They returned to the doghouse and loaded Missy. Once inside and driving away from the church, Bert broke the silence, asking Norah for her perceptions.
“Bert, when the Father was talking about his predecessor, I was getting a flurry of uneasy feelings. It’s like when you first meet someone, and you just don’t feel good about them; you don’t know if you can trust them.”
“Do you think Father Romero is hiding something?” he asked.
Norah said, “I don’t know, Sweetheart, maybe. It feels like there’s more to the story than we know now. It feels like we should know more. When Father Romero told us about DelFranco’s death, I had this wave of doubt hit me. It felt deceptive.”
“Do you think the Father was killed, Norah?” he asked. “If so, why would someone kill him?”
“Honey, I don’t know. But something just doesn’t feel right about it,” she said.
“I think we need to take advantage of this coming storm to see what we can find out about Father DelFranco,” Bert said. “Did he leave here because he was due a new assignment, or might he have been forced to leave? How did he die in Boise? Was it an accident? Or could he have been killed? If he was killed, why? Could all that be related to our missing women?”
“You’re right, Bert, we need to look into him more. I’m feeling like my visions from the altar are probably from his eyes. Why am I receiving his view of his church? What am I supposed to be seeing?
They drove in silence back to the motel. Each lost in thought. Darkness was creeping in quickly along with the deepening cloud cover and increasing cold. The wind was now gusting up to twenty miles per hour. The storm was gathering. They would give Missy another quick run and then break out the cooler for an evening meal. Tomorrow would be a day to hunker down and ride out the tempest. A day to contemplate the next moves.
Chapter Ten: Baffling
Inside the Hayden’s guest cabin, the last embers glowed brightly in the fireplace as Becky peered out from the comfort of her bed. She knew she needed to get up and stoke the fire, but the whistling wind outside convinced her to lie in her warm cocoon for just a few more minutes. The storm was forecast to begin subsiding around noon on this Wednesday in Red Lodge.
The pull of a freshly brewed cup of coffee gradually drew Becky from her nest among the pillows and blankets. She rolled out of bed, slipped on her fleece-lined slippers waiting neatly at the side of the bed, and made her way to the fireplace. The addition of a few pieces of kindling and a couple of larger pieces of split logs, accompanied by a good stoking with the poker, soon had the fire blazing. Next she moved to the kitchen and the stoking of the coffee pot. Outside, the snow whirled around the base of the trees and sprayed across the windows.
Coffee in hand, she propped herself in the rocker near the fire. This was a good time to plan out her day and how best to pursue the ongoing investigation into Summer’s torment.
The first thing, she decided, was to contact Bert and Norah and compare notes on both investigations. Perhaps they could give her some ideas. She was also very interested in the case they were working in Nebraska City. She’d never been there but knew about the Arbor Day connection and hoped to visit it sometime. After that, Becky felt she needed to spend more time with Summer, this time trying to understand the second drawing. It was a mystery, but it didn’t seem to elicit the strong visceral reaction that the circle did. She decided to spend any additional time learning more about Priest Finegan. She needed to know if he was behind the suspicious surveillance which seemed to be occurring. Did he suspect that he had a child here with Lizzie?
She called Lizzie and arranged to come over to their house in an hour to visit with her and Summer. Guy was going to work despite the ongoing storm, but Summer’s school was still closed. Then she called Bert.
Bert answered on the second ring. He was genuinely happy to hear from her and they talked about the storm and how she was doing. He was very interested in the issues with Summer and he said Norah found it all intriguing, also. Becky was curious why she didn’t hear Norah in the background. She was sensing that something unusual was at play. When she closed her eyes, she felt that she could almost see Norah.
Bert said they both agreed with her plan of attack for Summer. The drawings seemed to be pivotal in solving the case. Bert expressed concern about the mysterious guy who seemed to be surveilling them. If he was another private investigator he’d not be a physical threat. However, if he was a rogue or freelancer, he could pose a danger.
Becky asked him about the case of the missing woman. She was amazed to find out that it had morphed into a search for a second cold-case missing woman and might include the suspicious death of a priest.
“It makes one wonder, doesn’t it, why there seem to be so many priest related questions in both our cases,” she said.
Bert replied, “Yes, it sure does. We’re going to try to find out more about the circumstances of Father DelFranco’s death. Right now, it feels like we aren’t getting the whole story. Maybe that’s intentional; maybe not.”
“Bert, I’d like to ask you a question if you don’t mind?” Becky said.
“Sure,” he said.
“I think you mentioned that a teenaged medium has seen the first murdered woman. I’m assuming she was murdered, though you don’t really know that for certain. Bert, you haven’t said, but I’m getting the feeling that you’re able to see the dead, also. Are you a medium, also?”
He knew this was going to eventually be a discussion. “Yes, Becky, I began to acquire this gift, if you want to call it that, a few years ago. It was either dormant until then or just something that I pushed down and ignored. I’ve also seen the spirit of the first woman who disappeared, hanging around the Catholic church. She seems to be something of a lost soul. The teenager said she, Janice, seems to not know what happened to her.”
