Gabriel's Revenge (The Adventures of Gabriel Celtic Book 2) (7 page)

Allen dropped me off on the sidewalk in front of my house. As he drove off, I turned to face my home with trepidation. Standing there, I must have made an unusual sight, groceries and my pack on the ground beside me, a box of evidence under my arm. I stood there…for a long time, unsure if I had the guts or energy to deal with the ghosts in my life that this house represented.

Taking a deep breath, I walked up the stairs, lugging the box under my arm. I stood there, staring at the old wooden door, unable to move any further. I had faced down a gun three inches from my face before, but this may have been the hardest thing I had ever had to do.

Chapter 19

August 21, 1998

I finally rounded up enough mental courage to get moving, bending down and taking the key out from beneath the mat. The lock was stiff from disuse, but I finally heard the definitive click telling me the bolt had receded into the door.  Pushing open the door, I was unsure what would greet me as I stepped over the threshold.

It’s exactly the same as I had left it, but I guess that shouldn’t have surprised me. Frank had been taking care of it since I had left, even hiring someone to come in once a month to clean. I set the evidence box down and returned to the sidewalk to grab my luggage and supplies, closing the door behind me when I returned.

Memories surround me as I walked around the house. It was still a good, sturdy old house, but there was no life to it now, not for me. Betty had made this house our home, and when she was ripped out of my life, the life had been ripped out of the house, and out of me.

I was determined to ignore my history in the house; it was just a roof over my head now. If the last year had proved nothing else, it proved that I could exist anywhere. Living…I guess that was another story altogether, one that concerned me very little at that moment.

I found one of the cans of coffee and set about making a pot. While it was brewing, I threw my luggage in the laundry room to take care of later. Finding some old clothes of mine, I grabbed a clean shirt and pants and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. I smiled slightly at the memory of Allen’s discomfort on the ride back when he would get a periodic whiff of my expired clothing and deodorant.

Besides, I had a lot to do, and I needed to refresh my body in an effort to refresh my mind at the same time. As I was heading to the bathroom, I heard the low rumble of thunder in the distance. An August storm was on its way, the feel of cooler temperatures suddenly in the air preceding it. Looking out the window in the hallway, I saw a wall of water approaching, interspersed with intense lightning throughout.

I stood there mesmerized as I watched the approaching storm, feeling the increasing power with every approaching second. It seemed to rise in height as it drew nearer, becoming more ominous and violent as it worked to build for a climax of as yet unknown proportions.

The wall of water finally hit like a freight train, the house rattling on its foundation. I leaned against the aluminum frame of the window, my nose only inches from the glass as I strained to see through the maelstrom.

A blue arc of lightning descended on the back yard, and I watched in amazement as the bolt flashed multiple times. I seemed to be watching in some sort of slow motion; the flashes appearing for as long as five seconds or more. As I watched, two fingers jumped out of the main flash, each grabbing onto the fence around the back yard before they slowly traveled around the yard, one each way.

I watched the display in wonder; the lightning seemed to be playing as it made its way around the yard. Making its way around the final corner posts, I was shocked to see that it was now heading straight for the house.

I started to push myself away from the window when another huge white bolt of lightning struck the yard in front of the glass, joining the fence riding fingers in a magnificent display of electrical power. The shock hit me and traveled through my arms, jolting my brain as I was forcibly thrown from the window and against the opposite wall of the hallway.

Pushed against the wall, the power of the lightning coursed through my veins as my eyes held onto the tree-trunk sized light outside the window.

Then….everything stopped.

As I stood there held against the wall, stillness suddenly enveloped me; there was not a sound anywhere. The sequoia tree of energy outside my window had stopped moving, turning into a statue that would do DaVinci proud. As my frozen body stared at the immovable apparition, a white figure floated out of it, a beautiful apparition.

She was instantaneously in front of me, laying a hand on my cheek with familiarity, a shy smile on her face below the bluest eyes I have ever encountered.

Betty!

Her smile grew at my recognition…and then she was gone.

