Trapped (A Jenny Watkins Mystery Book 5)

by Becky Durfee

  “Not specifically. We just had a couple of contacts, though—one at a truck stop in southern North Carolina and one just south of DC. The visions were just like the others; we could definitely sense that a guy offered up a warm meal, so we feel fairly confident that they were related to this case. The contacts were far away from each other, too, so that narrows down where the hideout might be…on our map, anyway. I realize this information doesn’t affect the official police map.”

  “And where do you think it could be?”

  “Somewhere between Fredericksburg and Raleigh. But my grandmother had another interesting observation.” Jenny disclosed Ingunn’s theory about the truck stops in groups.

  Howell sounded as if he was writing as he spoke. “Well, thank you for the insight. Hopefully this will help speed things up.”

  “I hope so, too.” She paused before adding, “Do you think he’ll strike again soon?”

  “Well, we’re treating it like he will, but, to be honest, I’m personally inclined to think he won’t. I believe he dropped off that one victim—alive and in a different state—because he was scared. He knows we’re on to him now, so I think he’ll lay low for a while.”

  “Good,” Jenny said as relief washed over her. “Maybe we’ll be able to connect the dots before anyone else gets hurt.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  Jenny rubbed her tired eyes as she pulled the car off the highway. She was grateful to finally have reached their exit; this had been a very long day for her, and she wondered how her grandmother had managed spend this much time in the car without complaining. “You doing okay, Amma?”

  “I’m okay,” Ingunn replied. “I’m a tough old bird.”

  “I’m certainly ready to be home,” Jenny said. “Or at least back at the inn. I’m exhausted.”

  They remained silent for a few minutes before they drove past the narrow road that led to the dump site. Ingunn placed her hand on Jenny’s arm and said, “Go back.”

  “Go back?” Jenny asked. “To where, the dump site?”

  Ingunn, clearly on to something, only nodded. The prospect of turning around on a dark, windy road invoked some fear in Jenny, but she managed to do it anyway. She drove the car back and took the left that would bring them to the site.

  A police car sat on the side of the road, making Jenny wonder what was happening. She pulled over and Ingunn wordlessly got out of the car. The officer inside the cruiser did the same, approaching Ingunn.

  Knowing that her grandmother needed to be uninterrupted, Jenny hopped out of the driver’s seat and intercepted the officer. “Hi,” she said quickly but quietly. “My grandmother is a psychic working on the case.”

  The officer looked over Jenny’s shoulder at Ingunn and then looked back at her. “She needs to stay out of those woods.” He spoke louder than Jenny had wanted him to. “That’s a crime scene.”

  “Okay,” Jenny said, “I’ll make sure she doesn’t...”

  “Something has happened,” Ingunn announced, causing Jenny’s blood to run cold.

  Jenny directed her attention from the officer to her grandmother. “What?”

  “I don’t know,” Ingunn replied, “but the spirits are upset.”

  Jenny looked at the police officer and felt fear run through her body. Was he the killer? Were the girls upset because the man responsible for their horrible deaths was standing right there? While he seemed an unlikely suspect, Jenny’s previous cases had taught her that no one was above consideration.

  “Come on, Amma,” Jenny said with urgency, fearing they were in the presence of a murderer. “Why don’t we get back in the car and go to the inn?”

  Ingunn shooed her hand, indicating her unwillingness to honor Jenny’s request. Instead she took a few steps closer to the woods.

  “You can’t go in there, ma’am,” the officer said.

  Ingunn went no further, but she remained frozen in place for quite some time. “Yes. Something definitely has happened.” Turning back around, she added, “And it isn’t good.”

  Chapter 15

  “I feel like I owe you an apology,” Jenny said as Jessica put a plate of French toast in front of her.

  “An apology?” Jessica asked. “For what?”

  “Well, you asked me to come out and investigate your inn, and I’ve spent just as much time, if not more, working on the abduction case.”

