The Haunted Reckoning Read online

  Her gaze drifted past the monkey bars to a set of swings where a dark-haired little girl, in a red plaid coat sat. No smile, but it was her brown eyes staring back that riveted her attention.

  Aubree? Paige tripped on a crack in the walk and she stumbled, catching herself.

  When she looked back the girl was gone. The swing she had been sitting on was perfectly still. Paige came to a full stop, searching the area around it for where the girl had gone. Her heart beat faster in her chest as she peered at the empty border of lawn littered with fallen leaves. Worse yet was the unreal sense inside her mind!

  Had she actually seen a girl on the swing? She couldn’t have disappeared so fast. And she’d looked exactly like Aubree? But...but that couldn’t be.

  Oh God. She was seeing things, again. Last night in the mirror and now in broad daylight? This was affecting her more than she’d thought possible.

  “Can I help you? Did you lose your kid?”

  She spun around at the woman’s voice behind her. A black woman, her lips the same shade as her crimson jacket stood gaping at her.

  “N...no. I thought I saw someone I know.” She felt her face grow hot under the woman’s piercing gaze. “It was just a coincidence, I guess.” She hurried on, unwilling to further any contact with the woman. She was probably watching for any threat to her child playing there. A strange woman sizing up the play area would be someone to keep an eye on.

  Her sneakers crunched leaves as she hurried away, her mind frenzied. Images of that poor, poor little girl ran through her imagination like a slideshow. Aubree as a newborn, her first steps, her first birthday. One image after another of that child’s face invaded Paige’s mind. Try as she might to change her thoughts—a grocery list, her dinner, the cases on her desk—anything but Aubree. In spite of her efforts, the child’s face peeked through, overwhelming any other thoughts.

  Why? She’d never met the child! Noele had been the one at the hearing. If anything you’d think the mother’s face would be the one she’d see with her mind’s eye. She’d questioned the woman. Hell, she’d even grilled her. This didn’t make sense.

  But then. Neither did murdering a mother and child.

  Chapter 7

  CORY RUMMAGED AROUND IN THE FOREST surrounding the cabin looking for downed trees and branches. The cabin had a small electric heater, but without insulation, the cold had crept in through the windows and walls. Twice he’d woken up shivering and piling on more mothball-smelling blankets. Dad had said the owner was elderly, and from the smell in the cabin, it had to be true. Everything he touched had that “old people” smell.

  Tonight he’d get a fire going in that cast-iron stove. With any luck, it would burn through the night, and the cold outside wouldn’t matter. He spotted a large branch as thick as his thigh laying in a thicket of brush and made his way over. He grabbed it and began dragging it back to the cabin where there was a Swede saw to cut it into smaller pieces. He’d barely dislodged it from the overgrown vegetation when a streak of gray darted out from under it.

  At the chittering sound, his head turned to see a striped animal snarling at him. A raccoon with bristled fur, its black eyes watching him, stood its ground. The thing was much bigger than a cat, even the old toms that he’d tormented as a kid.

  “Git!” He lunged at the animal, his feet thudding hard against the forest floor.

  Still, the animal held its turf, chattering and cursing at him. Only a few feet from his foot, it was so close he could see the brown on its teeth, see its whiskers twitch. He eyed the raccoon silently. There had to be a reason that it wasn’t running away. He’d obviously disturbed its home.

  Babies! It was like a light bulb went off in his head.

  He shoved the branch to the side and then turned to the jumble of leaves and brush that lay in a mound. What he’d taken as bushes he could now see was the crafted home of this creature, camouflaged in the foliage. After a quick glance at the mother raccoon, he stepped closer to the mound and let fly with his foot, kicking sticks and leaves everywhere.

  A searing pain in his other ankle made him yelp. He almost fell, stumbling back. The raccoon clung to his pants, its claws hooked into the tough denim. He beat at it with his fists and his other leg gave it a swift boot, knocking it off. It rolled but then came to its feet. The striped little ninja was ready for more, defending its litter.

