Haunting Blue

by R. J. Sullivan

  He clenched his fists and made a vow.

  I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to her.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Perionne—Present Day

  I knew being Chip’s “first” would change our relationship, perhaps taking us somewhere intense and unpredictable.

  For him, it was simple. He loved me. He had eyes for no one but me. I told myself it’s what I wanted. I hoped I was right.

  Chip and I took to texting each other during class. I certainly had enough boring classes where I could send back a few random thoughts—along with some references to our previous weekend—just to make sure he missed me.

  Somewhere in one of his midweek texts, Chip wrote that he needed to meet me in the woods for a “supr secr8” meeting. He carefully described the forested area next to the school where a road ended abruptly, blocked by a large pile of dirt. Beyond that, a recently harvested cornfield spread out over the next several acres.

  According to his text, our rendezvous would take place behind the dirt pile after school on Friday. We needed privacy for this “cupr secr8” discussion, his text said. I rolled my eyes. Chip and I had not followed up after our first encounter, and I figured this must be at least part of what he had in mind.

  Not that I had a problem with that.

  * * * *

  I arrived first. The dozen or so trees that made up the “forest” looked invitingly private for snuggling later on, but not private enough for anything too intense. Darn it all.

  For all my doubts and concerns about my long-term feelings, I jumped up when I saw him approach, his arms filled with a large scrapbook. I abandoned my own backpack and rushed up to him. I needed to show how much I’d missed him since last seeing him—lunch break three hours ago.

  He gratefully welcomed my insistent kiss, even while clutching the scrapbook to his chest.

  My mind still wrestled with this relationship, but my body had given in days ago.

  Chip put his arm over my shoulder and walked me back to the dirt path. “Thanks for coming, Blue. I want to show you something.”

  I cooed in my best Marilyn imitation, “I haven’t come yet, Mr. President, but maybe after you show me.”

  He laughed. “Down, girl. I’m serious.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, yes, I know. I can always tell when Chip has his serious face on. You get such a stern crinkle between your eyebrows.”

  He motioned to a patch of ground behind the mound. “Here, let’s talk a minute.”

  I dropped down and folded my legs in front of me.

  He deposited his five-pound scrapbook on my lap, (as well as his trademarked stack of computer paper) and talked some craziness about breaking into The Pirates of Perionne boat ride to find hidden treasure.

  “I found it!” He pointed at Gunther’s picture. “All we have to do is dig it up. Once we find the money, we’ll be famous beyond our wildest dreams. We’ll be heroes.” His eyes lit up with a sort of spooky gleam that scared me.

  What is he babbling about? What have I gotten myself into?

  My knees started cramping from the heavy book opened up on my lap.

  I looked down at the newspaper articles, trying to buy myself time. I’d aced my folklore midterm earlier in the week and thought that made me an official Gunther Stalt expert, but I’d never seen some of these articles.

  Chip sat across from me, his knees pulled against his chest and his dark hair rumpled. I’d seen it that way before whenever he’d been working on a computer project all night. I was getting to know this look all too well—obsessed programmer tracking down a lost equation—but this time, I was only partly right.

  I ran my hands through my hair, breathing in the cool October air, wondering what I should say. Nothing came to mind. Chip reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. “Listen, Blue. Nobody knows what happened to Gunther’s money. Except me. With your help, I can get it. Surely you can’t tell me that you’re not just a teensy bit interested.”

  I glared at him.

  He dropped his hand from my shoulder.

  “Chip—I know you’re obsessed with this Gunther thing, but to me, that was just test material, and as far as I’m concerned, I’m done with it.” I shrugged. “I really don’t care about some hick psychopath robbing the local bank. What bothers me more is how—”

  “You’re not hearing me!”

  The passion of his cry took me aback and silenced me.

  Chip scowled. “I know where the money is, Blue. The biggest damn secret in the town, and I know it!” He folded his arms across his scrawny chest, appearing as little more than a bunch of folded angles.

