by Tina Smith
“I-I think she was murdered.” I replied.
Chapter 2
As Jessica packed, she could hear Steven coming up the stairs. Her heart was trying to jump out of her chest as she whirled around the room, emptying drawers and closets. She could not stay here anymore; it was not safe. Steven was angry; she knew what was coming next.
A loud pounding on the door made her catch her breath.
“Open the door, woman!” Steven yelled from the other side of the door.
Jessica broke out into a cold sweat. “Steven, wait a moment, I’m getting dressed.” She called sweetly as she stowed the valise under the bed. Quickly she stripped off her town dress and put on her plain blue housedress.
The doors blew open as she was buttoning the buttons. Steven stood in the doorway panting; his face was red from a mixture of anger and exertion. Jessica backed up against the wall.
“What have I told you about lockin’ this door, girl?” Steven said evilly.
“Steven, I wanted to get pretty and surprise you.” Jessica lied.
Before she could finish her sentence, Steven grabbed her and brutally pushed her onto the bed. Jessica hit her head on the solid oak bedpost. Her vision blurred and her head began to throb.
“I don’t see how you think this old rag is pretty. You’ll never be pretty, no matter what you wear.” Steven seethed. She could smell the alcohol on his breath.
“Steven…please…” Jessica sobbed.
“Shut up, girl!” He ordered punching her in the face. “You’ll speak when you’re spoken to.” He tore her clothes off throwing the pieces on the floor. Jessica squirmed and tried to fight him, but he was too strong.
“Steven, I’ll do whatever you want!” Jessica pleaded.
“What did I say about speaking when you’re spoken to?” Steven yelled raising his fist one more time.
I sat up in bed covered in sweat, my heart was pounding, and my head hurt. I hugged my knees trying to process all that I saw in my nightmare. Spirits had shown me dreams before, but never like this. It was so real. The sound of the bedroom door opening made me jump and I cried out. In seconds, Jackson was at my side soothing me.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He asked.
“It was a dream…” I began. I felt so dizzy and my head was throbbing.
“Jessica?” He asked.
I nodded. He pulled me to him and I could hear the steady beat of his heart. Jackson was my rock, my protector. He kept me grounded, even in the craziest of situations he was always there. He rubbed my back as I sobbed into his chest. All of the sudden he pulled away from me and began examining my head.
“What is it,” I choked.
“Honey, you’re bleeding.” Jackson said slowly. He turned on the light and began checking me over thoroughly. “What did you do? You have bruises on your back.” Then he took my hands in his and gasped when he saw the angry bruises on my wrists.
“Oh…” I breathed. Spirits were never able to harm me before; Steven’s spirit had to be very powerful to be able to hurt me through Jessica’s visions.
“Send her away.” Jackson said trying to control his anger.
“I can’t, I don’t have the power to do that.” I choked.
“Sweetheart, she’s going to kill you.” Jackson said his eyes pleading with me.
“We have to solve her murder, and put them both at peace or they’ll never leave me alone.”
Jackson led me to the shower and gently washed the blood out of my hair. After he finished, he gently patted me dry and helped me into clean pajamas. When we got back to the bedroom, he brushed my hair and put some ointment on the small cut on my head. He had changed the bedclothes and pillowcases and brought me some ibuprofen for the pain. After tucking me safely into bed and getting water for me to take the medicine with, he climbed in beside me, gently taking me into his strong arms. I melted into him, falling into a deep sleep.
Chapter 3
The next morning, Jackson accompanied me to the precinct. It was his day off and he was going to help me go through Jessica’s files. We were met with questioning looks by the officers in the main lobby because I was walking so stiffly and wearing long sleeves in eighty-degree weather. I knew those looks. They were the same faces the officers wore when they went to domestic dispute calls.
“It’s okay, honey.” Jackson reassured me.
“I feel like they’re judging us.” I whispered.
“These guys have known me forever; they know I wouldn’t do anything like that to you.” Jackson replied quietly.
Then we walked smack into his father. Samuel rushed us into his office closing the door behind him. “What’s going on?” He asked in an accusing tone.
“Nothing…” I began.
“This doesn’t look like nothing.” Samuel said indicating my posture and the bruises that were peeking out under my sleeves.
“Samuel, do you remember that case I keep in my desk; the Jessica Clayton Case?” I asked him.
“Yes, but what does that have to do with my son abusing you?”
“Dad!” Jackson said standing up.
“Jackson didn’t do this!” I said defensively. “Please…let me explain.”
Samuel walked around the back of his desk and sat in the worn leather chair that he had used ever since he began working at the precinct. He eyed us suspiciously. “I’m listening.”
“You know how I see spirits? And how I’ve been using my gifts to help you solve cold cases?”
“Yes.” He answered.
“The spirit of Jessica Clayton has been following me for the past month. She has never been a nuisance and I actually kind of like her around. She is a gentle spirit; well she was a gentle spirit. The last few days, she has been showing me things that happened to her. Her husband, Steven, abused her; he was a violent, controlling man. Usually, when I get visions nothing happens, for some reason the injuries from Jessica’s visions are manifesting themselves on my body.”
