by L. T. Ryan
“Let me know if you need anything.” He paused in the doorway, looking between the two women and, satisfied that Cassie didn’t need him at that moment, shut the door behind him
with a click.
Detective Harris held her hand out. “We haven’t met, but your reputation precedes you.”
Cassie firmly shook the other woman’s hand. The detective took a seat across from her. “In your line of work, I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
“Normally it’s not, but my colleagues speak highly of you.”
Cassie felt her face heat up. “I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but I’m kind of out of the consultation business.”
Harris nodded and stared Cassie down with such intensity that Cassie couldn’t help but squirm in her seat.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have anywhere else to turn,” the detective said. There was a hint of annoyance in her voice. Or was it reluctance?
Cassie swallowed back some bile. She had known this day would come sooner or later, but she thought she would have a bit more of a reprieve. “What can I help you with?”
“There’s no gentle way to put this, so I apologize for being blunt. Have you heard about the dead women in the papers? Three have been found so far.”
Cassie thought back to the newspaper article Magdalena had talked about yesterday. She had caught the news a few times over the last couple of weeks, too. “Yeah. Another body was found yesterday, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right.” Detective Harris crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair. “I was hoping maybe you could help point me in the right direction, given your--” she paused here for a brief second, as if trying to find the right word “--proclivities.”
“Proclivities?”
“Your tendencies, your… predisposition.”
“I know what the word means.” Cassie fought to keep the annoyance out of her voice. “I’m asking what you’re implying.”
“I’m hoping to tap into your experience with the occult.”
Cassie caught herself a millisecond before she laughed in the detective’s face. “I have no experience with the occult.”
For the first time, Detective Harris’s confidence seemed to waver. “Have I been misinformed? I thought you talked to ghosts.”
“Talking to ghosts and having a proclivity for the occult are two different things, Detective.”
“Are they?”
“Yes.” Cassie let some of her annoyance slip through. “Describing something as occult is a blanket term for the supernatural, the mystical and magical.”
“And ghosts do not fall under that blanket term?”
“They do.” Cassie measured her words. She didn’t want to be rude, but she also didn’t want this detective to get the wrong idea. “But that’s not what you meant when you asked me that, is it?”
“No.” It was Detective Harris’s turn to shift uncomfortably in her seat. “No, it’s not.”
“I don’t practice magic or make sacrifices on an altar.”
“I’m sorry if I offended you.” Detective Harris took a moment to gather herself. “Maybe you could enlighten me about your abilities?”
Cassie took a deep breath. She’d had this conversation countless times in the past, but it didn’t get easier. Or less awkward. “I can—could—communicate with the dead. Sometimes I would get feelings about certain cases. Visions, even, where I’d see the past, their past, or even scenes they wanted to show me from the present.”
“Could?” Harris asked. “Past tense?”
“Yes.” Cassie swallowed hard. She swore the people two rooms away heard it. The detective had an imposing presence and Cassie felt it. “It’s been some time since I’ve been able to tap into that side of myself.”
“Does this have anything to do with Novak’s sentencing?”
Cassie stopped herself from shuddering at the mention of his name. “You’ve done your research.”
“I have. It seemed like a good idea.”
“I can’t know for sure,” Cassie continued, “but yeah it seems like my abilities faded as soon as he died.”
Detective Harris gazed at Cassie for several seconds, though it felt like hours. “And you haven’t received any messages? Any communications?”
Cassie’s smile was tight. She could tell Detective Harris was grasping at straws she didn’t believe existed. It was clear to Cassie that the police had no leads. They were trying any avenue they could think of, and that included her.
“I haven’t seen any ghosts related to this case. I’m sorry.”
Detective Harris stood. “If I’m being honest, I figured it was a long shot.”
Cassie stood, too. “You don’t believe what you’ve heard, do you?”
“I deal with facts, not rumors,” Detective Harris said.
“I wouldn’t constitute the number of cases I’ve helped close as rumor.”
“Luck.”
“Luck can be construed as magic or mysticism.”
“Touché.”
“You’ll find what you’re looking for.”
“Is that one of your feelings?”
Cassie smiled, and it was genuine. “No. It’s an observation. You care about this case, about these women. I don’t think you’ll stop until you solve it.”
Once again, Detective Harris’s confidence flickered, and she let her guard down for a moment. “We don’t have a lot of evidence. The crime scenes are barren. Without a lead, I’m afraid these women are destined for the cold case files.”
“You won’t let that happen.”
Detective Harris’s resolve returned to her face. She set her jaw. “No, I won’t.”
“If I see anything, I’ll reach out.”
Harris produced her card. “Please do. I’ll take any help I can get. Even if it’s unconventional. These women deserve to have their story told.”
Cassie took the detective’s card, unsure if she would ever be able to help in a case like this again. She felt surprised by how the uncertainty bothered her. She looked back up at the detective, her jaw set.
