by E. C. Bell
“It was Rosalie?” I asked.
“Yep,” Tyler said. “It was Rosalie. And that made us look at her and her alibi for the night of Stillwell’s death much more closely. We just found out that one of her co-workers had clocked out for her that night. With that big hole in her alibi, it was easy to connect the dots.
“We’ve been working the scene at the old high school since you were rescued,” he continued. “And the murder weapon has already been recovered.” He shook his head. “Apparently, Rosalie kept all her mementoes of her time with Arnie. Even the hammer that she used to bash his head in. We’ll get DNA tests done to confirm, but we are convinced that Rosalie Jacoby killed Arnie Stillwell. Both of you are completely in the clear.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you very much.”
I should have been jumping up and down with joy, but honestly, all I felt was an even deeper exhaustion.
“I’d like you to go over the events of the evening,” Tyler said, “just to confirm. But you don’t have to do it now. Come in tomorrow, after you’ve had some rest.”
“I’ll get her here,” James said.
“Thank you,” Tyler said. He looked at me. “Tell your mother I’m gonna drop by sometime next week for a visit. We haven’t talked in a while.”
“Oh, come on,” I said, without thinking. “She’s an old woman. Can’t you leave her alone?”
Tyler looked at me for a long moment. “I heard she’s dying, Marie,” he said. “I want to say goodbye.”
I looked away, ashamed. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’ll be sure to tell her.”
“We’re not all bad, you know,” Tyler said. “Now, why don’t you and Mr. Lavall head home? You look like you’re ready to drop. And your mother will want to see that you’re safe and sound.”
“Thanks, Jackson,” I said. “She probably will.” I glanced at James. “You ready to go?”
“I am,” he said, and reached for my arm. “Let me get you home,” he said. “Safe and sound.”
I creaked to upright, aching everywhere. “Safe and sound sounds great,” I said. “Let’s go.”
Marie:
Can’t I Just Sleep?
WHEN WE FINALLY dragged our exhausted butts into Mom’s trailer, absolutely everybody was there. Rhonda and Jasper, and their three kids, who were draped all over the couch, watching television. Even Dad was there, sitting at the little kitchen table with Mom.
When they saw me, they all jumped up and began talking at once.
“Seriously?” I said, as Millie the step-on dog threw herself at my legs, adding to the noise and confusion in the room. I picked her up so I didn’t actually step on her, and she licked my face. “What are you all doing here?”
“We were worried,” Rhonda said. She rushed up and threw her arms around me. Millie squeaked in protest, but Rhonda ignored her and clutched me to her, frantically. “You’re okay, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said, pulling free from Rhonda’s death grip, more to save the dog than myself. “Just tired is all.”
“I’d imagine,” she said. She grabbed my arm and led me to the table. “I’ll make you tea,” she said. “That’ll help.”
“And you can sit with us and tell us everything,” Mom said. “Can’t she, Myles?”
“Yes,” Dad said. “She can. If she wants to?”
He directed the question at me, and I nodded. “I’ll tell you everything,” I said. “And I’d love some tea. Really.”
ALL RIGHT, SO the honeymoon period didn’t even last an hour. Rhonda’s kids started whining that they were tired, and then Mom and Dad started bickering about Millie, for some reason. The party broke up soon after that, and finally Mom and James and I were alone.
We were all alone. Which was strange.
“Where’s Laurel?” I asked. “Shouldn’t she be watching television?”
“I moved her on,” Mom said lightly. “While you were inconvenienced.”
I’d never heard being kidnapped called an inconvenience before, and almost laughed out loud. Until I realized she’d said—
“You moved her on?” I gasped. “Jesus, Mom, you should be lying down or something. How do you feel?”
“A little tired,” she said. “But that’s all.” She smiled. “Rhonda made certain I drank gallons of water.”
“You moved Laurel on in front of Rhonda and her kids?” I asked. “Why didn’t she storm off in a huff? She hates all things ghost-related.”
