The Ghost Files 4: Part 1

by Apryl Baker

  Several loud knocks pound on the door, and I get up to answer it. They’ve gotten here faster than I’d thought. Detective Brody of Robbery Homicide waits on the other side. He nods briskly, his brown eyes grim as I give him a rundown on everything I’ve learned before we go back into the kitchen. I tap his shoulder when he sits and point to my phone. He gives me a nod of approval.

  “Amber, this is Detective Brody. He’s here to help. He’s going to ask you some questions.”

  “Where are you going?” Panic resurfaces in her eyes.

  “I’m going to go outside and give the other officers Kayla’s description, then I’m going to start searching for her myself.”

  She nods, her movement wooden despite the glassy look of fear in her eyes. I waste no time in escaping. As soon as I hit the front porch, I let out the breath I’ve been holding. There’s this nasty feeling in my gut I’d squashed while questioning her, but now it bubbles over.

  “Hey, Dan.”

  I see Chris Jenkins, an officer from my academy class, coming up the drive. He’s my age and we’ve been friends for a while.

  “You caught the case?” He stops just as I step down.

  “Accident. I brought Mattie over, and…”

  “Right time, right place, huh?”

  That’s an understatement. I motion for him to follow me, and we walk over to the police officers setting up a perimeter. More squad cars are arriving, as well as the CMPD mobile unit. Anything involving the disappearance of a child under ten is considered a critical missing. We don’t say a missing child in this situation, instead we all refer to it as a critical missing. Helps people to stay focused and not panic. The street might look like chaos at the moment, but it’s an organized chaos.

  My captain, Sheila Warner, steps out of the mobile command unit. In her late forties, her brown hair is starting to show signs of silver, but her blue eyes remain sharp as ever. She looks around, and when her gaze lands on me, she frowns. I know what she’s thinking. I’ve taken a leave of absence, which means I’m not on active duty. I’m still a cop, though, out of uniform or not.

  Another detective I don’t know takes my statement and gets a description of the little girl and what she was last seen wearing for an Amber Alert. As soon as I’m done, Captain Warner is waiting for me.

  “Dan.”

  “I know I’m not…”

  She holds up a hand to stop me. “You did good, Dan. I just spoke with Brody. He says you had the good sense to record your conversation, and we’ve got enough to get out a good description over the wire. I’m not going to bust your chops for not being on active duty. It’s all hands on deck when we have a missing child. Especially right now.”

  I can see Mary and Mattie running back toward me. They skid to a halt a minute later. Both are shaking their heads, and the heavy pit in my stomach only gets worse.

  “Nobody’s seen her.” Mary wheezes as she tries to catch her breath. “We knocked on every door just like you said.”

  “Captain, this is Mary Cross and Mattie Hathaway. Guys, this is my police captain, Sheila Warner.”

  “The infamous Mattie Hathaway.” Despite the situation, I see a twinkle in her eye when Mattie attempts not to squirm. Mattie and the police have had several run-ins over the last few years. The girl has a rap sheet most cons would be proud of. She and Detective Brody are on a first name basis, if I remember correctly.

  Mattie narrows her eyes, and before she can say any of her patented snarky comebacks, I turn to Mary. “Did you guys notice anything unusual in the neighborhood?”

  Mary shakes her head. “No. Most people aren’t even home.”

  “Captain! We found something!”

  We all turn to look when someone shouts from the Rawlins house. The officer stares at the ground, grim as death. Whatever he found can’t be at all good.

  Captain Warner is across the street faster than I can blink. The woman can move in those heels. It reminds me of Meg. She could always run faster than me, even in her heels…a dizzying sensation swims up when I remember she’s gone.

  Mattie’s hand slips into mine and she leans into me. Her hand is cool to the touch, but it’s comforting. She knows me too well. Mary looks like she’s about to say something, and I drag Mattie with me and follow the captain. I can’t deal with any condolences. I haven’t even had time to come to grips with Meg’s death yet. Until I do, it’s best to focus on something else.

  And right now, the most important thing is finding Kayla. Alive.

