by J A Whiting
“Dwayne seems … different.”
“Different, how? Stop beating around the bush and tell me what’s going on.”
“Dwayne was on medication for anxiety after finding Abby Jackson’s hand.” Shelly paused.
“I know that.”
“Your brother has become forgetful, sort of … spaced out. He’s not himself. Paul told me that Dwayne has a doctor’s appointment next week.”
Nora’s face looked pinched. “It would have been nice if Paul contacted me about this,” she muttered. “Have you talked to Dwayne?”
“A few times.” Shelly gave a nod.
“What’s he like?”
Shelly said, “He’s quiet, lacks energy, seems fatigued, he shows little emotion, he has a flat affect.”
Justice hissed.
“He isn’t working?” Nora looked concerned.
“He was, but recently he isn’t doing a lot. I only see him once in a while. You should talk to Paul.” Shelly didn’t want to get in the middle of the family’s troubles.
“Maybe Paul can handle it.” Nora put her hand on the side of her face. “I’m sure he can. I’m supposed to leave tomorrow for Palm Springs. I’m considering moving there with a friend. We’ve had the trip planned for a month.” The woman looked at Shelly. “Don’t breathe a word of my possible move. Don’t tell a soul. No one knows about it. I’ll make the final decision once I’m out there again. I’ve had enough of the winter. I want to live somewhere warm.” She nodded. “I’ll give Paul a call to find out what’s going on with Dwayne.”
“That’s a good idea,” Shelly said.
Nora took a step closer to the young woman. “What has Paul said to you? Have you talked to Paul?”
“We’ve talked a little. He just expressed some concern over Dwayne’s health issues.” Shelly was intentionally vague.
Nora groaned. “Why did this have to happen now when I’m so busy.”
Shelly’s eyes widened in surprise at Nora’s self-interest.
“I’d better get going.” Shelly and Justice started away. “Good luck with your trip. I hope Dwayne is feeling better soon.”
Walking around the block with the cat, Shelly thought over the conversation with Nora and wondered about her and Dwayne’s relationship. Why hadn’t Paul called her to talk about Dwayne’s problems? Maybe the family isn’t close. Dwayne had told her that he felt alone.
Didn’t Paul tell me his mother was upset over Dwayne’s health? Then why did Nora act like she didn’t know what was going on with Dwayne?
It was nearly dark when Shelly and Justice climbed the steps and went inside the cottage. With a grumbling stomach, Shelly fed the cat and then made an omelette, tossed a salad, and warmed a roll in the oven. Carrying her plate to the living room sofa, she lit a candle, put on some music, and sat down to enjoy her dinner with Justice curled next to her.
After finishing her meal, Shelly got a pen and a pad of paper and started making notes on the suspects, facts, and details of Abby’s disappearance and probable murder. She stood and began pacing back and forth across the room with Justice sitting up and watching her owner’s movements to and fro. The cats head moved as if she were attending a tennis match. It went on so long that Justice finally let out a screech causing Shelly to jump.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Justice jumped off the sofa and walked down the hall and into the bathroom. When Shelly got to the door, the cat was sitting in the tub. Meow, she said.
Leaning against the door jamb, Shelly let out a chuckle. “Okay, I get the message. Juliet told me to relax, take a bath, drink some warm milk. I see you were paying attention to her suggestions.” She gave the cat a scratch and then called her out of the tub so she could turn on the water.
Wearing a big, fluffy robe, Shelly poured some milk into a saucepan to warm it on the stove. “I haven’t had a bath for years. I always shower. I have to admit,” Shelly told the cat, “it was very relaxing.”
When the milk was warmed, she poured it into a glass for herself and ladled some onto a small plate for Justice. “Juliet told me to stop thinking and let my mind rest so that’s what I’ll try to do.”
The young woman and her cat headed for the bedroom where Shelly dimmed the lamp on the side table, fluffed her pillow, snuggled under her soft blanket, closed her eyes, and focused on her breathing. If thoughts about the crime or the suspects popped into her head, she gently pushed them away and thought of the resort’s peaceful, blue lake and pictured herself in the middle of it relaxing on a float with her hand dipped into the cool water.
