by Lotta Smith
“‘Find me’? No way. I didn’t say that.” The ghost of a drag queen firmly shook her head, prompting her long, platinum-blonde hair to dance as if each strand had its own will. “If I really needed to be found, I’d scream so I’d be heard.”
“Hmm… okay.” I knitted my eyebrows. She had a point, but if that were the case, what was the voice about? Did I develop some kind of mental illness that made me hear voices in my head?
“Don’t forget, I’m a stage actor,” Jackie went on. “For your information, we actors are notorious for our strong lungs and even stronger vocal cords, making one heck of a noise whenever we want to. You want to hear how loud I can speak?”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I can imagine that without your performance.”
Then Rick muttered, “What the hell?”
“It’s just I heard some strange voice. I thought Jackie was pulling a prank on me, but she says she wasn’t.” I wasn’t sleepy anymore, and my eyelids that had been yearning to be closed had decided to go their separate ways.
“No. I wasn’t talking about your conversation with Jackie.” His voice sounded off, as if something wasn’t right. “It’s just I’ve already passed this neighborhood.”
“Oh?” I looked out the window.
“Hmm… that signboard for a knitting and sewing shop looks familiar,” Jackie commented. “So does the church behind it.”
“You’re right. It looks like we’re circling around the same neighborhood,” I agreed. “That church looks a little creepy.”
“I know.” Rick frowned. “If I recall it right, that’s the church a young girl named Stella vanished from.”
“You mean Stella Daniels?” I asked.
“Yeah, that’s her.” He nodded.
Eight-year-old Stella Daniels was last seen playing in the church’s garden seven months ago with her friend Jenny. Jenny had decided to run home to get her robot, Stormy. When she returned to the church five minutes later, Stella wasn’t there.
At first, Jenny thought Stella went home to get some of her toys to play with, but she didn’t come back. When Stella’s mom called Jenny’s home at dinnertime, they realized that Stella was missing. Immediately, the police, FBI, and the local residents launched a search with dogs and everything, but found no sign of her. Not even the girl’s belongings, much less her body, had been recovered. Her parents had offered a reward for any information leading to their daughter’s discovery, but according to the news reports, the investigation had come up empty.
“I’m supposed to take a right turn here to come out to the road leading to the highway.” Rick took the right, and….
“Oh my God,” I muttered. The same “Bond’s Knitting, Sewing and Crafts” signboard popped up before my eyes. I grew a little nervous, wondering what if we were trapped in some kind of air pocket in the midst of distorted space-time.
“Bond’s Knitting…,” I murmured, recalling the voice. It had uttered something like “bond.” At that time, I thought about the financial term, as in bonds and stocks, but the voice could have meant a person’s name.
“All right then.” Rick clenched his jaw and tried to steer the wheel to the right. Again the car stumbled upon the same pathway with the same “Bond’s Knitting, Sewing and Crafts” signboard.
“We’re back to square one,” Jackie gasped.
“Fine.” Rick harrumphed. “Let’s take a different route.” Shrugging, he tried to take a left turn.
“Don’t.” I touched his arm.
“What?” He glanced at me.
“Can you stop the car?”
He didn’t look convinced, but he agreed and parked the vehicle on the side of the road.
I stepped out and stared up at the signboard that was almost covering the entire second floor of the building on our right. As I examined the letters B, O, N, D, I found myself more and more convinced that the voice I’d caught previously had said “bond” in her small, pleading tone.
Then I heard the voice again. “Please… someone….”
“Did you hear that?” Jackie’s eyes widened.
“Yes, I did.” I nodded anxiously.
You did what?” Rick asked, stepping up beside me and twirling a strand of my hair with his nimble fingers.
“Jackie and I heard a voice. It’s a really small, sad voice that sounds like a girl,” I explained.
“You mean like Stella?” He tilted his head to the side.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But the voice is begging us to ‘Come and find me.’” I looked into his mesmerizing eyes that appeared green in the daylight, but under the twilight, they were darker than usual.
