The Girl In White

by Shannon Reber

  Without speaking, I stood up and moved gingerly around behind his desk. It was difficult because there were files stacked haphazardly all over the floor and an overflowing garbage can was right in my way. I negotiated my way through the chaos until the grumpy old man behind the desk realized I was right behind him.

  He shot me the kind of glower which probably should have scared me. I wasn’t scared, though. Not even a little bit.

  He was a crusty old man, one who had dedicated his life to the protection of others, before that had been taken from him. I was sure that was the reason he had been asked to retire. He was aware of the paranormal world and people who weren’t tended to think whoever spoke of such things was crazy.

  Without asking his permission, I rolled him and his chair out of the way and began trying to make the poor old thing a little less decrepit. At a guess, I’d say he’d never defragged the computer once or even run a virus scan. It was clear that computer was on its last leg.

  “You should consider getting a new computer. What I’m doing here will help although it’s not going to last forever.”

  He didn’t respond.

  I kept working, diverted as I always was by the one thing in the world which always made sense to me. Computers made me feel as though the world was a sane place after all.

  After a while, I stood straight and gave a nod. “I set it up so it will defrag automatically now in the middle of the night so you won’t—”

  He whirled around to face me, his jowls quivering. “No, Madison. I’m not going to be so overcome by gratitude for your help with that accursed machine to allow you in on my investigation.” He made an imperious motion toward the door. “Go home. Stay away from this investigation. Allow your friend to be at rest. Goodbye.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. My mind spun. He hadn’t told me anything useful at all. With the access I now had to his computer, I would be able to keep an eye on his investigation.

  I stepped around the desk and moved toward the door but stopped, turning to face him. “Whatever makes you think I’m not capable of handling what’s thrown at me, you’re wrong. I was offered a free ride to MIT but it felt wrong to take it. I think the reason for that, was that Emma called me home. I will figure out who murdered my friend with or without your help,” and I marched out of that unkempt space with no intention of ever returning.

  SEVENTEEN

  The slow torture of being at work was like . . . well, torture. Days had passed and nothing had happened. Nothing. I went to work, went home, tried to figure out what TC Erkens was up to, and then went back to work.

  Being eighteen, I could be a full-time employee and that was precisely what Jayden made me, like it or not. It was nice to have both the distraction from my own dark thoughts and the extra cash. I felt like my soul was being crushed on a daily basis, though. I did my best not to allow my frustration to be seen by the customers. Every once in a while, they did seem to be my own personal error code.

  “You’re that girl from the ghost pictures, aren’t you?” a bouncy-haired pre-teen girl asked, her head tipped to the side in question. She let out a happy shriek before I could answer. “It IS you. Those pictures were so cool, like the creepiest ever. I couldn’t sleep after I saw them.” She waved at a group of equally excitable younger girls. “Guys! Look! It’s that girl from the ghost pictures!”

  I could feel my blood pressure rise as my face turned red. It wasn’t the girl’s fault. I’d guess it was Keats’ fault and he would regret the day he chose to use that picture.

  Unfortunately for me, that group of girls converged on me and began asking questions. Not one of them spoke in a voice lower than a scream and people had begun to stare. If only I could run away and hide.

  That was when Jayden did the nicest thing he had ever done for me. He shot me a ferocious glare and directed me into the storeroom to do inventory. I could have kissed him. No. I wasn’t a masochistic kind of girl.

  By the time my shift was over, all I wanted was to lock myself in my bedroom and never come out. So long as my laptop was there, nothing else was necessary. Well, that and my phone, tablet, a few cases of energy drinks, and bags of pretzels. Then I’d be one happy girl.

  The trouble was, I had work to do. If the ME for Emma’s case had ruled her death a suicide, it seemed like a bad idea to go in and accuse him of incompetence. Maybe he was incompetent, though.

  If the string to Emma’s sweatshirt had indeed been used to strangle her with, how did the ME not notice? It was an appalling thing even to contemplate. Then again, what if I had been wrong?

