Twisted Paths

Twisted Paths - a Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery

Mary O'Reilly [9]

Terri Reid

(2012)

Rating: ★★★★☆

Gloria Foley turned off the light in the hallway and made her way slowly upstairs to bed. She paused at the doorway of her daughter’s bedroom and shook her head. It had been such an emotional day for all of them. She prayed she would have the strength to get them both through these treacherous teenaged years.
Slowly turning the knob on the bedroom door, she quietly opened it to check on her sleeping child. Through the narrow opening, she could see the bed was still made and no one was sleeping on it. She opened the door wider and saw the shadow on the far wall and her heart clenched. Screaming, she flung the door open and ran to the figure hanging from the thick electric cord suspended from the ceiling fan. “No,” she screamed, as she tried to lift the inert body up to relieve the pressure against her neck. “Nooooooo!”
The ghost of a teenager who committed suicide twenty years ago is haunting her family’s home. Can Mary link that death to the serial suicides of the girls who bullied her when she was alive?
And with Gary Copper still on the loose, Mary and Bradley are faced with the challenge of keeping the newest member of their family safe and sound.

Twisted Paths – A Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book Nine)

by

Terri Reid

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Terri Reid

Twisted Paths – A Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book Nine)

Copyright © 2012 by Terri Reid

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

The author would like to thank all those who have contributed to the creation of this book; Richard Reid, Sarah Reid, Debbie Deutsch, Jan Hinds, Lynn Jankiewicz and Denise Dailey Carpenter.

 And especially to the wonderful readers who walk with me through Mary and Bradley’s adventures and encourage me along the way.  Thank you all!

Prologue

“I hate you!” Hope screamed as she ran up the stairs to her bedroom. “I wish you would all just die.”

Her mother, Gloria, hurried after her up the wide oak staircase, her Italian leather pumps creating a slight tapping against the highly polished surface.  Her jewel-laden hand skimmed the handrail as she quickly ascended, and her face wore an oft practiced look of disappointment and long-suffering.

Opening the bedroom door quietly, she stood in the doorway studying the girl lying face down on the bed.  She really didn’t know how to cope with a child that was so…so…  She paused for a moment, trying to find a word that was not as cruel as the ones that came to mind immediately. Gauche.  Yes, gauche, that was the word that described her second-born daughter.  She shrugged delicately, well; she didn’t know if Hope was first born or second born, she couldn’t be expected to remember details like that.  They were twins.  But, in her mind Faith would be the first born, because they were so alike.  And Hope, well, Hope would be…the second born.

Taking a deep breath she pasted a pleasant look on her face and was about to walk to the bed when the light began to flicker.  Impatiently, without thinking, she slapped the wall below the switch sharply and the flickering stopped.

Startled, Hope quickly rolled over on her bed and faced her mother.  Blotchy red patches highlighted the array of acne that spread from her forehead down her face and onto her neck.  Moisture from her tears streaked down her face, from both her eyes and her nose. Her brown-blonde frizzy hair had already escaped her barrettes and the wires from her braces had threads of spittle crisscrossing them. Gloria prayed the revulsion she felt in her heart didn’t show on her face. How could she have given birth to such a changeling?

“Hope, darling,” she cooed as she glided into the girl’s large bedroom. “Now, you know Faith didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“Mom, she did mean it,” Hope argued. “She means it when she calls me names at school, she means it when she embarrasses me at lunch, and she means it when she dates the boys she knows I like.”

“But, darling, that’s not fair,” Gloria said, moving up and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Faith can’t help that so many boys are attracted to her. It doesn’t mean she encourages them. I had the same problem when I was her age.”

Hope sighed and looked at her perfect mother.  Of course she had that problem. She could have almost passed for their sister, well, Faith’s sister. Her blonde hair hung to her shoulders in a soft bob, her skin was flawless and showed no signs of forty-plus years of life.  Her petite frame wore the newest styles perfectly and she could have shared any of the clothes from her daughters’ closet.  Well, Hope amended again, Faith’s closet. Her own closet was filled with loose-fitting, extra-large clothing that hid, rather than accentuated her shape.

“Mom, you don’t get it,” she said. “This isn’t by accident. Faith hates me and she loves to torment me.  I think she’s embarrassed that I’m her twin.”

“No, Hope, I’m sure she’s not,” Gloria argued. “I’m sure she’s just going through some rough times of her own.  You know the teenage years are filled with all kinds of pitfalls.  It’s not easy to be as popular as Faith.  There is a lot of pressure involved.”

Hope closed her eyes and shook her head. This was not going to work.  There was no way her mother would ever understand what she was going through.  There was no way her mother could know what it was like growing up an ugly duckling in a family filled with swans. She took a deep breath, opened her eyes and gave her mother the smile of reassurance she knew her mother was waiting for. “Thanks, Mom,” she said with a false smile. “I feel much better now.”

Leaning forward, her mother placed a light kiss on her daughter’s forehead. “I’m glad I could help you, darling,” she replied. “Now, clean up and come down for dinner.  I’ve had cook make your favorite, fried chicken. Of course, Faith and I will only be having salads, but there is no reason you shouldn’t have your special treats.”

