The Good Girl

by Barritt, Christy

  Candy stared at me a moment. Did she know about my past? My cheeks reddened at the thought. She crossed her arms. “Fine. I won’t make you an instant celebrity after all.”

  “I’m thinking I should call the cops. The note by itself may not be that threatening, but the knife definitely sends a message.” As I looked at it again, fear trickled down my spine until I shivered.

  “I agree. Can I stick around long enough to see what they say?”

  “Aren’t you allergic to Gaga?” I looked down at the perky little dog who sat at my feet.

  She flicked a piece of lint from her shirt. “No, I just told Lana that so I wouldn’t have to dog sit. Of course.” She shrugged as if that was the most natural explanation in the world.

  I sucked in a deep breath, considering my options. Finally, I settled with, “No pictures.”

  She grinned. “Deal.”

  This was one deal I hoped I didn’t regret.

  Chapter 3

  I’d envisioned coming to St. Paul, being dropped off on Lana’s doorstep by one of my sister’s semi-responsible friends, and fading into blissful oblivion. If I haven’t already mentioned it, things were not going according to my plan. The same could be said for my entire life, I supposed.

  I’d followed all the steps and done everything correctly. Kind of like the time I’d built a model airplane, one of my dad’s favorite pastimes. I’d followed all of the directions. At the time, I couldn’t see my work turning out to be an airplane, but I told myself I needed to finish before I’d see the big picture.

  The final product looked more like a Transformer than a FW 190.

  A Transformer that had been destroyed by the Decepticons, at that.

  Little did I know that my life would parallel the building of that model airplane—I’d followed the rules but the end result was nothing like the picture on the box.

  The police had been here fifteen minutes—an unglamorous fifteen minutes, at that. There was one uptight, middle-aged officer who’d taken my statement. Along with him was a younger guy with spiky hair and a shirt that read CSU. He was snapping some photos and dusting for fingerprints.

  What had I just walked into? What was going on in Lana’s house? I knew things here couldn’t possibly be as normal as they first appeared, and I was right. Something was seriously not normal.

  Why would someone leave a message like that? And who? Had Lana made someone seriously upset before she left on her trip? The message had to be intended for her. All of my “enemies” were back in Florida and preferred the public humiliation brand of justice to the “scare you out of your mind” kind.

  Maybe this was a joke. That’s what it had to be, I decided.

  The doorbell rang, bringing me back to reality. I stomped across the room and jerked the door open, thankful for the opportunity to get away from Candy’s delightful chatter with the crime-scene guy. All I’d heard was something about an opportunity she might have to be an extra on the TV show CSI and could he give her some pointers? I’d tuned the rest out.

  I blinked at the man on the stoop and quickly took inventory of him—early thirties, short brown hair, defined biceps, trim build, and at least six feet tall. He wore faded jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and a tattoo peeked from the edge of his sleeve.

  He was the kind of man women noticed—not me, of course. I mean sure, I guess by the strictest definition I had just “noticed” him, but not noticed him noticed him. I mean, why bother? I had no hopes of a happy ever after. My last relationship had left me tattered and bruised and done with love. Besides, in a neighborhood like this, one filled with two cars in the driveway and swing sets in the backyard, most people were married and living the American dream with two-point-four children. It was that kind of community.

  He extended his hand. “I’m Cooper. Ben Cooper. You must be Lana’s sister.”

  Ben Cooper. Lana had mentioned him. That’s right. He’d taken care of Gaga since I couldn’t get here until a day after Lana left—thanks to a meeting with my attorney. And he was the only other person I could think of who had a key to Lana’s place. “I’m Tara, and you’re just the person I want to see. The police have some questions for you.”

  He raised his eyebrows, his blue eyes widening. “The police?”

  “I’ll let them explain.” I extended my hand, inviting him inside, and nearly slapped Candy inadvertently in the process.

  Cooper stepped in the house. I caught the brief scent of sawdust and gasoline, as if he’d been working in a garage somewhere. The smell was surprisingly pleasant. The uniformed officer greeted him and pulled him aside to ask questions.

