Page 28 of The Attic on Queen Street
My mother grabbed my arm, squeezing tightly. “It’s the same thing from before.”
I nodded, both of us remembering the menacing words forced from her mouth when she’d clutched the charm necklace in her hand. “Yes. Whoever it was wants me to go away. I think that’s why I rarely see Adrienne and just feel her presence.”
“She’s saving her energy,” Jayne said quietly, “so she can protect you.”
I took the yearbook from Jayne, studying the signatures and well-wishes written in multicolored ink, a time stamp in the life of a young woman whose existence seemed suspended in the past, tethered to this world by an unanswered question. For the first time since Veronica had asked for my help, I understood. Not inside my head, where I normally comprehended what was happening around me in both this world and the next, but in the deepest part of my heart, where I held the love of Jack and my children.
I rubbed my finger over a drawing of a swan. “I’m assuming swans are the Omega Chi mascot?”
“Yes,” Thomas said. “Most of the signatures in here were from her sorority. We interviewed every member back when the murder happened, and again recently when we reopened the case. Again, no leads. Same with Adrienne’s boyfriend and his fraternity brothers. Nothing. Maybe Adrienne was randomly selected by a stranger. At this point, we know only that she died from a blow to the head with a blunt instrument that was never identified or discovered, her body found in a supply closet three days later.”
“Why did it take so long for them to find that poor girl’s body?” my mother asked, her eyes moist, as she was perhaps thinking of Jayne and me.
“Her roommate had gone home for the weekend and didn’t return until Monday morning. It wasn’t until later that evening when Adrienne still hadn’t turned up that the authorities were called. By then the perpetrator had had plenty of time to cover his tracks.”
The sudden sensation of fingers pressing against my throat made me gasp for air, my own fingers ineffectually trying to pull away invisible hands.
“What’s going on?” Thomas darted behind me, looking for my assailant
“Stop it!” Jayne and Ginette shouted in unison.
We are stronger together.I imagined hearing the chant we used when facing a common adversary.
Immediately, the pressure on my throat disappeared, leaving me gagging. I sat down hard on the wrought iron bench, and took a deep gulp of my now-cold coffee. I looked up in time to see my father and Jack peering in our direction. My mother followed my gaze and waved at them. They paused for a moment before waving back and resuming placing a roll of fake grass across the cistern.
“What was that?” Thomas asked. He leaned closer, his finger gently touching a spot on my neck. “You’ve got welts like fingers going around your neck.”
I rubbed my throat. “I don’t know. Are you sure Adrienne wasn’t strangled?”
“Positive. I’ve seen the autopsy photos. It was definitely a blow to the head.”
A strong gust of icy wind blew past us, bringing with it the pungent scent of Vanilla Musk. My mother, Jayne, and I all exchanged glances.
“She’s here,” I said.
“Then who was strangled?” Jayne asked, gently cupping my face and turning it side to side, studying my neck.
Thomas pulled out his phone and snapped a few photos. “Strangulation isn’t uncommon in cases I’ve worked on, but no connection to this particular case.”
Before Jayne and I realized what she was doing, our mother had removed her gloves and picked up the pink Discman in her bare hands. She sat down heavily on the bench beside me, her mouth open in shock.
“Mother?” Jayne tried to pry the CD player from our mother’s hands, but she wouldn’t let go.
We watched in helpless horror as our mother’s eyes rolled back in her head, her skin blanched a deathly white, the red lipstick on her mouth resembling bloody slashes from a knife. Instinctively, Jayne and I stepped in front of her, blocking the view from the cistern. We knew what to expect, and my father didn’t need to witness it.
A growl, pulled from some deep, dark place, rumbled in our mother’s chest and up her throat until it exploded from her mouth like sewage.
“YOU. WILL. BE. SORRY.”
She began to shake, her knuckles bulging under the skin as she gripped the CD player, her staring eyes like black holes in her skull.
Jayne and I reached for the Discman at the same time, the shaking stopping as soon as both of our hands had touched it. Our mother’s hands fell to her sides as her head slumped forward. Thomas grabbed her to keep her from slipping to the ground, kneeling next to her and gently rubbing her hand.
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” she managed, her words sliding sideways out of her mouth, her eyes searching until they settled on me. “That... machine,” she managed. “It’s important.”
“Let’s get you inside...” Thomas began.
Mother held up her hand. “In a minute. This is... important.” She swallowed, then turned to Thomas. “Take that machine. Look at it again. There’s something that was... missed. They... don’t want you... to see.”
