As Joe fastened his seatbelt, Sarah could sense something close. When she turned toward her window, she saw a woman with blonde hair and no eyes standing next to the truck. Her face was contorted in pain. She opened her mouth in a silent scream and, impossibly, hundreds of ravens flew out into the night.
“Joe!” Sarah said.
“Now what?”
When Sarah looked again, there was nothing but the rain.
“Just drive, okay?” she said.
A few minutes later, they reached Casa Abrigo. The outside lights were on a timer, and they should’ve been on. But the house was drenched in darkness.
“So, where’s Lou?” Joe said as they got out.
“He’ll be here. Let’s get the mirror inside.”
He dropped the tailgate, grabbed a carpeted dolly, and set it on the driveway. Carefully, he and Sarah lifted the mirror and set it down. They rolled it toward the house. At the front door, they stopped, and Joe got out his key. He tried putting it into the lock, but his hand was shaking. Gently, Sarah put her hand on his and helped guide the key in.
“Thanks,” he said. “I need to turn off the alarm.”
As she swung the door open, she could hear a soft, electronic beeping. Joe flipped on the lights and strode across to a far wall. He opened the alarm panel and disabled the security. Then, he helped Sarah roll the mirror in. Without speaking, they continued into the kitchen and toward the cellar door.
“Here comes the hard part,” Joe said. “Lou should’ve been here by now. Why don’t you call him?”
“Good idea.”
She retrieved her phone from her pocket and dialed the police chief. The call went to voicemail immediately.
“He’s not picking up,” she said. “I think we should get started.”
Sighing, Joe opened the cellar door and switched on more lights. Carefully, they removed the mirror from the dolly. He entered first and waited for Sarah to grab the other end of the mirror. It was not only heavy but large and awkward. Sarah almost missed a step, causing the mirror to shoot forward. Fortunately, Joe recovered and steadied it.
They were halfway down. Outside, Sarah could hear the rain pelting the ground. She thought she heard the wind and wondered if they’d forgotten to close the front door. She would have to send Joe upstairs to check once they got settled.
Finally, they were on the ground. Rather than use the dolly, they carried the mirror into the storage room. Manny had replaced the blackened stone, and Sarah couldn’t distinguish between the new and the original.
“Did Manny redo the whole floor?”
“No, just the stained part. Where do you want it?”
“We’ll have to estimate.”
They positioned the mirror. When Sarah was satisfied it was standing more or less in its original spot, she removed the heavy moving blanket. Standing in front of the mirror, she saw nothing but her reflection.
“Joe, I think we left the front door open. Can you run upstairs and close it?”
“Are you sure you want to be down here by yourself?”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay. Call me if you need me.”
He leaned in and, laying a hand on her shoulder, kissed her. She squeezed his hand and smiled apprehensively as he left her alone in the storage room. She could hear his faint footsteps as he ascended the stairs. Then, silence.
No sooner had Joe left her than the temperature in the room dropped. Showtime. Sarah concentrated on the mirror and waited. Ice crystals appeared on the glass accompanied by faint crackling noises. Though Sarah was frightened, she was certain Nicole wouldn’t harm her. For no reason at all, she thought of Donnie and Debbie Fisk. They would’ve dismissed this as some sort of parlor trick. Something far away began taking shape in the mirror. It was an amorphous, billowing entity that wafted toward her. Soon, Sarah was able to make out the face of the girl. She’s so young.
Without warning, a blue-white hand tore through the glass and took hold of Sarah’s wrist, hurting her. Before she could scream, it yanked her into the mirror. Sarah felt her breath leave her as she was dragged forward through a long, dark corridor. She had a sense of lightness and couldn’t feel her feet on the ground.
“This way,” the girl said, her voice frightened.
“Nicole, wait. I’m not supposed to be here.”
Their voices sounded distorted. Ignoring Sarah, the girl kept pulling her toward a small door made of aged, splintered wood standing at the end of the corridor. As they approached, the door creaked open. Effortlessly, they passed through, and soon Sarah found herself in the middle of a dark cave.