“I have a feeling that Stella’s near here,” Jackie chimed in. “It could be someone else, but even so, someone’s needing to be found.”
“Okay,” Rick agreed after I relayed her words, furrowing his eyebrows. “So, what’s next?”
“For starters, can you smash the car into that knitting and sewing shop?
“Oka—what did you just say?” He pulled me closer, looking into my eyes as if he couldn’t believe what I’d just said.
“I asked you to smash into the knitting shop, pretending you’ve lost control of the car.”
“Are you insane?” he snapped. “By any chance, have you forgotten that we’re driving a new car?” He stroked the brand new black Lamborghini.
“I haven’t.” I winked. “Good thing you’re driving an SUV. This is going to crack the shop open really good.”
“Seriously?” He grimaced as if he’d just ingested something truly vile and gross.
“Yes, I’m serious,” I said. “Besides, suppose we’re stuck here forever. Getting a scratch on your new car would be the least of our problems, don’t you think?”
Rick crossed his arms, but after a moment of silence, he said, “Fine. Stay outside while I crash my new car.”
“I? As in only you?” By the time I finished speaking, he’d already hopped into the Lamborghini. With the roar of the engine, followed by a loud screech, the car literally smashed into the knitting shop’s entrance. The glass door of the shop shattered, along with the furniture, and the merchandise scattered all over the place.
On top of all that, about a third of the Lamborghini was stuck inside the shop. Still, the car itself looked relatively undamaged. Despite the crash, there were only a few small scratches with no apparent dents.
“Rick, are you all right?” I scurried toward the car.
“Peachy.” The car door popped open and Rick hopped out, pushing the airbag out of his way.
“What the hell is going on?” a man demanded as he rushed down the stairs. He was probably in his mid-twenties and wearing a U2 sweatshirt. “What the hell have you done to my home?”
I glanced at Jackie, who nodded and went upstairs without Mr. U2 Sweatshirt noticing.
“I guess I screwed up with the steering. My apologies,” Rick said through his clenched teeth. He sounded really unhappy. Perhaps that had something to do with his car being still new. “Look, I smell gas. Perhaps the impact of the crash mangled the pipes.”
“What?” A hint of panic appeared in the man’s small eyes.
“Is there anyone else here in this building?” I asked.
“Mom’s in the bedroom in the corner of the downstairs,” U2 mumbled as Jackie came down like she was channeling an osprey.
“You’ve got to help her evacuate,” I said. “You might have a fire.”
“Oh my God! You’ve got to come and rescue her!” Jackie said breathlessly. “There’s this young girl trapped inside a caged room! Can you believe it? This is so horrible!”
“She’s here,” I whispered to Rick before running up the stairs.
I caught U2 yelling, “Hey, don’t bother with the upstairs! No one’s there!” But then someone yelled something, and he yelled back, “It’s okay! I’m on my way!”
Then his footsteps went away from us.
On that floor, there were three doors.
“This is where she’s being held pri
soner!” Jackie shot to the one in the deepest corner. I followed her. “I’m not sure if she’s Stella, but someone’s being kept there like an animal. Obviously she didn’t confine herself by her own will.”
The door was locked. “Jackie says this is where the girl is being kept.” I looked at Rick, who had rushed up the stairs behind me.
“Fine. Why don’t you step back.”
With a single kick, the wooden door burst open. Under the dimmed lights, a young girl clad in a dirty T-shirt and sweatpants was shivering, her arms around her knees.
Her cheeks were smudged with what looked like coagulated dirt, sweat, and tears, and her hair was caked with oily grime. She glanced at Rick, but immediately averted her eyes away from him.
“Oh, poor girl. She’s scared.” Jackie frowned and flew over to her. “Hello? My name is Jackie, and this is Mandy and Rick. We’re here to help you out, so rest assured.”
The girl didn’t seem to hear her, but the tension in her shoulders eased slightly.
“Mandy, you’ll want to do the talking,” Rick whispered into my ear, his voice low and steady, but the anger was hard to miss. Just by looking at her appearance and demeanor, I could tell the man had been abusing her badly.
