Secret Hollows

by Terri Reid

But it was too late. Mary, hands filled with snow, was already lobbing snowballs at him.

  Ian dodged the first two attempts, then jumped across her bed and headed to the window on the other side of the room. He lifted it up and started to pack a new snowball, when he was hit on the side of the head and dropped it on the floor. He picked it up and threw it at her, catching her mid-toss. Ian’s snowball hit the one Mary was going to throw and the two exploded all over her.

  She reached back and scooped more snow.

  “Yeah, I knew you were a fighter,” the ghost from the day before, appeared in the middle of the room.

  Startled, Ian turned toward the man. Mary whipped her snowball at Ian and caught him in the middle of the chest.

  “And you’re a dirty fighter too,” the ghost chuckled.

  Mary grinned. “I’m not a dirty fighter,” she replied. “I’m just a fighter who takes advantage of every opportunity.”

  “Um, Mary, would you mind introducing me to your friend?” Ian asked, wiping the snow from his body.

  Shaking her head, Mary turned to the ghost. “I don’t think we’ve actually been properly introduced.”

  “I’m Ernie,” the ghost said, his face breaking into a wide smile. “And I have to assume you’re her boyfriend.”

  “Ach, no,” Ian said. “I’m just here to study paranormal phenomenon with her. So, you know you’re a ghost?”

  “What is it with you people?” he asked. “Do you run into a lot of ghosts who think they’re house plants?”

  Mary laughed, “No, but we run into a lot of ghosts who don’t know they’re dead,” she said. “It makes it difficult to help them when they don’t think they need help.”

  Ernie nodded. “Okay, that makes sense,” he said. “So, how are you studying paranormal phenomenon by running around her bedroom half-dressed?”

  “We were having a cultural discussion,” Mary answered. “He was demonstrating that the Scots were dirty fighters and I was establishing that the Irish could kick their butts in any fight.”

  “Ah, darling, I don’t think you’d really proven your point,” Ian argued calmly. “Unless your point was the Irish were insensitive clods who cheat at every chance they get.”

  She stepped back toward the window. “Would you like to continue our discussion?”

  “Yeah, well, you ain’t got time for any more discussion, sister,” Ernie interrupted. “You and me got a date with some weights. We gotta get you in shape and the sooner the better.”

  “But it’s not seven yet,” she argued. “And it’s snowing outside.”

  “Yeah, and it looks like it’s snowing inside too,” he agreed. “What’s that got to do with it?”

  “I can’t drive in this weather.”

  “Aye, ‘tis the truth,” Ian said. “She can’t drive in most weather.”

  Mary put her hand out the window. “Keep it up, Braveheart.”

  “However, I have a set of weights down in her basement I’d be happy to let you use,” Ian continued. “So you can get started getting her in shape.”

  “Hey, you’re a good sport, Scotty,” Ernie said. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

  “But I was going to sleep in,” Mary grumbled.

  “Aye, darling, and so was I,” Ian responded. “And I suppose neither of us will get our wish today.”

  Chapter Eight

  Mary lay on the weight bench staring up at the basement ceiling, sweat dripping from her face. “Enough,” she said, panting. “I can’t lift another pound. My arms feel like rubber.”

  “No pain, no gain, sister,” Ernie said.

  Summoning up enough energy to turn her head, Mary glared at him. “Nobody likes a smart-mouth ghost,” she said and then she exhaled sharply, blowing her sweaty bangs off her forehead.

  Ernie laughed. “Hey, you did good, kid. I didn’t think you’d have the strength to last this long. Those skinny arms actually have some muscle in them.”

  “Thanks a lot,” she replied sarcastically.

  “Hey, I’m not going to sugar-coat things for you, sister,” he said. “You got to get in shape and I’m supposed to do it.”

  Mary used the bar to pull herself up into a sitting position, grabbed the towel lying on the bench and mopped up some of the sweat. “You still haven’t told me why I need to get in shape.”

  “No, I haven’t, have I?” he replied.

  Mary waited for Ernie to continue. “And?” she finally asked.

