The Good Girl

by Barritt, Christy

  I pointed to another hard-sided case. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a thermal heat monitor that will show us thermal imaging—again, something that’s not visible to the human eye.” Mickey rose and set up his equipment while a torrid stream of questions ran through my mind. I chose one.

  “So you work for that TV show?”

  He glanced up. “I used to.”

  “What did you do for them exactly?”

  “I was a technician. I’m hoping to break out on my own.”

  I stored away that information. Someone who wanted to break out on their own just might be desperate enough for success to interpret results in a certain way.

  “If he’s picked up for his own show, I’m going to be one of the investigators with him.” Candy pulled on some headphones and dramatically pursed her lips. “It’s going to be rad.”

  Cooper looked at me, and I could tell his thoughts were the same as mine. What had I gotten myself into?

  Mickey turned off the lights, and a creepy darkness fell over the room. Shadows loomed all around us, and everything seemed eerily still. I inched a little closer to Cooper, not liking the way a cold sweat had popped over my forehead.

  I turned toward Mickey, trying to ignore that shivers had claimed my muscles. “Is that really necessary?”

  “More than necessary. We’re not going to see or hear anything with the lights on.” He barely glanced at me as he said the words. He was too focused on the ghost hunt.

  Thunder clapped outside, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

  Great. Just what we needed. A spooky storm in the midst of a paranormal investigation. What would my dad say if he knew about this? Hopefully I wouldn’t become a chapter in his next parenting book. Of course, thanks to me, he probably wouldn’t be getting any more book offers for a while.

  Candy grinned. “This is perfect.”

  “Where does most of the ghostly activity seem to take place?” Mickey pushed his glasses up again. He looked me in the eyes this time.

  “My bedroom.” At least, that’s how it seemed to me. “But the living room, also. This is where the shades disappeared. It’s where I hear the floor creaking. But the spare bedroom is where I’ve heard the guitar music.”

  Cooper snapped his head toward me. “Guitar music?”

  “Yeah, I haven’t even told you everything. I thought I’d sound crazy if I did.” Yet here I was with an alleged ghost hunter in my living room. What was crazier? I couldn’t even think about it anymore.

  Lightning lit the room, and I nearly jumped into Cooper’s arms.

  Instead, I rubbed my sleeves, ready to get down to business. “Okay, so what are we doing?”

  “I need everyone to stay still while I get some initial readings on the house. Candy’s going to help me. Remember that negative thoughts can drive away spirits.” He looked at me and Cooper as he said the words.

  “This guy’s a fruit,” Cooper whispered as Mickey disappeared down the hallway. I could feel his breath on my ear, which caused a whole new set of shivers to jiggle down my arms.

  I didn’t turn to look at him because I knew we’d be face to face if I did. Instead, I kept my gaze on the equipment in front of me and shrugged. Every cell in my body seemed alive and aware. “I’m out of ideas.”

  I was. I had no explanation for what had been happening. At least after tonight I could rule one more thing out...right? I felt Cooper shift beside me, and felt some distance separate us. I missed his closeness, but I knew the space was needed.

  “Tell me about the guitar music, Tara.”

  I shifted also, pulling my leg under me as I looked his way. Lightning flashed again, outlining his figure in pale blue light. The perfect man, I thought. Then I reminded myself about the wedding ring he still wore. Any rush of infatuation I felt dissolved. Instead, I filled him in, trying to just stick to the facts.

  “Have you looked for any logical explanations?”

  I swallowed, my throat burning. “Such as?”

  “A hidden music player, maybe remote controlled?”

  “I hadn’t even thought about that.” But I should have. Why hadn’t I thought about that? If someone was trying to scare me, that would be one way of doing it. One very effective way. “If we check now, we’ll get fussed at.”

  “You should have told me. I would have checked it out for you, Tara.”

  My cheeks burned. Of course he would have. He was that kind of guy. But, of course I hadn’t told him, because I was that kind of girl. Too proud to ask for help? Maybe.

