Deadly Recall

by T. R. Ragan

  The images were appearing more often.

  But the real problem, as far as Ben was concerned, was that his recollections were mostly bloody and disturbing images of dead people.

  Were these gruesome images simply scenes from yet another grisly crime he’d once covered, or were they something else? His wife believed it was all just remnants of the work he’d been doing for so long, but he no longer shared her confidence. Not since he’d strangled a deranged serial killer with his bare hands. That was when everything had changed for the worse, and his visions became more vivid and frequent.

  And now, just as when he’d recognized Sophie Cole, it was happening again. The name DJ Stumm lit up his neurons. That might be understandable, considering he’d worked the case, but it wasn’t the pictures of the man or the crime scene that bothered him. It was the brick building behind the property where his remains were found.

  Ben had been there before. He was sure of it.

  And yet, how could that be? According to Larry, they’d only recently discovered DJ Stumm’s bones.

  By the time he reached his desk, his head was pounding. He took a seat and opened the file. The colorful graffiti scribbled across the brick building drew his attention again.

  DJ Stumm. The name circled his brain like a runaway train sounding its horn, imploring him to look closer, dig deeper. Ten years ago, after his sister had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him, he’d decided not to waste time worrying about his past. He’d had a beautiful family. He’d liked his job. He’d been happy.

  But things were different now. He could feel himself changing, morphing into someone else altogether. It was as if he suddenly possessed an innate sense telling him something was wrong with him—that beneath his flesh and muscle and bone, a malevolent darkness lingered. If that was true, did this darkness involve his parents? His sister? An occurrence when he was a child?

  He didn’t know.

  What he did know was that his past was trying to get his attention, incessantly tap, tap, tapping on his skull, letting him know it was time to find out who he really was.

  FIVE

  Jessie returned home after five. Olivia, her fifteen-year-old niece, was in her bedroom doing homework. “Hey there. How was school?”

  “Fine.” Olivia reached over to scratch the top of Higgins’s head.

  “I thought you were going to stop by the office after school and help me with the filing.”

  “Too much homework,” Olivia said without looking at her. “Sorry.”

  Ever since her sister’s funeral, Jessie had noticed a change in her niece. Olivia was only four when her mother had gone missing. Over the years, Olivia had been conflicted about Sophie’s disappearance, never knowing if her mother had abandoned her or if something had happened to her. Now that they knew she’d been dead all along, Jessie thought Olivia might be feeling guilty for believing her mother had abandoned her. But so far, Jessie couldn’t get her to open up. “Is there anything you want to talk about?” Jessie asked.

  “No.”

  Jessie gave her a moment, but Olivia kept her attention on the schoolbook in her lap. “Okay, well, I’m going to make dinner. Spaghetti sound good?”

  “Sure.”

  Higgins followed at her heels as Jessie headed toward the kitchen. Even the dog had grown tired of Olivia’s somber mood and one-word replies.

  Jessie’s good friend Andriana was convinced that it was all part of being fifteen. Jessie wasn’t so sure. Finding her sister had allowed Jessie to mourn and begin to find a way to move on. The hardest part of dealing with her sister’s death was knowing that Sophie had been at the bottom of a ravine for all those years. Jessie and Sophie’s mom had run off when they were in their teens, which was why the thought that Sophie might have done the same thing had crossed Jessie’s mind more than once. And yet, she’d always known in her heart that her sister never would have left her only daughter behind.

  After filling a pot with water, she added some olive oil and salt and then placed it on a burner while she made the sauce. Before she had a chance to ask Olivia to set the table, there was a knock on the door. The house was small—one long, narrow space made up the family room, dining room, and kitchen. She walked across the wood floor to the living room, peered out the window overlooking the street, and saw Colin standing there. She had met Colin Grayson, a homicide detective at the Sacramento Police Department, after Sophie went missing. Turning away from the window, she trotted down the stairs and opened the door.

  Colin handed her a bouquet of daylilies.

  “What are these for?”

  “It’s a bribe.”

  She lifted a curious brow. “A bribe?”

  “I was hoping to convince you to be my date at a friend’s wedding this Saturday.”

  She frowned. “This weekend?”

  He chuckled. “You’re doing it again.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Answering my questions with a question.”

  “I am, aren’t I?” she asked with a smirk.

  He put a hand on the doorframe and leaned close. “Come to the wedding with me. There will be cake, and I know how much you like cake.”

  She had nothing to wear, and she was so behind at work. Besides, she wasn’t a fan of weddings. Weddings made her question the bride and groom’s reasoning for tying the knot. What was the point? Did they want to have kids? Was it a financial decision? Most important, how long would the marriage last? She knew it wasn’t fair. Some people married for life, loving one another until death. It was just something she couldn’t imagine finding for herself. A love so strong that you would be willing to make compromises every day for the rest of your life. A little self-analyzing would likely point to her parents’ disastrous relationship as a reason she might have an aversion toward saying “I do.” It also didn’t help that most of her married friends had divorced within ten years. Even Colin was divorced with one daughter.

