"Jerry, did I wake you?" She knew that she had.
"Gillian?”
"Yes, it's Gillian. I need your help.”
"What's wrong? Something happen? Are you hurt? Jesus, it’s just past three in the morning. Just stay calm. Let me throw on a pair of jeans and I'll be right there."
"Jerry? Jerry?" Gillian could hear him moving around his room. She knew he wasn’t listening to her. He must have put the phone down. "Jerry!" she yelled. Finally, she heard him pick up the phone again.
"I'm here. Is there any bleeding, shortness of breath?”
She could imagine him running around the room, throwing on his clothes and hunting for his shoes. “What exactly is the matter? I just have to put on my tennis shoes.”
"Jerry, I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. It's Zachary."
She heard a thump and she guessed he dropped his shoe.
"Zachary? Did you say Zachary?”
"I had a dream and . . ."
"Excuse me?" Jerry interrupted. "Let me get this straight. I'm here rushing around my room throwing on my clothes thinking you are bleeding to death or something, but you called me in the middle of the night to discuss a dream you had? Let me sit down for this.”
"I know what you’re thinking . . ."
"You have no idea what I'm thinking." His voice raised an octave.
She could tell he wasn’t pleased with being roused out of a peaceful slumber and she couldn’t blame him. "I'm sorry. I'll let you get back to sleep.”
"Don't you dare hang up. You better tell me what made you call me so early in the morning or I'll be down at your place breaking down the door."
She sighed. "I need you to help me find out what happened to Zachary. I have to find him. I have to know that he’s all right and that he lived a full happy life."
"Why? What would be the point?”
She didn’t answer.
“Gillian, it may not be a good idea. What happens if you find out something you don't want to know?”
"I'll deal with that when the time comes." She sniffled.
“Ah, come on, Gillian. Don’t do this. Don’t cry.” He swore softly under his breath. “Okay, I’m an insensitive ass. I'll help you find out what happened to Zachary."
"You will?" She sniffled again.
"I said that I would. You didn't want me to help you this second, did you?"
"No, later today would be fine. Thanks Jerry. You don't know how much this means to me."
Jerry yawned. "Oh, I think I do. I'll talk to you tomorrow… or rather later today. Good night."
"Good night . . . sorry I woke you." She hung up first.
Gillian couldn’t go back to sleep. She was still shaken by her dream of Zachary. She prayed it wasn’t something that truly had happened. Staring into the darkness, she sat down on the couch. She picked up one of the throw pillows and hugged it close to her. As much as she wanted to put the thoughts of her dream out of her mind, she couldn't. Her heart pounded against her chest and panic like she’d never known before welled in her throat as she recalled the image of Zachary swinging from a rope. "It can't be true,” she said aloud, as if this would put her at ease, but instead her voice echoed without conviction.
***
Samantha stood and looked over the library monitor. "Please tell me what we are looking for? I just spent a long day painting a room the size of a three-car garage. I’m working on overtime.”
"I’m looking for anything that has to do with the town, Natchez, Mississippi, Creighton Manor or anything . . ." Gillian concentrated on the terminal screen.
"Yes, I know that, but what else? I can tell that you're searching for a specific something."
Jerry stopped what he was doing and stared at her, too. Gillian had no other choice. "Okay, already. I had a disturbing dream and I’m trying to find proof that it didn’t happen." She took a ragged breath. "I'm scared. I’m so scared.”
“Of what? Tell us,” Samantha encouraged.
"The dream, a nightmare really; it was so vivid that I’m afraid that there was some truth to it.” She looked up at her friends, her green eyes revealing her pain as the icy fear twisted around her heart. “Remember the last time we saw Zachary. He was across the vortex and Molly was barking, frantically. I know now that I was supposed to go, but I hesitated and the door closed. I’ve concluded that the doors to the past must only stay open for a certain amount of time, like a revolving door popping open in different spots. When I tried to go through the last time, I felt like I hit a brick wall."
"So maybe you weren't supposed to go," Jerry said without conviction.
“You know that isn’t true.” Gillian shook her head. "Somehow Molly is connected to all this. She’s the key and she was trying to tell me to go, but I refused to listen. The first time I traveled back, it was like a dream. I haven’t figured out how and I probably will never understand it fully, but I know it was Molly who led me through space and time. When we crossed over to Hoag Hospital, it was simple as walking across the street. As the door starts to close, it becomes difficult to pass through.” She covered her face with her hands. “Why did I hold back when I had the chance to go?”
Samantha walked over to her and put a comforting arm around her shoulders, giving her a quick hug. "Why don't you tell us about your dream, so we can get a better idea of what you are trying to find, or rather not find.”
Gillian lowered her hands and swallowed. "Zachary was sentenced to hang and somehow I am responsible. I know if I had been there he would have been all right, that it wouldn’t have happened."
Jerry leaned forward resting his arms on the table. "It may only be your subconscious talking because you’re missing him. Maybe you are putting a little too much into this?”
Samantha shook her head, coming to Gillian's defense. "I don’t think so. She has a link with this man. For God's sake, she dreamt about him before they met."
