“Silence!” he thundered to them all. “You say that she is old, but does not wisdom and dignity come with age? Are these not good qualities for a wife to possess? Do you think that honor is found in the teeth or in the heart? Is the character of a woman to be found in her face or in her actions? Honor my choice, my people, for this is she, and I will not deny my wife because you think I must.”
And the people felt ashamed, because they knew that everything he said was good and true, and they had behaved badly toward his new bride.
“You are right,” they said. “We welcome your new wife.”
“Thank you,” cried the woman and while they looked upon her, her face began to change. She became beautiful; her hair grew long and silky and her skin clear and dewy. She had straight, white teeth between lips as red as strawberries, and her eyes were as large and brown as a doe’s. She had a pointed little chin and a fine straight nose, and all the people stared at her in astonishment.
“I, too, was under an enchantment from the witch,” she said. “Only if I could find someone who could see past the ugliness of my features to the beauty of my heart would I ever be freed.”
The chief and his tribe rejoiced in the good marriage that he had made, and he and his wife lived a long and happy life. They had many brave sons and beautiful daughters who took care of them in their old age, just as the woman had told the chief years before.
But there was something that the wise chief never told his wife or his tribe. After the witch had tricked him by disguising herself as his brother’s wife, he had gone to the medicine man, who taught him to see beneath the outer shell of a person to the soul beneath. He had known all along that his bride-to-be was beautiful.
“There is something that you need to know about this story,” Dream-Mom said. “The chief in the story was your ancestor and he has given every one of his lineage the ability to see through those who masquerade as something else. I knew how, but I didn’t trust myself. It’s why I died.”
Dream-Mom grasped Jessie’s hand hard.
“You can see through any disguise, so remember that. Grandma Belle says to look with the eyes beneath your eyes, and to be careful. He is even more dangerous than the witch was, because he will not only cheat to get what he wants, he will not keep any promises that he makes you. He has no honor and no fear because he has no soul.”
Jessie yawned and went downstairs for a glass of iced tea. She needed the caffeine jolt to help her wake up after that strange dream.
Chapter Four
Lightning flashed jaggedly, bisecting the purple-black clouds in the hazy twilight sky. Gusting winds tugged at the palm fronds and sent leaves whipping through the air. Jessie stared moodily out the window with her chin in her hands. Rain beat down hard on the roof, hitting so sharply that it sounded like hail.
It suited Jessie’s mood.
It was Mrs. Davis’ bridge night and she wouldn’t be home until at least ten. Jessie didn’t know if that was a relief or a sorrow. She didn’t want to be alone, but she didn’t want to be with anybody else either. Shannon was driving her crazy, because every time she tried to talk to her about Kira’s death, she brushed her off. She kept saying that it was over and done with and that it was time to move on with life.
And she’d never look Jessie in the eyes while she said it.
Jessie sighed. Maybe she’d soak in a nice, hot bath with some bath salts. She was halfway down the hall when the phone rang, and she tensed. Maybe it was the psycho calling back again.
There was no answer at the other end when she picked up the phone. She hung it up with a slam and stood there, frowning. She’d just thought of something. How did the psycho get her phone number in the first place?
It had to be someone who knew her.
How else would they know she lived with Mrs. Davis? It’s not like she listed it in the school paper or something. She didn’t go around telling people, either.
At that moment, all the lights in the house blinked out.
Jessie felt the wave of darkness wash over her. She could feel her heart beating faster and fear flooded her body. Then she told herself not to be silly. There was a storm outside, wasn’t there? And the electricity always went out in the storm. She’d just go downstairs and find the candles that Mrs. Davis kept for emergencies. She groped her way toward the staircase, and carefully holding onto the railing, began to descend into the blackness. Then she saw a thin beam of light bobbing around downstairs.
“Mrs. Davis?” she called out, and her voice wavered only a little. “Is that you?” Her voice echoed in the big house.
Nobody answered, but the beam of light began to come closer.
