by K. J. Emrick
Darcy finally had the box of tea in her hand. The next task was to get water into the kettle and set it on the stove to boil. She was doing pretty well for a woman on a crutch.
The front door opened again at the same time that Darcy heard the school bus pulling away with a honk of the horn. Colby came running in with a swirl of dark auburn hair and a pixie’s grin. “I’m here, Mom! I’ll help make the tea.”
It didn’t surprise Darcy at all that Colby knew what her mother was doing before she even opened the door. She always knew. At just nine years old, little Colby was already stronger with her gift than Darcy had been at twice that age.
She was one of the bright spots in Darcy’s world, and those mysterious blue-green eyes of hers were the perfect combination of her mom and dad. There would never be any doubt whose daughter she was.
“Thanks, Starshine,” Darcy told her, using Colby’s nickname. “Your timing couldn’t be more perfect. How was school?”
“It was okay. Nothing great.” After putting the kettle on the stove and carefully turning on the burner, Colby shrugged out of her pink hoodie. The dress underneath hadn’t picked up a single stain for a change. “It’s almost Thanksgiving break, you know, so we aren’t starting anything new. I’ll get the plates and cups out, if you want?”
“That would be great, honey. Thanks again.” She sat back down, happy to put her crutch aside once more. “Colby, this is Mister Faber. He’s here to talk to me about my accident.”
Colby nodded. “He’s the insurance man. Insurance is what you pay when something bad happens to someone.”
Anthony laughed uproariously at Colby’s simple explanation. “Well, yes, that’s one way of putting it. There’s a bit more to it than that but it’s nothing you’ll have to worry about for lots of years to come, little lady.”
“I’m not little,” Colby informed him as she started setting the table. “I happen to be a twenty year old woman trapped in a nine-year-old’s body.”
Darcy hid her smile behind her hand. Anthony could only stare, and it was more obvious in that moment that he’d never had children than it was when he’d said it out loud.
The plates and cups were set, but Darcy noticed the mistake that Colby had made as she spun away, heading for the living room.
“Oh, Starshine… you put out three settings. It’s just me and Mister Faber. We only need two.”
“No, I did it right,” Colby told her, spinning in a circle so that her dress flared. “You’re going to have company, Mom. I’ll check on Zane. Then can I watch television?”
Sometimes it made Darcy dizzy trying to keep up with this girl whenever she got going. “Sure, you can watch television. Just keep the volume down, all right?”
“’Kay. Quiet as a church mouse,” Colby promised.
When Colby was in the next room, Anthony tapped his pen against the stack of papers. “That’s quite the daughter you have there.”
“Don’t I know it.” Darcy watched her daughter through the open doorway for a moment, proud of this family she’d helped create.
Then she turned back to Anthony, and stopped.
Behind him, a translucent specter hovered inches from the floor. The ghost of a young woman had entered Darcy’s home, and stood there, staring at Darcy with piercing intensity.
The ghost spoke to her, but across the distance that existed between the world of the dead and the world of the living, the sound of it was a barely audible static to Darcy’s ears.
“…see me…”
“Darcy?” Anthony asked her suddenly. “Are you all right? You look awful all of a sudden. Is it your leg? Does it hurt?”
“Er, no,” she said, snapping her eyes away from the ghost and back to him. “I’m fine, really. So. You said you had some questions for me?”
She couldn’t let him know there was a ghost here. It was better to pretend they were still alone, and see what happened next.
Anthony was watching her strangely, and that pen was still tapping against the papers. He could tell something was wrong but those forms weren’t going to fill themselves out. “Well. I suppose we can get down to it.”
Except that was when the hot water started to whistle in the kettle. Darcy smiled at him apologetically and got up again. As she did, she cast her gaze quickly over his shoulder at the ghost again.
