Randy White - Haunted

“I think we should get you home. Do you have a cell phone? How about we call your parents.”

That was the wrong thing to say. She shoved me and scrambled to her feet. “Don’t you dare tell my mom. Where did Gail and Frieda go? Gail wouldn’t leave me. You’re lying about that.” She braced herself against the wall and began to slide away as if balanced on a ledge.

It was darker in here. I was a looming gray shadow to the girl. She was a shadowy stick figure. Soon she would feel the ladder rungs against her back and might climb to the roof. So I retreated to the door and ducked outside, hoping she would calm down. Gave it a few seconds, then said, “Kris, I’ll do whatever you want me to do. I can stand here while we talk. Or I’ll sit outside on the porch and wait until you feel better. But I can’t leave you, sweetie. Not until I know you’re safe.”

There was silence, then a shuddering sob. “You mean it?”

“Whatever you tell me to do, yes.”

“My mom can’t know. I think something bad happened inside my head. The things… what I see inside my head… they keep coming back. Snakes… Gail wouldn’t stop talking about snakes. Scorpions, too. And another party-she said we’d have so much fun.”

I didn’t want the girl to focus on snakes and scorpions. “There’s nothing wrong with your mind, sweetie. It’s the smoke, some kind of drug they tricked you with. Once we get outside, you’ll feel better. Krissie? I promise you’ll be okay if you trust me.”

I put the camera bag on the floor and continued to talk to her. It took another minute of soothing and cajoling, but the girl finally crawled out and joined me in the hall. Stood there, undecided, looking up, as if trying to determine if I was real or imaginary, a safe companion or a threat. She hadn’t actually seen me. It was darker inside the cupola, but dark out here, too. So I attempted to put her at ease, saying, “My hair’s probably a mess, so don’t be shocked when I turn on this flashlight.”

I pointed the light at the floor… then toward the ceiling to illuminate the hall. I was half a foot taller than Krissie. She was reluctant to make eye contact but finally did. She looked up, a girl whose face was as plain as my own. Puffy lips, eyes glassy, she stared at me for a moment with interest. Then her expression changed and she began to back toward the stairs, frightened by what she saw.

It wasn’t easy to force a smile but I did. “What’s wrong? My earrings aren’t nearly as nice as yours. Is that it?”

Krissie appeared to be having trouble breathing. “You’re her,” she whispered. “You tricked me.”

I wondered if the light had sparked another hallucination, but also feared she would fall down the stairs if I switched the light off. She had yet to look behind her and the steps were only a few yards away. “Sweetie, you’re going to be just fine once we get outside.” I held my hand out as an invitation to stop.

“No-Gail told me the stories. You’re her, that woman.” Then she hollered, “I saw you! Stay away from me. You’re dead… You’re a witch.”

Did she mean Lucia? I wondered. Krissie was only a few steps from the stairwell. If she didn’t fall, she would soon run-her wild eyes guaranteed it. So I shined the light on the landing and made sure she saw the steps by asking, “What woman? Is that her on the stairs?”

Thank god, she turned. But it cost me the little bit of trust I had earned. “You lied to me again. You… You’re evil.” Then Krissie reached for the missing banister and nearly fell anyway, but recovered, while I stood frozen holding the light so she could see.

“You don’t have to run,” I said gently. “Just get downstairs in one piece, that’s all I ask.”

The girl realized she’d scared me and hesitated. “If you’re not her, why is your shirt soaked with blood?”

Blood? I looked down at my copper red blouse and finally understood. She was definitely hallucinating. Krissie had convinced herself I was the ghost of Irene Cadence. Terrifying for her, but a possible opening if I used it right. “The woman you saw wasn’t me,” I said. “I have a picture of her, though. If you wait for me outside, I’ll let you see it. Truth is, I’d like your opinion.” I reached for the camera bag. “Do you remember meeting a woman named Lucia?”

“I don’t believe you. Your hair… you’ve got black hair, too. And you’re beautiful just like Gail said.”

I had to smile at that. “When I was your age-this is true, I swear-I thought I was the ugliest, clumsiest person on earth. Maybe you can relate.” I left the bag where it was and stood. “How about we go outside? I’ve got a cooler in the car with drinks. Just you and me, we’ll talk about how awful high school can be.”

Krissie jerked away when I offered her my hand. “You’re lying. Stop pretending you’re nice.”

“It’s true I have to pretend sometimes. But, Kris-I’m not the one who ran off and left you.” Once again, I extended my hand.

The girl couldn’t let herself believe the truth. She shook her head, threw her scrawny shoulders back. “Go to hell!” she hollered, “I’m going to the party and find Gail,” then ran down the stairs and out the door.

I followed, but first had to retrieve the camera bag. By the time I got outside, she was almost to the trees, where there were car lights and the rumble of motorcycles, too. To me, though, it looked like Krissie was angling toward the old railroad bridge when she disappeared.

That’s the second thing I told the 911 dispatcher after I had explained the bare basics.

“She might be headed to the RV park,” I said, “looking for her so-called friends.”

The third thing I said to the 911 dispatcher was, “I told you there was a girl in trouble. You didn’t believe me. So I expect you to believe this: we need to find that girl before she hurts herself. And send extra deputies because drugs are being sold from this house. A dangerous drug. And I know who’s doing it.”

That wasn’t exactly true-Theo, Lucia, and/or Carmelo could be responsible-but I wanted all the uniformed cops I could summon before I went after Krissie. And that’s what I intended to do instead of standing on the porch, talking on a phone, in the wind and beneath stars and a rising full moon. Which was the fourth thing I told the dispatcher.

“Have you been drinking?” she asked when I was done. From the tone of her voice, I could tell I had pushed too hard or was rambling. And she was right. My anger had caused me to say too much and with too little respect.

“Sorry, I got carried away. But you can’t go inside that house without inhaling smoke.”

“Then you are under the influence,” the dispatcher said. “Smoking what? And how do you know it’s dangerous?”

“I’m not sure of the name. It’s from a type of mimosa tree. The dealer burns the seeds in the fireplace but grinds them into a powder first. Maybe to get kids started, but probably because he has a sick sense of humor. Or could be…” A more devious reason had popped into my mind and I had to sort it out.

“Could be what?”

“I hope I’m wrong but it might be his way of taking advantage of women. Young girls would be easy targets.”

“The man you buy drugs from,” she said, “can you spell his name for me? I should warn you, everything you say is being recorded.”

I was already impatient but that made me mad. “Buy it? Lady, I don’t even smoke,” then caught myself before saying anything stronger. Instead, I kept it simple. “I’m going to look for Krissie. Have the deputies call when they get here.”