Pall in the Family (22 page)

I snuck home, grabbed my Browning pistol, and
headed out to Dad's cabin. I borrowed Mom's smart car, since mine was still in the shop. It was like driving a roller skate compared to my Jeep, and the bright orange exterior didn't help my desire for stealth. I texted Alex to say I would be delayed, and then shut off my phone. I needed to think.

The quiet before I pulled the trigger worked its magic. I lined up the target, sighting along my arm to the end of the barrel. Standing thirty feet away from the poor tree that served as target holder, feet apart, weight balanced, I held my breath and squeezed.

Still reeling from Tish's will and, more, from her letter, I tried to make sense of it all. Originally, I'd had no intention of staying in Crystal Haven. The summer was supposed to be a brief break from Ann Arbor and the mess I had left there. But now, I imagined what it would be like to leave Ann Arbor for good. I had entered the academy thinking I would help people, but the reality of the job was very different from my fantasy. There was less helping and more paperwork than I had imagined. The hierarchy grated on my independent nature, and I was frequently at odds with those further up the chain of command. And then Jadyn happened.

I had been so sure that night. My partner and I had answered a call for an attempted break-in. We'd chased the suspect through backyards and then to a cemetery. There had been no moon, and the graveyard had lain dim and sinister. When I heard a noise ahead of me and turned to see the tall, bulky suspect facing us, I
knew
he had a gun in his hand. I can't remember now if I saw it or
felt
it, but I was sure it was there. The guy was a threat. Standing in the dark among the headstones, I stopped listening to my normal senses and tuned in to something else entirely. Something I had spent many years trying to ignore.

But, the suspect didn't have a gun. He had a knife, in his pocket. I don't know what I thought was in his hand, but it wasn't there later when the other officers arrived with their lights and their questions. My intuition had betrayed me. My partner stood by me and claimed he had seen a gun as well, a trick of the light, perhaps. He risked his own job and probably lied, although every time I brought it up, he refused to talk about it. We had been in pursuit of a suspect who then turned on us with what I thought was a gun. Lethal force was warranted. That was the story we told, but the truth was, I
felt
the threat with senses that were rusty and apparently not very reliable.

I am an excellent shot. Police training doesn't include shooting to injure. If an officer fires her weapon, she should do so with lethal intent. But I shot his knee. Jadyn was only seventeen and he'd probably always need a cane.

Not only did I shoot a suspect that was not actively threatening, I had broken the unwritten rule. I should have aimed to kill. Now, to my colleagues on the force, I had become an unreliable back-up; too weak to be trusted in the heat of battle. But, I was thankful for that weakness. Thankful I hadn't killed him. Still, the experience left me filled with doubt. I doubted my actions and judgment. Most of all, I doubted my “gift.” Like always, my psychic talent had caused nothing but grief.

I walked back from the tree after putting up another target. The first had been shredded. I held my breath and squeezed.

* * *

After four targets,
I decided it was time to head to Alex's house and tell them the news about Tish's will. My arm throbbed where the cut had been stitched. I lined up for one final shot. Then I heard it again—that
click-click
sound. I looked around the clearing. Nothing. I lined up again and felt the recoil travel up my arm. I would be sore later.

“Whoa, so it's you making all this noise.”

I spun around, gun still ready and aimed at the intruder.

Milo put his hands up, but his smile showed he wasn't afraid.

“Milo, what are you doing out here?” I put the safety on and released the clip.

He held a metal detector and a shovel. That was the clicking I'd heard; I knew it had sounded familiar.

“I like to come out and visit the building site, even if nothing's being built yet. It's only about half a mile that way.” He pointed east.

“Are you searching for buried treasure as well?” I gestured at his equipment.

“This? Just having some fun. You never know what you might find.”

“Well, you shouldn't sneak up on me like that.” My heart raced, and I held my hand at my side to stop the shaking. I didn't know if it was fatigue or fear.

He shrugged. “I guess you didn't hear me coming with all the noise you were making.” He took a few steps closer.

“No, I didn't hear you.” I bent and quickly packed my things. I had to get out of there. Thinking about how wrong I had been about Jadyn started me thinking that I could be wrong about Milo.

“Are you alone out here?”

I stopped and looked up slowly, wishing I had left my gun loaded. Had he seen me release the clip, or could I bluff?

“Why do you ask?” I felt the reassuring bulk of the Browning in my hand.

“You should be careful.” He nodded toward my hand. “Accidents can happen with guns.”

I watched him head off into the woods, and then I jogged to the car, got in, and locked the door.

* * *

My hands were
steady by the time I got to Alex's house. I told myself that Milo was harmless. It was just coincidence that he kept turning up in the woods when I was alone. He'd helped me when my car flipped over. I had never been wrong when the feeling resulted from physical touch. I even picked up things from objects sometimes. Something still nagged at me, though.

