Finding a Way Forward

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CHAPTER 1

The pleasure of the moment, the clarity of the morning air, and the forest run filled Jessie Reynolds with exuberance. "Catch me if you can." She taunted the kids running with her. From the sound of her feet striking the ground in sync with her body's motion to the incredible sense of satisfaction that came with each mile she covered, Jessie enjoyed running. She was hooked instantly years before when she laced the new sneakers her mom had bought for her. And now here she was with a group of teens who felt the same way about it as she did. It was a win, win for her. The runner's high is how she often described it to her friend Katie, who didn't get it at all. Jessie smiled because this was perfect.

Suddenly the shrill screams of a woman sliced through the quiet afternoon air, bringing Jessie to a standstill, sending shivers racing down her spine. Chills mixed with the sweat of her heated body. "Did you hear that?" she asked to no one in particular.

Todd, the tall boy running up behind her, asked, "Hear what?" As he jogged past her, he glanced over his shoulder, giving her an odd look. "I didn't hear anything."

"Keep moving, Reynolds," one of the other kids called out after bumping into her and giving her a playful shove.

"Sorry." She started running again, this time dodging the runners who had tried to maneuver around her.

Who screamed? Jessie picked up her pace, wanting to stay close to the others.

Cries and screams no one else could hear meant she was about to meet another ghost. The routine was clear to her by now. In the beginning, until she understood what the spirit wanted, the experience had been a bit scary. For some reason, today, the experience had a whole different feel. She had no idea why.

Taking a quick look around, she saw there were no visible apparitions. Only trees and more trees as far as the eye could see. Rounding the curve, she pushed up the beginning of a steep incline. The sunlight filtered through the treetops, casting dancing shadows on the pavement in front of her. "Inhale, exhale, breathe," she muttered, repeating the cadence of the rhythm of her feet hitting the ground. Droplets of sweat dripped from her cheeks and neck, rolling down her chest and back. The locals claimed it was too early in the year for such oppressive heat and humidity, yet here it was. Thankfully, the current weather was forecasted to remain the same for only a few more days.

Several loose strands of hair escaped from her ponytail and plastered annoyingly against her wet cheeks. She wiped the hair away and, regaining her tempo, once again caught up to the main group. But another scary wail confirmed her suspicion. Ahead and off the path, a ghostly figure moved back and forth at the edge of a small clearing. The spirit screeched, shifting restlessly in front of a marker, drawing Jessie's attention until she changed direction and ran toward the spot.

Fresh, colorful flowers filled a vase at the base of a small monument across from a bench that appeared recently painted. The aroma of the sweet alyssum, lilacs, and gardenias filled the air with a fragrant scent. From the looks of it, someone cared enough to maintain the area on a regular basis.

A cold swish of air swirled around her as she jogged in place, a vivid reminder that she wasn't alone. The unnatural chill sent goosebumps creeping down her arms. This ghost wanted her attention. But why? Jessie stopped to read the words on the plaque:

In Memory of Elizabeth McKenzie. Our sweet daughter, and sister, Lizzy. May she rest in peace.

If her haunted eyes were any indication, Elizabeth wasn't at peace.

Jessie's hand clenched at her side, her heart racing in tandem with the images that flashed through her mind. There was more to the story of Elizabeth McKenzie than the simple marker inscribed.

"I don't know what you're trying to tell me, or why you wanted me to find you, but I'll try to figure it out," she whispered as she ran back to the path.

Catching up to the stragglers running ahead of her, Jessie made the push up the hill behind the final two girls. Discovering Elizabeth, finding out who she was and how she had died now topped her agenda. What was this spirit's story? Intrigued by another case, an unsolved murder from the past perhaps, had just thrust itself into her day. Call it fate, or kismet. It was meant to be.

The last-minute decision to run in a new area came after Bob Harmon, the cross-country coach, asked her if she'd be willing to run with his running club to help keep them on pace. The club, a group of teens from the cross-country team, wanted to run all year to stay in shape. He promised her it was a beautiful spot to train. Bob had been right about the beauty, but it all seemed lost on her, now. Finally running past the slowest runners, she pushed hard up the last hill. At the top, Jessie ran full speed the last few miles, making her way to the high school parking lot, the team and pacing forgotten. Once in her car, ready to research the ghostly encounter, she headed directly for home.

Jessie opened the cottage door, discarding and kicking aside her sneakers. Half of her purse's contents scattered to the floor, rolling under the sofa when she tossed it over the back of the couch and headed straight to her desk. With the push of a button, the computer whirred to life. Her fingers drummed impatiently on the wooden surface of the desk waiting for the icons to appear on the screen. Why did it feel as if it took forever to open the program she wanted? Finally!