  “And I’ll see you tomorrow at the gym,” he replied as he started to fade out. “Don’t be late.”

  “But…,” she started, and found herself staring at an empty room.

  “Damn, you’re hot when you’re sweaty,” Mike said, appearing behind her.

  She would have jumped, but she was just too tired. “Hi Mike,” she said wearily.

  “But you’re not much fun,” he added.

  “Did you ever hear of a gym in downtown Freeport?” she asked. “Owned by a guy named Ernie?”

  “No, but I grew up in Lena and only came to Freeport when we had major shopping,” he said. “Why? What’s up?”

  “Well, Ernie, the sadistic gym manager, came to me yesterday and had me follow him to his old gym on Spring Street,” she explained. “Actually, it’s pretty cool. It’s got a boxing ring and a bunch of equipment for training. He told me he had to train me. He needs me to be the champ he never trained.”

  “So, are you giving up being a private eye to start a boxing career?” Mike asked, raising his hands into fighting position and floating around the basement.

  “I really don’t think so,” Mary said drily. “But, if this is what he needs to move on, I guess it won’t hurt.”

  Mike grinned. “Oh, yeah, it’s gonna hurt,” he said. “But, really, I think it will be good for you in the long run.”

  She stood up, winced and slowly moved toward the staircase. “How is it going to be good for me?” she asked.

  “Mary, honey, I love you. But you’ve really let yourself go lately.”

  “What?” she asked, more than a little miffed. “Let myself go?”

  He raised his hands in a defensive manner. “Okay, before you kill the messenger, let me ask you. When was the last time you went running?” he asked, and as she opened her mouth added, “and that jaunt in the park with Bradley doesn’t count.”

  She closed her mouth and thought for a moment. “Well, it’s been cold,” she said.

  “Yeah, and really, there are no places in Freeport where you could work out, right?” he replied sarcastically.

  “Well, I’ve been busy on cases,” she argued.

  “Yes you have,” he agreed. “And on more than one case you’ve had the crap kicked out of you. But…”

  She sighed. “But?”

  “But, if you were still on the force, you’d be doing daily physical training and keeping your skills at their best,” he said.

  “Not everyone on the force does daily PT,” she argued.

  He grinned at her. “Yeah, but I bet Mary O’Reilly did.”

  “Who are you, my mother?” she grumbled.

  He hovered close to her, his expression now serious. “No, I guess I’m just another dead guy in your life.”

  “Wait… Mike,” she said, but it was too late. He had already faded away.

  “Well, crap,” she muttered, and climbed the stairs to go take a shower.

  Chapter Nine

  “You’re moving a little slow, Mary,” Ian taunted. “Get up on the wrong side of the bed?”

  As Mary pulled her sled back up the hill at Lake Le-Aqua-Na, her leg muscles screamed in pain. “You’re a cruel man, Ian,” she said.

  Laughing, he ran past her, dragging his own sled quickly. “Only when someone interrupts me sleep.”

  “Hey Mary, want to go down on the toboggan?” Andy asked. “There’s lots of room.”

  Seated in the bright red plastic toboggan was Bradley at the back, Andy in the center and Maggie at the very front. Bradley’s long l
egs were shielding both children from any dangers on the sides.

  “No, you go on without me,” she called. “I’ll just watch.”

  Bradley smiled at her. “We’ll be back up in a few minutes and then you and I can go for a ride.”

  He pushed off and the sled started down the hill.

  “Faster, faster,” Maggie called from the front.

  “It can’t go faster,” Andy yelled. “Chief Alden is making it go slow.”

  “What?” Bradley asked.

  Andy turned back to him and grinned. “You’re making the sled go slow because you’re heavy.”

  “Are you calling me fat?” he asked in mock outrage.

  He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around both of the children and the toboggan started to accelerate. “How’s that for speed?” he yelled into the wind as they whipped down the hill.

  “This is so cool!” Andy called, his breath coming out in gasps. “I don’t think I’ve ever gone this fast.”

  They slid past the end of the run and out into the snow covered field.

  “Look out, a tree’s coming,” Maggie called.

