Status: This story has been completed.
Deadwood
Disembodied Voice
There was a shocked silence after I revealed this little tidbit. “Okay,” Oliver breathed out. “There’s definitely no way this is all a coincidence.”
This was all just too weird. “I just can’t believe Thomas killed her. It doesn’t seem like something he would do.” I said grimly.
Oliver gave me a weird look. “How would you know that?”
I blushed, forgetting I hadn’t told him about the dream. “Well, you know, the way she wrote about him in her journal. He seemed like such a sweet guy.” I covered up quickly.
“People can be deceiving.” He disagreed. “But that Barnes guy sounds pretty suspicious too.”
“Speaking of which, I wonder what happened to him.” I mused, pulling the search engine back up and typing in his name.
There were lots of articles about parties and events he’d attended, and his father’s business. But one headline in particular caught my eye. It was dated a week after the other article about Alice. “That’s odd.” I commented, my eyebrows furrowing. “This article says that Edmund Barnes died of an apparent heart attack and that he was found with his mouth wide open, as if in mid-scream.”
I shivered a little. All these strange occurrences, so closely connected. But Oliver was more dismissive about this article. “He seems to have been one who enjoyed indulging himself. Probably had a really unhealthy appetite. As far as the scream, he was probably in a great deal of pain and died with a grimace on his face.”
“Yeah, could be,” I said doubtfully. Somehow I felt the deaths were all connected.
A little while later I stretched. I looked over at my friend, and he looked as drained as I felt. “Ready to go? I think we’ve found all we’re going to.” I said.
He nodded and we logged off the computers, thanking the librarian on the way out. Neither of us said much on the way back. I figured we both must be trying to sort through all the information we had found. When we pulled up in front of my house, Oliver let out a huge yawn, reminding me of a sleepy lion. “Maybe you should go take a nap,” I suggested, giggling at him.
“That sounds like a good idea.” He agreed. “Can I come over later?”
My heart did a little flip. Despite all the weird stuff going on, he still wanted to hang out with me. “Yeah, of course! I’d be offended if you didn’t.” I teased, giving him an awkward one-armed hug before hopping out of the truck.
“See you in a few hours, then.” He smiled, and started to back out.
Once inside I was left alone with my thoughts. And then something occurred to me: Alice Quinn died on her birthday, two days after her first journal entry. Maybe there was some sort of clue in there. I almost tripped over my own feet to get to my room. When I passed by the living room, I saw Mom was sprawled out taking a nap as well. Good; that meant less questions.
The journal was exactly where I had left it. Sure enough, when I flipped it open there were only two more entries. I quickly scanned through the second one; nothing really interesting there. It just described the uncomfortable dinner with Edmund Barnes. So I moved on to the third one and read with interest.
17 July, 1816
Happy birthday to me! And what a happy one it has been. Mother and Father surprised me with a beautiful new dress and had the cook make ready delicious little tarts for when I awoke this morning. It has been an absolutely marvelous day. But I believe tonight will be even better.
Thomas wants me to meet him at the cottage around midnight. He says he has a surprise for me. I can’t imagine what it could be! But I don’t even care about the gift; I really just want to see him. I love the feelings I get just being around him. And I have a little bit of gossip that I think he might find interesting.
I was eavesdropping on Father, and I heard him say what a fine man he thought Thomas was! Well, you couldn’t imagine my surprise. I had always assumed my parents favored Edmund. But after last night’s disastrous dinner and all those disgusting looks he was giving me, perhaps they saw him for what he really was; a slimy little cockroach of a man.
I don’t wish to be too forward with dear Thomas, but if my father approves of him, perhaps that means he could ask for my hand in marriage the proper way…
And here was where the entry ended. Just before she left for the cottage and lost her life. She said she was going to meet Thomas, but somehow I felt he wasn’t the killer. In my dream, I could feel how strongly he felt about Alice. There was no way he went insane and killed them both.
I was brought out of my deep thinking by a noise. Looking around, I didn’t see anything amiss. But then I heard it again, a bit louder, and a chill ran down my spine. It was a voice. And it was talking to me.
