Those of the Margin: a Paranormal Suspense Thriller (Derek Cole Suspense Thriller Book 2) (3 page)

"Thank you," Jack said. "We have two or three people that we suspect may have messed with Robby's head. I think you should go talk with them. Shake them up a bit, if you think that's needed."
   

"I'm not here to shake anyone up. I'm here to learn if anyone convinced your son that there's a ghost visiting him, and to see what we all can do to make it stop."

"We understand," Maggie said. "My husband didn't mean that you should do anything to harm people. It's just that we don't know what should be said, how to say it, and if saying anything will really help. We don't want to blame anyone for this whole thing. We just want to see if anyone said something, intentionally or unintentionally."

"I don't care if you piss any of them off," Jack said. "If it were up to me, I'd talk to all of them myself."

"Jack!" Maggie scolded. "Stop with your tough guy act. This is our son we are talking about, not some customer who didn't pay their bill."
 

"Let me start with both of you, if you don't mind," Derek said, feeling the need to alter the course the conversation was taking.
 

"You think
we
caused this?" Jack said, his deep, gravelly voice booming across the small living room. "You think that we put this crap into his head?"
 

"I am not suggesting that you or anyone else put crap into your son's head. I just need to understand a few things first. Okay?"

"Fine, but know that we never talk about ghosts in this house. I don't believe they exist and that all the stories about them are nothing more than people trying to scare little kids or make a few bucks off their stories," Jack said.
   

Derek opened up his moleskin notebook, popped the top off a pen, and started asking questions to the Bryants.

"First off, who do you know named Phillip? Living or dead."

"Robby has a friend in school named Phillip. We have a neighbor named Phillip, but he's been in Florida since September, and I don't think Robby has every spoken with him alone," Maggie said.

"Anyone in your families with the name?"
 

"I don't think so. Jack?" Maggie asked her husband.
 

"I don't know. Not on my side. Father's name was Luke. His father's name was Lyle, I think."
   

"Your parents spend time with Robby?" Derek asked.

"My dad died before Robby was born," Jack said. "My father was an abusive drunk. Beat my mom almost every week when he would come home blitzed out of his mind. He died when I was fifteen, and I was happy as hell when he did. My mother is nothing more than an intruder in our lives. We haven't let her see Robby in well over five years."
   

"Maggie, how about your parents?"

"They have a wonderful relationship with Robby. They live in Virginia and haven't been up for a visit since August. I already asked them if they have ever said anything about ghosts to Robby. They swear they haven't."

"Listen," Jack said, "I know we only have you for two days, and I would rather see you spend the time talking with the people we suspect. You can drill us all you want, but you aren't going to find anything that leads us to figuring this whole thing out. I know you're the detective here and certainly know a hell of a lot more about investigations than we do, but I don't think sitting here with us is doing any good."
 

"Fair enough," Derek said as he closed his notebook. "Give me the names and addresses of the people you want me to speak with. Just let me know the main reasons you suspect them and nothing more."
 

"Just the facts, ma'am?" Maggie laughed as she handed Derek a folded up sheet of loose-leaf paper. "There are three names on this list, two of which I am not at all concerned about, but Jack is."
 

"And the third name?" Derek asked.
 

"Father Flannigan," Jack responded. "He's the priest at the church Maggie and Robby go to."
 

"And you suspect him?" Derek asked.
 

"Why not?" Jack said. "We figure that he's always talking about the Holy Ghost and Jesus dying. Plus, Robby goes to religious education at the church, and Father Flannigan teaches it. I don't know how vividly he talks to the kids about spirits and death. Who knows? Maybe a long shot."

"I don't consider him to be a suspect. Jack added his name after thinking about who Robby may have spoken to about ghosts," Maggie offered.
 

"Okay. Please don't say any more. I'll head out now and will get in touch with you either tomorrow evening or sooner if I come up with anything. I have your cell numbers, and you have mine. I ask that you don't call unless it is important or something happens."
 

"What could happen?" Maggie asked.
 

"Probably nothing."

CHAPTER FIVE

"I should have expected this. After all, the first person parents blame when something happens to their kids is the teacher." Melissa Humphrey had been a teacher for over fifteen years, the last seven of which were spent teaching sixth grade. "You can ask anyone at the school about me. Go ahead and ask. I take my position very seriously, Mr. Cole, and I take the welfare of my students equally seriously."
 

"I'm not suggesting that you don't. I hope you understand my role with the Bryants and their son, Robby."
 

"Actually, I don't understand at all," Melissa said through drawn and tight lips. "The very fact that the Bryants are employing you to run their witch hunt investigation baffles me. Honestly, Mr. Cole, the only thing wrong with Robby Bryant are his parents."
   

Melissa Humphrey's home was fifteen minutes north of the Bryant's house. Set back over two hundred feet from the main road, the house was difficult to see, as trees obstructed the road's view and offered privacy for Melissa. Her one-story ranch home was immaculately kept. Though Derek wasn't one to look for dust, dirt, or things out of place, the lack of anything unkempt or displaced was remarkable.
     

The list the Bryants had given Derek had Melissa Humphrey's sitting in first place of their possible suspects. Her name was circled with a hastily moved and emotionally driven pen. Derek crossed out the notes that Maggie had scrawled beside her name, notes that he assumed listed the Bryant's reasons for their suspicion. He didn't want to be prejudiced against any of the people whose names appeared on the list. To Derek, Melissa Humphrey was a middle-aged schoolteacher, living alone in a small, coastal town in southern Maine. He didn't want to know what anyone else thought about her.
   

"Miss Humphrey," Derek continued, "I'm sure that you are aware of the Bryant's concern. Have you noticed a change in Robby's behavior over the last couple of months?"
   