Jerry looked confused, since this was the first he heard of her dreams. "You've dreamt about him before? What are you talking about?"
Gillian rubbed her face. "I didn't know it was him at first, in my dream I had never seen the man's face. When I met Zachary, there was an immediate connection as if I belonged with him. I didn't understand it then, but now I do. Zachary was the one I had been waiting for. He confirmed it on the last day that I saw him. Just before he faded away, he said the words I had been longing to hear; the only words that the man in my dream has spoken to me." A hurt expression flickered across Jerry’s face, making Gillian realize what she had said. “Jerry …”
He held up his hand to halt her apology. “Don’t say it,” he told her.
She knew he must feel a little pang of betrayal, but she had to set things right. He had Samantha now. His relationship with her was different…. closer would be how she would describe it. Even though, She and Jerry had a caring relationship, there was a respected distance between them. If they had taken the time to think about it, they would have realized from the start that they weren’t suited to spend a lifetime together. They had friendship but no passion. “Jerry—”
“It’s okay, Gillian. I get it.” He turned his attention to Samantha. He smiled and leaned across the table to give Samantha's hand an affectionate squeeze.
He faced Gillian then. The pain was gone, replaced with determination. "Then we best start looking for this man of yours and hope your dream wasn’t a premonition."
“Thank you. You know he means—"
“I know.” Jerry nodded.
The three looked for hours through books, the Internet— everything that the library had to offer. There wasn't any mention of a Zachary Creighton or Creighton Manor. Gillian sat back in her chair completely frustrated. "I have to go there,” she suddenly announced.
Both Jerry and Samantha exchanged worried looks.
"It's the only way for me to find out about him. Surely, they will have a more accurate record of what happened there. There's one other place I can check, too." Gillian pau
sed and licked her dry lips. She didn't want to, but she knew it would be evidence. "I could check the cemetery. If I saw the date he . . . " She couldn't say it even though she knew he would have a place there already. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Zachary had died a long time ago.
Jerry cleared his throat. “It’s difficult for us to think of Zachary in the past tense, too, but you’re right. You should go. It might be the best way to find out the information you want. In the mean time, I have another idea."
"You do?" Gillian raised an eyebrow.
"Since Tyler is, well was," Jerry corrected himself, “my relative, maybe I can find some information at my parents’ house. My dad keeps old papers and things about the family out in the garage. He has the tendency to be a bit of a pack rat. If there is any mention of what became of Zachary Creighton, it just might be in that old stuff."
"I'll come with you and help," Samantha offered.
Gillian smiled. "You two are the best." She rose from her seat. "One more favor, will one of you pick up my mail while I'm gone?"
"No problem." Jerry nodded.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Judge Turloff was a man of impeccable character. He took his job seriously and wanted to uphold the law. He felt he had never convicted a man that didn’t rightly deserve it, but now . . .
He took his time looking over the evidence of this new case. Zachary Creighton was brought into his courtroom for trial. He had spoken with Creighton at length. He liked the man and believed him to be innocent of the charges that were brought against him. Of course, there was no proof other than his gut feelings on this matter. The evidence on the other hand was overwhelmingly stacked against him.
Again, he went over the damning evidence in his mind: Josephine Locke’s testimony, the wife missing, and Creighton’s knife used to stab Dora Chandler. Dora was barely holding on to life by a thread. Creighton claimed that he kept the knife under his pillow and didn’t know who would have known it was there. Nor could he give any enlightenment as to who would have wanted to harm his housekeeper.
As far as Judge Turloff could find out, Creighton held no ill will toward Dora Chandler. Robbery could have been the motive, but nothing was taken from the home. If only the woman would regain consciousness to tell them who attacked her, but her doctor gave little hope for that. He was sure it was only a matter of time before the poor woman would succumb to her fate. She would have been dead already if Josephine Locke hadn’t paid a call to the home and found her.
The matter of Creighton's missing wife bothered him the most. When he asked Creighton pointblank if he had murdered his wife, he denied it with such fervor that again he felt Creighton spoke the truth. He had asked Creighton to tell him where his wife was, but he had refused to give him an answer.
If he would contact his wife and have her show herself, he might be able to look further into the attempted murder of Dora Chandler. However, without Zachary's cooperation, his vague story of where his wife was residing left him with no choice. He had to agree to go ahead with the trial.
He slammed his fist on his desk. Zachary Creighton would be found guilty of that, he was certain. At this moment, he didn’t care for his job. He would have to live with the awful feeling of sending an innocent man to his death.
***
Arthur Mann, assigned to the prosecution looked over his notes before he glanced up at the witness. "Can you state to the jury what Zachary Creighton told you Madame Locke?" He leaned against his table. Zachary knew the young lawyer had reviewed the evidence against him and if the man’s smug expression was any indication, he believed he would win this case. He was only going through the motions.
"I most certainly will." Josephine was very eager to tell her story. "I was at Zachary's home and he threatened me."
"Threatened you," the young lawyer stressed looking at the jury. He then looked back to Josephine Locke. "Why don't you tell us exactly what he said.”
