by Mayer, Dale
"Hey, what did she just say to us?"
Cassie grinned. Aric was big and burly but didn’t know what end was up on any given day. Definitely a dunce – a relatively harmless one. "I said I’ll see you at Todd’s funeral. I’m sure that as his friends you’ll all show up and pay your respects." She dashed up the front steps of the school, relieved to see Penny and Suzie waiting in front of the double doors, their smiles a bright beacon. Linking arms, she tugged both girls through the doors. "Are they still following me?"
"No, they never came up the stairs. Were they hassling you?"
"Yeah, something about Todd not being here to protect me."
Penny turned to look behind them, searching for the teens. "They’re gone."
"Figures."
"What did they want?"
"I don’t know."
But it did make her wonder. Had one of them been with Todd when he died? If they’d called Todd for a ride that night, he’d have gone to pick them up. He’d done that so many times before.
"It might explain their comments this morning," she muttered under her breath. She’d have to mention that to the deputy when they met again this afternoon. Then she remembered her parents. They didn’t want her to talk about Todd’s death. And wouldn’t appreciate her taking a second trip to the sheriff’s office. She pondered the issue throughout the afternoon. She could hardly rope Jessie into doing this too.
Still, someone had been in that vehicle with Todd. It was the only viable explanation, at least for her. How to find out?
All around her, students worked quietly on their assignments. She studied their bent heads. What about Todd’s online presence? Was anyone looking after that? Her cell phone plan was only basic and had no Internet.
At the sound of the school bell, Cassie raced home, saying a quick, ‘hi,’ to her mom before taking the stairs two at a time and opening her laptop. Booting up the laptop, she quickly accessed her account. Geesh. She’d posted about having a personal loss and that she'd be offline for a couple of days. She hadn’t thought to check Todd’s pages.
There. Someone had created a memorial page. She frowned, feeling both guilty and pissed. She was Todd’s best friend. She should have done this for him.
She read the wall and the multitude of comments. Though most were friendly, some were not. She tried to ignore those, although some were particularly difficult to read. Trying to hold the anger back she scrolled down the many entries. Opening another window she ran through the Twitter feeds…same old, same old.
What if she posted something to stir things up? Something about hoping that the people riding in the vehicle with Todd on the night he was killed would turn themselves in. Or would that get her in more trouble?
It was her call, yet she didn’t want to do something stupid. So no then. Chewing on her lip, she went to the school website and checked if they’d posted a notice. There was a small corner article dedicated to Todd’s memory, mentioning the time and location of the funeral. A note stated grief counselors were available to speak with any student who needed to talk. Cassie slumped back, rubbing her hands over her eyes. Should she talk to someone? Doubt worried away at her.
Was she losing it? Was she imagining Todd’s ghost? She had to wonder. No one else could see him. Maybe only people who cared could see him, but then Todd’s mother should have seen him. She loved him. Only Todd hadn’t believed that. So maybe he could only be seen by people he felt loved them. That probably limited the list to her.
How sad.
If Cassie died, who could she visit? Her mom and dad? Maybe. Possibly Penny or Suzie. Grams and Todd, if they’d been alive. Her eyes narrowed. Maybe there were only a few for everyone.
Cassie stood up, unable to drop the idea of posting something on Facebook. Would they have to know the post was from her? Could she create a different account and post that way? Could she post anonymously? Or did that not work?
She couldn’t check Todd’s email. He’d never given her his password. She hadn’t really wanted it. He had a lot of correspondence with his girlfriends that she so didn’t want to see. Yuck.
What about Todd’s laptop? Where was it now and had anyone checked it over for clues?
And who had created the memorial page?
***
Todd leaned against the pantry door in his mom’s kitchen. How many times had he visited here since his parents divorced? Six, seven times. Maybe more at the beginning. In the last two years maybe once. By then he’d felt like an outsider.
Right now she was at the stove cooking. Todd sniffed the air, before remembering that he had no sense of smell. He paused. Was that garlic? He frowned. There was a faint smell. Spaghetti? Sights were brighter on this side. Then there were times where everything was flat, one dimensional. He didn’t know what made it one way or the other. He’d seen other people like him wandering around, but he couldn’t communicate with them.
It was horribly confusing…and lonely. Thank heavens for Cassie. She was the only one he missed. The only person he’d cared about. Sure, he had girlfriends. They were girls for fun not for friendship. Cassie was different. He’d never kissed her – well, not a real kiss. He’d dropped kisses on her cheeks, maybe even on her lips, except they weren’t those kinds of kisses. He wanted her to be happy. But he’d rather it be with him and not his brother.
Just then, Jessie walked into the room, texting someone. Todd walked up behind him trying to see who he was messaging. Cassie.
He twisted his head, trying to read the message and missed it.
"Jessie, set the table, please."
