Barbecue and Bad News (16 page)

“I know, right? Only it was a weird day.” Jenn shivered. “Best and worst night of my whole life.”

“Yours?” Brooke half laughed, but Savannah could tell there wasn’t anything funny about what had gone down that night. “You weren’t the one he ambushed.”

“I’ll be right back,” Jenn said as she walked behind the last few stragglers leaving the building to lock up for the day.

“She gets freaked out when I talk about it.”

“Somebody ambushed you?”

“I’d just moved here. My ex-husband was harassing me so I’d hired Mike to put that to rest. Turned out getting to know Mike put me in more danger than I’d been in before I hired him. Not his fault, though. His wife had been killed by Frank Gotorow and he’d helped put that madman away back then. Only he got out of prison somehow and come back for revenge.”

Savannah admired the girl’s strength. “You were in the way.”

“Or an easier target probably,” she said. “He abducted me and held me, half-drugged as bait. Knowing the whole story now, I believe he was trying to re-create what he’d done to Mike’s first wife. I was pretty out of it, but still so scared. But I can’t even imagine what Mike felt. It hurts my heart to think of that.”

“I’m sure it does. That had to be terrifying.”

“It was. Had everything not gone exactly according to plan, I might not be sitting here with you today. The governor is giving our sheriff and my Mike an award for their heroism for what they did that night. They risked their lives to save mine.”

“I remember it being in the news. It kind of came and hushed really fast, though. I didn’t realize that was you. I’m so sorry. Are you doing okay? How do you get over something like that?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Brooke admitted.

“Can you imagine the book that would make?” She wasn’t even sure where that thought came from, and it really wasn’t very sensitive of her to blurt it out like that. The girl had gone through a terrible trauma.

“I already had some big publisher call about that. I won’t write about it. Won’t give that guy the satisfaction of getting his story in front of everyone. He’d have loved that.” Brooke looked over toward Jenn, who was taking her time getting back. “The truth is, the more I talk about it the better I feel, but Jenn gets so freaked out when I do.”

“If you need someone to chat with . . . I’m here for a little while. I’d be happy to be your sounding board. And when I’m gone. Call me. Really. We all need someone in our corner to just listen.” Savannah felt suddenly close to Brooke.

“Yeah, I’d like to bend your ear about it.” She tilted her head toward Jenn, who was saying good-bye to the last couple of people. “She’s still more freaked out than me, but then he had me out of it most of the time. She was the one watching and worrying as it all went down.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you. I read all about it in the papers. You just don’t expect that kind of thing to happen in this kind of a town, do you?”

“No.” Brooke’s tension eased a little. “But the bad guy was the only one to die that night, so that has to say something about being in the right place at the right time.”

“You’ve got that right,” Savannah said. “I remember when he first went on that spree all those years ago.”

Jenn rejoined them at the bar. “Did she tell you how he was living right here in this building?”

“Frank Gotorow?” Savannah asked.

“Yeah,” Jenn said with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t ask me to choose your friends. I obviously have a knack for sniffing out the crazies.”

“Great. So I shouldn’t feel honored that you invited me right in and treated me like you’ve known me my whole life?”

Jenn laughed. “Probably not!”

Brooke laughed at that too. “You’re different.”

“Well, thank you,” Savannah said. “On a brighter note, I love what you’ve done with this place. It’s so peaceful. I swear I could just sit and stare at that mural all day.”

Brooke glanced at Jenn. “Not many people know this, but there’s a story behind the man who painted those beautiful murals in the locker rooms.”

Savannah kept her mouth shut. As hard as it was, she didn’t want to say anything that might keep them from talking.

“You saw the one in the ladies’ locker room. Great, huh?”

“Amazing.”

“Frank Gotorow. The Goto Hell Murderer painted that mural for me.” Jenn shook her head. “That one and the one in the men’s locker room too. I let him right in. Paid him and let him crash here while he worked on them. He seemed like a quiet, quirky guy. I was so proud to barter that deal.”

Savannah saw the shiver go through Brooke. “You can’t be serious. That women’s locker room is gorgeous. So peaceful. I’ve got a fear of heights and I’m ready to book a hot air balloon ride after seeing it. How could someone like him paint something so serene?”

