by Lori Zaremba
A heavy contractor’s bucket saved the day as it flew from somewhere above and struck him squarely in the chest, knocking him off balance enough for her to forget her injury and jump to her feet and move briskly toward him.
Trudy planned on landing another blow, but he blocked the haymaker punch she threw and shoved her hard against a curio cabinet full of cobwebs. The force of the impact caused the remaining glass panels to break and shatter as they hit the floor.
Trudy stepped around the cabinet and pushed it into him, creating space between them.
She could tell Mohawk Guy was pissed now, blood oozing from a nasty wound on his arm. He let go a string of obscenities that would make a lesser woman blush and kicked a cardboard shoe box in frustration, sending up a cloud of dust into the unsettled atmosphere.
A loud slam came from the rear of the house, followed by a strange and hollow screech. Ringleader decided he’d had enough and made a dash for the front door, and Trudy wasn’t surprised it wouldn’t open for him to escape.
She saw the panic in his eyes as he sprinted past her while being pummeled with trash, toward the hall window, crashing through it and landing on the sidewalk below.
She could tell Mohawk Guy considered fleeing, but something deep, dark, and ugly in his eyes kept him there.
Fear coiled in her belly as he pulled something from inside his tattered coat. Trudy’s heart stopped beating for a split second as she shielded the scar above her heart.
He snapped open the switchblade, a sick grin on his face. Somewhat relieved it wasn’t a firearm, Trudy kept her eyes steady on the long, nasty, flashing blade.
Debris flew all around them now. Trudy was pelted with something akin to marbles and held her hands up to protect her face.
She could barely make out the whine of the approaching police sirens over the racket in the house.
Sauntering toward her and swinging the knife, then struck in the temple by an empty two-liter soft drink bottle, Mohawk Guy must have concluded he had to finish the job quickly. He let out a bizarre scream like a screeching barn owl alerting its prey and came at her.
Trudy darted back as he slashed her down-filled nylon coat, releasing a spray of the feathers.
In his haste, he became sloppy, spinning and swinging the knife at her again. The kick she delivered landed on his thigh, turning him and throwing him off balance. Trudy shoved him from behind, and he stumbled on the broken spindle she used earlier. He scrambled in place while trying to catch his balance, but finally, his legs gave out. He dropped the knife with a clatter as he face-planted hard on the floor.
Trudy heard the officers’ boots as they thudded across the porch, and she grabbed the knife that skittered near her. Securing the weapon in the waistband of her jeans, she leaped on him when he tried to climb to his feet.
The energy in the room returned to normal, and the rubbish settled on the floor throughout the hall, seemingly undisturbed.
Placing her knee in the small of his back, she pulled his bloodied arm into an armbar. Trudy then kicked out her other leg, pinning him forcefully to the ground with her right shoulder. Mohawk Guy struggled but wasn’t going anywhere.
“In here!” Trudy called to the police. She was relieved to recognize several of the officers when they entered, weapons drawn. “Injured suspect on the run.” She signaled to the broken window where Ringleader had crashed and disappeared.
Trudy turned her attention to the man under her. “You weren’t as tough as I thought,” she whispered in Mohawk’s ear before getting to her feet. She relinquished him to a young cop, whose eyes were full of admiration.
Suddenly overheated, Trudy turned toward the corner and removed her coat, stepping away to compose herself. Her legs felt like jelly, and a ripple of nerves swept her body. She doubled over and rubbed her sweaty palms on her pantlegs.
“You’re okay, Trudy.” She gasped before taking a long, deep breath. “You’re okay.”
“Hicks!” She jumped at the booming voice that came from over her left shoulder. “What the hell are you doing here?”
The voice she had hoped never to hear again belonged to Chief Parker. Trudy put her hands on her hips and turned toward him. “What are you doing here, Parker? I didn’t think your old ass ever left the desk.”
The young cop snickered as he escorted Mohawk Guy out.
“When I heard your name over the radio, I had to come to see for myself. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?” He tried to be stern but had to hide his grin by turning away.
