by CC Dragon
“You’re in New Orleans now. Lots of hunting.”
“You don’t seem like a hunter. I’m better with a handgun.” I grabbed my cell phone, dialed Matt’s number and waited.
“I just keep the rifle as a precaution.”
“Snakes aren’t exactly a standard target either.” I held the phone up to my ear.
“Yeah,” Matt answered.
“It’s Deanna Oscar. I’ve got your body.” I leaned against the car and stared at my scarred boots.
“Where are you?” He sounded skeptical.
“A swamp with pissed-off snakes.” I handed the phone to Greg and rolled my eyes. I could find my way home from here but had no idea what streets we’d taken.
Greg took the phone and gave the cop directions. I took a few careful steps, on the lookout for more snakes, toward the body. Little Cel was safe so the body bothered me less than the killer. It would be comfort for the family to bury the girl, but if it were me, I’d want the killer behind bars more.
And what about the killer? He was hiding now. I couldn’t tell where exactly. He seemed to be living in his truck. There was more to it though. He wasn’t alone and yet I couldn’t picture his companion. Clearing my mind, I tried again. I couldn’t see any other killers. The one I had was the right one.
I saw movement in the distance and hoped it wasn’t more wild animals. If this was normal, I needed to get a gun to carry on me. But it wasn’t a snake or some bigger animal. It was a ghost, a child ghost.
“Little Cel?” I knew it wasn’t her but who else made sense? I got closer and saw a little boy dancing around the spot where the earth had clearly been disturbed. The body was buried here. It was like a little victory dance in the end zone at a football game.
“What’s wrong with you?” I scolded him.
He looked up at me and froze. He was surprised and stared at me like I was crazy.
“Yes, I see you. Who are you?” I moved closer, not wanting him to go without at least my getting a good look.
Greg was right behind me, saying something I didn’t hear. There was something more intense about this kid. Dangerous. He made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Logically, I knew he couldn’t be the killer. The boy wasn’t big enough to drive a truck. But very few ghosts made me want to keep my distance.
The kid took a few steps toward me and scowled. He stuck out his tongue. Then he vanished.
“Damn.” I turned.
“What?” Greg’s hand was on my arm. “Was it Little Cel again?”
“No, it was a little boy. I don’t know who but he was dancing on the grave. Sick little bastard.”
“Do you think he’s another victim?”
“It’s possible, I suppose. I didn’t get that feeling but who knows. Cops on their way?”
“Be here in a few minutes.”
“Now what?” I went back and sat in the car to get out of the heat.
Greg followed and cranked up the air. “They dig up the body and find out if you’re right. See if they can get any evidence off the body.”
I closed my eyes to wait. I was exhausted again. I needed real sleep—not visiting Gran type of sleep.
A knock on the window some time later startled me awake. It was Matt’s sweaty face on the other side of the glass. He gestured at me to come out. I turned to find Greg gone. I took a final breath of good cool air and entered the humidity.
“Hi,” I said.
“You killed the snake?” he asked.
“He started it.”
“Nice shot.”
“Thanks.” Apparently being able to shoot a moving snake was more impressive than being psychic. At least it seemed to be getting me a bit of respect for something. “Find the body yet?”
“Doing things by the book takes time. We’ve set up a perimeter. Does the dig perimeter look right?” He pointed to the large police tape cordoned area with uniformed cops roaming, anxious to get started.
“Looks right. She’s not buried very deep.” I started to walk toward the scene and Matt stepped in front of me. “What’s the problem?”
“Why don’t you go wait in the back of the squad car with Greg We don’t want anything to contaminate the scene.” He wasn’t asking me.
I didn’t bother arguing and walked to the squad where Greg sat. “Are we under arrest?”
“Just stay out of the way for now. You did the hard part for them.” He smiled.
I slid in next to him and closed the door. Air-conditioning versus humidity, no contest. “I think the hard part will be finding the killer.”
“Nothing?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Is that little boy another victim? I can’t be sure. The killer is still in his truck but I can’t get a name or location. Sometimes his thoughts are clear, he wants to stop or turn himself in. Then he’s trying to find his next victim. I think he might have multiple personality disorder.” I studied my hands. “Damn, I cracked a nail on your rifle. I need a gun of my own and some nail glue.”
“Think he’s crazy?” Greg asked.
“Possibly.” I leaned my head back and tried to get inside the killer’s mind again.
He was lurking outside another house. It had a little girl in it. He was giving in. I tried to get deeper, to get an address of the house, a view of inside of the truck. No address came but the truck started to come clearer.
There was a blue sleeping bag and several bags from fast-food restaurants on the floor. In the passenger seat was a file folder. That had my attention.
Was it information on the girls? I didn’t think so. Something was sticking out of the side. It looked like a plastic identification badge. Did he work at the girls’ school? Was that the connection?
No, it looked more like a state ID. He slammed the brakes on the truck and the contents of the file shifted. I couldn’t see much but I did get St. Luke’s Mental Hospital. He was crazy. I carefully shifted into his mind long enough to get his name. I’d tried before but it’d never worked. This time I got it.
Darren Gordon.
