“Yeah, you have to agree, she’s got a better set of knockers than his wife.” Andy elbowed Ted in the ribs.

 Mike shook his head at his two co-workers. “Funny, guys. I’m sure she’s great-looking but you know my rule. I never watch–”

 “Never watch the news.” Ted and Andy finished in unison.

 The two guys followed Mike to the time-clock.

“You know, one of these days, you’re going to miss something vitally important,” Andy said.

“Yeah, right.” Mike punched his card. The sound reverberated off the metal lockers. “If you consider which celebrity is screwing who or which politician has a drug problem of ‘vital importance’, I think I’ll pass.”

“Man, come on.” Ted clapped a meaty hand onto Mike’s slender shoulder. “What if the world is like, ending or something and you miss the warning?”

“Then I do.” Mike shrugged into his regulation store polo and affixed his name badge to the fabric. “At that point, a warning wouldn’t do much good.”

Andy sighed. “You can’t always live in ignorance, buddy. There are some things you really need to know.”

“Exactly,” Ted agreed. “Never mind celebrity gossip or politics. What about the girls they keep finding dead all over the east coast? This is the third body….”

Mike put up his hand, cutting Ted off. “Case in point, stories like that are what keep me from ruining my dinner every night at 6-o-clock.”

Four hours later, the trio headed to the diner across the street from the hardware store that employed them.

The waitress who’d served them their lunch of greasy chicken, soggy fries and wilting salad was not the same who now laid their check on the Formica table in front of them. This one was much younger, barely eighteen with dark hair piled high on the top of her head and large eyes trained on Mike. Her heart-shaped face seemed to pale as she stared at him and her full, pink lips trembled. Stammering something unintelligible, she fled from the table, nearly colliding with a customer.

Ted groaned, grabbing his sizable middle. “Man, let’s never eat here again. Not only is the food lousy but the staff is twitchy.”

As they walked out the door, Mike watched the skittish waitress who was now serving an elderly couple at the other end of the restaurant. He locked eyes with her just as she glanced over her shoulder. Ted snickered and poked Mike in the ribs, gesturing with his chin. “She likes you, man.”

Mike frowned. The doe-eyed girl dropped her pen and scrambled to retrieve it.

“She looked afraid,” Mike told the guys as they walked back across the street. “Didn’t you think so?” He glanced back. “That was weird.”

“Maybe you should cut your hair.” Andy gave one of his friend’s dark shoulder-length locks a tug.

They entered through the back door and headed toward the time clock.

“Yeah,” Ted chimed in, “you look like a serial killer.”

Mike punched him in the arm. “Thanks.”

Suddenly, Andy spun Mike around and stared at him, his face intense. His eyes widened. “Hey, wait a minute….”

“Andy!”

The voice belonged to bespectacled, acne-ridden part-timer, Mitch Chase. He flew around the corner, nearly upending a stack of boxes. It was a second before he could catch his breath to speak. “Dude, is your cell phone on?”

Andy frowned, reached into his pocket and pulled out his flip phone. He switched it on. “Um, it is now. What’s up?”

“Your mother just called. She gave me an earful. Something about picking up your sister on your lunch–”

“Dammit!” Andy clenched his fist, jammed his phone back in his pocket and trotted back out the door. Before he disappeared through the swinging double doors, he called back over his shoulder. “Somebody tell Mr. Reynold’s I’m going to be late coming back from lunch.”

***

Mike ran a hand through his hair and grimaced at its slick feel. He eased his foot on the brake as the light ahead of him changed from green to yellow. He’d seen at least three cop cars since he’d left the store and he didn’t want to chance getting a ticket, even if it would be his first.

Glancing into the rearview mirror, he studied his reflection and tried to picture himself with a more respectable haircut, maybe even contact lenses. His mom had always told him he had nice green eyes. Was he really the only guy his age still sporting long hair?

A horn honked behind him and Mike glanced into his rearview. Light from a street lamp poured into the small, dark vehicle behind him, revealing a man in his early thirties, with long, dark hair, wire-rimmed glasses and a trimmed moustache.

Mike grinned and stepped on the gas. “Well, that answers my question!”

As Mike climbed the entrance ramp to Highway 6, just before he was about to belt out that great line from The Silver Bullet Band’s most famous song, the one about long hair on men, the radio announcer cut in with a breaking story.

“This is an update on The Samaritan. We have a new lead on this serial–”

Mike’s finger shot out automatically to switch the station. He flipped past Garth Brooks and Natalie Merchant before stopping on Dishwalla.

He was a mile from his exit when he spotted the red Chevy and the small, blonde woman kneeling by the back drivers-side tire.

A flash in the rearview mirror showed the car behind him signaling over.

“Oh, not so fast guy!” Mike said, pulling sharp to the right and slowing to a stop a car length from the stranded motorist.

She looked up, blue eyes flashing in the headlights. There was something small and silver in her slender hand. Mike realized she was planning to call for help. She probably didn’t need him at all. Still, no man could be blamed for being drawn to the pretty girl with cut-off shorts busting out of a pink tank top. She was wearing heels. Was she planning to change the tire herself in those?

He switched his headlights to parking lights. Blinding the girl would not be a good way to impress her.

Reaching beneath the dash, he popped the trunk before opening the door and stepping out. His sneakers crunched on gravel as he walked to the back of his car. Grabbing the crowbar and flashlight he’d gone in for, he slammed the trunk shut and approached the young woman.

“At least it’s not raining. I’ve had car trouble in the rain before. It’s not fun. I’m….”

He stopped, jaw hanging open as his eyes found the deflated tire. It hadn’t just gone flat, it was shredded. Jagged pieces of rubber hung limp off a dented rim.

The girl in pink stood slowly, shaking hands clasped together as her arms stretched toward him.

For one moment, Mike puzzled over why she was holding her cell phone out to him. Then, the blood drained from his body as his brain changed the phone to the silver pistol she had trained at his chest.

Raising his left hand to defend himself, the crowbar he no longer realized he was holding lifted into the air. His mouth opened but the words never left his throat.

The sound of the gun going off was like dynamite in his head. His chest exploded and Mike rocketed backward, falling onto the warm hood of his car, dead.

***

“We have unfortunate news this evening. Last night we reported that the serial killer know as The Samaritan had been shot to death by one of his intended victims, twenty-six-year-old Lauren Shultz. This is not the case. Mike Thompkins, twenty-five, had been driving home on Highway 6 after his shift at the local hardware store when he apparently stopped to help Mrs. Wells, who was having trouble with a flat tire. The young woman reports that she and her husband had been following the multiple news stories about The Samaritan, who got his name from the way he stalks and kills his victims. He tampers with his intended victim’s car, follows them until they break down then stops on the pretense of offering assistance. He then rapes and bludgeons the women to death with his weapon of choice, a crowbar.”

A slow, satisfied smile spread over Alan Hume’s newly shaven face. He leaned back against the propped pillows of his hotel bed and turned up the volume as Lauren’s tearful interview began to play.

