Ghostly Liaison (5 page)

“Who is this Rob Gentry?” Mom asked. “Do we know him?”

“What do you mean do you know him? He was Brian’s best man.”

Her mother looked at the floor. “Oh. Well, see…”

“What your mother is trying to say is that we didn’t go to the wedding,” her father interjected.

“Then why did you tell me you went?” Bridget asked.

Mom set to wringing her hands the way she always did whenever the topic of conversation made her uncomfortable. “Because it made you happy. But there was no way I could go to a wedding when my baby girl was lying in a coma.”

Bridget closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Now it was her fault her mother hadn’t gone to Kate’s wedding? “Mom, I don’t think I would have noticed you being gone.”

“That’s what I told her, but you know your mother.” Dad kissed Bridget on the cheek. “We’ll leave you to unpack. I’ll take your bike and get the tire fixed for you. Call us if you need anything.” He picked up her mom’s purse from the couch and held it out to her.

Mom eyed her purse for several seconds before taking it and placing it on her shoulder. “You call me tomorrow and we can go out shopping for curtains and things.”

Bridget’s pocketbook wasn’t quite ready for a shopping spree. “The weekend would work better for me.”

Her mother pointed to the window. “But there are no curtains!”

“I’ll throw a sheet over it. Really, Mom, it’ll be okay.”

Dad nudged Mom toward Bridget. “Give your daughter a hug good-bye. We’re going.”

Sometimes Bridget wished for siblings. Maybe then she wouldn’t be stuck being the center of her mother’s universe. She would have been able to spread the wealth.

Mom hugged her tight. “I love you, sweetie.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

Bridget walked out with her parents and stood on the porch until they drove out of sight. Pink and orange clouds dotted the western horizon and a cool breeze ruffled her hair. She inhaled deeply, taking in the rain-cleaned air. Finally, on her own. She owed Kate big-time.

After the colors faded away, she went back inside to unpack. Not that she owned much, but no sense in letting her clothes wrinkle. Then her mother might find the need to buy her an iron. Or worse, come over and iron. She shuddered at the thought.

She closed the door and flipped the light switch. Pain flashed in her temples. She winced and rubbed the offending areas. So much for tranquility.

“I was wondering if you were ever going to come back inside.”

“Hell’s bells!” Bridget jumped and grabbed her chest. The woman from the backyard was standing in her living room, near the fireplace.

“I knew it!” The woman stomped her foot. “You
can
see me. Why did you ignore me earlier?”

“I didn’t… Who are you? What are you doing in here?” Bridget glanced at the sliding glass door. Had Rob left it unlocked?

“I’m Charlie and I live…er…reside here.”

“Rob didn’t mention anyone living here.”

The woman smiled friendly-like, not threatening at all. And her name sounded vaguely familiar. Bridget massaged her temples and the pain lessened, but her heart still pounded from being startled.

“That’s because he doesn’t know. So why did you ignore me?”

“What are you talking about? Is that why you ran off earlier?” Which made more sense than assuming she had spoken with a hallucination. The woman was clearly a squatter, so of course she’d run off earlier. “I’m calling Rob.” Bridget hurried to her backpack, which sat on the kitchen counter.

“Umm, you might not want to do that. He’ll only think you’re crazy.”

Bridget froze. The word
crazy
tended to do that to her.

Charlie materialized in the kitchen. “But you’re not crazy.”

Shit! How had she done that? Wasn’t she just by the fireplace? A moan escaped Bridget’s mouth. Good Lord, she was hallucinating again. What else could it be?

She needed to lie down. It had been a long and stressful day and she was tired. That’s all it was. She was sure of it…almost.

Without making eye contact, Bridget turned and scurried to the bedroom. She quickly closed the door and leaned against it. Eyes closed, she concentrated on calming her racing heart. Thank God her father had stashed her suitcases in the room. No way would she go back out there tonight.

“You can’t get rid of me that fast.”

Bridget jerked backward—rattling the door—and opened her eyes. Her hallucination stood mere inches away. Dread came crashing around her and she slunk to the floor. It wouldn’t be long before the men in the white coats carted her away. And to think her life had been getting better.

* * * *

Way to go, Charlie
. Appearing out of thin air had only made things worse. She needed Bridget calm, not on the verge of a heart attack. But how else could she get through to the woman? Knock on the door? Yeah, right.

