My phone buzzes on the nightstand and whips my head around. I set the letter down on the bed and pick up my phone. “Hello?” I hear a deep sigh on the other end and I know it’s Seth. “Seth, what’s wrong?”
“My God, Alice…” His voice trails off.
I’m pretty certain I know why he’s called me, but I wait for him to collect himself and give me the news.
He clears his throat. “Another body’s been found.”
Another Sarah. Why couldn’t I be wrong? I groan. “When?”
“Just a few minutes ago. I’m heading out the door as we speak.”
“Pick me up on the way?”
“Alice…” He sighs again, his voice distant. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Seth, you know I’d never ask unless it was important. I need to see the body.”
“I’ll bring pictures by later if you want, but I can’t take you over there. We’d both be fired or at least kicked off the case.”
Pictures are not what I need, especially since I couldn’t see them anyway. “No, pictures won’t be good enough. I need to physically see the body.”
“You’re not making any sense, Alice. Are you feeling okay?”
“Never better, but…” How can I tell him about my experience with Sarah Johnson’s body without sounding crazy? Is it possible? I still can’t wrap my head around it.
“But what?”
I have no choice but to tell him, and I hope it doesn’t push him away. “There’s something you need to hear that will change the way you think about everything.”
“Really? Seems like a pretty tall order.” If skepticism were an odor, I’d be inundated with it.
In my mind I return to Sarah’s house. “Do you remember me going into the bedroom where Sarah Johnson was murdered and closing the door?”
“I do. Thought it was a little odd.” His horn blares, and he mutters something indistinguishable.
I’m in Sarah’s bedroom, kneeling next to her. “Yes, but what I’m about to tell you is going to sound so absurd you’ll think I’ve gone mental.”
“You’re starting to scare me, Alice.” He sighs. “What did you do?”
“When I was in there, I became overwhelmed with a need to touch Sarah’s face. I cradled her face in my hands and touched my forehead to hers.”
“What the hell, Alice? Why would you do that?”
“That’s not important. What is important is what happened when I did.”
“My God, the germs and bacteria.”
I exhale. “Just listen, Seth.”
“Fine. Go on.”
“When I did that, something crazy happened. I don’t know if our spirits connected or what, but for several minutes I became Sarah Johnson and lived out her last moments with the killer. I was there, Seth. I felt his cigarette burning my leg. I smelled his garlic, pickle, and cigarette breath when he bent over me. I heard his voice when he spoke. The ripping of my dress and me wetting myself. I felt and experienced all of it.”
Nearly a minute goes by before Seth finally responds. “That’s impossible, Alice.”
I want to scream and throw my phone across the room but that would only make things worse. “Don’t you think I know that? Why do you think I kept it to myself until now?”
“Let’s pretend what you’re telling me is true.”
“It is, dammit! You know me, Seth. I don’t make crap up like this.”
“If you did experience this, then tell me what he looks like. Did Yolanda’s drawing look the same?”
“I couldn’t see anything, Seth. I was Sarah. She’s blind, remember. I can give you detailed smells, touches, tastes, and sounds, but nothing visible.”
“What you’re telling me is beyond impossible. Why should I believe you?”
“Give me a minute to think about it.”
“I don’t see how you could say anything to change my mind.”
“I understand, but I’ll think of something. For the moment, how about you tell me what you know so far about the new victim.”
“Fourteen-year-old female. Blind just like the last one.”
“Who called it in?”
“The father. He went upstairs to check on her because she hadn’t come down for breakfast and found her dead.”
I can’t imagine how terrible it would be to find your child not just dead but murdered. My heart breaks for the man. “What’s her name?”
A mental image of Priscilla Hallard rises to the front of my mind: pale skin, a long brunette braid, and eyes the color of English tea.
I mouth Priscilla Hallard as Seth says her name. “Cara Strum.”
It takes a few moments for my brain to process the discrepancy. “Say that again?”
“Cara Strum. Does the name sound familiar to you?”
I shake my head. Nothing I’ve learned over the last ten days fits together. Why did I see Priscilla in the mirror if she wasn’t to be the next victim?
“Alice? You still there?”
“Sorry. No, it doesn’t sound familiar.”
“Well that’s all I’ve got so far. Need to go. Rolling up on the scene now.”
“Wait! I have the answer.”
“Shoot.”
“First, promise me that you’ll take me by the morgue later to see the body if what I tell you pans out.”
“Fine. I promise. Now hurry it up.”
“The killer said many things while I was… joined with Sarah, but one thing in particular stood out. I’m certain Yolanda would remember it. It’s also something that I’d have no way of knowing. She didn’t mention it in her interview.”
“Okay. You’ve got my attention. What is it?”
“He said: ‘I’ll sing a song for you tonight when your mama and I celebrate her freedom from you. She likes some good karaoke, doesn’t she?’”
“That is random. I’ll have one of the guys check it out.”
“Don’t wait, Seth. I need to see Cara’s body.”
“I’ll get on it as soon as I’m done with you.”
