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Gatekeeper

Page 10

by Natasha Deen


  “She’s still convinced Kent’s taking time off and we’re all over-reacting.”

  “I bet that’s because of the fight she had with Kent.” I thought about Mrs. Meagher and the medication, and made a mental note to talk to Nell about it. In the meantime, I said, “Serge is convinced Kent was murdered. A mysterious email and an even more mysterious figure emptying out Kent’s room seem to support that. Especially when if the mystery man wanted the computer and didn’t realize Kent had brought it home.”

  “Maybe,” said Nancy. “Has Kent been of any help?”

  “The poor guy’s in shock. He’s doing his best but it’s hard going. He’s spending most of his time doing his Heathcliff impression of walking the moors. In this case, it’s the forest.”

  Laughter was in her voice as she said, “And people think public education’s a waste.”

  “Can you bring the laptop home?”

  “No, but if”—Her voice went quiet —“someone were to stop by and read over my shoulder…”

  “Serge is with me; I’ll drive him to you. See you in a bit.”

  Of course, after I left Serge at the police station and texted Nancy he was there, I realized I had no way to track Kent and let him know about my conversation with Nancy. I headed home and did a walk-through of the house but didn’t see the ghost. After I changed the water for Buddha and Ebony and gave them some treats and cuddles, I headed out.

  I’d heard of something called psychic magnetism—the ability to attract and bring an object or person to you. I didn’t know if it worked with anyone other than Serge, and based on my inability to find lost keys, I suspected I didn’t have it. Still, ghosts found me. Theoretically, it should work in the reverse. Since I had nothing else to go on, I climbed back in the car and drove around town. After a half-hour of doing nothing but wasting gas, I got smart and called Serge to me.

  “Thank God,” he said as he appeared in the passenger seat. “There’s nothing worthwhile on his laptop. Just a bunch of nature photos and school stuff.”

  “That it?”

  Serge nodded. “The guy didn’t even have porn on the computer.”

  “Man, it was like he was dead already.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Sarcasm was lost on him. “I need your help to find—”

  “Nell?” He closed his eyes and raised his left hand. “I bet I can hone in on her.”

  “I know exactly what you want to hone in on with her.” I slapped down his hand. “Help me find Kent.”

  “Give me someone fun.”

  “Seriously, I’m trying to find him but I’m not having any luck.”

  “You don’t need luck. All you need is his route. Trust me, drive it and you’ll find him.”

  “I’ve been driving all over town—”

  “Yeah, but did you do his route?”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  With his directions, I did a loop of the town. Nancy hadn’t been kidding about the vandalism. Broken windows, busted lamps. Serge and I did two laps.

  “No Kent.”

  “Did you try the lot by the mill?” he asked.

  I frowned, slowed the car, then took a left toward the park he’d mentioned. “You think he’s there? No one goes there.”

  “If he’s not on the streets, then yeah, he’s there. I walked with him a few times, trying to help him understand being dead but…” He shrugged. “Death is a journey you make by yourself.”

  “Are you going to be okay going there?”

  He laughed. “I’ve already been there a few times with Kent, remember? Don’t worry, it doesn’t bother me to revisit the spot of my death.”

  I drove us to the mill, parked the car in the lot and stepped out. “We’ll cover more ground if we split up,” I said. “If you find him, text me.”

  Serge nodded and headed to the left.

  I turned on my flashlight app, went right. The night was cold and the wind left me wishing I’d brought my toque. I walked the trail as fast as I could but halfway through the path, I still hadn’t seen him. The phone rang and I pulled it out, figuring it was Dad. Or Nancy.

  I checked the caller id: unknown. The only unknown caller I knew was Serge, but what was he doing phoning instead of texting? I answered the call. “Going old school?” The words were out before my brain twigged into the sound on the other line.

  Static. The creepy, otherworldly static that heralded The Voice.

  My legs did a weird combination of getting cement heavy at the same time they went weightless and did a wobbly jellyfish impression.

  “Maggie—”

  The hair on the back of my neck stood to attention. Usually, The Voice came through the radio. It would take over the airwaves to warn—or threaten me—the jury was still out on whether it was my protector or tormentor. The last time it had made an appearance, it had proven it could do more than talk. It could reach through time and space, crush my heart and bend me to its will.

  “Oh, Maggie—”

  I unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth. My eyes darted for escape even as my brain laughed at the stupidity of it all. The Voice could and would always find me. That it was able to get control over my phone said it had upped its game. Which could only mean big, bad things for me.

  “He’s coming for you,” The Voice wept. “Maggie. Ohh, Maggie.”

  Footsteps, quick and hard, came up behind me. I felt a sharp crack on the back of my head, then a rough push as someone shoved me over the trail’s path and down the hill.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I woke to beeping, rough sheets, and the taste of plastic in my mouth.

  “Maggie, thank God!” Dad grabbed my hand.

  My vision cleared to a private hospital room, with Dad, Nancy, Nell, Craig Kent, and Serge standing around my bed. “What happened?” I croaked.

  “I was hoping you could tell me that,” said Nancy.