Hope’s stomach tightened and tears burned behind her eyes. She would not cry again.  She would not let her mother see how hurt she was by being excluded, constantly, from her mother’s and her sister’s elite club.  She nodded. “Thanks, Mom, that sounds delicious.”

She watched her mother glide across the room, her posture perfect, her clothes softly shifting over her slim figure and her heart dropped.  With Faith around as the model of perfection, she would never have her mother’s acceptance.  She would never be part of the club.  She might as well be dead.

When the door closed behind her, Hope rolled back over in her bed.  Silent, burning tears soaked her pillow. Visions of Faith and her mother filled her mind.  They were always together, always sharing their own secrets, always shopping in their exclusive stores that only carried up to size six.  She wondered how their lives would be if she were no longer with them.  She wondered if they would even notice if she were gone.  She wondered if they would be a little bit relieved that they no longer had the burden of the ugly duckling shadowing their lives.

Four hours later, the house was quiet and the moon shone through panes of leaded glass in the windows, causing moonbeams to reflect on the walls of the bedrooms like specters of light. Gloria Foley turned off the light in the hallway and made her way slowly upstairs to bed.  She paused at the doorway of her daughter’s bedroom and shook her head.  It had been such an emotional day for all of them.  She prayed she would have the strength to get them both through these treacherous teenaged years.

Slowly turning the knob on the bedroom door, she quietly opened it to check on her sleeping child.  Through the narrow opening, she could see the bed was still made and no one was sleeping on it.  She opened the door wider and saw the shadow on the far wall and her heart clenched.  Screaming, she flung the door open and ran to the figure hanging from the thick electric cord suspended from the ceiling fan.    “No,” she screamed, as she tried to lift the inert body up to relieve the pressure against her neck. “Nooooooo!”

Chapter One

Clarissa looked around; no one seemed to be watching them.  She sat up on her knees and placed her face against her mother’s cheek. 
Please breathe, Mommy
, she prayed.
Please breathe.

But as soon as she felt her mother’s cold, stiff cheek, she knew the truth.  Her mother was dead.

She buried her face against her mother’s neck and wept soundlessly. 
What can I do now?  Where am I supposed to go?  Why aren’t there any angels?

A noise startled her and she turned around.  The man that stood in front of the bench just stared at her for a moment. Then he looked beyond her and studied her mother for a moment.  Finally, he smiled and squatted down, so he could see her face. “Hello Clarissa,” he said. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Clarissa scooted back on the bench, as close to her mother as possible.  She wiped the tears from her eyes and took a deep breath. Maybe the man wouldn’t realize her mother was dead. “My mom’s just asleep,” she lied, “so…no one better think about taking anything.”

“You’ve had a pretty rough day, kid, haven’t you?” the man asked, and then he shook his head. “Let’s be real, you’ve had a pretty rough life.”

Looking around at the bus station, it seemed that they were suddenly alone.  There was no one around who would come running if she screamed.  Clarissa shook her head. “Are you the bad man?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“Oh, no, Clarissa,” he replied. “I’m a friend of your dad’s.  My name is Mike and I’m your guardian angel.”

She studied him carefully. “You don’t look like an angel,” she countered.

Grinning, he nodded. “Yeah, believe me, I never figured myself for a gig like this either.”

“You don’t talk like an angel either.”

“I tried that “thee” and “thou” stuff, but, really, it just didn’t come out right. But if it will make you feel better, I can try it again,” he said.

He cleared his throat and looked into her eyes. “If thou art Clarissa and because thou hast been faithful in all things, I wouldst that thou wouldst…”

He paused and searched his mind for a moment. “Wouldst that thou wouldst…,” he said again. “Awww, hell.”

“Angels aren’t supposed to say bad words,” Clarissa said, as she slid off the bench to join Mike. “Are you new at being an angel?”

“Yeah, I just got my wings a couple of weeks ago,” he admitted. “I was pretty surprised when He offered me the job.”

“God?” she asked, her eyes widening.

Mike smiled and nodded, placing his hand on her hair and ruffling it. “Yeah, God,” he replied. “He’s pretty impressed with you.”

“Is my mommy with God now?” she asked, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

“Yeah, sweetie, she’s there with him,” he said. “She’s safe and now we’re going to get you safe too.”

“Where are we going?”

He pulled out another bus ticket and handed it to her. “We’re going home.”

Clarissa studied him and then looked down at the ticket. She was just so tired. Tired of trying to be strong.  Tired of being afraid. Tired of being cold and hungry and alone.

“I know you’re tired,” Mike said, watching Clarissa’s eyes widen at his remark. “And God knows you’re tired. You’ve been through a lot. If you can just have faith for a little bit longer, things will get better. I promise.”

“Faith?” she asked.

“Trusting in God even when things don’t seem to be going the right away,” he explained. “Accepting things and, you know, going with the flow for a while.”

“Is that what my mommy and daddy would want me to do?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Oh, yes, sweetheart,” Mike said. “That is exactly what your mom and dad would want you to do.”