Those rioting butterflies were in a full-fledged frenzy now. “No. I haven’t felt her since we walked into the house, but that doesn’t mean she’s not here.”
“I don’t understand.” Muriel cocked her head to the side, giving her full attention to Tennyson.
“Skye could be blocking me from sensing her.” Spirits did that all the time, for a myriad of reasons.
“Why? Why would my daughter do that?” Alarm glowed in Muriel’s eyes.
“As I tell my clients, Muriel, spirits have their own agenda on the other side. Skye’s been gone for thirty-five years. She may have moved on from her death in a way that we haven’t.” Ten included himself as a way to soften the blow.
“You mean she could be dancing in heaven and having a grand old time for herself while we’re all here still grieving?” Tears trickled down Muriel’s cheeks.
Christ, Tennyson had really stepped in it this time. “Wouldn’t you prefer that? Or would you rather have Skye lurking around here, unable to leave, unable to process her pain?”
Muriel gasped. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her damp eyes. “I’ve never thought about it like that before. What do you need from me?”
“Do you mind if I stay here alone for a few minutes?” Ten had many reasons for asking for time alone, but the biggest one had to do with hoping Skye would talk to him if Muriel wasn’t in the room.
“Sure, I’ll head back downstairs.” Muriel paused for a minute. “I’ve prayed for a miracle breakthrough in this case for years. I’m not sure how much longer I can go on.”
Tennyson understood her sentiment. He’d heard it before from the parents of murdered children. “I’m going to do everything in my power to help you and your daughter. I promise.” Ten peeked into the room before turning back to Muriel. “Did your daughter keep a diary?”
A look of surprise replaced the grief on her face. “Yes, she did. It’s here in her room. The police didn’t see much evidentiary value in it. Just the ramblings of a teenager, they said.”
“Do you mind if I take it with me? Every piece of evidence is crucial.” Ronan was going to have a kitten when he found out the cops hadn’t studied the journal. “I promise to return it.”
“Sure, take it. Skye hid it in an orange shoebox in the back of the closet. I knew it was there, but never read it, either before or after her death.”
“I promise to take the utmost care of it. Would you mind bringing me a Ziplock bag for it in a few minutes?” Ten needed some time to spend alone in the room. He couldn’t help wondering what other potential evidence the police had deemed unimportant.
“I’ll give you some time before bringing it up.” Muriel paused at the top of the stairs. “If you speak to her, please tell Skye how much we love and miss her.”
“I will,” Ten promised. He didn’t want to give the grieving mother false hope by telling her Skye already knew. It was possible she didn’t, or had long ago forgotten.
Ten stayed just outside the room until he heard Muriel reach the bottom of the stairs. He took a deep breath and a step forward. The beige walls were plastered with posters of New Kids on the Block, Kip Winger, and Jon Bon Jovi. The twin bed, which was pushed against the window overlooking the back deck, was covered with a light-pink comforter, stuffed animals piled high against the pillows.
Ten took a look out the window. The roof over the porch was about a foot drop from the window, but it was deeply slanted. If Skye had tried to get out of the house this way, she would have slid down and crashed to the ground below. Ten didn’t need to use his gift to see the open window had nothing to do with a jailbreak. If he were a betting man, he’d guess the window had been opened a crack so Skye could exhale cigarette or pot smoke out the window without her parents being the wiser.
The desk was white, the top covered with makeup and notebooks. On the left side of the desk was a three-panel electric mirror. The user would be able to see the left and right sides of their face while looking forward. Ten pressed the button and the lights surrounding the glass turned on. In his mind’s eye, he could see Skye sitting here putting on her makeup and singing along with the radio.
“Skye? Are you here?” Ten shut off the mirror and did a full turn around the room. “My name is Tennyson Grimm. I’m a medium and can hear you if you’d like to speak with me.” Ten didn’t feel Skye’s spirit in the room, but like he’d told Muriel, it didn’t mean she wasn’t here.
“My husband and our detective friends are going to do everything we can to find your killer. If there’s anything you can do to help us out, we’d love to hear from you.” Ten’s words were met with more silence.
He walked to the double closet which sported shuttered doors. Ten pulled the middle knob and the doors folded backward. All of Skye’s clothes were hung neatly. Right in front of him was the purple button-down she’d worn in the school picture. Overcome with emotion, he took a step back.
Muriel hadn’t been kidding when she said this room hadn’t changed since the day Skye was murdered.
Sitting on the top shelf of the closet, Tennyson saw the orange shoebox Muriel mentioned. “Skye, your mom gave me permission to read your diary. I hope that’s okay with you? I promise the only reason I want to read it is in case there are clues in it that the police overlooked.” Ten reached for the box, pulling it down easily. When he opened it, there was a white journal with pen drawings of flowers all over the cover. He set the box on the bed and pulled out the book.
Images sped before Ten’s eyes. He took a deep breath and tried to slow down the flow of information. In his mind’s eye he could see four laughing girlfriends in the school lunchroom, in a pizza parlor, at the movies, driving and singing in a minivan. The happiest scenes of Skye’s life flashed through his mind.
While he held the book, his senses were flooded with laughter, joy, and acceptance. Ten knew how hard high school life could be without the right friends by your side. It seemed Skye had that and then some.
Looking back into the shoebox, Ten saw a stack of photographs. He pulled them out, picking out Skye instantly. In each image, she was surrounded by three other girls—Lisa, Heidi, Jennifer. He assumed these were the friends Muriel mentioned keeping up with over the years.
“The Fab Four,” Muriel said from the door. “I swear, from the time they met in kindergarten, you didn’t see one of those girls without seeing the other three.” Muriel walked into the room carrying the promised Ziplock bag. She handed it to Ten and took the photos from him. “I know you’re going to think it sounds bizarre, but Skye’s entire being was dimmer when those girls weren’t around. When they went on vacation with their family or out of town to see relatives, my daughter was a different child.”
“I don’t think it’s bizarre at all. I feel the same way when I’m apart from Ronan or our daughter.” Ten cringed internally. The last thing he wanted to point out to this grieving mother was that he was going home to his little girl tonight.
“You have a daughter?” Muriel’s face lit up. “May I see a picture?” Her entire demeanor changed in a matter of seconds.