Alex and Josh lived in a cozy ranch-style house that sat back from the street, up on a small hill. They had landscaped it to the point that I felt I needed a wilderness guide to find the door. I think the front was a combination of stone and siding, but the ferns, bushes, and hanging plants obscured most of the facade.

I found Diana and Alex sitting in his small, welcoming living room. A bottle of Glenfiddich sat open on the table. Alex had broken into his favorite. They seemed to be fully involved in a game of “remember when” and drew me in immediately with the story of Tish convincing my mother that a U2 concert in Chicago was not only a good idea, it would be educational as well. She had volunteered to chaperone, but Alex, Diana, and I had to restrain her from throwing herself on the stage. She then freaked out a security guard with her psychic knowledge, so he let us backstage to meet the band. They were less impressed by her predictions, but she managed to snag a towel that Bono had used to mop his face. She claimed she'd never wash it. I guess that was mine now, too.

“I'll really miss her.” Diana rubbed her nose and scrubbed her eyes viciously with a tissue.

I decided I needed some of that whiskey.

“What did the lawyer have to say?” Alex asked after pouring a shot into my glass.

“He read Tish's will.”

“Was it just the two of you?” Diana asked.

“Yeah. She left everything to me. There was no need for anyone else to be there.” I took a sip and grimaced at the burn in my throat.

Alex whistled. “Whoa, Vi isn't going to like that. She probably thought she'd get rid of your parents if they got the house back.”

“I know. I don't know what promises Tish made to my mother, but she did own the house. She had a right to do what she wanted with it.”

“You don't want the house, do you?” Diana reached over to touch my hand.

I pulled away. “No, it's not that. She left a clause in the will. I have to live in the house for a year before selling it. If I don't, everything goes to charity.”

“What about your job?” Alex asked.

I hadn't talked to either of them about my job and the way I had left it. They thought I was on “sabbatical.” As if the police force gave sabbaticals. Even if I didn't return to the force, I had been planning on returning to Ann Arbor. I wasn't sure I could live in Crystal Haven full-time. I knew I couldn't live with my family for the long term, but maybe if I had my own place . . .

“I'm not sure I want to go back to my job,” I said.

“It was that bad?” Diana's green eyes held mine, and I knew that she had figured out that there was trouble in Ann Arbor.

“Yeah, it was pretty bad.” I downed the rest of the whiskey.

“What are you two talking about?” Alex looked from Diana to me.

I finally told them the whole story. It felt good, in the end, to let them know what I had been spending so much time avoiding.

“Is it still being investigated?” Alex asked.

“Yes. The kid I shot was definitely part of a gang. We don't know why he was breaking into that house, but he didn't have a gun when I shot him. There are a lot of people who want to see me lose my badge.”

“Wow. I knew something was up with you, but I couldn't figure out what. I'm sorry, Clyde,” Diana said.

“So, how are you going to break the news about Tish's house to your family?” Alex leaned forward in his armchair, setting his glass on the table.

“I don't know. I might have to do something drastic.”

“Drastic?” Diana sat up straighter.

“I might have to call Grace.”

Grace had not been back to Crystal Haven in years,
but she was still an expert in parental and auntal manipulation. I called her for advice when I was really stuck. Our childhood had been fraught with jealousy on both sides, and our age difference had guaranteed Grace's aloof demeanor toward me. But the years had mellowed my jealousy, and I realized that I had something she'd never had: the focused attention of Mom. I could see how a little sister in the house who was held up as the next amazing family psychic might grate on a person. Plus, I had been a bossy pest.

She left town in her early twenties seeking her future in New York as I had described it from my dream. I was fourteen at the time. We'd settled into a cordial relationship that never quite lost the tone of big-sister tolerance of an annoying younger sibling.

But in this case, I needed Grace's take on how to handle the family because things were going to get tricky when they found out that Tish had left everything to me and that I didn't want it. I went out to Alex's porch among the plants and dialed.

“Well, you have to decide what you want to do,” Grace said, after I had explained the will and the requirements.

“I don't know what I want to do.” I pulled a large cluster off a lilac bush and buried my nose in its petals.

“Clyde, just make a decision. Would it kill you to live in Crystal Haven for one year?”

“You won't even come back for a long weekend, and you want me to drop everything and move here?”

“What, exactly, will you be dropping? A one-bedroom apartment in Ann Arbor and a job you don't like?”

“It's not that I don't like my job . . . things just got complicated.” I snapped the small flowers off the bunch one by one.

“Then why did you run home to Mom the minute things got tough?”

“That's not fair.”

