Drawing Blood (4 page)

 
Holly hadn’t used color and was thankful for small favors. In graphite, the scene looked vivid enough, color would have made it positively lurid. The old lady had been playing cards. Even in death, her hand still clutched half the deck as it rested on the blood soaked table. The woman greeted her maker with an everlasting expression of frozen terror.

Swallowing her revulsion, Holly examined the drawing critically. Created in her unmistakable style, it was incredibly detailed, as were all her automatic drawings. She glanced at the clock on the wall of her own kitchen. The whole thing had taken under an hour.

Holly didn’t recognize the woman. She’d drawn the painful death of a complete stranger. What to do with it? Go to the cops? They’d think she was crazy. Maybe even believe her homicidal...think she’d committed the murder.

Could she prevent the death of this woman? Should she? Was it right to interfere with fate?

She berated herself for the question immediately. Wouldn’t that be easy? Ignore it. Tempting but cowardly. Of course she should try to interfere. Why else did she create the image? Holly wasn’t a fatalist. She believed a person had to do whatever they could to make the world a better place. Yes, some things were inevitable, but that didn’t mean you give up trying. But how to find the woman? Sighing, she fetched a loop…the kind photographers used to view contact sheets. Through the magnifying lens, she examined the details more closely. She’d been mistaken. The cards laid out on the table were not regular playing cards, but tarot cards.

Six cards were positioned on the table in what looked like a star formation. Each individual card was well worn, but still vivid. The last card, the one still clutched in the dead woman’s hand would have made up the top of the star. The Hanged Man
.
Holly identified the figure as the Titan, Prometheus, hanging upside down from a rock, while an eagle circled above.

Lousy with numbers, but pretty good at classical history, Holly possessed a workable knowledge of myths and legends that helped in her work as a children’s book illustrator. She knew that in Greek legend, Prometheus stole fire from the gods and gave it to man. As punishment he was sentenced to hang from a mountain and have his liver pecked out every day. Like so many mythological stories it was gruesome, but with a grimace Holly acknowledged that her drawing was equally gruesome. Fitting.

Bent over the recycling bin, she fished out her copy of the local newspaper. In the classified section a number of fortune tellers placed regular ads. Holly had seen them before, but never really paid them much mind. Could the woman in her drawing be one of them? The tarot cards would suggest so. With a shaking hand she circled the most likely candidates with the pencil she’d used to create the drawing and grabbed the phone.

Half an hour later, Holly had four appointments. She’d never visited a psychic before and wasn’t sure what to expect, but she’d made the calls and was prepared to see it through. Luckily, one woman agreed to see her that evening. She wasn’t sure how much time she would have to change the destiny her drawing predicted or what she’d do once she located the victim. Finding the woman was the first step.

Avery knocked twice before entering the house. One look at Holly’s expression and she rushed to the table, concern written all over her beautiful face.

“You looked pretty done in when I left you, so I asked Stephen to come home early. I’m all yours.” She landed in the chair next to Holly and said, “You look like crap. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, but this woman isn’t going to be.” She pushed the drawing toward her.

“My God, this is horrible! What are we going to do?”

Holly smiled at her use of the word ‘we’. There was no better friend in the world.

“You’ve lived here longer than me and you’re more sociable. Does she look familiar to you?”

Avery studied the picture and shook her head sadly.

“Does the room make you think of anyone?”

Again Avery shook her head. “Nothing in this drawing is familiar to me, but most of the people I’ve met in the community are parents just like me. This poor lady is a bit old to have kids in grade school.”

“What about Stephen?”

“He doesn’t make house calls, but you know him, he extroverts all over everyone. He knows a lot more people than I do. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to show him the drawing. Hell, we should show it to as many people as possible in hopes of finding her.”

Holly nodded tentatively, feeling more than a little reluctant. “I agree, but the picture is pretty disturbing, I can’t pass it out to children and I’m not looking forward to showing it to adults. I’ll be labeled a nut job.”

Pushing the paper away from her, Avery sighed. “Sometimes you capture the moment too well. This thing is scaring me.”

Holly ignored her comment. “I’ve made appointments with some of our local fortune tellers. I think I’ll recognize the woman pretty easily.”

Avery winced. “I will too. It’s not something I’m going to forget. I could take half the appointments if you’d like. Did you check the yellow pages?”

Holly rolled her eyes. “I didn’t think of that. I guess psychics are listed. They’re businesses after all.”

She hauled out the book. Avery took it from her and started to flip through, finding the page within seconds. She moved almost as quickly as Stryker Cain had. Holly shivered, she didn’t welcome the reminder.

Dragging her attention back to Avery and the phone books she said, “That didn’t take long.”

“Yeah, I know my alphabet. I’ve got three kids. Do you have any idea of how many times I’ve heard the alphabet song?” She reached for the phone and started dialing, but hung up before she heard a voice.

“I just thought of something. We don’t have to show the picture to a whole lot of people. We’ve got Beth!” She said the name like someone would exclaim, “
Eureka
!”