“Alice…my dear Alice…you’ve come back to me.” It moaned in an unearthly tone.
This was all just too weird. “I just can’t believe Thomas killed her. It doesn’t seem like something he would do.” I said grimly.
Oliver gave me a weird look. “How would you know that?”
I blushed, forgetting I hadn’t told him about the dream. “Well, you know, the way she wrote about him in her journal. He seemed like such a sweet guy.” I covered up quickly.
“People can be deceiving.” He disagreed. “But that Barnes guy sounds pretty suspicious too.”
“Speaking of which, I wonder what happened to him.” I mused, pulling the search engine back up and typing in his name.
There were lots of articles about parties and events he’d attended, and his father’s business. But one headline in particular caught my eye. It was dated a week after the other article about Alice. “That’s odd.” I commented, my eyebrows furrowing. “This article says that Edmund Barnes died of an apparent heart attack and that he was found with his mouth wide open, as if in mid-scream.”
I shivered a little. All these strange occurrences, so closely connected. But Oliver was more dismissive about this article. “He seems to have been one who enjoyed indulging himself. Probably had a really unhealthy appetite. As far as the scream, he was probably in a great deal of pain and died with a grimace on his face.”
“Yeah, could be,” I said doubtfully. Somehow I felt the deaths were all connected.
A little while later I stretched. I looked over at my friend, and he looked as drained as I felt. “Ready to go? I think we’ve found all we’re going to.” I said.
He nodded and we logged off the computers, thanking the librarian on the way out. Neither of us said much on the way back. I figured we both must be trying to sort through all the information we had found. When we pulled up in front of my house, Oliver let out a huge yawn, reminding me of a sleepy lion. “Maybe you should go take a nap,” I suggested, giggling at him.
“That sounds like a good idea.” He agreed. “Can I come over later?”
My heart did a little flip. Despite all the weird stuff going on, he still wanted to hang out with me. “Yeah, of course! I’d be offended if you didn’t.” I teased, giving him an awkward one-armed hug before hopping out of the truck.
“See you in a few hours, then.” He smiled, and started to back out.
Once inside I was left alone with my thoughts. And then something occurred to me: Alice Quinn died on her birthday, two days after her first journal entry. Maybe there was some sort of clue in there. I almost tripped over my own feet to get to my room. When I passed by the living room, I saw Mom was sprawled out taking a nap as well. Good; that meant less questions.
The journal was exactly where I had left it. Sure enough, when I flipped it open there were only two more entries. I quickly scanned through the second one; nothing really interesting there. It just described the uncomfortable dinner with Edmund Barnes. So I moved on to the third one and read with interest.
17 July, 1816
Happy birthday to me! And what a happy one it has been. Mother and Father surprised me with a beautiful new dress and had the cook make ready delicious little tarts for when I awoke this morning. It has been an absolutely marvelous day. But I believe tonight will be even better.
Thomas wants me to meet him at the cottage around midnight. He says he has a surprise for me. I can’t imagine what it could be! But I don’t even care about the gift; I really just want to see him. I love the feelings I get just being around him. And I have a little bit of gossip that I think he might find interesting.
I was eavesdropping on Father, and I heard him say what a fine man he thought Thomas was! Well, you couldn’t imagine my surprise. I had always assumed my parents favored Edmund. But after last night’s disastrous dinner and all those disgusting looks he was giving me, perhaps they saw him for what he really was; a slimy little cockroach of a man.
I don’t wish to be too forward with dear Thomas, but if my father approves of him, perhaps that means he could ask for my hand in marriage the proper way…
And here was where the entry ended. Just before she left for the cottage and lost her life. She said she was going to meet Thomas, but somehow I felt he wasn’t the killer. In my dream, I could feel how strongly he felt about Alice. There was no way he went insane and killed them both.
I was brought out of my deep thinking by a noise. Looking around, I didn’t see anything amiss. But then I heard it again, a bit louder, and a chill ran down my spine. It was a voice. And it was talking to me.
“Alice…my dear Alice…you’ve come back to me.” It moaned in an unearthly tone.