Always an early riser, Helena left her bedroom and crept down the stairs towards the front door, trying not to awaken Helen or Ellie.
“That was a night and a half,” she said to herself, pausing in front of the mirror in the hallway to look at her reflection. She gently fingered her hair, pushing her bangs away from her eyes. “All things considered, I think I look presentable enough to greet the world. The Maple Street portion of the world, anyway.”
Morning was her favorite time of the day. She felt everything was so peaceful before the rest of the world woke up. Stepping out into the quietness of her front porch, she looked down the paved walkway that ran through the middle of her lawn. The streetlight was casting enough light to confirm what she had already suspected. The weekly local paper was not where it should have been.
“Now where did it go?” she wondered.
“How ya doing, Mrs. LaRose?” Ryan asked, pulling his beat-up black Toyota in front of her house. His mother had given him the car when he turned sixteen last year. It was old and dilapitated, but he loved it, despite the engine that constantly backfired. The neighbors on Maple Street had a slightly different opinion of it.
“Just fine thank you, Ryan,” Helena replied, taking a few steps towards him. “That was quite the bit of excitement we had last night, wasn’t it?”
Ryan shrugged. “Beats the hell out of watching videos.”
“I guess that’s one way to look at it,” she agreed, somewhat surprised by his nonchalance. “How’s Stan?”
“He was pretty quiet this morning. I don’t know if he’ll be around to cut your grass this afternoon. I might have to stop by and do it for you tomorrow.”
Helena looked at the decaying leaves on the lawn. The grass, once lush and green, was now turning a rusty shade of brown. “It’s okay, Ryan,” she sighed. “I think it can wait. Everything around the house seems to be dying off.”
Ryan laughed. “You’re hilarious, Mrs. LaRose.”
“I was talking about the lawn, not Mr. Wagner,” she informed him. “You’re not the least bit disturbed by what happened last night?”
“Well, it’s not like he didn’t have it coming,” Ryan began. “I mean, you know, he was old. It’d be different if he was some hot chick stabbed to death by a guy in a maskbeing Halloween and all—but, you know...it was just Old Man Wagner, taking his last snooze.”
“That almost sounded poetic, Ryan. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Well, don’t go telling Tom or anyone, but yeah, I guess deep down inside, part of me knows that somebody, somewhere, loved the old guy. I don’t exactly know who, because I never saw anyone visiting him or anything, but he sure liked sitting on your porch. I think he had a bit of a thing for you, Mrs. LaRose. He did have a smile on his face, before the cops covered it with the blanket one last time. Maybe that’s not such a bad way to go.”
Helena couldn’t help but smile. She liked Ryan despite all the negative things the neighbors said about him. He definitely had a knack for rubbing people the wrong way. Her daughter Helen wasn’t the first person to take an instant disliking to him. She wouldn’t be the last either. But when the snowstorm hit last year, it was Ryan who went door to door making sure everyone on the street was okay. It had been Ryan who shoveled Mr. Wagner’s driveway and then drove him to his doctor so he wouldn’t miss an appointment he had waited months for. And it would be Ryan, she knew, carrying a good share of the load as one of Mr. Wagner’s pallbearers. For Helena, Ryan’s actions spoke louder than Ryan’s words. Most of the time.
“All the same, you handled yourself well last night, Ryan. Keeping calm under pressure is a talent.”
“Well, I play ball,” he boasted. “I just put myself into the zone. When I’m there, you can come at me with all you’ve got.” He tightened his face muscles and gave her a stare that sent shivers down her spine. His skin turned red. His eyes began to bulge. He began to froth at the mouth with saliva. Then he stopped.
“Like that,” he explained to a mystified Helena. “When I do that, nothing can intimidate me. Not even death. Remember that, Mrs. LaRose.”
“That’s a little disconcerting, Ryan. But I suppose it does come in handy. Just keep it on the field, okay?” She knew that if Helen saw him make that face, she’d have him tested for rabies.
He nodded.
“I get the feeling Stan hadn’t seen a dead body before?” she asked apprehensively.
“I don’t think it was on his to-do list.”
She wanted to laugh, but the look on Ryan’s face was serious. “Really? He has a to-do list?”
“What can I say, Mrs. LaRose? Stan doesn’t like surprises. Mr. Wagner pretty much freaked him out,” he admitted. “I know he’s my brother, but he’s a little weird. This will haunt him for months.”
