I bit back a squeal, and paused to cover my face, blocking the onslaught.
Then, I heard the voice up ahead. “Bring back the money, Blue. Tell him to bring it back. It belongs to me.” The voice erupted into a sinister laugh.
I called out. “Dammit, who are you?”
Chip turned to look at me, puzzled. “What?”
I gripped Chip’s arm. The wind died down.
I could hear my anxious, panting breath in the stillness. I looked at Chip, growing alarmed. “I heard a voice.” Thin clouds of vapor rose with my words. “I heard someone. In the park earlier, and just now up ahead. I think we’re being followed.”
“How could we be followed? Nobody knew what we were doing. It must be the wind.”
Chip’s bland response only served to set me on edge. I stared at him, frustrated. “I heard a voice. It wanted me to talk you into taking the money back.” I stared at him, frustrated.
I heard a rustling in the trees up ahead.
Chip looked away. “Take the money back? No way. Besides, nobody knows about the money.”
“Oh, but that’s not true, Chip, and you know it.” The voice spoke loud, deep, and clear—directly in front of us.
A bulky figure stepped out from the bushes several yards ahead of us, standing tall and confident on the sidewalk, blocking our path. He wore a rumpled and dirty denim jacket and blue jeans. Though he stood some distance ahead and the trees continued to obscure the moonlight, I could see, with shocking clarity, the patch of thin, graying hair atop his head, and the details of the savage expression on his middle-aged face. He looked vaguely familiar, but I was certain I hadn’t met him before.
Chip dug his nails into my arm, and a moan of terror escaped his lips. “Oh, Christ.” His face paled with fright.
“Hey there, little boy. You know me?” The stranger stepped forward, hands in his pockets, walking with a slow, comfortable stride.
Chip took a step backward, but I stood my ground, watching in startled amazement. “Chip, come on. He won’t hurt us.”
Chip nodded, eyes wide. “Yes, he will.”
I’d had enough.
I took a step forward, letting the towel drop behind me. “Hey!” I wondered if the tough-gal bravado that freaked out Clinty would work on this loser. “Back off, shithead. You may have a score to settle with my friend, but now’s not the time.” I took another step toward him. “Maybe you saw something, maybe you didn’t, but there’s nothing you can do about it.”
I risked a quick look behind me. Chip stood erect, the moneybag clasped in a two-arm embrace against his chest. “Blue...it’s Gunther.”
“Gunther?” Unimpressed, I squinted in the dark at the scowling stranger. “Oh, yes. I see the resemblance now.”
I sized up the would-be con artist. “So, you’re the guy wandering around pretending to be a dead man, scaring the hell out of everyone.”
I glanced back at Chip. His eyes stared, riveted forward.
“Take it back, Chip. Take the money back now and bury it, and we’ll forget everything.”
I reached into my hip pocket and withdrew my switchblade. “All right, you sick fuck.” I walked toward him, bringing the blade forward and ready. “You’ve got him seriously spooked now, and I don’t like it. You back off, or you’re going to regret it.”
“How’s the old man, Chip? Think he’d like a visit from me? I’ll bet that’d be quite a treat.”
From behind me, I heard a sickening groan.
I switched the blade to my left hand, then back to my right. “Hang in there, Chip.” I closed the distance fast.
The stranger glared at me for the first time. A cruel smirk crossed his features.
I met his look with a threatening one of my own. “Last chance. Back off.”
He shrugged, obviously unconcerned, and continued to approach.
The arrogance of this impostor set me off. I’d almost lost control but had enough sense to palm the knife, pointing the blade toward the ground—keeping it handy but out-of-the-way, for now. Crouching low, I intended to tackle him at the knees and knock him out of the way.
The wind caught me, propelling me forward, and my body tumbled against him. I braced for an impact that never occurred. Instead, I fell through him, flailing my arms in a vain attempt to avoid spilling into the yard.
I landed hard on the grass, my accumulated bruises crying out in fresh pain.