  “Please,” Colin said. “If I don’t bring a date, I’ll have all the bridesmaids and the matron of honor glomming on to me, and you know how I hate that.”

  She snorted. “A little full of yourself, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Just stating the facts, ma’am.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Casual attire,” he said as he straightened. “It’s being held at a lodge close to Salmon Falls in Folsom. Nothing fancy.”

  “Shit! I forgot about the noodles on the stove.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I’ll be your date.” Despite her aversion to weddings, she found herself looking forward to it. She needed to get out more.

  “Perfect.”

  “Want to join us for dinner?” she asked.

  “I wish I could, but it’s my turn to take Piper to her dance lessons.” He waved her away. “Go! Before you burn the house down.”

  “Okay,” she said as she started up the stairs. “Say hi to Piper for me.”

  “Will do.”

  She heard the door shut as she reached the landing. Olivia was in the kitchen, stirring the sauce. Jessie went to the cupboard and grabbed two plates.

  “My first high school dance is coming up soon,” Olivia said.

  “That’s great! When is it?”

  “Halloween night. Bella was wondering if I could spend the night. You know, after the dance.”

  Jessie looked at the calendar on her phone. “That’s a Tuesday night.”

  “The dance ends at nine. And there’s no school the next day since it’s a teacher’s conference day.”

  “That should be all right,” Jessie said, “but I’ll have to talk to Bella’s mom.”

  “Why? You don’t trust me?”

  Jessie was taken aback. Olivia wasn’t the type of kid who usually questioned her, and Jessie liked to think it was because she was fair-minded and logical when it came to parenting. “You know I trust you,” she said as she grabbed two place mats from a drawer. “I just like
to touch base, make sure we’re all on the same page.”

  Jessie put the place mats and dishes on the table. “What’s going on, Olivia? You’ve been unusually quiet lately.”

  Olivia continued stirring the sauce. “I guess you were right.”

  “About?”

  “About Sophie. About people talking crap about her.”

  “What are they saying?”

  “That my mom was a slut who’d been sleeping around since the eighth grade.”

  Jessie stopped what she was doing and looked at Olivia. Her stomach turned. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with this.” Olivia shrugged, but Jessie could see that she was hurting. “Your mom was a good person. We all make mistakes.”

  “What about Grandma? Was she a good person?”

  Grandma? Olivia had never talked about Jessie’s mom before. “I was seventeen when my mom left,” Jessie answered. “I really wouldn’t know.”

  “Why not? You were practically an adult by that time.”

  “She was selfish—she only cared about herself.”

  “Have you ever thought about looking for Grandma?”

  Jessie turned off the burner, then poured the noodles into a colander in the sink.

  “Have you?” Olivia asked again.

  “No. I have no interest in finding someone who obviously doesn’t want to be found.”

  “How do you know? What if she’s dead, like Sophie?”

  Jessie said nothing.

  “Maybe she always meant to come back,” Olivia said, “but something happened along the way.”

  Jessie dumped the noodles into the saucepan on the stove, then brought the pan to the table and sat down. “Could you grab the Parmesan cheese?”

  Olivia did as she asked and then sat down across from her. “So?”

  “What?”

  “So . . . what if something unexpectedly happened to Grandma along the way?”

  “All these questions out of the blue . . . this isn’t really about me and my mother, is it?”

  Olivia scrunched up her nose as she sprinkled Parmesan on top of her spaghetti. “I was just questioning if you ever stopped to wonder if your mom was dead or alive.”

  “There’s a big difference between what happened with your mom and what happened with my mom.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “My mom didn’t know how to be a mother. Parenting didn’t come naturally, so when she got tired of squabbling kids, cooking, and laundry, she took off, plain and simple. Sophie, on the other hand, fell in love with you the minute you were born. I was there. I saw the love in her eyes every time she looked at you. My mother was selfish. Your mother was . . .”

  “Also selfish. In the end, she thought partying was more important than staying home with her kid.”

  “She was young.”

  “She was your sister. I get that. But I’m tired of you trying to make Sophie out to be some amazing person who did no wrong.”

  “I never said she was perfect—”

  “Give me a break.” Olivia stood, bringing her plate of spaghetti to the sink. “She was a great singer, she baked goods for local charities, she loved me more than anything, blah, blah, blah. I’ve never heard you say anything about the fact that she got knocked up at fifteen and stole money from Grandpa’s wallet.”

  “Stole money from Grandpa?”

  “Every time I see Grandpa, he tells me stories about Sophie’s wild ways and how she had a mind of her own and never listened to anyone.”

  Jessie tilted her head. “When was the last time you saw Grandpa?”

  Olivia shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t know. A month ago?”

  Jessie didn’t quite know what to say. They hardly ever visited Jessie’s dad because Ethan Cole was a drunk. After her mother had abandoned them all—just got up and left one day—Dad had drowned his sorrows in booze.

