After Chris and Heather dropped by Marlow House after lunch on Tuesday, to see if Lily and the baby were home from the hospital, they ended up staying for a couple of hours, but eventually returned to the office. It was after five when Chris and Heather left the office for home. As they did most days, they carpooled to work, taking turns. Chris had driven today, and when he reached Heather’s, he pulled up in front of her house to drop her off. After she got out of Chris’s car, she slammed the passenger door shut and waved goodbye to Chris. She stayed a moment on the sidewalk in front of her house as she watched Chris drive up the street to his house.
Heather turned from the street and started up the walkway to her front door. When she was about halfway there, she started when Eva and Marie suddenly appeared.
On reflex, Heather jumped back. “You guys scared me! Where’s the snowflakes or glitter?”
“No time for that,” Eva told her. “We’re on our way to Marlow House, but we needed to stop here first and tell you to remove the wreath.”
“Remove the wreath? You have something you want me to tell Clay?”
“Yes.” Marie quickly recounted what had happened over at the garage apartment. When she was done, she asked, “Do you need us to stay with you until Clay shows up, if you would rather not be alone with him?”
“I’d rather not see him at all, but that’s beside the point. But no, if you’re on your way to Marlow House, you don’t need to babysit me. Brian’s going to be here pretty soon, anyway. Not that he can see Clay. And who knows when Clay will notice I’ve removed the wreath. He might not stop by until tomorrow.”
Marie nodded. “True.”
“When you told his sons they’d have another dream, did you say tonight? Because if Clay doesn’t show until tomorrow, it obviously won’t be tonight.”
“Don’t worry about that. We didn’t specify when they’d have another dream,” Marie told her.
“Okay. I’ll let you know when he shows up.” Heather walked the rest of the way to her door and immediately removed the wreath. When she glanced back to tell Marie and Eva something, they were already gone. “Well, goodbye to you too,” Heather muttered.
Wreath in one hand, Heather dug her house key from the purse hanging over her shoulder. She then used it to unlock the door. The next moment, she walked into her house with her wreath and was greeted by Clay Bowman, who stood in her entry hall, looking at her. Once again Heather startled in surprise.
“Crap. Do you have to pop in like that?” She shut the door and then set the wreath on the entry table.
“You removed the wreath. I thought that meant you wanted to talk to me.”
Heather turned back to Clay. “It does, but I didn’t think it worked like some freaking pager. How did you get here so quickly? Have you been stalking outside and creeping on my house?”
“Do you have something to tell me or not?”
Heather glanced around. She didn’t see Bella and suspected the cat was in hiding. The other night, Walt had explained Clay to Bella, assuring the cat Clay couldn’t hurt Heather or Bella. Of course, that didn’t mean the cat wanted to hang out with the ghost. But then Heather spied Bella crouching on a curio shelf down the hall.
“Let’s go in the kitchen. I want to get something to drink.”
Clay followed Heather toward the kitchen. He failed to notice the cat watching him, and just as he walked by the curio shelf, the cat let out an unholy screech and leapt on the ghost, falling through Clay’s head and then body to the floor.
Clay came to an abrupt stop and looked down in time to see the cat racing out of his foot and down the hall into the kitchen. “What the hell was that?”
“Bella. She doesn’t like you.”
“And I don’t like how that felt. Tell her not to do that again,” he snapped.
“She’s a cat. Obviously, you’ve never had a cat. You can’t tell a cat what to do. Well, not unless you’re Walt.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Clay grumbled as he rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, trying to shake off the unpleasant sensation. He followed Heather.
Once in the kitchen, Clay watched as Heather set her purse on the kitchen table and then walk to the counter to prepare a glass of iced green tea.
“You going to drink that this late at night?” he asked.
Heather frowned at Clay. “Why not?”
“You can’t drink caffeine this late and still have a good night’s sleep.”
“Do you get a lot of good sleep now that you can’t drink caffeine?” Heather smirked.
“I don’t sleep.” Clay didn’t sound happy.
“Sucks to be you.” Heather grabbed her glass of iced tea and headed for the kitchen table. She sat down and pointed to the empty chair across from her for him to sit in. Reluctantly, he sat, and when he did, Heather told Clay about Marie and Eva’s visit to see his sons.
