by Spear, Terry
“Oh, Michael,” Emily moaned, exasperated that the only important piece of evidence was back at the library.
“I memorized it.”
She’d never get used to that fact he could do that. “Shoot, why didn’t you say so?” If he wasn’t driving, she would slug him for keeping her in suspense.
“Armando Gomez died in our high school cafeteria after ingesting poison. Investigators questioned the students and staff, but no one could discover who poisoned his food. If anyone held a real grudge against him, nobody was talking. Apparently, he kept to himself, though some of the kids thought he acted weird sometimes…angry, sullen. Police had no suspects and no leads at the time the article was written.”
Emily ran her hands over her lap trying to warm fingers that had suddenly grown cold. “Then it has to be someone at our school.”
“Someone who attended last year. They may no longer go to our school.”
“Whoever it was did it because Armando could read minds, I bet.” She hated how mean kids could be when someone was different.
“Yeah. You said yourself whoever killed him did it because they knew about his abilities.”
“That’s what he said.” But had he lied? Was there another reason someone murdered him?
Michael pulled up to a red light and turned to Emily. “It would have helped if he could have told us who murdered him.”
“His mind drifts between extreme hatred and frustration. If he could kill the kids who cut his life short, he would. Either he doesn’t know who did it for sure, or he was unable to focus on who they were when he tried to show me where it happened. In any event, I haven’t a clue. Not yet. But maybe tomorrow—”
“You’re not going to try to slip his thoughts into Red’s subconscious.”
She sighed heavily. “I probably can’t do it anyway. But I want to learn more from the ghost. Maybe now that we know what killed him and who he was, we can get him to focus on who did it. Oh, and shoot, Michael, we didn’t look for anything on the girl ghost.”
“I don’t see how we could find out about her unless we have a little more to go on. A name? When? Where she died?”
“In the swamps, I think.”
“What if nobody knew she died there? There wouldn’t be any news about it. You think she’s our age, but she might not be. It might have happened several years ago.”
Emily took an unsettled breath. “You’re right, of course. But you know, Michael? I think she warned me about Armando, that he was the danger at school and not the bullies. In which case, she must have known him, most likely went to our school, was probably his age, and may have been killed by the same person.”
“Are you sure you don’t have some genius tendencies?”
She rolled her eyes. “What if the ghost girl knew who the killer was, told Armando, and the murderer silenced him, then her? Or maybe she knew who killed Armando, and the killer terminated her. Or…”
Michael pulled into Emily’s drive. “Your Caddy’s gone.” His voice sounded a trifle surprised.
At first, she figured her mother had called a tow truck to haul it off to a shop for repairs. But before she could respond, Michael turned to look at the wetlands across the street. His face turned grim, a little gray, and he reached out to take her hand. A sickening feeling flooded her, that he knew something horrible, and she was sure she didn’t want to hear the revelation.
“It’s...it’s dead in the swamp,” he warned.
She peered at the wetlands, but didn’t see any sign of her car. Had Michael envisioned it—had a premonition, seen anything more, like how it got there?
She blinked tears back, suppressing the upset. Then anger filled her with such rage she wanted to kill them, every last one of the demon seeds, and she grabbed the car door to jerk it open.
Chapter 12
Michael’s stomach soured when he envisioned Emily’s Caddy destroyed somewhere in the swamp. He could see the battered vehicle had been beaten without mercy. When the vision faded, he saw Emily’s face had turned as pale as when the spirit had iced her. Tears filled her eyes and her nose reddened, and she was on the brink of crying. Wishing he hadn’t been the bearer of bad tidings, he held her hand tightly. She was ready to bolt from the car, and he couldn’t let her. Not until he was sure she wouldn’t do anything foolish.
If he could, he’d have made everything right for her. Her Caddy would be sitting in the driveway, decrepit thing though it was. But it was her car, just the same. Her property, and no one had the right to mess with it.