Mrs. Davis would have answered. Jessie’s heart pounded hard and her legs felt weak. She turned and went back up the stairs as quickly as she could. Inside her room, she locked the door. The electricity was out and the phone was cordless. Where was her cell? She rummaged desperately on the floor, her eyes straining to adjust to the dim light. She finally found her purse shoved underneath the edge of the bed and gave a gasp of relief.
Her fingers had just closed on the cell when she saw the doorknob move. Jessie froze when whoever was on the other side gave a low laugh.
“I told you to stay out of it, didn’t I?”
“I’m calling the cops!” Jessie screamed. She punched desperately at the cell’s screen, but the phone and her fingers refused to cooperate. “I’m calling them right now!”
“I’m leaving now. Call them if you want.” The person laughed again. “But I want you to think about something, Jessie. This door is flimsy. I could have broken it down any time I wanted to. Do as you’re told and stop asking questions.”
She heard footsteps move away, but she stayed crouched tensely on the floor, her eyes glued to the doorknob. She never heard anything else, and the doorknob never moved again. A few minutes later, the power came back on. Jessie turned on every light in the house, and Mrs. Davis exclaimed over the brightness when she arrived. Jessie didn’t tell Mrs. Davis about the intruder, just watched numbly as the little old lady went around and turned off all the lights.
When it was time to sleep, Jessie huddled on her bed fully clothed, still clutching her cell phone. She stared at her palm tree lamp until her eyes felt as if they were filled with ground glass and closed reluctantly. The lamp stayed on all night; Jessie kept waking in a panic and the feeble glow cast by the cheery 50’s kitsch was the only thing that kept her from screaming.
***
“Jessie!”
The hoarse sound of Mrs. Davis’ voice sent Jessie flying down the stairs.
“What is it?” she called out, frightened.
Sergeant Bennett stood in the open doorway and Jessie raced up to put her arm around Mrs. Davis, supporting her. She glared at the policeman.
“What are you doing here?” she asked coldly.
“I have a warrant to search the premises,” he said. “Let us in, please.” Mrs. Davis made a little snorting noise, and he flushed a little as he met her scornful gaze.
“Look,” he said more softly. “We’re not going to tear up your stuff, regardless of what you see on television. We’re just going to look around. At most you’ll have to put things away after we’re gone.”
“You’re wasting your time,” Jessie said furiously as he handed the warrant over. They both moved reluctantly and he stepped over the threshold, followed closely by four more policemen. “I don’t take drugs and I don’t know anything about any meth. Why don’t you go find the real killer instead of bothering me?”
She felt his sharp eyes on her as she helped Mrs. Davis to a chair and fussed over her a little, bringing her a pillow to lean on and a hassock to prop her feet on.
“I didn’t have anything to do with this,” she said, not looking at him. “Kira was hanging out with a bunch of theater kids. They might know something about all this, but I don’t. She was supposed to go to some party with them that Friday.”
“Why
didn’t you tell me this before?” His voice was sharp, and Jessie didn’t answer him. “If you’re withholding information…”
“Because you made her angry,” Mrs. Davis broke in crisply. “And because she was angry, she forgot. Just as you are making both of us angry now. She forgot. It’s not a hanging offense and she’d just found out that her best friend had been murdered. Look, can’t you see how ridiculous this is? This is a girl who’s had a stunning amount of loss in the last few months. Her mother and her best friend were killed. There is some kind of monster going around killing at random and you’re bothering someone who has been victimized by these crimes almost as much as the two who were murdered.”
The Sergeant looked down at the floor.
“There’s been another murder.” He brought his head up to look at Jessie’s face. “It’s someone else you know. It’s Andy Mossiman.”
Jessie felt dizzy and she reached out for the back of Mrs. Davis’ chair but her hand never got here. Everything began to get fuzzy and her legs grew wobbly. I’m gonna fall on Mrs. Davis, she thought, and then she couldn’t think anymore at all.
There’s something evil happening, baby.
