by Becky Durfee
“We’re in the homestretch, look at it that way.”
A stir began in Jenny’s stomach. She reached over and turned off the radio, giving her the ability to concentrate fully on the pull she was beginning to feel. Applying the turn signal, she maneuvered into the right-hand lane of the highway, trying desperately to get over in time to make the quickly-approaching exit.
Zack said nothing as they made their unexpected detour. He was used to her psychic insight prompting her to make unforeseen turns; this was why she always did the driving.
She had driven for only about five minutes after exiting the highway when she pulled the car into a residential neighborhood full of average-sized houses of varying styles. After a few lefts and rights, she turned onto a long street that ended in a cul-de-sac. At the very end of that road, she parked along the curved edge of the circle and turned the key.
Emerging from the car, she approached a split-foyer home situated at the end of the street. She walked a few steps up the driveway and froze as she stared intensely at the house. Flashes appeared before her eyes like photographs. A bloody woman lying on the floor with horror gripping her face. A knife on the carpet. A coffee table overturned from a terrible struggle.
She turned to Zack, who had approached silently and stood by her side as she absorbed the message. Pointing to the house she whispered, “Somebody died in there.”
Zack placed his hand on his wife’s back and posed, “And they’re contacting you?”
Jenny shook her head. “No, the victim isn’t contacting me.” She glanced over at him. “The killer is.”
“Holy shit,” he replied. “That’s a new one.”
She clasped her hands together in front of her mouth as she considered her options. “It looks like the people who live here are home. The garage door is open and there’s a car in there. Do you think they will let me come inside?”
Zack shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”
With Zack a few paces behind, Jenny climbed up the steps in front of the house and rang the doorbell. She heard eager footsteps bounding toward the door; she was greeted by a young girl about eight years old with long blond hair fastened back in a messy ponytail. A second, slightly taller girl appeared behind her.
“Hi,” Jenny said in the voice she’d often used in her classroom. “Is your mom or dad home?”
The younger girl didn’t bother to say anything more to Jenny and Zack; she simply yelled, “Daaaad!” and walked away from the door.
She had left the door open just enough for Jenny to see the girls’ father appear at the top of the steps in a wheelchair. He climbed out of the chair, standing unstably on his legs, which were clad with metal braces. He slowly worked his way down the six stairs that led to the front door. Jenny felt horrible for making him go through so much trouble.
He finally appeared at the door and said, “Hi, can I help you?”
Jenny wrung her hands and twisted her face before beginning in a tone that indicated she knew she sounded strange, “Hi, my name is Jenny Watkins, and this is my boyfriend Zack.” She realized her mistake immediately. Last week Zack was her boyfriend; today he was her husband. Undeterred, she continued. “And I know this is going to sound bizarre, but I’m a psychic, and I just felt a really strong pull to your house. I get the feeling that…” Jenny was unsure how to continue considering she didn’t know if the murder had impacted this man personally. Eventually she said, “…something bad happened here.”
He nodded unsentimentally. “Yes, a woman was killed here back in the eighties.” He kept the door open but used the banister to lower himself into a seated position on the stairs. Once situated, he continued, “But that was before we moved here.”
Jenny felt relief. “Do you have any affiliation with the victim?”
The man shook his head. “Nope. I just happen to live in the same house.”
With a smile, Jenny said, “Well, that makes things easier to discuss, then.”
He furrowed his brow but kept his tone pleasant. “What’s to discuss? The case was solved within hours.” He pointed his hand in the direction of the house next door. “It was open and shut—the neighbor’s kid did it.”
“Well, I get the impression the neighbor’s kid is trying to tell me something.” At that moment Jenny’s own words occurred to her. “Wait a minute…kid? Just how old was this murderer?”
“Eighteen, I believe.”
“Eighteen?” Jenny shook her head with disbelief. “What on earth could possess someone so young to do something so horrible?”