“What is this place?”
“This is where I died,” the girl said without emotion.
Ignoring his buzzing phone, Lou drove through the pounding rain, looking for the right house. He didn’t like Carpinteria. It was too far from his home turf. He’d been down here once years ago when Vic Womble organized a poker game shortly after his divorce. Vic had purchased the home at a bank auction and, from the looks of it, it was probably all he could afford. None of the other guys in Homicide felt close to Vic, but they’d all agreed to be supportive, including Lou. Divorce was way too common in the cop world. Lou had seen good cops go to shit because they didn’t have any emotional support. Most felt Vic had a broom handle up his ass, but he was still a good cop.
There was a house on the corner, Lou recalled, whose lawn was filled with gnomes. There. Checking his rearview mirror, he swung right and pulled up to the correct house. The lights weren’t on. Weird. He checked his watch and saw that it was after eight. He should’ve been at Casa Abrigo with Sarah and Joe. But the message from Vic had sounded urgent.
He got out and crossed the red brick walkway to the front door. When he pressed the doorbell, a soft chime went off inside. Seconds passed. This wasn’t like Vic. Finally, lights came on inside. The front door opened. Vic was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Barefoot. From his expression, he clearly wasn’t expecting visitors.
“Lou, what’s going on?”
“Whaddya you mean? You left a message with my dispatcher telling me to get over here.”
“Huh?”
“Something about the Gail Cohen investigation?”
Vic scratched at his beard stubble and swung the door open wider. “Come on in.”
Lou took a seat on a bar stool in the kitchen as Vic opened a couple of beers for them. He handed one to Lou and took a seat next to him.
Lou took a deep swallow. “Okay, this is weird. I get a message—supposedly from you—saying to meet you here right away and that it’s urgent.”
“Did the message provide any details?”
“No, but it mentioned Gail Cohen. I thought maybe you’d changed your mind about the manner of death.”
“Lou, honestly? I didn’t leave any message. And besides, why wouldn’t I call your cell?”
“Good point.”
“And no, I haven’t changed my mind.”
Lou sighed and took another swallow. “Are you sure? I keep thinking about that other John Doe from 1970.”
“Okay, I’ll admit they’re similar. But with Gail Cohen, we still have no motive.”
“Sounds like you’re ready to close the books on this one.”
Lou finished his beer and stood. He glanced over at the sink and noticed the dirty dishes and the dishwasher door lying open.
“Looks like I interrupted.”
“I was going to do some reading. Fiction for a change.”
“Anything good?”
“Dean Koontz. Maybe he knows what those birds were up to.”
“Thanks for the beer.” Lou left the bottle on the countertop and went to the front door with Vic following.
“We should have another poker night,” Vic said.
“Yeah, sure. Why don’t you reach out to the guys and let me know.”
“Will do.”
“Night, Vic.”
“Sorry you had to come all this way. I’ll ask around tomo
rrow to see who might’ve left that message.”
“Something tells me it wasn’t anyone at the station. See you.”
The rain had become a steady drizzle. On the way back, Lou thought about the message. Who was on dispatch? Laurie. She was new and wouldn’t have known whether the person on the phone identifying themselves as Vic Womble was an impersonator. Innocent mistake. But why would— Shit, Sarah.
Whoever it was wanted him far away from Casa Abrigo. He tried calling her. No answer. Checking his mirrors, he stomped on the pedal. It was early. He could still make it to Dos Santos in time.
Sarah could see shafts of moonlight outside the cave. And she heard the sound of rushing water. When she turned, she saw Nicole standing over something. Afraid, Sarah slowly made her way across the cave floor and looked down.
It was a girl’s body dressed in blue jeans, a yellow crop top, and dirty white sneakers. Wisps of blonde hair clung to the skull around a jagged hole in the temple where the bone had been crushed. The bones of the arms and hands were intact and, except for the fact that this was a skeleton, Sarah could imagine the teenager getting up as if from a long, lonely sleep.
