A Strange There After

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A Strange There After Page 11

by Missy Fleming


  Sensing my presence she turned to me with a calculating gaze, ignoring the man at my side. “How much do you think I can sell this place for?”

  Despite the stab of nausea hitting me, I kept my tone level. “Not gonna work. You’re just trying to get revenge for what I did tonight. If you do sell, I’ll just follow you anyway. Make any life you try and live miserable.”

  She didn’t have a chance to react. Someone walked up beside us. Abby, wearing a black sundress and carrying her faithful pack. She cradled her broken arm and squinted at the imposter.

  “Nice dress...Catherine.”

  After paling in reaction, Catherine bolted inside, followed more leisurely by me, Boone and Abby. I grinned at my friend’s back, relieved she was here, too. The girl knew how to make an entrance. I was desperate to find out what she’d been up to, but there were bigger concerns at the moment.

  Boone smirked. “You’re going to have to give me note cards so I can keep up with all the malicious spirits in your life. Have you always attracted such negativity?”

  “You’re here, aren’t you?”

  Boone peered at Abby. “Your friend is mean.”

  “I’m sure you started it,” she replied.

  “I repeat, mean. Both of you.”

  By the time we entered the kitchen Catherine had recovered and paced the tiled floor. Bewilderment spread across her face, and she finally regarded Abby with a mixed expression of confusion and concern. “Why did you call me Catherine earlier?”

  Tucking away a groan at her trying to play dumb, I leaned against the counter and prepared to take in the spectacle of Abby confronting Catherine, then hopefully, Jason. Tonight, everything would change. It had to.

  “Why do you think?” My friend adapted a stance similar to mine, propping her injured arm against the island. Boone lingered near the fridge, his dark eyes taking in every detail. I was glad to have him here to observe this on a different level and offer up some fresh perspective.

  She glanced to Boone. “What is your name?”

  “Boone, nice to meet you, Catherine.” He smirked as her cheeks reddened.

  “Why does everyone keep calling me that? She’s gone!”

  I chuckled to myself, amazed she was actually attempting to prolong the ruse. Abby picked up on it, too. Her laugh rang out.

  “Please, it’s not going to work. Where’s Quinn?”

  The pretender snapped her brows together, feigning surprise. “I’m right here. Are you okay? Do they have you on pain pills for your arm?”

  Abby ignored her, opening her pack and pulling out the digital voice recorder I’d talked into on my first visit to her. Without ceremony, she simply pushed, ‘play’. A couple seconds later, a watered down version of my plea spilled out, fading in and out, popping with bursts of static. I smiled proudly at being able to produce a class A EVP.

  Catherine didn’t give up. “Who do you think it is?”

  “This,” she waved the recorder in front of Catherine, “is my best friend, Quinn. It all makes sense. She was too excited about college to put it off, as you obviously have, and she’d never pass up an investigation or leave me to rot in the hospital. Quinn certainly wouldn’t pay for what appears to be a very expensive blow out. Besides, he can see her.” She jerked her thumb in Boone’s direction.

  I studied Catherine’s hair closer. Abby was right. It wasn’t just a color change. The strands shone in a way I never figured out how to accomplish.

  “Plus, you’re wearing lip gloss.”

  All pretenses vanished off of Catherine’s face, and a smirk appeared. “Well, aren’t you the little sleuth.”

  Abby advanced on her, stopping only inches away. “What did you do to Quinn?”

  “Oh, she’s here somewhere. Pity she has more friends as a spirit than she ever did alive.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” Abby ground out.

  “You might as well tell us,” I added, hopping up to sit on the counter.

  My friend jerked, startled, and glanced in my direction. “I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. That’s you, right, Quinn?”

  “Yes, it’s her. She is quite annoying,” Catherine huffed out.

  Abby spun on her so fast Catherine had to take a step back. “Just because you’re in Quinn’s body, don’t assume I won’t slap you, you psychotic wench.”

  “My, my, I’m so scared.” Catherine laughed, a tinkling sound that grated on my nerves. “What’s done is done. No point in getting worked up.”