"I am fully aware," she said. "They all but accused me of brainwashing Robby right in front of Mr. Scharf, our school's principal. And in answer to your question, no, I have not seen or noticed any change in Robby's behavior whatsoever."

"So the Bryants did speak to you about their concerns?" Derek asked, his pen and his notebook at the ready.

"Mr. Bryant came to the school last Friday. Demanded that I be called to the office and, with a disturbing lack of manners, accused me of planting ridiculous ideas into Robby's head."

"I am sorry that he did that," Derek said, hoping to soften the brick wall exterior that Melissa had put up. "That just doesn't seem like the right thing to do, in my opinion."

"It certainly wasn't," Melissa agreed.

"And you said that you haven't noticed any change in Robby's classroom behavior?"

"Nothing of any importance."
   

"No changes at all?" Derek questioned.
   

"Besides his display of what I can only attribute to embarrassment when I now call on him during class, I have noticed nothing."
   

"The Bryants told me that you were teaching a subject on the Civil War recently, and that subject did include how many soldiers were killed on battlefields. They also told me that you suggested to your class that if any of them were to take a vacation near any of the Civil War battlefields, to keep an eye out for ghosts. Is that accurate?"
   

"The very nerve of them. Yes, the American Civil War was a covered topic last November, per the State of Maine's approved curriculum. It is also true that I shared stories of past students who visited some of the more famous battlefields with their families. But I object to being accused of suggesting that my students keep an eye out for ghosts if they ever visit a battlefield. Ridiculous!"
     

Melissa was obviously offended by the accusation, perhaps more so than what might be expected. She held her body stiffly pressed against the high-backed kitchen chair, her arms folded tightly across her chest, and her eyes planted firmly on Derek's. When he had introduced himself, explained the reason behind his visit and had seen her reluctant gesture for Derek to enter her home, it was easy to see that Melissa Humphrey was not going to be an effortless, easy interview.
 

"Miss Humphrey," Derek said, "I really don't think that you did anything to harm Robby or any other of your students. Honestly, I think even if you did talk about some of the paranormal reports surrounding the battlefields during class, that it wouldn't have been enough to bring Robby to the point of concern."

Her face softened as her arms relaxed. Her breathing slowed as she leaned forward, resting herself her on her elbows, which she placed delicately on the kitchen table.
   

"Kids Robby's age have very vivid imaginations," she said. "Couple that with limitless curiosity, and it's no wonder that a young mind might give more credence to a story than it deserves."
   

"I imagine that the other kids in your class, at least some of them, liked hearing about the ghost stories," Derek said.
   

"They were far from ghost stories," she said through a sarcastic grin. "I may have mentioned that some people made claims to experiencing strange, unexplainable events when visiting a battlefield or two. But I never explored the stories to any depth."

"You seem like the type of teacher that parents would be happy to have teaching their children," Derek said, employing his smile.

"Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Cole. Do you have any children?"

"I don't," he said. "My wife was killed before we could start a family."

"I'm terribly sorry," Melissa said. "How awful."

"Thank you," Derek said. "I know this whole subject bothers you and I can understand why. But I hope that you don't mind if I ask more about Robby and maybe even get your thoughts on what he is going through?"

"I suppose," Melissa continued, "that if I can be of help to one of my children, despite my reservations about his family, then I am obligated to help. Please, what other questions do you have?"
 

"You said that you feel that the only thing that may be wrong with Robby is his parents. What did you mean by that?"

Melissa leaned back against her chair, dropped her eyes to the kitchen table. "Let's just say that things are rumored to not be as they appear in the Bryant home."

"Rumors?" Derek questioned.

"Please understand that I am not one to spread or to even acknowledge rumors. It's just in my position in this small community, I am often told things about others. I do my absolute best to keep things quiet, but some rumors seem to take on a life of their own. It's fairly well known that Jack Bryant is, how shall I say, liberal with his time. His job has travel demands during the warmer months, but I've been told that he is often away from home no matter what the weather may be. I've also heard that he spends an awful amount of time with a certain young woman up near Portland."

"People think that he is having an affair?" Derek asked.

"Call it what you will and, again, I am not a member of this town's rumor mill, but, the whole town is talking about it. Honestly, though I would never condone such behavior, considering his wife, I hardly could blame him if he is involved in something elicit."

Derek felt a tug in his gut. A feeling of mixed emotions pulling him in different directions. He knew that rumors were as reliable as a knock-off watch bought on the streets of New York City and listening to rumors and giving them credence was a great way to lose track of case's objectives. But when Melissa mentioned Maggie in the suggestive way that she had, Derek felt compelled to follow wherever the rumor would lead him.

"What about his wife?" he asked, his voice flat and intentionally void of emotional interest.

"I really shouldn't discuss the parents of one of my students with a complete stranger, but you are an investigator, after all. And a good investigator should know all there is to know about his case. Am I correct?"

"All that's relevant."

"I told you that I am not surprised that Robby Bryant is having some emotional challenges. I said that because his mother has her own set of challenges, or so I'm told."

"Challenges?" Derek pressed.

"She is not from here, Mr. Cole. I believe she was born and raised in Virginia. She moved up to this area after college to open her portrait studio. Smart girl, I'll give her that. Do you have any idea, Mr. Cole, just how many tourists are more than elated to pay someone to take their picture standing in front of the beautiful views we enjoy in this area?"

"I imagine quite a few," Derek said.

"More than a few," Melissa said. "She did quite well I'm told, at least she did during the tourist season. But every year around September or October, the tourists go away and with them, their money. What I've heard about Margaret Bryant is that if she isn't snapping photographs of paying customers, she gets quite depressed. I'm not suggesting that she is clinically depressed, mind you, just sullen enough to give people pause."

"Not sure if being a bit down really qualifies as being challenged," Derek said.