The Fifth Sense Page 15

  “I know. I’ll call her later.”

  “You don’t have to,” Vivien said. She held up the phone to show the text message screen was open. “Do you mind?”

  Sue shook her head in denial. She didn’t care if Vivien read them. At this point, the woman knew all her secrets.

  “Call me, call me, call me,” Vivien read quickly in a bored voice. “You’re being selfish. Pick up the phone. Have you found the cufflinks? How can you treat me like this? Hank would be appalled. How can you embarrass me like this? Don’t you dare sell Hank’s cufflinks. I want them. He’s my boy. You’re useless. You didn’t deserve my saint of a son.”

  “She’s a piece of work,” Sue said, not wanting to hear more.

  Vivien lowered the phone. “Can I call her?”

  Sue laughed. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “I’m calling her.” Vivien hit the callback button and held the phone to her ear.

  Sue rushed to her side and leaned in to listen. Vivien put it on speakerphone as it rang.

  “Where the hell have you been, Susan?” Kathy didn’t bother to say hello as she launched into an angry tirade. “Do you know how humiliated I was when you didn’t come to Hank’s dinner honoring him for his great service to this community?”

  “I hear a lot of me and I statements in there, Kathy,” Vivien said.

  “What?” Kathy asked in confusion. “Who is this?”

  “You can call me Mrs. Stone,” Vivien stated. “I’m a friend of Sue’s. I want you to listen to me very, very carefully, Kathy.”

  “Wha—?” Kathy tried to protest.

  “Shh,” Vivien cut her off. “Now, Kathy, I think we both know that your son was not the perfect angel you claim he was. You raised a murderous, wife-beating asshole who got what he deserved when he hit Sue with a hammer and tried to dump her body.”

  Kathy gasped.

  “I am sensitive to the fact that he’s your son, and you love him, but Sue doesn’t. She spent years taking his abuse while you turned a blind eye. She doesn’t want to talk about him. If the fact she has not picked up the phone when you call hasn’t clued you in, let me enlighten you. She doesn’t want to hear from you at all. I’m going to need you to stop calling and texting this number. Don’t go over to the house. Don’t expect Sue at any dinner parties. She will not be over for the holidays. If I so much as hear you breathe Sue’s name, I will hire a ghostwriter, and we’ll publish a tell-all about every dirty little thing your son did, and I won’t change names to protect anyone. I’ll hand a copy to every last person in St. Louis. Do we have an understanding, Kathy? Leave Sue alone, and I’ll leave this story alone. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Sue stared at Vivien in wonder. Her mouth fell open.

  “Oh, and I flushed the cufflinks down the toilet. Sorry.” Vivien hung up the phone and set it on the counter.

  Sue stared in amazement. “I can’t believe you said that to her.”

  “I doubt you’ll hear from her again,” Vivien went back to looking for the shoes.

  “She can have the cuff links. I don’t want them. I don’t want anything that belonged to him.”

  “She doesn’t deserve the cuff links. I say sell everything and use the seed money to get the life you deserve. Turn it into something positive,” Vivien said. “When I heard her speaking to you like that, I suddenly just knew her greatest fear. She didn’t want anything tarnishing that perfect image she’s tried so hard to cultivate. Even if she doesn’t admit the truth to herself, a part of her knows who her son was. She won’t want that information out there.”

  Sue felt like a giant weight lifted off her chest. “I thought I’d have to change my name and number to get her to stop.”

  Vivien produced a pair of red heels. “Put these on.”

  Sue pulled the shoes on and rocked them back and forth. “They’re a little snug.”

  “Slip your feet out of them and stretch your toes when you’re sitting at the table,” Vivien said. “Trust me. You look hot in them. He won’t be able to resist you.”

  Sue laughed. “They’re a little high. I’m not used to heels like these.”

  “Practice walking in them,” Vivien said, draping the discarded dresses over her arm. “Show Lorna the dress. Her matinee crowd should be gone by now. I’ll put some of these clothes away so they don’t wrinkle, and then we’ll do your hair and makeup.”

