The Séance. Heather Graham
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The experts were all baffled. It would never be like the crime shows. He was far too intelligent. There would be no solving his murders in a one-hour show.
How he loved the attention. His double life. Defying profilers and “behavioralists,” knowing they were more confused than ever now.
And all thanks to his own brilliance.
Breathe. Be ready. Walk, talk, smile, and all while the other world lived on in his mind. The time would come again—and soon—when it would become real once again.
“Quit staring at me. You’re giving me chills,” Christina said to her cousins.
Mike shook his head, looking away. “I just want you to be careful.”
“I am careful. I’ve always been careful. I never go anywhere with strangers. I’m street smart, honest. You guys know that,” she said.
“Just keep your doors locked, okay?” Dan said.
“I told you, I’m always careful. I carry pepper spray, I don’t talk to strangers and I don’t open the door without checking through the peephole,” Christina assured him.
The doorbell rang.
Christina jumped, then flushed in embarrassment.
Mike said, “I’ll get it,” and headed down the hall.
“Remember how much fun we had with this thing?” Ana said, returning to the original subject. Christina wasn’t sure why, but she was sorry she’d kept the damn thing around. Ana seemed way too enamored of it.
“It’s Tony from next door,” Mike said when he returned a minute later, two more people in his wake. “And his fiancée,” he added, stressing the word.
Tony went over to Christina, took her shoulders and gave her a peck on the cheek. He’d been a gaunt, geeky boy, but he’d grown into a tall, well-built man. His eyes were gray, his hair sandy-colored, and his nose and ears were no longer too big for his face.
“Hey, Tony, thanks for coming,” Christina said.
“Nasty fog out there,” he said. “I couldn’t even see your house from mine.”
“Spooky,” Ilona agreed.
“Christina, you remember Ilona, don’t you?” Ana asked.
“We met at the funeral,” Ilona said, stepping forward to take Christina’s hand. She had a warm grip and sympathetic green eyes. She was slim, with long, straight blond hair and a pleasant way about her.
“Yes, of course we met,” Christina said warmly. “Congratulations. I didn’t know the two of you were engaged. When’s the big day?”
“Oh, we haven’t planned that far ahead yet,” Ilona said.
“I say we ask the Ouija board,” Ana suggested.
“I say we have a beer and some barbecue,” Mike protested from the doorway.
“Oh, all right, but then we do the Ouija board,” Ana insisted.
“What about Jed? Should we wait for him before we eat?” Christina asked.
“My dear cousin will get here in his own good time,” Ana said. “He can eat when he gets here.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Christina agreed.
“Let’s eat, then,” Dan said.
“Worked up a real appetite being a fluffy, huh?” Ana teased.
Dan gave her a fake scowl as they all moved into the kitchen and started eating.
The conversation was general and pleasant as it moved from topic to topic. It turned out that Ilona had originally come from Ohio, which led to a discussion about the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Nice, easy stuff.
So why, Christina kept wondering, was she feeling so on edge?
Ilona asked Christina about her work, and she explained that writing advertising jingles was more difficult than most people thought, as well as a crucial element in selling the product. “If you can get people to remember a jingle, then they’ll remember the product,” she explained. As she spoke, she could hear Dan, Mike and Tony talking about the murdered woman who had been found beside the highway.
When everyone seemed to have finished eating, Ana reached over for Christina’s plate. “Done with this?”
“Cleanup time?” Dan said, noticing. “Let me help.” He came over with a large garbage bag and they all tossed their paper plates into it. “Gran wasn’t the type to let any of us get away without picking up after ourselves, right, Christie?”
“Right. But,” she added, smiling to take any sting out of the words, “it’s easier when all you have to do is grab a garbage bag.”
“Gran made us scour her copper collection every Sunday,” Mike put in, a nostalgic smile curving his lips.
“Yeah, and it was a pain in the butt,” Dan said, and grinned at Christina. “You gonna keep all that copper glowing forever?” he asked. His eyes indicated the array of copper pans and molds lining the special racks their grandfather had constructed to hold the collection.
“Of course,” she said.
“Better you than me,” Dan told her, laughing.
“Christina was always the keeper of the keys,” Tony said, lifting his beer to her.
“The keys?” Ilona said, puzzled.
“Christie was always the one who loved all the old family stuff,” Tony explained. He sounded slightly impatient.
“Oh,” Ilona said in a cool tone.
“I’m sorry,” Tony murmured, pulling her close.
“Get a room,” Dan teased.
Ilona laughed softly, blushing, and drew away from Tony.
“Why would they get a room when they have a perfectly good house?” Mike asked.
“Forget it, it’s Ouija board time,” Ana announced.
“The parlor is a mess,” Christina said.
“We can just sit on the floor,” Ana said, waving away her objection. “We’ll start with Tony and Ilona. Maybe the Ouija board can give us a wedding date.”
“Sure,” Tony said with a shrug.
Ilona giggled. “Shouldn’t we dim the lights or something?”
“Why not?” Mike asked with a shrug, moving to the switch that controlled the lights.
Dan made a sound as if a soft and wicked wind were moving through the room.
Christina, arms folded against her chest as she leaned against the arched doorway, groaned.
Ilona and Tony set their fingers on the planchette, which began to move, finally settling over the J.
“January,” Ana breathed.
“It’s gotta be at least July,” Tony said. “We’re just not ready yet.”
“Look at that,” Mike said as the planchette started moving around erratically. “She wants January, he won’t be ready until July, and poor Mr. Ouija doesn’t know what to do.”
“You’re pushing it,” Tony accused Ilona.
“No—you’re pushing it,” Ilona protested.
“Don’t take it so seriously. It’s just a game,” Mike said lightly, as if aware that a real argument was in the offing.
And that was all that it was: a game, Christina reminded herself.
“Fingers barely