by Val Crowe
“You really think he saw his mother get killed?”
“Isn’t that why I was asking him questions in the first place? Because he’s an eyewitness?”
Wade hung his head. “I guess so, man, but I was really hoping that he hadn’t seen that. It makes me crazy thinking he’s living with that. He’s too young for that sort of thing.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe he’s really resilient and he’s going to be just fine. Maybe getting this off his chest will really help him. Maybe this will stop his nightmares.”
“I hope so,” said Wade.
We were quiet.
Mads floated through the door. “I’ve convinced him to tell the police what he saw.”
“Oh, great,” I said. “That’s awesome.”
“What’s awesome?” said Wade. “Are you talking to that ghost? That is so creepy.”
* * *
Detective Hal Loomis shook hands with Wade and then Virginia, Kadan’s grandmother. He knelt down to shake hands with Kadan as well, smiling at the kid with genuine respect. We were all down at the local police station.
“We knew it was Sanford,” said Detective Loomis, straightening to address the adults. “Something about that guy. So glib, you know? Had an answer for everything. We knew it was him from the start, right when he called in the crime. But we couldn’t pin it on him, not until now. You have a very brave little boy in there.”
“He is brave,” said Virginia. “So brave.”
“Some of the things he told us, they make everything fit,” said Loomis. “The biggest issue we had with the scene was that the evidence pointed toward Mrs. Sanford doing it herself. She had gunshot residue on her hand and the angle was right, all of that. We couldn’t figure it out. But what always tripped us up was that we couldn’t find the gun. Someone had to have moved it, we thought. Didn’t add up. We thought that was Mr. Sanford. Of course, he blamed the ghosts.” Loomis rolled his eyes.
Mads had explained everything that Kadan had told her about the crime, but we hadn’t forced Kadan to repeat it to us, figuring it would be tough enough for the kid to have to relive it for the police.
“But what Kadan says, it makes sense,” said Loomis. “They struggled over the gun, and they were both holding it when it went off. Mr. Sanford was tested for gunshot residue, but he must have washed it off. Kadan’s testimony, it’s enough for a warrant. We can arrest Mr. Sanford. In fact, I’m fairly sure he’ll be in custody in a matter of days. This case was always one that stuck in my craw.”
Kadan had told Mads that his mother and Tex had been arguing over something, but Kadan didn’t know what. His mother had hidden something from Tex, but Kadan didn’t know what that was. Tex was angry that Cheyenne wouldn’t tell him where this something or other was located. He threatened her with a gun, and then he ended up shooting Cheyenne.
“Since they struggled over the gun, we’re thinking that Sanford might try to claim it was an accident,” said Loomis. “But the way he covered it all up, told that ridiculous story about ghosts? I don’t think any jury’s going to buy that.”
Having seen firsthand how Tex behaved, I thought he was a absolute creep. I wanted him locked away for the rest of his life.
“Anyway,” said Loomis, “I can’t tell you how happy we are that you came to us with this. Thank you.”
Wade knelt down so that he was eye-level with Kadan. “How you doing, buddy?”
“I’m okay,” said Kadan.
“You sure?” said his grandmother. Apparently, she hadn’t been entirely pleased by this turn of events. She hadn’t talked Kadan out of coming to the police station, but she didn’t think that the police would take his testimony seriously. She thought he’d be dismissed on account of his age and on account of the fact that two years had passed since the crime. But it seemed that the police were taking it very seriously.
Kadan nodded.
“Listen, Kadan,” said Virginia, “whatever you need, just let us know, okay?”
“I will,” said Kadan.
I wasn’t sure exactly how Mads had convinced Kadan to go to the police, but whatever she’d said to him, he’d been dead set on it. He’d insisted his grandmother let him come down to the station. I think it was because he wanted to help his mom. He was a really good kid. I felt awful for him. He’d been through too much in his young life.
Wade put his hand on Kadan’s shoulder. “You did real good today. I’m proud of you.”
Kadan suddenly stepped forward and hugged Wade.
Wade looked stunned and then he wrapped his arms around the kid.
I was guessing maybe they hadn’t really gotten to the hugging stage in their relationship. I was glad that they were there now. I was glad that Kadan had Wade. Wade was going to be a really good dad. And I was also glad that Wade had Kadan. Kadan was going to be good for Wade. I could tell.
CHAPTER TEN
It was a big deal when Tex Sanford was arrested. This story’d had news coverage, since Tex had blamed it on ghosts. It had been the kind of thing that people wanted to believe. Curious, I’d watched a few of the interviews Tex had done. He’d really done the talk-show circuit. He’d been all over, pleading with the cameras about his innocence and then also saying that he should have done more for Cheyenne. He hadn’t realized how sick she was.
I could see why people believed him.
He came off very genuine. But I also saw why someone like Loomis had suspected him right away. He was glib. He seemed a little too… I don’t know, slick. It was as if everything he was doing was a scene in some movie. He was a great actor, but I didn’t quite buy it.
You know how you can tell the difference between a fake documentary and a real documentary just by how people talk? Like everyone has a little bit of a tell, even if they’re adlibbing?
