Dead Sure?: A Paranormal Mystery (43 page)

“What did she say?” Liam asked in earnest. “It sounded so garbled to me.”

“I’m not sure, but it sounded like “Fix the past,” whatever that means. Personally, I just want to fix the here and now, and maybe this did the trick.”

They stood there for a moment before Sam dropped the two remaining pieces of broken picture frame he was still tightly clutching. “There’s nothing more we need up here. Let’s go search the apartment again for any clue to Jack and Rene’s whereabouts.”

Liam followed Sam down the stairs and into the hallway. From there the pair made their way into the living room. “Sam, look, the answering machine light is blinking.”

Sam, who was standing closer to the unit, walked over and pressed play.

“You won’t answer your fucking cell phone then I’ll try your house. I want that journal and I want it now. This is your last chance! I’ve got Rene at the old mill, show up alone or she’s dead.” The voice grew extremely smooth and grim, losing all touches of the previous anger, “Make no mistake about it. I am not bluffing.”

Liam looked horrified as the message drew to a conclusion. “I don’t like the sound of that..”

Sam cut him off mid-sentence. “That voice, when it was calm, sounded very familiar,” he grimaced. “I’m almost positive that was Mr. Yates. I always thought he seemed a little nuts, but this really cinches the deal. Liam, I’m really worried about Rene. Didn’t those voices say she was dead?”

Liam looked at Sam resolutely, “I refuse to believe that. We’re going to go save her and help Jack. They need us.”

“Are you suggesting we head out to the mill?” Sam asked in astonishment. In the short time Sam had been acquainted with Liam, this is not a course of action he would have anticipated coming from the man’s timid nerdy persona.

“I’m not only suggesting it. I’m instigating it,” he said, his chin held high, his chest puffed up slightly.

“Fine, Liam, I’m with you, what’s your plan?”

*     *     *

As fast as all the craziness had begun it had ended Jack found himself kneeling near the exit. The pressure around his throat was gone, but not the haunting words,
go back and fix it. What the hell, could that crazy medallion in the journal really work? I’ve got nothing to lose. I should try it. I’ll go to Rene’s and search the bottom of her furniture for the key. I can save her,
he repeated in his head, as he pushed himself up and walked out into the fresh night air. Ron’s old crap pile had all but quit when Jack had pulled up. Somehow he needed a ride and quick.

Jack walked around the corner of the building and there he saw it, tucked in a back alley sat Steve’s very ostentatious red Duesenberg. Jack hurried over to the car. To his surprise the convertible top was down. More surprising, the keys hung from the ignition cylinder.
Maybe fate’s finally on my side,
he thought, starting the car and tearing out of there.

Fifteen minutes later, Jack was standing outside Rene’s apartment door. He gave the doorknob a quick cursory turn. The door was locked, just as he had thought. His mind racing, he began to think of ways to get in, all of which in his agitated state seemed too time-consuming. His mind continued to spin through ideas as his body just took over. Jack’s leg came up, giving the door handle a solid kick with the bottom of his foot. Through his heavy work boots, he didn’t feel a thing as the flimsy door frame splintered, freeing the door to fly inward with a bang.

Jack glanced around nervously after the painfully loud noises his action had produced. The last thing he needed right now was for a nosey neighbor to be calling the police. He looked like hell. His clothes were dirty and blood-stained, and any story he might try to tell would only turn out badly.

Seeing no one about, Jack hastily stepped into the apartment, closing the broken door carefully behind him.

Start at the bottom. Rene said they used to write on old furniture.
Jack began to drift around the apartment looking for a piece of furniture that showed some promise.

In Rene’s bedroom, he found an old-fashioned-looking dresser and a small smile came to his sullen face.
This has got to be as good a spot as any,
and with that thought, beginning at the top, he began pulling drawers out and upending them. Rene’s clothes went spilling out in colorful piles as he worked his way down.

None of the first three drawers had any writing on the bottom, and Jack felt a slight sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He continued the progression until he reached the bottom drawer.
This has got to be it,
he told himself, although intuition was telling him it wasn’t. Jack hesitated, unsure of what he was going to do next if this didn’t pan out. He looked at the multiple heaps of Rene’s clothes that now littered the floor.
Man, she’s going to be pissed when she sees this,
his mind unwilling to accept the reality of her death. His eyes roved to a sexy pair of black lace panties that had spilled out and rolled to a stop at the edge of the mound.
Those look familiar,
he thought, remembering the date that ended at Rene’s place.

Back to work Jack, I have to fix this thing.
His hands shaking slightly, he pulled out the bottom drawer and flipped it over. To his horror there was nothing written on it. Dejected, he sank to his knees breathing deeply and trying to focus.

His cell phone began to ring, snapping him out of his sorrow. The caller id indicated it was Sam.
Maybe Sam and Liam could help me. I don’t have to go this thing alone. This isn’t just about me, it’s about helping Rene.
He flipped open the phone, surprised to hear Liam on the other end.

“Jack, is that you? Thank god, Sam and I have been looking all over for you and Rene. Is she with you right now?” he asked, his voice sounding a bit frantic.

Jack hesitated before answering, trying to figure out the best way to approach the situation. “No, she needs our help. I’m trying to decipher the journal clue again. According to Rene ..”

Liam interrupted him before he could finish his sentence, “What kind of trouble are you two mixed up in? I think we should call the police!”

“What’s he saying?” Sam asked Liam, not at all happy about being left out of the conversation.

Jack could hear Sam in the background finishing with, “put the damn thing on speaker phone already!”