“Is that you, Stella?” I asked the girl.
She raised her face in what appeared to be a mixture of shock, panic, and… a slice of hope.
“Yes! I’m Stella Daniels!” Her voice was unexpectedly loud and strong.
“I’m Mandy, and this is Rick. We’re here to hel—”
“Leave her alone!” Before I got to finish the sentence, U2 was there, holding a shotgun with the barrel pointing at us.
“Come on, easy.” Rick raised his hands. “We can work it out without anyone getting hurt.”
“Don’t shit me, and don’t move,” U2 warned him. Stella and I froze. The guy’s hands were visibly shaking, and he seemed ready to shoot a round or two. Even if he was sensible enough not to shoot voluntarily—with full disclosure, “sensible” didn’t top the list of words I’d use to describe him—the gun looked prone to go off at any moment.
“Relax,” Rick said.
“Yes, this U2 guy should really chill.” Jackie nodded like a bobblehead. “Or else he could end up doing something really, really terrible.” When our eyes met, she added, “Not that I’m saying his monstrous treatment of poor Stella is acceptable, but I just fear something waaaay worse than abducting a child and treating her like some kind of pet.”
As the ghost of a drag queen babbled, Rick went on. “You don’t want to end up killing all of us. Think about the mess and the resulting nuisance of getting rid of the bloodstains and our bodies. Disposing of a body is one thing, but disposing of three of them is a totally different story. If you keep the bodies here, they’ll start to rot, making one hell of a foul smell, and you’ll have maggots and other gross creatures all over the place. Believe me, you want to reconsider what you’re doing. And plus, your mom will be so upset.”
The moment he mentioned the mom, U2’s gaze slightly averted from us. Rick didn’t miss it.
In a split second, he rushed U2, and before he could do anything with the shotgun, Rick’s knee slammed into his groin. U2’s face froze, turning purple.
“Ouch! That would really hurt!” Jackie flinched. “You have no idea about the pain of having your ding-dong whacked.”
“Okay, you have a point,” I agreed as I watched Rick twist the shotgun away from our direction. The weirdest part was that U2 was still clutching it, and as Rick jerked the gun, U2’s fingers made this sickening noise that sounded like fat pretzels crunching.
U2’s screams made Stella shiver more violently. But he wasn’t strong enough to cling to the shotgun when his fingers were visibly broken. Rick pulled the shotgun back and smashed the butt of it into U2’s nose.
“Ahh….” U2 let out an incoherent gasp and collapsed on the spot.
“Good job!” Jackie gave him a thumbs-up.
“That was great!” I said. Then I turned to Stella. “Like I said, we’re here to help you.”
“Thank you!” A small smile appeared on her face.
“Now, let’s get out of this hellhole,” Rick beckoned us.
“Okay. Stella, are you hurt? Can you stand up?” I asked the young girl.
“I’m dirty, but I’m not hurt.” Stella stood up, clasping my hand.
“Okay, let’s go.” Holding my arm that Stella wasn’t clinging to, Rick ushered us outside.
I caught the sound of police sirens in the distance. Maybe someone in the neighborhood had reported the car accident. Soon, the squad cars were lined up around the place.
It was dark and the winds in the late evening were cold and fierce. Before approaching the police officers, Rick took off his coat and handed it to me. “Keep Stella warm, okay?”
“Of course. Consider it done.” I helped Stella put it around her small, delicate frame.
“Thanks.” She smiled up at Rick. “Thank you so much!”
When he nodded, saying, “You’re very welcome,” I was reminded that I’d indeed tied the knot with my true Mr. Right. Also, I was positively convinced that he’d make a great dad when the time came.
“Mandy, why are you grinning?” Jackie asked.
“Well, I was thinking about…,” I replied, trailing off when I remembered I wasn’t alone.
“Who are you talking to?” Stella asked.
“You asked me why I was grinning, right?” I answered.
“No, I didn’t.” She shook her head.
