by Jen Jensen
Tess pulled the drapes. “For whatever reason, I almost believe you and I don’t want to chase you off. But I also don’t want to hang out with you right now. Okay?” Jamis gave her a thumbs-up. “So, just stay inside and try to keep it down. Maybe you should text Johnna or something.” With that, she was gone, closing the door firmly behind her.
It was almost six p.m. It was closer to four when it started. She fell back on the bed. She’d lost two hours, but Stephanie manifested in the hotel room. They made contact. Suddenly, thrill replaced her fear. She documented the encounter.
She wasn’t ready to share, but she would. She texted Johnna. I got sucked into another dimension and then Stephanie Gardner manifested in my hotel room, and Tess heard her scream while she was bringing me a grilled cheese. I think she wants me to leave because I’m going to scare off her other guests. She might have a valid point. How’s your day?
She hit send. Then she wrote, I hope you don’t think I’m crazy because I think you’re really pretty.
What would happen if Johnna didn’t respond? Could she reset the last few days and pretend they never met? It took time to get in so deep the idea of not seeing someone surpassed the risk of letting go. Surely, it was too soon to feel so invested in whether or not she’d get a text reply. Even if she did try to kiss her.
After an agonizing five minutes, her phone chirped with a reply from Johnna. I don’t think you’re crazy. I’m off tomorrow. Can I tag along?
Jamis replied affirmatively and then her phone rang. “Jamis, it’s Vince Shire. I just wanted to let you know we’ve decided to move out of the house. We went back to get some things today and it was whacked. Cold. Creepy. I can’t explain it. We got what we could and will get the rest tomorrow during the day. We found an apartment and we’re done. We’re fighting it out with the property management company, but whatever.”
This would limit access, but Jamis understood. They were normal people, who wanted a life that made sense.
“Jamis? Are you there?”
“Yeah, sorry. Of course, you should move out. I’m sorry and I totally understand. Can you text me the property management company’s number? I’ll see what I can do about the lease. I want to know what’s going on.”
Vince agreed. She hung up and opened her laptop again, reviewing the police report again. She fell asleep at eight with a photo of Stephanie open on the computer screen.
Chapter Twelve
Jamis was on her way to Johnna’s house. She kept looking over her shoulder and in the rearview mirror. Nothing followed her but the wet spray of salt from the car’s tires. Her nerves were amped and oversensitive to everything around her, but she felt followed. Probably because a poltergeist kept pulling her into other dimensions. Jamis wondered if she was crazy, if Dr. Frank’s hints were on to something. It wasn’t the first or last time she questioned it.
She pulled into the driveway. The blinds were open, but the glare of the sun kept her from seeing inside. Jamis was momentarily worried about seeing Johnna. She looked at her reflection in the driver’s side window, smoothed the T-shirt under her coat, then zipped it again. Perhaps jeans were a better choice than the dark green cargo pants she picked. They were wrinkled. Johnna probably wouldn’t notice, but the pocket that bent up and wouldn’t fasten on her leg seemed like an insurmountable obstacle to intimacy.
She took her time walking to the door. Took more time ringing the bell.
“Come in,” Johnna said, barely audible.
“Johnna?” Jamis was in the entryway and there was no sign of Johnna.
“I’m on the floor of the kitchen, stretching.” Virginia was on the floor behind the table, her chin on her water dish.
“What did you do to Virginia?” Virginia rolled onto her back. Jamis knelt down to rub her belly.
“We just finished our run.”
“How much?”
“Eight miles today,” Johnna said.
Jamis peered over the counter. Johnna’s right leg was in the air. She dropped her leg and looked at Jamis. “I must be running late.” Sweat ran down Johnna’s chest and arms. Her shirt was soaked. Jamis stared for a moment and then watched Virginia.
“I’m early,” Jamis said. “I woke up super charged.”
Johnna filled a glass of water, drank it, then bent forward, hands to her feet, stretching.