  “He’s Lana’s hottie neighbor,” Candy whispered, wagging her eyebrows up and down. From the way he’d simply nodded to Candy, I assumed they hadn’t met before, that she’d simply admired him from afar.

  He was handsome. He also had a wedding band on his finger, which was no surprise. Middle-class neighborhoods weren’t exactly a hub for singles. No, they were a hub for tandem bikes with baby seats on the back, and adorable little tricycles left haphazardly on sidewalks filled with chalk drawings and wildflower bouquets picked by chubby little hands.

  I edged closer, wanting to hear what Ben Cooper had to say. Maybe he had some of the answers we needed. I could hope. Candy edged closer with me. Perhaps digging deeper into her character study for a possible role on CSI? Or was Candy simply the type of person who liked to insert herself everywhere and anywhere she had the chance?

  Cooper’s hands went to his hips as he addressed the officer. “I stopped by this morning. I didn’t go into the kitchen. I just unlocked the back door, let the dog out, and then put her back inside a few minutes later.”

  The officer shifted. “Nothing appeared to be out of place?”

  Cooper shrugged. “I didn’t go poking around, but no. Everything seemed normal. The dog didn’t seem agitated or give any sign of distress.”

  “And the door was locked when you arrived, and you locked it before you left?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Have you seen anyone around the neighborhood acting strangely?”

  Cooper shifted, his fingers still splayed across his hips. “As I’m sure you know, we have had a couple of break-ins in the area recently. Last I heard, they hadn’t caught the guys who did it.”

  The officer closed his notebook. “You’ll be around if we have any more questions?”

  “Absolutely.”

  After they wrapped up, Cooper strode back over to me. “What a welcome to the neighborhood. Lana know about this yet?”

  “I tried to call her, but she didn’t answer. Maybe it’s just as well.”

  “I’ll be right next door if you need anything while you’re here.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “I appreciate that.” But I wouldn’t be needing anything except some alone time.

  At that precise moment, my contact lens began half-burning, half-popping out of my eye. My eyelid fluttered as I struggled not to lose the lens. Cooper stared at me, his head tilted and eyes narrowed in confusion.

  What if he thinks I’m flirting with him? The thought made me sputter, all while my eyelid continued to blink with rapid-fire precision. Certain that my cheeks were red and that Ben Cooper thought I was the world’s worst winker, I nodded toward the hallway and mumbled something about dust.

  I escaped into the bathroom and flipped on the lights. I stepped toward the vanity and stopped cold.

  I blinked—partially on purpose, certain I was seeing things.

  There, on the bathroom mirror, waited another message. I peered closer, ignoring the signals that caused alarm to burst like boiling water in my head. The words looked to be written in slime—runny, oozy, gooey slime.

  Help.

  A handprint smeared beside the word, like someone had tried to reach through the mirror in desperation. My moment of courage wore off, and trembles claimed my muscles. I took a step back and fell against the toilet, knocking off a small city of cosmetic
s before sliding to the floor.

  “Uh, guys, you’re going to want to see this.”

  Candy swung around the doorway, her eyebrows knitting together as she spotted me. “I’m going to want to see you looking like an island in the middle of a sea of overpriced cosmetics?” She deadpanned the question, her lips parting in confusion.

  I shook my head, my cheeks heating again as I realized my head was resting on the back of the toilet and various bottles laid around my shorts-clad legs—which needed to be shaved—all while my eye fluttered and watered, probably sending mascara down my cheek.

  I nodded behind her. Her gaze landed on the mirror.

  She gasped and stepped out of the bathroom. Her eyes were wide—with fear or in awe? I wasn’t sure.

  She pointed to the mirror, her voice trembling. Fear. Definitely fear. “I never thought I’d see that with my own eyes.”

  Chills continued to seep into every fiber of my being. “See what?” Leftovers from the Kid’s Choice Awards on Lana’s bathroom mirror?

