Mary O'Reilly 09 - Twisted Paths Page 8

  Shaking her head, Mary slowly moved away from Ian and towards the center of the room, staring at the ceiling fan. “Someone else knew the truth,” she said slowly, wiping the residual tears from her face. “Someone else left the room just before Hope died. Why didn’t they tell the truth?”

  “Aye, and now there’s your mystery.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  After packing up Ian’s electronic gear, the ride back to the house was completed with minimal conversation as both Mary and Ian contemplated what they had just witnessed.

  “Do you ever get used to it?” Ian asked quietly as he stared out the window into the night sky.

  Shaking her head, Mary took a deep breath before answering. “No, you never do,” she replied. “And if you start to, you need to step away because you are losing your humanity.”

  They drove in silence for a few more minutes. “Were you able to hear anything she was saying?” Ian asked.

  “I thought I would hear a whisper, but nothing intelligible,” Mary said, as she turned the car onto her street, she glanced over to him. “And I have to admit I’m grateful that I didn’t have to hear her struggle for her life. It was bad enough to watch it.”

  “Aye, you’re right,” Ian said. “And it was frustrating to know it happened twenty years ago and there isn’t a damned thing you can do about it now.”

  She pulled into the driveway and turned to him. “Thank you for coming with me. I’m really glad I wasn’t alone.”

  “No one should have been alone to witness that,” he said with a nod.

  “And yet she was,” Mary replied, staring out the front of the car, “all alone when she died.”

  “Well we don’t know that,” Ian said. “All we know is that a door slammed. The visitor could have still been in the room, watching her suffer.”

  Startled, Mary turned to him. “Do you really think…”

  “Well, hopefully we caught a little more with the equipment,” he said. “But until we know for sure, we have to be open to any possibility.”

  Mary rubbed her arms with her hands. “Picturing someone watching her die and not trying to help makes her death seem even worse.”

  The house was quiet when they opened the door. Their arms were filled with Ian’s equipment. “I wonder where Bradley is,” Mary whispered as they moved to the kitchen table.

  “Probably putting the wee bairn to bed,” Ian said, “and enjoying every minute of it.”

  Smiling, she nodded her agreement. “He really is enjoying being a father,” she agreed.

  A few minutes later, as they were setting up the equipment, Bradley came down the stairs. “So, how did it go?” he asked.

  “Is Clarissa in bed?” Mary asked.

  He nodded. “Yes, she’s sound asleep. I just left her.”

  “Then come over here,” she invited. “We need to look this over right away, while the experience is still fresh in our minds.”

  Ian nodded, placed his case next to the table and slipped off his coat. “I’ll run upstairs and get my laptop,” he said. “Then we’ll see what we captured.”

  “Captured?” Bradley asked Mary as Ian headed up the stairs.

  “Ian brought his electronic equipment with him this time,” she said. “We’re hoping it picked up some things we couldn’t.”

  Ian came back down and attached the equipment to a control box that was plugged into a USB port on the side of his laptop. He pressed a few buttons and the girl’s bedroom came into view. The camera scanned the entire room and then stayed focused on the middle of the room. There was a box on the bottom of the screen with a series of numbers in separate boxes.

  “What’s that?” Bradley asked.

  “The first box is the reading from the Digital EMF recorder,” Ian said. “You’ll see that as we set up the equipment, the numbers are pretty low, from 0mg to 1.5mg. If it is able to read the ghost Mary saw, you’ll see readings that can go as high as 8mg.”

  “And this number,” Bradley asked, pointing to the next box.

  “That’s the digital thermometer reading,” he replied.

  “I know, cold spots, right,” Bradley said.

  “Aye, but there can also be hot spots at times,” Ian said. “Any reading plus or minus ten is a sign of paranormal activity.”

  “Okay, the third set?”

  “That’s the infrared meter,” Ian explained. “The video camera works with infrared lighting because it’s been theorized that paranormal entities are more visible in infrared. This meter sends out a beam of infrared light and relays the temperature of the surface.”

