Terry Lynn Thomas - The Drowned Woman

‘I’ve always kept an eye on Zeke and Wade. Those two were trouble since they were children, each of them wanting to save the world and trying to outdo each other in the process. Zeke wrote when he took the job for Jack Bennett. He told me that he had met the girl he was going to marry.’ She studied my face. ‘You love him. That makes me glad.’

‘About Rachel—’

‘I am well acquainted with Dr Geisler and his work. It’s not every day a prominent psychiatrist walks away from a lucrative practice to study the paranormal. I know what you can do, Sarah.’ Her expression was frank and without judgment. ‘Rachel came to you with some sort of a task.’ She held up her hand. ‘No. Please. Let me finish. I know in my heart that Rachel’s death wasn’t suicide. That poor girl was murdered. She came to you. Did she ask you to find her murderer?’

My breath caught. I nodded, unable to find my voice.

‘That’s a dangerous undertaking, my dear.’

Granna took a silver flask from the pocket of her skirt and unscrewed the bottle. She offered it to me.

‘No thanks,’ I said.

‘One of the emeralds has turned up. Now Simon is flush with money.’ She took a generous swallow from it and tucked it back in her skirt, out of sight.

‘How do you know this?’

‘I know everything that goes on in this town,’ Granna said. ‘Does Zeke know that you’ve seen Rachel’s ghost?’

I nodded.

‘What an unusual relationship you have. Zeke was always a fair-minded, forward-thinking child. I’m glad to know that he carried that quality into his marriage.’ She stood and straightened her skirt. ‘Be careful, Sarah. You are treading into dark waters.’

‘I know.’ My voice came out a whisper.

‘You’ve a friend in me. If I can help, just ask. Good night, my dear. Sleep well.’

Soon Helen came to help me hang my clothes. She offered to brush my hair, but I declined. Instead I crawled into bed, aware of the space next to me where Zeke should have been. The curtain rustled in the breeze as the crickets and frogs made their night noises.

I was sound asleep when I heard footsteps outside my door. I opened my eyes and reached for Zeke, but the space next to me was empty. I got up and padded to the door, flung it open, and stepped out into the corridor. The house had a stillness to it, as if it too had gone to sleep for the night. In the distance a door shut, but other than that, the house was silent. Where was Zeke?

The curtain hanging over the open window at the end of the corridor billowed in the evening breeze. As if on cue, everything went silent. Even the frogs and the crickets ceased their song. I stood in the corridor until one lone frog called and was soon accompanied by the others. An owl hooted, and the nocturnal sounds resumed. I searched for a light switch but couldn’t find one. With the moonlight showing me the way, I headed toward the staircase, certain that I would find Zeke in his father’s study, poring over papers, or sitting in a chair with a book in his lap.

Goose bumps broke out on my arms. After a second my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Someone was behind me, a presence. ‘Who’s there?’ I turned, but not quick enough. A strong hand connected between my shoulder blades. The hand pushed. I tumbled.

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