The man shrugged. “I’m not sure what his motive was.”
She paused, glancing at the house next door. Neighbors. How differently their lives would have unfolded if just one of them had decided to buy a different home. “Does the family still live there?”
The man once again shook his head. “Nah. From what I understand they moved pretty quickly after that, and I can’t say I blame them.”
Jenny imagined the torment that family must have endured after the murder. Justified or not, the hate they must have felt from the people in the community would have been unbearable to live with.
Despite her wandering mind, Jenny couldn’t deny the spirit’s pull was still strong; she wanted to be inside the house. She did her best to appear friendly, smiling brightly and talking in a chipper tone. “Listen, Mr.…Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name.”
“Rob Denton.”
“Mr. Denton, for some reason I feel the need to be inside your house. I think the killer is trying to tell me something, and being inside would give be a better reading.”
Understandably, he looked skeptical. “No offense or anything, but I’m not sure I want to let a couple of strangers inside my house.”
“I completely get that,” Jenny said sympathetically as she opened her purse. Fishing around inside, she pulled out one of the business cards Zack had given her for Christmas, handing it over to Rob. “I’d like to invite you to investigate me. If you search the Internet, you’ll find several examples of my psychic ability solving criminal cases.” She smiled genuinely. “I promise, the only reason I want to be in the house is because it was the scene of a murder many years ago.”
Rob carefully inspected the card, which had Jenny’s name but Zack’s contact information. “I’m guessing you’re Zack?”
“Yes, sir. The one and only.” Zack flashed a cheesy pose.
After more contemplation, Rob called up the stairs. “Brianna, can you bring me my tablet please?” Soon the little blond girl reappeared, handing Rob the device before scampering back up the stairs. Jenny stood patiently as he did his research.
Eventually, Rob looked up at them with a shrug. “I guess you’re legit. Why don’t you come on in?”
Rob stood up by using the banister to pull himself upright. With much effort, he twisted his body to position his braced legs on the first stair, repeating the process as he worked his way up to the top.
Jenny wasn’t sure of the politically correct thing to do, but she spoke anyway. “Would you like me to give you a hand?”
“Nah,” Rob said in a tone that implied he didn’t take offense, “I’ve been doing this for five years now.”
Zack and Jenny waited patiently as Rob worked his way up the steps, eventually lowering his body into the wheelchair he had left at the top. As Jenny climbed the last step, a wave of familiarity came over her, causing her to close her eyes to absorb the image. She stood frozen for a moment before opening her eyes and looking back and forth between the two men.
Zack could recognize the look on her face. “What is it?”
She sighed as she gathered her thoughts. “The person who is contacting me had apparently come up this way.” She gestured to the steps she’d just climbed. “And as he reached the top of the stairs, he saw the victim lying on the floor.”
Looking confused, Zack posed, “If you saw the vision through the killer’s eyes, what was the victim doing already lying on the floor?�
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Jenny shook her head. “Apparently, I’m not being contacted by the killer. I’m being contacted by a witness or a paramedic or something, because the woman had already been attacked by the time I saw her. Based on the amount of blood I’m seeing, I’m guessing she’d been stabbed or shot.” She looked up at Zack. “Multiple times.”
“She was stabbed,” Rob confirmed. “I think it was something like seven or eight times.”
With a subtle nod, Jenny acknowledged his comment. “But she was alive when this person got there. She was lying over here,” she remarked, moving to a spot on the floor in front of the coffee table. Pointing toward the opening to the kitchen, she added, “Her head was this way, and she was curled in a fetal position. She looked terrified, and she was reaching toward me. I was definitely not a threatening presence; she was looking for my help.”
“So, you don’t know who you were in the vision?” Zack asked.
“I have no idea,” she replied, “but the person obviously witnessed the crime, or at least the aftermath of it.”
Zack raised an eyebrow at her. “And in order for you to get contacted, that person must also be dead.”
