Dead Sure?: A Paranormal Mystery (36 page)

Charles walked calmly and purposefully down the hall. Even though Tim hadn’t attacked him yet, he knew better than to completely dismiss the idea.

Who the hell is attacking us anyway? I wish I could have gotten a look at the bastard’s face. It has to be one of the Scarafini gang
.
Somehow they got something out of Angela instead of the other way around. I hope to hell she’s all right.
A chill ran up his spine at this thought.
I have to get out of here and help her.
With a new purpose, Tim’s fear receded some, and he continued down the hall at a faster pace. The ringing in his ears had subsided, and he could hear footsteps somewhere in the distance.

Finding a door, Tim tried it and found that it was locked.
This can’t be the one, we didn’t lock the door we came through behind us,
Tim reasoned. Pressing on, he found several more locked doors before getting to a door that opened.

His heart soared as the handle turned and the door swung in. Light was shining from the opposite side of the room, where the block window stood with a gaping hole in it. Hastily, he made for his exit, barely managing to squeeze back through the window and out into the cool night air before a stinging pain punched him in the right side. The agony was followed a split second later by the report of gunfire. The jolt of it knocked Tim to his hands and knees.

With all his might, he managed to scramble across the lawn and behind some hedges, collapsing as another shot rang out.

Well, that ought to finish him,
Charles thought calmly. Stepping down from the window he was shooting out of, he began to reload.
I need to get what I came here for, and quick.
Exiting the basement room, Charles ventured back up into the museum.

Chapter 27
Tues. afternoon Aug. 7
th
, 2007

Tuesday afternoon August 7
th
, 2007

It was an exceptionally hot afternoon; Jack could feel the sweat building up on the back of his neck. He tried to wipe it away with his hand, but it returned almost immediately. The returning perspiration felt gritty as it mixed with the dirt from his hand. Between the heat and thoughts about Rene, Jack was having an extremely hard time concentrating on work.

I really wish I could get back to the project that dragged me to Minnesota in the first place. I was having a perfectly wonderful life in New York, full of beautiful women and parties. Now I’m mixed up with some woman that seems at times to be half nuts, and yet I can’t seem to stop thinking about her.

Jack was currently assigned to an office building renovation. The job was fairly small in scope, nothing he would have ever voluntarily signed up for. The first phase of the project was to inspect the building and make sure it was sound enough to bother with.

He was descending the stairs to the basement after finishing up the first floor walkthrough. The building was currently unoccupied and the landlord hoped some changes might bring him some new renters.

Jack’s cell phone started to ring, but before he could pick it up, it just cut out. He flipped it open, aggravated, looking to see who called. The number on the display was local, but it did not look familiar to him. Glancing at the signal-strength, he realized the basement was screwing with his reception.
Zero bars, well that’s not going to cut it. I have to know who’s calling me.
He turned to go back up the stairs.
On second thought, I could just wait until break in twenty minutes.
He hesitated there, stuck with indecision.
Nah, who the hell am I kidding, the curiosity is just going to mess with my productivity,
and with that, he clomped back up the stairs in his dusty work boots.

Once he got to the first floor the signal  jumped right back up.
Hah, I knew it. Now let’s find out who called. I have a good feeling about this, its time for things to swing in my direction for a change.
Hitting redial, Jack waited with anticipation.

Moments later when he heard a familiar voice, Jack couldn’t help but feel surprised. “Mr. Yates, is that you? My phone didn’t recognize the company number. I’m sure I have it programmed in.”

“Jack, this isn’t the company number, it’s my home phone.”

Jack grimaced instantly before Mr. Yates could continue.
This can’t be good, calling me from his house. Good luck my ass,
he thought with trepidation.

“Listen, Jack, I need to meet with you about something,” his tone was more urgent than stern.

“Do you want to come down to the job site? I’m about to go on break in fifteen minutes.”

“No, I want you to come over to my house, but I need you to do something first. There is a journal that was taken from the old bank building. I want you to go home and get it right now and bring it with you.”

“Are you saying you want me to do that now? What about finishing up work, I’m in the middle of estimating a renovation project Ron just assigned me. I don’t think he’ll be pleased if I fail to turn in the report.”

