Eighteen Kisses

  Eighteen Kisses

  Laura Jane Cassidy

  Jacki King loves being back in Dublin – she's enjoying the music scene and interning at "Electric" magazine. She still has flashbacks to the murder case she solved the year before, though her friends, especially Nick, keep her distracted. Until, one day, Jacki's frightening nightmares begin again. And when the police contact her about a local missing girl, she knows the two are connected. Two years before, on her eighteenth birthday, Kayla Edwards disappeared. No body has ever been found. But now Kayla is communicating with Jacki from beyond the grave – and she won't stop until the truth is revealed…

  Laura Jane Cassidy

  Eighteen Kisses

  © 2012

  For my grandparents:

  Paddy and Frances May

  Mary and the late Patrick Cassidy

  with love

  Prologue

  Last month I met eighteen people.

  I admired seven of them,

  I envied two,

  I angered four,

  I liked three,

  I hated one.

  And I kissed another.

  Chapter 1

  Part of me knew I was dreaming, and that part told me to pay attention. I’d been waiting for this. Ever since Sergeant Lawlor had given me the photographs a few weeks ago, I’d been expecting one of the women to contact me. And now it was happening.

  We walked behind a red car. It was moving slowly, steadily. The windscreen wiper swung back and forth, sweeping away the pelting rain. I looked around, but I hadn’t a clue where we were. I scanned for landmarks, hoping to see something that might help me to identify this place. I couldn’t let any important information slip away. But I could see nothing apart from the narrow road and the thick undergrowth on either side of it.

  She walked right beside me – any closer and our shoulders would’ve been touching. I watched her from the corner of my eye. A Polaroid camera hung from her neck, clinking against the buttons of her polka-dot dress. She wore the same outfit as in the photograph, but she looked even prettier now. She had a small face, full lips, beautiful eyes and deep red hair. She wore fishnet tights and stilettos that clip-clopped on the tarmac. I looked down at my own shoes: torn pink Converse that soaked up the rain. My feet were horribly cold. Looking back on it, this dream was much clearer than the ones I’d had last year. Everything was sharper, much more intense.

  I continued to watch her as we walked, but she didn’t look at me. She just stared straight ahead, her eyes fixed on the boot of the car. Someone had tried to cover the licence plate with plastic, but it was starting to fall away. I could see the last two digits – one and eight. You don’t cover your licence plate unless you have something to hide.

  I looked around again, storing away every little detail. We were somewhere remote. I could hear no sound except for the hum of the engine, the clinking of the camera, the clip-clop of the heels. There were no road markings, no street lamps. If it hadn’t been for the car lights, we would’ve been in complete darkness. We were on a back road somewhere, probably in the countryside. We followed the car for what seemed like an eternity, but it may have only been for a few seconds. That’s the problem with dreams – you can’t tell how much time has passed.

  The car stopped abruptly and we stopped too. There was complete silence.

  This was the kind of place where you could hear a pin drop, the kind of place where nobody could hear you scream. The driver’s door opened. The radio was on low – a Cure song was barely audible through the speakers. A man got out of the car. He was wearing denims, a black jumper and a balaclava. I let out a frightened gasp.

  I quickly covered my mouth to mute any more sound that might come out. I was shaking all over, but I tried to stay perfectly still. He looked around and glanced straight in my direction. But it soon became obvious that he had neither seen nor heard me. He was oblivious to both of us. He took a torch from his pocket and flicked it on, a blue beam illuminating the ground in front of him. He took another look around, then opened the boot and pulled out a heaving bin bag. He swung it over his shoulder and hurried across the road, struggling a little under the weight. In his haste the bag tore and an arm dropped out, pale and limp, the fingernails painted bright red. I felt panic rise inside me, but I had to stay calm. I took a deep breath. Focus, Jacki, focus. He moved away from the car and over a low stone wall. We followed as he trudged along, occasionally letting out a grunt or a sigh. I couldn’t stop looking at the arm. We walked through unkempt grass for a long time, then the dream seemed to fast-forward – the surroundings suddenly switched, and we were standing beside a barbed-wire fence. The grass was so long that it almost reached my knees. I looked around, but the man was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Where’d he go?’ I said. She didn’t reply. She smiled and completely ignored my question, as if I’d never said it. I squinted my eyes, searching for him in the distance, but all I saw was blackness.