Charlie backed up a few inches and crouched. She could have lowered herself to be at eye level—walls and floors no longer a barrier—but why risk it? “Please don’t freak out. I need you to be calm. Do you hear me?”

“Are you my punishment?” Bridget asked as she covered her face.

Punishment? Shit, she’d never been anyone’s punishment before. Well, except maybe Robbie’s, but that’s what little sisters were for. “Hey—this has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. You’re the first person who’s been able to see me.”

“Which just goes to prove I’m crazy.” Bridget flew her arms out and flung her head back against the door. “Of course I’m crazy. I’m talking to a hallucination.”

“Hey! I’m not a hallucination. I’m a ghost.”

“What’s the difference?”

“A hallucination isn’t real.” Charlie straightened and tapped her chest. “I’m real.”

Bridget gestured toward Charlie. “So says the hallucination.”

Well, this wasn’t going anywhere. “Listen. I can prove I’m real. It’s just going to take some work on your part.”

“And I can prove you’re a hallucination and it won’t take much work at all.” Bridget stood, took a deep breath, and stepped toward Charlie.

What did Bridget hope to accomplish? Neither a hallucination nor a ghost was corporeal. Charlie closed her eyes. A person walking through her body was a bit disconcerting and not one of her favorite activities. Not that she could see inside them. That would be gross. But damn if she would get out of the way.

The collision was unexpected.

Charlie opened her eyes. Bridget’s widened.

“Holy shit!” Charlie grabbed Bridget’s upper arms and her feet hit the ground. She grinned. “I can touch you!”

“You’re real?” Bridget’s voice barely squeaked out.

Joy wrapped around Charlie and she hugged Bridget close. How could this be? Sure, she’d moved some furniture around, even got the lights to go on and off a couple of times, but never touched the object. “Oh my God! You feel warm!”

Bridget shoved, dislodging Charlie. “And you’re cold. What are you?”

“I told you. I’m a ghost. My name is Charlie Gentry and I died. Here. In that bed. But I think the real question is: what are you?”

* * * *

What was she? Was she crazy? Sick? She must be to talk to ghosts. Bridget covered her face with her hands. None of this was happening. How could it? Ghosts didn’t exist.

“Will you quit looking so defeated?” Charlie said, pulling Bridget’s hands down. Her eyes glistened. “This is a great day! No one has ever seen me before. I just wondered why you’re different.”

“Oh, God. I
am
crazy,” Bridget muttered. Crazy people saw things all the time. But did those things feel real to them? Charlie was as solid as the floor. Well, when they touched. She currently hovered an inch above it.

“You’re not crazy. I used to be alive. Go ask my brother. He’ll tell you.”

Her brother? Bridget blinked. Hell’s bells! “You’re Rob’s sister? The one who died?”

Charlie stepped back. “Yes. Finally!”

“You expect me to tell Rob about you?”

“Hell, no! He’ll think you’re crazy.”

Bridget’s head swam. Her eyes filled with tears and her vision blurred. She didn’t want to be crazy. She just wanted her life back. Not that she deserved it. Maybe this was her punishment for killing Suzie. If she had refused to drive, if she had only said no, she wouldn’t have stalled the vehicle and Suzie would be alive and she’d be sane.

She walked around Charlie and plopped on the bed. “Why is this happening? Can you go away? Is that all it takes, for me to wish it?”

“Probably not, but you might be able to help me go away. I figure I’m still around because I was murdered.”

Murdered? Damn. Rob and Mr. Murdock had never mentioned that. Was that why Rob couldn’t sell the house? “So, what? You’re waiting until they catch the guy?”

“Uhhh, actually, everyone thinks I committed suicide. But I didn’t. I was killed.”

“What do you want from me? I’m not a cop. I’m not even a private investigator. I’m just a nurse who isn’t a nurse anymore.”

“But you don’t have to investigate. Don’t you understand? I already know who killed me. I just need you to find the proof.”

Okay, sounded easy enough. Find the evidence and the ghost moves on. It was the least she could do, right? Help another murder victim? She certainly hadn’t helped Suzie. Besides, Charlie was Rob’s sister, or so she claimed. “Where is this proof located?”

