One-Eyed Jack (22 page)

“
From church, maybe?
Someone he knows from summer activities?”

“
We’ll check that out.
Thanks.”

I wasn’t sure just how
sarcastic he was being; surely, those suggestions would already be
on their list. Probably he was being polite, to encourage me so
that I might come up with something that
wasn’t
on the usual list.

But I didn’t know anything about Jack
that they didn’t, not really.

I did know things
about
Jenny
that
they didn’t, though. I knew what she looked like, and that she had
probably come from a real person’s imagination...

And that person lived in Clark County,
only about twenty miles east of Lexington.

“
Hey,” I said. “I think I
might drive over to Winchester after lunch, and talk to the
original Jenny Derdiarian.”

“
She’s in
Winchester?”

“
Yeah.”

“
That’s outside my
jurisdiction. I work for Fayette County.”

“
But
that doesn’t affect
me
.”

“
True enough. And if I had
some real evidence that she’s connected with this, I might want to
go with you, but as it is, Mr. Kraft, you’re on your
own.”

“
Sure, I figured I would
be.”

“
Don’t do anything
actionable, okay?”

“
I won’t,” I said,
annoyed. “Talk to you later.”

I ended the call and put the phone
back in my pocket, and as I did I realized that Skees wasn’t
treating me like an idiot; he was giving me good advice. I wasn’t a
cop; I had no right to go around questioning anyone. If I did
anything to upset Ms. Derdiarian I might wind up in the Clark
County jail on some sort of stalking charge.

I got lunch at a Wendy’s just off
Winchester Road, near I-75, and called Jenny Derdiarian when I’d
finished eating.

She was sufficiently intrigued by the
idea of meeting a real psychic face to face that she agreed to meet
me, and gave me her address. I didn’t ask for directions, since I
had the GPS.

I’d have figured Winchester Road had
to be the best route to Winchester, but the GPS put me on I-75
north for one exit, then east on I-64. I guess the higher speed
limit made the difference. I got there quickly enough.

Winchester turned out to be a fairly
pleasant town with some factories along the interstate north of
town, some old brick storefronts and a classic county courthouse on
Main Street, and a lot of ordinary houses on quiet little streets
on the hillsides east of Main Street. One of those ordinary houses
was where Chester Craig and Jenny and Jason Derdiarian
lived.

Jenny Derdiarian was waiting on the
porch for me, and offered me a glass of lemonade before I’d even
gotten up the steps.

She wasn’t bony-thin, but solid. Not
fat by any means. Her black hair was cut off at her shoulders and
permed, and she had two ordinary brown eyes. She was wearing a
floral print sun-dress and not a white slip, and her skin, while
still fairly pale, had clearly been exposed to some sun that
summer, but all the same, I saw the resemblance instantly. The
ghost could have been her goth daughter, or her younger sister – or
her younger self.

I looked for that oddness I saw around
Jack and other ghost-watchers, and I didn’t find it. I didn’t see
anything like the darkness around Mel, either. Jenny Derdiarian
looked completely normal, and fully part of her
surroundings.

I didn’t know what that meant. I’d
assumed that anyone with any sort of psychic power, or magic, or
whatever it was, had that unnatural look, and I thought Jenny must
have some of the talent if her imagination had shaped her ghostly
doppelganger, but there was no trace of it, so far as I could see,
even when she was well out of the sunlight, in the shadows of the
open front door.

I remembered that she said
she hadn’t seen any ghosts for fifteen years, not since the
obsessive fantasies about killing her children went away. Could
whatever took the fantasies taken
all
her psychic power?

I took the porch chair she offered,
and accepted the glass of lemonade.

“
You’re younger than I
expected,” she said, as she poured herself a glass and settled in
the other chair.

I didn’t have anything intelligent to
say to that, so I just said, “Hmm,” as I sipped the
lemonade.

“
You live in Maryland,
don’t you?” she asked. “That’s what I think you said on the phone
last month.”

“
That’s right,” I agreed.
“In Takoma Park.”

“
Near
Baltimore?”

“
Washington.”

“
Oh, yes. Well, then, what
brings you to Kentucky?”

I hesitated. I’d given this some
thought during the drive here, but I wasn’t entirely happy with the
approach I’d settled on. Still, I didn’t see a better
choice.

“
I came to help the
Lexington police with a missing child,” I said.

“
Oh, you work with the
police? I’ve heard about psychics doing that.”

I hesitated again, and then decided to
tell the truth.

“
I’ve never worked with
the police before,” I said, “and it’s not official this time. I
came on my own, they didn’t invite me.”

She frowned. “Oh?”

“
I had dreams about this
kid. His name is Jack Wilson. He’s twelve.”

She looked concerned. “Have they found
him? Is he all right?”

I shook my head. “They haven’t found
him yet. That’s why I’m here, talking to you.”

“
I don’t understand,” she
said. “What does this have to do with me? Since it’s you who came
here, and not the police, I guess you’ve seen some connection – you
had a vision of some sort?”

“
Something like that.” I
sighed. “Jack wasn’t abducted or anything,” I explained. “He ran
off. He doesn’t get along with his parents, and he met a woman
who’s become a sort of mother figure to him, so we’re pretty sure
he’s run away to be with her.”

“
And you think I know
something about her?”

“
I hope so.”

“
Who is she?”

I grimaced.

“
She calls herself Jenny
Derdiarian,” I said.

Chapter Fifteen

She sat and stared at me silently for
a moment before saying, “Go on.”