“Ah, admit it, you’ve missed me.” She embraced him and was immediately enveloped in too much Old Spice.
His cheeks red, he fiddled with his hat in his hands.
Trudy picked up her discarded coat from the floor and examined the long gash. It was beyond ruined. “I will admit it wasn’t my best decision to come here.”
“Ya think?”
He looked over as several paramedics were helping Big Boy to his feet, and he shook his head as if he wasn’t surprised she’d fought three men and won.
Trudy tried to explain why they were there and the crazy turn of events that transpired in the last hour or so as she came over to observe the scene next to him.
“I wasn’t looking for trouble.” She elbowed him in the ribs.
“Ain’t that your middle name?” He chuckled, shaking his head.
“Hicks, I’m not surprised at all that you’re still chasing ghosts.” His voice deepened with emotion as he met her eyes.
Trudy knew he was remembering the night over ten years ago when a month-long manhunt ended. An accused cop-killer ambushed Trudy while she was alone, answering a domestic call. Trudy fought the guy with everything she had before finally getting the upper hand and putting him out of his misery.
That night, Trudy swore she saw the guy’s spirit leaving his body. It had freaked her out so much that she ended up shooting a hole in the side of her squad car.
“Trudy,” Dana interrupted and pushed through the officers to reach them, “I knew you would be all right!” But her keen eyes studied Trudy intently before she wrapped her arms around her friend and hugged her tight. She held Trudy’s hand as she turned toward Chief Parker. “Hi, Chief. It looks like Trudy and I cracked another case.”
Chief Parker raised his eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest.
Dana continued. “They ran our friends through the database. It appears the yellow-haired dude is wanted in connection with several crimes, including homicide.”
Trudy shook her head. She wasn’t surprised at all. She saw the emptiness in his eyes.
Dana put her hands on her hips and smiled charmingly. “Now, can we go?”
Chief Parker burst into laughter. “Nothing ever changes with you two, does it?” He sobered and shook his head again. “Yeah, soon as I get someone to take your statements.”
With that, he slipped his pristine blue hat on his head and strolled away.
***
It was well after midnight when Trudy finally finished packing and preparing for the trip to Chicago. She and Dana stayed at the scene for a while, chatting with some of their old colleagues. Trudy enjoyed the banter and gentle ribbing with the cops as they talked shop. She was surprised when a few officers approached her about her new line of work and spoke openly of their own strange experiences.
Heading to the bathroom to tackle coloring her hair, she rubbed her sore shoulder. She knew by morning there would be a nasty bruise. Trudy made Dana promise not to tell anyone about the eventful evening they had, especially Leslie Engler, Trudy’s overprotective best friend. She didn’t need a lecture for the seven hours it would take them to get to Chicago.
She hoped she hadn’t made a mistake by begging Leslie, a non-believer of anything paranormal, to help her in this case. Time was limited, Leslie was free, and Trudy needed another body to help with the investigation.
Truthfully, Leslie was an attorney and quite used to doing research, and her sharp attention to det
ail would be a real asset.
Letting out a long sigh and applying the last of the hair color to her curls, she allowed the events from tonight sink in. Trudy knew she and Dana had been lucky to get out of there unscathed. Thanking God that none of the attackers had a gun, her hand rose involuntarily to touch the slight scar on her chest, a mere inch above her heart, a cold reminder of why she left the police force in the first place—a reminder she wasn’t invincible.
Settled in her favorite chair at the kitchen table, with her shoulder-length hair safely tucked under a plastic cap while the dye did its magic, she poured herself a glass of red wine. Putting on her leopard-patterned cheaters, Trudy looked over the list she made earlier and was happy to see that her to-dos were mostly checked off, including a trip to the grocery store for her son.
Trudy massaged the bridge of her nose as she let out a slow breath. She knew Aaron didn’t want to spend the next couple of weeks with his dad and stepmother. He felt he was old enough to stay on his own while his mother was away, enjoying twenty-four hours of video games fueled by Mountain Dew and stale Doritos.
