Possessed (A Jenny Watkins Mystery Book 7)

by Becky Durfee

  “I know it’s tough,” Jenny said, “but he seems to be handling it well.”

  “He’s handling it better than I am,” Kayla admitted as she dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

  “You understand the implications,” Jenny noted. “For you, it’s much bigger than it is for him. All he knows is that he sees memories that belong to someone else—you understand that he’s in it for a lifetime.”

  Kayla let out a deep-rooted sigh. “So, what do you make of this? What do you think is going on?”

  “Let’s have a seat,” Jenny said, remembering a similar conversation she’d had with Susan, where she’d been on the receiving end of the news. Being seated had definitely been helpful; it prevented her from collapsing. “I know it’s your house, but can I get you something to drink?”

  After Jenny got Kayla settled with a glass of wine, she sat down and began to explain, “My husband and I think that Devon may have picked up this spirit on the way home from Disney. Perhaps you drove through the area where Matthew’s spirit had lingered, and Matthew recognized the opportunity when it appeared in front of him.” Jenny leaned forward onto her elbows. “I hadn’t really considered this before, but I think spirits have the ability to seek out people who can hear them. I don’t know what the draw is—how they know they’re being heard—but I know one particular girl was able to find me just hours after her life had been taken, and she had lived about a half an hour away from me. Another spirit pulled me in while I was just driving through on the highway, kind of like you were.”

  “Well, didn’t you say that psychics can recognize each other? There must be some kind of signal you send out.”

  “Indeed there must be,” Jenny acknowledged. “I will say, though, that Devon is very lucky in the sense that this Matthew—whoever he is—is not inflicting any of his pain on Devon. At times, I have actually been able to feel the physical pain of the victims, and I imagine what Matthew went through must have been excruciating. The fact that he has spared Devon of that says something about his character—and his intentions, for that matter. He’s not trying to harm Devon in any way—he most likely just wants to get a message across.”

  “But what is the message?” Kayla asked.

  “That, I don’t know,” Jenny admitted. “And I will say that we face an extra challenge considering the go-between is a five-year-old child. Nothing against Devon or anything, but it might be hard for him to try to figure out what Matthew is trying to say. The issue itself might be too complicated for him to understand, so even if Matthew presents him with very clear clues, Devon may not be able to articulate what he’s seeing.”

  “So then why choose Devon?” Kayla’s despair had resurfaced. “Why tell your story to someone who won’t be able to communicate it?”

  Jenny smiled, placing her hand on top of Kayla’s. “Do you know how rare the gift is? Who knows how long Matthew has lingered there, just waiting for someone who can hear him. When Devon drove through, I imagine Matthew was just grateful to have someone to listen.” Jenny sat back in her chair. “Though admittedly not ideal, better to have a child tell your story than no one at all.”

  Kayla shook her head, once again saying, “But why Devon? Why did he get this gift?”

  “I don’t know,” Jenny admitted. “In my family it’s genetic. Do you know of anyone in either of your families that have this ability?”

  Shaking her head, Kayla emphatically said, “No. Not at all.”

  Jenny thought about the other explanation, realizing it may be a difficult topic to bring up. Clearing her throat she asked, “Well, has Devon ever been near death himself?”

  Kayla’s eyes grew wide, her expression as serious as could be. “When he was born,” she began, “he stopped breathing for a while. A long while. The doctors were able to revive him, and he’s made a full recovery.” She frowned as she added, “Although, they said he did defy the odds…”

  Raising her eyes to meet Kayla’s, Jenny explained, “That may be what happened, then. If Devon had stopped breathing for long enough, he may have started to cross over, only for the doctors to come along and bring him back. If that’s true, it’s possible that his connection to the other side is still open, allowing him to receive messages from people who have passed.”

  “But won’t that overwhelm him? Hearing messages from all those people?” Kayla looked to be on the verge of tears again.

