Deadly Visions Boxset

by Alexandria Clarke

  A burst of bright copper hair disrupted the earthy landscape as Jazmin climbed the last step to the lookout. She spotted me and Gina sitting at the edge.

  “There you are! And wearing my coat.” She had borrowed a ski jacket from White Oak to compensate for the one I had stolen. “You never planned on meeting me at the spa, did you?”

  “I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Gina chimed in as she climbed to her feet. “Lucia and I met in the lobby and immediately bonded over our love of art. I convinced her to come bird-watching with me. You know what they say! You should never go hiking without a buddy, and these old hips of mine aren’t as reliable as they used to be.”

  She grimaced and limped to one side. I disguised a chuckle. For her age, Gina was in phenomenal shape. I had a feeling that her hips were just fine.

  “Nice to meet you, Gina,” Jazmin said. “I’m Lucia’s best friend, and regardless of your newfound bond, it’s imperative that I know where Lucia is at all times. In the future, I’d appreciate if you at least left a message on my cell. I’ve been looking for you for over an hour.”

  Her harried expression wasn’t just a result of my abandoning her at the spa. Something else was going on, something that Jazmin probably couldn’t talk about in front of Gina.

  “Why?” I asked. “What happened?”

  “The police are here,” Jazmin said. “They want to speak with all of us.”

  Gina zipped her hiking pack and shouldered it. “Sounds serious. I’ll leave you ladies to it. Lucia, don’t forget what I said. If you’re up to it, come find me. I know a few other trails here that are good for distracting us from daily life.”

  Jazmin waited until Gina was out of sight to scold me. “Seriously? You ditched me for Grandma? I was worried sick.”

  She shivered in the cold. I took off my beanie and pulled it on over Jazmin’s head instead. “You’re shaking. Let’s get you back to the resort. Aren’t you glad we didn’t hike up to the hot springs? You would’ve never made it.”

  Two police cars and a professionally boring sedan were parked in White Oak’s valet loop when we reached the bottom of the mountain, but there were no signs of uniformed cops in the lobby. Jazmin unzipped her borrowed coat and returned it to a passing employee. With so many layers on, I started overheating quickly. I stripped down to my innermost sweater, my arms full of thick winter fabric.

  “Can I take those things up to your room for you, miss?” asked a passing bellboy. All of the White Oak employees wore khaki pants and bright white polo shirts with the lodge’s crest printed on the left side of the chest. It made all of them look vaguely similar, and I had no idea which bellboys I’d already interacted with. “It’s Miss Star, right?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Room—”

  “2814,” he recited. He folded the coats with one hand and draped them over his arm. “They’ll be waiting for you upstairs. Mr. Porter’s through that door there. I believe he’s expecting you. Enjoy your day!”

  The door in question was behind the front desk and labeled “White Oak Staff Only.” Jazmin, however, had less reservations about breaking the rules than I did. She led the way, nodding politely at the employees manning the front desk. Every single one of them seemed to recognize us, despite our untimely arrival last night, and no one questioned us as we knocked on the staff door.

  “Come in!” Nick called from the other side.

  The room was set up for conferences with a long, centered table and a plethora of office chairs. Another door led to a small break room with a vending machine and a coffee pot. Nick sat at the head of the table, his bad leg propped up on another chair as he massaged his thigh through his suit pants. Two police officers, one male and one female, doctored their coffees in the break room. Apparently the stuff in the pot wasn’t half as good as the brew Slopes Café sold, as the male officer dumped four packets of sugar in his Styrofoam cup before he could drink it without wincing. The female cop noticed us first and whacked her partner on the shoulder to alert him to our presence.

  He coughed into his coffee and wiped the spillage from his upper lip. “Sorry about that. I’m Officer Graham, and this is my partner.”

  “Fuentes,” the female cop supplied, shaking our hands. “We understand that the two of you were involved in the ordeal at King and Queens. Do you have a few minutes to speak with us about what you witnessed?”

  The door to the conference room opened again, and Riley sidled in, slightly out of breath. “Hey, Mr. Porter,” she said, her gaze slipping right past me. “Someone said I was supposed to meet you in here?”

