by Becky Durfee
Jenny’s eyes flashed momentarily to CC, who had her hands sandwiched between her legs and her gaze fixated intently on the floor; tears appeared to be only seconds away.
David continued, “But then we had to ask ourselves, were we making it too easy for him to be homeless? Was he too comfortable? He would never be inspired to agree to live with one of us if life on the streets wasn’t unpleasant for him. But what was our alternative? Allow him to freeze? Or starve? Sit back and let him hit rock bottom so he would eventually agree to let us take him in?”
Grace cleared her throat. “We also knew he was an alcoholic, so it wasn’t just a matter of getting him off the street. In order for his life to truly get better, he’d need to stop drinking, which was another thing he seemed unwilling to do…and none of us felt like we would be capable of making that happen. He would probably need professional help, and he would never have agreed to that. We couldn’t even get him to stay with one of us.”
Jenny hung her head. Their father claimed he didn’t want to be a burden, but by refusing to be a physical presence in their homes, he became a huge source of emotional baggage for each of the kids to carry around. His decisions created a no-win situation for his children, which was surely unintentional, but was the result nonetheless.
“So, was he a regular in a bar anywhere?” Jenny asked. “Or did he have some kind of hangout? Drinking buddies, maybe?”
“When he wasn’t in his car, which he kept parked on 23rd Street, he was usually hanging out on the back steps of the Stop-n-Go Convenience Store,” David explained. “There was a group of guys that would meet back there and drink, although I don’t know any of their names.”
“Was it the same group every time?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. There were a few faces I recognized as being familiar when I’d swing by, but I’m not sure if it was a rotating crew or the same regulars over and over.” He lowered his eyes. “They were a seedy-looking group; I tried not to stay too long.”
CC sat up straight and spoke with vigor. “Now, Jenny, you said on the phone that you think our father’s murder is related to that girl at Longfellow…what makes you think that?”
Jenny leaned down and fished through her diaper bag. “I wondered when you were going to ask that.” She pulled out the printout she’d brought with her, outlining her pervious successes at solving cases with her psychic ability. She anticipated doubt—she was usually met with it—so she figured it was better to be proactive in dispelling it.
Handing the document to Grace, Jenny explained, “I’m a psychic…well, a medium, actually. I receive messages from the deceased, and in this case, the killer is the one who has been contacting me.”
David and CC looked over at Grace, who was reading the printout with her eyebrows as low as they could go. After making a face to show she’d gotten to the good part, she handed the document over to David.
CC leaned forward onto her elbows. “You’re saying you’re a medium…and our father’s killer is contacting you?”
Jenny nodded. “Believe it or not, yes.”
“Then why don’t you know who he is?”
“That’s the sad part,” Jenny confessed. “He’s letting me know what he’s done, but he hasn’t given me any indication about who he is. All I know is that he strangled Elaina Maldonado and he…” Jenny knew she had to be sensitive with her word choice. “…assaulted your father.”
“And you think it was someone our father knew?” Grace seemed confused.
“Not necessarily, but I am pretty sure that Elaina didn’t know him. When I envisioned the killer’s encounter with Elaina, I was made aware that he had been instructed to kill someone, and by that I mean anyone.” She held up her hand. “The killer was mentally ill, and he sincerely believed the people walking around Longfellow were out to get him.”
Grace didn’t say anything; she just covered her face with her hands.
“I know it’s strange,” Jenny continued, “but trust me, to the killer it was very real and very scary. He sincerely believed that they were going to hurt him, and the only way to prevent that was to sacrifice one.” She made finger quotes. “With your father, he had also come to the conclusion that your dad was evil, but when the vision started, I was already standing next to him. I don’t know if your dad was a stranger or if they knew each other, which is why I want to figure out who your father may have associated with.”
They looked at each other, awed. David asked, “If this ends up being a spontaneous decision, and this guy didn’t know my dad, how will you figure out who it was?”
Jenny leaned back in her chair. “I have no idea.” After a little more thought, she added, “Although, if it was some spur-of-the-moment decision, that means it was somebody who just happened to be at Hammond Park in the middle of the night. That limits us to drug dealers, drug buyers, and some johns, maybe? While that may not help us much, it’s something. The good news is I’ve been able to eliminate bored teenager and gang initiation.”
“Wait a minute,” CC said as she took her turn looking at the document. “If you can receive messages from the dead, and the killer is contacting you…”
Jenny smiled knowingly. “Yes, the killer is dead. I think he may have died at the hospital where I had him.” She gestured down to Steve, who still sat sleeping in his car seat. “But even though he can’t strike again, I still want to get answers for you and the Maldonados.” She hoped the next part of her statement was unnecessary. “And the families of anyone else this man may have harmed along the way.”
Chapter 6
“Zack?” Jenny called as she wandered around the house, having just gotten back from meeting Timothy Reynolds’ children. The baby was beginning to fuss in her arms. “Zack?”
His car was in the driveway, so his absence was strange. After settling in on the couch, she set up to nurse and braced herself for the baby’s inevitably painful latch on. “Holy flippin mother of God,” she muttered through clenched teeth as Steve began to eat. Her hands trembled from the agony of it all. Within seconds, however, the pain disappeared, and she dialed her phone to call Zack.
