Brush With Death (6 page)

M
y teeth clacked
together as I rode my bike over a large tree root.  It was dumb luck that I
didn’t go flying over the handlebars.  I slowed, letting my boots drag across
the gravel path overgrown with weeds and grass. 

The shimmering form of Rose, the fragrant ghost I was
following, continued to flit over the trail at breakneck speed.  Good for the
impatient ghost, but not so good for those of us who still had physical bodies
that could be injured.

“Wait up!” I yelled.

The ghost came to a halt, but bounced up and down in what I
imagined was big time agitation.  Jeesh, ghosts are all the same.  They
discover that I can sense them and then they’re all, me, me, me.

I brushed an arm across my forehead, wiping away beads of
sweat that were starting to run into my eyes.  Great, now I was all sweaty and gross. 
I looked down at my sleeve.  The once black fabric was now covered in a pasty
mixture of white face powder and perspiration. 

“I could so go for a bubble bath right now,” I muttered.

Instead I puffed out a sigh, blowing black bangs out of my
face, and started pedaling again up the trail.  I had to struggle to keep up
with my ghost trail guide who took off as soon as I started moving.  Its golden
glow disappeared around a corner and I had to stand on the pedals to pick up
more speed. 

“So much for waiting for me,” I grumbled.

I had no idea how far these trails went on for.  We had
already left the familiar open grassy areas and easy foot paths of the park behind. 
Gnarled old trees marched closer to the trail, leaving a narrow track just
large enough for two people to run abreast.  With my overburdened bicycle laden
with easel, paints, and enough food for an army, I hoped that I wouldn’t meet
anyone else on the trail.  Though in this heat, that probably wasn’t likely.

So far, I hadn’t seen a living soul.

Pedaling fast to catch up to my spectral guide, I gulped in
air and coughed as I swallowed a bug.  Yep, my psychic gift royally sucked. 

Eyes watering, I careened around the corner and nearly ran
into a boulder.  Stones littered the ground—some covered in moss while others
lay bare, bleached by the sun like old bones.

The ghost was hovering a few yards away beside a high stone
wall.  The wall was old and crumbling in places.  Perhaps the remnants of a
Victorian garden in decay.  It was my kind of place.

One end of the wall was little more than a pile of fallen
stones, while the other end was covered in climbing roses.  The fragrant red
blossoms were reminiscent of the ghost’s own signature scent, sans lanolin and
darkroom chemicals.

As I approached, trying to look over the wall that towered
above my head, the ghost came to sparkle and twinkle beside the rose bush.  The
golden spirit aura and scarlet flowers made a hauntingly beautiful picture.  Cal
would love it.  With a little help from beyond, I’d found the perfect painting
spot.

I set the kickstand and stepped off my bike, slowly moving
toward the ghost.  It didn’t stray from its spot beside the roses. 

I wasn’t sure why the ghost had led me here, but it couldn’t
hurt to examine the scene with an artist’s eye.  Sometimes when I looked at a
drawing or painting after completion, I saw details that I hadn’t truly noticed
were there.  Perhaps painting would actually help me solve this case and help
the ghost find its way into the light.

There was only one way to find out.

A
s usual, Simon
was late.  I picked at my quinoa and shallot salad appetizer and checked my
phone for the bazillionth time.  No messages.

This wasn’t the first time Simon lost track of time, but it
still hurt.  Had he forgotten our dinner date at the café? 

Just Veggin’ wasn’t fancy, but I loved this place.  It was
on the opposite side of town from Mr. Green Genes, the organic, fair trade,
non-GMO restaurant where I used to go nearly every day with Yuki.  I still like
the food at Green Genes, but it seemed somehow wrong hanging out there with
Simon.  It was Yuki’s favorite place, home of the famous veggie burritos she
loved so much.  The last time I went there, the food just stuck in my throat. 
I haven’t been back since.

At Green Genes everything in the place is green—the
tabletops, booths, floor, walls were all different shades of green.  Here at
Just Veggin’ the owners had taken a more lively approach to decorating.  Every
surface was a different color and the walls were covered in splashes of primary
colors, like the result of an epic fruit and veggie food fight.

I turned my attention from the brightly painted walls and
focused on the television above the juice bar.  The six o’clock news was replacing
old sitcom reruns.  They’d start with boring local news first, but if I had to
wait much longer for Simon I might catch an update on congressional
deliberations over new animal cruelty laws.

“Gina, can you turn that up?” I asked the waitress.  

It was a weeknight and the place wasn’t busy.  I didn’t
think she’d mind.

Gina glanced at the empty chair across from me and gave me a
sympathetic grin. 

