Chapter 4

After my early morning encounter and subsequent trauma, my ghost girl was there in the Expedition, smiling at me, that same ethereal body in those same clothes in the passenger seat. It was difficult to reconcile that she was an apparition, one of four that I was pretty certain had a part in killing the deputy sheriff.

:You aren’t hallucinating,: she said, or thought, her lips unmoving or producing sounds. Words were just there, like a whispering breeze inside my head.:It isn’t because of the metal plate, or because you’ve gone crazy.: Even white teeth showed as she nibbled on a full lower lip. That innocent gesture was seductive and totally distracting.

“If I’m going nuts, it’s a good crazy,” I said, staring at her mouth. Though quite unconscious, the teeth worrying her lower lip seemed erotic. Without apparent effort, she was radiating sensuality. “You’re too beautiful to be real.”

:Thank you,: she said, thoughtfully regarding me, the pink tip of a tongue darting out between her teeth. Full, pouting lips creased into a smile.:I really am here, and yes, I really am a ghost.:

So what happens now?” I asked.

:What happens?: Her brows arched.:Well, you could start driving?: her thought voice suggested in a bemused tone, one hand giving a wave.:I’d like to get Back to the ranch before the ice-cream melts and your beer gets warm.:

“That’s not what I meant,” I said, shifting to reverse, backing onto the road. While keeping a tight rein on emotions, I started the Expedition rolling west, repeatedly glancing right, half expecting her to vanish again. “Why did you do that?” I asked, still unable to erase the images of Haskin, his terror and finally, his head exploding all over the ditch.

:He murdered me fifteen years ago,: she replied, the voice subdued. Her words slammed me like a bomb blast. I felt as though I’d been sucker punched, almost losing control of the vehicle. Fortunately, I was barely crawling along at half the speed limit. Her communion was intense, yet surprisingly calm.

:he abducted, raped and tortured me. Then, he dumped my body in a cave. They never found it. I was the first. I’d just turned seventeen in March. That June, I graduated early and was ready to start university in the fall.:

“Oh my god!” I fought the shakes, sucking air, finding it hard to breathe. Once again, the PTSD threatened to rear its ugly head. My vision almost greyed out. “The first? There were others?”