The next afternoon, Bruce pulled up in front of Johnny Smith's house and jumped out of his car. He hoped that Johnny had forgotten about Jessica Richardson and everything surrounding her. He felt a little bit guilty at deterring Johnny from doing anything more for this girl, but he felt the need to protect his friend. Who knew what kind of people were out there that would take advantage of Johnny's power and good nature?
Bruce sighed then took the front steps two at a time before knocking on the door with three quick raps. He expected to see Johnny's face peek through the door and protest at the being disturbed for physical therapy, as he usually did, but he never came to the door. Bruce tried the knob. The door was unlocked, so he stepped inside and called up the stairs. Maybe he wasn't within earshot of the door. Or maybe he was ignoring the door in order to avoid his physical therapy.
"Yo, Johnny!" he called.
Only silence greeted Bruce's shout. He sighed and shook his head, heading up the stairs to Johnny's room.
"C'mon Johnny," he said as he opened the bedroom door. "I let you sleep in today, so you can't avoid me-"
The room was empty, and the bed was unmade. Bruce didn't see Johnny's cane anywhere in the room, so that meant Johnny wasn't there.
"Huh," he said out loud then he went back downstairs to the kitchen.
No Johnny, but he saw a used coffee cup by the sink and a pot of coffee in the coffeemaker. There was an envelope next to the pot with his name on it, so Bruce went over and opened it.
IHey Bruce,
I'm sorry I'm going to miss our daily routine of pain, but I can't let this go. There's something here that we're not seeing, something that links all of what I've seen together. Don't worry, you and Dana are off the hook. I'll take it from here.
Later,
Johnny/I
"Damnit, Johnny."
~~
Johnny was already in Bangor long before Bruce arrived at his house. He'd slept very little the night before, going over all of the visions again and again, but still seeing no way to tie them all together. He stayed in bed as long as he could, hoping that he could get enough sleep to function, although he wasn't sure that he did. He got up a little before noon, taking some time for a few cups of coffee and a shower before heading out towards Bangor.
His first stop was Doug Carlisle's office, which was easy to find on the main road leading through the center of Bangor.
Johnny found a parking space for his jeep on curb across the street from the law office. He got out of the jeep and walked across the street, and as he approached the building, he checked his watch and the sign on the door just to be sure that the office was open. Opening the door, Johnny went inside to find a small comfortable looking room. There was a small couch with a blue floral pattern to his right, under a window that gave a view of the street, masked by laced curtains. There were several plants in every corner of the room, and opposite the couch was a small desk, unoccupied at the moment.
Johnny went over to the desk, and just as he reached it, a young woman walked through a door behind it, stopping short when she saw Johnny. She was tall with a slender figure and long dark brown hair that reached nearly to her waist. She shifted an armload of folders from her right arm to her left, and she regarded Johnny with a semi-suspicious look.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"I'd like to speak with Doug Carlisle," Johnny told her.
"Do you have an appointment?"
"No, but I was hoping I could just speak with him for a few minutes. It shouldn't take long."
She dropped the folders on the desk in front of her before tossed her hair back over her shoulder that had fallen in her face. "I can see if he has a moment, but he's a busy man."
"I understand," Johnny said. "Any time he can give me would be greatly appreciated."
"What's your name?"
"Johnny Smith."
Johnny thought he saw a look of recognition in her eyes, but it quickly passed as she turned back towards the door behind her. "Wait here, I'll be right back."
Johnny sat down on the couch by the window, trying to think of questions that he needed to ask, in hopes of finally figure out what he should be doing. The door across the room opened again, and the woman stepped out, nodding at Johnny.
"Mr. Carlisle will see you now, Mr. Smith."
He rose from the couch and walked over to the door, nodding at her in thanks as he stepped through. She closed the door behind him, leaving him in a small office with bookshelves lining walls both to his left and right. There was a small desk in front of him with piles of folders on either side, framing a small man sitting behind them.
He looked to be about fifty with thinning salt and pepper hair. He had a bushy mustache and deep brown eyes. The man looked up when Johnny came into the room, and motioned for Johnny to take the seat across the desk from him.
"Have a seat, Mr. Smith," he said. "I'm Doug Carlisle."
Johnny walked over to the chair and sat down, nodding in greeting at the lawyer. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Carlisle."
"I can't say I'm entirely surprised to see you," he said, folding his hands in front of him on the desk. "Laura called me yesterday afternoon after you left her house."
