If Reese never had the pleasure of communicating with her dead brother, she would have scoffed at a séance, much less orchestrate it. It was ridiculous; it was absurd. Even if shithead Mr. Albreck was the spirit being a royal pain in the neck, Reese knew it was unlikely he would appear with such an audience present. She was afraid they were wasting precious time, but on the same token, engaging Wayne might prove fruitful. Although he wasn’t exactly forthright with information, he seemed too boastful not to at least slip up and say something useful.

She kept an eye on him while Paul and Mr. Caldwell rustled around in the kitchen. She heard cabinet doors opening and plates clanking. She assumed Paul was preparing the muffins for whatever their purpose was. Then she heard the microwave door open and the latch close. Although intrigued by the activity in the kitchen, she felt as if the mystery behind it added to the unsettling ambiance building. And any help she could get throwing Wayne off, she would take.

“Reese,” Paul called from the kitchen. “Do you have any round tables? Like a round card table?”

Reese looked down at her square coffee table. Her kitchen table was also square. She thought for a split second and then answered without ever taking her eyes off of Wayne, “On the patio. I have a plastic table. Will that do?”

“Sure that would be great.” Paul entered the living room and stood close to her chair. Wayne shifted his eyes to Paul. “I’ll stay here while you and your dad bring it in, okay?” Paul said it more as a command rather than a question.

Wayne’s face cracked into a jagged smile. He shifted his weight on the sofa and then traced a fingertip along the edge of his empty glass.

“I think I’ll stay here and fix Wayne another drink. You’ll just be a few minutes and I don’t think Wayne is going to try anything funny, will you Wayne?” She raised an eyebrow at her uninvited guest.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m too excited to see what the master magician here conjures from beyond the grave.” His smile straightened out and broadened.

Reese didn’t miss the sarcasm which in her mind equated to jealousy under the circumstances. “Very good then. Perhaps you would be so kind as to shift the coffee table away while I refresh your drink?” She felt rather pleased with her fake gentility. She was a Leo after all. Performance was one of her hidden strengths. Not that she thought she fooled anyone, especially Wayne with his keen staring. She was sure he was taking in all the details, same as she was.

She felt Paul’s hand slide across her right shoulder and squeeze ever so slightly. “If you’re sure,” he said.

She looked up to Paul and felt a warm smile spontaneously spread across her face. She reached up and grazed his hand with her fingertips. “I’m sure,” she answered. Paul gave one nod and then turned to the entry hallway.

“Mr. Caldwell, can you help me with something?” Paul said. Reese and Wayne stayed in their positions while listening to the other two men shuffle out the front door, not shutting it behind them. There was no going through the sliding door; it was still boarded up. Once the sound of their feet on the sidewalk faded, Reese stood and walked to Wayne, hand outstretched for the glass.

Wayne didn’t lift the glass nor did he move. “Are you really going to conduct this séance?”

“I’m not. Paul is.”

“What do you think you’re going to gain from it?” Wayne’s finger began its little circle-dance around the glass rim again. Up close, Reese noticed his nails were well-manicured; they even had a coat of clear polish on them. She had a flash of Robert De Niro playing Satan in some movie she couldn’t recall the title of.

“Answers.” She wagged her fingers at the glass.

Wayne directed his attention away from her face and to her hand. He looked amused, but lifted the glass to her. She grabbed it and turned for the kitchen. She wanted to be at the window cut-out while he was moving the coffee table. She was hoping to further inspect him for hidden weapons.

“Answers to what?”

“Like where’s Addie,” She said and plunked the glass next to the sink after rushing around the corner into the kitchen. “Are you going to move the coffee table or not?”

“Now why would the dear sister to the late departed mighty Luke Caldwell believe I have Addie?” Wayne said, not budging from his spot on the sofa.

“Why do you say it like that?”

“Say what like that?”

“Why do you say the mighty Luke Caldwell? It’s been a long time to be jealous of a dead boy, isn’t it?”

“Jealous?” Wayne huffed and pushed himself forward to the edge of the sofa. “I’ve never been jealous of Luke Caldwell, dead or alive.”

Reese was pretty sure had she been next to Wayne, she would have felt a spray of spit as he forced the words out of his mouth. “No need to get testy,” she said. She was transfixed, waiting for him to push off the sofa and move his large body. He wasn’t fat, although he had the appearance of someone who could at any moment blow up like a balloon. Water retention? Maybe, but he was tall and built with an oppressive size. Just like the spirit haunting her home, she thought. Like father like son.

Wayne didn’t respond to her comment but lumbered into an upright position before bending over to push the table in one swift motion. It was almost as if the heavy solid wood piece had rolling casters on the legs.  

Reese gawked at the effortless movement but slammed her jaw shut before Wayne looked up to her. “What’s with the round table?” He asked in a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged and picked up the empty glass. She held it up for Wayne to see. “Straight up on the rocks?”

“Please.” He dropped back into his newly claimed spot on the sofa. His demeanor morphed into that of a cordial guest as he situated back into position. He looked as if he had sat on that sofa dozens of times before. Reese couldn’t figure him out.