  Sue carefully walked across the apartment and down the steps. The lights were dim in the lobby, and the theater was quiet. When they arrived, people had been inside watching an old black and white movie.

  Lorna wasn’t in her office. On impulse, Sue concentrated on the office and motioned her finger. She watched as it cleaned itself. If the bookstore didn’t work out, she’d start a maid service.

  Lifting her head, she practiced strolling across the lobby. The sun had already set outside, but streetlights made it easy to see beyond the glass. She stopped, nervously looking at the door where Hank had appeared. Instead, she saw her reflection standing in the black dress and red heels. She hardly recognized herself.

  Hearing a loud thud coming from the theater, Sue went to find Lorna. She pushed through the curtains, peeking to make sure the movie was over. The screen was dark, and the seats were empty. She heard another thud.

  “Hey, Lorna? Are you in here? I need your honest opinion about this dress.” Sue walked down the aisle toward the stage.

  Her hand began to tingle. She slowed her steps and looked around.

  “Lorna?”

  No one answered.

  “Julia?” Sue whispered. “Is that you?”

  She took a few more steps.

  “Sue?” Jameson’s voice came from behind. He sounded breathless as he hurried toward her. He gripped his phone in his hand. “I ran here as fast as I could. What’s the matter? What’s wrong?”

  “What do you mean?” Sue again glanced around the seating area.

  “Your text.” He slowed his steps.

  A creak sounded overhead. They both glanced up, but she didn’t see anything.

  “Jameson, I didn’t text you,” she said

  “You texted ‘danger help’,” he insisted.

  “No, I—”

  A dark laugh sounded, projected from the stage. Fear shot through her. Sue turned quickly and stumbled on her high heels. She caught herself before she fell.

  A loud pop-pop sounded. Sue looked at the ceiling in time to see a blur of movement coming toward her.

  “Watch out!” Jameson yelled.

  He slammed against her, pulling her out of the way. The theater lights crashed where she’d been standing. The sound of striking metal and breaking glass reverberated in the auditorium. His arm hooked her waist, and he kept running with her toward the stage. Her heels fell off as she stumbled, leaving her barefoot.

  Jameson stopped but didn’t let go. “Are you all right?”

  Sue nodded. Her heart hammered violently. She stared at the large, broken fixture with its sharp protruding edges.

  “Did it get you?” he insisted, grabbing her face to check her for injuries.

  “You save my life.” Sue threw her arms around his neck. She shook violently. The ring on her hand vibrated with a warning. A loud, frantic thud sounded from far away as if someone banged on the walls.

  Remembering the laugh, she pushed away from him to look at the stage. The smell of gun oil and cedar assaulted them.

  Jameson coughed. “Where is that coming from?”

  “You can’t be here.” Sue tried to push him across a row of seats to the other aisle, to where the path was a little clearer. “It’s not safe.”

  “What are you talking about?” He refused to budge. “Sue, what’s going on here.”

  Sue looked around, trying to catch any hint of where Hank might be so she could send Jameson in the opposite direction.

  “You won’t believe me,” Sue answered. “You need to get out of here.”

  “Come with me. I’m not leaving yo
u,” Jameson denied, refusing to go when she pushed harder at him.

  “He’s angry at me.” Sue coughed as the smell of the cologne became so thick her eyes watered. The taste of it choked her, and she recognized the bourbon.

  “What is that?” Jameson looked around, gagging as he covered his mouth.

  “Smell, taste,” Sue whispered in mounting panic. “Jameson, please, go.”

  “Who’s after you?”

  “I can’t…” Sue realized he wasn’t going to go on his own, so she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the seats toward the other aisle.

  Suddenly, the seat bottoms at the end of the row began slamming up and down hard, moving like a wave toward them. She pushed back into him but didn’t make it out in time. A cushioned seat bottom sprang forward. The hard plastic frame knocked her into the seat in front of it. She cried out as pain radiated from her thigh and stomach. It felt as bad as when Hank had punched her.

  Jameson pulled her out of the row and into his arms. Over the loud banging seats, he yelled, “I’ll believe you!”

  “It’s Hank,” she yelled.

