very familiar face. Brown hair. Bearded. A small scar on his forehead. Exactly like a scar I had on my own forehead. It slowly dawned on me that I was looking at myself.
“ Rowan!”
There was a sharp tug at my waist.
I began falling.
White noise filled my ears. I felt a sharp burst of pain through my chest, and I began hungrily gasping for air. I opened my eyes and looked up to see Ben and Felicity staring back at me. Ben shook his head as if he had just witnessed a miracle and let out a long sigh. Felicity’s lips parted in a slight smile as she stroked my forehead.
“Welcome back,” she said.
“Thanks for not letting go,” I whispered.
CHAPTER 11
The hot, bright sun flooded the landscape, beating down upon us from the clear sky and broiling the last drops of moisture from the ground. By late afternoon, no one would be able to tell that it had rained the night before. I was sitting on the back of Felicity’s Jeep drinking the remains of a lemon-flavored sport drink she had kept in her gym bag. The drink was hot and tasted horrible. Its acidic tang slightly burned the back of my tongue and my throat as I swallowed. I had tried to refuse the beverage; my wife however, insisted I drink it all in order to replenish the electrolytes in my body.
My eyes were still adjusting to the glare as I watched Ben and Felicity in silence. I remembered the entire incident clearly. The two of them were shuffling about nervously, making it a point to avoid one another, not saying a word or even making eye contact. Every now and then one of them would ask me how I was doing, and Ben even asked me several times if he should take me to the hospital. I finished the last of the sport drink with a gulp and screwed the lid tightly back onto the plastic container then tossed it over my shoulder into the rear of the Jeep.
“Are you two going to kiss and make up?” I finally asked.
Ben and Felicity both stopped in their tracks and looked at me suspiciously.
“Yeah,” I told them. “I heard you two snap at each other. I may not have been in my body at the time, but I was in the room.”
“So look,” Ben started, looking down at the ground. “I’m not really used to this kinda stuff, Felicity. I…”
“Aye, you don’t have to say it, Ben,” Felicity interrupted. “We were both on edge. If we should be mad at anyone, it’s him.” She motioned to me. “Not each other.”
“Wait a minute,” I protested. “I wasn’t involved in your little spat.”
“I beg to differ,” my wife informed me. “Just exactly who was laying in there with no pulse? I told you it was dangerous.”
“She’s right, Rowan,” Ben chimed in. “I thought you were dead, and for what?”
“Grey eyes,” I told them.
“Excuse me?” Felicity intoned.
“Grey eyes,” I repeated. “The killer has got grey eyes. I saw them.”
“So you actually did see somethin’?” Ben queried as he flipped out his ever-present notebook.
“Just the eyes,” I answered. “He was either very careful about being seen, or he was very lucky.”
“That’s somethin’ I don’t quite understand,” Ben stated.
“What’s that?” Felicity asked.
“Why would he care?” he continued. “It’s not like his victims can give an eyewitness description.”
“Fear,” I stated simply. “I think that might be why he props the doors open too.”
They both stared at me blankly as if I had lost them.
“Think about it,” I proceeded. “When my body shut down in there, my spirit or soul, whatever you prefer to call it, left. But it didn’t go very far, obviously, because I watched you two argue about giving me CPR. That’s what turned me on to this idea. I think the killer not only feels remorse but fear as well. He performs the Expiation spell for forgiveness, and he props the door open so his victim’s spirit can leave.”
“I still don’t see the connection with hiding his face from the victims,” Ben puzzled.
“He fears retribution from the spirits of his victims,” Felicity interjected, realizing what I was trying to explain. “He keeps his identity hidden so they can’t find him.”
“You mean ta’ tell me he thinks the ghosts of his victims will come after him for revenge?” Ben asked incredulously. “That’s nuts. That’s just plain nuts.”
“It all depends on what you believe, Ben,” I told him.
“What about the fact that he killed her out here in the park?” he protested. “It seems like that would fit more with the wantin’-ta’-get-caught theory you mentioned.”
“I don’t know why he killed her out here,” I replied. “I just know what I feel, and what I feel right now is that he’s propping the doors open to let the victims’ spirits escape.”
“This is a pretty secluded section of the park,” Felicity interjected as she shaded her eyes and looked around. “You’ve got the wooded area with the fitness trail, but that’s about it. Most of the activity would be taking place closer to the front of the park where the pavilions and ballfields are.”
“Jeezus, this is one twisted fuckhead,” Ben muttered.
“We knew that already,” I told him.
“Does R.J. have grey eyes?” Felicity asked.
“Not that I recall,” I replied, “but I can’t say that I paid that much attention.”
“I still wanna talk to ‘im anyway,” Ben stated flatly.
Ben’s comment was followed by an awkward pause as his suspicion had once again reared its omnipresent head.
“So why don’t we head over to the house,” Felicity finally suggested, breaking the silence. “It’s cooler and there’s fresh, herb, sun tea in the fridge.”
“Sounds great to me,” I intoned. “Besides, that’s where my cigars are.”
“I’m with you,” Ben added.
Felicity rolled her eyes and went around the Jeep to climb into the driver’s seat.
Felicity was changing into shorts and a t-shirt while Ben and I set fire to a pair of cigars out on the back deck. I was just finishing the final adjustments to the patio umbrella when she came out to join us, preceded by our two bounding canines. She set a tray containing glasses and a pitcher of iced tea on the table and then lithely draped herself in a chair to join us.
It was still early afternoon, and the temperature had not yet begun to decline. The air remained thick with humidity, but there was a slight breeze, and as long as we stayed relaxed in the shade, the clime was at least tolerable.
“So I made a coupl’a calls on the way over here,” Ben announced, helping himself to the tea. “Seems Deckert managed to dig some info up on Devon Johnston.”
“Have they found him?” I asked, taking my turn with the pitcher and pouring a glass for my wife.
“Not yet,” he continued, “but we’re still lookin’.”
“What did Detective Deckert come up with?” Felicity asked, taking a sip of her drink.
“Found Johnston’s parents,” Ben answered, “or his mother anyway. His dad is deceased.”
“Why did it take until today?” I queried. “Not that I’m being critical.”
“Illinois license,” he replied. “We were just searching the Missouri DMV records initially. His mom lives in Urbana, and apparently, that’s where he grew up. He just never switched his driver’s license over. But, that’s not the interestin’ part. It seems that one Mister Devon Johnston was recently dismissed from his position as a medical technician with Mercy Hospital… And accordin’ to his records with the DMV, he’s got grey eyes.”
“So that should take the heat off of R.J.,” Felicity stated.
“Not really,” Ben told her. “It just gives me another asshole who’s moved one of his bricks into the suspicious