She was young looking, in her late twenties at most, which made her even younger than Darcy. A beauty mark on her left cheek was prominent against the pale shimmer of her image. She wore a blue tank top and cut off jean shorts, not all that much different from what Darcy liked to wear in the summertime, and a necklace that sparkled even on this side of eternity. There was enough of a resemblance around the wide cheeks and the shape of her ears to make it obvious this ghost was a close relative of Anthony’s, even if she had curls of red hair cascading over her shoulders.
And still that cold, intense stare.
It was the necklace that caught Darcy’s eyes particularly. It had a thick gold chain and a dangling triangular pendant, pale blue and streaked with lines of silvery white. Turquoise, Darcy thought, but it was hard to tell with the hazy appearance the ghost girl had.
Now the third cup that Colby had set out made sense. They were going to have company, Colby had said. Darcy knew by now to take her daughter seriously when she said things like that.
This just wasn’t the company she’d been expecting.
“So, Anthony,” she said casually as she took the kettle off the burner. “You aren’t married, but you must have family? Do they live around here?”
“No, no, it’s just me.” For the first time since he came here to see her, his smile slipped. “My parents are gone, and that’s just the way of the world, I suppose. Had a sister once, but she disappeared three years ago. Nobody’s seen her since and to tell you the truth I’m worried about her. I still see her face, sometimes, with that red mop of hair curled around her face. She had this freckle on her left cheek. A beauty mark, I think they call it.”
Darcy looked up at the ghost, as Anthony continued to describe her perfectly.
“Oh, and she was a beauty,” he added. “All the boys liked my sister back when we were in school, that’s for sure. She only had eyes for one guy though. Stayed with him right up until she went missing. You know, it’s funny you should ask me about her.”
“Oh?” Darcy said. “Why’s that?”
“I just mean, because the anniversary of her disappearance is in a few days. The day when she went missing. Yeah. That was a hard day for me. She always seems closer to me at this time of year.”
There was no doubt this ghost was Anthony’s sister. If their resemblance hadn’t tipped her off, then that description certainly would have. That meant that Anthony’s sister hadn’t just disappeared.
She was dead.
As Darcy watched her closely, the spectral image of his sister knelt down closer to Anthony, and moved her lips like she was whispering in her brother’s ear. It was impossible for him to hear whatever she was saying, but he still lifted a hand to swipe at his cheek. He’d felt something, faint though it may have been.
She could see why Anthony felt his sister’s presence at this time every year. His sister came back to haunt him on the date that she’d died. The same day each year. And, if Darcy was right, the ghost was trying to tell him the secrets of her death.
“…see me…”
It was moments like this when Darcy had to choose between what she wanted to tell people, and what she thought they were ready to hear. Sure, she could tell Anthony that his sister was dead, and that her spirit was right here in the kitchen with them. If she did that she ran the risk of him shutting down. He would most likely call her a liar—and several other choice names—and storm out of her house. Just because she knew it was true, didn’t mean it had to be said.
Not until she had a lot more information.
Pouring water into the teacups for both of them, Darcy’s thoughts began to spin. Ghosts who hadn’t
moved on to the afterlife were nearly always stuck here because of some unresolved issue. Usually, it was because they had died tragically or unexpectedly and they needed the comfort of knowing why. They needed that resolution. Spirits could be trapped on this side of the veil for years if they didn’t find the answers they were looking for. Murder victims were the hardest because they not only needed to know the why of their deaths, they needed to know who did it as well.
If a spirit was stuck between worlds long enough, they could even turn violent, and start lashing out at the living. Not everything in Poltergeist had been made up by Hollywood.
Darcy looked at the ghost again. True, Anthony’s sister was dead… but had she been murdered?
Dropping back into her chair, Darcy propped her leg up on the one next to her to relieve the strain on her muscles, and then very intently concentrated on bobbing her teabag in her cup. She needed a moment to think. She needed to know why this ghost was here, and if she could help. A ghost that had been coming back year after year now, trying to make herself heard, could spell all sorts of trouble.
After another moment, she set the teabag aside, and cleared her throat. “So, Anthony, tell me. What was your sister like? If you don’t mind my asking, I mean.”