  “Ectoplasm.”

  Ectoplasm. As in ghostly, paranormal ooze?

  I closed my eyes, suddenly not caring about my contact or my legs or the mess around me. It was like some kind of wicked game of Clue was being played, and I’d been forced to participate.

  It was the ghost in the kitchen with a butcher knife, I heard myself saying.

  Chapter 4

  The police ushered me out of the room so they could do their thing. Candy lingered close to the bathroom, her phone out as she probably updated her social media sites with ectoplasmic photos or, at least, some great tales that were sure to entertain others at my expense.

  Which left me in the living room with Ben Cooper and Gaga.

  “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation,” he said. His tone acknowledged that he knew how lame he sounded. What exactly did you say to comfort someone in a time like this? I had no idea, but assuring someone that there was a reason for the crazy around her was a good start.

  I nodded. Another Good Girls Rule, of course. Better to bite your own tongue than to say something that will come back and bite you later. “A logical explanation. Of course.”

  “Scare tactic?” His gaze looked earnest as he rubbed his chin in thought.

  “Why would someone try to scare me? No one knows me here.”

  He stared at me another moment, his crystal blue eyes still sincere as if he honestly wanted to help but came up blank. “They’re trying to scare Lana and didn’t realize that she’s out of the country?”

  “Unfortunate timing for me, then.”

  “Just lock your doors tonight.”

  Lock my doors? Did ghosts care about locks? Now I was thinking like a crazy person. Never would I admit it, though. “I will.”

  He nodded toward the door and took a step back. “I’ve got to go pick up my son, Austin, from his friend’s house. Remember, I’m right next door if you need anything.”

  I nodded, understanding that he wanted nothing to do with this mess. I couldn’t blame him. “Got it.”

  When the police left a few minutes later, Candy followed them out the door, mumbling something about having to go to work and that she’d see me on Sunday.

  See me on Sunday? I didn’t even ask. Nope. I closed the doors, locked them, and then stared at the house. What now? Wasn’t this what I wanted? Time alone?

  So why did I feel so freaked out then? Why did I actually, just for a moment, miss Candy’s chatter? Should I go to a hotel for the night? Or should I tough it out at Lana’s place? I would tough it out, I decided. If I could survive what I had in Florida, certainly I could survive a ghost in Minnesota.

  Right?

  I paced over to the bookshelf and looked at a picture of Lana and me from when we were teens. I missed those youthful days when our futures seemed so bright. When I was determined one day to be a teacher, a wife, and a mother. When I just knew my life would turn out perfectly.

  There was also the small factoid that I wasn’t even sure I was a Christian anymore. My doubts about God had simmered beneath the surface for a long time. Each time they tried to emerge, I shoved them down with a vengeance.

  But now I was in St. Paul. Now it was time to let them boil to the surface.

  My cell phone rang. I grabbed it and answered. Lana. I sank onto the couch, propping my feet up and letting my head fall back.

  Her perky and loud voice sounded worse than an alarm clock right now. “What’s going on, big sis? How do you like the place?”

  “It’s nice, Lana. Very unlike you.” I’d expected something sleeker for my ever-in-vogue sister. Maybe a new condo decorated in cool tones of gray? A grungy apartment in downtown? An industrial loft near the Mississippi? She was the type of woman who’d drop $400 for a trendy new purse, all while forgoing paying her rent, so a house this normal seemed like it’d be the bane of her existence.

  She laughed, the sound carefree, just like Lana. “I know. It is, isn’t it? That’s why I decided it was perfect.”

  I stared at the white ceiling and remembered the threatening note. “Listen, there are a couple of things I need to tell you.”

  “Me, too. Tara, you’ll never believe this—Nate popped the question last night. We’re getting married!”

  A foreign emotion filled my chest. I realized I needed to react and forced out a congratulations. She went on and on about how he proposed and when they would get married. They’d probably have a perfect life together. Lots of children and laughter and love.

  That’s the way it worked for my sister. She never followed the rules. She lived for herself completely, and life had been all rainbows and blue skies.

