Spirit Seeker (12 page)

“I didn’t call you,” I insisted. “Sara and I were working on the computer.”

“I know,” Glenda said. “I saw you, in my mind, so I entered the house.”

Sara looked from Glenda to me and back to Glenda. “We made sure the door was locked with a dead bolt,” Sara said. “How did you get in?”

“The door was ajar.”

“No. We locked it,” I insisted, before I realized what she had said. “Then someone opened it.” I glanced toward the house. “Who? Who’s in there?”

“I don’t know,” Glenda answered.

“You didn’t see him?”

“I saw you … and your friend.”

With a jolt I realized that the person in the house could be the murderer I was trying so hard to find. “S-Sara and I can w-watch both the front and back doors and make sure whoever’s in there doesn’t leave. Glenda, why don’t you run home and call the police?”

“It would do no good to call the police,” Glenda answered. “The one who was in the house with you left soon after we did.”

“How? We would have seen him,” Sara said.

I realized the Rollinses’ dog barking frenzy
meant just one thing. “Whoever it was went over the back fence, didn’t he?” I asked.

“I have no idea,” Glenda said. “My thoughts were tuned to yours alone. I could sense the evil that was threatening you and came to lead you from the house. For the moment that’s all that matters.”

“Glenda,” I said, “if there was someone in the house who wanted to harm us, then
you
could have been in danger.”

“Whether or not there was danger, I can’t be sure. But with the strong evil that chose to conceal itself near you, I felt the risk was too strong to ignore.”

“Thank you for coming,” I murmured.

Sara looked at me oddly but she said, “Yes, thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Sara, is it?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t introduce you,” I said, embarrassed. “Glenda Jordan, this is Sara Madison.”

Glenda and Sara nodded politely to each other. Then Glenda turned to me. “I’ve been expecting you.”

“Uh … well, I …”

“Together we may discover the identity of the murderer, amber girl.”

“Amber girl?” Sara murmured.

“I … uh … I don’t want to re-create the murder scene,” I blurted out. “I don’t want to see it!”

Glenda laid her cool fingertips on my arm. “I
must not have explained well,” she said. “We couldn’t possibly re-create the actions that took place at the time of the murder. Clairvoyants work with visions of what is happening at the moment.”

“Then what would you …?”

“What we would attempt to do is offer a receptive climate in which the Garnetts could respond, possibly leading us to the name of their murderer.”

“I don’t get it,” Sara said.

But I did. Leaning against the side of the Jeep for support, I managed to mutter, “You’re t-talking about seeking their spirits and bringing them back, aren’t you?”

“Spirits?” Sara repeated.

“It’s not a question of bringing them back,” Glenda explained. “In acts of sudden violence, spirits cling to their surroundings, hoping for the justice that will mean their release.”

Sara moved closer to me and tugged on my arm. “We’ve got to leave now, Holly,” she said. “If I don’t come home soon, Mom will start worrying about me.”

“Okay,” I answered quickly. I was just as eager as Sara to leave this woman and her invitation to call up spirits. I scrambled to climb into the passenger side of the Jeep and managed to thank Glenda again.

“Just call me when you are ready,” Glenda said. “But don’t wait too much longer.”

Sara took off too fast, and I was glad we were wearing our seat belts. “Slow down,” I insisted.

“You slow down too,” she said, and as we reached the corner, she eased up on the gas pedal.

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw your face when you were talking to Glenda. You were seriously thinking about doing what she wants you to do, weren’t you?”

“No!” I said. “Well, maybe, but just
maybe
. What if she can find out the name of the murderer? I want to help Cody, don’t I?”

“Not by fooling around with weird people who claim to seek spirits. Look at all that scary stuff she put us through. Maybe she wants some publicity. Maybe she’s just plain nuts. What did she mean by calling you ‘amber girl’?”

“It’s because of my barrette. She told me that amber has mystical powers, that people don’t choose amber. It chooses them.”

“Booga-booga, hocus-pocus!” Sara threw me a disgusted glance.

“Just suppose she saved our lives. The door was open, and she came to warn us.”

