Trapped (A Jenny Watkins Mystery Book 5) Page 13

  Jenny had indeed forgotten. “Ah, yes. We have a ringer on our team.” A sobering thought occurred to Jenny. Changing her tone to be much more serious, she asked, “Amma, can you tell me a little bit about my grandfather?” The only thing Jenny knew was that he had been a mortician and he had passed away a long time ago.

  “Sure,” Ingunn said unemotionally. “What would you like to know?”

  With a shrug Jenny said, “I don’t know. What was he like?”

  Ingunn smiled briefly before speaking. “Jerry was an interesting man. There were two distinct sides to him: the professional, mortician side, and the off-duty, family-man side. At home he was very light-hearted and fun. He had quite a sense of humor, that’s for sure. He was always laughing and joking and carrying on.”

  Jenny thought back to her childhood with three brothers in the house; it sounded similar.

  “But then he’d get the phone call, and it’s like a switch got flicked. Suddenly he was all business. But he was a good mortician; I realize not everyone could do it.”

  “Did you guys have a good marriage?” Jenny asked.

  “We did, for the most part.”

  Jenny smiled. “For the most part?”

  “Well, every marriage has its ups and downs, and we were certainly no exception, but the good definitely outweighed the bad.”

  With defeat in her voice, Jenny admitted, “I guess you probably know that my first marriage didn’t work out so well.”

  “Yes, your father told me you were divorced.”

  Separated, Jenny thought, but considering she was pregnant and sharing a room with her boyfriend, she figured she should just let that one go. “Yeah, and let me tell you that was a very hard decision to make. Like you said, all marriages have their ups and downs, so it was difficult to tell if I was just having a down or if the marriage needed to end.”

  “There’s a difference between being annoyed and being unhappy. Jerry annoyed me plenty, but I wasn’t unhappy with him.”

  With a laugh Jenny said, “I spoke with the other couple that is staying here, and the wife said she’s wanted to hit her husband over the head with a frying pan from time to time—but they’ve been married for decades, and she did seem happy.”

  Ingunn looked squarely at her granddaughter. “There is not a married woman alive that hasn’t have the urge to hit her husband over the head with a frying pan. But I’m sure the husbands have a legitimate gripe or two themselves. The difference is that in good marriages the irritation blows over. In bad marriages, it stays.”

  Jenny thought back to her marriage to Greg; contempt was her primary emotion toward the end. A small feeling of validation surged through her before she posed, “But how do you prevent it from reaching that point? My ex-husband didn’t always infuriate me…it wasn’t until near the end that I found him intolerable.”

  Ingunn considered the question before answering. “Well, I guess the first thing you have to do is choose carefully. Make sure the person you marry is your friend, because ultimately that’s what carries you through the long haul. But I would also suggest that you remember that you’re flawed, too. I don’t care who you are, living with you isn’t always a walk in the park either…but if the guy’s willing to put up with your annoying habits, you should find it in yourself to do the same.”

  Once again, Jenny felt validated. She didn’t leave her first husband because of his annoying habits; she left because she was being mistreated, and that was indeed a very legitimate reason to go. Despite his clothes on the floor and his endless potential for future irritation, Zack didn’t seem capable of mistreating her. Perhaps this conversation was tipping the scales in favor of accepting the proposal.

  Her grandmother, however, had become widowed at a relatively young age. She hadn’t spent decades with her husband; would she have been singing the same tune if Jerry were still alive? Or would she have grown so tired of his irritating habits that she’d have left him by now?

  Jenny dropped the mental debate for more concrete matters. Her grandfather had died young—for her own benefit and that of her unborn child, she probably should have known why. “Do you mind if I ask what happened to your husband? I know he passed away a long time ago.”

  “Cancer,” Ingunn said flatly. “Lung cancer. He smoked.”

  Jenny hoped she wasn’t overstepping her bounds when she continued with the questions. “Knowing that you have this gift, did he cross over? Or did he—or does he—still linger?”

