Authors: Fern Michaels
Breaking News (17 page)
Chapter 29
“W
hat exactly does that mean? I thought you were a widow,” Phil said to Toots.
hat exactly does that mean? I thought you were a widow,” Phil said to Toots.
Out of her mind with worry for Abby, the last thing she wanted to do was explain Sophie's paranormal abilities to him. He was a doctor. A man who lived by the rules of science. She didn't want to scare him away. So far, he'd been a great rock to lean on. If she told him about the events that took place in the dining room, he might suffer from a heart attack himself, and then what would she do?
“She is. A few times over,” Sophie interjected.
Toots shook her head. “Please, Sophia, not now. It's . . . The timing is all wrong, please. Let's not talk about this. All I'm concerned with now is Abby.” She gazed at Phil. “Maybe you should just head back to Charleston. You have done enough, and I appreciate it, but your patients must need you much more than I do.” Toots didn't want to sound ungrateful, but she couldn't see dragging Phil into this part of her life. Eight dead husbands, a best friend who just so happened to speak to dead people. And now a daughter missing. It was simply too much to ask of him.
“My patients are just fine, and if they're not, there are other cardiologists to cover for me. I'm not going anywhere until we find Abby. And don't tell me what I should and shouldn't do. I want to be here, Toots. No one is holding a gun to my head. Okay?” He reached for her hand, and once again she began to cry, her tears flowing as freely as a baby's.
“Toots, we're all here for you, no matter what you say,” Mavis said in a soft voice. “I believe Dr. Becker . . . uh, Phil is trying to say he cares about you.” Mavis blushed, but she wasn't usually so forthright around strangers.
“Thank you, Mavis. That's exactly how I feel. I don't care what you or your friends have done in the past. I care about the future. Our future. Abby is a part of your future, so she's going to be part of mine as well. Now, Sophie, can you please explain to me what you meant when you said Abby's father could help us find her?”
Everyone gathered around the kitchen table focused their attention on Sophie, then Toots. Several seconds passed. Toots took a deep breath, then nodded at Sophie, giving her permission to reveal her psychic abilities.
“Where should I start?” Sophie asked.
Toots, Mavis, and Ida all gaped at Sophie.
“The beginning is always a good place,” Phil said. “Is this something illegal? Because if it is, don't worry. I go through traffic lights all the time. I'm sure someday I'll have my driver's license taken away.”
Sophie's eyes twinkled. “Uh, no, there's nothing illegal about it. At least I don't think there is. If it is, the wife of our former governor wouldn't have requested my services. If only I'd known then, I could have told her what a . . . cheating scumbag he is.”
“Sophie, please,” Mavis said. “Now isn't the time.”
“Okay. Toots purchased this dump about a year ago. It had formerly been owned by Desi Arnaz and Lucille Ball, before they divorced. A young pop star rented it for a number of years from the estate that owned it, and redecorated the place. Toots got it for a song, or so she said”âSophie raised her eyebrowsâ“but she had to practically gut the inside and start from scratch. Well, and here's where it gets a little . . . sticky. We were staying here in the early stages of the remodeling. My bedroom started out as Toots's until . . . she had a very traumatic experience, and we switched rooms.” Sophie paused suddenly, not sure where to go from there, then decided she might as well get it out in the open. If she was going to make contact with the dead tonight, Dr. Phil Becker needed to know immediately.
All eyes were focused on her.
“So, with all the remodeling, tearing down walls, we must have disturbed the spirits. Toots woke up and found these shadowlike images floating around her bed. They were like clouds, but inside were the faces of Bing Crosby and Aaron Spelling, the actor and the movie mogul. I'm sure you've heard of him. He had several successful sitcoms in the seventies and eighties.”
The old proverbial “you could hear a pin drop” applied to that moment in the kitchen. No one uttered a single, solitary word.
Sophie went on. “To make a very long story short, this dump was haunted, and it still is, because we hold our séances here now. I've been quite successful reaching the dead, so I guess you could say I'm more than a little bit psychic, and a medium to boot. That's why Toots always asks me how I feel when things are . . . well, like they are now. I haven't had a bad feeling about Abby yet, but if I can contact her father, it's possible he can guide us to her location before those cell pings do. Now, it's not one hundred percent, but I've helped quite a few celebrities. I even located Chris and that stupid actress a few months ago, when they disappeared. So, basically, that's it.”
