Those of the Margin: a Paranormal Suspense Thriller (Derek Cole Suspense Thriller Book 2) (7 page)

"Enough insecurities perhaps to cause him to create a ghostly visitor in order to keep his parents together?"

"Maybe," Derek said. "I just don't know. Ron White certainly concerns me, and after learning about the whole 'Phillip Experiment,'" Derek paused and shook his head, "I just don't know what to think. And I have no idea what I can do to help Robby out. I told Maggie and Jack that I would give them two days of my time, but, for the first time in my career, I'm at a complete loss as to how to fill my time with this case."

"In your heart," John asked, leaning forward in his chair, "what are you thinking?"

"Either that there is something that I am missing or that there's nothing more to this case than a kid dealing with his parents' marital problems the only way a kid knows how to."

"Maybe you should spend the rest of your two days looking to see if you are missing something."

"Maybe I should," Derek said. "Just wish I knew where to begin looking."

"I've found that things needing to be found have a way of presenting themselves at the right moment."

CHAPTER TEN

A month before he turned twelve, Robby asked for three birthday presents. The first was a new iPad. Second, a few new games for his Xbox 360. The last thing he asked for was that for parents to pull down the wallpaper in his room, get rid of all the "kiddy" books in his bookcase, and to finally replace his blue race car bed.

"I'll help you take the wallpaper down and will even get all the books in the car so we can take them to the library. I checked on Craigslist, and I think you can sell the race car bed for at least $75. I know the iPad is expensive, but if you take the $75 from the bed sale, the iPad won't be so expensive."

His logic, planning, and willingness to help made his parent's decision simple.

"Okay, Robby," his mother told him. "I'll tell you what. You pick out the paint color for your room, arrange time to drop off your books with the library, and clean up your old race car bed, and your father and I will get you an iPad. Deal? You won't have much of a birthday surprise, you know?"

"I know, but surprises aren't always worth it. I think we have a deal."

He loved his new bed, even though it was only a double bed and not the king-sized he had picked out. Still, it was much bigger than his race car bed and was a bed that he wasn't embarrassed to show if any of his friends came over to his house.

As he sat on his bed, his knees drawn close to his chest and his back pressed firmly to the headboard, he wasn't at all concerned about what his guest may be thinking about his bed. He didn't expect his guest to make any comments about how his room was definitely a "young man's room," and he didn't think that he'd be at all interested in checking out his high score on Flappy Bird or the details he designed in his Minecraft world.

"What did you tell them about me? The detective. What did you tell him about me?"

"Just your name," Robby said. "He asked what you looked like, but I remembered what you told me."

"To never tell anyone what I look like?"

"Yeah, to never tell anyone what you look like."

"Good," his guest said. "Because you know what would happen if people knew what I looked like?"

"You'd have to go away," Robby said, his eyes drawn down with the weight of the responsibility his guest placed on him. "But you told me that lots of people see you, all the time."

"It's different with other people, Robby."

"Why? How is it different?"

"I didn't make up the rules and don't know why they are the way they are. But I do know what will happen if you tell your parents or that detective what I look like."

"It doesn't make any sense to me," Robby said, not caring if he showed his displeasure.

"It doesn't matter," he said, his voice more stern than before. Louder, too, as if his strength was building. He smiled when he recognized the fact and wondered how much longer it would be until he was strong enough.

"Is your name really Phillip?" Robby asked.

"Why do you ask that?" he answered, careful to keep his voice soft.

"Just that after I told Mr. Cole that your name is Phillip, I heard him asking my parents who else is named Phillip."

"Don't you think he'd do that no matter what my name is?"

"Maybe, but that didn't really answer my question."

"No," Phillip said. "It's not my real name."

"Then what is it?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Why not?"

"Same reason that you can't tell people what I look like." Phillip moved back a step from the end of Robby's bed. "The less you know, the less chance you slip up and make a very bad mistake."

"Are you sure that if I told my mom more about you that you'd have to go away?"

"Do what I told you," he said, his voice much more powerful than he wanted. "Do you really want to send me to that place?" Phillip finished in the whisper-like voice Robby was familiar with.