Well, it was like that. I could see through him.
Maybe that was because of my own abilities or maybe it was just because I had seen him hit Cheyenne. I didn’t know. Whatever the case, dude was a jerk.
And now he had been arrested.
I wouldn’t say it was all over the internet, but it wasn’t a big secret either. It showed up on my Facebook feed, and I found a few news stories about it. I saved them all to my phone and I headed over to Sanford House as soon as I could. I knew that the Bentleys were still staying in that hotel, and I wanted to get them moved back into their house as soon as possible.
Once Cheyenne saw that Tex had been arrested and that justice was being done for her murder, she could release her energy and move on. This would all be over.
The Bentleys had told me about a spare key they had left on the ledge above the door, and I found it easily and let myself in.
The house was cold and empty and quiet.
“Hello?” I called out. “Cheyenne? I have something to show you.”
No answer, but I wasn’t surprised.
“Mads?” I said. “You there?”
Mads appeared on the steps in front of me. “Hey, Deacon.”
“Can you sense her anywhere?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not right off.”
“Guess we go up to the nursery then,” I said. That was where we had seen her the other times, after all. Maybe that was an important spot. Concentrated energy there or something. I started up the steps.
At the top of the steps, everything seemed fine. I wasn’t getting any real sense of the haunting in the house. Maybe because it was daylight. I might have to come back after sundown in order to make contact. On the other hand, the first time I’d seen her, I hadn’t needed to do that, so maybe it wouldn’t be necessary.
All of the doors were open, so I walked briskly down the hall and then entered the nursery.
“Cheyenne?” I called. “You here?”
Silence.
I wandered into the center of the room. I shut my eyes and tried to reach out and feel for spirits. I didn’t really know how to do that, not exactly, but I tried anyway.
I didn’t fe
el anything.
But when I opened my eyes, she was right there.
Two inches from me, skin hanging raggedly over her exposed, bloody cheekbone.
I let out a little cry and stepped back two feet.
She came closer.
“W-wait,” I said, fumbling for my phone. “You said it was murder. I got the message.” I got out my phone and turned it on, fumbling to unlock it and then find the first of the news articles. “We got him arrested. See?”
She cocked her head to one side, examining the phone.
“Yeah,” I said. “We got him arrested. He’s in jail now.” I pulled up another news story and another. I showed them to her.
She reached out to try to touch the phone, but her finger went directly through the phone.
“Kadan did it,” I said. “He went to the police to give testimony. He wanted to help—”
I was cut off by a garbled scream of rage. Cheyenne was rushing at me.
I ducked in spite of myself.
She rushed through me and I was awash in coldness.
I turned to see her against the far wall, writing on the wall again.
Murder, she wrote.
“I know it was murder,” I said. “We got you justice.”
She slammed her hand against the wall, angry. She tried to say something, but her jaw didn’t work.
“That’s not what you wanted?” I said.
She turned back to the wall. She wrote again. Safe.
“Safe?” I said. I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I can’t keep you safe from murder. It already happened. I’m too late for that.”
She let out another ear piercing shriek and then she dashed her hand over the words on the wall, smearing them.
She disappeared.
* * *
“I should have known better,” I muttered. I was in the Airstream, lying on my bed and staring up at the ceiling. “She’s a ghost. She’s not rational. She doesn’t even seem to understand what happened to her. She doesn’t know she’s dead.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” said Mads, who was sitting next to me on the bed. “You’re doing the best you can.”
“I can’t keep her safe,” I said. “That’s what she wants, and I can’t do it. So, she’s not going to release her energy. I think we have to try the oil.”
Mads shook her head. “I’m telling you, this is not a good case for the oil.”
“Okay,” I said. “Then we need to get her out of there. We need to get her attached to something else. Like what I did in Point Oakes when I got everything attached to my mother’s camper.”
“Right,” said Mads. “Because you have emotionally charged objects just lying around.”
I groaned. “There’s got to be a way.”
“Look,” said Mads, “maybe you’re just not understanding her. Maybe it’s not enough, what you did. Maybe she won’t feel safe until he’s been convicted.”
“Well, it’s not like the trial’s going to be next week,” I said. “The wheels of justice grind slowly. It’s going to be quite a while before that conviction happens. The Bentleys can’t wait that long.” I sat up. “We could burn the house down.”
“Yeah, the Bentleys would be really appreciative of that,” said Mads.
“Well, they could collect insurance,” I said.
“From arson?” said Mads.
“We make it look like an accident,” I said. “Which… how hard could that be?” I grabbed my laptop. I’d start googling that right now.
“You can’t burn down the house,” said Mads.”
“I can totally do that,” I said. “Do you remember if there was a gas stove in the kitchen? That would be a good way to accidentally start a fire, right?”
“Deacon, come on,” said Mads.
I sighed. “I guess burning down the house is extreme.”
“Yeah, it’s not like the ghosts at Point Oakes, who were actually killing people,” said Mads. “Cheyenne seems relatively harmless.”
