That evening, however, he dressed in his navy blue suit.
He slung the jacket over his white shirt, which he left unbuttoned at the top. Rachel came into the bedroom from the bathroom, her salmon dress tightly hugging her body. She tilted her head as she put on her earring. “I thought you were wearing black tonight.”
“Changed my mind.”
“After all that? Dry cleaning and tailoring?”
“It needed to be done anyway.”
“No tie?”
“Ties are too uptight.”
“You’ll be the only man without one.”
“I’m aware.”
At six o’clock, they went to the car.
“Thanks again for coming with me,” Rand said as they got in.
“Still a little weird,” Rachel told him.
“I know. Don’t worry, we won’t stay long.” He started the engine. The classic rock station from earlier blared too loud, and he twisted the volume knob as Rachel cringed.
“But we can’t leave too early. They’ll notice,” Rachel said.
“If they’re noticing my whereabouts at their own celebration, then they don’t know how to party.”
She smirked as they backed out of the driveway.
Preston Plantation was a manor outside of town surrounded by several acres of land dotted by hundred-year-old oak trees. Like most plantations in the south, it was now used as an indoor reception hall.
Rand parked, and as they walked toward the main building he noticed that, in fact, he was the only one not wearing a tie. He also sensed the heavy feeling within the walls of Preston Plantation. It was an old home, and therefore likely haunted. Wealthy families would have lived there, and usually they had their fair share of problems, debauchery, and mistreated servants. Plenty of negative energy to attract lingering spirits.
“What’s wrong?” Rachel asked. She’d noticed him glancing up at the high ceilings and toward the corners of the room, and at the portraits of the past owners that adorned the wall along the staircase that led up to a darkened, unused second floor.
“Nothing,” Rand said, pushing the thoughts from his mind.
He’d attended engagement parties before, but none that resembled an actual wedding. Bill had spared no expense, as usual. The main reception hall was decked out for the occasion, with pink tablecloths matching the curtains of the high windows. A live band played slow songs on their woodwind instruments, which Rand hardly thought was useful if one were trying to throw a decent party, but to each their own. He swung by all the offerings—the roast carvery, the vegetables, the lobster tails, pastas, and even the children’s chicken finger stand. Last, but not least, was the open bar.
“I’ve never seen you eat so much,” Rachel told him. Three empty plates had accumulated in front of him before a busboy came to clear them.
“Bill’s dollar, so why not?” He leaned in his chair and sipped his whiskey.
They sat alone at a table in the back, separate from the main party. Well aware that he was only there as Libby’s father, he kept away and let the others do their thing. Tessa and Bill floated from conversation to conversation, playing host. Libby stood in a huddle with her friends Bailey and Claire and Samantha. Libby wore a red dress that Rand had never seen before. Justin was with her, looking awkward in his oversized suit, hands in his pockets, seeming like he didn’t have much to say to the girls.
“Thoughtful of Bill to let Libby invite her friends,” Rand said. Despite Bill being able to afford the extra heads at a dinner like that, there were still a lot of empty seats in the place. Just like Rand’s classroom.
“He really is a nice guy,” Rachel said. She signaled for the waiter, who swooped in and placed another champagne on the table in front of her and took away her empty glass. By Rand’s count, she was three deep.
“When have you ever talked to Bill?”
“He came by when you were in the bathroom.”
Rand smirked. “That rat.”
Rachel shoved his shoulder.
Tessa caught his eye again for the fifth time that night. She looked stunning in her blue dress, and the personal trainer that Bill had gotten her for her most recent birthday was really starting to pay off.
In a locked container at the back of his closet, there was a ring in a little black box. No one else knew it was there. He’d bought it years ago and had held on to it ever since. Soon after Libby was born Tessa had made it clear she had no intention of being with him long term, so Rand had never actually asked Tessa to marry him. And even though money had been tight, he’d never sold it.
He drained his whiskey. “Think I’ll hit the bar again. Want anything?” Rachel shook her head and nodded toward her full champagne. “And on the way back, I think it’s time I meet my daughter’s new boyfriend.”
“Be nice, Randolph.”
“Aren’t I always?”
She gave him a look as he rose.
Rand tipped the bartender and carried his whiskey glass to where his daughter and her friends stood. Libby’s eyes widened when he approached.
“Evening,” he said as he broke into their circle. Bailey and Claire made room for him.
“Hey, Mr. Rand,” Bailey said.
“How’s the party so far?”
“Music’s terrible.” Bailey wrinkled her nose at the four old guys on the stage.
“You know, I was just telling Rachel the same thing.”
“Right? A DJ would have been much better. And cheaper.”
“Money isn’t an issue in a crowd like this, Bailey. And look around at these people. I doubt they’ve ever heard a DJ before.”
The party was mostly made up of what Rand assumed were Bill’s work colleagues. Everyone wore a stiff, unfitted suit, and conducted themselves as if they were there for business rather than a celebration. Hunched shoulders, serious expressions, and formal head nods.
Rand then focused on Justin and extended his hand. “Rand Casey.”
Justin awkwardly shook it, his hand limp like a dead fish. “Justin.”
