The Good Girl

by Barritt, Christy

  Candy and I exchanged a glance. The guitar? This just kept getting creepier and creepier.

  “Then she changed. Said she started having visions. She thought they were a way of helping people. She had the desire to help people be better, to make sure they got justice.”

  “She considered her abilities a gift.” Candy sounded convincing and compassionate.

  Lindsey nodded solemnly. “Even as a child, Danielle was always standing up for people. Getting into fights when people picked on her friends. Helping people who no one else wanted to help.”

  I remembered Cooper saying that the family had been churchgoers. How did someone go from loving God to being involved with the occult? Maybe it wasn’t unusual. Maybe Danielle had an interest in all things spiritual—both good and evil. I broached the subject carefully. “I heard she grew up going to church.”

  Lindsey nodded again. “When her father died, her belief system crashed like an old computer. She started dabbling with other things. She researched Islam and Buddhism, and talked some about Scientology. Then she went and had a palm reading, just to see what it was like. Apparently, she was told that she had great psychic energy or something like that. Maybe that’s what she needed to hear. Maybe she needed some encouragement and that’s where she found it.”

  Sadness again pressed in on me. Maybe Danielle and I weren’t that different. There are a lot of forks in the road of life. Danielle had veered onto a different course. If I wasn’t careful, what route would I end up taking? The dry and shriveled-up Christian path? The one where I went to church, but had no life left in me?

  “And her interest just grew from there?” Candy asked.

  “No one could pull her away. She got involved with tarot cards and Ouija boards. Things of the darkness. But she said she was going to use them for good.” Lindsey shook her head. “I’m not sure how.”

  God had strong words on that.

  What fellowship can light have with darkness? 2 Corinthians 6:14.

  Avoid every kind of evil. 1 Thessalonians 5:22.

  Anyone who does these things is detestable to the Lord. Deuteronomy 18:12.

  I cleared my throat again. “Then she started doing readings in her home?”

  “Yes, she did. Jeremy freaked out. He didn’t want to leave her but didn’t want to live with her either.”

  I leaned even closer. “Did her readings ever get her in any scrapes?”

  “There was one incident that shook her up.” Lindsey looked beyond us, as if reliving some past conversation. “I really think this guy had some type of mental problem. Apparently, he had awful mood swings. I know he scared Danielle sometimes. He wouldn’t leave her alone. He said he had a curse on him, and he wanted her to remove it.”

  Could this be the killer? I rubbed my hand against my jeans. “Did she tell the police, Lindsey?”

  “She mentioned him.” She shook her head and sighed. “Apparently, he was questioned and released. He had no record. There was no evidence linking him to the crime.”

  There wasn’t evidence of anything, was there? No body, no murder weapon. All the police were going on was blood. Which was enough, I supposed. Still, why hadn’t the police taken this man seriously?

  “What was his name?” I asked.

  Lindsey looked at the ceiling. Tilted her head. Closed her eyes. “Philip something? Philip...Philip Whitehurst, I think.”

  “What else did Danielle say about him?” Candy asked.

  “Just that he was off his rocker. He honestly thought he had a curse on him, and he was desperate to have it removed. Thought Danielle was the only one who could help. He was pretty aggressive.”

  I pictured Danielle letting the man into her home for a reading or consultation. Maybe she’d said something he didn’t like. Maybe he’d flown off the handle, grabbed a knife...“Did Danielle try to help him?”

  “She tried, I guess. But she told him he wasn’t cursed, he just needed help. Therapy. He needed a shrink, not a psychic. He didn’t understand. He kept offering to pay her a lot of money to remove whatever spell had been placed on him. Eventually, Danielle told him to stay away, that she couldn’t help anymore.”

  This had to be the man! “Did Philip ever threaten her?”

  Lindsey shook her head. “Threaten? No, not directly.”

  What did that mean? “Did he threaten her indirectly?”

