Rear View (Peri Jean Mace Ghost Thrillers Book 0)

by Catie Rhodes

  I did the best I could, taking the steps slowly. Each creak or pop made me think I’d end up on the dirt below the house, amidst piers and beams. Finally, I stood in the open room. As with the living room, it was more shadow than light.

  “Pan around the room.” Rainey said.

  I did, moving slowly and staring through the viewfinder. I saw nothing but bare boards powdered with a thick coating of dust. The wallpaper hung in strips. It bowed and dipped with the breeze coming in through the busted glass of the window. The view on the camera’s screen flickered, went to static and came back.

  The room in the viewfinder was no longer dark but light. The air went cold, the smell of death coming back in full force. A shadow moved around the perimeter of the room, so stealthily at first I thought it might be drifting smoke. It rounded the nearest corner and flew at me. I screamed and let go of the camera. It began to topple.

  “No,” Rainey shouted. “Don’t let it fall.”

  The panic turned my mind into a mass of snarled thoughts and images. I watched as the camera canted to the left and began its descent to the floor. A tanned arm flashed out and grabbed it before it hit. Chase set the tripod upright and turned to me.

  “What’s wrong? You see…a snake?” Chase knew a few things about me and ghosts, maybe more than he wanted. He never mentioned it. Now he put his arm around me and spoke in a soothing voice. “It’s all right. Those shadows look funny. Look like they’re moving.”

  His barf breath forgotten, I scooted into his warmth. This couldn’t happen. Not now. Today couldn’t get any worse because I didn’t think I could take it.

  Footsteps thundered up the stairs. Benny, his long face made even longer by panic, joined us. Sheriff Joseph Holze crowded behind the skinnier man, his big belly nearly pressing into Benny’s back. Felicia brought up the rear. Her eyes narrowed when she saw Chase with his arm around me. She hurried over to us.

  “What happened?” She spoke to Chase as though he was the one who screamed.

  “Peri Jean thought she saw a snake.” Chase tightened his arm around me. The story was set now in his mind. The shadows had moved, and I’d mistaken the movement for a snake.

  “I’ll just bet she did.” Felicia giggled, watching Chase to see if he giggled with her. He turned his back to her. The smile slid off Felicia’s face, and she settled her chilly gaze on me. I got ready for an attack.

  Sheriff Holze slapped the manila-colored file he held in one hand on his meaty thigh. He glared at me, his bushy brows knitting into a frown. I scooted closer to Chase. This man scared me. He’d caught Chase and I drinking beer one night at an abandoned sawmill in the woods. I didn’t like remembering what he said and did. What he asked me to do in exchange for him not calling Memaw and Chase’s parents. Chase’s arm tightened around me.

  “You two staying out of trouble?” The sheriff had one of those scratchy, deep voices, the kind that always sounded mean.

  “Yes, sir.” Chase nodded.

  Tubby stood next to us.

  The sheriff swept his gaze over Tubby and rolled his eyes. “Looks like we got the whole gang here. Three troublemakers in one group.” He shook his head and slapped the file against his leg again. “Y’all got the camera rolling? Wanna get started up here?”

  “Yes, Sheriff, thank you.” Rainey stepped from the shadows, her eyes still wide from my little fit.

  The sheriff jumped and put his hand to his chest. “Well, Rainey Bruce, you’re so dark, you just blended right into those shadows. Never even seen you.” He guffawed.

  Rainey took the camera from me and fiddled with the controls. I made sure the legs of the tripod were straight. I got a good look at her and noticed the trembling hands and the tears about to spill over. The sheriff’s remark hit me then. I glared at him, so mad my face burned.

  “Tubby and Chase, get the lights close to the sheriff so we can see him.” Rainey’s voice had only the slightest tightness. The others may not have heard it. Chase and Tubby did as Rainey asked. Sheriff Holze’s jowly face came into sharp focus. Rainey nodded at him to start.