Jenn put her head down on the bar. “I know. I can still hardly believe it. If I hadn’t seen him physically do it, I wouldn’t believe it. I watched him work though. And he didn’t look the least bit evil.”

“Oh, but if you’d seen the painting he did where he held me captive you’d know he was nothing short of the spawn of the devil. That stuff was freaky,” Brooke said.

“That stuff was alien-like. I can’t even think about that.” Jenn seemed to try to blank the images from her mind. “It’s still hard for me to wrap my head around it.” Suddenly, she whipped out from behind the bar. And headed for the locker rooms. “Come. You’ve got to see the one he did in the men’s locker room.”

All three girls raced to the back. Jenn gave a courtesy knock. “Coming in. Cover up.” She poked her head inside and led them through the door labeled
WARRIORS
. “All’s clear.”

The three of them filed inside and stood side by side in front of the mural. Like the other one, this covered every wall space and even a few of the lockers.

Chills climbed right up Savannah’s spine. The serene rural setting was painted across the entire wall. Colorful flowers filled a countryside near a small pond where deer drank water so realistic that you just knew it was icy cold. The sky was Carolina blue and extended right on up to the ceiling, where a few clouds floated by.

“Did you just get a shiver?” Brooke asked.

“I did.” How had she known?

“I know. Right?” She pointed her finger between herself and Jenn. “Us too. Every time we stand here.”

“It’s so realistic.” Savannah ran her hand up and down her arm to chase the chill. “It’s just as beautiful as the one in the ladies’ locker room, but there’s something different about this one. Or is it just me?”

Both girls agreed. “No. It’s not just you,” Jenn said.

Savannah stepped closer, reaching toward the wall. “That shiver isn’t like the awe you feel in front of a beautiful painting. It’s different. I don’t know. It’s like . . .”

Jenn’s voice was steady. “More like it wants to hold you here.”

Savannah’s words came out as a whisper. “And not let you go.” She pulled her fingers back.

“I keep saying I’m going to buy a five-gallon bucket of paint and just paint right over them,” Jenn said.

Brooke and Savannah both shook their heads.

“No.” Brooke tilted her head. “No. I don’t think it’s time for that yet.”

Jenn walked over to the far end of the room, where a long bench straddled the space in front of the lockers. “He was staying right here in this building. I was sleeping in the same building as he was. I wonder if I’d even locked my doors at night. A million things I’ve wondered about. He painted the murals and I let him stay here and gave him a couple hundred dollars. I thought it was the best deal ever.”

Savannah raised a brow. “Well, you got more than your money’s worth.”

Jenn swallowed hard. “Yeah, but I almost got my best friend killed in the process.”

Brooke shook her head and sat on the bench. “That had absolutely nothing to do with you, Jenn. I’ve told you that a hundred times. If he hadn’t stayed here, it wouldn’t have changed a thing. Don’t lay that guilt trip on yourself.”

Savannah dropped to the bench too. She wanted a story, but she sure didn’t expect something like this.

Brooke’s mouth curled as if it made her sick to remember that day. “He’d painted every single wall in that little shack where he held me.” Brooke pointed to the mural. “The crisp colors are the only thing even remotely similar. The mural he painted there was full of rage.” She stared at the mural. “So different.”

“Is it still there?” Savannah wished she could take back the words.

Both girls looked at each other, then shrugged. “Don’t know,” Jenn said.

“Probably.” Brooke looked to Savannah. “We could see.”

Jenn shook her head. “No. We need to leave that place in the past.”

Savannah tilted her head. “This is beautiful, but there
is
something unsettling about it. They say there’s a fine line between good and evil. Maybe he had multiple personalities.”

Brooke agreed. “It takes a sociopath to convince a parole board that he’s changed after what he did. Even then, it’s amazing he got paroled. Scott’s been running that down. Someone did something wrong in that chain of events.”

Jenn folded her arms tighter across her chest. “I think that guy wasn’t straddling the good and evil lines; I think he was saddled right up on the crazy evil-genius side. Not a speck of good in that one.”

“Genius?” Brooke laughed. “If he’d been a genius, I doubt they’d have caught him.”

Jenn stared at the painting. “Or maybe . . . he really . . . is . . . two people?”

“Are you okay?” Brooke’s voice rose.

Savannah felt the concern in Brooke’s question. Jenn’s focus seemed to go right through the painting. Had she just crossed the crazy line too?

