Reese was hell-bent on getting some answers but no way was she going to rely on the pair of those lying bozos, Paul and Gregory. After they stared in wild amazement at Addie’s picture for a few more minutes, she had kicked the two of them out of her office. Good riddance. She trusted neither of them and would have to bank on her own smarts to get the answers she needed.

She sent an email to Lucy with a questionnaire attached. She slipped in an extra question – Lucy’s date of birth.  Gregory couldn’t be her uncle. He had no siblings. Reese wanted to know just how long Gregory had been lying to her. Not that it really mattered but then again, if Addie was a victim of foul play, she needed as much information, truthful information, as she could get.

“Luke!” She called out in a gruff voice which sounded nothing like her own. “Where the hell are you?” She mumbled.

Reese placed a hand on the desk phone and debated. She needed to call her father. She didn’t want to call her father. She had mixed emotions about him ever since the day at Rivercreek Crossing. Later, when she had probed him about the gun and what he had said, he had looked blankly at her and denied it all. She was never convinced one way or another. She figured it was his guilt talking on that day, the guilt a parent has when his child gets senselessly murdered, but she felt there was some meaning behind his words. And yet all these years later, he was hush-hush about it and as sober as any man who had never touched alcohol.

She picked up the phone and automatically dialed her mother. It was past time for her weekly call anyway. She would get her mom to call him. They still talked occasionally despite the years of separation. The phone rang and rang. Her mother didn’t subscribe to voicemail service and had thrown the old answering machine away years ago after being harassed by psychics and do-gooders who thought they had information on Luke’s case. People looking for their brief moment of fame.

“Odd,” she said to the empty room, but she didn’t bother calling her dad. For starters, she would have to look up his number and she couldn’t be bothered, and she had no desire to talk to him. He had moved on and out of state years ago, leaving her in her senior year of high school to take care of her mother, his wife. He had sobered. She had not. He had moved on. She had not. He couldn’t be troubled with her woes any longer. So off to Salt Lake City he went.

She hung up the phone and went into her people search mode. She brought up four different websites she consulted on a regular basis, Facebook being the first. It was amazing what kind of information she could find there. She typed Heather Bennett and came up with ten or so hits, none of the pictures resembled the Heather she remembered from decades previous.

“What did Lucy say her name was now?” Reese asked, half expecting Luke to respond but got no answer.

“Dudley, that’s right.” She mentally congratulated herself. Retaining details had become harder and harder the older she got.

Heather Dudley produced just as many results as Heather Bennett. But the third picture down was Heather, her Heather. She was even more beautiful now, hair still as thick and full as when she was a child. Her smile was both radiant and bashful. Her social network account was set to private, but just knowing Heather was on Facebook gave Reese information. She was out there in cyber world. It was only a matter of time until she came across more information.

She decided to take the Internet searching home and go for a late run since she had missed her usual early morning run. She was about to click off the computer when she had a thought. Back to Facebook.

She typed in Gregory Hewick. Sure enough he was there and she could browse around his page without restriction. She scrolled along the page and saw no communication with either Lucy or Heather. She did find both women in his list of friends and searched for any contact between them. Three pages back she found it. Gregory’s condolences to Heather for losing her husband, Brian Dudley.

Reese read and re-read the message. There was no encoded meaning in the sympathetic words. No secretive verse. She was tempted to look further but her gears were starting to grind and her plans changed. She did a quick search and found what she was looking for, Heather’s home address. She scribbled it on a piece of pad paper, ripped it off, and shoved it into her front pocket. Then she did an aerial map search of the address. Of course it could be out of date, but it gave her a general idea of the setting. And there was plenty of residential tree and scrub growth, good for spying eyes.

She turned off the computer and grabbed the phone again, trying her mother for a second time. Still no answer. It was possible she was asleep already but earlier than usual. Reese made a mental note to go by in the morning on her way to work. See for herself if her mom was okay. She left the office and walked the half mile home.

Chip the chipmunk was waiting for her. Reese reached around and behind the low bush at the kitchen window and extracted a mason jar, half filled with no salt peanuts. She took one out as Chip stood on his hind legs in anticipation. She bent down and held it between two fingers and his minuscule paws clamored for his special treat. Once he had it shoved between his teeth, he scurried off.

