Grave Echoes: A Kate Waters Mystery (8 page)

“I suppose it would make more sense if I’d had these visions after Jev’s accident,” Kate replied. She drank some of her wine. “You think its desperate imagination?”

“I think you’re on overload and need more rest.”

“I can’t with Hood acting up now.” Kate stood to stretch. “But that doesn’t explain the key in my hallucinations.” Kate leaned on the counter toward Sarah. “When we met with the detective at the hospital, he gave us some of Jev’s belongings from her car. The key from my hallucinations was in her purse and it had the inscription T.C.C. on it.”

“You must have seen the key before,” Sarah said.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell myself too. But I think I would have recognized it in my hallucinations. There’s another thing.” Sarah’s brows knitted together as she listened. “When I was at her house the other day, after I found the chest of witchcraft supplies, I think someone was in the house with me.” Sarah set her glass down, leaning forward with piqued interest. “I heard someone in the kitchen,” Kate said. “When I went out into the living room, both the front door and the screen door in the kitchen were open, and a vase had broken on the floor.”

“Maybe a neighbor?” Sarah suggested.

“I don’t know,” Kate said. “Maybe Louise did open the sliding door in the kitchen to let fresh air in and I just didn’t notice.”

“Why don’t you stay with me, get some good sleep. You look dead tire…,” Sarah stopped. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

Kate smiled. “Don’t worry—I feel dead tired. But I have to get ready for my trip to Mt. Hood.”

“You want me to walk you out?”

“I’ll be all right. Thanks for talking to me.”

“I think I owed you anyway…remember Steve?”

Kate smiled at the memory of Sarah’s last heartbreak. She hugged her goodbye and made her way down the narrow dock to the bottom of the stairs. She stopped, looking up at the gate, remembering the kids in the Halloween costumes who had tried to scare her. If they only knew that the Grim Reaper was real.

Kate pulled her jeep into the driveway beside David’s midnight blue pick-up, happy to see him before he left for work. She felt better having talked with Sarah, and before leaving, had promised to call her—“for anything, no matter what,” Sarah had said. Kate reassured her she would be just fine, but she caught a glimpse of worry in Sarah’s eyes and imagined Sarah believed her about as much as Kate believed herself.

Dropping her coat and bag on a bench inside the front entryway, she headed toward the sound of running water. Down the hall, steam billowed out from the bathroom door where David showered, luring her into golden, humid warmth. A thick layer of droplets coated the mirror and stainless steel fixtures, softening the angles in the room. Kate leaned on a pile of towels stacked on a small shelf just to the left of the door, enjoying her sensual view.

David washed his hair and body with eyes closed. She enjoyed looking at him naked, especially when he was unaware of it. Comfortable in his skin, he moved with poise, flexing muscles along his ribs, arms, and shoulders. His buttocks had lavish, meaty curves and a narrow path of hair connected his midriff to his manhood. When he stepped out of the shower and discovered her standing there, his eyes brightened with a playful smile.

“There you go spying again.”

“There is a fine line between spying and pleasurable curiosity,” Kate replied.

“How was your visit with Sarah?” He reached for the towel Kate handed to him.

“Good.” Not wanting the conversation to lead into Jev’s witchcraft, she didn’t say anymore.

David seemed to search her face for more, but changed the topic. “And how was work?”

“We’re almost ready for Friday’s trip,” she said, following him into the bedroom. “The cabins are reserved, the satellites are packed, and the USGS team is on their way. We just need to do a couple of test runs with the GPS system before we go up.”

“So you are going then?” David asked.

“I don’t have a choice. If I don’t go, Stewart will definitely send Nicole and Bruce up with Sean, and I don’t need him thinking I’m replaceable.”

“I doubt he thinks you’re replaceable.” He buttoned his white work shirt embroidered with the Providence Tree logo, the hospital’s symbol for health and vitality.

“Well, I’d rather not take the chance.” Then she thought about the other chances she was taking, the possibility of an eruption while she was on the mountain, or another sleep attack in the middle of a climb.

David grabbed his shoes from the closet and sat down on the bed next to her. “I worry about your narcolepsy,” he commented, coinciding with her own worries. “How are you really doing?” He laid his hand on her knee.

“I’m fine,” Kate replied. She knew it was a lie, but thought if she said it enough times, she would eventually believe it.

“You’ve been pretty quiet lately.”

She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You can talk to me, Kate. I wish you would.”

She stood and walked over to the dresser, suddenly feeling cornered. “I have to go through this alone. You can’t grieve for me.”

She heard him sigh. “I know I can’t grieve for you,” he said, “but you do not have to do it alone.”

