by Misty Simon
“Maybe I should do that.” Becker stood above her, then crouched alongside her. “It’s okay, boy. We just want to see if there are any markings on the inside that can help us find your owner.”
The dog began backing up and making choking noises. She worked on the metal buckle holding the collar around the dog’s neck. The low grumble from his throat didn’t deter her this time. The collar had to come off. He bared his teeth, but something told her he would not bite her. She hoped she was right, since he hadn’t tried to harm them before now.
She could not get the thing to budge no matter what she did. She tried then to at least slide the fabric out of the loop holding the tail end of the collar in place, but that too wouldn’t move an inch. No matter what she did, she could not get the fabric to release from the dog’s neck. When Mumford whimpered, she even tried simply to slide her fingers between the dog’s fur and the collar, but it was like the thing was welded into the poor dog’s skin.
She dropped her hands as soon as she had the thought. She did not want to hurt him. He might be weird, and she might not be a huge dog fan, but he had grown on her. She wouldn’t willingly hurt him.
“Okay, Plan B.” She huffed out a breath.
“Why?”
“Because the collar is not coming off. There is no way for me to get it off him. I can’t even get my finger under it, and I’m afraid it’s going to hurt him. I can’t do that.”
He rubbed her arm and patted Mumford at the same time. “We’ll figure this out, boy. The bell is Plan B, now?” he asked her.
“No, that’s Plan C. I think we have something that might work better.” She turned to the dog. “See this flashlight, Mumford?”
His tongue lolled out, and he panted. She was going to take that as a yes.
“I’m going to turn the lights out, and this flashlight is going to be at your paws. We’re going to ask you some questions. If you can, either turn the flashlight on or have the ghost in your collar do it.”
Mumford whimpered, almost causing Mel to back off. What if trying to talk to the ghost hurt the dog? She was not at all sure how this kind of thing worked, since it was her first encounter with it at all, but they had to have some answers. She only hoped she didn’t damage the big guy in the process. Becker would never forgive her. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to forgive herself.
“Hit the lights, Becker.”
He did as he was told. Mary’s ghost began her run to the window, stood for a moment and stared out into the backyard, then turned to the room, her mouth open in a silent scream before she hurled herself through the glass that had been fixed years and years ago. It hurt Mel’s heart every time she saw it, but so far she’d been unable to do anything about it.
She couldn’t do anything about it now, either. Instead, she focused on Mumford, making sure to keep her hand on his head. She wanted him to feel safe and know that whatever happened, she was going to be here to help him. She was not without her resources, if only she knew what they were dealing with.
“Are you human?” she asked.
The flashlight flickered on.
Becker shone his light down onto the plastic “on” switch, but the dog’s paw was nowhere near it. So the ghost himself was moving it. This was good to know.
“Can you come out? We promise that it’s safe.”
The flashlight went out, just an abrupt flicker to black. Okay, so this was how it was going to play. “Flashlight on means yes, flashlight off means no.”
Mumford licked the side of her face, and she laughed. “I could have done with the flashlight turning on, to be honest.”
And then it did, flickering almost like the light was hiccupping with laughter.
“Nice.”
“What?” Becker sounded mystified, but maybe that was because he dealt with real-life stuff every day, and she was more in the spirit world.
“The ghost is a laugher. He’s using the light to make it seem like he’s laughing.”
“O-kaay.” Becker drew the word out, and the flashlight flickered again.
It didn’t feel menacing, so she continued.
“Can we talk to you individually? We have some questions that need more than a yes or no.”
The flashlight turned off and rolled a few inches away from Mel. Interesting.
“Is there another way you can communicate?”
It rolled farther, although Mel was extremely certain the floors were quite plumb. She used to come up here with a level just to see if there was something out of place and maybe find treasure under a raised floorboard. It never happened, unfortunately. That would have been super cool.
“Okay, yes and no is all we can do.” She looked at Becker and found his eyes in the dark but not much else. With the sun setting, twenty minutes ago, these rooms got dark fast.
“What about asking if he’s running?” Becker said.
The flashlight popped on, glaring in the oppressive darkness.
“Is there someone bad after you?” He fired off the next question.
She didn’t know how it was possible, since it was a pretty cheap flashlight, but the wattage got brighter.
“Does he know where you are?” Mel asked.
The flashlight flickered in a way that did not signal laughter but maybe.
“Okay. Is he close by?” Becker said.
The flashlight rolled but stayed on. Perhaps that was an indicator that whoever this ghost was didn’t want to answer but couldn’t help himself?
There had to be a way to get to the bottom of this!
“Can he find you?” Mel asked.
The flashlight went bright again.
“Will he find you?” she asked, rapid-fire now.
Brighter.
“Does showing yourself to us give him a location in some way?” She hoped the answer was no.
The flashlight went nearly incandescent before there was a pop and the thing shattered.
“Shit!” Becker jumped.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Mel chimed in.
Mumford barked, but it sounded farther away than it should have, since he had been sitting at her feet and she hadn’t heard him move.
