Chapter 4 #3
“I am indeed. You them?”
“We are. I’m Special Agent Brandon Havili, this is Special Agent Mackenzie Lafayette, and our Medium trainee, Gwyneth Fairchild.”
“McNabb. Pleasure.” He came in closer to shake hands, then regarded Gwyn with obvious curiosity. “Miss, I understand I’m here as a safeguard against your parents. Is that right?”
“Yeah.” Gwyn grimaced, eyes on the table. “They’ll really throw a fit when you tell them I’m a Medium. They don’t believe any of it’s real. They don’t want to hear about it, either.”
“How prone are your parents to violence?”
“Not? I’ve never seen them do more than yell.”
“Glad to hear it. Well, Agents, are you ready to go over?”
“We are.” Mack stood, pointing to the hotel farther down the street. “We’re parked there. If you don’t mind following us?”
“Not at all.”
I asked questions of Gwyn as we walked to our SUV. “Were you on your way somewhere?”
She shrugged. “I was on the way to the bus stop. You can get a bus ride from the hotel into Morenci and the community center. I try to hang out there most of the time. The ghosts aren’t as bad in Morenci.”
To think she had to run away from home on a regular basis just to find some kind of peace.
“Did you walk from your house to here?” Mack frowned, casting a considering look back.
“It’s not far, maybe a mile altogether, from my house to here.”
I could see why Mack was concerned. If her parents realized we were staying in town, they might come after her again. We might have to move to a different hotel based on how this went down.
Gwyn settled readily into the back seat while I punched her address into my phone. As I backed out, I heard her speak in a low voice.
“Thank you so much for this. I know you didn’t expect me to ask for you, and it’s not like you planned all of this when you came to help me. If I’m too much, I can ask for someone else to take me.”
Awww dammit. She had to say that when I couldn’t hug her in reassurance.
Mack twisted in his seat and caught her hand. “Gwyn, you are absolutely not a burden. Okay? Something you have to understand, why we leapt so quickly to take you? I was just like you at your age.”
“What? Really?”
“Just like you.” Mack’s tone was level, but it vibrated with remembered grief.
“I’m also from a haunted-as-hell small town.
The only ones to believe me a Medium were my mother, sister, and two cousins.
It was hellish, day in, day out, and there was no sense in it.
The entire time I struggled, my mother knew of a Medium to send me to for training.
She chose instead to keep me with her. I’ve found it very hard to forgive her for it.
But you, ma petite chère, I won’t let history repeat itself with you. ”
“Oh,” she breathed in understanding. “That’s why you’re so quick to take me? That makes so much more sense. Then, doubly thank you. I’m really so happy Agent Havili came for me.”
“Brandon,” I corrected her.
“Brandon,” she repeated with a bright smile.
“Now, something you should be aware of,” Mack said. “Brandon and I are engaged. You got an issue with that, speak up now.”
“Wait, wait, you’re work partners and life partners? That’s fire. Are all Mediums so lucky?”
“Some of us have siblings or friends as partners.” Mack relaxed completely. “But we’ll see how it goes with finding you an anchor. Don’t rush the process, okay? Finding the right person might take a while.”
Truth.
We pulled up to a ranch-style house probably built in the seventies, judging by its style.
Two cars were in the driveway, so I assumed both parents were home.
The place looked a little rough, bleached by sand and sun, as most of the town did.
Gwyn dragged her feet getting out of the car, and I couldn’t blame her.
She’d barely hit the sidewalk leading to the front door when she stopped abruptly, stumbling back a pace. I reached for my rock salt pistol, instinct sending me forward.
Mack beat me there, his hand shooting out over her shoulder and latching on to something. “No. You do not harass her. Off with you or I scatter you to bits. Now.”
A beat, then his hand released.
I didn’t relax. “Honey? Scale of one to ten?”
“A three, and he’s gone. No problem.” Mack patted Gwyn on her shoulder. “It’s fine, ma petite chère. I have your back. Let’s go in.”
McNabb leaned in and muttered, “Do I assume they both just saw a ghost?”
“You can. It’s hella haunted, this town.”
“Don’t tell me that,” McNabb said sourly.
I shrugged apologetically. No changing the truth, though. I quickly pulled out my phone and started recording, as I didn’t think I would have time to set up once inside. I said the date, time, and location into the mic as I followed Gwyn.
She pushed through the front door much like you would if you expected someone to leap out at you from around a corner. More than likely ghosts did. She seemed marginally relieved to find nothing, but there was a catch in her voice as she called out, “I’m home! And you need to come here.”