  ‘Let me take your picture,’ she said. This startled me; I hadn’t expected her to speak. Her voice was strangely similar to mine. She looked young too; she couldn’t have been much older than me. She held up the Polaroid camera and I stepped backwards, smiling awkwardly. The flash blinded me, sending little coloured dots dancing in front of my eyes. Then I heard something in the distance, a siren maybe. I suddenly felt dizzy and stumbled a little. Something was wrong. I felt the ground tremble, then the grass started to move under us like waves. I struggled to keep my balance, bracing myself for a fall. This can’t happen, I thought. I had to focus. I looked over at her; she was still smiling. She looked so calm, as if this was completely normal. I started to panic when I stumbled again, my hand narrowly missing the barbed wire. The dream was closing in on itself. The sky plummeted, stars dropping like bombs beside our feet. A sound from the outside was threatening to wake me up. It wasn’t a siren I’d heard, it was my phone alarm. The dream was ending too soon. There was more to come, I was sure of it. I knew I didn’t have long left, so I took one last look around, but everything was in chaos. As it all collapsed around us, she whispered.

  ‘Careful… You’re standing on my grave.’

  Chapter 2

  I could hear my phone, but I couldn’t see it. It was getting louder; if I didn’t find it soon it was going to wake Hannah up. It had escaped from under my pillow and was now lost somewhere amidst all the clothes and magazines on Hannah’s floor. I leaned over from the fold-out bed and searched through the clutter, eventually locating the phone and pushing the silence button as quickly as I could. I was so annoyed that it had dragged me out of the dream. But I was happy to be waking up in Dublin. I’d missed the city and my friends there ever since I’d moved to Avarna.

  ‘Why… so… early?’ groaned Hannah from underneath her duvet. She emerged a few moments later, remnants of last night’s make-up under her eyes, her dark brown hair in messy waves. She’s one of those people who looks impossibly pretty, even when they’ve just woken up.

  ‘Sorry for waking you,’ I said. ‘I’ve to meet somebody in town. You get some sleep, I’ll be back soon.’

  Last night, after I’d finished my set in Whelan’s, Hannah and I had come straight back here and spent the rest of the night chatting and eating chocolate with some really bad horror movie on in the background. I usually sleep at Gran’s when I’m up in Dublin because I have my own room there, but I also like crashing at Hannah’s and staying up insanely late. I’d only had a few hours’ sleep, but I wasn’t tired. Anticipation was keeping me awake. Sergeant Lawlor had asked to see me this morning. He knew I was up in Dublin this weekend to play a gig, and we’d arranged to meet in the city centre. It was a little unnerving, how he always seemed to know my whereabouts. And also that he wante
d me to get started so soon. Unnerving – but exciting nonetheless.

  ‘Who are you meeting?’ asked Hannah.

  ‘Just a guy,’ I said casually.

  ‘Oh?’ She suddenly perked up.

  ‘Not in that way,’ I said, searching for my wash bag. ‘I already have a boyfriend, remember?’

  ‘You need a better one,’ she said flatly, sinking back underneath the covers. I chose to let that particular comment slide. I didn’t want to argue with her, especially not at 9 a.m. I put my phone safely on the bedside table, next to the worn copy of An Actor Prepares that Hannah carried everywhere. I watched as she shuffled about in the bed, trying to get back into a comfy position. Hannah disliked Nick, probably because she’d heard too much of the bad stuff. Hannah and I are very close, and so she is one of the first people I turn to when things go wrong. Over the past eight months she’d received ranting phone calls chronicling the disappointments, misunderstandings and the fights involving Nick. I hadn’t told her enough about all the perfect days and the cute gifts and the incredible kisses. Also, because she lived in Dublin, she rarely saw us together. Once she got to know him better she’d realize that we’re meant for each other.

  ‘Who are you meeting then?’ asked Hannah, reaching for her own phone.

