HAUNTED: A Jenny Watkins Mystery

by Becky Durfee

  As the convenience store returned around her, Jenny could hear Zack explaining what was happening. “She gets visions,” he said. “A lot of people in her family do, too.”

  “Is she alright?” one of the men asked. He sounded genuinely concerned.

  With a smile, Jenny turned around and announced, “Yeah, I’m alright.” She looked at the man who had fought her off in the vision. “I just saw what happened between the two of you,” she said. “He tried to attack you when he thought you were asleep on a bench, but you weren’t asleep.”

  “I was just chillin out,” the man said emphatically, “and he started choking me.”

  Jenny nodded, “You were able to fight him off pretty easily, and you kicked him in the ribs—hard—when he tried to get back up.”

  He looked at her with awe. “That’s right. You knew that?”

  “The other guy just showed me.”

  None of the men said anything; they just looked at her.

  “You’re lucky,” she said to the man. “You were supposed to be one of his victims.”

  “Fuck that,” he replied, “I ain’t anybody’s victim.”

  Jenny smiled. “Good for you. As far as I know, you might be the only person to survive one of his attacks.”

  “If I’d have known he was the one who killed Tim, I might not have stopped at kicking him in the ribs. I might’ve killed the mother fucker.”

  Despite her ambivalence on the subject, Jenny nodded. While she felt sympathy for Aiden, she didn’t expect the friends of the victims to share in that sentiment. “I know,” she said softly.

  Zack interjected, “But no one else you know is missing?”

  “A few folks have died,” one of them explained, “but not under suspicious circumstances. Most of them overdosed.”

  Jenny felt a mixture of relief and encouragement. “Well, thank you, gentlemen. This has been very informative.”

  “So what’s going to happen to the guy who killed Tim and Sugar? Is he going to get the chair?”

  “He doesn’t need to,” Jenny said. “He committed suicide last year.”

  “I can’t say I’m sad about that,” one of the men added.

  “I know,” she replied, feeling a bit down. “I can’t blame you for that. But at least now you can sleep a little easier knowing he’s off the street.”

  Jenny and Zack said their goodbyes, walking back around front to their car. “Well, that sounds like good news,” Zack noted. “It doesn’t look like anyone else is missing.”

  “I only hope it’s true,” Jenny replied.

  “They didn’t find any other bodies out in the woods yesterday, did they?”

  Jenny shook her head as they got into the car. “No, they didn’t.”

  He shut the door and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Could it be that this is it? Everyone is present and accounted for?”

  “Accounted for? Maybe. Present? No.” She pulled out of the lot, glancing one last time at the Stop n’ Go that had seemed like such a scary place just a few minutes earlier. Those men in the back hadn’t been at all frightening; they actually seemed like nice guys. Happy, even.

  Perhaps even happier than her.

  Jenny briefly felt ashamed for assuming that just because these men owned very little that they would be mean, scary or bitter. She of all people should have realized that possessions couldn’t buy happiness. She had more money than she knew what to do with, and she cried on a regular basis. These guys seemed to have quite a friendship going. It looked like they laughed a lot.

  That’s really what life was about.

  “Hey, Zack,” she began, the wheels in her head turning, “do you want to see if my mom will watch the baby for a while tomorrow night so we can go on a date?”

  “You want to go on a date?”

  “I do,” she said decisively. “Maybe a nice dinner out or something—with only one ground rule.”

  “Ground rule?” Zack asked. “Oh, I get it…if you pay, I have to put out. Is that what you’re saying?”

  Stifling a laugh, she replied, “No, that’s not it. I was going to suggest that we’re not allowed to talk about the baby or chores or anything else that’s been causing us trouble lately.”

  “What will we talk about, then?”

  Jenny shrugged. “I don’t know. What did we used to talk about before the baby came along?”

  “I don’t even remember, and it was, like, two weeks ago.”

  “I know,” Jenny agreed. “It’s like Steve has changed everything.”

  They were quiet for a moment. Finally, Zack asked, “Do you regret it?”

  “Having Steve, you mean?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jenny took a while before answering. “Is it wrong if I say that I do sometimes?”

  “No, that’s not wrong.”

  “What if I said it’s most of the time?”

  “Still not wrong.”

  “Okay, then,” Jenny said. “What if I just say yes?”

  Zack shook his head. “Not wrong. I kind of regret it, too, to tell you the truth. We used to get along, and now it’s like we don’t anymore.”