  Shaking her head she announced, “He crossed. He knew he was dying for a long time, so he said everything he needed to say during this lifetime. There were no unresolved issues for him. And I told him to cross, back when he was still alive. There is something wonderful on that other side, even though I don’t know exactly what it is. I didn’t want him to waste any time sticking around here, especially since the end was so miserable for him. After watching him suffer, I wanted him to finally be free.”

  “You’ll see him again,” Jenny said softly.

  Ingunn remained remarkably unemotional. “I know I will.”

  A question that had been circling in the back of Jenny’s brain for months finally made it to the surface. “Amma, if psychic ability runs in the family, and I was born with it, then why didn’t I have my first experience until I was twenty-six?”

  Ingunn shrugged with one shoulder. “For most of us, we know we are psychic from the time we can talk. If a baby is born with the gift, the other psychic family members can tell right away. The ability is then honed in the child. I imagine if you had no one around to teach you, it would have taken longer to master the skill.” She looked up at Jenny with just her eyes. “But can you honestly tell me you never had any psychic experiences prior to age twenty-six?”

  Jenny thought back for a moment before confessing, “You know, there were some incidents where I thought I heard a voice of some kind, but every time I just figured it was my mind playing tricks on me. I always had a vivid imagination as a kid; it wasn’t unreasonable to think I was fabricating it.”

  “Well, you weren’t.”

  Jenny felt strangely violated. “But what do you think was different about Steve, my first true contact? Why was I so convinced he was real when I could dismiss the others?”

  “Was he strong-willed, this Steve character?”

  With a smirk Jenny conceded, “Yes. Very.”

  Ingunn nodded as she raised a hand. “Well, there you have it. That first one has to be very determined in order for you to decipher the message; then after that it becomes effortless. It’s like the floodgates open—once you access that part of your brain, it remains available. From there it only gets better.”

  “Pop said he still has to make an effort—he has to purposely channel the spirit.”

  “Yes, that is true,” Ingunn agreed, “but he can channel the spirit much more easily than he could at first. And speaking of your Pop, he called me earlier. He said he tried to call you but you weren’t answering your phone.”

  “I didn’t have it with me,” Jenny confessed. “So what did he have to say?”

  “He said the girls aren’t worried anymore.”

  Jenny looked at her grandmother with awe, wondering why this hadn’t come up earlier. “The girls aren’t worried anymore?”

  Ingunn regarded Jenny with confusion, as if she was unsure how her message could have been unclear. “That’s right.”

  “The girls from the dumpsite?” Jenny asked.

  “Yes.”

  “They’re not worried?”

  “They’re not worried.”

  A thousand thoughts cluttered Jenny’s mind as she tried to figure out what it all meant. She had assumed their previous worry had stemmed from the unknown, fair-complexioned victim Ingunn had described—the one that might still have been very much alive. But if the spirits weren’t worried anymore… “Do you think that means the fair woman is dead?”

  “I can’t say for sure.” Ingunn’s eyes met Jenny’s. “But th
at would be my guess.”

  Chapter 13

  Baxter ran happily around the shed as Zack and Jenny sat on the concrete floor, Zack revealing the highlights of the visit into town. “The vet said he weighs around forty-five pounds, but he should probably be about ten pounds heavier than that. They gave me only one dose of flea and tick stuff because if he gains enough weight this month, he might require a stronger dosage next time.”

  “So he’s got the medicine in him?” Jenny asked as the dog stopped to scratch his neck with his foot.

  Zack nodded. “I gave it to him right away. I also bought some stuff at the store. Let’s see,” he said as he pulled merchandise out of a bag, “I got a leash and a dog bowl. Ooh…here’s his new tag.” He held up the new identification, which said BAXTER with Zack’s phone number. “I wasn’t sure what chewy things he’d prefer, so I got a few squeaky toys, some nylon bones, and a couple of bully sticks.” He held a bully stick up with two fingers, barely touching it as it dangled toward the ground. “Do you know what these things are made of?”