  By the time I got home, I had no idea what to think. I needed to go through the ME’s files again. If I could stomach the idea of looking at the marks left on Emma’s neck, I might be able to tell for sure.

  “You look like somebody threw your laptop out the window and ran it over with a semi-truck,” Imogen said as I walked in the door, her eyes wide as she looked at me.

  I glanced at her, my heart lodged in my throat. It was a good thing to see a girl who had no connection to the horrors in my life. Imogen’s life only got complicated when she made it that way. I would have done anything to trade places with her sometimes.

  She continued to look at me like she was worried for my sanity, her eyes full of compassion. “You really do look depressed, Madison,” she said and made a motion toward the steps. “Come on. There’s a concert tonight at the park. I got some tickets, so you can be my date.”

  I opened my mouth to tell her I didn’t want to go. For some reason, I did want to. I wanted to have a night away from everything that was so difficult to handle. I wanted to hang out with my friend and focus on the things that had the possibility to make me happy.

  She raised her hands before I could say a word. “Madison, you need to get out of here. In the last week, all you’ve done is go to work and hide in your room. It’s one night where you listen to music and hang out with me. Come on.”

  I came very close to saying no. For some reason, I shoved that answer down. She was right. I needed time away and the idea of going to a concert was the best I’d heard.

  It was a good feeling as we stepped out of the house together a little while later. It was like finally, things had the potential to be good and right. Imogen and I would have fun that evening. There was no doubt in my mind.

  Like usual, Imogen wore a graphic t-shirt and cuff bracelets. Unlike usual, her t-shirt was open in the back with laces that held the thing in place. It was a cool look with her combat boots and slouchy beanie, everything about her just screaming ‘rocker chick’.

  I wore a lace trimmed black cami and jeans, with comfortable flats, my hair loose and a little wild. I didn’t usually wear makeup but that evening, I had done my eyes in a way that made me feel far more attractive than I usually felt.

  I felt more confident in that moment than I had in a long time. I wasn’t the boring girl stuck in my best friend’s shadow. I was my own person, one who was determined to have a good time that evening.

  Imogen grinned at me as we got into my car. “I am so glad you decided to come,” she said and jabbed a fingernail into my arm. “And I’m glad you decided to look like the hot girl you are. It makes me happy.”

  I smirked at her. “I’m a hacker, Imogen. My hotness is only revealed when I’m breaking some unbreakable coding.” I waved my hand at the clothes. “This is just me pretending to be someone else.”

  Imogen gave me a contemplative look and slowly shook her head. “Madison, you are so much more than you give yourself credit for. I saw you come to life last week and I saw you pull in this week. I get that it has a lot to do with the body you and Ian found on your birthday. I think some of it has a lot more to do with your past.” She tipped her head to the side. “And yeah, I know all about your past. My dad works for Safe*Zone. He was all kinds of excited when he heard you were one of my roommates. According to him, you make Steve Jobs look like a simpleton.”

  I shrugged, unwillin
g to take on that kind of responsibility. “Steve Jobs was a law-abiding citizen. Anonymous are more my style. Rules are boring,” I sang with a snarky little smile.

  Imogen shrugged, her lips quirked in a mocking grin. “I’ve been wanting to ask you ever since we met. It never seemed like the right time. Why aren’t you at MIT?”

  I swallowed hard as I slowed for a red light, my mind going over everything. “I have spent my entire life being told I was stupid, that I was nothing. I got perfect grades. I could have taught all of my classes better than every teacher I had. My mom didn’t like that. She thought it made me too much like my dad, so she told me I was stupid. She told me I was unattractive. She told me everything I did was wrong. I have spent my entire life trying to please her and she hated everything I did. I finally gave up. I will not go to MIT because that’s what she demanded I do. I didn’t move here to spit in her face. I did it because it’s the only place that has ever felt like home to me.”

