The Haunting of Pico (Pico, Texas - Book 1)

by PATRICK KAMPMAN

  The AC was merrily pumping out cold air when I checked the locks on my windows. Rose was in her customary place reading. She looked up at me and stared. I dropped the blinds and went to sleep.

  Chapter 32

  I woke up a couple hours later thinking the ghost was back, but it was worse. Rose was sitting on my bed.

  “Wake up.”

  “I am awake. How did you get in here?”

  “The window. I owe you another lock.”

  “Um, no offense, but what are you doing here? I told you I couldn’t see you anymore.”

  “You did, but I’m overriding that decision. Sorry, Christopher, but I’m only looking out for your best interests, and frankly, that lies with me.” She turned on the light, and I squinted, trying to focus on her.

  “The ghost is gone; your family is safe. Nothing is left to hold you back.”

  Was she nuts? “Well, there’s my family and friends.”

  “We’ll be your new family. And you can always make new friends. You’ve only known these for what, a month? That’s a blink of an eye in the eternity I’m going to give you.”

  Yup, she was nuts. “Sounds nice, but I’m still not leaving.”

  She leaned over me, her mouth inches from mine. “Is it so bad being with me?”

  She leaned in the final few inches for a kiss, and almost had me until she added, “Your family will still have your sister. And if that’s not enough, they can always adopt again.”

  Nice to know I was replaceable, though I was pretty sure my warranty period had expired a couple of years back.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I kind of like my family.”

  “It wasn’t an offer. I’m going to give you love, friendship, a home, and an eternity of other pleasures they couldn’t possibly provide.”

  Rose gave me a lingering kiss, which I felt was cheating on her part, then drew back just far enough to look at me. Her eyes bored into mine. I sensed I should avoid them. It was easy to do with the view she was giving me down her dress. Apparently she realized that, too, as she straightened up.

  “Don’t be difficult, Christopher. If you come with me, I guarantee your friends will be safe—or at least as safe as anyone can be in this town. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to Becky. Not like what happened to poor Tim Peterson. He screamed for days, you know. He wasn’t nearly as tough as he made himself out to be.” She reached under my chin to tilt my face toward hers.

  Nope, not just nuts. She was full-on bat-shit crazy. But as I looked into her pale, concerned eyes, I saw what she meant. She could offer me a home, and love in her own way. What else could I do? The threat she made wasn’t an idle one; she would hurt my friends if I didn’t go.

  “There, see? I promise you’re making the right choice by coming with me. We’re going to have fun! I have so much I want to show you.” Rose stood, looking like a little girl who got a pony for her birthday.

  It wouldn’t be a bad life. If you’re going to live forever, doing so with a totally hot chick isn’t the worst way to spend eternity. I glanced at the photo of Becky and almost changed my mind, but then I remembered what would happen to her if I did.

  “Bring whatever you want to take with you. At least, whatever you can fit in a couple of bags,” she added, glancing at my TV and stereo.

  Defeated, I got up.

  “Thank you, Christopher. And really, soon you’ll see I’m right. You’ll find you enjoy your new life more than you can imagine.” She twined her arms around my neck and kissed me deeply.

  When she finally released me, I grabbed a backpack and a duffel bag and packed some clothes, my X-Box, a few games, and a couple of other things. On impulse, I reached for Becky’s picture, but Rose grabbed it first and threw it in a drawer. Next, she put her hand down one of my pockets. My eyes got wide until she brought out my cell phone and tossed it on my bed.

  “You won’t be needing that, either.”

  Once my bags were filled to capacity, we left. At least we used the front door; I wasn’t sure I could survive the jump out the window.

  As we entered the mansion, I noticed the dogs weren’t in their usual spots on the front porch. I was going to ask where they were when Rose pointed at several large suitcases that were sitting in the foyer.

  “Could you go put those in the car with yours, please? We have to hurry. I’d like to get to the state line before sunrise.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “A real city in the next state over, one with actual culture. One that caters to our kind. You’ll like it more than this dump, I promise. I mean, seriously, do you even realize what Pico means? It’s time to expand your horizons.”

