The way she said “let” reminded me of the possibility of being banished, and it was my turn to shiver.
* * * *
Having no physical body to worry about had its advantages. For one, I didn’t need sleep. I could stay in Jake’s room all night and watch over him. I found I didn’t have a challenge with impatience because it seemed to be connected with time. I had the feeling time did not affect me, or rather I was not necessarily limited by it. One hour felt the same as ten. The drawback was if I let my mind wander, I lost track of time, and I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to watch Jake sleep and listen to his gentle breaths as his chest rose and fell. However, two hours into this enjoyment, I realized I might be sucking energy from Jake.
I considered going to my room where Monica slept, thinking my best course was to fill up so I could be ready to materialize for Jake, but feeding off my best friend also didn’t appeal. Ian hadn’t told me whether taking their energy would hurt them in any way, and I wasn’t taking a chance. I would clarify the effects the next time I saw him.
Standing in the hallway outside both bedrooms, I considered what I should do and where I could go at that time of night. Then I discovered a new aspect of being a ghost—loneliness.
I left my house and turned toward Ian’s. He should be up during the night, but halfway across my lawn I stopped. I had no idea if he had reinstated the barrier, and if he had, well, I guess I didn’t want to know. Not right now. I had had my fill of pain for the evening, and while I didn’t care about Ian that way, he was the strongest link to regaining my life, so I wasn’t ready to face it if he had changed his mind. For now, I needed to seek out energy from someone I didn’t mind syphoning.
Summit’s Edge was a ghost town. No bar inside the town’s limits. If you wanted to sit around with pals drinking, you would need to drive ten miles to the next town over. Oh, you could buy alcohol at the local ABC Spirits store, but you had to enjoy it at home alone or with friends. Mayor Olivia Walsh ensured it stayed that way in Summit’s Edge. In fact, had she been the one someone knocked off, no one would have been surprised. Then again, maybe the attack on George had been to get to her, and something had gone wrong. Could someone have blackmailed her and she wouldn’t give in, so that’s why they killed George? I couldn’t rule out the possibility, but then why did the townspeople keep reelecting the woman?
Summit’s Edge didn’t have a superstore. Nor did we have a mall. The nearest Walmart was miles away, and unless I could drive a car or could somehow zap myself there, I was out of luck. Not to mention it being the middle of the night. I considered heading toward the park but imagined Ian feeding and gagged.
I wound up at the police station, and at first, I started to walk on by, feeling a sense of dread like I would be arrested on sight. Then I remembered I didn’t have to show myself at all. Drifting in through the door, I found a young man at the front desk, nodding off while trying to hold a book open. I didn’t recognize him and figured he was someone’s grandson down for summer break and needed to make some extra cash working the graveyard shift as a dispatcher. Nothing ever happened in the middle of the night—or almost nothing, not withstanding George’s murder—but Olivia insisted on staff being available at all times.
The police station wasn’t very big, more like a square building with a front desk, a couple of deputy desks on the side, an office for the chief, and another for booking, equipment, and evidence lockers. Beyond the front area was a bathroom and a closet, and farther still, cells. Two cells were all Summit’s Edge could provide, or ever needed.
I drifted through the wooden swinging gate into the dispatcher and deputy area on back toward the chief’s office. As I neared, I noticed a light beneath the door. Either the chief had left it on, or he pulled some late hours. On the other side of the door, I paused to take in the office. The room was not much more than a closet, and the chief’s desk took up too much of the space. Piles of paper and folders cluttered his desk, some seeming to have spilled over onto the floor. Two visitor chairs had been crammed into the limited space before the desk, and within the leftover area were scuffed and scratched file cabinets.
Clark sat behind his desk rubbing his eyes. His hair hung too long over his forehead, and he brushed it back with impatience. Looked like someone else needed to visit the barber. I drifted closer but not enough to cause a chill and studied the man. Clark’s eyes were full of weariness like he hadn’t slept over the last twenty-four hours or more, and unless I misread he was worried. I took a chance and moved closer to peer over his shoulder. The folder he tapped a finger on had my name written along the tab. I gulped and floated backward. Was I the primary suspect in the murder? I had no motive. He must know that.
