The Ghost Files (The Ghost Files - Book 1) Read online

  The Ghost Files

  Volume I

  By Apryl Baker

  The Ghost Files

  Copyright © 2013 by Apryl Baker. All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: August 2013

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1492156369

  ISBN-10: 1492156361

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedications

  For Granny –

  You are missed every single day.

  Table of Contents

  Part I: Secrets

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Part II: Lies

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Part III: Truths

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Part I: Secrets

  Chapter One

  Cherry blossom lipstick applied to full, pouty lips to perfection, check. Smoky eyes, check. The hazel color does throw off the smoke effect, but they still look pretty darn good. Black curls flowing down white fleece in a flirty style, check. Kid with the hole in her head, check. Skinny jeans… hole in her head?!!

  My head snaps around and I stare at the kid. She can’t be more than eight or nine. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a ponytail. The sundress is adorable, little daisies everywhere with blue slippers to match. She’s as cute as a button if you can ignore the pasty skin and the hole, which looks like a bullet hole. Not that I’ve ever seen one up close and personal in my sixteen years, but I do watch SVU. Stabler is hot for an old guy.

  “Mattie, you done in there yet?”

  I roll my eyes at the whine in Sally’s voice. She’s so jealous about not getting invited to Megan Johnson’s party. Not that she’d go, mind you, but that’s not the point. It’s the invite that matters.

  “Can you help me?”

  It’s the kid. My eyes flick back to her. No. I’ll ignore her and she’ll go away, just like always. Yep, that’s been my rule since I was five. It’s one thing that I actually see ghosts, but I don’t want them to know that.

  “Mattttiiieee!!!!”

  “Alright already!” I yell. Sheeze, can’t she chill for five more minutes?

  “Please.”

  “Yeoww!” The dead kid touched me and it hurt. It felt like a knife had sliced through me and I shudder. It’s never pleasant if they touch you. It’s not my pain I feel, but hers, mostly pain and confusion. And I hear… things. “Mommy, Mommy, where’s Mr. Bear?” The kid doesn’t know she’s dead?

  “Mattie, you see a roach or something?”

  I can hear the worry in Sally’s voice. She has a thing about roaches. The dump she and her mom used to live in was infested. She’d told me once she’d woken up with one in her mouth. So gross.

  “Please, please, can you help me?”

  Don’t look at her, Mattie. Don’t say a word. She wants to touch me again, but I scoot backwards and run for the door. I can feel her behind me. She’s confused because I won’t talk to her. Too bad. Then I open the door. “Bathroom’s all yours, Sally.”

  “Is there a roach in there?” she asks, eyeballing the room with fear.

  “Just a mouse,” I say and slide down the hall, stopping to grab my coat. That was mean, even for me. Sally’s scared of mice too, but if the ghost stays in there… can’t chance it. Sally can’t see her, but who knows what the dead kid might do?

  That is my screwed-up life in a nutshell. Yup, Mattie Louise Hathaway — the foster kid who sees dead people. Not something I’ll ever talk about in casual conversation, mind you. No way will I end up in the loony bin. Nobody – and I mean nobody – knows my secret. And that’s exactly how I plan on keeping it – very, very secret.

  I’m outside, and there are no ghosts. Excellent.

  When my ride shows up a few minutes later, I’m all smiles. Oh, yeah. Jake Owens is a major hottie – the absolute cutest guy I ever drooled over. Every girl in school goes all gooey around him. Who can blame them? He’s the tall, broad-shouldered football captain with baby-blue eyes, and a smile that could defrost even Mrs. Wynn, the stuck-up English teacher trapped in the seventies. And he’s all mine.

  “Mattie, you’re looking great tonight,” he says in his deep voice that makes me warm all over.

  I wink and settle into the car. It’s cold outside and I’m frozen, but I won’t act cold. This girl didn’t dress for warmth, but to flirt. Why we girls torture ourselves to look good, I’m not sure any of us can really answer. Guys don’t go through half as much trouble as we do to impress. All they do is throw on just anything and look good. It’s so unfair.

  Meg’s party is at an abandoned mill – not at her house, like last time, when the cops got called and her parents grounded Meg for a month. She had to do community service, too, which had to suck. They said it’d help her build character and learn responsibility. Yeah. Whatever. When that day comes for me, I’ll sprout wings and fly.

  All Megan cares about is spending Daddy’s money and keeping her boyfriend, Tommy James, happy. Megan is hands-down the most popular girl in our school – head cheerleader, with perfect hair and skin. I can only wish to look half so good. Anyways, back to Tommy. He has roving eyes that often land where they shouldn’t. Megan can do much better, but she’s hooked on the guy. Stupid, but not my business.

  The party is in full swing by the time we get there. Everyone is milling around, laughing, talking and drinking. Jake lays an arm around my shoulders and I snuggle close. It’s freezing! Why Meg decided to have a party outside in the dead of winter is beyond me. We make a beeline for the bonfire raging out back. Jake grabs a beer, but I decline.