Sprawled on the ground, my mind reeled, unable to accept what had just happened.
I rolled over and scrambled to my feet, the pain from the fall registering distantly.
I jumped through him. Jesus, I jumped and passed right through him!
I just tried to tackle a ghost.
I stumbled back to the sidewalk in a daze akin to shock.
I heard voices up the street.
“You can’t have it!”
“It’s mine, you little punk. It was never yours to take.”
I heard a shuffling and a yelp.
Still reeling, I took a few shaky steps. “Chip?”
Then, one thought overrode all my disbelief. Chip’s in trouble.
Just like that, I assimilated the situation and broke into a run toward the struggling figures.
Ahead—too far ahead—Chip struggled as Gunther pressed him back and across another front yard. They each had one hand grasping the moneybag. With two houses between us, I pumped my legs with all my might.
Gunther pushed Chip against a large tree.
“Chip!”
I knew I’d be too late.
They twisted, and Chip fell sprawling across the ground. Gunther’s arm swung up. His hook glinted in the moonlight.
Closing in, I watched in helpless horror as the hook slashed down.
Chip’s scream tore through the air.
I propelled myself, slamming full into a solid body that grunted and toppled.
I drew myself up between Gunther and Chip.
The ghost and I regained our feet at the same time.
He glared at me, and then reached out for the moneybag that lay between us.
His hand passed through the satchel, and he howled in frustration.
I waited, not daring to attack again. Apparently, the ghost couldn’t control his solidity.
I kept my eyes on Gunther. “Chip!”
“My leg’s cut. Be careful, Blue.”
A sudden burst of wind kicked up a blast of cold air that rocked me.
The apparition grimaced, fixing me with a withering glare. “You can’t touch me, you know.”
I snarled back. “You seemed solid enough a second ago.” I shifted the knife, pointing the business end at him. “I’ll bet you have to make yourself solid to do anything to me, and then we’ll see.”
He vanished. One moment he stood in front of me—the next, he faded away.
I ignored the mental hiccup. I’d always prided myself on adapting to new situations, but this took the cake.
“You’re a very foolish child, Blue.” I turned my head in the direction of the voice—across the street.
Gunther watched me, arms folded across his chest. Smirking, he raised the index finger on his good hand, wiggling it back and forth like a well-meaning father chastising an infant.
“This runs much deeper than you know, Blue. I will not let you turn the money over. I can’t. Now—last chance—bring it back, or you’ll pay in blood.”
I turned to Chip. “It’s your call.
Chip had pulled himself into a sitting position by the tree. I could see blood leaking across his jeans from what might have been a nasty gash.
Chip looked at me, but his voice rose toward the apparition across the street. “I can’t. I won’t. I’ve been through too much to take it back now.”
“Brave words from the little man. Fine. Let what happens next be on your head.”
With that, he vanished into the blowing wind.
I stared after him into the misty dark.
I turned back to Chip
. He struggled to stand, a crumpled figure, looking like a long, angled bug. I grabbed his precious moneybag and walked over to him.
I extended my hand to help him up, but for the first time, I doubted my resolve. “What have you gotten us into?”
His tear-stained face looked up at me, but he didn’t take my hand. “Please, Blue. Help me. It will be all right. I just need...to get this to the police. That’s all.”
Then I remembered. “Wait a second.” One-handed, I reached into my denim jacket pocket and pulled out my cell phone. As I unfolded it, I noted with a growing dread the absence of backlighting or any other response.
I gave the phone a quick shake, hearing the telltale swishing of trapped water. “Shit.”
I looked at Chip hopefully, but he shrugged and shook his head. “I didn’t bring mine. It had a low charge.”
I bit back a nasty response. “Well, that’s...great.”
I sighed, folding the useless device and dropping it back into the messenger bag.
I reached down, and his hand grasped mine. I looked into his eyes as he rose up beside me. “Did you know...that this...”
The shocked look on his face spoke his sincerity. “What? God, no, Blue. How could I know? The very idea of a...spirit...it’s beyond me.”
