In spite of all that had gone on, a part of him still believed that there had to be a logical explanation for everything. Even seeing her sitting on his bed, no matter how clear she was, still carried a certain percentage of doubt. How could anyone believe such a thing could be possible? A ghost? But now, after seeing her name and photo, he could put all his doubts to rest.
His head was a mixed bag of emotions. On the one hand he could feel the terror resurfacing, even in such a built-up place as the supermarket, and on the other, he could feel a certain level of excitement develop at the prospect of solving the mystery… a mystery that had plagued his life for almost two weeks.
He folded the poster and slipped it into his pocket. Pushing the cart dangerously fast, he continued for the exit. He could barely contain himself as he left the supermarket. Reaching the car, he opened the trunk and dumped the shopping inside, not worried about breaking the twelve-pack of eggs. He slammed the trunk shut, raced around to the driver’s seat, started the engine, and sped out of the parking lot, heading for home.
On the way, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed Karen Leigh’s number, swerving his car as he did.
“Karen, it’s Richard,” he said, frantic. “I really need to speak to you. Can we meet?”
“Hi Rich,” Karen replied. “Everything all right? You sound flustered.”
“Everything’s fine. When do you finish work?”
“Well, I suppose I could meet up in about an hour. What’s wrong?”
“I’ll explain when I see you. Got to go now—I’m driving.” Before she could reply, he hung up and dropped the phone onto the passenger seat.
He had an hour to kill before meeting with Karen, so he slowed the car down. He tried to control his breathing, but it was no use; the adrenalin was just too much. He had never felt so freaked out in all his life. Surely now, after all the evidence, Nicky would have to believe him. No one could be that stubborn.
Yes, they could.
She didn’t believe the smoke detector was anything out of the ordinary; she didn’t think that both fridge and freezer doors being open was bizarre. Why would she think anything different now?
As he approached his house, he tried to forget about Nicky. His focus would be on finding out the truth about Christina Long. He parked the car, unloaded the shopping from the trunk, and raced across the road, struggling to hold all six bags as the plastic handles dug into his fingers. He entered the kitchen, threw the food into freezer and fridge, and then marched into the living room. He looked at the clock on the mantelpiece as he paced the room, unable to sit. Forty minutes.
Come on, Karen, I’m bursting.
As he walked, he pulled the poster from his pocket and stared at the photo. Still in a state of shock, he took a seat on the single couch, eyes still fixed on Christina Long’s image. “I can’t believe I found you.” And then suddenly a wash of sadness flooded his head. In the picture, she looked happy and fun-loving—in fact, he was sure that it was a holiday snapshot. But the woman he had seen in his house was far from happy. Her eyes told a story of depression and loss. A million questions filled his head. What could have happened to make her that way? Was it simply losing her life—or something more? Why hadn’t she crossed over yet? And where was her big shining light? But it hadn’t even been a year since she died; perhaps it takes some time, especially if you die young. Maybe it’s harder to accept, to let go. He shook his head, disheartened by the whole concept of the afterlife. He had always believed that when you pass away things became simpler, not harder; that misery was a thing you left behind. But was his belief from his heart, or was it merely from Hollywood? Was there a difference? After all, Richard wasn’t sure of anything. What he read in books and saw in movies all stemmed from someone’s research, or someone’s imagination. No one could be certain of anything. But at least now, after everything, after centuries of speculation, he was closer to finding out the truth. Christina Long would soon open the floodgates to another world, and he would have front seats. He was confident.
No, Richard Gardener was positive.