  His expression instantly turned from confusion to anger.

  “He’s haunting me,” Sue cried. “You have to get out of here. It’s me he wants!”

  “I’m not leaving you. We’re getting out of here together.” Jameson refused to let her go. He pulled her with him toward the stage stairs.

  When they reached the stage, the chairs stopped banging. The silence was just as terrifying. Sue held on to Jameson’s hand, and they took a slow step across the stage. They both searched around the area, glancing up at the ceiling for any weapons Hank might use against them.

  “Sue?” Heather ran into the auditorium only to stop when she saw the lighting rig blocking her path. “Hold on. We’re coming around!”

  Heather ran back out.

  When they made it to center stage, the hum of the projector sounded, and a bright, flickering light came at them from the projection booth. Sue automatically turned to the movie screen. Their shadows cast as a black ring blipped around them to mark the start of a film.

  A woman’s giant face appeared in black-and-white, as she gasped, “You think—”

  The screen instantly blipped again to a 1970s schoolchild who yelled, “—I don’t know—”

  It flicked to a cowboy, “—what—”

  Then a silent film where the sheik mouthed the word, “—head—”

  Then a construction worker, “—move ahead—”

  The screen images began flickering too fast to register all the genres of films and faces, but the sound came in a rush of different, clipped voices, “—head—head—head—head—what’s in—your head—know—know—head—”

  “Stop it!” Sue screamed, covering her ears.

  “Sue, we’re coming!” Heather ran toward her. Vivien helped Lorna behind her as if the woman had trouble staying upright as she held her forehead.

  Seats ripped from the ground and went flying at the wall where Vivien, Heather, and Lorna tried to approach. The women ducked back to safety.

  “Get out of here,” Sue screamed. “Save yourselves!”

  Suddenly the scene from a low budget porno appeared. A woman leaned over a desk as her boss spanked her with his wooden desk nameplate. Each strike elicited a loud, sexual noise.

  Sue gripped Jameson’s hand tighter. Her eyes moved down to their shadows; only now there were three of them standing on the stage.

  Sue turned toward the third shadow, but no one was there.

  “Sue?” Jameson started to pull her hand.

  She looked back at the screen in time to see the shadow’s arm swinging at them. Jameson’s hand ripped from her grasp as he flew across the stage. He hit the wall with a loud, ugly thud.

  She glanced to where the shadow indicated Hank stood and then to the screen. She held up her hands as if to stop his advances.

  “Do you see him?” Vivien’s voice asked. They hadn’t listened to her when she told them to leave.

  “No,” Heather answered.

  “Sue, be careful!” Vivien yelled.

  Sue kept her attention on the shadow’s movement as it loomed toward her. It grew taller as if to tower over her.

  “Hank, you don’t have to do this.” Sue desperately tried to reason, even though she knew it had never worked in the past. That same old fear filled her. Her side ached from where she’d slammed into the chair. Tears rolled down her face. “Please, just let me go. It’s over. Let me go.”

  The shadow swung. She tried to dodge, but a formidable force smacked her across the face. She cried out as she fell to the floor. Hank usually tried to avoid her face so no one saw the bruises, but now that he was dead, maybe he’d stopped caring. The shadow moved over her. She tried to block a kick, but the invisible blow tossed her onto her back.

  Sue coughed, and the taste of blood entered her mouth.

  Hank kicked her again. She tried to stop him, but there was no blocking a ghost. She knew each blow would bring her closer to death. Hank had come for her like she knew he would, and he would not stop until she was dead.

  The clipped series of voices returned, “I know—what’s in—your head—know—know—whore—know—if I can’t have you—no one can—no— your head—”

  And then the porno resumed playing. The woman gasped in loud pleasure as she was hit over and over, the scene repeating itself on a loop.

  Sue saw her friends edging their way onto the stage behind Hank’s shadow. She caught a glimpse of Lorna’s bloody face.

  It was one thing to beat her. It was another to hurt her friends and her new beau.

  Years of anger and fear exploded inside of Sue. She screamed, charging up from the floor with a strength she didn’t know she had.