“Hello?” He was shouting, and the noise in the background made it difficult for her to hear him.
“Zack,” she replied, equally as loudly, “where are you?”
“Oh, I’m at a bar…” He clearly turned his attention to someone else. “What’s the name of this place?” She heard a male voice in the background, and Zack went on to say, “O’Malley’s. I’m at O’Malley’s.”
She could tell he’d been drinking. “O’Malley’s? Where is that?”
“It’s a really cool place…TVs everywhere. Every college football game you can imagine is being shown somewhere in here.” A loud cheer came from the background. “What just happened?” Zack asked, once again talking to someone else.
“Who are you with?” Jenny asked.
“What?”
She closed her eyes and swallowed before shouting, “Who. Are. You. With?”
“Who am I with? Oh, I’m with Ed, the neighbor. He saw me out raking, and he asked me if I wanted to come with him and his buddies to the bar. He’s a really cool guy.”
“Okay,” Jenny said, glancing at the clock, knowing that the baby’s evening cranky time was just around the corner, “when will you be home?”
“When will I be home?”
“Yes, when will you be home?”
“I don’t know,” Zack replied, “I didn’t drive, so I will be home whenever these guys decide to come home. Oh my God, did you see that catch? Holy shit.”
“Alright, I’ll let you go,” Jenny said, disappointment apparent in her voice.
“What?”
“I’ll. Let. You. Go.” She hung up the phone with her thumb and let it fall to the couch. She found herself staring straight ahead, looking at nothing, as the notion of spending a night alone with sir screams-a-lot sunk in. She was sad—so very sad—and feeling more alone than ever despite her new con
stant companion.
The feeling reminded her of some of her worst moments with Greg.
Although, she wondered why Zack being out of the house was so upsetting to her; he wouldn’t have been helpful if he’d been home, anyway. Perhaps she was bothered because it was just another glaring example of how his life had remained unchanged, while hers had been completely turned upside down. How was this at all fair? They were both this baby’s parents. They both created him. So why was she the only one sitting home alone with a soon-to-be screaming baby while he was out having fun? For that matter, why was she the only one losing sleep? And skipping meals? And not showering? While she was at it, how was it fair that she had to do all the feeding? She had carried the baby; wasn’t that enough? Shouldn’t it have been Zack’s turn now? Shouldn’t he have had the boobs?
She lowered her eyes and looked at the face of her son…the baby she’d wanted ever since she’d been a little girl playing with dolls…and guilt consumed her body. She didn’t love this. She didn’t love him. This wasn’t how she was supposed to feel, and she knew it...She was supposed to be enamored with him, love oozing out of every pore every time she held him. He deserved that. Every baby deserves that. Instead, she only found herself resentful of him and all the changes he brought into her life. Truth be told, she was positively desperate to go back in time and undo this whole thing. It had been a mistake. She had been wrong about wanting to be a mother, even though she had wanted it so badly. But now it was too late, and she was committed to this lifestyle for the next eighteen years.
Eighteen years. It felt like a death sentence.
She closed her eyes, causing one of the pooled tears to flow down her cheek. How could she have been so wrong? Her whole life, she felt like she was just skirting through, biding her time until she could be a wife and mother. She didn’t think she could be truly happy until she had a child. But was the opposite really true? Could it have been that the best years of her life were the childless ones? Had she rushed through the prime of her life, eager to get to this place that turned out to be immeasurably worse? The thought was horrifying.
Clearly, not everyone saw it this way. Some people obviously loved motherhood. There were so many women out there with multiple kids, meaning they liked it enough to do it again. So what was wrong with her? Why did she hate this so much? Would the baby have been better off being raised by someone else? Someone who liked being his mother? She couldn’t help but feel like he deserved that.
Although she knew her mother, Isabelle, lived just downstairs and could probably help, she also knew this wasn’t her mother’s baby. As far as Jenny was concerned, Isabelle had already paid her dues—four times over, in fact—and deserved to be done with that phase of her life. Besides, Jenny was painfully aware that she herself had been an accident, an unintended conception during a brief affair, which meant her mother had dealt with all of Jenny’s fussiness when she didn’t even want to. Considering that she also had three overactive young boys to deal with while Jenny was an infant, she sincerely felt like she owed her mother an apology. At the very least, she needed to avoid pawning Steve off on her. That wouldn’t have been fair at all.
She concluded that she just needed to put on her big-girl panties and lie in the bed she had made for herself.
With a sigh, she stuck her finger in the baby’s mouth, releasing the suction so she could get him to burp and switch sides. He immediately let her know he was unhappy with this decision, screaming as she placed him upright on her shoulder. Another tear worked its way down her cheek; this was how it was going to be for the next few hours. For the next few days.
For the next few weeks.
If only she could take it all back.
She managed to get a burp out of him and braced for the pain of latching on to the other side; however, this time it hurt much less than it ever had before. Perhaps she was actually starting to get used to nursing. That was, at least, one encouraging sign.