In less than thirty minutes, Shelly was sound asleep and began to dream.
Shelly struggled through the woods, panting and covered in sweat. When she emerged from the forest, a wide field stretched out before her. Trees were down, a building had collapsed, the ground was muddy ... there were grapes in the mud. Shelly tried to move her legs forward, but they felt like they were made of cement and each step took a mighty effort.
Lauren stepped out from the rubble and again, stretched out her arms to her sister, both of her hands missing.
Shelly opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come so she said them over and over in her head. I’m coming. Don’t leave. Wait for me. Wait for me, Lauren.
When she’d made it to within feet of her sister, tears spilled down Shelly’s cheeks. She looked into Lauren’s eyes and wanted so badly to hold her, but she knew she couldn’t. What can I do? How can I help? What are you trying to tell me?
Lauren looked up at the sky and Shelly followed her gaze to see a dark SUV suspended in the air, twirling slowly around and around. The vehicle started to fall, faster and faster and just as it was about to hit the earth, Shelly closed her eyes.
There was no crash, only silence.
When she opened her eyes, Shelly was standing next to Lauren at the top of a hill looking down at the muddy field. A digger was parked at the side of the open space.
A scream filled the air.
The SUV was in the air plummeting towards the earth. When it hit the ground, the car made no sound, it only slipped into the large hole that waited for it. The soil closed over the SUV and the vehicle was gone.
Shelly turned to her sister with questioning eyes.
Lauren’s lips curved into a tender smile and when she lifted her arm, her hand was there, and she placed it gently over her heart.
Shelly woke with a start and sat bolt upright in bed, blinking into the darkness. Justice raised her head from her paws and trilled.
The field held a clue ... and Shelly was pretty sure she knew where it was.
23
As soon as she woke up, Shelly made a call to Henry at the diner and left a message telling him she’d be in to work a couple of hours later than usual. She showered, dressed, grabbed a granola bar and paused at the door to pat Justice.
“I wish you could come with, little one. Wish us luck.”
Justice released a loud, clear trill and jumped onto the window sill to watch Shelly peddle her bike down the street.
After her dream, Shelly had texted Jack about going to the farm with her before work and when she woke, she was happy see his reply about meeting her there at 6am.
She arrived earlier than planned and as she locked her bike by the food barn, Shelly got a call from Jack. He couldn’t make it because of an unexpected work commitment and suggested they go the next morning instead.
With a sigh, Shelly started for the barn’s kitchen to work on some pies, but stopped and turned and looked up to the hills surrounding the farm. Something tugged at her. Feeling her pepper spray in the back pocket of her jeans, she did an about face away from the barn.
Mist rose from the green fields of Glad Hill Farm under the sun’s early morning light as Shelly hiked up the trails to the first bluff where she and Dwayne had stood while he pointed out the vast property of the farm he owned. Standing on the hill, Shelly looked over the expanse of greenery, fields, the apple trees of the orch
ard, and back to the tourist section of the farm. Looking to her left, she knew what she needed to see was beyond the fields of the orchard so she returned to the trail and headed in that direction.
The trail became difficult to navigate with vines and brush grown over the path. Shelly pushed at the low-hanging branches and underbrush. Prickers scratched at her legs as she passed. The day was warming up and perspiration dripped along her back and wet her hairline. The more she thought about last night’s dream, the more anxious she became. Winded and with her heart banging in her chest, she emerged from the trail into a wide open field.
This was the spot where Dwayne wanted to start his winery until Paul shot down the idea in order to create a Christmas tree farm. Moving her eyes across the space, Shelly saw the uprooted trees, boulders dug from the ground pushed to the side of the field, the muddy tracks of the earth-moving machines that were being used to overturn the soil and add more loam to the land. Looking to the right, Shelly saw what once was a small cabin now knocked to the ground … logs, broken windows, and boards tossed down like garbage.