“That’s terrible, Ryan. Should I go have a word with your mother?”
“That’s probably not a good idea. My mom thinks thatwell, never mind what my mom thinks. She’s messed up.”
“But maybe I can help,” Helena offered.
“She hates you, Mrs. LaRose.”
“Ohwell, since you put it that way. Tell Stan I hope he feels better soon.” She thought about him for a moment. “He doesn’t hate me, does he?”
Ryan shook his head. “No. He just thinks you’ve got a body buried in your backyard.”
Helena took a deep breath. Keep calm, she told herself. “Why does he think there are bodies buried in my backyard?” She could feel her heart beginning to beat a little faster.
“Body. Singular. I told you he’s a little weird. I have no idea why he thinks that. But he does. He seems to think it’s under the grass just off your back porch, if you really want to know.”
Helena laughed nervously. “That’s ridiculous. I can assure you there is no body by the back porch.”
“Like I said,” Ryan shrugged. “He’s just a weird little kid.”
Helena listened carefully to what Ryan was telling her. She was going to have to make some changes at the back of the house if the neighbors were feeling uncomfortable. She couldn’t have Stan being afraid to go into the yard when spring rolled around. Lawn seed. Colorado Blue. She’d have to order some in for the dead patch.
“I know the spot he’s talking about. I’m afraid a coyote has taken a liking to letting it all flow there. I’ve tried just about everything to get the grass to grow back. You don’t have a magic solution hidden away in your garden shed do you? Your lawn doesn’t seem to have the same problem.”
“No," Ryan replied. “I think Betty puts down mothballs.” He leaned out the window and pointed towards the side of Helena’s house. “I can see the newspaper under the bush, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“It is,” Helena sighed, walking across the lawn. “Good help is hard to find. I certainly miss the days when you had the paper route. At least you could throw.”
As she reached down to pick up the paper, her silk housecoat came untied. She looked up to find Ryan staring at her ample breasts, proudly displayed within the bodice of her nightgown.
“You’re squinting, Ryan. You don’t need glasses, do you?” she asked coyly, taking her time doing up her robe. “Although, I guess football players prefer contacts these days.”
“I can see everything just fine, Mrs. LaRose.” He winked at her. “I have 20-20 vision. And that’s not the only thing that’s perfect about me.”
Raunchy little beggar, Helena thought to herself. “Ryan, if I were several decades younger than I am, I might entertain the notion of determining what is and isn’t perfection with you. But as it happens I’m not, and besides, my daughter Helen would have a fit, so let’s just put a lid on the innuendos for now, okay? You’re an incredibly muscular young man and I’m a rather well endowedwhat’s the wordcougar?” The natural yet somewhat seedy attraction that causes, should probably be our little secret.”
Ryan was silent for a moment. “Oh, I get you. Your daughter’s the jealous type.”
“Something like that.”
“So what’s up? Is Ellie going to be coming to our school?” he asked innocuously. Rejection wasn’t a big problem with Ryan. He had clearly moved on.
Helena honestly didn’t know how long the girls were planning to stay, or whether Troy Tech was going to be in Ellie’s future. “Your guess is as good as mine, Ryan.”
“I was only asking because it’s Friday night football tonight,” he said with excitement. “She could come with Tom and Jacey and me and check it out if she’s hanging around that long. It’s a pretty big game for us. The coach is expecting a sell-out.”
Helena smiled. “I’ll let her know.”
“Tell her if she wants to come, to be out by the curb around five and we’ll pick her up. If we don’t see her, we’ll just keep going, no sweat.” He glanced at his watch. “Whoa. I’ve got to go now. I promised Mr. Czewzinski I’d show up early today. He said he’d show me how to tune the engine. I don’t think you’ve noticed, but my car’s been sounding like shit lately.” He waved, honked his horn twice, and started to pull away from the curb.
Thank God, Helena thought. If you only make it to school one day this year, make it today. “I’ll tell her. And Ryan, no drinking and driving, do you hear me?”
“I never drink until after the game, Mrs. LaRose. I promise. The coach would have a fit.”
“That’s not what I meant. You’re still underage.”
He squealed away in as much of a squeal as the old Toyota could muster.
“Ryan,” she said to herself, “I have a feeling you are going to be my granddaughter’s best friend and my daughter’s worst nightmare. And you live right next door! How conveniently Shakespearean.”
