The Supernaturals (25 page)

“It’s gone, Jimmy. It didn’t want you.”

Jimmy Johansson seemed to relax for a brief moment, and then he pointed insistently at nothing. His arm stretched out so tautly that they could see the muscles working under the skin. Kennedy gently pulled the boy’s arm down.

“No! It’s gone now. She will never bother you again. She wasn’t after you...she wasn’t after anybody. She was lost and she felt you in her room. She only wanted to be close to you. She didn’t mean to scare you.”

Jimmy’s eyes blinked, as though he were waking up. He looked over at Kennedy and blinked eyes more rapidly. Kennedy gestured for Julie to shut off the lights; he stood and pulled the curtains closed. When he went back to Jimmy’s bedside, he suddenly lashed out and struck Jimmy in the face, making his head snap back. This time it was Charles who started forward and Eunice who held him in place.

The slap produced the desired effect. Jimmy started to cry. Looking around the room, his eyes fell on his mother, and then he really let loose. Gabriel stepped back and nodded for Eunice to go to her son. She threw herself on the bed and took the boy to her chest. She was soon joined by Charles and they hugged their son together. Kennedy stepped away from the three and pulled a handkerchief from his jacket to wipe the sweat that had covered his forehead. He was soon joined by Julie, who was wide-eyed.

“What did you say to him? What’s in that notebook?”

Kennedy glanced toward the Johanssons, then turned and slipped out of the room, Julie following close behind. They soon saw a doctor and two nurses go into Jimmy’s room; as they passed Kennedy, they both gave him strange looks.

Kennedy sat down in a chair in the hallway, leaning forward to catch his breath.

“Well, what did you say?” Julie persisted, standing over him.

He finally looked up. “I spoke some words to him.”

“What words?”

“It’s not the words, but the language. I played a hunch.”

“Goddamn it, Kennedy...”

“German. I spoke German to him.”

“What did you say?”

Kennedy stood and walked a few steps. Then he turned and looked at Julie.

“You’re a non-believer, but you’ll have to agree, the boy woke up.”

“Yes, I agree with at least that. Now, what did you say?”

“The German opera star, the missing diva from the third floor, from the 1920s.”

“What about her?”

“She was taken by whatever is in that house. I don’t think Jimmy came across the real entity at Summer Place, because he wasn’t taken—he’s still alive.”

“So, what did you say to get him to wake up?”

“As I said, I played a hunch. I said something in German. I don’t know if it was the words themselves, or if he just recognized the language and it brought him back.”

“What were the words?”

“Helfen Sie mir,” he answered.

Kennedy turned his back on her.

“Just what the hell does that mean, damn it?”

Gabriel turned back and smiled. His small breakthrough with the boy had made his day, but frustrating Julie Reilly was the icing.

“It means
help me
.”

Julie said nothing.

“This means, I suspect, that we may have more than one ghost at Summer Place. Possibly several. But one thing is for sure... That boy didn’t meet the real entity that’s walking those halls. He wouldn’t be in there with his parents right now—he’d be missing, or dead.”

Julie climbed in
behind the wheel of the rental car and glanced at Kennedy. He sat quietly, looking through the windshield at the crystal blue sky overhead. As she snapped her seatbelt, she blurted the question before she knew she was going to ask it.

“Feel like seeing Summer Place?”

He sat quietly, long enough that she began to think he hadn’t heard her question.

“Yes, I think it’s time. I’m ready to see it.” He looked over to her. “From the outside.”

“You don’t want to go in?”

“We’ll save that for your big night. It would be better for your cameras. Suspense, I guess you’d call it?”

“Yes, that’s what we call it.”

She put the car in gear and drove away from the hospital.

Kennedy was silent
for most of the forty-five minute drive to the house. Julie took her time, watching Kennedy for any kind of reaction as they made their way closer to the property. Gabriel kept his eyes closed most of the way. It wasn’t until they were almost right above Summer Place, near the spot from which the UBC crew and Kelly Delaphoy had first caught sight of the house a week before, that Kennedy’s eyes suddenly popped open. It was like watching a small animal sense the shadow of a predator flying over its hiding place.

“May I ask, off the record...What are you feeling?”

Gabriel looked over at Julie. He was feeling that anything was preferable over looking into the small valley below where the beast waited patiently.

“I don’t know. It’s not fear, though I am fearful. It’s not confidence that I’m right about what that house is, because I am not confident. And it’s not the overwhelming feeling that it’s expecting me back, because how could it?” He shook his head. “I am afraid, but not of the house. I’m afraid I won’t be able to kill whatever is in there.”

The conviction of Gabriel’s beliefs burned brightly in those few words. Julie was beginning to see that she would have more than a hard time proving Kennedy was a nut, or a stone cold liar. Years ago, he had been like an eyewitness to a tragedy, expected to give a full and complete statement immediately. She never realized that his perspective would have changed and developed confidence once he’d had time to absorb what had happened; she and Detective Jackson had never allowed him up for air. As she drew around the corner and the house became visible through the trees, she found cold chills running the length of her arms. Gabriel’s fervor had been convincing, even to her. It was like he was capable of pulling back a curtain to allow you to see what the possibilities really were.

“Jesus,” he whispered to himself.