Libby folded her arms and glared at her father with a stiff-lipped warning, which Rand already intended to ignore.
“Libby’s dad.”
“I know,” Justin said. His eyes darted around the floor at everyone’s ankles.
“Nice suit. I have one just like it. I’ll give you my tailor’s number. Tell her I sent you and you’ll have it back same day.”
“Dad,” Libby spat.
“Thanks,” Justin said, missing the gentle jibe.
Bailey and Claire stood tensed on either side of him, awkwardly watching a father meet a boyfriend for the first time.
“So I hear you play guitar.”
“A little.” He ran a nervous hand through his shaggy, unkempt hair.
“Weren’t you supposed to wear your black suit tonight?” Libby asked, desperately trying to change the conversation.
“A little? What does that mean? You either do or you don’t. What kind of music do you play?”
“Mostly original stuff.”
“I’d love to hear it sometime. You know, I used to play a bit myself.”
“Dad,” Libby said again.
“I was in a band in college,” Rand went on. “We played at the bars every weekend. There were four of us, and we called ourselves Amateur Surgery.” Rand chuckled, lost in the memory. “Man, we thought we were awesome, but really all we wanted to do was make as much noise as possible. The ladies loved us, though.”
“Dad!”
Rand turned toward Libby. She gripped her cell phone, a look of concern on her face. “What?”
“I just got a text from Georgia.”
Rand frowned. “Saying what?”
“He’s back.” The words were a whisper barely audible over the band’s interlude. She passed him her phone, and the latest message in their thread was a picture. Rand swallowed.
He recognized the hospital room. And in the darkened shadows, on the edge of the flash from the phon
e’s camera, he could make out the spectral outline of a boy standing in the corner.
It was their first photograph of Thomas. Which meant that not only was he back, but his presence was stronger.
“Oh no,” he muttered.
Justin and Libby’s friends looked back and forth between them, confused.
His own phone vibrated with a call in his pocket. When he fished it out, Nick Collins’s name was on the screen.
“Excuse me,” he told the kids. “I need to take this.”
15
St. Mary’s Hospital was just as busy at night as it was in the morning.
Rand, Libby, and Rachel approached the Coffee Bean, the same shop where Rand had originally met up with Nick and Maria.
Maria was waiting for them and stood when they neared.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said when she saw how they were dressed. “You should have told me you had plans.”
“It’s okay,” Rand said. “How is Georgia?”
“Not well,” Maria said. “Whatever happened to her really stressed her out.”
“What’s going on?”
“Maybe it’s better if she tells you herself.”
Rand turned to Rachel. “Do you want to hang out here for a bit? I shouldn’t be too long.”
Rachel shrugged and joined the line to get a coffee. Rand and Libby went upstairs.
Harold the security guard was quite concerned as he wrote out the visitors’ nametags. “Apparently there was a huge commotion down the hall about an hour ago.”
“Did you see anything?”
“Nothing,” Harold said. “Not until Mr. and Mrs. Collins came back and found Miss Georgia on the floor.”
In the hospital room, Georgia lay on her bed, covers pulled up to her chin and cannula running from her nostrils. Her father was seated by her side. She groaned when Rand entered.
“I should’ve known the ghost man would come.” Then, she smiled at Libby. “Hey, Libby. Cool dress.”
“Hey. Are you okay?” Libby took the desk chair to the side of the bed and sat down next to her.
Georgia looked awful. Her skin was whiter than usual and her eyes were red and puffy from crying. “I’m fine. Probably shouldn’t have texted you, though.” Her voice was thin and weak. “I should’ve known you’d bring your dad.”
“I know you think he’s a jerk right now, but he can help you,” Libby said.
“He’s already helped me enough.”
“Come on, Georgia,” Nick said. “Don’t be like that. Tell Rand what happened so we can get to the bottom of this.”
At the mere suggestion of reliving her tale, Georgia twisted in her bed and squeezed herself into a ball under the covers. Tears rimmed her eyes. Libby reached out and took her hand.
“Where did this picture come from?” Rand asked. “You did well in capturing it, but I need to know the whole context.”
Georgia’s breathing became shallow and labored, in through the nose and out through the mouth, as if she were running on a treadmill instead of lying in bed.
“Georgia?” Maria said.
“Okay, okay.” She coughed, and then told them everything.
Rand’s eyes moved around the room as he imagined Georgia’s story. There were cracks in the wall and door right where Georgia said the exploding oxygen cylinders hit. The television that had been mounted the last time he visited was now on the floor, the screen broken.
“I took the picture after I saw him when the lights went out,” Georgia finished.
“Honey, how could you see him if the lights weren’t on?” Maria asked.
Georgia fixed her mother with a rigid stare, one that showed she refused to be disbelieved. “Because his body was darker than the dark around him.”
Maria seemed confused, but Rand knew what she meant.
And he was very concerned. The girl had been attacked. Although he didn’t want to use that word in front of the family right now and alarm them further.
Nick and Maria looked at him expectantly, as if he had the solution to all their problems.
