The Stone of Sadness (An Olivia Miller Mystery Book 3) (6 page)

“I don’t really remember. I can’t say anything was different from normal.”

“So the police brought him in for questioning?”

“They did. That was frightening to me, to think maybe I was dating a murderer. Kenny was a wreck. My parents freaked out. They told me to stop seeing him or they would stop supporting me. I had just finished my freshman year in college. I commuted in to Boston for my classes. My parents wouldn’t allow me to live on campus.” She rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t afford to continue college without their support. And I sure as heck didn’t intend to stay in Howland for the rest of my life. I wanted a career. I didn’t want to be dependent on anyone else.”

“So you stopped seeing him?”

“I stopped our romantic connection, but not because my parents told me to. I was tired of our relationship, his millions of problems, his moods, our fights. The murders gave me an excuse to end it. It shut my parents up too and kept the tuition money coming. But Kenny and I stayed in touch during the time right after the murders. My parents didn’t know that detail. I felt bad for Kenny. He was so alone. He lived with his father…a mean, abusive, hateful drunk. Sometimes I would sneak out at night to see Kenny just so he could talk. He always professed his innocence. The police told him to stick around and not to leave the area, but after a while they had nothing to pin on him and they said he was free to do as he pleased.”

“Then he moved away?”

Emily nodded her head. “I met him one night, late. I snuck out and met him in the field behind my house. He said he needed to take off…that everybody in town thought he was a killer. He needed a new start. He had sold his old truck to get some money. I asked where he was going but he said he didn’t know. He said that he would contact me later to let me know where he was. He never did though. That was it. I never saw him after that. I don’t know where he ended up or what happened to him.”

“You think he could have done something like that? Killed Mary and Kimmy? Was he capable of doing that?” Olivia asked.

Emily was quiet for a moment. “His temper…especially when he drank…I hate to say it, but now that I’m older and I think back…maybe… maybe he could have.”

Olivia had spent hours reading about the murders and the father and son who were left behind. She knew how it was to have someone you loved violently wrenched from your life leaving a gaping hole in your world.

Olivia’s research had revealed that Mary’s husband, George Monahan, had passed away a few years ago. Mary’s son, Michael, was a dentist, had never married, no children. Olivia found another old article online discussing the cold case of Mary and Kimmy’s murders. The reporter had interviewed Michael Monahan as part of the story. In the news article, Monahan described himself as someone who had a good life, who had no interest in the details of the murders. He believed that dwelling on tragedy was not helpful for anyone and that it was important to move on.

Olivia stared at her laptop screen as she and Brad Skyped while he ate his lunch at his bookstore.

“Did you read the article I sent you?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Brad said between swallows of his sandwich. “It’s pretty clear from the article that Monahan doesn’t need to have the crime solved. He just wants to live his life. He doesn’t want to know the details.”

“I know.” Olivia’s hand held her chin. “Do you think he’d talk to me?”

“I don’t think he would want to.”

Olivia didn’t say anything.

“I don’t think you should contact him,” Brad said. “He wouldn’t be able to tell you much anyway. He was in kindergarten when it happened and he’s never wanted to know any specifics. He couldn’t tell you anything of worth.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I know you’re disappointed. I know you’d like to connect with him. But I think you should respect how he needs to handle what happened.”

“I understand.” Olivia said. “Sort of.”

Brad gave her a look. “How would it help with the case? From the article, it doesn’t seem like he knows much or wants to know much. You probably know more than he does.”

Olivia could see that Monahan just wanted to move forward and leave the past behind. He didn’t need to know what happened. He was a little boy when the murders took place. Olivia wondered if maybe kids were better at adapting to changes and loss than grownups were.

“You’re right, Brad. There’s no reason to contact him.”

Hannah the psychic responded to Olivia’s email telling her that she was booked solid with client readings for the next few months but invited Olivia to come to her farm to talk. She wrote that she had a good deal of chores to do, and if Olivia didn’t mind, she could chat with her as she worked in the barn.