"I didn't say that I did," Robby said. "It's just that no one likes that you visit me, and now my parents are paying Mr. Cole to find out about you."

"I told you that was why Mr. Cole would be visiting you. But are you saying that he is here to find out about me or to try to convince you that I don't exist?"

"Why else would he be here? He is a detective, and detectives are paid to find stuff out."

"That's why I need him to go away."

"He seems nice to me," Robby said

"He needs to go away."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Maggie Bryant had grown used to hearing Robby having whispered conversations. She had overheard him talking to himself in his bedroom, on the back porch of their home, while walking up the driveway, and even while taking a shower. Hearing her son having a conversation with his "imaginary" friend certainly concerned her, but hearing him talking to no one no longer surprised her.

As she walked down the hallway, she passed Robby's closed bedroom door. He had been home from school for no more than 30 minutes, and in keeping with his normal schedule, he went right from the front door to the kitchen to grab a quick snack and to give his mom a two-minute recap of his day at school before retreating to his room to pound out his homework.

Maggie paused at his door and silently listened to the quiet mumblings of her only son. Her heart ached for him as she heard Robby say something, pause for an answer, then respond back. It was her idea to hire Derek Cole after reading about him in online blogs, e-zines, and a few articles published by reputable and well-known newspapers. The blogs she read indicated "Cole is the investigator for those whom the normal investigative agencies dismiss." She was inspired to contact him when she read about how "Cole, once he accepts a case, works tirelessly to provide a desired outcome." Her decision was made final when she read about a woman in Texas who hired Derek Cole when she was accused of harming her child but insisted she was innocent.

"Derek Cole listened to my side of the story when the police were only focused on trying to catch me in lies and to find evidence that proved that I was abusing my daughter. Derek didn't judge me from day one. He went to work, and within four days, found rock solid proof that I was innocent and that my daughter's soccer coach was the guilty party."

As Maggie stood, her head resting against her son's bedroom door, with eyes closed and arms hanging limp to her sides, she begged to God that Derek's investigation was going well and that he would be able help her son.

Her eyes only shot open when she heard the other voice. It was a deep and very foreign sound that she never heard Robby make. The door muffled the words, but she was certain that what she heard were words. Spoken in response to something Robby said. Words targeted and charged with a dark energy that Maggie could almost feel through the door.

At first, she wondered if her husband, Jack, had returned from his overnight trip and was spending time with Robby. But she knew better. She knew Jack wouldn't be back until Robby's bedtime and certainly wouldn't be in Robby's room talking to him about anything that would require a closed door.

Maggie paused. Her left hand grasped the doorknob, and her eyes, blistering with warm tears, were opened as wide as they could be. She wanted to be sure that she heard what she believed she had heard. If she sprang into Robby's room, with panic etched across her face, she knew she would only embarrass her son and send him even deeper into the emotional cave he was living in.

But when she heard the voice again, her reservations evaporated. In one surprisingly smooth move, she opened the bedroom door and hastened its opening with a thrusting shoulder. Her eyes locked, out of memory, on Robby's face as he sat on his bed. His face comforted her. He seemed thankful that his mom had stormed into the room and was there, not to accuse him of being "crazy" but instead to investigate why his friend was suddenly able to make his voice so loud. His face comforted her, but what she saw out of the corner of her eye did not.

It was a clearly defined shadow of movement. Maggie was certain that the figure was that of a man who had quickly drawn his right arm up to cover his face as he retreated swiftly backwards before seeming being absorbed into Robby's wardrobe.

"You saw him, didn't you mom?"

"Robby? Robby?"

"You saw him. Tell me you saw him, mommy?"

"I saw him, Robby," Maggie said.

She rushed to his side, scooped him into her arms, and quickly made her way out of his bedroom. She shut the bedroom door behind her with her trailing foot and carried her son as far away from his room as the confines of her house allowed.

"Did you see his face?" Robby asked.

"Oh, my God, Robby. I'm so sorry."