“Come on, Holly. I bet she opened it herself. If one extra key was hidden, there may have been more. People keep extra keys hidden around their property. She probably found a key and used it.”

“I don’t think there’s more than one extra key kept around the house,” I said, suddenly remembering I hadn’t returned the key to its hiding place. “Cody knew of only one key. Remember, Glenda said she saw us
inside
the house, felt the evil, and came.”

“Big nothing. Be reasonable. Think like a TV detective.”

“A TV detective?”

“Sure. Here’s what the detective would say: If
Glenda looked out her window, she could have seen a strange car parked in front of the house. She could have seen that the drapes to Mr. Garnett’s office were suddenly open, so she figured someone was in the house. Then, if she looked in the window, she could have seen us.”

“There’s more to it than that, Sara. Honestly. I got her mental message. I looked up and saw Glenda in the doorway. Then into my mind came the thought that we should be very quiet. I
felt
the danger.”

“She’s into mental telepathy too?” Sara sounded angry. “And you’re buying that stuff? Come on, Holly. What’s happening to you?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. And Sara was quiet. We were almost into Bellaire when she added more gently, “Holly, the house is scary because we know what happened there, so I can see why you’d start believing the weird things that woman said. But think about it. You said you don’t believe she opened the door herself, that someone else did.”

“That’s right,” I said. “That noise you thought you heard … that could have been the back door opening or shutting.”

“Okay, let’s say that’s what I heard, and someone else opened the door, not Glenda. Now hear me out. I hate to do this, but who’d be the best one to know where extra keys to the house are hidden?”

I twisted toward her as the answer shocked me.

“And who knew you’d be in the house?”

“Sara, don’t say it. Don’t even think it!” I cried.

“You’d better think about it,” Sara answered. “No matter how much you want to believe in him, you’ve got to face the truth. Who else could have come in the house so easily and at just the time we’d be there? Only one person—Cody.”

M
onday. 4:35
P.M.
When we arrived at my house, Sara came in to say hello to Mom, but we found a note she’d left saying she had to stay for parent meetings. There was frozen lasagna to microwave.

“Come on home with me,” Sara suggested. “This morning Mom started a pot of beef stew to slow-cook all day while she was at work. There’s going to be plenty, and I think you need some company.”

Mrs. Madison was a great cook, and I could almost taste her stew. The dinner would be noisy and fun, and for just a moment I was jealous that Sara had that kind of family and I didn’t. Ashamed of myself, I started to turn down her invitation, but I didn’t want to eat alone. I thanked her for the invitation, the ride, and everything and said I’d come.

Sara wandered into the screened porch. “Your mom has a real green thumb,” she said. There was silence for a moment; then she said, “What’s this?”

As I joined her, I saw that she was holding the pad of paper I’d put on the table when I’d thought that Cody and I could try to figure things out.

“What does this mean—‘
Pros and Cons’?
” Sara asked.

“Oh, that,” I said. “Nothing. Cody and I were going to work on it, but we didn’t.” I reached for the pad, but she pulled it away.

“Pros and cons,” she said and sat on the glider. “Writing them down is a good idea.”

“Not now.”

“Yes, now,” Sara said. “It might help you see how everything fits. Come on, Holly. I did what you wanted me to do, so now sit down and let’s figure this out.”

Unwillingly, I perched beside her. Sara had picked up the pen and was already writing. I didn’t say anything, but I could see she had written only on the
Cons
side of the page.

“This isn’t going to help,” I said.

“Yes it is. I’ll read these aloud, one by one. You come up with the
Pros
. Okay, let’s start. Cody returned to the house to get the key to the lake house. He was there during the time the medical examiner said the murders took place.”

“The medical examiner adds extra time before and after, depending on the temperature of the room and so on. He can’t be exact on the time down to the minute. Cody left
before
his parents
were killed. And there’s something important the media left out. The radio wasn’t on while Cody was there. Somebody turned it on later.”

“Can anyone help him prove this? How about the neighbor across the street who saw him drive away?”

“No.” I could feel my temper rising. “She couldn’t remember when she heard the music, but it’s true. Cody said so.”

