To Tell a Tale (Season One)

“What is your family, some kind of cult?” Smitty asked, looking at Mr. Williams.

Nash held back a chuckle. He feels much better than he had when he entered the kitchen. Maybe he should have held Airianna, to begin with.

“Not a cult, so much as a clan,” Mr. Williams said as he picked up the phone.

“A coven,” Smitty said, looking at Nash.

Mr. Williams looked at them and rolled his eyes. “We’re not witches,” he said, then turned back to the phone. “Hello, Mother. Detective Jackman needs to speak with you.”

Mr. Williams pressed the speaker button and placed the phone on the table.

“Detective Jackman, how nice to hear from you again.”

“Mrs. Williams,” Nash said, looking at the phone.

“How may I be of service?”

“Airianna found another painting linked to the case we are working on. That makes three victims, two of them, many years ago.”

“What of the most recent painting?”

“The girl is missing; we haven’t found a body—yet. We are hoping to find her before that.”

“What is it you want from me?”

“I don’t know, ma’am. I got this sick feeling and ran straight to Mr. Williams. He said you would know what was going on.”

“Ah, yes.”

Nash could hear rustling in the phone’s background and waited for the woman to speak again.

“You are looking for more connections.”

“Uhm, I’m not sure what….”

“I am telling you what you are looking for, not asking.”

Nash closed his eyes. He was glad Mr. Williams kept Airianna out of the family side of things.

“Why did I get a sick feeling?” Nash asked.

“Because you are connected to my granddaughter, and the fates are telling you where to look. My son has my address; I would like you to come to my house in thirty minutes.”

“I don’t think….”

“I didn’t ask for my granddaughter to come, just you. Now, take me off speaker.”

Jeremy Williams picked up the phone, took it off speaker, and held it to his ear. “Yes, Mother?”

“I want you to make sure the detective comes to my house in thirty minutes. Don’t worry; I won’t scare him away from the girl. I know what he needs, and I will provide it for him. Now, you have a question for me. What is it?”

Jeremy looked at the two detectives, then slipped out the back door. He walked to the shed and took a deep breath.

“She’s getting close to the detective. After what he did to her….”

“Don’t worry so much, Son; she is with who she is meant to be with.”

“But Mother, if she was with the family, you would have chosen her mate.”

“Is that how you see it?”

“That’s how you got with Dad. Grandmother found him and told you to marry him.”

His mother laughed, not a wicked witch-like laugh, a gentle motherly laugh.

“My dear son, is this why you have kept my granddaughter from me?”

“One of the reasons,” he grumbled.

She took in a deep breath and let it out. “I was in love with your father when my mother decided it was time for us to wed. Do you not remember me telling you that he is my muse? That is who we are meant to be with. The one person in the world who can cure us of our drought and bring light into our life.”

“Drought?” he asked, puzzled.

His mother chuckled. “That is what your daughter was in when she didn’t paint for a month.”

“But father always told me how your mother forced you two to get married right away….”

“Because I was pregnant with your sister,” his mother admitted.

Jeremy paused and stared at the door of the shed. “You mean you chose father?”

“Of course I did. What do you think we are, some kind of cult?”

Jeremy laughed. Relief flooding his system.

“Are you relieved?” his mother asked, a smile in her voice.

“A bit. But you still can’t see her.”

His mother laughed. “You are more like us than I thought. Goodbye, Son; I love you.”

“Goodbye, Mother. I love you too.”

Jeremy held the phone in his hand as he thought about his mother’s words. His parents had married because they’d conceived his older sister, not because her parents forced her into an unwanted marriage. He frowned. He’d known all his life about his older sister but never knew she was why his parents were forced to marry before they were ready. Though even when their daughter was stillborn, they stayed together.

His older sister was a sore topic with his parents. Still, they never treated him differently, even though he was born without the gift. His mother always said that there was a reason he was born. Thoughts of his daughter made him smile, and he knew why he was born.

~🔮~

Nash stepped out of his cruiser and looked at the large mansion before him. Damn, he didn’t know the Williams family was so wealthy. The front door opened, and a tall, smiling woman with eyes as grey as Airianna’s stepped out.

