Color Me Dead (Henry Park Book 1)

by Trent, Teresa

  “Come on, Gabby. Let’s get back up to the house. You look like you could use a brandy.”

  As I warmed to the brandy and stood in front of Clarence’s fireplace, I felt my nerves beginning to unravel. Ryan, glass in hand, was leaning against the window and looking outside.

  “I know you think I’m crazy, but I saw her. There was a woman in the water. I saw her. Then I saw a man in a black sweatshirt with a hood.” I put my hands around the brandy and stared into the fire.

  “Can I ask you something?” Clarence’s voice was soft.

  I pulled my gaze away from the dancing flames. My employer’s eyes were earnest, and I hoped I hadn’t just ruined the offer of a lifetime. Was he looking at me now, thinking I was material for the loony bin?

  “Sure,” I answered.

  “When you went to smoke, I looked through your sketchbook. There was a picture that didn’t belong with the rest. You’ve seen that woman before, haven’t you?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  He took a drink of his brandy, “There is just something different about you. Something I haven’t seen in a long time.”

  I was hoping he was talking about my ability to draw his characters.

  He paused for a moment and drawing closer said, “You see things.”

  “Yep, and that’s why I became an artist. Visual thinkers tend to do better in the field.”

  “Come on,” he said. “It’s more than that. You see things the rest of us don’t see. Your sketch proves it.”

  If I told him yes, it was a surefire ticket out of a job I was beginning to love. If I said no, I would be lying to my employer.

  “Seriously?” Ryan’s quick smirk was something I had become familiar with when I was around skeptics.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I think you do,” Clarence said.

  I glanced at my watch. “Let’s call it a night and start again tomorrow. Suddenly, I’m drained.”

  “Sure. Do you want me or Ryan to drive you home?” Clarence asked.

  “No. I’m good.”

  “Well, then. We start again tomorrow,” Clarence said, giving my shoulder a hug. “And no matter what you might think, I believe in what you saw, both out there and in your sketchbook.” He was so warm and understanding.

  Ryan took another drink of his brandy, his eyes never leaving me.

  Chapter 15

  Waking up the next day after grabbing a few hours at dawn, I showered and dressed and then sat at the kitchen table with my phone in my hand. Luigi sat next to the pantry, sniffing, waiting for me to open the door. I knew my mother had to be angry with me for hanging up on her last night. I debated whether I should tell her my fears of being chased by a bloodthirsty killer or if I could just lie and say we got cut off. Getting cut off worked for me. She answered on the first ring.

  “Gabby. So thoughtful of you to call.”

  “Sorry about last night. Something’s going wrong with my phone.” I waited to see if she bought my explanation.

  “I’ll bet it has something to do with the reception up there?” For my mother, that was very understanding.

  “Maybe,” I agreed happily.

  “So how is Mitch doing? Has he found a job yet?” It didn’t take her long to get down to the reason for her call. That was my mother’s true nature.

  “He’s doing well today. He’s out working for a guy cleaning up his yard.” There was a pause on the other end. Yard work didn’t constitute finding a career.

  Like a horse out of the gate, she was off and running. “Yard work? I paid for six years of college, and he’s doing yard work?”

  “It’s a beginning, Mom. There isn’t a lot of work around here.”

  “I see. Maybe he should come back here with me.”

  Going back to my mother would be a mistake for Mitch. “Give him just a little more time. He’s met a girl, and I think he’s fitting in quite well around here.”

  “He’s met a girl? Already? If dating were a profession, my son would be an executive.”

  Tires crunched on the gravel outside, and I peeked out the window to see Mitch’s car. Luigi stood with his paws on the window and began to whine. “He just pulled into the driveway. You can talk to him personally.”

  “Oh, no. I don’t want to seem like I’m interfering. Just tell him I called.” She hung up. My mother didn’t want to talk to her son but couldn’t help herself checking up on his movements.

  Mitch came through the front door, his sweaty shirt covered in dirt. “Do we have any beer?” He reached down and petted Luigi, who was doing the I-missed-you-more-than-I-can-say dance.

  “Probably.”

  “Good, because I need one. I started thinking of a beer somewhere between loading a nasty old water heater and some broken sundial thing onto Clarence’s truck. Mr. Morgenstern, the old guy, pulled up a lawn chair and watched the whole thing. Never once offered to help me.”

  “He didn’t have to help. He was paying you,” I reminded him.

  “Is this what having a job is like? If so, I’m filing for unemployment.” He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a beer.

  “You have to have a job to get unemployment. This wasn’t a real job.”

  He took a long swig. “What? That doesn’t make any sense at all.”

  I patted him on his grease-smeared shoulder. “You just missed Mom on the phone.”

  “What did she want?”

  “She called last night when …” I realized he didn’t know anything about my encounter with the dead woman the night before. “Why don’t we sit down for a minute? I need to tell you about what happened last night.” I explained the entire story from the dead hand to the missing corpse and ended with the killer running through the woods.

  “Whoa. That’s awesome! And Mom called in the middle of it?”

  “Yes, but she doesn’t know anything about what happened. I told her we got cut off.”

