Forgive Me by Kateri Stanley (love letters to the dead txt) 📗

“Many years ago,” Mary said. “I was working as an RN. He unsettled me.” His voice shuddered through her memory. Your son is very beautiful. He is. Exactly like his momma.

“That’s my dad. He was killed by the Night Scrawler when I was a teenager.”

“I remember, heard about it on the news. I didn’t pay much attention to it, not a fan of morbid stories. I’m sorry for your loss.”

She smiled off her apology. “You don’t need to be. Researching this case is like working out grief in a way.”

Mary found her words peculiar, she sounded more like a detective than a journalist. “I think digging up the past is dangerous. You might find things you wish you hadn’t.”

Stripe nodded and then she glanced to her daughter. “You’re not the first person who thinks I’m making a mistake.”

“Maybe you should listen to us...”

“I’ve considered it.”

Mary stared back at the child. The little baby girl had the same eyes and the immense dark hair. She smiled when Alex sat cross legged on the wood decking, slapping his hands together, singing and playing patty-cake with the baby. The little beauty's gaze lit up which made her pause for a short period of time. “Your daughter looks so much like my mystery boy.”

Stripe smiled softly. “Can you tell me about him?”

Mary told her the story from start to finish, trying to retell what she could remember. About her front desk shift, the hauntingly pretty pregnant woman who lost her life leaving behind her mysterious baby. She began to hesitate as she talked about her father. “I don’t want to upset you...”

Stripe shook her head. “Don’t worry. Please go ahead. My father had a lot of secrets.”

“I… didn’t trust him. He must have been having an affair with that poor young girl and got her pregnant. Bought her off or something to keep her quiet.” Mary rubbed her hands together. “She seemed like someone who was running away from God knows what. I just knew from the way she looked at me. Poor thing. When the crash team took her off to surgery, she touched my arm and uttered something. I wished I knew what she’d said to me.”

“She was running from Hell,” Stripe replied. “Drugs, failed career in the entertainment industry.” She produced another picture from her pocket. “This is her only headshot.”

Mary inspected the image. Her heart palpitated. She looked like a gothic porcelain princess with flawless skin, nothing like how she appeared when she arrived at the hospital. Can you help me?

A suspicious thought passed through her mind when she surveyed Sofia. “It’s weird seeing a ghost when she was happy. Your daughter looks like her.”

“I've noticed that too,” Stripe said. “You mentioned the baby boy. Did he look like Sofia?”

“They could be identical twins,” Mary chuckled. “But what does my story have to do with the Night Scrawler?”

“I’m not sure yet. I'm gathering a big puzzle together, trying to figure out where and if all the pieces fit.”

“I hope my piece has helped in some way.” Mary glanced at the baby. “I haven’t told anyone this story. Is my mystery baby alive? After your father took him, I was so worried.”

Stripe smiled, patting her daughter on the back. “He's alive, healthy and successful. You don't need to be concerned about him.”

Mary frowned. “I don’t understand. How do you know?”

She smirked. “It’s a long story. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Mary ushered Alex over and whispered in his ear. Her grandson nodded, disappearing inside the house. He returned holding something very precious to her. Mary looked down at the light blue blanket in his hands, she passed it to Stripe. “My mystery baby was nursed in this. I want you to have it for good luck.”

Stripe stared at her in shock. “I can’t, Mary. It’s yours.”

“I’ve kept this for many years. I’ve kept myself up at night wondering whatever happened to him and now you come along. You can’t say this isn’t fate, it has to be.” She framed her hands around Stripe’s. “It’s a gift. I don’t want it anymore. I guess I’ve been holding on to it for too long. Take it and keep meddling.”

Chapter Forty-Two

Summer 2017

Peter’s voice melted when the grogginess filled Stripe’s head. Pain scorched the inside of her nostrils and she had the sudden sensation to vomit. Her body hung forwards with her hair covering her vision like a blanket. Fire shuddered down her arm where the car had hit the van on impact, whiplash furrowed in the joints of her neck. She tried to tighten her fist, but it was weak from the injury. She winced from the ache in her wrists, the rope she'd been tied up with was tight and the son of a bitch who’d done it clearly didn’t want her going anywhere.

Faintly from the side of her head, she heard a sweet voice and the chime of a guitar. A sweet melody. It was Prince’s Purple Rain.

Every time she heard it, she was transported back to senior prom and her first love, Cameron Storms. If only she’d known the truth back then, if only she'd known what was going to happen afterwards.

“I played this song for you,” the voice said from the corner of the room, moving into the beaming light. “I hope you liked the roses I left you.”

Stripe raised her head, she knew the source of the voice and if she could get free herself, she’d kick his ass. “I did. I liked the touch with the black ribbon.”

“I try my best. Robbed the idea from your boyfriend’s blog. There was a Q & A section, and someone asked about the prom, he said he got his date a red rose wrapped in black ribbon.”

“This isn't exactly a meeting as you strongly put it. It's more like a kidnapping. You didn’t exactly stick to your story.” The figure grew into clearer focus and Stripe saw the present-day Night Scrawler in full view. “You aren’t