“Alright. Call me as soon as you’re done there.”
“You know I will, partner.”
“The morgue is a date then.” I cringe and wish I could take back those last words, but I learned long ago that there are no backsies in conversation.
The phone goes silent for a moment and then the electronic voice says, “Call ended.”
I lie back on my bed again. Yolanda don’t let me down.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I sit on the couch in the living room and pretend to watch a rerun of Leave It to Beaver. I’ve seen the episode a dozen times, so I laugh at all the right moments even though I can’t see a thing. Mother sits in her favorite chair humming the tune to When the Saints Go Marching In.
She always hums when she knits, but she’s a one-trick pony. I’ve never seen her knit anything other than afghan blankets. I don’t know how many afghan blankets it takes to qualify as too many, but we’ve got enough of them to cover every square inch of flooring in the house, possibly more than once. I’d say we’ve crossed that threshold.
“You working on another blanket?”
“There’s a drive at church tomorrow afternoon to collect pantry and winter items, so I’m knitting a couple of blankets.”
“In July? Seems like an early start for the winter season, but what do I know?”
“You can never be too prepared, Alice. God prepared for His son’s death from the very beginning.”
Every conversation with Mother leads to God and Jesus within three or four sentences without fail. I honestly wonder if she gets some sort of kickback for it. An extra dose of the Holy Spirit or something.
“Couldn’t you just take some of the ones we have around here? I think we have a few spares.”
“Why would you ever take used items to the church? The people we serve are in need, Alice. They deserve something new, not some used old blanket.”<
br />
I rub the afghan draped over the back of the couch. It’s silky soft. “I don’t think used or old fits the description of any of our afghan blankets. Most of them have never seen a lick of light since their creation.”
“I take pride in my work, and knitting brings me profound joy, especially when I’m doing it for the Lord. Speaking of work, how much more leave do you have before you go back?”
Mother’s always fishing for information about one thing or another. It’s a bit annoying at times, but I’ve grown accustomed to it over the years. I pull my feet up onto the couch. “Not sure yet. I have another week of online training classes to watch before I can go back and get reevaluated to return to duty.”
“I’ll send a message to Jesus asking him to make sure that everything works in your favor and you return to work soon. I’ve got his personal number, so to speak.” She laughs, but the sound she produces is closer to that of a cackling old witch.
I wish I had a glass of water to throw at her. It wouldn’t surprise me if she melted into a gelatinous puddle of blood, flesh, and bones like the witch from The Wizard of Oz. At least that’s what would’ve happened in my version of the movie.
“You dial Jesus up so often that I’d imagine He’s blocked your number by now.” I laugh, but Mother doesn’t.
I can feel the heat of her glare on my face. It’s like Superman’s heat vision, only stronger. “Don’t you be making jokes about our Lord and Savior. He died for you, young lady.”
Your Lord and Savior. That’s what I want to say. I’ve said as much in the past, but I’m ill prepared for that kind of conversation tonight. “I’m sure Jesus appreciates a good joke. After all, His father created humor, right?”
“You’re never too old for me to bend you over my knee and paddle your rear. Keep that in mind before you open that sassy mouth of yours.”
I’m close to earning my first black belt in ninjutsu, but even that wouldn’t save me from Mother’s wrath once it’s been invoked. I believe she has some special ability to channel the wrath of her God. I wisely change the subject. “I’ve barely seen you the past few weeks. Seems our schedules have been at odds with each other.”
“At odds because you’re avoiding me.” Her raptor gaze strangles me even though I can’t see it.
I can’t deny avoiding her, so I change the subject once more. “How’s work at the library?”
“You know better than anyone that my work stays at work. It is nothing more than a means to living.”
Why do I bother? I can’t compete with her priest. Or Seth for that matter. “You’re right, Mother. Sorry I showed interest in your life beyond the church walls.”
“Speaking of church, perhaps you should shift that interest toward something important like attending church with me. Father Rogallo would be pleased as pudding to see you again.”
I saw that beady-eyed old man once in the last decade and he was anything but pleased to see me once he found out I could see. He took me aside and accused me of selling my soul to the devil. I assured him that I hadn’t because it was an impossible task selling something to a non-existent entity. His face turned as red as the devil himself. It wouldn’t have surprised me to see horns rise from his temples and a spear-tipped tail whip around the side of his leg. If Mother knew what I’d said to him that day she would’ve disowned me on the spot.
The doorbell rings and I look in Mother’s general direction.
“Well don’t just sit there, Alice, answer the door. I don’t accept callers this late in the evening. Perhaps you shouldn’t either.”
If she only knew. I smirk as I rise from the couch and navigate the dark landscape toward the front door. I arrive without incident, unlock the door, and pull it open.
I pray that it’s Seth, and his rapturous cologne confirms. “You coming in, or we headed out on our date?”
“Please don’t call this a date.” Seth kisses my cheek. “Good evening, Gladys.”
“You best marry that girl of mine and start calling me Mother.”
