Chapter 12
Lavender pleasantly filled the bright kitchen as Caroline rested a steaming cup of tea in Grace’s trembling hands.
“Is this bright enough?” Anna asked from the threshold of the wide kitchen.
The grandiose Halloween party ended abruptly – right when the partying crowds realized that the screams they heard weren’t silly recordings.
Grace was incapable of stopping them, until Anna had the idea to flick on as many lights as possible.
As the shadows grew dimmer, the noises dimmed, and Grace was finally allowed to simply cry.
She nodded numbly. Her three friends surrounded her at the kitchen’s island counter.
For an aged mansion that had been around for quite some time, Grace was surprised to see the recently renovated kitchen, fully equipped with a kettle and no shortage of tea.
But as she graciously took a sip from her comforting drink, her stomach only swirled and lurched.
The moment she peered into the amber liquid, the dead body took shape, and the unforgettable scent crept back through her.
Grace shuddered, placed the cup onto the counter, and nudged it away.
Caroline’s hand soothingly trailed up and down Grace’s spine. “Let me guess: no stomach for tea just yet?”
“For anything ever again,” Grace grumbled.
“Don’t say that!” Olivia’s fiery red hair bounced through the bright room as she took a seat beside Grace. One slender, pale hand sank around Grace, drawing her close. “You’ll feel normal again. Just…just pretend this is one big Halloween movie. That makes it easier, doesn’t it?”
Grace paused to consider it but she winced all the same.
“Something about that makes it a bit worse.” She lifted her head as Bryant passed by the kitchen door, leading a few of the remaining stragglers out of the quiet mansion.
He caught her eye as he walked, giving her a double take, as though he had forgotten about her presence in the first place.
“This is just a pile of baloney, isn’t it? ”
Caroline lifted a brow. “How so?”
“The first party I go to in years is shut down by the Sheriff’s Deputy because I found a dead body. Who’s gonna invite me anywhere ever again? Who’s gonna want the weird lady in their town, who will ruin all the fun in the blink of an eye?”
“Gracie,” Caroline started, “You’ve got it all wrong.”
“What?”
“We told you before. Holiday Hollow has been in need of a psychic for quite some time. If there was anything that this terrible death showed the town, it isn’t that you’re terrible to have around.” She dipped in closer. “It’s the downright opposite.”
Grace sullenly pressed her lips together.
The ladies shared similar looks as they agreed with Caroline’s explanation.
Despite what they believed about their town, Grace could barely believe any of it.
She was having enough trouble trying to understand what she was capable of, much less what Holiday Hollow would expect out of her.
Suddenly she was racking her brain for times this could’ve happened before, but all she came up with were a handful of times she had a moment of deja vu.
Nothing compared to that night, to the feeling of touching that stranger and submitting to a glimpse of a horror she did not wish to see.
And there was no way that Grace would ever be able to forget the dead body, the stench, the inky blood staining her hands.
Even then, as she peered down at her paling skin, Grace could’ve sworn that the scarlet hue remained on her palms, never to leave, never to forget, never to stop reminding her.
Bryant stepped into the kitchen as the ladies quietly chattered.
His appearance sent a silence through the room as he drew near, the bronze plate on his gun handle practically glowing beneath the consistent light.
His bushy brow furrowed as he watched Grace.
He grumbled and reached, pushing the cup of tea back toward her.
And as he took a seat across from her, Grace picked the tea back up, and tested her will to sip.
Grace eyed him over the rim. “T-The man in the dinosaur costume. Was he…He isn’t actually –”
“He’s dead.” Bryant’s mouth shut when the ladies shot him a pointed look at his bluntness. He cleared his throat a few times, uncomfortably pulling at his costume’s collar, before he managed to speak again. “There wasn’t anything we could’ve done.”
She gulped and stared down into her tea, willing herself to stop imagining the dead body in the drink’s reflection.
