Grave Echoes: A Kate Waters Mystery (11 page)

***

Kate stepped outside of Jev’s house to get some fresh air. Grim clouds loomed above and the first speckles of rain dotted the pavement. Trees stripped of their leaves revealed bony limbs, resembling dendritic spines of neurons in the brain, reaching out to other branches as if to synapse secrets to one another. Decorative gourds, pumpkins, witches, and vampires hid in the corners of windows and doors in the neighborhood, waiting to scare little children—Halloween was tomorrow night. Skeletons and ghosts should be restricted to movies and children’s costumes, but they haunted Kate too, like psychological zombies lurking in the corners of her sanity, waiting to feed on it—scare the child in her.

She blinked the craziness away, flipped her phone open, and dialed a number she thought she would never need. The phone rang three times before she heard Detective Wells’ husky voice answer.

“Hello, Detective Wells speaking.”

“Hi, Detective Wells, this is Kate Waters,” she said.

“Kate? What can I help you with?”

She paused…noticing his question was strangely appropriate. “I’d like to meet with you if that’s possible? It’s about my sister, Jev.”

“How about in an hour?”

Kate waited in the lobby of the police station. A woman sat at the other end of the bench, sobbing into a napkin. Her tangled brown hair draped over her shoulders, hiding her tear-stained face. The outward pain of the woman made Kate think of the sister she had just lost. Sadness knocked at her heart again and she struggled with the urge to sit next to the woman to comfort her with a pat on the shoulder or more tissue. But she struggled with her own demons, even if they weren’t causing her to visibly weep.

A deep voice awoke her from the moment. “Kate Waters, Detective Wells is ready to see you.” An older gentleman with bowed legs and a thick mustache pointed her through a door that led into Detective Orwin Wells’ office. Kate stood and reflected on the man’s forced smile as she walked by.

She entered a small room, but the fishbowl windows gave it an open feel. Wells’ desk occupied the middle of the room, cluttered with files, books, and unopened mail. A cheerful orange pumpkin basket full of chocolate bars sat at one end of the desk next to a coffee-stained mug that read, “The Chaos Started Here.” Next to the door, against the opposite wall, two old leather chairs completed the small space.

He addressed her with a handshake, “Good evening, Kate.”

Kate returned the gesture. “Hello detective.” His blue-striped denim shirt contrasted handsomely under his black jacket, deepening his dark features and sculpting bold shadows down his jaw line and the length of his long, narrow nose.

“Please, have a seat.” He motioned for her to sit down in one of the leather seats. Kate sat and wrapped her arms around her purse. “Can I get you anything?” Wells asked. “A cup of coffee, tea?”

“No thanks, I’m fine.” She noticed him closing a folder and quickly placing another on top of it, though not soon enough—the label read, J. Waters. “You have a file on my sister?”

“We have files on everybody,” he replied.

His generality stressed the point of her question. She stared at the file, wanting to know what it contained. It wasn’t very thick and looked new.

“You said you had something to tell me,” Wells said. He took a seat at his desk, moving files and newspapers beside him and stacking them even higher on a mountain of paperwork. Then he turned his attention to her. “So what can I help you with?”

“I…,” she paused, searching how best to start and suddenly felt childish for being there at all. Outside his office, she’d mulled over the events that led her there: the intruder she thought she heard at Jev’s, the stranger spying on her, the book of matches on the floor, and now the note, See Donna for herb—protection—binding him. Convinced something had been wrong with her sister, Kate had equipped herself with an array of reasons why Wells should also be concerned and eager to assist her in whatever form he deemed necessary. But now sitting in his office, with his dark eyes studying her, she doubted her judgment and seriously considered her mental stability. Perhaps she should have seen a counselor instead—besides her best friend.

Kate let out a sigh, preparing to unload her reservations. “Some strange things have been happening, and I thought maybe I should tell someone.”

“All right. Let’s start from the beginning,” he said.

“I think my sister may have been in trouble before her accident.”

Wells listened as Kate disclosed her world of uncertainties, beginning with the window opening at her house, and finishing with the matches and the note found in Jev’s home. She left out the hallucinations regarding the key and car wreck and the ghosts that she and David had supposedly seen in the house, for obvious reasons. During her account, Wells listened with hardly a movement, as he remained completely absorbed in her statement.