  His ankle throbbed, and he could feel wet warmth ooze over his foot inside the sneaker. Shit! The little fucker had bitten him and now he was bleeding! He’d probably get rabies or some other horrible disease.

  “Okay! I’m going. We’ll call it a draw.” He backed away slowly never taking his eyes from the wretched creature. “A draw, for now, Rascal.” Something hit him squarely in the shoulder blade and he spun around, a scream caught in his throat. Shit. He’d backed into a tree; that was all.

  He walked quickly out of the forest, looking over his shoulder every few feet to check that the animal wasn’t following. When he reached the clearing, the grass sparse between outcroppings of rocks, he let out a fast huff of air.

  He wasn’t done with that ‘coon. Now he’d have something to do in the godforsaken wilderness his father had dumped him in.

  Chapter 8

  WHEN PAIGE FINALLY REACHED THE PARKING LOT where her green Honda was parked, her hands shook so bad it took three tries before she managed to press the unlock button on her key fob. Getting in, she sat still, taking deep breaths. This situation was affecting her more than she would have thought possible. It was making her slightly crazy, seeing things that weren’t there.

  Maybe a complete change of venue would help center her again. She could go see her mother, spend a couple of days with her. She sighed putting the key in the ignition. That wouldn’t work. She loved her mother, but the woman had a tendency to cling. Paige knew seeing her mom would zap her strength rather than add to it. Besides, a visit out of the blue like that would make her mother worry even more than she already did.

  No. This was on her. She’d have to deal with this on her own. She glanced up at the building where the law office was. Another day or two and she’d see things differently. She’d settle down and be able to get on with her career. She was about to back up out of the space when her cell phone dinged with a call.

  Seeing Sheila’s name come up, she clicked the button on the steering wheel. “Hi, Sheila.”

  “Paige. How are you doing today?” Her friend’s voice was gentle with concern.

  “Okay, I guess. A little hung-over if you want to know the truth. I probably shouldn’t have had—”

  “That too shall pass, my dear.”

  Paige spotted an opening to merge onto the street. “Another of your mum’s sayings?”

  “Nope. It doesn’t matter though. It’s true nonetheless. Would you like me to come over after work?”

  “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. Besides, you’ve got your hands full with the kids and John.” Paige’s smile faded picturing Sheila’s family. She had everything going for her. A devoted husband with a great job and two nice kids, one in high school and the other not far behind. Someday she’d have that too.

  “John can handle things for one night. Oh shit! I almost forgot Lesley’s piano recital! Listen... Call me after nine if you want to talk or anything. And don’t worry about work. Beth has rebooked all your appointments till Thursday.”

  Paige thought of the few clients that she’d scheduled for that day and Wednesday. None of them were terribly pressing. They were still at the letters-and-haggling stages, setting priorities to see if they could settle out of court. “Good. I should be back by Thursday.”

  “Well, take it easy, and don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Go to a movie, or better yet, the spa. Get your nails done and have a massage.”

  Paige lifted her hand and glanced at her fingernails. They probably could use it, but it didn’t seem right to pamper herself all things considered. “I’ll think about it. Thanks for calling Sheila. Say hi to John
and the kids.”

  “Sure. Take care, Paige.” This was followed by a soft click disconnecting the call.

  Traffic on the thoroughfare bypassing the outlying residential neighborhoods was busy considering it wasn’t even rush hour. The gray Chevy ahead of her wasn’t helping, barely traveling the speed limit. She glanced in the rearview mirror to check behind her and the passing lane. She jerked higher in the seat.

  A child’s face reflected in the mirror peered at her. Her head spun around, checking behind her, but of course, there was only the beige cushioned seat. No one there.

  At the honk of a car to her left she turned the steering wheel, swerving the vehicle back to her own lane.

  Her breath froze in her chest, and she gripped the wheel tighter. It had been Aubree’s face there for a moment, staring at her! Oh my God. Was she totally losing it? She couldn’t even do something as simple as driving without this happening?

