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“ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY certain it was Jenkins?” Frank asked Hamilton on the phone. Ham had called as soon as they were situated in the van; right after they’d told Marrisa. Doubt apparent on her face, she had approved when Ham insisted on calling the investigating detective.
“I didn’t see him, sir,” Ham replied. “Pris did.”
“Does your phone have a speaker function?” Frank asked.
“Yes, sir, forgive me for not thinking of that right away,” he replied. Looking at Marrisa, Ham said, “Frank wants me to put the phone on speaker.” Marrisa nodded, pulling off the residential roadway into a small parking lot.
“You’re on speaker, sir; go ahead,” Ham informed Frank.
“Priscilla, how certain are you this was Mr. Jenkins?” He asked without preamble.
“I recognized him immediately, because he had a black aura, just like before, and no sparkle,” she said, looking at her mom. She knew there would be more questions, but for now, the police needed to know something very strange was afoot.
“As your mother is listening, I’m going to suggest you come over to my house as soon as possible,” Frank replied. “That way, we’ll accomplish two goals at the same time.”
“What two goals would that be, Detective?” Marrisa called from the front seat.
“Confirming what Priscilla saw, and convincing you she sees what she does,” Frank replied without hesitation.
Oh, Jiminy, Pris thought. Talk about grabbing the bull by the horns.
“And what exactly is it you think my daughter sees?” Marrisa inquired dubiously.
Rather than answer her directly, Frank decided on the logical conclusion approach. “Mrs. Benson, do you believe, as I am a police detective, that I’m a logical, reasonable man?” he asked.
“I’ll give you that, for now,” Marrisa replied pointedly.
“So, if I told you, as a logical, reasonable man, I had enlisted the aid of a psychic to help me solve over 20 unsolvable cases in the past three years, would you be willing to accept that as a premise?” Frank asked.
“I’ve read and watched television shows about such a concept, so I will say I don’t immediately discard it as bunk,” Marrisa replied.
“Excellent, I appreciate your scientific approach,” Frank continued. “In theory, all people possess undeveloped mental skills, with many often go through life without ever utilizing them. I believe the accident awakened those skills in Priscilla, and I believe I can persuade you to accept that by having you meet the psychic I’ve worked with.”
“What makes you think my meeting a total stranger, one who claims to be a psychic, would help me accept this awakening?” Marrisa asked, doubt plain in her voice.
“Because the psychic I’ve worked with over the past three years I’ve also been married to for fifteen,” he finished. “She, like Priscilla, had her abilities activated when Multiple Sclerosis crippled her ten years ago.”
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“CLARA IS HAVING A GOOD day, then?” Ham asked Frank after the van pulled into the driveway of a sprawling ranch-style home.
Large picture windows opened up onto the front lawn from two separate rooms, and the neatly manicured garden on the verge of the property would be clearly visible from the farther one.
“Yes, we had a nice conversation this morning, and she’s looking forward very much to meeting a soul-reader,” he smiled from outside the open sliding door of the van.
Pris was lowering toward the broad driveway, and Frank had opened the garage door, making access to the ramp into the house easier. A similar lift-equipped van was parked in the second slot.
“What exactly is a soul-reader, Detective?” Marrisa asked in confusion. She was trying to keep an open mind, but this new term had her befuddled.
“As well as seeing auras, we also believe Priscilla can see a person’s soul,” Frank replied. “Before you get too wrapped up in the terms or titles, why not let Clara explain how all this works?” he cajoled. “She’s far better at it than I.”
“If I were a clairvoyant named Clara, I’d change my name,” Marrisa observed under her breath. “It sounds like a carnival routine.”
When Frank cast Marrisa a sidelong glance, she realized she had spoken too loudly. “No insult intended.”
Trills of silver laughter pealed from the open doorway to the house. “None taken; by myself or, apparently, Clara,” Frank responded, nodding toward the sound of the laughter.
“How can she be laughing at what I said when there’s no way she could have heard me unless she’s right inside the door?” Marrisa wondered aloud. “I thought you said she was bedridden?”
“I also said she was clairvoyant, and a very powerful one at that,” Frank smiled proudly. He led the procession through his house, down overly-wide hallways, and large, open arches. It was obvious the house had been built, or renovated, to accommodate wheelchair use. When they entered the room for which they had seen the second picture window, they saw a woman reclining in an elevated hospital bed. Her beatific smile and radiant countenance spoke of how happy she was to see them all.
“Priscilla,” Clara said warmly. “Come here next to me so that I may touch you.”
Obligingly, and without hesitation, Pris did as requested. When Clara reached her hand out and laid it on Priscilla’s arm, her eyes glowed as if backlit by an inner fire, and a frisson of light and heat leapt between them. Pris had anticipated some reaction, and had turned her head as much as possible away from the control tube. Even so, her sharp intake of breath caused the chair to quiver momentarily.
“Young lady, you have such a rare and special gift, we must work on helping you maximize your ability to use it,” Clara said, as if the decision to do so were a foregone conclusion.
“Um, excuse me,” Marrisa interrupted, stepping forward. “I’m not ready yet to allow my daughter to maximize anything until I have a few questions answered.”
“But of course you have,” Clara smiled, turning the full impact of her gaze onto Marrisa. Again, her eyes glowed with the same strange fire, and the effect was immediate. All the tension Marrisa had felt since entering the house quietly drained away, as if someone had open a valve on the bottom of her worry-tank.
Without being aware she had done so, Marrisa walked around the other side of the single bed; dreamlike. Reaching out her left hand, Clara laid it gently on Marrisa’s left forearm. Clara was still holding onto Priscilla’s right forearm and the same display in her eyes, and of light and heat, repeated upon contact with Marrisa.
Marrisa’s nostrils flared, and her pupils dilated until almost none of the iris was visible. Eyes widened in surprise and shock, Marrisa suddenly burst out in gleeful laughter. Here head snapped from Clara’s gaze to Pris, and she immediately began to cry, rivulets of joy coursing down her face while sobs shook her. The scene lasted no more than 15 seconds, but for Pris and her mom, it was an eternity. Clara had become a conduit from mother to daughter, and both experienced the love, fear, and full avalanche of emotions each elicited in the other.
Recovering, Marissa returned her gaze to Clara, but now her vision was laser sharp. “How can I help?” was all she asked.
Some form of communication was apparently happening between the three, as their faces ran the gamut of expressions. Ham had been observing from the doorway, and now Frank walked over to him.
“This might take a while,” he observed, knowingly. “Would you care for something to eat?”
Hamilton had been so enraptured by what was transpiring with Pris, he had barely noticed Frank’s approach. Shaking himself, he pivoted his chair around and wordlessly moved down the hallway back toward the front of the house. Frank followed.