Dark Omen: A Northern Michigan Asylum Novel

by Erickson, J. R.

“Sure, if we’re talking about who was the forty-fourth president or the state bird for Minnesota,” he argued. “But you’re sensing when someone will die. That’s pretty significant.”

  “We’re all going to die,” she murmured.

  He gazed at her seriously, but Crystal leaned over the couch and draped her hair in Wes’s face. He put a strand in his mouth.

  “Mmm, tastes like you. Be careful or I’ll eat you bald,” he told her.

  She rose, swinging her head back so her hair cascaded over the back of the couch.

  “I didn’t know they were death omens. I just figured…” She threw up her hands. “I’m not sure what I figured. Other people in my life have died and I never sensed a thing, didn’t get a hint of anything and then… and then they died. I’m only saying it’s not a useful gift. Not really. It’s unpredictable and unreliable.”

  “It’s also fascinating.”

  He sat up and leaned between Crystal’s legs on the sofa, kissing her. “Tell me if you spot any shadows hovering around me. I want my last day on earth to be immersed in you.”

  Crystal cupped his face in her palms.

  “I see nothing but light surrounding you,” she whispered, nuzzling his cheek.

  When he drew back, he wore a thoughtful expression.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I’m curious what your sister thought of me.” He cringed as if expecting bad news.

  Crystal smiled. “She liked you.”

  He cocked an eyebrow.

  “Really? I get the feeling Bette is a little jaded about men,” he said. “Is she?”

  Crystal turned over on the couch, propping her legs on the back and hanging her head down by the floor. Wes reached a hand out and caressed her scalp, leaning over to kiss her temple.

  “Bette’s always had… sharp edges. That’s what Lilith, our mom’s best friend, called them. When we were younger, Lilith nicknamed Bette the porcupine and me the monkey. I’d walk up and climb into someone’s lap five minutes after I met them. Bette would keep a safe distance, and if anyone approached, she’d glare at them until they backed away. She’s had moments where she’s let her guard down and it hasn’t really gone well.”

  “How so?” he asked.

  “Well, she fell in love her freshman year at college. His name was Elijah. I never met him. My dad loved him, apparently. He and Bette were both in anthropology classes together. They dated for about a year and then—”

  “He broke up with her?” Wes asked.

  Crystal shook her head.

  The blood rushing into her face felt too hot, and she scrambled back up, remembering the dream she’d had on the opposite side of the country all those years ago.

  Except it hadn’t been a dream at all.

  She’d been watching a car careen down a dark slippery road. Headlights splashed over the iron gates of a cemetery. It was as if she’d been looking out from the eyes of a bird perched in a tree. As she watched, the car came around the curve too fast; it left the road and smashed headlong into a tree.

  The collision had detonated in Crystal’s head, as she slept soundly in her bed in California. Crunching metal and splashing glass, and the beginning of a scream cut off before it had even begun.

  She’d woken next to Neal, the man she’d been sleeping with in the previous weeks. She’d been drenched in sweat and shaking so badly she almost fell when she stepped from the bed.

  Crystal had run to the phone on wobbly legs and called Bette. Bette had been in that car because that was Elijah’s car. Crystal had never seen it, but she knew the car belonged to her sister’s boyfriend.

  Except, at four a.m. on the other side of the United States, Bette’s groggy voice had come on the line. Crystal had stood in the kitchen, her sweat-slick feet glued to the warm linoleum floor, her breath gusting in terrified waves as her sister said “Hello? Hello?” And then there’d been a pause. “Crystal?” Bette had asked.

  Crystal had set the phone in its cradle and walked to the little concrete porch that jutted out from the second-story apartment. She’d stood, naked except for Neal’s tank top, and gazed at the dark expanse of sky, the glow of the city lights in the distance.

  She had known that Bette’s boyfriend was dead, but she’d been unable to say the words out loud.

  All that dark morning and into the dawn, Crystal sat on the porch.

  When the phone rang at noon, Crystal had known who was calling.

  She’d let it ring a second time, staring at the yellow receiver with a heaviness that left her heart hanging sodden and weary in her chest.