  With heart hammering fast, she tried to focus on the road. The traffic light just ahead was the one where she needed to turn. Thank God she was close to home. She probably shouldn’t even be driving, seeing things that weren’t there. How could this be happening?

  Her forehead tightened. She’d learned something about this in school. The psychology classes with the professor going on about the subconscious mind, how powerful it is. That had to be it! The shock of the murder and how she had made that possible was playing out in her subconscious. Even to the extent that it was making her see this little girl everywhere.

  She needed to deal with this, not try to get past it. Her subconscious was not going to let her sidestep any feelings of guilt. But she already felt guilty! For some reason that wasn’t enough; she had to do more. But how? How to face her part in this, so she could put this behind her and resume her life?

  At the last minute, she flipped her blinker on, signaling that she was going to turn into the church parking lot on the corner. It had been a long time since she’d darkened the door of a church, but maybe prayer would help. If nothing else the quiet and sense of peace in there would calm her. Mom had always sworn by prayer. She stopped the car and smirked. Sworn by prayer? Right. Her mouth twitched in a near smile at the oxymoron.

  She put her cell phone on airplane mode as she got out of the car. Leaves scuttled across the wide concrete steps of the white church and the breeze lifted blonde wisps of hair across her face. She tucked a lock behind her ear before she stepped up, holding the center rail firmly. The heavy oak door creaked as she pulled it open, and the smell of incense tickled her nostrils when she stepped inside.

  At the end of the wooden rows of pews was the altar; the crucifix above it glowing in warm amber lighting. Aside from a few women seated in the front rows of the airy expanse, she was alone. Her sneakers squeaked on the marble floor as she entered the last row of seats. She sat quietly, head bowed, clasping her hands on her lap as she’d done as a little girl next to her mother.

  Lord, if you’re really there, I could use some help here. She didn’t know when the tears started, but they rolled down her cheeks in a steady stream. Her shoulders racked with sobs—for the little girl, Aubree, and for her mother Noele.

  I’m so very, very sorry. Please forgive me. For many more silent minutes, she sat there, alone. Gradually her tears slowed. She sniffed while pulling a tissue from her bag.

  She sat quietly soaking in the silence, noticing rays of sunlight glinting through the stained glass. Every muscle in her body was warm and heavy. She took a deep breath, her gaze drifting to the crucifix and then to the gentle flames of the candles placed around it. She’d needed these moments of sanctuary.

  She rose and walked slowly to the exit, pausing to put money in the charity box. There was peacefulness in her mind that hadn’t been there since she’d first learned of the deaths. For that much, she was grateful.

  She bathed in tranquility as she stepped out into the crisp autumn day. The leaves still clinging to the branches of maples and birches shimmered in red-and-gold waves from the sun’s rays filtering through.

  No, Sheila. A health spa couldn’t rival the peace she felt now. This had been the right thing to do.

  She walked with a steadier gait when she went to the car. Before starting it, she reached in her purse for her cell phone to turn it back on. Jerking back, she saw that there had been a call but the sender was “Unknown.” She hit a few numbers to retrieve the message.

  When she heard the voice, she froze.

  A young girl’s voice: “Help me, Paige!”

  Chapter 9

  ‘OH MY GOD’. Paige stared at the phone with horror. Aubree. But that wasn’t possible. The child was dead. She had to be mistaken.

  Her fingers flew increasing the volume and then clicking the numbers to replay the message.

  “Help me, Paige!”

  There it was. Time stood still. The world outside her car no longer existed. She stared at the phone, her mind totally short-circuited. Catching glimpses of the girl at the periphery of her vision was one thing, but this message was another thing altogether.

  It was proof that either she was the butt of an elaborate prank, or somehow this girl was contacting her from the afterlife.

  The Afterlife.

  The afterlife? But that couldn’t be true. Growing up she’d listened to her share of ghost stories, seen her share of horror movies, but that was just made-up stuff to entertain you. It wasn’t real, right?