  I sighed, reaching out and grabbing his wrists. “Chip, get out of the clouds, and listen to me.” When I saw him look into my eyes, I continued. “You’re talking about breaking and entering. You could get into serious trouble.”

  That seemed to rouse him. He composed himself, losing a lot of that idiot look. “I know that.”

  “Then why take the risk?”

  “So that we’ll know.”

  That sounded consistent, and yet my “Spidey-Sense” still tingled. Maybe Chip wasn’t interested in the money or even the glory of having solved the mystery of the town, but to tell me he wanted the satisfaction of knowing—it didn’t sound right to me.

  So, what’s really going on?

  Then, he proceeded to expand on his scheme. The scariest part was—I could tell from his voice—that with or without me—he was going though with this. Even though he was certain it wouldn’t work without my help. Of course. Why just one life when we can fuck up two?

  I had some kind of responsibility to him, as his friend, and as his lover, too, but as his friend first. For now, I had to put aside all the chills, tingles, and the emotional baggage within me caused from last weekend. I had to help him, because he’d helped me in so many ways. I couldn’t let him do this alone.

  I reached out and took his hands in mine. “Okay, start over. Let me hear what you have in mind.”

  He opened the scrapbook filled with copies of old news clippings and reports all related to Gunther and the robbery. I shuffled around to get a good look. He leaned close, and I snuggled against him, and that was pretty nice, too.

  He settled on a fuzzy blueprint scanned from a computer graphics file. It was the blueprint Phil had haplessly helped Chip recreate from his notes—a blueprint of The Pirates of Perionne ride.

  I studied it while I talked. “Okay. What have you got?”

  Chip sat up straight, forcing me to do the same. I watched, amused, as he glanced past trees and the road that ran beyond it. He looked straight out of a bad gangster movie.

  I had to grin. “Nobody here but us crickets, Chip.”

  “I know there was a getaway driver, and I know who he is.” He’d lowered his voice to a whisper.

  “Oh,” I whispered back.

  He waited for me to ask, but, certain the name would mean nothing to me, I didn’t.

  He continued. “Look, Blue. This is going to sound crazy, but a couple of months ago my father came home with one of his old bowling buddies, and I overheard the guy telling my Dad all about it.”

  I shrugged. “So, this guy drove the getaway car? I suppose you have something to back this up with.”

  “You need to take me seriously. We need to be very careful about this. What he told my Dad was in confidence. I just happened to be going across the loft to get a book at the time.”

  I could envision the length of hall in question. It stretched about 12 feet. “How long did this trip across the loft take?”

  Chip’s face flushed red. “Well, hell, Blue. He mentioned Gunther just as I was stepping out. What did you think I was going to do?” He turned his face away from me.

  “Oh, c’mon, Chip, I was just razzing you. I would have done the same thing, if the conversation had meant anything to me.” Which should not have consoled him much, but for some reason it did. “So, tell me what you heard.”

&
nbsp; Chip shrugged. “Well...since it’s their bowling night, and the guy’s speech was kind of slurred, he must’ve had a few too many beers that night. My Dad kept trying to shut him up, but...he kept talking on and on like he had to get it out.”

  “That would fit the mold.”

  “So, then he told my Dad the whole story.”

  At this point, Chip proceeded to do the same. I listened, trying to keep a skeptical view, but as the tale unfolded, all the facts fell into perfect place.

  By the end, I was as convinced as Chip that he’d stumbled onto the biggest secret in the town.

  “...Who could blame him for not going back all of these years?” Chip finished. “He’s probably just some family man wanting to stay as far away from the situation as possible. To this day, he has to hear the stories and the theories, hoping that no one ever closes in on him.”

  He reached out and took my hands.

  I looked into his blue eyes, alight with fervor. “It doesn’t matter who the driver was. I might know, but you don’t need to, and no one else does, either. What matters is, we can solve this and return the money. The poor guy who’s been living with this guilt all these years can finally let it go. No one needs to ever know who this guy is, but me.”

