Tangled Souls (30 page)

“What is it you want of me?” Mrs. Jones asked, her eyes moving nervously from one visitor to the other. The Yorkie docked at her feet, gnawing a miniature chew bone with sharp crunches.

“I need to try to understand some things,” Gavenia said. “You are Mr. Jones’s mother, right?”

“Yes.”

Gavenia frowned. Why had the ghost claimed Billy was her child?
Did I read this all wrong?

“What relation are you to Linda?” Gavenia asked.

“She was my older sister.”

Gavenia shifted uncomfortably, wondering how to proceed.

Ari jumped in. “We need to know the circumstances of her death.”

Gavenia inwardly winced—her sister was too keen sometimes.

“Billy’s article said you knew,” Mrs. Jones replied, a slight frown on her brow.

Gavenia found her voice. “I clearly saw your sister’s death, Mrs. Jones. Your son says I’m lying. We’re here to learn the truth.”

The woman studied her for a moment. Rising, she fetched a photograph from a nearby hutch and handed it to Gavenia with a trembling hand.

“That’s Billy and my sister when he was about a year old.” The photo showed a little boy perched in Linda’s lap, clutching a toy train. His smile was wide, carefree. The man Gavenia had met at Earth, Wind, and Fire physically resembled the child, but his soul was different—darker, more angry.

“When did he change?” Gavenia asked, looking back up.

Mrs. Jones appeared surprised, as if she had divined a great secret.

“After his mother died. The doctor said Billy wouldn’t remember her, but he did. He started throwing tantrums, demanding to see her.”

“Then Linda was his mother,” Gavenia said quietly.

“Yes. After her death, my husband and I adopted him and moved to Vegas to get away from the gossiping neighbors.”

“You never told him about his mother’s death?” Ari asked.

“No. The doctor said we shouldn’t.”

“The doctor was wrong, though I’m sure he meant well,” Gavenia said, handing the framed photograph back to Mrs. Jones. “Children sense more than we realize.”

A pensive look flowed over the woman’s face as she returned the photo to its place, rearranging it just so. Without a word she made her way down the hall.

“So now what?” Ari whispered.

“We wait,” Gavenia replied. Her initial apprehension was wearing off, replaced by a vague impression she’d been sent to Vegas other than to clear her name.

A quick glance around proved that Bart was nowhere to be seen and Paul’s shadow loitered near his wife, a faint mist at the far end of the couch. A slight noise caught Gavenia’s attention. A young man in a private’s uniform stood near the hutch, holding a rifle. Gavenia gave him a slight nod to acknowledge his presence. He nodded back.

Mrs. Jones returned bearing a red-leather photo album. She settled into her chair as if in some discomfort, caressed the top of the album in a loving gesture, and then set the book on the coffee table between them.

“Your answers are in there,” she said. She tapped the side of the chair, and the Yorkie vaulted upward onto her lap.

As Ari squeezed her arm in a reassuring gesture, Gavenia lowered her eyes to the photo album. After a deep inhalation, she picked up the book. Tempted as she was to flip rapidly through the pages, that would be disrespectful; the album contained the sacred memories of Linda’s short life.

Ari scooted closer as Gavenia opened the front cover.

She read from the first page. “Linda Amber Stilton, 1937 to 1959.”

“So young,” Ari murmured.

As with most albums, it was chronological: baby photos, first day of kindergarten, first bicycle, cheerleading, high school graduation, and then the wedding photo. Linda was dressed in white, a true blushing bride, her eyes gazing in adoration at the man standing next to her in the church.

Gavenia bit the inside of her lip. Her eyes sought those of Mrs. Jones.

“This isn’t the man I saw in the vision,” Gavenia said. Ari gave her a sharp look. In contrast, their hostess issued a short nod, as if she’d passed some test.

“That is Linda’s first husband, Albert. He died only a few months after their marriage.”

A revelation struck home. “Your nephew is this man’s son, isn’t he?”

Mrs. Jones nodded. “After Albert’s death, Linda remarried. It was a mistake that cost her everything.”

Gavenia flipped the page and found another wedding photo. This time Linda’s face was subdued, her expression one of uncertainty. Clad in a tailored navy suit, she clutched a bouquet of flowers strategically placed in an attempt to hide her bulging stomach. The groom’s eyes were haughty. Gavenia shivered at the memory of the carnage his jealous rage had caused.

She continued on, finding the birth announcement of a son, William Albert, four months after the wedding. Then she found the police report.

Don’t read it
, Bart commanded.
It’ll bring back the vision.

Gavenia shoved the book toward her sister, bile rising in her throat. “I . . . can’t.” She took a series of cleansing breaths and kept her eyes riveted on their hostess.