  “I texted you.” Serge came over and sitting, took my hand. “To tell you I couldn’t find Kent”—He glared at the ghost—“when you didn’t answer, I figured something bad had happened, so I texted everyone—”

  “I used the Find My Phone app,” said Dad, “and tracked you to the bottom of a gully.”

  I told them about The Voice and the unknown assailant who bonked me on the head. Judging from their faces, they were more upset about The Voice than they were about the mystery man. Me, too. Flesh and blood I sort of stood a chance with—round one went to the creep who crept up on me—but there was no fighting a non-corporeal form.

  “You didn’t hear or see anything?”

  I shook my head at Nancy’s question. Then immediately regretted the action—it felt like someone was taking a hammer to my skull. “Other than The Voice, no.”

  “Is it weird she’s warning you when a month ago she tried to kill you?” asked Serge.

  “How do we know she was trying to warn her?” Dad asked irritably. “She could’ve been trying to kill Maggie. Maybe she’s the one who shoved my kid down a hill.”

  “If she had the ability to kill me,” I said, “you think she would’ve done it a long time ago. Besides, she said he’s coming. It was a warning.”

  Dad opened his mouth to argue.

  “We’ll figure out the other-worldly motives later. Right now, I want the bastard that decided to use your head like a baseball,” said Nancy. “What about smell? Was there any unusual odours?”

  Another shake of my head. Another painful moment of regret. “The mill always stinks, but I didn’t smell anything extra weird.”

  “No woo-woo, either?” Nell’s voice had a hopeful lift.

  “No.” My lips quirked at her description of my abilities. “No woo-woo.”

  “It’s not all bad,” said Nell, which got a simultaneous eyebrow raise from both Dad and Nancy. “There was
some good news.”

  “And what was that?”

  “You may not have found Kent the ghost tonight—” she said.

  The overhead lights caught the brilliance of excitement in Nell’s eyes. Or mania. With her, it was a 50/50 shot.

  “—but you found my body,” finished Kent.

  “I what!”

  “The point where you fell,” he said. “You landed by my body.”

  The body that had been dead for weeks. I tried not to focus on the imagery.

  Nancy looked up from her phone, where she’d been tracking the ghostly contribution to the conversation. “Based on the scene, I think you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” I muttered.

  “No, what I mean is I think you interrupted someone as they were trying to move the body.”

  “You think it was murder?” I asked.

  “I can’t say for sure, not until we get an autopsy,” she sighed. “The first glance shows head trauma. Either he was hit over the head or he fell and hit his head. But there are fresh drag marks by his body, which means someone knew he was there and they were trying to move him. Maybe it’s murder, or maybe Kent died by accident but the person is somehow involved.” She grimaced. “Maybe Kent fell, this person happened by the body tonight, and…had plans for it.”

  “There’s something I’ll never be able to unhear,” murmured Kent.

  “What is weird,” said Nancy, “is the mysterious guy tossing you down the hill. I don’t know why he didn’t run when he heard you coming.”

  “Unless your last idea is the right one,” said Kent, “and the guy was looking for a matching pair.”

  “Let’s change the subject,” said Dad.

  I tried to wrap my brain around what everyone was saying. Unfortunately, I was full of some kind of medication that was strong enough to leave me loopy but not strong enough to dull the increasing volume of the aches from the fall. “Huh?” was all I could come up with.

  “There were drag marks in the dirt,” said Nancy. “One set of shoe prints, from whoever attacked you and—” She glanced around the room.

  “It’s okay to say it,” said Kent. “Murdered me.”

  Serge leaned in to me. “Told you.”

  I raised my hands in surrender. “I give. He was murdered. Whether by accident or on purpose, someone killed Kent. And it’s probably on purpose, because that person hacked his student account, dropped him out of school, and took all his stuff.”

  “You can call it murder, but as law enforcement, all I can say at this point is Kent died under suspicious circumstances,” Nancy said, “but the person there tonight must have heard Maggie coming, panicked—”

  “—and tried to kill you, too.” Dad’s mouth fell into a grim line and his shoulders tightened with all he wanted to say but didn’t.

  Nancy gave him a quick once-over then continued, “—and panicked. The only thing I can figure is with Serge texting you, the messages must have shown up on the screen and told the murderer folks were coming for you—”

  “—and he didn’t have time to finish the job,” said Dad.

  Everyone—ghosts included—took a step away from Dad.

  “But I’m not dead,” I told him. “So maybe it’s time to stop scaring everyone in the room with your Scarface impression.”

  “If I find this guy,” said Dad, “I’ll do more than tell him to ‘say hello to my little friend.’” He moved toward the door. “You and I will talk, but later, when it’s just the two of us.”

  “Bet that’s going to be scarier than being bonked on the head,” said Nell after Dad left.

  “Given the choice between a ticked-off Dad and a murderer—”

  “They call them unsubs on TV,” Nell offered.

  “—doesn’t matter what you call them, I’d still rather take on one of them than Dad.”

  Nancy snorted. “Don’t let him hear you say that. Listen, kid, I got to get back and see how the team’s doing with the evidence. You gonna be okay on your own?”