  Imogen stared at me for five humming seconds before she slammed her fist into the car door. “I don’t want to go to the concert anymore. I want you to drive us to Philadelphia so I can wail on your mother.” She hit the door again, tears gleaming in her eyes.

  I smiled at her and shook my head. “Please stop abusing my car. It’s never done anything to earn your ire. It’s an innocent bystander.”

  She didn’t respond to my little joke. Instead, she turned to look at me. “My family is weird. My mom’s an artist. My dad works for Safe*Zone. I’m a musician deep down. Mostly, I’m a girl trying to find my place in the world. My parents have supported me through everything. Both of them. They have always encouraged me to be whoever and whatever I wanted to be. I used to think everybody’s parents were like mine. The idea that you lived through that and turned into the kind of girl you are . . . it’s dumbfounding, Madison.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. I kind of wanted to get out of the car and run away. That would be stupid. I would allow the concert to be my number one focus. Nothing else. Not one single thing.

  We were quiet as we drove the rest of the way to the park, both of us deep in thought. I wanted to push them all away. They clung on with teeth and claws.

  Emma had said something very similar to me at one point in our lives. She had actually tried to talk her parents into adopting me. When she’d realized that wouldn’t work, she went about making my life as good as she could make it.

  We spent almost every weekend together. I slept at her house half the time. Her parents were the ones who taught me right from wrong. They were the ones who raised me.

  I missed them more than I could properly express. I was desperate to see them. It had felt wrong to go and see them when Ian and I weren’t speaking.

  And guilt began to gnaw at me again. It had been almost a week since I had dropped him at his car and fled. I hadn’t called. I hadn’t texted. I had ghosted him.

  I groaned inwardly as we got to the park. We had to park a long way from where the concert would be, so we had a walk in front of us. It was something that would have been fun at any other time. Right then, with Imogen still in a bad mood and my mood having taken a nose dive, fun was nowhere to be found.

  As though she heard my thought, Imogen turned to look at me and gave me a small smile. “How about you and I pretend like we’ve been talking about music the whole time? See, the concert we’re going to is one I think you might actually like.”

  I raised my brows at her. “What? You’re taking me to a concert of guys who sing in code that I can decrypt as we dance?” I asked snidely, the warm feeling inside me so strong it made me feel like cold had never touched me in the entirety of my life.

  Imogen crinkled her nose at me and hooked her arm through mine as we began to walk again. “No, Madison. What I’m taking you to see is the best alternative band I've ever heard. That’s all I ever hear you listen to, so I figured you’d be happy.”

  I nodded. “I am happy. That’s mostly because we’re not going to a country music concert. I can’t stand all the twangy whining,” I said with the widest smile that had crossed my lips all week.

  She snorted out a laugh. “Watch it, Madison. I like all music, country included.” She stuck her nose in the air as though deeply offended.

  We laughed together and people turned to look at us. It was like they found the sound of our laughter truly enchanting. It made me feel good to see that and my smile only grew.

  By the time we got to the area where the concert was being held, a crowd of Imogen’s friends had gathered around us. It was easy and fun, like Imogen and I had both been born to be right there at that moment. We were young, out for a night of fun, and had the kind of promise that fun was just what we’d have.

  By the time the music began, it wouldn’t have mattered if they were the worst band in the history of the world. We would have had a great time no matter what. It was an amazing band, though.

  We danced. We sang. We cheered. And we had a blast doing it.

  The trouble was, we’d been dancing for hours. I was in desperate need of hydration. My throat actually hurt it was so dry.

  I waved to Imogen to let her know I was leaving and stepped in the direction of the concession area. One of the guys from our group followed along, though he kept his eyes fixed on Imogen. It was clear as day he had the tiniest of crushes on her.

  I had been disconcerted at first to find Spencer, the guy Ian was so opposed to, being part of Imogen’s group. From what I’d seen so far, he was not the villain Ian had made him out to be. He was just a guy who very obviously had strong feelings for Imogen.