Olivia maneuvered the Jeep along the skinny country road looking for Hannah’s farm. She turned into the long winding driveway that snaked along stone walls, open fields, and mature trees. Olivia parked between a big antique Colonial house and a red barn. There were flower beds surrounding the house spilling with blossoms and a crushed stone walkway led to the front door. A wide door on the barn was open, so Olivia decided to see if the psychic was working inside.

A tall black horse stood on the cement floor cross tied between two rows of stalls and a petite woman was working on the animal’s coat with a hand brush.

“Hey,” Olivia said. “Hannah?”

The woman straightened and turned. She had her light brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wore jeans, boots, and a tank top which showed off the muscles in her lightly tanned shoulders and arms. She projected an air of competence and good health. She gave Olivia a big smile, put the brush in a box, and wiped her hands on her jeans as she walked over to shake hands.

“Hi. Nice to meet you. Come on in.” Hannah welcomed Olivia into the barn. “I’m just finishing up with the General here,” she motioned to the stately horse.

“He’s a beauty,” Olivia said.

“He is, isn’t he? He’s a wonderful horse. Despite his size, he’s as gentle as a lamb. I use him to teach new riders because he’s so smart and steady. Do you ride?” Hannah asked as she reached for another brush.

“Oh, no. I’ve never been on a horse unless you count pony rides at a fair when I was little.”

“You should try it. I bet you’d enjoy riding.” Hannah pointed to some hay bales along the wall. “Have a seat here if you like while I finish up.”

Olivia sat and made herself at home. The barn smelled of horse, hay, and fresh air. Hannah kept the place spotless.

“So I understand that you have some questions for me?” Hannah said as she bent to brush the horse’s legs.

“Yeah.” Olivia wasn’t sure where to start. “Well, you know I’m staying at my cousin’s house while he’s away and I found some old newspapers in the attic.” Olivia proceeded to explain her interest in and connection to the murder case of forty years ago.

“So it just seems so horrible that no one was prosecuted for the crime and I wonder what happened with the investigation,” Olivia said.

Hannah unhooked the horse from the ties and turned him toward the other end of the barn where the far door was also open. “I’m going to put General in the pasture.” Olivia rose from her hay bale perch and walked with them. They stepped into the sunlight and headed down the path to the far field.

“At the time of the murders, a young man from the area was considered a suspect but there wasn’t enough evidence to arrest and go to trial,” Hannah began. “The police asked me to assist in the case several years ago. A detective contacted me and asked for my input. They were hoping that working together we might come up with a lead that could tie the murders to the suspect.” Hannah paused. “I’m reluctant to get involved in these cases because they’re exhausting for me.”

She sighed and continued. “I connect with people on the other side. Sometimes I see and hear them or sometimes there’s no visual but they speak to me. In cases involving murder, the police don’t tell me much. They often bring me to the place where the crime occurred and I open myself to sensations. In most cases, I transfer into the body of the victim. Sometimes I can see and feel what the victim saw and felt. In essence, I am sensorially aware of the murder.”

Olivia stared at her. “You mean it’s like you’re the victim?”

Hannah nodded.

“You can feel what the victim felt?”

Hannah nodded again. “Sometimes.”

Hannah opened the gate to the field and unhooked the lead from General’s halter. The horse trotted off to the tree line along the edge of the field where three other horses were standing in the shade. The two women leaned on the rail fence and watched the horses.

After a few minutes, Hannah continued. “So in this case, I entered the body of Mary. Some things I saw, some I heard, and some I felt. I was able to confirm aspects of the case that were known to the police and some things that the police had suspected. I was able to provide some details that they didn’t know at all.” Hannah turned to Olivia and held her eyes for several seconds. “Your cousin is grateful for your concern.”

Olivia’s eyes went wide. “She…what?”

“She appreciates your concern. She appreciates that you care, even though you never met them. But she isn’t bothered that the killer hasn’t been punished. She believes that the killer will have to account for what was done…in time…but maybe not in this lifetime.”

Olivia shook her head. Her eyes were wide. Thoughts swirled through her brain. “I don’t even know what to ask.”