  Lindsey looked me straight in the eye again. “He used to wait outside the house for Danielle. At night. Scared her to death. He just wouldn’t leave her alone.”

  Chapter 23

  Candy and I were quiet as we rode down the road. The interstate blurred by, and my mind drifted from Philip Whitehurst to Danielle’s involvement in church. What did it all mean? I didn’t know. I needed more time to ponder what we’d learned.

  Candy cleared her throat beside me. “Which is crazier to get mixed up in—the church or the occult?”

  “I’d say the occult. For sure.” I glanced over at her. “You really don’t know?”

  She half-shrugged. “I went to church for a while in high school.”

  Surprise registered in me, which I realized was awfully judgmental. “Did you? And?”

  “It started off okay. I thought I’d really found a place where people were different and where I could be accepted.” She clicked her nails together and stared out the window. “I’d never really been accepted in high school. I was kind of nerdy and annoying and hyper.”

  “What happened?”

  “The Queen Bee—the unofficial leader of the youth group—decided she didn’t like me. Like really didn’t like me. She didn’t want me there, didn’t want me as a part of the youth group, and she didn’t care how I felt about any of it. Suddenly no one else did either.”

  I kept my eyes on the road ahead, curious to learn more about the woman beside me. I knew there was more to her than love of fame and blue hair. “What happened?”

  “We were on this bus trip to a youth convention. I was asking some questions about the Bible. I honestly wanted to know. I wasn’t trying to be provocative or anything. The Queen Bee walked over to me and announced to everyone that she thought I was weird. For the rest of the weekend, I was the outcast. Only the youth leaders would talk to me.”

  “I’m sorry, Candy. That’s terrible.” But not surprising. Lots of ugly stuff happened in church, partially because the church was filled with imperfect people.

  “I never went back. Ever. And I never will again.”

  “People think social dynamics change after high school but, the truth is that wherever you have groups of people, it feels like high school again. The church...well, it’s not always much different than that.” No, you had the leadership clique, the churchgoers who liked to party, the jocks who played on the church softball league, the Sunday onlys, and the list could go on. “I’m sorry. The church is full of imperfect people.”

  “Where do you stand on the whole church issue? I know your dad’s a pastor, but I’m getting mixed vibes from you.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. He’s at one of the largest churches in Florida.”

  “So you’re a Christian?”

  I shrugged, my heart feeling unusually heavy. “I don’t know.”

  “Why?”

  I sucked in a deep breath. There was no way to get out of this conversation. I was driving and we still had a good ten miles until we got back home. “I just want to be authentic. But I’m not sure how to do that right now. If I believe in God, I want it to be because I believe it with my whole heart.”

  “You’re different, Tara.”

  “Different how?”

  “I’m still trying to figure it out. But I like you. You surprise me.”

  “The one thing about facing disappointments in life is that those hard times deepen your character. I know that firsthand.”

  “From what Lana said about you, you were handed a golden platter.”

  “That’s funny because I think that life sends all of its kisses Lana’s way.”
Did my sister really feel that way? My parents—my dad especially—had always given Lana so much attention. Even with all of her craziness, my dad’s eyes still lit up whenever he saw my sister. I’d always felt second best.

  “She says you’re a saint.”

  Of course, my sister had broken the rules and earned favoritism with my dad. Was God the same way? Did I need to break some rules to get his attention? I shook my head. “I’m anything but a saint. Anything.”

  “You could have fooled me.”

  My heart dropped, heavy with sorrow. “The last thing I want to do is fool anyone, Candy.”

  I sighed. Wasn’t that exactly what I was doing?

  ~*~

  Back at Lana’s, I Googled Philip Whitehurst. Thousands of entries popped up on the screen so I added “St. Paul,” which drastically curtailed the matches.

  I scrolled through several listings. On the second page, one caught my eye. It was a blog called “Expose.”

  “Click on it,” Candy mumbled beside me.

  Please don’t let this be a porn site.

  I clicked on it. To my relief, no pictures popped up on the site. Just a black background and white spaces where the blog entries were.

