Whispers

by Lynn Moon

  With all the courage and anger I could muster, I jumped from my bed and slammed the glass into the face of my ghost. But instead of hitting air, my glass smacked onto something hard. A loud moan echoed through my room. My ghost took several stepped backwards. Did I just kill my ghost at last?

  The answer came with a deafening blow to the side of my head. As my left temple slammed against the nightstand, flicks of light flew across my vision.

  ***

  “Musetta . . . Musetta . . . wake up . . . wake up!”

  My head pounded. I wanted to rub away the pain, but fear jolted through me as my fingers ran over a large bump on the side of my head.

  “Musetta,” Charlie whispered. “What happened here?”

  Everything looked fuzzy. I couldn’t think straight. My body ached from head to toe.

  “I don’t feel so good.” Charlie barely moaned the words before rushing into the bathroom.

  Her heaving into the toilet wasn’t a good sign. Trying to call out to her, I panicked. I couldn’t utter a word. Pushing myself up and sitting on my bed, I opened my eyes wider. I gasped. My room was a wreck. Clothes were now scattered across the floor that had been yanked from my closet. The dresser drawers, still open, hung toward the floor, empty.

  Resting against the closet door, Charlie frowned. Her arms folded across her chest, a small moaned escaped her lips.

  “I can’t talk,” I whispered. Saying just those few words sent more waves of pain slapping down my throat.

  “Wait.” Charlie darted into the bathroom. Returning, she held up a hand-mirror. “Look at yourself.”

  The girl in the mirror couldn’t be me. She looked terrible. Large red and blue welts coiled around her swollen neck as if several snakes had permanently imbedded themselves into her skin. A large bruise just under her left eye almost covered her whole cheek. With a swollen and bloody lip, she could barely mouth out her words.

  “Get Katrina,” I whispered.

  Charlie nodded. “Yah know what’s really weird. I’ve only felt like this one other time,” she said, “when I had my wisdom teeth out. My mom said it was from the painkillers. I threw up the next morning too, just like now. I’ll get Katrina.”

  CHAPTER 8

  WITH OUR FINGERS CLASPED firmly over our noses, Charlie and I sat in the hallway, frowning.

  “Do hospitals always smell this bad?” she asked.

  Without a voice, I had to whisper. “How should I know?”

  “Ready, girls,” our moms said at the same time.

  “I’m sorry, Helen,” my mom added.

  “No, no, Ashlynn. I’m sorry.”

  Charlie and I just stared at them, shaking our heads. The two apologizing to each other reminded us of a Disney Chip and Dale cartoon. After you, no, after you, no, after you.

  Before their conversation got too ridiculous, Charlie butted in. “All right already. Can we go home now?”

  “Yes, yes,” Helen replied. Her smile wasn’t really a smile. I mean, her eyes widened and all, but her lips didn’t go up on the ends. Instead, they remained in a permanent frown. “The blood test won’t be back for a few days. And thank goodness that nothing’s broken in your neck, Musetta. Just a bad bruise.”

  “We have to stop by the sheriff station,” my mother said. “He’d like to talk to you two.”

  Tensing until I shook, I stared at her, waving my hands in front of my neck.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Mom said. “You can’t talk. Well, this should be an interesting interview, shouldn’t it?”

  “They wish to speak to you, too, Charlie,” Helen added. “Why don’t we all ride together?”

  Mom nodded. Since we all rode to the hospital in Mom’s car, it was a little obvious that we had to ride together to the sheriff station. Otherwise, Charlie and her mom wouldn’t have a way to get home. So with the two moms up front, and Charlie and me in the back, we rode to the sheriff’s office.

  Tapping her arm, I mouthed to Charlie, “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what, Musetta? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  My mom glanced into the rearview mirror.

  Helen turned around. “Absolutely,” she said from the front seat. “You did nothing to deserve this. And when we find out who did this to you, I’ll punch them in the face.”

  Charlie and I laughed. I knew she was teasing me.