  The moment she picked it up, Bette’s wails boomed through the phone. Her sister had cried so hard and so loud, Crystal feared for Bette’s eyes and brain. Could those soft organs withstand such ferocious pressure as the sobs erupted into the world like gale-force winds?

  Bette sobbed for more than two minutes without saying a word. Every time she started, barely croaking out Elijah’s name, a fresh peal of cries would overwhelm her.

  “I’m here, I’m here,” Crystal had reassured her until Bette’s story finally poured forth.

  Elijah had died the night before in a terrible car crash. He’d hit a tree going seventy miles an hour. But that hadn’t been all, and when Bette revealed the next part, Crystal’s stomach had clenched painfully.

  Bette’s best friend since high school, Heather Stewart, had been in the car with Elijah.

  Both had died instantly.

  Bette had no explanation for their being together. Elijah had told her he was going out of town to visit his grandmother. She’d called Heather the night before thinking they might catch a movie, but Heather had complained of a migraine and said she was staying in.

  Now they were both dead, together in those final moments, leaving a grief-stricken Bette with a flurry of questions and a shattered heart.

  Crystal told Wes an abbreviated version of the story, leaving out her dream.

  When she finished, Wes hung his head. “Poor Bette. No wonder she’s a porcupine.”

  Crystal pulled her legs close to her body and rested her chin on her knees. “Bette never really got over that. She goes out once in a while, but she’s suspicious of men. She thinks you’re too good to be true.”

  “Moi?” Wes pressed a hand against his chest.

  He turned and fixed his stare on Crystal, and she felt a flutter in her belly. Looking into Wes’s eyes left her breathless every time.

  “But I know the truth,” she murmured, sliding to the edge of the couch to pull him closer.

  “Whatever I am,” he whispered, “I’m yours.”

  19

  Now

  “Hi, are you Dan?” Bette asked the man who stood washing the Michigan Mayhem Tour Bus.

  He turned and smiled, dropping a rag into a sudsy bucket.

  A large German shepherd lay watching from the grass. It perked its ears as she approached.

  “Dan I am,” he said, wiping his wet hand on his surf shorts and holding it out.

  Bette shook it.

  Dan reminded Bette of more than a few guys Crystal had dated over the years. Tan, blond, and forever looking as if they’d just run out of the waves after a totally gnarly surf session.

  Crystal had two types, sexy surfer dude and brooding artist. Bette feared the latter had been her undoing.

  “I’m Bette Childs. Crystal Childs is my sister.”

  Recognition immediately flooded his face.

  “Gosh, yeah. Nice to meet you, Bette. I called the police to let them know that Crystal came on the tour a few weeks ago. They said they might call back, but I haven’t heard from them.”

  Bette frowned and bit back her complaints. The police weren’t doing enough as far as she was concerned, and though she liked Officer Hart, it frustrated her that she was the first to hear Dan’s story.

  “Thanks for calling them,” she said. “I’m sure they’ll get back to you soon. In fact, I’m going to call them today and make sure they do. But I’d
like to hear anything you have to say myself. Did everything seem okay with Crystal and Weston on that trip?”

  Dan leaned against his van and then, as if remembering he’d just washed it, he stood and wiped at the spot his shoulder had touched.

  “Nothing bizarre at first. They seemed pretty into each other. But on our last day, something weird happened at Pictured Rocks. We were kayaking around the cliffs. I wasn’t paying them much attention. I had a few poodles on the trip and they always take ninety percent of my attention.”

  “I’m sorry, poodles?” Bette asked.

  “Oh,” he laughed and slapped his muscular thigh. “My brother and I nicknamed the higher maintenance guests poodles. They take up most of my time because they’re out of shape, have a gazillion questions and want to stop at every fudge shop and viewing deck on the trip. Crystal and Weston were comfortable in the kayaks, so I wasn’t watching them. They paddled off into one of the little caves under the cliffs. It’s not a big deal. I’ve done it a thousand times, but something went down in there.”

  “What do you mean?” Bette asked.

  Crystal had mentioned nothing out of sorts happening on the trip. She said they’d had an amazing time.