Immediately the noise was back, the electric again coursing through me as the force of the lightning pushed me farther into the wall. The seconds seemed like hours before the arc pulsating in front of me disappeared, leaving me numbly staring out the window until gravity finally drug my body down the wall.

I landed on the floor with a thump, and I sat there for a few seconds, unable to think.

I realized that I was unable to move at all. Suddenly I felt my shoulders slowly slide the rest of the way down. My eyes watched, helpless as the approaching floor neared my face. And then a blackness enveloped me totally.

Chapter 20

August 21, 1998

I was surrounded by blackness, a comforting warm blackness. I experienced the feeling of an embrace, arms around me in a comforting protective hug. The eyes were there too, barely discernable in the distance, but still radiating love… and concern? There was no buzzing this time, no one trying to communicate in the strange language, only the affectionate feeling that I was being protected…and loved. I liked this feeling immensely, and I saw no reason to change my current situation…ever!

Things were getting lighter however; the eyes and warm embrace were fading away.

“Please, don’t go!”

***

Opening my eyes, I found myself on the floor, confused. Looking up at the ceiling, I saw the orange light of sunset flooding in. How long had I been here?

Trying to sit up, I realized that my muscles were so stiff, I could barely move. Bringing myself slowly to a sitting position, I leaned against the wall as I tried to clear my mind of the muddled fuzziness that had invaded it.

The house was silent around me. Looking out through the window, I saw that the sun was almost behind the horizon. It took a few minutes for me to calculate that I had lost at least an hour somewhere. Thinking harder for an explanation, it started to come back to me in small spurts.

The lightning storm, the dancing fingers of energy playing in my yard….Betty! Had she really appeared?

My mood improved with that beautiful memory, but quickly dampened again when I vainly tried to rise from my position on the floor.

“Ouch!”

Every muscle in my body was so sore and stiff I could barely move. I took a deep breath and forced myself up to a standing position, looking out at the yard once more as I thought back on the incident.

The experience of the storm continued to leave me confused. Whether this was because the electric had rattled my brain, or just from trying to figure out what it meant I didn’t know.

Either way, it was beyond me at that moment. I also realized that I was dead tired, and that it would probably be better to figure it out in the morning.

Reaching down agonizingly, I picked up the clothes that had been scattered throughout the hallway before making my way slowly to the bathroom for a shower.

The warm water felt good on my aching muscles as I again tried to make sense of the experience to no avail. I exited the shower after but a few minutes, not used to the extravagance of having an unlimited water supply. I quickly dried myself off, feeling better physically than I had for a few days, not counting the stiff muscles. Pulling on the jeans and shirt, I exited the bathroom and started up the stairs to the bedroom.

Stopping suddenly as I passed through the threshold. I looked upon the bed, our bed, with trepidation. Recollections of our life together came flooding back as I stood there, defenseless to the onslaught of emotions that enveloped me. I closed my eyes and let the feeling overtake me as a tear escaped from one eyelid and rolled down my cheek. The memories were many and overpowering, and I was powerless to escape them as they flew through my mind one after another.

I let them come, as I felt the need to experience them once more after my long absence. I reveled in the joy of our life together, and mourned the loss that had changed my life forever. My knees started growing weak, and I realized that I was unable to continue the emotional roller coaster I was on right then. I turned around and walked back down the stairs. I would have to deal with my jagged emotions again in due time, but my body was beyond reprieve at that moment.

The combination of the travel, getting electrocuted, the shock and guilt of Frank’s death and the ever-present reminders of Betty had conspired to bring me to my knees physically, and it was all I could do to make it to the living room.

I found a blanket on the chair and drug it over to the couch. Looking at the comfortable couch, I realized that it would be too soft considering my usual bed of the last year and a half, quickly deciding on the floor instead. I spread the blanket out and laid on one side of it while pulling the other edge over me.

The comfort of lying down was lost on me within seconds as my heavy eyes closed involuntarily.

I said a quick prayer that the sleep would be restful…and dreamless.