  “Yes, thank you for coming, Riley,” Nick said, smiling warmly. “Officers Graham and Fuentes are here to ask us about the events that transpired over the last few days. Are you comfortable with that?”

  “It’s just standard procedure,” Graham said, collecting Riley’s attention. “Nothing to be scared of.”

  “I’m not scared,” Riley said. “But I need to talk to my friends first.”

  Nick and the officers gave us the room. At first, I thought Riley might apologize for giving me the cold shoulder all last night and this morning, but as soon as the three of us were alone, she shifted into her serious mode and planted her hands on the conference table like she was about to announce her ascension to CEO of White Oak.

  “I’m not telling them about the ghosts,” she declared. “I know what will happen if I do. They’ll take me away and lock me up at some hospital and run a bunch of brain scans. If you let them do that to me, I’ll hate you forever.”

  “Riley, we would never—” I began.

  “Don’t you tell them either,” she warned me. Her tone was cold and hard. She’d never spoken to me that way before. “Don’t tell them anything about me or you.”

  “Keep the footage we collected from King and Queens quiet too,” Jazmin added. “I have a feeling we know a lot more than they expect we do. If they find out we were recording, they’ll confiscate our data and use it against us. They could frame us for something we didn’t do.”

  “Like murder?” Riley said. “Not all of us are innocent in that department.”

  Jazmin came to my defense since Riley’s acidity knocked any retort out of my mouth. “Be quiet, Riley. You have no idea what Lucia went through when she was your age.”

  “I’m just saying—”

  “Well, don’t!” Jazmin said.

  Someone knocked on the door, and Officer Fuentes peeked her head in. “Everything okay in here? We heard raised voices.”

  “Everything’s fine,” I said. “We’re ready for you. Riley’s volunteered to go first.”

  It was the equivalent of throwing Riley to the wolves, but for once I didn’t care about protecting her. She was acting like a petulant child when the three of us needed to form a united front. Sometimes, I forgot that she was only twelve, but the look on her face as I ushered Jazmin from the conference room reminded me that, out of all of us, she had lost the most. Guilt flooded my mouth with a bitter taste akin to chewing on pennies. Riley could say she wasn’t scared all she wanted, but she sure didn’t appear brave as we left the room.

  “That was a bit much, don’t you think?” Jazmin muttered as we leaned against the wall outside the conference room and waited for our turn to talk to the cops.

  I squared my shoulders. “If she wants to treat me like a criminal, I’m not going to bother protecting her feelings.”

  “Lucia, she’s just a kid,” Jazmin said. “You’re the adult here. You have to be the bigger person. No matter what she does or how she acts, your job will always be to protect her. This morning, you told Nick that Riley might as well be your daughter. Don’t alienate her the way your mother alienated you.”

  She moved off to chat with a nearby employee before allowing me to answer. Her warning festered like roadkill in my head, stinking up my mental space. The last thing I wanted was for Riley to look at me the way I looked at my mother. No, we weren’t related—we hadn’t even known each other for that long—
but Riley had become the most important person in my life second to Jazmin.

  They didn’t keep Riley long. Twenty minutes later, she emerged from the office. Her shoulders drooped and she sighed, but when she caught sight of me leaning against the wall, she straightened up and glared.

  “They’re ready for you,” she said.

  “What did you tell them?”

  “I’m afraid that’s confidential.”

  “Riley, are you serious?” I caught sight of Jazmin over Riley’s head, who made a “zip your lips” gesture at me. “You know what? Forget about it. Enjoy your day.”

  I shouldered past her, putting too much force behind it and accidentally knocking her off balance. At the same time, a tall man in a spindly suit approached us from behind. He set Riley on her feet.

  “Whoops! There ya go, miss,” he said.

  She didn’t thank him and scurried off to consult with Jazmin.

  “Don’t mind her,” I said. “She’s in a mood.”

  The man bowed his head in understanding. “Kids are always a bit moody. It’s probably because adults never bother to listen to them. Are you her mom?”

  “No, her mother died a few weeks ago,” I said. “And her dad—”

  “Ah.”