  “Honestly, I don’t think it will be that many people. Most folks cross over after they pass away because they are at peace. It’s only the ones with a message to send who linger and allow themselves to be heard.”

  “So what have most of your messages been about?” Kayla asked.

  Jenny didn’t want to answer, but she knew she had to. Refusing to allow her reluctance to be visible on her face, Jenny plainly said, “They usually want their killer to be found.”

  Chapter 2

  “Did you see his shirt?” Zack asked as he unzipped his suitcase at the hotel. “He looked like such a cool little dude in that plaid.” He glanced up at Jenny and added, “I want our son to dress like that.”

  “She might prefer pink,” Jenny replied as she ran a comb through her hair. When she noticed Zack had returned his attention to his suitcase, she reached up and lowered the thermostat a degree.

  “You and your silly fantasies,” Zack said. “Like that baby might actually be a girl…”

  Jenny shrugged one shoulder and put her brush back in her toiletry bag. Picking up her cell phone, she pressed the series of buttons to reach the alarm feature. “The plan is to pick up Kayla and Devon at eight. What time do you want to get up?”

  After thinking a moment, Zack announced, “Six forty-five sounds good.” Getting dressed into his night clothes, he asked, “Does Kayla have any indication where Devon had first mentioned Matthew? Are we going to end up driving all the way to Disney?”

  “I hope not,” Jenny noted. “She said she thought it was later in the trip—which was a return trip—so that would mean closer to home. Either way, we should bring our suitcases with us, just in case we need to get a hotel somewhere else tomorrow. She is under the impression that it will be at least an hour away, and if we do end up finding something out, I’d rather stay closer to the action.”

  “Fair enough.” Zack slid under the covers, with Jenny following suit shortly after. He cuddled up his body close to hers, tracing his finger up and down her arm.

  Jenny knew what he was doing. “Sorry, chief, but I think you might be fighting a losing battle.”

  “Are you sure you can’t be convinced?” He kissed her on the shoulder.

  “I feel like I ate a bus and all the people inside it; I’m pretty sure I’m not in the mood.”

  Zack flipped over onto his back. “You sure were a lot different a few months ago.”

  “I know,” Jenny said, “but, sadly, that ship has sailed. I think it was a second trimester thing.”

  “I liked the second trimester.”

  Jenny laughed. “I’m sure you did. But hey…do you remember you once said my extra desire was proof that I was having a boy? What does it say now that I don’t want to be touched?” She smiled slyly. “Twin girls?”

  “Larrabees don’t make girls.”

  “Well,” Jenny said, “I guess we’ll find out in a couple of months.”

  Jenny had been driving the Moore’s minivan for over an hour, with Zack in the passenger seat and Kayla and Devon in the middle row. The young boy had been talking and fidgeting the entire ride, exhausting every adult in the car. As the signs for Columbia, South Carolina started to appear on the highway, Kayla posed, “Now do you see why we drove home from Disney overnight? It’s the only way we could make such a long journey in peace.”

  “Little man sure can talk,” Zack noted.

  “Yes,” Kayla agreed. “Yes he can.”

  “The bad place is coming,” Devon said nonchalantly.

  Jenny looked in the rearview mirror as Kayla turned to her son.

/>   “What do you mean the bad place is coming?” Kayla asked.

  Devon focused on the toy truck in his hand. “The bad place. The place where the fire was. We’re near it.”

  Feeling nothing out of the ordinary, Jenny wished there was a way Devon could have taken the wheel. “Should I get off the highway, honey?”

  Jenny immediately realized that question was clearly above a five-year-old’s head; he didn’t reply.

  How on earth was Jenny supposed to know where to go if Devon couldn’t provide her with directions? Was this going to be a very long day of trial and error? Just as a bit of panic was about to set in, Jenny began to feel a slight pull. She gave Zack a nod and a thumbs up, wordlessly letting him know that she had received the signal and everything was under control. Putting on her blinker, she moved over to the right lane, although her urge to exit the highway didn’t become strong until several miles later.