  “Musetta, did you see who did this to you?” Helen asked.

  Shaking my head, I mouthed, “Too dark.”

  “Ashlynn, my husband could install cameras in her bedroom. That way you’d know when something was going on.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Mom replied. “Musetta, would that bother you? Privacy and all?”

  “The video would go straight into your room. Only you would see it,” Helen added. “I’ll ask Charles about it when I get home.”

  ***

  The sheriff’s office was just one building with a double garage in the back. My neck collar bothered me, and I wanted it off, but was told I had to wear it for a few days to give my neck muscles a rest. As soon as the receptionist saw us, she motioned for the sheriff.

  “Hello, ladies. Please come in and get comfortable. I know how tiring hospital visits can be.” Sheriff Tackels tugged at his pants as he followed us into his office. The man was well over six feet tall, much older than my dad, and it probably wouldn’t hurt if he lost some weight. His stomach fell over his belt buckle. Light gray hair just touched the tops of his ears and his face had more creases and potholes than our old roads. “Here you go, girls.” Pulling in two chairs for Charlie and me, he puffed as he struggled to get them through the door.

  “Thank you, Jim,” my mom said once he sat down.

  “May I see the damage?” he asked, staring at me.

  Unsnapping the neck brace, I let it fall into my lap.

  “My word,” he whistled. After staring at me for a moment, he picked up his phone. “Ryan, come in here with your camera, please . . . yes, now.”

  “The hospital told me to tell you that they did a rape kit,” my mom added, glancing over at me. “The results won’t be back for a few days. So we really don’t know exactly what happened.”

  “What do you remember, Musetta?” he asked.

  “Darkness,” I whispered.

  “Her voice is gone,” my mom added.

  “I can still hear her,” he said, scooting his chair to the side of his desk to get closer to me. As we sat face-to-face, the concern in his eyes was almost welcoming. Almost as if he could protect me. But from a ghost? “Go on,” he said.

  “Just darkness,” I whispered. “I remember a hairbrush and the moonlight. Then I reached for my glass of water and hit the ghost on the side of the head. That’s when he hit me. After that, nothing.”

  “The doctor called and gave me a short report. Rape, assault, and I’ll add a couple of other charges. I understand that Charlie wasn’t harmed, except they believe she was drugged too. We won’t know for sure until next week.”

  “That’s correct,” Charlie’s mom said.

  “Deputy Ryan finished at your house a little while ago. Said no break-ins. You lock your doors at night?”

  “Always,” I whispered. “And the alarm.”

  “Maybe the guy was already in the house and hiding somewhere. I’ll come out and see for myself. It’s now two. What about four this afternoon?”

  “That would be fine,” my mom replied.

  “Good, good. Well, Musetta, allow Deputy Ryan to get a few pictures. Then you can go home and rest. We want your voice in good shape for the trial.”

  “Trial?” my mom asked. “We don’t even know who did this.”

  “I promise you, Ashlynn, we will get him. This is my town, and my girls will not be treated this way. So, Musetta,” he smiled at me, “your aunt told me that you thought your father was raping you, yes? Is that why you punched him at the funeral?”

  I nodded.

  “Yes,” my mom said, wiping her eyes. “My siste
r told me what she knew. I’m still shocked. Musetta is seeing a counselor to help her. I had no knowledge of this. None.”

  “Poor baby,” he said. “I’ve known you since you were born. And I’ve known your father for a lot longer. He’d never do anything like this, sweetheart. You were his whole life. We’ll get to the bottom of this Ashlynn. I’m sure it wasn’t Nick.”

  Tears filled my eyes. I did love my dad more than life itself. I also hated him at the same time. If only what the sheriff was saying was true.

  “Musetta thinks his ghost is haunting her,” Charlie added. “That his ghost is raping her.”

  Sheriff Tackels chuckled. “There’s no such thing as ghosts. Besides, I’m sure your father has more important things to do right now than to come back here to assault you. We’ll find out who’s doing this. I promise.”

  “The book bag!” Charlie yelled out.