“He had long hair and glasses. He was about the same height and build and when he stopped, he got a crowbar out of his trunk. I was positive, positive this was The Samaritan. My husband gave me the gun for protection one hour beforehand. They looked alike. How did this guy not know this?”

The footage dissolved into two still images, one of Mike Thompkins, the other a composite drawing of Alan Hume, The Samaritan. “Clearly, there is a resemblance. Close friends of Mike say he never watched, read or listened to the news. They say he found it depressing and preferred to focus on the positive things in life.”

Alan switched off the TV and turned out the bedside lamp. He was grateful to the do-gooder for looking like him. The sensational media coverage of his death had given him just enough time to change his appearance and get out of the country.

After all, “The Samaritan” was a pretty cool name but here in England, you could get a name like, “The Ripper”.

Maddie took a deep breath and counted to ten. Unclenching her fists, she read the note scrawled on the dry erase board in the kitchen.

‘Gone fishin. See you when I get back Monday night.’

Derek, her live-in boyfriend, had made a solemn vow he’d stay home this Labor Day weekend and help with household chores.

Had he done the responsible thing and gotten them finished before hitting the road thereby freeing himself from responsibility and Maddie’s wrath?

Nope. A glance at the overfilled garbage can in the corner of the kitchen answered that question.

 Drip. Drip.

As did the familiar and much-loathed sound of the steadily dripping faucet in the bathroom. Madelyn had taken to wearing earplugs to bed at night. Derek said the noise didn’t bother him. It had become a silent war between them. Derek knew if it took him long enough to fix, good-ole-Maddie would just do it herself.

“Not this time, jackass.”

Grabbing a can of Lysol from the cupboard she gave the kitchen a generous spray before heading to the living room and her laptop. She’d check her FriendSpace account and see what was going on tonight. Maybe it was time to dust off the Victoria Secret halter-top and see what else was out there.

He’s out there. Lock your doors.

Maddie frowned at the bulletin posted by Casey on her FriendSpace page. This was strange behavior for her best friend of 15 years whose usual updates consisted of sunny, uplifting quotes and the latest antics of her two-year-old son. Maddie’s fingers flew across the keys.

‘What’s going on? Who’s out there?’

 A soft ‘pop’ alerted Maddie to a reply.

‘You haven’t heard? Is Derek home?’

Maddie frowned. ‘No, he left with the guys hours ago.’

‘Bad timing.’

‘Why?’ Maddie felt her stomach churn. It wasn’t like Casey to be so cryptic.

A link to a news story popped up on the IM.

Lewisville – Police now believe the six murders that have taken place within the six months are the work of a serial killer. Unlike most serial murderers, this guy does not bury his victims in a remote location or make any attempt to hide his crime. Each victim, three male, three female all in their late twenties, early thirties were each found by a family member in their own home, their throats slit with no other evidence of physical harm and no outward signs of struggle.

Maddie couldn’t read the rest of the article.

‘Casey, I’ve heard about these murders. Didn’t these killings start up in Springfield? Since when are they happening this far south?’

‘They think he’s moving town by town. Each month, another victim turns up dead in the town right next to the one where a murder took place a month before.’

Maddie’s churning stomach flipped. She forced her suddenly cold fingers to type.

‘Casey, the last murder took place in Southbury.’

‘I know. A month ago.’

Southbury was only a ten-minute drive away. She’d heard about that murder on the radio. The body of a twenty-six year old graduate student named Melanie had been found in the basement. From what she recalled of the story, her boyfriend found her hanging from the rafters upside down, throat slit. He’d slipped on her blood and given himself a concussion on the concrete floor before calling 911. When they’d played the 911 tape, Maddie had turned it off.

When the phone rang, Maddie screamed.

Checking the caller ID, she sighed and pressed the phone to her ear. “Casey, warn me next time!”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to hear a voice instead of the clicking of the keys. Jacob’s down for a nap and Charlie won’t be home for an hour.”

Maddie closed her laptop and leaned back into the couch. “I get it. Derek won’t be home until Monday night. Lucky me.”

“What’s his deal? Doesn’t he do this to you every month? He keeps saying he’s going to stay home and help.”

“I know. The garbage is piled to the ceiling, the grass is so high you could lose Jacob in it and the faucet in the bathroom is still dripping.”

“I don’t think you’re going to win that battle.”

“I should just fix it myself but doesn’t it just reinforce his asinine behavior?”

Casey chortled. “Listen, why don’t you come by tomorrow? We’re having an early Labor Day picnic/ birthday party for Charlie.”

Maddie agreed to go and the two friends continued their conversation until a startled gasp from Casey cut them short.

“What’s wrong?”

Casey responded was a squeal of delight. “Oh, nothing. Charlie brought me home the most beautiful bouquet of roses. They’re gorgeous!”

Maddie rolled her eyes at the giggling and kissing noises. “How about I let you go?”

Clicking off, Maddie curled up on the couch and flicked through the TV. News. Weather. Spanish channel. Discovery. History. Discovery.

As the mating habits of the giant tortoise played out on the screen, Maddie felt her eyelids growing heavy.

***

Drip. Drip.

Groaning, Maddie pushed herself up onto her elbows and listened.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

No, it wasn’t a nightmare. It was the faucet again, waking her up as usual. She glanced at the TV. A giant tarantula had replaced the amorous turtles.

“Ick.” Maddie clicked off the TV.

Padding to the fridge, she grabbed some leftover Chinese food and popped it into the microwave.

Though she tried to ignore it, the smell of rotting chicken and banana clashed horribly with duck sauce. Sighing, Maddie tied up the overflowing trash bag, slung it over her shoulder and headed outside.

It was a cool, cloudless night. An almost full moon hung contentedly in a sea of winking stars.

The motion-activated security light that should have gone on when she reached the driveway did not.

“Dammit Derek!” Yet another thing her jerk boyfriend promised he’d fix.

Something skittered in the bushes making her jump.

Maddie threw open the dumpster door, heaved in the sack of trash and let the door slam closed as she raced back inside.

Back upstairs, Maddie checked the locks on each window while she let her dinner cool.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

She avoided the bathroom. She was determined to make Derek fix one thing himself.

Maddie surfed the net while she ate, catching up on emails and catalog shopping. She couldn’t believe Christmas was only three months away. When she had three people checked off her shopping list, she moved onto the dishes and swept the floor.

Returning the broom to the closet, she pushed aside a tackle box and a pair of hiking boots to get to the Electrolux.

“Might as well vacuum like a good housewife while I’m at it,” Maddie said aloud, unraveling the cord.

When she’d sucked up the last of the Carpet Fresh, she turned off the vacuum.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Maddie paused. Was it her ears or was the dripping getting worse?

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Rolling her eyes, she opened the bathroom door and turned on the light. Obstinance be damned, she wasn’t going to let a leak turn into a flood.

Derek’s toolbox stood open on the checkered tile. A Philips head and two small screws gleamed in the overhead light.

Maddie frowned and walked to the sink. The faucet wasn’t leaking. The basin was dry.

So he fixed the leak then what? He left everything on the floor for me to clean up?