When she finished, he leaned forward on his elbows and spoke calmly. “I can see why you came in, and I suspect it wasn’t easy for you.” He opened his desk and rummaged through the contents, retrieving a little black device on a key ring. “I want to let you in on a little secret about detective work.” Kate sat up, keen on what he was about to say. “It is often the accumulation of suspicions and gut instincts which successful detectives follow,” he said. Wells held the device, a keychain flashlight, high above his desk and pressed down on a button in the center. “It starts out with a shade of light, so weak, you don’t at first detect it.” The light from the flashlight barely lit up the desk. “But as more light is added to the field,” he said, bringing the flashlight closer, “it becomes visible.”

A blue circle of light lit up his desk and Kate understood his demonstration clearly—each concern of hers alone seemed coincidental, but the occurrence of the events together hinted toward something more.

“So, you don’t think I’m just being paranoid?”

“No. Under the circumstances and after all that you have told me, it is possible someone is snooping around your home and your sister’s. I don’t encounter witchcraft very often, but a protection spell does raise some questions. Could be your sister had a disagreement with someone, maybe her boyfriend.” Wells rolled up the sleeves of his shirt while he spoke. “I spoke with Sean this afternoon. He seems troubled by the news.”

“Yes, he isn’t acting himself lately.”

“You told me at the hospital that your sister and Sean had a fight. I asked him about this, but he made it seem more like a disagreement.”

“That’s what I thought at first too,” Kate said. She thought about Jev’s comment. “But in my last conversation with my sister a couple of weeks ago, she mentioned something about Sean’s temper. I can’t remember her exact words, but I blew it off because I’d never seen him get mad at work before, and I figured she was just being a little dramatic.”

Wells leaned back and crossed his leg. “Do you think Sean is dangerous?”

He asked the question she wanted him to answer. A week ago, Kate would have said no, without a doubt. Now, all she had was doubts. “I don’t think so.”

“The reason I’m asking, Kate,” Wells paused as he lifted her sister’s file from under the top and selected a sheet inside, “is because fingerprints were found on your sister’s neck at her carotid artery.”

Kate felt the room darken. Had she heard him correctly?

“I went ahead and ran prints on them,” he continued, “thinking it was a rookie paramedic who forgot to put on gloves, but no matches have been found with any of the officials involved in the investigation of your sister’s accident.”

“You think they could be Sean’s prints?” Her stomach flipped inside.

“Not necessarily. The prints may actually have nothing to do with your sister’s accident. They could be her own or a bystander who happened upon the scene. More tests need to be completed to be certain, but we found the location of the prints unusual since most paramedics take the pulse at the wrist and always wear gloves.”

“So what does that mean, Detective?”

“Nothing conclusive. I think it’s plausible to say your sister could have been mixed up in some trouble. Basically, the incidents you’ve come to me about, and the oddity of the prints, necessitate the need for more investigation.”

“What kind of trouble?” Kate had suspected as much already, but the detective’s narrowed eyes seemed to be working around to something, which for some reason, he wasn’t divulging to her.

“We don’t know for sure. It may only mean that she died before resolving a dispute with someone who is now seeking resolution. Do you know someone named Thea Wright?”

“I’ve heard of her name…actually Sean mentioned her yesterday.” Kate remembered how his demeanor had changed at the time.

“Doesn’t seem like he enjoyed her company much,” Wells replied.

“I imagine he didn’t like many of Jev’s friends,” Kate said. “But how does that explain the prints?”

“I’m not sure if it will. Either someone came on the scene, checked her pulse, got scared and left, or someone followed her.”

Kate bounded from her seat. “What? Followed her?”              

Wells stood. “Hold on Kate. This doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes everything,” she said, her voice elevated and raspy. “Are you investigating my sister’s death as a homicide?”

“No.” Wells came around to her, glancing out his windows as he did. Only the bow-legged man glanced back at them, but in a manner too casual to be prying. He leaned against the front of his desk, gesturing for her to sit back down. “Your sister’s accident was still caused by driver error, and she still died from wounds received during the collision. Skid marks reveal that she over-corrected at a turn and rolled the vehicle. The only thing now is that we might have indications of a feud that took place between your sister and another person. At this point, we can’t jump to any conclusions.”

