by Jen Jensen
Jamis took the stairs two at a time, moved briskly through their bedroom, and pulled back the sheer curtain. The entire house was visible. The backyard splayed at a slight angle. The kitchen door, which opened up to the outside, faced her. The imprints of their bodies in the snow and the vague outline of her footprints around the perimeter were still visible. She turned to leave and caught a movement in the upstairs window out of the corner of her eye.
She turned abruptly, but nothing was there. A sharp pain struck her stomach, and she bent over. All warmth was sucked from the air. It was difficult to breathe. The edges of her vision darkened, and she tried to move but fell to a knee, holding her stomach. She put her hand on the dresser, trying to steady herself.
Darkness swirled and became a road that pulled her in. She was leaving the second-story bedroom on Third Street through a dimensional portal. There was a sound like roaring engines and the smell of burning coal. A massive bird dropped down toward her, talons exposed, and tried to grab her face. She fell to the ground and covered her head.
“Jamis.” Warm hands held her shoulders. “Oh my God, Jamis. Are you okay? What’s wrong? Do you need an ambulance?”
“No. I’m okay. I don’t know what happened.” She struggled to stand. Sapphire held on to her. “I just looked out the window and I saw something move, and next thing I know, I had this pain, and then I was in a tunnel. With engines.” Sapphire raised an eyebrow. “I know. It sounds nuts.”
“Maybe it’s bad gas,” Sapphire said, trying to be funny.
“Let’s get out of here,” Jamis said.
Sapphire wrapped an arm around Jamis’s waist and together they left the room.
“You okay up there?” Sue waited for them at the bottom of the stairs.
“Jamis just had a light head from low blood sugar. Do you have a banana?”
Sue moved quickly to the kitchen, on a purposeful mission.
“Thank you,” Jamis said, barely a whisper, to Sapphire. Sapphire took the banana from Sue. The television was back on and Jamis recognized it as NCIS.
* * *
“Have you ever had stuff like this happen before?” Sapphire replied to text messages while she spoke and adjusted the air vent in the car.
“Yeah, sometimes. Not this intense, though. I feel skinless.”
They’d moved to the driveway of Stephanie’s house, but Jamis didn’t know how wise it was to get closer. “Do you think it’s medical? Should we get you checked out?”
“Can Johnna look at me?”
“She’s a vet, Jamis. Are you a golden retriever?”
“I’m dark and almost six feet tall. I think I’d be more of an Irish wolfhound.”
Sapphire waved her hand. “Oh my God, are we playing what kind of dog would we be? I’m a corgi, short legs, round bum, big belly.” Jamis laughed. “How about an urgent care? You looked whacked when I found you. Like fucking whacked. Not quite in sync with the earthly plane. It’s hard to explain.”
“Tell me about it. Maybe the more it happens, the more I’ll understand. The pain in my stomach is gone.” Jamis looked down at her legs and feet. “I’m not quite sure, honestly. What’s next? I feel like I’m making progress, but I don’t know what I’m solving.”
There was a shadow standing in the upstairs window of the house. Jamis put the car in reverse. She wasn’t in a space to deal with it. She stopped them by the college campus, a few streets over. Trees without leaves were silhouettes against the early afternoon sun. The shadows of students walking from building to building left temporary marks of black against the white of the snow.
“I think I’m going to send a copy of the police files to a friend of mine. She owns a forensics lab down in Phoenix,” Jamis said, searching for positive solutions.
“That’s a good idea,” Sapphire said.
“Then, I’m really just not sure. I wish we could somehow re-create Stephanie’s last few days. If she was found on March 16, she likely died that week before.”
“How do we do that, though? It was so long ago,” Sapphire said.
“I’ve never done this much work. I mean, solve a murder or something. The writers always gave me the overviews, mostly exaggerated truth, honestly. But I’ve watched enough episodes of Criminal Minds to feel like I should know how.” This was a problem to be solved, nothing more. The solution to all of this was within her reach. She could figure out anything for herself. Always had. She was a foster kid with nothing and no one who ended up a television star. This was nothing in comparison to the effort it took to climb out of her childhood.