He patted her hand, but she seemed a million miles away. He was sure her thoughts bordered on vengeance, and he was certain he knew just whom she would target. Though he didn’t have any doubts Red and his bully friends trashed her car. What made them the monsters they were? It appeared Emily was right. Mediation wouldn’t work with these guys.
What made his spine tingle with fresh worry was the thought they’d go after Emily next. Destroying her car wouldn’t be enough.
“Come on, Emily,” he coaxed, trying to snap her out of it, and to his guarded relief, she let go of the door handle and seemed to be resigned to the fact her car was gone.
But was it just a ploy?
* * *
Emily silently fumed. Red and his thugs had dumped her Caddy in the swamp. She just knew it. “You saw it in a vision?” she asked Michael, who held her hand in a death grip, and she released the door handle with her other.
“Yeah. I don’t know how they did it. They must have gotten it started and drove it in as far as they could. It’s pretty badly beaten up. They sheared off several saplings before they hit an old, well-rooted mango tree.”
She gritted her teeth, trying to stop the tears. The car didn’t run half the time, but it didn’t matter. It was her grandparents’, the only thing she had to remember them by. And now the demon seeds had destroyed it.
“Do you see that they truly totaled it, Michael?” She choked on the words, not wanting to hate anyone as much as she did them, but she couldn’t help it. Most of all, her mind didn’t want to accept that Michael could envision her car wrecked in the swamps, though in her heart she believed him.
He leaned over and kissed her wet cheek. “We’ll report it to the police.”
The police would never catch the devils that did it. She would make them pay.
“Emily?” He wiped away her tears, then pulled her close. “We’ll make them see justice.”
Behind bars, that’s where they belonged. All three of them, and the driver of the flaming car, too, if he had anything to do with destroying her grandparents’ car.
“Emily.” He tugged on her hand, but she barely noticed.
Emily sobbed aloud, partly upset with the way she acted toward her grandparents’ gift to her, but mostly because she was fried about Red’s undoubted duplicity in the senseless act. She couldn’t make any promises to Michael. No matter what, she would stop Red before he did something truly evil, more so than he had already done.
“I’m okay, Michael.” She said the words, but her heart didn’t feel the sentiment. Twisting his ring around her finger gave her some comfort, but she couldn’t look him in the eye.
He lifted her chin. “Come on, Emily. I’ll talk to your parents.”
“They’re at a party. They won’t be home until much later this evening.”
Michael tilted his head back and didn’t say anything for a moment. “All right, then you’re coming home with me.” He backed out of the drive and pulled into his grandmother’s. “I don’t want you to be home alone. We can call the police from my house.”
“But you haven’t okayed it with your grandmother.”
He waved at the window where his grandmother peeked through the blinds. “She’s expecting you. And I imagine she’ll have a nice lemon meringue pie made for dessert. She usually makes them on Tuesdays.” He patted his firm stomach. “She tells me all the time how she has to keep me satisfied.”
Emily sniffled. “Okay.” B
ut she didn’t feel okay. She wanted to look for her car, and she wanted revenge.
Michael grabbed their book bags and walked with Emily to the door. His grandmother opened it before Emily touched the knob.
To Emily’s surprise, Granny wrapped her arms around Emily and gave her a warm embrace. “I’ve called the police, dear. They’ll be here in a little while.” She gave her another squeeze, brought her into the den, and made her sit on the sofa. “You never need an invitation from me. My home is Michael’s, too, and you’re always welcome.”
“Did you see what happened to the car?”
Michael sat beside Emily on the loveseat while his grandmother reclined in what appeared to be her favorite chair.
“No, I’m sorry. I must have taken a nap. Later, I chanced to look out the window and the car was gone. I thought maybe one of your parents had taken it out.” Before Emily could speak, his grandmother shook her head. “But then I read your mind, dear, and realized at once what had happened. So I called the police.” Granny glanced at Michael. “The two of you have been busy.”
“Yes, well, Emily’s run into some problems with the spirit of—”
“Armando, yes.” Granny rubbed her forehead. “And you’ve had some problems with this Red character and his friends.”