  “Good one. I wouldn’t tell her either.” Mitch bit his lip and shot me a sideways glance. “I have a confession to make.”

  “You do?”

  “I looked in your sketchbook.” My sketchbook was as personal as a diary to me. He had no right to look in it without my permission, and he knew it. I was furious.

  “Why would you do that?” I asked.

  “Can you blame me after what I saw you drawing? I was worried you were getting a little … dark.”

  “Well, you had no right.”

  “You drew the woman’s hand before it happened last night. Does anybody else know about this?”

  I shut my eyes for a moment, deciding how much I wanted to share. “Yes, but you can’t tell anybody. The scene was in my mind and then it just kind of appeared on my sketchpad. Mitch, I’ve been seeing these things for years, but this is the first time I had a vision as terrible as this. I heard the killer and had to hide. I was afraid I wouldn’t get out of there alive.”

  “I’m glad you did. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. You have my back right now, so you need to know I’ve got yours. Working outside today gave me the chance to do some thinking. You know that stupid book Mom keeps bringing up about parachute colors and moving cheese? Man, I can’t remember half the stuff she says sometimes.”

  I knew what he was talking about but couldn’t remember the title either. It was about figuring out what kind of career to follow. Amazing what a little physical labor could do to clear one’s mind.

  “I think I know what you mean.”

  “Yeah. If you go to Clarence’s bookstore, pick me up a copy.”

  He was still relying on me to do something he should be doing, but it was a move in the right direction. “No problem. Maybe I’ll stop by this afternoon.”

  Mitch pulled out his cell phone.

  “Calling your girlfriend?”

  “I was hoping she had called me. Guess I don’t have that old sex appeal like I thought I did.” He glanced at the screen and then put it back
in his pocket. “I’m just glad nothing else happened last night. And, yes, I think you’re crazy.”

  I laughed and punched him in the arm.

  “You stink. Take a shower.”

  “Dang,” Mitch said with false disappointment, “and I was hoping this moment would end with a hug.”

  Chapter 16

  I found an unexpected relief now that Mitch knew about my visions. I wasn’t sure how it could help anything, but it made me feel a little better. I stopped by the bookstore as promised. They had a few more customers today, and Tim was busy at the counter with a box of recently arrived books. Darla stood across from him, her hands on her hips. From her stance and the redness of her cheeks, I had apparently come in during a heated argument.

  “About that,” Tim said to Darla, “they’ve decided to stay in town for a while. Katy and I think it would be good for Timothy and me to get to know each other. I’ve missed so much time in his childhood already.”

  Darla’s mouth dropped. “What are you trying to tell me? Some woman you barely remembered from six years ago is now planning to stay here and play house with you? Is that it?”

  He raised his hand as if to push her words away. “No. I didn’t say that. You have to admit it that having Timmy come into my life is a unique situation, Darla.”

  “What’s so special about it? Give her some money and make her go away.”

  Tim’s rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “That seems pretty cold. I can’t just shove some cash her way and tell her to leave.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because … because I don’t want her to leave. I want to get to know my son. Are you so selfish you can’t see how important this is to me?”

  “Selfish? Am I selfish? Just because I don’t want to share my boyfriend with some knocked-up redneck who just bebops into town with some kid? I’m selfish?”

  “Stop. It’s not like that, and you know it.”

  Having had enough of their argument, Darla stormed out the door nearly knocking Wilma Jones over as she tried to enter the store with a stack of mail.

  “Holy cow, what’s wrong with her?” She straightened the letters in her hand.

  Timothy cleared his throat. “Darla is a little upset at me right now. That’s all.” He flashed one of his trademark smiles. No wonder he could melt women’s hearts so easily. “If you don’t mind, I’m a little off my game. I’m going to make some coffee. Just leave the mail on the counter.” He escaped from us through the curtain.

  After the verbal lashing he’d just received from Darla, I couldn’t blame him.

  Wilma pulled me to the other end of the store. “What was the fight about?”

  “His baby mama is staying in town, and Darla isn’t too happy about it,” a familiar voice said from the back of Enchantment.

  “Hi there, Maybelline. I didn’t see you back there.”

  “There’s a new quilt book everyone was talking about at the guild. Thought I’d pick up a copy. I hope you know you’re talking to the art school’s newest teacher.” Maybelline motioned toward me.

  “Is that so? Well, congratulations. Beautiful and talented.” Wilma put up a hand for a high five. I returned the gesture.

  Wilma clucked her tongue. “That man. He has his candle wick in way too much wax in this town, if you know what I mean.”

  Maybelline’s eyes shone brightly. Lake Henry’s latest scandal was better than Lifetime TV. “Yeah, who else besides Darla?”

  Wilma glanced both ways as if the store were full of people leaning in for fresh gossip. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he’s been making eyes at my sister-in-law. She cleans for them, you know. I don’t know where he gets the energy.”

  “Ooh, he is a busy boy.” Maybelline giggled, clutching the quilt book to her bosom, which today was bedazzled with a peach blossom and bumblebees stitched around it.