Her mind drifted back to her misery, but then she thought of Mick sitting under the bridge at that very moment. It was cold outside, and he only had an overpass for a shelter. She wondered if he’d had any dinner. Looking around her tastefully decorated living room, she realized how good she actually had it. She had a roof over her head and food in her pantry. Her baby had been born healthy. Money wasn’t a problem. She thought of all of the people in the world who couldn’t say the same, and suddenly she felt terrible for pitying herself. How dare she claim to be miserable? She was one of the most blessed people on the planet.
Taking advantage of her new-found solace and one of the last moments of quiet before the inevitable evening fussiness took over, Jenny reached for her phone and dialed Kyle. After some small talk, she posed, “Have you had any luck finding out who our killer may have been?”
“Unfortunately, no, although I honestly knew this was a long shot from the beginning. The hospital won’t disclose any patient records without a subpoena, and we would have to figure out whose records we wanted before we could even consider trying to get one—and if we knew who we were looking for, we wouldn’t need to obtain the records.”
“We wouldn’t get a subpoena anyway,” Jenny said with certainty. “Not based on the reaction I got from the Oakton Police Department.”
“Well, there you go. So, I’ve been looking into death records from the area for the past few years, and—needless to say—there are tons.”
“Does the fact that you are looking for an able-bodied white guy help?”
“It does narrow it down, but not nearly enough.”
Jenny nodded with understanding. “I spoke to the children of one of the victims—the homeless man who had been bludgeoned by the rock. I’m going to look into his associates, although I’m sure that’s a long shot, too. I don’t really think the victim knew the killer, but it’s the only possible link I’ve got at this point. I also have a man who lives out that way doing some investigating for me; I plan to visit with him tomorrow to see if he’s come up with anything.”
“Promise me you’ll let me know if you find anything out.”
“You’ll be the first to know.” She closed her tired eyes. “I do have one other request for you, if you don’t mind.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“I was wondering if you could look into a couple of former Marines for me; their last names are Rodriguez and McDonald.”
The baby’s cranky time arrived right on schedule. She did her best to console him, but to no avail. Sitting him upright, placing him on his stomach across her lap, placing him on his back on the floor, cuddling him, walking with him, burping him, changing him, singing to him…nothing was even remotely effective. He just arched his back and screamed, no matter what she tried. Eventually, she held Steve up in the air by his arm pits, looking him in the face, muttering through gritted teeth, “What the hell do you want from me? Every single blessed thing I have done since the moment you came into this world has been for you. Is that not enough? Do you need more?”
She considered her options. Put him outside on the front steps, close and lock the door, put headphones on and then go sleep for the next twelve hours? Appealing, but regrettable. Sit here and deal with the crying, tonight, tomorrow night and the night after that? She closed her eyes and let the tears of despair fall when she acknowledged that was the only viable option in front of her.
So she plugged on, trying to appease the screaming baby. After another hour of wails, Steve finally fell asleep, affording Jenny the same luxury. Her bed had never felt so good as she climbed in, instantly succumbing to her fatigue.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sleeping when she heard Zack stumble in. He was unnecessarily loud, which Jenny attributed to the alcohol. She heard a bang, followed by a, “Dammit!” and some slurred, inaudible words. Zack then flopped sloppily onto the bed, failing to get under the covers, seeming to fall asleep instantly upon hitting the pillow. His breath reeked of stale beer.
With a sigh, Jenny rolled
over so she could face the other direction. That helped with the smell, but it didn’t give her any relief from the snoring that soon filled the room. Irritation begin to bubble up under her skin, but she forced it away. This was precious sleep time, and she couldn’t let Zack ruin that for her.
She placed a pillow over her head, muting out the sound, and relieved her stress with a deep exhale. Exhaustion soon took over; waves of sleep took over her body.
Her eyes popped back open almost instantly.
There had been another victim.
Jenny used the natural light of the rising sun to illuminate her canvas as she sketched the face of the young woman from her vision the night before. Like Elaina Maldonado, this newest victim was in her late teens or early twenties, but with blond hair and freckles as opposed to Elaina’s darker complexion. This girl had also been strangled, but the attack happened in the woods, and she appeared to be wearing athletic clothes. The poor thing must have been ambushed on what should have been an ordinary jog in the park.
This time, Jenny was only exposed to a brief glimpse of what happened, not a complete scenario playing out in her head like the other times. It was, however, enough for her to commit the woman’s panic-stricken face to memory. Jenny tried to draw the victim with a less terrified expression so someone could identify her, although she wasn’t sure how successful she would be at making that change. Sadly, all she got to see of this beautiful young person was an expression of pure terror.
The baby had been sleeping while she sketched, but he began to stir. She put her pencil down and headed down the hall, walking into the bedroom to see if Zack might actually be willing to watch the baby while she finished the picture. The smell of alcohol immediately struck her as she walked through the door; Zack’s foul-smelling breath had filled up the whole room. She curled her nose as she approached him, shaking his shoulder to get him up.
“Don’t do that,” Zack said pathetically.
“I want to see if you can help me.”