by H. P. Bayne
“No. Her parents went to their graves not knowing. I’ve always wondered myself.”
“Do you remember her?”
“I was quite young when she disappeared, just seven years old. But that’s old enough to have gained some fond memories. I remember her being a lot of fun. She laughed a lot. She had a very boisterous laugh, one people joked you could hear all over town. I admired her, and she put up with me tagging along behind her like a puppy. We lived a few doors away, and I spent as much time as I could with her. She was a beautiful, stylish young woman, and I wanted very much to grow up to look like her. The way she styled her hair, it took my breath away. She wanted to be a hairstylist. She never got the chance.”
“If you were close to her, why didn’t you say more about her in the write-up?” Sully asked.
“Well, for one thing, her parents were still alive. After Sadie disappeared, we stopped talking about her. It was too hard for them. I think it was easier for them to pretend she didn’t exist. The alternative was far too hard. But I don’t think they ever stopped looking. A parent doesn’t, do they?”
“How about you?” Dez asked. “Did you ever try to find her?”
“We all did, I suppose. I was too young at the time to take part in the search in any real way, but I watched for her too. Some people said she’d run off with a boy, and part of me wanted to believe that was true. So, yes, I suppose I always did look for her. You do that when you lose someone suddenly.”
“Yeah,” Dez said. “I know.”
“Oliver didn’t say exactly why the two of you want to know about Sadie,” Stella said. “Is this for a history project, or is it something else?”
“It’s a bit hard to explain,” Sully said. “I’m afraid you’re going to think I’m being disrespectful, although I’m really not.”
“I’ve lived a good life, but it hasn’t always been an easy one,” Gillian said. “In almost a hundred years, there’s precious little I haven’t heard. You aren’t likely to offend me easily.”
Sully nodded, then drew in a breath as he searched for the right words. But if right words existed, he couldn’t find them, so he opted to just dive right in.
“Have the two of you heard the legend of Faceless Flo?”
“I certainly have,” Stella said. “It was a story even when my kids were in school. I never placed much stock in these things, but it was certainly intriguing.”
“Did you ever hear anything about where the story started?”
“I can’t say I have. I never even knew of anyone named Flo or Florence from Loons Hollow, certainly nobody who was murdered in the woods. My mother’s aunt was the only person I know who ever disappeared there.”
“That’s kind of why we’re here, I guess,” Sully said. “I don’t mean any offence, so I hope you don’t take it that way, but Flo exists. I’ve seen her. And I think she’s been misidentified. I think she’s actually Sadie.”
A smile plucked at the corners of Stella’s mouth, one he read as patient yet condescending. “There’s no such thing as ghosts. Perhaps you saw someone in the woods and mistook her for something else.”
He offered a smile of his own. “I know how it sounds. But I’ve been seeing these things my whole life, and I’ve met a lot of people who don’t believe me. It doesn’t make these things less real. I have seen her, and I’m hoping I can help her. That’s why I’m here. I was hoping she’d be here, or to at least learn more about her.”
“Why would she be here?” Gillian asked.
Sully returned his attention to the older woman. No sign of incredulity or offence showed in her expression or tone, only curiosity.
“Sometimes, even though a spirit’s strongest connection might be to a place or an object, they are also attracted to certain people. Sometimes that person is me because of the things I can see. Sometimes they want to be around family. I wanted to see if that was the case with her.”
“And is it?”
“I don’t see her, and I don’t feel her.”
“Does that mean she doesn’t feel a connection to me?”
An edge of hurt laced Gillian’s voice, and Sully sought to erase it. “Not necessarily. I think sometimes they just get trapped, and they can’t see anything beyond themselves and their situation. If she is stuck on that road, or in those woods, that might explain why she’s angry.”
“Angry? How do you mean?”
“Mother,” Stella said. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” She turned back to Sully. “You seem like a nice young man, so I’m going to ask you politely to please leave. You’re going to upset her if you carry on like this. I won’t have you leaving here and spreading rumours about Sadie being this ghost you’re talking about. She deserves more respect than that.”
“I have no intention of spreading rumours,” Sully said. “And I’m because I do respect her. I’ve helped a lot of lost spirits find peace, and I want to give that to her. Most of the time, helping them helps their families too.”
“I don’t believe in this sort of thing,” Stella said.
Gillian leaned forward, tapping Stella gently on the wrist. “But I do. I would like to hear him out.”
“Mother, I don’t think you should involve yourself in a conversation that will leave you upset.”
“I’ll make my own decisions, thank you.” Gillian’s gaze returned to Sully. “What were you going to say about her being angry?”
Sully risked a glance at Stella. Finding no support there, he focused on Gillian. “The thing is, I can see ghosts, but only ones who have died by homicide. The woman I saw on the road didn’t die by accident. Someone hurt her, and I think she’s trapped by whatever happened to her.”
“Could it be we need to find her body so she can cross over?”
“Maybe. But I’m worried it’s more than that. The stories about that road involve men who’ve disappeared. It’s thought the ghost had something to do with it, that she lured them, maybe even killed them or led them to their deaths.”