“Now, let me get this straight. Is it your intention to have some sort of séance and basically ask Abby's father to guide you to where she is?” Phil asked, seemingly unshaken.
“Well, yes, that is the general idea,” Sophie quipped. “So, you don't think I'm crazy?”
Phil shook his head. “Remember where I'm from? I was born and raised in Charleston, so the supernatural, or paranormal activities, is something I'm not a stranger to. I've even been on a few ghost tours in my day.” He rubbed his hands together. “So, what are we waiting for?”
Toots's, Ida's, and Mavis's jaws dropped to their chests. Goebel gave a wry smile, and Chris just shook his head. Toots spoke first.
“You can't be serious?”
“Why not? Don't I sound serious? Not all doctors believe science and medical books have all the answers. I've seen patients die on the operating table and come back and tell me things that happened thousands of miles away, as if they were there when the events took place. A lot of it was backed up by family members. People have told me about events that would take place in the future more than enough times. The most memorable was a young man who'd suffered a heart attack and was clinically dead for five minutes. We were able to bring him back, and he told me he had seen an apple sitting on a desk next to a ruler, and an explosion in the sky. It was three weeks later when Christa McAuliffe was killed in the space shuttle. So, I guess you could call me a believer. Every day we see and hear things and dismiss them. Not many of my colleagues believe this, but I've heard too much not to know there is another plane of existence out there.”
“Then let's get started. Does everyone want to attend? If not, say so now. I don't want any disturbances, unless they're from the other side.”
No one said a word.
“Okay. Mavis, you know what your job is. Toots, are you up to this?”
“Yes, let's hurry. I want to find Abby tonight. I don't think I can go another night not knowing where she is,” Toots said.
“Follow me.” Sophie led them all to the dining room, where they'd performed many séances in the past. Even though Toots had remodeled the entire house, they'd left this one room alone since it was where Sophie made contact with the other side.
Once they were in the dining room, Mavis placed several candles around the room, quickly lighting them. Sophie pulled the heavy drapes aside. Toots found the purple silk sheet they used as a tablecloth and spread it across the table. On the floor, in the corner, was a box of rocks glasses they used as a tool for communication should a spirit decide to join them. Ida placed one of the glasses in the center of the table.
“Let's all take our places. Chris, you can sit where Abby normally sits. Goebel, you sit next to Ida, and, Ida, keep your hands off. Mavis and Toots, I want you two on either side of me. Phil, if you're sure you want to involve yourself in this, have a seat next to Chris.”
Once they were all seated, with candles flickering, the purple silk sheet atop the table, Sophie began the séance as she always did.
As always, when Sophie prepared to make contact with the other side, her voice changed to one that was soft, almost seductive. “Now, if everyone is ready, let's begin. First, I always start with a prayer. Please bow your heads,” Sophie instructed.
They all bowed their heads.
“Oh, great one, bless this dump and those who may inhabit it, living or dead. We wish to make contact tonight with John Simpson. Let's all join hands.”
One by one, they reached for the hand next to them. When Toots took Sophie's hand, she gave it a little extra squeeze.
“Let's close our eyes,” Sophie said.
Again, the group did as told.
They remained that way for several minutes; then Sophie spoke again. “Let's all place our fingertips on the glass in the center of the table.”
They did.
“Tonight we would be greatly pleased if John Simpson could come through. Abby is in trouble, and we here on earth cannot find her.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then relaxed, her body almost limp.
No air circulated in the room, yet the candles flickered as though a slight breeze had passed over them. Hundreds of tiny white lights began to fill the room.
There were several gasps from those in the room.
“Don't let this frighten you. These are
orbs
.” She closed her eyes again, then opened them. “John, are you here with us?”
orbs
.” She closed her eyes again, then opened them. “John, are you here with us?”
Suddenly, the room was filled with a noise that sounded like thousands of bees. Bright orbs began to whirl around the room, and a cool blast of air settled around the table.
