Into the Night

Here’s a little piece from something I’m working on… It was released a few years ago, but I never really liked the way it ran, until I created my Guardians, Inc. series, and realised that was where it belonged.  Here’s a bit from the revamping process…

Flash Friday: SIGHT UNSEEN

            Moving to the comfortable-looking armchair, Jonathan settled himself into it and sighed with relief that it was as comfortable as it looked.  He closed his eyes and sat quietly for a few moments as his breathing evened and his mind emptied of everything except his reason for being here.  This was a different environment, and the utter stillness of it was difficult to adapt to.  Patrice said Sophia Parrish died around twenty years ago.  The longer her spirit lingered, the fainter her energy would become, unless she had a constant source of replenishment.  Contacting her spirit would require a bit more concentration than his crime scene work normally did.  Finally, when he felt suitably focused, he opened his eyes.

           “Sophia,” he called out to her with both voice and mind as he felt the cold prickle of a presence dance along his arms and the back of his neck.  “I know you’re here, Sophia, and I know you can see and hear me.  I also know that you want to talk, or you wouldn’t have shown yourself to me.  What do you want to tell me?”

            Something unseen pushed one of the heavy wooden chairs closer to the hardwood surface.  Papers ruffled on the desktop, and the form of a pretty woman with red hair and blue eyes materialized in front of the desk.  A sad smile curled her lips, before her voice whispered along the edges of his consciousness.

            I know who killed Ramsey.

            Jonathan nearly jumped out of his skin.  The last thing he’d expected to find in this place was an eyewitness, “Sophia, I want to ask you some questions.  I need your answers to be out loud, so answer me with one rap on the desk for yes, two for no.  Understand?”

            Sophia nodded, before the desk rapped once.

            “Good.  Did you see who murdered your husband?”

            One rap.

            “Did you witness the murder itself?”

            Another single rap.

            “Did you recognize the murderer?”

            Again, one rap answered him, and pain flickered across her face.

            “Was he a business associate of your husband’s?”

            Silence answered him, and she looked puzzled and hesitant for the first time.  Jonathan’s brow furrowed.  Surely Sophia knew all of her husband’s business associates.  Faith claimed he was a bit of a recluse, so there couldn’t be many.  He tried again.  “Did the murderer come here often?”

            A swift rap came in response.

            “Count, in raps, the number of years the murderer and your husband were acquainted.”

            A series of raps followed, with brief pauses.  Jonathan counted twenty-eight raps and his heart sank.  Twenty-eight years ago, Haley was still in Boston.  He couldn’t be the killer.  But the calling card, and the impressions Jonathan had… everything pointed to a man who definitely wasn’t in Bradbury over two decades ago.

            “You’re sure it was twenty-eight?”

            One rap answered with grim finality, and her expression was intractable.

            “Were you at all acquainted with the murderer in those twenty-eight years?”

            One shaky rap.  Sadness covered her features, and Jonathan could only wonder what tragedy had imbedded such sorrow into her spirit.

            “Do you know his name?”

            Quiet, then a short, tentative rap.

            “Was he Rene Haley?”

            The chair across from him toppled over as she shot up from it with incredible force.  Her fear buffeted Jonathan like a gale-force wind, and raw panic danced on her face.

            “Sophia,” he said quietly, “you must help me.  Was the killer Rene Haley?”

            An ominous series of raps echoed in the room and Jonathan frowned in confusion.  The fear she displayed a moment ago seemed pretty certain.  What other reason could she have to fear a man she probably never even met?

            “Are you afraid of Haley?”

            One rap.

            “Because he killed your husband?”

            Two sharp raps answered him, and the swell of her fear hit him again.  Jonathan’s brow furrowed.  There was something deeper going on here.  The dead were usually unconcerned about the how and why of their deaths.  Sophia’s spirit was terrified, as if she feared Haley could somehow reach beyond the grave to harm her.  Had he damaged her spirit that badly during her life?  Jonathan swallowed hard against bitter pain as he thought of Cynthia.  He already knew the answer to the next question he had to ask.

            “Sophia, did Haley ever try to coerce you into sex while you were alive?”

            Sophia’s expression was grim as she gave one firm rap.

            “Many times?”

            Another rap.

            “You turned him down?”

            A definite rap.

            “Did that make him angry?”

            A shaky rap wobbled in the room, and she looked on the verge of panic again.

            “Did he try to force you?”

            Her fear, back full-force, echoed in the silence.

            “Sophia, I need you to answer me.  I can’t get Haley arrested unless I can find a reason he might have wanted Ramsey dead.  Did Haley ever force you to have sex with him?”

            A timid rap answered, and her shame hit him, even as her face hollowed.

            “Sophia, there’s nothing for you to feel ashamed about,” he said gently.  “Did you ever tell your husband about the attack?”

            Two quick raps.

            “Did you plan to?”

            One solid rap.

            “Did you threaten Haley with that fact?”

            One rap, and a vigorous nod, answered him.

            “The day of your accident?”

            Silence hung in the air.  Sophia’s expression was perplexed.

            “Sophia?  Do you remember having the accident?”

            Two raps.

            “Do you remember how you died, you and your son?”

            One sharp rap.

            “You died in a car accident.”

            Two sharp raps caused Jonathan to sit up straight.  His heart was pounding as he realized that there were two mysteries, not one, to solve here.  “Sophia, I want you to tell me exactly what happened to you.”

            Papers ruffled as Sophia scattered them, searching for something, before depositing a sheet of paper in front of Jonathan.  Picking it up, he was surprised to find himself studying a yellowed copy of a very old coroner’s report.  He blanched as he read it, and put the facts together in his head.

            “Haley hung you both, then staged the accident?”

            A firm rap answered him.

            “And he killed Ramsey.  The question is why?”  Jonathan murmured to himself.

            Two raps hit the table sharply, and Jonathan’s heart clenched in fear as a grim expression touched Sophia’s face.  Faith.

            “Haley’s after Faith?”

            Three raps answered, telling Jonathan that Sophia didn’t know.  Jonathan’s throat closed.  There was only one way to be certain.  Springing up from the chair, Jonathan scooped up the police report and stuffed it into his jacket pocket.

            “Thank you, Sophia.  I swear I’ll watch out for Faith.”

            With that, Jonathan hurried from the house, stopping only to grab the statement Patrice held out to him.  He was desperate to warn Faith.  He was halfway back to town before he even remembered to turn off the tape recorder in his pocket.

 

This entry was posted on Friday, February 29th, 2008 at 2:29 pm and is filed under Free Reads, Flash Friday. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.