Helena headed back into the house and wandered into the breakfast nook. As she began to unroll the newspaper onto the kitchen table, she noticed some dirt falling from between the damp pages. At least she hoped it was dirt.
“Eeww,” she said, taking a napkin from the holder on the table’s Lazy Susan and wiping the debris off. “Environment or not, I miss the plastic bag the paper used to come in.”
She picked up the paper and studied the weather page. “It’s supposed to be a gorgeous day,” she said as she stood and waited for the coffee to finish brewing. Below the advertisement for Williams Hardware she saw a tiny story about the streetlights being shattered on Main Street again.
“You’d think they would know better than to fix them before Halloween,” she sighed as she put the paper on the counter and poured herself a cup of java. Her eyes skimmed down to the bottom of the page. There was a report that a coyote was on the loose and it had been dining on a few gourmet selections, specifically a Siamese feline and a purebred miniature poodle. The owners had discovered their half-mutilated remains deposited outside their back doors. “Sucked the guts right out of him,” Warren Curtis had been quoted as saying in the article.
“Coyote my ass,” Helena thought aloud, walking over to the back door. She turned on the porch light to survey her own back stoop from the window. Thankfully the coast was clear. There were no dead animals to have to remove before the girls came down. None that she could see, anyway. She thought again about the encounter Ellie had with the wild dog last night.
“He’s getting too big for his britches,” Helena said, walking back over to the counter.
“What’s that, Mother?” Helen asked, entering the kitchen in her blue flannel pajamas.
Helena started to tell her daughter about the news item, and then thought the better of it. “I was just talking about my ass. It’s getting too big for my britches. Coffee dear?” Helena asked, taking another mug from the cupboard and turning towards her daughter.
“God no. I don't want anything that might keep me up tonight,” Helen replied. “I was so tired yesterday, but I couldn't sleep a wink.” She leaned against the counter. “I kept thinking I heard something howling at the moon. I hate Halloween.”
Helena put the mug back. “I guess you were still a little wound up. Moves can be a bit unsettling.”
Helen looked at her mother in disbelief. “It wasn’t the move that was unsettling. It might have started out that way, but somewhere between stuffing all our earthly possessions in a van, leaving the home and relationship I’ve known for the past five years and arriving here in Amityville, the day got even worse.”
“It’s not always so crazy around here, I can assure you,” Helena said.
“Oh, that’s a relief. You act as if it's normal, the police showing up and taking a dead man from your home. I still can’t believe we weren’t all taken away for questioning.”
Helena folded her arms across her chest. “Darling, Chief Cohen was fine with it all. What did you expect? If we had murdered Mr. Wagner, I’m sure he would have handled things differently.”
“And what was up with that?” she asked, throwing her hands up in the air questioningly. “The Chief of Police shows up at your door and acts like this happens here all the time. ‘Oh, okay Helena, it's a suicide. I’m sure the note will be in the pocket just like you say it will. Barney Fife and I have to get back to the station now. We’ll wrap this up in the morning. Or not.'"
“Your point being?” Helena said tersely. “And for your information, Barney Fife’s name is Rick Purdy.”
“What kind of cops do you have in this town? Do they find their badges inside cereal boxes?”
Helena took offense. “Well, they didn't come back did they? Obviously the note was there just like I said it was going to be.”
“And how did you know that? Are you mind reading these days?”
“Don’t go there, Helen. You’ll be sorry you did. Mr. Wagner had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. He was beyond chemo, so I was doing what I could for him from a holistic approach. He was my patient. All summer long he would come and sit on my porch and drink the herbal tea I would leave out for him. He told me once that's where he wanted to die. Sipping tea on my porch. He said he wouldn't bother me with the details, but when it was time, it was time, and I would find a note in his shirt pocket. I should have left some tea out for him yesterday. I meant to. I just got busy.” She paused for a moment, a look of puzzlement crossing her face. “I wonder what he did with the other dead body?”
“What other dead body? Do you mean there's more than one?”
Helena took her housecoat off, fully revealing the matching silk negligee underneath. “Oh relax, Helen. I meant the stuffed shirt and pants I put out there on the veranda earlier in the day as a Halloween prop. Honestly, you're letting your imagination get the better of you.” She picked up the cereal box and peered inside it. “Nope. No police badges inside. Satisfied?”