  “Awright. My memories of all this are real vague. Just a kid when it happened. My daddy, Big Joe, worked this case. All I can do is read the notes to you.” The sheriff opened the file and glanced over it. “This here was the bedroom. It was about eleven at night, and Alice Leeland was up here waiting for her husband to come to bed. She heard him in the kitchen, thought maybe he was looking for a snack. She got out of bed and went down these stairs.” Joey motioned to the old staircase. Rainey stopped the camera.

  “Sheriff Holze, I’m sorry to interrupt.” Rainey’s voice sounded crisp enough to cut. I stared at her. She seemed to have pushed her upset inside. She radiated self-assurance. “Would you mind us following you with the camera down the stairs?”

  Sheriff Holze smiled. “That’ll look good. Real good.” He patted his badge, then his gun.

  Rainey explained to Tubby and Chase what to do about the lighting. A few seconds later she followed the sheriff down the steps.

  “As I said, Alice Leeland would have gone down these stairs and into the kitchen, which is where she thought she heard her husband.” The sheriff stepped into the kitchen and stopped. “But all she saw was an empty kitchen. No husband. That door there was standing open.” The sheriff pointed to the closed closet door. He crossed the kitchen and opened it.

  I stiffened, expecting the smell to return, but it didn’t. Instead I saw a familiar black-suited figure kneeling inside the closet, feeling around the edges of the floor. Dread awakened in me and roared through my body. What was Mr. Dowthitt’s ghost doing in the carriage house?

  My self-control began to slip. I wanted more than anything to run for the door. I forced myself to stand still and stared at Sheriff Holze for any sign that he felt the presence of the ghost not two feet from his legs.

  He acted oblivious. He did nothing more than shut the door and open his file again. “Alice Leeland told the sheriff’s office that the kitchen door here was locked. Says here in the file it had one of those chain locks that can only be engaged from the inside. The windows were closed and locked. What happened to Chris Leeland has never been discovered. Nor has his body been found.”

  The ghostly figure came through the door. This time I could see Mr. Dowthitt’s pale face. Head half-turned, the ghost talked to some invisible person. He held out his hand to shake and headed toward the door, passing through the sheriff. The big man shivered as the ghost went through him but showed no recognition why it happened.

  I gritted my teeth against the adrenaline coursing through my body and pretended to pay attention to the sheriff.

  “Don’t I remember that the wife was a suspect in the husband’s disappearance?” Benny Longstreet said from behind us.

  “Says here in the file she was. She was never charged because a body was never found. No signs of foul play.”

  A cold wind hit me in the back. Steeling myself, I turned and saw nothing.

  “My suggestion is y’all kids look for someone who was around during that time, who remembers the whole thing.” The sheriff opened the kitchen door and stepped onto the porch. “Never know. You might figure out what happened to Chris Leeland. Bet you’d get an A on your project.”

  We followed him outside, and Benny Longstreet locked up. The sheriff scrutinized me, his stare nasty and greasy as it slid down my body.

  “Meanwhile, you kids be good. Make sure you don’t murder no family members.” He winked at me. I stiffened, face heating. The sheriff sneered and turned his nasty stare on Tubby. “Or beat nobody up because they owe you drug money.”

  Sheriff Holze turned and left us all standing on the porch.

  * * *

  Memaw was waiting for us. Her face split into a grin as soon as she saw Rainey. She rushed at the younger woman and enveloped her in a hug. To my surprise, Rainey bent to return the hug, squeezing back and closing her eyes. She kissed Memaw on the cheek.

  “How are you, Miss Le
ticia?” She held Memaw at arm’s length and stared into her face. With her thumb, she rubbed the lipstick she’d left on Memaw’s cheek.

  “Old, retired, and not living up to my potential.” Memaw laughed. “But I’ve heard you’re only a couple of good grades away valedictorian of the senior class.” She grabbed Rainey in another hug. “I am so proud of you. I always knew you could do it.”

  “I wouldn’t be here without you.” Rainey squeezed Memaw tight. “You were the only one who believed in me.”

  The conversation puzzled me. What did Memaw have to do with Rainey’s grade point average? Before Memaw retired from teaching, she taught high school English. But she retired long before Rainey Bruce hit Gaslight City High School. I waited for one of them to explain, but both of them ignored me.

