Though I'd intended to talk to my parents about the murdered ghosts at breakfast on Sunday, I didn't. They were both in great moods because of a last-minute, but huge catering booking. I knew my worries would become theirs, not only distracting them, but spoiling a beautiful day.
With Cooper not working on Sundays, he was able to spend most of this one with me. We did homework, watched TV, ate lunch, and made out--all the things that teen couples did. I couldn't think of a time when I'd been happier. It was like a hole in my life had been filled up with love. Around three, we made an ice cream run to Dairy Queen. We ate our cones in his truck, parked in the lot.
"Have you talked with your mom?" I asked, lapping up creamy vanilla drips.
"No."
That was hard to believe. Surely she missed her only child. "She doesn't call or text?"
"No."
I took a bite of crispy cone. "How about your dad? Now that you've dropped your barriers, has he come to you?"
"No, and could we please not talk about either of them?"
"Okay. Sure. Um, sorry." Hm.
"Have those murdered women shown themselves to you again?"
"No, thank goodness. Not that I don't want to help. I always want to help. I'm feeling very reluctant to get involved for some reason, which isn't like me at all. Or maybe it is. I've never actually dealt with a troubled spirit before. Usually it's the living who are messed up. Or maybe it's Detective Simms's reluctance to involve us. What if these murders are even worse than I'm imagining?"
"Did you talk to your parents about them?"
"Not yet." I explained the delay and my reluctance to worry them right then. He didn't say anything else about it. Before he left that evening, Mom asked if he'd like to earn a few bucks by helping them with the party they were catering in Ville Cachée on Wednesday. She needed someone to keep glasses filled with soda, water, or tea. Pleased that she'd included him and wishing I'd thought of it myself, I told him I'd be there, too. He said he'd do it.
The three days leading up to the Wednesday night party passed in a flash, with no new insults or visits to the principal's office. That was a relief. The night of the event, all twenty extras Mom had hired--Brynn and Tyler included since they'd helped out before--met at the church hosting the event.
The autumn-themed decorations drew me in the moment we entered the banquet room, which was huge. Lattice wall dividers hid the bare walls, giving the area the look of an outside garden. Pumpkins, potted chrysanthemums, and a happy scarecrow added splashes of color and gave everything a warm feeling.
Though I'd been told this was a church-wide celebration of some type, I didn't really know much more than the menu--pasta, of course--and the number of people expected--a couple of hundred.
The place began to fill up around seven. After a prayer and a short intro by the pastor, we started serving everyone the meal, with salads being first. Dinners of this type were labor intensive if they weren't presented buffet-style, so we definitely had our work cut out for us picking up empty dishes after each course and replacing them with food that came next on the menu. By the time we got to dessert, tiramisu, my feet were killing me.
I'd kept to my assigned section while I worked and hadn't really paid much attention to the rest of the room. So when one of the servers dropped a plate and I darted over to help him, getting the evil eye from one of the diners caught me off guard. I realized it was that girl, Felisa someone, who'd given me grief at school.
Worried she might say something ugly, I deliberately looked away and then ignored her for the rest of the meal. Or tried to. I kept shooting glances in her direction in spite of myself and caught her whispering to those around her. Since they all began staring, I could only assume she'd told them about me. Did I care? Not really. But I was nervous that my parents might be impacted in some way.
All I needed was for the churches in the area to boycott Tagliaro's because of the owners' weirdo daughter. We did a lot of caterings for those groups and for several good reasons, I thought: delicious, portable food, reasonable prices, and flexibility. Want a carefree family dinner on the church grounds under a striped canopy? Call us. Ready for an elegant five-course Christmas banquet? We're your guys.
I was nothing but relieved when the gathering broke up around nine. Everyone attached to Tagliaro's that night helped with cleanup, which is why I found myself outside the church in the dark, pitching huge trash bags into a stinky dumpster. Just as I lobbed one into the bin, I felt a spiritual presence behind me and whirled to find myself face-to-face with the ghost of a woman who'd clearly been through hell before she died.
I screamed and fell back against the building.
No less than five people came spilling out the back door, one of them Cooper. He took one look at the specter and slipped between us as if he could actually protect me from dead woman without form or substance. Cooper didn't ask what was wrong. He knew. But no one else did.
"What on earth happened?"
"Are you okay?"
"Did you hurt yourself?"
"I'm fine," I said, thinking fast. "A rat came out of nowhere and ran over my foot."
"Ew," said a female server with a grimace. "Let the guys do the trash thing. There's plenty of other stuff to keep us girls busy."
"You got that right." Faking a laugh, I deliberately walked past them and back inside, where I finished helping my parents. I noticed that Cooper stayed close by until we had the place spic and span. That touched me even though he'd be as defenseless against a bad ghost as I was.
