The Summoning: A gripping psychological thriller (Secrets of Redemption Book 4)

by Michele PW (Pariza Wacek)

  I lifted my head and gave them a brief rundown of what the detective told me.

  Lou’s eyes got rounder and rounder. “Are you serious?” she breathed.

  “But there was a body in the car, right?” Bill asked. “A body of a man matching Alan’s height, weight, and body structure?”

  “Yes, but no one could actually see his face,” I said.

  “I get it, but are you really suggesting Alan found and forced another man in his car and drove it off a cliff?” Bill asked incredulously. “Another man about the same size he was? Was he in incredible shape?”

  “He worked out regularly,” I said. “If that’s what you mean.”’

  “Do you have any idea how difficult that would be, though?” Bill asked. “If not nearly impossible?”

  “Not if he knocked the guy out or killed him first,” Jesse pointed out. “You don’t know if he was alive or dead before he went over the edge in the car.”

  “That’s true … he could have been unconscious,” Bill said. “Maybe even drugged. Although I assume they would check for that.”

  “Would being burned impact the drug test?” Jesse asked.

  “I think this is all a moot point,” Jonathan interrupted. “We’re skipping one of the most basic questions. Charlie,” he looked me directly in the eyes. “This isn’t an easy question to ask. I know he was abusive. I’m not discounting that. But it’s one thing to ... be abusive, and it’s another thing to premeditate a murder. Especially against someone who he had no history with. I mean, to just choose some guy who resembled him? Was Alan capable of that?”

  Everyone stared at me. I dropped my own gaze and fiddled with my drink. I had seen the pain in Jonathan’s eyes, and I knew he was thinking about his mother. “I don’t know,” I said at last. “But I believe he was capable of killing me, so ...” I shrugged.

  Jesse glanced at Jonathan, who was staring at his beer, his shoulders heaving. “I think what Jonathan is saying is ...”

  “I know Frank killed my mother,” Jonathan interrupted, his voice flat. “But I don’t think he’s killed anyone else. If you truly believe Alan is still alive and faked his death by killing another man and putting him in his place, this is a whole other level of evil.”

  I could feel the blood drain out of my head, out of my body. I wasn’t sure if I would throw up or faint. In my mind’s eye, I saw Alan’s eyes as he shoved me. How flat and cold they were. Like a shark.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Bill said, his voice soothing and logical. The voice of reason. “Putting what Alan is capable or not capable of doing aside, I think we need to really think about the crime here and see if this is even possible.”

  “But they couldn’t identify him ...” I started to say, but Bill put his hand up.

  “I get it. And I get that everyone, me included, would feel a lot better about all of this if his body hadn’t burned up in the crash. But, besides all that. The detective is sure it’s him, and I think that counts for something. The detective has more experience than we do with these sorts of things.”

  “But he doesn’t know Alan,” I said, feeling more and more agitated. Maybe sitting here was a mistake. Maybe I really needed to follow my earlier instinct and pack up my car to get the hell out of Redemption.

  “I understand. But, for the sake of argument, let’s talk about why the detective thought it was him.”

  “But ...”

  “Humor us,” Bill said.

  I took a deep breath and blew the air out of my cheeks. “Well, first, because it was his car and the right body type. He also bought gas a little earlier in the night and had a conversation with the gas attendant.”

  Bill perked up. “Really? What did they talk about?”

  “The route. And the timeframe matched up—when he would have been at the gas station and when they think the accident happened.”

  “Did the attendant see anyone else in the car?” Jesse asked.

  I shook my head. “It was just him.”

  Jesse frowned, looking at Bill. “Could he have picked up the guy after getting gas? Or do you think he already had him, but he was stashed somewhere, like in the trunk, so the attendant couldn’t see him?”

  “That’s exactly my point,” Bill said. “This is an incredibly complex crime. It would mean he had thought of everything—stealing dental records, establishing a witness on the route. This wouldn’t be a crime of passion; it was a methodical, detail-oriented plan. And my question is, why?”