  That thought gets beaten down when I see what everyone is staring at.

  An older model Buick sedan is parked on the street in front of the Rawlins house. I’d seen it when we pulled up earlier, but I hadn’t paid it any mind. I know the car. It belongs to one of the neighbors who works second shift and usually parks where he can when he gets home late. Mary had told me about it when I’d seen it parked in front of her house once.

  Sticking out from under the front tire is a worn and faded teddy bear, its black, glassy eyes staring at us. The same teddy bear Kayla had been clutching earlier. Its ear has a wet, red stain. Smaller drops of the same substance surround it haphazardly.

  No one needs to say what the bloody teddy bear means.

  She’s not at a friend’s house or hiding from her mom.

  She’s gone.

  ***

  My feet are finally starting to ache. We’ve all walked for miles, banging on doors, stopping people on sidewalks and outside of storefronts with our photo of Kayla Rawlins. No one has seen the girl, but I didn’t expect anything else. A bloody teddy bear left behind speaks volumes about her manner of abduction. As the day wears on, my hope of finding the little girl alive fades.

  Mattie hasn’t said much of anything for over an hour. She’s too quiet. “You okay, Squirt?”

  “We’re not going to find her, are we?”

  “I don’t know.” No point in trying to reassure her. I know she has a soft spot for the little girl, and giving her false hope would only hurt her more in the end.

  “I’ve read enough of your police books to know the longer she’s gone, the less likely we are to find her alive.”

  The truth is the average for a missing kid is about three hours. If we haven’t found them in that time frame, the less likely we are to find them alive. Not that we tell parents that, but it’s an ugly truth. When I think about that bloody bear, my hope of finding the child alive gets crushed. She was taken by violence. It speaks volumes about the kind of monster who took her. If I let myself think about what she might be going through right now…I shake my head, forcing the images and thoughts out of my head. No good can come from that frame of mind. I just wish we had better news for her mother.

  “I wish I could tell you we’re going to find her.” I stuff my hands into my pockets as we walk.

  “I know.” She lets out a sigh deep enough to hold the world’s sorrows. It’s something she does when she starts thinking about her own past, being shipped from foster home to foster home. At times like these, I want to pull her into a hug and tell her it’s all going to be okay, but Mattie knows that’s not the truth. She knows it better than most.

  We turn the corner onto her street. The police cars have thinned out a bit, but the mobile command unit is still parked front and center. Mary and her mother are sitting on Mr. Burnette’s front porch, the older man in one of the rocking chairs. He looks stricken at the loss of his granddaughter, his face drawn and showing his age in the deep wrinkle lines outlining the frown he’s wearing. None of this can be good for a man of his age. As we get closer, I can see him holding a stuffed pony. Probably another favorite toy of Kayla’s.

  “Anything?” Mr. Burnett looks up hopefully, and I feel terrible to have to shake my head. The defeat on his face is heartbreaking.

  “We’re doing everything we can, sir.”

  “Why don’t we go inside, and I’ll make you a cup of tea?” Mrs. Cross gets up off the porch swing and heads toward the front door. “
It’ll do you some good.”

  Mr. Burnett nods and stands, the pony tumbling from his hand, and follows Mrs. Cross inside. The stuffed pink horse has stains on it, probably from being dragged around and from tea parties. I bend over and pick it up. It shouldn’t be on the ground. It reminds me too much of the bear.

  My fingers clutch the plush animal, the velvety fur soft to the touch. An image floats up, of Kayla hugging it to her chest. More and more images flicker through my mind, blinding me to the outside world. Of the little girl sitting in her room surrounded by her toys, playing like she’s the queen holding court. I see her in a car, crying because her arm hurts from a shot. They roll behind my eyes faster and faster, blurring so much I can’t decipher them. A sharp pain starts behind my left eye and quickly blooms to a full-on assault that feels like someone gleefully stabbing me in the eye with a rusty nail.

  “Dan!”

  Mattie’s voice breaks through the kaleidoscope of images. I drop the pony and the bombardment stops. Blinking, I stumble from the fallen toy. What was that?