  “Where’s Mr. Givens?”

  “Oh, he’s hanging around. You passed right by him on the way over.”

  “He’s not coming?”

  She laughed. “Whatever for? He’s served his purpose. Don’t tell me you miss his charming conversation.”

  I couldn’t say that I did. “What about Stanley and Oliver? I don’t see them.”

  “Already in the car. Now hurry up with those bags, dear. We can’t be late.”

  I lifted two of her suitcases and almost dropped them. Apparently vintage clothing was heavy. I took a deep breath and headed out to the garage, ignoring my screaming ribs. The door was open and the light was on. The Buick’s trunk lid was already up.

  I set down the bags and peeked around the Buick to finally get a better look at what was behind it. I was surprised to find that it wasn’t a car. The tarp only partially covered the full-sized four-by-four, revealing enough for me to know I had found Tim’s truck.

  I also found the dogs. They were crowded into the back of the Buick, their massive bulk filling the ample backseats. One of them stuck a nose against the side window and snuffled at me, fogging the glass and leaving a milky smear. I hoped they would stay in back during the trip.

  I was hefting the first suitcase into the trunk when a low growl emanated from inside the car. At first I thought something might be wrong with the bag, but when I glanced over my shoulder, I saw what had bothered the dogs. Richard and Eve were running up the driveway toward me.

  “What are you guys doing here?” I asked as I picked up the second case.

  “Chris, come on—we have to go!” said Eve.

  “No. I think I should stay.”

  “Are you stupid? Wait, never mind—just grab him,” Eve told Richard.

  Richard started dragging me out of the garage, ignoring my protests.

  “You don’t understand; it’s for the best. It won’t be that bad with her. She loves me. Richard, let go! I can’t stay here in Pico. If I don’t go with her, she’ll kill Becky! She’ll kill you!”

  “No, she won’t, Chris. Now come on!” Eve took hold of my legs, and she and Richard walked backward carrying me. I held onto Rose’s suitcase, hoping the weight of the thing would anchor me, but in a tribute to their strength and determination, the suitcase and I were both being hauled out of the garage.

  “Oh, actually, I will,” said Rose. She stood right outside of the garage. “I think I will kill all of you right now—except for Christopher, of course. He’s mine. I don’t choose many, but the ones I do, I keep.”

  Richard let go of me, took a shovel from where it hung on the wall of the garage, and stepped toward Rose. I hollered in pain as the half of me that Richard had been holding thumped on the ground. I squirmed to free my legs, but a frozen Eve clutched them tight as she watched Richard’s advance.

  “You’re not going to hit li’l ol’ me with that, are you? Now, that’s not a very gentlemanly thing to do.”

  Richard hesitated for a second, then swung right for her head.

  It was hard to imagine anything so delicate being so dangerous. Rose was insanely quick. She ducked under Richard’s swing, her arm flashing sideways. She tore the shovel out of his hand and sent it careening across the garage. It ricocheted off the wall and clattered to the cement floor.

  In th
e next instant, she thrust her other hand, palm first, into his chest. Richard flew back, collapsing with a sickening crash into the yawning trunk of the car. The lid half closed with the impact, and only his legs stuck out. It looked as if the car had eaten him. Stanley and Oliver barked and howled from the back of the car.

  “Hush,” said Rose. “I want to be able to hear their screams.”

  The dogs immediately went quiet. Eve finally dropped my legs and ran to check on Richard. Rose moved toward my sister. I pulled myself up and stepped in her way.

  “Not now, Christopher.” She backhanded me, and I saw stars as I stumbled aside.

  Rose was almost within arm’s distance of Eve. I scrambled to get between them, hands outstretched to stop her from touching my sister. Eve turned to face Rose, standing her ground behind me.

  Rose’s laughter was as cold as she was. “Do you really think you can stop me? That’s adorable.”

  “You won’t think it’s so cute when we end you.”

