Mary O'Reilly 09 - Twisted Paths Read online

  “And why are you here?” Jackson asked Ian.

  “Well, I, um,” he sent a beseeching look to Mary.

  “It’s a little awkward for us,” Mary interrupted, earning a quick look of gratitude from Ian. “Ian is doing some wonderful research on psychological development, and he has been focusing on teen-aged suicide. I imagine this is still painful, and I hope you’ll forgive us for asking, but we wondered if we could speak with you about Hope’s death.”

  “How did you know about Hope?” Faith asked, her voice just slightly tense.

  “Ah, well, we just came from the local paper,” Ian said. “Jerry Wiley has been quite helpful.”

  “And you came to Freeport to study this because?” Jackson asked.

  “Well, we needed to find a sister city to the town in Scotland I’m studying,” Ian said. “The size and many of the demographics of Freeport are similar to Cambuslang, a small town outside of Glasgow. They too were mainly a rural community until manufacturing came in and changed the footprint of the community. I felt a place similar would give more validity to our findings.”

  Jackson templed his fingers together and rested his chin on his thumbs, his forefingers pressing against his lips as he pondered Ian’s response. Finally, he lowered his hands. “Well, that makes a great deal of sense and we would be happy to help in any way we can,” he said. “As a matter of fact, Faith is quite a local advocate of the Stop Bullying movement.”

  “Good for you,” Mary said to Faith. “That’s an important message.”

  Faith nodded. “Yes, if it hadn’t been for bullying, my dear sister would still be here,” she said, once again her focus on Ian. “I think it’s wonderful that you care so much for those who have taken their lives in their youth.”

  “So, you believe her suicide was instigated by bullying and no other factors?” Ian asked, pulling out a notebook and pen.

  “What do you mean by other factors?” Jackson asked.

  “Well, some suicides are pacts that teenagers make with one another,” he suggested. “Another is a relationship break-up.”

  “Yes,” Mary added. “And some are due to substance abuse, while others are caused by depression.”

  “No, my sister was bullied,” Faith insisted. “There was no way anyone could have taken the abuse that was dished out to my sister.”

  “Who delivered the abuse?” Mary asked.

  “Well, we really don’t want to name names,” Jackson said. “After all, we still need to live in this community and we don’t want to uncover old wounds.”

  “Well, perhaps you could give us a general idea,” Ian suggested. “For example, did she get teased at school? Was there a neighbor who was mean to her? Perhaps a family member.”

  “Hope loved her family,” Faith said. “Everyone in her family.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Mary interjected. “But it also shows us that even the love and support of a good family can’t prevent tragedy. Who had so much power over Hope that she finally decided she couldn’t take it any longer?”

  “She wasn’t accepted at school,” Faith said. “Most of the kids there made fun of her.”

  “Why?” Ian asked.

  Faith shrugged. “Well, she wasn’t popular.”

  “What does it take to be popular?” Ian asked.

  She smiled slowly at Ian and leaned her head to the side, her hair brushing against her shoulder. “I think someone like you would know very well what it takes to be popular,” she said, “Often popularity is given because of physical appeal, social status, leadership or athletic ability. There is often no rhyme or reason to why some students are chosen and others are not.”

  Ian turned his whole attention to her. “And those who are popular often make the judgment about who else should be considered popular. Almost a pack or gang mentality.”

  “Well, yes, that’s generally true,” she agreed. “The group does tend to decide who joins their ranks.”

  Encouraging her, Ian smiled and slowly nodded. “And I’d guess that you were one of the popular ones in your high school.”

  Lowering her eyelids for a moment in false modesty, she then lifted her eyes and smiled back at him. “Well, yes, I guess you could say I was popular.”

  Ian’s smile sobered. “And yet, your sister was not,” he said. “Did you not want to offer her the same advantages you had?”