“I promise if anything comes to me, you’ll be the first to know.”
Six
Cassie couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the day. Her brain buzzed as though it was full of bees, and the incessant sound was enough to drive her crazy. Instead of coordinating the new pieces they had added to their Vera Wang collection, she spent her time Googling anything and everything she could find about the women who’d turned up dead.
There had been three so far. The papers didn’t have too much information since the police didn’t want their investigation derailed. They hadn’t yet revealed the cause of death.
During the last press conference about the murders they had only offered the standard statement: they were treating the investigation very seriously and focusing as much of their manpower on the case as possible. She had heard those words plenty of times and she hadn’t needed Harris’s insider information to realize the cops didn’t have much to go on.
One family had put up a reward for anyone with information that led to an arrest, but so far, the comments on their Facebook post were filled with either well wishes or conspiracy theories.
Cassie’s heart broke for those left behind. What had happened to those women was inconceivable. The friends and families of the victims had to face an ongoing horror until they had their answers. It would be a long time before they would be able to make peace with their losses.
Cassie thought about her own family, which always brought about a mixture of pain and longing. After the incident in the graveyard ten years ago, her parents had rented an apartment in Savannah so they could help Cassie with her recovery. Her sister was still in college at the time, but she tried to visit Cassie as much as possible. Savannah was a long way from California, but the few times she made it back to Georgia meant a lot to Cassie.
Life was good for a while. Or as good as it could get following such a trauma. Her parents were more than happ
y to help in any way they could, but they couldn’t have known what she was going through at the time. They wouldn’t have understood that her life had changed irrevocably.
She had a breakdown and while her therapist attributed it to stress, Cassie knew it wasn’t related to her recovery. But how could she tell anyone what she was seeing? They wouldn’t believe her and, even if they tried to be patient and understanding, it would’ve broken Cassie to know they thought she was crazy.
So, she pushed her parents away. She grew distant with her sister. Whether she was trying to protect them from what she saw or trying to keep herself out of an insane asylum, Cassie still didn’t know. Either way, the relationship she had with her family became superficial.
The four of them had always been close. She and her sister were good kids. They were both introverts who had always cared more about their grades than being the popular kids in school. Cassie’s father was the king of dad jokes and he always trusted them to make decisions for themselves, despite his protective nature. Her mom was the kindest person Cassie knew. A woman who would do anything for her kids.
That’s why it hurt so much when Cassie phased them out of her life.
These days, she texted her sister every few months, but they were not as close as they had been as kids. She spoke with her parents around the holidays and on birthdays, but the conversations were brief. Her father would regale her with harrowing fishing tales or ask how her house was holding up. Her mom was there, just listening. When she spoke, the conversation ended in tears on both sides.
Cassie hadn’t found a way to explain her abilities to her family. Her parents lived in Charlotte but still had friends in Savannah, so they probably had heard the rumors about Cassie. Savannah was a smaller city, with residents who enjoyed a good gossip. Cassie’s name had been in the papers enough times that folks would have something to talk about.
If her parents had heard anything, they hadn’t mentioned it.
She hadn’t told them about the latest incident with Novak. Not everything, at least. The national news had caught wind of the story, so her parents were aware of his escape, his recapture, and his sentence to death. The phone call had started with tears that time, and Cassie spent an hour or two reassuring her parents she was fine and didn’t need any help. She made things worse by telling them she didn’t need anything, but old habits die hard.
Her cautious optimism about her fading powers led her to thoughts of reconciliation. If she could lead a normal life, maybe they could be a normal family again, or at least try without her worrying about something happening.
Then Detective Harris showed up.
Cassie cursed and closed out of the tabs she had opened about the murders. That life was behind her. She had a chance to start over, to start fresh. Maybe she would be able to go on dates and hang out with friends and talk with her family without worrying that a ghost would appear out of nowhere and derail her entire life.
It wasn’t like she was asking for the moon. She wanted to be like everyone else. Was that too much?
With thoughts of a mundane life swirling around inside her mind, Cassie kept her head down for the rest of the day and concentrated on her work. She stayed late, both to make up for lost time and avoid any questions Jason might have for her, and to prolong her trip home to her waiting guest.
If Cassie wanted to lead a normal life, she’d have to figure out what the boy in her house wanted from her. He hadn’t left her room in months so she assumed he would stick around until she solved his case. With nothing to go on except his appearance, solving his case was a long shot, but there was a familiar thrill of having a mystery to solve. She tried to squash the feeling, but it refused to be ignored.
Maybe this would be her one last hurrah.
She felt a stab of guilt as she thought of Detective Harris and the case with the dead women, but at some point, Cassie would have to move on with her life. She thought back to that morning when she felt the sense of a new dawn approaching her. Today might not have been the day Jason asked her out, but it could be the day she decided to move forward.