"Did she?"
"Yes, she did. She told me to tell you anything you wanted to know," he said, but there was a slight edge to his tone.
"I'm assuming you don't think that's a wise idea."
"Frankly, I don't, Mr. Smith. She couldn't tell me why you're here, except that you're researching Jessica's case. That seems a bit mysterious to me. And I'm not a trusting man. Too many years in the courts will do that to a person."
"I can understand," Johnny said, moving forward in his seat and leaning on his cane slightly. "I really can't tell you what I'm doing here either, because I don't know. Someone sent me Jessica's picture, but no instructions. I'm here trying to figure out what this person wants."
"So you're here, but you don't know why?" Carlisle asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes."
"Who sent the picture?"
"I don't know that either."
"And you expect me to believe that?"
"It's the truth," Johnny replied.
Mr. Carlisle leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath and running his fingers through his hair in thought. He seemed to be considering what Johnny told him. Johnny let him take a moment before speaking again.
"I know this seems strange, Mr. Carlisle-"
"That's putting it mildly. But what my concerns are don't matter. Laura wants you to have the information, and it's her call to make, not mine. She seems to believe that you're a true psychic," he said, practically spitting the last word. "This is against my better judgment, but if it's okay with Laura, who am I to argue?"
"I assure you, Mr. Carlisle," Johnny said, "this information will go no further than this room."
"It better not," the lawyer said with a slight glare. "Or else you'll be hearing from me, as well as the court system."
Johnny fought the urge to roll his eyes. These people were very protective of information that seemed to have little importance. Or did it?
"I have no interest in dragging Jessica's name through the mud."
Mr. Carlisle didn't seem convinced, but he didn't press the matter. "What is it that you wanted to know?"
"I'm curious about the will. Jessica inherited everything, but her family didn't think she deserved it."
"Alex didn't think she deserved it," he corrected Johnny as he rose from his chair. He walked over to a filing cabinet in the corner of the room, unlocked the top drawer with a key from his pocket, and pulled out a file from within. After closing the drawer, he made his way back to the desk, throwing the file down on his desk.
"He challenged the will at every turn, but I don't think it was out of greed. I think he wanted justice for Mike and Lillah, and that was the only way he knew how."
"So you and the Desmonds are on good terms, despite the legal battle for the money?"
"Yes," the man answered. "For a while, Laura tried to play mediator between the two of us. I had to uphold the will, no matter what my personal feelings were. It was legal and binding, I couldn't let him just take everything from her because he felt it was right, even if I agreed."
"You agreed with him?"
"Of course I did," Carlisle answered, giving Johnny an exasperated look as if he should have known. "What happened to Mike and Lillah was horrible, and Jessica should have to pay for her crime."
"You think she's guilty?"
"How can she possibly be innocent? She was seen pulling the scissors out of Lillah's body."
Johnny nodded, trying to think of where to take the questioning next. He still didn't know what he was looking for, and the mangled mess of visions he had been getting wasn't helping matters. None of them seemed to connect.
"Who controls the money right now?"
"I do, for the most part."
"For the most part?"
"Laura and I both do."
"You both do?" Johnny repeated.
"Yes, we both do. Most of the money is in a trust fund for Jessica on the chance that she gets out of the mental hospital. The only money that's taken out is money for her care. That hospital is rather pricey, and with the amount of medication she's on, it adds up to a considerable amount. Laura transfers the money from her account to the hospital on a monthly basis."
"Is that wise? Her husband was trying to take the money from Jessica, so entrusting her with it can't be a good move."
"Laura is a trustworthy person," Carlisle said, narrowing his eyes a little at the implication. "She and Alex have been responsible for her care since the incident, and I think they've done as good a job as one can expect."
"You're right," Johnny agreed, figuring it wasn't a good idea to get on the bad side of this man if he wanted more information.
"I know what you're getting at, Mr. Smith. Laura and Alex would never do something immoral to get the money. They're honest people. Besides, I keep track of the money from my end, too. So they couldn't take money out without my knowing. I know how much her hospital expenses are each month."
Johnny only nodded.
Carlisle sighed and shook his head. "This is why I didn't want to talk to you, because I knew you'd come here with questions, and then draw conclusions without seeing the whole picture."
"Then show me the whole picture. Who inherits the money if Jessica dies?"
"No one," the lawyer replied. "Jessica doesn't have a will, and her parents specified in their will that if she were incapable of creating one of her own or died before coming of legal age, the money was to go to charity, mostly for research into schizophrenia."
