Sinister Entity (3 page)

Rita gasped when she turned the vibrator on, surprised by how powerfully it shook in her hand and even more so by the noise it made. Even though it was irrational, she couldn’t help thinking that her neighbors could hear its steady drone.
 

Thank God I never used this when the kids were home,
she thought.
 

Twisting the little control dial down a few notches, she gently stroked the pink, plastic vibrator across her inner thighs, taking a moment to let it rest on the top of her pubic hair, as much teasing herself as hesitant to go all the way. It didn’t take long for her body’s response to overwhelm her mind and she moved the vibrator to exactly where it needed to be.
 

“Oh wow,” she huskily moaned.
 

It felt amazing. Thanks to her and Greg’s busy and conflicting schedules, it had been a while since they’d been together. Now she had something to help ease the dry spells. A torrid tingling spread to every corner of her body. Her hips gyrated as she rotated the vibrator in slow, steady circles.
 

Her mind was a complete blank as she lost herself in the rapidly building ecstasy.
 

If I’d only known, you never would have been buried in the drawer,
she thought. Being raised in a strict Catholic family, masturbation had never been an option. Besides, it was something boys did because they couldn’t keep their hands off themselves. Just like monkeys.
 

Good Lord this was good.
 

Blood rushed to her dampening pussy. She heard a deep groan, realizing it came from her without even feeling it escape her lips.
 

Pushing the vibrator to its limit, she found a perfect rhythm, and her thighs quivered with pleasure.
 

She was on the brink of total release when she heard the front door open and slam shut. Startled, she dropped the vibrator and jerked upright. She scrambled for her robe and almost dislocated her shoulder trying to get her arm into the sleeve. The vibrator hummed along on the comforter, rolling to the edge. Rita grabbed it, turned the dial off and threw it under the bed.
 

She tried to compose herself as she heard the approach of footsteps coming up the stairs.
 

Her cheeks had to be crimson and she was finding it hard to get her breathing under control.
 

Exercise! That’s it. She’d say she was doing sit-ups. Wearing nothing but a robe. It was the best she could do.
 

“Mommy? Mom?”

Selena’s voice echoed down the hall.
 

Rita couldn’t believe it. Her one time using a vibrator and she’d almost been caught by her oldest. Maybe it was better left in the bottom of her drawer.
 

“I’m in here, sweetie,” she said, assuming Selena must have forgotten to pack something for her little trip.
 

“Mommy?”

The footsteps stopped. A shiver of concern cramped her stomach. Selena only called her mommy when something was wrong. What if she was hurt?
 

Rita walked toward the open bedroom door.

“
Mommy
.”
 

“Are you okay, Selena? What can I—”

When she entered the hallway, it was empty.
 

But that was impossible. She distinctly heard Selena come upstairs. She must have been right outside the door the last time she called for her.
 

“Selena? Where did you go? Hello! Selena!”

She checked Selena’s bedroom, then every room on both floors of the house, calling out her daughter’s name in escalating tones. A cold lump formed in her stomach.

She was the only one in the house.

Chapter Five

The sun was out, vaporizing the morning dew, when Jessica emerged from the McCammon house. Her arms were loaded with bags of equipment and she trailed a heavy, black rolling case that housed all of her digital cameras. She piled the gear on the sidewalk by her car. A pair of chickadees was perched in the tree above her car, chirping in their familiar cadence, a musical greeting for the neighborhood early risers. She looked back at the house, amazed at the dichotomy between the interior and exterior.
 

Jessica lifted the flower pot under the front bay window and placed the house keys underneath.
 

She had spent the better part of the morning cleaning up broken glass and rearranging furniture, then packing up her own equipment. It had taken over four hours and she was bushed. All she could think of now was her own bed.
 

With everything packed in her hunter green Jeep, she headed back home to Rockville Centre in Long Island. Luckily for her, morning rush hour traffic was over, so the drive home from Bronxville would be less than an hour.
 

It wasn’t until she was on the Hutchinson River Parkway that she remembered to call her aunt Eve. She hit Eve’s name on her cell phone and plugged in her Bluetooth earpiece.
 

“I was starting to get worried about you,” her aunt said.

“What, no hello?” Jessica replied. She had taken the top off the Jeep so the late spring air would keep her awake on the drive. Her shoulder-length, chestnut hair blew in every direction and she pushed the 4X4 to just under eighty miles an hour.
 

“Not when you go silent on me for an entire weekend, no. You know the rules,” Eve coolly replied. She sounded more concerned than angry.
 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It was just an intense weekend and I kind of got lost in the moment.”
 

There was a long silence before Eve asked, “How intense?”

“Let’s just say I filled a garbage pail with broken glass and one of my meters is toast. On the bright side, I’m pretty sure I caught a lot of it on film.”

“It really is your goal to put me in an early grave. What did the McCammon family say when they came back?”

Jessica swerved around a slow-moving car and fumbled around the center console to find her EZ Pass. “The McCammons are staying with family for the weekend, so they won’t see things until they get back later tonight. I did my best to put the house back in order, but we both know that could all change between now and later.”

Eve sighed heavily into the phone. “I really wish you wouldn’t do these types of investigations alone. You could get hurt.”

