The Good Girl

by Barritt, Christy

  Winnie pulled the door open a moment later. The scent of cinnamon drifted out, and flour coated her checkered apron. The same pleasant grin that was always present there still today as she wiped her hands on a dishtowel.

  I forced a smile, realizing I wanted to burst into tears. I couldn’t do that, though. Instead, I extended my hand and offered her the sweatshirt and note. “Winnie, I’ve got to take off. I know that Cooper’s picking up Austin, but I wanted to return his sweatshirt and ask him to take care of the dog for me. Could you give it to him for me?”

  She frowned and pushed her tiny glasses higher. “He’s sure going to be disappointed if you don’t tell him good-bye.”

  I shook my head, remembering Cooper’s kiss and our connection. Even if he believed my innocence, he’d never forgive me for keeping the secret from him. “I’m not so sure about that, Winnie.”

  “He’s come to care deeply about you, you know. I can see it in his eyes.” Her voice sounded so sincere and wise that I almost believed her.

  “It’s better if I stay away. I don’t want to mess up anyone else’s life.” My chin trembled as I said the words, but I kept it raised.

  “He’s a good judge of character, you know. He knows you didn’t do anything.”

  So she had heard? My cheeks heated, but I reminded myself that I had nothing to be embarrassed about. “You know?”

  “It’s been all over Facebook, darling.” A motherly look of compassion stained her gaze as she tilted her head at me.

  I pushed a hair behind my ear. “I didn’t do it.”

  “I know.” Her voice didn’t waver, nor did she flinch as she said the words.

  My breath caught. “How do you know?”

  “Gut feeling. I don’t know you that well, Tara, but I think it’s terrible what happened to you.” Her voice—although high-pitched—was steady and honest.

  “Thank you, Winnie.” My voice sounded strained, even to my own ears.

  “You can let this experience break you, or you can let it make you stronger.”

  I nodded, my throat burning. I started to walk away when she called me back.

  “Tara, one more thing I wanted to mention to you.”

  I turned around to look at her plump figure in the doorway. “What’s that?”

  She shifted, slinging the dishtowel over her opposite shoulder. “I was talking to an old friend who used to live in the neighborhood. We were reminiscing about the old days. She reminded me of an old rumor that used to circulate in the neighborhood.”

  “Okay...” I stepped closer so I could hear her better.

  Her gaze latched on to mine. “It has to do with your house.”

  My spine straightened, and I was suddenly interested. “I’m all ears.”

  “Apparently, two sisters built houses side by side after they got married. This was back in the day when nuclear war was a big fear. Rumor used to be that there was a tunnel that used to connect their basements. They boarded the tunnel up because of city codes and such. But that tunnel might still be there.” Wrinkles formed around her mouth as her lips came together.

  Things began clicking in my mind. A tunnel? Connected to the house next door? “Thanks, Winnie. That does help.”

  On second thought, I did need to tie up some loose ends before I left. I was going to put an end to this mystery after all.

  ~*~

  Before I even got back to my house, I turned my phone on. I ignored the eleven voicemail messages and uncountable missed calls as I dialed Candy’s number. Maybe there was a way to make things right, to undo any damage my secret had caused, and to put this ghost in the grave for good.

  “Candy, do you want something to film?” I unlocked the door and stepped inside this house that seemed to remind me of everything that was wrong in the world. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t even shudder, not even when I saw the remains of the blood-like threat left on the wall.

  “Bermuda?” Surprise tinged her voice.

  I closed the door and leaned against it, not ready to go on any solo adventures. Not yet. At least, not until I told someone where my body could be found if something went terribly wrong. “Yeah, it’s me, the island. But I don’t want to be one of those anymore.” I didn’t have time to go into those details right now, though. “Candy, I’ve got something for your video blog. Are you interested?”

  She paused. “I am.”

  I braced myself before asking the next question. “Are you willing to hang around me and possibly tarnish your reputation?”

  “What’s there to tarnish? And, no offense Tara, but any video with you in it is bound to get me more attention. For the record, I think you’re cool. I don’t think you would do any of those things.”

  “Thanks, Candy.” My muscles nearly sagged with relief.

  “Mark is the one who told the media, you know. I think that’s the main reason they wanted to film me yesterday. They wanted the scoop on you. Mark’s a jerk. He’s just mad because you rejected him, and he never gets rejected.”

  “I’m still sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Maybe God is trying to teach me a few things, also. Like don’t always seek so much attention.”

  “Candy, I need your help. I need you to come over here with your video camera. We’re going to figure out this ghost one way or another.”

  I had a feeling I knew exactly who this ghost was. Now I just had to prove it.

  ~*~

  The doorbell rang at seven o’clock. I pulled open the door, and a balmy summer breeze wafted inside, along with the sound of crickets and cars passing by on the highway. It seemed so normal, though nothing was normal.

  Candy and Mickey stood on the stoop. My eyes met Candy’s, and I waited to see condemnation. I saw nothing but her normal mischievous sparkle.

  She popped her gum and nodded toward Mickey. “He’s going to videotape for us.”

  I ushered them inside, wishing Cooper was with them. But it was better that he wasn’t. I’d come clean and now it was time for a clean break.

