderful.”
Brian’s small image disappeared from view, replaced by a crowd of strangers speaking in hushed tones. Jenny wiped her hand down her face, trying to maintain her composure despite the sadness that consumed her. Patricia knew even then, Jenny thought. And she tried to make him resilient to the intolerance he’d encounter.
She wondered if Patricia knew that the biggest resistance Brian would face would be from his own father.
“I just got
a message,” Jenny announced.
“I could tell,” Zack said, putting his hand on the small of her back. “You looked distant. Is everything okay?”
Jenny nodded. “Yeah, it wasn’t an unpleasant one. Patricia was just a loving mother, that’s all.” She blinked away tears. “But considering the circumstances, that absolutely breaks my heart.” To prevent herself from losing her composure, she sucked in a deep breath and focused her attention on Rod. “Have you gotten any readings from the pictures?”
Rod frowned and shook his head. “No. Too many people around for me to do my thing. But did you notice what’s missing?”
Jenny looked at him with a puzzled expression, realizing his attention was focused on the pictures. She looked back at the photographs, confused at first, until she noticed that a few of the pictures had been deliberately cut in half. “I see now,” she said with a nod. “There’s not a picture of Aaron to be found.”
“That’s a pretty bold move,” Rod noted. “Considering most people don’t know he was abusive.”
Turning to face the crowd, Zack added, “And I bet some of the people here are Aaron’s family.”
A smile brewed inside of Jenny, although she didn’t let it show. Good for Darlene. She didn’t give a shit if she offended anyone; she didn’t want pictures of the man who had abused her daughter on display at the memorial. Jenny shot one last glance at the poster boards and nodded her approval.
Strike one up for the mothers.
There was no formal line to give condolences to Darlene; people just approached her casually to speak. When an opportunity arose, Jenny greeted Darlene with a look of sympathy and a hello.
“Oh! Jenny! I’m so glad you’re here!” Darlene said, cupping Jenny’s face in her hands. “Don’t move.”
Darlene disappeared quickly into the crowd, returning a short time later with two women who appeared to be in their late forties.
“This is Jenny,” Darlene said pointing. “This is the woman I told you about. The psychic.”
One of the women extended her hand. “Wow. I don’t know how to thank you,” she said. “We waited a long time to get answers for my sister.”