  “You at least owe me an explanation,” I ordered.

  “She’s got a point,” Boone said, helping himself to a bottle of water from the fridge. “It’ll be better for you to simply cooperate.”

  She turned her gaze on me. “Why do I owe you anything?”

  “Is that Quinn? Are you talking to her? What does she say?” This came from Abby, who stared in my general direction with wide eyes. Boone motioned to her and pointed to his ears. She grinned and plugged ear buds into her recorder, like she had the other day to hear our conversation.

  “You took everything from me, the same way your parents and William did. It only seems fair you give me a reason.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “There is nothing similar about our situations. I saw what I wanted, and I took it.”

  “But how?” Abby asked. “A normal ghost doesn’t have the power to oust someone from their body.”

  “I had help.” Catherine lifted a shoulder, trying to convey indifference, but I saw through it. As bad as she was, with all the terrible things she’d done, some of her actions still shamed her. Obviously, not enough to do anything about reversing it.

  “By making a deal with whatever is on the property?” I asked as Abby posed her own question.

  “From what?”

  “Something evil, from the feel of it,” Boone added.

  Catherine’s gaze shifted, concentrating on the tile beneath her feet. Uneasiness spread through my chest, and I wasn’t sure if it came from myself or from the odd connection we seemed to share.

  “Tell them what you did.”

  Spinning toward the new voice, I spotted Jackson standing near the rear staircase and slid from my perch to shift in Abby’s direction. Normally, being in the same room as these two, things tended to get a little violent.

  “It’s none of their business!” she screeched.

  “Who are you talking to now?”

  I sensed Abby’s frustration. She was the only one here not able to see who belonged to the voices in her recorder.

  Boone sidled next to her. “Some guy in a confederate soldier uniform.”

  “A pathetic man who can’t let go,” Catherine added.

  “What happened to you?” Jackson said with a soft sigh.

  This ticked Catherine off. Her eyes flared, and her body went rigid. “None of you can begin to understand what it feels like to be tossed in the river, alive. Or to be sold off to the highest bidder, all in an attempt to keep the beloved family business running.” She turned to Jackson, her voice shrill. “If you had loved me as much as you professed, you would have saved me. You would have left that damn war to be with me.”

  My heart broke watching Jackson’s face fall. His jaw clenched, and grief flashed across his expression. In the next moment, he vanished.

  “That’s unfair. He couldn’t desert his fellow soldiers, just for you,” I mumbled.

  “These same arguments are getting old,” Abby added. “And I haven’t had near as much interaction with you as Quinn has. You have to stop blaming your family for the terrible decisions you made. Get over it.”

  I squealed in alarm as Catherine’s arm shot out, fingers seizing Abby’s neck. She tilted her head as she watched the other girl gasping for air.

  “Don’t ever speak to me about my family,” Catherine warned.

  Rage burst inside, and I pulled every ounce of energy I could from the air around me. Then I attacked, brushing past Boone who was already reacting. Part of me expected
to be helpless, but my palms connected with Catherine’s chest. With a simple push, she flew backward and slammed into the pantry door. I studied my hands in shock, torn between satisfaction and horror at how the anger pulsed along my skin. It came quicker today than it had before in the laundry room.

  Glancing to make sure Abby was okay, I watched her grasping her neck and staring at Catherine’s prone body in awe. Once she managed to catch her breath, she gurgled, “Nice one, Quinn.”

  Her praise caused me to giggle, which under the circumstances seemed a little inappropriate. Whenever I gave in to my emotions, I worried I was bounding ever closer to ending up like Catherine. But, goodness, it felt so good.

  Jason rushed into the kitchen, soup and ginger ale in his arms, interrupting my inner dialogue. Gone was the blazer he wore to the party, and he had his shirt sleeves rolled up. He set the groceries down and immediately went to Catherine’s side. “Oh, my god, are you okay?”

  “Prince Charming to the rescue.”

