A Strange There After (4 page)

I let the good mood settle in. Today, Abby
would show up, I was certain of it. Swinging my legs over the side
of the bare mattress, I pushed to my feet and rushed downstairs,
determined to get into the backyard for a little more
investigating.

As I rounded the corner at the top of the
main staircase, my lips tingled, and I skidded to a halt. I knew
the feeling all too well and steeled myself against it. Warmth
flooded my body the same instant I caught sight of Jason and
Catherine in a lip lock by the front door. I growled. Why were they
always kissing?

My previous mission faded into nonexistence
as anger elbowed its way in. He brushed a lock of hair away from
her face, causing a tickle to spread across my cheek. My palm shot
up, pressing against the skin. I closed my eyes, latching onto the
feeling, pretending for a moment he really touched me.

The moment snapped.

With a burst of determination, I literally
flew down the stairs and stepped through Catherine, back into my
body. Well, okay, not
in
my body, but I occupied the same
space as her. It made me nauseous, like being pinched and pulled in
a million different directions. I ignored it because I got exactly
the reaction I’d planned on.

Catherine hadn’t expected me, and she jumped
with a squeal, leaving me wedged between her and Jason. I smiled in
triumph.

“Quinn, what’s wrong?”

He took a step forward, and I hopped out of
the way. Invading Catherine’s personal space was one thing, doing
it to Jason felt intimate and wrong. I so did not want to go there.
Not yet. Someday, when I had my body back, maybe. Oh, my God. Heat
flushed my cheeks. Was it possible for a ghost to blush?

I pushed the silly notion to the side and
listened for Catherine’s answer. Let’s see her explain this, I
thought.

The surprise in her eyes vanished. She cozied
up in his arms again. “Don’t laugh, but I heard a bump upstairs,
and for a split second, I forgot Marietta wasn’t here anymore.
Panic set in. I didn’t want her to catch us kissing. Old habits, I
guess.”

“Wow,” I interjected. “Lame. You’re losing
your touch, Catherine.”

Some of my light mood deflated when Jason
said, “Makes sense. You feared her for such a long time. Good thing
your knight in shining armor is here.”

“You wish.”

It was my turn to jump, startled. The words
came from both Catherine and me—at the same time. The wench was
getting too convincing in this role. Apparently, I wasn’t as unique
as I thought.

Jason’s smile turned playful, and he lifted
her off her feet, planting another kiss on her lips. I mashed mine
together. While I avoided the sensation of their lips meeting by
rubbing my mouth, I couldn’t ignore the warmth enveloping my heart,
making my veins pound.

I became lost in the moment, taking a
half-second to remember being with him this way, then buried it
deep. Rage replaced it, and I let the madness fester a bit. I
barely heard the front door click shut. Maybe I should be less
concerned with Catherine and concentrate on getting Jason to sense
me. Not right now, though.

I had a ghost to confront.

I found her upstairs, in the master bedroom
once occupied by Marietta. The walls were a soft brown, which I
didn’t mind, but the general over-frilliness of everything else
bothered me. It screamed ‘old maid’. A lacy bedspread and curtains,
fussy doilies and knick knacks—Catherine might have had a lot of
positives going for her, but a sense for interior decorating was so
not one of them.

“You think you’re clever?” she asked,
standing in the doorway to the walk-in closet. Her hair was
lighter, I observed in surprise, highlighted in that sun-kissed way
so many of my step-sisters’ friends coveted.

“Worth a shot.” I lifted a shoulder lazily,
feigning disinterest. “You really should redecorate this place. It
shows your age.”

“I’m eighteen.”

“Yeah, times ten. Careful, Catherine, I hear
breaking a hip is hard to recover from.”

My barbs were less than mediocre, but I
couldn’t exactly insult her looks.

“Jealousy is such an ugly color on you,
Quinn. It’s got to kill you, realizing you’re not interesting
enough to be missed.”

Examining my nails, still covered with the
black polish I’d had on the night I was evicted, I said, “You
should remember enough of Anna and Suzie to realize I grew up with
the queens of passive aggressive taunting. Bring it on,
sister.”