  ‘A… um… singer, from a band. I might be playing support for them.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, which band?’

  ‘Um… Almost Famous,’ I said, reading the movie poster above her head. I didn’t like lying to Hannah. Not just because I felt bad, but also because she’s a really good actress and can spot a liar a mile away. Thankfully she was too busy checking her messages to notice.

  ‘Never heard of them,’ she said. ‘Cool name though.’

  I wasn’t sure what Hannah would think if she knew who I was actually going to meet. She didn’t know that I’d helped solve a murder that had happened in Avarna. Or that Sergeant Lawlor had heard about this and asked for my help on more unsolved cases. She wasn’t even aware of my unusual abilities – I didn’t know how to tell her that I was able to communicate with murdered women. I was pretty sure she didn’t believe in ghosts, and I didn’t want her to think I was weird. On the other hand, we’d been friends for so long that she probably wouldn’t care. But Sergeant Lawlor had asked me not to tell anyone about Operation Trail, and I respected that. Colin, my best friend in Avarna, knew, of course, because I didn’t keep anything from him. And Mum. But nobody else, not even Nick.

  I had a quick shower and dried my hair, which was so much easier to manage now that I’d cut it above my shoulders and got a fringe. I’d also let Hannah bleach it even blonder last night, which I was kind of regretting now. It looked cool, but there was the possibility that Mum would throw a fit. She was four months’ pregnant and tended to have extreme emotional reactions to things. At least I hadn’t got a tattoo, so she hopefully wouldn’t be too upset. I was delighted she was expecting a baby; I really wanted a little brother or sister. But she seemed more annoyed at me than usual these days, which was kind of hard to deal with. Des, her new partner, was freakishly patient, which made my impatience even more noticeable. When Des had first moved into our house in Avarna, the dynamic had been strange. Mum and I fought in whispers and I spent way too much time over in Nick’s or Colin’s house. My dad had died of a brain tumour when I was nine, and ever since then it had just been Mum and me. So I found it difficult to get used to the idea of Des living with us. But that had only lasted a couple of weeks. Eventually we started to feel like a family and Mum started to shout at me at full volume again.

  ‘You were talking in your sleep last night,’ said Hannah as I rummaged in my satchel.

  ‘Was I?’ I tried to sound casual. I didn’t want to tell her I’d had a nightmare.

  ‘Yeah; couldn’t figure out what you were saying though. I’d never heard you talk in your sleep before.’

  ‘It’s probably cos we watched that movie,’ I said. ‘Pretty scary stuff.’ I avoided looking at Hannah after yet another lie. I busied myself by putting on my floral dress, purple leather jacket and quickly applying my make-up.

  ‘You know what’s scary,’ said Hannah. ‘School.’ I nodded as I swept on some lip gloss, relieved she’d changed the subject. ‘I don’t want to go tomorrow,’ she added.

  ‘Only three weeks left till the summer holidays,’ I said excitedly. ‘Then you can come visit me!’

  ‘Or you can visit me,’ said Hannah. She hadn’t really taken to Avarna – even the beautiful scenery hadn’t swayed her. She much preferred the city. ‘Oh, I forgot to say, I’m in a play next week, if you wanna come see it.’

  ‘What play?’ I asked.

  She hesitated, and so I immediately knew what the answer was going to be. One of the downsides of having an actress for a best friend is that you are pretty much guaranteed to see at least six productions of A Midsummer Night’s Dream in your lifetime. A Midsummer Night’s Dream set in New York. A Midsummer Night’s Dream with an all-female cast. A Midsummer Night’s Dream with robots.

  ‘This is actually a really good version,’ said Hannah, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible.

  ‘I’ll be there,’ I said with a sigh.

  ‘You won’t regret it! Well, you might… but I’ll thank you in my Oscar speech.’

  ‘Get some beauty sleep,’ I said, throwing the covers over her head.

  ‘See you later,’ she said with a giggle.

  I texted Sergeant Lawlor to ask where exactly we were going to meet.

  Ming’s, he texted back.