“Sure, sugar,” she said.  “Want to go ahead and order your
dinner or you still want to wait?”

“I’ll wait,” I said.

Gina shrugged and went over to a mug on the juice bar that
held the television remote.  She turned up the volume and perched on a stool,
her purple and green hair matching the iridescent birds painted on a faux-grass
canopy above her head.  

The juice bar was made to look like a Tiki bar.  It was one
of the reasons why Yuki didn’t like coming here.  The smiling monkeys swinging
from the ceiling gave her the creeps.

“This just in,” the female newscaster said.  “Wakefield
police have issued a warning to all residents to use caution after the report
of a missing local teenager.  Parents of Sarah Randall, a freshman at Wakefield
High School, have offered a reward for information leading to her safe return. 
A press conference is scheduled later this evening.  Our man on the ground, Tom
Desker, reports that residents remain diligent as fears of the Graduation
Grabber return to Wakefield after a five year hiatus.”

The school pictures of two high school girls flashed on the
screen.

“The last case involving the Grabber happened five years ago
when Wakefield students Michelle Ouellette and Rose Peterson went missing.  The
body of Rose Peterson was never found, but police confirmed that Michelle
Ouellette was murdered in the same manner as four other teens over a three year
period.”

 The blond newscaster replaced the pictures of the missing
school girls, her tight smile seeming inappropriate as she recounted the deaths
of local teens.  Why do newscasters always have to look so happy?

“The disappearance of Sarah Randall has Wakefield residents
worried that the Grabber may have returned to this small community.  Has the
Graduation Grabber emerged from hiding?  Where has he been and what has he been
doing over the past five years?  Join us as we explore these questions and more
this evening.  Be sure to tune in to our News at Ten update.”

“Who’s the Graduation Grabber?” Simon asked.

I jumped and nearly toppled my banana flax smoothie.

“Oh em gees, Simon!” I said.  “Don’t do that.  You scared
the heck out of me.”

He grinned, his scar jumping as a laugh rumbled deep in his
throat.  The sound made my cheeks go warm.

“You’re cute when you’re scared, love,” he said.

“Well, of course I freaked a little,” I said, pointing at
the television.  “You just snuck up on me while they announced the Graduation
Grabber might be back.”

“The Graduation Grabber?” he asked.

He slid into the empty seat across from me and stretched out
his legs, leaning back in his chair.  His body language was relaxed, but I saw
his eye twitch before raising a brow at me.  Simon was a werewolf and wolves
were always protective of their pack, and their mate.  If Simon thought I was
in danger, he’d do anything to keep me safe.

I can take care of myself, but knowing how Simon felt made
me feel all warm and happy.  It was good to know that even with the Graduation
Grabber in town, I was perfectly safe.  Even if the Grabber was a total freak
who liked to kidnap and murder high school girls the week before graduation.

“The Graduation Grabber is the name the press gave the guy
they think abducted and murdered all of those girls,” I said.  I was talking
too fast and my hands danced in the air like over-caffeinated butterflies. 
With an effort, I shoved my hands under my legs and tried to slow down. 

“How many girls?” Simon asked, suddenly serious.

“Six girls went missing, two each year around graduation,” I
said.  “They were all high school students and female.  But only five bodies
were found.  The police think Rose Peterson was the sixth victim, since the Grabber
always abducted two girls each year and she went missing a few days before
graduation.  But her body was never found.”

“And now one girl, a high school student, has gone missing
in Wakefield a week before graduation,” Simon said.

My bag started ringing and I jumped.  Talking about the
Graduation Grabber was making me jittery.  Maybe we should just order dinner
and change the subject.

“Yes, that’s why the media is speculating about the
Grabber,” I said, distracted.  I pulled out my phone and checked the screen. 
It was Calvin.  “Sorry, I have to take this.”

Calvin was pretty upset when I saw him last.  I had just
dropped the bomb that Yuki might be suffering from PTSD and her behavior was
getting more erratic.  I could still remember the fear in her eyes when she
froze in front of the supply closet today at school.

Maybe Calvin had an update.  I could use some good news
right now.

I
drove to
Yuki’s in a cloud of worry and indecision.  Emma seemed convinced that Yuki was
suffering from PTSD and needed help.  And Simon’s angry outburst still rang in
my ears.  I needed to be reassured that Yuki was okay, that we were okay.

But the house looked empty.

I pulled the truck alongside the potting shed and jumped
out.  The windows were dark, like a skull’s empty eye sockets staring at me as
I rushed up the front steps.  I knocked and rang the doorbell, but the sounds
echoed inside without a response.  No heavy boots clomping down the stairs.  No
happy shout from Yuki’s room.