A suspicion was beginning to take shape in Becky’s mind, but it was one she could not yet voice. “So, what does the church there look like? I suppose it’s as awesome as most Catholic churches that I’ve seen?”
“Yes, it is a beautiful church, about twenty years old it sounds like. It’s rather unusual looking and sits on a pretty piece of property, which is well maintained. I’ll text you a couple pictures while we’re talking. We are suspicious about the church role in these cases, and the original investigators were also. However, neither they nor we have been able to pin down anything specific.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” Becky said. “I’ve always wanted to visit the Arbor Day Foundation sometime. Maybe when this case in Red Lodge is over, I can get out there and see everything in person. Maybe I can even help you, if you need any help.” She didn’t know how Bert would react to her offer.
His answer was reassuring. “That would be great. Right now, it seems that we could use your help. How would you feel about making a drive to Boise one day soon? You’re a ten-hour drive from there and we may need to personally inquire about the circumstances of Father DelFranco’s death. Of course, we wouldn’t want to interfere with your case in Red Lodge.”
“That’d be fine with me. If the January roads and weather let me go, I’d be happy to work that in. There’s the other priest issue from here I need to stay on top of. Maybe I could do both at the same time.”
With that, she and Bert said good-bye and clicked off their phone call. Becky went to her text messages and opened the two pictures Bert had sent her. She could see what he meant by the unusual architecture of that church. The explanation that he received from the current Father there, did make sense, though. For now, she needed to get dressed and brave the slowly deteriorating storm to the Hayden’s house.
The walk next door to Lizzie’s was as invigorating as Becky expected. The wind was still whipping the snow around her and the drifts ranged up to about three feet deep. The freezing cold air had her cheeks nearly bright red even after the two-minute walk required to get to their house. The storm hadn’t been a big problem, but she’d be glad when it
passed.
Lizzie was her typical warm and welcoming self as she invited Becky inside. They made small talk about the weather until, coffee in hand, Becky reviewed her plan for the day. They discussed how best to bring out the post drawings and get Summer to talk about them. Lizzie felt that Summer should be encouraged to do some of her normal drawings of animals until the opportunity seemed right to ask her to draw the posts and figure.
Summer soon came into the kitchen for breakfast and when she’d finished eating, Becky asked Summer if she’d draw pictures for her. The child was happy and eager to comply. Aided by a favorite animal book, the little girl was soon carefully drawing her favorite animals and birds. Her creations were surprisingly good, for a seven-year-old, and Becky could identify nearly all the animals being portrayed.
For nearly an hour, Summer seemed to be having a great time drawing for her adult friend. When she began to run out of ideas, Becky saw her opening. She asked Summer if she would be okay drawing the figure and posts for her and Lizzie.
Summer’s demeanor changed. She went from a happy and bubbly little girl to one with a look of not wanting to do as asked. She didn’t seem too upset, so Becky persisted in saying she’d really love to know what Summer was thinking when she drew that set of figures.
There was no answer. Summer just stared at the paper, pencil in hand, for several seconds. Finally, she began to draw the strange figure. Becky noticed that the girl seemed to draw this automatically with little forethought. She scribbled out the two strange looking posts and the figure between them.
Becky studied the drawing, trying to make sense of it. She couldn’t. It was a human figure seeming to stand between two large posts. That was it. She began to encourage Summer to expand upon her drawing.
At first, Summer was reluctant, but with enough prompting she began to slowly add a little more detail. It seemed like she was having to reach into her mind to find it. She scribbled on the two posts so that they took a squarer shape, rather than round. Becky asked if she could add anything to the human figure.
Summer sat sullenly, lost in her thoughts. Eventually, she drew a line from the location of the hands to the posts, one on each side. She put her pencil down and turned away. She was done and she was getting upset.
Becky knew not to push any further. She could sense a mixture of emotions in the little girl. There was an element of anger and fear, but also confusion. Summer was angered by whatever it was that she was drawing, but she didn’t know what it was. Becky thanked Summer and changed the subject to birds. Opening the colorful bird book which they’d brought with the other books, she began to draw the child back into the more acceptable and interesting topic.
After Summer tired of the books and drawing, Lizzie let her go to her room to play and rest. The two women sat down with another cup of coffee and looked over Summer’s drawing.
“You’re amazing with her, Becky,” Lizzie observed. “She has never attempted to develop either of her strange drawings for us.”
“I think I’m more baffled now than I was before by this one,” Becky said. “Why are these posts appearing to be squarer than round? And what are those lines?”
“Exactly,” Lizzie replied. “Is my daughter seeing a premonition of a woman being tied between two posts or pillars? Do you think she’s psychic, Becky?”
“I’m wondering that, too. Psychic ability can come on at an early age and is probably going to be very confusing to a child. If she’s seeing some future event, then who is the woman? Where does this occur?”