  She took a right at the end of the exit ramp onto a road that had the typical restaurants and gas stations that flanked a major highway. After a quarter mile, the tourist-centered businesses stopped, replaced by suburban offices and shopping centers. The tug led her down some long and winding side streets that eventually turned rural. Houses and stores were replaced by hay bales and sparse farmhouses in varying states of decay. Some of the barns looked as if they were on the verge of collapse, weathered and splintered from decades without care.

  Just before the narrow country road took a sharp left, Jenny listened to her instinct and parked the car on the side of the road.

  Devon chimed in from the back seat. “You need to keep going.”

  “The road goes that way,” Jenny replied, pointing with her left hand, “and we need to go this way.” She shifted her arm to point in the opposite direction.

  “We do need to go this way,” Devon said, confirming Jenny’s desire to go right. “But it’s far…too far to walk. We need to keep driving.”

  Jenny glanced over at Zack; although the tug in her stomach was still strong, she recognized that she had no idea how far the destination was. Perhaps the kindergartener in the back seat had better insight. “You’re saying we shouldn’t bother trying to walk there?” Jenny posed.

  “We need to go,” Devon protested, sounding as if he were on the verge of a tantrum. “We have to get there.”

  Jenny liked it better when the divine inspiration came from within herself. “What’s there?” she asked Devon. “What do we need to see?”

  “The bad place,” he repeated.

  Jenny turned around to see his eyes reflected a sense of urgency. “But you said it’s too far to walk.”

  “It is,” Devon said. He shifted his gaze from Jenny to the window, looking longingly in the direction that Jenny herself wanted to go. The anxiety in his eyes turned to sadness as he added, “But we have to get there.”

  Jenny sighed in frustration, desperately wishing she could provide this boy with some answers.

  Zack held up his phone. “I’ve figured out where we are, and it looks like Devon wants to head northwest of here. Maybe we can grab some lunch or something and do a little research on the area…you know, see if there have been any fatal fires in the past…three-hundred years.”

  Jenny focused on Devon’s heartbroken face. “How does that sound, sweetie? We’ll leave here for now, but we’ll try to figure out what’s the best way to get to the bad place.” Jenny’s face bore an expression of compassion. “I promise you, honey…we’ll get you there. We will absolutely not go home until you’ve been to the place you want to go.”

  With one long last look out the window, Devon nodded slightly. Satisfied that she had helped him as much as she could at that moment, Jenny turned the car around and headed back toward civilization. She felt much better once Devon announced, “I want chicken nuggets. Mom, can we get chicken nuggets?” He seemed to be back to his old, carefree self.

  “Sure, honey, we can go to a place that has chicken nuggets.”

  “Chicken nuggets,” Devon repeated with swinging feet. “Chicken nuggets. Chicken nuggets. Chicken nuggets…”

  Jenny pressed on the gas pedal, trying to make the trip just a little bit shorter.

  Devon practically ran to the booth in the restaurant, climbing into his seat first and immediately tinkering with the wrapped silverware. Kayla took the knife from him, instead handing him a tablet that was encased in a thick, bright blue case. Jenny figured that was the child-friendly tablet that Kayla had referred to the night before.

  Looking apologetic, Kayla said, “I guess you’ve figured out that he is hyperactive.” She put her arm lovingly around her son, who had already busied himself with a video game. “The doctors seem to think that’s a result of his inability to breathe when he was first born. His cognition is good; he just has a lot of trouble focusing and sitting still.”

  Jenny nodded. “A lot of kids have it. I saw it quite a bit when I taught elementary school.”

  “All things considered,” Kayla continued, “I realize we are very lucky. He could have had brain damage or even died, had the doctors not been able to revive him so quickly.” She smiled lovingly at Devon. “But instead I have a perfectly healthy, intelligent, squirmy little guy whose brain runs a mile a minute…as does his mouth.”

