After getting Margaret Stevens’ address from Mr. Freeman, Linden and I arrived at her apartment approximately thirty minutes later. It was in a less affluent part of town, a few miles away from the up-close, majestic views of the Ohio River. We pulled up to the leasing office and got out of the car. An older lady with a sunhat was hunched over a flowerbed pulling weeds in front of the office. We started to walk in but noticed there was no one at the front desk.
“Can I help you?” the older lady said, raising her head and tipping her hat to get a better look at us.
Linden flashed his badge. “I’m Agent Linden of the FBI,” he said. “We’re looking for Apartment 7C.”
She tilted her head in the direction of a series of apartments. “It’s over yonder,” she said.
“Are you the apartment manager?” Linden inquired
“Yep,” she said, stuffing a handful of weeds into a plastic grocery bag. “And apparently the landscaper.”
“Do you know Margaret Stevens?” I asked.
“Yeah, I know her,” she said and got up to face us. “She in some kind of trouble?”
“No,” said Linden. “We just want to talk to her.”
“Good luck. I ain’t seen her come and go in about a week.”
Linden reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a picture. He showed it to the apartment manager. It was an engagement photograph of Beth and Bobby. “Do you recognize this woman?” he asked.
The manager studied the picture closely. “Nope,” she said. “Is that the victim?”
“What makes you ask that?” said Linden.
“Well, you boys don’t normally go around showing folks pictures of your cousin Susie, now do ya?”
Linden smirked. “What about him?” he asked, pointing to Bobby.
“He looks familiar, but I can’t place where I seen him.”
“Thank you for your time, ma’am,” Linden told her, slipping the photo back into his coat pocket.
We left the manager to her yardwork and made our way over to the unit where Margaret Stevens lived. We climbed the stairs to find her apartment and encountered a man as he was coming down with four different dogs on leashes, all pulling him in different directions. As much as I wanted to see if they were going to overpower him and carry him off like in some slapstick comedy, I let him pass and followed Linden to the door with “7C” on it. Linden knocked on the door.
After a few minutes, a pretty, young woman in a bathrobe opened the door a crack but left the chain in place. “Yes?” she said, appearing as if she hadn’t slept in days.
“Are you Margaret Stevens?” Linden asked.
She sighed. “Yes,” she said. “What do you want?”
“I’m Agent Linden of the FBI,” he said. “This is Max Crawford. We’d like to talk to you.”
“I don’t want to talk to anybody,” she said and shut the door.
“Miss Stevens, we need your help!” Linden raised his voice and spoke to the door. “Do you know Beth Martin?!”
“Just go away!” she said through the door.
“What about Bobby Fugate?! You worked with him at the law firm until you quit! Why did you quit, Miss Stevens?!”
“It just wasn’t working out, okay?!” she replied and began to sob. “Now please! I haven’t been feeling well and want to be left alone!”
Linden turned to me. “Can’t you read her mind or something?” he asked expectantly.
“Through the door? Who do you think I am? Superman? I need to see her face, or it won’t work.”
Frustrated, Linden knocked on the door again. “Miss Stevens?!” he said, but, this time, she didn’t answer. “Miss Stevens?!” he repeated. When there was no response, he stepped away from the door and started down the steps. “Come on, Crawford,” he said.
“So, what now?” I asked, following him down the stairs.
“We head back to the hospital and you go into Beth’s head again,” he said matter-of-factly.
I stopped at the end of the stairs. “But what about her?” I asked, pointing up toward Margaret’s apartment. “Are we just going to give up?”
He came to a halt and turned to me. “What do you suggest we do?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Can’t we stake out the apartment?”
“Stakeout? What do you think this is? Some 1980s drug bust movie? She might not come out at all and we have little time as it is.”
“Well, she’s got to come out sometime.”
“For what?”
“To get groceries.”
“She can have those delivered.”
“Okay, then what if she needs…I don’t know…tampons or something.”
“They deliver those too.”
“Really?”
“It’s the twenty-first century, Crawford, and humanity is lazier than ever. Trust me. There’s nothing they won’t deliver. Now come on. You’ve got work to do.”
We went back to the hospital and headed straight for Beth’s room. I opened the door to find Allie and Edward sitting on either side of the hospital bed. Allie was holding Beth’s hand and gently stroking her head. Edward sat and stared at the floor. When I walked in, Allie stood and stepped away from the bed. Edward didn’t budge. It was as if he was in a trance, unaffected by everything around him.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Crawford,” Allie said, wiping a tear away from her eye. “We don’t mean to be in your way.”
“You’re not in my way, Mrs. Martin,” I said. I motioned to the chair. “Please, have a seat. I’m sure Beth would be glad to know you’re both here.”
Allie sat down and looked at her daughter’s face. “They grow up so fast,” she said. “Do you have children, Mr. Crawford?”
“I have one,” I replied. “Her name’s Katie.”
“Enjoy every moment,” she said. “Because you never know when…” She started to cry.
I grabbed a box of tissues off a nearby counter and handed them to her.
