The Ghost Files (10 page)

Dan pulls up in front of what I deem is the typical family house. It’s in one of those neighborhoods that had been constructed years before the massive housing complexes started cropping up. He actually had a yard and lots of space between his house and the ones around him. The walkway is stone and there are shrubs in front, with flower beds around the big oak trees shading the property. Gnomes smile at me from within the hidden folds of the garden. The house itself is a two-story brick with shutters and yes, I kid you not, a white picket fence. It’s so homey I could gag if not for the envy tearing through me just then. This was a home, a real home, like Jake’s.

“Dan, why did you invite me to your house instead of some place public like the library or something? I figured you’d be all professional, considering you’re a cop and all. So why bring me here?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles and ducks his head. “I just did.”

I shake my own head and sigh. Nothing ever makes sense when it comes to Dan.

“You sitting here all day, Hathaway?” Dan gives me a crooked grin, recovering from his moment of awkwardness. “We might as well run for it while the rain’s let up a bit.”

“Ohhhhh.” I shake myself. More rain. Why can’t it have stopped already? The garage door is going up as I debate sitting here all day just as he asked. At least it’s a short sprint this time. Grabbing my bag, I scoot out and sprint. The wind catches my bag and I tuck my head down and push forward into the dry garage.

“You two look like drowned rats.”

My head snaps up and over to where a woman is standing in the door frame. She’s tall and willowy. Hair that’s the color of roasted chestnuts, is cut short around her face and makes her look younger than she really is, like in her thirties, but I’m guessing she has to be in her forties at least. Her eyes are blue, not brown like Dan’s. An apron covers her jeans and NC State sweatshirt. She sorta does remind me of June Cleaver, just a modern-day version.

“Hey, Ma.” Dan hits the button to shut the garage door. “This is Mattie.”

She smiles at me a little hesitantly. “Hello, Mattie. Dan said he was bringing a friend by for breakfast. I hope you’re hungry. I made a small mountain of pancakes.”

Pancakes. Wow. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good, now you two get those shoes off before you come in.” She disappears back into the house. I’m not sure she’s happy to see me. I get the feeling she thought Dan was bringing by one of his guy friends or maybe a girl he has been dating. Seeing me shocked her a bit. I know the signs as I’ve shocked more than my fair share of adults.

“Shoes, Mattie,” Dan reminds me. “Mom will make us mop the floor if we get mud on them.”

“Me?”

He laughs. “You. Anyone who dares mess up her floors is in for it. She’ll make
me
help you, but you won’t get out of it.”

I think he means it. I kick off my tennis shoes and grip my bag harder. It’s not often I go to other people’s houses. It makes me nervous. I never know how to act. The few times I’ve gone to Jake’s, we mostly hung out in front of the TV until supper –which was weird for me too. They always eat together and I was nervous since I don’t normally eat in a family setting. I usually grab something and eat in my room.

“Relax, we don’t bite, promise,” he whispers. I force my fingers to uncurl from around my bag’s strap. I hate it when anyone can tell that I’m nervous.

The kitchen is right off the garage. It’s bright and airy, done in soft blues and whites. Stainless steel appliances are worked into the beautiful oak cabinets lining two of the walls. A breakfast table done in the same soft honey color of the cabinets is piled high with mountains of pancakes, eggs, and bacon. Orange juice and milk complete the ensemble. She really has gone all out. This much food tells the story of a woman expecting to feed the bottomless pits of two boys growing stomachs. No one else could eat this much.

“Well, hello.”

Dan’s dad. It has to be. He’s a very tall man, even taller than Dan. Salt and pepper gray hair, cut short, is standing up on all ends. His wire rimmed glasses are perched on his nose. Eyes as blue as Lake Norman on a clear summer day stare at me with a hint of laughter. It looks like he’s just managed to crawl out of bed. He’s still in his pajama bottoms and a tee shirt.

“You didn’t tell us you were bringing a young lady to breakfast.” He turns reproachful eyes on his son. “I’d have gotten dressed.” Dan definitely learned some of those guilt and trust stares from this man.

“Sorry, Dad,” Dan grins at him. “Want me to go put my pajama pants on so you won’t feel completely embarrassed?”

“Don’t tempt me,” he smiles back. “I’m sorry, let me go change…”

“No worries, Mr. Richards. It’s Saturday and you weren’t expecting me. No need to change your routine because of me. I would’ve been lounging in mine if Dan hadn’t hauled me out of the house at an ungodly hour.”

