Gatekeeper

by Natasha Deen

  Confusion made wrinkles in Nell’s face. “How do you figure kids dying and Serge—”

  Oh, no. No way. I wasn’t going get into Bruce logic. I had enough to deal with when it came to Nell logic. “Uh, that can wait. You want to talk to Serge—”

  “To see if he’s okay,” said Tammy.

  Serge went still, then laughed. “What do they think I’m going to say? Like...HHHEELLLPP?”

  I went for mental communication with the ghost. Seriously. No more Scooby Doo.

  “We think Serge is trapped in this plane,” said Tammy, “and we want to free him.”

  He stopped laughing. “Actually, that’s kind of sweet.” He blinked, then blinked again. “And more than I deserve.”

  “Exactly. We’ll cross him over.” Bruce’s fingers twitched. “Maybe get a chance to say sorry for being such a jerk to him.”

  “I think he knows,” said Nell.

  Under the table, I kicked her foot.

  “—he would know and forgive you.” Nell gave me a bland smile made sarcastic because she knew the truth.

  Tammy’s shake of her head made strands of her hair stick in her lip-gloss. “Not if he’s trapped. Then he may not know anything. He might be in pain.”

  “How are you going to do it?” I asked.

  “An Ouija board,” she said. “You in?”

  That was going to be problematic. Me plus anything that acted as a magnet for spirits was going to equal every ghost showing up at my door.

  Can I come?

  Serge’s question sounded in my head.

  Rattle some chains?

  I’ll rattle your chains if you do.

  “You need to be there,” said Bruce. “I think you have a special connection with him.”

  Serge laughed. Boy, they don’t know the half of it, do they, Mags?

  “Nell’s coming—” Bruce continued.

  Of course she was. Had Nell been at the burning of Rome, she’d have brought marshmallows.

  “—if you come that’s four of us. Five if we can get a hold of Craig.” Bruce’s face scrunched together. “I tried texting but he hasn’t responded.” His gaze found me. “You’re his girlfriend. Do you know what’s going on?”

  “Uh, he had to visit family. They live in a remote area. Not sure if they get cell reception where they’re at.”

  Nell had a sudden coughing fit.

  “Anyway, you on board?” He grinned. “For the board?”

  “Um, I’m not sure...”

  “You gotta come.”

  Dang. He looked so sincere. “Let me think on it, okay?”

  Bruce’s disappointment was almost palatable. He stood. “This isn’t just about him, it’s about you too.”

  Oh, boy. He didn’t know the half of it.

  Chapter Nine

  “What do you mean I dropped out of school?” A few days after Nancy put in the query, Kent stood at the kitchen table, his arms folded and a look of disbelief on his face. Well, what was left of his face. Half of it had gone black. I guess he was still wrestling with the reality of being dead. His outline remained sharp, which seemed like a positive step.

  Nancy glanced at the screen of her cell. “Is that Kent or is Serge transcribing?”

  “Serge taught me how to tap into the phones.”

  Her phone beeped the text. “Oh, okay.” Nancy slid close to me and whispered, “Should I congratulate him or is that just weird?”

  “I’d hold off on the kudos, for now,” said Serge.

  Kent raised his hands in the air, then let them drop with a slap against his thighs. “I’d never drop out of university. I gave up having a life just to get into med school!”

  Nancy’s phone beeped.

  “The university’s registration system recorded someone logging in with Kent’s ID and passcode, then dropping all of his classes. They also received an email from his address to the dean, saying he couldn’t handle the pressure and was withdrawing.”

  “Couldn’t handle the pressure? After pulling off perfect marks and perfect attendance, being on almost every sports team, volunteering at the hospital, and getting to university on a scholarship that still doesn’t pay for everything, and they think I caved under pressure?”

  “Maybe Kent needs some time to consider this,” I said.