  “What’s wrong?” Mattie’s eyes are wide. “What happened?”

  “I…I’m not…sure.” Part of me wants to pick the cursed thing back up and see if it happens again, but the other part is shaking its head. Hands up and back away slowly. I repeat the same words to myself as I would to a suspect. The animal is suspect right now. I’m not sure what it did to me.

  “Dan, you look like someone just asked you to swallow a live slug.” Mattie puts her hands on her hips, irritated. “Now spit it out. What happened just now?”

  Instead of answering her, I stare at the innocent looking stuffed toy. It’s just lying there on the porch, staring blindly upward. I squat and reach for it, but hesitate. What if it happens again? What is “it,” anyway?

  “Dan?” Mattie sounds more irritated than before. I don’t pay it any mind. She does that when she’s worried. Once people get used to her, they understand that.

  “When I picked it up earlier, I saw stuff.”

  “Stuff?” Mary gets on her knees beside me. “What kind of stuff?”

  “Random stuff, I guess. It was like a bunch of home movies all shoved onto one tape playing really fast. All of it was Kayla, every image of her. It got so jumbled my head started to spin.”

  Mary’s gasp made me look away from the pony. “What?”

  “I think I might know what it is.” Mary jumps up and glances around. The place is still crawling with cops and reporters. “Come on, let’s go back to the house.”

  Mattie doesn’t say anything to either of us. She just turns and walks off the porch and to the Cross’.

  “What’s going on with her?” Mary falls into step beside me. “She seems off.”

  Something is wrong with Mattie, something more than what happened last night. She’s been in a funk since we’d stopped to pick up her stuff. She’d brushed it off as a ghost, but now I’m not so sure. Or maybe she’s just now beginning to process the last twenty-four hours.

  “She’s been through a lot.” I slow down as we walk. “We got a call that Jake’s not dead, too. Then Kayla…” I shake my head. “Is it any wonder she’s not herself?”

  “I guess.” Mary chews at her lip and stops before we reach the gate. “How are you? You went through a lot too, the last couple days.”

  I shrug, my head ducking a bit. “I’m dealing.”

  “Yeah, I get that, but you lost your girlfriend, Dan. I know Mattie had a hard time with you dating Meg, and I wasn’t that supportive either, but you loved her. If you need anything, please let me know what I can do for you.”

  “Thanks, Mary.” I give her a half-hearted smile that’s probably more of a grimace, but I close the gate behind us and start up the front porch steps. I’m not ready to talk about Meg yet.

  We wander into the kitchen to find Mattie pulling cans of Coke out of the fridge. She’s bypassed OJ and gone straight for her sugar addiction.

  “So what’s wrong with Dan?” She hands us each a can and plops down on one of the island’s bar stools.

  “Well, I think it’s kinda like what happened to me.” Mary opens her can and takes a tiny sip. She’s not a big Coca Cola fan. I remember when Mattie informed me of that little fact. She’d been completely flabbergasted, convinced everyone was addicted to sugar like she is. To be fair, she’d gotten me addicted to Coke. I drink at least a can a day, much to my mom’s horror.

  “I don’t understand.” Mattie swivels in her chair so she’s facing us.

  “Well, Dr. Olivet can explain it better than I can, but when you are close to death and almost cross over, you can come back with certain abilities.”

  “You mean your ability to hear ghosts?” Mattie raises her eyebrow in question.

  “Yeah, exactly like that. Maybe Dan came back a little bit psychic. I’ve read documented cases where people came back from near death experiences with gifts like he’s describing. They’re able to hold something of someone’s and see things about them.”

  What the… “I am not psychic.”

  “Dan, you were on the ghost plane for a long time, close to the Between.” Mattie frowns, thinking. “It’s possible. I mean, you can’t argue Mary hears ghosts.”

  Well, yes, I can, but I won’t. I think Mary might want to hear them so she thinks she does. She needs therapy more than she needs me agreeing with nonsense. Just admitting ghosts are real is a big leap for me. If I hadn’t seen it firsthand, I’d never have believed it.

