Kindred Spirits

by Jean Marie Bauhaus

Steve’s stricken look told him all he needed to know. “How could you ask me that?”

  Derek shook his head. “The scout’s a motive. It’s the best lead I’ve had—”

  “How dare you?” Steve cut him off. “Jimmy was like a brother to me. So were you! But you come into my home and try to accuse me of—”

  “Derek!”

  Steve stopped talking and stared at something behind Derek. Derek followed his gaze to see the ghost box floating in mid-air. “Uh, what is that thing?” Steve asked.

  Derek shook his head, and sighed. “That’s Jimmy.”

  “Jimmy?”

  “Hey, Steve,” said the box. “Good to see you, bro’.”

  Steve moved past Derek and approached the box. “Jimmy?” he said again, passing his hands around, over and under the floating device. He looked back at Derek. “You mean, like, his ghost?”

  “He’s been here this whole time,” said Derek. He went over and took the box from Jimmy. It was too unsettling, even for him, seeing it just float there like that. “This thing lets me talk to him.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” barked the box.

  “Jimmy, we—”

  “This isn’t Jimmy, it’s Joe.”

  Steve’s brow furrowed. “Who’s Joe?”

  “Long story,” Derek told him. “Joe, what—”

  “Chris is in trouble. Your uncle took her.”

  “My—” Derek looked up at Steve. “Uncle Jim? What do you mean he took her?”

  “I mean he had a gun, and he came into the house and took her. I think he means to kill her.”

  “That’s crazy,” said Steve. “My dad wouldn’t do that.”

  Derek took a deep breath to steady his pounding heart as Joe’s news sunk in. He didn't want to believe it either. But he didn’t have that luxury, and he didn’t have time to deal with Steve’s denial. “Do you know where he took her?”

  “Not yet. Ron’s with her. I just checked a few minutes ago and they were still drivin’. I won’t know anything until they get where they’re goin’.”

  Derek looked up at Steve. “Where would he be taking her?”

  Steve looked from him to the box, his face plastered with disbelief. He shook his head. “Nowhere! This is my dad, Derek! He’s not a kidnapper!”

  “I didn’t think he was a killer either, until a few seconds ago. But I think maybe we both don’t know your dad as well as we thought we did.”

  Steve stared down at him. “You think my dad…”

  “He said nobody was supposed to die,” said Joe. “He told Chris that they were only supposed to injure Jimmy, not kill him. But he’s going to kill her if we don’t get there in time.”

  Steve stared at the box. “Why?”

  “I was getting too close,” said Derek. “He must blame her.” At Steve’s questioning look, he explained, “She’s psychic. Sort of. She can see and talk to ghosts. Look, Steve, I know this is a lot for you to process right now, but we need to move if we’re going to stop your dad from doing something we’ll all regret.”

  Steve looked like he was about to be sick. But he swallowed, and nodded. “Okay. Okay. Just, um…I’ll call the police.”

  “We don’t have time.”

  “Well, what are you going to do, Derek? Just storm in there and tell him to stop?”

  Derek sighed. “Good point. Okay, call Detective Hanson.” As Steve went to get his phone, Derek said, “Joe, can you see where they are now?”

  “Joe’s gone. This is Jimmy. He already went to check on them. He said he’ll come back as soon as he knows something.”

  Derek nodded. “Great. Okay.” He looked around and rubbed his forehead as a feeling of complete helplessness came over him. He wanted to jump in the car and start driving, but he knew it would be a foolish move until he had a destination.

  He consoled himself with the knowledge that Chris wasn’t alone. She had her sister with her. And from what Derek knew, Ron was resourceful. So was Chris. Gun or no gun, Jim Lansing had probably bitten off more than he could chew. At least, Derek hoped so.

  Either way, all he could do now was wait.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The ride was mostly silent. Jim Lansing never lowered his gun, nor did he speak. Neither did Chris as she thought through her options. She considered trying to talk him down and reason with him, but he didn’t exactly strike her as reasonable. She absolutely believed he would shoot her if he thought she was up to anything, such as sending coded messages to the spirits that followed her.