  “I don’t need time, I need answers! Don’t you get it? My body’s missing, plus all this stuff at school. People are going to think I flaked out on my life—or that I really did kill myself! I didn’t do either!” He put his head between his legs and took a few deep breaths.

  Nancy held up her phone. “I got nothing, what’s he saying?”

  “He’s hyperventilating,” I said. “Give him a minute.”

  She set down her phone. “This is a weird life you live, kid. And all this time, when I dealt with murder victims, I always thought, if I could just talk to them, I’d solve this case in a heartbeat.”

  “Yeah, well, violent deaths have a way of erasing memories,” I said.

  “I’m getting that.”

  “Did you get anything from his mom?”

  Nancy shook her head. “She’s on sick leave from work. I tried calling, then going to the house when she didn’t pick up, but she didn’t come to the door.”

  “Let’s hope it’s because she’s actually sick and she didn’t have anything to do with her son’s death,” I said.

  “Kent.” Nancy’s gaze washed the room.

  “He’s standing across from you.”

  “If it wasn’t you, then who? Who knows you well enough to know your passwords and code, and could access your student records?”

  He stood up, shook his head, miserable. His body rippled, like he was a piece of laundry left on the line during a storm. “That’s just it. No one. I don’t have any close friends—”

  Serge and I glanced at each other, but the sadness of the statement seemed to bypass Kent because he didn’t miss a breath or a word.

  “—and sending a letter to the dean, having me drop out because of stress? That’s someone who hated me. Wanted people to think I was some kind of flake.” His misery turned to confusion. “But to hate me that much they’d rip my reputation? I don’t know anyone like that.”

  Great. Now, I was chasing two ghosts. Kent and the shadowy phantom who’d ruined his life.

  I found Kent in Serge’s room a couple hours later. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “I’d ask how you’re doing but it’s pretty obvious.” I gestured to his face. “But you look like you’re doing better...I can see all of you, now.”

  He blinked and wiped his eyes. “I’d say this is a nightmare come true, but in my wildest nightmares, I never imagined this.” He reached his hand out to me. “Sorry about the freak out earlier.”

  “Understandable, no worries.” I sat beside him on the duvet-covered bed and went silent. A lifetime of transitioning the dead had taught me lesson number one: let the dead talk. They needed to tell someone their story to free themselves from this plane and move on.

  “My whole life has revolved around being a doctor. I volunteered at the hospital on weeknights, got temp jobs there during the summer. Made sure my application to med school was well rounded: volunteered at the animal shelter and the distress line, joined track teams, did extra homework. I didn’t have time for friends or a girlfriend. I’ve never been on a sleepover, never had a birthday party. I spent my entire life making hard choices and sacrificing for my future.” He broke off. “All of it, for what? To end up dead before I was twenty-one.”

  I took his hand and squeezed. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I was going to help kids with ADHD. Fight for better health-care options for the poor and elderly.” He laughed through his tears. “I was trying to do it all and I probably wasn’t going to get any of it done, but a
ll I’ve ever wanted was to leave the world a better place than I found it. And now I’m dead and the world hasn’t been made better. The world doesn’t even know I’m gone.”

  I put my arms around his shoulders, rested my chin against the top of his head, let him cry.

  Craig’s text woke me up the next morning. Wish you were here it said, along with a photo of a waterfall.

  Wish you were here, I texted back, ’cause then you’d know there’s an eight hour time difference and it’s three in the morning over here.

  ROFL.

  I blinked fast. I really did wish he was here so I could hear his laugh in person. I heart you.

  Heart you back.

  I set the phone back on the night table, squirmed back into a comfortable spot between Ebony and Buddha, and closed my eyes.

  Tammy and Bruce were waiting at my locker on Monday morning, and I managed to get around another request for a séance by claiming I was so upset by what happened to Rori that I needed a couple days to recover.

  After school, I grabbed Nell, went to my house to get Kent and Serge. Then we headed to Kent’s house.

