by Dale Mayer
Silence then the woman said, “Violent crime? You mean like another murder?”
Interesting she choose that word. “Yes, something like that. But it could be a different type of crime.”
“He was supposed to be a witness at a murder trial a few years back. But the case fell through, and it never went to trial.”
Tavika’s pen moved quickly as she took down the details. “My grandfather was really upset about the idea of going to trial. He was pretty sure it was the wrong person, but the prosecutor wouldn’t listen. They were determined to convict this man.”
“What man?”
“I’m not sure I remember who was involved,” the woman said in surprise. “It was a long time ago.”
“If you can give me any information on what it was about, where it happened, or the names of people involved,” Tavika said. “I could possibly track it down and see if there was a connection.”
She sat back and listened as the woman described what her grandfather saw. “He was doing a small job for a woman who lived alone. He’d had to slip out and get some materials from the store. When he came back there was some arguing, but he needed to get the job done so he headed back downstairs to finish the electrical work he’d been doing on the panel. He heard an odd sound so he put down his tools and snuck back upstairs. He saw the man bending over the woman, strangling her. My grandfather jumped into the room to help, and the killer took off. Because he never saw the man’s face, he couldn’t ever identify the killer until the police caught one guy and had enough evidence to take him to court. But that later fell through. Granddad been adamant they had the wrong man.”
The woman stopped to take a shaky breath. When she regained control, she continued her story. “It was about fifteen years ago. Granddad was never the same after that. He stayed to himself and just did less and less work until finally he became more of a recluse than anything. We used to go around once a month or so to say hi…and he seemed happy to see us…but it was almost as if within a few minutes he was itching for us to go. As if he was scared, not for himself, but for us.”
There was a heavy, sad silence. When the granddaughter continued, she said, “My mother always said Granddad was waiting for the killer to come back. Honestly when I heard he’d been murdered, I figured that’s who it was.”
“Did you tell the police that?”
The granddaughter laughed, but it was a bitter, hard one. “No, I didn’t. There didn’t seem to be much point bringing up old cases that went nowhere. If they couldn’t find the guy back then I doubt they’d find him now.”
“They might,” Tavika said quietly.
“I didn’t want to get involved. And if this guy came after Granddad, he’d likely come after me.”
Thanking the woman, and with a promise of more cooperation if needed, Tavika hung up and tried to organize her notes. The fact that the grandfather had actually seen a murder was just too much of a coincidence in her mind.
What possible crime could the young girl have witnessed? If any, surely at her age she’d not have known what she saw. But then she was close to the age of Tavika when she’d been captured. Inasmuch as the police tried back then to get information out of her, there’d been nothing worth getting. Her name on the list did, however, add some evidence to both Travis and Jericho’s comments about him coming after her. As if he was cleaning up. She was on the list because he’d let her live once. But maybe he’d changed his mind. She didn’t know how long she had. Her brother said there had been names below hers crossed off as well. Why the hell could she never get a step in front of this asshole? Her phone rang. “Shelby, morning, what have you got?
“She was dying,” Shelby said abruptly. “Results have been confirmed.”
“Sorry?”
“Sarah was dying from a rare form of leukemia. She might have made it for another year or two. Aggressive treatment might’ve extended her chances if she continued on the path she was on, but without any treatment she wouldn’t have lived to the end of the year.”
Tavika sank back in her chair, her mind whirling. “I’m trying to figure out if this changes anything.”
“It changes everything and nothing,” Shelby said. “She died of an overdose. A heavy cocktail of opioid drugs, mixed with alcohol. Self-ingested. Honestly, it looks like she was at a pharm party and took a crazy mix by the handfuls.”
“Uhm. The broken neck was just for show?” They’d both seen cases where people were killed because they were dying. Sometimes to help the person, others to line the pockets of the helper. “Thanks for this. I will get back to you.”
She ended the call, sat there and let her mind spin. How? Or maybe why? She jotted down notes.
The case just got a whole lot more complicated. Could Sarah have taken the drugs on her own? Or been forced to take them? Had somebody seen an opportunity to dispose of her? Just dump her body at the same crime scene? Why would anybody do that? A lot of questions – no answers.
It was time to hit the streets. Somebody had to know more about this girl. And if she’d been taken out by a different killer then they needed to know that now.
*
Jericho wandered through the various places talking to a few homeless people. Outside of Maggs, he couldn’t come up with any more information. Still, he liked the idea of the killer cleaning up. They had to match the old man and the girl to the Ghost too. Unfortunately the older woman in the back of the car was going to be seen as a crime of convenience. Jericho decided to focus on her. It had been his vision that sent them to her old house of horrors that night. He’d seen a victim there, but the features were indistinct. From the body size and type he couldn’t tell if it was this woman or somebody else, so he couldn’t discount the fact the killer may have killed this woman with the intention of bringing her to the house.