Matt showed up at the squad with his phone in his hand. “We found the girl and a doll.” He handed the phone and I glanced at the pictures.
The graphicness of the pictures startled me but I adjusted. It was exactly what I’d seen in my mind, even being covered in mud. The red sleeping bag was there, the garbage bag and the girl still clutched her doll.
“Guess you’re the real thing.” Matt stuck the pictures in his shirt pocket.
“I have a name for you too.” I rubbed my eyes. “Darren Gordon.”
“We’ll look into it.” He jotted the name down.
“Look? Go arrest him,” I insisted. “Darren is scouting another girl right now.”
“We’ll run his name. See if he’s got any warrants. Talk to him. But we can’t arrest him without proof. There’s nothing in the house to link this to anyone and the body’s been exposed to elements for the better part of a day. We’ll see what they can get with an autopsy but my guess is nothing there.” Matt shrugged.
“He was a mental patient!” I kicked the back of the car seat in front of me.
“That’s not against the law. Unless he’s escaped. Thanks for the help, Doc. We need to find some concrete stuff now.” He held the door open for me. Clearly he’d gotten what he wanted. “We appreciate it and we’ll keep your name if there are any more cases you can help us with. If you come up with any hard evidence we can use, let me know.”
I huffed and got out of the car. “He’s going to kill again.”
“We’ll talk to him, try to put a scare in him. Let him know we’re watching. Even if there is evidence on the girl’s body from the struggle, it’ll take the lab time to process it all. I can’t get a warrant for this guy without proof.”
“First you’ll have to find him. He’s living in that truck. Seems like he’s hiding in the backwoods. He knows the area.”
“Thanks for the info.” He nodded.
I walked to Greg’s car and h
e followed. “I got a don’t call us, we’ll call you sort of feel.”
“You’ve done all you can. They have to find the evidence now. They have a lot more than they did, thanks to you. It helps.”
I frowned and slumped in Greg’s car as he started it up. “He’s really disturbed.”
“Matt or the killer?” Greg smiled.
I had to laugh at that. “Matt’s just a pain in the ass. I know they need to be by the book but I handed him a name too. The killer is really messed up.”
“If he was in a mental hospital, I hope so. That also means they have records on him. Don’t stress about it. You’ve done all you can,” Greg said again.
“No, not even close.” I wasn’t giving up.
Chapter Eight
Half an hour later, we arrived back at my house. Greg and I headed up the steps and wiped our muddy feet. Ivy had recovered enough to be there, slouched over the kitchen table.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
She groaned. “How’d it go?”
“How’d you know where we were?” Greg asked.
“I worked for Elinor long enough.” She shrugged. “Find the body?”
“I shot a snake too.” I sat down across from her.
Her left eye opened wider. “I knew you were a badass. And you got the body so they’ll leave you alone now.” She sipped her coffee. “I’m glad that’s over.”
“Not really. I figured out the killer’s name but I don’t think they’re going to do much about it.”
“It’s their job now, not yours. You’re not a cop, Deanna. Don’t put yourself in danger.” Greg sat down next to Ivy. “It’s not worth the risk.”
“I guess.” I didn’t believe it. I had to know the truth and try to save lives. “I can’t just walk away.”
“What are you going to do? Track the killer on your own?” Ivy frowned.
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “Warren was in a mental hospital. Which means there are records. I just have to get my hands on them.”
“Warren?” Greg leaned back in his chair and looked at me.
“Yeah.” I stared back.
“At the site you said his name was Darren.” Greg studied me with concern all over his face. “Maybe you got it wrong?”
“Damn!” I rubbed my forehead. “This guy is a split personality. He’s connected to that little ghost I saw near the body too. Somehow.”
“I think you’ve done enough today. Give it a little time to rest. Even if you find this guy, you can’t arrest him. You can’t kill him. The legal process has to work. Elinor hated it too.” Greg checked his watch. “I’ve got to go to work.”
I gave a weak wave, feeling about as good as Ivy looked.
“What does he do?” I asked after Greg was gone.
“He teaches ancient world history at Tulane.” Ivy gave me a critical once-over. “You look like shit. Take a nap or something.”
I yawned. “That’s a good idea.” I used the servants’ staircase and managed to get off my boots. After that, I crawled onto the bed and curled up with a pillow. No traveling this time, just sleeping.
I jerked awake to the shrill of the phone. Squinting at the clock, I realized it was nearly two in the afternoon. I’d slept for three hours. Ivy was probably gone by now and I couldn’t expect Missy to answer the phone.
A little more awake, I realized it could be the cop with news. A shot of adrenaline sliced through me and I grabbed the phone on the fourth ring. “Hello.”
“Deanna, what’s going on?” my father barked.
This house needed caller ID and voicemail.
“Nothing. What’s new there?” I tried to sound casual and not as though I’d seen a rattlesnake, a dead body, and an evil child ghost all that morning.
“Your mail is piling up. You have four job offers that want answers. And your mother is beside herself about you being in that house.” Classic Dad, he didn’t express any concern for me himself. It was all practical issues and Mom’s nerves. Plus the underlying tone of what a thoughtless daughter I was. Mom was really the calm one.