“This is quite normal,” Sophie explained, as she knew that Phil and Goebel were experiencing supernatural contact with the dead for the first time. She didn't want them to be frightened, even though it was a bit scary, even to her at times.
Suddenly, Sophie's head dropped to her chest. She appeared to be unconscious; then, seconds later, in a voice that did not belong to her, she spoke.
“I don't recognize you anymore. You've lost weight.”
“I don't recognize you anymore. You've lost weight.”
Mavis looked at Sophie as though she'd seen a ghost. Well, of course, she had.
“Herbert?”
Mavis whispered. In all the séances they'd held, Herbert had never made himself known.
Mavis whispered. In all the séances they'd held, Herbert had never made himself known.
“Mavis, I am so proud of you. Find someone else. Be happy.”
The air in the room dropped several more degrees; then the orbs began to swirl around the room, dancing like fairies. The candles flickered again. Then, as fast as it happened, the room became warm again. The orbs disappeared, and the temperature returned to normal, yet Sophie still remained in her trancelike state.
“John,” Sophie called, her voice her own, yet soft and low. “Can you make your presence known? Your daughter needs you.”
The room was still as night, the occupants motionless.
For the second time that night, the temperature in the room dropped precipitously. And from nowhere, a translucent cloud suddenly appeared, hovering above the center of the table.
“Let's move our hands away from the glass and join hands,” Sophie instructed.
Toots stared at the glowing image inside the cloud. “Oh my God!” she said out loud. “John!”
“John Simpson, if this is you, whirl around the room,” Sophie requested.
The cloud sprang around the room, stopping to hover above Toots.
“Where is Abby?” Sophie asked in a whisper.
“Mr. Steve. Hot. Dark. Riots. Hurry.”
Again, the room returned to its normal temperature. The candles stopped wavering, and Sophie's head jerked up. “Toots?” she asked when she saw the look of shock on her friend's face. “Are you all right?”
Inhaling and exhaling, Toots nodded, but her hands were shaking so badly, she couldn't control them.
“Was that John?” Phil asked.
“Yes, yes, it was,” Toots answered. “He was so young when he died. But I don't understand what his message was.” Defeated, Toots appeared to age right before their eyes.
“I remember what he said,” Chris told her. “Remember the riots in South Central LA? Watts? Wherever Abby is, she's in the area where they took place. I don't know who Mr. Steve is or how he is relevant, but I would bet everything I own that Abby was taken and left in one of those run-down apartments there.”
Ida switched the lights on and blew out the candles.
“Call the hospital, Goebel, and see if Rag is awake. Maybe the son of a bitch can tell us what this means,” Chris said. “Meanwhile, I'm going to call Jeff to see if he's homed in any closer on those pings. Maybe he can tell us more.”
Toots stood up, shaking but a bit more in control of herself. “We need to get to South Central LA, and we need to do it now. Mother's instinct tells me we don't have a lot of time.”
Chapter 30
“T
hey're not sure he'll make it through the night,” Goebel said as they gathered in the kitchen before leaving.
hey're not sure he'll make it through the night,” Goebel said as they gathered in the kitchen before leaving.
“That son of a bitch,” Chris said. “I would love to choke the life out of him myself, but it may be too late for that. Jeff said the pings were close to South Central Avenue. That's in the heart of South Central.”
“Then what are we waiting for? Let's go to South Central and start looking,” Toots said, already grabbing her purse and racing to the door. “I don't think we should all go. Someone should stay here, just in case, by some fluke, Abby calls. We'll bring Chester with us. If she's close, he could help find her.”
“I'll call Jeff back and have him meet us there. He's as committed to finding Abby as we are.” Chris called him back. “He'll meet us in the McDonald's parking lot on South Central Avenue in thirty minutes. Ron and Keith are coming with him.”
“I'll stay here. I have a few phone calls to make,” Ida said. “I'm going to postpone our Home Shopping Club debut. This is way more important.”
“I agree with Ida. I'll notify all the funeral homes that Ida and I won't be available for any services until further notice,” Mavis added.
“Let's take the Escalade. It's got a GPS, so we can put that street in and go directly to the McDonald's,” Goebel said.
Within minutes, Goebel, Sophie, Toots, Phil, Chris, and Chester piled into the Cadillac SUV. Goebel punched in the street name, and they took off.