Grabbing the tools and replacing them in their respective compartments, Maddie laid the toolbox down on the closed toilet lid and took a deep breath in through her nose. She wasn’t going to let this get to her. When Derek returned from his fishing trip…

As her brain registered the metallic scent in the air, an image flashed in her mind.

Derek’s tackle box by lay kiddy corner to his favorite hiking boots.

Drip. Drip.

A stream of icy horror slid down her spine sending a shock of cold radiating through her limbs. Gooseflesh crawled its way to the surface of her skin.

Drip. Drip.

She felt a greasy wave of nausea as she turned toward the sound.

The cabernet color of the heavy shower drapes beat in time with each frantic pulse of a heart that was now in her throat.

As she reached out a hand, the curtain seemed to breath, the fabric caressing her trembling fingertips.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

She yanked back the curtain 

Derek’s body hung upside down, suspended from a thick rope attached to the skylight. Slowly, it revolved, as if in some macabre attempt at a greeting, revealing thick, dark stains soaking through a favorite blue fishing T-shirt. The throat was slit ear to ear. A steady trickle of blood poured from the wound, traveled down a pale, naked arm and slid from a swollen digit.

 Drip. Drip. Drip.

 Maddie opened her mouth and screamed.

I’ll post the first one this afternoon!

Veritas - Free Ebook by Jaime A. Heidel

Read below to find out more and read an excerpt. If you like it, blog it, Facebook it, My Space it, print it and share it with your friends!!

 Is there something that haunts you? Some word or deed that can never be undone that now sits in the periphery of your mind?

Meet V. She understands exactly how you feel. At first glance, it might be easy to write her off as just another rebellious teenager but V is different, special.

Though she’s spent most of her short life using her anger as both weapon and shield from humanity, she is coming to discover that she is the link to its survival. Take an intimate journey into the broken heart of an angry young woman who is about to discover redemption in its purest form.

I kept my features impassive, swallowing my mounting panic as she explained.

 A decade prior, they’d begun a clinical trial to test the effect certain drugs had on memory and concentration. They’d been testing a series of subjects when one of them, a woman in her twenties, had begun to exhibit what they called, “super hearing.” Realizing the potential of their find, they’d retained their subject for continued experimentation and closed the study off to the public. However, within weeks the drug seemed to have little to no effect on their so-called “super girl” and she’d been discharged.

Spending the next ten years refining the drug, they began testing a new batch of people, myself included and I, like the other girl, had developed “super hearing”. They wanted to keep me. I was offered five hundred thousand dollars and given a contract to sign.

Dr. Bowman’s grin was demonic. “You do realize you’ll have to continue to be homeless until the experiment is over, correct?”

I had a pen poised over the contract when Marcus spoke up. “The other girl showed some signs of being able to read minds. Have you been able to do that?”

 Say nothing.

 When I looked up, he was glaring at me, a fierce, all-knowing intensity in his eyes.

It stung.

SLAP. The mosquito was dead.

“That’s disgusting!”

Karen turned to see her husband, Mark thundering up the trail, rocks flying from beneath his hiking boots. Looking down at her leg, he scowled. “Couldn’t you have just flicked it off? Now you’re going to have bug guts on your leg all day.”

Karen rolled her eyes, grabbed a leaf and mopped up what was left of the insect. “Flicking doesn’t make them go away.” She made a point to look him directly in the eye. “Death is the only permanent solution.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. He seemed about to respond when a screech made him look skyward. Karen followed his gaze. A hawk flew low overhead, dipping its wings. Mark raised the camera slung around his neck and snapped a few dozen shots.

Karen rose from her perch on the rock and walked to a stream. Cupping her hands, she dipped them into the cool water and brought it to her face, smoothing the liquid over the skin of her neck and upper back. She took a deep breath and gazed at the open expanse of blue sky. It was so peaceful on the trail. The only sounds were the chirping of the birds, the murmur of the water and….

 “What are you doing, Karen? That water is dirty!”

The bellowing of the husband.

Karen looked up to see Mark standing over her, eyebrows knitted together in a frown of disapproval.

“Weren’t you taking pictures?” Karen huffed, standing up and shaking out her hands. Small droplets of water appeared on the front of Mark’s green T-shirt.

He jumped back as though sprayed with acid. “I hope you didn’t drink it.”

Karen forced herself to take a deep breath. “Yeah, I did. Want to make out?”

Mark shook his head but said nothing.

“Hey look, a robin.” Karen pointed to a low-hanging tree branch.

Mark was off again, clicking away.

If he hadn’t taken up the hobby, I’d never get any peace.

She watched as he stooped to grab a fistful of small, yellow flowers. When she caught up with him, he surprised her by thrusting them into her hand, a wide grin on his face. He looked out through the lens of his camera. “Smile.”

Karen found the corners of her mouth twitching in spite of herself. She stepped back, holding the flowers up, ignoring the dirt falling from the still dangling roots.

“Move to the left a little,” Mark said. She shuffled over. He held out his hand indicating she should stop. She smiled, posing again.

“No, wait. Don’t smile so stiffly, Karen. Just smile.”

Karen sighed and tried to smile but it came out more like a grimace.

“That’s it now lean in a little. No. Not that much. Wait. Okay. There, okay, move over about a foot. No. To the right. Your other right!”

Karen looked like she was doing some sort of interpretive dance. “Oh, for crying out loud!”

“Why do you always have to lean in like….”

“Oh Mark, just go shoot something you don’t have to direct!” Karen cried, tossing the flowers at him.

She let him get way ahead of her this time, preferring the quiet. A couple of moths fluttered by and she watched them chase each other. When they alighted on a bush, Karen stopped to watch.

She didn’t see the dark, slithering shape until it was almost touching the toe of her low-top sneakers. Karen stared, rooted to the spot. The snake darted to the left as a large, hulking shadow moved over the bush. Karen felt something crash into her shoulder and the next minute, she was air born, the view rushing sideways as she flew. She hit the earth with a hard ‘thud’, her elbow cracking painfully on a sharp rock.

“Oh my God!” Mark cried.

Karen pulled herself into a sitting position and brushed the hair from her eyes. “It’s okay, Mark. It was just a garter sn….”

She stopped mid-sentence, mouth falling open as she watched her husband crouch low, raising the camera to his face.

Leaning forward, he placed one hand on the ground to steady himself and clicked the shutter.

Standing, he strode over and extended a hand to his still-prostrate bride. Too stunned to refuse, she let him help her to her feet.

“Take a look at this,” he said, showing her the LCD screen. “I can frame this one!”

Karen checked her elbow. A line of blood peeked out through jagged, dry skin. She wiped it away.

“You alright?”

“Oh, now you ask!”

“What? I got you out of the way didn’t I?”

She lunged forward palms outstretched and shoved him hard. He rocked backward on his heels and let out an amused chuckle. Then, he put his arm around her neck and half-walked, half-dragged her down the rest of the inclining slope.