  That’s weird, I thought. Wasn’t it a little early for Chinese fast food? But I trusted that the strange venue was for a reason. I stepped off the tram and walked down Grafton Street.

  There were only a few people around that morning, mostly tourists pulling suitcases or staff going into shops. There was a busker playing old Irish songs near Bewley’s, and others were tuning their instruments. I love walking through Dublin early on a Sunday morning – it was one of the things I missed most about it. It’s quiet, so you kind of feel like it’s your own city – your own kingdom. I thought I’d never forgive Mum for making me move all the way to Avarna last summer, but I’d actually grown to love my new home. Yet Dublin was still my sanctuary, a place I’d always come back to.

  I passed my favourite store, Tower Records (which wasn’t open yet, so I managed to retain my streak of never passing it without going in), and crossed the road. I could see Ming’s neon sign up ahead, and for a split second I thought, Go back. Pretend this never happened. Go home, turn off your phone, go back to normality. I’d had eight months of normality, and it hadn’t been so bad. But even though it was tempting, I knew for certain that I wasn’t going to do that. It had already started; she was already here. I even had a familiar dull pain in my head – no doubt just a preview of what was to come. I knew that the torturous headaches and visions and panic attacks I’d endured last year were likely to revisit me. And last night’s dream was so clear in my mind – her whisper, soft and haunting, playing on a loop in the back of my brain. Careful. You’re standing on my grave.

  When I stepped inside the diner, it suddenly became clear why Sergeant Lawlor had picked it. The place was deserted, apart from the people working behind the counter. The decor in Ming’s was pretty minimal – the walls hadn’t been painted in years and the plastic was peeling away from the tables. I’d never been in there during the day and it was odd seeing it so quiet. Sergeant Lawlor was sitting in a booth at the back and he nodded as I closed the door behind me. He was wearing a black suit and tie and looked very official.

  ‘Hi,’ I said as I sat down across from him, dropping my satchel to the floor.

  ‘Hello, Jacki,’ he said. ‘Thanks for meeting me.’

  ‘No problem.’ I wondered if he guessed that I’d thought twice about coming. I suppose it didn’t matter; I was here now.

  ‘I ordered you a hot chocolate,’ he said. ‘Hope that’s OK?’

  ‘Yea
h… sure,’ I said, a little taken aback. How did he know about my current hot-chocolate addiction? Did he know everything about me? I decided it was probably just a lucky guess.

  ‘The team and I are delighted you’ve agreed to come on board,’ he said, shaking a packet of sugar into his paper cup. I looked at the stuff laid out in front of him on the table – a laptop, a sheet of paper and a blue folder, so full it looked like it was going to burst open.

  ‘I’m happy to help,’ I said. Although, come to think of it, I wasn’t sure what he was expecting of me. ‘Um, Sergeant Lawlor… what exactly will I be doing?’ I asked.

  ‘Call me Matt,’ he said kind of awkwardly. ‘Well, like I said on the phone, we’ll take it one case at a time. I really want to get working on this one. Let’s see what happens after that.’

  I shifted in my seat. I was feeling a little unsure of myself – I hadn’t done this professionally before.

  He hadn’t seemed to notice my discomfort, and continued. ‘The first one I’d like you to work on is the Kayla Edwards case. You know the photographs I gave you? She’s the girl with the -’

  ‘Red hair?’

  ‘… Yes.’

  ‘I dreamed about her last night,’ I explained.

  He nodded, acting casual, but I could see the mix of astonishment and fear on his face – the mixture I seemed to evoke in people whenever I talked about this kind of stuff. He hid it especially well though.

  ‘We should get started on this case straight away,’ he said. ‘If that’s OK with you?’

  ‘Yeah, sure. Deadly.’

  Deadly? That probably wasn’t the kind of word I should use when discussing a murder case. Well, technically it was a missing-person case, although I was pretty sure Kayla was dead. My dream certainly suggested that she was. I took a deep breath and tried not to feel anxious talking to Matt Lawlor. You’re helping him, remember? He had this authoritative air about him – it made me trust him, but also made me a little nervous at the same time. It was going to feel strange calling him by his first name.