by Reid, Terri
“Seen her? Where?”
“Bradley, seen her as a ghost,” Mary explained. “On several occasions in her home.”
He closed his eyes as anger and frustration bubbled up. “Damn it,” he said. “I wonder how many more are dead.”
“Well, we’re not sure yet,” Mary said. “I haven’t confirmed she’s dead. We’re still researching information about the case.”
“Would you be willing to share whatever you’ve found with me?” he asked. “I’m working on a similar case.”
“Of course,” she said eagerly. “I’ll be happy to share it with you.”
He paused to look down on her smiling face. “Um, whatever I did,” he began. “I’m really sorry.”
She sighed. “No, I’m sorry,” she replied.
“Really?” he asked, brightening as he got closer. “For what?”
“For getting angry with you,” she confessed.
He pulled her into his arms and just held her for a few moments. “This feels so good,” he murmured into her hair. “I really missed you.”
She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his chest. “I missed you too,” she said.
He leaned away slightly and gently lifted her chin, lowering his lips to hers. At first the kiss was soothing and gentle, but Mary wanted more. She slid her hands from around his waist, up his chest and around his neck, burying her hands in his hair and pulling him closer.
He tightened his embrace, pulling her against him and crushing her mouth was his. The kiss lasted for a few delightful minutes until he pulled away. “Mary,” he whispered hoarsely. “If we don’t stop soon, Dorothy might be slightly embarrassed when she brings me the reports I requested.”
She sighed and dropped her hands to his shoulders. “We couldn’t just lock the door?” she asked.
He smiled broadly, enjoying the image playing out in his mind and then shook his head. “As much as I would really love to do that,” he said. “We’re going to have to save that fantasy for another time. And another place.”
Grinning, she toyed with his top button. “Okay, but only if you promise to use the handcuffs,” she teased.
He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to tamp down the rush of desire and shook his head. “You are going to be the death of me,” he murmured, capturing her mouth with his one more time.
She responded to his kiss for a few moments of pure bliss and then stepped away. “You are going to be home tonight?” she asked breathlessly.
Eyes filled with passion, he nodded fervently. “Oh, yes,” he breathed. “I’ll be home tonight.”
She took another step back, toward the door. “And even if you’re late, you’ll wake me up?”
He smiled widely. “Yes, I’ll think of some way to wake you up.”
“That sounds interesting, I might just go to bed early,” she teased. “Just to see what you have in mind.”
“I love you,” he said, the teasing no longer in his eyes.
Love filled her heart to nearly bursting as she smiled back at him. “I love you too.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Celia looked up as Mary entered the computer lab with a bright smile on her face. “So, the conversation went well?” she asked, biting back a smile.
Grinning, Mary nodded. “Really well,” she said with a satisfied smile. “I think we got everything ironed out.”
“Being a newlywed is hard work,” Celia sympathized. “Especially when there are high-pressure jobs involved.”
Sliding into her seat next to Celia, Mary nodded. “Yes, and add an eight-year-old daughter who was just reunited with her father to the mixture.”
“Oh, wow,” Celia said, nodding in agreement. “That does throw a little more interest into the pot.”
“I like that, interest,” Mary agreed. “But I’m sure everything will be great once we work out the kinks.”
“That’s the kind of attitude you need,” Celia replied. “Don’t let a couple bumps in the road get you down.”
“So, what have you learned while I was gone?” Mary asked, turning her attention back to the computer screen.
Celia handed Mary her notepad. “I started with the names I had and looked up their cases, but quite a few of them had never been entered into the database. Then I did a search on missing children through the archived files and found four more who could fit our profile. If I add these new ones to the ones I already had…Mary, there have been at least a dozen missing children reports that seem to have similar attributes to Courtney’s disappearance,” she said.
“A dozen?” Mary repeated, shocked. “How could there be a dozen missing children and no one’s connected them?”
Celia brought up the four files on the computer screen. “These were within Freeport and they were spaced several years apart,” Celia explained. “But the ones in the articles were either from the rural areas, so the county sheriff handled those, or small towns with separate police districts.”
Mary glanced through the reports. “All of them were young women, all of them were taken during the day and none of their cases have been solved.”
“I think most of them were considered to be runaways,” Celia added, “because many of them had been troubled youth.”
Mary sat back in her chair, reviewing the information in her mind. “I just spoke with Bradley about what we’re working on,” she said. “And he’d like us to share information with him. I told him we would; I hope you don’t have a problem with that.”
“No, if the newest missing girl is linked to Courtney’s disappearance, maybe we can help her,” Celia said.
“I’ll see what he’s learned and tell you about it tomorrow.”
“So, what’s the next step?” Celia asked, putting her files into her briefcase.
Mary glanced down at her watch; she had another hour before the school day was over.
“We have time for one more stop this afternoon.”
“Where?” Celia asked.
