Ever since Clay Bowman tried framing Heather for the murder of Brian’s ex-wife, Kelly had been nicer to her. Nice is probably the wrong word, Heather thought. Less judgmental? Nah, Kelly was still judgmental, but now she occasionally defended Heather, which felt a little strange.
Heather didn’t imagine they were going to suddenly become best buds. But Kelly was married to one of Brian’s close friends, and if they could be around each other without the former friction, Heather took that as a win, especially during times like this morning.
Brian and Heather sat in a booth with Joe and Kelly, having breakfast at Pier Café on Tuesday morning. Over bacon, eggs, and pancakes, they discussed the previous day’s drama and arrests.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re both going for the insanity defense,” Joe said. “Clay’s partner in crime hasn’t said two words since we arrested him. We ask him a question, and he just stares out in space with those blank eyes, like no one is home.”
Instead of adding a comment, Brian took a sip of coffee and glanced over to Heather, keeping his thoughts to himself.
“And after toxins didn’t show up in the blood test, Clay kept insisting there was something wrong with the tests, because there is no way a blanket attacked him and knocked the gun out of his hand.” Joe shook his head at the idea, picked up his coffee cup, and took a drink.
Brian chuckled. “Which was helpful, because with that statement, Clay basically confessed.”
“Wasn’t the blanket that he claimed attacked him actually the baby quilt Lily and I found at the estate sale?” Kelly looked at Heather.
Heather stared down at her eggs and speared a bite with her fork. “Yep.”
“Perhaps the quilt did attack him,” Kelly suggested.
“Oh yeah, right,” Joe scoffed.
Kelly shrugged. “It’s possible, considering what we’ve seen over there.” Kelly looked back at Heather. “Did the quilt attack him?”
Without looking up from the plate, Heather considered the question. Quietly, she laid her fork down on her napkin and looked up to find everyone at her table looking at her. “Going on the record and claiming a baby’s quilt disarmed a kidnapper while I stood ten feet away would probably jeopardize the case against Clay. That’s something I’m not willing to do. No. I would never go on the record and make that claim.”
Kelly stared at Heather. “Off the record.”
Heather looked at Kelly and nodded.
Exasperated, Joe threw back his head and scoffed.
With a shrug, Heather picked up her fork and continued eating. Kelly turned to Joe. “We both saw what happened in the nursery.”
“Yeah, well, Clay could be right, and some hallucinogenic toxins have come up from the tunnel,” Joe countered. “And that’s what’s making us imagine weird things when we’re over there.”
Brian chuckled. “Joe, I doubt you and Kelly would experience the same hallucination. While you can’t wrap your head around the possibility something from the paranormal realm is responsible for what you saw at Marlow House, I’m actually comforted by the fact that whatever it is, it helped save Heather and prevent a kidnapping.”
* * *
On the other side of Beach Drive, at Marlow House, Danielle and Walt sat in the living room with Marie, with Max curled up on Danielle’s lap, while the babies napped in the portable cribs nearby.
“I certainly hope they won’t let Clay Bowman out on bail this time,” Marie said.
Danielle absently stroked Max’s head. “I seriously doubt it.”
“What about his partner?” Marie asked.
Walt placed his arm around Danielle’s shoulders, gently pulling her closer to him as they sat together on the sofa. He looked over at Marie. “I spoke to Edward this morning. The other man’s name is Rodney Healy, and he’s from the same area Clay was living in before moving back to Frederickport. He has an impressive rap sheet. Someone at Clay’s old station told Edward that Rodney was one of Clay’s informants.”
“Sounds like he was more than an informant,” Danielle scoffed.
“Is Edward working today?” Marie asked. “He really needs to rest, or he won’t heal properly.”
“He was at home when I spoke to him,” Walt explained. “But he did mention he was going into the station this afternoon.”
“When I spoke to the chief last night, he said Debbie Bowman confessed to knowing her husband was in town but swears she didn’t know about the kidnapping. The chief believes her. One of her sons also confessed to taking the keys, but said when he took them, he didn’t know their father was in town. The boys just wanted to see the tunnel, and when they broke into the Crawford house, Clay showed up. He had been following them,” Danielle explained.
Marie let out a sigh. “Well, having been a mother to a son, and having two grandsons, I can understand how the boys would want to explore the tunnel. It just got a little more involved than they bargained for. Sad, those boys have a father like that. I wonder what’s going to happen to them now. Will charges be filed against them and their mother?”
Danielle shrugged. “I imagine if Debbie and the boys cooperate with the police, they won’t file charges against them.”
They discussed the matter a few more minutes when Marie said, “Not to change the subject, but did you notice what happened last night? Or should I say, what didn’t happen?”
Danielle smiled at Marie. “No knocking.”
Marie nodded.
“Is this just a fluke? I haven’t heard doors slamming lately, and the last time anyone saw a stuffed animal thrown across the room was Friday. And now we go an entire night without the knocking. I’d love to discuss this with Eva,” Danielle said.
Marie glanced around, as if expecting her friend to turn up at any moment. “I’m surprised Eva isn’t back yet.”
“I hope when she returns, she has Betsy with her. I have a lot of questions I need answered,” Danielle said.
