by Mary Behre
“I won’t be long,” she promised.
She ducked under the tape, and in less than a minute she’d disposed of everything.
Returning empty-handed, she strode past the second Dumpster and stumbled to a halt as a chill slid down her bare arms. Then she heard her cell phone ring.
At first she thought she might be having a vision, albeit an auditory one, until the young patrolman glanced her way as if he heard it too.
“A Hard Knock Life” from the musical Annie was the ringtone on her phone. And unless she was losing her mind—possible, but she’d never been that lucky—it was playing.
The patrolman crossed to her. Without the boxes between them she could see he wasn’t much more than two inches taller than her own five foot seven.
“Do you hear someone singing?” he asked.
“I think it’s my phone. I lost it last night,” she admitted. “But I don’t understand how it could be in the garbage.”
“Maybe you accidentally tossed it out?”
“Not likely.” She crossed to the bin and flipped up the lid on the second Dumpster. The music abruptly ended with a triple beep.
Two-day-old chicken lo mein mingled with the scent of roses. Despite being brown and unsellable, the flowers were still aromatic. But as the combined scents wafted up, Jules nearly gagged.
She covered her nose with her hand to muffle the stench. The young officer did the same. His blue eyes watered and he took three steps back, waving his right arm.
“Lady, I wouldn’t go in there if you paid me. I suggest you just call the cell company and report it lost. It’s not worth fishing for it.”
Maybe she should.
She’d never be able to rid it of the stink. She opened her mouth to agree, but it started singing again. At the same time, someone screamed from inside the Dumpster.
“Help me! Please!” The high-pitched wail sent chills down her back.
Jules hurried to the Dumpster and started to climb in. Officer Gareth seized her by the arm and yanked her backward. “What are you doing? This whole area is a crime scene.”
“Help!” The scream coming from inside the Dumpster nearly drowned out the singing telephone.
“Can’t you hear her voice?” Jules tugged her arm free.
“Of course I can. So what?”
Another scream went up, pitched higher than before and considerably weaker.
Still the police officer stood. Useless and unmoving.
“Well, if you’re not going to do something, I will.”
Rushing to the Dumpster before he could stop her again, Jules scrambled up the side and perched on top. Sunlight glinted off of black plastic trash bags, rotting food, and roses. But there wasn’t a living soul inside.
Jules blinked in confusion, then it hit her.
The ghost had been screaming.
No wonder the cop hadn’t done anything. Only she could hear the ghost. Great. Just great.
Glancing over her shoulder, she found Officer Gareth scowling at her. “Are you nuts, lady?”
Yeah, she just bet she looked like a lunatic. And worse, she needed to figure out a way to gracefully back down from her perch. “Uh, no. Sorry Officer. Um . . .”
“You want your phone that bad?”
“My phone?”
Oh, he thought she’d done all this to chase after her phone. She sagged in relief. Then her phone started singing again. She jerked in surprise. That little bit of a jump was enough to send her tumbling headfirst into the trash.
Scrambling to her feet, she slid this way and that. In a way, trying to stand on rotting garbage reminded her of the first time she’d tried surfing.
No traction, no balance, and she just knew she was going down. She slipped sideways and got a face full of what had probably been beef and vegetables.
“Oh, gross!” She swiped a flaccid carrot from her face.
Her phone started ringing again. Jules stared at the garbage currently surrounding her.
Whatever! I need a shower anyway.
She thrust her hand into the muck and dug for the ringing phone. Her fingers closed around it and she yanked it free. Brushing off as much of the muck as possible, she pressed the Send button. “Hello?”
“Help . . . me.” The whispered words crackled weakly through the cell. The phone went dead.
It rang again. The caller ID read BLOCKED.
Jules answered it again, only to hear the ghostly voice whisper, “Help me! Please!”
Fear and irritation had her reacting before Jules could think better of it. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m getting phone calls from the dead now?”
“Help.”
“Help yourself. You seem to be able to do a lot. Stop calling me!” Jules clicked the phone off.