"I see."
"I don't think you do, Mr. Smith. There is nothing shady going on here. All of this is legal and binding, and was decided upon years ago. I really don't see the point of your coming here just to stir things up."
Johnny knew that was his queue to leave. He slowly rose from the chair, silently cursing the stab of pain that radiated down his leg. He nodded at the lawyer, not wanting to shake hands, possibly making things worse with another confusing vision.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Carlisle."
The lawyer rose and returned the nod. "I hope you found what you needed."
"Why's that?"
"So you'll realize there's nothing here and leave this grieving family alone."
Johnny nodded one more time before leaving the office, and he made sure to thank the receptionist on his way out. He stepped out onto the street, looking up and down the nearly empty sidewalk, wondering where he should go next. His stomach answered with a loud growl, reminding Johnny that he hadn't eaten since the day before. A glance at his watch told him it was long past lunch time, but shortly before dinner. He saw a small diner down the street and decided to leave his jeep where it was and walk the short distance.
When he got down there, he went inside, finding the place almost empty. There was one other man hunched over his meal in a booth at the far side of the diner. The room was a fifties style diner, including the uniform the waitress wore. She smiled at him and nodded, indicating he was welcome to seat himself. He sat one of the stools that lined the counter, and the woman came over to greet him. She had red hair that was tied back in a loose bun, some of the curls escaping and framing her porcelain face.
Johnny looked at her nametag. "Hello, Amy."
"Hi," she returned the greeting, handing him a menu. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"A coffee would be great," he replied after a quick glance at the beverages.
"Coming right up," was her reply before she turned on her heel to get his drink.
Johnny glanced over the menu, taking his time to read all of the specials. Amy wordlessly put his coffee in front of him then moved to check on the other customer in the diner. Johnny picked up the cup without looking up from the menu, having trouble deciding between the chicken club sandwich and the hamburger. He finally made his decision, putting his order in with the waitress when she returned.
As his food was being prepared, Johnny thought over everything he had learned in the last two days. Jessica Richardson was a very sick girl in a mental hospital after she killed her parents ten years ago. Her uncle doesn't like her, but her aunt is more sympathetic. Everyone, including her doctor, is extremely protective of her and her story, but why? Was it because of the media coverage or was it something else?
Johnny was sure it boiled down to the money. Ten million dollars was a significant amount of money. Alex Desmond wanted to take it all from her, but was denied. Could he be bitter? And now Laura, or probably more accurately Alex, was in control of the money, so to speak. They had Doug Carlisle watching over, but he seemed to be loyal to them, more so than Jessica. Was he in on it as well?
In on what, Johnny wasn't sure. He didn't even know if there was something going on here. All he had was an anonymous mailing and a strong, frightening vision. Not much to go on.
The waitress brought Johnny's sandwich over to him, interrupting his thoughts. "Here you go, chicken club with fries. Is there anything else?"
"No, that's all, thank you," he replied.
She smiled at him politely, moving down to the other end of the counter to give him peace while he ate. Johnny returned to his thoughts as he picked up the sandwich and began eating. Before he was even consciously aware of it, the sandwich was gone, and he picked at the French fries.
What was he looking for? Where was the guy that sent him the picture? Was it Alex Desmond? Doug Carlisle? He knew it was an older man, but that was all he knew. Why was it sent?
Johnny sighed. The only lead he had was Alex and Laura Desmond. Something didn't seem right there, because when he and his friends had talked to Laura, she said she didn't handle anything to do with the money, yet Doug Carlisle said it was she who transferred the money for Jessica's care. Maybe there was something she wasn't telling him.
Johnny looked down at his plate, and it was empty, but he didn't remember eating any of it.
"Can I get you anything else?" Amy asked, having appeared in front of him again.
"No thanks," Johnny answered. "I'll take my check."
She smiled again then pulled the check out of the front pocket of her apron. Johnny pulled cash out of his wallet, leaving the amount of the check plus a very generous tip. The woman smiled in appreciation as she cleared his plate, thanking him as he walked towards the door. Johnny limped down the street back to his jeep just as the sun began to set on the horizon. He was still no closer to figuring out what he was supposed to be seeing, but he had a feeling another talk with Laura and Alex Desmond was in order.
Johnny unlocked his vehicle and climbed in. He hoped he wasn't turning these people's lives upside down for no reason, but he had to find out for his own sanity.