  I clicked the first one, the one that dated back the earliest.

  March 11.

  She said I was cursed. Told me to take an egg, wrap it in a white T-shirt and rub it over my body. This is supposed to take away the bad energy in my life. I feel hopeful for the first time...ever.

  “What is this?” Candy’s eyes widened. “I mean, I like weird things, but that’s super weird.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me there.” I kept reading.

  March 12.

  I brought the egg to her. She rubbed it against my face, then cracked it open. Black mucus gushed out. It’s my curse. It’s gone! I have to light a candle to keep the spirits from coming back to me. I told her I’d pay as much as I had to in order to keep the curse away.

  This guy actually believed this stuff worked? He must have been desperate. Lindsey had said Danielle wanted to help people. Had Danielle helped Philip Whitehurst get rid of a supposed curse?

  Curiosity filled me. I had to know what happened next.

  March 20.

  If I pay her money from my savings, she said the money will come back to me triple. That the curse will stay away, as long as I keep burning the candle. I asked if a five-dollar candle would do the same trick. She said no.

  “Danielle was draining the poor man’s bank accounts.” Candy shook her head. “Now that’s a motive for murder.”

  For some reason, I was disappointed in the woman. I thought she was misdirected, but not a con artist. How deep was she into this scam?

  April 3.

  I’m burning the candle, but the curse is back. The voices haunt me. I think bad thoughts. Bad, bad thoughts. Thoughts I can’t write. But they’re watching me. I know they are. They’ll take me away, and I can’t let that happen. I rubbed another egg on my head. Then I cracked the egg. The inside wasn’t black this time, so the curse is still with me. I don’t know what to do.

  April 4.

  The voices are still there. I can’t get rid of them. Soon the men will get me. They’ll feed me to the rats and no one will be the wiser.

  April 5.

  She won’t give my money back. It hasn’t come back to me triple. And I have bills to pay. The shadows are getting closer, and the blackness grows inside me. The voices are telling me bad things. Dark things. It’s eating me alive.

  Did the police know about this blog? The voices obviously told Philip Whitehurst to kill Danielle Miller! It was plain to see.

  I continued reading, more quickly now.

  April 6.

  I told the police. They won’t do anything. They think I’m crazy. I am. But I’m not crazy when I tell them she took my money. She’s a fraud. The darkness grows inside me more and more each day.

  April 9.

  She stole my money. I want it back. I’ll die before I let those varmints eat me again.

  April 12.

  She thinks she’ll get away with this. She won’t. I’ll make sure of it. I even flushed my meds so I could hear the voices more clearly.

  May 1.

  I’ve found a solution. It’s brilliant. The darkness is fading.

  May 16.

  I think I’m in love. The men aren’t shadowing me. Is the curse finally broken?

  May 21.

  I’ll love you forever.

  “So...Philip got distracted because he fell in love with someone?” I tried to sort my thoughts aloud. “He let the whole ‘curse’ thing drop? Is that what that last blog meant?”

  Candy shrugged. “Don’t ask me.”

  There were no more entries after that last one. Had he realized how crazy the whole scenario was? I mean, really, using an egg to transmit a curse through osmosis? Get real. But maybe he had some type of mental illness. He’d mentioned meds and men chasing after him. Was Danielle preying on the weak?

  These were the ramblings of someone who was desperate and needed help.

  They were also the ramblings of someone who waited outside Danielle’s home for her.

  I sighed and leaned back. What did all of this mean? Should I mention it to the police? Lindsey said they’d already investigated the man. The police were competent. If they thought the man was clear, he was clear.

  Right?

  Candy leaned over my shoulder. “Don’t forget who’s coming tonight.”

  “Someone’s coming tonight?”

  “Yeah, my friend with Ghost Chasers.”

  I shook my head, that topic long forgotten. The verses I’d quoted earlier while thinking about Danielle dabbling in the occult came back to me. “I don’t know.”