“The truth never is, kiddo.”

“Fine. Tell me how to handle Mom and Vi.” I tossed the remains of the lilacs into the yard.

“Well, I would spin the staying-in-town-for-a-year part of the deal. They thought they'd only get a month or so to work on getting you back into the business; now they have a year.”

“Yeah, that's good. I could point out that I would take Baxter with me. Mom would like that.”

“Plus, they aren't really losing anything. They haven't had that house for years. Nothing is changed, except you'll be closer.” I wondered how much her own part in losing the house contributed to her cavalier attitude.

“You know Vi. She'll make it a big deal.”

“Not if you play it right.”

“Okay.” I sighed. She was less helpful than I had hoped. Maybe her distance from the family had blunted her recollection of the way we interacted and the way that Vi could turn any situation into a confrontation.

“Hey, Mac called.” My stomach dropped.

I cleared my throat. “He did? Why?”

“He said you and ‘a ragtag gang' were stalking private citizens and Seth was involved. He sort of hinted that he might be making arrests and that Seth didn't need that sort of blemish on his record.”

“He threatened you?” I smiled as I said this, imagining
that
conversation. Mac must be really desperate if he had called Grace. He knew she tended to be protective of me. But by threatening Seth, he was risking his life.

“No, mostly he wanted me to threaten you. Consider yourself threatened. Just stay out of it. Anyway, it sounds like Mac has everything under control.” I heard my niece, Sophie, shouting in the background. The phone was muffled, and then Grace came back on the line. “Plus, Mac said you were stalking Milo. I wouldn't mess with the Starks if I were you. They're creepy. Theirs was always the house we avoided on Halloween.”

“It was?”

“Don't you remember? Just a sec.” Grace covered the mouthpiece, but I could hear her shout, “Just a minute, Sophie!” She came back on the line. “Maybe you were too young. Tish always told me to steer clear of them. She had me scared to death when I was little. Then we moved, and I guess it wasn't an issue after that. But still, I never trusted them.”

“I remember that Tish never liked them, but I thought it was because Cecile is such a busybody.”

“Maybe. I have to go. Sophie's got an ‘emergency' playdate situation.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You aren't going to stay out of it, are you?”

“No.”

* * *

“Where have you
been?” Vi dropped her knitting and stood up.

“I was getting worried.” Mom rushed toward me.

“I need to talk to you.” Seth put his hand up like he was in class.

All of this greeted me the moment I entered the house. I hadn't realized how late it was. I'd missed the post-funeral reception and I was relieved, even if it meant hearing every detail later from my mother. Baxter hung back and didn't even check my pockets for treats. He could have been more stressed by the changes in his life than I realized.

Mom gave me a hug and told me again she was worried. Seth caught my eye and tilted his head toward the door—he wanted me to go outside with him.

“Where were you? With everything that's been going on, you could have left us a message,” Vi said.

I found it harder to believe that they were truly worried as much as suspicious I had been investigating on my own. Dad would certainly have heard on his scanner if I had been in any further trouble.

“I had to meet with Mr. Worthington after the funeral, and then I went to Alex's place for a little while. I didn't know I needed to check in with everyone.” I was feeling surly and a bit like a teenager again. I definitely needed my own place

“Oh. Well, we just figured we'd all come back here afterward. We have to make a plan for what to do next,” Vi said. Mom nodded, and Seth flicked his eyes to the door again.

“Where's Dad?”

“He's reading the paper in the dining room. Why did you have to meet with Rupert? Does it have to do with your work situation?” My mom put on her concerned expression. This was a clever maneuver to find out what had happened in my work situation. If I needed a lawyer, she'd know
something.

“Let's go sit down. I need to talk to everyone.”

Seth slumped and shook his head.

We invaded Dad's quiet time. Tuffy and Baxter joined us—Tuffy on Seth's lap, and Baxter as far from me as he could get. I wondered if he blamed me for Tish's death. I wondered if he could still smell the blood. What was I going to do with him?

“Mr. Worthington asked me to meet with him in regard to Tish's will.”

“Oh,” Mom said, and began smoothing the fringe on the tablecloth.

“It seems that Tish left everything to me.” Just like ripping off a Band-Aid—quick and painless.

“But I thought she—” Vi began. My mother quickly put a hand on her arm to interrupt.

There was a moment of silence as Vi and Mom exchanged a long look.

Dad broke the tension. “She left you the house and Baxter?”

“And some money. She had saved quite a bit.”

Even the dogs seemed to hold their breath.

“What are you going to do with it? Sell it? That house was your parents', you know.” Vi got her finger ready in case waggling was needed.

“Vi, it's okay . . . ,” Mom began.

“No, it's not. You should have the house.” Vi shot a glare in my direction.