  “No idea.”

  “It’s a bull’s penis,” Zack declared with a mixture of humor, awe and disgust. “A dried-out bull penis. The woman at the pet store told me that dogs love these things.”

  Jenny curled her lip. “I’ll let you give that to him.”

  “The vet also said he appears to be full-grown, so I bought this dog food for adults.” Zack gestured to the large bag of food he’d set down against the wall. “I hope Baxter likes it.”

  “He’s a dog,” Jenny said, “and he looks like he hasn’t eaten in a month. I get the feeling he’s going to like whatever food you give him.” With an evil grin she added, “Kind of like you.”

  Zack lowered his eyebrows but didn’t respond.

  “Did you get him a bed?” Jenny asked.

  “That’s still in the car,” Zack replied. “It’s kind of big, so I couldn’t carry it with all this other stuff.”

  Jenny looked lovingly at Zack. “You’re a big sap, you know that? You’re totally spoiling this dog.”

  “After what he’s been through, he deserves it, don’t you think?”

  With a smile she said, “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Oh,” Zack admitted with a wince, “I almost forgot. I do have a confession to make.”

  Jenny felt her demeanor instantly become serious. “And what is that?”

  “I kind of got a speeding ticket on the way there.”

  “A speeding ticket?” Disappointment surged within Jenny’s bones. “In my car?”

  “Yeah. I’m actually pretty lucky. It could have been considered reckless driving, but the guy had mercy on me because I was from out of state.”

  “Just how fast were you going?”

  “Seventy in a forty-five.”

  Jenny hung her head. “Are you serious?”

  “Well, the road was so flat and straight, it was easy to go fast. The speed limit was fifty-five for a long time, so seventy wouldn’t have been that bad, but then the speed limit got lower because the road went through this little town. I didn’t notice the change or I would have slowed down. But like I said, the cop was nice. He said I was only doing fifty-nine, so it’s just a ticket. I don’t have to go to court or anything.”

  Somehow Jenny didn’t share in the joy of that news. “Okay, from now on I’ll do the driving...all the driving.” Out of fear of saying something regrettable, she turned her attention to the dog. “Come here, buddy. Do you want one of your new toys?”

  Baxter stopped scratching and padded over to the selection of goodies laid out in front of him, sniffing each one before picking up the bully stick and heading to the corner of the shed. He lay down, crossing one paw over the other with the stick in between, and began chewing vigorously.

  “My dick hurts just watching that,” Zack announced.

  Ordinarily Jenny may have laughed at that comment, but her current train of thought was preventing her from seeing any humor in the situation. Zack’s irresponsibility and immaturity were shining through in grandiose style, and yet she was pregnant with his child. She found herself doubting his ability to be a good father. Or a good husband.

  But a marriage proposal was on the table.

  With a sigh she said, “We have to figure this out.”

  “Figure what out?”

  “This,” Jenny replied, gesturing to the very happy dog. “Baxter. Is he going to live upstairs with me or downstairs with you?” With that comment Jenny was trying to emphasize their separate living quarters, which for the moment she intended to keep.

  Zack shrugged. “Can’t he do both?”

  “But that would mean leaving the basement door open. Either that or we’d have to keep opening and shutting it every time he wanted to switch. It seems like that would get annoying.”

  “Or we could just get married and both live upstairs,” Zack said as he flashed his famous toothy grin in her direction.

  The smile that normally melted Jenny’s heart was ineffective this time; the speeding ticket had dampened her mood too much. Glancing toward her lap she whispered, “I’m not ready to agree to that yet.”

  He patted her on the leg and said, “Okay, then. Maybe we can just install a dog door so he can go up and down as he pleases.”