Tears filled Sarah’s eyes as the reality of what had happened hit her. She turned to Nicole, who was holding herself, rocking softly and muttering.
“Tell me what happened.”
Their voices sounded natural now and echoed softly off the moist cave walls.
“It was Peter. He wanted to… He wanted me to do things. Like he did with Hannah.”
“And you refused?”
“At first, he laughed it off. Said he was only joking. But after a while, he became more insistent. I threatened to tell his parents. He said if I didn’t say anything, he would leave me alone.”
“And did he?”
“Yes. I spent the rest of the summer with Hannah. One day, she invited me down to the river to swim. I was worried Peter would be there, but she promised it would just be the two of us. We hiked for a long time, talking like we used to when we were little. When we got to the river, we laid our towels on the rocks and went in. I remember the water was so cold.
“Hannah said there was a cave we could explore. It sounded like fun. We got out and dried ourselves off. Hannah showed me this secret entrance through the boulders. It could be our special place, she said. We went inside. It was dark. I was scared and wanted to leave. She took my hand.”
As the ghost spoke, Sarah could picture the girls who looked so much alike making their way through the darkness of the cave, hand in hand. Like Alyssa and her on one of their preteen ghost adventures. Sarah felt a deep connection to Nicole and wanted so much to comfort her. But all she could do was listen. The girl pointed.
“We stood over there. It was cold, and I had goosebumps. Hannah smiled at me in this strange way. Then, she put her hands on my face and…kissed me on the lips. I didn’t know… I mean, I felt like it was okay. We’d known each other all our lives. And Hannah was… I loved her, I guess.”
Sarah reached out her hand and took the girl’s. It felt smooth and cold and didn’t weigh anything.
“It’s okay, Nicole.”
The ghost stared at her, her expression turning violent. As she jerked away, her hand felt sharp and rough like rusted metal, cutting Sarah’s palm. Then, Nicole fell to her knees, her image stuttering in the darkness.
“And then, he was there.”
“Peter?”
“It was like when we were little. Me and Hannah wanting to be by ourselves. And him always ruining it.” She began sobbing. “They held me down. Peter, he…”
“He raped you?”
“After, I didn’t want to go home. I was so ashamed. I remember him telling me that if I said anything, he would find a way to hurt me. I got dressed and went outside. Peter and Hannah were already walking back. I was so angry. I screamed at them. Told them both to go to hell. I said I would tell his parents.
“Peter got really mad and came back. I tried running, but I kept slipping on the wet rocks. He caught me and dragged me back into the cave. I screamed for Hannah, but she never came. Then, Peter said, ‘Eyes on me, Nicole,’ and hit me in the head with a rock. It was the last thing I remember.”
The ghost let out a shrieking sob that echoed and collapsed next to her bones. She’d finally been able to tell her story, and Sarah prayed the girl’s soul could move on.
Sarah knelt next to the girl. “Nicole, do you know if Hannah is alive?”
“Dead. Killed by the ravens.”
“No, that was Gail Cohen.”
The girl looked up at her as if Sarah were stupid. Her eyes were on fire, her teeth sharp and fierce.
“There is no Gail Cohen.”
“What?” Sarah felt faint and wavered. “Oh my God, it was Hannah all along.”
“But Peter is alive.”
The ghost said this like a little girl reciting a nursery rhyme, her voice sing-songy.
“Peter is uh-LIE-uv, Peter is uh-LIE-uv.”
She was giggling in a way that unnerved Sarah. She tried desperately to understand.
“But I saw him buried in the ground.”
Nicole became quiet and looked at Sarah with dead, intense eyes. Sarah wanted to run but didn’t know where to go.
“All those years,” the ghost said. “I watched and waited, unable tell anyone. Until you found me.”
“Nicole, I’m sure Peter is dead.”
“No! He lives.”