  “My goodness, that’s not a problem,” Jessica said. “In fact, I’m glad you’re working on that. Honestly, I find that to be far more frightening than what’s going on here at the inn. That guy is a very real threat to living, breathing people. My…apparition…is just creating wind gusts. And if what you’ve told me is true—that he’s just a child who wants to be buried with the rest of his family—then it turns out it’s not even frightening.”

  “Well, I’d like to spend some time working on that painting this morning,” Jenny said, “and trying to get you some answers. Sadly, at this point there’s not much more we can do with the murder investigation, so today I’m all yours.”

  “I do appreciate that,” Jessica replied, “but if that changes, don’t hesitate to switch gears and focus on the Highway Killer. I recognize how important that other case is.”

  “Thanks.” Jenny smiled as Jessica headed back toward the kitchen.

  Zack sat across from Jenny at the table. “Well, while you paint, I’m going to play with Baxter for a while. It’ll make up for yesterday when we hardly saw him at all.”

  Jenny took a bite of her breakfast while she contemplated that Baxter might have been better off living downstairs with Zack when they got back to Tennessee. It also occurred to her that Zack may not turn out to be that bad of a father after all; if he was that concerned about the welfare of a dog, he would probably be excellent with a baby.

  At that moment Florence and Roy sat down at a table near Zack and Jenny. “You’re still here,” Jenny said to them with a smile. “I thought you’d be bouncing that great-grandbaby of yours on your knee by now.”

  “Well, we’re supposed to be,” Roy said, “but the little guy is sick. We’re waiting for him to get better before we head down there.”

  Florence looked pleasant as always. “It looks like we’re extending our vacation for a few days.”

  “I can think of worse places to be stranded,” Zack said.

  “Exactly,” Florence agreed. “It’s supposed to be pretty out today, and I have plenty of books with me. It should be a good day.”

  “I’m assuming that since we’re the only guests here these days, that painting over there is the work of one of you three,” Roy said as he gestured toward Jenny’s easel.

  With a modest smile Jenny acknowledged the picture was hers.

  “Who is that a picture of?” Roy asked.

  Unsure of how to answer that question, Jenny glanced at Zack as she spoke. “It’s what I imagine a slave woman might have looked like back when this house was a tobacco farm.”

  “That’s very interesting,” Roy replied. “Are you planning to sell it?”

  “Honestly,” Jenny said, “I think I’ll leave it here as a present for Jessica.”

  “Well, that’s very sweet of you,” Florence noted. “And you’re very talented. I realize the painting isn’t finished yet, but I can tell it’s going to be beautiful when you’re done.”

  Although Jenny had grown in so many ways, she still struggled with compliments. “Thanks,” she said softly as she looked at her lap.

  “And what about that dog out there?” Roy asked. “Do you know anything about that?”

  Zack took over the conversation, the love and pride evident in his voice when he spoke about Baxter. He continued to talk about the dog until long after breakfast was over. Jenny listened politely, but she had to admit she was relieved when his long-winded tale was over and she was able to get back to painting the benevolent slave woman.

  As she worked, Florence returned to the lobby with a book, taking a seat in the chair by the
window. She looked up at Jenny and posed, “I’m not going to disturb you if I sit here, am I?”

  Jenny smiled pleasantly. “Not at all.”

  For a while the two ladies remained quiet as they each went about their business. Eventually Jenny sat back in her chair and said, “Miss Florence, can I ask you a question?”

  Florence set her book face down on her lap and said, “Of course.” Then with a laugh she added, “I just hope I’ll be able to answer it.”

  “I think you should be. How long did you say you’ve been married again?”

  “Fifty-two years.”

  “Fifty-two years,” Jenny repeated in a whisper. “That’s fantastic.” Jenny got up from her chair and sat down next to Florence. “What’s your secret?”

  “My secret?” Florence put her hand, which was speckled with age spots, to her chin. “I didn’t realize I had a secret.”

  “Well, not everyone has been able to stay in a marriage as long as you have.” Jenny lowered her eyes. “Including me. I was actually married before, but it didn’t work out.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Florence said sincerely.