She glanced up as a white light burned bright then faded to a hazy gray aura surrounding a pretty young woman with a jet-black bob. Sitting atop the Dumpster with her knees tucked beneath her, she leaned on her hands near the edge of the lid, just staring down. Dressed in jeans and a light blue T-shirt, the ghost looked vaguely familiar.
“Do I know you?”
A tormented look of rage twisted the girl’s features and her gray aura swirled again, this time to thunderous dark crimson. She dropped her head back and opened her mouth in a voiceless scream. Instead, the razor-sharp sound of a hundred fingernails dragged down chalkboards ripped across the space, echoing against the metal walls of the Dumpster. Jules dropped her phone and clapped her hands to her ears, desperate to drown out the sound.
She barely registered that the ghost had finally tapped into the ability to manifest itself when the lid slammed closed.
CHAPTER 4
SETH PULLED HIS aging red Honda Civic into the parking lot outside McGivern’s Jewelers. Not bothering to lock the car, he headed toward his partner. Jones, with his indeterminate heritage—a thoroughly American mix of cultures from his pale blue eyes to his light mocha complexion to his sand-colored hair—was directing a group of patrolmen.
“Why isn’t the tape up yet?” Jones asked a freckle-faced pretty boy who looked like he’d be more at home at a frat party than working the beat this close to the Norfolk line. “We need to have this entire area cordoned off, Officer Harmon.”
“We’ve already put it up in the alley.” A surprisingly deep voice came out of Harmon’s choir-boy-looking mouth. “And we’re about to do the front now, Detective.”
Harmon turned and barked out orders. Three other patrolmen appeared, two flanking the front door and one from around back. Perhaps Harmon wasn’t as young as he looked. Or maybe Seth was too damned old.
“Sirs, this is weird.” Harmon turned to include both Seth and Jones in the conversation. “It’s still early yet, but the owners say so far, it doesn’t appear anything’s been stolen. It’s like vandals came in and smashed up the place, but they got in the same way the Diamond Gang did at the other burglaries.”
“Through a dismantled security system?” Seth shared a confused glance with Jones.
Harmon nodded then his eyes widened. He pointed at something behind Seth and Jones.
Seth followed the younger man’s line of vision and turned around. He watched a woman climb into one of the Dumpsters and the officer beside her doing little to stop her.
“Stop!” Jones and Seth hollered in unison as they broke into a run.
From behind them, Harmon yelled into his radio, “Gareth! Stop her. This is a crime scene.”
“Harmon, stay and keep this area secure,” Jones called out over his shoulder.
The woman turned her head just enough to reveal her profile before she toppled headfirst into the garbage bin. Jules! Recognition hit Seth like a punch to his solar plexus.
He nearly tripped over Jones, who’d jerked to a stop in front of him. The pause had been momentary, as if he’d received a shock, then he started moving again, faster than before. Seth chased the other man’s heels. As they ran, the Dumpster lid slammed shut.
Inco
herent screams poured from inside the closed container. The high-pitched cries sounded as if Jules were being tortured. “Pleeeasse! Help! Ahhhh!”
The wails sliced through him. He added a burst of speed but still lagged behind Jones, who moved so fast he became little more than a blur.
Gareth leapt into action, trying to push the lid up. Jones reached the Dumpster and shouldered the useless patrolman out of the way.
“Fine, you try,” Gareth muttered under his breath and spun around, bumping into Seth.
With a glare and a thought to have a chat with Gareth’s supervisor later, Seth closed the last few feet to the Dumpster and started to tug at the lid.
It didn’t budge. Almost as if it were locked in place.
Seth quickly traced his hand around the container’s lid, searching for a lock or at least a weak spot. Finding none, he caught his partner’s eye. On opposite sides of the bin, they both reached to pry it open at the same time. Despite their efforts, it remained firmly in place.
Their hard work was rewarded with only mounting frustration and lines crisscrossing their palms from the lid’s sharp corners.