A sinister screeching sound followed the bark, along with whimpering—but it didn’t sound like dog whimpering. It sounded like a mix between dog and human. Was the ghost actually both in the dog and in the collar? That would make sense and explain why they couldn’t get the collar off and how Mumford seemed to understand things better than he should.
But that thought died when Becker turned his flashlight on and found a piece of chalk floating in the air, making the screeching sound as the ghost used the chalkboard to spell out: HELP ME. ALMOST HERE.
“That’s not good,” Becker said.
“No, no, it’s not. I have a feeling in my gut that we’re going to have to batten down the hatches.”
Chapter Four
“Since he’s already coming, just tell me what to expect. He’s not going to get here any slower if you keep yourself out of sight, I assume,” Mel said to the cowering dog.
“No.” The voice seemed to come out of Mumford, but it was almost as if it was floating over the dog’s head instead of rumbling out of his actual throat.
Now they were in business.
“Tell me what to expect, and I’ll do everything I can to protect the two of you.” But really they were one —separate and yet together. She was not going to try to figure that out. She just knew she would do what she could to protect them. She had totally fallen off the fence on whether or not she could trust this ghost and had come to the conclusion that someone bad must have put him in the collar and not because he was bad, too. It just didn’t make sense, especially since Mumford was a lovey. She wouldn’t believe any different until she was proven wrong.
“Not good,” the voice answered.
“We got that part,” Becker said, sitting on the bare floor to pet the dog. Hopefully that didn’t make the ghost uncomfortable.
; “Thanks for saving him,” the ghost said. “He’s been my friend for years. I hated to have him out in the cold, but he refused to go anywhere else once we got away.”
“You got away? How did you manage that?” Mel also sat on the floor and petted Mumford, back to rump, in what she hoped was a soothing way. She didn’t know much about dogs, but she saw what Becker did and just tried to repeat it.
“It hurts to talk. Sorry. Takes much energy. Basics?”
He was asking permission to just give her the basics when she really wanted the whole story. But something was better than nothing, in this case, she was sure. “Of course.”
“Locked in the collar for nine years. Owner has me do bad things or the dog gets hurt. Only person able to release me from the collar. Nothing else works. Tried it all, but separation without owner might kill Mumford. Not willing to risk.”
Well, shit. Even if they did keep them safe, this poor guy was going to be stuck to the dog for a lifetime or until Mumford went over that great rainbow bridge in the sky.
“So Mumford is his real name? How’d you get that to Becker?”
“Practice.”
She’d have to leave it at that, since his voice was getting rougher. “Are you cramped in there?”
A rusty laugh, as if he hadn’t used it in years, came out of the air. “Yes. Love Mumford, but not exactly a huge fan of the collar.”
“One more, and then we’ll get to work.”
“Okay.”
“What’s your name?”
“Dougal.”
“Oh, sorry, one more, Dougal. When’s he going to be here, and how do I know it’s him?”
“Soon, and don’t know. Be careful.”
“Of course.”
Mumford laid his head down in Becker’s lap and let out a great big snuffling sigh. Mel had a feeling their session was over, and she was just going to have to go it on her own from here. Well, it wasn’t like she was completely alone. She had Becker and a battalion of ghosts at her beck and call. As far as she was concerned, the bad man could try to bring it on, but she was about to get into her groove.
****
With one more spritz of hair spray and a walk through the house, Mel believed she was ready for whoever this guy was and whatever he was bringing to the door. Of course, that was pretty much a big huge honking lie, but maybe if she told it to herself often enough she would believe it.
Yeah, probably not, but she’d still try.
“Becker, are you game for this? If you need to go, I can try to handle it on my own.”
He kissed her, cutting off anything more she might have said to make him go while wishing he would stay.
“We survived the last guy, and he was a ghost and something I’d never seen before. We can survive this one. At least I won’t get turned into stone this time, hopefully.”
Yeah, there was that, and maybe she’d finally have a good chance to tell him about his great-grandfather before they got any further. He was powerful, she had no doubt about that, and she was not above calling him in to help if she had to.
The buzzer at the front gate went off. She didn’t keep it closed, but it was wired to the house to let her know when someone came through so she could check it out. Since she didn’t get many visitors, it didn’t go off often, but when it did it was a subtle tone. Tonight it felt like a foghorn being blown right into her ear.
She shook in her slouch boots and fiddled with her side ponytail.
Her wide belt sat on her hips, making a V at her belly button, and behind the belt was a can of pepper spray and a taser, just in case.
She would have liked a gun, but she’d never owned one and didn’t want to start now. She couldn’t imagine creating her own ghost for the junkyard and being responsible for someone’s death.
She’d have to make do with what was readily at her disposal, including the ghosts who were already setting up their own trap. The plan was to let him stroll up to the house, if he wanted, but he was not getting in. And he was not getting Mumford, period.
A car meandered up the drive. She would have expected him to tear up here in a hurry, if he really thought that she had his property, but he seemed to be taking his sweet time. It was seriously setting her nerves on edge.
