End of the Road (Ghost Stories Trilogy #1) (28 page)

Chapter Sixty-Two

“Mom, don’t look at
that.”

“What is all this?”

“Just something I’m
working on.”

“I knew it! You’re
working on your weekend off. Elena, how are you going to get settled down again
when you’re such a workaholic?” She slammed the file down with a slap on the
comforter.

I did everything I could
to not roll my eyes and leaned forward to pick up the folder. After making sure
all the papers were intact, I set it back down on the bed next to me.

“This isn’t work, per se,
but a side project…some cold cases.”

“Hmmm...” She stood up
and smoothed the wrinkles out of her khaki shorts. “Most women have book clubs
or go exercise as a hobby,” she added before leaving my room.

Smiling, I shook my head
knowing her persistence would never fade. I slid out of bed and packed up my
laptop and file before walking down the hall to the bathroom.

After showering, I
followed the smell of coffee into the kitchen. My mom was dicing tomatoes and
she pointed with the knife at an empty mug on the counter, which I grabbed and
immediately filled.

“There are blueberry
muffins in that basket if you’re hungry,” she said. My stomach growled and I
walked over to the breakfast bar to grab one then took a seat on one of the
stools. The muffins were still warm and I breathed in the scent of cinnamon
from the crumb topping.

“Where’s Dad?”

“Golfing. I told him to
scoot. He was hovering and snacking. If he kept it up, we’d have no food for
tonight!”

My mom hummed while she
made her salsa, my eyes tearing up when she moved on to the onions, but hers
didn’t. In all the times I’ve seen her cut an onion, she never cried. Years ago
I was convinced she possessed superhuman strength. She just laughed and shook
her head when I ran from the room like a skunk had sprayed.

“What do you need me to
do?” I asked.

“Cut these for the veggie
tray,” she handed me a bag containing cucumbers and green peppers, plus a
cutting board and knife. “Make sure you rinse them off and remove the seeds
from the peppers.”

“I know Mom…not fourteen
anymore,” I muttered and wandered over to the sink.

It was going to be a long
morning.

***

The day flew by and I was
exhausted from being my mom’s assistant. All that changed the moment Cruz
showed up. He wandered in, a duffel bag full of dirty laundry draped over one
shoulder, and two cans of Red Bull in his free hand.

“Dad told me what you
were up to all day,” he said and tossed me a can of Red Bull. “I came with
reinforcements.” He set his bag down on the leather sofa, which I had just
finished wiping down with a damp cloth. Mom heard it drop with her supersonic
hearing and came rushing out of the kitchen.

“No, no, no! Put that in
your room. The guests will be here any minute!” she chastised him before
accepting his hug and a kiss on her cheek.

I followed Cruz down the
hall and into his room which was across from mine. His still carried the faint
odor of cheap cologne and sweat from his high school days.

“How ya doin’, sis?” he
asked and sat on the edge of his bed.

“All right. I’m back on
active duty.”

“Yeah, Dad told me. Any
more weirdness?”

Cruz thought it was cool
that I became an Internet sensation. He used it to establish a brief celebrity
status on campus and capitalize with girls.

“No. Sorry to
disappoint.”

“Oh well, it was fun
while it lasted.”

“Fun for you!” I said and
laughed. “I’ll leave you alone to get dressed before mom comes in and picks out
your outfit.”

“Good idea.” Cruz tossed
his empty can on the floor. I automatically bent over and picked it up.

“Don’t they teach you how
to clean up after yourself at college?” I teased and threw it in the trash can with
an exaggerated effort before shutting his door behind me.

I went across the hall
into my room to change my shirt and freshen up. After checking my reflection in
the mirror I decided to wear my hair down. I took out the band and shook the
waves loose. It made such a difference that I had to stop and stare at my
reflection. Wearing my hair down took ten years off my face; it seemed softer,
less austere. Between the energy drink and approval of my appearance, I was
ready to face the rest of the family, all four generations of it.

People had already
started to arrive and I helped my mom greet at the door. We guided everyone to
the back yard. The muted bluish light from the pool blended with the soft
lighting of paper lanterns hanging from the edge of the sun porch roof. Tables for
food were set up on the flagstone patio and formed an “L” shape along the
house. My dad was playing bartender and passing out red solo cups full of beer
to the crowd gathered around the keg. Another crowd had formed around Aunt
Theresa’s tamales. I hurried over to grab one before they all disappeared. 

“Elena!” my mother’s
sisters, yelled in unison when they saw me approach. I gave them each a hug and
Theresa handed me a plate. “You need to eat, fill out those curves a bit.”

And so it began. I smiled
and nodded my way through the physical critique, drank my way through the
questions about my relationship status and crossed my arms over my breasts when
Cousin Jesus stared a little too long.