“Can that happen?” Samuel asked incredulously.
“Believe it or not, yes.” I answered in a small voice. “I’ve read about this in books, but it’s never happened to me before.”
“Why now?” Samuel asked.
“We don’t know.” Jackson replied taking my hand. “We need your help to diffuse any rumors about this. Can you do that?”
“I’ll do what I can.” Samuel promised. “But you know, this is a police precinct, and you know how the officers feel about abuse. Perhaps you should work this case from home?”
“That will add fuel to the fire.” I answered. “They’ll think that Jackson beat me so bad that I couldn’t come to work.”
“We’ll work this out.” Samuel said. He opened the drawer of his desk and handed Jackson a key. “This is the key to the tombs. If there’s any information on the case it will be down there.”
*
The steel door screeched in protest as Jackson pulled it open. It sounded like Superman ripping the door off a safe. Tentatively I took a step forward seeing the spirits waiting for me behind the vast rows of shelving that held the boxes where the remnants of their lives now rested. Jackson took my hand and squeezed it gently reassuring me.
“Dad told me the files are sorted by year. Jessica’s file should be on the last row.” Jackson offered.
I shivered as the dampness crept through my shirt. The tombs were six stories down below the police station. I wished for my sweater sitting on my desk upstairs. Jackson turned on the lights row by row. Each row held its own spirit standing forlornly looking at me with pleading eyes, begging me to put them to rest. It was as if we were traveling back in time, looking at these spirits their clothing alone told me when they had died. It started from contemporary clothing and went back in time from there. I knew we had arrived before Jackson said anything; Jessica was standing next to the shelves looking frightened.
Jessica’s file was on a set of shelves with small wooden boxes on them. There were also several leather briefcas
es with cases from the same era. I took a step back when I noticed a dark shadow behind Jessica it was radiating evil.
“What is it?” Jackson asked.
“There’s something here, it’s attached to Jessica. It must be in her file.”
“Let’s get it and get out of here,” Jackson said. “I’m officially creeped out.”
“Creeped out,” I giggled. “You, my big strong policeman?”
“Shut up.” He said teasingly.
Chapter 4
Jackson decided it was best that we go through Jessica’s file at home away from the prying eyes at the police department. If anything happened, it would be just us; and together, we could handle anything.
Jackson opened the wooden box with a hammer, the top pulled off with a loud screech as the nails bent and gave way. Jackson gave me a pair of white gloves to use when I handled the documents, if handled too roughly they would disintegrate due to their age and any information on them would be useless. Even though the tombs beneath the police department were climate controlled, nothing could protect the evidence there from the ravages of time.
Gently, I picked up a pair of bloody silk gloves. I imagined Jessica wearing them. Tears stung my eyes as my thoughts turned to her lying on the floor wearing these same gloves.
“Lena, look at this!” Jackson said handing me an aged file folder.
“The complainant in this case is her father!” I breathed. “It should be her husband.”
“Keep reading.” Jackson replied pulling out another folder.
Complainant states that victim’s husband had disappeared months before victim’s death. I looked up at Jackson in confusion. “I thought that her husband killed her and ran off.”
“It seems like that’s not the story,” Jackson said as he pored over the file in his lap. “Here, read this.” He said, handing me the file.
It was a news article from the local paper.
Steven Clayton’s body was found today in the mine that provides the bedrock on which the railroad is laid. The police are investigating his disappearance, which occurred four weeks ago. The case involving the death of his wife is being investigated also. Steven’s father-in-law, Louis Smithfield, is taking over control of his son-in-law’s business in their stead.
I looked up at Jackson in shock, all this time we thought Jessica was killed by Steven, when in truth Steven had to have been dead before she was killed. None of this made sense.
“If there’s a case file down there for Jessica, then there should be one for Steven.” I said putting the file down on the coffee table. “There’s got to be more to this.”
“Do you want to go back?” Jackson asked.
I thought about the dark shape that was following Jessica. Who could that have been? Steven? Louis Smithfield? The killer? We needed to go through all the files on that shelf, and soon. I was afraid of what we were going to find. I also knew that we would not have any peace until we found it.
Chapter 5
I thought the tombs were spooky during the day. I was wrong, at night they were much, much worse. There were only a few apparitions staring at us as we moved through the files earlier. There was triple the amount now, I do not know if it was the energy that came with the evening, or the evil that had been culled from the streets and put into cells up above us. The police station was a place where evil lived, and the power of good did not necessarily create the balance needed to keep people safe. For some reason the passages seemed darker, more unnerving. We quickly made our way to the back, and took all of the bags and boxes from Jessica’s shelf. Several blank face spirits were standing there looking helplessly at me. There was no dark figure this time, confirming to me that it was solely haunting Jessica.
We got home late that night and were too stressed to sleep, so we dug right into the files from the police station. Jackson took notes as we worked through them on his computer, so that we could see what happened to all of these people. I was uncomfortable with seven spirits that I did not know, or understand, hovering above me in the den of my house. I knew I would have to do a cleansing with sage later on to protect us from anything that could hurt us.