Chapter 21

August 22, 1998

The sun was an hour from rising when the man arose, anxious to serve and wanting to get a start on his next “project.” Lighting a candle on the table, he pulled out a drawer in the old table, extracted a dog-eared stack of pages and started a search for the name revealed to him the night before. Finding it on the third page, he copied down the pertinent information onto a small note pad before replacing the pages in the drawer.

The woman revealed lived close. He would take his morning walk past the house as the first of the many steps he would take in investigating this next subject.

The man excitedly contemplated the investigation, working forward toward his favorite part, the solution. He took great pride in his work, and his final solutions that always cleared up the problem.

His heart beat excitedly in his chest, and he realized that he was again showing overt pride for his work on the missions, a personal flaw that seemed to haunt him like no other. He fell to his knees and said a short prayer of contrition for his hubris, asking for continued guidance in his work.

Rising once more, he contemplated his calling as he cut off two slices of bread for his breakfast. Having seen his future in a vision many years ago, he was humbled to serve and had dedicated his life to the cause.

‘Is it so unnatural to take pride in a calling that one devotes himself to and executes to a satisfactory completion without fail?’

He of course knew the answer, also knowing that if it was easy, anyone could do his work. He smiled at the thought; most of the people he’d met didn’t even have faith enough to believe in God anymore, much less to serve unfailingly something they could not touch or see.

He let out a long sigh, so much to do, and he was only one man.

Shaking off these negative thoughts, he sat down to slowly consume his meal, pulling off small pieces of the bread as he started jotting notes on his next mission. A couple of weeks were usually needed to compile the information needed in these matters, and he had no reason to feel that this one would be any different.

Sticking the notes in his pocket when he was done, he stood and collected the crumbs of his meal in his hand before donning his hat and opening the door. Clearing the tiny space between the buildings, he tossed the crumbs out into the open yard, letting the birds take nutrients from his leftovers.

He then started off at a good clip for his morning walk, following the new path he had laid out that morning. He was looking forward to working in his rose garden when he got back, the fragrant blooms calling him even now.

“Hard work would always produce beauty if the senses were allowed to be attuned to the results.”

His spirits high, he stepped up the pace slightly, letting the resultant breeze cool the perspiration forming on his face. It was going to be a glorious day, a glorious day indeed!

Chapter 22

August 22, 1998

It was still dark when I was awakened by the haunting call of a Rain Crow outside my window. Actually a dove I think, the call was supposedly a warning of approaching rain that many in this area took as gospel. I laid there in the predawn darkness listening to the eerie call and an answering bird much farther away as they communicated to each other some unknown message.

I had no clock near me, but knew it was 5:30 AM, as my body had been waking me up at this same time each day since I was a kid. Stretching, I realized that physically, I felt pretty good. Emotional healing would have to wait this day though, as I had much to do. Starting on Frank’s files was my number one priority, and I threw the blanket off of me in preparation of starting the day.

I still felt the effects in my muscles of my lightning encounter of the day before, but they were much improved and I was thankful for the healing powers of a restful sleep.

I slowly made my way up to a standing position, and then gradually proceeded to the kitchen to start the coffee. Remembering that I had put on a pot before taking a shower yesterday, I had to start this day by cleaning up the baked on coffee from the night before.  As the new batch was brewing, I decided that a couple of eggs would be nice; I had not had much in the way of eggs in quite awhile. Soon enough the kitchen was filled with the sound of eggs sizzling as the smell of cooking toast filled the room.

Sipping on my first cup of coffee, I unloaded the box of files and laid them on the table, then retrieved my breakfast. I moved files around as I ate, trying to ascertain if there was any order to the group of folders or not.

Other than two that were still active, the rest of the files appeared to be nothing more than a collection of accidents and bad luck. Accidental deaths that looked like just what they were…accidents.

The two active files were intriguing though.

In the first one, a car caught fire on the interstate after running off the road, the driver, one Craig Jasper, caught inside and dying a horrific death.