Not that I thought the spirit was there to hurt me. I didn't, but her clarity and the obvious violence she'd endured made me uneasy. Why was I being visited by all these women? And was it my imagination that they looked so similar?
Cooper drove me home even though I could've ridden with my parents. On the way there, we talked about what we'd seen.
"I can't believe she keeps coming to me, of all people," I told him with a moan. "Assuming that's one of the same two women. If I could see what any of them were wearing, I'd know for sure, of course. But besides the ghost in the hospital, who had on a gown, all I'm getting is a face. An Asian face. But not that Asian. I mean, I don't think she's Japanese or even Chinese. Hawaiian or Filipino maybe? Whatever... Don't they know I'm all about happy endings?"
"It has to be your connection to Detective Simms."
"You don't really know that."
"Come on, Mia. It's a very safe assumption."
I shrugged reluctant agreement.
"He's not psychic. You are. What if these women, who he might not know are dead, have talked on an astral plane and decided to approach him through you?"
The image of spirits in a huddle would've been funny if it hadn't been so grim. "I should definitely talk to him tomorrow. Will you come, too?"
"Try and stop me."
* * * *
Mom called the detective for me, arranging for us to talk Thursday afternoon. I wasn't completely honest about why, saying only that I'd gotten a zing from a photo on his bulletin board and needed to share what I knew. Used to my flashes of insight, she didn't even question me, something she'd definitely have done if she'd known any kind of violence was involved. She assumed I wanted to talk about another missing person. I didn't set her straight.
Since I was still driving Tyler back and forth to school--Brynn had totally bailed, as predicted--I took him home and then went to my house. Cooper picked me up there. We got to MPD by four-thirty. In response to the front desk alerting Detective Simms to our arrival, he stepped out of his office and started our way.
I immediately noticed that the haze had returned and surrounded him.
"Come on back," said the detective.
We followed him to his office and sat in the chairs he offered.
"Can I get you two something to drink?"
"No thanks." I had my eye on his bulletin board, completely unadorned today except for a flyer about a missing child I knew had been found days ago. That rattled me a little. Had he solved his cases? The last thing I wanted to do was offer unwanted help that he might take as a lack of faith in his abilities, especially when he'd said straight out that they had things under control. Or was I simply looking for an excuse not to talk about what I'd been seeing? In truth, I felt very reluctant to share the details.
"What can I do for you?" asked Detective Simms.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm nerves oddly jangled. As a rule, I loved helping out. This was proving to be torture. "Will you tell me about the women who were on your bulletin board last time we were here?"
He hesitated before answering. "I'm really not at liberty to talk about them."
That surprised me. There'd been at least one article in the newspaper about murdered women, and didn't cops want the word to get out just in case someone knew something about them? "I thought the police always asked the public for any clues that might lead to an arrest."
He tried to explain. "We're trying to keep certain details from the press for now." His gaze narrowed. "Why do you ask?"
"I'm not sure, but I think the spirit of one or both of them has approached me."
Detective Simms leaned forward. "Go on."
"I believe I'm seeing two women of Asian ethnicity, though maybe a mix, and both are definitely dead. The women I'm seeing favor each other physically, I think, but apparitions are never very clear."
"Do they speak to you? Name names? Give you details of any kind?"
"Not so far."
Now he leaned back and began to click a pen. Point out. Point in. Point out. Point in. He studied me while he did it, as if silently trying to decide between several possible courses of action. "Though we haven't found the killer yet and you might be a big help to us--" Click. Click. "--I have to admit I'm torn. Whoever murdered those young women is a very dangerous man."
"So you know it's a guy?" I asked.
"Not for sure, but it's likely, based on the nature of their injuries. If we find another body, the FBI will work up a profile. But I can't call them in until then. It takes three deaths and identical MOs for a murderer to be considered a pattern or serial killer, and the FBI won't investigate crimes on a local level until one is involved."
I nodded that I got it.
"I'm very reluctant to involve you in anything having to do with someone so vicious. On the other hand, you could be a huge asset if you get information that could help us solve these cases and get a murderer off the street."
"How many women have gone missing so far?" asked Cooper.
"That's one of the facts I can't share. Don't want to start a panic. Not that you'd tell..." He gave us a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm sure you understand."
We both nodded even though we didn't.
"Why don't we leave it at this? If you're approached by another specter that you think is connected, call me." Detective Simms handed us both a business card. "Anytime. Day or night. I won't mind."
"Okay." I stood and picked up one of the photos on his desk--the one of him wearing camouflage. "Were you in the military?"
Detective Simms stood, too. "Yes, special forces in the middle east. Served there ten years."