“Send me the stuff. I’ll take care of it.” That wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
“Why are you staying there?” he pressed.
“Dad, I’m handling it. Don’t worry and don’t start.” I sat up and yawned.
“No one handles that. You need to get rid of it. Just put it on the market. That house is insane.”
“A house can’t be insane. It’s just haunted. A fact you could’ve told me before.” He wasn’t getting off blameless in all of this.
“You don’t need that. You don’t want it. It’s dangerous. Take the money, pick a job, and be done.” Dads never stop being dads.
“The biggest danger I’ve encountered so far was a large snake and I shot its head off. Don’t worry about me, and don’t upset Mom. I’ll decide what I want.” Technically, I’d spoken the truth. Nothing else had endangered my life directly but that slimy little reptile.
“You should come home.” Dad was going stubborn on me.
“Bye, Dad.” I hung up and flopped back on the bed.
Staring at the ceiling, I could feel the air in the room change. Gran was at the edge of the bed.
“He’ll never change.” I put my hands over my eyes.
“That’s up to him.”
“Why do I get so tired when I go, you know, over there with you guys?”
“Your body gets rest but your brain is in overdrive. Once you’re more accustomed to coming over it won’t feel so draining. The more you do it, the more normal it will feel. But you should still sleep in more to give your brain a break.” She smiled.
“Who’s that bratty kid ghost?” I asked.
Gran pressed her lips together. I got the message, she couldn’t tell me that.
“Is Little Cel okay?” I asked.
She gave a slight headshake to the affirmative. I took that to mean Little Cel was still in reorientation.
“Now what?” I asked.
“Follow your instincts. Do the best you can. You can’t regret it as long as you try.” She vanished and I smiled. That was the bit of encouragement I needed when everyone else in the world was telling me to play it safe.
I had two options. Try to get in touch with the kid ghost who had no manners. Or get my hands on the medical records. The mental hospital and name were my only real leads.
Both were long shots. Ghosts didn’t obey and medical records meant legal privacy issues. I could Google the guy but I was no hacker. There were other options but the address and name of the next victim weren’t coming clear either.
I had to try. Best odds first.
Having the house to myself was a pleasant change. Missy was going about her daily schedule of chores. I needed to think through this mess. Grabbing my pad of paper and pen, I headed for the library.
When I walked in, two candelabras blinked and the windows flew open. Ghost help was awfully nice.
“Thanks, Noah.” I curled up in a large square chair and scribbled in the corners.
I started by writing down everything I knew. The names, Darren and Warren. Neither name felt wrong. The first girl’s name and everything she had on when they found her also went on the list. The doll was the only weird thing.
I knew the girl was dead when he took her out of the house, so why would he bring the doll and bury her with it in her arms? It didn’t make sense.
I closed my eyes and the killer was outside the next girl’s home again. I couldn’t see the girl but I could see she had a doll just like Little Cel’s only with a different dress.
I needed Little Cel’s doll, at least a picture. I could see it in my mind and it seemed unique, handmade. I needed more to know for sure.
I focused on the killer. Why would he care about a doll? Maybe it was some sympathy move. He thought he was helping the girl by ending their pain? They meant something to him without question.
I slipped into his mind and he was reliving the murder. But it wasn
’t that murder. It wasn’t Little Cel’s room. It was outside. And the little girl was crying, screaming. She was being held upside down by an ankle.
The killer, Darren, had her by the ankle but I heard another voice egging him on. To drop her. To get revenge. I turned the picture around and got a sharp pain behind my right eye. Still, it worked. I saw behind the killer and there were four dolls lined up around a table. A normal girl’s tea party up in a tree house.
The girl was pleading to be brought up, she couldn’t be more than seven and Darren looked all of twelve. I could see him now, scared and angry at the same time. He didn’t want to let go but couldn’t stop either.
The girl screamed louder for help and he let go.
I opened my eyes and ran to the window for fresh air.
“What the hell?” I muttered.
The murderous replay wasn’t the only issue. I heard the sound of drawers opening. I looked and found a tall chest of thin drawers, each popping open and then closing. My head was already splitting with pain.
“Noah? What’s going on?”
Finally the drawers stopped and the second one from the top stayed open. It was a newspaper from almost ten years ago.
“Something interesting in here?” I asked.
Two snaps confirmed it. I carefully lifted the old newspapers out of the drawer and scanned the stories. I turned pages and on the local section, found the story of a young girl dropped from her tree house by her brother.
I read on, everything was what I’d just seen only the article went on to say that this was not the first tragedy to befall that tree house but it didn’t give more details. There was a picture of the tree house and the dolls that were left behind. Darren had killed before. His own sister at about the same age as Little Cel was.
I went back to the window for fresh air. Deep breaths. I needed a picture of the doll to match up. Then I had to get this file. Darren could be more dangerous but there could also be a pattern to follow.
I looked out on the beautiful gardens and breathed deeply. Somewhere in New Orleans, Little Cel’s body was being autopsied and still the world kept going. It felt wrong.
“I’ve got to go.” I was talking to the ghosts now like they were part of my daily life. Sure they had always been around, but not the same ones like a family.