“I wonder what the boys thought when they saw that pen writing on its own.”
Heather glanced over toward the refrigerator and spied her cat hunched atop the appliance. Maybe Heather couldn’t read the cat’s mind like Walt could, but she had a fairly good idea Bella was trying to figure out if she could leap all the way to Clay.
So engrossed in Bella’s possible shenanigans, Heather momentarily forgot what she and Clay had just been talking about. “What?”
“I said, I wonder what the boys thought when they saw that pen move on its own.”
“Ahh, I don’t know.” Heather glanced from Clay to her cat, back to Clay.
“Do you think my boys will listen to me now?”
Heather shrugged and took a sip of tea before saying, “All you can do is try. But answer me this: do you think your sons will heed your advice even if they believe it’s really you?”
Clay considered the question for a moment. Finally, he said, “I’m not really sure. I hope so.”
Heather set her glass of tea on the table and studied Clay for a moment.
Clay frowned at her. “What?”
“You were horrible when you were alive. Nasty. Why?”
Clay shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I had goals, and people were in the way.”
“How was I in the way?”
“I suppose you weren’t in the way as much as you were convenient.”
“Convenient?”
“Someone to take the fall for Camilla’s murder. And I suppose, before I even knew Camilla was back in town, getting rid of someone like you seemed like a good idea if I wanted to show my brother-in-law I was serious about cleaning up Frederickport. It had a uniquely high capital crime rate.”
“Which you increased.”
“And here I am.”
Heather glanced back to the cat again, concerned Bella might hurt herself attempting to jump all the way to Clay
“Can you do me a favor? Stand up a moment.”
Clay frowned. “Why?”
“Come on, just do it. You owe me. After all, you did try to kill me.”
Reluctantly, Clay stood. “Now what?”
“Move back a few feet,” Heather said while giving her hand a little wave toward her refrigerator. Clay moved a few feet back. “More.” He moved a few more steps back. “Okay, just another foot and then stop.”
Clay let out a grunt but moved back a step and stopped. Just as he was about to ask Heather why she wanted him to stand there, Bella jumped atop his head, falling through his body as she hissed and batted her paws in all directions, claws fully extended. Just at that moment, Brian walked into the kitchen from the back door. He stopped in his tracks and watched the cat, who looked like a mini hissing tornado. When Bella’s paws touched the floor, she raced off, this time back into the living room.
“What the hell was that?” Brian asked.
Heather couldn’t help but giggle, especially now that Clay was jumping around, flapping his arms, trying to shake off the disagreeable sensation. “Bella doesn’t like Clay.”
“What does Clay have to do with it?” Brian asked.
Heather pointed to the ghost. “Clay is standing right there. Actually, he’s more like jumping around like someone who stepped in a pile of dog poop and is trying to shake it off.”
“He’s here?”
“Yes, but he should probably be going. He has things to do.”
The next moment, Clay disappeared.
“He’s gone,” Heather announced.
“What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain everything in a minute. I need to call Danielle and Chris.” Heather grabbed her purse and looked for her cellphone.
“What’s wrong with you boys?” Debbie Bowman asked her sons. They had been quiet all evening, ever since she had come out from her room after she told Zack to dry and put away the dishes. While he had dried the dishes, he hadn’t put them away, for which she had immediately scolded him. Yet instead of arguing with her, as was his normal behavior these days, he went straight to the kitchen and started putting the dishes away, and what surprised her even more, Eric helped him.
After they finished with the dishes, the boys had returned to the living room, and each picked up a book, sat on the sofa, and began reading. With her homeschooling, she required they read before dinner, yet normally she had to nag them to each pick up their book, yet not tonight.
When dinner came, they sat at the table, quietly eating, until she could no longer stand the silence. She repeated the question, “What is wrong with you boys?”
Zack looked up at his mother. “I think this place is haunted.”
“And we think it’s Dad,” Eric added.
Their mother arched a brow. “Haunted?”
Zack nodded furiously and then jumped from the kitchen table, ran to the card table, and grabbed the two notes. He handed them to his mother.
She accepted the two sheets of paper and looked at each one. She frowned. Both notes were written in cursive, and while she had taught her sons to read cursive, neither one could write it very well. This was not their handwriting.
She looked up at the twins. “Who wrote this?”