  “Ah, what?”

  The man adjusted the wire-rimmed glasses balanced on his narrow nose. “That was Riley Watson, wasn’t it? That means you must be Lucia Star.”

  I crossed my arms. “Who are you?”

  He held open the door to the conference room, where the officers sat at the table waiting for me. “I believe we’re all here to discuss the same thing. After you.”

  I filed in, unsure of where this was going. The man in the tan suit let the door drift shut, placed his briefcase on an empty chair, and went to get a coffee from the break room.

  “Have a seat, Miss Star,” Officer Fuentes said.

  I took the rolling chair closest to hers. Graham didn’t acknowledge me. He had his nose buried in a thick folder, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration. The man in the suit bustled about in the break room.

  “Almost ready, Earl?” Fuentes called.

  “Just as soon as I locate the sugar.”

  “First drawer on the left.”

  The drawer creaked open and silverware tinkled.

  “Ah, thank you.” He doctored his coffee and emerged from the break room, ducking under the door frame to accommodate his height. He sipped his coffee, shuddered, and sat in the chair directly next to mine. “Disgusting. I added a full tablespoon of sugar to make it palatable.”

  “Why drink it then?” I asked.

  “Have you ever tried to make it through a morning without coffee?”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  He raised his disposable cup as a salute. “There you have your answer. Shall we get started?”

  “Who are you?” I asked him again. “You didn’t clarify in the hallway.”

  “I’m Earl,” he said. “But I’ll let the officers take it from here.”

  Officer Graham finally set down the folder, revealing his bulbous nose for the first time since I’d walked in. “Miss Star. You have quite the record, I see.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Truancy, petty theft.”

  I reached for the folder, but Graham snatched it away. I folded my arms. “That stuff happened when I was a kid. I liked giving my mother a hard time.”

  “Vandalism?”

  A lump formed in my throat. “Fine, that was more recent.”

  “You threw a TV out of a third-story window,” Graham read off a report.

  “Yeah, but it was my TV, so does it really count as vandalism?”

  “Apparently, it nearly fell on the head of another resident in your apartment complex?”

  “Nearly being the key word there,” I said. “No one got hurt. Are we really here to discuss a bunch of dumb accidents that happened so long ago?”

  Graham checked the file. “The TV thing was three months ago.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Fuentes rested her callused fingers on my forearm to calm me. She had this Good Cop thing down pat. “We’re trying to get a comprehensive view of your life, Miss Star. It will help us get a better handle on this investigation.”

  “What exactly is this investigation?” I asked. “After everything that happened at King and Queens, I’m burned out. No pun intended.”

  “Ultimately, we’re looking at everything that’s happened over the past three weeks or so,” Fuentes explained gently. “Starting with Thelma Watson’s death. Anything you can tell us about your stay at King and Queens would be greatly appreciated.”

  “So I’m not being charged with anything?”

  Fuentes and Graham exchanged a confused look.

  “Should we be charging you with something?” Graham asked. He consulted his notes. “According to Miss Watson, you did everything in your power to protect the people at King and Queens. Should we rectify that statement, Miss Star?”

  My heart swelled in my rib cage. Riley hadn’t condemned me to the cops. She’d done the exact opposite. The bubble of happiness popped. I’d treated her like crap. She deserved more from me. She deserved a real explanation at the very least. I just wasn’t sure if I could give that to her yet.

  “No,” I said. “You don’t need to rectify it.”

  Fuentes leaned in, keeping eye contact with me, unlike her partner, who seemed more interested in my old juvenile delinquent records. “We’ve gathered you’ve experienced trauma in the past, Miss Star. That’s why Earl is here.”

  Earl waved from across the table. His bowtie was printed with a funky pattern of miniature bow ties. A gold wedding band glinted on his finger. Maybe his wife had bought him the ugly bow tie, and he wore it to appease her.

  “Earl has yet to clarify who he is,” I said.

  “I’m the trusty local psychiatrist,” he replied.

  “I’m out,” I announced, lifting myself from the chair.

  Fuentes stopped me by kicking the wheels. The chair caught me behind the knees, forcing me to sit down again. “At least hear us out.”