The property looked quiet. The Johanssons were still in Bright Waters attending to Jimmy. The house was brilliant in the dazzling sunlight and the sparkles coming off the pool dappled the awnings and deck chairs with a beautiful, otherworldly glimmer. Julie watched his face as he took it all in. It was like witnessing a soldier as he went back to a place of battle where he had lost friends in a long ago war. He reached up to remove his glasses, absentmindedly cleaning his lenses with a handkerchief. He seemed to be soaking up the view from a distance, but he also looked like a rabbit ready to spring at any moment.

As the car crept down the long hill toward the house, Julie was kicking herself for not taping what Kennedy had said. Not for the television show, but as some sort of record for her personal use—maybe as a talisman that would later prove just how right she had been about Gabriel’s mental makeup and his capacity for doing what she and Damian Jackson had accused him of: the glorification of an event for later celebrity.

As the house grew in the windshield, Julie saw a large car parked off the road just outside the gates. A large man was leaning on the hood. State Police Lieutenant Damian Jackson watched the house from a distance. Julie started to pull into the entrance.

“We can avoid this if you want,” Julie said. “I’ll just turn right around and head back to town.”

“Why?” Kennedy asked, placing his wire rimmed glasses back on. “Neither you nor he have ever intimidated me. Honestly, I would much rather have you both where I can see you.”

As the car pulled to a stop, Kennedy opened his door and stepped out without hesitation. Ignoring the police detective, he walked straight to the gates. Julie stepped out too, watching Kennedy bypass any greeting to Jackson. Then she watched the black state policeman as his dark eyes followed the professor.

“So, have you transferred permanently to the thriving metropolis of Bright River, foregoing the small city challenges of Philadelphia, Lieutenant?” Julie called.

Damian Jackson removed his hat and tossed it onto the hood of his car.

“No, no transfer. Vacation time. Halloween has always been a favorite of mine.”

Jackson spoke to Julie, but his eyes remained on Gabriel Kennedy’s back. The professor studied Summer Place quietly through the large beams that made up the front gate.

“Did you receive the invitation to the big event here on Halloween?” Julie stepped casually in between Jackson and Kennedy, allowing Gabriel the time he needed.

The large state policeman reached into his coat and retrieved a large envelope. Then he pulled out the check that had come inside it.

“Handsome reward to give someone who just wants to do his duty, wouldn’t you say?”

Jackson smiled, watching her face as he slowly, deliberately ripped the two hundred thousand dollar certified check in two.

“Does that mean we won’t have the pleasure of your company on the thirty-first of October?”

Jackson stepped around Julie and made his way to the silent Kennedy. He stood beside him and, like Gabriel, took in the view of Summer Place.

“Tell me, Professor, how it feels coming back,” he said, gazing out at the house.

“You mean, how does it feel returning to the scene of the crime?” Gabriel asked, looking over at Jackson with a smile.

“Something like that.”

“I think it’s the same for both of us.” He half turned, acknowledging Julie. “Excuse me, all three of us.”

“The Lieutenant just tore up his compensation for attending on Halloween, Professor,” Julie said. This visit wasn’t turning out at all like she expected. Gabriel was just too cool and collected, seeing the house for the first time in so many years.

“Is that right?” He smiled. “Well, that’s about what I expected. The Lieutenant’s always been more of a ‘wait until they hang themselves’ kind of guy. Watch from the sidelines and then piece it all together later—no matter if the puzzle pieces fit or not.”

Jackson chuckled. “Just because I can’t accept your money, doesn’t mean my investigation won’t continue. I’ll be there on the thirty-first, on two conditions.”

“Okay, I’m waiting,” Julie said. Kennedy turned and looked at Jackson, too. Now he seemed interested.

“One: there will be no camera shots of me. I am officially not there that night. No mention of me in your script and no mention of my name on any electronic media. Two: I want ten minutes with Kennedy alone on the third floor before the night is done. You see,” he held the professor’s gaze, “I believe the good Professor Gabriel here is going to give up far more than the ghost that night. He’s going to make my case all by himself, and I’m going to take him into custody for murder. And that, you can film all you want.”

Jackson turned his gaze toward the house once more. “Now that’s pretty good, Miss Reilly. If your network can pull off the small stuff like that, then we may be in for quite a funhouse ride on Halloween.”

Julie and Kennedy turned back toward the house in silence. Both of the large front doors were standing wide open and every window blind in the house had been raised. It was as if the house was welcoming them all back, inviting them inside so the party could start early.

Lieutenant Damian Jackson turned away, laughing at what seemed to be a clever prank. He picked up his hat from the hood and placed it on his head at a jaunty angle.

“Yes, ma’am, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He opened the car door and then looked back at the house. “Yes, ma’am...Nice touch, with the doors and windows.”

“Well, I guess that makes the guest list complete,” Julie mused.

Gabriel said nothing. His eyes were still glued to the open front doors of Summer Place.

ten

UBC Network Headquarters

New York, New York

The next day, the large conference room at UBC headquarters played host to Professor Gabriel Kennedy’s invitees. George Cordero, at the wet bar in the corner of the large room, tried mentally to size up the others. They had introduced themselves earlier, with the exception of the small woman who sat in a chair in the far corner near the window instead of at the conference table with the rest. Her bloodshot, darkened eyes looked out over the Manhattan skyline.

The large Indian sat quietly at the center of the table. George knew that although the large man didn’t look around, the ponytailed lawman from Montana had already evaluated each of them. John Lonetree was dressed in black slacks, a white shirt with string tie, black sport coat, and black cowboy boots; his black cowboy hat sat on the table in front of him. George looked away and plopped ice into the cut crystal glass.