Creighton Manor (38 page)

Pete had been kind enough to bring Tyler over to Lotti’s asking her to contact Ellery for him. When he heard the murmuring of voices, he sat up straight. Unfortunately, he couldn’t make out what was being discussed. Finally the talking ceased and the men entered. He relaxed when he saw Ellery. Luke followed behind and opened the door, promptly locking the cell once Ellery was inside. The man then left them alone.

Zachary didn’t care for Ellery’s expression. It only confirmed that his predicament wasn’t good.

Ellery removed his bowler hat, placing it on the table before he pulled out the chair and sat down. He took a deep breath before he spoke. "You are in trouble, my friend."

"You can straighten it out. Can't you?"

"I don't think you understand. You’re not only being held for the attempted murder of Dora, but also for the murder of your wife."

Zachary jumped to his feet and started pacing. "How can they do that? That's completely ludicrous. If there isn't a body, how are they able to hold me for her murder?"

"There's a witness who swears you confessed to foul play."

Zachary whirled around to face him, his eyes narrowing. "What are you talking about? What witness? You don’t mean Josephine Locke?"

"Yes, Josephine Locke. Didn’t I warn you? You shouldn’t have provoked her, but you didn't listen. She has everyone believing you tried to kill Gillian on the day you two were married, and she swears that you threatened her personally. The old busy body has convinced not only the ladies of the town, but now the sheriff is having serious doubts of your innocence. They all want to know where Gillian is, and the sheriff wants proof that she is alive and well. That means, my dear friend, she needs to show herself. However, we both know that is impossible
.”

Zachary sat down on the cot and leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees.
"This doesn’t look good, does it?"

"Isn't that what I have been telling you? If Dora succumbs to her injury without naming her assailant, you will be the one that will be put on trial."

"I could hang if I'm found guilty," Zachary stated.

"That's exactly what will happen. If I didn't know better, with all the evidence stacked up against you, I'd think you were guilty."

Gillian sat up in bed, shaking. Sweat poured down her face, while her heart raced and threatened to shatter as the fearful images came crashing down on her.

Something horrible was going to happen.

“Zachary!”
She threw the covers off her
and went to the bathroom turning on the light. She ran the faucet and splashed cold water on her face, trying to tell herself that it was just a silly dream.

But what if it wasn’t? A cold knot formed in her stomach. She quickly turned off the faucet and picked up the towel. What could she do? Zachary lived in another century.

He had already lived. To the world, he had died a long time ago.

Zachary could never be truly dead to her. She had lived with him, touched him, laughed with him and even argued with him. He wasn't dead, not really. He was just living in another space and time, very much alive and in danger. She felt this in every fiber of her being.

She had to know. She had to find out what happened to him. She put down the towel and went into the kitchen
,
turning on lights as she went. Grabbing the phone, she glanced at the clock on the wall. It was three o’clock in the morning. She couldn’t call Samantha. She was s
pending the night at her parent
s
’
so she could help her mom paint the bonus room. Samantha was out of the question but . . . she bit her lip, wondering if she should call. She punched in the numbers before she changed her mind. Four rings and Jerry finally picked up. She could hear him fumbling with the receiver before he croaked his greeting. "Hello
.”

"Jerry, did I wake you?" She knew that she had.

"Gillian?” 

"Yes, it's Gillian. I need your help
.”

"What's wrong? Something happen? Are you hurt? Jesus, it’s just past three in the morning. Just stay calm. Let me throw on a pair of jeans and I'll be right there."

"Jerry? Jerry?" Gillian could hear him moving around his room. She knew he wasn’t listening to her. He must have put the phone down. "Jerry!" she yelled. Finally, she heard him pick up the phone again.

"I'm here. Is there any bleeding, shortness of breath?”

She could imagine him running around the room, throwing on his clothes and hunting for his shoes. “What exactly is the matter? I just have to put on my tennis shoes.”

"Jerry, I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. It's Zachary."

She heard a thump and she guessed he dropped his shoe.

"Zachary? Did you say Zachary?”

"I had a dream and . . ."

"Excuse me?" Jerry interrupted. "Let me get this straight. I'm here rushing around my room throwing on my clothes thinking you are bleeding to death or something, but you called me in the middle of the night to discuss a dream you had? Let me sit down for this
.”

"I know what you’re thinking . . ."

"You have no idea what I'm thinking." His voice raised an octave.

She could tell he wasn’t pleased with being roused out of a peaceful slumber and she couldn’t blame him. "I'm sorry. I'll let you get back to sleep.”

"Don't you dare hang up. You better tell me what made you call me so early in the morning or I'll be down at your place breaking down the door."

She sighed. "I need you to help me find out what happened to Zachary. I have to fi
nd him. I have to know that he’
s all right and that he lived a full happy life."

"Why? What would be the point?” 

She didn’t answer.

“Gillian, it may not be a good idea. What happens if you find out something you don't want to know?”

"I'll deal with that when the time comes." She sniffled.

“Ah, come on, Gillian. Don’t do this. Don’t cry.” He swore softly under his breath. “Okay, I’m an insensitive ass. I'll help you find out what happened to Zachary."

"You will?" She sniffled again.

"I said that I would. You didn't want me to help you this second, did you?"

"No, later today would be fine. Thanks Jerry. You don't know how much this means to me."

Jerry yawned. "Oh, I think
I do. I'll talk to you tomorrow…
or rather later today. Good night."

