by Jenn Burke
At least, I assumed they were project names.
Maybe I should have a quick look through them. You know—since I was here.
* * *
As I ghosted through the closed front door an indeterminable time later, I wasn’t surprised to find Hudson’s unmarked cruiser absent from the front drive. Okay—I might have let time get away from me. I found the car sitting dark and silent on the road about a block from the Galways’, and Hudson’s ire was palpable as he sat in the driver’s seat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Very. Slowly.
I passed through the passenger door and popped into the real world. “Hi.”
Hudson arched a brow in my direction. “Guess how long I’ve been waiting here.”
“Hudson, I—”
“Go on. Guess.”
“Five minutes?” I chanced.
“I was still in the driveway at the five-minute mark and getting weird looks from Galway’s wife.”
“Ten?” Silence. “Uh, fifteen?” More silence. Shit. “Twenty. I couldn’t have been longer than—”
“Thirty-four minutes.” Hudson shifted so he was partially turned toward me. “I didn’t think I had to specify that you were invited along solely for the purpose of viewing people’s shadow forms.”
“Right. I know that. But—”
“You snooped, didn’t you?”
I became very interested in what was outside my window. Oh hey, there was the moon, hanging over the city in some phase of not-fullness. “You should probably get moving. Don’t want to get a ticket. Oh wait—cop.”
“For fuck’s sake. I thought you wanted to help!”
“I did. I do. Dave’s not your guy. I could tell right away.” I sighed. “I got bored, okay?”
“You got bored.” Hudson started the car and put it into gear, but turned to me instead of pulling away from the curb. “You got bored? Are you fucking kidding me?”
I winced, both at Hudson’s volume and my actions. He had a point. This wasn’t a social visit and I wasn’t getting paid to stick my nose where it didn’t belong—I wasn’t getting paid at all. Which, actually, was something I should bring up with Hudson. But...uh, maybe not right now.
Before I could respond, Hudson hit the gas and the car leaped forward. “God. Did you ever think you were brought back for a higher reason than spying?”
I made a dismissive sound. “No.”
“Because you’re kind of a miraculous thing.”
That might have been a compliment, except for the “thing” designation. Regardless, he was wrong. “The word you’re looking for is mistake.”
“Oh, come on. You don’t think there was something else at work? God?”
“We had this conversation before.”
“Perceptions change.”
“Not about this. I don’t—and never will—believe in God.”
It was a topic we’d covered extensively when we’d been dating. Hudson was a lapsed Catholic, with all the rules and rituals ingrained into his psyche, so he looked at me and saw proof of God. Me? My mom and dad had been too focused on keeping our farm running and food on the table to go to church, and the community had judged them harshly for their lack of attendance, a situation that didn’t endear me to organized religion. Who needed that sort of bullshit in their life?
That opinion didn’t change after I died. Dying had been pain and confusion and blackness and nothing. Whatever came after—and I believed something did, just not that it was tied to any god or religion—it remained a mystery to me. If I’d learned anything about the realms beyond the otherplane, that knowledge had been struck from my brain when April had brought me back. It wasn’t God who had returned me to Earth, and He-She-They had no say in how I used my abilities.
“You’re squandering this gift—”
“If I promise not to wander off again, will you please stop talking about this?”
He glanced over at me, and I knew he wasn’t going to leave it alone—except he did. “We’re going to see Meredith’s estranged brother next. He works the 7:00 p.m. to 4:00 a.m. shift at a factory up in Vaughan and he agreed to speak to me on his break.”
Stunned, I stared at him. “That’s it?”
“You wanted me to shut up about it. This is me shutting up about it.”
“Yeah, but—” The Hudson I’d dated wouldn’t have let it go. When something bugged him, he was like the proverbial dog with a bone—chewing, tugging, refusing to give up any sliver of suspicion until he’d eradicated the problem in question. I’d admired his dedication and determination...until I didn’t. Until I completely understood that his determination to do his job outweighed any dedication to me. I slouched in my seat. “Never mind.”
“Either you want me to talk about it, or you don’t.” Hudson aimed a smirk in my direction.
“I don’t.”
“You sure? Maybe talking it out—”
“Shut up, Hudson.”
Chapter Five
Meredith’s estranged younger half brother worked as a machinist at a factory not too far from the Canada’s Wonderland amusement park. Hudson navigated through the industrial area, following one wavy, winding street after another, and before long, I was completely lost. I hated cookie-cutter streets like this, where every building looked like the last. The parking lot Hudson eventually pulled into was only half full, though whether that was because the night shift had less staff or the factory on the whole didn’t employ enough people, I had no idea. The building was big, gray, maybe two stories in height. Security lights were positioned at each corner. They didn’t do a great job at pushing back the gloom, but at least it wasn’t completely dark.
Again, I faded from view as Hudson parked. Before I could exit the car, he said, “This time, stick close.” He paused. “But not too close. I hate it when you make my hair stand on end.”
As we approached the not-well-lit front entrance, a man pushed away from the building, dropped a cigarette to the concrete, and crushed it with his work boot. “You the cop?”