  Jenny smiled slightly. “Thanks. But I was just wondering what advice you can offer a naïve young woman about how to make a marriage work as long as yours has.”

  With a giggle she announced, “It’s smoke and mirrors, mostly.”

  “Smoke and mirrors?”

  Florence looked around, presumably to make sure Roy was nowhere to be found. “It’s all about illusion, see. You give the man the impression that he’s in charge, when in reality you are in charge.”

  Jenny lowered her eyebrows, indicating her confusion.

  Florence leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees. “I remember one winter we had a particularly bad snowfall. We were snowed in for days. The kids and I were okay with it; in the summers we were used to being home all day with nowhere to go. But Roy went crazy. He had the worst case of cabin fever I’d ever seen. Like he often does when he’s bored, he went into micro-manager mode. He essentially white-glove tested the whole house, loudly complaining about how horrible everything looked.” Florence rolled her eyes and shook her head. “So I told him I needed stools.”

  Jenny wasn’t sure if she’d heard that correctly. “You needed stools?”

  “Yes. I told him that I was too short to reach the tops of the closets and the pantry, and I needed several stools. I mentioned that I was going to buy them at the store the next time I was out.” Florence looked around again to make sure the coast was clear. “I knew what his response would be, you see…and I was right. He told me that I shouldn’t waste perfectly good money on stools when he could easily make some himself with the tools he had in the garage.”

  Suddenly Jenny knew where Florence was going with this.

  “So he spent the next couple of days out in the garage working on this project, leaving me and the kids alone. But the beauty of it was that he thought it was his idea to make the stools. If I had asked him outright to start this project, then I would have been nagging, or at the very least it would have been clear that I was just trying to get him out of my hair. But this way he believed he was not only the genius in this situation, but also the hero for coming to my rescue. And when he was done, I marveled at how wonderful the stools were. I thanked him many times for making my life so much easier, when in reality I didn’t even really need the stools. I could have just used a chair to reach the top shelves; that’s what I’d been doing for years. But what I needed at that moment was quiet until the snow melted, and I got it.” Florence sat back in her chair and interlaced her fingers in front of her chest. “See? Smoke and mirrors.”

  “And this trip is another example of the smoke and mirrors,” Jenny concluded, formulating the thought as she spoke. “You asked him to plan a little vacation, leading him to believe he’s in charge of where you go, when you really just needed him to be occupied for a while.”

  “Bingo,” Florence said with a smile. “I don’t nag him or tell him that he’s bothering me; that would start a fight. Instead I just plant a little seed and let him tend to the tree.”

  Jenny’s voice was distant. “I can plant seeds.”

  “Indeed you can,” Florence replied. Shifting in her seat she added, “So…is this question stemming from the young man you’re with on this trip?”

  Feeling like Florence might be a safe source to confide in, Jenny said with a sigh, “Yes. We have a baby on the way, and he wants to marry me…but I’m just so afraid to go down that path again. It didn’t work out for me the first time, and I don’t want to go through another divorce.”

  “Divorce would be hard, I must agree,” Florence said. “Fortunately, I have never had to go through it. But let me ask you a few questions…that young man—Zack, is it?”

  “Yes, it’s Zack.”

  “Does he treat you well, this Zack?”

  Jenny couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, he does.”

  “Is he faithful?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hardworking?”

  She let out a giggle. “Of late.”

  “Do his actions seem honest or self-serving?”

  “Honest.”

  “Does he love you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you love him?”

  Jenny’s entire relationship with Zack flashed through her mind…the banter, the cuddling, the speeding ticket, the laughter, the clothes on the floor. Ultimately she raised her eyes to look at Florence and simply said, “Yes.”

  “Let me tell you something, darling.” The compassion was evident in Florence’s voice. “When you get to be my age, you’ll have regrets. You can’t possibly live as many years as I have without racking up at least a few of them. But as I look back at my life now, the things I regret the most are the things I didn’t do, not the things I did.”