"When I asked him where Gillian was, he said that he got rid of her. He said that he didn't stand for meddling females. He glared at me the whole time with those piercing, blue eyes of his. Of course, I knew what he was implying. He didn't like me meddling either and if I didn’t watch my step I would—"
"I object!" Ellery jumped to his feet. "Your honor, Madame Locke is speculating what Zachary had meant by his words."
"Point taken." The judge nodded. He looked at Josephine. "Repeat only the conversation that you had with Mr. Creighton and do not add your own conjectures."
Josephine nodded.
Arthur Mann walked around the table and approached Josephine. "There was another thing that you noticed. Zachary stated his wife was visiting her relatives. Why do you have a strong belief that this is false?"
"Because Gillian didn’t take any of her clothes with her."
"And how do you know this?"
Josephine pulled at the collar of her dress. "I came to call and while Dora went outside to find Zachary, I went upstairs and checked out things myself. Her drawers were full and she had dresses still hanging upon the pegs. It didn't look like she had packed a single item." Josephine sat back in her chair with a satisfied look, daring Zachary to say anything about her uninvited snooping.
Arthur Mann smiled and sauntered over to the jury. "Don't you find that odd?” He raised his hands in a shrug. “Zachary claims his wife is away visiting family, yet the woman doesn’t pack a trunk. Think about this gentleman. Would any of your wives leave town without their personal belongings? I don't think they would."
The jury nodded their heads in agreement to what Mann had presented to them. Zachary hoped Ellery could think of something to sway their opinion back to his side. The eager, young lawyer was not going to make this an easy task.
"That's all, your honor.” Arthur Mann went back to his seat.
The judge looked to Ellery. Ellery stood and walked over to the witness stand. "Josephine, could it be possible that Gillian might have clothing at her relatives’ place of residence?”
"Well, I . . . I suppose so," Josephine said slowly.
"How was it Josephine that you happened to have access to Gillian Creighton's room? Did Zachary give you permission to make your own investigation?"
"Objection!" The young lawyer jumped up from his seat. "Your honor, I don't see what difference it makes if Zachary gave his permission to go upstairs or not."
The judge waved his hand. "Please, stay with the facts of the case, Mr. Livingston."
"I am trying to establish the character of this witness, which I feel is vitally important to this case."
"All right then. Objection overruled, but proceed cautiously," Judge Turloff warned.
Ellery turned his attention back to Josephine. "Please, answer the question. Did Zachary give you permission to go upstairs?"
"Well no, but—"
Ellery didn't allow her to finish her statement. "No, is a good enough answer. So as a good and upstanding person, you felt it your right to go into Zachary's home and sneak around without permission?"
"You have it all wrong—"
"I do? I thought, you said that you did not have permission."
Josephine was red with anger. “You’re twisting what I said. I won’t play your fool, Mr. Livingston.”
Ellery continued with a new approach. "Let's go on to another question, shall we? Can you tell me what Zachary said to you, that you were so sure he had done some harm to his wife?"
She pursed her lips together.
“You must answer the question, Madam Locke,” Judge Turloff informed her.
She harrumphed. "Well, he wouldn't tell me when Gillian was going to return. He acted very odd about it." Josephine glared a Zachary.
"Oh, I see. It's all clear to me now.” Ellery tapped his head drawing Josephine’s attention back to him. "Zachary would not give you the information when Gillian would return. This translates into he murdered her?" His sarcasm was not missed.
Zachary concealed a hint of a smile behind his ha
nd. There were unsuppressed chuckles from the people in the courtroom.
The judge was not pleased and hit the gavel down on the desk. "Silence in the courtroom."
"No, that's not what it means!" Josephine voice rose with frustration. "It was all the things put together that made me suspicious."
"Tell us, please.” Ellery leaned against the table, folding his arms in front of him. He waited for Josephine to continue.
"Well . . .” Josephine paused as if unsure where to begin. "Well . . . there was the statement of Tyler’s. He said she's in a better place. What else could that mean? You only say that when someone has passed on."
"Really? Why I can think of plenty of places that are far better than here and it has nothing to do with the afterlife."
The murmurs in the courtroom unsettled Josephine’s composure, making her desperate to be heard. “If he didn't kill her, why doesn't he tell all of us where she is?” She stood and pointed her finger at Zachary. "Prove your innocence, Zachary Creighton and have Gillian show her face in this courtroom."
Judge Turloff pounded the gavel against the desk. "That will be all, Madame Locke. Be seated this instant."
"That's all right your honor,” Ellery said. “I’m through questioning the witness.”
Zachary breathed a sigh of relief that Ellery wouldn’t provoke Josephine Locke further. That last outburst wouldn’t help him.
Ellery returned to the table and took a seat.
"You may step down." Judge Turloff waved to Josephine. She stepped down from the witness stand. Lifting her chin ever so slightly, she went back to her seat.
Judge Turloff looked at Arthur Mann. "Call your next witness."
The young lawyer stood. "I would like to call Zachary Creighton to the stand.”
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