That was the spot Lauren came from in the dreams.
With her arms hanging by her sides, Shelly stared, knowing full well her sister would not appear, but letting a moment of hope wash over her.
Taking in a long, deep breath, Shelly ran her hand over her face and turned away from the rubble of the log cabin to look over the land and at all the work that had been done so far to create an appropriate landscape for planting the evergreens. Machinery was parked on the opposite side of where Shelly stood, closer to what appeared to be a dirt road leading into the property.
Looking up at the sky, she closed her eyes and recalled the details of the previous night’s dream. When she imagined the car twirling overhead, a shot of adrenaline pulsed through her. Picturing the SUV beginning to plummet, Shelly’s eyes snapped open and a moment of dizziness struck her so hard she almost toppled backwards.
Regaining her balance, a terrible sensation of panic pummeled her so she whirled and ran towards the woods to pick up the trail, her brain screaming at her to get out of there. Just as she stepped into the cover of the trees and brush, the engine of one of the excavator machines started up with a roar. Men had arrived at the site to work.
Shelly’s chest heaved up and down and she stood for a few moments to catch her breath, thankful she’d left the field when she did. Turning to head back to the main part of the farm, Shelly halted, something pulling at her. Slowly she glanced back over her shoulder, terror nearly strangling her. Two excavators lurched over the field.
Abby. Dwayne. He must have killed her and buried her in that field.
Feeling paralyzed, Shelly forced her feet to move and she hurried along the trails back to the farm, all the while experiencing the sensation that someone was back there following her.
When she burst out of the woods to see the lake and the paths running around it, her heart began to find its usual rhythm and she slowed her pace. The petting zoo and the food barn, the building that housed the office, and the lane past the office that led to Dwayne’s house .... the familiar sights caused her to breathe a sigh of relief, yet she took one last look behind her to be sure no one was lurking in the shadows.
Standing next to her bike about to unlock it so she could ride to the police station, she reached for her phone to send a text to Juliet and Jay when a voice called out to her and she turned to see the woman who worked as the office manager hurrying towards her carrying a folder.
“Shelly. You’re early today.” The woman, looking upset, mistakenly thought the young woman had just arrived to work in the farm’s kitchen. “My babysitter just called. My three-year-old fell and hit his head and she’s taking him to the hospital. I’m meeting them there. I have to run. Would you bring this folder to Dwayne’s house for me? Have you been in there?”
Shelly shook her head.
“Well, the door’s always open. Don’t bother to knock, just go right in. When you step inside, there’s an office on the right. Just put this on the desk. Paul’s working down at the Christmas tree plot. He’ll be back in a couple of hours. If this binder isn’t there when Paul gets in, he’ll have a hissy fit.” The woman extended her arm so Shelly would take the leather folder. “Could you run this down there for me, please?”
Shelly took the folder reluctantly. “Sure, I’ll do it. Hope your little boy is okay.”
“Could you do it now before you go in to bake? I don’t want Paul chewing me out over it. He’ll be angry anyway because I have to leave.” The woman turned and rushed to her car.
Shelly watched her go and looking down at the leather binder in her hand, she sighed and headed to Dwayne’s house walking along the quarter-mile pathway that wound past the petting zoo and a section of the planted fields of pumpkins, corn, and tomatoes. The air felt heavy from the heat and humidity and it pressed on Shelly making her sluggish.
She wanted to talk to Jay about her dream and the thoughts that were swirling around in her head making her feel ill. Was she right about Dwayne being the killer? Was she jumping to the right conclusion? Dwayne’s accelerated mental slide might be from the guilt and remorse of taking a life.
When she arrived at Dwayne’s farmhouse, she walked up the three steps to the porch and stood at the door feeling uncomfortable about going in without knocking. Hesitating for a few moments, she raised her hand and rapped on the wood of the screen door and waited. All she wanted was to get rid of the folder and ride to the police station.