I nodded. “That makes two of us, but the idea better get within our realm of understanding real damn quick. He can jump us again at any time, and I’m not sure there’s much we can do about it.”
“I know...but he pulled away. I feel as if—”
“As if he’s gathering strength.” Even now, one of my feet tapped on the sidewalk from pent-up, nervous anxiety. I stopped it with an effort. “The wind, the streets. There’s a wild energy through here, like out-of-control electricity. We don’t know how much time we have. So, let’s get going.”
Chip stumbled forward and clasped my arm to keep from falling. “Ow! Dammit.”
“Hold still.” I bent over. The gash ran deeper than the surface, but I didn’t think he’d cut a vein, either. The bleeding had already slowed.
I sighed. “You’ll live. C’mon, put your hand on my shoulder.”
We took a couple of quick steps, practicing. It proved slow going—about a quarter the speed of our walk.
“Let’s go. The sooner we get to my house, the better. If you want the cops, Mom will ring every alarm in the neighborhood if she has to, and she’ll do it in about three seconds.”
“But—”
“Chip, don’t argue with me!”
He opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut, nodding instead.
“Good boy. Let’s go.”
While we still have time.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
About twenty minutes later, we stood on the porch of my house, cloaked in total darkness. Even the moon had vanished behind the clouds. I helped Chip up onto the porch, and then fished through my still-damp messenger bag for the keys.
I found the key-ring, then hunted for the keyhole via the Braille method.
“Forget the keys, Blue.” Chip said, extending a finger toward the doorbell.
“Chip, wait, it’s after mid—”
I heard the faint sound of the chime ringing and laughed off a burst of nervous energy. “Nice one, Chip. That’s going to make a great first impression.”
We waited. I bit down against my chattering teeth. In just a few seconds, the door would open, and...
“I don’t see any lights coming on, Blue.”
My head reeled. He’s right.
Fresh panic sent my fingers grasping, and I dropped the keys. They tumbled into the dark and rattled across the cement.
“Hurry, Blue.” He pounded on the window. “Mrs. Shaefer, open up!”
I bent down, feeling around frantically until I wrapped my hands around the icy ring.
I popped the key into the lock and pushed the door open. “Come on.”
I snapped on the light. “Mom?”
I ran across the living room to the hall. “Mom! Answer me!”
In my terror, I forgot how a doorknob worked. I clawed at the closed door, then reached down and flung the door open. “Mom, wake up!” I flipped the switch.
The room lit up in bright white.
Mom lay on the bed, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.
A flood of relief washed over me. “Mom, I need help. We—”
Then, I saw the red puddle soaking through the sheets where she lay.
“Mom!” The room tilted, and my legs stopped working. I collapsed onto the hardwood floor.
I crawled, pulling myself up and onto the bed. My vision blurred, spotting to red—the color of the sheets. “Mom! Mom, no.”
My hands reached out, shaking her. She didn’t move.
I fought back the terror. There was still a chance. I pressed a finger to her neck, probing and searching for a pulse I couldn’t find.
Just like that, it hit me. My Mom’s dead.
“No. Oh no!”
I shook her. She was still warm, and red continued to leak, darkening the white of the sheet.
I saw the nightstand drawer, pulled open. Her hand lay unmoving by her head; her fingers still curled around the tiny gun she thought would save her life from the intruder.
I slipped down the bed to my knees. Turning away, I could see the opposite wall, where three bullets had left holes in the marbled white surface. I needed to leave.
I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn’t obey the command.
Then, I saw a word scrawled across the white wall. In blood.
Mom’s blood.
RETURN.
Reality faded along with my eyesight. Red and white phased to black.
Mom’s not dead. Mom can’t be dead.
Crimson drops pooled a couple feet from where I lay in a crumpled heap.
Mom’s body isn’t on the bed. It can’t be. Mom’s not dead.
A sickening queasiness rushed through me, doubling me over as I coughed in spasms.