  Mickey and Candy came back into the room, chatting about drafts and the AC and how that could affect some of their tests. They joined us in the living room in a little circle. All of the equipment was placed in the center.

  Thunder boomed again, and the shadows seemed even deeper. My imagination was obviously working overtime, because the air just felt heavier to me. It was almost like I could feel a presence around me, even though I knew there was no one there.

  Mickey cleared his throat and grabbed the tape recorder. “I think we’re ready. Let’s start with some questions. We’ll introduce ourselves to any ghosts in the room.” We sat in a circle with the lights out. “Spirits who are dwelling nearby, we come in peace.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes as Mickey continued. His voice sounded so serious, and his expression was so solemn.

  “If you’re here, will you give us a sign?”

  Nothing. Just lightning flashing again, followed by the rumble of thunder.

  “What’s your name?”

  Nothing except a smattering of rain against the roof. So why did my throat feel so dry and achy?

  “Are you a kind spirit?”

  Again, silence followed. This was a waste of time. The only thing speaking to us was the storm.

  “Is there anything you’d like to tell us?”

  I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut any more. “Shouldn’t we take the hint that no one’s talking?”

  “Shh!” Mickey eyebrows formed a V as he scowled at me. “Negative energy will ruin all of this. And we may not hear anything now, but the electronic voice recorder may pick up something.”

  I clamped my mouth shut and finally muttered, “Got it.”

  Mickey’s face drew into serious lines again. He sat as if posed to do yoga, slowly sucking in deep breaths. “Are you the spirit of Danielle Miller?”

  The only sound I heard was Gaga tippity-tapping across the wood floor.

  “Are you trying to tell us who killed you?”

  I was certain a cold breeze swept across the room. Just the AC, I told myself. Just the AC.

  “Who killed you, Danielle? Was it your husband?”

  Eerie silence.

  “Was it Philip Whitehurst?” Candy added.

  Mickey’s gaze roamed the room. “We need a sign. Any kind of sign that you’re here.”

  Thunder clapped outside. The timing had me wound tighter than a spring. I exchanged a glance with Cooper who still looked rather amused by the whole process. This stuff was playing with my head.

  Something crashed downstairs.

  I screamed and grabbed Cooper’s arm. Mickey screamed and grabbed Candy’s arm. Then their eyes lit up and they rushed to their feet. I composed myself and dropped Cooper’s arm, but that didn’t stop my heart from racing—racing because of the crash, not because I’d touched Cooper, of course.

  “We’ve got to go check it out,” Candy muttered. She grabbed Mickey’s hand. “Come on.”

  I didn’t go anywhere. I just stared straight ahead, trying to expel the heebie-jeebies that fell over me. “That was just a coincidence.”

  Cooper nodded. “The power of suggestion. You’re just associating the crash with the ghost hunt.”

  Logical explanation, but... “The timing was impeccable.”

  “The thunder could have knocked something down.”

  I nodded, fear still freezing me. “Right. The thunder.”

  “This really has you
freaked out, doesn’t it?” His arm slipped around me, and he rubbed my shoulders with smoothing precision.

  I couldn’t lie, even though I was tempted. “Yeah, it does. I’m trying to be levelheaded. It’s just not working.”

  Before he could respond, Mickey and Candy came back into the room and held up a picture frame. Mickey grinned as if he’d struck gold. “Fell off the wall. There’s definitely something going on here.” He sat back down, shaking his head in what appeared to be delight. “I think we’re finished with our questions. Now let’s listen to the recording and see if we can hear anything.”

  “Can we turn the lights on for this?” Please say yes. Please say yes.

  Mickey scowled at me again. “I suppose.”

  I rushed to my feet and fumbled with the light switch. Finally, light filled the room. My heart immediately slowed. Everything looked the same. Candy picked up the video camera again but then pulled it away.

  “Actually, will you tape this, Cooper? It might be good if I’m seen on screen.”