“What do you want me to do...come blubbering to you every time I think of my sister?” Immediately, she regretted her tone. “I’m sorry. There are just some things I can’t share.” Actually, at the moment, there were many.

“I thought we agreed to build our relationship on friendship and trust.” David’s voice came out sharp, no doubt tinged with negative events from his own past. “I deserve to know what you are thinking and feeling, if not for your sake, than at least for mine.”

But it was the last thing Kate needed right now. Why couldn’t he be patient and understanding? “I thought you said you could handle my grief since you confront it in your job every day?” She reminded him.

“Not when I’m shut out. Why won’t you talk to me about what you’re feeling? We hardly ever see each other, and when we do, you just avoid me.”              

“You’re the one who works the graveyard hours,” Kate argued.

“Right.” David stood and headed for the door, paused, and turned to her. “Well, let me know when you’re ready to talk.” Then he left the room.

Kate followed him into the hallway. “David, I’m going through a lot of changes at the moment; you have to be patient with me.” Her tears lumped in her throat.

David opened the front door. “I will, but I don’t want to be in another relationship with someone who can’t trust me or open up to me. I want more than that. I deserve more than that.” Before she could say anything, he shut the door.

“Shit,” Kate muttered.

It was too easy to push him away. Getting close to someone always made her feel vulnerable and she hated that. Though overwhelmed with grief about losing Jev, they were not new emotions to her, having dealt with grief just two years ago when her mother passed away. She’d anticipated the emotional storm to be easier this time. But like before, her life seemed full of complications and unexpected disasters. She had a job, a career, a boyfriend, and house, but Jev’s death seemed to veil her sense of direction. Nothing was predictable and Kate found herself questioning what she was doing, where she was going, and most of all, what she believed in. Hot tears breached her eyes, and back in the bedroom, her pillow found a warm place for them to hide.

***

Kate woke in the bedroom to the feel of sandpaper scraping against her hand. Lucy, Jev’s cat, licked at her fingers in short, tender strokes. Her furry body resonated with a soft purr, the fur tickling the sides of her arm.

“Lucy, you hungry girl?” she said, sitting up in bed. She cradled the cat in her lap, petting its silky coat. The clock read 10:33 pm. She had slept for over two hours and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by her stomach. With Lucy in tow, she grabbed one of David’s flannels, and headed for the kitchen where leftover pizza awaited her in the refrigerator.

Her reflection in the window stopped her as she walked by; a pale face stared back at her, suddenly looking so similar to Jev’s face. They both had high cheekbones, a full bottom lip, and deep-set eyes. She reached out to touch the face, when behind her, another appeared like fog. Kate flinched, recognizing the little girl she’d seen in the laundry room the other day, still dressed in a white lacy dress and pink ribbon in her hair. The little girl stood still, straight, arms at her sides.

Kate fought the urge to turn around, steadying her gaze on the little girl’s reflection. She looked sad, her mouth bent slightly downwards. Her face seemed frozen, but her eyes glowed like fire, a consuming need. She reached her arm out to Kate, just as something brushed up against her skin, soft and silky like a spider’s web. Kate spun around. The girl was gone, but the feathery sensation still wisped around her arm. Swiping at it like a cobweb, Kate looked back in the window—she was alone again.

Apparently, sleep hadn’t helped, she thought. Passing by her dresser, she noticed Jev’s key and stopped to pick it up. There was something unique about it, a reason why Jev had it with her and maybe why she’d hallucinated about it. Kate decided to put it on and searched for a chain in her jewelry box. She found an old necklace and took off the pendant, slipping one end of the chain through the loop of the Celtic knot. It hung heavy around her neck, but dangled long enough to disappear inside her shirt.

She picked Lucy up again and made her way to the kitchen. The house felt unnaturally quiet, lacking the sounds of the city she was used to. After placing two large slices of cold supreme pizza in the oven, she turned on the television in the living room for background noise. Solitude had its place, but in a big house far from the city, it was too much. Lucy slinked in little circles at her ankles, meowing up at her.

“Right…I forgot your milk,” she said. Kate set a bowl of milk down on the floor, but Lucy just sniffed at it and looked up at her.

“You’re one of those finicky felines, aren’t you? Well I draw the line at cooking, which I’m sure is what your mother used to do for you.” She imagined Jev cooking Lucy eggs or giving her slices of cut up turkey, possibly even scraps of shrimp from her stir-fry. “I barely cook for myself; I sure as hell am not going to cook for you.”