“Help! Let me out!” Jules banged on the side of the container. The Dumpster walls shook and gonged with each blow.
“We’ll get you out, Jules,” he yelled reassuringly. “Just hang on. The top’s stuck.”
“I can’t find what’s keeping it closed,” Jones called out from the opposite side.
Jules shrieked incoherently, taking large sobbing breaths between each cry for freedom.
“Just another minute, Jules. Hang on, precious.” Seth leaned even closer to the corner of the container, until his nose rubbed against something wet. Wiping the muck from his face, he turned and shouted at Gareth, who stood idly off to the side with one hand covering his nose. “Call for backup, Gareth! Move your ass!”
“No!” Jules yelled the single word before she loosed a cry filled with anguish and terror. A sound so piercing, it dug into his psyche. It echoed from inside the bin, drawing out the horrified scream. Seth knew he’d hear that shriek again and again in his nightmares.
The cry cut off with alacrity. The silence that followed was more haunting than the scream itself. Almost as if there was someone in there with Jules. And that person had silenced her.
A cold lump formed in Seth’s belly in the nanosecond that followed, then he and Jones renewed their attack on the lid. Digging his fingers between the shallow opening of the molded plastic corner and the cold steel of the Dumpster, Seth’s flesh scraped away near his fingernails but he didn’t relent.
At least when she screamed, he knew she was alive. Anything could have happened in there. In his mind, he riffled through a myriad of horrendous scenarios—heart attack, stroke, seizure, aneurysm, fainting. Although fainting would have been preferable compared to the others.
Then, as if by magic, the lid sprang free. One moment it seemed cemented in place and the next the lid flew up into the air like a rock flung from a slingshot. It slammed against the brick wall near the back door of McGivern’s before crashing to a halt, half on the curb and half on the blacktop.
“Wow. Remind me not to piss you guys off,” Gareth said, breaking the silence.
“Too late,” Seth and Jones replied simultaneously.
Leaning over the Dumpster beside Jones, Seth peered inside.
Jules lay facedown on the heap of trash. Rotting food, torn black trash bags, and crumpled white foam containers with shoe prints in them were scattered around her.
Jones pole-vaulted over the side of the Dumpster and jumped in before Seth could move. The rookie slid his fingers against the side of her neck, checking her pulse, then rolled her over.
“What are you doing?” Seth demanded, his basic first aid training kicking in. “You aren’t supposed to move an unconscious victim.”
Jones didn’t answer. He slid his arms under Jules’s legs and shoulders, carefully lifting her. He appeared ready to try to climb out of the Dumpster with her in his arms. That seemed like a worse idea than moving her, so Seth stepped up and stretched out his arms.
Seth accepted Jules’s limp and surprisingly light body from Jones. Cradling her against his chest, he wondered at her slight form. Slender and delicate even in her unconscious state, she seemed precious and fragile. And a need to protect her at all costs ignited within him.
Whoa, where had that come from?
He hardly knew her. He shouldn’t feel a need to keep her safe. Shaking it off, he lowered himself to the ground as gently as he could, with Jules in his arms.
Her head lolled back and he watched the pulse throb in her neck. He leaned over, placing his face above her mouth and nose. Warm, shallow breaths tickled his ear.
“She’s breathing,” he informed the men, surprised to hear the relief in his voice.
“Thank God.” Seth glanced up at his partner’s whispered words.
Jones stared down from inside the container, seemingly unaffected by the rank stench emanating from beneath his feet. His hands gripped the side of the container and he appeared transfixed by the sight of Jules’s unconscious body.
Music started.
“Ah damn,” Gareth muttered. “It’s her cell phone. It’s why she jumped in the trash can in the first place.”
The ringtone jolted Jones out of whatever catatonia he’d slipped into. He spun around and disappeared behind the green wall. When he popped back up, he clutched a phone between his fingers. A frown dug a line between his eyebrows.
“We’ve got a problem,” he intoned, glancing from the ringing phone to Jules and back again. He dug into his pocket, pulled out an evidence bag, and dropped the cell in.