“Oh… really?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “But I heard someone asking you about grinning.”
“Oh my God, did she just hear my voice?” Jackie gasped.
“Wow, are you sure?” My eyes widened. “Did you see the person who was talking to me?”
“I can’t see her, but I think the person is a nice, kind lady.” She tilted her head, considering her words before continuing. “The funny thing is I think I heard her voice before you and Rick came to rescue me. It’s really weird, but I’m sure an angel found me. Maybe this angel whispered in your ear about me, prompting you to crash the car into this building.”
“Wow, how fabulous is that?” I exclaimed, discreetly flashing a thumbs-up at Jackie.
“It is!” Jackie squealed.
CHAPTER 2
The first few days of the next week were totally chaotic. The disappearance of Stella Daniels itself was a high-profile case, but her discovery prompted by an accidental car crash made it even higher profile.
My phone never stopped beeping, as the people who were aware of my skill of talking to dead people kept calling, digging for juicy details. Thankfully, the number of people who knew that it was me who actually found her was limited. I’m not complaining; indeed, Rick and I had made an arrangement to keep my profile low and stealthy.
USCAB’s Paranormal Cases Division was a secret section available only to select clients with super-huge contracts. Due to the fact that I’m the only agent with USCAB who can communicate with dead people, we couldn’t have a large number of clients requesting paranormal services.
Anyway, when asked about what caused his Lamborghini to smash into that knitting shop building, Rick told the officers that he’d lost control of his steering wheel—as if some invisible force had meddled with his driving.
In the beginning, making it a freak accident was our initial plan, and his explanation for the accident was supposed to stay between the police and us. But when the part about the “invisible force taking control of the car so the abducted girl would be found” was leaked to the press, the situation became unmanageable.
Indeed, having Rick in the limelight as the guy who miraculously discovered the girl who was missing for seven months, guided by an invisible power, upgraded the case into something worthy of national press coverage. Thanks to his good looks, which once had him elected as one of the Most Eligible Bachelors in Manhattan, and his social status as the COO and sole
heir of USCAB, the PR department had not just a field day but multiple field days. Overall, Rick’s appearance on primetime TV shows turned out to be way better than airing commercials during the Super Bowl. As a result, USCAB gained a ton of new clients, including the demographic of people categorized as the least likely potential clients.
The fiasco continued until a famed British rock band’s front man, who had mysteriously disappeared twenty years before, suddenly emerged, claiming he’d been abducted by a group of aliens and had been entrapped in outer space on Planet Zou, and grabbed the whole nation’s attention as the next “it” guy. According to him, he had been sexually assaulted by the aliens repeatedly and the experience was absolutely traumatic, but he looked somewhat happy when one of the major movie studios offered to buy his story for millions of dollars.
It was afternoon on Thursday, and I was sitting at my desk in my office, taking in the unobstructed view of the Manhattan skyline and the ocean spreading out from the edge of the land.
“This is the life! I love spending time in my office alone,” I muttered to myself, enjoying every bit of the spacious office and the pieces of high-end furniture.
“Are you serious?” Jackie popped up from out of nowhere. “I thought you totally adored spending time with your husband.”
“I do. But I love spending alone time in my office as much as I do being with Rick,” I replied. “By the way, you don’t have to remind me about this place being mostly Rick’s office.” My half of the office consisted of a desk, chair, computer, and phone installed in a corner.
“Okay. Hey, don’t look at me like that woman who spoils everyone’s fun by pointing out the obvious.” Grinning, she threw her arms up in the air. “I share your passion for the reality TV featuring Manhattan’s hottest businesswomen. And with full disclosure, I do mutter things like ‘Oh gosh, I love it when Rick is out at a meeting and Mandy is on a snack run.’ I love pretending to be the hottest businesswoman in the city.”
“I know. Who doesn’t?” We exchanged conspiratorial glances.
All of a sudden, my phone rang, prompting me to gasp a little and Jackie to laugh out loud.
“Mandy, girlfriend, you really must change the ringtone,” she said.