  I gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Your Dad, too.”

  “Right, and Dad. C’mon, Blue. I’ve been working on it for months. You and I could sneak into the park and dig up the money. With your skills and my brains, we can do this easily.”

  I stared at him, appalled. The eagerness with which he told the tale—the scary gleam in his eye as he rattled off the details—staggered me. “Tonight? You want to break into Perionne Park tonight after closing?”

  “Not exactly, but close enough. I’m more concerned about whether they lock up the pirate building itself than the gate to the park, but you said that you knew something about breaking and entering, so—”

  “That’s not exactly what I said. I can pick a lock or two, but—” Then, the connection hit—like a two-by-four to the back of the head. A nasty piece of the puzzle slipped into place.

  Fury erupted from me. “You bastard!”

  I jumped to my feet, sending the scrapbook tumbling into the dirt. “You’ve been working on this for months? Months! Let me guess—looking for the perfect little girlfriend accomplice with some lock-picking skills?”

  Chip stood next to me, jaw dropped and arms spread apart. He had the decency to look appalled at the accusation. “Blue, no. C’mon. You know that’s not true.”

  I swatted him on the chest, forcing him to step backwards. “What, Chip? What do I know? I know what you’re capable of when you want to get your way. I know that I’m a pretty damn convenient piece to your pet project. I also know you did some pretty wonderful favors to get my attention.”

  I took a step back, lowering my hand. Sure, I could beat up on him, but what would be the point? How stupid I’d been, and here I’d been feeling sorry for him!

  Chip glared back at me, looking equally hurt. His hand came up to his chest where I’d struck him. “Oh, yeah, right. How clairvoyant of me to know all about your criminal past weeks before you told me about it. Don’t forget how I seduced you. Wasn’t that just brilliant of me? I came at you like James Bond last weekend. I had you eating out of my hand.”

  I bit back an acerbic reply. He was right about the last part, and he didn’t even know it. Last weekend, he’d left me one moment sighing in bliss and the next twisted in knots.

  Exactly how I feel, now.

  I couldn’t strike out at him, so I scraped at the ground with the toe of my boot. “Damn you, Chip!”

  I kicked the dirt and stomped a few feet, causing a cloud of dust to rise up around me and growled in anger to keep from shouting at the top of my lungs. “Well, fuck you, then! I’m ruining your plan, do you hear me? I’m not going along with it.”

  I stopped, gasping to catch my breath.

  Chip sighed, and his shoulders slumped. “I...guess I can’t force you to go. I told you because of how I feel about you, and because this is important to me. That’s the truth. Somewhere last weekend you really opened up to me, and I wanted to do the same. I thought you would want to help.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t.” I grabbed his arm. “Chip, damn it. Listen to me. You can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

  He gathered up his papers, brushing dust from the scrapbook. “Well, then. I guess you’ll just have to wish me luck. You know where you can catch up with me if you change your mind.”

  I clenched my fists in exasperation. “Chip, use that logical brain you rely on so much. You don’t have a chance. I bet you’ll get caught straddling the gate, and you’ll go to jail. Who knows how bad it can get? You won’t be a minor much longer.”

  Chip hung his head in resignation. “Blue, I have to know. Finding this treasure has been my only goal for years. Except for pleasing you. Hell, it would be worth it just to pull this off, and you’d see what I’m capable of. Then, you’d see that I’m not as incompetent as you think.”

  Damn if my heart didn’t melt, even as I bit back a laugh. “Will you stop it!”

  He remained hunched over, holding the scrapbook in his lap.

  I stepped up to him and sat down, reaching out to touch his face. He wouldn’t look at me at first, then slowly he did.

  His eyes were wet.

  My heart broke all over again.

  I pulled his notebooks from him, easing them to the ground. Then, I wrapped my arms around him.

  His arms tightened around me.

  I held him close. “Just stop. You’re not going in there alone, damn it. If you’re going to do your damnedest to fall, then I have to try to catch you.”

  He sniffled against my chest. “What do you mean?”