  I shot Boone a dirty look, but he focused on the scene in front of us. Jason helped her up as she groaned and rubbed her head. Relief bloomed through me, transmitting from the twisted bond we shared. I hated the idea of him bringing her comfort.

  Jason had yet to notice Abby and Boone as he ran his hands over her, checking for injuries. Her body trembled and I wondered if it actually was fake. He leaned in, brushing his lips across her forehead. I reached up to touch mine, annoyed by the tickle.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Abby shouted.

  Jason and Catherine jumped apart for a second before he pulled her back into his embrace.

  He smiled tentatively in greeting. “Abby. Always good to see you.” His attention shifted to Boone. “We haven’t met. Jason Parker.”

  Boone studied Jason’s outstretched hand as if it contained a deadly virus. Eventually, he shook it. “Boone Ravenwood.”

  Jason glanced around the room, his eyes skipping right over me, and asked. “What’s going on? Why were you on the floor?”

  I glared at Catherine, nestled where I so badly wanted to be. Boone backed up, coming to stand beside me, as if aligning himself with me, offering support. This was the moment I’d been waiting for, with both hope and dread. Would Jason believe Abby?

  Abby stretched her neck, and I noticed the angry red welts. Then she focused on Catherine.

  “Do you want to tell him? Or should I?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The air in the kitchen grew heavy as everyone waited, and my anticipation built, an electric charge shooting through me. I had spent so much time hoping and praying for Jason to find out about Catherine stealing my body. Now the day had arrived, and the notion terrified me. What if it was too much for him to take, and he left? He might decide continuing a relationship with a ghost was out of his comfort zone, or worse, he might prefer the new me.

  I watched him closely, searching for any sign he connected the dots. Finally, he spoke, “Tell me what?”

  “Nothing. Abby and her friend are leaving,” Catherine said through clenched teeth.

  “The hell we are!” Abby objected. “Something happened that night in the cemetery.”

  “We got rid of Catherine,” Jason replied. His eyes flicked between Abby’s look of anger and Boone shaking his head. “Didn’t we?” I was the only one who noticed Catherine flinch. “Everything’s been fine since then.”

  “Are you saying you haven’t noticed anything different about her?” Boone all but pointed at Catherine, and his voice indicated Jason was dumb if he didn’t.

  He hesitated for a minute then said, “Not really. I mean, she’s starting fresh, finding herself after a traumatic couple of years. She’s growing into herself.” He scowled. “And what business is this of yours?”

  “Quinn asked me to be here.”

  Jason turned to Catherine. “What is he talking about?”

  “I’ve never met this person until today.” I almost believed the trace of fear in her voice.

  “Doesn’t mean Quinn didn’t ask him for help, though,” Abby teased.

  “Stop talking riddles!” Jason burst out. “Look, Abby, say what you want to say and be done with it. You’re upsetting Quinn. She’s not feeling well.”

  “Fine. Catherine is standing beside you.”

  Surprisingly, he didn’t automatically look to his right. Instead, he directed his eyes in my direction. And I thought, for a second, maybe he too might notice the ghostly presence. His baffled expression told me I was wrong. He turned on Catherine, who stood on the other side of him, nibbling her lower lip. The longer this played out, the more I realized it wasn’t going to turn out the way I desperately wanted. Right now, I would very much like to throttle Jason.

  “She didn’t go away that night?”

  Abby gaped, obviously at a loss for words. Boone took over for her. “What Quinn’s best friend, the person who knows her better than any other, is trying to tell you is that Catherine pushed Quinn out of her body. She’s parading around as someone else, while Quinn has been left as a ghost.”

  Jason’s brows furrowed together as he stared intently at the floor. Not once did he shift away from Catherine or spare her a doubtful look. When he lifted his head, his expression was resolute.

  “It’s not possible. I would have noticed if Quinn wasn’t Quinn.”

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Boone said ironically.

  “What are you saying?”

  Boone sipped his water. “I’m saying if you cared for Quinn like you say you do, you’d have noticed something was off.”