“
I know it isn’t you,” I
said hastily. “In fact, even calling her a woman isn’t accurate.
She’s a... a night creature, a sort of ghost.”

“
Like the ones I used to
see.”

“
I think so, yes. In fact,
I’m pretty sure she’s the one that took your old fantasies about
hurting your children. Those were so strong that they’ve taken her
over completely – she thinks she’s you, or your ghost, and that you
really did murder your three kids.”

Actually, I had a strong suspicion
that it wasn’t so much some wandering ghost or devil taking those
fantasies as that the fantasies themselves had taken on a life of
their own, but I didn’t want to get sidetracked by arguing about
it. I didn’t think it mattered.

“
How do you know that?”
she asked. “How do you know what she thinks?”

“
I’ve met her,” I said.
“I’ve talked to her.”

“
This wasn’t just a
dream?”

“
No. I met her, in
Lexington, in your old neighborhood there. She seems to live under
a big tulip poplar at the end of the street.”

“
A tulip tree?”

“
Yes. Do you know the one
I mean?”

“
I might. Tell me about
this ghost – how did you meet her?”

I explained. I didn’t go into all the
details of my dreams, I just said that I’d dreamed Jack was in
trouble, and I had come to Lexington to check on him, and that was
how I had met ghost-Jenny.

But I
did
go into detail talking about the
ghost. This was the part that concerned her, and I wanted to get
everything out in the open. I told her almost everything I could
remember that the apparition had said and done, as close to
word-for-word as I could make it. She listened intently.

I told her
almost
everything. I did
not mention Jack’s missing finger or eye, not yet. I didn’t want to
risk upsetting her if she felt responsible for any of it. I did say
that the ghost had talked about eating him.

When I was done, she asked, “So Jack
Wilson can see this ghost?”

“
Yes.”

“
And you can?”

“
Yes.”

“
But no one
else?”

“
No adults that I know of,
but I can’t really be entirely sure. I’ve met other people who see
ghosts, but not here in Kentucky. Jack’s little sister Katie said
she could sort of see the ghost, but that might have just been
suggestion from her brother.”

She nodded. “You think Jack’s run away
to be with this ghost?”

“
I do,” I said. “That’s
why I’m here – I’m hoping you can tell me where they might have
arranged to meet.”

She shook her head,
startled. “Bless your heart, how would
I
know?”

“
Because
this ghost thinks it’s
you
,” I said. “It’s acting out those
horrible old fantasies of yours. Where would
you
have arranged to meet
Jack?”

“
He can’t go back to the
big tree?”

“
He knows the police will
be watching it.”

“
Of
course they will; how silly of me. Well, let me think – though I
don’t see how you think I’ll know anything more than
you
do. After all,
you’re the psychic.”

“
I’m not that kind of
psychic. Ms. Derdiarian, after I spoke to you on the phone I did
some reading, and from what I read, when people have the sort of
obsessive fantasy you said you had, the fantasies usually get very
elaborate. The more people think about them, the more details they
add – sounds, and smells, and exactly what everything would look
like.” I didn’t mention that most of my reading on the subject had
been in books and articles about criminal psychology, particularly
about serial killers. “Was it like that for you?”

She was taken aback. “I...
I hardly remember,” she said. “It’s been fifteen years, and as I
told you on the phone, when they went away, they went away
completely
. Wasn’t a
thing left. I hadn’t given them a moment’s thought for that entire
fifteen years until you called last month.”

“
This
ghost hasn’t thought about anything
else
for fifteen years, though, so
anything you could remember would be helpful in getting a handle on
how it thinks.”

“
Mr. Kraft, whatever this
thing is, don’t forget, it isn’t me. My own belief is that it’s a
demon that possessed me, all those years ago, and made me obsess on
all those horrible things, and that in His own good time God cast
it out of me. I wouldn’t know the first thing about how a demon
thinks.”

“
But
this demon lived in your head for years, and it
thinks
it’s you!” I
insisted. “It’s doing its best to
be
you, to do whatever you would if
you had really killed your children.”

“
And I
can’t imagine ever doing that. Yes, I know I
did
imagine it, over and
over, for years, but I
stopped
. That all went away. I can’t
get it back, and I don’t want to.”

I sat back, disappointed.
“Of course you don’t.” I sighed. “I guess I understand, Ms.
Derdiarian, but this boy Jack could be in real danger, so I’d
appreciate it if you could tell me everything you
do
remember about your
fantasies. There may be some little detail that could be
useful.”

She sighed. “This is... this is very
embarrassing, Mr. Kraft. These were things I never told anyone, and
never intended to tell anyone. It’s a little like letting a
stranger read my diary.”

“
I can see how it would
be, but please, if you could try...”

She sighed, and she started
talking.

I didn’t say much for the next hour or
so; I nodded occasionally, and once or twice I asked questions, but
mostly I just sat and listened.

Some of it was scarily
relevant. Her baby-eating fantasies had included biting the fingers
off one by one, then popping the eyes out and eating them like
candy. She had imagined them tasting as sweet as candy, too – it
had been a
fantasy
, with no attempt at realism. No blood, no pain, no guilt.
The baby in her fantasy had laughed and giggled and enjoyed the
entire experience.

That was probably why ghost-Jenny had
needed her victim’s cooperation; it was part of the original
fantasy. She had probably been shocked by how Jack suffered; that
hadn’t been how it was supposed to go. In Jenny’s long-ago
daydreams eating the baby was supposed to be fun for everyone
involved.