  I was taken aback. “Why? We know why. Because he’s coming after me.”

  “But he didn’t need to do all of that to come after you, is my point,” Bill said. “Why wouldn’t he just come here?”

  “Because ... well, he didn’t know I’m here,” I said. “Annabelle promised me she wouldn’t tell him.”

  Bill gave me a look. “You don’t think he could have figured it out? You think planning this elaborate murder to fake his own death is somehow more probable than his tracking you down?”

  He had a point. Even if Annabelle had kept my secret, that didn’t mean he couldn’t have found me another way. Along with the paperwork trail from Western Union, which Annabelle definitely would have kept as she was meticulous about records, there was also the phone company. All my calls to her were collect. All he had to do was call the phone company and pretend to be Brad.

  In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I realized how stupid I had been calling her collect. I pressed my hands against my eyes, suppressing a groan. Here I thought I was being so smart, paying in cash and avoiding my trust fund, when the reality was that there were at least two easy ways he could have traced me, and probably more.

  “But you’ve got to admit, the dentist ‘losing’ his records is strange,” Claire was saying. “That’s quite a coincidence.”

  “I agree, that is strange,” Bill said. “On the other hand, strange things do happen. Records do get lost or misfiled. Do you think it’s more likely those records got misplaced or that Alan faked his death?”

  “I don’t know,” Claire said, puckering her lips as if she had eaten a lemon. “It still doesn’t feel right to me.”

  Lou looked at her sharply. “You’re having one of your feelings?”

  Claire mashed her lips together for a few moments, as if thinking about it, then nodded.

  “I believe Claire,” Lou announced.

  Bill rolled his eyes. “Great. Between logic and Claire’s ‘feelings,’” he said, putting air quotes around feelings, “logic goes out the window.”

  “Claire is usually right,” Lou argued.

  There was something else. Something on the tip of my tongue. What was it? I racked my brain, finally going over that last conversation I had with Alan ran through my head.

  “Even if I was going to come home, I’m done discussing this with you. It’s over, Alan. Are you finally listening to me? Can you hear me? It’s. Over.”

  “What do you mean ’if’ you’re going to come home?”

  “He knew I was leaving,” I said abruptly, breaking into their conversation. They all stopped talking to look at me.

  “I don’t understand,” Claire said. “Are you talking about Alan? Of course he knew you were leaving. You were gone.”

  I shook my head. “No, I mean, he knew I was leaving Redemption, and I wasn’t coming home.”

  Claire’s expression was still puzzled, so I tried again. “I hadn’t taken enough money with me when I left, so I needed to borrow from Annabelle. She would only lend it to me if I promised to leave Redemption once my car was fixed and come home. I agreed, but I wasn’t really going to go home.”

  “Did Annabelle figure it out?” Lou asked.

  “I don’t think so, but the problem is, I slipped up and told him.”

  “You told him?” Jonathan asked. I quickly looked aw
ay, not wanting to see the shock—and was it jealousy?—in his eyes. “Why were you even talking to him?”

  “He was there when I called Annabelle to tell her the car would be ready,” I said. “She didn’t tell me she was putting him on the phone. She just did. I probably should have just hung up, but I was still trying to humor my sister, because I still needed her to pay for the car repair. Anyway, we got into a fight. I lost control and had a slip of the tongue, which he caught.”

  “What was the slip?” Jonathan asked.

  I rubbed my eyes, feeling more and more like an idiot. “I said ‘Even if I was going to come home, I’m done discussing this with you.’”

  “So then what? What did you say?” Lou asked.

  “I tried to cover it up. I told him I had said, ‘Even if I was home,’ but I don’t think he believed it.”

  There was a pause, and in it, I could hear the braying of a woman’s laughter followed by the sound of a glass breaking from behind the bar.