“I’m so excited to be off today. It’s new for me, having time off. I’m always on call, always working.” Johnna filled another glass. “I hired a new vet. She’s just out of school. I think it might work out well.” Johnna’s eyes were bright green in the new light of day. Her face was flushed from exertion. “You don’t mind if I tag along?”
Jamis looked away from Johnna. She wanted to look down her shirt, but Virginia’s gaze was constant. It was hard to look down someone’s shirt with their dog staring. “Do you really want to?”
“Of course,” Johnna said.
“I was feeling insecure about taking you ghost hunting.”
“Why?” Johnna moved to stand in front of Jamis.
“What if you think I’m crazy?”
“Who says I don’t already?” Johnna’s smile was slow but earnest.
“Do you?”
“No,” Johnna said. “But I’d like to get to know you better. Understand.”
Jamis pulled a small rock on a chain from her pocket and handed it Johnna, who took it with interest. “It’s moonstone,” Jamis said. “For new beginnings. New friendship. It’s for you. I bought it at the airport in California while I was waiting.” Johnna pressed it in her palm.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll go get cleaned up and we can head out.”
Jamis watched her climb the stairs, two at a time. Johnna’s movements in the world were considered. Jamis hadn’t noticed before. Often the noise of her own issues drowned out those around her. Johnna was real and lived a simple life that protected her. She wouldn’t let down her guard to have an affair. If she crossed that line, Jamis needed to be sure. Jamis’s world was upside down, liable to change in any direction at any time. Would she keep chasing ghosts? Or hang up her shoes, settle down, and mow the lawn? Did she want to do that in Utah?
Until she was sure, risking Johnna’s heart wasn’t the right thing to do. Johnna was too wise to give her the option anyway. She’d be on her best behavior. Stop flirting. Make a friend. The moonstone necklace was a safe gift. It was a positive step in self-actualization. Recognizing emotions without getting carried away by them. Jamis scrolled social media and replied to trolls, desperate for distraction.
Mitchell K.
God had Noah save two animals, male and female for the ark. That proves homosexuality is wrong.
Jamis replied.
Did you know the story of Noah is pre-dated by an ancient Sumerian tale called the Epic of Gilgamesh, likely derived from a Mesopotamian account of a flood? Probably not because you’re a homophobic dumb-ass. ~ Xoxox Jamis
Jamis was pleased with her response and resolved to behave with Johnna, until she came down the stairs, freshly showered, wearing jeans and a knit sweater, padding barefoot across the polished wood floor. Her face was scrubbed clean. The arms of the sweater were pushed halfway up, showing light blond hair and a scattering of freckles. She was beautiful.
What was at the root of attraction? What combination of chemical, hormonal, and emotional processing came together to say, “That one.” How much was conscious? And how much of it was her subconscious mind, organizing stimuli and input, making Johnna look like an angel? Desire spilled through her, all her resolutions gone.
“Hi,” Jamis said. “I’m glad you came back.”
“Well, you’re in my living room.” Johnna put on socks and shoes. “So, take me ghost hunting.”
“Your wish,” Jamis said. “Anything you want.” She meant it.
* * *
“Where are we going?” Johnna pushed her seat back to get more leg room.
“First, Sapphire,” Jamis said. “She’s got
some stuff.”
“Sapphire loves my brother, but he’s an idiot.”
“I thought so,” Jamis said. A phone rang. Johnna felt around in her pants and then looked in her bag. She held up her phone. It was dark.
Jamis struggled to pull her phone from her pocket and answered too late. She waited for a voice mail and read the transcription quickly. “It’s the leasing company,” Jamis said. “I’ll call them back later.” Jamis started the car and pulled forward.
“The leasing company?”
“Yeah, for the house. The couple who lives there wants to move. I was seeing if I could get it month to month, until I sort out what’s happening. Talked to them this morning about it. They were checking.”
“You’d move in?” Johnna sounded surprised.
“Yeah, I mean, why not, right? It seems like Stephanie wants me here and wants to talk to me, so I’d like to make it as easy as possible.”
“Did they say they had a hard time renting it?”
“Yeah. Apparently, Vince is tenant number three in six months.”
“You’ll leave eventually, right? When you figure it out?”