“This is why I moved away from home the first chance I got. You’re like a tornado. Anything in your path that’s the least bit unbalanced, spins around and winds up dead on your doorstep.”
“Are you saying that you’re unbalanced?” Helena said tersley as she sat down at the table. “Are you about to die on my doorstep?”
“Of course not.”
“Then that statement is a bit extreme, don’t you think? So what if we have a gust of bizzaro from time to time around here? Every household does. Mr. Wagner wasn’t unbalanced. He was just lonely. So stop your nonsense, take some of the iced tea out of the fridge and sit down. Don't worry, it's not going to kill you. There’s no eye-of-newt in it. It's decaf.”
“That's not funny. Where do you keep your drinking glasses?”
“It wasn't meant to be. Top right cupboard.” Helena noticed the look of anger on her daughter’s face as she passed by her. “All right then, we’ll change the subject. Ellie looks lovely.”
Helen’s face turned a deep shade of crimson. “I am so sorry about that. I don't know what's gotten into her. She won’t leave the house without her ‘dawn-of-the-dead’ make-up. I tried to get her to take it off before she came here yesterday, but she wouldn’t.” She walked over and opened the refrigerator. “I don’t see it. The tea, I me
an.”
“Top shelf, behind the milk. I wasn’t being sarcastic. She really does look lovely. I haven’t seen her in ages. Those eyes of hers are gorgeousthat piercing green stare she has beneath those killer long eyelashesshe must send the boys wild. You didn’t actually think I’d be offended by her appearance did you? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Helen poured herself a drink. “The thought had crossed my mind.”
“For heaven’s sake, Helen. She’s not the only one who dresses like that. There are quite a few non-confirming gothic teenagers conforming in this town, let me tell you. It's just a phase she's going through. And you do too know what's gotten into her. You just weren't that clever when it happened to you.”
“When what happened to me?” Helen asked, sitting down at the table.
“When you looked twelve when you were really fifteen. It can't be easy for her. It wasn't easy for you. You stuffed your top.”
“I did not!”
Helena choked on her coffee. “You went from a 32a to a 34c overnight.”
“I was a quick blossomer,” Helen replied, putting her head in her hands. “Oh God. I did do that, didn't I?”
“I still have the pictures. Maybe that's why you're so insistent on covering your boobs up to this day.”
Helen pulled her flannels closer to her chest. “Not everyone has the uncontrollable urge to expose their mammaries to perfect strangers like you do, Mother.”
‘Well it’s an icebreaker, that’s for sure. Do I need to remind you of your short-lived punk rock period? You used to buy your belts extra long so you could wrap them around your leg and then up around your waist. Now that was a look a mother could be proud of. Bondage. You may recall I chose to ignore your fashion experimentations at the time. Thankfully you seem to have been able to make the jump to Armani. I’m sure in time, Ellie will too.”
“Please don't tell her about that. I'm trying to instill her with a sense of what it means to be a successful career woman, and if she gets even the slightest hint that I wasn’t always so conventional, it’ll be game over. It’s not easy, you know, trying to get her focused on what she wants to be. She’s got it into her head that she wants to be a plumber.”
“Maybe she should be a plumber. Your PhD in medieval history hasn't done you that well in the long run. Or should I say mid-evil?”
“That’s not fair. There’s just not a lot of demand for my particular expertise right now.”
“You should have listened to me and majored in Archeology. Archeology/grave digging, what's the difference, really? You'd always have a job.”
“Nice to see you too, Mother.”
Helena looked at her daughter, wishing she could break down Helen’s hard exterior. “Where is your sense of humor, Helen? I was kidding. Of course it's nice to see you. Is everything okay?”
“Not exactly. I've left him.”
“So everything's fine then. I warned you not to marry that man. He reminds me of Napoleon.”
“Napoleon was French.”
“He was a mouthy little dictator. End of story. You know you and Ellie are always welcome here. How long are you staying?”
“Thanks for your concern, Mother. What time is check out?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know you didn't like Tony, but I thought I’d at least get some empathy from you. I know sympathy would be out of the question.”
“He’s not dead and that's not why you're here. I wasn't born yesterday, Helen. If you just wanted to move away from Tony, you could have moved anywhere, anytime. Like perhaps before school started this September. I don't think here in Troy, with me, at the end of October, would be first on your list if that were truly the case. What's really going on?”