  “Let me get y’all some snacks, and you can tell me all about this project.” Memaw rummaged around until she found a box of store-bought shortbread cookies. She offered them to both of us. I took a couple.

  Rainey shook her head. “Thank you, Miss Leticia, but if I want to model again next summer, I just can’t.”

  Many adults would have argued, but Memaw simply nodded and put away the cookies. But not before she grabbed herself a handful.

  “When Rainey called to ask if you could stay after school with her, she mentioned Felicia Brent was in your group. She been okay?” She watched my reaction.

  “Depends on what you think okay is.” I told Memaw about Felicia cornering me in the janitor’s closet at school and trying to make me lick her shoe clean.

  Memaw’s dark eyes got even darker. Her small hands curled into fists. “In a different world, a fair one, you could report it to the principal. But with Carly Holze in that position, you’re just going to have to find a way to deal with it.”

  “She told me the next fistfight meant expulsion, no matter who started it.” I almost wanted to start one just to end the misery of high school. College, or anything it might lead to, didn’t interest me. The idea of enduring four-plus more years of learning institutions made me sick to my stomach.

  Rainey watched our conversation. “It won’t happen again, at least not at school. From now on, I’ll meet you after fourth period and walk to lunch with you.”

  I stared at Rainey. What was her angle? She never took part in the teasing or pranks, but we weren’t pals by a long shot.

  “That’s sweet of you, hon.” Memaw smiled at Rainey.

  “Our families have been friends a long time. Least I can do.” Rainey threw me a short glance.

  “So, the project.” Memaw clapped her hands.

  Rainey explained to Memaw about the City Council judging the projects on Gaslight City. “We had to take an assigned project.”

  “Assigned by who?” Memaw made a face. “In my day, the senior projects were pretty much a chance for students to show how they could shine.”

  “Mr. Stubblefield. Apparently, he has some different ideas.” Rainey told Memaw about the groups.

  “Kent Stubblefield’s fresh out of college, full of himself. I can’t wait to see him a decade from now.” Memaw shook her head and took a bite of shortbread cookie. “I hate you girls are the ones he’s learning on, but that’s life. You just have to do the best you can. What project were you assigned?”

  “Chris Leeland’s disappearance from the Mace Carriage House.”

  “That might have potential. Don’t know that I would have assigned it to my students.” Memaw stood over the sink and brushed cookie crumbs off her hands. “I will give Mr. Stubblefield one thing. He’s doing more than Sharon Dowthitt ever did with that class.”

  The name jerked me out my half-daydreaming state. “Sharon Dowthitt? Was she related to the Mr. Dowthitt who died at the school?” And who haunts the hallowed halls? And whose ghost I saw at the carriage house? I left out the second and third parts.

  “Sharon was James’s wife.” Memaw nodded. “She liked politics, so she taught social science like a civics class. I never agreed with her approach, but she left me alone to teach what I wanted, so there we were.” She turned to Rainey. “One thing I don’t understand is why the City Council would want to get involved.”

  “I didn’t either. But I called Mom during lunch break to let her know I’d be late.” Rainey’s voice lowered, and she glanced around as though someone might overhear, even though we were alone in Memaw’s house. “The City Council is trying to generate interest in local history to create jobs for local tradesmen and generate more business for local business owners. They’re trying to make Gaslight City more inviting to tourists.”

  “Your mom would know. Esther Bruce is on every committee in this town.” Memaw was active in the community but, after my trouble, stayed away from committees and boards.

  “Now I don’t want either of you to repeat any of this. Mom gave me permission to tell the two of you but made me promise to keep it quiet.” She moved her gaze between Memaw and me. Both of us nodded. “Mom said the Burns County Historical Association wants to raise funds to fix up the Mace property and turn it into a county-funded tourist attraction.”

  Memaw’s still dark eyebrows rose nearly to her gray bangs. “It sure would be nice. You can tell the old place was once grand. By the time George and I moved here in the late fifties, it was headed in the direction where it is now.”

  “Mom told me she bets one of the projects has to do with the old courthouse. The City Council wants to make all these old buildings nice again.” Rainey glanced around again, as though afraid of people overhearing. “She speculated—but doesn’t know for sure—the best project might be presented to people to ask for donations.”

