One-Eyed Jack (17 page)

“
Thereabouts.”

That fit, except that I was still
wondering whether it had really taken ghost-Jenny that long to harm
anyone. I also wondered why a spook would have latched onto this
woman’s guilty obsession, in particular. If it had needed a victim
who could see it, like Jack, maybe it had needed a source with the
same talent. I hesitated, then said, “I do have one more question,
Ms. Derdiarian.”

“
What’s that, Mr.
Kraft?”

“
Have you ever seen a
ghost?” I thought that even if she didn’t always have the ability,
perhaps she had seen the thing when it stole her obsessions, or
perhaps it had hung around her for awhile.

She didn’t answer right
away. Then she asked, “What do
you
think?”

That almost answered the question
right there. “I think you have,” I said. Then I added, “But maybe
not recently.” After all, she hadn’t been bothered in
years.

“
Mr.
Kraft, you are truly beginning to scare me. I don’t know whether
I’ve seen a ghost, but I used to see
something
. Or several things,
really; they were pretty common. Only I haven’t seen a one since
the day I stopped imagining what you saw in your vision. I saw them
many a night, prowling out there in the dark. I didn’t think they
were ghosts, I thought they were devils come to torment me, and
that maybe they put those bad thoughts in my head. Sometimes I even
thought I was going crazy, what with seeing those things and
getting obsessed with those horrible ideas about killing my
darlings. But then that whole nasty fantasy went away, and the
ghosts or demons or whatever they were went with it, and I haven’t
seen any since, and I’ll tell you, Mr. Kraft, I’m much the happier
for it, and I really hope this vision of yours doesn’t mean they’ll
be coming back.”

She had seen
several
ghosts?
She
had
been able
to see them all, not just the one that took her fantasy?

But she
stopped
. There was a way
to make it
stop
.
How had that happened? Was it something
I
could do?

Had the phantom taken more from her
than her obsession?

“
I don’t think it means
they’ll be back, Ms. Derdiarian,” I said. “I think they’ve moved
on. But I want to say thank you for talking to me – I don’t really
know what it all means, but you’ve been very helpful, and I really
appreciate it.”

“
So you’re all done, then?
No more questions?”

“
Nothing important, no. I
admit I’m still curious about a few things, but it’s none of my
business and you’ve been more than kind.”

“
What sort of
things?”

“
Well, I was wondering –
you said Derdiarian was your first husband’s name, and if I
understood correctly you’ve remarried, but you’re still using
it?”

“
Yes sir, I am. I tell
people it’s so as to have the same name as the kids, but the truth
is – well, Chester’s last name is Craig, and my name’s
Jenny.”

I was so focused on supernatural
weirdness that it took a second for me to see the problem, but then
I got it. “Oh,” I said. “Lucky for me, then – I don’t know if I’d
ever have found you if he’d been named Jo... I mean,
Smith.”

“
I don’t suppose you
would. Was there anything else?”

“
Did you ever live in
Lexington?”

“
Well, sure. For about
thirteen years, when the kids were little.”

“
Near Winchester
Road?”

“
Now, there you go again,
being psychic. If you’re faking, Mr. Kraft, you’re awful good at
it. Does this have something to do with your vision?”

“
Yes, it does.” I
hesitated. “I think there’s something there in Lexington that
remembers your... your daydreams, and that was communicating with
me.”

“
One of those
devil-ghosts?”

“
I think so.”

After that neither of us had anything
more to say, until finally she said, “The Lord works in mysterious
ways, but I’m sure it’s all for the best. It’s been interesting
talking to you, Mr. Kraft.”

“
Thank you for your help,
Ms. Derdiarian. I really appreciate it.” Then I ended the
call.

And of course, I immediately thought
of something else I should have asked her – had she ever known the
Wilsons? But it wasn’t worth calling back, and I didn’t think it
really mattered.

What mattered was that Jenny the ghost
wasn’t really a ghost at all. No one had starved three children to
death. A thing had somehow latched onto this woman’s guilty
fantasy, that was all. How and why it had done so, I didn’t know,
but it had.

In fact, it had apparently stolen the
whole evil fantasy right out of the real Jenny’s head, probably
about fifteen years ago, going by the kids’ ages.

So had it been preying on the local
kids for fifteen years? Even if it had never actually harmed one
before, it seemed to me that someone should have mentioned that the
local kids talked about a hungry ghost, if they did.

Maybe Jack really was the first. Maybe
Jack was the first one who could see and hear the specter – or
maybe he was the first one desperate enough to listen to
it.

Or maybe it was growing
stronger.

I didn’t know; all I could do was
guess.

I picked up the phone again and called
Mel.

I told her about the trip to Kentucky,
but I didn’t mention my call to Jenny Derdiarian at first. Just
telling her what had happened in Lexington was hard enough. Talking
to Mel at all, about anything, was difficult, and I intended to
take it in stages.

When I had given her the basics she
had questions, and I tried my best to answer them without screaming
or slamming down the phone.

Mel thought I should have talked to
Jack more while I had the chance, asked him more questions about
Jenny, spoken to him back on his own street, but the problem there,
I pointed out, was that I was a strange man from out of state, and
he was a vulnerable twelve-year-old, and if I went anywhere near
him once he was out of the hospital, anywhere we could talk
privately, everyone was going to take it for granted that I was a
pedophile grooming my next victim.

“
You could have had
Detective Skees play chaperone,” Mel said.