She smirked and turned her attention back to
shifting through the contents of her wardrobe, much of it still
bearing price tags. “Jason’s taking me to the wrap party for his
movie in a few days. I get to meet all his fancy Hollywood
friends.” Catherine paused, staring off into the distance, a
wistful expression on her annoyingly beautiful face. “I’d be a good
actress. I’m getting plenty of practice.”

“Hah. You’re a lunatic.”

“That’s all you have for me?” A laugh tinkled
out of her, light and effortless. “Face it, it’s my turn to be
Cinderella.”

I could have told her to buzz off, but I took
the low road.

“Maybe you’ll be as lucky as me, and your
mama, Margaret, will show up to help ya get ready.” Her cheeks
paled, and I resisted the urge to pump my fist in victory. She
didn’t speak, so I plowed on. “What would she have to say about how
you’re acting? You claim to hate her and blame her, but don’t you
think a hundred and fifty-some year old grudge is long enough?”

“You know nothing about it.”

“She’s your mama. Regardless of anything,
that bond will always be there.”

“She hasn’t tried to contact me.” Her sadness
surprised me.

“Would you have let her?”

My counter question snapped her out of her
brief moment of humanity. “You’re better at this than you think.
You should realize, though, guilt and harassment isn’t going to
give you what you want. You’re dead wrong if you think it
will.”

“Dead. Interesting choice of words. You do
realize if I were dead, my body would be decaying. Actually, maybe
you’re right,” I sniffed the air daintily, “because I do smell
something rotten.”

“Very funny.”

“Tell me, Catherine, what happens if my body
dies?”

The idea chilled me, colder than anything I’d
felt yet.

She tapped a manicured finger against the
corner of her mouth. “Hmm, I’ll find another one to take. It’s
easier than I thought. All I have to do is pick. Let’s see. Anna,
the nicer of your stepsisters, has the kind of beauty everyone
loves. She’d be interesting.”

The possibility chilled me, and all my
retorts vanished. I wished there was some way to get to her and
make it last. I was getting stronger, but it rarely lasted.
Unfortunately, she carried all the advantage. Without help, what
good would I be against her? I couldn’t even open a door. Turning
on my heel, I intended to leave the room, irritated I let her win
another round. Heck, she won them all, didn’t she?

“You’ll find a way,” I reassured myself
quietly.

But I didn’t believe it.

The doorbell halted my exit, drawing my
attention to Catherine. She sailed past, down the stairs and
checked to see who it was through the glass at the side of the
door. A groan escaped her lips, and she yanked the handle,
plastering a fake smile on her lips. The second Catherine stepped
to the side, Abby burst into the house, her hair streaming behind
her. She flashed an angry glare at Catherine.

“What the hell is going on, Quinn? I’ve been
trying like crazy to reach you.”

Finally, the cavalry had arrived. She must
have heard me last night!

“Abby, I hope you got my flowers.”

Abby and I both gaped at Catherine as if
she’d lost her mind. First, she ignored Abby yesterday. Now she
flipped the switch, acting all concerned. Class act. I held my
breath, a worthless endeavor, and waited for Abby to make the
connection. The person in the world who knew me best suspected
something strange was afoot. Pieces were tumbling into place.
Catherine’s unfriendly actions should back up my visit to Abby.

“Flowers? Did I get your over-priced flowers?
Are you kidding me? I broke my arm and got a concussion helping you
get rid of the leech living off your stepmother, and you don’t even
come to visit me?” She narrowed her eyes. “It’s not like you.”

Wait, Abby got hurt that night? How? I
nibbled my lip in guilt. I’d been so caught up in my own drama I
never considered there had been other people affected.

Catherine fussed with the buttons of her
short-sleeved blouse, a see-through polka dot shirt she’d paired
with knee length shorts, classy and trendy, the opposite of me. “I
had some stuff to do. I helped the twins get Marietta set up in a
home. She still hasn’t quite recovered. And I’ve been getting used
to life on my own. I’m sure you understand.”

Abby didn’t speak for a while, and I hoped it
was because Catherine’s careless attitude had knocked the words out
of her.

“She’s going to figure it out. Abby knows.
And she’ll tell everyone,” I goaded.