Sarah sank to her knees, swooning from an intense heat. When she opened her eyes, she was back in the storage room. The temperature was normal. The mirror was dark. She heard a scraping noise behind her.
“Joe?” A dark figure approached her. “Thank God. Help me up, would you?”
She reached out her hand and waited for Joe to take it. She wanted him—needed him—to stay with her, she was so frightened. The figure stepped into the light. But it wasn’t Joe.
It was Michael Peterson, grinning like a demon.
“No, get away. Please, Michael… Leave me alone.”
As he moved closer, she wondered where Joe was. Why had he left her alone with a madman? She noticed Michael was gripping a crowbar she recognized. It was Joe’s. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t.
“You don’t have to do this.”
Grabbing her by the hair, he moved in close and made her look at him. As she fought him, he forced a wet cloth over her mouth and nose, and held it there until she breathed in the pungent fumes and began to lose consciousness. Then, in a deathly whisper like burning paper…
“Eyes on me, Sarah.”
Twenty-Eight
By the time Lou reached Casa Abrigo, the sky had cleared and the moon shone brightly. Up ahead, he could see a nondescript vehicle parked on the street. Inside the house, the lights were on, and he guessed everything was alright.
He parked behind the car and jogged up to the front door, which was closed but unlocked. Tentatively, he pushed the door open. The house looked empty as he stepped inside.
“Hello?”
No answer. They were probably in the cellar.
“Sarah? Joe?”
A lonely silence filled the interior. Lou’s cop instincts took over and, unholstering his weapon, he went immediately to the kitchen, where he found Joe sprawled on the floor, unconscious. He checked for a pulse and, finding one, turned Joe onto his back. Gently slapped his cheeks to see if he could get a response. He found a half-empty water bottle on the counter and dumped its contents on Joe’s face. In a few seconds, Joe’s eyes fluttered, and he tried grabbing Lou by the throat. Lou scooted back and waved his hands in front of him.
“It’s okay, Joe. It’s me.”
“Lou?”
“Yeah. Come on, let’s get you up.”
He helped his friend into a sitting position. Grimacing, Joe felt the back of his head. No blood.
“Do you think you can stand?”
“Yeah.”
It took two attempts, but eventually Joe was abl
e to get to his feet. He stood with his arms propped against the kitchen counter for balance. Lou got him a fresh water and handed it to him.
“Thanks.”
“You want to tell me what happened?”
“Whoever it was clocked me from behind.”
“Did you happen to get a look?”
Joe took a huge gulp and set the bottle down. “No. Shit, my head.” He looked around. “Where’s Sarah?”
“Sorry, I just got here. You rest a minute. I’m going to check the cellar.” He crossed to the door. “Sarah? You down there?”
When there was no answer, he made his way down the stairs, still holding his weapon. All the lights were on. He saw that the door to the storage room was open. He crossed over to it and went in. Shattered glass lay all around the mirror. Leaving the room, he checked the rest of the cellar and trotted back up the stairs, where he found Joe sitting at his makeshift desk.
“She’s not there?” Joe said.
“No.”
“Lou, what the hell happened? You were supposed to meet us here.”
“I’m sorry, Joe. But someone led me on a wild goose chase. They wanted me far away from here. Any idea who could’ve done this?”
“Had to be Peterson. Who else?”
“You’re prob’ly right. Come on, we need to find Sarah. You up for this?”
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
The men made a complete search of the house without any luck. They decided to walk the perimeter, in case Sarah had fallen outside.
“The pool,” Joe said.
They went through the French doors leading to the backyard where they found the rectangular swimming pool with a stone deck. Joe ran to the edge and peered down. Nothing but shallow, brackish water.
“Let’s check the front of the house,” Lou said.
As they made their way around, Joe immediately noticed the empty driveway and stopped. He looked toward the street and saw the unfamiliar car parked there. He bolted down the driveway and, standing in the middle of the road, glanced in both directions.
“Sarah!”
The Girl in the Mirror Page 26