"Did you see his face?" he asked again, his eyes pregnant with expected hope.

"No," she said as she shook her head. "I didn't see his face."

With Robby sitting on the sofa in the living room, Maggie walked back down the hallway to his room. When she reached his bedroom door, Maggie paused and strained her ears to listen to anything coming from the inside of Robby's bedroom. Hearing nothing, she opened the door, released her hold of the handle, and let the door swing fully open.

All looked as it should. Robby's bed was tidy, save for the pillows he had moved to make his sitting against the headboard more comfortable. His schoolbooks lay open towards the foot of his bed, and his sweater was lying where Robby had dropped it on the floor, six inches from the dirty clothes hamper.

Maggie moved, her jaw and fists clenched, towards the five-foot high wardrobe that was set a couple of feet away from the foot of Robby's bed. The wardrobe was designed and built by Jack. It was solid oak with hasps custom made of antiqued brass. Both doors of the wardrobe, which spanned the entire five feet of the furniture piece, were closed tightly. Maggie stood before the wardrobe doors, and without hesitating, pulled them open.

Inside, just as they should be, sat Robby's clothes. Dress shirts and pants, or as Robby called them, his "fancy clothes," all on hangers on the right-hand side of the wardrobe, socks on a lower shelf, and shoes and sneakers clumsily arranged on the bottom. T-shirts, underwear, sweaters, and sleep clothes all neatly stacked on their appropriate shelves on the left-hand side.

Nothing was out of place, and nothing was inside of the wardrobe that didn't belong.

Maggie shook her head and rubbed her temples with her fingers.

"Get a grip, girl," she said to herself. "Your mind is playing tricks on you. Maybe you're just too stressed out. Take a deep breath."

She drew in a deep, long breath and held it inside her lungs for 15 seconds before slowly releasing.

"Get a grip," she said to herself again.

"He's gone, isn't he?"

Maggie spun around to see Robby standing in the doorway.

"You didn't see his face, Mom?" he asked again.

"Robby," she said, hoping her intentionally calm voice would still her beating heart, "why don't you wait for me out in the living room. Mommy will be right there, okay?"

"Okay," Robby said, his eyes still displaying a desperate hope. "I'm glad you saw him. Now you don't think that I'm crazy like dad and everyone else does."

Robby turned and headed back down the hallway.

CHAPTER TWELVE

"I need you to come over. Now," Maggie's voice was charged with energy and a certainty that Derek could not dismiss.

"Did something happen?" Derek asked.

"I'm still paying you, and I insist that you come to my house right now." Though the words were clearly pronounced, Derek sensed that Maggie was not one to give orders to people very often.

"Maggie," he said, "I'm just getting ready to leave Father Flannigan's home and will head right over. Do you need me to bring anything?"

"No. Just come quick."

Derek's face told John Flannigan enough.

"Something happen?" John asked. "Are she and Robby okay?"

"Not sure what happened or if anything happened, and I'm not sure everyone is okay. I need to get over there right away."

"Yes, of course," John said. "And Derek, I know this is not any of my business, but please let me know that the Bryants are not harmed. And please, don't make this meeting our last. I think there's much more that I can help you with."

"I'll be back in touch, Father. Thank you."

#####

Maggie was standing outside of the front doorway when Derek pulled into the Bryant's driveway. Though the wind was less severe than yesterday, Derek thought it was much too cold for Maggie to be standing outside waiting for him.

"You really shouldn't be standing out in this cold," he said as he walked up the cleared walkway. "I know they say you can't catch a cold from being cold, but still, it's damn cold out here."

"I saw something," Maggie said, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. "I don't know what I saw, but I know I saw something. I've been standing out here since I called you trying to clear my head. Trying to convince myself that I didn't see what I saw. But I saw something. I know I did."

"Where's Robby?" Derek asked.

"He's inside on the couch. He should be finishing his homework." Maggie smiled as she glanced over her shoulder and through the glass door. When she turned her head back to face Derek, tears had formed in the bottom of her eyes. "It was in his room, talking to him. I heard it from the hallway. Damn thing said something, and I heard it."