“You’re welcome,” she sang out and replaced the jar lid. She tucked the jar back for another day.

She entered her townhouse half expecting Luke to be standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his face. But all was quiet.

She raced up the stairs two at a time and fished for her reconnaissance attire at the bottom of her lowest dresser drawer. Black leggings and an oversized black t-shirt. Perfect for easy get around. She changed, slipping into her black leather jacket, thick black boot socks and her black Timberlands.

She gathered her hair into a tight ponytail and slipped a black Bruins baseball cap on her head, bunching the tail into the cap rather than pulling it through. She raced back downstairs to the kitchen. She was famished and since it was too early to be snooping around a residential neighborhood, it was the right time to eat.

Inside the cabinet were two boxes of cereal, Cheerios and Cookie Crisp. She weighed her options for a few second before grabbing the one with the howling dog or wolf or werewolf on the front. While she ate, she closely examined the cereal box’s animated mascot, careful to avoid all thoughts of what she was about to do. It was better to approach these things with an empty head. Too much thinking on it could cause her to make a mistake.

When she was done eating, she lifted the bowl to her lips and slurped the milk. She cringed as she swallowed. It was possible the milk was going bad. She hadn’t made her usual Sunday trip to the market. She washed her dishes and then sniffed the milk. Borderline. Might as well dump it since it would surely be too sour in the morning. It glugged down the drain and she thought of nothing but the ridiculous fact that she insisted on buying a full gallon rather than a half-gallon. They nearly cost the same and it seemed so wasteful yet almost every week she was dumping half of the gallon down the drain.

She glanced at her watch. Still too early but she was crawling out of her skin. She gathered her black backpack from the coat closet, ever ready for a spur of the moment outing. Three water bottles, two granola bars, a fresh set of batteries, a flashlight, black leather gloves, a black ski mask, and a pair of binoculars.

She turned to grab her car keys from the side table basket and flinched to a halt. She gasped a breath and said, “Claire.”

“You have the wrong guy,” she said in a decidedly humanized voice. Heck, she even looked nearly made of flesh and bone not disembodied electrical impulses.

Reese huffed and snatched her keys, twisting her body around Claire. “Yeah, you said that to Paul. He told me.” Reese looked at the apparition. She was quite lovely and Reese suddenly wondered if the woman had any children. “I thought he was the right guy. I killed him because of what he did to you and those other women. I don’t think I will suffer eternal damnation for ridding the world of one more scumbag, even if he isn’t the one who killed you.”

Claire’s face contorted into confusion.

“Hey, if you want to tell me who really killed you, I’ll take care of him. No charge.” Reese chuckled.

Claire cocked her head to one side and said, “You killed my murderer. He’s dead.”

“What? I don’t understand.” Reese shook her muddled head.

“He told me you have the wrong guy.” Claire said softly.

“Who’s he?” Reese asked, stopped in her tracks, clutching the keys tightly.

“Him,” Claire said with a sound of surprise as she pointed to the empty air beside Reese.

Reese snapped her body and attention to her left. “There’s no one there, Claire.”

“Yes, there is,” Claire answered in a tone which confirmed in Reese’s mind that she definitely had children. Only parents could get that tone down perfectly.

“Claire, I can see you but I don’t see HIM.” Reese wildly waved her hand through the air. “See. Nothing.”

Claire’s attention refocused a foot away from Reese and she said, “Tell her who you are.”

Reese let out a long, drawn out sigh. “Claire, look, I’m happy I got your killer and all, but I’ve got stuff to do. You’re better off talking to a real medium. Go back to Paul. He can help with whatever it is you need.”

Claire looked disappointed. She repeated, “You have the wrong guy.” She watched Reese for a few seconds and then a glowing light began to dance around the soul of Claire Yates. It expanded to a full body halo and wrapped around her like a blanket lain over her shoulders. A few more seconds and the light became unbearably brilliant.

Reese turned her head to shield her eyes into the crook of her elbow and for a brief moment, caught the glimpse of an imposing man illuminated by the bright light, standing next to her.