  Ron, for her part, murmured words of assurance to Chris, but otherwise, she kept uncharacteristically silent. Chris stole enough glances at her to see how worried she was.

  The silence was broken with the reappearance of Joe in the crowded cab. “I found them. Derek knows what’s happening. Once we find out where you’re headed, he’ll send help.”

  Chris blinked to acknowledge that she’d heard him. The spark of hope inspired by his news was short-lived as she realized that neither Derek nor the police were likely to arrive in time. It would be up to the three of them to get her out of this. She hoped their next attempt would go better than the one they’d made back at the house.

  The fact that Lansing didn’t bother to either blindfold Chris or to obscure their route told her that he wasn’t worried that she could identify him. He intended to kill her, pure and simple.

  Her stomach flipped over and her chest turned cold as he left the main road and drove up a gravel path. Steel girders rose into the air ahead of them, forming the frame of a high-rise silhouetted against the night sky.

  The truck rolled up to a chain-link gate that looked like it had long ago ceased doing its job of keeping people out. Jim killed the engine and the lights. Then he turned to Chris. “This is where we get out. Keep your good arm where I can see it and slide out of the truck.” He kept both his gaze and the gun trained on her as he climbed out.

  “Joe—” Ron began, but he cut her off.

  “I’m going. But I’ll be right back.”

  “No, you should stay.” Ron turned back to Chris, her expression apologetic and anxious. “I can give them better directions.”

  “Can’t really argue with that,” said Joe.

  “I’ll be right back,” Ron promised. Then she vanished.

  “Miss Wilson, get out of the truck,” Lansing ordered, an edge creeping into his voice. Chris raised her good hand in the air and scooted slowly out of the truck.

  “Derek knows,” she told him as he gripped her good arm and led her to the gate. “That’s the whole point of killing me, right? So he wouldn’t find you out?”

  Jim snorted. “He doesn’t know. How could he?” He shoved her toward the fence and indicated the space between the gates, held together by a rusted chain, just wide enough to squeeze through. “You first.”

  Chris didn’t oblige him. “Let’s just say I have friends in high places. Higher than the ones that have apparently aided and abetted you all these years.”

  “Is this some of that psychic mumbo-jumbo?”

  “I’m not a psychic,” she told him. “What I am is called a medium. That means I’m connected to the spirit world in ways you’ll never understand. I have allies that you can’t see, can’t fight, and certainly can’t shoot with that gun of yours, and they are not going to let you do this.”

  It was clear by his expression that he didn’t believe a word. “Through the gate,” he ordered. “Now.”

  Chris sighed and squeezed under the chain. Joe met her on the other side. “Did I mention that this man’s son was with Derek and Jimmy? He knows, too.”

  Chris smiled at him, then turned and watched as Jim squeezed through behind her, his girth giving him more difficulty. Still, he never pointed the gun away from her, not even for a second. “Your son knows,” she told him.

  He froze. His features weren’t easy to see in the dark, but she thought she saw fear there for the first time.

  Then he laughed it off and sho
ved himself through the opening. “Nice try. Start walking.” He jerked his chin toward the construction site.

  Chris glanced at Joe as she started up the gravel path. She saw none of the machines or equipment typically seen on an active construction site. As they drew closer to the building skeleton, she spotted weeds growing up around the foundation, confirming her suspicion that the project had been abandoned.

  In other words, it was the perfect place to murder someone and hide the body.

  Ron appeared beside her. “They’re coming. They’re bringing the police.”

  Chris closed her eyes and uttered a silent thank you. Then she told Jim, “I’m not alone, you know. You have witnesses. They know how to communicate with Derek. And with Steve. They’re both coming, by the way, and they’re bringing the police. There’s no way you’re getting away with this. So we should just stop right now and go back to the truck and call this whole thing a wacky misunderstanding. Nobody needs to know what really happened.”