  I smirked at him as we stopped in line, fairly certain he was the perfect guy for Imogen. He was striking, with shaggy dark hair, fair skin, and chartreuse eyes. If Imogen was indeed the rocker-chick she liked to make herself appear, Spencer was her perfect match.

  He glanced at me and caught me giving him that look. “What?” he asked in a slightly sharp way.

  I shrugged, unbothered by his tone. “I was just waiting for you to ask me if Imogen was seeing anybody. I was excited to give you the ‘ask her yourself’ speech.” That wonderfully normal scene was the kind of blessing I didn’t think was possible for me to find anymore.

  Spencer looked like he might be contemplating saying something ever so slightly cutting. After a second, his expression lightened. “Am I that obvious?” he asked and flicked his eyes toward the area where Imogen still danced with the others.

  “I wouldn’t say obvious. The fact you haven’t taken your eyes off her all night was a tiny bit of a signal.”

  “She’s alright,” he said with a fake-casual shrug.

  I threw back my head and laughed. “Alright? Are you kidding me? That is the best you can do?” I asked, my laughter so boisterous it hardly seemed like me at all.

  He shot me a snide little smirk and nodded. “Okay, fine. I think she’s amazing and came to get a drink with you because I hoped that would make her notice me.”

  I patted his arm in a friendly way. “Spencer, you have come to the right place.” I leaned a tiny bit closer to him. “Making her jealous is the worst plan I’ve ever heard of,” I whispered.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  I held up a finger to stop him. “You don’t need to get her to notice you. You need to be noticeable.” I gave him a long look, my head tipped to the side. “Have you ever been arrested?” I began the interrogation, curious to see how he’d react.

  He smirked and shook his head. “Never.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  “Are you the kind of guy who will treat my friend well, in a way that won’t make me want to castrate you?”

  “If she’ll go out with me, I’ll treat her like a queen.”

  I held up my hand for a high five. “Good answer,” I said, pleased when he did high five me. “Okay, so really. Just be noticeable. Talk to her. Ask her questions. Show her that you’re interested in her.”

/>   He blew out a breath and looked over his shoulder again. “It’s never that easy,” he said in a way that told me he’d been hurt before.

  “You’ve never tried to date the right girl, then.”

  Spencer glanced at me and grinned. “You always so full of advice?” he asked in a half joking, half annoyed kind of voice.

  I shook my head. “Not in a long time. For some reason, tonight I feel different. I feel more alive and I want my friend to be happy. You look like the kind of guy who might be perfect for her.”

  We continued to chat as we edged our way up in line. He seemed like a genuinely good guy. He was a little rough around the edges. There was something wholesome about him as well.

  As that thought passed through my mind, someone ran into me. The girl who’d hit me was all elbows and had made the very bad decision to wear heels. In other words, she knocked the wind out of me and stabbed my foot with her horrible shoe.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

  I looked at the girl and groaned inwardly. It was Infinity. At a guess, I’d say she was probably the one who had taken and posted the picture of me and Ian. I came very close to telling her what I thought of her. That was when I saw him.

  Ian stood back a little, his eyes fixed on the obnoxious tableau. He didn’t speak. He simply stood. It was like he didn’t care at all.

  Could I blame him? After my reaction to him and the way I’d ignored him it was a wonder he would even look at me.

  I took a small step toward him and stumbled. My foot felt like it had been run through. I glanced down and bile filled my throat.

  The open top of my comfortable flats had given Infinity’s heel what she had wanted. Blood ran freely from the gash that had been left there. It hurt like crazy. There was no way I would allow that ridiculous girl to have that victory over me.

  Ian stepped over, his eyes fixed on my foot. He barged his way to the front of the line, grabbed a handful of napkins and returned. That was when he shoved the napkins at Spencer. “Take care of your date,” he ordered like the whole thing was Spencer’s fault.