Behind him the ghost scowled and tried to yell something at both of them while she fisted her hands against her hips. Darcy listened as hard as she could, but the ghost’s words were lost in silence.
Anthony raised an eyebrow at her as he stirred sugar into his cup. “Marcia was her name. Um. Why do you ask?”
“Well,” she said, “sometimes it’s easier to talk about these things. When we feel the loss of our loved ones so deeply it’s hard to keep it all bottled up. Talking about her… it will be like she’s still here.”
Marcia’s glare turned on Darcy, and she shivered.
He thought about that as he set his spoon aside, and left his drink untouched. “I appreciate the offer, Darcy, but I don’t want to bore you with the details. I mean, you hardly even know me.”
“No, please. I’d like to hear about Marcia.” The ghost glared at her, but Darcy kept going. “Don’t you have any idea where she is? Or if she’s, you know, alive or dead?”
Anthony heaved a heavy breath. “No I don’t. Nobody knows for sure. She disappeared one night from her house in Rose Lake. Didn’t tell anyone where she was going. Not me, not her boss at work, not her friends… no one.”
“Rose Lake?” That was a little community about fifty miles north of Misty Hollow. There wasn’t much there. Lots of homes, and a four-way intersection, and she thought there might be a church. And of course there was the lake. “So, you and your sister grew up in this area?”
“We did, actually. Yeah. See, that’s the other reason why I like being the rep for this area. I know the people, and I know what matters to folks who live in places like this. Marcia was a secretary at a smalltime accounting firm. She liked what she did okay, I guess, but maybe she got tired of her life and took off. That’s what I told the police, anyway. To tell the truth, I just don’t know.”
Marcia beat her fists at the air and shouted out a long string of what Darcy could only imagine would have been profanity. She hadn’t left town. She died. Marcia screamed and ranted in silent fury, unable to make her brother see that she hadn’t run away in some sort of midlife crisis. Somehow, the truth was going to be much worse.
“There were no suspects, I take it?” she asked. “I mean, no reason to think she was taken by anyone against her will? No reason to believe this was anything except your sister just taking off for no reason?”
Almost at the same time, Anthony and Marcia’s ghost turned identical stares on Darcy. “You mean to inquire,” Anthony said to her, “is there any reason to believe my sister is dead.”
“I’m sorry,” Darcy said immediately. She could see the truth, standing right there in her kitchen, but Anthony couldn’t. Marcia was definitely dead. If she wanted to keep Anthony talking about it, however, she couldn’t push him so hard. “I’m just trying to be a good listener for you.”
“Well, I appreciate that. Really.” He shrugged. “If I’m being honest then I guess I don’t really know if she’s still alive. I mean, it wasn’t like her to do something like this but at the same time, it’s just impossible to believe that anyone would want to kill Marcia. Everyone loved her. That man of hers certainly did. I did. Even her bosses at the accounting firm over in Rose Lake couldn’t get enough of her. They were always having her work overtime because she was so good at what she did. I mean, she didn’t have an enemy in the world.”
“What about friends?” Darcy asked. “Her friends must have known something about where she might have gone or who she might have been with. Did you ask her boyfriend?”
“First thing I did. He lives here in Misty Hollow, believe it or not. Matthew Courson. You know him?”
It took Darcy a moment to place him, but yes, she did. “He works down at the hardware store. Sort of a quiet man, keeps to himself?”
“Yup. That’s him. He seemed to be as confused about Marcia leaving as I was.” He sighed heavily. “I never thought Marcia would have a reason to run away. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that she’s with me, every year, right around this same time. I guess it’s just my way of dealing with the guilt.”
Darcy’s ears perked up at that. “Guilt? For what?”
“Because part of me knows it would be easier if she was dead.” He finally reached for his tea, but only to wrap his fingers around the cup and keep his hands from trembling. After a moment, he managed a smile. “Well, that’s enough of a trip down memory lane for me. Thank you for asking about my sister. You were right. It does help to talk about her. Now. Let’s finish these forms, shall we?