They continued to discuss recent events for another fifteen minutes, when snowflakes fell from the ceiling. They all stopped talking and looked up for a moment, waiting for Eva’s arrival.
A moment later Eva appeared, standing between the sofa and recliners, with Betsy by her side. As soon as they were both fully visible, all traces of snow disappeared.
“Danielle, I would like you to meet Betsy Francas,” Eva introduced.
“Hello, Betsy,” Danielle greeted her. “Thank you for your help yesterday.”
“It wasn’t much, really. I wanted to do more, but it seems like all I could do was warn them.”
Eva motioned to Walt. “And this is Danielle’s husband, Walt.”
Betsy turned her attention from Danielle to Walt. “Eva told me about you. Fascinating.”
Walt smiled at Betsy. “As my wife said, we are thankful for your help. And if there is anything we can do for you, please let us know.”
Eva interrupted Walt and suggested they sit down before they continue. She motioned for Betsy to take the empty recliner next to Marie as she hovered nearby in an imaginary chair.
After the two spirits sat down, Betsy looked at Walt and Danielle and said, “Eva explained how much time has gone by since…since that day. My girls, they’re adults now. The person who killed me didn’t just steal my life, they stole my chance to raise my children. They let my daughters grow up believing I had abandoned them. What a horrible thing to do to a child. I only want one thing, and that is for my daughters to understand I didn’t abandon them. I loved them and never deserted them.”
“One way to do that is to identify your body,” Danielle said. “They’ve tried using your DNA. Umm…not sure if they used DNA way back when you were alive. But basically, it’s taking samples from your remains and matching it with a family member. Unfortunately, when they ran your DNA after they found you, there were no close matches. And while the police chief wants to try running it against a sample from your brother, he’s trying to figure out what he can say to justify the request for your brother’s DNA, because you were never reported as a missing person, and the only reason the police chief knows about your connection to where your body was found is information from Marie. A ghost.”
“Oh, I see,” Betsy murmured.
“Who killed you?” Danielle asked.
Betsy’s apparition seemed to shrink. “I’m not quite ready to discuss that. Betrayed by someone I loved for so many years is difficult to talk about.”
Danielle nodded. “Okay. But then, can I ask you, are you responsible for what has been happening in our nursery?”
“You are obviously talking about the poltergeist,” Eva answered for Betsy.
Danielle looked at Eva. “Yes.”
Eva glanced at Betsy and back at Danielle. “After much discussion, and considering everything, I’m convinced the answer to that question is yes—and no.”
Danielle frowned. “I don’t understand?”
“It might help if you could bring in the quilt. It’s still in the entry hall,” Eva suggested.
Walt started to stand up to retrieve the quilt, but Marie told him to sit down, she would get it. Marie vanished and a moment later returned with the quilt. She placed it on the coffee table, already neatly folded.
“What some people call poltergeists aren’t actually ghosts—despite the fact geist is the German word for ghost or spirit. They believe the acts of the poltergeist—such as the slamming of doors or throwing objects—is from the energy that comes from people, living or dead. It’s not a conscious act from the source generating the energy,” Eva explained. “I believe the energy we experienced in the nursery initially came from Betsy’s death trauma and the pain of her being separated from her daughters. That energy attached itself to the quilt, because the quilt was one thing that Betsy had poured her love into during her pregnancy, the love for her unborn babies.”
Danielle looked down at the quilt. She started to ask Eva if it was possible for the energy to detach from the quilt and return to the original source—Betsy—but instead of asking, she froze when something about the quilt caught her attention. Staring at it for a moment, she gently lifted a sleeping Max from her lap and set him on the sofa next to her. She leaned over and picked the quilt up from the table. Danielle rubbed its edge between her fingers, studying it for a few more minutes before looking up at Betsy.
“What is it?” Marie asked.
“Betsy, when you were killed, were you wearing what you have on right now?” Danielle asked.
Betsy glanced down at her blouse and then looked up at Danielle. “Yes. Why?”
“And that’s the same blouse you had on when you were put in the root cellar?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?” Walt asked.
“Look at Betsy’s blouse. That fabric.” Danielle held the quilt up for Walt to see and pointed at one of its appliques. “That’s the same fabric as her blouse.”
* * *
Danielle found the chief in his office on Tuesday afternoon. He sat behind his desk, talking on the phone when she walked in. He looked surprised to see her. When she saw he was talking on the phone, she started to leave, but he waved her in, pointed to an empty chair, and continued with his phone conversation.
Danielle quietly sat down in the chair facing his desk, setting the neatly folded quilt, which she had brought with her, on her lap, and waited for him to finish the phone conversation.
When the chief ended the call, he looked up at Danielle and was about to ask a question when Danielle blurted, “Do you have photos of the body you found in the root cellar? Her clothes.”
The chief frowned. “Yes. Why?”
“We can identify the body, at least enough so you can ask Betsy’s brother for a DNA test.” Danielle jumped up from the chair and took the quilt to the chief, dropping it on his desk. She then explained how Betsy had made her blouse and had later used the leftover fabric in the twins quilt.
MacDonald picked up the quilt and studied it. “Interesting.”
“I know what you’re thinking now.”
Still holding the quilt, he looked up at Danielle. “You do?”