There was the sound of flipping pages as Ari scanned the pages. “It’s all here,” her sister said. “The police report, newspaper clippings, death certificate . . .”

Gavenia took a deep breath, praying her voice wouldn’t betray her. “If I owe Mrs. Jones an apology, tell me.”

Their hostess shook her head. “No apology needed, Miss Kingsgrave. You saw my sister’s death as if you were in the same room. You saw things that weren’t reported in the newspapers.”

A single tear escaped down Gavenia’s cheek. She bit her lip, tasting blood, in an attempt to keep Linda’s dying shrieks from overwhelming her. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

There was an awkward silence. Ari kept glancing back and forth between Gavenia and their hostess, as if waiting for something else to happen.

“Is Linda here now?” Mrs. Jones asked.

Startled by the question, Gavenia wiped away the tear and looked around. Only Paul and the soldier. The man gave her a nod, granting permission to speak of him.

“No, but there is someone else here. A young man in a soldier’s uniform. He has dark-brown hair and thick eyebrows.” Gavenia paused and added, “He says his name is Christopher.”

“Oh, my God.” Mrs. Jones’s hands flew to her mouth, startling the Yorkie. “Chris?” Her eyes filled with tears, and she dug in a sweater pocket for a tissue. “I . . .” She paused and then asked, “Can you tell him that I miss him?”

Gavenia gave her a gentle smile. “You just did.” The specter was speaking now, and she relayed the message. “He says he will be waiting for you when you come across and that it won’t be long now. He says you understand what that means.”

The woman dabbed at her tears and then sighed expressively.

“I do. I look forward to that day, Chris.” She dabbed at her nose with the tissues and explained, “He died in Vietnam. We were going to be married.”

“I’m so sorry,” Gavenia said, stunned by the losses this woman had endured. “Does your . . . son know about your condition?”

“Yes. He was here a few days ago and I told him then. I also showed him those papers,” she said, pointing to the album on Ari’s lap. She halted and looked away, blinking at the tears that flowed freely down her cheeks. “He was very angry. I can’t blame him. We should have told him a long time ago.”

“Then he knew about his mother when he submitted the article?” Ari pressed.

“Yes. I told him he should write the truth, but he refused.”

Time to go
, Bart whispered as he appeared at Gavenia’s elbow.

She agreed. Gavenia stood, steadying herself with her cane. “We won’t take any more of your time.”

Ari stared at her in disbelief. “But what about the article?” she demanded.

Gavenia ignored her. “Thank you, Mrs. Jones. You’ve put me at ease. I’m sorry to have brought back such painful memories.”

As she paused at the front door, the woman took Gavenia’s hands in hers. They were cold, as if her life was ebbing away even as they touched.

The woman cleared her throat. “I have an extra copy of the police report. You can take it to the newspaper. They’ll know what to do with it.”

Gavenia thought for a moment and then shook her head.

“No, thank you. That’s not what’s important right now. You’ve told me what I needed to know.”

Mrs. Jones studied her a moment. “It wasn’t about money, was it?” she asked.

“No. I thought I was helping him.”

The woman nodded her understanding. “My son shouldn’t have done this. That’s not what Linda would have wanted.”

Gavenia gave the woman a long embrace, enveloping her within a calming spell, and then retreated down the front stairs. She heard Ari politely saying farewell, but her words were clipped and tense. To her credit, she wasn’t making a scene.

Gavenia hesitated before opening the rental car’s door. She took a last look toward the house where Mrs. Jones was framed in the doorway, the Yorkie at her feet. Standing beside her was the ghost of her fiancé. He gave Gavenia a solemn wave.

Thank you
, he said.
I will watch over her.

I know you will.

Ari waited until Mrs. Jones was inside the house, the door closed, before she exploded in frustration.

“What in the hell was that?” she exclaimed in a lowered voice. “Why didn’t you take the police report? Why did we come all the way over here just to back down?”

Gavenia climbed into the car and buckled her seat belt. Her sister’s anger was understandable and she was touched that it was on her behalf. She waited until Ari shut the door and engaged her own seat belt.

“Mrs. Jones is dying of colon cancer. Her fiancé told me she has very little time.”

Ari looked toward the house and back again, her mouth open. “I . . . I thought . . .”

“You thought I was wimping out?” Gavenia asked as she started the car. Her sister nodded in admission. “Well, I am, in a way. I realized I was brought here to prepare Mrs. Jones for her death, not to clear my name.”

“Good God.”

“Yeah, good Goddess.”

“At least now we know the truth,” Ari whispered.

“Yeah, there is that.” She started the car and backed out of the driveway. “Let’s see if we can catch an earlier flight. I want to go home.”