Jamis slowed her speed and stopped at the intersection to the main road. She turned to Johnna. “I guess so. I mean, it’s inevitable, right?”
“Nothing is but death. Except with you. Then maybe that’s not even inevitable.”
Jamis considered it. “It’s so cold here.”
“You need better clothes. You dress like someone from LA visiting the Mountain West.”
“I am from LA visiting the Mountain West,” Jamis said.
“Exactly,” Johnna agreed. “Listen, turn right instead of left. Let me show you a shortcut.”
Jamis followed her instructions as they wound through streets lined with houses like Stephanie’s. Jamis talked about the terror in Stephanie’s eyes before her involuntary reflex rejected her the night before. “It’s harder to be loved when you’re different,” Johnna said.
“Do you feel like that? Different? Because you don’t look it or seem it, but that doesn’t mean a lot, I’ve learned.” Jamis pulled into the parking lot of the municipal building.
“Inside. Yes.” Then she paused. “I hope you find what happened to Stephanie, Jamis. She deserves more.” It was warmer in the car and the noise from the street around them faded. Johnna closed her eyes. “Did it just get warmer here?”
“Yes,” Jamis said. “I guess we’re ghost hunting.” It wasn’t just warm though. Jamis felt embraced and the certainty of her course was clear. She was where she should be. Together, they stood and looked at Sage Creek’s main street. It was like the movie set of an old western. Brick and mortar buildings, but gentrified and busy.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Johnna pointed at a building. “They say there are ghosts in the tunnels under that old Woolworth. From prohibition. They give tours in summer.”
“Will you go with me? On a tour?” Jamis turned to look at her and shoved her hands in her coat pockets.
“Maybe,” Johnna said. “If you’re here.”
They walked side by side to the records room, hands touching as their arms swung at their sides. Jamis slyly linked their pinkies together, and Johnna allowed it, leaning into her shoulder. It felt natural, like it was something they always did. They stopped at the iron cage to look inside. Johnna called out.
Sapphire emerged, distracted, unlocking the door without greeting them.
There were towering columns up and down the aisles.
“What is all this? It wasn’t here Sunday,” Jamis said, pointing.
“I’m working with the state to index all the state records now. They bring them in, I do my stuff, and they take them away and send more. I got a grant for it. More arrived yesterday.” Sapphire puffed out her lips, blowing air. “It’s such a mess right now. Anyway, I got some info for you.”
“You’re amazing, Sapphire,” Jamis said. Sapphire waved away the compliment and turned to her computer, pushing back the sleeves of her T-shirt, a hint of her sleeve tattoo showing. Sapphire was tense, distracted. It bothered Jamis.
“We need to compare sleeve tattoos,” Jamis said. She shook off her coat and pushed up the sleeve of her light sweater. “Here’s a teaser. That’s the X-Files logo.”
Sapphire spun around. “You don’t have the X-Files logo on your arm.”
“I do,” Jamis said. “Plus some other cool original art. Paranormal phantoms, cool places I’ve been.” Sapphire motioned for her to pull her sweater up and took hold of her arm, looking at it. Johnna joined.
Sapphire showed Jamis her sleeve. “All my favorite stuff. Sci-fi. Computers. Radical anarchist leftism and the destruction of capitalism.”
“Is Bernie Sanders on there?” Jamis now held her arm, looking at each piece.
“Don’t joke,” Sapphire said, taking her arm back. “My heart still hurts from that. I’m grieving.” Johnna leaned to kiss her forehead. “Thanks.” Sapphire turned back to the computer, mood only a little better, despite Jamis’s efforts.
“I managed to get access to some additional records from that time,” Sapphire said.
“How is that even possible?”
“Well, I went down to the police station yesterday after we finished up. I told them I didn’t feel satisfied with the police report and I really wanted to see everything they had on Stephanie Gardner’s murder. It was a different counter clerk. I’ve never met her before. She and I went down into their basement archives and dug around some. I found another box of autopsy photos, which I scanned and already sent to Maggie. But I also found this report, with information blacked out with a marker. It’s an investigator summary from that time.”