But if that was entirely true, why was Jamis so scared that the specter haunting her dreams was there to demand a recompense for everything that came before? The pressure on her neck mounted. Something demanded her attention. She just didn’t know what.
“Emotional detachment,” Jamis said.
“What?”
“Me, I need to chill out. I feel emotional,” Jamis said, talking for herself more than Sapphire. “Okay, let’s think. We will send the files to the lab. Can we get phone records?”
“Mountain Bell was the provider here then. Back when phones were utilities and managed as a monopoly. I remember the phone bill coming in the mail. We called them Ma Bell. But they’ve since been broken up and splintered off. I’m sure I know someone who worked for them. I don’t know what they would have archived and for how long. Let me work on it. I can’t promise anything.”
“How did you get the police reports?” Jamis was suddenly curious.
“It’s really better if you don’t know,” Sapphire said, typing on the phone.
“Are you sure? You should implicate me if there are issues. I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
“There is absolutely no one around with my skill. To catch me and prosecute me they’d need someone smarter than me to get evidence.” Sapphire tucked her phone away. “Not sure there is someone like that. So, good luck proving it.”
“Overconfidence is a deadly sin.”
“It is not,” Sapphire said.
“It is. I’m sure of it,” Jamis said. She poked Sapphire’s shoulder.
“Do you mean pride?”
“Well, I feel like overconfidence is its modern equivalent,” Jamis said, moving the car into drive, mood lifting.
“I don’t think the deadly sins are open to your interpretation.”
“Whatever.”
“I feel gluttonous,” Sapphire said, and Jamis giggled.
* * *
Jamis took Sapphire back to work. In the hotel room, she scrolled through contacts on her phone and dialed Maggie Kirkpatrick. “Hello?” Jamis’s heart lurched when she heard her voice. Should it do that? It was the emotional charge she attached to the end of their relationship, nothing more. She’d not been in love with Maggie for a long time. A decade or better. The voice just triggered unprocessed emotion. Jamis sometimes imagined her insides were like a battleground with landmines. One wrong step and everything would blow.
“Maggie,” Jamis said.
“Hi, Jamis.” She said nothing else.
“I hope you’re well,” Jamis said. At this time of day, Maggie would be in her lab, wearing a lab coat, khakis, and a button-down blouse. Did she still wear glasses, or had she switched to contacts? Last time Jamis saw Maggie, her black hair was cut in a short angle and rested just below her ears. That was over five years ago.
“You don’t just call to see if I’m well. Usually, it’s because you want something.” Jamis wanted to deny it, but then stopped short. It was true, though she wished it were different.
“I know I hurt you. I could deny it, but what good would it do? I’m sorry, Maggie.” She wasn’t able to hold still then. So many things could hurt people who cared. Her inability to commit was as harmful as betrayal.
“My God, have you grown up, Jamis?”
“Don’t get carried away,” Jamis said. “I do want something. I do hope you’re well. Those two things don’t need to be mutually excl
usive.”
“I got married late last year,” Maggie said, with some force.
“Well, she’s lucky. Really lucky.” She meant it, even as she searched inside for hidden or residual emotion. A few years ago, saying that would have been like chewing glass. Now, it was all gone. She’d let go. “I’m happy for you.”
“Right. Thanks. Now, how can I help you?” Her tone was cold, but she wasn’t hanging up. Maggie might have ample reasons to avoid contact, but her curiosity always triumphed. She knew if Jamis called, it was something interesting.
“I’m in Utah. I’ve stumbled into a really strange situation. I’ve got a potential poltergeist at a house and a twenty-five-year-old murder. We managed to get a copy of the police records from back in 1992. They linked the death to Richard Crespin, but he never confessed. I was wondering if you could look at the autopsy files and tell me what you think.”
“Send me everything you have.”