  Taken aback, she abruptly sat upright in her chair. “I think you misunderstood the situation,” she stated sharply. “I had nothing to do with my sister’s death. I supported her. I encouraged her.”

  “Ah, well, that’s good to know,” Ian replied.

  There was a moment of awkward silence, finally Jackson stood up and turned to Mary. “Well, I’m afraid we have to cut this interview short. But please, if there is anything else we can help you with, don’t hesitate to call our offices or send us an email.”

  Before Mary or Ian could stand and reply, Jackson ushered Faith out the room and the door closed behind them.

  “Well, that was interesting,” Mary said.

  “Aye, I dinna think I charmed her.”

  Smiling, Mary shrugged her shoulders. “Well, you can’t win them all.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Guess what I did today?” Clarissa said as she ran from the front door into the kitchen where Mary and Ian were preparing dinner.

  “What did you do?” Mary asked.

  “I got signed up for school,” she replied. “And I’m going to be in Maggie’s class.”

  “School?” Mary asked, looking over Clarissa’s head to Bradley. “Well that is a surprise.”

  Bradley slipped off his coat and hung it on the back of a chair. “Clarissa, why don’t you take your backpack up to your room,” he suggested. “Then you can tell Mary more about school.”

  As soon as she dashed up the stairs, Bradley turned to Mary and Ian. “I thought she would be just as safe at school as she would be anywhere else,” he said. “And she really needs to get back into a routine.”

  “You spoke with the principal? She knows about the situation?” Mary asked.

  “Yes, I let them know about Gary,” he said. “And actually they were more prepared for the situation than I thought they would be. I guess there are quite a few circumstances where children are in danger of being taken by their non-custodial parent.”

  “It will be nice for her to be back with her friends,” Ian agreed. “But Gary is much more dangerous than a non-custodial parent.”

  Mike appeared in the room next to them. “I’ll keep an eye on her too,” he said. “Grammar school was always my favorite anyway.”

  Mary turned to him. “And what will you do when Clarissa or Maggie ask you a question in front of the teacher?” she asked.

  “Pass them a note?” Mike teased and then he shook his head. “No, I’ll be in stealth mode when I’m at the school. The girls don’t need to know I’m there unless there’s trouble. Most guardian angels and ghosts, for that matter, stay in stealth most of the time anyway.”

  Mary sat down on one of chairs at the kitchen table and exhaled slowly. “I know this is the right thing,” she said. “But…”

  “You’re scared to death,” Bradley added.

  “Yes, I am,” she replied.

  “I believe that’s part and parcel of being a parent,” Ian said.

  Bradley walked over to Mary and knelt down beside her. He took her hand in his. “If you are uncomfortable with this, I’ll pull her out of school,” he said.

  Shaking her head, she wrapped both of her hands around his. “No. No, you’re right. She needs her life to get back to normal more than anything else. And Mike will be there,” she said. “She’s better watched over than any of the children there.”

  Mike grinned. “You’d be surprised to learn how many guardian angels go to school each day.”

  The conversation was halted when they heard the sound of little feet coming back down the stairs. “And guess what?” Clarissa was asking eve
n before she reached the bottom steps.

  “What?” Mary called.

  “I already have homework.”

  “That’s amazing,” Mary replied. “What do you get to do?”

  “I get to read a book and answer some questions,” she said. “Can I read it to you?”

  Mary’s heart warmed and she nodded. “I would love to have you read,” she said.

  She stood up and led Clarissa to the couch. “Shall we read here?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Clarissa responded, climbing up next to her.

  With Mary’s arm around her, Clarissa nestled closer and began to read while Bradley helped Ian make the rest of the dinner. Halfway through the book, Clarissa stopped and looked up at Mary. “Can the bad man get me at school,” she whispered, watching to be sure Bradley didn’t hear her.

  Mary looked down at her and shook her head. “Your daddy, Bradley, talked to the principal at your school about the bad man, so they are going to be watching to make sure you’re safe. And Mike is going to be there to protect you. And, because you are very smart and very aware, you are going to watch and be careful until we find him, right?”