  “We? Are you referring to the oaf in the car? No? You must mean Becky. So tell me, Eve, where is that redheaded bitch and her stunted sidekick?”

  “Right here.”

  Rose spun just in time to catch the arrow in her chest. Her back was to me, and a cool wet spray caught me in the face as I registered a meaty thunk. I wiped the blood out of my eyes and saw the X of a broadhead arrow protruding from her back.

  Rose staggered, holding out an arm as she started to fall. Instinctively, I caught it, and at once I was supporting her weight. I held her up by one arm as she stared up at me with those crisp blue eyes. Her lips whispered my name as a small trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth down her chin. Her body slackened, and slowly I lost my grip. She crumpled onto the garage floor.

  Monica hurried toward us. Becky stood back, a second arrow nocked and readied in the compound bow she was holding. Without taking her eyes off Rose, she asked if I was okay.

  “I’ve been better, but all things considered, I could be worse. So yeah, I’m okay.”

  “Richard!” A teary-eyed Monica rushed to where Richard moaned from inside the trunk. Looking worried, she shoved open the lid.

  “Hey, girl! Don’t worry, there’s enough room in this trunk for two. Ow, that hurt! Hey, where are you going? At least give me a hand out of here!” Monica had slammed the lid back down on Richard and was storming away, though I noted the smile on her face as she wiped her eyes with her wrist. Richard reopened the trunk and grunted as he unsuccessfully tried to get out of the Buick.

  Eve had picked up the discarded shovel and poked Rose with it while Becky waited, bow still drawn. Convinced that Rose wasn’t going to pull a horror movie stunt and pop back up, Becky finally released the tension on the string, then dropped the bow and jumped into my arms.

  I stumbled back a step or two with the impact. Becky was trembling. I wrapped my arms around her, soaking up her comforting warmth. I didn’t want the moment to end. At least, not until she sniffled and then wiped her nose across my shirt. That kind of ruined it a little.

  My head finally started to clear. The realization of not only what I had been about to do, but what Rose was and what she had been doing, slowly came into focus.

  “How did you know?”

  Richard’s voice came from the trunk. “Dude, it was easy. When a friend chooses some skanky blonde over an uber-hot—if highly temperamental—redhead, you’ve got to worry, you know? When he does it again? Then it’s time to get involved! You can thank me later. Hey, could someone give me a hand? I’m stuck.”

  Monica turned back toward the car.

  “Richard, did you just imply that, like, all blondes are skanky?” She was doing her best to come off as indifferent, but her voice was hurt.

  “Huh? What? No! Not you—I mean, you’re way hotter than Becky and a lot less skanky.”

  “Oh, so what you’re saying is that my best friend is an ugly skank?”

  “No! That’s not what I said! Oh, c’mon! Chris, could you please help me out here?”

  “Love to, man, but I have my own problems. There’s a corpse bleeding on my feet, so I’m pretty sure I’m an accessory to a homicide.”

  Monica popped a bubble before she spoke. “Technically, it’s not homicide. You can’t kill something that’s already dead.”

  “So Richard figured out what was going on?” He was a lot more perceptive than I had thought.

  “’Course I did!” came the labored reply, as Richard finally extracted himself from the car.

  Monica, arms crossed, cleared her throat.

  Richard added, “Okay, Monica helped.”

  Monica’s eyes narrowed. “C’mon, big guy. Make yourself useful and grab the body.”

  “What am I supposed to do with it?” Richard asked, taking the shovel away from Eve, who had continued to poke Rose with it.

  “Why don’t you put it in the cellar for now?” Eve suggested. “I’ll get some towels and bleach.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said.

  “All right, genius, what do you propose I clean up all this blood with?”

  “Ew, that’s not what I was referring to. I meant dumping Rose in our basement.”

  “I agree,” said Becky, holding me tighter. “I think he’s been near her enough already.”

  “Why not the basement? No one found the first body for sixty years,” asked Eve.

  “But she’ll rot. Mom will smell it,” I said.