  Clean, I thought. Clean hands, clean heart.

  I turned to Mickey, and my voice sounded halfway apologetic when I told him, “I don’t think we’re going to find any ghosts.”

  He shrugged, looking like a beanpole in his extra-tight skinny jeans and form-fitting T-shirt. “That’s okay. Anything horrific will do.”

  I motioned to them. “Follow me.”

  No way was I going to do this alone. I led them through the living room, into the kitchen, and down the basement stairs.

  “Can you make this a live feed to your video blog, Candy?” I asked over my shoulder.

  “Why would I want to?”

  “Just in case anything happens. I want evidence.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re kind of freaking me out.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No, I like it. That said, no, I can’t make this live. I don’t have that kind of technology yet.”

  I paused once we cleared the stairs and turned toward them. “Where did you say you saw that burst of energy down here when you used your thermal heat monitor?”

  Mickey went to the wall, waved his hands in the air for a moment, before finally pausing between the treadmill and the washing machine. “Right here.”

  I approached the area and knelt down and ran my finger over the floor. Could the low-pile carpet feel so clean because something had scraped across it recently? I stood and ran my hands over the walls, looking for something, anything.

  “What are you doing?” Candy stared at me like I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had.

  I turned toward her. “Rumor has it that there’s a tunnel that runs between this house and the one next door. I think I know how our ghost is getting in without being detected.”

  Mickey snorted. “That’s crazy. Who builds a tunnel between two houses?”

  That was crazy but ghosts weren’t?

  “A father who’s worried about his two daughters and the threat of nuclear war.” I continued
feeling along the wall. “I just can’t figure out how it would open.” Wood paneling ran up and down the walls. Did one of them come off?

  “May I try something?” Mickey asked.

  “Sure.” I stepped back. What if I asked them over for nothing? No, I couldn’t think like that.

  He knocked on the walls until he found a space with a hollow echo behind it. Then, using his fingernails, he reached into the crevice and brought his arms toward him. Slowly, the wall moved. I held my breath, waiting to see if someone—or something—would jump out on the other side. He kept pulling until a dark space came into view.

  Chills raced over me. “Wow.”

  Candy nodded. “Yeah, wow. That’s just creepy.”

  We all looked at one another for a minute.

  “Ladies first.” Mickey extended his hand and held up the camera with the other. “Besides, I need to be at the back of the group to film this.”

  “Okay, okay. This is my mess. I’ll go first.” I grabbed a flashlight and stepped into the tunnel. The walls were lined with wood—not exactly protective in the event of nuclear war, but interesting nonetheless. Candy and Mickey followed behind me. The dank, earthy smell of the enclosed space filled my nostrils.

  “This is straight out of a movie crazy. How could Lana not know about this?” Candy’s gaze looked almost childlike. She crept along behind me.

  “I guess after the sisters moved, they didn’t feel the need to tell anyone.”

  Candy glanced back at Mickey. “Are you getting all of this?”

  He held his thumb in the air.

  “Well, someone knew about this. They were using this tunnel to get in and out.” I had a feeling Candy was saying that for the camera more than for us. Her voice had even changed into her “entertainment” octave, a few steps below her normal speaking range.

  I shined the light in the distance. “Look, there’s the other house.

  Suddenly, all the light from my basement disappeared.

  Someone had just locked us in.

  Chapter 34

  Darkness sank over the space, surrounding us, suffocating us. My breathing became labored and heavy as my pulse throbbed in my ears.

  I swung my flashlight toward the door. The light illuminated a figure there. I gasped as a pale woman came into view—the same woman I’d seen from Winnie’s house. She wore a long, white nightgown. Her skin was white, her hair powdery, her eyes hollow and her face expressionless.

  “Danielle...” Candy whispered. She clutched my arm.

  “Can you say ‘big break’?” Mickey’s camera was aimed right at the woman.

  I gathered my wits and shook my head. “That’s not Danielle. It’s our friendly neighborhood psychic, Susan West or, as she’s more commonly known, Miss Mystic.”

  At once, the woman’s expression changed from hollow to devious. I halfway expected her to mumble, And I would have gotten away with it if it hadn’t been for you meddling kids. Instead, she reached into the folds of her flowing white nightgown and emerged with a gun.

  My gun.

  I knew I shouldn’t have had a gun, for a reason just like this—I was unlucky.

  I raised my hands, hoping to calm her down. “There’s no reason to pull that out. We’re all stuck down here with nowhere to go.”

  Reason. I could reason with this woman, couldn’t I? Did I have any other options, other than being shot and killed?

  “This is one murder the police will give me credit for solving.” All trace of Miss Mystic’s accent was gone. She stepped closer, that gun still aimed at us. She was close enough that I could see the devious glean in her eyes. “Tragic that your little boyfriend snapped and killed all three of you.”

  Cooper? She was going to frame this on Cooper?

  Even more resolve and determination built in me. I didn’t have anything to lose. I’d reached the bottom of my pit, and I had nowhere to go but up. But I wasn’t going to let Cooper’s life be ruined by this.