“It is at that,” Mr. Richards agrees and motions for us all to have a seat at the table. “So what are you two up to at such an early hour?”

“I’m helping Mattie with a project.” Dan slides into the seat next to mine and grabs the bacon. His mother promptly gives him a stare that would cause even Mr. Winter’s, the meanest teacher in the world, to freeze up.

“Would you like to say grace, Mattie?” Mrs. Richards asks me.

“Er…” They pray at breakfast? I have never said grace in all my life and don’t even know where to begin. Sure, I had one summer of Sunday school, and I picked up a few things like not cussing, but do I believe in the whole greater power? I still don’t know.

Dan sees panic in my eyes and tells his mom he’ll do it instead. I’m only half listening, startled at the thoughts of prayers. I hadn’t pinned Dan for being the religious type.

“Bless this food we are about to receive and give us the courage to get through the day,” Dan mumbles quickly.  “Amen.”

His dad laughs out loud when Dan and his mom vie for the plate of bacon. Dan wins and grins before handing it back to her. She smiles. It’s something they probably do all the time. It has that family feel to it. Something I’ve never been privy to. This is why I hate going to people’s houses. It makes me miss all the things I’ve never had, gets me sad and feeling just a little sorry for myself. Sadness and self-pity: Two feelings I hate with a passion. Usually I get really snarky, but I will
try
to control myself. Maybe. Depends. Only if I let self-pity win today.

“So, Mattie, what grade are you in?”

Dan’s dad startles me out of my little mental tirade. “I’m a junior,” I tell him and take the plate of bacon Dan passes me.

“And you and Dan are working on a project?” His eyes stray to his son and stay there. Oh, great. I hope they’re not getting the wrong idea here.

“Yes, sir,” I tell him. “I’m doing an assignment on crime scene investigations for my science project and Dan is helping me create a mock crime scene and all the boards I’ll need for the investigation. I’m doing it from a rookie’s point of view and since Officer Dan here is so new to the force, I thought he might give me the best input.”

Dan’s eyes widen at the lies that roll off my tongue without hesitation. Yeah. I really
am
a good liar.

“Officer Dan?” His dad grins. “I like that, Mattie, indeed I do.”

Dan groans. “Great. Now see what you started, Squirt? He’ll never let that name go.”

“Squirt?” My eyebrows shoot up into the hairline. “I am not a squirt by any means, Dan Richards.”

“Keep calling me Officer Dan and I’ll keep calling you Squirt,” he counters with a wicked grin.

His dad chuckles.  “Now, children…”

This earns him a glare from both of us and he hastily takes a drink of coffee. His dad is definitely smarter than the average bear. I like the guy.

“Dan, be nice,” his mother tells him.

“Sure, sure,” Dan says and starts breakfast in earnest. “You mind if the guys come over later? We have a Rock Band tournament coming up in a couple days and need to practice.”

His mom sighs. “Dan, last time you boys had a practice for one of your tournaments, I ended up cleaning up the most god-awful mess…”

“We’ll clean up this time, promise.”

I hide a grin. He sounds like a little boy who is promising he’ll be good all year if Santa will bring him that one special toy. It’s easy to forget he’s a cop, easy to forget he isn’t just another teenage boy at times like this.

“I suppose…” she half-smiled.

“Thanks, Ma.”

She shakes her head and turns her attention back to me. “So, Mattie, do we know your parents? I don’t remember meeting any Hathaways.”

“No, ma’am,” I say the same time Dan says, “Mom, don’t ask…”

She and his Dad give us both questioning looks and we sigh together.

“Just how did you two meet?” his dad asks at last.

“My foster sister went missing,” I say. “Dan was one of the officers who took the initial report.”

Surprise flicker across their faces. “You’re in foster care?” His mom frowns. Again, I get the feeling she isn’t comfortable having me here for some reason.

“Yes,” I nod. “My mom died when I was five and I don’t know who my father is so I grew up in the system.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” Mr. Richards tells me and there is an honest sincerity in his voice that is missing from his wife’s.

I grin a bit devilishly.  “No need to be sorry, Mr. Richards. It’s made me into the brat that I am.”

“Brat is an understatement,” Dan mutters.

“Hey!” I shot him a glare.

“You two crack me up.” Mr. Richards laughs. “I swear if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve known each other for years.”

