Kneeling on the floor and cradling her father as he was slumped on the sofa, Reese turned her head to Wayne expecting to see him wielding a gun or a knife. But his hands were empty of any armaments. His expression of surprise melded to one of smugness.
“Your father’s crazy, huh?” Wayne said.
Before Reese could open her mouth to respond, Paul piped up, the words grating. “Someone better tell me what the fuck is going on or I’m calling the police on the lot of you.” His knuckles were white from gripping the knife handle so tightly and his eyes darted from Wayne to Reese and back to Wayne.
“Don’t call the police, Paul,” Reese said.
“Why in God’s name not?” Paul looked pissed and continued to hold the knife as if he might use it. “This is beyond ridiculous.”
“Beyond ridiculous?” Wayne said incredulously. “I’m not going to press charges against Mr. Caldwell. Why would you call the police?”
“Two girls are missing,” Paul said through gritted teeth.
“Put the knife down, Paul,” Reese said. She didn’t pay attention to whether he did as she said or not. She looked up to Wayne from her position on the floor and said, “Where’s Addie, Wayne?”
Wayne narrowed his eyes to near slits. “I. Don’t. Know. Where. Addie. Is.”
“But you know where Lucy is?” She wanted so badly to let go of her father. She was in an uncomfortable stance but didn’t want to take her eyes off of Wayne. Sure enough his eye twitched ever so slightly.
Wayne said nothing. He slipped his bulking hands into the pockets of his slacks.
Reese craned her body to look full on at Paul. The coloring was surfacing in his knuckles but he continued to hold the knife as if he might need to protect himself.
“Addie was safe as of this morning, Paul. We saw her with our own eyes. Unfortunately the police won’t be able to help much with Lucy. She’s a grown woman. We can spend time with the police explaining why we think she’s in danger, but that’s time we could be using to locate both her and Addie.”
“Thus the séance?” Wayne said sarcastically, suppressing a grin.
“What about your dad, Reese? He said Wayne is going to kill you. Aren’t you just a little bit nervous about that statement? And he should probably get to a doctor.” Paul seemed to have run out of patience, but at least he lowered the knife to the patio table, although his grip on it was still firm.
Reese was relieved when she felt her father shift his weight off of her and adjusted himself to sit upright. She held onto his arm in an attempt to steady his wobbly movements. He grimaced as he touched his swollen cheek with his fingertips. He pulled his hand away from his face and looked at it. Apparently satisfied there was no gushing blood, he lowered his hand to his side.
“No doctors. I’m not leaving Reese alone.” His voice was surprisingly strong for a man who appeared so fragile.
“Dad, if you need to see a doctor …” Reese started to say, but her dad interrupted.
“No. I’m fine.” She shifted his weight some more so he didn’t rely on Reese for any support.
“Why did you attack Wayne?” Reese asked as she stood from her kneeling position and sat next to Mr. Caldwell.
Wayne moved just an inch forward and his hands slid from his pockets. Paul lifted the knife a hair from the table, not in a direct threatening gesture, but more as a reminder that he was in no mood for any nonsense. Wayne settled back into an unperturbed posture. His hands slipped back into the pockets.
“I don’t know.” Mr. Caldwell looked down at his knees when he spoke and Reese got the distinct feeling he was holding back.
“Dad, you said he was going to kill me. Why did you say that?” She rubbed his arm in a comforting motion.
Mr. Caldwell shifted his gaze from his knees to Reese’s hand, but he said nothing. Paul, Wayne, and Reese all stared on at Mr. Caldwell as if he would divulge some top secret inormation.
When the silence dragged on for a full minute, Paul said in Wayne’s direction, “Do you know why he attacked you? And don’t tell me some bullshit that he’s crazy. I’m getting kind of tired of this little game of charades.”
Wayne stretched his shoulders back and jutted out his chin. “Why don’t you ask my father? Isn’t that what you came for, Mr. Medium?”
Paul released the knife so it was flat on the table. His face stiffened and his stare-hold on Wayne never sway as he said, “Put the chairs around the table, Wayne, and pray to God your father doesn’t have something to say that you don’t want us to hear. Reese, stay with your father while I’m in the kitchen. Make sure he doesn’t kill your guest.” Paul snatched up the chef’s knife and turned his back on his audience. None of them moved as Paul made his way to the kitchen. It wasn’t until he made a racket gathering all of the knives from the butcher block, tossing them into the dishwasher, and slamming the door, that they jumped into action. Wayne and Reese placed the chairs around the table, each exactly the same distance from one another. The microwave whirred to life in the kitchen and pretty quickly the aroma of warm bakery goods wafted into the living room.
Paul returned with a plate of steaming muffins and the plastic bag of candles. He placed the plate in the middle of the table and then strategically set the candles around the plate. He lit one and then used it to light the other three. As he busied himself with his chores, the attendees all watched. Reese for one was fascinated and asked, “What’s with the muffins, Paul?”
Without looking up from staging the table, Paul said, “I have had luck with using props to draw spirits at a séance. Spirits who were once human are often drawn to pleasant scents and lights, same as when they were alive. They serve as a beacon if you will.” He balled up the plastic bag and tossed it under the table.
“Before we proceed, I must ask,” Paul started and lightly placed his fingertips on the table as he glanced from one person to another, “are you each willing to participate in this séance with an open-mind?” He stopped glancing around once he was looking at Reese. She nodded in agreement. He slowly gave her a reassuring nod back and shifted his attention to Mr. Caldwell. Reese’s father didn’t engage eye contact. Paul waited a few respectable seconds and then said, “Mr. Caldwell?”
Reese looked over to her dad. He nervously traced the bruised cheek and she fought the instinct to touch her own bruised forehead.
“Landon?” Paul said authoritatively.
Mr. Caldwell lifted his head and looked at Paul. “Open-minded,” he said.
“Very good,” Paul offered a small smile to the older man but Mr. Caldwell looked away before he could register it.
Paul rotated his head to Wayne who looked only a little bit uneasy. Wayne twisted his body back and forth with his hands jammed further into his front pockets. “Wayne? Can you proceed with this séance with an open-mind?”
Wayne pulled his right hand from his pocket and rubbed his chin. He looked at Paul and then over to Reese. “What does that mean? Open-minded?”
Although he seemed to be addressing Reese, Paul answered and Wayne rotated his attention to him. “It means you are open-minded to receive possible messages from spirits who have passed. It means you can participate and not be negative during the course of the séance.”
