Page 55 of The Aura Answer
He tore open Larraine’s package in frustration—a stack of magazine-size high school yearbooks from different decades. He flipped open the newest one from fifteen years ago. Why had Larraine chosen that one? The images were all black and white. With only about a hundred students in all four classes, the books were paperbound. He flipped through, looking for familiar names since the faces of pimply, long-haired teenagers rang no bells.
Teddy Turlock Jr. was in the senior class fifteen years ago. Unlike the floppy curtain of hair or spiked and bleached styles so many of his male classmates sported, he wore a traditional barbered cut, parted to one side. He was one of the very few wearing a tie and jacket. Obviously, the lawyer’s son intended to follow in his daddy’s footsteps. What had happened? As far as Jax was aware, Teddy Jr. ran a sporting goods store these days.
Right beside him were two identical Shepherds, Matthew and Mark. Jax didn’t know the names of the brothers living out on the farm, but he assumed this was them. They had all the earmarks of jocks, shaved hair, big shoulders, wearing what appeared to be football jerseys. Did Afterthought even have sports teams?
He flipped to the back for group photos. There was the... very small... football team. They’d been on a losing streak that year it appeared. And there were the Shepherds, front and center. Looked like Teddy Jr. played baseball, but that was a losing team as well.
Whoever once owned this yearbook hadn’t had anyone sign the photos or pages in back. Maybe it came from the school library.
He flipped to the front again, looking for more familiar names. He didn’t find any until the freshman year. There was Tobias Block, the former mayor’s son. He’d worn his light hair floppy with styled highlights. He wore a coat but no tie, halfway between his former preppy self and his new high school persona, Jax assumed, remembering Evie had said he’d attended a private school originally. He must have made the football team the next year because he recalled Toby had been a football hero at some point.
His gaze fell on one of the cheerleaders... buxom, long wavy hair that didn’t look blond or black... He scanned the caption for a familiar name—Verity Janus. Huh. Evie hadn’t mentioned the gallery owner or her daughter living in Afterthought. He flipped back to the front and found her in the same year as Toby. That would have made them both about fifteen. Evie would only have been eleven, her sister thirteen and in middle school, so they might not have known Verity if she left after that year.
Out of excess curiosity, he left the yearbook open and braved the front parlor where Evie’s mother and aunts were repacking boxes. “Does Evie have a high school yearbook?”
They all sat back, wrinkled their noses in almost an identical manner, and gave his question some thought. As if they’d been mentally consulting, the aunts went back to work and left Mavis to reply.
“The girls were all about the same age, so we bought one yearbook for all of them. There were plenty of blank pages in back. They each had a page for their friends to write on. Evie graduated last, so she had her senior yearbook to herself. It should be around somewhere.” She waved vaguely.
Which meant it was probably packed in one of the many boxes Evie had removed from their bedroom and stored who-knows-where. Oh well, it had been a thought.
He texted Evie with a question about Verity Janus and went on a hunt for Albert Walker.
Bertie showed up in a yearbook from twenty-five years ago. He’d been a sophomore. Kids that age were all unprepossessing but Bertie even more so: lank hair that looked as if it hadn’t been washed in weeks, a dark T-shirt with probably the name of a band on it, a ring in one ear, and what appeared to be a hand-inked tattoo of a shooting star on his cheekbone. It wasn’t easy to tell from the old black-and-white photo, but the tattoo might have been right below the remains of a real shiner.
He flipped to the group photos. The only place he found Bertie’s name was as set designer for the school play. But the nameLarry Wardcaught his eye in the same photo as one of the actors. All he had to do was look for the tallest kid in the photo and there was their current mayor, dreadlocks and all. Jax wasn’t familiar with the play and had no idea what character Larry was playing. Had transgender kids used the designation “they” back then? Probably not. Larry preferred “she” these days, but they hadn’t transitioned in high school.
Checking the front pages, there Larry was in the senior photos—still presenting as male, wearing what appeared to be a tailored jacket to fit their skinny shoulders, an open-collared shirt of indeterminate color—probably pink, knowing the mayor—and a braided necklace that probably matched the beads in their dreads. They made a very pretty boy, but the expression was sullen.
And here’s what he’d been looking for, although Jax hadn’t been overtly conscious until he saw the photo—Ralph Rhodes,the high school bully. The judge looked like any average kid, nondescript features, hair slicked back, wearing shirt and tie butno jacket. Jax went to the group photos but couldn’t find Rhodes in any of them. Afterthought didn’t have a debate or chess club or any of those things he’d associate with the judge. Ah, but thegun club... There he was, top point scorer on his team. The judge could shoot.
Sammy was in that photo too. Would he have had a gun at the Barn? Had the thief taken it?
He returned to Teddy Jr.’s yearbook of the younger group, but by then, the gun club had apparently gone off the grid in favor of football and baseball.
Larraine had said hers was a mean-spirited class. Besides the mayor, Rhodes, Bertie, and Sammy, Jax didn’t recognize any other names in this group. They’d all be in their forties now... Two were dead. What had happened to the others?
He forgot idle speculation when Toby showed up at the door with the box of his father’s effects.
Twenty-One
Evie hidbehind tall Iddy as Franklin Layman talked to Mrs. Janus. The man radiated bad vibes without her even turning on her extra sense. Tall, his paunch almost concealed by a tailored gray suit, his bulk making two of the skinny gallery owner, he leaned intimidatingly over the small corner desk.
Evie wanted out, now, but this opportunity might never happen again. Clasping Iddy’s arm, she let herself go space-eyed.
Mrs. Janus’s root chakra was a strong red survival color. Evie assumed that meant she’d conquered hard times and would do whatever was necessary to survive. Likelihood was high that she was short-tempered and a bit of a bully, or at the least, pushy. Normally, artistic types might have bright pink, but there was no sign of it beneath the shimmering red.
Blue in her fifth chakra probably reflected her ability to communicate, which made her a good salesperson, but the muddy shade meant she wasn’t communicating truth, for whatever reason. Evie would have to know her better to understand if she hid a fear of rejection—possibly from Layman—or if she was lying to her potential clients or her boyfriend. Interesting.
Evie dug her fingers into Iddy’s arm and reluctantly turned to Layman. His aura had been dark even before she’d turned on her sensitivity. She winced at all the muddy shades sifting through an extremely strong rainbow of color. He definitely had a dull sheen to his red, signaling an irritable nature and suppressed fury. His life energy was an equally harsh yellow—dishonesty, a tendency to gamble, a cold, sarcastic nature. Ugh.
And yeah, there was the ugly dense blue in his fifth chakra reflecting an opinionated, intolerant nature. Mayor Block had that streak. It hadn’t been pretty.
But Evie’s ability couldn’t show blood dripping from Layman’s hands or any other sign that he was a killer. He was just a cold, ambitious man. They already knew that.
When she returned to the real world, Evie was surprised to see Nick talking to Mrs. Janus. She’d known he was here, but she’d hoped he was in back taking photos of Bertie’s sketches. He’d left Gracie alone?
That made her unreasonably nervous. What if Verity was one of the bad guys?