Helen stood up and began to pace in the kitchen. “Ellie's having nightmares,” she finally said, her voice trembling.
“What kind of nightmares? Have you had a talk with her yet?”
“I don't even know how to begin that talk.”
“Well darling, don't you think it's time you figured that out? It’s not like the sex talk. She’s not going to figure it out on her own.”
Helen glared at her mother, her eyes revealing the anger her lips failed to emote.
“Calm down, Helen, before you give yourself an aneurysm.”
“I'm sorry, Mother. I haven't seen the talk show episode yet where the psychologist says, ‘Helen, you need to look your daughter in the eye and tell her she’s never going to look her age. Her blood contains proteins that slow down the aging process by oh, a century or two. She’s eventually going to have to move every five years so people don't get suspicious and start sticking needles into her to get some of her DNA.’” She took a deep breath. “I must have been grave digging the day he covered that topic."
“Ten.” Helena said indignantly.
“What?”
“Ten. I move every ten years. People aren't that quick. Hereditary youth is a wonderful thing, Helen. At least when you’re older. I'm willing to bet that to this day you don't mind running into your old friends. I'm surprised you're not head of the reunion committee. What are you telling them these days? That you are still thirty-nine? I tell everyone I’m fifty-eight, just so you don’t blow it for me.”
Her mother had a point there. People were starting to talk about how Tony was looking older and she wasn’t. It was another reason it was time for her to leave him. But not the most important reason.
“Mother, I'm serious. I'm worried about Ellie. She sleep walks.”
“So did you.”
“When I was four.”
“I see what you mean,” Helena acknowledged. Ellie was a little old to be doing that. “Does she do anything else odd?”
“Define odd. She’s a teenager.”
“Does she scream out in the middle of the night for no reason?”
“Sometimes.”
“That's okay. Most people do. I blame it on jalapenos. Don’t eat them before bedtime. Does she have visions?”
“You mean like knowing that kid was going to faint before he did? Things like that happen all the time around her.”
“Well, Stan's a bit nervous. It was bound to happen. She didn’t foresee Tom collapsing. Mind you, she was probably blinded by that smile of his. If I was fifteen and Tom was around, my mind might not be focused either. Tell me more.”
“She whistles in her sleep. Not happy little lullabies, either. They’re these low, haunting little melodies. She never whistles when she’s awake. Ever.”
“Oh dear. That's not good. That could mean it's starting.”
The two women ended their conversation abruptly as Ellie walked into the kitchen, ignored both of them, and headed toward the fridge.
“She’s not much of a talker in the morning,” Helena commented.
“No, wait...” Helen replied, raising her hand alarmingly to her mother.
They watched as Ellie crashed head first into the-side by-side panel door of the refrigerator.
“Do you see what I mean?” Helen whispered. “She's asleep.”
“She made it sleepily all the way downstairs, in a house she hardly knows. What's a little navigational issue like a fridge? She's fine.” Helena assured her. “Although she does look like she’s twelve without all the make-up.”
“Mother! She is not fine. Look at her feet. They’re covered in mud.”
“She went outside last night to the van and her runners fell off her feet. I was watching from the front window. Darling, you really should have taught her how to put her shoes on properly.”
Helen walked over to her daughter, placed her hands on Ellie’s shoulders and shook her. “Ellie. Ellie, wake up.” She clapped her hands loudly in front of Ellie’s face, awakening the teenager from her slumber.
Ellie shook her head dizzily as she tried to recognize her surroundings. “Sorry,” she said bleary-eyed. “I don't know why I keep doing this.”
“You're over-tired,” Helena off
ered. “You had too much excitement last night. Apparently so did your mother.”
“I guess so. Maybe that and too much sugar. I snuck some of your left over chocolate bars into my room. They were really good,” Ellie said, rubbing her head.
“Headache, dear?” Helena asked. “There’s some pain killers in the bathroom cupboard if you want some.”
“No. I’ll be okay. I'm just a little groggy. I had the weirdest dream. There was this whistling manyou know those wooden cowboy cutouts some people have on their fenceshe sort of looked like that. And he took me out to the country to this little girl who was wearing a blue checkered dress like you’d see in Oz. The whistling dude, he kept telling me I had to save her, that it was my manifest destiny or something. And she kept saying ‘Ellie, find me. Save me.” She took a deep breath. “It was totally scary.”