Beth Wayland owned their favorite general store and knew just about everyone in the community.

Holly said, “That’s a great idea. Beth knows me. She won’t look at me like I’m a twisted psychopath if I show her this picture.”

“Well, at least no more than usual,” Avery said as she stood up and made for the door.

* * * *

An homage to the old fashioned general store, Beth’s shop carried groceries, hardware, candy, souvenirs and more recently, a wide selection of movies to rent. Avery and Holly were regular visitors. They didn’t always have the time or energy to drive into town. Besides, they both believed in supporting local businesses, especially good-hearted and generous Beth’s. The woman was a powerhouse in the community, respected and admired by all.

She smiled brightly when the two women walked in. Avery didn’t waste a second but got right to the point.

“Hey, Beth, we need your help.”

“Sure, what can I do?”

Bless her, that’s what she always said when someone needed help. Holly handed over the drawing.

Avery explained. “I know it’s pretty bloody, but try to put that aside. You don’t happen to recognize the woman in it, do you?”

Beth took one quick look at the picture and turned her head away with a grimace.

Holly said, “I’m sorry. The drawing is mine. I know it’s startling, but we’d like to find the woman if we can.”

Looking at the paper again with reluctance, Beth frowned. After a long moment she raised her eyebrows, tilted her head to the side and said, “It could be Irene O’Neill.”

A look of triumph passed between Holly and Avery, but they said nothing, giving Beth more time to study the picture.

“Yeah, I’d say it’s Irene.” The store owner looked horrified. “What does this mean? Don’t tell me this is real. How…?”

Avery quickly shook her head. “There’s no evidence that it is. We’d just like to find her.”

“Does Irene O’Neill read tarot cards?” Holly asked.

Beth looked down at the drawing again before handing it back to Avery. “Yes, Irene has been known to read cards, but just for friends and family. It’s not a business for her.”

“Would you happen to know where she lives?” Avery ventured.

The door opened and a couple of teenagers filed into the store giggling. Holly smiled at them and exchanged a quick look with Avery. She could remember those years where being together during the summer meant endless late night confidences and more giggling than a Tickle Me Elmo. Such moments helped to cement their now indestructible friendship. It comforted Holly to rely on that friendship especially when all hell was breaking loose and she was forced to try and locate a woman who was about to be murdered.

Beth pulled out a well-worn book and a piece of paper. She wrote down Irene O’Neill’s phone number. She handed the paper to Avery and proceeded to give them precise directions to Irene’s home.

Holly glanced at her wrist watch and said, “I’ve got that appointment with the fortune teller I booked before we thought of asking Beth. Too late to cancel on her. This is her business and it wouldn’t be fair.”

Avery nodded. “You can cancel the others later. I’ll contact Irene. Just drive me back home.”

Holly smiled and they thanked Beth for her help, promising to explain in full later. They each bought an ice cream and hurried out to Holly’s car. The sugar rush helped.

Beth called out, “You’ve scared the hell out of me now. I have no choice but to trust you so good luck you two…with whatever you’re doing.”

Holly wasn’t sure luck had anything to do with it. She didn’t know what the fortune teller would see, but she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like it.

Chapter 3

Margaret Wickham lived in the town of
Huntsville
about half an hour from Holly and Avery’s homes. The drive was smooth and traffic-free. Keeping her mind occupied with trivial things, Holly smiled when she recalled rush hour in
Toronto
. Thank God for the subway. As the office receptionist, Holly had kept slightly different hours than the rest of her family who drove into work together every day. Instead, Holly had always taken the TTC, public transit.

In her head, she ran through the directions Margaret had given her and found the house with ease. She parked in the street in front of the woman’s home instead of the driveway. She didn’t want to block anyone in and have to move her car in the middle of her reading. Holly had no idea how the whole thing would play out, but she had an overwhelming feeling of dread and looked over her shoulder at her car, her only avenue of escape.

Before stepping forward, she took a deep breath. Nervous, her heart pounded. How did one do this? Did she tell Margaret Wickham things about herself or did she wait for Margaret to tell her? She figured it was natural that her stomach had a few butterflies. It wasn’t every day she
sought
the future. It had always come to her naturally, but this time, after creating the frightful drawing, actively seeking out the future was as scary as anything Holly had ever known. With a firm resolve, she walked to the front door.

“Hello, you must be Holly.” Margaret Wickham answered the door bell almost immediately. Holly had pictured her grandmotherly. Margaret was anything but. She was rather good looking actually. Except for the shorts and t-shirt, she would have fit in perfectly at Holly’s father’s firm. Young, attractive and energetic, Margaret Wickham was definitely
not
the woman in her drawing.

Holly felt relieved and disappointed at the same time.

She smiled. “I guess since I had an appointment, you don’t need to be a fortune teller to know my name.” She rolled her eyes and apologized. “Sorry, I’m sure you’ve heard that one a million times.”

The fortune teller laughed. “I’m afraid so.”

Holly looked around uncertainly. “Where do we do this?”