“Holy . . .” Jenn’s mouth hung open.

“What is it?”

“Two people,” Jenn said.

“You really think it was two different people? Like he had a twin?” Savannah asked.

“No.” Jenn’s hand rose to about shoulder height and then she reached. “No. He was definitely just one person. There are two people in this painting. Come look at this. I wasn’t going to say anything before, because I thought I’d imagined it. You know, like some post-traumatic something or other, but no . . . This is real. I can see it perfectly clear now.” Her gaze never shifted.

Savannah said, “You’re kind of freaking me out, Jenn.”

Brooke rushed to Jenn’s side and stooped to try to get level with where Jenn was staring. “What?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why?” Brooke wrapped an arm around Jenn’s shoulders. “It’s okay.”

“Because if you don’t see it . . . you’re going to pretend you do just to make me feel okay. Plus you’ll think I’m crazy.”

“I’m your best friend, Jenn. I know you’re crazy.”

“Brooke. I’m not kidding.”

Savannah wished like heck she’d listened to Scott and kept her nose out of that stupid police blotter comment. Maybe Jenn was the one spreading that rumor. She wished now she’d just stayed home. Being bored waiting for the time to pass seemed a lot better than what she was feeling right now. Because what she was feeling right now . . . she couldn’t explain. But she couldn’t very well just up and leave now either. She sucked in a breath and walked over to where the girls huddled at the end of the bench.

Brooke spoke softly, trying to soothe her friend’s panic. “Fine. I’m looking. It looks the same from here to me. Are you looking at the—”

“No!” Savannah spit the word out like a bitter pill. “It’s not the same, Brooke. Jenn, I see two people; it’s like there are ghost images in that picture!”

Jenn’s face was an odd combination of fear and relief. “Yes! You do see it?”

“I do. Jenn, I see something else.” Savannah couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it straight off, because it seemed so clear once you saw it.

“Me too,” Jenn said.

“A tombstone with amazingly detailed wreaths around it. Lots of them. Like three deep.”

Jenn sucked in an audible gasp and reached her hand toward Savannah without shifting her gaze.

The two girls held hands.

Brooke shifted positions. “I don’t see anything. If y’all are playing a trick on me, this isn’t funny.”

Savannah spoke slowly. “Can you make out the name? I can’t make out the name on the headstone. The first letter might be a
B
.”

“It better not be my name.” Brooke’s voice shook. “Please tell me it’s not my name on that grave.”

“No. The
B
is not a
B
. I think it’s an
S
. It’s not you,” Jenn said as she turned to Savannah with a look of relief. “Thank God it’s not just me seeing it.”

Brooke looked aggravated. “I don’t know what you two are seeing, but Jenn, how did you even figure this out?”

“I was changing the air diffuser in here. If I change the scents each day, they seem to keep the place smelling fresh instead of like an air freshener. These stinky men exhaust this sucker fast. The first time I only saw the image of the flowers. I thought it was nice. Then, when I saw it again, I saw the rest and I thought maybe it was my imagination because I was tired and I’d been worried about everything we’d been through. Plus when I tried to see it again, I couldn’t.”

“You can’t see it all the time?” Brooke took a step back. “Now you’re kind of freaking
me
out. Are we talking like a real ghost here?”

“No. It’s not like that. It’s in the painting. I’m sure of it. I can see it all the time now that I know what’s there. Even from different angles.”

Brooke’s brows pulled together. “Like those 3-D pictures where you can see two things?”

“Kind of, but not really. It’s hard to explain.”

Brooke looked determined to rationalize it. “Was it painted underneath the other painting? Like maybe he started painting something different and painted over it? Why am I the only one who can’t see anything?”

“I don’t know, but what I do know is that the room was a blank canvas when he got started. I had scrubbed the walls down myself. There was nothing there. I don’t think this was an accident. Plus, it seems more like it’s on top of the other painting, not underneath it.”

“Amazing. Almost scary-talented to be able to do that on purpose.” Savannah chewed on her lip. “I remember some artist out near Mount Airy in North Carolina who used to do ghost images in his paintings. Not as subtle as this, but it’s been done.” Savannah knew exactly what that police blotter message was referring to now. This was it. No question about it. “Jenn, has anyone else noticed this that you know of?”