  “I didn’t come in here to have my head shrunk,” I said. “I had enough of that as a kid. I thought you wanted my help with the case at King and Queens, not to commit me to the mental ward.”

  Graham poorly disguised an eye roll. “No one’s being committed.”

  “Truly, Miss Star,” added Earl. “We only want to talk.”

  “About what?

  “About the truth,” Fuentes said.

  For a second, I thought they already knew about everything. They clearly had details about my past. That folder was stuffed full for a reason. Other than my youthful indiscretions, it probably included the full rundown on my father. Before his death, the police had been to my family’s house countless times to break up one domestic dispute or another called in by the nosy neighbors. What else did the cops know?

  “I don’t need a therapist,” I announced.

  “Earl’s not here to judge,” Fuentes said.

  “Just to evaluate you,” Graham added. Fuentes elbowed him.

  “You think I need to be evaluated?” I asked. “What about Riley? Did you give her a psychological assessment?”

  “I’ll be speaking to Riley alone later,” Earl said.

  “You sure as hell won’t,” I said. “She’s my responsibility right now, and you won’t speak to her without me present.”

  “Miss Star,” Graham said, a weary sigh in his exhale. “I’m afraid Miss Watson is a ward of the state now. There’s nothing to indicate that her parents would have made you her legal guardian.”

  “Someone has to look out for her,” I said.

  Fuentes tried the Good Cop act again. “We’ll make sure Riley is well taken care of, Miss Star.”

  I glared at her. “Somehow, I don’t believe that.”

  “Can we get started?” Graham adjusted the armrests of his chair. “We have a lot of
ground to cover. Then we can discuss whether or not Miss Star should consult with Earl or not.”

  “I don’t need a consultation!”

  Fuentes stood up. “No, what you clearly need is coffee.”

  3

  After three and half cups of the watery blend from the break room, the cops and Earl finally let me go. Surprisingly, they didn’t accuse me of anything. They just wanted to know every detail of my stay at King and Queens. I played stupid for most of it. Yes, Mr. Watson had hired me to “fix” his haunted daughter. Yes, I was the Madame Lucia, infamous for my unintentional final stand on YouTube. Yes, I’d been present at King and Queens for all of the murders except Thelma’s. But did I have any additional information that might help the cops pinpoint the murderer? Nope.

  When I finally emerged from the office, Jazmin accosted me without hesitation. “Well?” she demanded. “What did they say? What did they ask you?”

  “Everything. You’re up. Keep it simple.”

  “But we should talk.”

  “Later. They’re getting impatient, and we need Riley.” I looked around, but the twelve-year-old was nowhere to be found. “Where is she anyway?”

  “She went skiing,” Jazmin said. “I told her it was fine. It’s probably good for her to blow off some steam.”

  “I don’t want her out there alone.”

  Jazmin pointedly glanced at the mountain, where tons of skiers and snowboarders covered the slopes. “She’s definitely not alone.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Fuentes poked her head out of the conference room. “Jazmin? Am I pronouncing that right? We’re ready for you now.”

  Jazmin shot me a knowing look before disappearing behind the conference door. I wandered over to the glass lookout, ignoring the nosy gazes of the people around me. I did not look like the rest of the vacationers, with their fluffy cashmere sweaters, tailored jeans, and designer boots. I wasn’t the type of person who could afford to stay at White Oak, so my eccentric style—especially the silver hair—stood out. I gazed across the slopes, squinting into the sun as it rose high into the sky. Too many neon jackets dotted the slopes. Even Riley’s garish yellow ski coat wouldn’t stand out amongst the others. After several minutes of scanning the side of the mountain, I finally spotted her signature posture as she weaved in and out of the less experienced skiers. She flew past the others, more confident in the snow than anywhere else. When she reached the bottom, she took off her helmet, shook out her ashy hair, and glanced up toward the lookout. We locked eyes. The cold wind dusted pink streaks across her cheeks. Her breath caught the breeze and floated away. She was too little to be on her own, and yet her defiant stance, helmet tucked under her arm, said that she could handle herself. She had to.