  Jessie’s childhood had never been easy, but after Mom left, things had gone downhill fast. Dad had ended up in prison after driving while intoxicated, and Sophie had gotten knocked up. So much for going to college. Jessie had found a job as a cocktail waitress, rented a cheap place, and gotten her sister and niece out of Dad’s house.

  Jessie wanted to talk about Olivia’s visit with her dad, but Olivia still had a lot to say about Jessie’s sister.

  “You and Sophie used to play with Barbie dolls and push each other on swings,” Olivia was saying. “You probably shared a lot of laughs. Maybe you cried together, too, and argued most days, but I didn’t do any of that with her. At least you knew Sophie well enough to feel her loss.”

  Jessie was about to chime in, but Olivia wasn’t finished.

  “You’re lucky that you knew Grandma well enough to know you’re glad she’s gone. I never knew Sophie, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life feeling bad that she was dead all those days and nights when I was hating her for abandoning me.”

  “You didn’t know. None of us did. You did nothing wrong.”

  Olivia dumped her spaghetti into Tupperware and put it in the fridge.

  “You’re not going to eat?”

  “I lost my appetite, and I’ve still got homework to do.” Olivia headed back for her room.

  Jessie’s shoulders fell as she wound noodles around her fork and took a bite. Raising a kid wasn’t easy. When did you push them for answers and when did you leave them alone to sulk?

  For now, Jessie decided, she would give Olivia some space. She needed to respect her niece’s boundaries and yet make sure she didn’t become too independent too soon. Sophie had been Olivia’s age when she began sneaking off with her friends and getting involved with the wrong crowd. She’d partied too much, stayed out too late, and stolen cars.

  Blindly, Jessie chewed and swallowed, wondering how in the world she was going to get through the next few years in one piece. Parenting was tougher than she’d ever imagined.

  SIX

  The next day, after being briefed earlier that morning, Zee went to Lindsay Norton’s house on Fourteenth Avenue in Sacramento. Lindsay Norton was a fifty-one-year-old widow with two grown kids who both lived more than sixty miles away. According to the workers’ compensation form, Lindsay Norton claimed to have hurt her back while moving boxes at the grocery store where she worked. This was her third claim in eight years, which apparently was a red flag for the insurance company.

  Zee couldn’t believe she was working for Jessie Cole and already doing surveillance. Excitement coursed through her veins, heightening her senses. She’d been paranoid all through childhood. The world had been one big conspiracy. People were out to get her. She couldn’t count the number of psychiatric nurses and quack doctors she’d seen over the years, but it was her father who had brought her some normalcy. No matter how bad things got, he never gave up on her.

  Most days were like walking a tightrope. She did her best to stay balanced, but really, she never knew if or when she might teeter off the edge. But not today. Today was different. She felt normal. And happy.

  She glanced at the equipment Jessie had loaned her and smiled. She was a real-life private eye.

  It felt good to be useful.

  Holding the Canon EOS 6D Jessie had loaned her, she adjusted the focus, and zoomed in on the front of Lindsay Norton’s house. The curtains were open, but the glare on the window prevented her from seeing inside. Jessie had also loaned her a decent pair of binoculars. She put the camera down and fiddled around with the binoculars before looking through them. They were heavy duty. Wow. She could see right through the window: a leather couch, table, and large-screen TV. The mantel above the fireplace was lined with framed pictures. She could see fake hydrangeas in a white vase. The binoculars were awesome. No bounce at all and a clear view.

  Something in her peripheral vision caught her attention. All the action was happening next door. Turning to her left, Zee continued to peer through the binoculars. A man and a woman were standing halfway outside a side door leading to the garage. Judging by the looks
on their faces, they were arguing.

  Zee opened the window, but they were too far away for her to hear what they were saying. She zoomed in for a better look and didn’t like what she saw. The man had a good grip on the woman’s forearm and was trying to pull her inside the garage, but she was fighting him. The woman was upset, and she was also unsteady on her feet, sort of wobbly.

  Zee wondered if the woman had just woken from a nap or if she was drunk. Her dark-brown hair was a tangled mess. She looked young. Eighteen, maybe younger. Zee’s heart rate quickened. She needed to do something, but what?

  Twisting around, she set the binoculars on the passenger seat. By the time she reached for the door handle, the couple was gone. The door to the garage was closed.

  She sat there for a moment, breathing, watching.

  When her phone rang, she gasped, then took a breath to calm herself. Caller ID told her it was Dad. She picked up her phone and hit the “Talk” button. “Dad,” she scolded. “I’m at work.”

  “I know, honey. I just wanted to see how everything was going.”

  “I really shouldn’t be on the phone, but since you called, maybe you could help me out with something.”

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. Not really. I’m doing surveillance today, watching a woman who claims she injured herself on the job.”

  “Oh no. What happened? Did she see you?”