Some days they got by but long term things were looking grim. After just six months he could see that something would have to give. Sooner rather than later with a new baby on the way.
It took him all of five minutes to fill out the APB form and get notice to every officer and patrol unit on shift. If Happy was still in the city, they’d find her.
“I’m tellin’ you,” the ghost was saying, her long black hair swaying as she spoke, “I just saw yo Mama in jail. She tellin’ me all day bout how special you are and how you livin’ in some fancy ass neighborhood.”
Happy didn’t want to hear about her mother anymore. The lady, Melinda, had been talking about her since they’d run away from school but she was too afraid to tell her to stop. Sometimes, when the ghosts came they got mean so Happy just listened to her to talk, hoping she’d move on. Her mom getting arrested was what had thrown Happy’s life into chaos. She’d been in five foster homes in the last year, sometimes for a day, sometimes for a few weeks. At least living with her mom, she knew what to expect. Her mom getting arrested had shaken what little foundation Happy had.
She looked behind her but turned back around quickly. The scary lady was still there. The blonde was still there too but she was less frightening and almost had an air of fear surrounding her. Still, neither had said anything. Happy wondered why they were attached to the lady with the dark hair that talked a lot. Usually, when she saw the ghosts, they were alone. That’s why they were so sad all the time, she supposed. Being alone made her sad too sometimes. If a ghost had been dead for a long time maybe they were just sad and lonely.
“How come they’re with you all the time?” Happy asked.
The ghost pursed her lips and swiveled her head. “Hell if I know. That one just standin’ over me all creepy and shit when I woke up. Thought I just OD’d. Come to find out I’m dead.” She shook her head again. “How you like that? Fine one minute and gone the next. Like I didn’t have shit to do.”
“Do you remember how you died? Sometimes, people remember.”
“I was hangin’ at this dude’s house. You know Hairy Pete?” Happy shook her head no. “Yo Mama know him. Anyways, I was over there, mindin’ my own business when I get a call. A john.” The ghost looked down at her and closed her mouth. “You know what, baby. I don’t remember. I went out on a date and then next thing I know I’m waking up, missing my damn arm and covered in blood,” she pointed her thumb behind them, “that one hangin’ out waitin’ on me.”
“Where are we going now?” Happy asked, recognizing her old neighborhood, knowing she wasn’t supposed to be in that part of town.
“I ain’t sure, honey. Something tellin’ me to walk. I’m walkin’.”
Happy wrapped her skinny arms around herself as they wove their way through the Railroad District. Last year, she’d met Butch Hardy when he’d come to arrest her mom. That same day she’d led him to her friend Lainey who he said he’d been looking for. He said she was missing. Lainey was nice but scared. She’d just shown up one day, playing in the yard across the street from the motel Happy lived in. They played sometimes, Lainey always glad to see her, but she’d always get sad asking about her mom and dad or her cat. That’s why she brought Butch, so he could find her and bring her back to her family. But when she’d shown him, Lainey had disappeared and instead of going home, they’d put Lainey in the ground.
Sometimes, it was hard to remember if people were alive or dead. Lainey was just like a regular person.
Happy looked up at the lady missing an arm, holes gouged out of her chest.
She didn’t think she’d forget that Melinda was a ghost.
“I think that’s me,” the lady told Happy, pointing to the ground.
Happy gulped, her eyes widening. There was a dark stain on the street, right in the middle of the road. It was bigger than the kiddie pool Butch had bought for her over the summer. Way bigger.
“I don’t remember comin’ here,” Melinda looked around. “Naw, this ain’t the place. I was near the old Red Spoon. You know, the diner? Where the hell we at?”
Happy couldn’t look away from the inky, black patch on the pavement. At first it had looked like any other stain, grime or grease maybe, but the more she stood there the clearer it became. Seconds ticked by as she stared, watching fresh blood ooze up from the street, as if it was bleeding on its own. It spread from each crack, forming a puddle that covered the original mark.
“That is some creepy ass shit. Did you do that?”
Happy looked at Melinda and back to the wet puddle. “You can see that?”
“Shit yeah. Did you just make the street bleed?”
“I didn’t do that,” Happy insisted. “I’ve never seen that before.”
“I’m tellin’ you, I seen some weird ass shit in my day but that takes the cake. Oh, no!” Melinda yelled, Happy’s head quickly snapping up. “I ain’t neva gonna have cake again. That’s some shit.”
“Hey kid! Are you Happy?”
It was a man’s voice and Happy knew immediately that she’d been caught. There was no one else in the Railroad District in the middle of the morning that would give a crap if she was around or not. The only people that would think it was strange a kid was around would be the cops.
She turned her head to see a man and woman, both in police uniform striding toward her.
“That’s her,” the woman murmured. “I’ll call it in.”
“Your dad’s been looking for you,” the man cop smiled and dropped to one knee in front of her.
His back foot was in the blood puddle.
“He’s not my dad,” Happy told him automatically. If Erin had anything to say about it, she’d be back with the social worker within days.
“C’mon kid, you can sit in the car until he comes to get you,” the woman put on a motherly smile but Happy could hear what she was thinking.
