Ransom (11 page)

Part 2

One Year Later….

7. LEXIE

Before I left Trinity’s car I listened to Mom’s final voice mail again; a ritual that had me playing the recording at least twenty times a day, sometimes more. “You’ve got to stop doing this Lexie,” Trinity said. She was sitting beside me in the drivers seat of the bug. Her face was pinched with disapproval, something I had seen more times in the months since Mom had died than in all the time I had known her.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket, and gave her a blank look as if I had no idea what she was talking about.

“Doing what?” I asked, my tone flat.

Trinity released an exaggerated sigh then shook her head. The pony beads she had braided in her hair, rattled with the act. A week before Trinity, stating she needed a change, had had her entire head braided and beaded into dread locks. Today she had finished her look with a fuchsia broomstick skirt and a cream colored peasant blouse. She was rocking the hippy look, with a splash of the Caribbean.

“The psychics, the fortune tellers, the mediums, the tea cup readers, the witches the warlocks, anybody who says that they can tell the future or whatever other bullshit they’re feeding you. Damn it Lexie, it has to stop, you can’t keep going on like this. It’s not normal to be this obsessed with contacting your mother, not to mention the amount of money you’ve spent on it all, or that you’ve put your whole life on hold.”
 

She slammed her open palms on the polished leather of the steering wheel then skewered me with her stare. I was stunned into silence. I had never seen her this angry before and it kind of freaked me out. I opened and closed my mouth a few times then leaned back against the seat, squeezing my eyes closed. She was right on all points, I was obsessed with everything supernatural. All the things that had never mattered in the past had now pushed my old life aside until the spirit world was all I could think about.

Before Mom’s death, the afterlife, angels and all the rest of the things that I had recently made it my life to study, hadn’t even registered on my radar. Back then I had believed that none of it was based in science, and was junk that people who didn’t want to accept reality bought in to. I wasn’t sure when my need to know more had shifted from curiosity to obsession, only that it had. For sure Mom’s cryptic message had been the catalyst that had opened the doors to finding out what she had meant, when she had said she would send me an angel when she got to heaven.
 

At first I had just wanted to find someone who could help me decipher the message that Mom had left me on my phone. But my initial interest had quickly snowballed into me hanging on to every word the psychics and people who were supposed to be in the know, said. I had burned through more than half of my college fund already. I couldn’t see an end in sight since every time I had thought I was getting somewhere it had ended up being all smoke and mirrors. So far my father was too busy playing house with the bitch he had left Mom for, to have figured out that I wasn’t going to college everyday like I had told him I was. And now that his new wifey was knocked up and glowing like a firefly, the new baby was all they talked about.

I hadn’t wanted to crash at my father’s place, but I had nowhere else to go. Well before Mom was even cold in the grave, he’d sold the house that she and I had shared. Moving on took on a whole new meaning when my father was involved.

“I promise this is going to be the last one,” I said with little conviction. I shot her a thin smile. “She’s going to have all the answers I need, I feel it in my bones.”

“That’s total crap and you know it Lexie.”

 
She shook her head and sighed.
 

“Look, I believe that there’s more than what we see, but what you want is impossible Lexie. No one can conjure up the ghost of your mother so you can see her and talk to her like she’s still alive because…” She drew in another deep inhalation.
 

“Because she’s dead Lexie, and I feel like a total ass for being so blunt, but shit, I’m worried about you. You’re so pale and you don’t eat right, I don’t even know if you sleep anymore…”

“Enough,” I yelled. “I told you this was going to be the last time. If you need to bail then do it. I’ll find my own way home.”
 

I heard the venom in my tone. I despised myself for going ballistic on my best friend since she was one of the few people if not the only one, who still loved me unconditionally. But even though I was aware that Trinity didn’t deserve my tongue lashing, I couldn’t just leave when I was possibly moments away from talking to Mom again. Seeing the fed-up expression on Trinity’s face had me wondering how much longer she would be there for me if I continued to act the way I was.
 

