Fiction
The Death of Henry James Part 4
A Sunny Alexander-Johnson and Roberto De La Cruz Series By P.G. & Sharon Barnett
My name is Sunny Alexander-Johnson. And I’m Roberto De La Cruz, and we’re writers for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.
We quickly took the stairs down to Loretta then searched the bottom floor until we found her and the kitchen. The woman was cradling a cup of coffee with one hand and resting the side of her head against a balled fist, her eyes closed.
We wondered when the last time she’d had a decent night’s rest. Roy had gone missing almost ten years ago and based on what she’d told us about his “visits” it was plain to see the years of sleepless nights had taken a huge toll on the woman.
She raised her head and stared wearily at us, then gestured to a pair of unoccupied chairs and said, “would you like some coffee?”
We shook our heads and then slid the journal across the table in front of her.
“Is this Roy’s journal Loretta?”
The woman shook her head.
“No ma’am, it’s mine. Roy never had time for that.”
“I don’t want to pry, but is there anything in there, is there perhaps something you wrote that might help us find out what happened?”
“Ms. Johnson. I know everything in there by heart, and I’m telling you nothing’s going to help.”
“Ms. Chambers? The day you reported Roy missing, was it by chance your anniversary?”
“How did you know that, sir?”
“Lucky guess. So you two weren’t together on your anniversary?”
Loretta picked up the journal and rifled through a couple of pages. Not only did it seem the years had been physically turbulent on the woman, but time had worn away several memories of the past. She stopped and squinted at the journal, a slight lean forward as she read several passages. Then she straightened, took a sip of her coffee and gazed at us.
“The last five or six years before Roy went missing, we would always go on a hiking trip to celebrate our anniversary. These entries are me detailing how we first met. Those anniversary hiking trips together were special moments for us. A few weeks before, I’d wrenched some muscles in my back. The pain killers weren’t helping much. I was a wreck.”
“So, Roy went hiking by himself?”
Loretta’s bottom lip quivered slightly. For several seconds she stared at her coffee cup, then she brushed away a sudden wetness appearing in both eyes with the tips of her fingers, took a large breath, and let it out slowly.
“I made him go. Told him it wasn’t fair that he be punished just because I’d done something stupid and hurt my back. I made him go and told him he’d better not come back without pictures. He didn’t. It was the last time I saw my husband.”
“Ms. Chambers, this is important. Do you remember the place you and Roy were planning to go hiking?”
The woman closed her eyes as she tried to recall discussions from ten years past, tiny spoken phrases filled with bits of information long since forgotten. Finally, she opened her eyes, a sad, forlorn expression crossing her face.
“No, I’m really sorry. I don’t remember, and I never wrote it down in my journal. Really I don’t know.”
We stood and pushed our chairs beneath the kitchen table. It was pretty evident the entries in the journal weren’t going to help. Why Roy had directed our attention to it was utterly confusing at this point, but something told us somehow the journal could possibly be an essential aspect to find the man.
“Ms. Chambers, do you mind if we hang on to your journal for a bit? Maybe something in there can help.”
“I assure ma’am, there’s nothing in there that will help you find Roy, but sure. I haven’t written a single thing in that journal since Roy disappeared. It’s not worth a damn thing to me now.”
We left Loretta Chamber’s house, remembering to scan the streets and our surroundings for anything that seemed odd or dangerous. Based on what Rick McDonnell, Robert, and Manny had told us, the possibility of an attempt on the life of one of us could happen at any time.
Sitting in the car and while one of us examined entries in the journal, the other started the car and turned into the street. We’d been driving only a few minutes when both of our phones began to buzz.
“I got it, Sunny. It’s an incoming text from your husband.”
“What does Robert want?”
“Uh…”
“Well, Roberto, you going to clue me in here?”
“He says for you to take a right on Sycamore, then take your first available left.”
“Seriously, my husband is now giving me driving directions by text? Now I’ve heard everything.”
“Uh, Sunny, I think you need to do it.”
“Why?”
“I’m going to read what he texted exactly.”
“You’re being tailed. We picked him up after you left the Chambers house. Take a right on Sycamore then your first available left. If it is him, he’ll follow.”
“Oh, holy shit!”
“Calm down, Sunny. Manny and Robert are on it.”
“No, Roberto. You don’t understand. We’ve got us a passenger sitting in the back seat. I just checked my rearview mirror, and there he is.”
“Uh, if it’s who I think it is, even if I turn around, I’m not going to see anything. Say something to him.”
“Like what?”
“How would I know Sunny? You’re the ghost expert. Look, there’s Sycamore, take a right on it.”
The car swayed as we took too sharp of a right turn at just a little faster speed than we should have been traveling. Immediately following we took a left on the first available street, straightened out and continued.
Two minutes later, our phones buzzed again.
“Sunny, Robert and Manny have confirmed. Seems as if we have a visitor following us.”
“That’s not the only visitor we need to deal with, Roberto. Right now, we’ve got a dead man sitting in the back seat, and he wants to have a chat with us.”
Read On — The Death Of Henry James Part 5
Let’s keep in touch: P.G. & Sharon Barnett ([email protected]) © P.G. Barnett, 2020. All Rights Reserved.