She was dreaming that Mom was sitting on the couch again, only this time her arms were wrapped warmly around Jessie, who reveled in her touch. She could remember sitting like this so many nights. They’d be watching tv or just talking, but Mom always had to be touching. She used to say that she and her sister Lucy were changelings because nobody else in her family touched each other unless they had to, but she and Lucy had to be snuggled up like little kittens all the time. Jessie was the same way. She didn’t feel right unless she got her hugs every day.
Mom was talking again and Jessie tried to pay attention, but it was hard. She just felt so warm and kind of …float-y, if that was a word.
“It’s gonna get worse, honey, and you might find out that people you trust can betray you. But I’m here and I can help. You just have to call.”
“On what, the Ghostbusters phone? You’re dead. It’s nice that you’re here, but I’m only dreaming.”
“Remember what I said,” Dream-Mom told her. “Wake up now and talk to this man. He’s not as bad as you think and he can help.”
Her caressing hand left Jessie’s hair and Jessie could have cried from the loss of warmth.
“Mom?” She opened her eyes and stared into Sergeant Bennett’s grave gaze as he leaned over her. Jessie sat up on the couch and looked around groggily.
“I’m ok, Mrs. Davis,” she said quickly, and used her hands to scrub away the tears that didn’t want to stop flowing. Silently, Bennett handed her the tissues from the end table and she rubbed her eyes. “Don’t get upset, too. It just…it just…”
“Oh, Jessie.” Mrs. Davis plumped down on the couch next to her and hugged her close. Mrs. Davis needed lots of hugs and touching, too. Jessie squeezed her gently. “I think we need to talk to this man. Maybe we do know something that will help.”
But it turned out that they had nothing much to add to the investigation after all, besides the things that Jessie had already told him. Jessie knew Andy and had even dated him for a little while in high school, but she hadn’t been deeply involved with his life. He was a sweet, smart boy who liked to restore old cars, watch Star Trek, and play video games. Other than that, she didn’t really know anything about him. He hung out mostly with his girlfriend Angelique and her friends. Sergeant Bennett scribbled a little in his notebook, but Jessie figured he was faking it. Mostly, he nibbled at the cookie he’d been given, as Mrs. Davis was never happier than when feeding someone.
Evidently, he’d displayed sufficient regret to placate Mrs. Davis when Jessie had fainted. He was definitely in her good graces, to judge from the admiring little glances she kept throwing him. The big cookie was an indication she’d changed her mind about him, because she refused to get her ‘good cookies’ out for people she didn’t like. Mrs. Davis would never dream of not offering guests in her home something to drink along with a sweet snack, but you could tell who she really liked from the cookies they were offered.
The policemen had all gone home except one, who had been left behind to put away the things they had taken out. They’d found nothing, of course. Jessie wasn’t sure if it was standard procedure to clean things up after a search, but she kind of doubted it. The young policeman sure hadn’t seemed happy about having to do it. He’d shot a look at Bennett’s back that should have scorched the back of his jacket and then rearranged his expression when he saw Jessie watching him. Jessie had stared after him as he stomped up the stairs, but he never looked back.
“Andy’s body was found in the Everglades by a biologist doing research. Whoever dumped it just got unlucky. It appears that he was dumped earlier that day, or he would never have been found. Alligators, you know. There’s not a whole lot left of him, but there’s enough to make identification. When the autopsy comes back, I expect to find his system full of meth.”
Jessie and Mrs. Davis winced simultaneously. Jessie supposed he was trying to be nice, but he wasn’t that good at it. She could have done without the visual.
“Are you sure that you don’t know anything about the methamphetamines?” he asked her urgently. “Maybe some of your friends told you about it, or tried to sell you some? Take your time and think about it. This is important.”
He held up a hand when Mrs. Davis began to bristle. “I’m not accusing her, but there’s been a rash of people admitted into emergency rooms lately with overdoses. It’s mostly young people, and it’s all been from meth. We think there’s a new lab somewhere close, and I’m just trying to find out as much as I can.”