  “Then you definitely have to win. I know that’s what I’d want.” Memaw glanced from Rainey to me. “Do y’all know how you’re going to handle the project?”

  “At first, I was really spinning. Then I went to see Mr. Stubblefield during his free period. Turned out he’d hoped students would take the initiative to come talk to him.”

  Memaw sighed and shook her head. “Mr. Stubblefield needs to remember high school’s a world apart from college. Very few high school students are going to do that. Hopefully he told you something useful.”

  “He did.” Rainey took out her notepad and pointed with her pen to the spot where she’d written down her notes. “He said to present the facts of the disappearance, then go into what locals and officials think may have happened, explore some of the urban legends and ghost stories associated with the carriage house, and speculate a little about how we use that stuff to deal with our fear that something like this might happen to someone we love.”

  Memaw nodded, frowning. “Your group toured the Mace Carriage House today. What’s next?”

  “I’m not too sure. Sheriff Holze read the missing person report to us. He didn’t remember the case and suggested we talk to some old timers who did.”

  Memaw twisted her lips at the name of Sheriff Holze. The origin of their beef went back as far as I could remember. I guessed it had to do with my Uncle Jesse getting sent to prison for murdering my father. All I knew for sure was Sheriff Holze, and his whole family, hated me for no reason I could see.

  “Much as I think he’s an ineffective lawman, I agree with him. Nothing much was ever made of Chris Leeland’s disappearance. It just sort of went away.” Memaw put her hand over her chin, the way she did when she thought hard. “Try Dottie Woodson.”

  “Of Dottie’s Burgers and Rings?” I couldn’t keep the excitement out of my voice. Dottie’s made the best onion rings I’d ever tasted. Memaw rarely let me go because she said all I’d learn to do is be one of those kids who wouldn’t eat anything but junk food.

  “Yep. She lived in the Mace House back then. B.B. Longstreet ran it as a boarding house in those days.” Memaw’s voice picked up speed as she got into her story. “Poor Dottie was married to an awful man. Beat her. Cheated on her. Spent all their money. She left him and ended up living in the Mace House. Unless I am misremembering, she knew both the ma
n who disappeared and his wife. She might be able to tell you something.”

  I sat with my hand fisted against my cheek, still unable to get enthusiastic about the project.

  Rainey, on the other hand, practically danced in her seat. “Mind if I use your phone to call Dottie?”

  Memaw motioned to the cream-colored rotary wall phone. Rainey grabbed the phone book from the shelf next to it and flipped through. A few seconds later, she had Dottie on the line. The conversation lasted less than a minute. Rainey turned around, her face glowing.

  “She said she’d meet us tomorrow after school.” She hurried to the table and grabbed her notebook and pen. “I’m going to run on home and call the rest of the group. Peri Jean, try to emphasize to Chase how important this is.” Rainey hurried out the back door without waiting for my answer.

  Memaw smiled at the closed door for several seconds. The smile faded as she turned to regard me. “You’ll have to be careful with this, sweetie. You must do all you can not to show what you see.”

  My mind showed me pictures of the way I’d failed at that today, and my face heated.

  “You saw something in the Mace Carriage House.” Memaw’s gaze felt like it weighed a ton. She sighed.

  I raised my head and took a peek at her to gauge her emotions. A frown creased her forehead, and her lips turned down. She stood, held up one finger to me, and left the room. Her footsteps receded down the hall. Her bedroom door opened a few seconds later. Several minutes passed, during which anxiety gnawed at my nerves. She came back with a handkerchief-wrapped item and dropped it in my hand. For its size, it sure weighed a lot. I unwrapped the item and found an iron skeleton key. It had bits of rust lacing its edges. The smell of metal hit me, and I wrinkled my nose.

  “Keep this in your pocket if you have to go back in there. Iron sometimes repels ghosts.”

  My mouth dropped open. Memaw rarely acknowledged what I could do so frankly. Her doing so meant she knew things could go horribly wrong. I watched Memaw, waiting for more explanation. She went back to her crochet.