  He took the camera. “And I would love not to be seen on screen, so sure.”

  Mickey rewound his recording. “Are you guys ready for this?” Any minute now I expected him to rub his hands together and cackle like a witch out of Macbeth.

  Just then, lightning flashed, electrifying the air. It electrified my nerves, which were already charged with adrenaline. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I mumbled.

  He hit play and his voice came over the recording, filling the room.

  “Spirits who are dwelling nearby, we come in peace. If you’re here, will you give us a sign? What’s your name? Are you a kind spirit? Is there anything you’d like to tell us?”

  He hit stop and breathlessly looked up at us. “Did you hear that?”

  My eyes widened as I wondered what I was missing. “Hear what?”

  “The spirit spoke.” There was enough conviction in his voice to nearly convince me.

  “I didn’t hear anything.” Cooper still held the camera, looking more than happy to escape the mess around him.

  Mickey rewound the recording. “Listen again.”

  His recorded voice filled the room again. “Is there anything you’d like to tell us?”

  Candy straightened. Lightning illuminated her face again. “I heard it! It sounded like ‘I’m still here.’”

  “Candy, you’re just saying that because that’s what the note said!” My voice rose in accusation, and I tried to bring its pitch down.

  She pointed to the recorder. “Play it again! You’ll hear it too!”

  I heard static. It could be the recording. It could have been Gaga walking around in the background. It could have been anything.

  The fourth time Mickey played, I almost convinced myself I did hear I’m still here. The power of suggestion, I told myself. It’s just the power of suggestion.

  Mickey shook his head. “Let’s keep going.”

  He pressed play again. “Are you the spirit of Danielle Miller? Are you trying to tell us who killed you? Who killed you, Danielle? Was it your husband? Was it Philip Whitehurst?”

  Static rang out through the speaker again.

  “Did you hear that? Did you hear it?” Mickey practically jumped on my couch in a moment to rival Tom Cruise. Yep, he was crazy all right.

  I shook my head. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  Mickey bounced up and down like a kid at in a toy store. “It was a clear ‘yes’! It was there. She was speaking to us! Danielle Miller is speaking to us!”

  “Come on. That could have been anything. We could have been picking up a frequency from somewhere else, from one of the neighbor’s houses.” Cooper started to lower the camera when Candy waved her hands in the air as if nudging the device back up.

  “It was a yes. I can’t believe you can argue with that.” Mickey’s nostrils flared as he stared at us. I wasn’t sure if he was passionate or desperate in his pursuit, nor was I one-hundred-percent sure I’d heard a yes.

  He wiped his brow with the tail of his shirt. “Let me show you this. It will convince you.” He plugged his video camera into the TV. A moment later, fluorescent images of Lana’s house came on the screen. He pointed to an orange blur in the center of the scene, on the wall in the basement. “This is called a heat image. This means that there’s some kind of life form right there. We can rule out any animals or people. That just leaves a spirit.”

  Again, I shivered. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to believe any of this. But was the evidence telling me otherwise?

  Cooper cast me a sideways glance, his skepticism apparent and serving to ward away some of my fears for a moment.

  Mickey turned the TV off and stared at me.

  I cleared my throat, ready to wrap this evening up. “So what are your conclusions?” I dared to ask the question.

  Mickey looked me dead in the eye. “My conclusion is that you have a spirit inhabiting this house, waiting to ascend into the afterworld. From what you’ve told me, I believe this spirit wants something and that her haunting will only escalate until she gets whatever that something is.”

  Chapter 25

  Mickey left at one a.m., but Candy didn’t seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere. I had to admit that my adrenaline was pumping, and I was sure sleep wouldn’t find me any time soon—if at all—tonight. Between the experiments and the suggestions that a spirit did live here, it would be another restless night.