That image filled me with dread, but I
knew that was at least partly the curse; Ben Skees meant me no
harm. “I think he’s got better things to do with his time,” I said.
“Not to mention, Jack’s parents would want an
explanation.”

That didn’t really satisfy her, but
she didn’t argue the point, and besides, it was too late; I was
back home in Takoma Park, in my apartment on Maple Avenue, not in
Kentucky.

Then I told her about my phone
conversation with the original Jenny Derdiarian.

Mel was very quiet for a
moment.

“
That’s really
interesting, Greg,” she said at last, and I struggled not to read
any mockery into that.

“
Yeah,” I said.

“
No, really,” she said. “I
mean, we’ve been trying to make some sense out of this supernatural
stuff since high school, and this is... well, this is something
new. It might be important.”

What I intended to say was, “Or it
might be random,” but I was talking to Mel, so all that came out
was, “Or... or not.”

“
Or not, yeah, but it’s
still interesting. Do you think this ghoul got its kid-starving,
kid-eating obsessions from Jenny Derdiarian, or did it give her the
obsessions in the first place?”

“
I don’t know,” I said. I
hadn’t thought of that, that maybe the monster had inflicted this
on her and then relented. It didn’t seem to fit, not really; it
felt over-complicated.

“
But it never was human,
so would eating a kid really turn it human?”

“
I don’t... I doubt
it.”

“
You think it’s
lying.”

“
Yes.” I swallowed. “Or
maybe it believes it, but it’s still wrong.”

“
I guess it might be. I
mean, from what you’ve said, it seems to think it’s really Jenny
Derdiarian.”

“
Or it’s all an
act.”

“
But why
would it bother? Why tell Jack it killed those three kids, when
they’re alive and well? Why not make up some nicer story? Besides,
if it was acting, why choose a real person, and one who’s still
alive? I think it really
does
think it’s Jenny.”

I couldn’t argue with that; it did
make sense. “Maybe,” I said.

“
And she
used to see supernatural things, but that stopped when the ghoul
took away her fantasizing. How does
that
fit in?”

“
It thinks it’s her,
right?” I said. “So it can’t have any contact with the real Jenny;
that would be like being in two places at once.”

“
We don’t know whether
that’s a problem for it,” Mel replied. “And that doesn’t explain
why she can’t see the others that are out there.”

“
Maybe it took that along
with her fantasy.”

“
Is that possible? I
didn’t think it could work like that.”

“
I
don’t know. I don’t know
anything.” I felt utterly helpless; this was all so overwhelming
and mysterious.

“
See if you still think so
when you aren’t talking to me,” Mel said, and I realized she might
have a point, but even so, at that moment it seemed impossible that
I could do anything to help Jack, that I could ever figure out what
was really going on.

“
I can’t save the kid,” I
said.

“
He may save himself. Hey,
do you think you should call Detective Skees and tell him that you
found where the ghost’s story came from?”

“
I don’t see how it could
help.”

“
Could it
hurt?”

“
I don’t know. I can’t
think, Mel.” I tried desperately not to sound as if I was blaming
her for that, but we both knew that the curse was responsible. That
I even mentioned it showed how much it was wearing on
me.

“
I suppose not. Maybe we
should call it a night, Greg. Get some sleep, take your time, think
it over, and then you can call Skees or not, whichever you like.
Maybe you could see if the two of you can come up with a good
explanation for all this.”

“
Maybe.” I knew she could
hear my doubts in the tone of my voice, but I didn’t care. It had
been a long talk with Mel, and my nerves were shot.

When I was a kid, I used to hate
calling strangers on the phone. Now, though, talking to my best
friend was so miserable that calling strangers was nothing. Talking
to Jenny Derdiarian was easy compared to talking to Mel.

That was just so
wrong
.

“
Good night, Greg,” she
said.

“
Good night,
Mel.”

And that was the end of the
call.

I took her advice and went to bed, and
slept heavily; I was more tired than I’d realized.

That was Friday. By Monday I’d decided
there wasn’t any point in calling Ben Skees; what difference would
it make to know a partial history of a creature he couldn’t see or
hear? He would just have to keep an eye on Jack; Jenny was not part
of the detective’s world.

All any of us could do was try to keep
Jack away from Jenny, and Skees already knew to do that – though he
didn’t know how, and neither did I. We would just have to hope that
Jack had come to his senses and wouldn’t go near Jenny
again.

That should have been the end of
it.

But it didn’t
feel
like the end of it,
to either me or Mel.

And of course, it wasn’t.

Chapter Twelve

My little trip to the Bluegrass State
had been in August; it was a Tuesday in late September, and I was
on my lunch break, when I got a call.

It wasn’t Mel’s number, or Dad’s; it
wasn’t any number I recognized. It didn’t give a name. The area
code was 859, and I didn’t know where that was. “Hello?” I
said.

“
Mr. Kraft?”

I recognized the voice, even if I
hadn’t recognized the number. “Detective Skees,” I said. I dreaded
what he was going to say. I felt almost as strong a sense of
impending doom as if I were talking to Mel, and I knew it wasn’t
because of any curse.

I hadn’t dreamed about Jack since I
carried him out to the street the night he lost his eye, but I had
thought about him. Those dreams – I knew I wasn’t done with Jack.
He hadn’t yet had enough of an impact on my life to justify the
dreams.

I had tried to tell myself
that this just meant I’d had the rules wrong, and it didn’t
always
have to be some
great life-changing event that triggered the dreams, but I hadn’t
really believed it.