Jessie typed Elizabeth McKenzie's name into the Blue Cove Sentinel's archive site. Several articles popped up in the search. The first included a photo in the story. Elizabeth had been a beautiful, young girl with an enchanting smile. Reading one piece after another, Jessie held her breath as the story of Elizabeth's death took shape. And with it came a sense of despair. A gloomy cloud filled the room. At least one question was answered. Understanding dawned. Now she knew why this meeting was different. She reached for a tissue, debating what to do next.

Matt's unique ringtone sent her in search of her phone. Where was it this time? The floor. Good grief! Nestled among several ink pens, a coin purse, and lip gloss, the phone continued to ring. Down on all fours, she mumbled under her breath, "Earth to Jessie." Reaching for the last lip gloss, she shoved the spilled contents back into her purse, placing it on the desk. "Hi, Matt. I was just about to call you."

"Are you up for company? I thought I'd stop by with dinner if you haven't eaten already."

"Sounds perfect. I'd love to see you. In fact, I need to talk to you anyway. Something happened earlier while I was running, and I hope you'll be able to shed some light on it."

"Sounds serious."

"Let's just say I need your input."

"Okay, be there in about twenty minutes."

"I'll be waiting." Jessie disconnected the call as she walked into her bedroom.

Setting her messy ponytail free, she ran a brush through her hair, letting the damp, loose curls fall against her shoulders and down her back. Grabbing her jeans from the drawer, she pulled them on, followed by a t-shirt. Reaching for a neutral lip gloss, she applied it mindlessly. Was this what her friend Reba had warned her about during the last case when she told her Matt had something he needed to deal with, or was this about her? There were too many instances and statements by Reba to keep them all straight.

Jessie paced from the kitchen to the living room and back again. "Blast it. Where is he?" Twenty minutes turned to thirty, and her level of tension rose with the ticking of the large clock above the mantel. She took a quick peek out the window, but Matt's car still wasn't there, and neither was he. "Well, this is a first. He's always punctual. Darn it. Why now?" she mused. Flipping the porch light on, she glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time. A few minutes later, the sound of him at the door sent her dashing to let him in.

"The restaurant was busy tonight. I hope you're up for Chinese. We haven't had it in a while." As he bent to kiss her, she turned her head, and he got her cheek. "Is everything all right?" He placed the bag on the table.

"I guess." She leaned against the counter.

He raised his brows. "You don't know. It's not a hard question, sweetheart. You're either all right or you're not."

"No, no, I mean I'm okay. We need to talk." She took a deep breath to calm herself and grabbed two plates out of the cabinet. She held them loosely between her fingers and thumb.

"What's up?" He stared at her with a perplexed look on his face. His hand reached for the plates. "Are you sure you're feeling okay? Let me take these before you drop them."

"What? Oh." She watched him take the plates from her limp hand. She nodded. "Here goes," she said under her breath. "I was running the path the cross-country running club runs each day near the school. Coach Harmon asked me to run with them and set the pace. I think I failed miserably today."

"Teen boys and a beautiful woman running with them is an idea probably doomed to failure from the start." Matt chuckled.

"I wasn't running only with the boys. There were girls, too." She scrunched her face as she blew out a loud breath, lost for a moment in her train of thought. "It doesn't matter anyway." She waved it off. "I forgot all about pacing after I heard the woman's screams, and no one else had heard her." She frowned. "Not screams exactly, more like screeches. Edgy, high, piercing, and having the same effect on me like fingernails on a chalkboard."

"Stop right there. What woman?" His motion halted with the plates in midair.

"I'm getting to that part of the story. Stop interrupting me," she snapped. Glancing away from him, Jessie slapped her hand to her forehead. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to answer you that way. I'm still a little rattled by it all." She proceeded to tell him about what had happened with the ghost and the stories about Elizabeth that she'd read.

Setting the plates on the table, he sat on the edge of the chair. A sad look crossed his face. "I'm happy you know. Remember, I told you on your birthday I had a girlfriend murdered years ago. Now that the news is out, I want you to know you're the only person I've ever wanted to talk with about Lizzy."

"There's no time like the present." She rested her arms on the back of the chair, uneasiness settling over her. Lizzy's pretty face came to mind as she recalled the photo.

"I have no idea where to begin." He propped his arms on the table, resting his cheek against his fist. He started and then stopped to gather his thoughts. She could almost hear the words tumbling around in his mind.

"You can start wherever you want," she said, noting the weariness in his eyes. How had she missed it earlier?

"Lizzy was my girlfriend through most of high school. We thought we were in love but had no clue what our feelings meant besides our raging hormones. Mostly mine, I guess." He raked his hand through his hair. "After her body was discovered in the woods, it was one of the worst days of my life." He lowered his head, his voice flat. "I'm sure you saw I was the main suspect from the beginning. Handcuffed and put in the back of a police cruiser. The memory still disturbs me to this day."