"Sure, Mom." Todd followed every footstep his brother took. He actually tried to breathe down his brother’s neck, hoping for some acknowledgment of his presence revealed someone else saw him, felt him. Nothing.
Todd felt like he was in a horror flick. Waiting for the killer to jump out from behind the cupboard. A killer only he could see.
He hated this. He’d chosen not to interact with these people when he’d been alive. He’d figured it didn’t matter. They didn’t matter.
He’d been wrong.
"Jessie, no cell phones at the table."
Jessie grimaced, checked the message and shoved it away again. "Sorry." He polished off the spaghetti on his plate, then carried it over to the sink and washed his dishes. "I’m off to do my homework." Taking the stairs two at a time, he raced to his room.
Todd followed. Jessie had been a little too fast on that exit. In his room, Jessie pulled out his phone and made a call. "Cassie, yeah. I know. I searched. There’s no sign of it. I asked my mom if the cell phone was in Todd’s personal effects, she said she didn’t know."
Todd jumped closer to hear Cassie’s answers. He couldn’t.
"I don’t know that she’s even looked. She’s been to the sheriff’s office and to the funeral home. We have to go back on Friday, with the clothes he’s to wear for the burial. It’s possible my dad has the stuff, however there’s also no guarantee that he’s looked either. Or that there was a cell phone in with the rest. Whatever the rest is."
"I know there should be his wallet and that necklace you gave him for his birthday. Who knows what else." Jessie nodded. "Yeah, I’ll try Dad’s place next."
Stepping back, Todd stumbled around the room, slightly disoriented. Jessie was helping Cassie? Really? To find out what had happened to him?
He hadn’t seen that one coming. Cassie had mentioned it, only he hadn’t believed Jessie would. The concept rolled around his head. Nothing bad or good came to mind. He didn’t know how he felt about it. If he were still alive, it would piss him off to see them together, but now, well, maybe that would be good for both of them.
He sighed. Being dead was very confusing.
***
Cassie put the phone down. Who took home the personal effects in a case like this? The mom or the dad? Did the dad have actual custody of Todd, if so he’d be the one to get them? If they shared custody and the mom was making the funeral arrangements,
she’d be the one most likely to take them. Cassie needed to find out what happened to the cell phone. It might be nothing or it could provide all the answers.
Should she contact the deputy and ask him? She opened up a web page and searched for the contact information. There. St. Paul’s County Sherriff’s Office. There were phone numbers and a map. No email addresses. Well, there was, but only for the main office reception. She checked the directory. Bingo. It provided one contact.
She opened her email account, then jotted down a draft email, trying to list the questions that sat uppermost on her mind. The cell phone was the biggest issue. Plus she wanted to know if the deputy had found any new information. Not that he’d tell her what it was. Still, she mentioned the people Todd had been with that last night, just on the off chance he hadn’t already followed up.
She sat back and reread what she’d written. She chewed uncertainly on the inside of her lips. Should she mention Todd’s friends who’d accosted her on the way to school? Could Todd have been partying with any of those kids?
She finished with a quick apology for taking up so much time and that she just really needed to know that everything possible had been done to find the truth. She hit send then sat back and said, to the empty room, "There’s really not much more I can do."
"And that’s already plenty. Thank you."
"Todd," she spun around with a happy grin on her face. "Wow. It’s good to see you. I never know if or when you’re going to show again. Each visit is a gift, as it could be the last time."
He grinned. "Yeah, for me, too."
She laughed, shaking her head. "You’re such an idiot."
"What?" he protested. "You know I love being able to spend time with you like this."
"What’s it like?" She tilted her head. "Do you get tired? Sleep? Do you eat? Or do you want to eat?" She studied his face. "Do you get cold?"
"Whoa." Laughing, Todd strode over to her bed and sat down comfortably against the pillows. Except there was no indentation where he lay.
Cassie shook her head. This stuff was pretty wild. "So…answer."
Holding up one hand, Todd laughed as he counted the questions off. "No, I don’t get cold. No, I haven’t found myself tired yet. I’d love to eat, but don’t think I can as I can’t pick up anything to begin with. However, I’m never hungry, so it doesn’t matter."
Cassie thought about his answers. "How are you doing inside? Still angry or starting to get over it?"
"Not even beginning to get over it. I don’t want to be dead, Cassie. As much as I hated school, I’d give anything to be able to go to there again."
His lopsided grin was tinged with sadness. "Too bad kids can’t spend a day playing ‘dead’ to learn to appreciate what they have."
Sobering thought. Cassie asked curiously, "What would you change? You know, if you could come back?"
"I’d definitely want to get to know my mom and my brother better. Drop the multitude of girlfriends and buddies and work to find more true friends." He stared up at the ceiling. "Regrets are the worst. People I didn’t appreciate, like Mom. Things I wish I’d done more of, like riding my motorcycle, fishing, snowboarding. And spending time with people I care about – like you."