He already knew her name was Helen Amesbury. He drove to her house after getting her address from the DMV records. And found out she lived only a couple of blocks from both the electrician’s house and Tavika’s old home. But a couple of blocks made a huge difference. One went from the poor neighborhood that was druggy town into upper-level elite. He drove past the woman’s house to find it was a lovely well-kept bungalow.
Her records showed she lived alone, and that her husband had been dead for four years. The woman was fifty-four years old. Which put her in her early to mid-thirties way back then if she’d seen the Ghost when he first started. But twenty years of being able to cross paths with a killer gave lots of opportunity. Still, he was grasping for straws. Connections where there were none. He had to find proof to back up his conjecture. He parked down the block and walked up to her place and around to the back of the house. He knocked just in case there was somebody living there, but there was no answer.
He pushed the door open to find it was unlocked. Was this actually the original crime scene? The police had checked it over but hadn’t found any sign of a struggle. The current theory believed she’d been killed in a parking lot and her body dumped into the back of the vehicle, but without a crime scene there was no way to know.
The kitchen was clean and tidy. The house cold. Sterile. He made a quick trip through the main floor and realized there was nothing to see. He took the stairs two at a time and did a quick trip through the upstairs. But there was nothing. He stood at the top of the stairs and considered. There were lots of photos of family on the wall, trinkets and little mementos. Surely she’d have kept anything important as memories of her life. Maybe even horrible ones. He wandered back into the bedroom and stood in front of the big closet. Up in the far back were a couple of black cardboard boxes. The color appealed to him. He reached out and tugged the first one down and set it on the bed then went back for the second. He opened the first to find it was mostly mementos of her first marriage that ended in divorce. Trips they’d taken, things they’d done, diaries, journals.
He opened up the second to find mementos of a child. Baby pictures, toddler ones, report cards. The report car
d said the little girl’s name was Carol. He tried to puzzle through the box, but the pictures ended when the girl was eight years old. Then he found medical reports. The trail ended abruptly there. No explanation. Being in a black box he had to wonder if there wasn’t some kind of negative connotation surrounding these memories as well.
But it was obvious at the time she’d loved the child because many of the baby photos showed the two of them cuddling. Why did it all stop? He laid things out on the bed and proceeded to take photos of what he’d found. He’d have to ask Tavika to get a search warrant to access any of this for legal use.
When he was done he carefully replaced the boxes and took a quick look around the rest of the room. He opened the night table drawer to see if there was anything of value and found a journal.
A very old one. He picked it up and took a look. It went back fifteen years. He sat on the side of the bed, hating this glimpse into somebody else’s life. Especially because the journal started on the first page with, She’s gone. My little girl is gone. I know he has her. That I should lose her to my ex…so impossible.
I’m dying inside.
He closed and replaced the diary. This wasn’t anything to do with the Ghost. But somehow their paths had crossed with horrible consequences for her. He stood there for a long moment hating the sense of wrongness. As if the place was being watched. Maybe he was.
Was this in any way connected to the Ghost? Was this just the pain of a bad divorce and the husband who got custody? From her diary he suspected that was likely the case. Then why was she killed? What possible connection could she have to the Ghost?
After the number of years he’d worked in this field nothing surprised him anymore. From fathers kidnapping their children for ransom only to kill them and take the money and run…
He’d seen it all. Heard at all. And hated it all. Somewhere along the line humanity had taken a wrong turn. Now as he stood in the morning light on the back steps he could feel energy reaching for him. Somebody searching for him. Something searching for him.
He immediately boosted his energy and put guards in place. Using these he kept his energy snug to his body, walked to the back fence and under the cover of the trees jumped into the neighbor’s yard. Out on the street he took a left and headed back around toward his vehicle.
He kept his eyes straightforward.
But with all senses alert he sent out feelers in every direction.
He wasn’t sure what had just changed, but something had. Because now instead of being the hunter he’d become the prey.
*
What the hell was he doing at her house? As he put on the tea kettle, he kept an eye on what was going on below. He watched Jericho go around to the back of the house.
That he was there at all was unnerving. Sure they’d found her body and the cops had come and checked out her house. All to be expected.
But this guy had come back.
He lifted his binoculars to take a closer look. There was something about that asshole that made him reassess. Jericho Sands looked like he was no one to cross.
Too bad. He’d already crossed him.
The question now was – did he add Jericho to his list then cross him off permanently?
Chapter 25
Tavika was crossing the street when the sneaky wrenching feeling hit her in the gut. She’d barely left the station, intent on checking on some of Sarah’s friends. See if they knew more than they were letting on. Then this hit. She grasped her body, shuddering against the physical shock and raced to the opposite side of the road before she collapsed. There was a bench at a bus stop. She threw herself down on it, waiting until the foreign energy blasting through her could be stabilized.
That’s when she realized her shield was down. What the hell? Immediately she poured reinforcement energy into her system. Shoring up her defenses to maximum protection. But it was draining out the hole. How had she allowed the energy barrier to go down so low? For decades she’d carried that energy up high, strong, and tight. And now just a few days with Jericho and she was falling apart. Stupid. Especially right now. It was also damn dangerous. And that couldn’t be allowed.