  “So, let’s say he knew you weren’t going back to New York,” Bill said. “I don’t see how that changes anything. He still could have driven here.”

  “He only had a day though,” I said. “I called Monday night and Wednesday was when the car was ready.”

  “He could have done it,” Bill argued.

  “Maybe, but it would have been tight,” Jesse said. “It’s a long drive to make on your own. And if he had any delays, he risked missing you.”

  “I still think him making that drive would make more sense than faking his own death,” Bill said. “Not to mention there’s no guarantee you wouldn’t have still left even after hearing about his death.”

  “No, but I wouldn’t have kept running,” I said. “Maybe he thought I’d come back to New York if I thought he was dead.”

  “And then what? He comes back to life? Poof. Just like that?” Bill asked, his tone incredulous.

  “I guess he could have claimed he picked up a hitchhiker or something, and it all went wrong,” Jesse said.

  “That sounds even more far-fetched,” Bill said.

  “Okay, so look at it this way,” I said. “He knows I’m not coming back to New York, yet he still comes up with this stupid plan to have Annabelle tell me to stop in the Palisades on my way home. Why would he do that if he knew I wasn’t coming home … unless he was planning on faking his death?”

  “You don’t know for sure he knew you weren’t going back to New York,” Bill said, sounding exasperated. “And, who knows? Maybe he had a completely different plan. Maybe he was trying to make Annabelle feel sorry for him when you didn’t show up. Or maybe he was meeting another woman there, but didn’t want your family to realize he was cheating on you. You said he was involved with your family financially, so this could be a way to make sure his position was still solid, no matter what you were doing. The point is, you don’t know what he was thinking. There could be a million other explanations that have nothing to do with him faking his own death.”

  Bill sat back, his face slightly flushed from his impassioned speech, and picked up his beer to take a long swallow.

  What he said made sense. I was jumping to the most extreme explanation. It was far more likely Alan had some other plan in mind, something far less drastic, and it had all gone terribly wrong.

  But, still. His voice, dangerously quiet, echoed in my head. What do you mean ‘if’ you’re going to come home?

  You can’t leave me. I won’t allow it.

  “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right,” I said.

  “I am right,” Bill cut in.

  I half-smiled. “Maybe you’re right. But you didn’t hear him. You didn’t hear the things he said. He wasn’t going to let me go.”

  Bill leaned across the table to look directly into my face, his hands pressed flat against the scarred wooden table and nearly knocking over Lou’s long island iced tea. “But he did let you go. He’s dead. You’re safe here.”

  Safe. Over and over again, I had been hearing that word, yet the moment I started to let my guard down, started to feel like maybe it was true this time, the concept simply disappeared, like a rainbow dissolving in the bright summer sun.

  I was starting to wonder if I would ever feel safe again.

  Chapter 25

  “You are safe,” Claire echoed. “Even he is still alive, you’re here. And the town will keep you safe.”

  The town again. I tried not to roll my eyes.

  “I know,” Lou clapped her hands. “Let’s make it official.”

  “Official?” I asked.

  “Oh no,” Claire groaned.

  “Yes,” Lou insisted. “Let’s ask the town.”

  The rest of the table groaned. I looked around, still confused. “I don’t get it.”

  “She means have a séance,” Claire said.

  “What?” Lou asked defensively. “It will be fun. And she has the perfect house to do it in.”

  “She has a point,” Jesse said. “The Witch House would be perfect.”

  A whisper of fear fluttered across Claire’s face. It was so quick, I wondered if I had imagined it. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s worked before,” Lou said.

  “A séance worked?” I asked. “What does that mean? You were able to talk to dead people?”

  Claire shook her head. “It’s not like that. There are no dead people. I’m not even sure why we call it a ‘séance’ other than not having any other word that really fits. What we do is ask for things and, well, it was just stupid kid’s stuff, when we did it.” Two spots of color appeared high on her cheekbones.