“Then it can’t be Sadie,” Gillian said. “I knew my aunt, and she was nothing like that.”
“Not in life. But sometimes what happens to a person when they die, after they die, changes them. I don’t know everything. I probably don’t know much at all, come right down to it. But I have some theories, and one thing I’ve come to believe about some ghosts is that the emotions they experienced when they were killed were so intense, they’ve never been able to move past them. I think sometimes they get stuck in that mindset, in those emotions, almost like they’re constantly reliving the death experience. Some of them have shown me what it’s like, how it felt for them to die. I can understand how for some of them, moving on seems impossible. And I can understand how an experience like that must twist them. Some are just afraid all the time. Others are angry and want revenge. The problem is, peace doesn’t come through revenge. And if that’s what she’s doing, she’ll never find it. Whoever killed her is probably already dead. It would be really unfair if that person managed to cross over while she’s stuck here, constantly reliving what happened to her and trying to find a way to escape.”
Gillian was quiet a long while, fingers running through her cat’s fur as she studied Sully. Unspoken thoughts played out across her face, and Sully could do nothing but wait to see whether she would share them.
Finally, she broke her silence. “Come closer to me, young man. It’s dark, and my sight isn’t what it used to be. I’d like to see your eyes.”
Sully resisted the urge to exchange a look with Dez, instead obeying the woman and approaching her. Reaching her chair, he knelt before her. Blue eyes, a hint of lingering youth belied by the folds of sagging skin surrounding them, peered into his face. He watched as snow-white brows lifted, revealing more of the sparkling irises.
“Your eyes are the same,” she said.
“The same as what?”
The woman lifted a hand, resting her fingertips against Sully’s cheek. He wasn’t sure whether it was
the touch or the words that immediately followed that sent a jolt through him.
“The first Oliver Chadwell.”
9
Sully’s breath caught in his throat.
“What do you mean? Who—”
“I was a young girl when he came to Loons Hollow,” Gillian said. “Lovely Scottish accent, and grey eyes the same shape and colour as yours. He was an older man, likely in his seventies. Said he’d heard about my family’s troubles and wanted to help us find Sadie. Close to a decade had passed since she’d disappeared, and her parents had already moved on—quite literally. They’d left town by then, so there was less concern this Oliver Chadwell would be offending anybody by having a look around.
“My parents, in fact, took him in for the week he stayed. Even then, I was fascinated by ghost stories, and Mr. Chadwell had plenty to keep me entertained. He was a lovely man, very kind eyes. But there was something about him, something I couldn’t put my finger on at the time. I realize now he was guarding something. A secret perhaps. I’ve wondered about him ever since, especially given what happened after.”
Sully leaned closer. “What happened?”
“He disappeared. Just left one day on one of his walks and never came back. He always took his things with him—all of it fit into one bag, so it wasn’t much trouble. But he talked about looking forward to supper that night, so we’d expected him back. When he didn’t return, we didn’t know what to think. Looking back on it, I guess you might say he was the first.”
“The first what?”
“The first man whose disappearance was attributed to the ghost.”
“The ghost?” Sully said. “Is that what people thought at the time?”
“No, at least not that I ever heard. There was talk of a ghost, but nothing to suggest she was a true danger to others. And as for Mr. Chadwell’s disappearance, no one really bothered themselves much about his comings and goings to begin with. As far as most of the community was concerned, he was just a down-on-his-luck traveller searching for work. It was the nineteen thirties, and many people had fallen on hard times. No one batted an eye at a stranger passing through town, hoping for shelter, food and a job. And no one thought anything of it when people like that wandered off again. I suppose that’s what many people think happened to Mr. Chadwell. But I wasn’t so sure. Now you’ve got me wondering if it had something to do with Sadie, after all.”
“Did he say why he came in the first place? I mean, did he have some sort of skill that made him think he could find Sadie?”
“The same skill you seem to have. He said he could see the dead.”
Dez cursed softly behind him. “Jesus Christ.”
“He was very upfront with us, refreshingly so. He said he believed Sadie was dead and that she’d become trapped on this side. He said he could help her cross over to what he called Summerland. As I understand it, that was a Victorian term for the other side. He said he’d been doing it for a while. My mother was also a firm believer in these things, and although my father was a skeptic, he put up with Mr. Chadwell for my mother’s sake. Anyway, if it could solve the mystery of his sister’s disappearance, who was he to say no? So Mr. Chadwell stayed for a few days. When he failed to return, we looked for him. But it was just like my aunt. No sign of him anywhere, no evidence he’d come to harm, no clues to be found. He just vanished.”
“Did anyone besides you think the whole situation was weird?” Dez asked. “I mean, this guy turning up on a ghost hunt and then disappearing?”
“His purpose for being there wasn’t broadly known. I’d very much doubt anyone outside of my family knew the truth about his reasons for coming. My father ordered us never to speak of it, said it was family business. The community would have assumed my father had simply given Mr. Chadwell some work for a few days.”
Sully’s mind turned back to Gillian’s earlier comment about the ghost. “You said there was some talk about a ghost, but no one really considered her dangerous. What did people say about it back then?”