  Jim poked her in the ribs with the barrel of the pistol, hard enough to hurt. “Quiet. Keep walking.”

  “I know you don’t want to do this,” Chris persisted. “You didn’t want to kill Jimmy. You just wanted to help your son. You’re doing this for him, too, right? So he won’t find out what you did? So his career and reputation won’t be ruined?”

  He remained silent. He didn’t hurt her or threaten her, so she considered that progress. Then he said, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I think I do. I think you aren’t a killer, not really. You’re just a father who loves his son so much that you’ll do anything for him. Even if it hurts other people. Even if it destroys your soul.”

  “Quiet!” They reached the construction. He grabbed her good arm and steered her over to a wooden plank that acted as a ramp up to the foundation floor. “Up.”

  The plank was nothing more than a narrow two-by-four that had been propped up against the foundation, which rose several feet above the ground. It wobbled and bounced in the middle as Chris made her way up it. She almost lost her balance, but Ron appeared beside her and steadied her.

  Once she reached the top, she turned to watch Jim attempt it. He did fine until he reached the middle. He had to flail his arms for balance, finally taking the gun off of her.

  “Joe—” Ron said, but he was already in motion, flying at the old man and knocking him completely off-balance. He fell and landed hard in the gravel below, dropping the gun in the process. Ron wasted no time rushing over and kicking it away from him.

  “Run!” she shouted, but Chris didn’t wait for the command. She hopped down from the foundation, ignoring the sharp pain that shot up through her ankles on impact with the ground. She ran as hard and as fast as she could down the road toward the fence, not looking back to see what Jim was doing.

  She struggled to see where she was going. A couple of times, she slipped in the gravel, but she kept going. As the gate came into sight the way before her became bathed in light. She saw another car, parked next to the truck, headlights ablaze. Derek!

  A figure stood in front of the headlights. Not Derek. Too big to be Derek. Steve, maybe? But he was alone, whoever he was. Where was Derek?

  She was so close. She opened her mouth to call for help. That’s when the gunshot rang out and pain exploded as something tore through her flesh.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “We should have taken my car,” said Steve.

  “I’m already twenty over the limit.” White-knuckling the steering wheel, Derek swerved into the next lane to get around a semi. “We won’t get there faster by getting pulled over.”

  “Then we should have waited for the cops to pick us up. Cops with sirens and lights—”

  “Detective Hanson is already on his way to meet us there. You really think swinging by to pick us up first would’ve speeded things up? He might even be there already.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. What if they shoot my dad?”

  What if your dad shoots the woman I love? Derek refrained from asking out loud. He understood Steve’s worry, but it wasn’t like Jim Lansing hadn’t put himself in this position. His safety was the least of Derek’s concerns.

  “Guys, it’s okay,” said Jimmy. “Ron or Joe would come and tell us if anything bad happened.”

  Steve stared down at the box in his lap. “I still don’t know how to wrap my head around all this,” he muttered. “Jimmy, I can’t believe it’s really you.”

  “Believe it, bro,” said the box.

  “I’m so sorry about what happened. About everything. My dad… I can’t believe he would…” He squeezed his eyes shut and swore. “Why would he do that?”

  “Because he loved you.”

  Steve stared down at the box. Then he glanced at Derek, who kept his eyes on the road. Their exit was coming up and he stepped on the gas to pass the slower cars before changing lanes.

  “No,” said Steve. “No, he wouldn’t do that. Not even for me. There has to be some other explanation.”

  “We’ll find out soon,” Derek said as he pulled off of the expressway. Following Ron’s directions, he still had to navigate a mile or so of back road before they reached the construction site. They drove the last stretch in silence, Steve apparently lost in thought and Derek not feeling particularly chatty, either.

  If that old man did anything to harm Chris… He just hoped for his “Uncle” Jim’s sake that Hanson got there first.

  It looked like he might have gotten his wish. As he turned onto the single-lane gravel road that Ron had described, he could see Jim’s truck parked up ahead. Next to it sat a black SUV. As they drew closer the hulking form of Detective Hanson stepped into the headlights.

