Stop shaking. Stop sobbing. Stop throwing back my head. Stop gesturing wildly with my arms and legs.
I screamed into a pillow, but nothing could m.u.f.fle my agony.
After the fit, I felt as if I"d run a marathon, only to have an eighteen-wheeler flatten me at the finish line.
My neck hurt, my eyes burned, and my head throbbed.
I could barely move to answer my cell phone when it rang, and my lips ached when I mumbled, "What?"
"I"ve been trying reach you all day," Ca.s.sandra Antonopolus said, sounding aggravated. "I keep getting a busy signal when I call the office, and I"ve left several messages. Don"t you return calls?"
"I"ve been a little preoccupied."
"I"ve discovered something disturbing at the Fielder mansion."
"Likewise, but you go first."
"I have grave concerns."
"That"s a good one," I said sarcastically.
"I"m dead serious, Kris."
I smiled sardonically. "Another one."
"We might have inadvertently stirred up something the other night."
The catch in Ca.s.s"s voice finally penetrated my fractured psyche. "Pardon me?"
"I went in last night with six other investigators. The consensus is that the house is active, too active."
"What are you talking about?" I said irritably.
"I told them nothing about the history of the house, and we explored all the rooms, not including the bas.e.m.e.nt. We used a grid system for our equipment, and the investigators were drawn to the room you shared with Flax."
"The one where the Dobermans died, where Constance lived and where we saw a ghost?" I said in a singsong voice, sounding to my ear drunk.
"Yes," Ca.s.s said carefully. "I had each team member fill out forms during the investigation and an hour after it was completed. They weren"t allowed to share impressions while we were in the house, to prevent contagion. Yet the comments on their reports were eerily similar. They used different language, but essentially described the same feeling."
"Which was?" I said uneasily.
"Turbulence. Unrest. Violence. Unresolved conflict. Malice. Disorderly attachments."
I blew out air. "What do we do now?"
"Nothing, for the moment. I want to gather a team, people I respect from across the country. We"ll do the s.p.a.ce-clearing as soon as I can coordinate it."
I straightened up. "Can the building be saved?"
"I don"t honestly know, Kris. But something has to be done, or it can"t be demolished safely."
"What will I tell Roberta?"
"Do you want me to call her?"
"That would help, because I already ruined her day when Flax and I found a body in the bas.e.m.e.nt this morning."
"Constance?"
"How did you know?"
"A feeling."
"Could these readings have been caused by Constance"s ghost?"
"Possibly," Ca.s.s said hesitantly. "But the spirits seem more malicious. They"ve tilted somehow. I"ve seen it happen, when they"ll gather in cl.u.s.ters, almost a pack-dog mentality."
"Roberta Franklin is not going to like this," I said glumly.
"This goes beyond a real-estate transaction," Ca.s.s said fiercely. "You"re lucky nothing happened to you and Flax this morning. You need to stay away from the mansion until I can get this resolved. Don"t let anyone go inside."
The air grew still. "What are you saying?"
"Something bad is going to happen in that house."
Something bad happened in my house when Destiny arrived home from work at midnight.
I told her everything.
I"d never seen her as livid or discouraged, and with every sentence I spoke, another bit of life drained from her. In the span of an hour, I saw her enter and exit the traditional stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining and depression. Over and over, she circled through them, in no particular order, sometimes in the span of a breath.
I had yet to witness acceptance.
Destiny looked at me desperately. "Is it worth it? Why don"t I get a regular job in a bank or a grocery store?"
"You can"t do that. This is your life"s work."
"I get so tired of fighting these battles by myself. When will it end?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do you think I"ll ever complete the job, that the Center and lesbian activism won"t be needed?"
I answered in a pessimistic monotone, "No. Not in our lifetime."
"Why do I have to do it alone. Why can"t people help me?"
"Who? How?"
"Other lesbians. They"ve carved out their own false sense of safety, but they won"t help me change the world. They"ll join a chorus or a softball team. They"ll catch every d.a.m.ned episode of Ellen"s show. They"ll never miss an Indigo Girls concert, but what are they doing really?"
"Writing checks to the Lesbian Community Center," I said gently.
She glared at me. "They"ll take a lover to a family gathering but won"t show affection. They"ll whisper their secret to a few coworkers but won"t fight for partner benefits. They"ll blend into the suburbs but won"t stand out. They"ll worship at a gay splinter church but won"t fight religious oppression. They"ll elect gay-friendly candidates but wont press for reform." Destiny fell silent, and then in a burst yelled, "Why do I have to live for all of us? Carolyn O"Keefe pretends to help, but all she wants to do is screw me? None of this meant anything to her?"
"Probably not," I said quietly.
"f.u.c.k it!" Destiny shouted.
Repeatedly.
She might have continued for days, but her voice gave out after a hundred or so shrieks.
I broke the eventual silence. "Forget about other lesbians, Destiny. What can I do?"
"You do it every day," she said, her voice raw, "by being in my life."
The way she looked at me, I could tell she was entering disbelief again, and it broke my heart.
"You"re certain Carolyn didn"t make the phone calls she promised?"
"Yes."
"She didn"t clear the programs with the PTA or the district board?"
"She never tried. Fran checked," I reminded her.
Back to anger. "I"m going to show that b.i.t.c.h. I don"t need her permission to contact people. I"ll approach them on my own at the conference."
I sighed wearily. "Are you sure you want to do that?"
"I have to."
"No," I said with an anguished cry. "You don"t have to go to Steamboat Springs."
"Yes, I do," Destiny said with an eerie finality. "Nothing will prevent me from checking into that hotel Friday afternoon."
Chapter 28.
I had a way to fix this.
I spent most of Thursday preparing to take back my life. I wrote a romantic note, bought scented candles and rehea.r.s.ed what I"d say.
At dusk, as I lay in wait shivering, the minutes devolving into blackness, I felt comfortable with my decision.
I"d set the stage at the Fielder mansion by leaving the front door ajar, lighting the way with candles, and promptly at eight, my prey arrived and followed the bait.
In seconds, Carolyn O"Keefe slipped onto the second-story landing, breathless.
The sight of me, crouched, stopped her cold.
Before either of us could move, however, Fran Green came bounding up the stairs, two at a time. "Hey, Kris."
Carolyn"s eyes darted back and forth. "What kind of game are you two playing?"
I ignored her shrill voice and said to Fran quietly, "What are you doing here?"
"Been following you. Saw the card you put on O.K."s windshield. Masterful."
Fran was referring to the message I"d printed on the back of one of Destiny"s business cards. I can"t stop thinking about you. Why wait until Steamboat Springs? Meet me at 8:00 p. m. tonight at 1232 Pennsylvania.
Carolyn broke in belligerently, "How dare you-"
Fran cut her off tersely. "You anxious to get yourself killed?"
While I tried to a.s.semble my thoughts, Fran escorted Carolyn from the landing, where I remained, into Constance"s room. She said to her sternly, "Wait here." Fran shut the door tightly and turned toward me, her face ashen. "What"s that? A toy?"
"Very funny."
She moved toward me but pulled up when I waved the gun. "Where"d you get it?"
"From Destiny"s closet."
"That the piece she bought after the death threats?"
"Yes."
Fran put her hands on her hips. "Any idea how to make it do what you want?"
"No," I said, unfazed.
"This is a bad idea, Kris. You"re gonna get caught."
"I"ll use the gun to make Carolyn back out of a window in the attic. Accidental death."
"What if the fall doesn"t kill her?"
"Then I"ll shoot her," I said stubbornly.