With a little moan, Trudy laid her head on her arms. She sympathized with Aaron. She knew he still held on to the hope that she and Michael would find a way to get back together. Even after Michael’s marriage to Emily, he was still optimistic and didn’t bother to hide his resentment when he had to spend time with the couple.
She closed her eyes and tried to push any worries from her mind. Aaron, who was the love of her life, would be okay. He was straight-A smart and sweet-natured, but like his mother…stubborn. He was everything a parent could ask for in a son.
Peeking up at the clock on the stovetop, Trudy made a mental note as to when she needed to rinse the cream from her hair then once again buried her face in her arms…
“Mom!”
“What?” She lifted her head off the table and scowled up at Aaron. “Oh, I must have fallen asleep.” The cobwebs of sleep were dispersing. “Oh, no. What time is it?”
Looking at the clock, she realized it was 5:00 a.m.
“My hair!” She ran into the bathroom, jumped into the shower, and frantically started rinsing her hair.
The dye ran like cranberry juice down the drain.
Chapter 2
Trudy cranked up the volume. Korn played on the satellite radio. “Freak On A Leash,” the perfect song to accompany her chaotic thoughts.
Pulling in front of Leslie’s Shadyside home, she set the navigation to the South Calumet Avenue address in Chicago and pulled on a dark knit cap to hide her fuchsia hair.
Aaron couldn’t stop giggling every time he looked her way when she dropped him off at his father’s a few minutes ago. Even Michael, who never had a sense of humor, gave a bark of laughter when he saw her.
Opening the door to the van, she was greeted by Leslie’s dog Jasmine. “Hi, baby girl. Are you ready to go bye-byes with your Aunt Trudy?” She rubbed her hands over the long golden fur, and Jasmine blessed her with a full-on golden retriever hug. Strong front legs wrapped around her neck while a wet snout knocked the cap from her head, and with perfect timing, Leslie arrived.
“What the piss did you do to your hair?” Turning around, Trudy caught the look of disbelief on Leslie’s face. “Oh, my…” Leslie’s eyes filled with tears as she tried to control her mirth. “Is that cranberry?”
Trudy felt the heat rising on her cheeks. “Shut up. I fell asleep with the hair dye on.”
Leslie rolled her Louis Vuitton suitcase to the back of the van where Trudy stowed it next to her own shabby black duffel bag. “Of course you did.” Leslie stood back, crossing her arms.
Trudy looked at Leslie from head to toe, noting she looked impeccable, as usual. Her sleek blonde hair was pulled back from her flawless face in a long ponytail. The style emphasized her high cheekbones and large, sapphire blue eyes. A smile tugged at the corner of her full rosebud lips. The casual, navy blue outfit Leslie was wearing hung perfectly on her tall, slender, runway-ready figure, and the silver slippers on her feet were a perfect accent. Trudy didn’t know why, but those slippers pissed her off.
So, feeling like a mess, she went on the attack. “Are you dressed for the church social or what?”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Leslie looked down at the perfectly tailored clothes.
“Nothing, except we’re going hunting for ghosts, not hosting a tea party at the country club.”
Leslie bristled. “Well, one of us has to look like a grown-up.”
Another van arrived, and Patrick Wilson climbed out to greet them. Trudy had recently hired him as her cameraman when he’d convinced her he was totally cool with ghosts.
She agreed to give him a job not only because he was cheap, but he seemed to be determined to find his way. Just shy of twenty-one and having been raised in foster homes with no kin of his own, he needed a family. Trudy immediately trusted his big brown eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses and his easy smile.
“Ladies, what are you bickering about?” His eyes widened. “Oh, your hair. Trudy, it’s…different.”
Patrick and Leslie stood watching her in a long and excruciating moment of silence while she was sure the skin on her overheated face turned the same shade as her hair.
“How did you achieve that color?” Patrick’s voice was so full of awe that it broke the unease.
“She used cherry Kool-Aid,” came Leslie’s dry reply while she handed Trudy a bag that contained Jasmine’s dog food.