Sapphire tapped, displaying the report on the largest monitor in the middle of the screen. “I scanned the report and ported it into this image software. I basically told the software to identify the different color gradients in the text that’s blacked out.” She tapped more keys and then touched the tablet on a display that showed multiple colors in bars, with small buttons in the middle to adjust.
Sapphire’s hands moved deftly across the keyboard and the display on the tablet. Jamis mouthed to Johnna, “Genius.”
“I can see your reflection in the monitor,” Sapphire said. Jamis laughed.
“I don’t know how to use Netflix,” Johnna said. Sapphire grinned and tapped more. Then the image blurred out of view and blurred back in, without the black marker obscuring the text.
“Neighbor Ethel Waters confirms seeing Mitch Reynolds Jr. at the deceased’s house the early morning of March 13, 1992. Mrs. Waters claims Mitch Reynolds Jr. left through the back door loudly, and the deceased chased him, yelling at him. This happened about four a.m., according to Mrs. Waters. Mitch Reynolds Jr. denies being at the deceased’s residence, though admitted in questioning he had been having an affair with the deceased.” Jamis read the text out loud.
Sapphire held up her finger. “Just wait. I already ran the other blacked out report through the software.” She clicked and swiped, and another report appeared. “Gordon Little came to the police station on March 18, 1992, to provide information about Stephanie Gardner. This is his testimony. You can read it, but it says what Ethel Waters said. He told the police that Stephanie told him she was pregnant with Mitch’s child and asked him to go away with her. He refused, of course. She was at the bar on March 12. That was the last time he saw her. He said that she told him whether Mitch went with her or not she was going to take her baby and go somewhere else. Start over. She just needed to get money together.”
Jamis and Johnna both read the detailed testimony over Sapphire’s shoulder. Sapphire flipped the page with a swipe on the tablet. “Gordon is a bartender at the college bar, by the way. He’s still there.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Jamis said.
“He goes on to say he thinks she might have been looking to get money from other men she’d been involved with. He said he told her to be careful. He said he had a ‘bad feeling’ abo
ut what she was doing. He said that he knows for certain Mitch Reynolds Jr. was having an affair with her. He told them to do a paternity test. In subsequent notes, it seems as though he returned to the precinct a number of times over the next few months to repeat all this information before he abruptly stopped.”
“Is Mitch her killer then? Who is Mitch?” Jamis was certain she was close to something. Her body hummed with possibility.
“The police chief’s son. Or was. His dad retired a while back,” Johnna said.
Sapphire pulled up a notepad with notes. “He’s at Shady Oaks retirement home. And to make our luck worse, Mitch Reynolds Jr. died in a car wreck in 2003 at the age of forty-nine.” She scooted back. “Guess what? They never did a paternity test. This testimony was blacked out, instead of destroyed. But the handwriting on the upper corner of this is different from the writing on the report, so I think someone tucked these into another folder, maybe hiding them for future use. Someone with a conscience.”
Sapphire pointed at the screen, agitated and angry. She was upset about Stephanie, nothing else. Jamis liked her even more. “Mitch had plenty of reason to kill her. He was married with six kids. He taught economics at the college. His dad was police chief. If she went to him, told him she’s pregnant with his kid, pay up or I’m telling everyone, well, that’s motive, right?”
“I want to talk with Gordon and Mitch Reynolds Sr.,” Jamis said.
“What about Mitch Jr.’s wife?” Johnna sat on the corner of the desk, legs dangling.
“I checked,” Sapphire said. “She’s still alive and here in town. She lives just up from the house, actually. They didn’t live far from Stephanie. Same house as then.” Sapphire tapped on the screen and minimized everything. “I wasn’t able to find detailed phone records from that far back, Jamis. But I did find one more thing.” Sapphire pulled up a report on the screen. “Rick Davis owned the house while Stephanie lived in it. It looks like both eviction notices were filed by Dan Abbey.”
“Really,” Johnna said animatedly, with a smile. Jamis liked the expression and moved to stand closer to her.