“I’ll have a friend email them to you. Look for something from Sapphire Neugent shortly.” Jamis paused.
“I’ll call you after I’ve had a chance to look at them.”
“I appreciate it, Maggie.” Maggie hung up without any other words, and Jamis cringed. It’d gone better than she thought it would. She was pleasantly surprised at how quickly she agreed to help her. Jamis texted Sapphire with Maggie’s email address, asking her to send the scanned files. Sapphire responded via email within minutes. She cc’d Jamis.
She turned on her Kindle Fire and connected to the internet in the hotel, scrolling through Netflix and Prime. She chose 30 Rock and hit play. She rested the tablet in her lap and willed herself to relax. She brought her awareness into the present moment, drawing attention to her feet, then her legs, moving up her body with deliberate concentration. Jamis drew a deep breath but didn’t focus on it. If she paid too much attention to her breathing, she hyperventilated.
Something was happening in her life. It started with Dr. Frank, the dreams, and brought her to where she was. Perhaps the weight of the past finally exceeded her capacity to carry it. Maggie married. Why wouldn’t she? Normal people did that. They met someone, married, bought a house, mowed the lawn on Saturdays and filled out living wills. Jamis knew it would never work, even when she wanted it to be possible. It was difficult for her to imagine a normal life because it wasn’t something she’d ever known. The life she created drew from the well she knew. It’s what everyone did, until they got conscious enough to choose differently.
Was Johnna normal? It seemed like it. She owned a house and probably mowed the lawn. But something in her eyes suggested that what she expected from life was different from someone like Maggie. Was there something about Johnna that spoke to her past traumas? Was her attraction as simple as that? She’d known her for three days. Before meeting Johnna, she lived forty years. If she did the math, the percentage of time barely registered. So why did she feel like nothing happened before arriving here?
Then the pressure around her body intensified. It was hard to know how long it had been there. She’d been lost in thought. Where was she? Was it still the old hotel room? The wood paneling was still dull with time. There was a television on the laminate drawers in front of her. But the light filtering into the room looked different. A sharp, white light cast a path across the room, ending abruptly by the bathroom door.
Jamis looked out the window. There was nothing outside. Her chest tightened, heart rate accelerated, and she rushed to the door, fumbled with the chain, and yanked it open. It slammed against the wall. Jamis stepped from the motel room and felt like a current pulled her under. But there was no water, though she felt pressure heavy on her body. It wasn’t day or night. She was somewhere without matter or form. The door closed behind her. She lurched toward it, panicking, but the nothing under her feet gave her no traction. Jamis plummeted, grabbing the door handle just before it was out of reach.
She lost her grip, slipping downward, grabbing the bottom of the doorjamb, hanging on with both hands. Her feet dangled. She pulled up so half of her body was outside the door and half was inside. The chair next to the window worked as leverage and she tucked her legs up next to her and rolled into the room, scrambling across the floor to rest against the bed.
Then Tess was in the doorway. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you high?”
“Did you see that? Everything disappeared.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I was sitting in the office over there, looked out the window to see you thrashing around on the ground like a damned fool. I thought you were having a seizure. From drugs or something.”
Jamis looked behind Tess. Cars moved up and down the street. Her rental car was outside right where she parked it. The sun shined and the snow melted. Jamis looked down at her clothes. They were dry. The sidewalk was covered in salt and damp with melting snow. There was no salt or moisture on her. She pointed at the sidewalk and then at herself.
“What the hell?” Tess grabbed her shoulders. “I’m telling you I saw you thrashing all over the ground out there.”
“Something is happening to me. It happened earlier today too, but it was different. Sort of. I don’t know.” She rubbed her eyes. Her stomach growled.
“Just sit still. Let me get you something to eat. I’ll be right back.” Tess’s form became smaller as she crossed the parking lot. The sun glared off the glass windows on the front of the restaurant, and only vague outlines of people were visible inside. Jamis’s vision flickered, like an antenna struggling for reception. The walls of the diner shook and shimmered, before settling into solidity. The parking lot asphalt quivered, as though unfurled like a rug. Then it settled into solidity as well.