“I’m sorry you went through this, Georgia,” Rand began. “It seems Thomas’s presence is stronger than he was letting on at the beginning. These spirits can do this as a way to protect themselves.”
Rand had encountered spirits that knew what he was. Someone had once explained to him that it was in his aura. For that reason, spirits attempted to downplay their own energy so as to not be threatened by him.
Georgia rounded on him. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t pissed him off.” She struggled to sit up in bed. Her mother tried to coax her, but she had none of it. When her back was against the headboard, she jabbed an accusing finger at him. “This is all your fault. He was fine before, but now he’s mad. I told you to just leave him alone, and that he wasn’t hurting anyone!”
“Georgia!” Nick scolded.
“I want you to leave. You being here is only going to make him angrier.” Then she launched into a coughing fit.
Libby looked at him, frowning.
“I understand why you’re frustrated,” Rand said, “but you and I both know what happened in here is not something Thomas would ever do to you. Something triggered this spirit and made it aggressive.”
“You did!”
“It wasn’t me. If he did this tonight, then he was always capable of doing it. That’s what worries me.”
“Then why did it take so long for this to happen?”
“Probably to get you to trust him. And it worked. Because now you’re on his side and against me.”
“Well, yeah,” Georgia said. “Thomas was my friend. He was only sixteen when he died. Of course he’s upset. But instead of being there for him, you come in and try to chase him away.”
“Georgia,” Nick said, “Rand only did what he did because he thought it was best for you. You heard him before. It isn’t good or right for these… spirits to be here. They need to move on.”
“I don’t care,” Georgia said. “All I know is he made everything worse.”
“Georgia.” Libby spoke for the first time, and everyone looked at her. “Listen. I’ve grown up with this stuff my whole life. My dad’s been dealing with it since before I was born. He’s told me all about his past cases, and I’ve witnessed these things. Sometimes these pissed-off ghosts follow him home and try to take out their anger on him. Imagine being a little girl and having spirits attach themselves to your dad. I’ve seen so much crazy stuff, and I’m not even the Ghost Man. But he’s right. These entities are so unpredictable that you can’t have a normal life whenever they are around. You’ll never be at peace. You’ll always be on edge, waiting for the next thing to fall and break, or have your keys or purse go missing. Trust me, all of that’s happened to me. So I know you’re mad at my dad. He’s easy to get mad at, and he pisses me off at least once a week. But believe me when I say he isn’t here to upset you. He wants to do his best to help you. And he can. He’s helped so many other people before.”
Georgia fell silent as she retreated into herself. It slowly sunk in that she was fighting alone in her own corner. “Fine.” The single word was weak, defeated.
Nick turned to Rand. “What do we do now? And this time… it needs to work.” His eyes seemed to droop.
Rand already knew his next course of action before even arriving at the hospital. “I want to bring in a clairvoyant.”
Everyone stared at him blankly. Everyone except Libby, who had met a few clairvoyants in her short life.
“What is that?
“It’s someone who is sensitive to the spiritual world. I can be sensitive, but there are others who are far more in tune than me. I work with them frequently. They are better able to communicate with spirits, sometimes acting as physical mediums, where the spirit can use the clairvoyant’s voice.”
Nick and Maria were even more confused.
“Sorry,” Nick said. “I’m a little lost. But if you think it’s best, I won’t argue with you.�
�
“I suggest this because this spirit obviously has more to say,” Rand replied. “At first, all the evidence pointed to the fact that it was upset at having passed early. If that was all, then my cleansing in this room should have worked. But there are stronger emotions anchoring him here, and we need to find out what he wants so we are better able to send him on.”
Libby nodded along.
“And um… when can we expect to meet this colleague of yours?”
Three knocks sounded at the door, and a nurse entered. “Sorry to break up the party, but visiting hours are over in ten minutes. Anyone not related to the patient needs to leave.”
“Thanks, Donna,” Nick said.
“I’ll make calls first thing tomorrow and come back as soon as I can.” To Rand, the case had become urgent. All his cases did when a restless, irritated ghost attacked someone.
And there was still the matter of Thomas’s threat. It had been eleven days. Six days left. Rand still couldn’t say if Georgia was destined to die from cystic fibrosis or an attack by Thomas. At that point, either seemed likely.
He forced himself to believe Thomas would be the cause. If not, then the girl would perish regardless of what he did for her. He kept that little detail to himself.
“And what do we do until then?” Nick asked.
“Cope. Be together. Keep an eye out for anything strange happening. If you see something, leave.” Rand wished he had a better answer.
Nick didn’t like the response, but he nodded anyway.
Rand and Libby returned to the Coffee Bean, where they found Rachel sitting alone at a table, playing on her phone with an empty cup in front of her. She looked up when she saw them approach. “How is everyone?”
“Not great,” Rand said. “But I’m not out of ideas yet.”
She frowned. “You seem stressed.”
He shrugged.
“Mr. Rand.”
He turned at the sound of his name. Harold the security guard had followed him down to the first floor.
“Harold,” he said. “Sorry I didn’t sign out. No one was at the desk when I went by, but I already threw my visitor sticker away.”
The Tenth Ward Page 9