  “I’m not psychic.” No way, no how. I am not a bigger freak than I already am. Seeing ghosts that have gone mad is more than enough for me. Touching things and getting a sneak peek into someone’s life? No. I refuse to accept it.

  “Then you explain what happened when you picked up that toy.” Mattie crosses her arms over her chest and smiles expectantly.

  My lips purse. I can’t explain it, and she knows it.

  “That’s what I thought.” She smirks, and I narrow my eyes. “Don’t bug out. It’s not that bad.”

  Not that bad? She’s lost her marbles if she thinks seeing things in my head isn’t that bad. Maybe it’s the head wound? I did leave the hospital against doctor’s orders. I probably need another CT scan or something. Hallucinations. That’s it. I’m just hallucinating because of swelling or bleeding in the brain. That’s the most rational explanation for what happened.

  “Maybe we should just call Dr. Olivet?” Mary suggests.

  “No.”

  We both stare at Mattie in disbelief. The sharp hardness of her tone speaks volumes. Why doesn’t she want to talk to the doctor?

  “Okay, enough is enough.” I mimic her and fold my arms. “What’s up with you not wanting to talk to Dr. Olivet?”

  She gets that defensive, defiant look in her eyes, but I see the hurt and the fear underneath it. If you don’t know her as well as I do, you’d miss it. Mary’s missed it.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Tough.” I give her my best cop look, and she squirms. I need something to distract me from the possibility of some weird ability I’ve just inherited or a possible relapse of my brain injury. Nope, not thinking about it.

  “He’s a liar.”

  Now, that’s not what I expected her to say. “What do you mean?”

  She doesn’t look happy about it, but Mattie launches into the events of last night, of finding Dr. Olivet waiting on her and of the photo she’d found in his possession. He’d known who she was all along? No wonder she’s pissed. Mattie hates being deceived. Once you lose her trust, it’s nearly impossible to get it back. I’m still surprised she forgave me for keeping things from her. But I guess that’s what the two of us do. We forgive each other, no matter what.

  “He has a point.” Mattie’s glare swings to Mary. “Well, he does.”

  Mary’s right. Had he come right out and told Mattie who he was, she’d never have trusted him. It’s just who she is. The girl has serious trust issues.

  “Would you
have listened to him?” I keep my voice steady, calm. “If he’d told you that day he knew who you were, knew your mom, would you have listened, or stalked away like you usually do?”

  The anger in her eyes burns brighter. She knows we’re right, but she’s not ready to admit it yet.

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Yeah, Squirt, it kinda is the point.” I brace my feet, ready for a fight. “Dr. Olivet has done nothing but help you and be there for you. If he had nefarious plans for you, I think he’d have done it by now. He dropped everything and flew down here because he was afraid of what your father might do. Your mom trusted him, Mattie. Don’t you think maybe you should give him a chance to explain himself? He’s not a bad guy. Sure, he kept something from you, but it wasn’t out of malice.”

  She looks like she wants to argue, but something flickers in her eyes and they flash black for the barest hint of a second. I’ve seen them do that before. What’s caught my attention is there was an undertone of yellow in them. If I’d blinked, I’d have missed it. We really need to talk to the doctor about her eyes. I’m worried. From what Caleb’s told me, only demons have black eyes. Add in the creepy yellow, and I’m more than worried. I’m scared. What did she give up in order to save me?

  “Look, just think about it, okay?” I run a hand through my hair. It’s getting longer than I normally keep it. “We don’t have to make a decision right now.”

  Her face morphs from righteous indignation to concern. “Dan, your nose is bleeding.”

  What? I swipe at my nose, and sure enough, when I pull it back, blood covers my fingertips. I look up, shocked and scared. What the heck is going on?

  Chapter Eight

  Mattie

  My footsteps echo around me as I pace up and down the waiting room. What’s wrong with him? Why is his nose bleeding? It hadn’t stopped the entire ride here. Mary had driven us to the hospital, her mom wanting to stay with Mr. Burnett and his daughter while they waited for news of Kayla.