  I began turning on as many lights as I could, anxious to ward away some of my tense muscles and my jumpy reflexes. Ghost or no ghost, that was just plain spooky. Cooper didn’t seem at all frazzled as he leaned back on the couch, the slight tilt of his lips almost making him look amused. Candy, on the other hand, paced the room as if trying to keep up with her thoughts.

  “That was one of the coolest things ever. I can totally see myself being on a TV show like this. I was working on my expressions.” She widened her eyes, parted her lips and held her hands up by her face. “What do you think? Surprised? Too over the top?”

  I chuckled as I sat on the couch next to Cooper—not right next to him, mind you. A respectable distance away. “You’re over the top, Candy. But I love you anyway.”

  Candy paused by the front door. “Something is definitely going on here. The question is: What kind of secret does this house have? What is it trying to tell us?”

  Even hearing her question made me tense. “Why do you think this house is hiding something?”

  She shrugged. “Everyone has a secret.”

  I cringed. “Everyone?”

  Candy’s eyebrow shot up and half of her lip curled in a smile. She plopped down on the chair across from us. “Yeah, everyone. Even you, Tara. What’s your secret?”

  I shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable and trying to think of an excuse to hide under the couch. Going into the basement with my ghost even seemed a better option. Instead, I choose redirection. “If you’re so certain, what’s your secret, Candy?”

  Her smile slipped, and then she reached for her hairline. The next thing I knew, she pulled her hair off. Or, her wig off, I supposed. Underneath the blue was a smooth, totally hairless head. I blinked in surprise, not sure what to say.

  “No, I don’t have cancer. That’s always everyone’s first question. I have an autoimmune disease called alopecia. I don’t have a strand of hair on my body. Anywhere.” The normal playfulness in her voice disappeared.

  “Wow. I had no idea.”

  “Most people don’t. Most people haven’t even heard of the disease. But it’s out there, and it’s real. I’ve got it. I’m officially a hairdresser without hair.”

  I stared at her head. She actually looked quite lovely with no hair. She had the even, balanced features to make it work. “When were you diagnosed?”

  “When I was nineteen. I had clumps of hair falling out, and we didn’t know what was going on. At first, I tried everything I could think of to cover up my bald spots. I felt so ashamed and ugly and embarrassed. Finally, I
shaved the remainder of my hair off and decided to wear some funky wigs instead. I’m not ashamed anymore, but I do like my blue hair.”

  I was liking Candy more and more as the real parts of her became apparent. I couldn’t say she was someone I would have ever hung out with in Miami. No, I’d hung out with people who were like me. But Candy didn’t pull any punches. She didn’t try to be someone she wasn’t. She was just herself, like it or hate it.

  Candy looked at Cooper. “How about you? What are you hiding?”

  He leaned back against the couch and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Oh, come on,” Candy prodded.

  He was silent for a moment before nodding and leaning forward. “Okay, okay. I do have a secret. I don’t tell very many people about a hobby I have.”

  My curiosity was pricked. “Do tell.”

  His gaze bounced from Candy to me and then back again. “I actually have a collection of animatronics animals in my basement.” He moved his arms in a robotic motion, ending with a stiff wave.

  I blinked, unsure what to say. I knew Ben Cooper was too good to be true. I knew he had to have some kind of terrible secret. Animatronics animals fit the bill.

  I pictured his basement, filled with little moving and dancing stuffed animals. I pictured him downstairs, delighting in each of them. A wiggle of disbelief traveled down my spine and into my stomach. That was a terrible, terrible secret. Almost as terrible as mine. Well, not really, but still.

  I looked up and saw him staring at me. Slowly, a smile cracked his face. “Just kidding.”

  A laugh began in my throat and turned into an all-out, hold-your-belly bellow. He was joking. Thank goodness he was joking.

  “Very funny, Ben Cooper.” Candy wiped under her eyes where tears had escaped with her laughter. After one last chuckle, she forced a scowl. “Now tell us a real secret.”

  He shifted, still leaning forward on his elbows with that familiar sparkle in his eyes. “Okay, for real this time. I used to be a B-Boy.”