Mary’s blood ran cold. “Angela, don’t do this,” she said. “Don’t hurt Bradley.”
“Daddy says I can have him once he’s dead,” she said. “Don’t matter to me if he’s got a little blood on him.”
“Your Momma would be sad if you killed him,” Mary said. “She would blame herself.”
Angela tightened her grip on the knife and fisted her other hand in Bradley’s hair, yanked his head back, further exposing his neck. “You lie,” she said. “My Momma
ain’t
been around since she died. She left me.”
“She never left you,” Mary said. “She’s been here all the time; your Daddy wouldn’t let her get close to you. But she thought you were making love potions, not the poison she made to kill your Daddy.”
“How did you know about that?”
“She told me. She told me that she was sorry she wasn’t stronger and she didn’t protect you more,” Mary said. “She said that once she died, your Daddy hurt you. She should have protected you.”
“She didn’t love me,” Angela said. “That’s what Daddy told me, she didn’t want me.”
“He lied to you,” Mary said. “She loved you. She still loves you.”
The door flew open and Angela’s father glided into the room. “You’re lying to my baby,” he said. “You’re just a lying bitch.”
He lunged forward, his eyes blazing red and his hands outstretched. Mary, with no place to go, prepared for the impact.
“Interception,” Mike shouted as he plowed into the side of Angela’s father and sent them both careening through the wall.
Mary turned to see Angela staring at the corner behind her.
“Momma?”
Angela said. “Is that really you?”
Angela’s mother glided forward. “Yes, angel, it’s me,” she said.
“Mary wasn’t lying?” she asked. “You’ve been here all along?”
“Yes, baby, I’ve been here all along,” she said.
“You were never here,” Angela’s father screamed, appearing next to his wife. “You were a lousy mother and wife.”
Angela’s mother started to fade away. The knife was still tight in Angela’s hand and she still had Bradley’s head in her grip.
“You need to be strong,” Mary told the mother. “He can’t hurt you now.”
She solidified and faced him. “I was never a lousy mother or wife,” she said. “You were just never satisfied. You enjoyed being a bully.”
“You were worthless and you raised a worthless daughter too,” he yelled.
“I thought you loved me, Daddy,” Angela sobbed.
He turned on his daughter, his eyes blazing. “Why would I love you?” he asked.
Angela’s mother glided over to face him. “Your daughter was the only thing you did good in your useless life. You are nothing. Not to me, not to Angela. You are worthless. That’s why I killed you.”
He lifted his arm to strike her and she blocked him. “You will never do that to me again.”
She stood up and looked him in the eye. “Leave now; you have no power over us anymore.”
Angela’s father shook his head. “No, you’re afraid of me.”
“Not anymore,” she said. “I see you for what you are. Leave, now.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m powerful,” he cried, his voice diminishing, as he became smaller before their eyes. “I need you to be afraid.”
Then he completely faded away.
“I’m sorry, baby, don’t mind him,” Angela’s mother said.
“I did what you told me to do, Momma,” she said with a sad smile. “I got rid of those worthless men. I gave them your special medicine.”
“But honey, I didn’t mean that all men were bad,” she explained. “Just
your
Daddy, because he was hurting us. These men, they don’t deserve to die. They’re good men.”
Angela shook her head. “There
ain’t
any good men,” she said firmly. “They hurt us, Momma. They hurt women.”
Her mother shook her head. “No, honey, there are lots of good men,” she said. “Your grandpa was a good man, but your Daddy killed him too.”
Angela looked down at Bradley. “But, Daddy said Bradley had to die. That was the only way.”
“No, baby, Daddy lied to you,” her mother said. “He’s nothing but an evil murderer.”
Tears fell down Angela’s face and she cocked her head to the side. “But, Momma,” she said sadly, lifting the knife in the air. “I’m nothing but an evil murderer too.”
Angela brought the knife down viciously.
“No!” Mary screamed, racing forward, but she knew it was too late.
Angela stood behind Bradley, blood darkening her white wedding dress. The knife was buried halfway up the blade, in the middle of her chest. She looked up at Mary. “Bad people have to die,” she whispered.
Her mother glided forward. “Oh, baby, no,” she sobbed.
Angela’s body crumpled to the floor, catching the chair her father’s corpse was tied to and bringing it crashing down with her. The mummified body crumbled into pieces and the skull rolled across the room.
Mary knelt down next to Angela and she grabbed Mary’s hand, “Milk Thistle Tincture…on my…desk…for Bradley…Milk Thistle Tincture.”
Then she was gone.
Mary laid Angela’s hand on her chest and gently closed her eyelids. Angela’s mother turned away from the body lying on the floor and looked upward. “Baby, I’m coming with you,” she said and she faded away.
Hurrying over to Bradley, she felt his pulse again. It was weak, but still there. “Come on, Bradley,” she said. “Hang on for just a little longer.”
“Here’s the tincture,” Mike said, appearing next to Mary and handing her a small dark bottle. “I found it on her desk upstairs.”
She cradled Bradley’s head against her body and took the cork out of the top of the bottle. Laying the bottle against his lips, she slowly poured the tincture into his mouth. “Come on Bradley, swallow,” she pleaded.
He lay there, not moving and not breathing. Mary felt he was slipping away. With tears rolling down her face, she held him to her. “Dammit Bradley, get back here,” she whispered to him.
He swallowed.
Mary poured more tincture down his throat and he swallowed again. His breathing was steadier and his skin tone appeared normal.
“Damn, it worked,” Mike said.
Looking up at Mike through tear-filled eyes, Mary nodded. “Yes, it worked,” she said. “Thank you.”
Mike shrugged. “Hey, that’s what was keeping me here…”
He stopped and cocked his head to the side. “Mary, I’m still here.”