His pen tapped, tapped, tapped on the pages again, and Darcy knew he was becoming impatient. She needed to stop pressing or he might begin to suspect her interest in Marcia was more than just neighborly concern.
Darcy’s sixth sense was telling her something was wrong here. Little alarm bells were ringing at the back of her mind. She needed to find out what secrets Marcia might be hiding so that she could bring Anthony some peace, and help Marcia move on.
That wasn’t going to be easy from the confines of her house, she thought to herself, with this leg still in a cast…
Her thoughts skipped a beat as Marcia glared down at her again. While Anthony droned on about insurance policies and indemnity clauses and liability waivers, Marcia put a ghostly hand to her waist, and lifted up the bottom of her tank top.
In the middle of her stomach was a puckered and angry looking red slash. It was just below her belly button.
What could it mean, she wondered?
“Darcy?” Anthony asked, holding his pen out to her. “Are you ready to begin?”
Yes, Darcy thought to herself. She certainly was.
Chapter 2
“I still wish you’d let me hire a helper for you,” Jon told her for what must have been the hundredth time. “Just until you get out of that thing.”
Bouncing Zane on his knee, Darcy’s husband pointed with a finger under the kitchen table, indicating her cast still propped up on its own chair.
In response, Darcy stuck her tongue out at him.
“For Pete’s sake,” she said. “We’ve been over this. I don’t need a babysitter. I’m just in a cast, I’m not an invalid.”
“It wouldn’t be a babysitter.” He emphasized that word, making faces at their big boy as Zane babbled and giggled with delight. “Mommy doesn’t need a babysitter, does she Zane? No she does not. She just needs help around the house until she has two functional legs again. Can you say ‘functional?’ Can you say that?”
“Pthffffft, buh buh, Mama” was Zane’s response.
“There, see? Zane agrees with me.”
“That’s because,” she said with a smile, “he’s Daddy’s little boy.”
He was, too. Of the two of them he was definitely starting to resem
ble his father more, with those blue eyes and that cute chin and that tuft of hair at the top of his head that was too dark to call blonde and too light to call anything else. Well, the hair color didn’t match maybe, but Darcy could already tell he was going to grow up to be a heartbreaker in the looks department just like his father.
Jon Tinker was tall, with dark wavy hair that she loved to run her fingers through, and just the barest touch of gray working its way in behind his ears. He had the body of a man half his age, and there were times when he worked circles around some of the younger officers in his employ. More than that, though, he had a good soul, and a brave heart. Zane would be fine if he grew into the same kind of man his father was.
Dinner was over, and Colby had gone off to the living room with her school books. The pizza and wings Jon had brought home from the local pizza place in town had been excellent. She really liked their food. Now that Misty Hollow was growing by leaps and bounds the choices for takeout were a lot better. Even Helen’s old bakery had been refurbished from the fire that had left it gutted, and now it had been reincarnated into a holistic foods restaurant. Not anything Darcy cared for but she knew several people in town who swore by it.
Their dinner conversation had wandered over several topics while Darcy had waited for an opening to tell Jon about Anthony’s sister.
Now the talk had turned around to her and her injured leg again. Her wonderful husband was protective of her, and she loved him for it, but she was more than capable of taking care of herself. However, if he wanted to discuss her broken leg then she was going to use that to her advantage.
“Anthony Faber was here today,” she said innocently. Picking up one of the pizza crusts on her plate, she chewed on the edge of the crust as she eyed Jon. “You remember who he is, right?”
“The insurance agent for the bookstore, sure,” Jon said, his eyebrows scrunching together. “Everything okay? I thought your claim was all set.”
“Well, I think it is.”
“You think it is? Darcy, part of the wall in the bookstore gave way. And, sure, it might not have been such a big deal if it hadn’t been the part the sliding ladder was attached to, but it was, and you were on the ladder at the time and that makes it a big deal as far as I’m concerned. If that doesn’t amount to a claim for the insurance then I don’t know what does.”