“Don’t get defensive,” Sara said quietly. “Let’s stick to the facts and keep our minds open, and we may figure out something that will help Cody.”

That made sense. I took a couple of deep breaths and forced myself to calm down.

“Next point,” Sara continued. “There’s nothing to prove that Cody was ever at the lake house.”

“He stopped on the way back for something to eat.”

“Good,” she said, her pen poised over the
Pro
side. “Did anybody identify him?”

Miserable, I shook my head. “He stopped at one of those little doughnut shops off the road. He didn’t remember which one.”

“Let’s hope that the police checked them all. Ask your dad.” She studied the list. “There was no sign of forced entry, and Cody had a key to the house.”

“Sara! A lot of the time when there’s a crime, the police say there was no sign of forced entry. That’s because most people open their door if someone rings the bell.”

“I’ll give him that,” she said, and wrote on the Pro side.

“Don’t forget to put down on the Pro side that there was a robbery,” I said. Rings and watches and a gold bracelet.” I didn’t tell her Dad’s opinion that the robbery could have been faked in order to lead investigators in the wrong direction.

When Sara had finished writing, she asked, “Anything else?”

“Yes. Cody’s car checked out clean.”

As Sara wrote, the world became a little brighter. The
Pro
column was growing longer than the
Con
side.

“Does Cody get all his parents’ money?” Sara asked.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“A lot,” she said. “It gives him a motive.”

I didn’t answer, but she wrote in the
Con
column anyway. “Anything else?” she asked.

I shook my head and got to my feet. “You were wrong. Writing everything down didn’t help. At least the
Pro
column is as long as the
Con
.”

As Sara stood, she dropped the pad and pen on the table. “It doesn’t matter how long the lists are, Holly. What matters is what’s in them. Cody could have been on the scene at the time of the murders, he has no one to back up his alibi, and he had a motive.”

My head began to hurt, and I felt sick to my stomach. “He didn’t do it,” I insisted.

“I’m just saying he could have.” Sara grabbed my shoulders and forced me to look at her. “Holly,
don’t be so stubborn about this that you do something crazy. What if Cody did commit the murders and you keep seeing him?”

“Sara, I can’t believe that Cody’s the killer. That would be giving up, and I can’t do that. I promised to help him.”

“You’re not listening. You’re not even trying to have an open mind.”

Angrily, I jerked away from her. “What if
you
were the one suspected of murdering someone? Wouldn’t you want me to stick by you? Wouldn’t you expect me to keep believing in you?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because I wouldn’t murder anyone.”

“Neither would Cody!”

“How much do you really know about him?” Sara scooped up the pad of paper and shoved it at me. “Read this. Think about it.”

I knocked the pad out of her hand. “Stop it!” I shouted and began to cry.

Sara walked into the kitchen. I could hear her filling a glass with cold water from the spigot in the refrigerator door. She returned and handed me the water. “Here,” she said. “This might help.”

I wiped my face with a ragged tissue I found in my pocket and gulped some of the water.

“Wash your face,” Sara said, trying to make her voice cheerful, “and we’ll head for my house and Mom’s beef stew.”

I put down the glass of water and stood up,
shaking my head. “Thanks, but I’m going to stay here,” I said.

“Please come, Holly.”

“No. I’m not hungry, and I feel like being alone.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to make you see both sides of the situation.”

“You don’t understand,” I told Sara. “Can you think of anything worse than being tried and convicted for a murder you didn’t commit—especially the murder of your own parents? It’s horrible enough to lose your parents.” My voice was rising and my breathing was becoming raspy, so I forced myself to calm down before I said, “I promised Cody I’d help him prove his innocence. I have to. I can’t let an injustice pass. It would haunt me forever.”

“You don’t have to keep that promise. Not if …”

“Sara, do you remember before we were friends when I was in Ms. Donavan’s sixth grade? There was a girl named Paula. Mindy was in that class too.”

Sara made a face as she thought. “I don’t remember a Paula, but Mindy? What does this have to do with them? You’re not friends with Mindy, and neither am I.”