  “Yeah, well I warned her to steer clear of Darla. Darla will blame her even if she’s not flirting back. Why would she anyway, so soon after Billy’s death? Now there’s this whole thing with the unwed mother and that sweet little boy.” Wilma crossed her arms in front of her. “Not sure if she has enough brains to understand what she’s getting herself into.”

  “What can Darla do? It’s a free country, and he can flirt wherever he wants.” Maybelline said.

  “That sweet girl is a gentle soul. Tim could break her heart.”

  “I think he’s got his hands way too full right now to break anybody’s heart,” Maybelline said.

  Darla had moved to the back room where Timothy was making coffee. Their raised voices could be heard through the curtain. Maybelline and Wilma listened, documenting every nuance. They had to be sure and get it right when they told the rest of the town. I tried to ignore them and went in search of Mitch’s book.

  “You saw her?” Gigi typed out before I started her class that night. She was upset I hadn’t thought to call and tell her about everything. Her eyes were screaming at me. Her caretaker, Jane, sat with the romance novel she usually brought for the class, but today it lay resting on Gigi’s cart. I think we were much more interesting than heaving breasts and an errant duke.

  “Her hand. Then when the police got there, she was gone.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “I don’t know, but whoever was in the woods with me did it in about fifteen minutes. That’s how long it took the police to get there and start looking.”

  “Wish I had been there,” Gigi typed. How awful was it to be able to see the future and not do anything about it? I couldn’t imagine what it was like to be trapped in a chair, sitting quietly, day after day.

  “No, you don’t. I was afraid the killer would come after me.”

  “What were you doing out in the woods at night?” Gigi asked.

  I didn’t answer right away. Gigi repeated her question.

  “I was smoking a cigarette. Clarence didn’t want me to smoke near the house.”

  “Smoking is bad.”

  “I know.” Everyone else on the planet had lectured me on the subject, and now I was being criticized through augmented communication. “I’d stop in a minute if I could.”

  “Smoking almost got you killed. New incentive.”

  “Got it.” I agreed.

  Jane leaned over. “Did you see the killer’s face?”

  “No. It was dark.”

  “The dead girl’s face?” Gigi asked.

  “No again,” I answered. Gigi’s disappointed eyes slid from the Tobii to me.

  “I know, I know. What good am I? I’m the one with the working legs, and I still couldn’t figure this out for us.”

  “Where is the body?”

  “That’s the thing. The killer had fifteen minutes to do something with it, so it wouldn’t be noticeable. My guess is she’s still there, just at the bottom of Lake Henry.” I then proceeded to tell Gigi about the sheriff promising to search again in daylight.

  “They can drag the lake,” Gigi’s automated voice related.

  “Yeah, if they drag the lake. Right now, the entire Lake Henry police force and the Bradford family think I’m nuts.”

  “You’re not nuts. She’s there.”

  The thing was we were fresh out of visions. Now that it had come to pass, and with the lack of control I had over my abilities, I wondered if this was the end of it all. Would we never know who was in the bottom of the lake until there was some freak drought fifty years from now? Would the sheriff write me off as just another crackpot come to escape the woes of the city?

  “Gigi? Have you seen anything else?”

  “Yes. Darkness again. Trees. Someone waiting.”

  “Waiting?”

  “Waiting for you.”

  Despite Gigi lecturing me to quit smoking, her warning about the killer lying in wait for me brought on a serious craving for a cigarette before I returned home. As I searched for a quiet place to park, my mind drifted through all of the events that had occurred since we had arrived at
Henry Park. The last twenty-four hours had been incredible. I knew I’d seen a body, but no one else believed me. That night was what both Gigi and I had been seeing in our visions, and yet there was no way to verify that. I hated having the visions but almost wished one would come now with all its creepiness. Just one more look at the scene. Maybe this time I would pick up on something.

  I ran through the details in my mind from the previous night: I was just about to light a match when I heard footsteps. Then, when I thought the killer was chasing me, I ran into Ryan. How convenient that he just happened to be out wandering around in the middle of the night.

  Had Ryan killed the woman and then upon hearing me, doubled back? One problem: The killer had on a black hooded sweatshirt, and Ryan had on a dark jacket that, in the light, turned out to be navy blue. Also, his coat didn’t have a hood.

  Even with all of this pondering, I kept going back to the fact that my victim disappeared. Maybe I was crazy. Was it possibly I had been suffering from some nicotine withdrawal-induced hallucination? All I had to go on were snippets of information. I needed more.

  I pulled up to the picnic area and grabbed my cigarettes. I could sit on the picnic table and think about everything. This way I wouldn’t leave any smoke smell in the car. I sat beneath the beam of light streaming down from a street lamp set up for summer picnickers, so I felt pretty safe. I was about to open my matches when I heard footsteps behind me. I stuffed the pack in my pocket. What was going on, the killer had a thing about smoking?

  “Gabby?” Ryan approached out of nowhere. Again. Was he the one waiting and watching for me in the dark, as Gigi put it? “

  “Hello!” I said a little too exuberantly.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked, eying me quizzically.

  “Oh, uh … I’m still getting over what happened at your house. I just needed some time alone. You seem like you’re in a good mood.” I answered quickly and efficiently, proud of myself for thinking something up so fast.