“I kept to my bedroom,” Mom said. “And it went quickly. Laurel was more than ready to move on.” She shrugged. “She kept saying she couldn’t wait any longer. I asked her what she was waiting for, and she said she was waiting for me.” Mom looked down at her hands, then up at me. “She had the idea that we could move on together, and that she was going to help me move on, if you can believe that. I had to convince her that it wasn’t in the cards. That I still had work here, and that she had her own journey. She seemed relieved, to be honest. Said she felt too tired to help me anymore. Her moving on was peaceful, calm. Quite wonderful, really.”
“And you feel all right?”
“Yes,” Mom said. “She didn’t need my power to move on. In fact, it was almost as if she was giving her power to me.” She shook her head. “I’ve never seen that before,” she said, and chuckled. “Trust a ghost to give me one more lesson. Oh, did I tell you your father and I are going to breakfast together tomorrow?”
I didn’t know how to respond to any of that information, but James jumped right in.
“That’s wonderful, Sylvie.”
“I think so, too,” she said. “He and I, we have a lot to talk about. I think, perhaps, I was a little hard on him all these years.”
“Feels like a night just full of miracles,” I muttered.
“That it does,” Mom said. She looked at me, measuring me, it seemed. I was pretty sure she was finding me wanting.
“What, Mom? I’m really, really tired.” Then I frowned. “How come you’re not sleeping? You should be. Look at the time.”
“I’m not tired,” she said shortly. “And I was thinking about Arnie Stillwell. Did you have a chance to move him on?”
“No,” I said. “Remember the kidnapping? Mom, I’m too tired to even have this conversation. Can’t we have it tomorrow, or maybe in a week?”
Mom shook her head. “That boy must be moved on,” she said. “Do you know where he resides? We need to go there, now.”
I sat up straight and groaned. I ached absolutely everywhere. “Mom, I can’t talk to Arnie until I’ve had some sleep. Seriously. And you need to go to bed. Remember your breakfast date? With Dad?”
“I remember,” she said. “We have plenty of time. Come on, let’s go. He needs our help. You know it as well as I do.”
I stared at her face, trying to figure out what the heck was going on with her, but couldn’t even guess. All I knew was, she looked good. Better than she had since I’d arrived. Maybe Laurel had given her some of her power. Like Mom said, ghosts always have new tricks up their sleeves. But, down in the secret recesses of my heart, I wondered if maybe, just maybe, her cancer was, by some miracle, gone. Wondered if she’d somehow gone into remission again. I mean, stranger things had happened. Right?
All I knew for sure was, she looked well enough to travel, and I wasn’t going to be able to talk her out of her mission. I pulled myself, groaning, to my feet. “Let’s go.”
James looked horrified. “You can’t go out now! Sylvie, for the love of God, your daughter was kidnapped tonight. She needs rest!”
“It’ll just be for a little while,” Mom said, patting him on the arm. “And don’t worry. I’ll be with her.”
“But—but—” James looked from Mom to me and back again. “You’re really going?” he asked.
“I need to get this done, James.” I said. “Don’t worry.”
Then, before he could respond, I grabbed the keys and headed for the door.
“I should come with you!�
� he called. “You know, to protect you.”
“You can’t protect me,” I said. “Not from this.”
“It’s all right!” Mom called at the same time. “We got this.”
Then she closed the scarlet door, and I could no longer see his frightened face.
“Maybe he should come,” I said.
“No,” Mom replied. “He’d just get in the way. Let’s go.”
So we did.
Marie:
Moving the Jerk On
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, I was back at the half-demolished high school. With my mother this time, and behind the wheel of James’s car instead of in the trunk of a crazy woman’s car. I felt my heart begin to race and wished I’d let James talk me into staying home.
“Scared?” Mom asked.
I jumped like she’d pinched me. “What are you, psychic?”
“No,” she replied. “I just pay attention.”
We rattled over the broken pavement and parked beside a police van.