When the young cop stuck his head into the kitchen and told the Sergeant that he was done, Bennett looked happy to leave. Mrs. Davis had become decidedly cooler. Jessie went to let them out. She closed the door, but when the young cop began to chatter before it even shut, she lingered. She pressed her ear against the door, straining to hear.
“You think they’re ever gonna solve these?” she heard him ask. “Because it sure don’t seem to me that you got much to go on.”
Bennett sighed heavily.
“You’re right about that, Corey, and I won’t be looking too hard for more. I think that these people got in the way of some crazy meth-head and he made an example of them. They were all using, even this girl’s mother. Maybe they thought that they could sell in some guy’s territory, I don’t know. Maybe they ripped him off. I don’t know what it was that got them killed, and I don’t much care.”
Jessie trembled and burned with the force of her anger. His last remark floated faintly back to her as they walked down the sidewalk.
“Nobody cares much about drug addicts, including me.”
She stood in front of the door for a long time, fists clenched and teeth gritted.
***
Jessie hadn’t been sleeping well, and it all caught up with her late the next afternoon. She found herself daydreaming in class, her thoughts wandering away, and she nodded off during Biology 1, which was usually her favorite subject. When her eyes began to drift closed that night during some boring reality show Mrs. Davis was hooked on, she decided to just give up and go to bed. Who cared if it was only eight o’clock? If she was tired, she was tired. She barely got her clothes off and tumbled into the bed before she was asleep. Mrs. Davis came in later and turned off her lights, covering her with the sheet that lay tangled at the bottom of the bed, and Jessie mumbled her thanks, then pulled the pillow back over her head.
The doorbell woke her. Jessie stumbled up and looked at the clock in the hallway. 12:30. She wrapped a robe around herself and stomped down the stairs, still groggy, holding tightly to the rail. Who was coming over at this time of night? If it was one of her friends, they were going to hear about it, because they sure didn’t need to wake Mrs. Davis up. She needed her rest.
She wrenched the door open without even looking through the peephole. If Mrs. Davis had been awa
ke, she would have scolded her for sure.
A man was standing in the entrance, and he smiled beguilingly at her.
He was achingly beautiful, and Jessie stared at him with her mouth open.
He had silvery-blond hair; a color oft faked but which is always a pale imitation of the real thing. His eyes were a startling pale blue, the color of the sky on a cloudless day. He had a patrician nose and a high forehead, and his mouth was a lush, startling red against the pearl of his skin. His impeccably tailored suit fit closely against his perfect, lean form.
Jessie could smell the cologne that he had put on his skin, and it smelled divine. Then, as she took a deep breath, trying to draw in that gorgeous scent, she frowned. There seemed a nasty undertone to this cologne, as if it covered something vile…something rotten. She shook her head. This gorgeous man couldn’t be the source of that horrible scent. The garbage can lid must have slipped off again; she’d check it in the morning.
He extended a hand toward Jessie, who took it automatically. His hand was cool, almost cold, and she dropped it with a shudder she couldn’t quite disguise.
“Hi,” he said, smiling a toothy grin. “I’m doing a follow-up investigation into your mother’s death. I’d like to come in and ask you a few questions, if I may.”
He had a hint of an accent, something Jessie couldn’t quite identify. It made his words sound almost like a song, or spoken poetry. She clutched her robe, feeling a weird impulse to shut her eyes and just listen to him speak in that hypnotic voice, but her hand burned where it had touched his and it distracted her. Jessie rubbed it absently against the smooth material of her nightclothes. His eyes followed the movement, and she felt strangely uneasy.
“It’s late. Mrs. Davis is asleep and so was I. You need to come back in the daytime.”
She saw a flash of something, only a flash, on his face. He dropped the cheery, pleasant smile and betrayed his fury for a split second with a ghastly expression of anger so deep that Jessie fell back behind the door, using it for a shield. Then he was smiling again, so pleasantly, so hypnotically. He glanced at the gold watch on his arm and Jessie followed the movement with her eyes.