Heard she can see ghosts. Doubt it. Kids like her lie through their teeth if it means a free lunch.
Happy crossed her arms over her chest and looked away.
Someday, she’d get out of this town and find a place where no one knew anything about what she could do. Where no one thought she was a freak.
Happy heard Butch before she saw him. He called her name, his voice coming closer before he appeared at the door of the cruiser.
“Jesus, Happy. What the hell were you thinking?”
Despite his loud voice and angry frown, he pulled her out of the car and hugged her until she could barely breathe.
“He ain’t so bad,” Melinda commented as she sat in the cruiser next to where Happy had been sitting, checking her good nails. The creepy lady sat silently on Melinda’s other side while the blonde stood nervously at the back of the cruiser, holding her stomach and staring at the blood puddle.
Butch pushed her away and held her at arm’s length, his stern face glaring down at her.
“What are you doing down here?”
Happy shrugged. Did she tell him about Melinda and the other ladies?
“I don’t know,” she mumbled. That’s what she always said when she didn’t want to get in trouble.
“Happy,” Butch grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her away from the cruiser for privacy. “You can’t just- “
He broke off when Happy began fighting him. His feet were almost in the blood puddle, his heels resting on the edge, and he was dragging her straight for it. She wriggled and kicked, pushing at him with her feet wherever she got the chance.
“Happy, stop,” he grunted as she kicked his shin. “What is going on with you?”
She planted her feet firmly outside of the puddle and pulled against him.
“Not in the blood,” she looked to him, desperation in her voice.
“What blood?” He looked down and then around the area where they were. Immediately, he let her go. “How’d you know there was blood here?”
She took a step away from him and then one more for good measure. When he stepped forward his heels tracke
d blood from the puddle with him, little half-moons stamped onto the road.
“It’s still there,” she whispered. “Living in the ground.”
“Happy, what aren’t you telling me?” Butch crouched down so they could be eye to eye. “I told you. You can always tell me if something’s going on. I’ll believe you.”
He had always said that, Happy remembered.
“Is there someone else here with you, honey?” He looked around and then whispered, “Have you been seeing ghosts again?”
Butch didn’t know that Happy saw ghosts every day. At the bus stop, the grocery store, they waited for her. Trying to get her attention or asking her questions. She’d even seen a ghost that was a baby, barely old enough to walk, sitting on the floor at the doctor’s office. It just sat there crying, waiting for someone to pick him up. Of course, no one ever did because he was dead and no one could see him.
“Honey? Is there someone with you?”
“Go on, girl,” Melinda waved at her from the cruiser.
“There’s ah,” she faltered, looking between the women and Butch. “There’s some ladies here.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
“And what do the ladies want?”
Happy shrugged. “Melinda just said we had to walk this way.”
“Who’s Melinda?”
“She said she had a blood spot too.” She looked back at the ghost. “By the diner. The…”
“The Red Spoon,” Melinda supplied.
“The Red Spoon,” she finished.
Butch leaned back. “She told you this?” Happy nodded. “If she’s by the Red Spoon, why’d you come here?”
“Must be one of these bitches,” Melinda answered as she hopped out of the cop car. “Come on, let’s go find me.”
Like he’d done last year when Happy had led him to the rotting corpse of Lainey Kinsley, Butch held the girl’s hand in his, trying to keep her safe. He helped her cross a few streets and made sure he was imposing enough that no one would bother them.
What were the odds that Happy would randomly choose one of his crime scenes to show up at? What were the odds that his foster child would insert herself into a case he had no leads on?
He’d seen a ghost with his own eyes last year. Happy had shown him and from that moment on, he was a believer. But being a believer and having something to write on a police report were two different things. He had to rely on fact. Following Happy on some wild goose chase was rubbing him the wrong way. Again, he asked himself, what were the odds?
They were nearing the diner Happy had spoken about before. He’d neither confirmed nor denied her claim about the blood scene at the diner so he let her take the lead. This scene wasn’t as obvious as the last. She wouldn’t be able to walk up to it and point it out. It would be one more test to prove that she could do what she said she could.
What he knew she could do.
She walked past the diner, her stride quick and confident. When she turned into the next alley he pulled her back.
“We’re not going down there,” he told her.
“That’s where Melinda is,” she insisted. “She wants to see.”
“Well, I don’t,” he said firmly. “Melinda can go look all she wants.
“I ain’t goin’ in alone,” the spirit argued.
“Can you tell me Melinda’s last name?” Butch asked, taking his notebook out. This was the first lead they’d ever had in identifying the blood. If he had to chase down a lead based on the word of a ghost as told to his kid, it would be worth his time.
Happy looked to the empty space at the mouth of the alley.
“Are you sure?” She asked the empty space. When she turned back to him she said, “She can’t remember.”
“She can’t…” he shook his head. “Does she remember anything? Did she say anything?”
“She said she was at a guy named Hairy Pete’s house and then she went on a date with John.”
Butch didn’t need to write that down but did anyway. He knew Pete all too well, a disgusting slob of a man who considered himself a pimp.
“She said she was in jail. With my mom.” Butch watched as her eyes turned sad.