  “I’ve got to say,” Zack noted, “coming from a family of mostly boys, he doesn’t act that different from a lot of the kids in my family.” He shrugged with one shoulder. “I had just attributed his behavior to the y chromosome.”

  Jenny turned to Kayla, announcing, “That y chromosome does do some strange things to people.”

  “Don’t I know it?” Kayla replied with a chuckle. “But this little guy does have some bigger challenges to conquer than just being a boy.” She glanced up at Zack. “No offense.”

  “Believe me,” Zack said, “none taken.”

  After everyone reviewed the menu and placed their orders, Zack pulled his laptop out of his bag and placed it on the table. Kayla took that opportunity to check her phone; she looked pleased with the results. “Miss Thorton emailed me,” she said to Devon. “You have a couple of worksheets to do tonight, but I can help you with those.”

  The day of the week occurred to Jenny. “Oh yeah—I guess he did miss school today.”

  Kayla nodded. “I sent a message to his teacher, letting her know I’d be keeping him out of school—and why. She agreed that it’s more important to get to the bottom of what’s happening to him. She’s just as worried about him as I am.”

  Zack apparently hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation. “I’ve got the location called up,” he announced, “but unfortunately it looks like there’s a whole lot of ‘not much’ to the north and west of where we were…the direction Devon wanted to go.”

  “Let me see,” Jenny said as she leaned in. “Wow, you weren’t kidding,” she added with a curled lip. “It just looks like farmland and trees.”

  “And when I zoom out and put it on the map view instead of the satellite view,” Zack added, “there’s not even a town name anywhere near where we were. The closest one is Cumberland, but even that isn’t very close. It’s literally like the bad place was in the middle of nowhere.”

  Kayla chimed in, “Do you think a farmhouse could have caught on fire?”

  “It’s possible,” Jenny said. “The hard part is we don’t even know what time frame we’re talking about. This sprit could be from the seventeen-hundreds or from last year. The landscape could have looked a lot different once upon a time.”

  “His name doesn’t even help,” Zack noted. “It’s not particularly modern or anything to indicate it was recent, or a name like Ebenezer that would definitely be from a long time ago.”

  Ebenezer? Jenny shook her head rapidly.

  Zack continued, “The name Matthew could be from any time since they settled Jamestown.”

  Jenny strummed her fingers on the table. “Maybe we should just do a general search for deadly fires that occurred in this area. A new
s article might be able to tell us what era we’re talking about…and what happened.”

  As Zack typed buttons on his computer, Jenny asked to look at Devon’s drawings one more time; Kayla had brought the pictures with her in a manila folder.

  Using the skills she had learned as an elementary school teacher, Jenny tried to decipher exactly what was depicted in the sketches. Despite her best efforts, she was coming up empty. Flipping one of the pictures around so it faced Devon, she slid it over in the child’s direction. “What is this a picture of, sweetheart?”

  Devon glanced up briefly from his tablet. “The fire.” He returned to his game.

  Jenny looked at him intently. “What’s on fire?”

  “Everything. The whole room.”

  “Do you know what started the fire?”

  Devon kept his eyes glued to his video game as he said, “It’s a present.” Jenny realized he must have been talking about something related to his video game. Devon’s young age and short attention span were surely going to pose a challenge.

  Jenny continued nonetheless. “Did someone you know start the fire?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did a stranger start the fire?”

  Devin pressed the screen of his tablet as he emphatically announced, “Click.”

  “Did a stranger start the fire, honey?”

  “Nobody started the fire.”

  Nobody started the fire. Could it have been an accident? She picked up the picture and put it back in the pile with the others, flipping through the rest of the drawings until another one caught her eye. “Devon, can you tell me what this red mark is?” She once again placed a picture in front of him, pointing to the red splotch that she had noticed the night before.

  With another quick glance, Devon announced, “It’s blood.”

  “Whose blood, sweetie?”

  “Matthew’s,” Devon declared nonchalantly. “He hit his head.”