  “Excuse me?” Jason untangled himself from Catherine and took a menacing step toward Boone, who didn’t so much as flinch or step away.

  No. He laughed. And said, “Did something I say strike a chord?”

  Abby hopped between them. “Boys. We’re getting off track.” She stared hard at Jason. “It’s the truth, Jason. That’s not Quinn.”

  Jason opened his mouth, I assumed to argue, but then, he took a good hard look at Catherine. The moment spread out, and I shivered, trembling with exertion from not shouting at him to snap out of it.

  I watched Catherine’s eyes well with unshed tears as she returned Jason’s stare. “Why are you looking at me like that? I’m the same me I’ve always been.” She flashed a wounded glance at Abby, and a tear snaked its way down her cheek. “Why are you doing this to me? I thought we were friends?”

  “Well, apparently there are two actors among us,” Abby muttered.

  “No, you two are out of line. Quinn’s been through enough. She doesn’t deserve to have you questioning her because she is spreading her wings. It’s time to grow up.” He directed the last sentence at Abby. “You should leave...now.”

  Behind him, Catherine smirked, wiggling her fingers in farewell. Not to be outdone or doubted, she walked forward and linked her arm with Jason’s. “I’m the only one in here. It’s me, Abby. I don’t know why you can’t be happy for me.” Her tone wavered, as if it truly was hard for her to say.

  “Play the EVP, Abby,” I said under my breath.

  “Good idea, Quinn. Play the recording,” Boone suggested.

  Abby smirked as she unplugged her ears and switched to playback mode. I knew there was a reason I loved that girl. She paused it from recording the present conversation and pulled up the file from the night in her room.

  My words drifted out, for the second time in half an hour, and my watery voice begged for help. The plea took on physical form, rising up in the middle of the kitchen.

  “Sounds like her,” Jason said. “But it doesn’t prove anything. The recording could be old. From one of the nights you were fooling around.”

  “What about this?” Boone set his water on the counter and reached into his messenger bag for the video recorder, the one he had the night we met, the one he claimed I broke.

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “Quiet, Catherine,” Abby said.

  Jason’s brow furrowed as
he watched, and it didn’t take long for him to grasp reality. He rewound the footage over and over, his face becoming paler and paler with each viewing. He shook his head, as if trying to unsee what he’d seen.

  “It can’t be,” he whispered.

  “Because it’s impossible. It’s probably Photoshop or something.” Catherine reached up and put her fingers under his chin, forcing him to look at her. She placed his hand on her chest, right above her heart. “This really is me.”

  Jason continued to hold Catherine’s gaze, but directed his question to Abby. “Abby, why are you lying about this? What are you trying to prove?”

  He didn’t believe the physical proof!

  “She’s jealous!” Catherine blurted.

  “Very rich, coming from a body snatcher,” Abby tossed out.

  Jason returned his attention to Boone. “How are you involved in this?”

  “She was at Moon River, trying to contact Abby. Quinn and I are alike, meaning I can sense ghosts.” He flicked his gaze to me. “She’s pretty hard to miss.” When he looked back at Jason, he continued. “And I guess you could say I’m a professional.”

  “Professional what?”

  “Circus performer. What do you think? I’m a paranormal investigator. And trust me, there is a whole lot more going on than you obviously grasp.”

  Jason considered the information a few more minutes, processing what he’d been told. I prayed he came to the logical conclusion, the one staring him in the face. A blind man could see he was having a hard time believing, despite the evidence and my best friend telling him the truth. His hesitation hurt. He swore under his breath and directed his question to Abby.

  “If this is true, why am I finding it out now?”

  “I only found out myself four days ago.”

  “Four days have passed when you had every opportunity to tell me. None of this is making sense.” He paused, his jaw clenched. “No. Impossible. In fact, Quinn and I don’t have to stand here any longer and listen to this crap.” Jason grabbed Catherine’s hand and drew her toward the front door. He stopped long enough to say, “When we come back, I hope you are both gone or at least done with this stupid prank and ready to apologize.”

 

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