An hour later, as they neared the end of the trail, Mark gained the lead while Karen trailed lazily behind. The throbbing in her shoulder had finally subsided and Karen was once again enjoying the day outdoors. When they came upon a dogwood tree, she stopped to enjoy the heady fragrance. Picking a few of the cherry-red blossoms, she tucked them behind her ear.

Overall, it hadn’t been that bad of a day.

“I really don’t think those flowers goes with that shirt.”

Karen jumped and turned. Mark’s hairy face was only inches from hers, his thick eyebrows knit close together like two caterpillars.

She gaped at him. Then, letting out a sound somewhere between a screech and a growl, she stalked away, cursing and muttering to herself.

 Mark stared at her retreating backside in confusion.

“Something I said?”

Robin Parker grinned, following his friend’s gaze out the window. The oversized leather desk chair that had once been his father’s creaked as Robin sat back and stared at Chad over steepled fingers. “That is Becky Schaeffer. The girl next door.”

Chad turned an acne-scarred face to Robin. His dark, bushy eyebrows knitted together in a frown. “Dude, seriously?” He ran his fingers through a thick tangle of greasy hair as he gazed back out the window. His nose practically touched the glass. “What happened to old Mrs. Larson?”

Robin shrugged. He rose from the chair and crossed to the window. “Kicked it a month ago. Heart attack.”

Chad shot him a look.

Robin rolled his eyes. “What? She was ninety-seven years old!”

Chad shook his head and stepped back. “Dude, you’re cold.”

“Whatever,” Robin said. “You’re just jealous cause you’re not going to have that view all summer.”

They both watched as a slim girl of about seventeen passed by the large, uncovered bedroom window, hips swinging in a tight pair of Levi’s. She bent low, her long dark hair falling in cascades over pale shoulders and an ample chest.

Chad gave a whistle. “Damn, I wish I didn’t have to go to camp this summer. I’d come over more often.”

“Why the hell do your parents send you to that damn camp anyway?” Robin asked, his jaw setting. “I have nothing to do all summer.”

Chad leered. “You do now.”
###

“Need any help?”

Becky looked up, startled. A suspicious look crossed her face as she looked the boy up and down.

Skinny. Glasses. Star Trek T-shirt. Total geek.

She smiled, shifting the weight of the box she was carrying to her other knee. She stepped forward, plopping it suddenly into his wiry arms.

He grinned, showing off a row of yellow teeth behind metal braces. “I’m
Robin. Welcome to suburbia.”

She smiled, turning toward the house. “I’m Becky. You go to Washington High?”

“Yup,” Robin said, panting up a winding flight of stairs behind her. The box was heavy but he appreciated the view.

Did she always welcome strangers into the house this readily? Wasn’t she worried about what might happen?

As if on cue, a thick, lumbering shape squeezed itself out of what looked to be an upstairs bathroom. The landing creaked under the weight of a stocky man in his late thirties, with a pockmarked face and a receding hairline. Hard brown eyes sat too close together over a nose that looked as though it had been broken more than once.

“Oh, hi Dad,” Becky said. “Robin, this is my dad, Pete. Dad, this is Robin.”

Pete leaned over the rail and favored Robin with a crooked grin. “Nice to meet you, son.”

Robin cleared his throat. “Likewise, Sir.”

Robin noticed Pete’s eyes on him as they continued up the stairs. Following Becky into the room he’d seen her in only hours before, he placed the box down just over the threshold and leaned casually in the doorframe.

Pete smiled, shook his head and thundered down the stairs.

Robin released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Hey, nice computer.” Robin stepped into the room to check out a slick machine sitting atop a mahogany desk.

Becky smiled and shook her head. Total dweeb. “So, what’s to do in this town in the summer?”

Robin stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned against the desk. “Not much, really. We usually hang out at the lake or the mall. Sometimes there’s a scary movie or two playing at the Cineplex. It’s kind of boring, really.”

“Sounds it.”

Robin glanced around the large bedroom. It looked plain with only a full-sized bed, a chest of drawers and the computer. Boxes were piled in various stages of unpacking along the hardwood floor. Robin caught a glimpse of some biology and anatomy books peeking out beneath cardboard. He bet Becky was a straight A student. He had her pegged. She’d be a cheerleader, probably date Bret Mullins, the quarterback and be crowned both Homecoming and Prom queen. The socialites would love her.

“So where did you move from?”

Becky smiled, revealing a row of perfectly white teeth. “Los Angeles.”

“Wow, what made you move from a glitzy place like that to this Podunk town?”

Glitzy? Had he actually just used the word ‘glitzy’?

“Well, things got kind of expensive after my Mom died.”

“Oh…wow, I’m sorry.” Robin shifted his weight on the desk, just enough to hear something slide off the desk and onto the floor.

Becky gasped. “Did it break?” She dove under the desk but Robin was already pulling the webcam up by the cord.

“Let me check,” Robin said, prying open the plastic. Something small and black slipped through his fingers and settled onto the lens. He screwed it back together and held it up like a prize.

“See, it’s fine.”

Becky snatched it and bent to plug it back in. “Good, my uncle would have killed me.”

Robin opened his mouth but was interrupted by a bellow from below.

“Hey Becky! Uncle Mike just called.” Pete’s heavy tread on the stairs caused an echo to reverberate along the still empty house. He appeared in the doorway and grinned when he saw Robin. “Hey, you still here?” Not waiting for an answer, he addressed Becky. “We better get going to the airport. Mike took an earlier flight. He’s waiting.”

Becky’s pretty face fell. She glanced about the room. “Damn.”

“Don’t worry about it,” her dad said. “We’ve got plenty of time to make this house a home.”

Robin stepped toward the door. “Guess I better get going. Let me know if you need any help unpacking.”
 
###

“Sounds like her father was having a field day with you,” Chad said, his face illuminated by the glow of the computer screen.

They were talking on web cam. Chad at camp. Robin at home.

“So, what have you seen, man?”

Robin laughed. “Nothing. It’s only been a couple of hours.”

Chad rolled his eyes. “I still can’t believe you did it.”

“It was easy. Just pretend to knock over the web cam and slip my own little camera in. Nothing to it. She never suspected a thing. Except she probably thinks I’m a complete klutz but that’s a small price to pay.” 

“For that view, I bet.”

“Hey, I just saw a light come on, buddy. It’s show time!”

Robin clicked a button on his computer and a fuzzy image appeared on the screen.

“Dude, you’re recording this, right?”

“Quiet. Yeah.” Robin clicked another button to shift the focus.

“What, you think she’s going to hear you or something?”

Robin ignored him. He smiled. Becky was standing in the middle of the room, two small boxes tucked under each slender arm. She walked toward the desk and Robin got an eyeful of lacy black bra as she bent over, presumably to place the boxes on the floor.

“What’s the grin for, guy? Is she taking it off?”

“Not yet.”

Becky moved to the center of the room, bending over once more to retrieve another box. This time, Robin got a nice shot of her rear end.

“Damn.”

Chad spoke up. “What, dude, what are you seeing? Come on, stop holding out on me!”

“She’s doing a strip tease,” Robin said, distracted. He watched as she did a full body stretch.