I roll my eyes. This conversation happens so often I feel like I’m trapped in a time loop like Bill Murray in the movie Groundhog Day. I reach out and hook Seth’s arm. “Let’s get a move on before they close the place down.”
I wave toward Mother. “Don’t wait up. Might not be back until late.”
“May Jesus protect you both,” she says.
“Thank you, Gladys. It’s always a pleasure seeing you, no matter how brief the time.”
“As is with you, son.”
I force Seth out the door and close it behind us. I fumble with my keys for several moments before finally finding the right one. I lock the door.
“Why are you so certain that your information checked out with Yolanda?”
“You’re here, aren’t you? You would’ve just called otherwise.”
“Suppose so, but I still don’t understand how you got that information. I can’t wrap my mind around what you told me. It’s just too unbelievable. However, I’ve got nothing to lose taking you to see the body. Anyone can visit the city morgue, so Lieut. Frost would have no reason to reprimand either of us.”
I smile and offer Seth my arm. “Be a gentleman and walk me to the car.”
“That’s not your style, Alice. You’re miss independent, remember?”
“Most of the time I am, but tonight I want to feel pampered. So take my arm and walk me to the car, rock star.” I snort.
He takes my arm. “Fine, but you agreed we’d never talk about The Dive again.”
I snort again. “Didn’t mention it.”
He guides me over to the car, opens the door, and helps me down into it. I tuck myself in and he shuts the door. The seat buckle is still warm from the day but far from scalding as it so often is. I buckle myself in and take a deep breath.
Seth opens his door and rocks the car when he climbs into the driver’s seat. He slams the door and the car rocks again. His seatbelt whines as it unwinds, and then the buckle clicks in place.
Seth starts the car, the gears clunk as he puts it in drive, and I’m pinned against the seat as we pull away from the curb. He knows no speed but fast unless it has to do with relationships. In that case, he’d give a sloth its run for the money for the slowest-moving-creature-on-the-planet race.
Most of the time when we sit in silence, I’m comfortable with it, but tonight it’s first-date awkward. I think he senses that something has changed with me. He wouldn’t be wrong.
I break the ice. “What did you find at the scene earlier?”
“We’re not starting there, Alice. In fact, I’m not going to tell you anything about the second victim. If you can do what you said with the body, you won’t need me to tell you anything.”
I cross my arms and stare straight ahead. “Fine. You want more proof then I’ll give it to you.”
His hand touches my leg. “Your mother might be oblivious to what’s going on with you, but I’m not. Talk to me, Alice. Tell me what’s on your mind and what’s wrong with you.
“I feel like you’ve been avoiding me ever since you were put on administrative leave. You’re also the most observant person I know, but you’ve said nothing about the beard I’ve grown over the last week.”
I reach over and touch his face. The coarse hair has already grown past the stubble phase. I fight back a torrent of emotions, but I cannot contain the entire storm.
A tear slips down my cheek. I wipe it away, but not before the car jerks to the right. My hand grabs the “oh crap” handle that hangs above the door and I lean forward as the car screeches to a halt.
Seth leans over and pulls me into his arms. “Talk to me.”
I cannot find the right words to explain what’s happening to me, so I just blurt out, “I’m blind.”
Seth pulls back. “What do you mean you’re blind?”
“Literally, Seth. I can’t see a thing. I started losing my vision the day Sarah Johnson was m
urdered.”
“Why didn’t you say something? Have you seen a doctor?”
“Yeah, on Monday. I saw three different doctors. They ran a bunch of tests on my eyes, did a brain scan, and several other tests. Everything came back normal just like it did ten years ago.” I punch myself in the leg. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, and you’re the first person I’ve told other than the doctors.”
He takes my hand in his. “I’m so sorry. Tell me what I can do.”
I hate feeling helpless. “Pretend I can still see.”
“You know that isn’t normal, right?” The concern in his voice pangs me.
“Nothing about me has ever been normal. There are things about my past that I’ve kept from you. I tell myself that it’s better you don’t know because I don’t want your pity. Now I realize that it makes me feel like I’m less of a person and I don’t want you thinking the same thing of me.”
He strokes my head. “There’s nothing you could tell me that would alter the way I see you or change how I feel about you.”
“Do you remember the other day when you asked me if Sarah’s murder was personal to me?”
“Yes, and you told me it wasn’t.”
“I know I did, but I lied to you. It pained me so much to lie to your face like that, but I didn’t know what else to say.”
“What are you saying, Alice? You know her?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s personal to me because she was blind. I was also blind, Seth. The first sixteen years of my life I only knew the world through touch, sound, smell, and taste.”
Seth exhales. “Blind…”
“Yes. I immediately understood her life better than most.”
“So how did you gain your vision? Drugs? A procedure?”
“I don’t know for certain how it happened. Could’ve been any one of those. I fell and hit my head ten years ago and when I regained consciousness, I could see a little. Over a few days, my vision improved.”
“Alice… why would you keep that from anyone?”
“I didn’t think they’d let me on the force if anyone knew I was blind most of my life.”
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