Once they were on the Pacific Coast Highway, Toots, somewhat calm since the séance, spoke. “Chris, does âMr. Steve' mean anything to you? Or would it mean anything to Abby? I don't have any idea what John meant. What about it, Sophie? Do you have any explanation?”
Sophie, seated in front with Goebel, turned around to look at Toots in the middle seat, with Phil's arm draped around her shoulders. “I don't have a clue. I'm just the medium. I have never made contact that fast. Did you happen to think of that? This is a good sign. It makes me think John is with Abby wherever she is, watching over her until we find her. I know all of this sounds crazy, but I just know these things. Don't ask me how. I just do.”
“Then he said, âDark and hot,' ” Chris offered. “I would think wherever Rag is holding her, that it's in a place that's hot and dark. Maybe a basement. Or an old wine cellar. They're still aroundâI don't know if South Central has anyâbut at this point, I'm willing to look in every possible nook and cranny.”
No one said anything for a while. The buildings they passed were shoddier, older, and many were boarded up. The local economy hadn't recovered since the Rodney King incident all those years ago.
A mechanical female voice spoke. “Destination on the right in three miles.”
“Almost there, Toots,” Goebel said. “Okay, there's the McDonald's. I see Jeff and the others are there.”
Goebel pulled up next to Jeff's vehicle. He pushed the
DOWN
button for the electric window. “Let me fill you in on what we know. No news from Rag, he's in a coma, and they don't know if he is going to make it through the night. I can't reveal my source, but we're looking for a place that's dark and hot, one where you could hide someone. Also something to do with Mr. Steve. We're not sure if this is a place or a person. Does it mean anything to you guys?”
DOWN
button for the electric window. “Let me fill you in on what we know. No news from Rag, he's in a coma, and they don't know if he is going to make it through the night. I can't reveal my source, but we're looking for a place that's dark and hot, one where you could hide someone. Also something to do with Mr. Steve. We're not sure if this is a place or a person. Does it mean anything to you guys?”
“Doesn't ring a bell for me,” Jeff said. Turning to his right, he asked Ron and Keith. “How about you guys?”
“This is nowhere near our precinct. But I know a guy I can call who patrols this area. Let me give him a call real quick,” Ron said and took his cell phone from his pocket. “Hey, Frank. It's me, Ron. You on duty tonight? Good. I need some help. I'm working a case for a friend right now. It's off the record, but nothing illegal. I need some information. We're here on Central Avenue in South Central, looking for a young woman who's been kidnapped. I can't say who my source is, but does the name Mr. Steve mean anything to you? What? No shit. Thanks, man. I owe you one.” Ron clicked the
END
button on the phone.
END
button on the phone.
“What?” Goebel asked. “Did you learn anything?”
Ron rolled the window down and spoke to Goebel. “You're not going to believe this, but apparently Mr. Steve's is a big-time pawnshop in the area. He owns several apartments that he rents out, some by the hour, if you know what I mean.”
“Follow me,” Jeff said. “It's right around the corner.”
Ten o'clock was early by South Central standards. The streets were crowded with gang members shouting obscenities to one another. Loud music blared from a souped-up Dodge Neon with a muffler that resembled a megaphone, and an older-model Cadillac with four-thousand-dollar wheels bounced along the street, stopping at a traffic light. The driver of the Neon pulled up beside the Caddy, revved its four-cylinder engine, and looked at the traffic light as though it were the Christmas tree light on a drag strip. The second the light turned green, engines raced, tires squealed, and both cars sped to the next traffic light.
“God, if Abby is here, I pray she is safe. This is worse than a third-world country,” Toots said.
“It's not one of LA's hottest nightspots, that's for sure,” Chris agreed.
“Look! There it is, Mr. Steve's Pawnshop,” Goebel said, slowing down to get a closer look at the place. Neon lights of every color in the rainbow glistened from the three-story building. Old, probably from the early sixties, the bright neon signs read
WE BUY GOLD; BUY, TRADE, OR SELL;
and
BEST PRICES IN TOWN
.
WE BUY GOLD; BUY, TRADE, OR SELL;
and
BEST PRICES IN TOWN
.