Kate’s chest still pounded. The last few moments of Jev’s life were beginning to parallel her hallucinations. She remembered her sister’s terror and wondered if Sean had followed her that night in his car. “Did you ask Sean about the prints?”

“No. I don’t want to mention specifics to anyone else until I’m more certain of the evidence.” Wells propped his thigh up on the corner of his desk and folded his hands in his lap. “I’m glad you came in, Kate. But I don’t want you to worry. I’ll send someone over to check out your house and your sister’s for any signs of unlawful entry or trespassing. So far, all we may be dealing with is a combination of things: Sean wanting closure, a frightened bystander fleeing your sister’s accident, or maybe someone playing pranks on you and your boyfriend. Did you ever find your sister’s cell phone or her house key?”

“No.”

“Then Sean could have used them to get into your sister’s house.”

Kate shook her head. “I asked him. He hasn’t seen them either.”

“Even if he did break into your sister’s home, it is probably with innocent intentions.”

Kate knew that made more sense. They were talking about Sean—kind, free-spirited, good-old-goofy Sean. Maybe he just wanted some of Jev’s belongings to remember her by.

“Did you bring the matches and the note?”

Kate reached into her purse and pulled out a Ziploc that held the book of matches and the binding note. She handed them to Wells.

“Has anyone touched these?”

“Just David and I, but we tried to be careful, touching only the corners.”

Wells stuck a label on the outside of the bag, made a note on it, and then put it in the filing cabinet behind him. He turned to Kate. “You look tired. It might help to get some rest.”

She rubbed the strain in her neck and blinked heavy eyelids. “Help, but not possible. I’m leaving for Mt. Hood early in the morning to install satellite devices near the summit. I’m going with Sean.”

Wells’ eyes narrowed on her. “Are the two of you going alone?”

“No, there will be two other geologists with us.”

“Good.” His posture relaxed. “Not that I think you need to worry, but it will put us both at ease.”

But Kate felt nothing of ease. In fact, she felt worse than when she had come in. Knowing someone had checked her sister’s pulse without reporting it, scared her more than the stranger outside her house.

Wells reached for a tablet on his desk. “Have you spoken with any of Jev’s neighbors? Was she good friends with any of them?”

“Maybe, Terry. She lives across the street in a white bungalow.”

He jotted something down in his notebook. “Good. I’ll call you as soon as we hear anything else, and I’ll be sending an officer out to inspect the yard at your place.”

Kate nodded and stood from the chair. “Thank you.”

Wells opened the door for her. “Hang in there and call me if you have any other questions or if you think you see someone in your yard again.”

“I will.”

She smiled and left the station, with more questions than answers. She found his response to her story rehearsed, almost as if he had mulled over the same questions as she. Yet, for some reason, he either wouldn’t or couldn’t answer them.

***

Wells knew midnight approached when he could hear the tick of the clock in his office over the diminishing hustle of staff and clamor of electronics. As neighboring offices went dark, the windows of his unit began reflecting his space and profile like a smoked mirror. The buzz of the fluorescent lights sounded like flies shuddering along the window, so he turned the radio dial to a classical music station. The beat of the violins and the melody of the piano, cello, and flutes seemed to orchestrate his thoughts like freeways, conducting efficient routes of information into intelligent streams of ideas and theories. It put him in the zone, heightening his mental dexterity, even caged within a 14-foot glass square.

He paced around his desk, deliberating about Kate and her suspicions regarding her sister’s well-being, but her account of the person smoking outside her house concerned him the most. Was it the same person at the scene of her sister’s accident? If so, Kate could be in danger, he reasoned. Sean smoked, but it was a different brand. It didn’t mean they weren’t his cigarette filters, but having been a smoker himself, Wells knew smokers rarely switched brands. He made a list of things to check: search Kate’s yard for cigarettes; question Jev Waters’ neighbors, Terry specifically, maybe she saw or heard something; and question Jev’s girlfriend, Thea Wright.

Wells sifted through the box of items that officers had retrieved from Jev’s car. Not everything had been returned to the family, and one of those things was her address book. Today he would contact her friends and acquaintances and determine whom she might have had conflicts with and who happened to smoke. He disliked getting involved with the occult again, not after finding a poppet doll of himself in a cult member’s home once, but he presumed Jev’s problems began there.