"Good night . . . sorry I woke you." She hung up first.

Gillian couldn’t go back to sleep. She was still shaken by her dream of Zachary. She prayed it wasn’t something that truly had happened. Staring into the darkness, she sat down on the couch. She picked up one of the throw pillows and hugged it close to her. As much as she wanted to put the thoughts of her dream out of her mind, she couldn't. Her heart pounded against her chest and panic like she’d never known before welled in her throat as she recalled the image of Zachary swinging from a rope. "It can't be true,” she said aloud, as if this would put her at ease, but instead her voice echoed without conviction.

***

Samantha stood and looked over the library monitor. "Please tell me what we are looking for? I just spent a long day painting a room the size of a three-car garage. I’m working on overtime.”

"I’m looking for anything that has to do with the town, Natchez, Mississippi, Creighton Manor or anything . . ." Gillian concentrated on the terminal screen.

"Yes, I know that, but what else? I can tell that you're searching for a specific something."

Jerry stopped what he was doing and stared at her, too. Gillian had no other choice. "Okay, already. I had a disturbing dream and I’m trying to find proof that it didn’t happen." She took a ragged breath. "I'm scared. I’m so scared.”

“Of what? Tell us,” Samantha encouraged.

"The dream, a nightmare really; it was so vivid that I’m afraid that there was some truth to it.” She looked up at her friends, her green eyes revealing her pain as the icy fear twisted around her heart. “Remember the last time we saw Zachary. He was across the vortex and Molly was barking, frantically. I know now that I was supposed to go, but I hesitated and the door closed. I’ve concluded that the doors to the past must only stay open for a certain amount of time, like a revolving door popping open in different spots. When I tried to go through the last time, I felt like I hit a brick wall."

"So maybe you weren't supposed to go," Jerry said without conviction.

“You know that isn’t true.” Gillian shook her head. "Somehow Molly is connected to all this. She’s the key and she was trying to tell me to go, but I refused to listen. The first time I traveled back, it was like a dream. I haven’t figured out how and I probably will never understand it fully, but I know it was Molly who led me through space and time. When we crossed over to Hoag Hospital, it was simple as walking across the street. As the door starts to close, it becomes difficult to pass through.” She covered her face with her hands. “Why did I hold back when I had the chance to go?” 

Samantha walked over to her and put a comforting arm around her shoulders, giving her a quick hug. "Why don't you tell us about your dream, so we can get a better idea of what you are trying to find, or rather not find
.”

Gillian lowered her hands and swallowed. "Zachary was sentenced to hang and somehow I am responsible. I know if I had been there he would have been all right, that it wouldn’t have happened."

Jerry leaned forward resting his arms on the table. "It may only be your subconscious talking because you’re missing him. Maybe you are putting a little too much into this?” 

Samantha shook her head, coming to Gillian's defense. "I don’t think so. She has a link with this man. For God's sake, she dreamt about him before they met."

Jerry looked confused, since this was the first he heard of her dreams. "You've dreamt about him before? What are you talking about?"

Gillian rubbed her face. "I didn't know it was him at first, in my dream I had never seen the man's face. When I met Zachary, there was an immediate connection as if I belonged with him. I didn't understand it then, but now I do. Zachary was the one I had been waiting for. He confirmed it on the last day that I saw him. Just before he faded away, he said the words I had been longing to hear; the only words that the man in my dream has spoken to me." A hurt expression flickered across Jerry’s face, making Gillian realize what she had said. “Jerry …”   

He held up his hand to halt her apology. “Don’t say it,” he told her.

She knew he must feel a little pang of betrayal, but she had to set things right. He had Samantha now. His rela
tionship with her was different
….
closer
would be how she would describe it. Even though,
She
and
Jerry
had a caring relationship, there was a respected distance between them. If they had taken the time to think about it, they would have realized from the start that they weren’t suited to spend a lifetime together. They had friendship but no passion. “Jerry—”

“It’s okay, Gillian. I get it.” He turned his attention to Samantha. He smiled and leaned across the table to give Samantha's hand an affectionate squeeze.

He faced Gillian then. The pain was gone, replaced with determination. "Then we best start looking for this man of yours and hope your dream wasn’t a premonition."

“Thank you. You know he means—"

“I know.” Jerry nodded.

The three looked for hours through books, the Internet— everything that the library had to offer. There wasn't any mention of a Zachary Creighton or Creighton Manor. Gillian sat back in her chair completely frustrated. "I have to go
there,” she suddenly announced.

Both Jerry and Samantha exchanged worried looks.

"It's the only way for me to find out about him. Surely, they will have a more accurate record of what happened there. There's one other place I can check, too." Gillian paused and licked her dry lips. She didn't want to, but she knew it would be evidence. "I could check the cemetery. If I saw the date he . . . " She couldn't say it even though she knew he would have a place there already. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Zachary had died a long time ago.

Jerry cleared his throat. “It’s difficult for us to think of Zachary in the past tense, too, but you’re right. You should go. It might be the best way to find out the information you want. In the mean time, I have another idea."

"You do?" Gillian raised an eyebrow.

"Since Tyler is, well was," Jerry corrected himself, “my relative, maybe I can fin
d some information at my parent
s
’
house. My dad keeps old papers and things about the family out in the garage. He has the tendency to be a bit of a pack rat. If there is any mention of what became of Zachary Creighton, it just might be in that old stuff."

"I'll come with you and help," Samantha offered.