“She’d of killed me by now, Dad. She’s got a mouth on her like you wouldn’t believe. Don’t let those pretty eyes of hers hide the devil behind them. The girl’s got claws.”

“Officer Dan…” I start.

“Squirt…” He grins while trying to swallow.

“I’m trying to be nice,” I say, eyes narrowed. “Do you know how hard that is right now?”

Dan laughs out loud.

“Finish your breakfast, you two,” his dad says, before we start in again.  “Mattie, we must have you over more often. I haven’t had this lively a morning since Dan’s brother lived at home.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Earl, did you see this?” Mrs. Richards sounds exasperated. “It’s Ethel’s obituary.  They misspelled her last name.  R-o-w-b-e-r-t-s instead of Roberts.” She passes him the paper and I glance at the picture accompanying the obituary. My fork freezes halfway to my mouth. It’s the old woman from the diner. The one screaming about Ollie.

“Poor Ethel,” he sighs. “Fell over into her morning grits at the diner from a heart attack. Terrible way to go.” Mr. Richards said, clucking softly.

“Earl!”

“What?” he asks mildly. “Well, would
you
want to die in a bowlful of grits, Ann?”

“Well of course not,” she huffs “But…”

“But it was funny as he…heck,” Dan hastily corrects himself and his dad winks at him. He’d caught the slip-up. “Mattie, you okay?”

I put down the fork and nod. “Yeah, I’m not that hungry. Sorry.”

His dad glances at my face and the paper and frowns. “Here we are going on and on about someone dying and your foster sister is missing. I’m sorry, Mattie. I didn’t even think about it.”

“No, it’s okay…” I mumble.

“Dan, why don’t you and Mattie go and start your project?” he suggests. “Your mom and I can handle the dishes.”

“Thanks, Dad.” He stands and then steps back so I can do the same before leading me up the stairs.

“Leave the door open!” His dad’s shout comes from the kitchen. Dan rolls his eyes and I chuckle.

Time to work.

Chapter Twelve

Dan’s room is exactly what I expected. The bed is a crumpled mess, posters of his favorite bands line the wall, a desk with clutter over what I think is a laptop, and clothes lay in piles strewn across the floor. The walls are done in a soft earthy brown and darker hard woods covers the floor, at least what you can see of the floor. A flat screen is mounted to one wall with a PS3 on the entertainment stand underneath. A guy’s room all right. It smells just like him too—woodsy and clean.

Well, a guy’s room, with one exception. There are white boards spread everywhere with my drawings tacked up beside the actual photo of the missing kids they correspond to. He’s got maps with places marked on them with thumbtacks and notes written everywhere on the boards and on Post-Its. The boy’s been busier than I gave him credit for. Brownie points to Officer Dan!

“Sorry for the mess,” he mumbles and clears off a spot on the bed. “Have a seat.”

Instead of sitting, I step over to examine the boards more closely. My sketches had been pretty accurate. It’s so strange to see the missing kids smiling out of normal looking pictures, the damage gone and no ugly bullet holes anywhere.

Janey Morris, age twelve, read the first picture. Missing June 2009 from the Rowan County fair. Blonde hair, blue eyes, 5’1.

Emma Johnson, age ten: missing March 2007 from the Rowan County fair. Blonde hair, blue eyes, 4’7.

Michael Sutter age eight: missing December 2009 from the Hickory Mall. Brown hair, brown eyes, 4’9.

Melissa Jenkins age seven: missing October 2010 from the Concord Mills Mall. Red hair, blue eyes, 4’3.

Eric Cameron age seventeen: missing March 2006 after a Statesville high school basketball game.  Black hair, blue eyes, 6’1.

Mary Roberts age sixteen: missing January 2013 from her home in Charlotte. Blonde hair, brown eyes, 5’6.

Sally Myers age fifteen: missing from her home in Charlotte. Blonde hair, gray eyes, 5’5.

There was nothing really connecting them together. It all just looked so random. They had been taken from different locations at different times. Busy places mind you, but still completely random. No distinguishing features, at least not that I can see, made them look similar in any way, except for the bullet holes in my sketches.

“Your drawings helped a lot,” Dan says from behind me. “I was able to run them through our database of missing kids and come up with almost perfect matches for most of them. Your mirror boy there was the hardest. I could only get an eighty seven percent match. There wasn’t a lot to go on.”