The moment he said that, the haze surrounding him began to shift and reform. Viewed through my inner eye, the room grew darker and the haze grew brighter. Even as it did, I began to make out individual, shadowy faces. Men, women, and children took shape, and they hovered all around Detective Simms. Were they civilians he'd been unable to save? If so, they clearly haunted his psyche in a PTSD sort of way. I wondered how the man slept at night. No wonder he was such a good cop. He was driven to save the innocent, something he might not have been able to do while in the military.
"Mia?" Cooper's voice yanked me back to the present.
"Uh-huh?"
"Detective Simms asked for your cell number."
"Oh, um, sorry." With a rueful smile, I gave it to him.
"Are you okay?" he asked, frowning slightly.
Was it my imagination, or did he seem uneasy? I hoped he hadn't guessed I could see the remnants of his military past. That would be awkward, to say the least. "You can always call Mom if you can't get me right away. You have her number, right?"
He nodded and walked to the door. We slipped past him and into the hall. "Thanks for coming."
"No problem."
We soon left the building. I'd never felt so shaky and actually had to stop to catch my breath before we got to Cooper's truck.
"Are you sure you're okay? What happened in there?"
"You didn't see them?"
"Who? The women?"
"No. Those middle easterners. At least that's what I assumed based on the clothing they wore, that sandstorm I thought was a haze, and Detective Simms's background. There were dozens of them. You really didn't see them?"
"Absolutely not."
"But you did see the sandstorm, right? The one that hovers around him?"
"Not today, I didn't, and when I saw it the other day, I wasn't reminded of sand." Cooper bent his knees slightly so he could peer into my eyes. Apparently he didn't like what he saw. "Should I call your mom?"
"Oh God, no. I'm fine."
"You don't look fine." He took my hand and walked me to his truck, opening the door and then shutting it once I'd gotten in. A second later, he slid behind the wheel.
Suddenly it was all too much. "I don't want to think about any of this anymore."
"Okay with me." He started the engine and pulled out of the lot. We got to my house twenty minutes later.
"Want to come in?"
"Baby, you have no idea. But I can't. I've got an essay due tomorrow, and I haven't even started it yet."
"Thanks for coming with me today."
"I plan to be with you every time you talk to Detective Simms."
"Really, why?"
"I want to buffer the weirdness that's his world."
"His own private world?"
"No, his law enforcement world. By default, there's a lot of bad stuff in the heads of those cops, Simms included. It's hard enough for me to keep from cluttering my mind with it. You wouldn't have a chance."
"But I don't get anything from the living."
"Doesn't mean you never will. So you won't be going there alone if it's up to me." His firm parting kiss gave those words the ring of truth.
* * * *
Friday night, I actually let Brynn drag me to the football game on the condition that she would explain if I didn't understand what was going on. Did that make me the only teenage girl in town who just didn't get it? Probably, and it meant she talked the whole time, using words that ran together: quarters, downs, offside, illegal motion, end zone...blah, blah, blah.
I finally got the semi-hang of it by halftime and had to admit we had fun, something I credited to the chill in the air, the smell of fresh popcorn, and a lively marching band. The sight of all those muscled-up guys in their tight pants was a trip, too. As for the cheerleaders, well, they were just colorful, noisy icing on a very sporty cake.
The best part came when fans spilled out of the bleachers onto the field after the game to congratulate our team on another victory. When I ran up to Cooper, he faked a shocked stagger backwards and then scooped me up in a hug. I decided then and there that nothing smelled as good as a sweaty football player with a big grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye.
"Did you enjoy the game?" he asked.
"Oh yeah. Especially the homeruns."
Laughing heartily, Cooper kissed me, neither of us caring if anyone saw us. And someone definitely did. Mr. Marsh, also on the field exuberantly congratulating the players, made it a point to look at and then skip his stepson, which totally pissed me off.
Oh, how I wanted to wave and yell, "Excuse me? Didn't you just miss the best one?" His pettiness was a shock even though I knew he and Cooper weren't getting along. I didn't think I'd ever felt so bad for my boyfriend.
Late that night but before I dropped off to sleep, my cell came alive with my guy's special ring and vibrated all over my nightstand. I snatched it up. "Hey."
"Hey. Just wanted to thank you for coming to the game. It meant a lot."
I smiled into the dark. "Believe me, the sight of you in that football suit made it all worthwhile."
"It's a uniform, and you looked pretty hot, yourself."
"Aww."
"I love you, Mia."
"And I love you, Cooper."
"Will I see you tomorrow? My dinner break's at seven, which would give us an hour."
"Of course. And I'll be your meal buddy every Saturday from now on."
I cherished his soft laugh long after we said goodnight.
Brynn called after that to update me on progress with Marty. She told me they were going to a concert Saturday night in Shreveport. Since she was the biggest Keith Urban fan ever and it was a Rob Zombie event, I knew it must be love.