  “Crystal tipped over,” Dan admitted. “When I found her, she was in a full-on panic. She screamed before she went into the water too. I heard her from out in the lake. It was a scared scream, not like someone tipping over so much as someone being attacked.”

  Bette’s eyes widened. “Are you saying Weston attacked her in the cave?”

  Dan glanced at his van and then paused, tossing his hair as he caught his reflection in the window.

  “I didn’t see what happened. I can only tell you what I heard, and she sounded terrified. She also hit her head on the cave wall. She had a nasty bump on the right side of her head.”

  “Did you ask her what happened?”

  Dan nodded. “She said she panicked from being in the small, dark space, which isn’t unusual. That’s why we don’t lead people into those caves. They’re safe enough, but a lot of people freak out. Put them in a dark little hole with a half mile of rock above their heads, and the buried fears start coming out.”

  “Crystal wasn’t claustrophobic,” Bette disagreed. “She’s been spelunking in Missouri three times. When we played hide and seek as kids, she used to close herself in an old wooden chest in our attic. She doesn’t have a claustrophobic bone in her body.”

  Dan shrugged. “She didn’t strike me as the type who would panic in one of those caves, but that’s what she said happened. I wasn’t going to challenge her on it.”

  Bette sighed and looked at the dog, who had returned his head to his front paws.

  “I need you to tell the cops that story,” she said.

  * * *

  Bette stopped at a pay phone and called Officer Hart’s direct line.

  “This is Officer Hart,” he said.

  “Hart, it’s Bette. Listen, I just talked to the tour guide who took Crystal and Wes into the Upper Peninsula a couple weeks ago. Her kayak got tipped, and she screamed like she was being attacked. The guy thought Wes attacked her.”

  “Okay, got it,” Hart said, sounding distracted.

  “Hello? Did you hear what I said? He attacked her! Are you sending someone to talk to him?”

  Hart sighed.

  “Yes. I’ve made a note of it here, but Bette, I’m on my way out the door. We’ve got a warrant to search Weston Meeks’ house. That’s our priority right now.”

  Bette clutched the pay phone and felt her hear skip in her chest.

  “You’re searching his house?”

  “Yes, I’ve got to go. I’ll be in touch.”

  He hung up before she could ask more.

  20

  Then

  “Stop the car,” Crystal shouted, grabbing the wheel and almost jerking them into oncoming traffic.

  “Whoa, Jesus, Crystal. Are you trying to kill us?” Wes huffed, turning on his blinker and letting off the gas.

  He pulled into the parking lot Crystal had been wildly waving at.

  She jumped out of the car and ran around to Wes’s door, pulling him out, and pointing eagerly at the sign.

  He glanced at it and then back at Crystal’s face as if she’d gone insane.

  “You want a cheeseburger?” he asked. “We just had lunch.”

  She turned and saw the sign next door for Big Dean’s Burgers and Fries.

  “Not a burger,” she laughed.

  She pointed at the Michigan Mayhem sign. “They do tours to the Upper Peninsula. Cliff jumping, rappelling, kayaking. Let’s go! This weekend.”

  Wes glanced at the windows plastered with images of the Michigan outdoors.

  Crystal looked as well, her chest ballooning at the sight of the brightly colored parachutes drifting over craggy cliffs.

  “Crystal, I’ve got a meeting in Traverse City on Saturday. I can’t—”

  She pressed a hand over his mouth and moved close to him, quickly pulling her hand away and putting her lips in its place. As she crushed her mouth against his, the set of his body relaxed. He kissed her back, sinking his hands into her hair.

  “Come on,” she insisted, dragging him to the store.

  As they pushed inside, the bell tinkled over the door. A young guy with shaggy brown hair looked up from the long counter.

  “Hey,” he said, his eyes lingering on Crystal. “You guys looking for some adventure?”

  “Yes!” Crystal nodded, pulling Wes to the counter and marveling at the brochures.

  “What’s available this weekend?” she asked.

  “Crystal, we can’t—” Wes started.

  “Bro,” the guy drawled, fixing his gaze on Wes. “You’ve got a beautiful woman asking for a weekend of turquoise water and sandstone cliffs and you look like somebody just told you that you need your gallbladder removed.”