  “What’s the plan?” Nell asked as we drove. Snowflakes fell from a dark grey sky and a sharp wind heralded the coming of a bitter storm.

  “We need to get a missing person report filed—” I glanced over my shoulder at Serge. “You know you’re dead, right? And don’t need the seat belt?”

  “Have you seen her driving?” He buckled himself into the seat.

  Kent shrugged and did the same.

  “I see you grinning, Johnson,” said Nell, “but since I’m not one to text and drive, I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “Do you ever know what’s going on?”

  “I know if you keep sassing me, I’m pulling over and you can walk to Mrs. Meagher’s house in the snowstorm.”

  “I take it back. You’re a visionary, Nell.”

  “That’s better. Why are we doing this?”

  “Mrs. Meagher’s not answering her door, but I bet if she thought it was about her kid, she’d answer. His mom is the only one who should file a report.” I looked at Nell. “You’re going to tell her you wanted to talk to Kent about med school, but you can’t get a response from him and you’re worried.”

  The streetlights illuminated her frown. “My dad’s a doctor. Why would I talk to Kent?”

  “Because it’s been light years since your dad was at med school and you want an opinion from someone who’s not a geriatric.”

  She snorted. “Don’t let Dad hear you say that. Okay, that works…wait, you think that will work?”

  “If what Nancy says about Kent’s mom is true, one whiff of her kid going missing and she’ll call in the marines.”

  “She’ll call the marines,” said Kent. “Mom’s super protective.”

  Then why hasn’t she called yet?

  I glanced at Serge and gave a subtle shrug as my answer.

  “And when they can’t find him, she’ll call Nancy and the sheriff will get it done.”

  I laughed.

  “Is that true?” asked Kent. “The sheriff—she’s really good? She’ll find my body and figure out what happened to me?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “She’s the best.”

  “When she does…find my body, how will she tell my mom? She’ll be nice, right?” Kent pulled on the seat belt like the shoulder strap was too tight and he couldn’t breathe. “She doesn’t have anyone. God! How could I be so stupid that I died?”

  “I don’t think stupidity has anything to do with it,” I said.

  “I still can’t figure out how I died—car accident doesn’t seem likely. I don’t have any genetic problems, so it can’t be a heart problem—”

  It was murder.

  I took a breath, thankful for the telepathy that kept my conversation with Serge private. We don’t know that.

  I got a feeling.

  Maybe, but I think his death is pushing your buttons.

  No, it’s murder. Trust me, I can see him in ways you can’t. He looks like a puzzle someone put together, but the pieces don’t all match. There are gaps in his body—that’s not suicide or an accident.

  “All I know is I’m dead, Mom’s stuck here, stuck in a dead end job, and she’ll have to live with that.”

  “Let’s take it one thing at a time,” I said. “Let’s get the report filed and then we’ll figure out the next step.” Serge’s conviction about murder aside, there still was the possibility of an accident. And though Kent denied it, suicide. He didn’t need to believe in it like Santa Claus to do it, maybe that explained his amnesia about his death.

  I was hoping for an accident. Suicide was going to re-kill Kent. I’d already lived through one murder, I didn’t want to go through it again.

  From the backseat, Kent gave me a miserable nod and went back to pulling on the seat belt.

  Maggie.

  Yes.

  It’s me, Serge.

  Is this a Judy Blume joke? Like, are you there, God, it’s me, Margaret?

  Huh? No. I’m just telling you it’s me calling you.

  I gave myself a minute. I know. You know how come I know?

  Because you can hear my voice?

  Because, Boo-Boo, yours is the only voice in my head. Oh, right, and we just had a telepathic conversation. But thanks for identifying yourself.

  Nell watched me from the corner of her eye.

  I put my finger to my lips, then gave a quick nod to Kent.

  A thumbs up from her and she went back to watching the road.

  What’s going on? I asked.

  That maybe we shouldn’t let Kent be part of this conversation with his mom.

  Why?