  “What book bag?” he asked.

  “Musetta’s book bag was missing,” Charlie explained. “We found it in the old oak tree out back.”

  “I’ll check it out later today.”

  As we left, I could hear him talking to his receptionist. “Ghosts? I sure hope not.”

  ***

  Sheriff Tackels arrived at four o’clock sharp. Mom had been waiting for him, pacing back and forth through the kitchen and driving Katrina nuts.

  “About time,” she said, rushing to the door.

  “He’s right on time,” I whispered, and glanced at Katrina.

  “Good afternoon Mrs. Weavers, Katrina, Musetta.” With his hat tucked under his arm and a clipboard in his hands, Sheriff Tackels stepped through the door. He kept glancing around the room as if someone was going to jump out and say “Boo!” at any moment.

  “Jim, why so formal?” my mom asked. “Musetta, did I ever tell you that this is the boy who used to chase me down the street with snakes and frogs?”

  I shook my head. Katrina giggled.

  “He lived two houses away. Scared the wits out of me every day.”

  “Did you go to school together?” I asked, whispering.

  “No,” he said, winking at me. “I’m older. You were, what, seven or eight at the time? I was about twelve?”

  “Why’d you chase her with frogs or snakes?” Katrina asked.

  “Because she was there and she’d run,” he replied, and they both laughed.

  “I guess the television shows back then weren’t that good?” Katrina asked.

  “Not allowed to watch TV during the day,” my mom replied.

  “Life was different,” he agreed.

  “Where’s my little girl?” A woman’s voice flew in from outside. “Oh my goodness, Musetta. You okay?”

  “Auntie Roe,” I mouthed. Running to her, my tears fell.

  “Sounds like you’ve eaten several frogs,” she said as she hugged me.

  “Thanks for coming.” Mom kissed her sister on the cheek. “Everyone should be here soon.”

  “Who’s everyone?” I whispered, enjoying Auntie Roe’s strong arms.

  “You know how your relatives are,” Mom replied.

  “The whole family’s coming?”

  “That’s why I’m preparing a turkey for tomorrow’s dinner,” Katrina added. “I, for one, am excited. Everyone left so quickly after the funeral that I really didn’t get a chance to visit.”

  “Why? What for?” I asked, knowing the answer.

  “They’re worried about you,” Mom replied. “Some will be here this evening, and others tomorrow.”

  “Delphie and I are picking ‘em up at the airport in the morning.” Auntie Roe rubbed my head, pausing when she felt the large bump. As I flinched, she added, “Jim, what are you doing about this?”

  With our tension rising, Sheriff Tackels tapped my shoulder. “Show me that book bag that’s hanging in the tree.”

  My aunt slowly released her grip. Placing her hands on my cheeks, she leaned in and kissed my forehead. “I love you, squirt. I’m moving in here until all of this is over with. Nothing else will happen to you. Got it?”

  “Got it.” Giving everyone a last glance, I headed for the stairs with Sheriff Tackels.

  “What should I call you? Sheriff Jim or Tackels?” I asked, slowing down to listen for a man’s laughter from inside the wall.

  “Sheriff Jim works.”

  With the only sound coming from our feet, I stepped onto the second-floor landing.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “My dad’s study . . . third floor.”

  As we climbed the stairs, his wheezing made me smile.

  “I guess I’m not so young anymore,” he said when our eyes met. “And that’s why my house has no stairs.”

  “This way.”

  He paused, glancing up and down the hallway. When he noticed I was watching him, he added, “Just checking the layout. Where do these stairs go?”

  “Attic.”

  “And your room is down there, toward the front?”

  I nodded.

  “Any other doors to the outside?”

  “Just in my bedroom. I have a balcony.”

  “Well, aren’t you just the princess,” he chuckled. “See what I mean. Your father worshiped you. Just look at this place that he built for his family.”

  “My mom said it didn’t look like this when they first moved in. The third floor was used as an attic for the longest time. They didn’t build out until I was about three. I can still remember moving into my new room. Mom and Dad had to sleep up here until I was brave enough to be left alone.”