“Detective Jackman.”

“Ma’am.” He nodded to her as he closed his door and headed toward her.

“I have the answers you seek.” She held the door open for him.

Nash paused before he entered the house. He had left Smitty at Airianna’s house to watch over her while he adventured to the unknown.

The foyer was huge. Paintings of what seemed to be family members around the room and a large chandelier hung from the ceiling. The furniture around the room looked antique, something you would find in a mansion like this.

“Please, come with me.” Mrs. Williams motioned toward a door across from them.

Nash followed the older woman, who didn’t look older than forty—let alone old enough to have a son in his forties. Her hair was still light brown, like her granddaughter’s. In fact—she looked like an older version of Airianna.

“Here is your answer.” She opened her arms to showcase the room they entered. “Is this not what you were looking for?”

Nash froze when he saw the paintings surrounding him. There were at least a dozen of the same scene, only a different girl in each one.

“What is this?” he whispered.

“The answer to your question. Yes, I dreamed of the same killer as my granddaughter.”

Nash looked at each painting. They were similar to Airianna’s, with a bit of a different stroke. The only thing he found missing was the compass.

“Airianna’s paintings have a compass in them, each in a different location on the painting, but the same compass. She believes them to be clues.”

Mrs. Williams smiled. “She’s brilliant; she takes after my son.”

He turned to her. “Why does your son keep you from your granddaughter?”

He wanted the truth and knew Mr. Williams would never give the whole truth.

Mrs. Williams sighed as she walked around the room and looked at each painting.

“His wife was a non-believer. That’s the reason he gave me…” she paused and turned to him.

“And after his wife died?”

“The same reasons, only then he was honest with me. He doesn’t want Airianna to live the life of a seer. He wants her to be in control of her own life. If she joined us, she would….” She turned back to her paintings and pointed to them. “I have these dreams, just as my granddaughter does, but I am not allowed to share them with a living soul. It is the law of a seer….”

“How are you able to show me, then?”

She looked at him and grinned. “Because you are a muse. You are part of our world.”

Nash looked at her as if she had grown a second or maybe a third head.

“I’m a what?”

“You are destined to be with my granddaughter… oh, you will figure it out.” She chuckled and went back to looking at her paintings.

Nash wasn’t through with his questions, but he could tell she was through answering them. He looked at one of the paintings and noticed something on the ground beside the victim. He moved closer and found that it was a pocket watch.

“There’s a watch here.” He pointed to the golden watch.

“Yes.” She nodded. “Each painting has the watch, each one a different time.”

Nash looked at the watch and saw that it showed three p.m. He looked for one in the next painting and found it beside a large rock in the background. It read four p.m.

“They are all within the same timeline. Between three p.m. and five p.m.,” she said, watching him.

He turned to her. “Why are Airianna’s clues a compass?”

She smiled at him. “I think you can figure that out on your own, Detective. Look at the front, see if they are the same or different, like the pocket watches.” She turned to her own paintings and sighed. “I hope you catch the bastard. I have been dreaming about him and his victims for many years.”

Nash nodded. “This should help. Thank you for showing me.”

She looked at him and smiled. “I am happy to help you and my granddaughter.”

“I’ll have Mr. Williams call you if we have more questions.”

She nodded. “Take care of my granddaughter.”

He smiled. “I plan to.”

Mrs. Williams walked him to the front door; Nash paused and turned to her.

“I do have one more question.”

She studied his face for a moment, then nodded. “I am listening.”

“My captain told us a story about your ancestor saving his ancestor. Why was she able to help, but you cannot?”

She smiled at him, and Nash felt something deep in his gut. Something happened that he may not want to hear. But he listened anyway.

“I would love to meet your captain if he is indeed the descendant of the young girl my great-great-grandmother saved. When my ancestor saved the girl, she showed the people her painting and told them she had dreamed of the girl’s death. The girl’s family was very accepting—after all, she’d saved their daughter. But the town, they thought my great-great-grandmother a witch. Unknown to the girl and her family, they burned her at the stake. After that, my family made a rule that no one outside the family—except a muse—may ever see our paintings again.”