“What?”

“I’m recording it man, lay off.”

“You want some alone time?”

“Oh my God, who is this?”

“Somebody else is getting in on the action?”

“No.” Robin made a face. If Becky’s father was the size of a moon, the guy who just walked into Becky’s room was the planet he orbited. “This must be Uncle Mike.”

“She’s getting it on with her uncle?”

“Dude, shut up!” Robin clicked the mute button on the chat screen and watched as Becky’s tiny frame was engulfed by the planet. When she stepped back, Robin noted that her smile looked forced.

I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want that sweaty thing hugging me even if we were related.

“Come on guy, leave,” Robin said. “This was just about to get good.”

The door opened and the father appeared. They all stood around and began to talk. A minute passed by. Then two. Robin sighed and minimized the window.

Maybe he could stand to talk to Chad a bit longer.

###

It was nearly midnight when Robin looked out of his bedroom window. Becky’s father was outside, smoking a cigarette, talking to somebody just outside Robin’s line of sight. Upstairs, in Becky’s room, a faint light peeked out from behind very recently installed curtains.

Robin opened his laptop and clicked open the webcam screen. A shadow moved across the floor by the closet. A small, low-watt lamp by the bed was the only light source. It was better than the overhead light, he thought. More intimate.

The shadow moved again, teasing him. A piece of fabric fell to the floor just out of sight.

“Come on, Becky. Move a little closer, sweetie.”

Something moved over the lens. The low light made everything a bit fuzzy. Robin looked at the keys, adjusting the focus. Was there a setting that allowed for low light? He minimized the window and brought up a menu screen. He touched, ‘sharpen image’ and brought the webcam window into full screen.

He looked up.

Robin’s eyes bulged and his jaw dropped. His heart raced and his palms became thick with sweat. He blinked once. Twice. Swallowing the thick lump of saliva that had formed in his throat, he stood up, nearly upending his chair.

“Oh my God!”

Robin ran from his room, down the hall, to the bathroom. Ten minutes of splashing with cold water did nothing to clear the image from his mind.

Apparently Uncle Mike slept in the nude.

 Geraldine Farmer stared out the window over the kitchen sink, hands clutching a dishtowel. The thunderclap came again, followed by a streak of lightning. She started and backed away, well-worn slippers scraping against the linoleum.

 The rain began to fall, coming in erratic drops that beat against the window and sides of the house. After another rumble of thunder, the sky opened up and the rain began to pour down in sheets, droning on the roof, slapping the glass. The wind howled and the trees surrounding the house whipped about against the darkening sky, subjects bowing to some invisible god.

 Geraldine’s fingers fumbled behind her and gripped the back of a wooden chair. Without taking her eyes from the dramatic scene, she sank onto the cushioned seat. As the storm rolled on, Geraldine’s focus on the backyard softened. The woods behind the swaying trees on the perimeter of her property were thrown into sharp relief as another streak of lightning lit the sky.

 For that split second, Geraldine saw the face. It was young and pale with the glimmer of a smirk playing on blue tinted lips.

 A rushing sound to her left tore her attention away from the horrifying visage. The calendar had fallen off the wall. Grateful to be busying herself with anything other than the face in the woods, Geraldine rose and crossed the room.

 It was as she pushed the thumbtack back into the wall that she saw the date.

 June 30, 1998.

 Her left side jerked spasmodically and she gasped in pain as a hot lick of fire shot up her neck into her head. She staggered backward, only vaguely aware that her vision was becoming incredibly blurry.

 June. Her daughter.

Turning, she reached for the wall-mounted telephone and dialed 911.

 When the operator answered, Geraldine Farmer uttered only one word before collapsing into unconsciousness.

 “Molly.”

###

 
 Molly Larson slammed the door to the sedan and flew up the pebbled walkway. Her grandmother stood just inside the screen door. She bent to embrace the child as she bounded up the steps.

 “Hi, Grammie!” Molly said brightly, her blue eyes dancing.

 “Hi, Mom.”

 As Molly’s mother plodded up the walkway, Geraldine noticed how deflated she looked.

 “Hello, June.”

 They embraced and Geraldine stepped back, allowing both of them to enter her small cottage-style house.

 “How are you doing, Molly?” Geraldine asked as they stepped into the living room. “Did you have a nice drive?”

 “It was alright,” Molly said, twirling a long strand of blonde hair between her fingers. “We got lost a couple of times though and somebody cut Mommy off on the highway. She gave them the bird.”

 Geraldine shot her daughter a look but June just rolled her eyes and sagged into the loveseat with a sigh.

 Molly hung her head. “I’m sorry.”

 “It’s alright, sweetie,” her grandmother told her. “We all get angry sometimes and do things we later regret, right?”

 Molly nodded, making a point to avoid her mother’s eyes. “Can I go outside on the tire swing?”

 Geraldine nodded her approval.

 “Just don’t wander off,” June called but Molly had already disappeared out the door.

 “I can’t believe the tire swing is still there,” June said. “I remember when Dad put it up.”

 Geraldine took a seat opposite her daughter in a worn, paisley-printed chair. “June, things are getting worse, aren’t they?”

 The younger woman’s dark brown eyes instantly swam with tears. “Mike served me with divorce papers, Mom. It’s over.”

 Geraldine sighed. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
 
 June ran thin fingers through a tangle of hair. “Honestly, I’m not.”

 For the first time Geraldine noticed how thin her daughter had become. The soft, cotton dress that would have hugged an hourglass figure just a year ago now hung limp as a dishrag. It looked as though somebody had picked June up and simply rung her out.

 “He’s happy with Marci,” she told her mother. “Happier than he ever was with me. Molly and I are better off.”

 “Well, good riddance to him then,“ Geraldine replied, a snap in her voice. “You can do better. You’re still young. You’ll find somebody else.”

 
 
“I’m not concerned with that now, Mom. I just want to get myself back together so I can be a better mom to my little girl. She’s only ten years old and she’s seen more adult problems than I ever wanted her to.”

 Geraldine nodded. “Do you think this spiritual retreat will help?”

 June favored her mother with a rare smile. “I’ll make it work, for Molly. Thank you for taking her for the summer, Mom. I’m not fit to be a full-time parent in the state I’m in.”

 “Well, she always spends a month here each summer, right? What are two more?”

 “She’s safe here,” June said, glancing over her mother’s shoulder to peer out the window. “Nothing but woods and streams, townhouses and cottages. There aren’t any freaks or child molesters in a place like this.”

 Geraldine turned and smiled. Her granddaughter lay on her stomach in the tire swing. She’d wound up the rope as tight as her short legs would allow and was letting its unraveling spin her around, arms in the air, blonde hair flying.

 “Why did you name her Molly?”

 “What?” June’s voice rose an octave. She gave an uncertain little laugh. “Mom, that was out of the blue. Besides, you know why I named her Molly.”

 Geraldine turned back, a small frown furrowing her brow.  “I do?”

 “Mom, really.” June regarded her mother quizzically. “What brought this on?”