  “You will not hurt them,” she cried. “You will not hurt them, you fucking asshole!”

  She swung blindly toward where the shadow appeared to be, punching her arms like a madwoman. She felt her fists hitting a cold mass and kept pounding.

  “I hate you,” Sue yelled.

  Hank’s presence seemed to fall to the floor. She saw his shadow on his back on the screen next to them. She kept hitting toward the cold spot. Her legs straddled Hank’s ghost, keeping him penned where she could strike him. Her hand stung and bled like she punched ice, but she didn’t care.

  “I hate you. I hate you. I hate your smell. I hate your taste. I hate your laugh. I hate that stupid joke you make about Hank Jewel’s family jewels. No one thinks that’s funny.” Sue didn’t think, as the anger and hurt rolled out of her in a storm of pent up rage. “I hate your smile. I hate the way you make me feel. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you, you infantile, stupid, prick!”

  “Sue,” Jameson’s weak voice croaked from behind her.

  Her punches became weaker, and she panted for breath, but she didn’t stop trying to hurt Hank.

  “You don’t hurt the people I care about,” she gasped.

  Heather rushed to Sue’s side and grabbed her right arm. Sue tried to pull free to keep hitting Hank, but Heather held tight. Sue struck him with her left fist.

  Vivien supported Lorna as they joined them. Lorna’s eyes appeared dazed, but he reached for Heather’s hand. Vivien kept hold of Lorna and grabbed Sue’s left arm. The ring on her finger sent a pulse of energy through her, and their presence gave her strength.

  In unison, the three women yelled over the porno, “Beings tethered to this plane, full of rage and filled with pain. We call you to come near. We call you to face what you fear. We call you to your eternal hell. Pay the price with this final knell.”

  Tiny lights erupted beneath Sue, filling in the details of Hank’s transparent face. His eyes were wide, and he looked terrified. It spread quickly through his body, revealing him. Vivien let go of her, and Heather tried to pull Sue to her feet. Jameson appeared next to them, taking over for Heather as he lifted Sue from on top of Hank. He held her against his chest, an arm hooked under her knees and the
other behind her back.

  Rage distorted Hank’s face as he yelled, writhing on the floor. The movie image appeared to melt like film under fire, leaving a white screen. The light inside him grew, turning an angry, burning red.

  “Spirit,” Vivien muttered in disgust, “we release you.”

  Hank’s mouth opened as if he would yell, but instead, his body exploded into a surge of flames that quickly turned into dying embers. The lights drifted to the stage floor and went out.

  The smell of Hank’s cologne instantly disappeared, and Sue took a deep breath. She felt the fear and anger inside her die with him.

  Jameson held her tight as he stared at the floor. Sue reached for his face and forced him to turn to her. “Are you hurt?”

  He shook his head in denial, but she suspected he might be lying. Hank had thrown him against the wall pretty hard.

  Sue squirmed to be let down. Jameson acted as if he didn’t want to let her go but finally set her on her feet. She cradled her ribs with her sore arm. Both hands throbbed where she had punched the skin raw.

  “Lorna?” Sue stumbled to where Lorna sat on the floor, holding her head in her hands. Jameson followed close behind, not leaving her side.

  “Bastard pushed the storage shelf on me,” she grumbled.

  “I’m so sorry,” Sue whispered. “The last thing I wanted was for any of you to get hurt.”

  Lorna looked up at her. “You didn’t do this. I’ll be fine.”

  “Heather? Vivien?” Sue asked.

  “I’m good,” Vivien said.

  “I’m so glad I ignored you guys and came,” Heather said. “I just had this feeling like I needed to be here.”

  Lorna took in Sue’s face. She looked to where Sue cradled her arms across her stomach. When she opened her mouth to say something about it, the sound of clapping came from the destroyed auditorium.

  Jameson automatically put himself in front of Lorna and Sue and held his arms out to create a human shield.

  Heather walked to the edge of the stage and stared into the wreckage. “Julia says to tell you great performance. The best show she’s seen in a long time.”

  Sue leaned to look around Jameson’s legs, but she couldn’t see Julia.