Nash swallowed. “What did your family do to the town?”

Mrs. Williams smiled. “We fled to a new country. It took many decades for us to return to our birthplace. Now, you go help my granddaughter solve those mysteries.”

~🔮~

Nash stepped up onto the porch of the Williams’ small house and smiled when the door opened. Airianna came flying out and into his arms.

“I was so worried something would happen to you,” she mumbled against his chest.

Nash chuckled as he held her. He looked up at his partner and Airianna’s father and nodded.

“What did she want?” Smitty asked.

“I will explain everything inside.” Nash moved Airianna so he could lead her inside.

They gathered in the art room, and he told them of his visit with the Williams seer. He didn’t tell them about his questions or her answers—but told them about her paintings and their clues.

“So my grandmother paints clues, too,” Airianna whispered.

“Mrs. Williams’ clues tell us the timeline the jackoff kills them, but what does the compass in Airianna’s paintings tell us?” Smitty wondered aloud.

“She said to look at each one?” Airianna asked, looking at Nash.

Nash nodded, and she went to her paintings, squinting as she looked hard at the compass in each painting.

“Oh my God, why didn’t I see this before?”

All three men moved closer to Airianna and her paintings. She pointed to the compass in one painting and then the one in the other.

“Each one is the exact same. Look, they all point south.”

“That must mean the property is to the south, but the south of what?” Smitty wondered, looking at each painting carefully.

“To the south of Airianna,” Mr. Williams said from behind them.

“Where were you when you painted them?” Nash asked, looking at Airianna.

He noticed the look on her face and knew she hadn’t heard him. He repeated his question, and she took him to the exact spot she was when she painted the paintings.

“This is where I always am when I paint.”

“So then south—is that way.” Nash turned around and pointed south of Airianna’s position at the easel.

“Looks like we have a direction to head in, but how do we know where it is?” Smitty wondered.

“If they all point south, then I think you should continue south until you come across something from her paintings,” Mr. Williams suggested.

“Brilliant,” Airianna said, reading her father’s lips.

Smitty smiled. “I’ll tell the captain.”

“You are so brilliant.” Nash pulled Airianna into his arms.

“I know,” she said, a smirky smile on her beautiful face.

Nash leaned forward and kissed Airianna. She instantly melted into his arms.

“Let’s go. Captain says to call when we find the place, and he’ll send backup,” Smitty said as he stepped back into the room.

Nash pulled away from the kiss and smiled down at Airianna. “I’ve got to go. I will see you when this is all over.”

“I’m going with you,” Airianna said, watching Nash closely.

“NO,” Nash and Mr. Williams said at the same time.

Airianna frowned when her hearing aids picked up both men’s thundering voices.

“But you let me go when you checked out her apartment.”

“That was different,” Nash said, ensuring she could read his lips.

There is no way in hell she’s going with them. It is almost three o’clock, and it is the third day. Hopefully, they find the place in time to save her. If they don’t, not only does he not want Airianna to see her dream come to life, but he doesn’t want to take the chance of the man still being there and deciding it was time to switch to brunets.

“But…”

Nash kissed her to silence her. She melted in his arms, as he knew she would. Silencing her with kisses was becoming a full-time job, but he wasn’t complaining.

“I promise to give you a detailed report when we return,” he said, looking deep into her grey eyes.

Airianna sighed in defeat. “Okay.”

He smiled at her, and her heart skipped a beat. He quickly kissed the tip of her nose, then headed out of her art room.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be fine,” her father said, smiling down at her.

She nodded. She knows she can’t always be there to help them, and they’re good at their job, but what if one of these times something terrible happened, and she could have saved them?

“Don’t think such negative thoughts.” Her father frowned.

She looked at her with wide eyes.

He grinned. “I can read your face, not your mind.”

She nodded. “What if…”

“No—what ifs. Let’s go prepare supper; they will be hungry when they get back.”

Airianna followed her father from the room, a puzzled look on her face.

When had he joined Club Detective Nash Jackman?