  Derek stopped the car. Neither he nor Steve wasted any time getting out. “Did you find them?” Derek called before he even shut his door.

  “I just got here myself,” said Hanson. He pointed up the road behind him. “I’m guessing he took her up to the old construction site.”

  “Then let’s go.” Steve still held the ghost box. He tossed it to Derek as he sprinted to the gate. Shoving it open as far as the chain on it would let him, he glanced back at Hanson. “We’re not fitting through here.”

  “Hang on,” said the Detective. He retrieved a set of bolt cutters from his SUV. A couple of minutes later, the chain was history. Steve yanked the gate wide open and sprinted up the path. “Dad!” he called. “Stop!”

  Holding the gate open, Hanson watched him go before motioning for Derek to follow. “After you.”

  Derek hurried through the gate. He got several steps ahead of Hanson and glanced down at the box. “You still with me, Jimmy?”

  “I’m right here.”

  “Maybe you should scout ahead. Find the others, see what’s happening up there.”

  “Sure,” Jimmy said. Then the box fell silent. Derek only traveled a few more yards up the road when it lit up again. “I found Chris. She’s hurt!”

  Derek gripped the box almost as hard as panic gripped his chest. “Where?”

  “To your left. Over in that ditch.”

  Derek could barely make out a depression along the side of the road in the darkness. “Chris?” he called as he headed toward it. “Christine! Are you here?”

  “Where are you going?” Hanson called, but Derek ignored him. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard a moan.

  “Chris!”

  “Derek?”

  Her voice sounded weak, but it was definitely her. “I’m here! Where are you!”

  “A little more to your left,” Jimmy told him. “Keep walking. You’re almost there.”

  He almost stumbled over her in the dark. “Hanson! Steve! Over here!” He dropped to his knees beside her. “Thank God. Are you okay? What happened?”

  “He shot my leg.” She sounded tired. He wished he could make out her face better. “I think I’ve lost a lot of blood. I might have passed out.”

  Footsteps in the grave
l announced Hanson’s approached. “She needs an ambulance,” Derek told him as he removed his belt. “And can you get me a flashlight?”

  “I don’t think so,” said the detective. Derek looked up to ask why, but the question died on his lips. He didn’t need a light to see what was pointing at him. The moonlight reflected off the gun barrel just fine.

  “What the—” Derek started to ask, but then it all made sense. He could practically feel the last piece of the puzzle clicking into place. Hanson’s size, his apathy toward the case, how he went out of his way to hinder Derek’s own investigation…

  Derek remembered the big, black SUV he’d arrived in. He’d been too preoccupied to notice whether the front of it was damaged. He didn’t know why, or how, Hanson had gotten involved, but he knew he was right.

  As if to confirm his suspicions, the box lit up where Derek had set it on the ground. “Derek, I know that voice. It’s him.”

  “It was you,” Derek said. “You killed my brother.”

  “Yeah, well.” Hanson’s silhouette shrugged its shoulders. “The way I remember, all I would have done was beat him up if some stupid brat hadn’t pulled a gun on me. All these years you’ve been bugging me about finding your brother’s killer, all you had to do was look in the mirror, kid.”

  “You son of a—” Derek tried to lunge at him, but Chris gripped his arm.

  “Derek, no. He’ll shoot you.” She sucked air in through her teeth, clearly in pain. “I’m pretty sure he’s the one who shot me.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’m going to shoot all of you anyway,” said Hanson. “Now get up. Bring the girl.”

  “Not till I stop her bleeding.” Fumbling in the dark, he wrapped his belt around her thigh. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out the big, dark, wet stain on her jeans.

  “What’s the point?” asked Hanson. “Just bring her.”

  “If you’re going to shoot me then you can shoot me here. But I’m going to stop her bleeding first.” He turned his back on Hanson and gave all his attention to Chris. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. This is why I sent you home. I didn’t want something like this to happen—”