Face Off (2 page)

“And you rode a bus from Pueblo to Kansas City without your parents knowing about it?”

A fresh deluge of tears washed over the girl's freckled cheeks. “Yes. I … I had a birthday two days ago. I used the money I got to buy the bus ticket. I tried to call you, but the operator said your phone was unlisted. Dad, he said that psychic stuff was all nonsense, and Mom, well—I knew she wouldn't go against Dad, and anyway, I
know
it's not nonsense, so I decided to come. I couldn't tell them. I knew Dad would never let me make a trip to Kansas City. Not after Amy.”

“Are you saying Amy disappeared here? In K.C.?”

Jessie nodded her head. “Two weeks ago. Then the next day the police arrested a guy named Randal Clark and—”

Suzanne could feel the blood flowing from her face. “Oh, God, Jessie. Not the Kansas City Butcher! You aren't telling me that the authorities think your sister was one of
his
victims?”

Jessie's face changed from sorrow to anger, then to defiance as her jaw locked stubbornly. “
Not
a victim! Amy is alive! I would know if she were dead.”

Suzanne averted her eyes, afraid Jessie would be able to read the skepticism she was feeling. How many times had she heard a mother or father, a spouse or sweetheart, say those same exact words? The truth was, they
didn't
know. They were operating only on hope. A hope that Suzanne invariably squelched when she found the body of a loved one.

“Jessie, I—”

“No, no, no, no, no…”

Suzanne stared in astonishment as Jessie stuck her index fingers into her ears and kept chanting. She continued until Suzanne walked over and pulled her arms down. “What the devil are you doing?”

“I didn't want to hear what you were going to tell me. You were going to say that Amy is dead, weren't you? You were going to say that
everyone
always thinks
their
missing person is alive, but that you mainly find them after they are dead!”

Suzanne eyed Jessie strangely. “How did you know that was what I was thinking?”

“I, well—” Jessie stumbled over her words. “The truth is, I had been reading about you even before Amy was missing. I've always sort of just
known
things. Not
big
things, like you, only small, unimportant things for the most part. But I wondered about it and started reading everything I could find about—about people like us.” She looked down at her feet, self-consciously. “Not that I would presume to think I was anywhere near as good as
you
are! I don't have your
special
ability at all. But maybe I could help you a little. Maybe between the two of us, we could find Amy.”

With that short statement, Suzanne knew more about Jessie than probably her own parents knew. She knew about the terror the girl had gone through as she tried to figure out what made her different from all her friends. She knew about the bad dreams, the sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach when something she had only thought about, had come to pass. The feeling that somehow she had
made
the event happen—had caused it. No one, not a parent, not a teacher, not a member of the clergy, could understand and counsel a young psychic just coming to grips with his or her talents. And no one but another psychic could know the pure hell of those early years.

Her own hell had begun when she was only five years old. Her beautiful, soft-spoken mother had died that summer—a horrible, violent car crash had ended her life. Her father, blaming her, had barely spoken to Suzanne over the next three years. Then one day she had come home from school to find her father in the bathroom of their cramped, dirty apartment, his face blasted away by a twelve-gauge shotgun.

“It's your fault, little lady, don't you ever forget that! Your momma would never have been going to visit your aunt Alma if she weren't afraid of your devilment! She said she just had to get away from you for awhile—away from your witchcraft!”

“Daddy, Daddy—don't be mad at me. I
told
Mommie something bad was going to happen. I told her. I told her!”

“You made it happen! Just like you made Zero run into that truck. Jean was right about you. You're no good! A spawn of the devil!”

For three years as they moved from city to city, state to state, she had lived with a father who would not look at her, would not touch her, and who screamed “devil” at her when anything went wrong in his life. If he lost his job, it was because Suzanne had put a hex on his boss. If the car broke down, Suzanne had made it happen. By the time she was eight years old and stood staring at the bloodied body that was once her father, Suzanne figured her life could never get any worse than it was at that moment. She had been wrong.