Keith, Ron, and Jeff parked in front of a fire hydrant and entered the building.
“Toots, you and Sophie wait here with Phil. Chris and I will go inside with the guys. If I suspect there's anything connected to Abby here, I'll come and get you. Now, roll up the windows and lock the doors.” Goebel and Chris followed the cops inside the building.
Inside the pawnshop Keith, Ron, and Jeff flashed their badges at a young punk sitting behind the counter, sending text messages on a cell phone.
“Whatcha need?” he asked, then noticed their badges. “Hey, man, I just work here. I didn't do anything,” the kid said defensively.
“I need to see the owner. Now,” Keith said in his cop voice.
The kid looked behind him, where a curtain separated him from whatever lay behind it. “Steve,” he called out. “We got the cops here. Probably bought some stolen shit from somebody.”
The kid resumed texting at such a fast pace, he would rival Evelyn Wood.
From behind the dark curtain, a heavyset man with a too-tight shirt that revealed a fat, hairy stomach waddled his way to the counter. “What'sa problem?”
“You know a guy named Rodwell Archibald Godfrey?” Keith asked.
With an accent that sounded like it came from the latest gangster movie, “Do I look like someone who would know some prissy ass named Rodwell?” Steve replied.
Goebel stepped up to the counter. “He goes by Rag. Does that ring a bell?”
Laughing, Steve said, “Rodwell Archibald Godfrey! You mean Rag? That's his name? What's that piece of shit done now?”
“That doesn't concern you. Tell me what you know about him,” Keith demanded. “When was the last time you saw him?”
Before Steve could answer, Chester leaped through the door, with Toots trying her best to contain him. Phil raced in behind her.
“He went crazy. He was clawing at the window. He always does this when Abby's around,” Toots said.
Growling, hackles raised, tail stiff at attention, Chester snarled, every tooth in his mouth ready to chomp a few inches from the pawnshop owner's ass.
Steve jumped back. “Hey, get that dog outta here!”
“Never mind the dog. When did you last see him?” Keith asked.
Chester continued to growl.
“The last time I saw that little bastard, he was sneaking out of the apartment I let him have for next to nothing. He's probably trying to skip out on the rent again this week.”
At that moment, Chester jumped up, placing his front paws on the glass countertop.
He began to bark excessively.
“Down, Chester,” Toots shouted. The shepherd jumped back from the counter but continued to growl ominously.
“Where is this apartment? We have reason to believe he's kidnapped a woman. She could be there right now, and unless you want to be held as an accessory to kidnapping, I suggest you tell me now!” Keith shouted. “Now, man. I'm not gonna ask you again!”
“Okay, jeez! Give me a minute. I gotta get the keys.” Steve disappeared behind the curtain, returning with a giant ring of keys. “There's a back entrance. There is a set of stairs here that leads to the apartment. Let me unlock the door.”
Chester sprang from behind, knocking over several stacks of DVDs and passing everyone as he raced up the flight of stairs and entered the apartment. The big canine raced over to a door with a chair wedged against the handle. He began to scratch at the dark chair and bark wildly.
Seconds later, the others entered the apartment, where they saw the chair and Chester. It was then Toots knew that they had found her daughter.
“Abby!” she screamed as she yanked the chair away from the doorknob and pulled the door open. What she saw brought tears of joy to her eyes. “Oh my God, Phil, come quick!”
Immediately in physician mode, Phil placed his hand on Abby's neck to check for a pulse. “She's alive but barely conscious. Someone call an ambulance.” He pulled the chair out of the closet into the center of the room. “A knife,” he shouted.
Goebel whipped out a pocketknife and sliced the tape from her legs, cut the zip ties from her hands, then gently removed the tape from her mouth but left the tape on the back of her hair. They could remove that later. Phil laid her down on the hard floor.
Toots dropped down on her knees beside her limp daughter. “Abby, can you hear me?”
Her eyes fluttered, and she tried to speak, but Toots couldn't make out what she said. It didn't matter. She was alive. Chester, seeing his mistress lying on the floor, dropped down beside her and began to lick her face like he always did.
Abby's eyes opened again, only this time they could hear her words clearly.
“I knew you would find me.”
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