Lizzie sat with her elbows on the table and hands under her chin, contemplating the questions. Was all of this explained by her daughter having psychic ability? How would that explain her child’s occasional bouts of terror, though? It just didn’t add up.
It was about lunchtime, so the ladies worked together to fix up a good garden salad. Lizzie called Summer to join them and they had a good chat over the meal. After eating, Becky said she needed to get to a couple other things on her agenda, excused herself, and walked back to the cabin. The storm was lessening now, and patches of blue sky showed briefly between the rapidly moving clouds.
Getting out her laptop, Becky proceeded to the third item on her list for the day. It didn’t take her long to locate Marvin Finegan in Bozeman, Montana. He was married and preaching at the Evangelical Free Church. Becky realized that she had to confront him directly if she was to know if he was having Lizzie or Summer surveilled. Fortunately, Bozeman was on the road to Boise. She could continue and check on Father DelFranco for Bert and Norah.
She called Bert and discussed the situation. They all agreed this looked like a good time for her to make the trip through Bozeman to Boise. They did some strategizing about how best to deal with the respective issues at both locations. Pastor Finegan could be difficult if he either refuses to talk or denies involvement. They will need to develop connections in Boise for Becky to meet with. Bert said that he and Norah will work on making contacts there this afternoon. Becky told them that she would get on the road right away and drive to Bozeman, only a couple hours away. She’d spend the night there so she could get a jump on meeting up with Finegan. The drive on to Boise, probably the following day, would be shortened to about eight hours. Before getting off the phone, Becky wanted to ask Bert something, for Norah.
She asked if Norah had any insights into Summer’s possible psychic abilities.
Norah had been listening to the conversation and was reading the tea leaves.
Bert passed her thoughts on to Becky. “Norah says she isn’t getting a clear vision about Summer. There’s something unusual going on with the child, but she’s not sensing a psychic ability. She continues to have the unknown church and portal visions. No idea what they may mean. Maybe they don’t really mean anything.”
“Hmmm, that’s good to know. Lizzie and I are wondering if these behaviors might be explained by clairvoyance. In such a young child, perhaps the ability has not fully developed and might explain some of the strange things we’re seeing. If not, then we still have no real idea about the underlying cause.”
Bert then added, “Well, don’t let the Pastor Finegan issue divert too much of your attention. My guess is that even if he is involved, his interest is personal about the little girl. If he’s genuine, he won’t want to do anything to harm the child. Once he knows, he’ll probably back away. However, that begs the question if he should know about the child. Lizzie doesn’t want that, you said. So, you have to approach him in a way that doesn’t violate your trust with her.”
“Good points,” Lizzie answered. “I’ll try to figure out how to do this before I get there. I guess I’d better get on the road so I’m not driving after dark. Thanks for all the advice and insights. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
They said their good-byes and Becky leaned back in front of the fireplace, thinking about the suggestions. Then she pulled up the number for Finegan’s church and called. To her surprise, she reached Finegan himself. He was receptive to talking with her the next day and didn’t ask too many questions. They arranged to meet at the Coldsmoke Coffee House. It was situated close to Interstate 90, so she could get back on the road to Boise easily.
She called Lizzie to tell her of the temporary diversion and her plans regarding Finegan. Lizzie was at first concerned and reiterated her desire to keep him out of her life and especially out of Summer’s life. Becky assured her she would not jeopardize Summer or Lizzie’s trust. As she packed a quick bag and headed out of town, she couldn’t help but wonder exactly how she was going to do that.
The clearing and increasingly blue sky gave her a good view of Red Lodge Mountain ski resort to the west of town as she headed north on Highway 212. The wide ski runs were bluish-white in the afternoon sun. She knew there were likely hundreds of people sliding down the mountain and having a great time. Red Lodge was truly one of the best-kept secrets of the ski world. She missed the exhilaration of the cold air on her cheeks, the challenge of making per
fect turns on a dime, of catching the line, and the mild adrenaline rush of sliding down a half mile of steep slope at sixty miles per hour. A beer with friends at the lodge after a day’s skiing was icing on the cake.
Before she knew it, Becky arrived at the town of Joliet, where she turned northwest on the Joliet Road to the city of Columbus. There, she skipped over to Interstate 90. Proceeding west on 90, she soon passed Greycliff, with its Prairie Dog Town State Park, dedicated to the little barking vermin, prey to about every predator that moved on the prairie.
Another of her favorite Montana towns, Livingston, was soon in her rearview mirror. Situated at the north end of the long and stunning mountain valley leading south to the north entrance of Yellowstone Park, this little community was known for its wind, wind farms, large number of artists, and proximity to the Yellowstone River. Sandwiched between the Crazy and Absoraka mountains, the stunning views of Livingston Peak gave balance to the brutality of the winters. If you were rugged enough, or rich enough, Livingston was another great place to live.
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