She hadn’t seen any unusual evidence of a hidden weapon on his body, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t carrying. It just meant he might be good at hiding it. She walked to the fridge and opened the top freezer door. Then she stopped midway into reaching for an ice cube tray. Something was wrong. She peered around the freezer door and glanced about her kitchen. The plastic baggie was neatly folded in front of the microwave, but it was the only thing out of order. Wait… She spotted it. The thing which was sending her senses into a spiral. Or rather the lack of something. Her knife block set was sans one piece of cutlery. The chef’s knife was missing. She knew she hadn’t put it in the dishwasher. She hadn’t used it, probably ever. Maybe Paul had? Reese cautiously turned her head toward the freezer, wishing to God that Luke was there. She listened for any foreign noise approaching her as she popped out a fistful of ice and shut the door. One glance through the kitchen cut-through eased her mind. Wayne was in the same relaxed stance he had found only seconds before.

She started for the dishwasher to see if the knife was in it when Paul and Mr. Caldwell came back in, each toting two chairs from the small patio set. Paul hesitated at the kitchen entrance and caught Reese’s attention. “Everything alright,” he said in a hushed tone. Reese nodded and the men continued to the living room. She watched as they dropped the chairs. Paul looked over at Wayne who proudly wore a sheepish grin. But her father never looked up at Wayne and Wayne never looked his way.

Reese found the vodka bottle in its usual hiding spot. Wayne must have gone searching for it to pour his first drink. She didn’t want her sense of violation to cloud her train of thought, although she speculated it was Wayne’s intention to derail her. If so, why?

She waited at the kitchen entrance as Paul and her dad walked by to the front door. She noticed her father’s jacket on the kitchen table, not hung over a chair. It was folded neatly, not bunched up like it would have if he had tossed it there. It looked like it was purposefully propped as if staged for appearance. Boy, she was getting suspicious of everything now.

Once the small entry hallway was clear, Reese put the glass in her left hand just in case she needed her dominant right hand to be available. She walked the drink over to Wayne but before handing it to him, she said, “Why are you here, Wayne?”

He looked up at her and rose with surprising ease from his sitting position. Reese had the sensation he could move stealthily and quickly despite his size and the fact he had been more casual, almost awkward, in his movements before. It put her on a higher alert than she already was. She took a short step backward, just in case.

“We need to talk,” He said in business-like fashion.

“So, let’s talk,” she answered in the most confidant voice she could muster.

“Not with them around.”

“Wayne, I need to know why you’re here. What are your intentions?” She wasn’t going to let him off that easily and she certainly wasn’t going off with him alone. She had dealt with many weirdoes in her life, and Wayne was definitely giving off the creep-vibe.

He took a small step toward her and closed the gap she had made. She moved back a foot and he grinned. “Are you afraid of me, Reese?”

She considered the missing knife and responded truthfully, “I feel the need to be cautious of you. I don’t know what your involvement is with Heather’s girls, but I suspect your sudden surfacing is related to their disappearance. And it’s no coincidence that all of this is coming about right after your father’s body was found.” Maybe she was saying too much, but she needed to find his button. She should have gone upstairs and retrieved her gun, but for all she knew he had rummaged her bedroom closet and found the lock box screwed to the floor.

Wayne’s right eye twitched, but he gave no other sign he might turn violent. She looked at his jawline and neck muscles. They were relaxed, not tensed. His hands stayed loose by his side, not clenched.

“Where’s Addie?” He asked. Reese realized in a flash that he didn’t ask about Lucy. He knew where Lucy was. The bastard.

“Where’s Lucy?” She responded. “You know she’s your sister, right?”

Ah-ha. There was a slight flex at his fingers like he was tensing up, but just as quickly they stretched out again as her dad and Paul re-entered the townhouse carrying the table between them. Wayne moved back away from Reese and she shifted to the side as they set up the table.

“Everything alright in here,” Paul asked, glancing back and forth at the two as he positioned the table like an obstruction between them.

Reese noticed her dad exited the room, like a mouse fleeing when a light came on.

“Why the round table, Paul?” Wayne asked as if there had been no other conversation taking place.

Oddly enough, Reese was curious herself. She waited for the answer as her father returned to the room carrying his jacket draped over his left arm and his right hand tucked under it. He maneuvered around Reese and the table with strong determination. Reese realized where the knife was. She dropped the glass from her hand and as it and its contents smashed to the floor, she pounced toward her father just as he slid the large knife from under the jacket, which he tossed to the table.

Everything moved in slow motion in her mind as she saw the jacket slipping to the floor from the corner of her eye, the knife thrashing through the air in Wayne’s direction, Paul leaping across the table toward the weapon, and Wayne deflecting it mid-air while throwing a punch which landed squarely across Mr. Caldwell’s cheek.

The chef’s knife tumbled and clattered to the floor. Paul scurried for it, securing it in his grip as Reese caught her collapsing father under his arms. Wayne stepped further back and surveyed the battle scene. He looked genuinely surprised.

Heavy with her father’s contorted body, Reese struggled to chuck him onto the sofa. The side of his face was already swelling and bruising. He was groggy as he slurred his words. “He’s going to kill you, Reese.”