 Geraldine shook her head. “Humor an old woman, will you?”

 “Mom, you’re only sixty,” June protested. Then, seeing the strange look that had come into her mother’s eyes, June relented.

 “Alright. I got the name from you. I guess I can see you really don’t remember though.”

 Geraldine’s frown deepened.

 “Do you remember the stroke you had, right before I gave birth?”

 “Oh, yes, of course. We were in the hospital at the same time. I really thought I was a goner.”

 “Yes, and I was so worried about you that it brought on my labor pains a few weeks early. Mike and I hadn’t decided on a name yet. She was just Babygirl Larson for almost a week.”

 Geraldine nodded, listening.

 “I brought the baby in for you to see. I sat on the edge of your bed and showed you your granddaughter. You’d been dozing but you opened your eyes for a second and looked at her. The first word out of your mouth was…”

 “Molly,” Geraldine finished. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh June, I had completely forgotten that.”

 June shrugged her small shoulders. “I took it for a sign or something. It’s a beautiful name.”

 Geraldine forced a smile. “Yes, it is.”

 ###

 “Ring around the rosies, a pocketful of posies…”

 The singsong melody floated on the wind. It mingled so with the ambient noise of the birds, rustling leaves and June bugs, it could have been there all along.

 “Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.” The words fell from Molly’s lips in a whisper.

She wriggled out of the tire swing and glanced around. “Hey! Who said that?”

 Molly stood by the swing, one hand on the tire to slow its movement. She looked around but saw nobody else nearby. Somewhere in the distance, a lawnmower started up.

 A movement out of the corner of her eye turned her attention to the woods. The tall thicket of grass at the edge of the property began to ripple even though there was no breeze.

 The hint of a giggle made Molly move closer. She began walking toward the woods as though her small, bare feet had a mind of their own.

 “Allie?” Molly called uncertainly. “Is that you?”

 The movement in the grass stopped and Molly too, halted.

 She was standing just at the edge of the woods now. The grass came nearly to her shoulders in some spots.

 It was then that Molly noticed the change in the atmosphere. The sound of the lawnmower and the beetles were muffled now, as though two thick wads of cotton had been stuffed into her ears.

 Shaking her head, she took a step forward, reaching out both hands to part the blades of grass.

 When the thin, white hand came down on her shoulder, she screamed.

 
 
###

 “How’s your grilled cheese, sweetie?” Geraldine asked.

 Molly washed down a thick wad of bread and cheese with a swallow of milk. The glass had begun to sweat and it slipped in her hands, making a loud ‘thwok’ against the table when she tried to set it down.

 She jumped at the noise. “It’s good, Grammie.”

 “I didn’t mean to scare you outside, honey,” Geraldine said. “It’s just that I’d been calling you and you didn’t seem to hear.”

 “I’m sorry.”

 Molly felt her insides squirm at the mention of the incident. Why had she been so scared? Molly prided herself on never being afraid. Especially since Mom always seemed to be.

 “I wish Allison and her family hadn’t moved away,” Geraldine went on, sipping a glass of iced tea. “You and she always liked to play together in the summer.”

 “I thought maybe she came back.”

 Geraldine’s smile was tender. She placed a hand over her granddaughters’.  “No, they sold the house months ago, I’m afraid. An elderly couple lives there now but they have no grandchildren. It looks as though it will be just you and me this summer.”

 Molly frowned. “There are no other kids in the neighborhood?”

 Geraldine shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

 “That’s weird.”

 “How so?”

 “I heard a girl in the woods today.”

 Geraldine flinched. She drew her hand away. “You must have imagined it.”

 Molly chewed on her lower lip. “I guess so.”

 “You be careful around the woods, Molly, you understand?”

 Molly was startled at the sudden snap in her grandmother’s voice. “Okay, I will.”

 “You’re not to go in the woods alone.”

 Molly nodded. “I used to go with Allie sometimes. We took a shortcut to her house.”

 “Well, it was alright with Allison. She grew up in these woods. She knows them.”

 “Knew them.”

 Molly grew quiet. She stared down at the table and sighed. At first when her mother had told her she’d be spending the entire summer at the cottage, Molly had jumped at the chance of being able to be free of her parent’s constant fighting. She’d imagined long days with Allie, playing in the woods, swimming in her pool and having fun. Allie had written to Molly right before she moved. Her mother had misplaced the letter and the bad news that had come with it. It had only surfaced a couple of days before the trip to grandma’s house. Molly hadn’t made a big deal out of the letter in front of her mom but when she was finally in bed, she cried all night long. She loved her grandmother but the thought of her being her only playmate through the whole summer made Molly’s chest feel heavy. She did not want to cry.

 “Hey.” Geraldine spoke gently. “Why don’t we go to the orchard tomorrow and pick some apples?”

 
 
###

 “If I can just get a bit higher…” Molly spoke through gritted teeth. She stood under a small apple tree, one arm stretched so high it felt as if any moment it might come out of the socket. She was pushing so hard to reach the shiny green orb above her head that her toes hurt.

 She felt a surge of renewed hope when her fingertips brushed once and then twice around the fruit.

 A sudden cramp in her left leg sent her sprawling to the ground.

 “Dammit!” She brushed sweat-soaked hair off of her forehead. She glowered at the apple as it bobbed in the slight breeze. It might as well have been laughing at her.

 “Need a hand?”

 Molly turned to see a thin, blonde boy beside her. Though she hadn’t answered his question, he was already stooping to pick up the apples that had spilled out of her small basket.

 “Oh, thanks,” Molly said, getting up and brushing off her backside.

 The boy smiled shyly and returned her basket.

 “No problem,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m Adam.”

 “Molly.”

 “You live around here?”

 “No,” Molly said, shaking her head. “I’m visiting my grandmother for the summer.”

 “Oh.”

 Come to think of it, where was her grandmother? Molly scanned the rows of trees. She could have sworn she was just beside her only a moment ago.

 “Is her house here in town?”

 Molly had been concentrating so hard on trying to locate the familiar purple dress and grey hair that she started at Adam’s words.

 “Um, no,” Molly said, shifting the basket. “She lives in a cottage out at Bridge Creek, right by Harper’s Woods.

 Adam’s mouth dropped open and he took a step backward. He seemed to be about to say something when he was interrupted by a sudden yell to their left.

 “Molly!”

 Geraldine, face flushed, hair askew, came panting toward the two children. Her eyes darted back and forth between them as she laid a hand on her granddaughter’s shoulder.

 “Where have you been? I thought you were right behind me!”
 
Molly felt her face begin to flush at being scolded in front of a strange boy.

 “I’m sorry, Gram,” Molly said. “I thought you were right behind me too.”
 
 “Hello there.” Geraldine nodded politely to Adam.

 “Hello. I’m Adam. I’m here with my dad but he knows where I am.”
 
 Molly suppressed a giggle. The kid obviously thought he was going to be scolded as well.

 “Oh, all right,” Geraldine said, her expression softening. “That’s good to know.”

 “Sweetie, are you almost ready to get going? We need to stop at the grocery store before we go home.”