Before I lost my nerve and caved in to Trinity’s wishes, I threw open the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, that ran the length of the suburban street. The leaves of the mature trees rustled in the quiet breeze and was in sharp contrast to the wash of emotions that were eating me alive. Desperation was the front runner with a side of guilt, and of course the absolute loss that had arrived the day the police officer had told me about Mom.

“Fine, let’s go,” Trinity said.
 

I hadn’t even noticed she had gotten out of the car. She twined her fingers with mine. I squeezed her hand, grateful for her unspoken support. I really couldn’t have found a better friend than her. There were few people who would have stuck by me with the way I had been acting since Mom had been killed, or as I believed, since I had killed my mother. It didn’t matter how many people told me that her death hadn’t been my fault, I knew it was. If I hadn’t gone to Dallas’s party she would never have been on the road. If not for my selfishness my mother would still be alive, and I wouldn’t have been visiting yet another psychic, wishing and praying for an opportunity to say goodbye to her. I longed to somehow take back the hateful words that had marked the end of our time together.
 

The house was average enough, giving no indication that someone who claimed to talk to the dead lived there. No neon signs with PSYCHIC flashed red, nor was there a skull and cross bones painted in blood on the front door. The bungalow was white with navy trim, a spray of pink and white trumpet-shaped petunias edging the property, spilled onto a perfectly trimmed emerald green lawn. The walkway that led to the screen door was made of slabs of slate that could have only been described as quaint. A three-foot wind chime constructed of a circle of dark wood and long slender silver pipes, tinkled in the soft wind.
 

Trinity and I were silent as we mounted the six steps that led to the covered porch. I stuck my finger out and pressed the glowing light buzzer adjacent to the door. Seconds later I heard footsteps approaching the door then it cracked open. The woman that peered back at us was in her late fifties with salt and pepper hair, cut in a straight bob that just touched her shoulders. Dressed in beige slacks and a salmon colored short-sleeved polo shirt, she was slight of build and as average in appearance as the house.

A while back when I had first started frequenting psychics, I had quickly realized that nine out of ten of them were nothing like I had always pictured them as being. In my mind I had thought that people who claimed to have knowledge of the other world, wore muumuus, turbans, tons of sparkling bead necklaces and tinkling bangles, and would most definitely have a crystal ball to stare into.

Other than the retro horn-rimmed spectacles, perched on the tip of her nose, Gingerella was plain. I hoped that her average appearance wasn’t a bad omen about her abilities to contact the dead.

“Lexie?” she said in a soft voice that matched her quiet look.

I nodded. “This is my friend Trinity, is it okay if she comes with me?”

“That’s absolutely fine,” she said, stepping to the side so we could pass.
 

Even though I had been to more psychics and mediums in the past few months than I could count on two hands, my reaction was always the same, anticipation and fear. Anticipation that she might actually give me the answers I needed, and fear that she couldn’t, that quite possibly nobody could help me connect with my mother again.
   

Gingerella closed the door behind us. Both Trinity and I removed our shoes, leaving them on the black plastic mat that had other shoes positioned on it. Gingerella padded down the beige carpeted hallway, covered in a clear plastic runner. Her Tender Tootsie loafers were soundless as she led the way. Trinity and I followed silently. We passed a large family room that was meticulously neat with a soft camel-hued leather sofa, two matching chairs and a dark wood coffee table. A large marble fireplace with a black mantle was built into the wall farthest from the entrance.

As we moved down the hallway I noticed that the air smelled of incense and something else that I couldn’t identify, but was a little smoky and sweet like burning grass. Soft instrumental music grew in volume the further in we went. I spotted a large kitchen at the end of the hallway with Redwood cupboards, black granite countertops and a beige marble looking floor. Bright sunlight flooded the kitchen. It looked so homey that I was almost excited to be having my reading there. But before we made it to the kitchen, Gingerella opened a side door that I hadn’t noticed. The scent of incense and burning was stronger here. When I saw the censer with tendrils of smoke swirling out of it, I knew why.
 