  I nodded then opened my mouth to tell her to check in on Dad. Before I could get out a word, she said, “I’ll check on your dad, first. Make sure he’s okay.”

  Two seconds later, it was just me, Nell, Serge, Craig and Kent.

  “Your dad kept asking Craig if he couldn’t detect or sense anything that would give us a clue to the murderer,” said Nell.

  “When your dad calms down”—My boyfriend took a spot beside me on the bed—“we’ll have a talk about the difference between a ferrier and a bloodhound.”

  “That’s going to take awhile. His aura was red and black,” said Serge. “And it wasn’t just an outline. It had edges, like it was on fire.”

  I winced and decided to worry about Dad later. “Was there no evidence?” I asked. “No clues?”

  Craig shrugged. “Nothing definitive. It’s a guy, that’s for sure. You can tell by the shoe prints in the dirt, the gait—”

  “And the drag marks,” finished Nell. “Whoever was toting Kent’s body—”

  Kent closed his eyes.

  “—wasn’t struggling to do so.”

  So we were looking for a big guy.

  “My mom,” said Kent. “Someone’s put my mom on drugs when there’s no need for it.”

  “If it’s an anti-anxiety,” said Nell, “you can’t argue it’s wasted on your mother.”

  “The dose is too high,” he said.

  “That you can argue. I’ve been asking my dad without asking my dad—if you know what I mean—about Mrs. Meagher and the pills,” said Nell. “But he’s got nothing.”

  “It’s no one from around here,” said Kent. “I got into her car and checked the GPS history. The only places she’s been are work, the grocery store, and the Tin Shack. No doctor visits.”

  “Why would someone drug your mom?” asked Serge. “It’s not like she witnessed your death or anything.”

  “But if she’s too stoned to think,” said Kent. “She’s too stoned to wonder about me and start asking questions, like why am I not calling her. I know what she said about waiting for me to call, but trust me, that’s not her style. If it wasn’t for the drugs, she’d be phoning. I bet we find that guy, we’ll see it’s the same guy behind my death.”

  “If Nell gives me a ride to Mrs. Meagher’s house,” said Serge, “then I can go inside and find the bottle. The doctor’s name has to be on it, right?”

  “Right,” said Nell, “Then we can do a search for him.”

  “I can do that.” Kent waved them down.

  “You should spend time with your mom,” said Craig. “Let them handle this side of it.”

  He nodded.

  “Hey, guys,” I said, “can Kent and I have a minute?”

  I got a round of hugs. Then they left. I took a second to choose my words.

  “How are you feeling?”

  He shrugged. “I’m dead.”

  No duh, I wanted to say. “Yeah, but you seem more upset about it, now. Is because they’ve found your body? Or because it really is looking like murder?”

  There was silence.

  “It makes it feel…real.” Kent scratched his head and did an awkward shuffle. “That probably sounds stupid.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Part of me hoped the conversation would be enough for him to cross over—that he’d only been hanging on until his body was found. The fact he was still here meant he was probably hanging on until his killer was caught, but whoever murdered him had landed me in the hospital. I didn’t want to think about where else that person could land me if I kept investigating.

  He moved to the window, watched the night. “I thought…Serge was talking about manipulating electricity and I’d figured out how to turn solid enough to knock on the front door…and I—I thought
if I could find my body—I’ve been walking around, practising like an idiot, trying to hone the ability—”

  “Wait. You’ve been practising around town?”

  “Yeah.”

  “On your regular route?”

  He nodded. “Do you know how amazing it would be to be able to harness that kind of power? To be able to turn yourself solid or move things with your mind?”

  I followed his train of thought along the overachiever trail. “You could pull a Frankenstein. Enter your body and somehow manipulate universal energies to reanimate yourself?”

  He laughed, the sound hollow and echoing in the stark room. “Imagine what I could bring to science and medicine. Death isn’t death. It’s just another state of being.”

  “You would have revolutionized everything.”

  “It would have been amazing.” In a softer voice, he said, “I would’ve been amazing.” He took a ragged breath, covered his face with his hands.

  Now wasn’t the time to do the whole kick a guy while he’s down, but there’s never a perfect time to deal with some things, so I said, “When I was looking for you earlier tonight, I did the same route you took when you’d run.”

  “It’s a good one,” he said. “Hills and level ground, different types of ground…”

  “I noticed there was a lot of vandalism along the route.”

  “I didn’t think of it,” he said. “Give me a second—I’m trying to remember if I saw anything suspicious…”

  Not the path I was aiming for. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

  “Do you want my help in finding out who did it? Might not be a bad idea. It’d take my mind off of all this…stuff. At least it’ll distract me until Serge and Nell figure out what’s going on with my mom.”

  “Uh—not”—I took a breath—“I think you’re the one doing it.”

  He shot to his feet. “You think I’d destroy property? Thanks a lot Maggie. I may not be thrilled about being dead but it’s not like I’ve gone off my rocker!”

  Man, I have to work on my bedside manner. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  He stepped in towards me, then retreated a step. “Then what did you mean?”

 

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