Distantly, I noticed Chip standing in the doorway.
Chip is here. He can fix her. He can fix everything. He’ll notice what I missed and everything will be all right. That’s what he always says; everything will be all right, Blue…
Then I heard his cries, his yells of denial, and I knew he couldn’t fix her.
Mom is dead. Mommmyyyy!
My face touched the cool wood of the floor. I could find no comfort here.
The puddle inched toward me, but blessed blackness overcame me first.
* * * *
I opened my eyes and couldn’t figure out why I was lying horizontally across the big leather recliner in my living room, wrapped in a blanket my numb body couldn’t feel.
I shook myself, fighting back from the void of shock by sheer willpower.
Focus on the now. There’s too much to do.
I heard Chip’s voice, but he wasn’t talking to me, probably on the phone. I drifted into shock like a zombie.
Mom’s dead, and I did it.
The room spun, and I closed my eyes against a shudder.
Reality seeped into me. No, Gunther did this. I have to do something to stop him from hurting anyone else.
In a minute. I continued to lay in black numbness, listening to Chip talking rapidly in almost incoherent phrases, pouring out the story.
There wasn’t supposed to be a ghost! Maybe we’d be caught at the park and get arrested, but...I’d thought it through very carefully...had everything under control.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Chip’s words penetrated to my consciousness. “Okay. We won’t move. We’ll wait for the police. Be careful, Dad.”
I never had a Dad. Now, I don’t have a Mom anymore, either. The fact sank in. I don’t have a Mom anymore, because of Chip.
I closed my eyes against sudden nausea. I waited for it to subside, and then brushed aside the blanket. Pulling myself up onto shaking legs, I stood on my own two feet. The stiff, damp denim chafed my thighs.
I need to stay focused and finish this. I owe her that much.
Nausea gave way to a burning anger.
I heard the receiver of the phone land against its cradle. Chip limped into the room from the kitchen, a white rag tied around his leg.
At the sight of me, Chip’s face softened to anxious concern. He took a step toward me. “Blue, you’d better take it easy. You’re still in shock and—”
My rage burst out. “Bastard!” I advanced on him.
He froze in midstep, perplexed.
“Did you see my mother? Did you see what you did?”
“Blue, I swear. I didn’t know.”
“You had to know. He told you. ‘We’d pay in blood,’ he said. Son of a bitch! Now, she’s dead, because of you.”
I saw the moneybag, propped on the kitchen table where he must have set it. I brushed past him. I have to get that bag, and he’s not going to stop me.
He pivoted to watch me, but did nothing. “The police are on their way. Everything will be okay in a minute.” His calm, measured voice spoke its hypnotic reason, but it didn’t calm my anger.
Grabbing the moneybag, I snarled his words back at him. “Everything will be okay? My mother’s dead, and everything will be okay?”
I swung the bag in an arch with all my might, smashing it into his chest. “My mother died over this!”
Weakened by his wounded leg, Chip toppled backward without uttering a noise.
The lack of reaction fed my fury. I pounced, grabbing him by his jacket and forcing him into a sitting position against the wall. “A bag of old money, you son of a bitch!”
Hurt filled his shocked eyes, but his arms hung, unresisting, at his sides.
I screamed at him. “Damn you and your treasure hunt!”
“Blue, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“Stop apologizing, you coward.” I threw myself at him, yanking him forward by his jacket. “You think the cops can fix this? You think the police can shoot the big bad ghost?” I threw him against the wall with all my might, forcing a groan from him.
Still, he didn’t fight back. Fine with me.
I stood, looking down at his crumpled, pathetic form. “Useless. Coward. I’m taking the money back. Now.”
“Blue, you can’t do that. He’s beyond all control. We need to give the money to the cops.” His words came out faster. “We can expose Gunther. That’s what he fears most. If you reveal his secret, his legend dies. The threat to his legacy is what’s feeding his power now. You can’t fight him anymore.”
Haunting Blue Page 22