  I never, ever drink at parties. The only thing I’ll drink is water I run from the tap myself. I’m not stupid enough to set myself up to get drugged and raped. Jake is a pretty decent guy, but I’ve only known him a couple of weeks, and have no idea what he’s like when drunk. I’m a smart cookie. I never take chances like that.

  “Mattie!” Meg waves her beer bottle at me. She’s already buzzed; her eyes are a bit glassy. See? Not a smart cookie. She’d be an SVU nightmare. Don’t get me wrong. I really, really like Meg. She’s one of the first people who accepted me when I got here last month. That girl’s got a closet full of clothes I�
�d sell an organ for, but her personal choices are not always the best ones. She’s the town’s sweetheart, the golden girl expected to do great things. I guess she doesn’t think anything bad could ever happen to her.

  “Hey.” I smile and shake my head when Tommy offers me a beer.

  “Aw, come on Mattie, have a drink, loosen up a bit,” Tommy wheedles. His eyes are on my chest. Such a jerk. Meg hasn’t noticed and I’m grateful. I’d hate for her to get mad at me because of her idiot boyfriend.

  “Leave off, Tommy,” Jake glares. He has noticed where Tommy’s eyes are. “You know Mattie doesn’t drink.”

  “Chill, man. I’m only trying…”

  I roll my eyes at the rising testosterone. Change the subject. “Meg, didn’t I see Ava over there wearing knock-offs?”

  “I know! Can’t believe she thought she could pass those boots off as designer. I mean, really.” Meg nods. “And that handbag… O-M-G!” Nothing upsets her more than a knock-off. She is a fashionista in the worst sense of the word. She plans on going to a New York design school after graduation.

  “The stitching is all wrong on the bag, too.” I am not a fashionista, but I’ve heard that stitching can prove if something is original or not.

  “It’s atrocious!” Meg laughs. “I can’t believe she thinks anybody will buy that nonsense.”

  “Maybe her folks aren’t rich and it’s all she can afford?” Jake asks, voice dripping with sarcasm. Jake’s parents are pretty close to poor. His dad is often out of work and his mom’s a housekeeper for the local hotel. Jake will work part time this summer to pay the bills. It’s one of the reasons I liked him to begin with. He’s not like the usual high school boy. He understands that life is hard, and you do what you have to do.

  Meg’s catty remark did sound a little snarky, I must admit. Not everyone’s father is the mayor and can afford to dress in high fashion. Look at me. I wear Wal-Mart clothes. I don’t pretend to be anything I’m not. That’s probably why Meg and I get along so well.

  Meg sighs. “That sounded really bitchy, huh?” She’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever known, but when she’s drunk, the girl can get a little mean.

  “Just a little,” I tell her, “but I started it.” I’d tried to stop a potential fight between Tommy and Jake, but ended up dissing someone else. I felt bad. It’s a new feeling for me. I typically don’t let myself get attached enough to people to feel anything for them, but being around Jake and his family made me start rethinking my whole me-myself-and-I mentality. Not that I don’t have reason to keep people at arm’s length, but Jake is thawing me just a bit. I don’t know if I like it or not.

  “Know what you’re gonna do for your public speech on Friday, Mattie?” someone asks behind me. I turn around. Oh, joy. Sam Jenson. She and I are competing for the only junior spot on the debate team. I need it for scholarship purposes; she wants it only because I do.

  Since day one, Sam and I disliked each other. She’s a snob and I’m a smartass. Put us in a ring and I’d knock her on her snotty arse in 2.5 seconds. Does she honestly think I’m gonna tell her what I’m doing? But… considering that I’m standing with people who are nearly drunk or well past that state, she probably assumes I am, too.

  “Sure I do,” I tell her, “but you’ll have to wait until Friday to hear it.” I smile sweetly at her and snuggle under Jake’s arm. Sam has a huge crush on Jake. This I discovered from her friend Mimi. The snuggling only makes her mad and she stomps off. Good riddance. I so don’t want to get into a cat fight tonight.

  “You know that spot is yours,” Jake whispers in my ear. “I’ve heard you practicing. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Do I look worried?” I breathe in Jake’s rich scent. He smells clean and woodsy. I’m not sure what kind of cologne he uses, but it’s addictive. I could stand here forever basking in the warmth of the fire, enjoying Jake’s arms around me. This is as close as I’ve ever come to being well, maybe not so much happy, but I guess maybe content is the right word. It’s another new feeling for me, but it’s one I sorta like.

  “No,” Jake grins down at me, “but you do look very, very kissable.”

  I smile as he lowers his head and kisses me until my toes curl. Jake kisses better than any boy I’ve ever met. Not that I’m a slut, mind you; I don’t sleep around. I’m still a virgin, but do enjoy the whole kissing aspect of dating. Jake’s kisses make me want to rethink the whole not-sleeping-around thing, which worries me. Not that he’s even said anything, but if he did, I’d have to think really, really hard and I don’t know what my answer would be. It’s always been ‘no’ before, but I’ve never met a guy I liked this much, either.