  She nodded. “Right. I’m not going to go near any strangers.”

  “Exactly,” Mary said. “And your daddy and I will keep working on catching him, so you won’t have any worries.”

  Clarissa looked up at Mary for a moment, a questioning look on her face. “If Bradley is my daddy and he’s going to marry you, will you be my mommy?”

  Mary’s heart melted as she looked down on the dear little face. “I’d really like to be your mommy,” she said. “I have always wanted to have a little girl.”

  “Is it okay for a kid to have three mommies?” she asked.

  Smiling down at her, Mary nodded. “Oh, sure, that just gives you more people who love you.”

  “Can I come to your wedding?”

  “Oh, yes, sweetheart,” she replied. “And I would love to have you be my flower girl.”

  “Would I have to walk up the aisle?”

  Mary nodded. “Yes, you would. We’d get you a special dress and you would sprinkle flower petals on the ground. Does that sound like fun?”

  “Could Maggie do it too?” she asked. “So there could be two of us?”

  Mary placed a kiss on Clarissa’s forehead. “Oh, that would be perfect,” she said. “Two beautiful flower girls. I love that idea.”

  Clarissa smiled up at her. “Me too.”

  “Now, we need to finish the rest of this book,” Mary reminded her. “So we can eat dinner.”

  Clarissa met Mary’s eyes one more time. “Thanks for being my new mommy,” she said.

  Mary placed another kiss on the top of her head. “It is my pleasure.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “So, the owner didna want to meet us here?” Ian asked later that night, as they pulled the car around the circular drive and parked in front of the door.

  “Nope, she just handed me the keys and told me to return them to her once the ghost was gone,” Mary replied.

  “Well, I suppose we can cross her off the list as possible recruits for a paranormal activities society,” Ian teased.

  “Yes, I think that’s a safe bet,” Mary laughed as she got out of the car.

  They walked up the steps to the front door. “It doesn’t look like your typical haunted house,” Ian said, gazing around at the lavish upscale estate.

  “That’s the funny thing about haunted houses,” Mary replied as she stuck the key into the lock. “You just can never tell when one will pop up.”

  Mary pushed the door open and then turned and helped Ian carry his equipment into the foyer. “I’ve never used electronic equipment before,” she said. “Do you think I ought to add it to my process?”

  “Well, darling, it just depends on what you want to do,” he said, as they carried several large cases of equipment upstairs to the second floor. “If you’re trying to record things for scientific measurement and annals, then you need all this crap. But if you’re just trying to help a soul move from one realm to the other, you just need your natural ability.”

  Mary opened the case that held the video camera and set it up on a tripod, facing the middle of the room. “You won’t see what I see on the video, will you?” she asked.

  Ian shook his head. “No, that’s highly unlikely to get such a clear picture,” he said. “But we’ll probably get some orbs, we may get a shadow and the camera has a sensitive recording device for picking up EVPs.”

  “EVPS?”

  “Electronic Voice Phenomena,” he replied. “There’s a belief that spirits try to communicate with us and we can pick up their words through enhanced electronic recording equipment.”

  “Does it work?”

  As Ian attached the cables to other equipment and set it up around the circumference of the room, he responded to her question, “Well, generally the sound is so faint or garbled it’s anyone’s best guess what the ghost was communicating. And often, if the investigators have clues beforehand, they might be biased towards thinking it was something relating to the clues.”

  “So why are we doing it?” Mary asked, pulling a small Digital EMF Meter from another case.

  “Well, in this case, where you can actually view the entity, it might be interesting background to see if we can pick anything up and then apply this case towards other, less visual, paranormal investigations.”

  “Okay, well, you can stand over here with this and see if you can actually pick up any electromagnetic readings when she shows up,” Mary said. “And I’ll be over here, to see if she’ll actually speak with me.”