Hudson flipped open his badge wallet. “Detective Rojas. You got some ID on you?”
I hovered at the side, trying to get a good look at the man as he retrieved his driver’s license and handed it over to confirm that he was indeed Edward Harris, Meredith’s half brother. That done, Hudson shifted them over to the side, away from the main door leading into the warehouse and eavesdropping ears. Unfortunately, this put them deeper into the shadows and both Hudson’s and Edward’s forms blended into the night surrounding them. But I didn’t think this was the guy. To start, he had a ponytail, and a couple of loose strands hung around his face. His body shape was all wrong too. He was taller than me—who wasn’t—but built more like a runner. Lean and fast. The killer had been broad and bulky.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Harris.” Hudson pulled his notepad out of his pocket, and I wondered how he could even see to write anything down.
Edward shrugged. “Meredith and me, we weren’t close.”
“You’re her only surviving relative, correct? Other than her ex-wife, Julia Boucher.”
“That’s right. But you’d never know it.”
“Oh?”
Edward pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “You mind?” When Hudson waved in permission, he lit up and blew out a cloud of smoke. “Meredith wasn’t too keen on anyone knowing about me. She had an image to maintain. Blue-collar working class wasn’t it.”
“You believe she was ashamed that you were her brother?”
“Believe it?” Edward chuckled. “I know it. She told me to my face.”
“And when was this?”
“I dunno. A couple of years back. Maybe five. Stuck with me, though.”
But had it stuck with him hard enough, festered badly enough, to make him want to murder her? Well, I already knew the answer to th
at. Unless Edward Harris had hired someone to do his dirty work, and the chances of that were slim given he probably didn’t have a ton of cash to throw at a hitman, he wasn’t involved.
Another dead end. Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I considered heading back to Hudson’s car. I could get caught up on some emails while Hudson asked Mr. The World Hates Me every question under the sun. I was about to start in that direction when something at the corner of the building caught my eye.
A little girl.
My heart jumped. This was not the place for a child. She looked no older than eight, maybe ten. Her curly medium-brown hair hung down to her shoulders, brushing the worn fabric of a much-loved T-shirt featuring a unicorn with...rainbow cupcake poops? I wrinkled my nose—
Wait. It might be mid-May, but it was close to ten thirty at night, and it was too damned cold for a T-shirt.
And she was staring right at me.
Ghosts—actual ghosts—were real. I knew this. I’d run into a few in my not-life. They were rarely intelligent. Usually they were echoes of energy carrying out the same actions over and over again, like an ectoplasmic rut with all the accompanying sounds of footsteps, unintelligible whispers, or the briefest glimpse of a figure. That’s what the ghost hunting shows captured, because intelligent ghosts—the ones who knew they were dead—stayed hidden until they ran across someone sensitive enough to be aware of their presence.
Like this little girl.
I took a step in her direction and she lit up. Huge smile, excited bounce, as though I were the answer to her prayers. Or maybe she was lonely. Being stuck on the otherplane had to be a horrible, solitary existence. As I drew closer, I noticed other details—since she was as clear to me on this plane as Hudson was on the living one. There was dirt smeared on her cheek, a dark brown stain against her lighter brown skin, and a ragged tear split the side of her shirt. The neck of the shirt was stretched, as if someone had pulled on it. Her jeans were ripped too, though that might have been fashionable—depending on how long she’d been here, waiting for someone to see her.
Please let it not be long.
When I got close enough, she couldn’t contain herself any longer and leaped at me to wrap her arms around my waist. “You can see me!”
I smoothed my palm against her hair, feeling the knots and dirt hidden by the voluminous waves. Poor thing. How long had she wandered here, trying to get someone’s attention? No wonder she was thrilled I acknowledged her. “I sure can, sweetheart.”
For a few minutes, she just shook. Then she whispered, “I want to go home.”
My heart ripped out of my chest and fell at her feet. I was done. I was hers. Whatever I had to do to make that happen, I would.
I knelt so I could look her in the eye. “What’s your name?”
“Amrita. Amrita Bhattacharya.”
“And what year is it, Amrita?”
“Twenty-seventeen?” She bit her lip, like she knew that was wrong, but that was the only answer she had.
“Okay.” At least she hadn’t been in limbo for eons. “I’m Wes—Wesley Cooper.” I held out my hand for her to shake, which she did. “Nice to meet you.”
“Are you—are you dead too?”
“Sort of.” I wrinkled my nose and crossed my eyes, which made her giggle. “It’s a long story. The important part is that I can tell people you’re here.”
“They won’t believe you.”
I looked over my shoulder and pointed at Hudson’s shadow figure. “That man will.”
“Who’s he?”
“He’s a policeman. I’ve known him for a very long time.”
Stretching the truth a little, but it made her shoulders relax.
“I’ve been so scared.”
“Oh, honey. I know. But I’m here now and I promise I’ll do everything I can to help, okay?” I gave her an encouraging smile. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“I was at Canada’s Wonderland with my older brother.”