  Because he thinks he’s gotten the ultimate F for getting murdered and he’s been freaking out over his mom.

  Now wasn’t the time to point out—again—we didn’t have any evidence that Kent had been murdered. My memory flashed back to me, Serge, and our sometimes unpleasant conversations about his mom. And the even more unpleasant results of those conversations. How much is he freaking out? Like he’s going-to-blow-something-up freak out?

  In the rearview mirror, Serge gave a quick, helpless shrug. Kent was really protective and looked out for her. He feels like he’s failed her, not just by dying, but that because of his death, she’ll never get out of the financial hole she’s trapped in.

  When you say protective…like you and your mom?

  He shook his head. No, more like you and your dad…maybe like my mom. He pays the bills, makes appointments for plumbers or furnace guys. I get the feeling she’s going to be lost without him.

  Oh. Oh, man.

  Yeah. I don’t know how he’s going to deal with seeing his mom again—especially when we’re telling her that he’s missing.

  I had seen what one ghost exploding could do. I wasn’t in the mood to see the sequel. The tires crunched the gravel shoulder as I asked Nell to pull the car over and put it in park.

  “Kent,” I said. “We should talk.”

  Nell took out her phone to follow along.

  “Okay.”

  “We’re driving to your house to tell your mom you’re missing. And we want her to file a police report.”

  He nodded.

  “There’s nothing on my phone,” said Nell. “What’s he doing?”

  “He’s nodding.”

  “Oh, okay.” She glanced up. “Casper, can you be a good little ghosty and give me the action stuff?” Her cell binged and she beamed in Serge’s direction. “Great, thanks.”

  “Uh, yeah, sure.”

  Good thing the lights were off because I was sure Serge was blushing. “Kent,” I said. “Have you thought about how you’re going to react to your mom reacting to us telling her you’re missing?”

/>   “Yeah,” he answered. “She’ll file a report and—”

  “No. To her reacting to hearing you’re missing. That all the silence between you isn’t because you’re busy at school, it’s because of something else. And her mind is going to start thinking about you being lost or kidnapped or—”

  “Dead in a gutter somewhere,” he finished. “Oh, God. Then she’s going to freak—” He put his head between his knees. “She’s going to cry so hard—”

  I put myself in Kent’s shoes, imagined standing by my dad’s side as someone told him I’d gone missing. There would be disbelief in his eyes, then denial. He’d track back in time, to the last moment we’d spoken, run through every word of the conversation. Then it would hit. I was missing. Gone. Maybe dead. Probably dead.

  And I would be a ghost, unable to tell him I was still by his side, unable to hug him or let him know I hadn’t gone anywhere—not really. It would be the tears I couldn’t stand.

  I thought about what Kent had said, that the last time he and his mom had talked, they’d had a fight. The guilt would weigh on both of them. Kent would move on, but Mrs. Meagher would be trapped in this life, with no friends or family to comfort her. What would she do? Soldier on? Survive but waste away a little every day? Or would she make the ultimate solution to her pain?

  I met Kent’s eyes and saw the same questions I had mirrored there. “You don’t have to come,” I said. “It’s going to be hard enough for you—”

  “No, I have to be there.” His body flashed transparent. “I need to make sure she’s…I’ll know if she’s in trouble and I can tell you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. “Yeah, I am.”

  “Okay.” I looked at Nell. “Drive on.”

  “On the way here,” she said, “I was thinking of the adventure. Figuring out the mystery. But now...now it’s hitting me. We’re setting the stage for her to find out her kid’s dead. We’re about to destroy her, aren’t we?”

  I squeezed her hand. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Ten

  She sighed and put the car in gear.

  We drove the rest of the way in silence and when we arrived, Nell cut the engine. A couple seconds to unbuckle the seat belt, zip up my jacket, then I was ignoring the sting of the wind against my skin as I headed up the walk, Nell and Serge behind me, Kent beside me. I knocked on the door.