Clark shifted broad shoulders and raised his arms over his head. I sighed. Why hadn’t such a good man married after all this time? We were the same age having graduated with the same class. While I had attended college locally and became engaged to Mason, Clark went away to college. I didn’t recall where, but he hadn’t stayed away. He returned after gaining a degree in criminal psychology and worked as an officer. Five years ago, he had been promoted to chief of police. Of course that made him an eligible bachelor among the local women, but none had captured him. I had heard of Clark dating but nothing serious. As I floated there watching him, I wondered if it was fear of commitment as was the case with many men. I found him deliciously attractive and appealing with his air of authority, but whoever heard of a ghost dating?
“Where is she?” Clark muttered, and my eyes widened. I realized he meant me, but what got to me was the concern I heard in his voice. “She couldn’t have done this, but why disappear?”
If only you knew, I lamented in silence.
Clark’s hand hovered over the folder, but he didn’t open it no matter how I willed him to. I spotted other familiar names, but luck was not on my side. He did not peruse any of the information. The single sheet that did pop out at me was the one Clark stood up carrying and walked over to the fax machine to send out to a preset distribution list—an All Points Bulletin for me. The sheet indicated that Liberty Grace, aka Libby Grace, was wanted for questioning by the Summit’s Edge police department. My heart dropped, and the only reason I didn’t sink into despair was because I feared I would sink into despair.
After spending several hours with Clark, I returned home and waited in the living room until the sun rose in the east and Monica groaned in the bedroom, pounding the alarm clock. She stumbled from my room to Jake’s and then stopped in the doorway. Her clouded expression told me she pondered whether last’s night visit from me really happened. I remembered I hadn’t practiced holding my solid appearance longer than a minute, but I planned on giving it my all at the right time.
My moment came when Jake drooped over another bowl of cereal. I couldn’t fix him a hot meal, but I could give him a hug and kiss. In fact, my arms itched to hold him. Monica went through the ritual of ensuring my son washed his face, brushed his teeth, and dressed properly for school. She hadn’t tried to speak to me, but I noted how she peered in shadows and hesitated before entering a room or the hall. By the time they had sat at the kitchen table, I could tell she chided herself over thinking I had appeared with a crazy story about being a ghost. I had to do this now or never.
Standing in the hall, I mentally prepared and then threw myself into the role of a lifetime—that of a mother alive and kicking. I flew into the kitchen with a bright smile on my face, arms outstretched to Jake. When I say flew, I mean I moved fast. My feet did touch the floor like a regular person, but I had no idea how long I could hold this form, so I had to get in quick.
“Jake, sweetie. I’m sorry I had to take care of some business, but I’m here. Give me a hug. Oh, I mean I also picked up a bug or something too, so you shouldn’t cling too much.” My mouth moved faster than my steps, and I suppose if Jake weren’t so happy and relieved to see me he might have thought I looked and sounded creepy. I spoke a mile a minute, thanking him for bein
g a good boy, thanking Monica for taking care of him, and asking her to keep helping out since I had a touch of the flu or whatever.
The second I stepped into the kitchen my little boy sprang from his chair and leaped into my arms. Forget the fact that he had been telling me he was getting too old for all the hugs and kisses. His spindly arms locked around my neck, bringing tears to my eyes. I made sure to pause in my diatribe to kiss him several times, loving the softness of his cheek and wishing with everything in my being that I could smell him. I know that sounds weird, but it was true.
For her part, Monica hadn’t moved or spoken. Her brown eyes were wide with fear and wonder. She nodded dumbly when I asked her about staying over to help with Jake. A full five minutes had passed when I felt my energy and focus waning. With reluctance, I pushed Jake back and turned him toward the table.