The second one involved an apparent suicide, one Don Carrier, using the classic method of starting the car and sitting in a closed garage to achieve his goal.

Opening the first, I read through the details of the original investigation, such as it was. It would appear that only a cursory look at the accident was done at the time by the county police, ruling it an accident, determining that the driver had most likely had a heart attack.

Looking further into the file, I found where Frank had gone back a month later and ordered testing done on the car. This investigation had determined that an accelerant had been used on the vehicle to ignite it.

Subsequently, Frank had obtained an order to exhume the body, finding that indeed there was no smoke in the lungs. Although they had determined that the car’s occupant had been dead when the car was ignited, the body was too burned to ascertain actual cause of death.

Additionally, they could find no other clues in the burned-out car to help identify who was responsible for the murder. Follow-up interviews with family and friends also were a dead end; no one had a clue why someone would want to murder Craig.

Setting this one aside, I picked up the other active case file. Mr. Carrier it seemed, according to the initial investigatory notes, was periodically depressed and was under a doctor’s care for the condition. No one was overly surprised that he had finally taken his life, especially since he had failed attempts twice previously. Added to his woes was the fact that his wife had left him a scant two weeks earlier. Open and shut case it would appear.

Apparently Frank had thought otherwise, obtaining an order to exhume the body for a Coroner’s inquest. Checking the dates, I noticed that he did this approximately one week after finding foul play in the death of Craig Jasper.

The coroner again confirmed that the death was not as it had first appeared, that it wasn’t a suicide at all but a carefully orchestrated murder. Close examination of the body had revealed prick marks on the victim’s neck, and only a small amount of damage to the lungs from the carbon monoxide of the garage. Because the body had been embalmed, they had been unable to determine the chemical used to kill Don, if the marks did indeed indicate a poison was injected into his system. 

Doing a cursory look through both files again, I could find nothing in common with the two victims that would indicate a tie-in of the two crimes.

“What the hell?”
I mumbled to myself.

Picking up the fifteen or so other files one at a time, I found a mix of accidents and apparent suicides that would be easily explained away in any other circumstance. Frank it seemed had found a thread he was following through the crimes now laying on my table. My best guess was that he just hadn’t gotten to the others to do full investigations on them.

Was Frank’s death tied somehow to his investigation? If he had discovered the murders, and the perp got wind of it, it would certainly be a possibility. Add the fact that whoever had killed Frank, had also taken his notes on the cases, and there was a compelling argument to be had for this conclusion.

Checking the dates on his other two investigations, I realized that the last exhumation was only a week before Frank had been murdered.

I was shocked to realize that the perpetrator may have not only found out what Frank was up to, but maybe eliminated his problem with due haste.

This put a whole new wrinkle into the investigation, a scary wrinkle. The murderer could have a source of information, a very good source it would seem.

“Dammit!”

Memories came flooding back of my last case, where that murderer had also had an inside source in the Sheriff’s daughter.

There was one huge difference I could see immediately though. In
The Ghost Murders
, we did not have any idea that we had an inside person, nor that she was actually leading the killer’s actions. If what I was thinking was true this time however, I at least knew up front that there may be a leak somewhere, and I may be able to use that to my advantage …somehow.

Frank would have kept his most pertinent notes in his notebook, which of course was missing. Frank and I had both always kept our best stuff in our notebooks, leaving them close to our vest until such time as we felt comfortable entering the info into the file.

Following suit and pulling out my own notebook, I prepared to start entering information into it. The investigation was already getting complicated, and I was just getting started.

Murders, unknown informants, and no apparent reason for said murders. And yet, it seemed they could be deadly quick to react to interference in their plans. I would have to take extra precautions this time around, and I may not be able to count on any help either. After all, who could I trust?

“What did you get yourself into old friend?” 

“What did you find?” 

“What’s the common thread in all of this?”

Thinking of my partner and his tenacious investigative skills, I could think of just one thing to say to him.

“I sure could use your help on this one old buddy!”