“Grace,” Bryant said, pulling her attention back up. “If it is at all possible, I need you to go over your vision again. No details left out this time.”
“I-I hardly know if I can,” she whispered. “I don’t…I don’t think I want to see this again.”
His expression softened. “No one does. But…” Bryant pulled his gaze in the opposite direction, color spreading across his sharp nose as he struggled to find his words. Once he did, Bryant made sure to not meet her gaze. “But I – we need your help.”
And something about that was enough to stunt her, to tether her back down to reality.
When was the last time someone said they needed her?
That they wanted her help? That she was the key to solving a conflict, to moving forward, to repairing?
She almost shook her head out of disbelief, but kept the movement swallowed. They needed her. Her, of all people.
Grace Baker: military brat.
Grace Baker: divorced.
Grace Baker…psychic?
She drew in a long, trembling breath. She could do it. “I needed fresh air,” Grace recounted, the memories falling over her effortlessly. “So I looked through the halls, but before I ever managed to find the exit, I bumped into this man in a monster costume. And the vision came after that.”
There was no doubt that Bryant was hanging onto every word that she spoke.
He leaned forward with a sort of intensity she had never seen before, his warm gaze flicking between her lips and her eyes.
Such attention might’ve rubbed her the wrong way years ago, but it only brought a sense of ease to her at that moment.
As though he was trying to tell her that she was safe, she could remember it and not fall into danger again.
And if she did, Bryant would be there to catch her – as he had already done multiple times before.
“I saw the mansion’s library,” Grace continued. “And as the vision went on, I saw a pair of figures tumbling on the floor, wrestling before one silhouette beat the other, straddling the dinosaur costume man to the ground. It was then that…it was then that…”
Caroline touched her arm. “If you can’t say it, Grace, that’s okay.”
The others seemed ready to say the same thing, but Grace raised her hands to stop them, shaking her head as a series of trembles rocked through her body.
“How else will I keep living,” she whispered, “If I cannot even manage to admit it all now?” She looked down, drawing in deep breaths and counting till her heart was polite enough to return to its regular patter.
By that point, she was almost ready to give up, to throw her arms back in the air and tell them that she would be moving by dawn.
But she wouldn’t actually move, would she?
Despite everything – the visions, the ghosts outside her house, the creepy Lantern, the supernatural friends she made – Grace couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
No other town would have charisma like Holiday Hollow.
No other town would’ve welcomed a divorced forty-three year old as quickly as they did.
If Grace let fear rule her now, she would be left with nowhere to go, entirely back to square one.
She would still be the same woman that was cheated on, that was abused, that was left behind, that was forgotten.
And that was never happening again.
Grace lifted her head and held Bryant’s stare. “It was then that the man in the dinosaur costume was stabbed. Repeatedly. I came out of the vision afterwards.”
“And the man – where did he go?”
She blinked. “The man? Which man?”
“The one you bumped into,” Bryant clarified, his voice tense. “The man in the monster costume. Where did he go?”
Grace was dumbfounded. “That’s what you got out of all of that?” She lifted one shoulder in a limp shrug. “I-I have no clue. By the time I came out of the vision, I was falling, and there…well, there was only you, Bryant.”
His gaze snapped around the table. The three listening ladies shared a similar look, their complexions growing paler by the second.
Grace watched and her heart spiked for another time.
“W-What’s going on?” she asked, her voice quivering.
Somehow, their silence and knowing stares were enough to bring Grace back into her frightful state. “Someone ought to –”
“You saw the vision when you touched the guy, right?” Anna asked. She had the eloquence and confident speech of a lawyer, not sugar-coating or softening her stare as she waited for Grace’s answer. “Not moments later, not moments before. Right when you touched him.”
Grace nodded. “Sure, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Magic needs something to trigger it most of the time, Grace,” Anna explained. “A skill like foresight is one that is incapable of coming on its own. Maybe talented psychics can harbor the ability to call upon their visions themselves, but it's incredibly rare. And hardly relevant in this case.”