A car alarm sounded somewhere in the background. A small drip outside caught her attention and Jamis walked to investigate. An icicle hung on the metal gutter, small droplets of water splashing to the sidewalk. The space around Jamis was solid and good. Whatever happened was over, and she let go of her fear, turning back into the hotel room, defenses lowered. The figure from the house was at the foot of the bed. Her instinct was to flee, shout, cry. Her muscles contracted, ready to move. But it was Stephanie, and she knew it now. The gray robe was tied around her waist with a rope, and her feet were bare and bloodied. Her arms hung at her sides, and her fists clenched and opened, repetitively.
The outline of the hungry ghost was present in her flickering form.
Instead of retreating, Jamis moved closer. “Stephanie?”
She turned to look at Jamis and the hood fell off. It was Stephanie. She moved toward Jamis, lifting her gaze. Her eyes were darkened, cloudy, vacant, but something in them stirred to life. Just a small spark of emotion. Anger allowed her to manifest before, but if Jamis was going to help her, she needed something more. The choice to trust after betrayal was as weighted for the dead as the living.
Jamis held out her hand, committing not to flinch. The contact required absolute acceptance. Stephanie touched Jamis’s hand, manifesting into form, fully visible. Her head was gouged open, brain matter peeking through. Jamis pulled back instinctively. Stephanie jerked back and shrieked. Air rushed around Jamis, and the drapes on the windows fluttered. Stephanie screamed louder.
“No. Please don’t. I’m sorry. I want to help you.” Stephanie threw Jamis back against the doorframe in punishment. She doubled over.
“Who the hell is screaming? What’s happening now?” Tess called from the parking lot, holding a tray in her hand. “Are you okay? Christ, I was gone ten minutes.”
Stephanie was gone.
“Tess, how crazy would you think I am if I told you the poltergeist of Stephanie Gardner was standing right there? And that you heard her scream?” Jamis pointed to the middle of the motel room. “The cops say that she was murdered by that serial killer, but I don’t think so. He died. She should be settled, don’t you think?” Jamis put her arms above her head, struggling to catch her breath.
“I’d say you’ve got low blood sugar.” Tess pus
hed Jamis inside the motel room and shut the door. “I don’t need you chasing off my other guests.” She pointed to the chair by the window and Jamis obediently sat in it. Tess set the tray down and pulled the metal cover from the plate with a grilled cheese and French fries. Tess sat on the chair across from her. “This is crazy. All of it. But shit if I didn’t hear someone scream. And it wasn’t a normal scream.”
“She was right here.” Jamis took a bite of grilled cheese.
Tess looked at her, expression serious. “I don’t want poltergeists chasing off my paying guests.”
“I’ll leave tonight. I’m sorry. I had no idea this would happen.”
“Well, now, no. You forget it. Where you going? A Holiday Inn? They’ll call the cops on you. You’re nuts, flailing around outside like that. Hell.” Tess waved her hand. “They’d lock you up in the loony bin.”
Jamis laughed, but it wasn’t real. It was just all she could think of doing. “Honestly, I think I’m being pulled into another dimension or something. I think she’s doing it to me.”
“Stephanie Gardner? The lady who got murdered by a serial killer? Whose poltergeist you say you saw right in here, just now?”
“Yes,” Jamis said. “You get it.”
“You realize how nuts that sounds?”
“It’s an occupational hazard.” She finished the grilled cheese and sipped her soda, thirsty from interdimensional travel.
“Do you walk around all the time with everyone around you thinking you’re nuts?”
“Yeah,” Jamis said. There wasn’t anything to add to it, so she didn’t.
“Okay, well, try not to flail around outside on the sidewalk tonight, okay? And if something nuts happens, you call me. I’m going to write my home number right here by the phone. Just dial it.”
“Tess, I’m sorry,” Jamis said. “I really didn’t mean to do that. I appreciate you coming for me.”