“First of all, keep in mind I’ve never seen her myself. But some people would come into town speaking of a young woman on the road. It’s one of the reasons my parents left. Each time someone reported a sighting, they’d rush out and search. Of course, they could never find anything. It only happened a handful of times but, as you can imagine, even once was too much. There was no mention of her doing any harm, though. Not like you’re telling me now, about these missing men. She’d simply be seen, nothing more. At least until Mr. Chadwell.”
“Hang on,” Dez said. “If people attributed the sightings to Sadie back then, how’d she end up being called Flo?”
“After Mr. Chadwell left that last day, no one ever reported another sighting,” Gillian said. “At least, not until my grandkids were in school. By then, I’m thinking no one could remember the real story, so they came up with their own.”
“And I didn’t bother to correct them,” Stella said. “As I said, my great aunt deserves more respect than that. The last thing I want is a bunch of kids and ghost hunters crawling around out there, yelling her name and poking fun at what happened to her. People forget, these supposed ghosts they’re searching for were real people who met with real tragedy. And they have families who remember. I won’t have that happen to Sadie, and I certainly won’t have it happen to my mom.”
“I understand,” Sully said. “And I promise you, I have no plans to pass along anything we talked about here. Dez and I have helped spirits before, and we always do it respectfully. We have no intention of doing any different this time.”
“How do you propose to help?” Stella asked. “It seems a rather impossible thing.”
“Not as impossible as you’d think. At least, not always. Ghosts are just people who get stuck here for some reason. If I can figure out what that reason is, and help solve whatever problem they’re facing, I can usually get them to cross over. In my case, given I only see those who died by homicide, it usually means finding justice for them.”
“But surely whoever killed my aunt is long dead by now,” Gillian said. “How will you help her if there’s no one out there to be brought to justice? I mean, have you ever had to help a spirit who’s existed as long as she has?”
“No,” Sully said. “But it doesn’t mean it can’t be done. I’m not sure yet how I’m going to go about it, but I’ll figure it out.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? If Sadie is as angry as you say, and as big a threat as people suggest, how do you know she won’t try to do the same thing to you as she’s supposedly done to other men?”
The answer was obvious, and it was one Dez wouldn’t like. It needed to be said nonetheless.
“Honestly?” Sully said. “I don’t know she won’t. What I do know is I see the things I do for a reason. Once they notice me, once they know I can help them, they usually find me. If I can help her, if I can get her to leave before she goes after anyone else, then I don’t only protect others, I might be protecting myself.”
Gillian reached forward and caught Sully’s fingers in her own. “I don’t know exactly what to make of what you’ve told me, but I appreciate your wanting to help my aunt. If you can, I would be grateful to you. But please don’t put yourself at risk. If something happened to Mr. Chadwell because he set out to help Sadie, I would feel terrible. The last thing I want is to see it happen again. After all, she had a life to live, but it’s over now. Yours isn’t, and you have a right to live it.”
“I guess that’s the problem,” Sully said. “This is the only life I’ve ever known.”
Without question, the conversation had unsettled Dez. The most surprising thing was that he didn’t launch immediately into a critique of Sully’s intentions the moment the two of them got back into the SUV.
Sully waited, sensing the churning of his brother’s thoughts as Dez white-knuckled the steering wheel, fingers clenched tightly enough to put the steering column’s strength to the test.
Dez’s vo
ice, when it came, was the tight growl Sully had anticipated.
“I don’t like this. We went there looking for answers, but all I’ve got are more questions. It’s bad enough this ghost might be responsible for the disappearances of several men; now we find out one of them was a psychic like you, someone who went there trying to help her. If it could happen to him, it can happen to you.”
“We don’t really know what happened to him. All we know is he didn’t go back to Gillian’s family’s house. Maybe he just realized he couldn’t finish what he started, and he couldn’t face them again.”
“Well, we know one thing for sure. He went there to try to get her to cross over, and he failed. And we know no one saw him alive again.”
“No one in Loons Hollow anyway. Like I said, we don’t know what happened to him.”
“No, we don’t. And I’m not sure we want to find out. Face it, man. We already share a key trait with the people who might have fallen victim to Faceless Flo. We’re men. Add that to the fact we’re purposely going off in search of her, and we’re looking for trouble we might not be able to handle.”
“We don’t really have a choice, though, do we? We’ve been asked to look into this. We’re being paid to do it.”
“I’m willing to turn down the job if you are.”
“You’d turn it down? Just let this continue? What if we can do something to stop her, to keep others from falling victim to whatever’s going on out there?”
Dez didn’t answer immediately, holding onto whatever it was he wanted to say until he pulled the vehicle toward the curb and pushed the stick into park. Sully expected a lecture. It turned out Dez had something else on his mind.
“You started calling yourself Oliver Chadwell. Why?”
“Like I told you before, the name just came to me, not long after I faked my own death. I’d been in a position where I needed to come up with a false name, and it popped into my head. I didn’t realize it was a real person.”
“Not just a real person. A real person who had the same eyes as you. That’s what Gillian said, that his eyes were the same shape and colour as yours. What if that means something? You don’t know much about your birth family, Sully. Maybe you’re a descendent of this guy.”