 “Sure,” Molly said. “Nice meeting you, Adam.”

 “Nice meeting you, Adam,” Geraldine parroted.

 Molly and her grandmother had made it most of the way out of the orchard before Adam bounded back into sight. He tapped Molly on the shoulder and greeted her startled cry with a wide grin. In his hand he held the elusive fruit that had caused their meeting.

 “Decided you might want this,” he said, topping off her basket.

 “Oh, thanks,” Molly said, glancing backward to be sure she didn’t lose her grandmother again.

 “Hey, listen. I guess you haven’t heard, huh?”

 Molly frowned at Adam’s sudden change in tone. His dark eyes were dancing with mischief.  “What are you talking about?”

 “Harper’s Woods is haunted.”

 “Oh come on…” Molly began, but he cut her off.

 “No, seriously,” he said, stepping back. “It’s really weird that you’re staying there for the summer too.”

 “What’s so weird about that?”

 Adam gave her a long look before speaking again.

 “I can’t believe you don’t know,” Adam said, shaking his head. “The ghost in the woods. Her name is Molly.”

 
 
###

 Molly stared into the woods and bit down on the tart green apple defiantly. She hated that stupid kid Adam. It had been three days since he told her that dumb story about a ghost with her name. Trying to convince herself that he was just a creepy kid looking to scare people had done little to stop the nightmares. Her grandmother kept asking why Molly looked so tired at breakfast but Molly didn’t want to say. She was sure her grandmother would think the stress of her parent’s divorce or loneliness was bringing it on. Besides, grandma hadn’t been feeling too well herself the past couple of days. The last thing Molly wanted to do was make her feel worse. After a third night of bad sleep, Molly made a decision. She was going to go into the woods. She’d been in it a million times with Allison and her best friend had never told her about a ghost in the woods. Still, she knew so long as she avoided it, she’d probably keep having nightmares.

 She threw a guilty glance toward the house. When she’d left her, grandma had been sleeping on the living room sofa bundled under a blanket, tissues and hot tea at hand. Molly convinced herself that it was because she didn’t want to wake her grandmother that she hadn’t asked for permission.

 Molly adjusted the small pack on her back and stepped past the tall blades of grass and into the woods. “I’ll just walk to where Allison used to live and walk back. If no ghost gets me, than there is no ghost.”

 Molly set off down the small worn path, oblivious to the darkness creeping behind her.

 ###

 “Molly, Molly wants her dolly!”

 Three ten-year-old girls stood in a circle around a fourth child, a thin blonde who appeared younger than the rest. The older girls tossed a doll between them, sticking out their tongues and making faces at the girl in the middle.

 The little blonde jumped up each time the treasured toy flew overhead and though she stood on tiptoes, she couldn’t come close to reaching it.

 “Don’t pick on me!”

 Despite the defiance in her tone, her trembling lower lip egged the bullies on.

 “Poor little Molly, want a lolli?” Marianne, the tallest of the girls produced a Dum Dum lollipop from a pocket in her overalls.

 Sarah had the doll now, its short red hair tangled up in her thick fingers. She swung it back and forth like a pendulum, a sour expression on her pudgy face.

 “Don’t swing Raggedy Ann like that. Give her back!”

 “Why don’t you run and cry to your Grammie, Molly?” Gerry, the third girl chimed in.

 “Yeah!” Marianne agreed. She looked to her friends. “Her Mommy doesn’t want her. Dropped her off on the doorstep and ran away.”

 “How come your Mommy doesn’t want you, Molly?” Gerry asked.

 “Yeah?” Sarah agreed. “Is there something wrong with you?”

 “Why do you spend all your time in the woods, Molly?” Gerry asked.

 “I hear you talk to yourself,” Sarah jeered.

 The lollipop Marianne had been holding hit Molly on the side of the head, making a loud ‘thwok’ in her ear.

 “Leave me alone!” Molly shrieked. Her fists clenched into balls at her side and tears poured down her cheeks. “Just leave me alone!”

 Just then, a sudden gust of wind rocked the trees in the woods around them. The sky, which hadn’t held a cloud only moments ago had suddenly grown dark as though an unseen hand had reached out to block the sun.

 “Thunderstorm!” Sarah announced, tossing the doll.

 Gerry seemed to be the only one to notice the change. Molly was no longer crying. She wasn’t even moving. She was glaring, emerald eyes darting methodically from Marianne to Sarah, then back to Gerry.

 Gerry felt herself taking several steps backwards, nearly plowing into Marianne and Sarah who had begun to dance amidst the sudden rain shower. A deafening boom of thunder followed a streak of purple lightning that painted the sky.

 “Hey, watch where I’m running!” Marianne laughed, shoving the doll into Gerry’s hands.

 “Let’s get out of here!” Gerry yelled above the storm, her gaze still on Molly.

 Those eyes. They just kept moving. No, ticking. Gerry realized with a crawling shudder that the eyes reminded her of one of those Kit Cat clocks ticking off the seconds.

 Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

 “Yeah, let’s go!” Sarah agreed, pushing a wet tangle of hair from her face.

 The two girls took off down the path, shrieking with delight. Gerry watched them go.

 “I’m going to get lost in the woods.”

 The voice was so close to her ear that Gerry screamed and jumped back.

 Though Gerry had looked away for only a moment, Molly had somehow managed to cover the ten or so feet between them in that time. Her face was only inches from Gerry’s, her green eyes dark with rage and still red-rimmed from crying. She snatched the Raggedy Ann doll from Gerry’s loosening grip with animal ferocity.

 The smile on Molly’s pale face was pure rage. “But I’ll come back for all of you.”

 ###

 Geraldine woke with a start, her hand clutching at a sweat-soaked chest. As she struggled to right herself on the sofa, she was seized by a sudden coughing fit. Grabbing a cushion for support, she reached for a tissue and waited for the fit to pass.

 “Dammit!” Geraldine cursed.

 She could still see the cold eyes locked onto hers, still feel the sudden shower of raindrops through the canopy of dense forest.

 “I’ll come back for all of you.”

 The whispered threat, uttered nearly five decades ago still echoed in her mind as though the words had just been spoken.

 Marianne, Sarah and Geraldine had all made it out of the woods unscathed that day. Molly had stayed true to her word. She disappeared. A search party had been sent out to look for her when Gerry, despite the protests of her friends, told Molly’s grandmother that they’d last seen her playing in the woods.

 Gerry had been terrified to knock on the old woman’s door. For decades, she held the title and reputation of town witch. Though she had been polite, Molly’s grandmother had stared coldly at Gerry throughout her well-rehearsed lie as though she could see straight through her. She knew what the kids in the neighborhood said and did to her grandchild though she passed away long before she ever saw what Molly had in store for them.

 Ten years later, on the exact anniversary of the day Molly disappeared, then twenty-one year old Marianne Hutchins decided to go for a walk in the woods. Though she hadn’t entered them in a decade, she got up early in the morning, left her newborn son with a neighbor and vanished. The neighbor would report later that Marianne had looked almost as if she were sleepwalking. The neighbor also noted that she thought it odd that Marianne was not wearing a coat as it had been pouring rain.