“Calm down.” Becker rested a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t want to come off at him immediately. Let’s try finesse and lying first, before we try confrontation. Honey and vinegar, remember.”
“Except that I could splash vinegar in his eyes and then hogtie him.”
Becker laughed. “You’re fierce, my tiger. We’ll get him. Does this mean that you might be willing to keep this boy if his owner is a total asshole?”
She slanted her eyes at him and flipped the side ponytail over her shoulder. “I'll think about it.” Honestly, though, he already belonged to her. If Becker thought he was taking him home instead of leaving him here, he was going to get quite the surprise. Becker could move here to be with him, but the dog was not leaving her property again unless she took him for a walk or had to take him to the vet.
When no car appeared in the driveway just outside the house, Mel started getting even more nervous. If the guy knew about ghosts, he could be doing any number of things to her residents. She hadn’t thought of that.
“Shit, we need to get out there,” she said to Becker, just as Chester materialized in the room next to her.
“We’re dying out there, Mel, you have to come quick. The guy has a shotgun of rock salt, and he’s shooting right through us faster than we can move or disappear. I barely made it out, and I’m one of the fast ones.”
Rock salt? Yeah, she knew it was a repellant and that it would make them go away and deplete their energy. It wouldn’t kill them, but without the ghosts as backup, she and Becker would be on their own.
“Let’s go. Now.” She headed for the door, but Becker pulled her back.
“And what are we supposed to do out there? If he’s good with a shot and already has a gun, do you really think he’d hesitate to shoot one of us? Rock salt might not kill us, but it will definitely hurt and most likely incapacitate. Then what? No one will be able to defend Mumford.”
“Dammit, I wish my dad were here! Why does he always have to be away? I don’t know how to deal with this kind of shit on my own.” She was close to tears and talking stupid if she thought her dad would ever really be able to do anything more than she could do herself. They had a tough relationship, even if she was in a good place now. That didn’t negate the fact that a third person sure would be extremely helpful.
The gate buzzer went off again. Mel and Becker looked at each other. “I wonder why we weren’t told there was going to be a party,” Mel said. “Who do you think that is?”
She was seriously going to consider getting some closed-circuit cameras. She hadn’t wanted to because she was afraid of ghostly evidence getting into the wrong hands, but maybe at least one at the front gate would be good, so she could see who she should be expecting to show up at her front door unannounced.
“I don’t know, but do you have some kind of secret passage where we could stash Mumford until this is over? I’ll go out and fight with you, but I do not want this guy to get him, no matter what.”
“I think I have just the place.” She glanced down at Becker’s feet, where Mumford had been sitting with his tongue lolling out, only to find that he was no longer there.
“Uh-oh.”
“It’s a little more than that.” Becker pointed out the front window, and Mel whipped around in time to see Mumford teeter-tottering down the steps. Damn dog!
****
“You go around back, and I’ll head out front. We have no idea where this lunatic is, or who came in after him, so be careful.” Becker hugged her and sent her on her way.
“But what if he actually left and that was the buzzer, not someone else coming in?”
He turned to give her a doubtful look, then called out for Chester. The ghost instantly materialized on the porch
, at eye-level, as if he’d just been hanging in the air waiting.
“Yes, boss?”
Well, that didn’t sit right with her, since she was the boss, but they had bigger things to worry about right now, like catching a lunatic and a crazy dog who didn’t know enough to stay inside and be safe. She’d gone after him, but he could be fast when he wanted to be.
“Who’s out there besides this guy?”
“Funny you should ask, boss. Some girl. I don’t know what she does or how she’s doing it, but she’s calling the ghosts to her, and they’re lining up like good little soldiers.”
Could it be that Jennifer had shown up instead of just answering the text?
“Woo-hoo!” Mel took off at a trot, with Becker hot on her heels. “Chester, stay behind in the house and watch, in case Mumford comes back.”
“Can do, and even though I appreciate the lady with her song, I don’t think I want to fight in any battles. Getting shot once tonight is enough for this old ghost.” He whisked away, then waved to them from inside the house.
“Let’s get this moving.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” Becker said.
“Well, at least one person knows who’s still in charge around here.”
He laughed, but then his face got serious. “Before we go out there into the junkyard, I want to tell you I love you. More than I ever thought possible and more every day. Now let’s go kick some ass.”
And he was off and running down the porch steps, leaving Mel standing on the old wooden boards as if she were one of the statues they’d rescued months ago.
She got herself back quickly enough, though, and ran after him. She might be in slouch boots, and his legs might be longer, but she walked a lot and had the calf muscles to prove it and keep the boots up. She caught up with him, then waved as she passed him. “Pick it up, sailor. No time for dilly-dallying.” And this time she was the one laughing, until she came around a bend and caught the man shooting Betty Brown, one of the sweetest and kindest ghosts they had on the land.
“Bastard,” Mel yelled and charged the gun-toting hooligan.
She pulled up short, though, when he swung the gun toward her and her nose was less than six inches from a very formidable-looking barrel.