Grace shook her head. “I-I don’t understand.”
“What she means,” Bryant piped up, “Is that the man in the monster costume more than likely has something to do with this.”
“And?”
“And what?”
She stuck her finger at him. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
Bryant looked away, his expression stuck between being annoyed and being impressed. “I’m sure Anna, Olivia, and Caroline know what I’m about to say,” he muttered, glancing around the table at the eyes that swiftly agreed with him. “The man in the dinosaur costume was Tommy Briggs.”
Grace’s eyes narrowed. “He was the one holding the party, wasn’t he?”
He nodded. “What’s more important than that, Grace, is that there was a similar murder in the mansion ten years ago. Unfortunately, the crime went unsolved. But we now have reason to believe that Tommy’s death wasn’t a coincidence, and is connected to that cold case.”
“How are they connected?”
“Sam Bennett was the poor soul taken too early, ten years ago,” Caroline replied for the Sheriff’s Deputy. “And Tommy used to be attached to his hip, you know. They were best friends.”
“But it’s more than that. Sam was killed in the library, in the same exact way we found Tommy.” Bryant shook his head. “There ain’t no way that they aren’t connected.”
An overwhelming sensation of dread settled onto Grace’s chest as Bryant described the tumultuous murder case.
The last thing she expected to find in the charming town of Holiday Hollow was a crime as deadly as that.
And now she found herself stuck in the middle of it, desperate to be set free but also frightfully aware of how much she was already involved.
Something told Grace that she wouldn’t be getting out of this mess anytime soon.
Her fingers were anxiously grazing her lips when Bryant started talking again.
“We had no hope of solving Sam’s case,” he murmured. “There was no evidence left behind, no trails to follow. But now…now we have a chance to solve this, once and for all.” He lifted his head, and those brown eyes found her once more. “With your help, Grace.”
She scooted back. “M-Me? I’m no detective, Bryant.”
“I don’t need one.”
“But –”
“I need a psychic.”
Grace’s eyes went wide. She almost laughed, almost blurted that it was impossible, because psychics obviously didn’t exist.
“The department would pay you the salary of a consultant,” Bryant continued, his thumbs literally twiddling in front of him.
“I-I don’t –”
Caroline’s hand found her shoulder, giving her a firm squeeze. “Think about this, Grace. Holiday Hollow might’ve just become your home, but you don’t want a murderer running loose, do you?”
“Of course not!”
“Well, none of us do,” she teased. “But just think about the good you could do for everyone who lives here. Sam’s death has haunted this town for ten years. Ten years, Grace. And you have the chance to solve it – maybe in just days.”
Olivia pressed a hand to her chest. “What an honor that must be. To repay the town that has homed you in your time of need, by ridding it of an old evil.”
“Forget honor,” Caroline blurted. “You were a PIs assistant, weren’t you?”
Grace flinched. “S-Sure, but –”
“You couldn't be more perfect for the job!”
No matter how reluctant Grace might’ve been to help the police department in finding their costumed killer, she couldn’t imagine saying no to any of their pleading faces.
Being paid as a consultant was a good plus, though she hadn’t expected to get a job for a few more months.
It was the theme of the job that drove an unmistakable fear through her.
Working for the Private Investigator was an exciting time of her life, even if the only crime solving she ever did was when her boss went over the proceedings of the day.
It wasn’t like she was doing the detective work herself – unless filing paperwork, collecting payments, and sorting through countless boxes of evidence was known as detective work.
Listening to his stories was fun. Considering being a heroine within them was even more exciting. Actually being the heroine? That was enough to make Grace almost vomit.
But as she lifted her head to Bryant’s expectant stare, there was only thing she could really respond with.
“Sure,” she blurted. “Whatever you say. What’s the worst that can happen, right?”
If only her future self was capable of answering.