  Admittedly, Jenny liked that idea better, but she was still troubled. “But what are we going to do when we get called out of town? You know as well as I do that we often have to leave at a moment’s notice. Who is going to take care of Baxter then?”

  “Our house is in the epitome of suburbia; I’m sure we’ll be able to find a neighbor with a teenager who’d be willing to earn a few extra bucks by dog sitting. The yard is fenced in, too, so it wouldn’t be hard; someone would just have to let him out a few times and make sure he’s fed.” He smiled at Jenny, looking at her curiously. “What’s this all about? Why so nervous all of a sudden?”

  Once again Jenny found herself reluctant to say what was really bothering her; she wanted to make sure her doubts were legitimate and enduring before she opened that can of worms. Instead of confessing the truth, she simply shrugged and kept the nature of the discussion focused on the dog. “It’s just a big commitment, and I guess it’s occurring to me that we didn’t think this through.”

  Zack repositioned himself so that he was hugging his knees. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually…not because of the dog, obviously, but because of the baby. It’s going to be a lot harder to find somebody to take care of the baby when we get called out of town in the middle of the night. The dog can be left unattended for a few hours before we get someone over. But after the baby is born…what if you get a pull at three in the morning? If you take the time to call a babysitter and wait for her to arrive, you’ll lose the contact. And I certainly don’t want you to head out alone while I stay home with the baby; the last time you went out by yourself you almost ended up dead.”

  Jenny closed her eyes. She knew these were notions she would eventually have to face, but she hadn’t allowed herself to think about them yet. Admittedly, that was uncharacteristic for her; she was usually an incessant planner, but these decisions were so frightening that she tucked them away for a later date. Although, it seemed that Zack had already tackled the issues, causing Jenny to question which one of them was actually the irresponsible one in the relationship.

  “So I was thinking,” Zack continued, “I remember you saying your mother was having a tough time living in the house she’d shared with your father—that everywhere she turned there was a reminder that he was gone. I thought maybe she’d like to come live with us…in the downstairs apartment. That way if we do need to go out without advanced notice, there will be another adult in the house to take care of the baby. We can just let your mother know that she’s in charge until we get back.”

  While the idea sounded good to Jenny, she immediately saw the hole in the theory. “But that would mean you and I would be living together upstairs.”

&nbs
p; “Well, yeah…” Zack replied, looking at her optimistically.

  She rubbed her eyes. “I’m not sure my mother would agree to that,” she found herself saying, even though she was the one who was reluctant to say yes. “There are a lot of memories in my mother’s house—good ones—that she may not want to move away from. She even mentioned once that the basement door still has height markings from our childhood. We may find that she’s unwilling to leave that.”

  Jenny’s phone rang; when she glanced at the caller, she noticed it was Howell. “Hang on,” she said, “this may be important.” She answered the phone with, “Hello, Officer Howell. Anything new?”

  “Hi, Jenny. Not sure yet. There’s been a new development, but we still don’t know if it’s related to the case or not.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  “A woman was left at a gas station off the highway just over the North Carolina border last night.”

  Jenny felt her blood run cold.

  Howell continued, “The difference is she was alive. But I’ll give you three guesses as to what she looked like.”

  “She was fair,” Jenny said in a near whisper.

  “As fair as they get,” Howell confirmed, “and the story she tells is unbelievable.”

  Chapter 14

  Jenny put her phone on speaker before Howell continued. “A clerk who worked the morning shift at the gas station found her sitting up against the building, cold and confused, so he called the police. At first they figured she was just coming off a high or something—it was fairly obvious from her appearance that she was an addict, and she couldn’t tell the local police how she’d gotten there. But she kept insisting she’d been held hostage for a few days.”

  “Hostage?” Jenny felt compelled to interrupt.

  “I know,” Howell said, “it’s crazy. They didn’t believe her at first because her story was so incredible, but she was adamant. Then they remembered the finding just off the highway here in Virginia, and they thought maybe the cases were related.”