DETECTIVE McPHEE

By the time McPhee got to Haskell, there was no sign of anyone at the loading dock. Where were the two women she’d seen on the surveillance images and how did they get inside? She parked her car and examined the area with her flashlight. Nothing behind the dumpster, but the pattern of footsteps in the unswept leaves on the dock suggested more than two people.

Then she noticed a board stuck into the doorway. She again considered calling the station for backup. She should do that. It was absolutely the prudent thing to do, not to mention the protocol that could keep her out of trouble if things went south. But she had seen too many situations get out of hand when police officers went barging in with weapons drawn. Stress and fear and darkness could make people react with more force than thought. And when people with guns—even well-trained cops with guns—get involved, people sometimes get hurt. Her gut told her this was probably a situation requiring conversation, perhaps mediation, rather than armed cops. Still, she unzipped her jacket and released the safety strap on her holster. Just in case.

Inside the heavy door, she replaced the board. As a public servant she probably should secure the building, but they might need backup after all, or even emergency medical services, and a locked metal door would significantly slow down any responders. She stood in the dark hallway and listened for voices. Nothing. Shining her flashlight on the floor, she followed scuff marks in the dust along the corridor and down one flight of stairs. There was a strip of light under a doorway to the left, and soft voices.

She stood at the door and listened. The voices were muffled, and she couldn’t hear clearly enough to recognize anyone. The conversation sounded ordinary, friendly even. Still, she placed her hand lightly on her firearm, opened the door and entered.

The room was large, with stacked boxes, old file cabinets, dusty equipment. On a sagging plaid sofa, an old woman with flyaway white hair stared at her, fear on her face and a cat on her lap. Lexi sat next to the old woman. Gandalf from Number Four and Evelyn from Number Three stared also. Another woman too, someone she hadn’t met before.

McPhee stepped into the circle and squatted down in front of the elderly woman. “I’m Detective McPhee. Are you Iris Blum? Are you all right?”

Iris nodded. “Yes, and yes. I’m fine, dear. Sorry to cause so much trouble.”

McPhee stood up and looked around the circle. “Okay, ladies. What’s going on here? Mrs. Blum, would you please fill me in on what happened to you?”

Iris answered for them all. “I will try to fully answer all your questions, Detective. But please, humor an old woman for a moment. My daughter just said something very surprising and then the ghosts came, and my head is spinning trying to understand it all.” She closed her eyes and leaned against her daughter.

Ghosts? What was going on with these women?