An old woman with a kindly face sat down beside her. “Are you okay, dearie? You look a little peaked.”
Tavika wanted to laugh…and cry. She patted the other woman’s hand and stood up. “I’ll be fine.”
She turned and walked away, wondering at the truth of that as her steps were still unsteady, her gait weak. The speed of her attack and the damage…it was terrifying. There was a little park around the corner, and she made her way there one careful step at a time. Collapsing on the bench she could feel so many energies reaching for her, and with her shield straggling and the hole still open they could reach her. It was going to take her a long time to repair that.
There was no time. She had to fix it now. If she got docked for hours of work, well, that was just what it was.
This was way too important to let slide and actually took less time than she expected as she poured energy in to heal and reinforce her protective guard.
She didn’t recognize the original energy that had blasted at her. That was another troubling thought. The barrier was there for the Ghost and other killers like him. Something she had yet to explain to anybody. But that the minute her guard went down someone else blasted her – well that was scary.
Stefan’s voice filled her mind, Sorry, that was me. I didn’t mean to hit you so hard. But I was trying to show you the shield was down.
She froze. You knew?
I popped in to make sure you were okay, and I saw that the energy bands were low. I was curious as to why so I sent out a blast to see if you had a new way of hiding that shield and yet keeping it as strong as possible. But your shield was down and I hurt you. I’m so sorry. His voice was apologetic and sad.
She was still too stunned to realize the extent of what just happened. Too many things going on. Not only had her shield gone down and she hadn’t been aware of it, but somebody penetrated that shield and she hadn’t even noticed until she took the hit.
Why is your shield down? He asked curiously.
No idea. I didn’t even notice it until you hit me, she said in a hoarse voice. How could it sound so odd to her own ears when she wasn’t actually speaking?
Hmm, he said. Maybe from the mini shock wave you sent out? Or from Jericho’s attempt to bring you back?
“Oh,” she said. Relief washing through her. That makes sense.
Whenever we deal with heavy emotions and old energy, it causes ripples. In this case, it’s the old energy you’ve kept locked in your heart chakra that you’ve been using to keep up your shield. As you drained one, you drained the other. His voice turned serious as he added, That is something you need to be aware of when you meet the Ghost. Because old energy is still going to be fueling your shield – you haven’t drained it all. You have a lot in there from that time he held you. However, if you go into shock, if you become numbed by fear, if anything happens that causes you to lose control on an emotional level, the energy from your shield’s going to shrink. And it’s going to make you more vulnerable than ever.
Silence.
And that’s something you do not want to have happen.
Not only was it something she didn’t want to happen, it was something she couldn’t allow to. No one knew better than she how dangerous the Ghost was. And if he was coming for a second round… She needed every available defense she could muster.
In her mind she tried to track the process of removing the old energy from her shield and replacing it with new, but it seemed like a complicated process that would knock her off her feet for days. Days she didn’t have. What she needed was a simpler, faster method.
And even though Stefan was there, potentially willing to help, she hesitated.
Are you always so stubborn? Stefan asked. You only have to ask.
She almost growled. In her head she knew it was stupid. She didn’t understand why she wa
s having such a hard time. Unless it was because he reminded her of her mother.
And that is not a compliment, Stefan snapped. Just because she was your mother does not make her a warm, cuddly person. And just because she was psychic does not make her a generous, caring soul. I did not know your mother – I knew of her. And there is not a whole lot I can read on the energy levels or in the papers that say she was either.
A long shuddering breath escaped her chest. Then a second. And then a third.
Take it easy. Keep letting that old air out. Get rid of all that old energy. It’s coming up from way down deep. And it needs to be gone. The emotion? The pain? The memories? What do I do with all of those? she cried in anguish. I don’t want to relive them. I don’t want to see, hear, or remember any of that.
Silence.
In the softest voice she’d ever heard, Stefan said, And is that why you can’t remember what the Ghost looks like? Because you’ve blocked it all out? Because you’re afraid that to bring up his face is to bring up those of who passed?
His questions were ripping at her soul, tearing apart her safely confined world. He was doing just as much damage as Jericho. And he wasn’t even here. How fair was that?
It’s not fair. None of it is. But there is something you can do about this. His voice turned brisk. I know somebody who can help. There is a way she can assist you in releasing all this and replace the energy in your shield without having to relive all these memories. Or at least she should be able to help blank out the worst parts.
She stared dry-eyed at the park until she felt something drip down onto her hand. She reached up to touch her cheeks. Tears flowed from her eyes in a never-ending stream, yet inside she wasn’t crying. Not a sound escaped her lips. It was as if her soul was crying.
And she knew she needed help. She could no longer go on. But she didn’t trust anyone with this. Nor could she let anybody close enough to help her. What if they died too? For all of their difficulties her mother had died trying to save Tavika.