I practically heard Catherine grinding her
teeth, but on a positive note, her skin paled slightly. Impatient,
I watched Abby study this living, breathing shell of her friend and
prayed for the truth to kick in, for her to remember what I said.
From the widening of her eyes, it must have clicked.

“Told ya!” I gloated, allowing myself a
little victory dance. “It’s about dang time!”

“I didn’t really believe it until this very
moment.” Abby inched closer, really taking in Catherine’s
appearance from head-to-toe.

“Believe what?” Catherine put as much
friendliness into her tone as she was probably capable of. “I’ve
had a lot of personal things going on. You broke your arm and
bumped your head. It’s not as if you were in a coma.”

My friend flinched and struggled for words.
Finally, she said, “Fine, if that’s how you want to play this, go
for it.”

Catherine took a menacing step forward, but
Abby held her ground. “Whatever it is you think you know, forget
it. You can’t prove a thing. Now, get out.”

Abby paled and scooted toward the door.
Determined to have the last word, she raised her voice. “Quinn, if
you’re in there, I’ll be at Moon River tonight. Working. We won’t
let her win.”

Catherine’s laugh continued after she slammed
the door behind Abby. She fixed me with an amused stare. “She’s
quite entertaining. Too bad she skipped right over the truth. For
all intents and purposes, you’re dead, Quinn. Deal with it.”

She flounced up the stairs and disappeared
into the master bedroom. I opened and closed my fists at my sides,
wishing I could wrap them around her neck. And why hadn’t Abby used
her proof, the recorder? Did it not come across clear enough?

Instead of cart wheeling backwards into rage,
I concentrated on a small victory. Abby knew I wasn’t there, well,
not completely. She’d obviously come to the conclusion I was
trapped in my body with Catherine, a hostage or something. If she
gave it a little more thought she’d understand that couldn’t
possibly be. Not when I traveled to her house to speak with her.
Once she realized this, I believed wholeheartedly she’d do
something about it or find someone else who could.

An idea bloomed. I’d go to her work tonight.
Heck, I’d haunt the girl until she truly understood what was going
on.

Chapter
Five

It took me a while to trek across town to
Moon River Brewing Company, the old hotel turned into a bustling
restaurant and bar. Well, a couple floors of it had. The rest had
never been fully renovated. Over the years, each time one of the
owners started remodeling, the ever-present paranormal activity
skyrocketed. It was rumored to be the most haunted place in
Savannah, a hotspot for investigators like me and Abby. Plus, Abby
and her mama worked there, giving us a little more access than most
were able to get.

Keeping the building front and center in my
mind, I managed to navigate through the Saturday night crowds and
soon found myself standing on the sidewalk in front of it. The
building rose four stories, dotted with rows of narrow windows, and
made of the creamy yellow brick so common in Savannah. The bottom
windows were lit from inside, a warm glow of invitation. The upper
rows were silent, blackened, empty of anything but vacant
rooms.

Entering through the front door, into the
lobby of the restaurant, my initial goal was to head directly to
the kitchens. Instead, I was drawn to the stairway leading up.
Pulled by an invisible force, I slowly climbed the first set of
stairs, then the second and third.

It was dark on the fourth floor, an inky
blackness illuminated only by outside light. Faint sounds from the
businesses below drifted up—clinking glasses and muffled laughter.
It wasn’t long until I had company. For some reason, the creaking
steps had always been an active spot. Multiple times, I caught the
presence of a woman in a white gown and heard her voice. It didn’t
surprise me when I found myself in her company. Only tonight, she
was solid, same as Jackson or George. Golden waves of hair tumbled
over one of her shoulders, framing a kind, heart-shaped face. Her
eyes, a soft gray I hadn’t noticed before, widened.

“Oh, you’re like me now.”

For a second, I lost my ability to talk.
Recovering, I stuttered, “You, you recognize me?”

She smiled. “It isn’t often the people who
come through here can see me. I remember who can.” Her lips fell,
changing into a frown. “What happened to you?”

“Not what you think. I can’t explain it.” I
hated not having all the answers, so I changed the subject and
asked a question I’d been dying, no pun intended, to know. “Why do
you stay?”

“They brought my son here when he came down
with yellow fever. They used the hotel as a hospital. He died in
the room there.” She pointed. “I don’t want to leave him.”