Mary reached over and took hold of Celia’s hands. “Let’s go visit the park.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Mary pulled the Roadster into a parking spot near the baseball diamonds and Celia pulled her red minivan into the next spot. The sun was beginning to lower in the western sky, but the day was still fairly mild and the ground was dry. The daffodils and crocuses in the superintendent’s garden were in full bloom and the wind brought the scent of the spring flowers to both women.
“How are you doing?” Mary asked, walking over to Celia.
Taking a deep breath, Celia nodded. “I’m a little nervous I guess,” she said. “I don’t know if I’m ready to face reality.”
Placing her hand on Celia’s shoulder, Mary nodded. “We don’t have to do this today,” she said. “We don’t ever have to do this.”
“No. We do have to do this,” Celia countered. “I have to do this. Not only for Courtney, but for myself.”
“Okay,” Mary agreed. “So, where was the picture taken?”
“Back behind the baseball field, toward the bridge that leads out of the park,” Celia replied, pointing to a copse of trees just beyond the baseball field. “We can cut across here.”
Mary walked slowly, taking in the scene around her and waiting for any indication that there were ghosts in the area. She started to follow Celia toward the trees when she felt a cold shiver down her spine. Turning, she saw a pretty teenage girl dressed in a softball uniform jogging toward the road. Her long hair was bouncing behind her as she ran.
The girl turned around, waved and then turned back toward the road, increasing her pace.
Mary hurried after her, staying on the road to avoid any new obstacles, but always keeping the girl within eyesight. As she entered the bridge the girl stopped and seemed to be talking with someone. She shook her head with a smile on her face and then shrugged and walked over to the other side of the bridge. A moment later she was gone.
Mary hurried to the bridge, looking around for an
y other trace of the girl. “Courtney?” she called. “Courtney, can you hear me?”
Suddenly, a movement in the distance caught her eye. The image was blurry, like Mary was looking through pouring rain into a window, but she could see it was Courtney. The girl’s terror-filled eyes met hers as she watched the image move further and further away.
“Mary?”
Mary jumped and gasped, and then turned to see Celia standing next to her. “Oh, you scared me to death,” she said.
“I heard you yelling,” Celia said. “So I rushed over. What happened?”
Mary took a deep breath. “I saw Courtney,” she said. “I watched her as she waved goodbye to her friends and jogged across the park in the rain.”
Inhaling sharply, Celia nodded. “What happened?”
“She jogged down the road and stopped at the bridge,” Mary continued, replaying the scene in her mind. “She was on the pavement, but she stepped up on the curb.”
“There must have been a car coming,” Celia explained. “The bridge is too narrow for a person and a car.”
Nodding, Mary walked closer to the bridge. “She stopped and spoke with someone,” she said. “It must have been the person in the car. She smiled at him and shook her head. Then she shrugged, walked around the other side of the bridge and disappeared.”
“She got into a car?” Celia asked.
“Yes, but she knew the person,” Mary said. “She talked with them and even laughed with them. She initially turned the ride down, but, for some reason, decided to get in.”
“Did you see anything else?” Celia asked.
“Yes. I did,” Mary said, nodding slowly. “I saw her image, like she was in a car in the pouring rain, going up the road until they disappeared.”
Celia leaned against the side of the bridge and started to weep. She slipped down to the ground and laid her head on her knees as the pain tore through her. “She’s dead,” she cried. “My baby’s dead.”
Mary knelt down and put her arms around the sobbing woman. She just let her cry for a few minutes, releasing some of the grief she was experiencing. “I’m so sorry, Celia,” she finally whispered hoarsely. “I’m so very sorry.”
“No. Don’t be sorry,” Celia said, her voice catching. “At least…at least I know.”
Helping Celia to her feet, Mary placed her arm around the woman’s waist and they walked back to their cars in silence, Celia softly crying into her tissue. When they reached the cars, Mary stopped next to the red minivan. “Do you want me to come home with you?” she asked.
Wiping her eyes, Celia took a deep breath. “No, but thank you,” she said. “I need to be alone for a while. I’ll meet you at your office tomorrow morning. Okay?”
Mary hugged her once more. “Sure. But if you need to talk, don’t hesitate to call me,” she insisted.
“Thank you, Mary,” she said, as she unlocked her car. “I’ll remember that.”
Watching the minivan drive off, Mary ached for her new friend. But she understood, better than most, the best thing she could do for Celia is find the person who had killed her daughter.
Chapter Twenty-four
“Chief Alden,” Bradley’s voice boomed in her cell phone.
“Hi,” she replied. “Do you have a minute?”
“Sure, what’s up?” he asked.
“Courtney Rasmussen is dead,” she replied, her eyes filling with tears.
She took a deep breath and continued. “I saw her ghost in the park.”
“Damn it,” Bradley said softly. “Does her mother know?”
Nodding, even though he couldn’t see her, Mary replied, “Yes, she was here in the park with me.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Well, you know,” she said, her voice breaking. “It’s pretty much the worse day of your life when you find out your loved one is dead.”
She wiped the tears away with a swipe of her arm and took another deep breath. “She’s upset. She’s crying and she says she needs to be alone.”
“And how are you taking it?” Bradley asked gently.