“It’s not her I’m worried about,” I said. “It’s Tex. She’s the concentrated point of the haunting, but all the other stuff is connected to her, and it’s dangerous. You heard what Philip Bentley said, right? The house was turning him into an asshole.”
“I’m not saying we don’t have to fix this,” said Mads. “But maybe we’re just… not getting it. Maybe it’s someone else she wants to keep safe.”
I furrowed my brow. “You know, she did get really mad after I mentioned Kadan’s name.”
“There,” said Mads.
“But… I mean, how does that help us?” I said. I flopped back on the bed. I wasn’t getting anywhere with this. “Kadan’s not in danger anymore either. She thought he was in danger when Tex was there, but Kadan’s safe now.”
“You’re going to figure something out,” said Mads. “You always do.”
* * *
“Hi, Deacon?” said Wren Bentley’s voice on the phone.
It was morning the next day, and I had still been asleep. I sat up straight in bed. “Yeah? What’s up? Is something bad happening?”
“Well, we were just hoping for a status update,” said Wren. “You said you were going by the house yesterday, and I wanted to know how it went.”
“Oh, right,” I said. “Well, unfortunately, not good. Cheyenne’s spirit is trying to communicate something with me, but I don’t know what it is.” Or else she’s totally crazy and out of it, because she’s dead, but why say that out loud?
“Oh,” said Wren. “Um… look, I don’t mean to, um, cast aspersion on you.”
“Cast what?” I wrinkled up my nose.
“It’s only that we’re thinking about asking for a second opinion,” said Wren.
“A second opinion? What do you mean?”
“Well, we’ve been in contact with another psychic—”
“I’m not a psychic.”
“Well, maybe that’s the problem,” said Wren. “Maybe if you were a psychic, you could cleanse our house. Anyway, this woman, she’s offered to do that for us.”
“Oh, yeah?” I said. “Did she say how?”
“She said that she’d use sage and salt and incantations,” said Wren. “She is charging us—”
“I bet Philip loves that.”
“Philip and I both want to go home,” said Wren.
“No, I get that,” I said. “I do. But sage isn’t going to do anything to your house besides make it smell like Thanksgiving. You give that woman money, you’re just throwing it away.”
“Well, that would be our business, wouldn’t it?” said Wren.
I sighed.
“Thanks for everything you’ve done, Deacon.”
Right. Especially when it was probably my fault this stupid haunting had even woken up. Did I really help people? Or did I just make shit worse?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next day, I got an idea.
It didn’t really make any sense with what Cheyenne had written on the wall, but I wasn’t sure if there was any point in trying to decipher the scratchings of ghosts on walls. We weren’t talking about a real person here. Cheyenne was on some kind of loop. Maybe all she thought about was murder and being safe. Maybe there was nothing more to it than that.
Anyway, it was possible that was all a dead end.
But there was a loose end when it came to the situation at the house.
Tex and Cheyenne had been fighting because she hid something. What had she hidden? Maybe if I figured that out, I could find it, and that would release Cheyenne’s spirit. Hell, maybe Cheyenne was haunting that object. Maybe that was her unfinished business.
I called Wren back to ask if I could get into the house to look around for clues. Or maybe if I asked, point blank, Cheyenne would write something really helpful on the wall. A guy could dream, right?
“Um, I don’t think so,” said Wren. “We had the house cleansed this morning, and I have to say, it feels better in there. I think it’s all fixed now.”
My ass it was fixed.
I told her to call me if she changed her mind.
And then I told myself to forget about it. I couldn’t do any more. I couldn’t get back into the house, and if the owners didn’t want my help, I had to let it go. As for Wade, his only interest had been in finding justice for Cheyenne. He’d done that, so my obligation to my friend was fulfilled.
If the Bentleys were done with me, then there was really nothing tying me to this thing. I could pack up and leave.
I didn’t want to do that, though, because I was sure that the haunting wasn’t resolved, and I felt responsible for that. It was a mess that my abilities had made, awakening and strengthening the ghosts. And now, I needed to clean that mess up.
But maybe if I left it all alone, the energy I’d brought to the haunting would seep away and everything would become less and less powerful over time. Maybe it would just fade back to where it had been before, with no one able to see the ghosts.
I tried to convince myself that my job was done, anyway.
I really tried.
But I couldn’t help but think about the fact that Cheyenne had hidden something, and I wondered what that might have been. If it was something that Tex wanted, then I figured it must either be something of value or something that could harm him. Maybe she had evidence of his having committed a crime or something and she wouldn’t give it to him. Or maybe she had hidden some sentimental object. Of course, I didn’t much figure that Tex was the type to be sentimental.
She must have hidden it well, because otherwise, it would have been found when Tex moved out of the house.
On the other hand, I supposed I didn’t know that he hadn’t found it. Maybe he had.
Damn it. What were the odds that he’d tell me that he’d found it if I asked him?
Probably bad.
I called the jail and said I wanted to visit him. They informed me that I had to be on his visitor’s list in order to do that.
Damn it.
They asked me if I wanted to request to be put on his visitor’s list.
I said sure. Why not?