Jenny thanked Rob for his cooperation—and his phone number—before she and Zack headed out to her car. As soon as their seatbelts were buckled, Zack was on his phone looking up information about the murder. “Okay,” he said out loud, “the town is called Mumford Springs, according to my GPS. Let me check this out.” After a pause he continued. “Just as I suspected…it wasn’t hard to find. I don’t think Mumford Springs is a real hotbed for murder, so this incident is the only one that came up when I searched it.”
“What does it say?”
Zack skimmed the article on his phone. “Apparently it happened back in 1988. The victim was a twenty-six-year-old nurse named Stella Jorgenson. She rented the house with Megan Casey, another nurse who was twenty-seven and wasn’t home when the murder happened. The guy was right…the neighbor who was convicted was eighteen; his name was Nate Minnick.”
Jenny remained silent as she digested the information. Everyone involved was so young; the notion was mindboggling.
“It seems another neighbor heard a commotion and went outside in time to see Nate running from the house, covered in blood with a knife in his hand. Nate ran into his own house and closed the door behind him. The witness went into Stella’s place to find her lying there with stab wounds and called the police.”
“That must be the person who is contacting me. Did it say the name of the witness?”
“Willy Sanders.”
“Willy Sanders,” she repeated softly, wondering exactly what this Willy Sanders wanted.
“Apparently, the police brought Nate in to the station, where he confessed.” Zack continued, raising his eyes to look at Jenny, “Once again, it appears Rob was right…the case was open and shut.”
Jenny processed the information. “I’m reluctant to believe it could be that easy if this Willy Sanders guy is bothering to contact me about it. Something about this must be upsetting him if it’s made his spirit linger for nearly three decades.”
“Could he just have been disturbed by what he saw?” Zack posed. “I know I would be forever scarred by the image of a neighbor with eight stab wounds.”
Jenny shrugged. “At this point I can’t say.”
The car was quiet for a short while before Zack remarked, “Do you know what other image will scar me for a while?”
“No, what’s that?”
“The image of Rob struggling to go up and down those steps.”
Jenny nodded subtly. “Yeah, that was a little tough to watch.”
“Let me see something,” Zack said as he continued to play with his phone. He pressed a series of buttons before announcing, “Just as I thought. Rob has owned the house for ten years.”
Jenny was confused. “Why does that matter?”
“Well, he said he’d been going up and down the steps like that for five years now. He apparently was involved in some kind of accident—he wasn’t born like that. But this was the house that he lived in before the accident, and he must have wanted to stay for some reason.”
“He may have something degenerative,” Jenny suggested, “and the braces weren’t necessary until five years ago.”
Zack shook his head. “I doubt it’s degenerative. If he knew he’d ultimately lose the use of his legs, he wouldn’t have bought a house with so many steps. I bet he had no idea this was coming.”
Jenny gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, realizing that every day people get behind the wheel to make casual trips, only to have their lives forever changed by a single moment of carelessness—sometimes someone else’s carelessness. “You’re probably right,” she replied. “He must not have known.”
“And did you see what I saw on the floor?” Zack asked.
“I saw a dying woman,” Jenny remarked dryly. “What did you see?”
“Carpet.” He threw his hands in the air. “Plush carpet, no less. How is Rob supposed to get around in a wheelchair on carpet?”
“It can’t be easy,” Jenny agreed.
“I wonder why he hasn’t renovated or moved.”
“If I had to guess?” Jenny said. “Money.”
Zack remained quiet for a moment before he said, “We have money.”
“Yes, we do have money.” Jenny didn’t look at Zack, but she smiled at his comment.
“And I have some skill,” he added.
“As does your whole family, who lives just forty minutes away.”
“I don’t know; it’s June. Larrabee Construction might be overwhelmed right now. Remember, most people want to move in the summer, so this is a terribly busy month for the guys in the field.”
Jenny shrugged. “Well, you still have skill.”
