The Supernaturals (37 page)

He was indeed scared, for the first time in his career.

Jackson stood to
the side in the one-cell constable’s station. Kennedy stood in front of the bars and as Julie tried to join him, Gabriel gently pushed her back. She held up the recorder and Gabriel reluctantly nodded his head in agreement. Julie placed the recorder on the locking mechanism on the cell door and then backed away to stand beside Jackson in the dark. Outside, the last of the storm was passing by and all that could be heard was the gentle falling of the rain. The lightning was now far off to the east.

“Kyle, can I speak to you a moment?” Kennedy asked.

Pritchard was sitting on the lone uncushioned cot that occupied the cell. His long hair was a tangled, wet mess. His head hung low, buried between his raised knees. Kennedy could see the shaking of his shoulders.

“Mr. Prichard, Mr. Kyle Prichard, my name is Kennedy. I would like—”

Pritchard’s head shot up and he scrambled into the corner, as if he wanted to crawl up, around, or through the wall.

“I had no message for you!”

Gabriel didn’t miss a beat. “That’s why I’m here, Kyle, to understand the message you brought to—”

“Jackson, big, strong buck nigger!”

To Damian’s credit, he didn’t react to the racial slur in the slightest. He raised his right brow at Gabriel, wanting him to continue. These were the only words that Damian had heard the man utter since he was taken into custody.

“Yes, that’s the man,” Gabriel said. Kyle Pritchard lowered his head and started weeping again.

“Who gave you the message to give to the detective?”

“I…don’t…know…”

The answer was almost an extended whine.

“Why was it necessary to kill Paul Lowell?”

Pritchard looked up just as if he had been given a reprieve from his execution. His eyes were wild and he actually smiled.

“It….it…said that I would free myself if I allowed Lowell to escape. I did, didn’t I? I kept my part of the bargain. Now I don’t have to go back there, do I?” Prichard jumped from the cot and slammed himself into the bars, striking his head hard enough to get a good flow of blood running down his forehead. Jackson took a step forward but Gabriel held out a hand, staying him before he reached the bars. “I… don’t…have…to…go…back…there—right?” he yelled into Kennedy’s face. “You know it, Kennedy. You know it better than anyone. It keeps its word, right? I don’t have to go back?”

Julie saw a man who had gone totally insane. She knew that Gabriel would receive no useful information from Pritchard.

“No, Kyle, you never have to go back. Not ever.”

“I knew it. I knew as soon as you said your name. It’s satisfied,” Pritchard slid down the set of bars until he was on the cold concrete of the cell.

Kennedy was about to turn away when Pritchard spoke again.

“They tried to protect us, but that…that…thing would have none of it. It found us and…and…” he turned, twisting his neck until he could see Kennedy, “and…and...Paul was the lucky one. I wanted to be the message, but it chose Paul. It wasn’t fair. Now Paul will never be afraid again. It’s just…not…fucking fair.”

Pritchard lowered his head and sobbed.

“He’s not making any sense at all. He’ll be away a long time before he goes to trial for murder.”

Gabriel shook his head. “You didn’t understand a single thing this man said, did you? All you heard was the rambling of a terrified man, just as you didn’t hear me all those years ago. You stupid bastard, he told us everything.”

“For instance?” Damian asked.

“Show up on October thirty-first. Summer Place can explain it to you better than I ever could.”

Kennedy walked out of the cell area. Julie started to follow, but then remembered her recorder. She reached back to pick it up and stopped in front of Jackson.

“I guess Summer Place is the place to be, huh?”

“I’ll be there, all right. You bet your ass I’ll be there. I guarantee all of this bullshit will be laid to rest.”

Julie turned at the door.

“Let’s just pray that’s all that’s laid to rest on Halloween.”

Julie laughed as Damian glared at the empty doorway.

“You don’t believe all of this shit, do you?” he yelled after her.

“No,” she called back, “but it sure is going to be good television, one way or the other.”

When Jackson turned back around, his heart fell through to his stomach. Kyle Pritchard had stood up and was staring right into the detective’s face, smiling a maniacal grin that made Damian step back another foot.

“Don’t worry, Detective. If it has its way, they won’t be showing up for any TV special. It’s hungry now.” A blank look crossed Pritchard’s features. It was as if something had reached out and switched him off.

“These fucking people,” Jackson hissed as he turned away from the cell. “I’m going to nail them all!”

Outside the last of the lightning and thunder faded from the small valley as the storm worked its way toward the place that was calling the shots—Summer Place.

Gabriel listened to
the call from New York and the dire warning from John Lonetree. The rental car was pulled off to the side the road while Julie Reilly made her field report with the assistance of a very disgruntled affiliate team from Philadelphia. Their own field reporter glared from underneath an umbrella. Kennedy could understand the affiliate’s distaste for Reilly; it seemed the UBC woman was used to stealing the spotlight from people. As he watched, he came to the realization that Julie didn’t even know she was doing it. Gabriel didn’t know if that was a factor of her arrogance or if it was from a natural ability to lead. He watched her wrap up the report outside the diner. Maybe she had been climbing the ranks of reporting for so long that she had become insensitive to others trying desperately to do the same thing.

“Well, maybe we should get Leonard to break a few laws and get the information through the historical society database. We can do the same with the New York and Pennsylvania state records on the deaths of the children. Then we can do the research from Summer Place, if need be. I’m inclined to take John’s warning seriously, if he thinks we’re being separated for an attack. Listen, Jason, keep everyone together at the Waldorf, Leonard is the only one allowed out of the hotel to work with the UBC engineers. He needs access to their equipment, but see what you can do about getting a guard on him.”