“Finish your cereal, sweetie,” I instructed him. “I need to uh…grab something from the bedroom.”
“Mom,” Jake whined. “You’re not leaving, right?”
I hesitated at the door, and pain gripped my chest. A smile pasted on my face, I met his desperate gaze. “No, of course not. I’ll be right here. I promise.”
Zipping along the hall, I let myself fade. When I reached my bedroom, I sort of hung in the air, my eyes shut. Seconds later, Monica appeared in the doorway.
“Are you here?” she whispered.
I touched her arm, and she bit off a scream. “Don’t do that!”
“Sorry.” I let her seem me, and she stared as if it were her first time.
“I thought it was all a dream.”
“I wish it was,” I assured her. “Nothing felt better than to hug Jake.”
“I don’t know how you’re going to pull this off. What was that like five minutes?”
I frowned at her. “You promised, Monica.”
She held her hands up, palms facing me. “I’m not taking my word back. I’m just worried—about both of you. It can’t be healthy for Jake to have you flitting in and out of his life. And if you’re—”
“Don’t.”
I saw the stubborn set to her mouth. “If you’re dead, Libby, he needs to face it. I will be right there beside him, helping him through it.”
“Thanks.” My tone was sour. “If I’m…dead, I haven’t moved on for a reason, and I’m going to do everything I can to stay in Jake’s life as long as possible.”
“In other words you’re going to haunt your own child.”
“If I have to.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll help you all I can, but I’m still holding you to one week, Libby.”
“That’s all I need,” I said with more bravado than I felt.
Chapter Five
Success! Between Monica and me we got Jake off to school much happier than he had been the day before. I smothered him with my best loving and let my friend drive him. As far as Jake knew he had his mama back, and that was most important. When I was stronger, I hoped to ride in the car with Monica if not enter the school itself. So many young children jostling me about would not be good. Who knew, I might solve the mystery surrounding my body’s disappearance and be back to routine tomorrow. The fact that the morning had gone well gave me confidence it would happen and soon.
As I puttered around my house thinking of my first move in investigating the murder, I realized my priority needed to be to talk to Clark. He needed to know I was not on the run somewhere, avoiding the law. To issue an All Points Bulletin made me feel like a criminal, and while I couldn’t remember exactly what I had done, I knew myself, and I wouldn’t harm another human being.
I floated through to the kitchen and paused at sight of the Keurig machine, a wedding gift, which I had retained when Mason and I divorced. I loved my morning cup of Gloria Jean’s Butter Toffee, a shot of caffeine to wake me but sweet enough to feel like I was indulging. Of course, my spirit didn’t need physical sustenance. I had no hunger pangs, but it seemed that half of craving anything was psychological. I missed it because I remembered my emotions when enjoying the brew.
Monica had left a notepad and pen on the table with a list started for groceries. I materialized and sat down before it, wondering about using physical objects. My fingers curled fine around the pen, but it also felt foreign, almost like I was not holding the pen but observing it. I tried writing sugar and frowned at the result. My handwriting was different.
I flipped to a blank sheet and wrote at the top: Who would want to hurt George.
1. The mayor
2.
I left the two blank. I had no idea who George’s friends were, who he was closest to. I knew George enjoyed going to Gatsky’s and cornering anyone who would listen but nothing other than that. I recalled someone saying George handled home improvement, but what did that have to do with me? I might ask him for advice, but I had no extra money to pay him. Each time I had found a need to enter his store, he was talkative but friendly. Could anyone hate him enough to kill him, and if they did, what had he done to deserve it?
From watching the news, I knew police often first suspected the spouse, so I needed to start there. If Olivia was the cause of George’s murder or someone did it to get back at her, I intended to uncover the truth about it. First, I needed to clear Clark’s mind about myself.