I heard a woman’s voice answer. “I’m in the kitchen, what’s this—wait, who are these men? Gwyn! Why are you bringing strange men in here? The house isn’t ready for guests. I’m not even wearing makeup right now.”
If my child showed up with three strange men in tow, my first thought wouldn’t be the state of the house or what I looked like. Just saying.
Stepping through the door, I glanced around.
Very much a middle-class family. A worn-in sofa faced a flat-screen TV, and the main floor was one big L-shape with living room, dining room, and kitchen all connecting without walls in between.
The woman who’d spoken—must be the mother—looked superficially like her daughter.
Same black hair and oval face, but she was taller and more athletic in build.
Alarm raced over her face as the three of us entered.
Mack pulled his badge out and flipped it open. “I’m Special Agent Mackenzie Lafayette with the FBI. Ma’am, we need to talk about your daughter.”
She came quickly around the kitchen, her hands landing on Gwyn’s shoulders and yanking her firmly away from Mack. Her eyes were wide with panic. “Oh, Agent, I’m sorry if she’s done something stupid. She keeps claiming she sees ghosts, which is nonsense—”
“Ma’am.” Mack cut her off firmly. “I’m from the Paranormal Activity Division of the FBI. And a Medium. Your daughter is also a Medium.”
Her eyebrows flicked down in a quick frown before she bounced back, ready to smooth things over so we’d go away. Gwyn looked resigned, standing next to her mother. “I know she says that, but she’s just a child. You don’t need to buy into it.”
“Ma’am.” Mack’s patience quickly plummeted into the single digits. “I don’t need her to tell me anything. I can quite clearly see it. A Medium’s aura is unmistakable. Your daughter is a Medium.”
“No, I told you, she’s just saying nonsense—”
Wow. Talk about disbelief being strong enough to make a concrete wall out of.
How stubborn was her mindset? Couldn’t she hear what Mack was actually saying?
I decided to pitch in. “Ma’am. Did you not hear him?
We are from the Paranormal Activity Division.
We literally deal, all day, in ghosts. Your government believes in ghosts, has a division to deal with them, and pays us for it. Has that sunk in yet?”
She stared at me blankly.
No, apparently not. Ugh, this was a nuisance. What else did I say to get it through to her?
A man came down the narrow hallway and abruptly joined in. “What is all this? Sandra, who are these men?”
She turned toward him. “They say they’re from the FBI, but they’re from some weird division. I don’t understand what they’re here for.”
McNabb, bless him and all of his descendants, cleared his throat and chimed in. “Let’s sit down, talk about this.”
I didn’t think reason would work, as these people weren’t reasonable, but sitting down and talking was a good idea. I had to write a report on how badly these parents had screwed up, after all.
We sat, Mack and me on the love seat, McNair in a chair, the family on the three-seater couch. Gwyn was sandwiched between her parents and didn’t look happy about it. I heard her mother hiss something in her ear about being grounded for a month for even bringing ghosts up.
Seriously?
She got grounded for even talking about ghosts? Wooooow.
McNair settled but kept talking. “Sir, ma’am, I know this is a bit much to take in. The two agents with me are from the FBI Paranormal Activity Division. Ghost wranglers, we like to call them. Special Agent Lafayette is a Medium, and one I’ve seen in action.”
Mr. Fairchild shook his head in slow denial. “There’s no such things as ghosts. Let me see your badge.”
I took mine out and flipped it open. “I’m Special Agent Havili.”
Mr. Fairchild stared at the badge dubiously. “And you’re a Medium?”
“No, I’m an anchor. He’s the Medium. Sir, we’re here because your daughter is a Medium.”
He might not know what to make of us, but he was sure on this ground. Mr. Fairchild’s chin came up. “No, she isn’t.”
“She very much is.” Mack glared at him. “I can see it clearly.”
The man sighed and eyed Mack like he was being ridiculous now. “It doesn’t matter if you think she is. I know she’s just a silly little girl who has delusions. We’re working on it.”
“I see. So because your daughter is a silly little girl, she doesn’t get any protection? When she’s hurt, she doesn’t get anything more than a Band-Aid slapped on it?”
The way his eyes skittered off to the side told its own story. Yeah, he knew he’d been a shitty father but, of course, he wasn’t going to own up to that.
“It’s called consequences,” Mrs. Fairchild informed me frostily. “I’m not going to help her when she’s making up lies.”
I’d never in my life laid hands on a woman, but god, it was tempting to start now. I really wanted to slap sense into her.