“Thugs.” Wishing she could stop the tears, Emily dabbed her eyes with a tissue.
“Yes, well, I ought to send Roberts after them.”
Emily’s concern instantly shifted from her car to Granny’s troubles. “Roberts?”
“The pirate who pushed me off my boat.”
“The ghost?” Emily asked, her voice incredulous. Had Granny had more dealings with him? Why hadn’t she told Emily before this? Her mind swirled with confusion. “A pirate?” The treasure.
“Claims my sailboat is his.”
“How do you know? I mean, he told you?” Emily blinked with surprise. Things were getting weirder. The spirits plagued poor Granny now. And here she was all alone without Michael to protect her.
Granny smiled and immediately Michael perked up. “What’s Emily thinking?”
Emily slapped his knee. “Quit asking your grandmother about all my secrets.”
Granny’s face grew darker. “He called me a wench…told me to stay away from the ship. ‘No wench ever sailed the seas with me before, nor would any now.’ That’s what he said.”
“That does it.” Michael stood. “We sell the sailboat.”
“I won’t sell the boat because some blasted pirate is a male chauvinist pig.”
Emily laughed. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t expect Granny to call anyone a chauvinist pig.
Michael frowned at her, then said to his grandmother, “If he pushed you before, he’ll do it again.”
Now, it seemed Michael believed in ghosts. Emily crushed the tissue in her fist. How difficult would it be to deal with a pesky pirate ghost?
Granny folded her arms obstinately. “I won’t be pushed around by some rum-guzzling, murderous pirate.” She turned her attention to Emily. “Yes, I’d love to go to the haunted restaurant, if my grandson won’t mind his old granny joining you on your date.”
Michael changed the subject back to the boat. “We don’t use the sailboat. The longer it sits and weathers in the canal, the harder it’ll be to sell it. We should—”
“I’m not selling it.”
Michael let out his breath and sounded mega exasperated. “Why not? You haven’t given me one good reason why—”
“Emily knows. Ask her.”
Emily swallowed hard, thoughts shifting from her own grandparents’ car to Granny’s deceased husband’s boat. “The boat meant something special to your grandfather. Keeping it makes Granny feel she’s still got a part of him with her. It’s like the Caddy was for me.”
The doorbell rang and Emily cried out.
“The police,” Michael said, patting Emily’s leg, his expression turning sympathetic. He headed for the door.
“You don’t have to sell the sailboat, Granny, if you don’t want. Maybe we can make the ghost disappear instead.”
“Like you plan to do with Armando’s spirit?”
“I want to help him find comfort.” She did, really. She hated to think someone had been murdered and couldn’t find peace. “He’s angry and—”
“And deadly.” Granny’s words were filled with dread.
“He wouldn’t hurt me.” Emily touched her skin where he’d given her frostbite. At least she didn’t think he would, or could, but the cold still lurked in her bones.
Granny shook her head. “He would do anything in his power to get back at the kids who murdered him. If it means using you to do so, he will. He’s an ice cold entity with only hatred in his soul.”
“Yes,” Emily whispered, realizing as much as she wanted to think otherwise Granny was probably right.
“He warned you once how powerful he could be. I doubt he’ll give you another warning.”
“But I only want to help him.”
“Yes, but he only cares about revenge. He feels nothing for anyone.”
“Granny, can you help put ghosts to rest?”
“Some, but not well. You seem to have a gift to deal with them. More than not, I seem to annoy them. At least, the pirate Roberts really dislikes me.”
Before Emily could offer her help, Michael returned with two uniformed officers. But the grim look on his face made her think he had overheard their conversation. Or had something else occurred?
“The police officers want to speak to you both about the car. I’ve told them everything I know.” His eyes remained focused on Emily’s, as if trying to read her intentions.
“About Red and his buddies?” Emily blurted.
“Yeah. And about them stalking us.”
Emily sighed deeply. Without evidence, the officers couldn’t pin the crime on the bullies, but at least the boys’ actions would now be recorded in the police records.