  “Not all of it was ‘stupid kid’s stuff,’” Lou said. “And that’s all beside the point. It worked. And it can work again.”

  “Such nonsense,” Bill said, shaking his head as he tipped his beer in his mouth.

  Lou nudged him. “What do you care? You don’t think Alan is alive, anyway. If it makes Charlie feel safe, it’s worth it.”

  Claire didn’t immediately answer, but I could see the lines of tension in her neck. Clearly, the thought was making her uncomfortable. “We don’t have to,” I said quickly.

  Claire chewed on her lip before giving herself a quick shake and steeling her expression. “No, Lou is right,” she said firmly. “I’m with you on this, Charlie. This whole thing feels fishy. Something isn’t right, and I think we need all the help we can get.”

  “Claire is right,” Jesse said.

  Bill turned to him, a look of disgust on his face. “Not you too!”

  Jesse shrugged. “Hey. You make a lot of good points, and you’re probably right, but I don’t know. The dentist ‘losing’ the files sort of sealed it for me. There are just too many coincidences that don’t add up. Something is wrong. I’m just not sure what it is.”

  “You guys doing okay?”

  The waitress stood by our table, one hand on her hip, cracking her gum. Her wheat-colored hair seemed to be on its last day of a perm, hanging limp and frizzy around her head.

  “Another round,” Bill said, gesturing toward what each of us had ordered, but I put my hand over my glass.

  “I’m fine. I need to get going anyway,” I said. My head was spinning with everything that had happened, and all I wanted to do was go home, double-check all the doors and windows were locked, take a hot bath, and go to bed. Hopefully, my head would be clearer after a good night of sleep, and I could decide in the morning if it would be better for me to stay or go.

  “So, tomorrow then? For the séance?” Lou asked, looking around the table before turning to Bill. “Can we get the sitter again for tomorrow night?”

  Bill let out a guffaw. “Are you kidding? I’m not doing this. We don’t need a sitter. I’ll stay home and have a father-daughter evening. You go have fun.”

  “Okay then,” Lou said, turning back to us. “Claire, C
harlie? Does tomorrow work for you?”

  “Sure,” Claire said. Her tone was cheery, but there was tension around her eyes.

  “Yeah, I guess,” I said, even though privately, I thought it a waste of time. Still, if it made everyone else feel better, it was probably worth it. “I’m not sure what I need to do to prepare.”

  “Don’t worry,” Lou assured me. “We’ll take care of it.”

  Claire nodded. “I’m working the morning shift, so I’ll be by in the afternoon to go through it with you.”

  “Great, then it’s all settled. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, pulling out my purse to put some cash on the table to pay for my drink before sliding out of the booth after Claire.

  “See you at 8 p.m.,” Lou said.

  “Sounds good,” I said.

  After I stood up, Claire gave me a quick hug. “Staying here is the right thing to do,” she whispered, like she had read my mind. “It’s all going to work out.”

  I hugged her back, wishing with all my heart she was right—that I wasn’t making a colossal mistake sticking around. I gave everyone a quick wave and started weaving my way through the crowd to the door.

  Outside, the air was damp and heavy. It settled around me, pressing against me like I was being packed in wet cotton. Sweat beaded up in the back of my neck under my hair, making me long for that bath … maybe a cool one rather than hot.

  “Charlie?”

  I turned to see Jonathan standing there, holding out my wallet, the bright lights of the parking lot turning his skin slightly green. “You dropped this.”

  “Oh. Thank you.” I came toward him to take it, my fingers brushing over his. Instantly, a shock of heat jolted up my arm and down my body. I quickly dropped my gaze, not wanting him to see the color rising in my cheeks. “I wonder how that happened.”

  “Probably when you got out of the booth,” he said. Was it my imagination, or did his voice sound a little unsteady as well?

  “Yeah, I must not have put it back in my purse right,” I said, fussing with it so I wouldn’t have to look at him. The electricity between us hummed, and I wasn’t sure I could trust myself.