“I hate it,” Mary replied, tears flowing steadily now. “I hate telling people things that change their lives for the worse. I hate making people cry. I hated making Celia cry.”
“Do you want me to be logical or just understanding?” he asked.
A soft gurgle of laughter escaped her lips and she sniffed back some tears. “Understanding at first, then logical,” she replied, pulling a handful of tissues out of the box on the seat of her car and blotting her eyes and nose.
“Okay, you’ve got it,” he said, a touch of sadness in his voice. “It’s not fair that you have to tell people about their loved ones. It’s not fair that you are given situations where you can’t fix anything; you just have to stand by and watch bad things happen. It’s not fair that you are so tenderhearted that every ghost you meet and every person you help steals away a bit of your heart.”
Sniffing again, she nodded. “That was very good,” she replied.
Chuckling softly, he continued. “But…”
“Are you doing logical already?” she complained.
“Yes,” he said, “Because you need the logic now. Let me ask you, do we know more about Courtney’s death than we ever did before?”
“Yes,” she agreed.
“And now we are closer to catching the person who did it?”
“I think so.”
“And that’s true for all the people you have helped. You didn’t cause the situation. But you are a solution for people who are hopeless. You don’t cause the pain, Mary, you offer hope.”
“But it still hurts,” she said softly.
“Of course it does,” he replied, “Because you care about people. And that’s one of the reasons I love you.”
“I love you too,” she responded, wiping her eyes once again.
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “And that makes me the luckiest guy in the world.”
She took a deep breath and nodded through her tears. “Thank you for talking to me,” she said. “It really helped.”
“Good,” he said. “So, I can be home around eight thirty. Will that work?”
She thought for a moment. “Well, I’ll give Clarissa her dinner early, but let her stay up a little late, so when you get home, she can spend some time with you,” Mary suggested. “Then, I’ll have our dinner ready at about nine fifteen or so. How does that sound?”
“It sounds perfect,” he replied. “Thank you for being so understanding.”
She felt a twinge of guilt at being less than understanding these past few days, but brushed it off. “No problem,” she said. “I’ll see you at eight thirty.”
Chapter Twenty-five
“Clarissa,” Mary called from the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, so wash up and come downstairs.”
A few minutes later Clarissa jogged down the stairs, stopping several steps before the floor. “Isn’t my dad home?” she asked.
Wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, Mary walked over to the entrance of the living room. “No, honey, remember I told you he had to work late,” she explained. “So, I’m going to have you eat your dinner early so you have time to visit with him later.”
Folding her arms over her chest, Clarissa glared at Mary. “I don’t want to eat early,” she said. “I want to eat with my father.”
“Well, sorry, that’s just not going to work tonight,” Mary replied, heading back into the kitchen. “But maybe later this week he can be home on time and you can eat with him.”
Pulling the bubbling casserole of homemade macaroni and cheese out of the oven, Mary placed it on a trivet on the counter. She pulled a plate down from the cabinet and added some of the pasta, a green salad and some sliced chicken breast. “I made you all of your favorites,” she continued, “To make up for not eating with him.”
“I hate all of that,” Clarissa replied, as she walked to the kitchen doorway and slumped against the frame.
&n
bsp; Mary picked up the plate and brought it over to the table, placing it in front of Clarissa’s chair. “Wow, that’s too bad,” Mary said. “Because that’s what’s on the menu tonight.”
“I bet you aren’t going to eat this kind of food when my dad gets home,” she argued. “I bet you’re going to have some really good stuff.”
Mary walked back to the counter, stuck a fork into the macaroni and cheese and took a bite. “This is really good stuff,” she said, enjoying the thick cheesy sauce and soft noodles so much she took another fork full. “Actually, this is pretty much incredible.”
“Well, I’m not going to eat it,” Clarissa shouted.
Mary nodded, sticking the fork back into the pan, “Okay, I’ll call you when Bradley gets home.”
“What?” the child asked, astonished.
“I’ll call you when your dad gets home,” Mary repeated. “You can just do your homework for now.”
“But I’m starving,” Clarissa said.
Mary looked up at her and smiled. “Oh, well, good,” she said. “Your dinner is on the table.”
“But I want something else,” she insisted.
Shaking her head, Mary scooped up one more fork full. “There isn’t anything else for dinner,” she said. “This is it.”
Mary watched the internal struggle the child was having and, although she didn’t understand why Clarissa was being so disagreeable, made sure she kept her face as neutral as possible.
“Fine,” Clarissa finally exclaimed. “I’ll eat it.”
She stormed from the doorway to the table and shoved her chair a few inches back in order to sit in it. Then she proceeded to shove the food into her mouth without attempting any conversation with Mary.
Picking up a glass of ice water, Mary walked over to the table and sat across from her daughter. “So, how was school today?” she asked politely, sipping slowly on the water.
Clarissa looked down at her plate and continued to eat, ignoring Mary.
“It’s about time we did some shopping for spring and summer clothes, don’t you think?” Mary asked. “I think you could probably use some new shoes too.”