“Michael tells us you had some problems with these boys the first day of school,” the tallest officer said, pulling out a writing pad, his black bushy brows furrowed, his matching mustache hiding his upper lip.
“Yes. The one called Red wouldn’t let me sit on one of the seats on the school bus. I pushed his feet off the seat. When we got to the school, he hit me in the shoulder with his fist.”
“And?” the officer asked, jotting down notes.
“It didn’t seem to satisfy him. He’s wanted revenge ever since.”
The officer nodded. “Most likely if the kid and his buddies are troublemakers, there’ll be more reports.” He flipped his book closed. “We’ll check for the car at first light.”
Michael saw them to the door while Granny slipped into the kitchen, promising to bring back of slice of pie for them, but Emily wasn’t hungry. Instead, she waited for Michael’s return, anticipating it with dread. She knew he would give her an ultimatum.
When he returned to the room, he towered over her and rested his hands on his hips. “You won’t help Armando’s spirit any longer. It’s too dangerous.”
Emily whispered, “You don’t understand. A part of him is inside of me now. I have to help him…or die trying...”
Chapter 13
Michael knew from the first moment he saw the redhead she was trouble, even though she’d been a brunette when he first saw her, which had confused him later.
From the beginning he wanted to be the one to keep Emily out of it. But from the sketchy premonitions he had of the danger she faced, he never envisioned she’d have such a dangerous mission to undertake.
Michael folded his arms and pursed his lips. “How long have you known, Emily?”
“I...I didn’t know until your Granny told me. I mean, she made me realize...I mean, I didn’t know...”
He looked over at his grandmother, who walked into the room with plates of creamy pie.
“She didn’t know what she was getting into, Michael. The two of you will have to take me into school tomorrow
for show-and-tell.” His grandmother winked, and he raised his brows. “She can’t handle him alone. But two of us may be able to help him if we work together to focus good against evil.”
No way. He wasn’t letting Emily get close to that icy devil again. And he didn’t want his grandmother to come to any harm either. “No, Granny, she can’t—”
His grandmother pointed at the pie. “Eat. She can’t return to school if she doesn’t try to save his soul. So what would you have her parents do? Move? There’s not another high school in the area. She can’t avoid him. He’s touched her soul. His icy grip made her pass out, but more importantly, he took hold of her when she was most vulnerable. She couldn’t fight his presence, and he’ll use her to get to the ones who murdered him, even if it kills her.” She gave Emily a stern look. “There’s something more you’re not telling us, isn’t there, dear?”
Emily frowned, but looked genuinely puzzled, as if she hadn’t a clue. And then her lips parted slightly.
Michael sank into the couch next to Emily. He took her hand and held on tight. “What, Emily?”
“I…I died once.”
In disbelief, he stared at her. “When, how, what happened?”
She took a deep breath and pursed her lips. “When I was six. I drowned in a neighbor’s pool. So I was told. I don’t remember drowning. Thankfully, I never had a fear of the water afterward, but I saw them. For the first time. Some seemed curious. Some wanted me to go with them, held out their arms, or a hand to me, but others distanced themselves, as if I wasn’t exactly one of them. As if I didn’t belong.”
“Jeez, Emily. How long were…were you dead?” Michael asked, rubbing her chilled fingers.
“Long enough. I heard them pronounce me dead, my mother crying, my dad comforting her, tears in his eyes. I didn’t understand why they were so upset. And I saw the light. It was ghostly, warm, welcoming. But then I felt the pull back to my body, felt the cold, the clamminess, and then nothing again. Before the hospital even released me, I began seeing people drifting in and out of the room. My mother didn’t see them. They looked real to me and when I watched them come and go and asked my mother who they were, she grew scared, thinking I had suffered brain damage. But they were just spirits who had died in the hospital and hadn’t found a way home. They were curious about me. Sometimes I feel an eerie presence, but nothing more, like cold spots and then it vanishes. Other times it’s like the spirit wants help, and I’ll see just a hazy vision of them, other times, as if he or she were standing in front of me for real.”