"You must've been scared." She dropped in the chair across from him. This part of the story had shaken her to the core as she read it. But she knew him, and there was no way he could hurt anyone. She studied him. How many interviews had she done where she'd heard those exact words said by relatives of a convicted killer? She sighed inwardly.

"I couldn't believe people would think I could ever hurt her. I grew up in this town, and they knew me. Hell, I was the good kid. I played by all the rules." He leaned back in his chair. "There are plenty of killers who declare their innocence who are guilty, but I wasn't one of them. Getting mad is what saved me."

"What do you mean?"

"I was scared, and fear made me passive." He looked thoughtful. "While sitting in the interview room, I realized the police could quite possibly find me guilty of something I didn't do. The police pressed me for a confession. Wanted me to admit to a crime I didn't commit. You could say it was my wake-up call. My fear turned to anger, and I knew I had to convince them I was innocent."

She reached for his hand and covered it with hers. "That was a lot for you to deal with as a teenager. How'd you get through it?"

"My parents were my biggest supporters along with Coach Mac. Dad hired a private investigator who thought the authorities were trying to railroad me. He's the one who found out about someone else's DNA at the scene. Using their timeline, he also proved I had a solid alibi. I was practicing with the football team at the time Lizzy was murdered."

"The article I read said that the police exonerated you early on, but they never arrested anyone. Is that right?" She blinked, as her mind rushed ahead to more questions.

Matt nodded. "I was never charged. My file and record of arrest were expunged."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"It's like the events on record never happened, and in my case, the file was destroyed. I never would've got into the academy if it hadn't been." He stretched his legs out in front of him. "The lead officer on the case apologized to the family, and I was sent home with my parents, but only after my father threatened them with a lawsuit for false arrest. Truthfully, I think that's why Chief Anderson trained me personally after I moved back to town. He was trying to make it up to me."

"Did the police ever suspect anyone else?"

"Not that I know of. I was the easy target, and after my guilt didn't pan out, it seemed like the police stopped searching. I'm sure that's not true, but at the time it seemed that way to me." He paused holding her gaze. "The people in town speculated for a while. Everyone became a potential suspect. In the end, the hottest theory was that a transient murdered her and moved on."

"What do you think?"

"The town's theory was too convenient. But it's equally hard for me to imagine anyone who knew her would have ever wanted to hurt Elizabeth. She was a sweet girl. Of course, I've wondered all these years who killed her, but no one ever came to mind. It made no sense then or now either." He shrugged his shoulders.

"No clue at all?" she asked. She tried to imagine a young Matt and his pretty girlfriend. Green with envy, not her, not ever. Green wasn't her color. Her pep talk wasn't working.

"Oh, I speculated like everyone else, but I was in high school, and my world had been turned upside down. Hell, before she was killed, my greatest worry was completing a pass for a touchdown and trying to survive my English class." He leaned his head back, closing his eyes. "I never stopped thinking about it, checking the evidence, but maybe I'm too close to the situation to see it clearly."

"What did you hear from her friends?" Her fingers drummed quietly on the tabletop.

"At first, most of them wouldn't talk to me, as you can imagine. Rumors were flying around. No one knew what was fact or fiction. After a while, the kids accepted me again, but not before it destroyed a few relationships." He moved his hand back and forth on the edge of the table. "All I can remember is that it was weird."

"People always suspect the worst. I guess, even our friends." Under the chair, her foot shook restlessly trying to keep up with the thoughts racing through her mind.

"Until I led the team to the state championships and, as teens' fickle natures would have it, I was a freaking hero again."

"Strange how that works. I think we have short memories while we're young." She paused. Jessie studied his body language. The pain was written on his face. How could she help him remember the details without them hurting him again? "Is Elizabeth's death one of the reasons you became a police officer?"

"In a way. I always wanted to solve her murder, and yet in many ways, I wanted to forget about it." He shook his head. "Try to make sense out of that if you can."

"I get it," she said, and he smiled. "Welcome to my world."

"I bet you do." His brows furrowed. "I often wondered what would have happened to me if I had been charged. Innocent people are sometimes found guilty."

"I know." Her voice softened. "I've done stories about a few."

"I was one of the lucky ones. People fought for me." Matt stroked her hand.

"Thankfully, you had them. Many don't." She laced her fingers through his.

"Can you see why after Lizzy's death, I found it hard to be serious about another girl? Don't get me wrong. I've had girlfriends and dated, but I could never let myself get serious."

"I understand." She leaned back in the chair, picturing Lizzy's captivating smile. "She was lovely."

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Excerpted from "Finding a Way Forward"
by .
Copyright © 2019 Iona Morrison.
Excerpted by permission of The Wild Rose Press, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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