Scry Me A River: Suspense with a Dash of Humor (Blood Visions Paranormal Mysteries Book 2)

by Donna White Glaser

  In the distance, another kind of wailing could be heard—police sirens. Relief flooded Arie's body. As soon as the cops get here, they can—

  Wait. Arie wasn’t sure whose side the police would be on—the one who had just been accused of prescription-drug theft and had a restraining order prohibiting her from being on the nursing home's property, or the poor, not-so-little-but-still-elderly lady who was trying to stop said prescription drug thief with the RO from absconding with two vulnerable elderly gentlemen, not to mention the fact that Arie was standing over the top of the bleeding, battered old lady brandishing a weapon.

  Arie turned and ran.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Grumpa was slumped against the passenger door of the Caddy, looking bedraggled but more alert than he had been. Arie wasn't sure where to drive them, but as far away from River Rest as possible seemed a good start.

  "You're going the wrong way," Grumpa said.

  "We can't go home. That's the first place they'll look."

  "What do you mean 'firtht plathe they'll look'?" he asked. "We're not dethperadoeth."

  "Speak for yourself," Alan muttered from the back seat.

  "Grumpa, there's a lot more going on than just what happened to you, as awful as that is. I'll explain later, but for now, we really have to get off the road."

  "What about That Girl? The'th alwayth hanging out at my houthe. Let’th go to her plathe and eat all her food. I'm thtarving."

  "You better hope she's stocked up on soft foods," Alan said. "You left your chompers back in your room."

  "I didn't leave anything! You guyth are the oneth who—"

  "Just be grateful we got you out of there in the first place," Arie said. "And we can't go to Chandra's. She's out of town."

  "Figureth. Jutht when we needed thomething. What about your hunk?"

  Alan brightened up. "Hunk? The one who came to River Rest? I like the sound of that. I vote for the hunk."

  My hunk? Arie wasn't sure. Besides... "I just... I don't think I can call him. At least, not yet. Not without some kind of proof about what's going on. And anyway, Connor's a cop. He'd probably have to bring us all in while they figured out what's going on. I don't want to risk that."

  Moreover, she didn't want Connor to be put in the position of having to bring her in. Their relationship, whatever it was, wouldn't survive the experience. They hadn't even talked about the prescription theft incident.

  "Are we going to just keep driving around all night?" Alan asked. "Because maybe we could hit a bar. I've heard Bad Boys is an interesting venue."

  Grumpa turned in his seat to stare at Alan. "That'th a gay bar, ithn't it?"

  Alan smiled and shrugged. "Well..."

  Arie picked up her phone and dialed. Only one person was really left that she could call.

  "Dude," she said when he answered. "What's your address?"

  Grady's parents' basement was not what Arie had expected Grady's parents' basement to look like. She'd always imagined Grady as a video-gamer junkie living in the squalor of empty junk-food wrappers and his dirty laundry. She hadn't looked forward to trekking past his folks, but Grady turned out to also have a private entrance. The small foyer smelled like laundry soap, from the double stack washer-dryer in an alcove just as they came in. Cool idea. He could get out of his "death" clothes as soon as he walked in the door.

  The living room and kitchen had been painted a pale yellow. White cabinets and ditto granite countertop in the kitchen and a butter-yellow couch made the rooms feel bright and cheerful despite being belowground. Instead of a video-game console, Grady had a massive tigerwood oak desk, where he was presumably writing the second book in his thriller series. Bookshelves filled with fantasy and sci-fi novels and what looked like reference books flanked the desk on each side.

  Arie felt... dumb.

  "Dude, you guys look messed up," Grady said.

  They certainly did. The effects of Grumpa's meds seemed to have mostly worn off, but he was still in his boxer shorts, cradling his injured wrist, and his lips were sunken in. He still looked dazed and, somehow, smaller. Arie had washed Viv's blood from her face as soon as they'd arrived, but her blouse was still splotched with it. It glowed and shimmered whenever she looked down, so she kept her face tilted up, giving her a crick in her neck. And that wasn’t the only place she was sore. In fact, she was sore in all the places. Although Alan, still in his jaunty green pajamas, had fared the best of the three, he was barefoot, and a closer examination hinted at a developing black eye.