“Well…see… I don’t have any.” Charlie’s face lit up. “But Nick might. If you can see me, maybe you can see him, too.”

Bridget rubbed her temples, trying to alleviate the throbbing pain. Of course there wasn’t any proof. Why would anything be easy? She was a murderer. Murderers didn’t get breaks. “Who’s Nick?”

“He was my boyfriend. I’m sure he’s still around. That’s if murdered people don’t move on right away, like me.”

“You’re asking me to go find another ghost when I’m trying to get rid of you?” The throbbing in her head advanced to a hammering blow. The loony bin was looking mighty tempting. Mainly because of all the drugs they gave out. She could use a few right now.

“Well…yeah. I’m sure Nick knows everything. So, will you do it? Will you go find him?”

“Listen. I’m having enough problems believing in you. Will you let me decide if you’re real first before I agree to anything?”

“You won’t take long, will you? I mean, you’re the first person who can—”

“See you, right. I get it. But right now I want to ignore you. Because I’m sure you’re just a figment of my imagination.” Or a tumor. That was a strong possibility.

Charlie put her arms akimbo. “I told you, I’m real.”

No angering the ghost, especially a ghost who could touch her. “Fine. If you are who you say you are, then Rob will have a picture, right? And since I’ve never seen you before…”

“Yes, he’ll have a picture. He has one in his wallet.” Charlie jumped or acted as if she was jumping. Instead of bouncing as expected, she hovered over the floor. “Thank you, Bridget. Thank you for giving me hope. I’ll leave you alone tonight, I promise.”

“And the morning? You’ll leave me alone then, too?”

Charlie frowned. “Sure. I’ll stay away. I’ll check in tomorrow night. But could you do me a favor?”

“What kind of favor?”

“Could you turn the TV on for me? It gets awfully boring.”

Bridget flopped back on the bed. Heaven forbid her ghost got bored!

Rob closed the lid to his laptop and leaned back in his seat. The start of a headache had formed behind his eyes. He was no college graduate, but even he knew a business should have money in the bank, not be nearly broke. Barnaby sat up and stared at him as if anticipating his departure. He reached down and scratched behind the dog’s ears. “What am I gonna do, huh fella?”

As if answering in his own unique and totally speechless way, Barnaby placed his head in Rob’s lap.

“That’s what I thought.” And to think, it had only taken a year for him to screw things up.

This wasn’t the life he’d envisioned for himself. For one, Dad would still be alive and running the business. All Rob wanted to do was work with his hands. Build things. Building a bigger business had been David Gentry’s dream, not his. And now that dream was crumbling.

The front door to the office squeaked open and slammed shut. Rob had meant to fix the door, but every time he’d started the project, something or someone pulled him away. Carl Anders poked his head into Rob’s office. “Oh good, you’re still here.”

The fifty-three-year-old had been with the company since day one, nearly thirty years. Not only the first salesman/foreman, he’d become a good friend of the family. Rob would have been lost without him this past year.

Barnaby growled.

“Stop it!” Rob said.

The dog just hadn’t been the same since Charlie’s death. Barnaby slunk to the floor and placed his head on his paws.

“Sorry about that. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. So what’s up?”

Carl grinned and took a chair. “We won the office-park project.”

Rob sat up. “I thought we weren’t going to bid on that. It’s too big for us.”

Carl waved his hand in dismissal. “Nonsense. Nothing’s too big. It’s what your father always said. Besides, with this recession, we shouldn’t have any problems hiring people. Heck, we might even get them cheaper. This is great news. Why aren’t you smiling?”

“How are we going to pay for more people?”

“Rob… Have you been looking at the bank statement again? How many times have I told you to quit worrying? The bank doesn’t reflect what we have due us. This is a big contract. It will pay for the new hires and you’ll still come out ahead. Trust me. Have I steered you wrong yet?”

Rob couldn’t answer that. Not truthfully, anyway. While he had nothing against hiring new people, he’d rather work with the men he trusted and right now they were stretched thin. “When does the job start?”

“Next month.”

Panic sparked through Rob’s chest and he bolted out of his chair. “That’s not enough time!”

Carl rose, his arms outstretched. “Ease up there, son. I have it all taken care of. That’s my job.”

Rob dragged in a ragged breath and collapsed onto his chair. “I’m not cut out for this. I should have sold the business after Dad died.”