“Don't you believe me, Miss Richards?” Jessie's words jarred Suzanne back to the present. She quickly reached out and drew the girl to her, holding her tight. “Yes, sweetheart, I believe you.” She spoke the words softly. “I'm sorry for you—it's a terrible burden to bear—but I believe you.”

Jessie extracted herself from Suzanne's hold and looked at her, puzzled. “I don't think it's such a terrible burden! If it will help me find Amy, then it's worth anything I would have to go through. Besides, my mother told me she wasn't sure about all this psychic stuff, but if it were true, then it was a special gift, and it just meant God smiled a little wider on me than on most folks!”

“Your mother sounds very wise.” Suzanne spoke the words honestly, trying to push away her father's harsh words. Funny though, she could never remember her mother being frightened of her. Of course, she couldn't really remember her mother at all, anymore. All of her memories were shrouded with the bitter denouncements she had endured from her father. She tried never to think about or remember anything from that terrible time.

Suzanne shuddered, shaking her head quickly as if by doing so she could dismiss the thoughts which had inexplicably been leaping into her mind since the arrival of the girl.

“Okay, Jessie, let's sit down and start all over again.” Suzanne began sweeping debris off the couch.

“Maybe I should call home now,” Jessie said. “If Mom or Dad called my friend Nicole and found out I wasn't there, well, it would be just awful for them.”

“So you did think of them at least a little before you took off?”

Jessie's chin raised defiantly. “Of course! I made plans to stay in the city with Nicole after school. If everything went right, Mom and Dad wouldn't miss me until tomorrow after school when I didn't get off the bus.”

Suzanne handed Jessie her portable phone, then sat listening to the one-sided conversation.

—“Momma, this is Jessie. Now, don't get excited, but I'm in Kansas City to look for Amy.

—No, Momma, I'm not at Nicole's.

—No, Momma, I skipped school and took the bus to Kansas City.

—Yes, Momma, I'm okay.

—No, Momma, I'm with Suzanne Richards, that psychic I told you about.

—Yes, she is real nice, and Momma, guess what? She's going to help us.”

Jessie took the phone down from her ear and looked at Suzanne. “She's trying to explain to Daddy. I can hear him yelling. By the way, you
are
going to help us, aren't you?”

Suzanne managed a wry smile, nodding her head, resigned. Already she could feel a special pull toward the young psychic. She wouldn't refuse her.

Jessie quickly put the phone back to her ear as she heard her father's voice, calling her.

—“Yes, Daddy. Yes, I know it was dumb, but it was all I could think of to do.

—I know, and I'm sorry for that.

—Daddy, I'm not in any danger.

—Da—

—But—

—Yes, Daddy.”

She handed the phone toward Suzanne. “He wants to talk to you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You have to convince him to let me stay!”

“I … I don't know much about dealing with fathers,” Suzanne whispered back, taking the phone.

“Hello. Mr. Matthews?”

“Yes, this is Jake Matthews. Miss … Richards, is it?”

“Yes. Suzanne. Suzanne Richards.”

“I'm sorry for our Jessie intruding on you like that. If you could just make sure she's all right until we can get there, we would really appreciate it.” Suzanne could hear a mixture of anger and worry in the man's voice as he spoke. “We'll check on flights, but if we can't get one right out, then we'll start out in the car. No matter what, we'll be there in ten, twelve hours. Would you mind watching after her until then?”

“Mr. Matthews, listen to me,” Suzanne answered. “There is a chance, albeit a slim one, that I might be able to help find your Amy. Why don't you give Jessie and me a few days? Let us see what we can find out. I'll take really good care of your daughter. I promise.”

“I'm sorry, Miss Richards. I'm sure you believe in that stuff, and mean well, but I've already lost one daughter. I don't intend to lose another.” Suzanne could hear the anguish in Jake Matthews's voice as he spoke.

Jessie suddenly reached up, covering the mouthpiece of the telephone with her hand, and spoke excitedly to Suzanne.

“Tell him the cow he is looking for is in the ravine just north of the old river road. Tell him she is giving birth and is in trouble—that the calf needs pulled.”