  "Grady, this is my grandpa," Arie said. "And this is our friend, Alan. We, um, really appreciate you letting us drop in on you so late."

  "Not a problem. Looks like Grumpa-dude hurt himself. Maybe he could use an ice pack, huh?" Grady went over to the freezer and pulled out an ice-cube tray. He stared at it a moment as if surprised to discover it in his hand, then he wandered into the bathroom. He emerged moments later with a bulging ice pack and handed it to Grumpa, who thanked him. "So, like, what's going on?"

  He deserved an explanation, but Arie didn’t know where to start. "My mom stuck Grumpa in River Rest, and I helped him escape. Alan helped too, and now he's in trouble as well."

  "Dude, you sprung Grumpa-dude from the Big House, huh? Did you do the cake-and-file routine? That's a classic."

  "No, we did the crawl-through-the-window-and-run-from-a-crazy-knife-wielding-psycho-girlfriend thing," Alan said.

  "The'th not my girlfriend," Grumpa mumbled.

  "Whoa." Grady was visibly impressed. "Even better. You're like Sean Connery and Nicholas Cage. You know, in The Rock?"

  "I'm Sean Connery," Alan said.

  Grumpa tried to blow a raspberry but only accomplished a frenetic frenzy of lip flapping and lots of spit.

  "So, like, you're hiding out here, huh? If they find you guys, are they going to send him back?"

  "Not if I can help it," Arie said. "But Grumpa, why did you agree to go in the first place? Ma doesn't have power of attorney, does she?"

  Grumpa worked his lips. "What choithe did I have? Your mother thaid the nurthing home wath going to preth chargeth on me if I didn't cooperate. I figured I'd play along 'til you came and got me, but... you didn't come. I figured you..."

  Arie teared up at the anguish on his lined face. "You thought I was going to just leave you there?"

  "Well, you didn't come. I got upthet, and then they gave me a shot of thomething."

  "I couldn't come. The police took me in for questioning because they thought I was stealing meds from River Rest. Someone set me up. I thought it was Jane Clarkson who framed me, but it must have been Viv. But that doesn't make sense, does it?"

  Alan said, "Jane Clarkson couldn't frame a picture. She's higher than a kite all the time. Everyone knows that."

  "Tho, whyth Viv trying to kill uth?"

  Alan shrugged. "I have to admit, that was a little... unexpected. She's always been a little high-strung, but still..."

  "Maybe she's protecting Jane?" Arie said. "Although I don't know why she would. What's in it for her? That's the thing we have to figure out before we call... anyone."

  "Whatth in it for Viv?" Grumpa mused.

  "I can't see her protecting Jane," Alan said. "I've never thought that Viv was particularly friendly with her. She's always seemed like Bernie's toady. She spent all her time kissing up to him. I never saw her pay any attention to Jane, or any other nurse, for that matter."

  "Okay, wait." Arie held her head. "I'd almost guarantee that Jane, or possibly Karen, set me up to take the fall for the med theft. I thought Bernie had figured it out somehow and—"

  "Why would Bernie know anything about that?" Alan asked.

  Grumpa sat up excitedly. "He wath a pharmatheutical thalethman, wathn't he?"

  Alan wiped Grumpa's spittle off his face. "We need to get your teeth back."

  "I know that, goth darn it! You think I like thith? I thound like Daffy Duck."

  "Maybe Bernie—" Arie started again.

/>   "That'th enough guething," Grumpa said. "We can thit here and gueth all night, and it won't do uth any good. We need evidenth, or I'm going to be thtuck here for the retht of my life without any teeth."

  "Well, guessing is all we can do right now," Alan said. "We can't go back to River Rest, and that's where all the evidence is. We're thtuck here twiddling our thumbs and thpitting at each other."

  Grumpa glared at Alan, who leaned back against the couch and blew him a kiss. "No, we're not," Grumpa said. "There ith thomething we can do." He turned to Arie. "Or rather, thomething you can do."

  Aries's eyes widened. "Grumpa, don't—"

  "You lithen to me, miththy. You've got that crathy lady'th blood all over you. Go do your voodoo thing."

  Alan and Grady both turned quizzical looks to Arie, who was alternating between hot and cold flashes. She shook her head at Grumpa.