The last thing Jessica wanted to do was add more stress to Eve’s life. When Jessica was just a baby, her mother passed away. One night she went to bed and simply never woke up. To make matters even stranger, her parents had won a twenty-five-million-dollar lottery on the exact same day, and her aunt Eve took it upon herself to take care of Jessica and her father as they waded through miles of grief and the ugly reality of sudden riches.
 

As the years went on, Jess’s father became less interested in normal, everyday life, and more concerned with the paranormal, ghost hunting being one of his specialties. It was a boyhood fascination of his that, thanks to financial freedom and his newfound fears of dying, sleeping and a host of other normal activities, allowed him free reign to live in the world of the unexplained.
 

Jessica realized now he was just searching for her mother, any sign that she would be there waiting for him when it was his time to go. As much fun as he was to be around, there was always a deep, dark sadness lurking at the edges. He did his best to hide it from her, but kids are smarter and more intuitive than their parents think.
 

She thought about the last night with her father. She’d only been six years old.
 

The phantasm of Sharon Bolster lit up like a white-hot spotlight. Jessica and Eve slammed their eyes shut and shielded their faces with their hands. The room became exceedingly warm and the hair on their bodies stood straight up.
 

When she sensed the light was gone, Jessica opened her eyes.
 

The woman was no longer there.
 

A shot rang out downstairs. There was screaming, so much screaming.
 

They ran down the spiral staircase as fast as they could.
 

But it was too late.
 

Here she was at nineteen, driven by the same compulsions her father had. And here was Eve, trying to keep her from going over the precipice.
 

A solitary tear rolled down her cheek. She didn’t bother to wipe it away.
 

“I know the risks. The book on poltergeists is that they make a lot of noise and toss a ton of stuff around, but there are no cases of anyone being seriously hurt. I asked the McCammons to leave this weekend so I could be sure it wasn’t a manifestation originating from one of their daughters. I really thought Lori would have been the key. She just turned fourteen and she’s loaded with your typical teenage angst. Amber and Elizabeth are too young, but you never know. Well, now I know. Hold on a sec.”

Jessica slowed down to pass through the toll, holding her EZ Pass up to the window so it could be scanned. She scooted over to the left lane on the Whitestone Bridge, narrowly missing a yellow mustang. The driver gave her a New York salute. She paid him no mind as she zipped past any car in her way.
 

“You are one hard-headed pain in my butt,” Eve said.

“Yes, but you love me.”

“That I do, with all my heart. If I thought I could stop you, short of having you imprisoned, I would. Are you hungry? I can stop at the restaurant and bring something back for you. I have to meet with Anthony in a little bit to go over a few catering jobs. I’ll ask Louie to whip something up.”

“Thanks, but I think I’m just going to crash when I get home. Although his ravioli are even better warmed up.”

“I think I can swing that. See you soon.”

Jessica removed the earpiece and turned the radio on. She plugged in her iPod and cranked up the volume.
 

Another trait she had picked up from her father was a love of eighties and early nineties heavy metal. A day didn’t go by when she didn’t think of him. It was her shrink, the one she went to until she was about twelve, who had come up with the idea of connecting Jess to her father through the music he listened to most. It was odd having Megadeth blaring at her to give her comfort, but there it was.
 

She honked her horn at an SUV and took the entrance ramp to the Southern State Parkway. She had one more stop to make before going home.
 

“World without end, amen.”

Jessica knelt before the small statue of Mary, where the baptismal font was kept. She was alone in St. Matthew’s Church. Only a few lights were on, and the flickering candles to her right created undulating shadows against the wall.
 

It was quiet here. Peaceful.
 

Even though there was no one to disturb, she gently placed the kneeler up so as not to make a sound. Exiting the pew, she faced the altar, made the sign of the cross while kneeling on one knee. As was her ritual, she placed a ten dollar bill in the poor box, touched the long wick to one of the lit candles and transferred the flame to a new candle. She said another silent prayer for her father, and hoped he was by her mother’s side.
 

She left the church feeling stronger, more in control. The last night had been hell. She needed a little heaven to tip the scales back toward sanity.
 

She had long ago reconciled her religious beliefs with her paranormal beliefs. For her, they could easily and logically coexist. Faith had the same weight as fact, and she had plenty of both. It saddened her that so many in the paranormal field either had no room for religion, or used it in excess to explain and do things that were simply not plausible.
 

Life was all about balance.
 

She gunned the Jeep out of the church parking lot, Cinderella pounding from the Bose speakers. She chuckled.
Oh yeah, I’m balanced all right.
 

Chapter Six

Eddie decided to make one last stop at The Rhine.
 

Landscapers were weeding the garden in the front of The Rhine’s relatively new home. The center had moved into the building, which looked more like a nice, large-ish house, a little over ten years ago. He nodded hello to Diego who had been tending the grounds well before Eddie started his “internship”.
 

The reception area was empty. Eddie walked upstairs to Dr. Froemer’s office. He paused to look in at the darkened testing area. He couldn’t even calculate the number of hours he’d spent in there undergoing sequencing tests and predicting cards from a specially designed deck called zener cards created for psi research. Each of the five cards had a specific symbol—a star, cross, circle, wavy lines and a square. The trick was to guess which card the person holding the deck was looking at. Even a person without psychic abilities could guess correctly about twenty percent of the time. Eddie consistently
guessed
correctly well over seventy percent of the time.