Steve’s smooth tone was quickly dispersing. “I don’t give a crap what he thinks about it.” Steve could feel himself heating up and quickly stopped it. “Listen, I’ll take care of that for you. Just get the journal and head over to my house. The address is 1520 Cumberland Road. Let’s say forty-five minutes. That should be more than adequate.”

Jack heard a click from the other end.
Clearly there is no room for negotiation on this. That good feeling I had has up and split.
A chill ran up Jack’s spine.
I’m not sure about this at all. Maybe I’ll call Rene, and ask her what she thinks about the situation.

Jack thumbed through the phone’s address book, stopping on Rene’s number.
Yeah, I’m sure she’ll feel strongly one way or the other. This will give me a good excuse to talk with her again, maybe patch things up a bit.

On the front seat of Sam’s pickup, inside Rene’s purse, her phone began to sing out. The song went unanswered.

Shit, just great. Something about this whole thing doesn’t feel right.
Jack was wearing a worn leather tool belt. He had tucked the journal into one of the side pockets that morning before leaving the house. He felt compelled to pat the pocket now, verifying that the contents were still there, as he suspected they were.
It won’t take me forty-five minutes to get to Steve’s house without having to stop home. Maybe I just need to go and think this over. Something just isn’t sitting right.
Switching off his cell phone, Jack left the building, heading for his car.

*    *    *

The shakiness was subsiding now, like a wave pulling away from the shore.
Maybe these stupid pills really do work. Who would have figured? I hate drugs, but this could be the exception,
Rene thought to herself. “Now, what was it you were starting to read a minute ago, Liam?”

Liam looked at her with a worried expression before continuing on. “There’s an article here about the gangland slaying of one Tim Bartington on Sunday, September 22
nd
,1929. It says that he was shot six times at point blank range.”

The warm living room suddenly turned frigidly cold. Papers all over the room started to stir as if blown by an unseen breeze.

Sam recoiled in shock, noticing that he could see his breath. Rene was staring intensely straight ahead across the room as if viewing something of great importance. Sam glanced in the same general direction and saw nothing. Turning back, he noticed Liam’s glasses were completely fogged over. For a split second it was so comical he almost laughed; almost.

The breeze changed into what could only be described as a wickedly cold wind. Papers and things began flying everywhere. More of Liam’s treasure heaps began to tumble into each other, knocking pile after pile down.

Sam had never felt so scared in his whole life. He grabbed Rene’s wrist in an attempt to get her to flee with him. It was like clutching cold stone. She didn’t even react to his touch.

Liam let out a small yell before collapsing into a heap on the floor. His glasses leapt off his face as he landed.

Sam, moving to face Rene, grabbed her desperately by both of her upper arms in another vain attempt to initiate an escape. Her color had gone to a macabre blue and her eyes had rolled back, revealing only the whites.

Suddenly, without warning, it was all over as instantaneously as it had begun. Sam did a double take, as he stared at Rene. Her color was fine and she was staring back at him with a very puzzled look on her face. “Sam, why are you shaking me?” she asked, rather shocked.

Sam didn’t realize it right away, but he was still grasping her arms and pulling her back and forth. Stopping, his jaw dropped. “I, I, I don’t know what happened,” he managed to spit out, feeling totally disoriented.

“What do you mean by what happened?” Rene asked, apparently oblivious to the whole event.

“The room going cold and spinning in some kind of wind,” he stated, unsure of himself now. One thing was for sure, as he looked around the room more things were out of place, or were they? He wasn’t so sure anymore.

Liam looked at him funny from where he sat on the couch, “What’s the matter, Sam? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Sam tipped his head to the side and looked quizzically at Liam. There he was, just sitting there. His glasses weren’t fogged, and he didn’t appear to be upset about anything. Slowly, Sam released his grip on Rene, his hands sliding slowly and reluctantly down her arms; her very warm and naturally colored arms he noted. “I could have sworn,” he started, but then thought better of it.
Rene doesn’t need any extra drama in her life. I don’t know what happened yet, but something sure did. You know it was like when I tried to read that damn journal in my house. Something really strange is going on, and I don’t like it.