  Crystal laughed, seizing the brochure that boasted cliff jumping and kayaking.

  “That’s a bestseller,” the guy told her, winking. “My brother Dan is the guide on that and he knows Presque Isle Park better than his own eyebrows.”

  “His own eyebrows?” Wes asked sarcastically

  “Yeah, he’s a plucker. It’s weird, but anyway, he’s the best. He started this company. Loves to take folks like yourselves into the Upper Peninsula to get lost for a few days.”

  Crystal’s heart fluttered against her ribs. She’d been back in Michigan for two years, and though she’d had a few adventures, she wanted to have one with Wes. She wanted to float in the cool water of Lake Superior and see him looking down at her as he stepped to the edge of a cliff and jumped.

  “We’re in. How much?” she asked.

  Wes took her shoulders and turned her to face him.

  “Crystal, we can’t go this weekend. I have to head back to Traverse City on Saturday. I’ve got a student meeting and—”

  Crystal frowned, disappointed, but she’d already mentally committed. She was going.

  “Okay,” she turned back to the guy at the counter. “How much for one person?”

  “No.” Wes grabbed her elbow, but she didn’t turn.

  “Two hundred,” he said. “That includes two nights in a yurt at Twelve Mile Beach, kayaking the Pictured Rocks, cliff jumping at Black Rocks, bonfires at night with hot dogs and hamburgers. It’s amazing, you’ll love it. Here, let me grab a waiver.”

  As he rifled in the cabinet behind him, Wes turned to Crystal.

  “Crys, come on. The timing is all wrong for me this weekend.”

  Crystal cupped his face in her hands.

  She thought of her image in the bathroom mirror that morning. She’d been groggy, hadn’t even had a cup of coffee, and she wanted to pretend it was that simple. The skeletal face looking back at her, the sunken eyes, the teeth poking from yellowed flesh had been merely a sleepy hallucination, but when she’d opened her mouth to scream, a black shadow had poured forth. Crystal knew such shadows—or “omens” perh
aps better described them.

  “It’s okay, Wes. It is. I’m not pressuring you. I want to go. I need to go and,” she gestured to the air as if something existed there, which might explain her desire to go now, “when the moment arises, I grab it.”

  Unfortunately, she couldn’t explain to him a lifetime of such whims. She lived on the cusp of the breath, awaiting the next inhale. The knowledge that death crept ever near lay always coiled in the back of her mind.

  Crystal opened her purse and pulled out a wad of cash. She didn’t have a bank account, which Bette told her was irresponsible, but she’d never claimed to be anything else.

  “Two hundred,” Crystal said, placing the bills on the counter.

  Wes frowned but didn’t argue.

  She filled out the forms, paid the money, and took the glossy brochure with pictures of Lake Superior sparkling against a backdrop of rocky cliffs.

  Wes was quiet as they walked back to the car and climbed in. When she looked at him, he seemed to be fighting tears.

  “Hey,” she grabbed his hand. “Don’t be upset, Wes. It’s okay if you can’t go. We’ll plan another one. I just have to do things when they come up. That’s my nature. My reckless nature, according to Bette, but…“ She paused and tried to choose her next words in a way that wouldn’t alarm him. “We’re not guaranteed tomorrow. You know? Remember when we first met, and I told you I try to live every day like it’s my last? Well, I’m doing that. This is me doing that.”

  Wes nodded and climbed behind the wheel. He said nothing as he drove to her apartment..

  “I’ll see you next week, then?” she asked, her heart thundering in her chest.

  His silence hadn’t upset her at first, but as the minutes dragged on, she tensed.

  “Wes?” she demanded when he didn’t turn to look at her.

  He shifted his eyes to hers. He looked devastated, as if a terrible tragedy had befallen them.

  She blinked at him, startled. “Wes, I don’t understand.”

  He swallowed and forced a smile.

  “I’m good. Yeah, I’ll see you next week.” He leaned forward, not bothering to unlatch his seatbelt, and kissed her, catching only the corner of her mouth.