Cassie packed up her bag and left the museum. The nightshift security officer inclined his head in her direction, and she offered a small smile in return. He wasn’t as warm and amiable as Jason, which was why he had been relegated to evenings when there were no visitors to interact with. But she had to admit it was a lot easier for her to offer him a meek goodbye than it was trying to not look like an idiot in front of Jason.
The trip home wasn’t long enough for Cassie to build up the confidence to charge into her room and demand the ghost give her some sign of what he wanted. Instead, she went about her routine of staring up at the starless sky, doing a slow march toward her front door, relaying her entire day to Apollo, and cleaning an already immaculate house.
In the past, it hadn’t taken much for Cassie to get a ghost to point her in the right direction. Most of them wanted their cases solved. They craved peace of mind which allowed them to move on with whatever afterlife existed for them. Sometimes it would take a day or two for them to figure out how to communicate. But once they did, there was a whirlwind of activity until they faded from view. But this little boy had been different from the beginning.
He had shown up in her room one night and was there, like clockwork, every single night since. It didn’t matter what day of the week it was or at what time she decided to crawl into bed.
He never spoke to her and he never moved around. She never saw him outside of her bedroom. At first, it had been a relief that he hadn’t followed her wherever she went, but it became maddening. Why did he remain in the corner? Why didn’t he try to communicate? Was something wrong with him, other than the obvious? Was something wrong with her?
She had tried talking to him in the beginning. But he never responded. He blinked and stared. He never so much as shifted his weight from one foot to the other. She wasn’t sure he could hear her, and if it hadn’t been for his gaze following her every move, she wouldn’t have been sure he could see her either.
Now, she had the proper motivation. When he had first appeared, she was reluctant to interact with him, and though she had tried, she’d given up after a few days of zero communication. In the days that followed, they fell into an uncomfortable routine. He stood there and she ignored him, except for those few moments every night where she opened a narrow window of possible communication.
He had never taken it before, so she wasn’t sure why she thought he would now, but if she wanted to reclaim her life, she had to try.
So, she replaced her usual level of dread with faux confidence and marched toward her room, ready to begin the process of solving his case, one way or another.
When she found Apollo curled up in the middle of her bed, she knew something was off. Over the last few months, he would enter her room on occasion. But most of the time, he stood guard at the threshold. He hadn’t felt comfortable enough to sleep in there for some time.
Cassie’s eyes darted to the corner of her room to see that it stood empty. Her gaze flickered to each corner, thinking she might’ve just forgotten which one he haunted. But they were all empty.
With her entire plan thrown out the window, Cassie pulled on her pajamas, crawled into bed, and stared at the corner of her room, attempting to will him to appear one more time.
She couldn’t help but feel disappointed when he didn’t.
Seven
Cassie was startled awake when a strange noise infiltrated her dreamless slumber. It hadn’t been all that loud, but its cadence was strange enough to be out of the ordinary. It had risen above the normal hum that persisted. At first, she tried to ignore it, clinging to what little rest she was able to get that night. She hated to admit it, but the little boy’s absence threw her off more than his constant staring.
What if she had missed her opportunity to help him? Plenty of ghosts had faded in and out of her life over the years, and though she always hated the idea that she might not ha
ve helped them, she could at least say she had tried.
However, she had spent months ignoring the little boy. Not only had she not helped him, but she had also worked against getting mixed up in his case. She’d gone out of her way to avoid interacting with him. What if it was too late? What happened to the spirits who left her behind? Did they try to find someone else who could help them, or were they relegated to a special kind of hell?
As these thoughts pulled Cassie closer and closer to consciousness, the strange sounds playing in the background grew louder. They came into sharper focus and Cassie realized it was one sound. One voice.
Her eyes snapped open, and she shot up in bed with such force that Apollo bolted from where he was curled up next to her feet. He let out a startled meow on his way into the hallway and disappeared around the corner.
Cassie ignored Apollo’s dramatic exit and found herself once again staring at an empty corner of the room. She had a few seconds to be confused until she noticed movement in the corner of her eye.
When she twisted around, Cassie found herself face to face with a woman holding her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. Every few seconds, the woman would flicker in and out of existence like a lightbulb on its last legs. Her voice came and went with the connection, no louder than a whisper.
When the woman looked up, Cassie saw pure anguish in the spirit’s eyes.
Cassie was out of bed and down the hall before she realized what she was doing. Her body seemed several steps ahead of her brain, and by the time they were both in sync, she was already in the kitchen, leaning against the counter like it was the only thing in the world capable of holding her up.
A flurry of emotions hit her with such ferocity that her knees buckled. She sank to the ground, dizzy and exhausted. She laid her head on the floor and took stock of her body. While she was tired from the lack of sleep and her sudden jolt out of bed, the adrenaline pumping through her veins shook with energy. Her heart was pounding, but a few deep breaths and she managed to ground herself.