  He waggled his head back at her. "Oh yeth, you are. What good doeth it do having a thuperpower if you don't uthe it?"

  "A what?" Alan asked.

  "Dude," Grady whispered, "do you have voodoo superpowers?"

  "I... I don't..." Arie burst into tears.

  "Oh, God help us, that's a 'yes,'" Alan said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  They'd cleared the coffee table off and were sitting in a semicircle around it. Arie sat by herself on the couch, a punch bowl of water in front of her. Grady’d had to go upstairs to his mom and dad's kitchen to get a big enough bowl. Arie's stomach sloshed with acid. Grumpa was holding a snip of bloody fabric that he'd cut from Arie's collar. He dropped it in the bowl.

  A red haze bloomed in the water around the piece of fabric then burst like an exploded bomb in Arie's mind. In her mind, though, it turned a moldy green, a color she'd never seen in her visions before, the color of sickness and decay.

  Flash.

  The rain's coming. It's gonna ruin the hay, for sure. Mama and I head out to the field to help sling bales. Daddy's on top of the wagon, stacking the bales like bricks. Mama can't get the bales high enough, but I can. She drives the tractor instead. I'm sweating like a pig, but I'm grinning, too, and I'm keeping up. He's gonna be so proud of me. I'm being such a big help, he can't help but be. Better than a boy ever could. The stack gets so high I can barely see Daddy, but I know he's up there because of all the swearing that's going on. I keep slinging the bales, higher and higher. And then we're done. Got all stacked, and we're ready to head to the barn. Daddy looks over the side of the stack, his face a pale moon in the darkness of the growing storm.

  "Get back to the house, Vivian Gertrude! You and your mother, both."

  He jumps down, and Mama hurries to get out of the tractor seat, to get out of his way. He doesn't even turn around as he drives off to the barn. The storm breaks, rain pelting me like the heavens decided I should be punished for being a girl.

  Flash.

  I'm wearing my new blue skirt with the sweater set that matches my eyes. Mama says all the boys will want to dance with me even if I am taller than all of them. Daddy just shook his head and turned away. I swallow my disappointment and try to stay excited. I head over to the school, the chilly air making my legs break out in goose bumps. The dance committee has the gym looking like a "tropical island getaway," just like Mandy Stokes wanted. I thought a cornucopia theme would have been better, especially for November, but the girls said that was stupid. That I was stupid is what they meant. But the gym sure is pretty, so maybe they were right. I get a cup of punch and stand by the wall next to Terry Bailey and Sarah Nusbaum. Terry hasn't been introduced to the idea of antiperspirant yet, and Sarah's a Jew, so no one's going to ask them to dance. If I stand next to them, I've got a decent chance to be picked. They both smile at me, but I turn away. I'm not looking for friends. Not them, anyway. I'm looking for a boy. A special boy who won't mind if I'm too tall or too gawky. I pull a chair out from the wall and sit down, arranging my skirt like a bell around my legs.

  I wait.

  Flash.

  It's perfect! It's just perfect. I pull the hamper closer and start arranging the chicken and the potato salad on the red-and-white checked blanket that I found at the Goodwill. The moths got at one corner of it, but I sat on the holes, so Bernie won't even see it. I bring out the apple pie, too, because I know Bernie will want to know if I remembered. Of course I did. I know all of his favorite things. And I have another surprise for him, too. He's going to love his new watch. It's so stylish and manly—just like him. So perfect, all of it. He's going to ask me today. I just know it.

  Flash.

  It's dark, but I like it. It feels like my heart, which Bernard Patrick Reynolds broke as easily as if he took a hammer to it. He knows what this past month has been like for me, and then he goes and leaves that note for her. "Meet me at the center." Slipped it to her right under Larry's nose, but they don't fool me. She smiled at him but shook her head like she was saying no. I knew he wouldn't believe it, that he'd think she was playing hard to get again, and he'd show up here just knowing his Fabulous Phyllis will be waiting for him. But she won't. I made sure of that. She might have said she wasn't coming, but of course she would. Well, I took care of that, didn't I? Marty may not get a good night's sleep tonight, but stinkin' Phyllis sure will.

  Wait... I hear him. He's coming. I ease into the break room.