Without thinking, I reached for the cordless phone on the table and picked it up. I had dialed through to the police station, which I had programmed into the phone for emergencies. Not until an officer came on the line did I remember Ian’s instruction that I couldn’t use the phone. I’m not sure if it was the power of suggestion, but the second I realized, I heard a small crackle in my ear. The officer called out “Hello? Anyone there?”
“Can you hear me?” I said.
“Son of a gun—” He wailed as if I’d done damage to his eardrum. The phone began to smoke next to my ear and popped and crackled when I laid it down on the table. Seeing the destruction got to me because it solidified my being cut off from the world. I pounded a fist on the table in frustration, thinking I would need to buy a new phone. Something sparked in my peripheral vision, and I turned my head to gaze at the wall. Nothing out of the ordinary caught my eye. Then I winced. The owl shaped clock made of shellacked wood that Jake had carved for me with his dad had stopped ticking. However, it wasn’t the clock that worried me or that had sparked. The light had come from the heating and central air vent above the clock.
Dread filled me thinking about the cost if there was a problem with the A/C. I almost grabbed a chair to stand on and then opted for what made more sense, to float up to eye level with the vent. Peering through the grate, I could make out nothing at first. Then I leaned closer and startled myself when the metal slats no longer barred my vision. What met my gaze made me cry out and shoot backward a few feet.
A video camera.
A thousand thoughts ran through my mind. Who placed it there? Mason before he moved out? If so, why would he do that? As a part of a home security system? We had never had a home security system, nor had we needed one. As far as I knew Mason had never mentioned setting one up. Even if he did without telling me, why hide it behind the grate?
Then I began to wonder if Mason had put the camera there, did that mean it still fed him recordings of me and Jake? Of me the days I had left my room in nothing but a bra and panties when I needed clothes from the dryer? The pervert! He would not get away with this. I would see to that.
I made myself solid and slid a chair over to the grate, but then I couldn’t manipulate the screws to open the grate, as if I didn’t have enough strength even using a screwdriver. I had to leave it until Monica came home, but waiting made me nervous, so I drifted into other parts of the house.
At one in the afternoon, the kitchen door opening brought me out to the hall, and I sighed in relief to see Monica. “I’m glad you’re here. There’s something I have to show you.”
To her credit, she only jumped a little at my sudden appearance, and she followed me into the kitche
n. Before long, my best friend rained curses down on Mason’s head at seeing the camera. She practically wrenched the grate off the wall with a violent twisting of the screws. “That sneak,” she spat. “I’m going to string him up by his—”
“Monica,” I interrupted, “we don’t know it was Mason.”
“Who else would it be?” she demanded, holding the camera by her fingertips.
I pointed to the cupboard where I kept the freezer bags, and she nabbed one to drop the camera into as we had both seen on detective TV shows. “We need to take it to the police,” I said. “In fact, I have to go there to talk to Clark anyway.”
“Clark?” Monica’s eyebrows shot up, and she smirked.
I folded my arms over my chest. “Don’t get ideas, you. I’m not in the position to have anything to do with the chief of police, but you remember we all went to school together.”
“Oh yeah.” Monica seemed disappointed. “Well, how are you going to go there? He’ll find out about you, and can you even carry this?” She held up the tiny camera. The device seemed to weigh little from its appearance, but in losing my body I had lost my purse and my cell phone. I couldn’t even use the cordless without busting it.
I thought over my options. “That reminds me. Can you pick up a new phone?”
“What’s wrong with the one you have?”
“Never mind. Please?”
“Sure.”
I considered what to do about the camera. “You could bring the camera to the station, and then I will take it from you and pretend I brought it there.”
“Isn’t that convoluted?”
“Yes, but I have to look like I’m being cooperative. I’ll go just before it’s time to pick up Jake and tell him I can’t talk long.”
Monica shook her head as if she thought I had misplaced my brain. “What excuse are you going to give about being missing and about your car, which is still in the hardware store’s lot I might add?”
Audrey Claire - Libby Grace 01 - How to be a Ghost Page 6