Percy Westmore, twenty-five, who worked at the Brigham Mine, was found dead near White’s Creek today. Cause of death is unknown; but foul play is suspected. I read from a frail looking piece of newspaper. I carefully made notes in my notebook so that Jackson could put them in the computer. Every time I finished a page, I handed it to him.
I opened a burlap bag and found a tintype picture of a small baby who looked like she was sleeping, but knowing the practices of the times, it was more apparent she was not alive. There was a leather bound bible and death certificate in there as well. A piece of newspaper fell out of the bible; I picked it up and read.
Her nanny found Rose Clayton, daughter of Steven and Jessica Clayton, dead today in her crib. She was three months old. Her parents are being questioned.
My heart climbed into my throat. I choked back the tears as I wrote this down in my notebook. How much could this poor woman stand? A husband who was abusive and a dead child, I did not think there was anything I could not bear until I read this article. I knew the pain of losing a child, a few years ago we’d had a miscarriage, I could only imagine what Jessica was going through. We’d been trying to have a child for a long time, but our attempts were unsuccessful. It was something we wanted more than life itself. Every time I did a test and it came back negative my heart broke a little more. Trying to shake off the sadness, I took a deep breath and returned to my work.
Slowly I began to move through the pages of the bible. I found a rose carefully pressed within the pages at the very front of the bible. I found a picture of Jessica and Steven on their wedding day. I noticed how sad Jessica’s eyes were. I wondered what happened that could cause her to look so sad on what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life.
Suddenly I felt coldness creeping up behind me. I waited for a moment until the feeling was strongest, then I turned around. Jessica was standing there with tears in her eyes. Her hands were clutched over her heart. I picked up the tintype of her baby and held it so that she could see. She smiled the ghost of a smile and reached out as if to touch it. I jumped as the bible fell to the floor exposing a small velvet bag. Jackson reached down and picked it up. We found a little envelope inside with faded writing on it.
“What is that?” I asked.
“I’m not sure.” Jackson said opening the little envelope. He showed me the residue of some sort of plant inside. “We should take that to the lab for them to analyze.” He suggested.
“Do you think Jessica poisoned her baby?” I asked.
“I don’t know what to think.” Jackson replied. “We won’t know anything till we give this to the lab.”
I picked up the bible and opened it to the front. There was a dedication page.
This Holy Bible is presented to Abigail Smithfield upon the birth of her daughter Jessica.
“This isn’t Jessica’s bible, Jackson. It belongs to her mother.” I breathed.
Jackson looked at me. “Something is really wrong here.” He said darkly.
I nodded my head and looked up at Jessica. Only then, the dark spirit that was with Jessica finally showed its face. There was a woman with steel gray hair pulled up severely into a bun on her head. The look on her face was frightening. I could feel the evil emanating from her, terror gripped my heart.
Chapter 6
I slept fitfully that night. I dreamt of the horrific face of Abigail Smithfield and of Jessica’s lost little girl, Rose. A rainbow of colors passed before my eyes; then, I found myself walking down a corridor with polished oak walls and gas lamps. I looked down to find myself in an old-fashioned brown floor-length skirt and a starched white blouse. The hallway was very long and smelled as if it were polished recently. All of the doors were closed. I tried them one by one, but each was locked. After I tried about fifteen doors, I saw the next door was open just a crack. I pushed it
open revealing a richly decorated room. A heavy four-poster bed reached up almost to the low ceiling. When I reached it, I touched the soft velvet privacy curtain that hung on the bed frame. On the bed, there were four pillows with elegantly stitched roses on them. There was a dark purple, thick, soft, silk comforter on the bed. I ran my hand across it and it felt almost as if I were touching a cloud. There were bookshelves on almost every wall. I could smell the sweet mustiness of their leather bindings. I walked over to the fireplace, located on the wall across from the bed. There were pictures there of Jessica, Rose, and Steven. I stopped for a moment at each photo looking at these bleak reminders of a life that was cut short. The squeak of the door sent me to hide in the closet near the fireplace. I opened the doors a crack and saw Abigail come into the room. She had a silver tray that she put on the bed. The tray held a silver teapot and a china teacup with little blue flowers on it. Abigail looked around stealthily and produced a little envelope from her skirt pocket. She opened it, sprinkled the dark leaves on the top of her tea, and quickly left the room.
As I was going to come out of the closet to examine the tray, the door squeaked again. Quickly, I backed into the closet. This time Steven entered the room. He was clearly in a stupor. I heard what I thought might be Abigail’s voice say “I’ve left some tea on the bed for you. You must be sober for the meeting today with the investors.”
Steven uttered several curse words before drinking the tea. He lay down on the bed not bothering to take his boots off. I could hear him snoring loudly in the closet. I quickly ran into the hallway not bothering to look to see if anyone was out there. Luckily, the hallway was deserted. I started walking again down the long hallway trying the doors. I heard a squeak and saw a door open to my left. I peeked inside and saw Jessica lying on the bed holding a small pair of booties in her hands, tears spilled unabashedly down her cheeks. She was dressed in black.