“Ignore her. I fell asleep with the dye on.” Trudy let out a frustrated sigh. “I know it looks horrible.” Trudy ran her hand through her hair, suddenly close to tears. All her efforts had been exhausting to this point. The pink hair, to her, was like accidentally dumping a pound of sugar into the beef bourguignon you labored hours to make.
She worked hard to get her shit together, and her hair catastrophe let everyone know that perhaps she hadn’t succeeded.
She bent to pick up the all-but-forgotten cap from the ground and gave it a shake before slipping it back on her head.
Leslie’s expression softened. “It’s all right. We’ll find a salon tomorrow and get it fixed.” She wrapped her arm around Trudy’s shoulder. “It’s a beautiful color. It just needs to be broken up with a few other shades, and you’ll be fine.”
Giving her best friend a hug, Trudy knew if Leslie said they could fix it, then it would be fine.
The trio finished packing the vans in comfortable silence, and after Dana arrived, they headed toward the westbound turnpike to Chicago. Trudy once again felt a sense of excitement at what they would discover on this mission.
She also could not help but feel she had achieved the first big step in her long-term goal of operating a successful ghost hunting business. Her decision to retire from the police force and start this business met with a lot of opposition, and most of it came from the woman sitting next to her. It hadn’t been easy, but somehow Trudy had convinced Leslie to join her on her first case.
Trudy couldn’t remember a monumental event in her life that didn’t include her. They were maids of honor for each other’s weddings, one marriage for Trudy and two for Leslie, all ending badly. She thought about the day Aaron was born. Leslie was with her, since Michael was away on business. She stepped in, bossing Trudy and the hospital staff around like she knew what she was doing and then crying like a baby herself as she held Aaron in her arms.
When Trudy caught a bullet, Leslie was there for her during her stay in intensive care and all the long months of rehabilitation.
She needed Leslie with her now.
“Love you, buddy,” Trudy teased from the driver’s seat, delighting at the cross look Leslie sent her way.
“Love you more.” Leslie rolled her eyes while shaking her head. “Now, can you put on some decent music, something a grown-up might enjoy?”
Trudy reached down and switched off the alternative station and found an oldies station that was playing ABBA.
“T
hat’s better,” Leslie cheered and sang along, humming when she couldn’t remember the words, making Trudy laugh.
Several long hours later, Trudy navigated the van into the narrow alley behind the house on Calumet Avenue. She looked over at Leslie, who was now sound asleep. “Wake up, buttercup. We’re here.”
Leslie opened her eyes and focused on the back of the house. “Holy Hell, are we at a hotel?” She looked over the four stories of brick and stone. “That’s a big house, even by my standards,” she quipped as she stepped out of the van with Jasmine behind on her leash.
Trudy turned and directed Patrick into a space in the small driveway, her heart almost leaping from her chest.
“Trudy!” Dana rasped, drawing Trudy’s attention.
Dana’s face was unnaturally pale as a bead of sweat appeared above her delicate brow. Grasping her stomach with one hand while she held on to the van door for support, Dana swayed weakly.
Trudy quickly grabbed a paper bag and handed it to her, all the while placing a comforting hand on Dana’s back as she doubled over. She knew from working with her over the years that nausea and headaches were a common occurrence for the psychic. “Part of the deal,” Dana would tell her, and thankfully the ailments didn’t last long.
Leslie brought her chilled bottled water from the cooler in the van and ignored Trudy’s raised brow. “Are you carsick?”
“No…I’ll be okay. Give me a moment to adjust to the energy here.” Dana drank from the bottle then leaned against the van, closing her eyes.
Trudy checked her cell phone for the time while they waited as patiently as possible while Dana regained her strength.
Dana stepped away from the van after a few long minutes and gave Trudy a nudge and Leslie a wink to let them know she was good to go. “What’s everyone standing around for? Let’s get this show on the road.”
Trudy grinned at Patrick and Leslie and signaled them to follow. The group trailed behind her as she made her way over a brick path that led to the front of the house. Looking over her notes while she walked, Trudy spoke over her shoulder to Patrick. “I want you to film the introduction and the interview so I can watch later, okay?”