“What are the police doing here?” Mom asked.
“They’ll be CSIing the scene,” I said. “You know, taking photographs. Bagging clues. Stuff like that.” I breathed a quick sigh of relief. “Let’s come back tomorrow.”
“No,” Mom said. “You’re doing this tonight.”
She got out of the car, and I reluctantly followed her. I had no idea how we were going to even get into the locker room with all the cops buzzing around, but Mom walked in like she owned the place.
“You can’t be here,” a cop wearing rubber gloves and a frown said to her. Then he saw me, and his frown faded to shock. “What are you doing here?”
“I—We—” I started, but my poor overworked brain wouldn’t give me one more word. I looked at my mom for help, and she stepped right up.
“My poor daughter is severely traumatized,” she said, taking my hand and patting it. “I believe it would do her some good to revisit the site. You know, so that she can see that she really is safe.”
I tried to look severely traumatized, but was pretty sure all I’d managed was exhausted. Didn’t matter though, because the cop wasn’t buying what my mom was trying to sell.
“Sorry, Mizz Jenner,” he said. “I can’t let either of you in there.”
A woman’s voice echoed to us from somewhere within the locker room.
“What’s going on, Albert?” she called. “You know we have to get this done ASAP.”
“You heard Officer Wilson,” Albert said. “Sorry. We got work to do.”
He didn’t look sorry, and I knew we were done before we even had a chance to start.
“Come on, Mom,” I said, grabbing her sleeve. “We can come back tomorrow.”
“No,” Mom said, pulling free and stepping right up into Albert’s personal space. “We need to get in there right now. And you’re not stopping us, young man.”
“I can’t let you in,” he said, then watched helplessly as Mom strode past him. “You can’t go in there!” he cried. “Seriously!”
“Let me get her,” I said, and pushed past him. “It’ll only take a second.”
He huffed, but let me pass. Not his first mistake of the night, but definitely the biggest.
The police had moved a bunch of lights on stands into the area, and everything looked bleached and flat under the strong white light. The shrine in Arnie’s old locker and Rosalie’s blood splattered all over the wall looked faded and old.
To me.
“Oh my,” Mom muttered. “This is really quite terrible, isn’t it?”
“It is,” I said. “Do you want to go?”
Wasn’t holding my breath, but hey, miracles could happen.
“Not until we move Arnie on,” she said. “I don’t see him. Do you?”
“No,” I said.
“Let’s find him then,” Mom said firmly, and stepped more fully into the room. “Arnie Stillwell!” she called. “Show yourself! Now!”
There were two other cops in the room. One was taking photographs, while the other was bagging everything that was left in Arnie’s shrine. It looked like he’d removed most of the cemetery flowers, and I wondered if Arnie had somehow gotten bagged up, too. Heck, stranger things had happened, earlier that evening.
The cop with the camera turned and glared at us. “You can’t be in here,” she said. “Albert! Why did you let them in here?”
“They ran past me,” the cop at the door said. “Sorry.”
“Never mind,” the cop with the camera said. “I’ll deal with them.”
She walked up to us, a professional smile plastered on her face. “Sorry, ladies,” she started, but then I stepped fully in the light, and her face slackened in surprise.
“Marie Jenner?” she said. “Is that you?”
I stared at her for a second. Something about her was familiar, but I couldn’t place her face.
“Do I know you?” I asked.
“I’m Reena Wilson,” she said. “We went to school together, back in the day.” She gestured around the locker room. “Remember gym class?”
Gym class. I looked closer, and then I knew her. She was the one who had thrown me into this very locker room, for the boys. “You dyed your hair,” I said, distantly.
“Yeah,” she said, and touched the tight bun at the back of her head. “Started going grey already. What can I say? Bad genes.”
“It’s good to see you again,” I said, even though it wasn’t.
“And you,” she replied. “I’m sorry, but you really can’t be in here right now. Come back tomorrow—”
“No,” Mom said. “Tomorrow’s too late. Young lady, there’s a spirit trapped here who needs to be released, and only my daughter and I can do it. You must let us in here, now.”