  Bradley looked up and saw a large old oak was just where they were going to be in a few moments. He threw his weight to the side and the toboggan flipped over, dumping the occupants into the snow.

  “Are you both okay?” he asked.

  Maggie sat up, a huge smile on her face. “Let’s do that again.”

  Andy rolled over in the snow and looked at Bradley. “Yeah, it’s much faster when there’s a fat guy at the back of the sled.”

  Bradley scooped up some snow and threw it at Andy. “Brat.”

  Andy laughed and threw a snowball back at Bradley, hitting him in the chest. “Ah, you got me,” he called out, rolling back into the snow.

  In a moment, both children were on him, tossing snow in his face, while he grabbed handfuls and plopped them on their stocking capped heads.

  “We’re winning,” Maggie called, her little mittened hands holding onto Bradley’s cheeks. “He can’t move his head.”

  Andy climbed up next to her, both hands filled with loose snow. “Now you’re going to get it.”

  Bradley wrapped his arms around both children and rolled over, dropping them into the snow. “Now, who’s the winner?” he asked.

  “We are,” Maggie yelled, stuffing a handful of snow down Bradley’s shirt.

  He yelled and jumped up, tugging at his jacket and his shirt, trying to get the frozen ice away from his skin.

  “Looks like Maggie got her training from you,” Ian commented to Mary.

  “You’re just upset because I’m a better aim than you,” Mary replied, her eyes not leaving the scene at the bottom of the hill.

  “He’s a good man,” Ian said, following her glance. “And if it’s so, Maggie couldn’t ask for a better father.”

  She nodded. “And if it’s not, we’ll keep looking and we’ll find her.”

  “You’d do anything for him, wouldn’t you?”

  She smiled and sighed. “Yes, I’d do anything he’d ask me.”

  *

  “I am not going to do it,” Mary said emphatically.

  “Come on,” Bradley argued, “It’ll be fun.”

  “I saw how fast that toboggan went down the run,” she countered. “That’s too fast for me.”

  “It won’t go that fast with two fat people on it,” Andy inserted.

  Mary turned and glared at him. “You do know how far it is to walk back home, don’t you?” she asked.

  He laughed. “Yeah, but Chief Alden drove and I’m on his side.”

  “I’m making the hot chocolate and cookies,” she said.

  “No, Rosie’s going to have them for us when we get back,” Maggie said. “She told me.”

  Mary turned back to Bradley. “I’m really getting no support here,” she said.

  Shaking his head, he guided her over to the toboggan. “We wouldn’t want them to think you were chicken, would we?” he asked.

  “I’m not chicken,” she said, turning around quickly.

  Her foot slipped out from under her and she tumbled down. She fell backwards onto the toboggan, her legs and arms hanging over the sides.

  “Hold on, Mary. I’ll help you,” Bradley said, moving towards her.

  “I can do it,” she called, digging her feet into the snow and pushing.

  The toboggan moved sideways and, when Mary tried to roll to the side, slipped even further down the hill. She tried to grab on with her hands, but the force of her movement had the toboggan hurtling down the wrong side of the hill, into the tree line, with Mary clutching the sides for dear life.

  “Hold on,” Bradley yelled, running down after her.

  “No kidding,” she screamed back.

  She dug her hands further into the sides of the sled as it increased in speed due to the steep descent of the hill. Miraculously, the sled slid through the trees and bumped its way across the frozen ground. Mary felt it slide sideways and saw the ground coming up close to her left. She was sure it was going to flip, but instead it set its course down a narrow path that was probably a small creek during the spring run-off. Mary lifted her head and saw the path ended up in the lake and knew that warm spell the week before had weakened the ice covering.

  The speed seemed to be lessening a little, but not enough to stop before she hit the lake. She quickly assessed her options. About ten yards ahead of her, an oak tree had fallen over the creek. The low hanging limb of the old tree seemed to be her only chance. As she got close, she lifted her arms and grabbed hold of the vines and brush wrapped around the huge branch. The toboggan slid sideways and then flipped over, dumping Mary into the snow.

