The Crossover (27 page)

Jo wasn’t done with me and I knew it.

After my appointment with Padre, I checked out of my quarters and returned home.

T
he first three nights I slept with all the lights on and the flat screen in my bedroom was on constantly when I was home. I can’t remember reading the bible so much, but it helped ease my fears. I often wore headphones and listened to iTunes to drown out unexplained noises. Listening to music helped distract me from ruminating on unpleasant thoughts. The headphones worked great for the first three days but on the fourth day there was an episode.

While listening to iTunes there was a delay between track one and track two. I manually advanced the track with my headphone settings. Track two didn’t play, something else did. What I heard was confusing and extraordinary. I heard women’s voices whispering in the background of white noise. I wasn’t scared, I wanted to know what they were saying. I turned up the volume on my headset. The whispers were louder but they weren’t any clearer. I turned up the volume as loud as I could. Whispers were panning in my ear from right to left and back again. With the volume on max, I realized they were not whispers but prayers for help. Again, I wasn’t scared, I was too mentally occupied listening to what was being said. The women’s prayers suddenly ceased at the same time. There was a brief silent pause before I heard a woman’s voice.

“Please Lord, don’t let us perish in vain.”

End of transmission.

Her voice was crystal clear, it wasn’t Jo’s voice. I believed it was a message. I grabbed my headphones and hit the back button to replay the transmission. The women’s voices were not there. Track two played without the extended delay. I was mentally frustrated. What was I supposed to do with that? Cryptic messages from… the dead? Were these voices from the killer’s victims or was I going insane?

I looked outside my window. There was still some daylight left so I wasn’t afraid. I felt compelled to speak to Jo’s spirit. I removed my headphones and turned the TV off.

“Jo, I know it’s you. Why are you doing this to me? I’m your friend. Tell me what you want me to do.”

I thought about what I just said and rephrased it a little.

“I mean, show me, don’t tell me.”

My cellphone rang. I saw it light up on my bed. No way in hell was I going to answer it. It rang just three times. I eased over to the bed and hesitantly picked up my phone.

You have one missed call.

I checked the caller’s ID.

Out of Area.

Jo wanted me to do something. Did I promise her something? I replayed many conversations with Jo in my head and I remembered only two promises I made to her.

1. Take care of Nemo in the event of his demise.
   
2. Be the first one to buy her book.
   

The first promise I had kept. The second was yet to be fulfilled. I checked on
Amazon
and
Barnes and Noble
and the book was not available. There was only one way to be sure I would be the first. Attend her book signing. Even though the book signing would be cancelled her pre-ordered books would be in stock. I had a date for 7 August, only a couple of weeks away.

August seventh came quickly and I had no strange activity in my house since the headphone incident. The Milton Keynes mall was about an hour away and it was heavy rain all the way. There was a road accident along the way and I almost got lost taking the diverted route. I was on a mission. I got there in just over two hours. I headed to the
Water-stones
book store just inside the mall.

“Yes, ma’am, I’m looking for a children’s book. I don’t know the title but the author is Joanne Tompson,” I said, standing in a small puddle of rain water.

“Let me check our system. We ordered 30 copies for the book signing today but I think we voided the orders after we were notified about the cancellation. I don’t see any in stock,” the store clerk said.

I was getting really frustrated after driving two hours. I was soaked down to my underwear. I really didn’t want to go home empty handed.

“Oh my, you are in luck. Three books came in this morning. They were probably dispatched before the cancellation. You must have a little one at home.”

“No, the book is for me,” I responded.

The lady gave me a funny look at first.

“The book is on offer for nine pounds. Cash or card?”

I felt a sense of accomplishment when I paid for the book, titled
Nemo The Talking Fish.

On the way out I stopped by a
Starbucks
to pick up a large latte with chocolate sprinkles.

Ahhh.
I love good coffee on wet days like this.

With the coffee in one hand and the book in the other I headed toward the parking lot. As I approached my car some guy bumped into me from behind and made me spill my coffee. He didn’t say excuse me and kept going. He couldn’t have been British. I wasn’t feeling confrontational so I gave it a pass and just yelled at him.

“Hey, how about excuse me?”

Damn foreigners.