And that quickly, I knew who she was. The little girl who went missing from the amusement park had been big news at the time. They’d closed the park to search for her, questioned hundreds of people, and the papers had basically convicted her brother of being a shitty human being for not keeping a better eye on her, if not her killer. The story had dominated the news for weeks, but ultimately, they’d found no trace of Amrita.
God, my throat ached. I clenched my jaw to keep my emotions in check as she continued with her story. Her eighteen-year-old brother had told her to wait for him while he lined up to ride the Leviathan, the biggest coaster in the park. Amrita had been too little to accompany him, but he’d drilled her about what to do to stay safe. Don’t move from the bench. Don’t talk to strangers. If she got scared, go see a security guard.
Eighteen was a legal adult, but still young enough to make stupid, self-centered decisions. Christ. The line had been incredibly long—last long weekend of the summer, hello—and Amrita had waited and waited and waited. Finally, she got up from the bench and turned her back to the crowd to watch the people riding the other coaster a little distance away. Suddenly she’d felt a presence behind her and a prick in her side, and that was all she remembered.
She woke up dead behind the factory.
Which—fuck, probably meant that was where her body was.
“Thank you for telling me all of that,” I said softly.
“I don’t know how to get home from here.”
Her family lived in North York, not too far to the south, but far enough that a ten-year-old would be hopelessly lost. If she could even leave her body. I wasn’t sure how the actually-dead-ghost thing worked. “I’m gonna help you. I made a promise, right?”
She nodded, wiping at a tear on her cheek.
“So I’m gonna go tell my friend all about you. We’ll make sure you get home.”
I went to stand, and Amrita grabbed my hand. “You promise promise?”
“Cross my heart.” My finger traced the sign of the cross over my heart, echoing my words.
She swallowed and reluctantly released my hand. “Okay.”
I dashed across the parking lot and encompassed Hudson’s figure. His pen jolted across the page he was writing on and he gave a slight nod. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Harris.”
Edward stubbed out his cigarette. “Do you know if there’s a reward for information leading to Meredith’s killer?”
Hudson paused in closing his notepad, the slightest hitch in movement. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“Oh. Because that would be good, right? Incentive?”
For Christ’s sake. I walked over and through Edward, satisfied when his entire body shuddered.
“Jesus, it got cold quick. I’m gonna head back in.” Edward flipped up the collar of his jacket, gave Hudson a half wave, and started back to the factory entrance.
I trailed Hudson to his car and slipped past him through the driver’s door so he knew I was there. We went less than a block before I rematerialized. “Stop the car.”
“Was that our guy?”
“What?” Oh, right. Edward. “No.”
“Then what—”
“I found a ghost. The little girl who disappeared from Canada’s Wonderland.”
Hudson’s eyes widened. “Shit. Really?”
I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat. “She ‘woke up’ behind the factory.”
“Aw, fuck.” Hudson inhaled deeply. “Okay. I’m going to have to have a look, see if I can find a legitimate reason to call it in. Did she tell you who did it?”
“She never saw him. He drugged her, I think. And I think maybe he used too much.”
Hudson gave me an unreadable look. It was as though a blank, emotionless mask had slipped over his face—and I remembered it. His Asshole Cop look, when all his emotions got boxed into a corner of hi
s mind so he could focus on what needed to be done.
“That might have been a blessing,” he said quietly.
“Fuck.” He was right. I leaned against the headrest. “And you wonder why I don’t believe in God.”
Chapter Six
The factory backed onto a vacant—but not empty—lot. Large construction equipment hunched to the side, the machines’ yellow paint muted in the dark but still discernible when a stray headlight beam brushed against it. In the opposite direction, a copse of trees stood blacker-than-black against the night sky, some coniferous, but most of the deciduous trees were still skeletal with new foliage that was little more than a whisper of a promise along bare branches. At a certain angle, you might be able to pretend you were in an actual forest, the trees around you untouched by men.
Hudson and I stared at them, silent. I didn’t know what he was thinking—hell, I barely knew what I was thinking. On the one hand, I wanted to find Amrita’s body here so she could be at peace. On the other, I never wanted to find it, because then her death would be true.
It wasn’t anywhere close to logical, but hey, that was me.
“Any thoughts as to where she might be?” Hudson asked softly.
“I don’t want to ask her.”
“Wes—”
“Don’t make me ask her. Please.” I couldn’t imagine anything worse than a tiny ghost leading us to her tiny body.
Hudson drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. I’ll—I’ll go have a look, see if there’s anything obvious.” He hesitated for an instant, then popped his door and got out.
As he marched into the trees, I slipped halfway into the otherplane. I wasn’t surprised to see Amrita standing beside the car, her eyes on Hudson’s retreating back. I didn’t say anything—what could I say? I was too wrecked to offer gentle emotional platitudes, and I got the sense that she was beyond that, anyway. Her entire form vibrated with pent-up hopes and wishes. Then, suddenly, she relaxed and smiled—an expression that carried with it the radiance of the sun.
