Chapter 42
Psychics weren’t real. Derek didn’t believe in that nonsense any more than Burke Winston did. How he prayed they were both wrong. They needed Jamie’s rumored abilities to be real. There was no other way to find Jayna in time.
Jamie’s store was locked up tight, but her battered truck was parked at the curb on the side street. Derek pounded on the metal door of her workshop.
“This is a complete waste of time,” Burke grumbled beside him.
“Got any better ideas? Any other leads?” Derek shot back.
Burke clamped his lips shut.
“Didn’t think so,” Derek muttered.
Jamie opened the door on the third knock. “Derek. Burke. Did you find Jayna?”
“You tell us. You’re the psychic,” Burke said testily.
Jamie shot him an annoyed glance.
“We need your help, Jamie,” Derek said, shaking his head at Burke. The cop was being a jerk. “Have you felt anything, or whatever it is you experience?”
“Derek, I’m trying. I really am. It’s like there’s a wall blocking me. I can’t see or feel anything.” Jamie let out a heavy sigh. “I wish I could. Jayna is harder to read than most.”
“That’s because she’s hardheaded,” Derek said, his voice cracking. Jayna should have listened to him. He knew something was off. He knew that she was in danger.
“You’re both wasting my time.” Burke folded his arms across his chest. “Big surprise, she can’t tell us where Jayna is. She’s a fraud.”
“Enough, Burke,” Derek snapped. “If Jamie can help, we need to give her a chance.”
“I’ll stick to old-fashioned police work.” Burke grabbed the doorknob. His back stiffened and he turned back, glaring at Jamie. “How do you give people false hope like this? Toy with their emotions? Take their hard-earned money?”
Jamie huffed. “I don’t give people false hope or toy with their emotions. Nor do I take their hard-earned money. I only charge for the furniture I restore, and I make a damn good living. I don’t need to scam people.”
Jamie’s nostrils flared as she stared at Burke. “What I do is give people validation. And hopefully, peace and closure.”
“Look, Burke, you have no leads. Maybe Jamie can help us, maybe she can’t. But I’m going to exhaust every possibility to find Jayna.”
Jamie and Burke continued to glare at each other. Shaking her head, Jamie turned away. “You’re right, Derek. We need to try every means possible. There’s one thing I’ve never done before, but I’ll need your help.”
“Name it,” Derek agreed.
“Have you heard of a psychomanteum chamber?”
“Psycho what now?” Derek’s brow furrowed.
“It’s Greek for ‘theatre of the mind,’” Jamie explained. “It’s a small room used for psychic meditation and introspection. It’s believed to amplify psychic abilities and communication with the spirit world.”
“Sounds like it should be Greek for ‘theatre of the delusional,’” Burke quipped.
Both Derek and Jamie shot him wary looks.
“What do you need us to do?” Derek asked.
“Don’t go volunteering my services,” Burke continued to be obtuse.
“Too late!” Derek shot back.
“I need a small room built. We can build it in the corner to save time using the existing walls. We’ll only need to erect two walls. I have some big sheets of plywood.”
“We don’t have time to waste building a playhouse,” Burke whined.
Ignoring Burke, Jamie dragged a large sheet of plywood toward the corner she had indicated. Derek grabbed the second sheet.
“I can’t connect with Jayna directly,” Jamie said as they screwed the sheets of plywood together, forming an L-wall. “But maybe I can connect with her through this. It’s like creating a bridge between our world and the spirit realm.”
Burke grumbled, but he took the jigsaw and cut out a door.
“Jamie, she’s still alive. She has to be.” Derek fought the panic that threatened to consume him.
Within ten minutes, they had a rudimentary structure built. Jamie secured a full-length mirror against the cement wall and set a wooden chair in front of it. Burke brought in two chairs, placing them away from the mirror, while Derek covered the doorway with a tarp for a makeshift door.
Jamie sat, staring at the mirror, while Burke took a chair in the corner and Derek pulled down the tarp. Shadows filled the room, with only a candle on a small table by the mirror providing light. Derek sat beside Burke, opening his notebook and using the flashlight function on his cell phone for light. Jamie had asked him to take notes.
He wasn’t sure what to expect, but a chill raced up his spine as Jamie spoke out loud. Her voice sounded distant, like she was in a tunnel.
“She is frightened. Was frightened.” Another chill raced through Derek. Was!
“She shouldn’t have stopped her car,” Jamie continued in that eerily out-of-body voice. “But she knows him. Feels safe pulling over and opening her door.”
“Her car? Jayna wasn’t driving,” Burke muttered.
“Shh,” Derek whispered. They weren’t supposed to speak.
“She can’t breathe, he’s holding something against her mouth and nose. It’s dark now. There’s a small window. No, it’s a door, high up. Cold. She’s cold, and it smells moldy and like apples.”
“The boots. Not the boots,” Jamie spoke in a lower pitch now. “He’s excited. Staring in the window. She doesn’t know he’s there. She’s so pretty. Wait, someone has seen him. A man. He’s angry, grabbing him. His head. It hurts so bad.”
What the hell was Jamie talking about? This was complete nonsense, not that he would admit it to Burke.
“I told you this was a waste of time,” Burke muttered. “The boots, not the boots. What the hell does that mean?”
Jamie spun around. “It means something, I just don’t know what. I tapped into Greta. She was insistent about the boots. And Duncan. I saw him. It was the same man. He killed both Greta and Duncan.”
“Who is it?” Derek sat forward in the hard wooden chair.
“No idea,” Jamie said in frustration.
Derek stared at the notes he made. Cloth soaked in chloroform he’d written. Basement or cellar, apple, boots. Greta knew the man as well. The boots, not the boots. What the hell did that mean?
“Complete waste of time,” Burke muttered again.