  “So, does this stuff really work?” Bradley asked, watching the screen over Ian’s shoulder.

  “Well, we’re about to find out,” Ian said. “This is the first time I’ve tested it when I know there’s an entity in the room.”

  The video initially focused on Mary. Showing her standing across the room from the lens. The conversation she and Ian shared had ended and she was just waiting for something to happen. Then the recording showed her rubbing her hands over her arms as the temperature had begun to drop in the room.

  “And here we go,” Ian whispered, his attention on the information.

  They watched as the entire scene transpired; although the camera only picked up sparks of electromagnetic activity, it did not record the ghost the way both Mary and Ian saw her. The readings continued to monitor the activity in the room. Ian turned the volume up on the audio equipment, and even though he was able to filter out most of the unwanted noise, most of the information was unintelligible.

  “Wait, play that part again,” Mary said, as they got towards the end of the tape.

  Ian reversed the feed and played it again. They all heard what sounded like a girl’s voice.

  “Can you slow it down?” Bradley asked, leaning closer.

  Ian reversed the feed and slowed the playback. They all stood silently, staring at the screen and concentrating on the sounds until they all clearly heard the young woman whisper as her life was nearly over, “No hope.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The smells of breakfast greeted Clarissa as she stood at the top of the stairs. She stopped and looked at Mike, her face filled with concern. “Do they really love me?” she asked.

  He squatted down next to her, so he could look into her eyes. “Yes, they really do,” he said. “They loved you before they even met you, because of who you were. Now they love you even more because of who you are.”

  She nodded, contemplating his answer for a moment. “Is it bad…I mean, I love my mommy, Becca and my daddy, Henry…but is it bad that I love Bradley and Mary too?”

  “No, sweetheart,” Mike reassured her. “Love isn’t like a pie. There isn’t just so much to go around and then you don’t have any more. Love keeps growing and expanding. Your little heart can love as many people as you want.”

  The worry slipped from her face and she smiled at him. “Thank you for bringing me here,” she said. “I really do love it.”

  “You’re welcome,” he replied. “Besides, this is where you belong.”

  She started to go down the steps when suddenly she stopped and turned to him. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said. “I love you too Mike.”

  He stood and watched her skip down the steps to the kitchen.

  “Good morning to you,” Ian said, as he met Mike at the top of the staircase.

  “Morning,” Mike said, his voice slightly hoarse. “I learned something already today.”

  “Aye, and what would that be?” Ian asked.

  “Angels can cry,” Mike said, wiping a tear from his cheek and studying it with curiosity.

  Ian nodded, “I admit to overhearing the conversation you had with Clarissa and it’s no small wonder that she loves you.”

  Mike couldn’t explain the overwhelming emotion he felt from hearing Ian’s words. What? Did becoming an angel turn a guy into a wimp?

  “Knock it off, Scotty,” he finally said. “You’re not going to m
ake me cry too.”

  Laughing, Ian nodded and started down the steps. “Well, then, I’m off to eat waffles.”

  Mike followed. “Oh, yeah, eating food, rub it in.”

  He followed Ian down the stairs and they both paused at the doorway of the kitchen with an unspoken agreement as they watched Mary, Bradley helping Clarissa at the table. Bradley was leaning over cutting s waffles into bite-sized pieces and Mary was pouring more milk into a small glass. Clarissa already had a mouth full of food and she was eagerly telling both of them a story.

  “Looks good, doesn’t it?” Mike whispered to Ian.

  “Aye, they’re already a family,” he replied softly.

  They entered the kitchen and Mary looked up and smiled. “Good morning,” she said. “There are waffles warming in the oven and bacon on the plate next to the stove.”

  Ian approached the table and smiled. “‘Tis a braw sight to see, this family of yours.”

  He leaned over Mary’s chair and kissed her lightly on the cheek, then turned and kissed Clarissa too. He stood up and moved toward Bradley.