“What?”

“Do it! Just do it!”

Suzanne took a deep breath. “Uh … Mr. Matthews, this is going to sound strange, but the cow you are looking for is…” she hesitated, looking quickly at Jessie.

“In the ravine just north of the old river road,” Jessie whispered.

“In a ravine north of the old river road. She is trying to give birth, but is in trouble.”

“The calf needs
pulled,
” Jessie whispered. “Tell him the calf needs pulled.”

Suzanne rolled her eyes and flung one hand up in question to the girl.

Jessie nodded, impatient. “He'll know. Just tell him!”

“Mr. Matthews, the calf needs pulled,” Suzanne said quickly.

She glanced at Jessie, whose forehead was wrinkled in concentration.

“Twins!” Jessie whispered excitedly. “Tell him Sally is having twins and he needs to get to her!”

Suzanne relayed the message, feeling more foolish by the minute. By the time Jessie's mother came back on the line, she was certain the Matthewses would contact the police to retrieve their daughter from the madwoman. Instead, the voice she heard was more hopeful than skeptical.

“Jake has gone to check, Miss Richards. How did you know he had been looking for Sally for the last four hours? She is our best Holstein, but what with all the horror over Amy's disappearance, we haven't paid much attention to the farm lately. Then tonight Jake realized Sally hadn't come in for the milking and he began searching for her.”

Surprise registered on Suzanne's face, and she looked at Jessie with new respect. She covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “Do you want me to tell your mother it was you?”

“No!” Jessie whispered. “Let them think it was you. Then maybe they will let me stay.”

Suzanne removed her hand and spoke with a confidence she didn't feel. “I'm glad I could help, Mrs. Matthews. And won't you please reconsider letting Jessie stay with me for a few days? I realize you don't know me, but if there is even the slightest chance we could get a line on Amy, wouldn't it be worth the gamble?”

She could hear the woman's muffled sobs as she answered. “I'll talk to Jake when he gets back, Miss Richards. We sort of lost hope after the police told us they suspected that beast Clark of taking her.” Her voice broke. “He … my God, he dismembered those other girls. I just can't bear to think about it. Our Amy. Our dear, sweet Amy.”

Suzanne wanted desperately to give the woman some hope, but knew she dared not. The chance of Amy still being alive was slim to none, and she knew it.

“Mrs. Matthews, I'm going to leave you my telephone number. You talk it over with your husband, and whatever you decide, I'm sure it will be the right decision. In the meantime, Jessie is fine here with me. I won't let anything happen to her. You have my word on that.”

*   *   *

Jake Matthews followed the newly painted white fences which encompassed the ranch house, barns, and pasture. His land didn't end with the fences, but continued for miles of open range. How Sally had managed to get out with the other cattle, he didn't know. Probably that young kid from town he had hired to repair the fences, who thought it too much trouble to get back out of his sports car and lock the gates after he went through them. He should have fired the lad that first day, anyway. Whoever heard of running a fence line in a candy-apple Trans Am? And every time Jake came across an open gate, the kid always had the same answer. “I knew I was coming back through in a few minutes. I didn't see no need of wasting time closing it.” And Sally, dang her contrary hide, she always did try to get off by herself when she was birthing. If she was ready to drop, then she would certainly have taken advantage of an open gate.

The main trouble was, these last two weeks had simply been one big blur for Jake, ever since the Kansas City police had called, informing them that Amy's purse had turned up in a Dumpster outside the apartment of that Randal Clark. The bastard had enough evidence in that apartment to link him with the deaths of eight young girls. The police said there wasn't any doubt that he was the infamous Kansas City Butcher. Even so, Clark wasn't admitting a thing.

Quick, hot tears filled Jake's eyes, and he brushed them away, angrily. The police were still searching for Amy's body. They offered no hope that she would be found alive, and insisted there was no reason for him and Martha to come to Kansas City just yet. He wanted to believe, but Jessie's insistence that Amy was still alive didn't make it so.