“I do have skill.” He seemed to be thinking as he spoke. “I can certainly rip up some carpet and lay down some hardwood, and a ramp wouldn’t be that hard to build.”
Making a face, Jenny asked, “A ramp? Wouldn’t that be a little steep?”
While he clearly found the comment amusing, Zack refrained from laughing. “I don’t mean a ramp inside; I mean outside, to make those front steps easier. I was thinking we could install one of those chairlifts on the inside.”
“Can you do that?”
“No, but we can hire some people to do that.” Quickly he added, “That is, if you’re okay with it.”
“Oh, I’m okay with it. I’d love to see life get easier for him.”
“Good,” Zack said with a vigorous nod for emphasis. He folded his arms over his chest and remarked with a smirk, “And by the way, I’m your husband, not your boyfriend.”
Jenny’s nerves fluttered as they pulled into the Larrabee’s driveway. “Are you sure this isn’t going to be a problem?”
“No, it’s not a problem,” Zack assured her. They got out of the car and shut the doors. “I’ve gotten married and I’m going to be a father. This is something I’ve finally done right.”
“But we got married a few days ago. I obviously got pregnant a few months ago.”
They proceeded up the walkway that led to the front steps. “But I manned up. My father’s got to respect that, at least.”
She sucked in a deep breath as Zack opened the unlocked front door. “Honey, I’m home!” he called.
“Yeah, and you’re about forty-five minutes late,” a male voice grumbled from around the corner. Jenny surmised that had to have been Zack’s impossible-to-please father. As expected, an older man walked into sight, but he stopped in his tracks when he got a look at Jenny. He furrowed his brow with confusion and asked, “So, who do we have here?”
“This is Jenny,” Zack said with obvious pleasure in his voice. “She’s my wife.”
Chapter 3
“She’s what?” Zack’s father posed with disbelief.
Before Zack had the chance to answer, his mother appeared in the hallway, immediately wearing a look of pleasant s
urprise. “Oh! I didn’t know you’d be bringing a friend.”
“That’s not his friend, that’s his wife,” Zack’s father said a little too loudly.
Jenny hadn’t exhaled since they’d walked through the door.
“Zack?” Mrs. Larrabee looked back and forth between the couple. “Is this true?”
“Yes, mom, it’s true.”
She walked over to Zack and Jenny, reaching out and grabbing each of their left hands. Noting that they were wearing matching rings, she looked at her son and exclaimed, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Zack shrugged. “I’ve been busy.” The gratification had left his voice when he spoke to his mother. Jenny knew that the lapse in his relationship with her had been collateral damage in his attempt to alienate his father.
“You’ve been busy,” Mrs. Larrabee repeated without contempt as she hugged Zack and kissed his cheek. “You’ve been ignoring my phone calls; that’s what you’ve been doing.” She turned to Jenny and placed her hands on her shoulders. “And what is your name?”
Jenny said her name nervously, unsure how these people felt about her presence.
“Well, Jenny, I’m Ellen. It’s very nice to meet you. I’m sorry that my goofball son has kept us in the dark about your existence. I’m sure this has to be a very awkward moment for you.”
Jenny smiled pleasantly. “No, it’s okay.” She was lying through her teeth; this was the most awkward moment of her life.
“That’s polite of you to say,” Ellen replied with a sly smile, “but I know you’re full of it. But by all means, come on in.” She playfully smacked Zack on the back of his head as he walked by, mentioning, “I guess you won’t be sleeping in the twin bed I made up for you.”
“I can sleep on the couch,” Zack said. “No big deal.”
Jenny noted that Zack’s father still stood in the same spot, looking disapprovingly at his son. Now was the time for a little bit of redemption on her husband’s behalf. She wore her friendliest smile as she approached him and extended her hand. “Hello, Mr. Larrabee. I’m sorry we were late; it was my fault. We were on our way here and I got a contact, so we had to take a little detour.”