Hannah gave a slight nod and waited for Olivia to process what she had just heard.

“Mary talks to you?” Olivia asked. “You didn’t just experience the crime and that was it?”

“Let’s walk back to the house,” Hannah said and they started up the path. “Right after the police called me about getting involved, I was in my kitchen and I turned around and Mary…her spirit…was standing there watching me. She didn’t speak to me, so I just let her follow me around. I acknowledged her but didn’t ask anything or say anything to her. She stayed almost all day just watching me. It went on for days before she finally spoke. I guess she was sizing me up.” Hannah chuckled.

“She was in your kitchen? She spoke to you?” Olivia asked. She was finding all of this extremely hard to believe.

Hannah nodded. “We’ve become friends.”

“You’re…friends?” Olivia stopped walking and stared. “But. She’s dead.”

Hannah smiled. “I know how it sounds, Olivia. It sounds crazy. But it is what it is. I used to be afraid of my abilities. The whole thing really annoyed me. I didn’t want to be seeing and hearing people from the other side. In high school, I just shut it down and wouldn’t acknowledge it at all.”

Hannah headed to the patio behind the house. It was surrounded by flower gardens and bird feeders were placed in different spots.

“Please sit, Olivia. I have some lemonade and iced tea in the fridge. I’ll get us some glasses.”

“Can I help?”

“I’ll just be a minute. Have a seat.”

Hannah returned with a tray carrying two glass pitchers, glasses, and a plate with fruit and veggies on it. She placed the tray on the patio table, adjusted the umbrella for maximum shade, and poured the drinks. She sat down and picked up her story right where she had left off.

“So as I got older, I became intrigued by what I could do. My grandfather has the same skills, so he worked with me on accepting my abilities. It took a while to come to terms with it all. My grandfather was a tremendous help to me, very supportive and encouraging. He helped me develop my skills. I decided to use them in service to others.”

Olivia sipped her iced tea. “My mind is racing,” she confessed. “I don’t know what to make of all this. It’s a lot to take in. I’ve never heard anything like this before.”

“I understand. I always suggest that people keep an open mind,” Hannah said.

“Do you know who killed them?” Olivia asked.

“I have an idea, but there’s something confusing about it. It’s unclear.”

“Can you tell me?”

“I can’t, no. Since it’s part of an ongoing police investigation. I’m not at liberty to divulge information.”

Olivia nodded. “The police are still looking into this case?”

“From time to time.”

“Do you think they’ll ever make an arrest?”

“I don’t know. The police don’t tell me things like that.”

Olivia took a long sip from her glass and thought about everything she heard. “So Mary appears to you?”

“Yes.”

“Why doesn’t Mary just tell you who the killer is?’

“It doesn’t work that way. It’s hard to explain,” Hannah said.

Olivia took a deep breath. “I can’t believe I’m asking these things. Mary’s okay?”

“She’s okay now. It took a long time to work through her anger, but she is in a good place now.”

“What about Kimmy?”

“They’re together. They weren’t initially. When it happened, Kimmy was enveloped in a sort of blinding, white light, a caring benevolent presence took her away, wrapped in love and safety. After time passed, Mary and Kimmy were reunited.”

“You still see them?”

“At least once a week,” Hannah said.

Olivia shook her head. Her mind was racing. “People accept this? The things you’re saying?”

“Some people do. Yes.” Hannah held Olivia’s eyes. “And some people don’t.”

“You’re not making this up?”

“If I say it’s true, will it help you accept it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, not.”

“It’s true, Olivia. Every word of it.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Olivia asked. “Can I do something to bring the killer to justice?”

“I’m not sure. I can’t predict the future. I can only see the ones who have passed. And they don’t know the future either. Why don’t you speak to the police? Go see the detective who is handling the case. Or the District Attorney. Maybe one of them can tell you something.”

Hannah scrutinized Olivia for several seconds. “Have you lost someone recently…over the past year? Someone you love?”

Olivia’s eyebrows went up. Her heart started to race. “What?” she whispered.

“Someone close to you.” Hannah nodded her head slightly. “Your mother?”