  The words definitely struck a nerve. With a slight nod Jenny whispered, “That’s a very good point.”

  “If you do get married and things don’t work out between you and Zack, you can at least look at your child and tell him—or her—that you tried. You tried to make it work. You tried to be married, but it just wasn’t in the cards.” Florence held up one bony finger. “But, if you don’t agree to marry him, you’ll have to look that child in the eye and tell him—or her—that you didn’t even try because you were too afraid to fail. Is that really a message you want to send your child?”

  Jenny thought back to her first client Elanor, who had left Jenny with some words of wisdom by which she’d vowed to always abide. She found herself whispering, “Fear is not a reason,” one of the final messages Elanor had bestowed upon her.

  Florence spoke loudly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

  Jenny shook her head as she snapped back into the present. “It was nothing,” she said. “Just thinking out loud.”

  At that moment, Zack came in from outside. He glanced at Jenny’s painting as he walked by, announcing, “Looking good. You’re almost done.”

  “Thanks.” Jenny smiled at him as he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

  “Hi, Miss Florence,” Zack said with a quick wave.

  “Hello, young man.”

  “Something funny happened outside, but I feel kind of bad about it,” Zack said. “I wanted to see if Baxter could catch, so I threw a tennis ball to him…” He held back his laughter as he added, “and he let it just bounce right off his nose.”

  Jenny lowered her eyebrows. “Is he okay?”

  “Yeah, he’s fine. It didn’t seem to faze him much at all. But I figured he’d be able to catch it considering he looks like he’s got black lab in him.”

  Jenny glanced at Florence and then back at Zack. “Why would being a lab make him able to catch?”

  Zack looked confused. “You mean it doesn’t?”

  Suddenly Jenny doubted everything she thought she knew about dogs. “They retrieve, don’t they? Like, bring back ducks and stuff? But they do that after the d
uck has hit the water…they don’t catch the duck in the air.”

  “I thought retrievers could catch,” Zack said. “A lot of dogs that you see catching Frisbees look like labs or lab mixes.”

  Jenny turned to Florence. “Do you know the answer to this? Is it in a lab’s nature to catch?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know,” Florence confessed with a smile, “but I can mention it to Roy and he can do a little research for you.”

  “Yes!” Jenny said emphatically before turning to Zack. “We can mention it to Roy, and he will probably decide to do a little research for us.”

  Zack, clearly unaware of the inside joke, made a strange face and said, “Okay.”

  “But what I do know,” Jenny said, “is that retrievers can retrieve. Have you thrown the ball across the lawn so he can track it down and bring it back to you?”

  “His lead’s not long enough,” Zack said.

  Jenny thought back to the women chained to the wall in the Highway Killer’s hideout, and suddenly she felt as if she, too, had taken Baxter against his will. “Well, you can take him off his lead for a while, can’t you?”

  “What if he runs away?” Zack asked.

  She looked at him compassionately. “You’ve fed him, right? And played with him and petted him and given him a comfortable bed…I doubt very seriously that he’d run away from that, especially considering what he’s been through. Besides, you know what they say…if you love something set it free. If it comes back to you, then it’s yours.”

  Zack looked sad. “I just don’t want to lose him.”

  “I know,” Jenny said, “but I’d like to make sure he actually wants to be with us before we take him back to Tennessee.” She looked down at her lap. “Otherwise we really are stealing a dog.”

  “Use food,” Florence said. “If you have food in your hand, he won’t go too far.”

  “He is a boy,” Zack replied quietly, “and we boys do like our food.”

  “Give it a try,” Jenny said encouragingly. “See what happens.”

  Florence and Jenny watched out the window as Zack went back outside and stuffed his pockets with bite-sized dog bones. Baxter’s reaction indicated he could smell the treats; he jumped enthusiastically all around Zack. Once the lead was removed from Baxter’s collar, Zack threw the tennis ball about twenty feet. Baxter hardly noticed; he remained fixated on the food in Zack’s pockets.