Lost Souls by J. Bishop (the giving tree read aloud txt) 📗

to call if I remembered anything that I thought might help with the case. I debated calling those two detectives, but…well…” her voice lowered. “…I really don’t like them very much.”

Mikey pulled out her notebook and pencil. “I can help with that. What did you remember and I’ll let Mason know.”

“It’s not really what I remember, it’s what I found.”

“What was that?”

“I was going through some of Chad’s things, and getting rid of some paperwork…” Her voice caught. “…I’m sorry. It brings back memories.”

“It’s okay. Take your time.”

She sniffed. “Thank you.” Hearing the sniff, Mikey thought of Shay. “Anyway, I was going through some stuff and it triggered a memory of us in Chad’s office.”

“Us?”

“Me, Chad and Lydia. We were working on a large project. Tony came in to surprise Chad for achieving some sort of bench mark, brought a cake and congratulated him. He asked me to take a picture of them to include in the newsletter.”

Mikey had no idea where this was going. “Okay.”

“Lydia didn’t like her picture being taken, and she tried to avoid the photo, but I half caught her in one before she disappeared with some excuse that she had to be somewhere. I just checked my phone and I still have the picture. Since Mr. Redstone seemed interested, I thought I’d send it to him.”

“That’s a great idea. Let me give you my number and you can send it to me. I can make sure he gets it.”

“Okay. That’s fine.”

Mikey gave Daphne her cell number and her phone pinged when the message came through. “Let me check to see if I got it. Hold on.” Mikey put Daphne on speaker and opened the photo. Mikey recognized Chad Howard, looking fresh-faced and smiling, standing next to a tall man with thick dark hair, holding a balloon. A woman sat just at the edge of the shot, barely in the photo, and looking like she wanted to be anywhere but there. She wore a blue business suit, and her features were average, although she had pretty brown hair and bangs framed her eyes. Her face was sullen and she held something white in her hand.

“That’s the closest you’ll come to a picture of Lydia,” said Daphne. “Sorry.”

Mikey studied it, noting Lydia’s eyes. They looked tired and a little puffy and the item in her hand appeared to be a tissue. “She looks like she’s been crying. Is she that upset about the picture?”

“Crying?” asked Daphne. She paused. “Oh, no. I think Lydia was always a bit of a hypochondriac. She always had a tissue in her hand. Maybe she had a cold.”

Mikey went still, “Lydia had a cold?” A lump formed in her stomach.

“Yes. Or thought she did. You could never tell with Lydia.”

Shay’s sneezes echoed in Mikey’s mind. “Thank you, Daphne. This is helpful.”

“You’re wel─”

Mikey hung up before Daphne could finish. Something stirred in her gut and Mikey didn’t like it. She studied the photo of Lydia, and thought of Shay. Lydia’s face stared back, her eyes sad and weary. Chad’s face beamed, his excitement for whatever reward he’d received evident. Mikey flicked her gaze back to Lydia. Did she look like someone who was in love with the man beside her, or annoyed with him?

“Shit,” Mikey said aloud. Fumbling with the phone, she shifted screens to call Mason.

The sound of a car approached, and Mikey looked through her rearview mirror, seeing a vehicle swing in and park behind her. A man jumped out, and realizing she had nowhere to go, Mikey’s stomach flipped. Just as the man approached the driver’s side, her phone rang and Trick’s name popped up on the display. The man raised a gun on her and Mikey froze. It was Bradley Stanford.

“Get out of the car,” he growled at her. “Now.”

**

Mason took an unsettled breath at dead Chad’s appearance. It wasn’t uncommon that cases could overlap. Ghosts weren’t restrained by location or timing. Was Chad trying to tell him something about his own case? Mason blinked, checking to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating himself, but dead Chad remained. “What do you want?” he asked.

Help her. She’s confused. The voice echoed in his head.

“Who’s confused? Why are you here?” asked Mason.

She needs help.

“Serita needs help? You want me to help her?” He had another thought. “Or is it Cissy? Is she the one you want me to help?”

Help them all.

Mason groaned. Now he was more uncertain. Why couldn’t the spirit be clearer? He considered that maybe he was asking the wrong questions. He figured if dead Chad was choosing to communicate, maybe he should ask the obvious. “Who killed you, Chad?”

Dead Chad stared back, and the mirror swirled again, the mist shifted, and a woman’s face took shape and came into focus. It was the same woman from the interview with Cissy. Her wet hair plastered against her face and her blue lips twitching, she laughed and her voice bellowed in his head. Lydia morphed beside Chad.

She did, Lydia said. She did. Then she opened her mouth and cackled, just as she had done before. Mason shivered and broke out in goosebumps as dead Lydia kept up her mantra. She did. She did. She did. She did. She did.

A cold, clammy sweat broke out on his skin, and his heart began to thump. Everything swirled much like the mirror, and he stood, wondering what to do. Chad and Lydia had appeared in the mirror at Serita’s, but why? Trying to think, he recalled his conversations with Cissy Howard and Trick, and tried to put the pieces together. Why were Chad and Lydia haunting Serita Avery?

A thought flickered, and he eyed the murky spirits in the mirror. He returned to the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet again and grabbed one of the pill bottles. It was Valium recently prescribed to Serita. He took another one, which was a painkiller, also prescribed to Serita. He dug through a few more until he found one that made him stop cold. It was another painkiller,