  "Phyllis?" he whispers.

  I giggle in that high-pitched cackle she has and whisper, "Hide and seek!" Then I knock against the door on purpose, so he'll hear. So he'll know exactly where she's going.

  He's going to be so surprised.

  Flash.

  Nope. No more. Not going to happen again. I had him first. He took me on a date, not her. He didn't ask her, with her flowy, fancy scarves and her long, ugly braid. He asked me!

  Flash.

  Figured it out, did she? Stupid Bette Davis and her stupid movie. And anyway, that woman was right to shoot that bastard when he tried to leave her. He probably told her that he loved her and that... that she was special. He probably told her she was a "diamond in the rough." That if she just tried a little harder, she'd be perfect. She'd be perfect for him.

  And then that witch goes and yanks the hair outta my head? Acts all innocent, like she didn't mean to. What a liar.

  But they'll all believe her. I know they will.

  She's going to ruin it all for me.

  No. No, she is not. I'm going to have to stop her.

  A giggle rose unbidden in Arie's chest.

  But that's not all bad. Not really.

  I'm starting to like it.

  Arie wrenched her gaze from the bloody scrap and flung herself backward. Grady sat next to her on the couch, Grumpa and Alan still in their chairs across from her. They all looked shocked and... afraid.

  "It's okay, dude. It's okay. Just, you know, breathe."

  "It's not okay," Arie said through gritted teeth. "She likes it."

  "Who liketh what?"

  "Viv. She likes killing people. Not at first. At first, when she killed Bernie, she was just angry. Hurt and angry."

  "Because he dumped her," Alan said.

  Arie nodded. "And because he was trying to get back with Phyllis. He was flirting with Phyllis right in front of her. And she... she'd had enough."

  "Tho thee killed him." Grumpa's voice was flat, his head down, eyes staring at the floor.

  "Yeah, she sure did. She gave Phyllis Marty's sleeping pills and made sure she wouldn't go meet Bernie at the center. Then she got there first and waited for him."

  "What about Belinda?" Grumpa asked.

  Arie swallowed. "She guessed that Belinda figured it out. From the movie."

  "She must have been jealous of Belinda, too," Alan said. "Especially when Harlan started—"

  Arie shook her head fiercely at Alan, who stuttered to a stop.

  Grumpa raised his head. "Ethpethially when I thtarted talking to Belinda inthtead of her. I know. I know it'th my fault Belinda wath killed."

  "No, it's not, Grumpa," Ari
e said. "The only one responsible is Viv."

  "You know, Belinda was really taken with you, Harlan," Alan said. "I'd never seen her so... Well, at least she had that before she died. At least she knew someone cared for her." His eyes filled with tears, and he turned his face away.

  Grumpa reached over and put his hand on Alan's shoulder. "Thank you."

  They sat quietly for several moments, taking it all in. Then Alan's head snapped up. "Hey, wait a minute. We're forgetting something."

  "Jane," Arie said. "Why did she try to frame me? Because I know she did. Somebody put the baggie in my jacket pocket."

  "Easy enough to do," Alan said. "It was right out there in the open. You know, I did see Jane talking to Rachelle after you went in her office. The cops came in right after, and Jane met them at the door. She told us they were going to search the center and for us to remain seated."

  "Did thee have a chanthe to plant the baggie?" asked Grumpa.

  Alan shrugged. "I was so busy watching the cops, she could have. Somebody did, anyway."

  "Arie," Grumpa said.

  "What?"

  "It'th time to call Connor."

  "But... but we don't know why Jane framed me. Or... And we don't have any proof, not for either of them."

  "But we know what happened. Now that we know for thure who killed Bernie and Belinda, he can figure the retht out. He'th the detective, not uth."

  Arie took a deep breath. Grumpa'th right. She pulled her phone out and dialed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  "It wasn't a coincidence," Connor said. "Not really."

  Arie and Connor sat together on a metal park bench at Fowler Park. She hadn't wanted to talk at the police station about the previous weeks, and since they hadn't yet resolved their issues with Arie's involvement, she didn't want to invite him to the house, either. Her second favorite place—Whalen's Coffee & Ice Cream—would seem too much like a date. Connor had suggested the park, and it seemed as good as anything else.