“What?”
“Angela’s dead. Case closed. Dead guy should be seeing the light, right?”
“Right.”
“So, how come I’m not with a bunch of angelic babes right now?”
“I don’t know,” Mary said. “Maybe you have more unfinished business.”
He shrugged. “Well, I guess I could hang around hoping to get a glance at you in sexy lingerie.”
“Mary,” Bradley whispered. “Who the hell is the guy who wants to see you in lingerie?”
Mary laughed, bent over and kissed Bradley on the mouth. “It’s a long story and thankfully you have plenty of time to hear it.”
Mike winked at her and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “See you, Mary.”
Then he faded away.
“Welcome back,” she said to Bradley. “I was a little worried there.”
Bradley straightened in the chair and looked down at Angela’s body on the floor. “She was so troubled,” he said. “I can’t understand how a person who was so bright and talented could be so messed up.”
“Yeah, well, you would have understood it better if you had met her parents,” Mary said, removing the straps from the chair. “How are you feeling?”
He waited a moment to evaluate. “Good, actually, I’m feeling pretty good,” he said, and then he paused. “Okay, I just got deja vu. I remember thinking or saying that same thing. That I was feeling pretty good.”
“Well, that’s weird,” Mary said and added sarcastically, “And nothing weird ever happens in our lives.”
Bradley chuckled. “I know
,
it’s rough to have such a boring life.”
“Okay, I’m calling 911 now,” she said. “Do you want an ambulance?”
“No, I’d rather just catch a ride with you,” he said. “I think I can walk.”
Mary placed the call and as she spoke to the dispatcher, she moved out of the shadow from behind his chair. It was the first time Bradley had seen the extent of Mary’s injuries.
“Mary,” he said, reaching for her hand and pulling her to him, “What happened?”
She shrugged, “It’s been a really long day.”
“You are a very lucky man,” Dr. Thorne said, standing next to his hospital bed. “The active ingredient in milk thistle seeds is
silymarin
, which not only supports the walls of liver cells and prevents more toxins from entering, but it also aids in the regeneration of liver cells. That tincture saved your life.”
“So, I can go home?” he asked hopefully.
“Not on your life,” Dr. Thorne replied. “You are going to be company of Freeport Hospital at least overnight. And then we’ll talk.”
She turned to Mary. “Although you look as though you’ve been through the losing end of a prize fight, most of your injuries are superficial. Your shoulder is badly bruised, but I don’t see any muscle or tendon damage. However, I am worried about the choking.”
“Choking?” Bradley asked. “You didn’t tell me about a choking.”
“It didn’t seem relevant at the time,” she replied.
Dr. Thorne rolled her eyes. “You might experience some soreness in your throat,” she said, “And that’s normal. But, if it’s more than minor soreness, or if you have trouble swallowing, I want you back here immediately.”
“She gets to go home?” Bradley asked.
“Yes, she does,” Dr. Thorne answered.
“Straight home.”
Mary nodded.
“Yes, ma’am.”
As she drove down Highway 26 she wondered how she could explain straight home via the Thompson Farm to Dr. Thorne. “I just won’t think about it,” she decided.
She turned down Buckeye Road and within a few minutes she was pulling into the farm’s driveway. Yellow police tape had cordoned off several areas of the farm. Mary could see the large equipment tire tracks heading into the back woods. She had been told they uncovered Peggy’s body that afternoon.
Mary walked to the back door, knocked and then entered. “Hello, Paul,” he called. “It’s Mary O’Reilly.”
“I’m in here,” he called in a low voice, “In the front room.”
He was sitting on the couch with the wedding photo from the mantle in his hands. His eyes were red-rimmed and he looked exhausted.
“Hi,” she said, sitting next to him. “How are you doing?”
“Why didn’t she tell me he was hitting her, Mary?” he abruptly asked. “Why didn’t she trust me?”
Peggy appeared in the room and glided over to Paul.
“Paul,” Mary said. “When I left I told you that I would come back and explain how I knew the things I knew.”
He turned to her. “Yes?”
“When I worked as a police officer in Chicago, I got caught in
a crossfire
. I got shot. They rushed me to the hospital and performed emergency surgery. Sometime during that surgery, I died,” she said. “I remember walking down a long white tunnel. About halfway down the tunnel someone called my name. He told me that I had a choice. I could keep walking up the tunnel or I could turn around and return to my family.”
“You talked to God?” Paul asked.
“I don’t know if it was God,” she said. “But the voice was loving and kind. I looked back down the tunnel and I could see my family gathered together, crying over me. My dad looked so old and my mom looked so sad. So, I decided to go back. But, I came back with a special gift. I can see people who have died.
Especially those who are troubled and haven’t left this world.”
“Are you telling me that you see ghosts?”
“Yes,” she said. “I see ghosts and on Christmas Day Peggy came to me.”
“She talked to you? She told you that Luke had killed her?”
“She came to me, but she didn’t tell me who had killed her,” she said. “I had to find that out on my own.”
“You,” Paul said, his eyes widening. “You stole the snowmobile.”
“I prefer to think of it as borrowing,” she said, shrugging. “Yes, Peggy told me that she had been buried and I wanted to find out what happened.”
“Why didn’t she come to me, Mary?” he whispered. “Did she think I was like Luke?”
“Oh, no, never,” Peggy said. “I just never wanted you to be disappointed in me. I couldn’t bear you not loving me anymore.”
Mary sighed. “She loved you and she didn’t want to disappoint you,” she said. “She was so afraid of losing you that she put up with Luke’s abuse.”
“How do you know?”
“She’s here, in this room with us.”
“Peggy,” he called out, tears filling his eyes. “Peggy I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I know, Luke was very careful about how he hurt me,” she said.