  They moved into place and waited. But they didn’t have to wait very long. The atmosphere in the room began to change; Mary actually felt a chill as the temperature began to drop and she rubbed her hands over her arms.

  Ian looked down at his EMF Meter and saw the slender arm raise as it registered the phenomena taking place in the room.

  Mary didn’t need Ian’s machine to feel the electricity in the air. It was as if someone had opened a portal from another place and the room was being filled with a kind of ectoplasmic fog. She tensed; the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as she held her breath.

  The ghost appeared in the corner of the room, translucent and glowing. Her body was slightly turned, her arms were outstretched, as if she were re-enacting pulling something across the room. A muffled sound, like something being dragged across the carpeted floor, seemed to echo from all corners of the room.

  Dressed in pajamas, her long hair was caught back in a ponytail, and her feet were bare. She stopped in the middle of the room, underneath the ceiling fan and slowly turned, gazing around the room. Her macabre smile seemed eager as she ran to the closet door and tied something tightly around the knob. She hurried back to the center of the room and climbed up on the invisible object that she had pulled to the spot.

  Standing mid-air, she continued her preparations as she tossed something over the fan. Although she couldn’t see the object, Mary knew the ghost was throwing a cord over the fan.

  Tugging on the end of the invisible cord, the ghost smiled again and turned towards the bedroom door. No more than a minute passed before the door slowly opened. Ian, who’d been standing next to it, jumped out of the way and sent Mary a look of startled surprise. She replied with a quick nod and then turned her attention back to see the ghost’s reaction.

  The ghost’s smile widened. She looked down at the door and her mouth was moving, although neither Mary nor Ian could hear what she was saying. Because her face was translucent and was shifting in the low light of the room, Mary had a hard time reading her facial expressions, but she didn’t seem upset or startled. It was as if she had been expecting her visitor.

  With a shake of her head and a laugh, the ghost seemed to be placing the cord over her head. She held her hand out to the side, as if she held the end of a noose with it. Then she pulled it sharply to the side for a moment and
bent her head, mimicking someone who’d been hanged. A moment later, she clapped her hands together and laughed at her visitor.

  Moving around the elevated platform with confidence, she pointed and laughed at her visitor. Suddenly the bedroom door slammed shut with great force.

  Both Mary and Ian jumped at the sound, and then turned quickly because the ceiling fan started to turn on its own. The ghost’s smile quickly faded as she looked up at the fan. She screamed silently towards the door, and began to frantically pull at the cord around her neck. She was slowly lifted upwards as if the cord was being wrapped around the rotating fan. She struggled and they both heard a thump on the carpet in front of them, as if the platform had tipped over.

  Desperately, the girl clawed at the cord, gasping and crying as she struggled. She tossed and fought for several minutes, until finally her arms fell limply to her sides, her head rolled to her shoulder and she hung, lifelessly, slowly rotating in the middle of the room.

  Turning from the macabre vision, Mary looked at Ian. He was leaning back against the wall, his face ashen and his eyes still locked on the ghost.

  “Ian,” she whispered.

  He turned to her and it seemed as if he didn’t know her, his face reflecting hopelessness and sorrow. He seemed vulnerable and lost.

  She crossed the room and placed her hand on his arm. “Ian, are you okay?”

  Shaking his head quickly, he looked over at Mary and took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to mask his emotions with a smile. “This one hit closer to home than usual.”

  “What happened?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I’ll tell you another time,” he said softly, “and I thank you for your concern. But, I think we need to get back to our ghost.”

  They both looked up at the ghost again. Her face was slightly bloated and turning purple. Her lips were swollen and her head was lying sideways. Suddenly her eyes burst open and she stared directly at them. A moment later, she was gone.

  The atmosphere in the room abruptly changed back to normal and both Mary and Ian inhaled deeply.

  “I dinna think what we just saw here was a suicide,” he said softly, his heart still racing from the experience.