A few hours later, the
crowd had thinned and only a dozen or so close family members lingered on the
patio. A couple younger cousins splashed around in the pool and I took a seat
near the edge to stick my feet in the water. Cruz sat down next to me.

He handed me a shot of
tequila. “Bottoms up, sis!” he said and touched his glass to mine.

We had matching grimaces
when we were done and quickly took a sip of beer. My head was already spinning
and knew it would be a while before it was safe to stand up.

“Are you trying to kill
me? Between the Red Bull and the tequila, I’m surprised I haven’t had a
seizure.” This came out like “seeshur”, causing Cruz to tilt his head back and
laugh. I joined him and we laughed like lunatics for a good five minutes. When
my sides started to ache and the hiccups kicked in, I had to bring my breathing
under control. That’s when I noticed our cousins had stopped splashing to stare
at the spectacle poolside.

“This is why you
shouldn’t drink, kids.” I said, trying to sound like the law enforcement
officer and voice of reason. This set Cruz off and I started laughing with him
all over again.

The older adults moved inside,
bringing trays of food into the kitchen, leaving us by ourselves. Cruz got up
to refill our cups. He handed me a beer and sat back down.

“Um, so I wanted to talk
to you,” Cruz said.

“About what?” I turned to
face him.

“About when you were
rescued from the wildfire.”

His tone was serious and
he stared at me with bloodshot eyes. I took a long swallow of beer before
responding.

“What do you want to
know?”

“This guy at school, he’s
a friend of a friend…anyway; he came up to me at a party last week. Mind you we
were all pretty fucked up, but he said he knows who saved you. He claims that
his brother died in a car accident on that same stretch of I-17 and was a ghost
for a while.”

‘What do you mean by
ghost for a while?”

“I don’t know. I kind of
laughed at him. It’s pretty out there, don’t you think?”

“No. Can you get me in
touch with this guy?”

“Why?”

“I want to talk to him.”

“That’s funny.” He shook
his head before tilting it back to drink the rest of his beer.

“I’m being serious.”

“I know. What’s funny is
that he wants to talk you too.”

Chapter Sixty-Three

Frank had told me about
Tobin, about how he and Juanita were the only ones to successfully crossover. I
hoped Gavin, Tobin’s brother, had some insight and would be able to help me.
Cruz passed my number along and Gavin called me the same week. We made
arrangements to meet in Tempe on my next day off.

It was almost noon before
I drove south, but Gavin sounded like he had just woken up when I called him
before leaving. With it being midweek and midday, traffic was light so it
didn’t take me long to reach the campus.

When I entered the coffee
shop where we had agreed to meet, I texted him since he could have been any one
of the young, male college students in the shop. It took a few scans before I
spotted a lanky guy with dark hair hanging in his eyes, standing up by a small
table in the corner. Our eyes met and he gave me a tentative wave and held up
his phone. The café was crowded. I maneuvered through people and tables to make
my way over to him.

“Gavin?” I asked and he
nodded, holding out his hand which I shook. We sat down across from each other.
Gavin’s iced coffee and half eaten scone separated us. He had picked a good
table tucked back in the corner away from people.

We had already talked
about my rescue experience and how I knew ghosts had saved me, but he didn’t
know what I had promised them.

“Thanks for meeting me,”
he said and placed a picture in front of me. The image was of two young boys
kneeling in a sandbox. Each boy had a Tonka truck in front of them, which were
ignored as they smiled at the camera.

Gavin pointed to the
older of the two boys. “That’s my brother, Tobin.”

“Were you close?”

“Yeah. He stood up for
me, especially against our dad who can be pretty oppressive, or at least he used
to be.”

“Parents - you can’t
choose them,” I said and smiled. He laughed and I noticed the set of his
shoulders relax.

“Were you able to see him
after he…”

“Died? No, but he was
able to move things…write in the sand and stuff so I knew he was there.”

“Why do you want to talk
to me if you know he’s gone?”

“Because I left him there
and moved on. He always stood up for me and when it was my turn to stand by
him, I didn’t.”

Gavin proceeded to tell
me how at first he went to visit his brother. He even contemplated suicide so
he could join him, but Tobin convinced him otherwise.

“I was definitely fucked
in the head for a while there after Tobin died and I didn’t have that buffer
with my dad.” Gavin played with a loose thread on the frayed sleeve of his
shirt. “But things got better, you know? I got my driver’s license and then a
girlfriend. My visits to see Tobin eventually stopped.”

“It happens; you moved on.”

“When Candy told me he
had crossed over, I didn’t believe her at first so I drove up there. The other
ghosts confirmed it.”

“I know those other
ghosts,” I paused and took a sip of coffee. “I’ve seen them.”

Gavin stopped playing
with his sleeve and looked up at me with wide eyes.