“Thank you,” she said, pulling one from the box and dabbing her eyes. “Have you made any progress?” she asked.
“Some,” I said, trying to reassure her. “Do you know a woman named Margaret Stevens? She used to work with Mr. Fugate at the law firm.”
She shook her head. “No. Does that name mean anything to you, Edward?”
He snapped out of his daze. “Does what mean anything to me?” he said.
“Margaret Stevens,” she said the name louder this time, as if her husband’s hearing aid was turned down. “Do you recognize the name?”
He shrugged. “I knew a Margaret Ellingsworth back in school. She had a heifer she used to walk to school every day. Drove the teachers crazy.”
Allie frowned. “I’m sorry, Mr. Crawford. I don’t think we can help you there. Is this Margaret Stevens person somehow involved with what happened to Beth?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. I do have one other question for you if don’t mind.”
“Sure,” she said.
“Did you ever own a dog?” I asked.
“We’ve owned a few over the years. Why?”
“Was there one that Beth was particularly fond of named Petey?”
“Yep,” Edward chimed in. “Mangy little mutt but Beth loved it like it was one of her dolls.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Allie said, remembering. “Petey. Beth must’ve been six or seven. What ever happened to that dog?”
“Ran away, I suppose,” Edward said listlessly. “They all do eventually.”
“There wasn’t any kind of…accident you can recall?” I asked cautiously.
“No,” Allie said, shaking her head. “Why?”
“Well, Beth, or some part of Beth, seems to think that she killed him.”
“Oh, heavens no!” Allie exclaimed. “Beth wouldn’t hurt a fly. She must be confused.”
I nodded. “That is a good possibility,” I explained. “In my line of work, fact and fiction often get mixed up. Memories can get altered because of someone’s perception of them. Sometimes they get so muddy, it’s hard to tell what actually happened and what the mind created.”
Allie reached over and touched Beth’s face. “The poor thing,” she said. “She must feel so lost in there.” She turned toward me and stood again. “Let’s go, Edward,” she said. “Mr. Crawford needs to get back to work.”
Edward started to get up when a young doctor entered the room. “Who are you?” Edward asked.
“This is Doctor Matson, honey,” Allie explained. “You met him two days ago.”
“Oh, yeah,” Edward said.
“I’m sure you two have met so many people here it’s hard to keep up,” said Doctor Matson. “How are you both doing?”
“Best we can,” answered Allie. She motioned to me. “This is Mr. Crawford,” she told the doctor. “He’s here to help find out what happened to Beth.”
Doctor Matson extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Crawford,” he said.
“You as well,” I said, shaking his hand.
“I’m going to take a look at her vitals,” he said, getting to business. He walked over and glanced at the monitors attached to Beth. “Everything is about the same as last time.”
“Any idea when she might wake up?” asked Allie.
“Mrs. Martin,” Doctor Matson spoke gravely. “I don’t want to give you false hope. Your daughter has experienced great trauma. Right now, she’s holding on with everything she’s got.”
“She always was a fighter,” said Allie.
Doctor Matson nodded. “That’s good,” he said. “I’m sure having you here by her side has helped too. Trust me. We’ll continue monitoring her and do what we can. But, ultimately, only time will tell.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Allie said, her face betraying her attempt at a jovial tone.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “I’ll come by this afternoon and check on her again.”
After Doctor Matson left, Allie and Edward both started for the door. I wanted to give them some words of encouragement but couldn’t think of any that wouldn’t sound forced or belittle what they were experiencing. But then I imagined Katie lying there in Beth’s place and nearly choked up at the thought. I would need someone to reassure me if I were in their position.
“I know I haven’t gotten any answers,” I said to them on their way out. “But I want you to know I’m not going to stop until I do.”
“Thank you, Mr. Crawford,” said Allie. “You’re a good man.”
After they left, I walked over to the chair beside Beth and sat down. My phone buzzed and I pulled it out of my pocket. Jessica had texted me asking how it was going. I told her and then asked how Katie had been dealing with her inherited psychic abilities. She replied with a frownie face emoji and said she got into trouble at school again. Only this time it was for cheating in math class. Her teacher confronted her when she saw that she had the same exact answers as the boy next to her. She insisted that she didn’t look at this paper, but the teacher didn’t believe her. She got detention and later admitted to Jessica that she had read his mind.
I tried to assure her that it was just growing pains. I told her Katie would eventually become more responsible with her powers and that we needed to be patient with her. She replied with three frownie face emojis in a row. She then said she missed me and to come home soon. I promised I’d go home as soon as I could. We exchanged “I Love You’s” and I slipped the phone back into my pocket.
I refocused on the task at hand and prepared myself to enter Beth’s mind. I settled into my chair, took a few deep breaths, and blocked out the beeping sounds coming from the hospital equipment. Once I was ready, I focused in on her face. I was about to project when something caught me off guard. I looked closer, but it was gone. I tried convincing myself I was imagining things, but, for a split second, I could’ve sworn she was smiling.