  “I could see how being up here by yourself would be a little unnerving.”

  “Dad always worked in his study at night,” I added, touching my neck. It hurt to talk, but it also felt good to communicate with someone. Took away the alone feeling. “Didn’t really bother me that much. He was just down the hall if I needed him.”

  Still staring at my bedroom door, he sighed. “Okay, where’s that book bag?”

  I pushed on the study door.

  “Dark,” he said, squinting his eyes.

  Yanking open the curtains, I cringed. Seeing my bag in the tree still sent chills through my arms. “Creepy, I know.”

  “A little unnerving,” he said, walking closer to the window. “How do these open?”

  “Out only,” I explained. “We use this.”

  I turned the lever and the window swung open. He was definitely checking everything.

  “Those bay windows there. Do they open?”

  “No.”

  As he walked around the room, I remembered the hidden closet. A short wall hid the door from anyone coming in. I’d forgotten all about it. Leaving Sheriff Jim to his investigation, I inched toward the bay windows. With all the dark woodwork on the walls, the hidden area blended flawlessly with the bookcase. Unless someone knew the closet was back here, it was basically invisible.

  “Hey, where’d yah go?” he asked.

  “Sorry,” I said, peeping around the corner. “There’s a hidden closet back here.”

  “Hidden?”

  “See?” I stood back so he could walk around me.

  “What’s in here?”

  “Don’t know,” I said as he opened the door. Together, we stared at the black robes hanging neatly in plastic bags. “Oh, it’s my father’s robes for court.”

  Closing the door, he turned around. “Hmm. At first, I thought someone threw your bag from one of these windows. But the screens are in the way. None seem loose. I’m not sure how someone did what they did.”

  “Maybe they threw it out of the attic window.”

  “Then let’s go to the attic.”

  Climbing the stairs, I wondered if Sheriff Jim would be okay. He wheezed the whole way up. The dust that covered the floor when Charlie and I were here last was now gone. Did Katrina clean?

  “Yep,” Sheriff Jim said, pulling me from my thoughts. “They threw your bag out this window. No screen and the window’s still partially open. I’ll get Ry
an to pull prints.”

  “Why would they throw my bag out the window?”

  “No idea, but I know how we’ll get it down. I’ll call Chip over at the firehouse. Their ladder truck will reach it. Besides, they need some way to justify their existence.” He winked. “Delphina gave me your notepad. Not sure what I’ll do with it. Just wanted to let you know that I have it.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, understanding that words on a piece of paper didn’t really amount to much.

  By the time we got back to the kitchen, Auntie Delphie had arrived.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, running to me. “Just look at you. Are you in pain?”

  I shook my head. “I have to wear this stupid collar. It hurts my neck. Feels better off.”

  “Then you keep it off,” she said.

  “Musetta?” Quinton’s voice pounded through the kitchen. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “How could I call you? You were babysitting,” I mouthed.

  “I would have told my dad to come over,” he replied.

  Grabbing his arm, I pulled him outside. It hurt to talk, but I had to tell him everything.

  “I was knocked out last night.” My froggy voice scraped the back of my neck. Every few words, I had to wait until the pain settled before continuing. “I couldn’t call you.”

  “How’d he get in?”

  I shook my head.

  “Let’s go to your room,” he said. “I want to search your floor.”

  With everyone busy talking to Sheriff Jim, we aimed for the stairs unnoticed. After taking a few steps, I paused.

  “What?” he asked.

  I stared at him. “Too quiet.”

  “So?”

  “Why can’t we hear the voices from the kitchen?”

  “Have no idea.”

  “Hunter knows something about this house that we don’t,” I said.

  ***

  After my attack, school sucked. Everyone wanted to know what happened to my neck. Having my closest friends in on my secret was bad enough, but telling the whole school was definitely out. So instead of the truth, I told everyone that we had a very large rat infestation. Nobody believed me of course, but who cared?