Tears threatened to fall. Cassie brushed them away and sniffled. "We have this time now."
"Right." He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed and asked. "What have you found out?"
She brought him up to date. "Finding the cell phone would be a huge plus. With it I could figure out if someone called and asked for a ride home that night. Or maybe someone sent you on an errand after you dropped the others off."
He frowned down at his clasped hands. "I can’t remember the last time I used it. I remember taking Ivan to his house and then turning toward home." He shook his head. "The rest is still a blank."
"I wonder if those memories are accessible."
Todd looked at her in horror. "There’s no way I’m going to let you play around inside my mind, so forget that idea."
Cassie couldn’t resist a bit of dark humor. "Why not? What’s the worst thing that could happen? You’re already dead!"
His grin was pure devil. "But you’re not – yet!"
She laughed.
"Cassie?"
Her door pushed open. Her mother stood the doorway, one hand on the door knob. "Who are you talking to, honey?"
Cassie groaned silently. Quick. What could she say to her mom? "Hi, Mom, did you want something?" Cassie cast a quick glance over at the bed. As she’d suspected Todd had stretched back out on the coverlet with a big grin on his face.
Her mom frowned, her eyes darting around the room before returning to Cassie’s face; a confused frown furrowed her forehead.
"I thought I heard voices?"
"Probably the computer. I was playing a bunch of YouTube videos."
"Oh." Abby didn’t appear to know what to say to that. She looked uncertain for another moment before awkwardly backing out. "Maybe turn the volume down, so it’s not quite so disturbing."
Cassie tossed her a carefree smile. "Sure, Mom, no problem."
She watched as the door shut, then tilted her head to listen to her mother’s retreating footsteps. Only then did she turn back to the still grinning Todd. She held her finger up to her lips.
Todd laughed. "It’s not me you need to worry about."
Cassie rolled her eyes. "I know. I can’t seem to remember to keep my voice down around you. When you show up in public places, I come off looking like a mental case."
"No problem. That’s a normal state for you."
On impulse, Cassie threw her pen at him. And watched in awe as it slipped right through Todd and fell onto the coverlet. She’d go nuts thinking about this stuff. Keeping her voice down, she asked, "Would you have seen those druggie friends of yours on Friday night?"
Todd sat up again, his face a confused puzzle. "What do you mean?"
"Could they have called you to come and join them somewhere? Or asked you to pick them up? Or do a delivery for them?" Frustrated, she threw out her hands. "Someone you know had to be in that car with you. Unless you picked up a hitchhiker?"
His brows veered together. "I don’t pick up hitchhikers unless I know them."
"Maybe you picked up one you knew? Your vehicle went off Pinnacle Point. A mile or so away from your house."
He frowned, swinging his legs over the side, facing her. "I know it well. I always slow down, particularly when I'm coming from the North. It’s got a brutal hook from that direction."
"That’s where your car went over." She paused, considering. "I’d like to go see it." She stood up and stepped over to the window. "I could walk there on the weekend. Maybe Jessie would come with me."
"Him?" he spat. "Why him?"
Startled, Cassie spun around to stare at him. "Because I don’t have any male friends but you. And it creeps me out to think of going there alone, that’s why?"
"I can go with you." He strode over to where she stood, reaching out to grab her shoulders.
She glanced down at his hands, sinking into her shirt. So, soft and gentle, like a fairy’s stroke. Yet she felt it. She was in awe of the sensation.
"I can feel your hand." She lifted her arm, her fingers, gentle and soothing, then stroked down the side of his cheekbone. Those clear emerald eyes, so intent and sharp, glowed. His eyelids drifted closed at her touch, his head tilting, disappearing into her palm.
Tears came to Cassie’s eyes.
"Why did this have to happen to you?" she whispered.
He opened his eyes. "I don’t know. And I don’t know how long I can stay here. Things are starting to fade. It’s getting harder to communicate sometimes."
Cassie’s lower lip trembled. "But I felt you…"
"Shh." He lifted one finger, gently stroking along the plump line of her mouth. "It’s okay. I’m getting used to this. I’ll be alright."
"Yeah, and what about me?"
A sad look slid over his face. "Y
ou will be fine too. You’ll miss me, and I’m grateful someone will." As she made to speak, he placed a finger against her mouth. "No. I know how things stand. There’s nothing like having lots of time on your hands, being able to travel anywhere at any time and listening to conversations without people being aware…to get a good idea of how they truly felt about you."
Turning her head away, Cassie closed her eyes at the whole concept. "I imagine that’s a little difficult."
"Let’s say it gives one a unique perspective on human dynamics."
"Too bad we can’t have that perspective without dying first."
"We could, only most of us can’t be bothered to do anything as constructive as being the best we can be." A mocking laugh escaped. "We’d much rather do for ourselves than for others."