When Gavin and I spoke on
the phone to arrange our meeting, I didn’t tell him I knew any of this. I
wanted to feel him out first and hear his story before revealing all my cards,
so to speak. I also didn’t know how close of an acquaintance Gavin was to my
brother and the last thing I needed was my mom learning about this. Being divorced,
a cop, and approaching thirty was bad enough; talking to spirits would have her
showing up at my apartment to stage an intervention. Despite these
reservations, I decided to take a chance because I sensed sadness lingering
around Gavin. He suffered a loss that left a mark and this was something I
could relate to.

He didn’t say anything so
I continued. “I know their names and I’m trying to help them cross over like
Tobin.”  

“How?” he asked.

“I don’t know, exactly. Frank
told me about your brother crossing over and another ghost did too. Her name
was Juanita.”

“Who’s Frank?” Gavin was
leaning forward now, his scone pushed aside and forgotten.

“Oh, right, sorry. He’s
one of them. He died in the fifties.”

“And he’s still there?”

“Yes, he’s not the oldest
one either.”

“So he probably helped
save Candy and my nephew?”

“It’s very possible.
Frank is the one who carried me to safety.” I reached into my laptop bag and
pulled out the file. Gavin watched my movements and eyed the folder with
curiosity. I had his full attention.

I flipped it open and
turned it around on the table for Gavin. Georgia’s information happened to be
on top and he winced at the crime scene photographs; although black and white,
they were still jarring.

Gavin read the crime
report and turned to the next page, which was Frank’s wife’s obituary. As he
went through the folder I explained who was who. When he was done reading
everything he slouched back in his chair and chewed on his lower lip.

“I want to help you,” he
said after a few minutes of silence. I set down my cup of coffee, long grown
cold.

“I don’t even know what
I’m doing. How are you going to help?”

“This is perfect for my
senior project. I can make a documentary about this as we go through the
process.”

“Oh no. Nope, I’m all set
with video. I’ll lose my job if word gets out. Besides how is that going to be
any different than a ghost hunting show?”

“Well for one thing, we
know who they are and what happened to them. Plus, there’s already proof of
your rescue. I promise to keep this off the internet and what if we actually
succeed? That will be amazing and such a compelling study.”

The disheveled college
student was transforming into a salesperson and his pitch was convincing. The
idea of succeeding seemed more feasible with more than one person involved.

“Let me think about it,”
I said and returned the folder to the side pocket of my bag.

“Okay, that’s fair and I
promise not to tell anyone.”

I stood up and Gavin
followed suit. We shook hands and I agreed to call him within a few days with
my decision.

****

I was so deep in thought
on the way home I almost drove past the spot, forcing me to swerve onto the
shoulder and slam on my brakes. The driver behind me honked and I caught a glimpse
of a middle finger as a red convertible drove past.

When there was a break in
the traffic, I stepped out of my car and hurried around to the other side,
stopping short when I almost walked into Frank. He and the others were waiting
for me.

“I recognized your car,”
Frank explained. “We haven’t heard from you in a while and are a little
anxious.”

“There have been some
developments,” I said. “In fact, I just met Tobin’s brother for coffee. He
wants to help too.”

“I remember him!” Georgia
said. “Skinny kid with acne, right?”

He wasn’t thin and
actually kind of built. If he had any zits, the hair hanging in his face
covered them. “Not anymore,” I told her. “He’s twenty-two and a senior at ASU.”

“He’s that old already?”
Georgia grew brighter and I swore she became solid, like a real person. I
recognized the troubled expression on her face; it was the realization that too
much time has lapsed and you couldn’t get it back.

“Is that the only
development?” Lawrence asked.

“No, there’s more.” I
opened the passenger door. My laptop bag was on the passenger seat and I
retrieved the file folder.

The sound of sand being
crunched by tires got my attention and I turned to see who was approaching. A beige
sedan slowed to a stop behind my Honda. The passenger window lowered and a head
popped out.

“Are you broken down?” a
middle-aged woman called to me.

“No, I’m fine…just taking
a break. Thanks though.” 

The woman smiled, pulled
her head back in and the window went up. I waved as they drove past and waited
until the car disappeared over the hill. The rest of the traffic roared by
without paying me any attention and that was perfect.

I used my hood as a desk
and the ghosts shuffled into a partial circle around me so they could see the
contents of the folder. 

“Frank, you had a son.
He’s named after you,” I handed him the print-out of the article about Frank Junior’s
recent arrest. Frank went to grab it and it went right through his fingers and
drifted to the ground. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot!” I stammered and bent over to
pick the paper up.

“It’s okay,” he said,
lowering into a squat next to me. He flickered, like a strobe light was cast
upon him. Growing brighter much like Georgia had just done, he focused his eyes
on the page. Moments later he stood upright with the paper clenched in his
fist. “I wasn’t ready for that. I have a son?”