  “What can it hurt?” Candy’s wide eyes held the promise of adventure.

  Before I could respond, I glanced over her. I screamed as I saw a man’s face smeared against the window there.

  Chapter 24

  A beat-up turquoise-colored minivan void of hubcaps pulled up to my house at seven o’clock. As I stepped outside, the man’s face at my window continued to stain my memory.

  After remaining frozen for a couple of minutes, Candy and I had eventually come to our senses and went outside. By that time, the man was long gone. But who was he? I had no idea. All I had now was one more creepy puzzle piece that didn’t seem to fit anywhere.

  As I helped haul things inside, Cooper stepped outside. My heart sank as Ms. I-Avoid-Conflict-at-All-Cost came face to face with my worst reality. How was I going to explain this?

  “Find a new roommate?” He crossed the lawn and grabbed a blue bin from the stack I carried inside. The air felt thick with humidity and mosquitoes tonight, reminding me more of Miami than St. Paul.

  I shook my head, using my knee to nudge another bin up higher in my arms. “Not quite.”

  “What’s all of this stuff then?” He walked beside me.

  “It’s a long story.” I didn’t have the energy to get into it.

  “We’re ghost hunting tonight,” Candy called from across the lawn.

  My cheeks heated as Cooper’s gaze fell on me. I could always count on Candy.

  Cooper stopped, his lips parting in dumfounded surprise. “You have a ghost hunter coming over? You’re not serious.”

  “It was Candy’s idea.” I cringed, wishing I could take the words back and take responsibility for this little foray into the dark side. After all, I’d given the go-ahead...kind of. “Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I keep hearing noises and finding things moved in my house for no explainable reason. I have new locks. I have a security system. It doesn’t matter. Strange things are still happening.”

  “But a ghost hunter?”

  I wanted to keep my chin raised, but I just couldn’t. My gaze fell to the ground, and I sucked in a deep breath. His intense gaze met mine when I looked up, interrupted only when Candy breezed past me with a box full of wires and gadgets.
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  “I know I should stay away from stuff like this. But I’ve followed all the rules for my entire life and it’s gotten me nowhere. I’ve gotta have some answers. About ghosts. About God. About how I should live and what I should believe.”

  “Let’s go then.” He nodded toward my front door.

  I raised my eyebrows, surprise rushing through me. “You’re coming too?”

  “Yeah, I’m coming too. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Something about staying away from anything that hints of evil...I don’t want to pull you into this mess.”

  He shrugged. “Tara, I’m going to be there so I can watch an exercise in futility. I don’t believe in ghosts. I don’t think your house is haunted, and I want to see how this guy tries to make the evidence look like it is. As far as I’m concerned, this is no different than watching someone search for leprechauns or the Loch Ness monster. Nor do I want you to be taken advantage of by some thrill-seeking con artist.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of discerning for myself when I’m going to be taken advantage of. But you can still stay.” Something about knowing that Cooper would be there made everything seem better, safer, less shifty.

  Cooper helped us carry the rest of the equipment inside, and then Candy’s friend Mickey called us together in my living room. I wasn’t exactly sure what a “Mickey” was supposed to look like, but this guy fit the bill. Thick dark hair that was messy, trendy oversized glasses, skinny jeans that accentuated his slight build, and a Bon Jovi T-shirt. Plus his ears kind of stuck out.

  Cooper and I sat on the couch while Candy and Mickey sat in the two chairs across from us. Everyone looked tight and tense—except Cooper, who looked amused. I needed that.

  But if Cooper was the picture of logic and steadfastness, Candy was the picture of chaos and excitement.

  “Ghosts are creatures of the night.” Mickey pushed his oversized glasses up on his nose and continued to twiddle with his machine on the coffee table between us. “This is a highly sophisticated electronic voice recorder. It will capture any sounds that the human ear may not pick up on. Your ghost may be trying to communicate with us. You might be surprised at the results. Most people are.”