Michael and I headed for a more secluded area along the winding trail lit by the occasional lamppost. Thick foliage enclosed us on both sides of the path, making the place seem much more private than public.
We stopped in front of a park bench and turned towards the specter. She continued towards us with a calm expression, her pale but pretty face betraying nothing.
I casually slipped my hands into the pockets of my grey duster, checking that the blessed rosary was still in place, before speaking up.
“Can I help you?”
She jumped, shock evident in her voice even through the light British accent. “You can see me?”
“We both can. My name is Jordan and this is Michael. We noticed you’ve been following us for a while.”
The woman winced. “Sorry, it’s just that…something told me to follow you.”
“It’s an instinct that all human souls have. You’re drawn to people who can see ghosts. That’s what Jordan is,” Michael said.
The woman’s shoulders relaxed and she let out a relieved sigh. “Thank goodness. I’ve felt so lost and alone.”
“It’s alright. We’re here to help. What’s the last thing you remember?” As I spoke, I rummaged through the inner pocket of my duster for the ever-present notepad and pen. Michael had a better memory than me, so he didn’t need one. Higher brain capacity, I supposed.
“Well, I was standing outside of a restaurant. I think it was an Applebee’s or something. I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten there or how long I’d been there. Someone walked right through me and that’s when I realized I wasn’t alive.”
“Do you remember your name?”
“Marianne.”
I began my list.
Marianne
Appears to be in her mid-to-late twenties
Red sweater, black skirt
Blonde hair
Blue eyes
British accent
Woke up in front of Applebee’s
“Anything else? Can you think of your last name or your address?”
She shook her head. “But there is this.”
Marianne reached inside the sweater and pulled off a gold necklace, holding it out. Michael and I stepped forward, though not close enough for her to touch us, and examined the oval locket. On one side, there were the initials M.R. and below them, the initials J.A. On the other, there was a photograph of a very young Marianne and a Middle Eastern boy. They couldn’t have been older than six or seven.
I wrote down a few more thoughts on the paper. “Alright. We’ll start working on your case tonight and see what we can come up with. If we’re lucky, it won’t take long.”
“What about them?”
“Them who?”
Marianne pointed behind us. Michael and I turned. My mouth dropped open.
There were at least ten ghosts standing behind us.
Holy shit.
They didn’t seemed organized or menacing. There were six men, three women, and one child all dressed differently, but each with the same needy look in their eyes.
I cleared my throat, my gaze traveling from one specter to the next. “This isn’t normal, is it?”
“Not in the least,” Michael replied, his green eyes wide. Ghosts never tended to appear all at once. On average, I encountered one every two to three weeks in Albany. The odds that ten of them would gather in New Jersey around Michael and I were incredibly improbable. Then again, no one ever said my job made any sense.
“What should we do?” I asked.
Michael ran a hand through his hair—a nervous habit of his. “I don’t think we have much of a choice but to try and help them.”
A sigh escaped me. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”
To them, I said: “Alright, folks, single file line. I need names and anything else you remember.”
Fifteen minutes later, a third of my notepad was filled with the personal information of nearly a dozen ghosts. We wouldn’t be able to help them tonight, so I sent all of them but Marianne away. Once they had gone, we walked back towards the front of the park.
“Well, that wasn’t weird,” I said, stuffing my notepad in my pocket. It was then that I noticed the rosary wasn’t in there. I paused, patting myself down but it was nowhere to be found.
Michael stopped walking when he noticed what I was doing. “What’s wrong?”
“I think I dropped the rosary back there. Wait here, I’ll be right back.” I jogged back up the trail, searching the gravel in the dim light of the lamps above me. When I reached the park bench a couple minutes later, I found it on the ground. Just as I stooped to pick it up, someone appeared in front of me.
I caught a look at his face and felt the blood drain out of mine.
“Terrell?”
My ex-boyfriend’s dark brown eyes widened to nearly epic proportions. “Jordan? What are you doing here?”