The office housed a large Maplewood desk with four soft looking burgundy leather and wood chairs, positioned in front of the desk. A huge picture window with heavy burgundy curtains looked out onto a garden area that was lush and green.

“Have a seat,” she said.
 

She slipped behind the desk, lighting the half dozen tapered candles, sitting in brass candle stick holders. Floor to ceiling built in bookcases filled the whole wall behind the desk. The bookcases held mostly books but also housed various crystals in a multitude of shapes and colors. The contents of one shelf was obscured by a thick piece of black velvet. Other than the desk and chairs, there was only one more piece of furniture, a small black side table with a Bose stereo system on top of it.

 
I was the first to sit, Trinity was quick to follow. In contrast to me, Trinity wasn’t accustomed to the whole psychic experience. For the first time since I had known her she didn’t seem as self-assured as she usually was. In fact she looked as uncomfortable as I had ever seen her. Seeing her so freaked made me want to laugh, but when I remembered why I was there my giggles remained lodged in my throat.

“Do you have something that belonged to your mother?” Gingerella asked. She stared over her glasses at me in what felt like a grandmotherly way. It made me wish I had a grandmother in my life. I had never known either of my grandmothers who had both died before I had been born. I didn’t know what the odds of that happening were, but I didn’t think it was very common.
 

Luckily I had read Gingerella’s suggestion on her website, that I bring an article that had belonged to the person I wanted to contact. I handed her the oval shaped silver locket that Mom had worn every day of her life. It was at least fifty years old, and had once belonged to my grandmother Lucy. Inside the locket was a tiny picture of my grandmother and my Grampa Jack, taken just before they had been married. It had been one of Mom’s treasures; now it was one of mine.
 

Just holding the locket made tears burn at the back of my eyes. Since Mom had died I had avoided as much of her stuff as was possible, in fact I hadn’t even protested when Dad had donated all of her clothes to Goodwill. I had been a shitty excuse for a daughter when she was alive, I didn’t have a right to have any say about what happened to her things when she was dead. I had ended up with the bits that my father had decided to save, which wasn’t much. Judging from the paltry stash he had kept, Dad had adapted to Mom no longer being a part of his life, long before she had died. With his new wife Carla’s blossoming pregnancy, his world was just fine.

Gingerella took the locket in her age-spotted hands, running her thumb over the engraved surface. She closed her eyes. Trinity took the opportunity to pinch me at that particular moment. I glanced sideways at her. She mouthed the words
what is she doing
? I shrugged, knowing little about why psychics did what they did, only that it was part of the process. Trinity opened her mouth again, but before she could ask anything else Gingerella spoke.

“I see her dressed in a suit, going to work and there is a gavel there too.”

I nodded. I wasn’t very excited about what she had said since it would have been easy enough to do a web search and find out about Mom’s death. Gingerella had my name because I had sent her a Paypal payment to secure my appointment.

“I see a car accident, trauma to the chest and head,” she said.
 

Her focus was locked on the pendant. Once again I wasn’t impressed, it was just another piece of easily accessible information. I needed more than that, a sign that she knew something that no one else did.
 

My heart sped up until it felt like it was beating outside my chest. I felt my cheeks flush, a trickle of sweat trailed down my temple. Panic and dread spread through me like snake poison. All I could wonder was if I had wasted even more money on someone who couldn’t deliver. I closed my eyes and swallowed a few times. My head felt light and my stomach clenched into a fist. The money would eventually run out, or Dad would get a clue, if I didn’t find the right person soon…

I felt Trinity’s hand on my back. It did little to calm me since I didn’t deserve her kindness. Murderers weren’t supposed to be comforted, they were supposed to suffer. A wave of rage at my stupidity washed over me. I lurched to my feet.

“I need more,” I hollered. “I need to know she’s here. I don’t want to hear about how she died because I already know that…”