Gabriel listened and then closed the cell phone. He watched through the misting rain as Julie thanked the UBC affiliate crew. Then he saw Reilly take the frustrated young woman reporter by the arm and walk with her, steering her toward the covered entrance of the diner. It looked as though they were in serious discussion. Julie smiled, and when the Philadelphia reporter lowered the umbrella, she was also smiling. Julie handed her a business card and the younger reporter looked not only grateful, but outright giddy. Julie shook her hand and then made her way back toward the car. Kennedy shook his head as he started the vehicle. Reilly opened the door, tossed her bag inside and then followed, snapping her seatbelt and looking straight ahead. Kennedy watched her a moment before placing the car into gear. The reporter was tired. He could see that much through the dim dashboard lighting.

“Oh, look, Detective Jackson looks downright sad that we’re leaving him,” Julie said, nodding her head toward the small motel across the street.

Kennedy saw Damian Jackson standing in the shadows near the ice machine, watching their car turn for the road out of Bright Waters.

“You know the look of a lion when he’s surrounded by a pack of hyenas?” Julie asked.

“If I recall, you and he were business acquaintances.”

Julie looked over at Kennedy with a curious slant to her features. “Professor, just because we were non-believers, never made us allies. I particularly don’t like that man. As for you,” she raised her voice just a little, making him glance toward her, “you seem to be just as unforgiving. Have you ever tried to consider my point of view, or Jackson’s? No, it’s always your point of view, because the rest of us don’t have a Harvard-educated slant on the paranormal, so our perspectives don’t count. To let you in on a little secret, Professor Kennedy, I have done my research and over seventy-five percent of all Americans believe in some form of activity, paranormal or scientific. I went into your investigation seven years ago with my eyes wide open. I never do anything half-assed. Give both of us—Jackson included—a break. He sees the fucked up side of things in his line of work. He’s a skeptic, but all he’s saying is that he knows it doesn’t take a ghost to be evil. Maybe he knows that over ten percent of all people in the world are insane. As for me...” She looked away. “Nothing fucking surprises me anymore. But I do know when to admit that I need to reexamine something, and maybe Summer Place, for one reason or another, needs to have its doors opened again.”

Kennedy was silent as he steered the car out of town. Then he smiled.

“What did you say to that reporter from Philadelphia?”

The question caught Julie by surprise. She shook her head.

“You thought I would steal her crew and make a report using her field team and not apologize for it? If you must know, I told her I liked the way she and her news crew made it to Bright Waters so fast after the fact, and that I will see what I can do about getting her some light work out of New York, you know, weekend stuff. That should help her.”

“But you’ve never seen her work, is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“Isn’t that a leap of faith on your part?”

“Oh, so it boils down to you analyzing me about my conclusions seven years ago?” she asked angrily.

Gabriel spared her a look and laughed. “No, it just shows me that you’re capable of not being a bitch all the time.”

Julie raised her eyebrows, and then she laughed.

As the car moved down the small road leading down the mountain, Kennedy didn’t see the black shroud as it moved along behind them. It vanished into the tree line to the left, heading for the large bend in the road three miles away.

Summer Place was reaching out.

The limousine was
quiet as Kelly Delaphoy worked on her laptop. She had thus far ignored the hateful looks from Lionel Peterson, who was sitting across from her. Abe Feuerstein sat sipping a drink, watching Kelly work. It was as if the old CEO was studying her.

“What do you think about placing your team on site a day early?”

Kelly looked up from her computer, the light from the monitor casting her face in a wash of colors and shadow. Feuerstein took another swallow of his drink.

“I mean, if we’re on the property, the state police would find it that much harder to have us removed if they were so inclined, wouldn’t you agree, Lionel?”

Peterson looked from Kelly to his boss, sitting next to him. “That raises more concerns on expense for the show. Having the entire production crew onsite is an expense not budgeted for. Lodging, tent rental, commissary, and the overtime, all of that would run us over an already extended budget,” Peterson looked at Kelly. “Plus, with the police now so interested, it may not be wise to rock the boat at this juncture.”

Feuerstein smiled and placed his crystal glass in a small holder on the wet bar in front of him.

“I see your concern on the budget. I have spoken to marketing and sales and they say we can push the envelope just a little further.”

“The contract with Lindemann only covers one night in the house; I would anticipate him throwing a fit about the added—”

“That’s enough about Lindemann and quite enough about budget concerns, Lionel.” The CEO looked out of the darkened widows as the limo pulled into the underground parking garage at UBC. “You are not just the president of programming for this show, you are also its producer. And let me put it another way and make this absolutely clear, Lionel: your job is on the line, so you better damn well get on board. Kelly here deserves the benefit of the doubt, at least to this point.”

“So, you’re a believer in this crap, too?” Peterson asked.

“Believer? No, I’m not. The scariest thing in the world to me is our stockholders, Lionel; they should be the scariest things in the world to you, also. They believe in their quarterly reports, and that’s all they believe in. Now, inform the legal department that since Kelly was not present at the murder scene, I don’t want her disturbed as long as she’s in New York. They can have at her on the thirtieth when she arrives in Pennsylvania.”

As the limo came to a stop, Feuerstein looked at Peterson and waited for a confirmation of his orders, which the president of entertainment finally gave by a quick nod of his head.

“Good.” The CEO reached for the door handle when the driver failed to open it for him. Another employee he would have to straighten out.

Kelly closed her laptop and started gathering her bags. She watched the CEO pull on the handle twice, then a third time. He reached for the lock on the door and pulled up on it, but it slipped through his fingers. Feuerstein angrily slammed his hand down on the intercom to the driver’s compartment.