Reena blinked twice, rapidly, then glanced over at me. “Is she for real?” she asked. I saw the judgment ooze over her face. “Is she talking about ghosts?”
All I wanted to do was wipe that look off her face, once and for all. “Yes,” I said. “She’s talking about a ghost. The ghost of Arnie Stillwell, to be precise.”
Her face spasmed, and judgment took a back seat to disgust. “You don’t really believe in all that, do you?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “I do. Now let us in here, before I make you wish you’d done a lot more with your life than become a cop.”
I honestly expected her to turn on us like a rabid dog or something, but she didn’t.
“You’re not going to leave until I let you in there, are you?” she asked.
“No,” Mom said. “We’re not.”
Reena shook her head. “Crazy Jenners,” she muttered. “You people never change.” She pointed to the right side of the locker room. “Stay over there,” she said. “And don’t get in our way.”
“Will do,” I said, and grabbed Mom by the arm, pulling her into the locker room before Reena changed her mind.
The cop bagging evidence looked up when we skittered into the room and smiled.
“Oh, hey, Mrs. Jenner,” he said. “How’s Millie working out for you?”
“Just fine, Mike,” Mom said. “She’s a nice little dog.”
“I figured better you have her than she end up in the pound,” Mike said. “Glad it worked out.” Then, before I could say a word, he continued bagging bits of crap off the floor of the locker room.
I stared at Mom, but all she did was shrug. “It’s a small town,” she whispered. “I helped him get in touch with the spirit of his grandmother. The dog was his way of saying thanks.”
“I bet he never told Reena about that,” I replied.
Mom laughed. “Probably not. Now, let’s find Arnie. It’s time for that boy to move on.”
She stood in the middle of the room, held her arms out by her sides, and closed her eyes.
“Arnie Stillwell?” she called. “Where are you?”
I didn’t hear anything except for Reena’s disgusted gasp, but Mom turned to the bank of lockers that held Arnie’s shrine.
&n
bsp; “Arnie?” she said. “Are you there, boy?”
Still no response that I could hear, but Mom grabbed my hand.
“He needs you, Marie. He’s afraid, and oh so very lost.”
“He seemed fine when I left,” I whispered. “Are you sure you can feel him here?”
All I could feel were Reena’s eyes on us. Mom glanced at her.
“Ignore her,” she said. “She doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but helping Arnie move on.”
“All right,” I said, wishing my voice sounded strong. It didn’t, though. It sounded weak and tired. Exactly the way I felt. “Over there?” I asked, pointing.
“Yes,” Mom said.
I looked at the shrine and called. “Arnie? If you can hear me, come to me.”
At first there was nothing, but then Mike shivered uncontrollably. “It’s frigging freezing in here all of a sudden,” he said. “What’s up with that?”
“That would be Arnie,” Mom said. “See?”
And I saw. Right by the shivering cop, I could see the beginnings of a form shaping. It was Arnie, and his dirty white glow was much weaker than it had been. Much.
“Marie,” he said, so softly I could barely hear his words. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
“I told you I’d come back,” I said, trying to ignore the cop as he jumped up and scrabbled away from the spot I was speaking to. “And here I am.”
“Could you believe what Rosalie did?” Arnie’s face was a mask of fear and despair, and his light flickered and guttered, like a candle in a strong wind. “She was going to trap me here with her, forever.”
“I know, Arnie, but she’s gone now. Back to her body. Remember? You helped me do that, and now you’re safe. You’re safe.”
“I tried to do that with you.”
“Don’t worry about it, Arnie. It’s all in the past.”
His face spasmed. “Jesus, I put you through the shit, didn’t I?”
I looked at him, hard, trying to figure out if this was a trick. Was he being truthful here, or was he trying to con me one more time?
“No,” Mom whispered. “I believe he’s being truthful. Help him, Marie. He’s ready.”