“What are you doing?” Gareth asked, his voice cracking.
Jones glared down at the beat cop. Quite possibly, it was the most ferocious expression the kid had ever displayed. Gareth shifted his weight, then increased the distance between them by two steps.
“Officer Gareth, did you look in here before you allowed a civilian to climb inside?” Jones asked, his expression grim.
Invisible bands tightened around Seth’s chest.
“I didn’t let her in. She jumped. I tried to stop her. What did you want me to do? Shoot her?” Gareth fisted his hands at his sides.
Jules stirred to consciousness in Seth’s lap. He glanced down. She blinked a few times before lifting a hand to shield her eyes.
“I’ve got you, precious.” He covered her hand with his. “You’re safe now, Jules.”
“Did you get the license plate?” She choked out the strange question, rubbing her throat with her free hand as if it pained her.
“What?”
“Huh?” Her emerald eyes were wide and dilated as she stared up at him. She appeared unaware that she’d just spoken.
“Jules?”
“Y-yes?” She blinked as if coming out of a trance.
She started to sit up, then her face paled and she swayed. With a hand on her shoulder, Seth urged her to lie back down. “Just rest a moment.”
“Detective English, you need to take a look at this,” Jones called from his position inside the bin.
“What?” Seth glanced up to see Jones staring. A mixture of concern and annoyance darkened his features.
“You’d better come see.” Jones hiked a thumb over his shoulder.
“Gareth, get over here and keep an eye on her.” Seth slid Jules off his lap, laying her gently on the ground. Pointing a finger between the idiot officer and Jules, Seth added, “And don’t shoot her.”
A tic worked in Gareth’s cheek, but he nodded.
Seth crossed to the Dumpster. The stench had intensified now that the lid lay on McGivern’s back doorstep. Clutching the side of the Dumpster, he peered inside.
Jones squatted down. Pulling a pen from his pocket, he flicked away a broken foam plate. A vinyl skirt encasing the body of a woman, mostly buried beneath the garbage, came into view.
Hairs rose on Seth’s arms.
; Jones stood to his full height, which only made him appear slightly shorter than a giant since he stood on a mountain of rotting food, and glared at Gareth. “Did you allow anyone else in here?”
“Of course not!” Gareth answered through clenched teeth, his hands fisted at his sides. “I didn’t let her in! Besides, this isn’t even part of the crime scene.” He pointed to the yellow taped area. “That’s where I was told the crime scene was. What the hell is going on?”
“Never mind,” Seth interrupted, waving the young officer into silence. Turning back to Jones, he asked, “Is she fresh?”
“She’s cold,” Jones answered at the same time Gareth asked, “Is who fresh?”
Gareth abandoned his post near Jules and peered into the Dumpster. His eyes widened. “Oh. Shit.”
Indeed.
“Get back to your post.” Seth dismissed the soon-to-be meter maid. He focused on activity within the bin. “We can still limit the damage to the crime scene. Provided no one else contaminates it. Jones, radio Harmon and get him to bring more tape. Tell ’im to call in the ME.”
Jones nodded, made a quick radio call, then dropped to his haunches. He poked at the area surrounding the body, clearing away some of the debris. “Looks like she’s been in here awhile. Rigor’s already set in. Need the ME to know for sure how long.”
Behind them, Gareth yelled, “Wait!”
• • •
THE WORLD SPUN around her as Jules’s vision ended. Man, she hated that feeling. What was with the ghost sending her the awful memories of the murder, again?
It had been identical to the vision she’d had last night. The trunk of the Buick—although, come to think of it, she had no idea how she knew it was a Buick—was the same, just like every other second of the dream.
Didn’t the specter have someone else to haunt? Like the murderer? Why couldn’t she go stalk him?
And why couldn’t the visions come without the intense physical need to . . . A spasm of warning ripped through her rebellious stomach and sweat beaded on her face.
“Arrggh.” She bolted upright.