Jack sensed Liam was on the edge and the slightest push was going to send him over it. So, despite how he felt inside, Jack began to speak clearly and calmly. “Liam, here’s what I need you and Sam to do. First, I need your help in figuring out where this clue might be located. Second, I want you two to meet me at Rene’s apartment. That way, we can put our heads together and get this problem solved.”

“Jack, Liam’s got you on speaker now. Has Steve kidnapped Rene? Is she all right? All of that is more important than the journal.”

“Listen Sam, all of that is about the journal and without figuring out the cipher Steve is not going to let Rene go,” Jack lied.
I hate lying to the very people I need help from, but there’s no way they’ll buy into this bullshit if I lay out the facts.

“Jack, what can I do to help?” Liam asked resolutely.

“There is supposed to be an inscription of some type on the bottom of Rene’s antique furniture. It’s some tradition her family has. The problem is I pulled every drawer out of the antique dresser and found nothing.”

“That’s an easy one. That dresser isn’t from her family. She saw it at my shop when she first started working there and fell in love with the piece,” he finished wistfully.

“Liam, focus, buddy. Where else do you think this writing could be?”

“That’s easy too; Rene had this desk she just loved. It used to belong to her grandmother. She had me come over one time and appraise it, even though she said she wouldn’t even consider selling it.”

Smacking himself on the forehead, “Of course that’s it. I remember seeing it before. Thanks, Liam, how long will it take you guys to get over here?”

“Not that long,” Sam answered, sounding a little louder than before. “We just pulled into the old mill parking lot. Are you sure we shouldn’t just try to reason with Steve?”

“Listen to me carefully, Sam, that is the last thing you guys should try and do. Now get out of there, I need you over here now.”

Sam began to reply, “If you say so, Jack, you haven’t steered me wron…”

The sound of Sam’s voice was replaced by the sound of shattering glass and what could be taken for gunshots. The terrifying reality hit Jack like a ton of bricks. There was no doubt, it was definitely gunshots. The noise was so loud; Jack instinctively yanked the phone away from his ear. There was a scream for help followed by another gunshot.
Oh god, it can’t be, it can’t be.
“Sam, Liam, are you all right? What’s going on? Talk to me!”

No voices returned to him, only background noises. It sounded like an engine idling and someone digging through things.
No, this can’t be happening.
“Sam, Liam!” Jack shouted not really expecting a reply but hoping for one.

Then a smooth cold-cruel familiar voice answered, “This isn’t over. It’s far from over.” The voice was followed by a vicious laugh and a click as the line went dead.

Jack would know that voice anywhere, it was Yates.
That bastard must have survived the fall, and now he is more crazed than ever.
“Hello, Steve, let’s talk about this,” Jack said in vain, fairly certain that Steve had already hung up. Only silence replied back at him.

I have to figure this thing out and make things right.
Jack walked into Rene’s second bedroom, which she had been using as an office. There sat the desk Liam had mentioned. It was a beautiful piece of furniture. The finish was well polished with rich dark wood and gleaming brass handles. Jack knelt down, going straight for the bottom drawer. Yanking it out, he knocked his knuckles against the side several times superstitiously, hoping to bring about a positive result. Then with a sudden jerk, he flipped the housing over and looked expectantly. This time he was not disappointed. There was writing all right. There were several beautiful dedications from the previous loving owners and one unusual one from Rene’s father. Without knowing what you were looking for, the message probably wouldn’t have made much sense.

Jack stared at the script intently, trying to decipher its meaning. Working hard to stay calm, his thoughts were racing from Rene’s death to the fate he also feared had befallen his friends Sam and Liam.
Focus, Jack, focus, the only way I can help anyone is to figure this thing out. This is just nutty, like I’m really going to be able to travel back in time. I must be out of my frigging mind.
The voice in his head slowed for a moment.
No, calm down, it will all work, it has to.

Jack pulled out the journal and patiently forced himself to study the cipher. He was good at puzzles but didn’t much like them. After about fifteen minutes, he felt like it was starting to make sense. Taking a piece of paper and pencil from the desk, he began to write out the message.

I hope this has fallen into good hands and that I’ve done the right thing in writing it down.

The medallion that you seek is located back where it belongs with the people who were originally charged with protecting it.

Jack had a strong feeling he knew where this was going even before deciphering the next several lines.
The Wong robbery, I read about in the journal, it’s back with them. Great, just great, they could be living anywhere. Stop it, the glass is half full, don’t get ahead of yourself and panic yet, just finish the cipher.

I placed it in the Wong family crypt. Retrieve it and use it carefully. Remember, it only works once.

Yes, I don’t have to track down someone and try and cajole it from them.  I get to be a grave robber instead. Yeah, well, that sounds a hell of a lot better, doesn’t it? If I put the medallion right back after I use it it’s not grave robbing, its just grave borrowing.
Jack allowed himself a small grin at the goofy meanderings his mind was traveling through in an effort to justify things, attempting to prevent panic.

Steeling himself, he thought,
it’s
time to get this thing done.
Jack left the apartment with a fresh resolve.

*     *    *

Fifteen minutes later, Jack arrived at the graveyard across from his uncle’s nursing home. A sudden shudder came over him as he looked into the blackness that encompassed the place. Thick cloud cover had drifted into the area, and Jack could smell rain in the air.
The earlier moonlight sure would have been handy. How in the hell am I going to find the crypt in this darkness?
Parking on the street so as not to attract any extra attention, Jack got out, moving around to the back of the car. The old Duesenberg literally had a trunk for a trunk. Jack worked the straps that held it shut, flinging the lid open. He was probably going to need a tire iron or something to get the mausoleum open once he found it.
I should have slowed myself down in the first place and brought the proper tools with me. Well, at least I was smart enough to bring a flashlight.