Suddenly, a loud crash sounded, startling Kate and sending Lucy bounding out of sight. She stepped out of the kitchen into the hallway where the stairs began at the front door. The crash had come from the second level. She thought about the incident yesterday at Jev’s, the loud crash that had sent her into the kitchen, where she’d discovered both doors open and a broken vase on the floor. Though she concluded earlier that evening with Sarah that fatigue may have resulted in her suspicions of an intruder, there was no mistaking the noise this time. Before Kate could decide whether to investigate, the sound came again.

Bang!

Her body trembled. It was the same sound. Moving alongside the wall in the hallway, she stopped at the bottom of the stairs. A teetering object having fallen off one of the moving boxes could explain one thumping noise, but two thumps challenged coincidence. Kate tried to swallow down the wet fear in her mouth.

Except for the television, the house was quiet. She contemplated going upstairs—it felt safe where she was at, watching Scrubs, eating pizza. Unfortunately, she couldn’t blame it on Lucy since she had been downstairs when the crash happened. Probably wasn’t a draft either, since David had nailed the window shut this morning. Her mental sprint through the probable likelihoods of what made the noises upstairs kept leading her back to the one she wanted to avoid—someone was in the house.

Suddenly feeling vulnerable, she ran back into the living room, over to the fireplace where she grabbed an iron poker hanging from the mantle. The rod felt awkward and heavy in her hands. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs again and looked up. Everything appeared normal. No muddy footprints, no lights were on, and the door to the spare room with the opened window was shut.

Shadows from a window upstairs danced on the wall like winged creatures. It didn’t help that Halloween was in two days. Kate gripped the poker tighter, wishing she had Lucy’s smarts to seek a dark corner, hidden from potential danger. She thought if cats had nine lives, they didn’t seem to know it.

Moving to the front door, she checked the lock, remembering having locked it earlier, but under her recent difficulties with sleeping, she wasn’t going to trust in her memory now. The dead bolt was locked…so if someone had come into the house, they could only have entered through the back door in the kitchen, where she’d just been. Kate strung the chain link into the track on the front door anyway, hoping she wasn’t locking herself in with an intruder.

Now or never, she thought, placing her hand on the stair rail for support. She stepped up, noticing the shadow of the iron poker lengthening along the wall. Did she really think she could fight someone off with it? Especially a large man? Kate wondered if she should call Mr. Burton. He would search the house for her, wouldn’t he? A girl alone in a big, new house at night, who thinks she heard a strange noise? Right, she kidded herself.

She decided to scratch the idea of calling Mr. Burton. At his age, he couldn’t protect her from anyone any better than she could and calling the police would be even worse—if they didn’t find anyone in the house, the embarrassment alone would kill her.

She crested the last step and flipped on the light switch, chasing away the wicked shadows with soft light. At the top of the staircase, the second floor opened up so that both the doors to the spare room and the bathroom were visible. Pausing in front of the door to the first room, she listened quietly for the sound of movement or breathing. After hearing nothing, she opened the door and turned on the light. Her heart skipped a beat. The window David had nailed shut was wide open.

***

Wells sat back in his black leather chair, arms folded behind his head. He could hear a few other detectives, Stanley and Garrett, working late, rummaging through file drawers, and chatting of bureaucratic politics over the phone. Wells turned his attention back to his own conundrum and the accumulating evidence perplexing him. Scattered atop his wooden desk were case files he’d been researching; Jevanna Water’s specifically. What had seemed to him as a standard fatal accident was beginning to show signs of foul play. Curious details surrounding her death were surfacing like bubbles in the mud—slow to form, but the pop came loud and clear.

He went over the facts again. Jevanna Waters had sped nearly 20 mph over the speed limit, which seemed excessive even if she was in a hurry, when the vehicle rolled. Capitol Highway had 25 mph curves in most spots. Most people struggled with the turns when exceeding just 10 mph over the speed limit. Though the girl was young, which did have correlations with fast driving, there didn’t seem to be an urgent need for risky speeding. No other cars were involved, and she hadn’t been drinking. Not until the discovery of the cigarette filters did Wells consider anything was unusual about the case. Because they were dry and it had been raining heavily those few hours, somebody must have stopped at the scene before officials arrived. Someone had taken the girl’s pulse. Why hadn’t he, she, or they reported the wreck? Wells analyzed the data, tapping the end of his pen on his chin.

Unfortunately, the tests for prints on the cigarette filters came back negative, so he couldn’t prove that whoever smoked the cigarettes had also taken the girl’s pulse. Wait…he suddenly thought—whoever smoked the cigarettes had been wearing gloves, which means they had removed them to take the girl’s pulse. Wells was still waiting for forensics to confirm if the prints John lifted from Waters’ body matched those of the paramedics on scene, but he doubted they would. The first thing paramedics always did was put on their gloves, almost subconsciously, for fear of infection.