  “You try kissing me and there’s going to be problems,” Bradley said, his voice stern but his smile belying his words.

  “I don’t think I could stomach that before breakfast,” Ian replied, moving over to the kitchen counter to get a plate from the cabinet. “But your lassies were just too hard to resist.”

  Bradley got up from the table and walked over to Ian, snatching a piece of bacon from the plate. “Mary, do you need anything?” he asked.

  She smiled at him, but shook her head. “No, I’m good, thanks.”

  “You’re a lucky man, Bradley Alden,” Ian said softly.

  Bradley glanced at Mary and Clarissa and then turned to Ian. “Luckier than I ever thought possible,” he replied, keeping his voice low. “Can you keep an eye on Mary today? Without her knowing you’re doing it?”

  Ian grinned. “Oh, aye, I’m a fairly crafty fellow, she’ll never know.”

  Bradley bit into the bacon. “Thanks. Mike will be with Clarissa and I’ll be checking on her throughout the day. But Mary…”

  “She’s a mind of her own,” Ian finished. “We’ll be working on the new case together, so you’ve no need to worry.”

  “Until they’ve caught that bastard and put him some place safe and secure, I’m going to worry,” he replied.

  “Don’t you think he’s long gone by now? He had a passport and money, why would he stay here?”

  Leaning against the counter, Bradley turned so his back was to Mary. “That would be the actions of a sane man,” he said quietly. “Gary Copper is unstable, to say the least. Whatever is driving him now, whatever is motivating him, will influence his actions. Common sense or even self-preservation may not be his driving force.”

  Ian glanced at Mary over Bradley’s shoulder; she was busy with Mike and Clarissa. He turned back to Bradley. “He’d be willing to die in order to exact revenge?” he asked quietly, his jaw clenched in anger. “I’ve studied terrorism and fanaticism; experts say it’s virtually impossible to stop someone who is prepared to die for his cause.”

  Bradley nodded slowly.

  “And you’ve shared this with her?” Ian asked.

  Bradley glanced back to make sure Mary was still occupied. “She understands he’s a threat,” he said. “But, because of the trauma she’s already experienced, I don’t think she wants to give him that much power. She is treating him like any other escaped convict.”

  “Does that make her more vulnerable?”

  “Not if we’re watching out for her too.”

  Ian picked up a piece of bacon and snapped it in half. “Aye, I’ll be watching,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  “No need to thank me,” he replied. “She has a piece of my heart as well. None of us want anything to happen to our Mary.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Bradley, Clarissa and Mike left a few minutes later in a flurry of backpacks, lunch boxes, hugs and kisses. Mary dropped onto the couch, her eyes closed and her head resting against the overstuffed cushions. “This is exhausting,” she said. “How do parents do this every morning?”

  Laughing, Ian sat on the arm of the couch and looked down at her. “Well, I think they must develop a system,” he said. “And, of course, most parents don’t cook a three-course meal for breakfast.”

  Mary opened her eyes and glared at him. “I wanted her to have a nourishing breakfast,” she replied. “You know, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

  She closed her eyes again, but then they popped back open. “You don’t think I made too much, do you?” she asked, horrified. “You don’t think I’m encouraging childhood obesity?”

  Shaking his head, Ian said, “She was happy, she was fed, she was warm…,” he paused, “and any other comfort a child might need on her first day of school. You did fine, Mary. You’re a good mom.”

  The reality of the situation finally hit home. “Ian, I’m a mom,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I mean, you know, not really…”

  He placed his hand over hers. “Aye, really, you’re a mom,” he repeated. “And you’re doing a fine job of it.”

  She couldn’t find her voice for several moments. “Thank you, Ian,” she finally whispered.

  “I did naught but tell the truth,” he replied. “So, now, what’s in the plan for today?”

  Taking a deep breath, she sat up and turned to him again. “Oh, you mean besides having you watch over me like a hawk?”

  He grinned. “Aye, besides that.”