It amazed him to no end that Happy missed her mother. She’d been a terrible parent. The worst kind of drug addict and abuser, but the kid still missed her.
“She said she had a sister named Jolene.”
That was actually quite a bit of information.
“What about the other women. Have they told you anything about who they are?”
Happy turned around and Butch swore she paled.
“One of them doesn’t say anything. She’s uh,” she hesitated and then gulped.
“She scares you?” He concluded.
“Yeah,” her voice was a whisper.
“You don’t seem scared when you talk about Melinda. What makes the other woman different?”
Happy shrugged.
“What about the third woman? Let’s talk about her.”
“She’s new.”
“New how?”
“She just came to my room last night,” Happy explained.
Butch narrowed his eyes. “And how long has Melinda been around?”
Another shrug.
“A week?” He asked. Happy just looked at her feet. “Longer?”
She nodded.
“Where do you see Melinda?”
“My room,” she said, her voice barely audible.
“Oh, Hap,” he pulled her in. “Why didn’t you say something?”
The kid shrugged in his arms.
So much for providing her a safe space. He’d tried to tell her that the ghosts couldn’t come in her room, had tried to reassure her. But if the ghosts were real, which he knew they were, words weren’t going to keep them out. He wasn’t sure if anything would.
Happy’s head jerked up off his shoulder.
“What is it?”
“Melinda’s yelling. The new girl is going that way,” she pointed down the street.
Happy pulled his hand, following some specter he couldn’t see. He’d barely taken a few steps when he put it together.
“How long did you say the new girl’s been with you?”
“Just last night,” Happy answered, confirming his suspicion.
They were walking straight to last night’s crime scene.
Happy was taking him to all three of the blood scenes from this year’s killings in the order they happened. So, the scary woman was victim number one. Melinda, the woman that knew Happy’s mother was victim number two. And the new girl, number three, probably dead less than twenty-four hours.
Not five minutes later they arrived at the latest crime scene, the yellow tape still there, flapping uselessly in the breeze. Happy slowed until she stopped some ten feet away from the blood. They’d done their best to hose the area down but some things couldn’t be erased so easily and left a stain in more ways than one.
Happy watched the blonde woman approach the taped area with caution. She tip-toed around it, as if something bad might happen at any second. She still held her arm wrapped around middle, making herself small.
“This guy’s cute,” Melinda commented as she stood next to Butch, smiling at him. “I’d do him six ways to Sunday.”
“What’s that mean?”
“What’s what mean?” Butch asked.
“Melinda says she’d do you six ways to Sunday. I don’t know what that means.”
Butch’s eyes widened and he looked around. “Tell Melinda she needs to watch her mouth in front of kids.”
“She says shit all the time,” Happy pointed out.
“You’re not supposed to use that word,” he reminded her.
“I know. I told her.”
“Good. What’s happening?” He asked.
“The blonde lady’s standing over there. Melinda’s next to you.”
“The scary lady?”
“Behind us.”
Butch turned.
<
br /> Happy knew better. She didn’t want to see the woman again.
“How long has she been with you, honey?”
“Since before Halloween,” she told him. “She followed us when we were trick or treating.”
She’d been the most frightening thing Happy had seen the entire night. As much as she’d been looking forward to trick or treating for the first time, she’d ended up going home early, too scared to be in the dark with the woman following her, her dragging feet leaving a trail of blood.
“We’re going to have to do better than this, Happy. You have to tell me when things like this are going on so I can help.”
It wouldn’t matter anyway, Happy knew. This would be the end of the line for her at Butch and Erin’s house. She was young but she wasn’t stupid.
Happy snatched her hand out of Butch’s grasp and covered her ears as the blonde let out a piercing wail. The noise was so loud, had so much force, it created an unnatural gust of hot air that washed over she and Butch. When the woman raised her lone arm up to the heavens her stomach split wide open, her insides spilling out onto the pavement.
Happy imagined the sound it made was probably very similar to the one made when she leaned over right there and vomited all over the sidewalk.
Butch quietly set his empty beer bottle in the garbage can, not wanting to wake Erin or Happy.
The kid had barely gotten through telling him about the woman’s guts dumping all over the street before she’d thrown up again. It had become increasingly clear that she was well beyond her limit. Whatever she’d been through, it was more than her body or psyche could handle.
He’d brought her home, handling her with kid gloves, and put her to bed.
Erin had been ready to blow a gasket. Not just that Happy had run away but that he’d neglected to call when he’d finally found her. He knew he hadn’t unruffled her feathers yet. She’d fumed all night, shutting herself in their bedroom with the door firmly closed behind her. Not that it would stop him from climbing in next to her now that he was ready.
It had been his suspicion from the beginning, and was even more so now, that his victims were all sex workers. A killer would have an endless supply of women to choose from, none of whom society gave a rat’s ass about. No one would report them missing and no one would care when they were gone. Especially in that part of town, the more workers there were, the more competition. A few getting picked off wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing for some of the other girls. Better for their business if the women didn’t get found. But Melinda, whoever she was, had been in jail with Happy’s mother which meant she was somewhat local. A canvas should have picked her up.
Dead and Buried: Where the Bodies Lie (Chasing Happy Book 1) Page 2