No one answered the knock so she opened the door and stepped into the small entryway. The living area was to the left, a long hall that probably led to the kitchen ran next to the staircase. Shelly hurried into the room used as an office and placed the folder on the desk on top of a pile of papers. Turning around to go, her breath caught in her throat and she let out a gasp of surprise.
“Hello, Shelly.” Dwayne stood in the doorway looking tired and disheveled. He didn’t ask why the young woman was in his office. “Could you help me? I spilled my pills in the kitchen.”
Shelly swallowed hard. “Okay, sure. I can help.” Seeing how weak Dwayne was, she didn’t think he was capable of attacking her so she asked the question she’d been thinking about all morning. She watched the man’s face for his reaction and steeled herself for his reply, certain the man was Abby’s killer. “Dwayne, do you know where Abby Jackson is?”
“Abby.” Dwayne muttered the word.
“Did you hurt Abby?” Shelly asked with a gentle tone.
Dwayne made eye contact with the young woman, his facial muscles hanging loose and droopy.
“Are you alone here?”
Dwayne turned and shuffled down the hall with Shelly following after. He seemed oblivious to her question, but then he answered. “I’m alone.”
The large kitchen had been nicely updated with new appliances, a wide island, and white cabinets. Next to three pill bottles, a plastic weekly pill container of ten little compartments, two for each day, stood upended on the counter, pills spilled over the top and down onto the floor.
“I made a mess.” Dwayne stood helplessly staring down at the floor.
“Did you take some of these pills?” Shelly wondered if Dwayne had become confused and took more of the pills than he should have.
“I think so. I’m supposed to take a lot of them.” Dwayne’s brow furrowed as he struggled to kneel on the floor. He scooped up a handful of pills and brought them to his mouth.
“No.” Shelly batted the pills out of the man’s hand, then found a clean cereal bowl in the cabinet and knelt to gather the spilled medicine tablets and capsules. “Does Paul fill your pill container for you?”
“I guess so.” Dwayne told her listlessly, and with great effort, he dragged himself up off the floor.
“Do you take your pills on your own or does Paul tell you when to take them?” Shelly asked.
“I don’t recall,” Dwayne said watching her.
After she’d
picked up all the pills, she stood and lifted one of the bottles to read the prescription. The number of pills to take each day was scratched out and above, written in pen, was the number ‘6’.
Shelly looked at each of the other two containers and saw the same thing … the pharmacy printed number was rubbed out and a new number was written above in ink.
“Dwayne, did you take pills this morning?” Worried the man had overdosed, Shelly reached for her phone in the pocket of her jeans, but before she could retrieve it to call for help, Dwayne reached for the kitchen island to steady himself.
Shelly watched the man sway back and forth. His eyes rolled back in his head before he lost his grip on the counter and began to fall. Shelly lunged and grabbed the older man’s arm helping to break the momentum.
Dwayne lay unconscious at her feet.
Kneeling, she searched Dwayne’s neck for a pulse. A faint beating thrummed against her fingertips. Shelly didn’t realize that when she knelt and bent over Dwayne, her pepper spray had slipped out of her pocket.
“Dwayne,” Shelly spoke softly. He did not respond. Panicked, she reached to her back pocket for her phone and sat back on her butt about to punch in 911.
Footsteps coming from behind her caused Shelly to look up just as Paul Blake reached down and swiped the phone from her hands. She peered up at the man as the phone skittered across the wood floor of the kitchen.
And that’s when her brain cleared and all of the pieces of information snapped neatly together.
Too late.
24
Juliet woke early to prepare breakfast. She put the cinnamon buns in the oven and then, standing at her kitchen counter, she sliced cantaloupe and apples, cut strawberries, oranges, and watermelon into pieces and added all of it to the bowl to mix together the fruit salad. The waffles she’d made were wrapped in foil to keep them warm.
Checking the time, she glanced at the back door to see if Shelly was about to come in. They’d made arrangements to have breakfast together before each headed off to their jobs. Her friend and neighbor was already ten minutes late.