“No, I'm not going to sell it. The terms of the will are unusual but very clear. I have to live in the house for at least a year before I can sell it. Otherwise, it goes to charity.”

The ladies gasped at the same moment as if they were taking in the same breath.

“It wouldn't revert to Rose?” Vi said.

“I don't know what any previous will contained. I'm just telling you what I know. . . .”

“Then you'll be here in Crystal Haven for a year?” Mom couldn't cover the smile.

“What about your job? You worked hard for that.” Dad was always the practical one.

“I think I can get a leave of absence,” I said. Usually when you quit, you got to leave, but I didn't want to have that conversation right now. I decided to play my trump card. “Plus, I'll be able to take Baxter, and he won't have to live here.”

Vi looked from Mom to Dad. “We should talk to Rupert. Or get our own lawyer. If you two want the house back, we should fight for it!” Vi stood as if she would go pull the lawyer out of the front closet.

Mom grabbed her hand and pulled her back into her seat. “We aren't going to take Clyde to court, Vi.”

Vi glanced at me and looked away. “Right, of course not.”

“It's not like we were
planning
on moving, Frank,” Mom said to Dad.

He nodded and sighed. “Of course not. I just thought we might get our own place again someday. . . .” He didn't look at Vi.

“It's just a year, Dad. Who knows what will happen?” I said.

Dad smiled. “The good news is, we get to have you close by again.” Dad put his hand on mine.

Vi clapped once and grinned. “I knew it! Didn't I tell you she'd be coming back to stay, Rose?”

“I don't remember, Vi. Did you?”

“Absolutely. I knew it.” Vi looked around the table daring anyone to refute her claim.

* * *

While Mom and
Vi discussed Tish's funeral, her will, and what it all might mean, Seth and I snuck outside.

He threw a tennis ball deep into the yard and both dogs ran after it, side by side, Tuffy at full tilt with his short legs blurring beneath him, Baxter in long, loping strides.

“Seth, what's up?” I said when he seemed to be taking an enormous interest in his shoelace.

“I have something to show you,” he said.

Seth headed for the back of the yard, where my father had built a small tool shed. He looked toward the house before opening the door and reaching behind some sacks of mulch.

He pulled out what looked like a book wrapped in paper towels. I took it from him and unwrapped it.
My Diary
was printed in peeling gold foil on its dark green cover.

“Is this yours?” I asked. I hoped it wasn't, because the last thing I needed was to read a thirteen-year-old boy's diary.

He looked horrified for a moment.

“Of course not. I think it was Tish's.”

The book felt warm in my hands, and I wiped my palm on my jeans.

“How did you get it?”

Seth looked away. He sighed. He squinted at the dogs, who were playing some tennis-ball game in the middle of the yard.

“Seth?”

“I found it in Baxter's bed,” he said.

“What? How?”

“Please don't tell anyone, Clyde. Especially Vi, or Nana Rose . . . or my mother.”

“Okay. What's going on?”

“I was trying to get Baxter to lie down. He paced around the house the whole time that people were here from the funeral. I brought him up to my room and tried to get him onto his bed. He refused to even go near it.”

“So, you sat on it and felt the book?”

“No.” He looked at the dogs again, then the house, then back to the diary I held in my hand.

“It was as clear as anything. He said the bed was too lumpy.”

“Who said?”

“Baxter.”

I felt my jaw drop.

“You think you heard Baxter talk? Oh, Seth.” I reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, but he dodged away.

“I didn't hear him talk. I sort of
felt
what he was saying, in my head.”

Seth was such a normal kid that I thought he had escaped. But then I thought of the way the two worst-behaved dogs I knew were obedience champions when he was around.

“When you checked the bed you found this book?” I tried to focus on the more concrete aspect of his story while I figured out how to deal with his Doctor Doolittle confession.

Seth nodded. “I felt something hard, so I cut open the seam and dug around inside. I found the book. I didn't read much of it; it seems like it's from when she was a kid.”

I flipped the book open and looked at the date: 1975. Tish would have been around twelve at the time. Why would she hide a diary from when she was twelve?

“I don't know what to do, Clyde. I kind of like knowing what the dogs think, but I thought it was just a general sense. Today it was different. Today I heard real words in my head.” His eyes were big.

“Vi has been able to get messages from animals for years. Maybe you should talk to her.”

His head shook violently from side to side.

“No. I don't want them to know about it. I don't think Vi can really hear them; I think she just makes it all up based on a feeling she gets. I don't want my mom to know. She'll think I'm a freak.”

I laughed. “Your mother grew up here. She won't think you're a freak. . . .” I stopped when I noticed his expression. It was one of a wise teacher waiting for his stupid student to figure things out.