  “Tara? You still there?”

  I snapped back to reality. “I’m really happy for you, Lana.”

  “Thanks, big sis. Listen, take care of Doggie Gaga for me. Nate and I might extend our vacation, make it more of an early honeymoon. Are you okay with that? I know we planned to spend some time together when I got back, but sometimes these things happen.”

  “I’ll be fine, Lana. Don’t worry about me.” Gaga jumped in my lap, and I stroked her soft white fur.

  “And don’t let the ghost scare you away.”

  I remembered the eerie messages I’d found and stiffened. “Ghost?”

  Lana laughed. “Yeah, there’s a rumor that a ghost haunts the place. That’s why I got the house at such a good price. Some woman died there or something. That’s what the story is, at least.”

  I swallowed, though my saliva didn’t want to go down. “Is that right?”

  “Crazy, isn’t it?”

  “Not so much, Lana.” I hugged Gaga to my chest. “Do you have any enemies?”

  “More than I can count. Why?” She said it without a care in the world. Nope, she didn’t give a second thought to what people said about her. Must be nice.

  I told her about the note and the message on the mirror.

  “Really?” She screeched, sounding fifty-percent excited and one-hundred-percent intrigued. “That’s crazy. Who would do that?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me that.”

  “I have no idea. It’s creepy.” She paused. “I have a couple of pretty sick friends. I’ll call them and make sure they’re not behind it. In the meantime, if you have any trouble, my friend Candy can help you out. She did pick you up from the airport, right?”

  “I did meet her.” I didn’t want to sound like a tattle-tale.

  “And there’s this guy named Mark I want you to meet. He’s super cute and just the RX you need right now.”

  “Not interested.” I picked some stray dog hair from my shirt and shook my head as if Lana could see me.

  “Oh, come on, Tara. One day, you’ll have to start dating again.”

  “Not really. Being single isn’t that bad. It beats subjecting myself to more heartache.” I mentally “amened” myself, even throwing in a “you got that right, sister.” Who needed actual friends when I had a whole choir in my head ba
cking me up?

  “You picked a bad one, Tara. You’ve got to face that. Peter was no good. Don’t let him ruin your future.”

  Lana did not understand. At. All. “Call it what you want. I don’t think I can ever trust a man enough to have a relationship again.” Girl, we don’t blame you. We’d be the same way. I loved my mental choir.

  “Well, just in case you change your mind, I’ll call Mark and ask him to keep an eye on you.”

  “Lana...” I threatened.

  She laughed. “What?”

  “Don’t play matchmaker.”

  “Don’t get your knickers in a knot. Sometimes you’ve just got to let your hair down and live a little.”

  I couldn’t even argue with her. My mental chorus of support disappeared. “Maybe you’re right.”

  She gasped. “Are you admitting that I could quite possibly be on to something? This is a first. Listen, sis, I’ve gotta run. Give Gaga a big kiss for me.”

  I set the phone back on its cradle and stared at it. My sister...I shook my head and laughed. Could we be more opposite?

  Don’t let the ghost scare you away...

  My laugh faded. Ghosts? They weren’t real.

  Despite my logic, I really wished Lana hadn’t told me that.

  ~*~

  I yawned and pushed myself back into the couch. I’d wasted three hours flipping through TV stations, staring blankly at inanimate objects and otherwise feeling bored out of my mind. My sister subscribed to three magazines: Vogue, TV Guide, and the National Enquirer. None were really my thing. So, instead, my thoughts had done their daily replay of all of my mistakes, faults, and missteps—a nightly routine, it seemed. Some people counted sheep; I counted my mistakes one by one.

  Finally, I stood. It was time for bed, that dreaded time of night where sleep made you vulnerable to the world around you. Ever since I was young, darkness and nighttime had frightened me. Still, to this day, my fears could get the best of me, especially when I was alone. Fears over creeps and crime and home invasions. The events of today only made my fears more real. Someone had been inside my home. Would they come back?