  “There’s no way Cooper will be blamed for this. No way.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “He just arrived home. He dropped off his son and came here.” She pointed that gun at me again. “You wrote a note that the police find, detailing boyfriend’s temper. He’s mad at you. You were around his son with your reputation. He was furious.”

  Her words washed over me. She was going to say Cooper killed us because he was angry after he found out about the allegations? What other evidence would there be? Him knocking at the door, trying to get to me? A note she would try to make me write? His prints might be on the gun from when he’d taken it from me. Would that be enough to convict him? I wasn’t sure. I knew one thing—I would never, ever make a false allegation against someone. Never.

  Think, Tara. Think.

  We had this video. But would she figure out a way to erase it.

  I sensed Candy behind me. What was she doing?

  Hope surged through me as I realized that the woman who had the amazing ability to type with one hand with her eyes closed was updating her social media sites. No way would Miss Mystic get away with this.

  Score one for social media, and the one and only iCandy.

  “Put the camera down.” Miss Mystic sneered at Mickey and pointed the gun his way.

  “All right. All right. Don’t shoot me, and I won’t shoot you.” He lowered the camera to the ground.

  I sensed Candy putting away her phone, which she’d concealed behind me. Nicely played, Candy. Nicely played.

  Miss Mystic tossed some rope at Mickey. “Tie your friends up.”

  He raised his hands in the air, all his urban coolness working in our favor and against Miss Mystic. Score another one for us. “I don’t know how to tie people up.”

  “Figure it out!” Her voice sounded screechy and high-pitched, like a woman on edge.

  I found comfort in knowing that she wouldn’t get away with this, but I found grief in knowing that I might die in the process. No, she wouldn’t frame this on Cooper. The mere thought had been one only someone in a deranged and desperate state of mind might conjure up.

  “Okay, okay,” Mickey mumbled. He grabbed the rope and turned toward Candy. “I’m sorry, Candy.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I couldn’t see Candy, but I knew she was rolling her eyes.

  I had to use every moment. “Danielle was about to report you to the police because you were defrauding your clients—and I’m not talking about defrauding in the normal psychic way. You could have gotten arrested.”

  She sneered again. “You think you’re so smart.”

  “I saw Philip Whitehurst’s blog entries. At first I thought he was talking about Danielle, but you were the psychic who made him buy the egg and the candles. You were totally exploiting someone with a mental illness. Philip went to Danielle for help, and she was about to go to the police. She confronted you about it, and you killed her.”

  “Nice work, Sherlock,” Candy mumbled, her lips twisted in discomfort as Mickey tied the rope at her wrists.

  “Then you had a brilliant idea that you could use this to your advantage. You could frame Jeremy Miller. They were having problems anyway, so it wouldn’t be so hard to give him motive. But someone moved the body. I still don’t know whom. So when you told the police where Jeremy had left the body—which was really where you’d left the body—you thought you would get accolades for your abilities. But the body wasn’t there. Someone had moved it. The police were just annoyed with you for wasting their time, and they weren’t about to give you another chance.”

  Miss Mystic scowled. “You think you’re so smart.”

  “Then it was the anniversary of Danielle’s death, so you thought it was time to revisit her murder. You’d kept the murder weapon. You knew about this tunnel because your client is the real estate agent selling the house next door. She’d told you about it, and you knew you had an opportunity. Somehow you got a copy of the key, and you set your plan into action.

  “You planted the bloody knife in a place wher
e police might argue they could have missed it two years ago. You gave me hints like the weapon was underfoot. You would have probably given me more hints, but when Candy dropped my sister’s ring down that vent, you didn’t have to anymore.” I stared at the gun. This woman had killed before. She could kill again. Could I keep talking until the police got here? Exactly what had Candy posted? I had to have confidence in my friend that she’d posted something wise and usable.

  Miss Mystic sneered. “I get my moment. One way or another, I get the credit I deserve.”

  “Credit for killing someone?”

  “Stop talking.” She pointed her gun at Mickey. “Tie her up. Now.”

  “So you’re going to shoot us, leave us down here, and have a vision about it that you’ll share with the police. You’ll never get away with this.” I cringed as Mickey tightened the rope around my wrists. Once I was tied up, what would I do?

  As I glanced down at Mickey’s camera, I noticed a light still on. Was he recording all of this still? Brilliant.

  All of the sudden, I saw the hidden door move ever-so-slightly. The light in the basement had been turned off, and the only illumination was from my flashlight. But someone was there. Who?

  At once, someone tackled Miss Mystic. She slammed to the ground, the gun skittering across the floor. I swooped down and picked it up, grateful that Mickey was not a Boy Scout. My hand trembled as I realized at that very moment how very much I hated guns.

  I snatched my flashlight and shined the light upward.

  Cooper. He kept a knee on Miss Mystic’s back, pinning her in place as she mumbled literal curses at us.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  I nodded, just as the lights came on in the basement and police officers filled the space.

  Yeah, I was more than okay.

  By the grace of God, I was alive—inside and out.

  ~*~

  The last three hours had been spent with the police. Everyone was sequestered at my place, being questioned. We had everything on video, so the police could do very little to dispute how events had played out—not that there was any reason they’d want to dispute it.