  Her heart still hammering, Mary stood up, her legs shaky as she grabbed hold of the toboggan’s rope and began to climb out of the small hollow. She was just pulling herself up when she saw him. Dressed for a summer’s day, in swim trunks and a t-shirt, he had dirty blonde hair and was about Andy’s age.

  He turned to her, his translucent face covered with dirt, his faded eyes filled with distress. “Can you help me?” he asked. “I can’t find my way home.”

  Mary nodded. “Sure, I’d be happy to help you,” she said. “I’m Mary, what’s your name?”

  He smiled; relief evident in his face. “I’m Timmy,” he said. “Timmy Beck.”

  Chapter Ten

  Bradley tore through the woods, grabbing on to tree trunks to keep from slipping and falling down the hill, as he chased Mary and the toboggan. He saw it slip into the creek bed and head down towards the lake, but the angle of the terrain was so steep he lost sight of her. He prayed she wasn’t hurtling into the lake.

  He came up to a rise and saw a flash of red below. The toboggan was on its side, just beyond a huge oak limb. Has she been hurt? Was she knocked off the sled? Is she unconscious? What the hell was I thinking, forcing her to ride it?

  He continued his run down the hill, angling towards the hollow. He was nearly to the fallen tree when he saw her in the woods. She was safe; he breathed a sigh of relief. And as he looked closer, he realized that she was not only fine, she was sitting on another large limb talking to someone.

  A year ago, Bradley might have thought she must have hit her head and was experiencing delusions. But after only five months of knowing Mary, he realized that she indeed was talking to someone. He just couldn’t see them.

  He continued towards them, being careful not to rush onto the scene and frighten her new client. She turned to him and smiled as he climbed over the log and sat down next to her. She pulled off one glove and he pulled off his and they held hands. The little boy appeared in front of him.

  “Timmy, this is my friend, Bradley Alden,” Mary explained. “He’s the Chief of Police in Freeport.”

  “Hi,” Timmy said. “Do you get to carry a gun?”

  Bradley nodded, “Only when I’m on duty.”

  “That’s cool,” Timmy replied.

  “Timmy was telling me t
hat he came here to do some fishing and must have gotten lost,” Mary said, her voice shaking slightly. “He’s ten years old. His birthday is August 14, 1982.”

  “How did you get here, Timmy,” Bradley asked. “Did someone give you a ride?”

  He shook his head. “No, I rode my bike,” he explained. “My friend, Mikey, was going to meet me but he never came.”

  Why does this sound so familiar? Bradley wondered. What is it about his story?

  Then he remembered.

  “Timmy, did your friend Mikey have to clean out the chicken coop, so he couldn’t go with you?” he asked.

  Timmy grinned. “Yeah, his mom caught him before he could get away,” he laughed. “So, he was supposed to meet me here.”

  “How did you know…?” Mary asked.

  “Timmy is Mike Richards’ friend,” Bradley explained. “Mike told me about Timmy when we went into Chicago.”

  “Yeah, but no one ‘cept teachers call him Mike,” Timmy said. “He’s just plain old Mikey.”

  “Okay, Timmy,” Mary said. “We have to ask you some questions so we can help you find your way home.”

  “Sure,” he said. “But I know where I live, if you could just give me a ride.”

  Mary wiped away a stray tear trailing down her cheek and Bradley squeezed her hand for comfort. “Well, it’s not quite that easy,” she explained. “But, don’t worry, we’re on the right track.”

  Timmy looked alarmed. “Did something happen to my mom?” he asked. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine,” Mary reassured him, “we just have to figure a couple of things out.”

  “Okay,” he replied, looking a little suspicious. “What do you need?”

  “Okay, think back to when you came to the park,” she said. “Try to picture it in your mind.”

  He closed his eyes and nodded. “Okay.”

  “You rode your bike to the lake,” Mary said. “What was the weather like?”

  “It was really hot,” Timmy said. “It was going to be a scorcher.”

  “So, you got to the park and where did you go?”

  “Here to our secret spot,” Timmy said. “I stashed my backpack in the tree and I got my fishing gear out. I had a whole fresh cup of night crawlers.”