  Yet here on her phone was the voice of a little girl who was dead. The small voice had even called her by name!

  Help her? It was far too late for that. But what did the child want her to do? What could she do?

  This was crazy. Even accepting that this might be Aubree Smith, reaching out from the grave, there was nothing she could do.

  She looked at the phone in her shaking hand. Her fingers once more tapped the buttons on the screen so that she could hear it again. Was she sure it was a little girl’s voice? Could someone be playing a trick? Things like this; communications from beyond, couldn’t really be happening.

  She hoped.

  A sigh drifted from her chest hearing the same message. There was no background noise in the message. The little girl’s voice had been low and plaintive but clear nonetheless.

  Paige set the phone down and started the car. From the article in the paper, she knew where Noele and Aubree had lived. The school where Aubree had just started grade one had also been mentioned. Maybe if she spoke to Aubree’s teachers she’d get some kind of idea, some direction to go with this. Without it, she was coming up blank. She had to do something to make this stop.

  A glance at the clock on the dash showed that it was just after three. Classes would be over for the day, but the teachers would still be there. She started the car and headed for the north end of the city where Noele had rented a house. The school was probably only a few blocks away from it.

  Ten minutes later she pulled into the parking lot of a long brick building with a fenced playground area. She’d driven by this school a few times in the past. The crescent of letters above the door read First Avenue Elementary. This was it.

  When she entered the building a smell, like caramels heating in a saucepan, hit her. A long hall lined with empty coat hooks extended before her. She followed the green tiles to the end where the main office was. Her mind scrambled as she walked, trying to come up with a logical reason why she’d be interested in talking to Aubree’s teacher.

  A middle-aged woman perched behind a computer monitor looked up when Paige approached the front desk. Her smile was warm as she peered over her eyeglasses. “May I help you?”

  “Yes. I’m Paige Wright. I understand Aubree Smith was a student here. I’d like to speak with her teachers, if I may. I was an attorney in the custody hearing.” Paige crossed her fingers, holding her handbag close to her side.

  Immediately the smile dropped from the secretary’s face and was replaced with sadness. She rose to her feet and walked over to the counter. “It�
��s so sad about that poor little girl and her mother. You were her attorney? I’ll need to see some ID before I call Miss Wenford. There have been reporters who’ve tried to get more of an in-depth story...and well, you know.”

  Paige nodded. “I understand.” She rummaged in her purse and pulled out a business card from the firm as well as her Bar Association card. But before she could hand them over, another young woman walked into the office.

  “What’s up, Meaghan?”

  Paige looked over at the woman. Jet-black hair framed an oval face while her dark eyes flashed between the secretary and Paige.

  The secretary cleared her throat and answered, “This woman is a lawyer who is interested in seeing you about Aubree. But, I’ve asked her for—”

  “You know Mrs. Smith, or rather, knew Mrs. Smith and her daughter?”

  Paige handed over her credentials to the new woman. She glanced at it and then looked at Paige, waiting for a reply.

  Her words were rushed and she hoped convincing. “Mrs. Smith, yes; of course I knew her. But Aubree, I’m afraid I never met her. I’m curious in light of what happened.” She felt her cheeks grow warm and decided that she’d better try for honesty. “Actually, I’ve been thinking a lot about Aubree. I feel that I need to know more about her. I know it sounds odd, but I can’t get her out of my mind.” That much was the truth.

  The young woman placed her hand on Paige’s shoulder. “I’m Nellie Wenford. Aubree was my student. Come with me to my classroom and we’ll talk.”

  “But Nellie, we really—”

  Nellie cut the secretary off. “It’s okay Meaghan. If the principal has any problem with this, I’ll take responsibility.” She walked out of the office and slowed for Paige to fall into step next to her. “Although it was a shock reading about Aubree’s and her mother’s deaths, I knew things weren’t right at her home. Aubree was a sweet kid, eager to learn and do things when she was here. She made friends easily. But at the end of each day, a pall came over her.”