  “I know,” Jenny said solemnly. “But I hear it gets better…at least, that’s what my mother said. She confessed to me that she didn’t like the newborn phase, either, but she went on to have more kids because of what the babies become.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “And I think you’ll like him better, too, once he gets old enough to wrestle.”

  “And hit a baseball,” he replied.

  “And hit a baseball.” She remained quiet for a moment before adding, “I made an appointment with a shrink for next week. I think I may have post-partum depression.”

  “Oh yeah?” Zack asked. “What do you think he’s going to do for you? Give you Prozac or something?”

  “I’m going to try to avoid that if I can,” Jenny said. “I’m nursing, and I don’t think the baby needs Prozac. I’m hoping the doctor will just be able to coach me through this a little bit—help me change my mindset. I think attitude is half the battle sometimes.”

  “Drugs can help, too. If you feel the need to stop nursing so you can take some meds, I am okay with that.” He held up his hand quickly. “I’m not suggesting that you need meds…I’m just saying I’ll support whatever decision you make.”

  Jenny laughed. “I’m not offended. I understand what you meant.” She pursed her lips and added, “All I know is that I need to feel differently than I do now. I can’t keep going on like this. I’m miserable, through and through.”

  Her phone rang; she pushed the button on her steering wheel to answer. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Jenny; it’s Charles again.” His voice sounded solemn.

  “Hi, Charles. What’s up?”

  “Another DNA match came back…this time from my truck. It was definitely the Longfellow student’s blood on the door.”

  “Oh, God, I’m sorry.”

  “Again, I expected it. It just does sting a little when it gets confirmed.”

  “How’s Belinda taking it?”

  Charles drew in a breath. “Okay. She’s bracing herself for the media coverage. The murder had been the top story for weeks back when it happened, and she imagines it will be again now that it’s solved.”

  Jenny softened her tone. “Yeah, there may be reporters camped out at your house for a while.”

  “She’s aware of that. She’s writing her speech right now, in fact. I think she’s heeding your advice and using this opportunity to raise awareness about mental illness.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Jenny said, “for more reasons than one. I think it’s a message people need to hear, and I think it will help her to be proactive. One of the worst feelings in the world is to sit back and do nothing as things just unfold around you.”

  “I honestly believe it’s helping her.”

  “Good.” Jenny managed a smile.

  “I do have one question for you, though,�
� Charles added nervously. “Do you think this is done? Or will we hear about stuff Aiden has done for years to come?”

  “I wish I could answer that,” Jenny said sincerely. “I’ve wondered that myself.” She sighed as she gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “I guess all we can do is wait and see.”

  Jenny was exhausted by the time she got the baby down for the night. After a quick brush of her teeth, she collapsed into bed.

  Her ribs hurt. Badly. Her breathing was labored; she believed the being may have punctured one of her lungs.

  She was in bed; she had managed to make it home after the attack, but they knew where to find her. There was no doubt in her mind about that. They were plotting at this point, trying to determine the best way to finish her off. It was going to be painful, too—torturous—because of what she had done to the others. She knew this was the end for her.

  Glancing over to the end table, she saw the sleeping pills her mother had bought for her. This was a new bottle; there were plenty in there. Certainly enough to do the job. While she didn’t want to die, necessarily, she definitely didn’t want to be tortured. If she was going to go, it was going to be on her own terms. Carefully lifting herself out of bed, she headed to the kitchen to get some water…a big glass. It was going to take a lot to get all of those pills down.

  Jenny opened her eyes, the pain in her ribs gone. She sat up slightly, feeling a dizzying swirl, followed by a feeling like her soul was being sucked out of her by a vacuum. She recognized this sensation—she had felt it before. It signified Aiden had just left her body and was on his way to the other side. Good luck, my friend she thought, hoping that there was no mental illness in Heaven. He deserved to be free—to be the adult he never got to be here on earth.

  One day, she’d be able to know if he achieved that.

  With this last vision, her questions had all been answered. She now knew his mindset when he took all of those pills. She also determined that there must not have been any more victims; he wouldn’t have left without revealing them all. She’d have to share those notions with the Littletons.

  She also wanted to make a trip back out the Stop n’ Go and let that man know what he’d done. He thought he was only defending himself when he warded off Aiden’s attack; he didn’t realize he’d prevented innocent people from meeting the same fate as his friend Tim. Who knows how many people he’d saved? She supposed he’d earned the title of hero.

  The baby began to fuss, so Jenny begrudgingly put her feet on the floor. Life went on, after all.

  Life always went on.

  To be continued in Targeted.

  Fifty cents from the purchase of this book has been donated to the Wounded Warrior Project. Thank you for making a difference