Halfway home I realized my wallet was missing. I pulled over and checked underneath the seats. My wallet was gone. I thought I may have left it at
Starbucks.
I would have called
Starbucks
to see if I left it on the counter but my cellphone was gone too. I couldn’t wait to get home to make my calls.

As soon as I got home I ran out of my car and straight inside to make an urgent call. I found out my wallet and phone weren’t at
Starbucks.
I called my mobile phone provider to report the incident.

“Excuse me, my name is Clay Thompson and I think I lost my cellphone. My number is xxxxxxxxxxx.”

“Okay, Mr. Thompson, I have to ask you a few security questions, is that all right?”

I flunked security because I couldn’t remember my password I set over ten years ago. The operator waived security because I knew my average monthly debit amount.

“Mr. Thompson your phone just terminated an active call a few minutes ago.”

“A few minutes ago? To where?”

“The call duration was 156 minutes to Cape Town, South Africa.”

I was pissed. I started to question why I felt so compelled to go to Milton Keynes in the first place. I told Carl about what happened. He offered to look into it. The man who bumped me from behind was probably a thief. I immediately canceled all my credit cards. Everything I lost could be replaced except my phone; it had all my pictures of Monet saved on the SD card. I didn’t care about all the fancy applications and functionalities that I never used; it was a cherished gift complete with fond memories.

I placed Jo’s book on my coffee table next my copy of
The Mogadishu Diaries.
After I fed Missy I looked out the window and noticed the unlit solar light in the far right corner. I did an experiment the night before. I moved the light about a foot in either direction and the damn light came on. It worked everywhere in the garden except where Nemo was.

I came inside the house and heard an email notification on my PC upstairs. It was from Monet.

Clay, I leave for the US at 4pm on Delta. I’ve been here for the last two weeks.

I was on an emotional rollercoaster the last two weeks and this was a big drop. I was glad to hear from Monet but it was tempered by the fact she had been in country for so long without calling. Either way, I was back in my car, destination Heathrow Airport.

I parked my car in the short stay and ran like hell to departures. I didn’t see a flight to Dulles at 4pm on the large monitors overhead. I waited in line at the customer service desk. I was anxious at the thought of missing Monet.

“Ma’am are you sure there’s not a
Delta
flight to Dulles at 4pm?”

I couldn’t accept no for an answer. An on-duty manager confirmed I had the wrong information.

Damn. I was so disappointed. I really wanted to see Monet. I proceeded to the exits.

Just before I entered the large revolving doors someone bumped me from behind. This time rudeness would not get a pass. I was feeling confrontational. I stopped in my tracks and spun around in anger.

“Listen, why don’t you… Monet?”

Monet was standing there in the flesh, in living color. She was fine as hell in her tight jeans and black silk top.

Monet responded.

“Why don’t I what?” she sassed.

“Monet, I looked all over for you. There is no 4pm flight to Dulles. I checked.”

“Yeah, I know. This was a test.”

“Test?”

“Clay, I had to know if you still loved me.”

I drew closer to her.

“Did I pass?”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“The jury’s still out. Still deliberating.”

I placed my hand under her chin and poured my heart and soul into one of the world’s most passionate kisses. I missed her soft lips. They missed mine too.

“Okay, okay, Clay. I get it. Look, people are staring at us.”

“Monet, can we get back together? I’m miserable without you,” I pleaded.

“Clay, do I really need to answer that?” Monet responded as she grabbed hold of my hand staring at me with those light, beautiful, brown eyes.

We drew a small crowd in front of the revolving doors; it really was a magical moment. We got in my Range Rover and headed home.

Monet had been staying at the
Hilton
in Birmingham. She told me she got the job and would be relocating in September without Michelle. I mentioned that Jo had passed and Monet took it pretty hard. I didn’t relay my recent paranormal experiences. Those experiences would go down in my journal.

Over the next few days Carl kept me apprised of the leads he had regarding my stolen wallet and phone based on CCTV footage in the Milton Keynes parking lot. But more importantly he got a break in the Central London case. Monet and I had just returned from a dinner meal in Cambridge, when Carl dropped in on us.

“Clay, the storm has passed,” he said excitedly.

I never knew Carl to display emotion. I invited him to sit with Monet and I in the living room. I turned the TV down.