“Could have sworn what, Sam?” Rene said, looking at him with a strange countenance. An expression Sam was sure didn’t fit her. It was almost like he was looking at somebody else.

That’s just nonsense, pull yourself together you big idiot.
“Nothing, I’m just not feeling that well. I need to stretch and get some fresh air,” he said, standing up and walking around the piles towards the front door.

As Sam was walking out the front door, he could just hear Liam talking to Rene. “What’s up with him? He looks kind of pale.”

“You know damn well what’s up with him, William,” she replied, and headed for the door.

Liam stammered after her, “I sure don’t,” but she paid his reply no heed as she left the house.

*    *    *

Across town, sitting in his living room, Steve was growing more agitated by the minute. He had given Jack the address of a house which he kept just on the edge of town. He wanted to meet him here in case things didn’t go exactly as planned. That was the only drawback with the downtown apartment, too many people around sometimes.

His left leg began to throb with a considerable amount of pain. Standing up, he winced, almost falling back onto the couch.
What the hell,
he managed to force himself to take a few steps across the room. The pain began to subside almost as quickly as it had come.

Then, without warning, his left shoulder began to throb with a searing pain. It felt as if a knife had just sliced into him.
I don’t like this at all, what’s going on here? I won’t stand for it, I tell you, I won’t.
He rubbed his left shoulder, hastily removing his hand and staring at it as if expecting to see something, something he did not see.

No more waiting around. I’m going to end this thing once and for all. It’s dragged on more than long enough,
he thought to himself, trying to replace his anger with resolve. Steve tried not to acknowledge that he was feeling another emotion as well, a hint of fear. No, maybe fear was too strong a word, perhaps just apprehension. That was it, just apprehension. Who wouldn’t be a little nervous in his shoes, he told himself.

It didn’t take him long to decide his next course of action. Tucking his automatic into a calf holster; he headed out the door for Jack’s house.
I’ll get the journal and that will be that. No more beating around the bush.

*    *    *

Rene walked out onto Liam’s front porch where Sam stood twirling his car keys and staring off into the distance. “Sam, we need to go find Jack and get the journal,” she said in a matter of fact tone. 

Sam turned to face her. He stared at her for some time before answering. “Rene, that journal brings nothing but trouble. Maybe we should stop trying to mess with it.”

Rene could feel a bizarre turmoil taking place in her head. Part of her agreed with Sam and another part of her felt a burning rage she could barely control. “We’re getting that journal!”

Sam looked at her stunned, “Listen, you’re not my boss. I’ll help you if I feel like it, and I’m not convinced that getting that accursed thing is such a good idea.”

A pain was searing inside Rene’s skull now. It was way beyond any headache she had ever experienced. She half expected to black out at any moment. Yet the curtain of darkness which usually overcame her before these episodes did not come.
The pills are helping me to fight it. I feel like I’m here but not here. Like I’m watching someone else run the show part of the time. Damn straight you are and its time for this show to be over.
A flash of bright light went off in her head. Rene sprung forward, snatching Sam’s keys from his hand before pushing him over the porch railing.

Sam fell backwards, crashing heavily through some sparse bushes before his back slammed against a stump. It felt like the base had impaled him.

Rene sprinted for Sam’s Dodge pickup. Jumping in, she fired up the motor and tore off.
I’ll go to Jack’s apartment and get that journal, then I can finally make things right. It’s now or never, I can just feel it. Charles is finally going to pay.

Sam tried to untangle himself from the bushes, but he was unable to extricate himself before Rene sped off with his truck. Crawling slowly free of the shrubs, he held his hand gently to his lower back. That stupid shrub had nearly skewered him. Carefully he prodded his back, feeling for damage and finding many large abrasions.

Just down the block, Ron, who had been following Rene, started up his car, smiling.
Something big is finally happening.
He had witnessed the whole incident of Rene shoving Sam off the porch and stealing the truck.
Yes, this is getting good, real good. Something’s going to happen that will bring this whole thing to a close. I sense more bonus money coming my way when Mr. Yates finds out about whatever this is,
Ron thought, pressing down on the accelerator.