“And then what happened, dear?” Helena asked, entranced.
“Then I hit my head on the fridge.”
Helen anxiously turned to her mother. “What do you think?”
“I think that would hurt,” Helena replied. “I still think she needs an pain tablet.”
“No, Mother,” she sighed, exasperated. “Do you thinkyou know?”
“Willie?” Helena asked. “I suppose it’s possible. I haven’t seen him in years.”
“Will he, won’t he, what? Hello?” Ellie waved, “I'm right here in front of you. It's not nice to keep secrets. I am awake now. I can hear you. Were either of you whistling Frère Jacques earlier? Because that would be a big help.”
Helena looked at her granddaughter gravely. “Ellie, sit down dear. We need to have a little talk.”
“I hate little talks,” Ellie sighed, pulling a chair up beside Helena.
“I hate little talks with your mother too. But this one's different.” She looked at Helen for some assistance, but Helen only shrugged, helpless. “Ellie, there's no easy way to tell you this. We're not normal, we LaRose's.”
“Well, that explains Mom. But you and me? Not normal how?”
“You know how your Nan was dressed as a witch last night,” Helen interjected. “That wasn’t a big stretch for her. For any of us.”
“Helen, don't be so simplistic. We are not witches,” Helena stated.
Ellie looked from Helena to Helen looking for an answer. There was none. “Well that sucks. First I am, then I'm not. A witch. Talk about parental cruelty. You've taken away a possible career choice and any supernatural powers I may have in less than a minute.”
“What your mother is trying to say is we’re more like...”
“Ghostbusters,” Helen again interrupted. She could see Helena hang her head in desperation.
“Come on, you guys,” Ellie pleaded. “Halloween's over and it’s a little early for April Fool’s day.”
“That's not the word I'd use, Helen. They're not always dead. We're more like...”
“Buffy the Vampire Slayer?” Ellie suggested.
“Why yes!” Helena said excitedly. “I like that analogy. She had such a sense of style. Not to mention she could kick-ass kill anything that got in her way. I loved that show. And that Angel fellow! He was certainly worth a hickey or two.”
Ellie looked at her mother and her grandmother hoping one of them would burst out laughing. Neither did. “I think when I hit my head I gave myself a concussion. With any luck, in another few moments I may even forget your names. What is with you two?”
“We're see'ers,” Helena continued. “We dream things. We feel things. We know things. From time to time we get called upon to handle things other people can’t.”
“Right...let me get this straight...” Ellie’s voice did not sound convinced, “…a rational adult, and a woman known to the world as my mom, are sitting here telling me that I'm living in some episode of Sabrina the Teenaged Witch?”
Before Helena could answer, the back door opened and Chief Cohen came walking into the kitchen. He took off his hat and nodded to the women. For a man his age, he still had quite the head of hair.
Helena smiled.
It was the kind of smile that men noticed.
Helen noticed it too. “Don’t you knock? We’re in the middle of an important family conversation here,” she said with exasperation.
The Chief bit his tongue. “Nice to see you again, Helen. I’m sorry we had to meet under those circumstances last night. I hope you and your daughter’s stay in Troy is a happy one. I can appreciate it didn’t get off to a great start.” He turned to Helena. “I don’t mean to be rude, but could I see you outside for a moment? Alone?” He motioned for her to follow him to the back stoop.
Helena stood up and went towards the door. “Of course, Roy. Is something wrong? I didn't tell you the wrong pocket or anything? Mr. Wagner was a little vague. At least he wasn’t as hard to remove as Mrs. Harbinger, thank God. She wrecked my shovel.” Her voice trailed off as she followed him outside.
“Roy?” Helen noted, jabbing Ellie in the ribs. “Did you hear that? Your grandmother is on a first name basis with the police force. That’s probably not a good sign.”
Ellie took a handful of dry cereal from the box on the table and began munching slowly. “Well, maybe it’s not the whole police force. Maybe it’s good that she knows them. Did you notice Nan didn’t lock her doors last night before we all went to bed? Is it just a small town thing? Or is she losing it?”
“I did notice. In fact, I locked it. But about ten minutes later I walked by and it was unlocked again.”
“What did she mean about Mrs. Harbinger? Who's she? And why did Nan need a shovel?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know. And neither do you.”