  “I think we ought to talk to Hope’s mother,” Mary said. “I got a feeling that Faith and her father weren’t telling us everything they knew about that night.”

  “Aye, and if there was a person who knew about the hanging and didn’t do anything, they could be an accessory to murder,” he said. “But how do we find out which home she’s staying in?”

  Mary walked over to her computer and did a search on nursing homes in the Freeport area. She looked through the list, noting the ones that were more upscale than the others. “ I think we should start with this one first,” she said, pointing to the facility that was situated next to Krape Park.

  “Why?” Ian asked.

  “Because I have a contact there,” Mary said, “and because it’s been around the longest.”

  She dialed the number. “Hello, may I speak with Jennika Nikole please?” she asked.

  “This is Jennika,” the woman on the other end replied.

  “Hello, Jennika, I met you a few months ago when I was in visiting Ross Gormley. My name is Mary O’Reilly,” she said.

  “Oh, yes, Miss O’Reilly, I remember you,” Jennika replied. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m supposed to be interviewing a woman today, regarding a research investigation I’m working on,” she said. “But I’m embarrassed to admit, I didn’t write down which nursing home she lived in. I know that she’s quite well-to-do and her family wanted her to be very well cared for, so I just assumed she was at your facility.”

  “Well, thank you, Miss O’Reilly,” Jennika replied, pleasure evident in her voice. “I can check and see if she’s one of our residents. What’s her name?”

  “Gloria,” Mary answered. “Gloria Foley.”

  “Oh, yes, I don’t even need to look it up,” she said. “Mrs. Foley is one of our residents.”

  Mary looked over at Ian and gave him a thumbs-up signal. “That’s wonderful,” Mary replied. “Do you know… is she available this morning? I’d love to be able to speak with her today.”

  “Yes,” Jennika said. “She’s already had breakfast and she’s just resting in the sunroom. I’m sure she would love to speak with you, she rarely has visitors.”

  Mary smiled at Ian and shook her head. “Well, excellent, I will be there in about twenty minutes,” she replied. “And I’ll be bringing a colleague of mine, a professor from the University of Edinburgh who is conducting
the study.”

  “I’m sure that will be fine, Miss O’Reilly,” Jennika said. “We’ll see you then.”

  Mary hung up the phone and turned to Ian who was still dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt. “Can you get ready and look professorly in fifteen minutes?”

  “I can,” he said, jumping up from the couch.

  “Oh, can you bring your recording device?” Mary asked.

  “I can, yes,” he replied. “But why?”

  “Just in case Gloria’s daughter comes to see her mother during our visit.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Gloria Foley was still a very attractive woman, although her hair was now liberally sprinkled with silver threads and the corners of her eyes showed the lines of age. She was dressed in a silk caftan in bright jeweled colors and rings of the same hues sparkled on her fingers. Mary watched her eyes as they approached and was relieved to see openness and welcome in them.

  “Hello, Mrs. Foley,” Mary said when they reached the elegant rattan chair she was seated in. “My name is Mary O’Reilly and this is my colleague, Professor Ian MacDougal from the University of Edinburgh.”

  “Oh, from Scotland?” she asked, motioning for them to take seats near her. “How very interesting.”

  “Ach, well, not so verra interesting,” Ian said, thickening his accent a little for effect. “But I canna deny it holds a special place in me heart.”

  “I’m sure it would,” Gloria responded. “I visited there once and I fell in love with it.”

  “Did you?” he asked. “And when was that?”

  “Oh, it was the year before…” she stopped and her face changed, a veil of sadness covering it. “It was a while ago.”

  “Mrs. Foley, we’d like to ask you some questions that might bring back some sad memories,” Mary said. “Are you willing to speak with us?”

  “Sad memories?” Gloria asked. “Why do you need to ask me questions like that?”

  Ian scooted his chair a little closer to hers and took her hand in his. “I’m doing research about adolescents and suicides,” he said. “And I’m hoping you will speak to us to help other children.”