I went back down the steps and knelt in the mulch beneath an
overgrown evergreen bush.  My hand finally found the plastic hide-a-key and I
had to choke back a laugh.  The Stennings didn’t have a dog, but Yuki had
picked the dog poop shaped hide-a-key with the logic that no burglar in their
right mind would touch it.

I retrieved the key and rushed back up the steps, jamming it
into the lock.  The door hit the wall as I thrust it open, eyes looking in
every direction.  No Yuki.

“Yuki!” I yelled.

No response.

I stuck my head in the kitchen, but it was empty.  Running
back through the living room and up the stairs, I peeked into her parents’
bedroom and the guest room.  Nobody was home.  I knocked one more time on
Yuki’s bedroom door and pushed it open with a creak of the hinges.  The bed lay
empty. 

My earlier worry that Yuki may have fallen in the bathroom
returned and I rushed across the room.  The door to the bathroom hung open,
towels hanging on their rungs, shampoo on the shelf above the tub.  Nothing was
out of order, but the room was empty.

Yuki wasn’t home.

But that didn’t make any sense.  Yuki had said she couldn’t
hang out after school because she had to stay home and finish her homework.  
Since she didn’t drive, it was unlikely that Yuki would have just walked off. 
If she needed something from the library, she would have called for a ride.

Her behavior didn’t make any sense.  But wasn’t that what
Emma had been talking about?  PTSD could cause erratic behavior.  Was this
another symptom?

Was I too late?

Maybe Emma would know what to do.  She had read the library
books and journal articles.  Plus, maybe she’d seen Yuki in town.  It was a
long shot, but I was running out of ideas…and starting to panic.

My wolf was already struggling to break free.  I took a few
controlling breaths before dialing Emma.

“Emma, I need your help,” I said when she picked up. 
“Yuki’s missing.”

“Oh my God,” Emma said.  She muttered “it’s Calvin” to
someone, probably Simon.  “Are you near a TV?” 

I grunted the affirmative.  Yuki had a small television
perched on the edge of a vanity table, but it was rarely used.  The TV was
covered in black scarves, boot laces, and knit arm warmers.  I started brushing
these aside.

“Turn it on, and sit down,” she said.  “You’re going to need
to see this.”

I grabbed the remote, covered in pink and black smiling
skull and crossbones stickers, and hit power.  The screen on Yuki’s TV came to
life.  She only got three channels on her bedroom television, but I didn’t have
to go channel surfing.  A news alert was scrolling at the bottom of the screen
and two tearful parents were standing at a podium pleading for the return of
their daughter.

It wasn’t Yuki’s parents.  Thank God.

The news took a moment to sink in.  The Graduation Grabber
had returned to Wakefield.  He’d already abducted one girl and, if things went
like the events of five years ago, there would be a second girl soon.

“Emma?” I croaked.  I coughed trying to clear my throat. 
“We have to find Yuki.”

“I know,” she said.  “I can’t believe she’s missing.”

“She told me she’d be home working on homework,” I said,
trying to lasso my stampeding thoughts. 

“I’ll check the library,” Emma said.  “Yuki said she was
doing homework, right?  She’s probably there.  I’ll call Gordy and Katie on the
way.  If Katie’s working, she can start searching the library before I get
there.”

“Is Simon with you?” I asked.  Emma had mentioned a dinner
date.

Yes,” said. 

I could hear her teeth hit together as she bit off the
word.  She didn’t like me bringing up Simon, but I needed his help.  If we
couldn’t find Yuki here in town, we’d need to track her scent in the
surrounding mountain foothills and forest.  There were few wolves as skilled at
tracking as Simon.

“Good, put him on,” I said.

“Okay, I’ll call if I find anything,” she said.

“Fine way to spoil my dinner date,” Simon said.  “If I
didn’t know better, mate, I’d say you lot planned this.”

“Give me a break, Simon,” I said.  I sighed and ran my free
hand through my hair, tugging so hard it was surprising I didn’t have bald
tracks along my scalp.  Simon was always exasperating, I figured he was the
universe’s way of testing me, but this was getting ridiculous.  As Yuki would
say, he needed to get over himself.  “Yuki’s missing and the Graduation Grabber
is in town.  If Emma were in the same situation, I’d be at your side, man,
asking what I could do to help.”

“Touché,” he said.  “What do you need?”

“I need you to be my eyes, ears, and nose on the street,” I
said.  I stared out the window, coming up with a plan.  “I’ll check the west
side of town, you take the east.  Try to catch Yuki’s scent.”

“And if I find her?” he asked.  “What then?  Emma seems to
think the girl’s gone off her rocker.”

“Improvise,” I said.  “Just keep her safe.”