“I’m thinking I do,” Ellie said in defiance.
Helen moved to the side of the window, to get a better look at her mother and Chief Cohen outside. She shook her head in disbelief. “You may be right, Ellie. Your grandmother is on her back steps, talking to a policeman, in her negligee. And apparently she doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with that. She is losing it.”
Outside, Chief Cohen held up a photo for Helena to examine.
“I need your help, Helena. A young girl has gone missing. You might know her, she's Dr. Quinlan’s little girl, Brooke. She was supposed to go over to her friend Annie Robinson’s to go trick or treating and then stay overnight. Or so the Quinlan’s thought. They watched her walk across the street to Annie’s like she had a hundred times before. But what happened next no one knows. She never made it inside the Robinson’s home. Never rang the doorbell. Annie's parents thought there had just been a change in plans and didn't think much about it. They took their daughter out alone. They said they remembered seeing Brooke run by your house, but assumed her parents were waiting for her around the corner. It was this morning before it all got pieced together. Dr. Quinlan took this photo just before Brooke left the house. She was all dressed up for trick or treating.”
The girl in the picture was about six years of age, dressed in a blue checkered dress, carrying a toy dog in a cloth-lined basket. Roy Cohen studied Helena’s reaction as she looked at it. He could see the color draining from her face. “What is it, Helena? Do you remember seeing her?”
“Oh my goodness, Roy. No. She didn’t come to my door. I'm sure I’d remember her. It’s just such a shock. I do know the little girl. Her family must be beside themselves with worry.”
“We’re going door to door asking people if they know anything of her whereabouts. Give me a call if you hear anything. There are some off-duty officers coming in from the city to help. If Brooke hasn’t returned home by this afternoon, we’ll need to expand the search tomorrow morning. I know I can count on you to help.”
“Of course, Roy.”
Chief Cohen turned and headed across the grass to knock on the Lachey’s back door. Helena watched him, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. This was all too much of a coincidencethe little girl, the dream. But there was nothing concrete she could tell him about.
<
br /> She started to open the door, and then stopped, turning towards the backyard. “You are no longer welcome in my home,” she whispered.
The leaves in her yard blew into a mini cyclone in response.
“If you want a temper tantrum, I’ll give you a temper tantrum,” she promised the leaf pile. She glanced quickly towards the Lachey home. “I hope Stan didn’t see that,” she thought. “What the hell am I going to tell the girls?”
“Nan, who's Mrs. Harbinger?” Ellie asked as soon as Helena entered the kitchen.
“Ellie dear, you look tired, why don’t you go lie down,” Helena said, her voice taking an unusually stern tone.
“I'm not really tired, Nan. I just woke up, remember? I'm going to go put on my make-up and go for a walk.”
“There's some melatonin in the bathroom, why don't you take some? Oh hell, just take a sleeping pill. A growing girl needs her beauty sleep.”
“Mother! Are you trying to drug my daughter? What is with you?” Helen demanded. “She said she’s not tired.”
Helena sat down. There was really no easy way to break the news to them. “A little girl from town has gone missing. Her name is Brooke Quinlan, she’s six. Roy,I mean Chief Cohenhowed me a picture her parents had taken of her. She was dressed in her Halloween costume, Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz.”
“Oh my God,” Helen cried, putting her hand over her mouth.
Ellie could barely contain the shivers running up her spine. “That is just too creepy.”
“Ellie, do you remember anything else from your dream? It's important,” Helena begged.
“Ellie. Go upstairs and take the sleeping pill like your Nan says. Maybe you’ll start dreaming again.” As much as Helen wanted this to mean absolutely nothing, she couldn’t shake the churning feeling in her stomach.
“Have you both lost it?” Ellie questioned. “It's a co-incidence, that's all. Quit looking at me like that.” Feeling uncomfortable, she reached for a piece of fruit on the counter. “Don’t bother with breakfast for me. I’m going to eat this when I’m out. I can’t digest properly when I’m stressed," she said as she walked out of the room. The last thing she felt like doing was remembering that dream.
Helen lowered her voice. “What are we going to do?”
“Let’s hope it is just all a big coincidence. And if it’s not, let’s hope to hell that Ellie tires out early tonight and that the mysterious cowboy makes another appearance. This is going to be a long day’s journey into night.”