  “It means, shut up and kiss me.”

  He did.

  * * * *

  I don’t remember much about the walk home, except the world glowed with brightness. I skipped and hummed a tune to release my cheer to the world. “When you’re a Jet, you’re a Jet to the end...”

  I skipped past Sylvia’s house, hopping onto the stepping stones and up to my porch. I risked a glance across the yard.

  What I saw froze me in place.

  A “For Sale” sign in Sylvia’s yard that had never been there before today.

  Yet, from the weather spots, the area of dead grass surrounding the sign, and the rust on the framework, the sign had clearly been in the yard for months.

  I walked to the front of the house, taking in the familiar porch with the rocking chair, but the chair sat unused, covered in layers of matted webs across the seat and down the sides. While it bore a striking resemblance to the off-white cloth Sylvia had been knitting, these were clearly spider-webs—several of them still inhabited. No living body had rested in the chair last week—probably not even last year.

  Where’s Sylvia? On reflex, I looked at the front door with the two small windows inset toward the top like a pair of eyes. Windows I remembered a couple of days ago. Now, twin boards ran across both in an X-shape.

  My gaze traveled across the front of the house—seeing for the first time the boards across the windows, set firm with nails turning brown from months of exposure to the elements.

  Boards and nails I had not seen yesterday.

  “Sad, isn’t it?”

  I jumped at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. I turned to see a woman dressed in a sharp, gray business suit, similar to the sort my mother might wear. She held out her hand. I extended mine automatically, letting her place a business card into my palm. I glanced at the text identifying her as Hariette Sanders, Certified Real Estate Agent. The spiffy card included a full-color logo and photograph.

  She stood beside me, brushed a rebellious lock of short, brown hair from her eyes, and sighed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, but neither did the seven agents hired before me, so I guess I shouldn’t feel bad.”

  My head still reeled, but I found my v
oice. “How long has the house been on the market?”

  “Oh...the owner died over five years ago. I’ve been stuck with the listing for six months. Neat hair, by the way.”

  Five years ago? “Thanks. When you say ‘the owner’, do you mean Sylvia?”

  The real estate agent laughed pleasantly. “Oh, yes. Sylvia. That Sylvia. Sylvia Stalt, Gunther’s Mom, bless her pointy little head. They found her body on the porch, still in the rocking chair.”

  Hariette crossed her arms, warding off a chill. “Sylvia willed the house to Lily Mills, Gunther’s old girlfriend.” I nodded. Like a lifelong local, I knew exactly who she meant.

  The agent shook her head. “Lily split town after the robbery. She’s lived in Madison, Wisconsin ever since. Raised her daughter there. Anyway, I guess Sylvia figured giving Lily the property was the least she could do, given how Gunther treated her. Ms. Mills hired the first agent and ordered him to sell the property any way he could, but stories had already circulated about the house being haunted. Now, I can’t give the house away.”

  “That’s not possible. I just...” I stopped, knowing I’d sound insane if I finished the thought. Instead, I said the one thing I cared about the least. “Why is the rocking chair still on the porch?”

  Hariette shook her head. “We’ve all dragged that piece of junk to the curb for the trash pick-up, but every time we returned, it was right back there on the porch, cobwebs and all. Maybe some kids are playing pranks. I finally decided to leave it there. I’m not about to get my suit dirty—again.”

  My focus returned. I couldn’t accept the obvious conclusion of my experiences. “So, what do you think? That someone’s playing a trick or the house is haunted?”

  Hariette shrugged, clearly not interested in giving the matter much thought. “Haunted or not, I was a fool to accept this challenge, and I’m stuck with it until my listing agreement runs out. One month left to go.”

  I stepped toward my house, biting back what I wanted to scream. Who did I talk to? What did it mean? Am I losing my mind? “Well, good luck.”

  The agent nodded, still standing in front of her cursed property. “Thanks. If you know any crazy friends who want to buy a haunted house, give me a call. I’ll make them a great deal.”