  “Get a room,” Tommy grouches, breaking up our little interlude.

  Jake and I both laugh at Tommy’s obvious disgust. He’d hit on me not more than an hour after I’d arrived at school my first day. Tommy has never understood why I didn’t jump at the chance to let him in my pants. Why does Meg put up with his crap? Again, not my business.

  The joke rattling on my tongue dies as a girl steps into the firelight. She’s turned away from me, dressed in a bummy-looking gray nightshirt, hands bound behind her back. Long, stringy brown hair is matted with a dark sticky substance.

  Not here. Oh, please, oh please, oh please, not here.

  I want to avert my eyes, but can’t. She’s turned to face me; her eyes are so lost and scared. There’s a small bullet hole in her head, almost exactly where it was on the other dead kid I saw earlier. Her mouth is covered in duct tape, so she can’t speak, but I don’t need her to. I know her.

  It’s Sally.

  Chapter Two

  “Take me home. Now.”

  Jake and Tommy stop their sports talk mid-sentence and stare at me.

  “It’s only been two ho–” Jake shuts up when he no doubt sees the shock, worry, and anger in my expression.

  It’s wrong for Sally to end up murdered and I could care less if Jake’s upset about leaving early. I gotta get home.

  “Mattie…”

  “Now, Jake,” I cut him off. “You either drive me home or I’m walking.” He frowns and I stalk away. I hear his sigh behind me and then a muffled “Sorry,” before he hurries to catch up.

  “What’s going on?” he demands.

  “I just gotta get home.” No way can I say that I’ve just seen my foster sister’s ghost, bound and gagged. My face is stone; I suspect my eyes are, too.

  “Fine,” he sighs. “I’ll drive you.”

  Yeah, he’s irritated. Too bad. He’s nice and all and I really like him, but he’d best not be thinking I owe him anything. If he insists, he’ll learn Mattie-move number 1: Hit first, ask questions later. But when I wanna go, I just go. He’ll deal or move on.

  The ride is tense and I can feel Jake’s stare. He’s no doubt sure I’ve gone nuts… but I refuse to explain. I turn my attention to the more serious problem — what will I do at home? It’s not like I can say, “Hey, I just saw Sally’s ghost!” I have to do something.

  As we pull up, the house is quiet and dark. No lights, no movement. Nobody knows Sally’s gone, maybe? Not good. I don’t even give Jake time to stop the car before I’m out and running up the porch steps, yelling, “I’ll call you tomorrow!” I guess he drives away, but don’t bother turning around to find out.

  I fumble my keys, but finally open the front door. My feet pound up the stairs, thumping in concert with the rapid beating of my heart.

  “MRS. OLSON!” I bellow and burst into Sally’s room. The door bounces off the wall.

  The bed is rumpled, like she’s just gotten up to go to the bathroom or the kitchen for a snack. Her shoes lay haphazardly in front of the bed, and her robe is in a puddle on the bedspread. The lamp is still on. Sally always sleeps with it on so that she’ll know where she is when she wakes up and that she’s safe. But not this time.

  Where is she? I rip open the closet door, half expecting to see her there. There’s no way she could have gotten far. I’d only be
en gone a little over two hours. I circle the room looking for anything to tell me where she is. Nothing is out of place here. I want to scream.

  “What is it?” Mrs. Olson staggers into the room, wiping sleep from her eyes and blinking like an owl.

  “Where’s Sally?” I demand; my voice is a little too shrill.

  “She went to a party,” Mrs. Olson yawns and pulls muddy brown hair out of its elastic band. “Why all the fuss, Mattie? She said she was going to meet you.”

  “No way. She wasn’t invited, and had no way to get there, even if she was crashing it.” My mind flitted anxiously. Sally had been wearing her night clothes! That means whatever happened to her started here. “We have to call the police,” I mumble, still trying to see something in the room that could give me a clue.

  “The police?” Mrs. Olson groans. “Mattie, she’s at a party. Why would we call the police?”

  “Because I already told you she wasn’t at the party!” I shout.

  Mrs. Olson stares at me like I sprouted horns. “If she’s not home in a couple hours, then we’ll call the police, honey. You need to calm down.”

  I growl through my teeth. Why won’t she listen to me? Just because I don’t have the magical number eighteen attached to me doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m talking about! Arghhhh.

  Mrs. Olson is shaking her head at me and I throw up my hands. To heck with this. I stomp down the stairs and pick up the phone.

  “Mathilda Louise Hathaway, just what do you think you’re doing?” She thuds down the steps right behind me.

  “I’m calling the cops since you won’t.”

  She takes the phone from me. “No you won’t call the police. Sally went to a party and whether you saw her there or not, that is where she is. I am sure she’ll be home soon.”

  “Really? So when she doesn’t come home and we end up calling the cops, what are you gonna say when they ask you, why didn’t you call sooner?” I spit out. “You’re supposed to be taking care of us!”