  “I don’t think she will. Rot, that is,” said Monica, without elaborating. “And, like, the cellar is a good idea. At least until we come up with a better one.”

  “Will someone just decide, for chrissake, and then close the garage door already!” With those parting words, Eve went off to get the cleaning supplies.

  Rickard closed the door, glad for the temporary reprieve from having to touch the body.

  “Oh crap, what about Mr. Givens? What if he comes out here while we’re cleaning up?” I asked.

  “Not gonna happen,” said Becky, her voice muffled by my chest.

  “You sure?”

  Becky looked up at me, leaving an enormous wet spot on my shirt. She had been crying; it made her eyes a vibrant green.

  “Pretty sure, given that he’s hanging from the oak.”

  “Oh, okay. Oh. Man, you guys didn’t…”

  Becky glared at me. “What, you think I murdered someone?”

  I couldn’t help it; my eyes strayed to the body lying between us.

  “She doesn’t count! She was trying to kill us. Besides, she wasn’t exactly human.”

  “I know. Was she really what I think she was?” I had known all along something wasn’t right with Rose, but now that the fog clouding my mind was lifting, it was dawning on me exactly what Rose was. What she had started turning me into.

  Monica interrupted. “So, like, I dunno—do y’all think it would be better to move the body and clean up the mess before talking about Rose? Or should we discuss Rose now, and then maybe see if the cops will let us out of jail to clean everything up later?”

  Richard sighed, then scooped up Rose’s body.

  “Take her over the fence around back so no one sees,” Monica instructed.

  “What about Mr. Givens?” I asked.

  Monica shrugged. “Leave him. Not our problem.”

  It was kind of grim, but she was right. We might get away with sanitizing a crime scene for a victim no one knew existed, but Mr. Givens was a different story. People might not miss him, but they would notice he was gone.

  We cleaned up the garage as best we could. Richard put all of Rose’s baggage with her body in our basement.

  I wasn’t sure what to do with the dogs, but once everyone was at a safe distance, I told them to be good and opened the car door. They got out, sniffed around a little at the spot where Rose died, then moseyed back to the porch to lie down.

  It would be light soon. I walked Becky down the street to where she had parked her car as Monica
and Richard were pulling away.

  I gave Becky a quick kiss goodbye. I wanted to get home before someone discovered Mr. Givens. It wouldn’t be long before another crowd gathered by the oak, as it had sixty years ago. Before I could pull away, Becky grabbed me and hugged me fiercely.

  “You’re mine. Don’t you forget it.”

  I knew enough never to argue with a redhead.

  Epilogue

  A neighbor out for a morning walk reported the body of Mr. Givens shortly after dawn. The police arrived to find his body hanging from the oak tree, exactly where Charlotte Monroe had been found sixty years earlier.

  Mr. Givens’ pocket contained a handwritten confession for the murders of Charlotte Monroe, Emily Monroe, and Tim Peterson. The police were baffled as to who Emily was, but, tipped off by the note, they found the body of Tim Peterson in the basement of Mr. Givens’ house. Tim had been suspended upside down, tortured, and finally beheaded and drained of blood. The blood itself was mysteriously absent.

  Becky showed up Saturday night for our rematch. I thought about wearing extra layers, but that would have been cheating. I won the first game, and my confidence shot up. Then she lapped me in the second. I squeaked out a win on the third, only to be lapped again on the fourth. I was sensing a pattern developing as we took turns removing articles of clothing, but I could never be sure, because sometime after that we forgot all about the game.

  Even considering the rough spots, all in all it wasn’t the worst first month I could have spent living in a hick town. I do still have a body in my basement, even if it is a new one. But I’m optimistic enough to look on the bright side: I got a job, made some new friends, helped lay a ghost to rest, and found a great girl—all in Pico, Texas.

  It’s like my dad would say: sometimes all it takes is a few small adjustments and, before you know it, the shoe fits just right.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  A California native, Patrick Kampman now lives in Central Texas with his wife, daughter, and assorted pets. He is currently working on the second novel in the Chance Lee series.