 They found her body by the river three days later. The papers hadn’t been specific but the caretaker who’d found her began telling tales to anyone who would listen that the young woman had been found eyes wide open, face contorted in fear.

 Ten more years would pass before the death of Sarah’s grandfather brought Sarah, her husband and two children back to her hometown.

 By this time, Geraldine had all but forgotten the strange incidents of Harper’s woods. She’d been married and her and her husband were expecting what would be their only child.

 Geraldine was sitting at the kitchen table the next morning, cutting the obituary out of the paper when the phone call came in. Sarah’s husband could only conclude that in her grief, Sarah must have woken in the night to take a walk and had perhaps gotten turned around in territory much changed since her childhood. They found her car parked just outside of Harper’s woods and the body only twenty minutes later. Though the coroner had proclaimed accidental drowning as the cause of death, Geraldine knew better.
 
 It was then that Geraldine made peace with the fact that she had only one decade left to live.

 But death instead came to claim the life of Geraldine’s husband during the span of that ten years and she didn’t come in the form of an angry child on a specific anniversary day. Walter had stepped off the curb and been hit and instantly killed by a drunk driver. Though Geraldine spent her time worrying over June, she soon convinced herself that nothing supernatural had ever had designs on them.

The insurance money Geraldine had come into from her husband’s death had helped her and her young daughter more than either of them had expected. June was able to attend a private boarding school during the fall and spend each summer at a sleep away camp.

 Geraldine closed her eyes now and forced herself to take a deep breath. Her coughing fit had finally subsided. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with the tissue she still clutched in her hand.

 She rose from the couch and made her way to the kitchen. Selecting a glass from the cabinet, she turned on the tap.

 As she passed by the window, a flicker of movement caught her eye. She frowned at the fine art calendar that hung on the wall by the phone. Its pages were fluttering as though caught in a breeze but a quick glance around the kitchen told her no window was open.
 
 Geraldine’s heart raced as her feet moved her toward the fluttering pages.
 
 She felt the glass slip from her hand. It hit the linoleum and shattered but Geraldine didn’t hear. She didn’t even feel the glass shard that penetrated the thin sole of her house slipper when she staggered backward.

 A flash of lightning lit up the sky. Geraldine gasped and turned a face drained of color to the window and the woods beyond.  “Oh no….”
 
 
 
###

 “Molly.”

 The voice was a whisper.

 Molly whirled to face the sound but could see nothing but forest. She licked dry, chapped lips and swallowed hard. “Who’s there?”

 She’d heard a twig crack a few minutes ago. Had somebody or something been following her?

 When the shape appeared from behind the gnarled old oak tree, Molly gasped and took a step back.

 The little girl smiled.  “There’s a storm moving in. You should go home.”
 
 Molly’s chest tightened as she stared at a young girl who appeared to be about Molly’s age with long, stringy blonde hair and a tattered dress. The only thing that stood out were her eyes, green and almost unnaturally bright. 

“Who are you?” Molly asked.

“I’m Claire,” the little girl said, stepping forward. It seemed to Molly that with each step she took, the little girl seemed to glow brighter somehow, as if bathed in her own private sunshine. “I bet you thought I was a ghost, huh?”

Molly surprised herself by giggling. “Yeah, well, somebody told me a ghost story about these woods.”

“I come here all the time,” Claire said. “I’ve never seen a ghost.”

When Claire reached out a hand, Molly felt the slightly cold but solid presence of bone and skin when she shook it. She felt her muscles relax. This girl was just as real as she.

“Where do you live?”

Claire pointed. “On the other side of the woods. Do you know the old lake house?”

Molly laughed. “I thought me and grandma had the old lake house.”

“No, the other one,” Claire said.

Molly’s mouth formed an ‘O’ of surprise. “You live where my best friend Allison used to live!”

Claire smiled. “I do?”

“Yeah and grandma told me there were no other kids here!”

Claire shrugged. “I’m staying there with my grandparents for the summer.”

A sudden rumble of thunder caught their attention.

 Molly looked up. Why hadn’t she noticed the sky getting so grey?

 “Do you want to come over, Molly? I’ll tell you the real ghost story if you come with me.”

 Molly felt a spidery shiver crawl along her spine. “Claire, I never told you my name.”

 Claire turned back, frowning. “Yes, you did.”

 Molly shook her head. She stepped back. “No, I didn’t.”

 Thunder clapped again. Molly looked up as lightning flashed across the sky. When she looked back, Claire was gone.

 Molly gasped, turning right and left as large drops of rain splashed her head and arms.

 “Ring around the rosies….”

 The voice was a deafening whisper all around her. 

 Claire laughed, a maniacal giggle that reverberated off the trees and seemed to chase the falling rain deep underground.

Molly ran.
###

 “Molly! Molly!”

 Geraldine screamed as she slid down the embankment. A sharp pain shot through her leg and she prayed as she tumbled and rolled that it wasn’t broken. Nobody knew where she was. She could die out here.

 She landed on her hands and knees in a deep puddle of muddy water.  “Molly!”

 She’d been combing the woods for nearly twenty minutes but so far, had seen no sign of her granddaughter.

 The rain poured down in sheets.

 Geraldine lurched blindly into a tree and held on. For a moment, she was twelve years old again, helping her friends pick on a helpless little girl.  She saw the rage in the eyes of the girl in that not so distant memory. Fifty years to the day. How had she not realized the date?

 Lightning flashed and lit a streak of blonde in the distance. At first, Geraldine was struck by an urge to scream. Then, she recognized her grandchild.

 Barefoot, both slippers lost long ago under muck and leaves, Geraldine staggered barefoot toward Molly’s unconscious form.

 “Molly?” Geraldine slid down to her knees and cradled the rain-soaked head in her arms. “Oh God, please don’t be dead. Baby? Honey, wake up.”

 But the face was grey, the blue lips parted. Geraldine put her hand to those lips and felt no breath. “Oh God! Molly!”

 Geraldine pushed Molly onto her back and began performing the CPR she’d learned from a YWCA course over thirty years ago. She had no idea if she still remembered what to do. Instinct took over. She pressed on the small chest and blew frantically into the child’s mouth.

 A strong gust of wind picked up, wailing through the trees and nearly knocking Geraldine to the forest floor.

 She looked up, gasping, momentarily distracted from her task. Had she just heard a voice? Something moved in the distance. A figure. Was somebody out there?

 “Help! Help! Over here! Please, it’s my granddaughter. I think she’s drowned!”

 Something moved, an amorphous figure melting into the trunk of a tree. Geraldine squinted, shook her head and resumed the chest pumps on Molly.

 An explosion happened in Geraldine’s hands as Molly sat bolt upright and gasped for air. She fell onto her side and began coughing up water.

 “Molly, Molly!” Geraldine cried, holding her granddaughter close. “You’re alright. You’re alright.”

 “Grandma.”

 “That’s right, honey. Grammie is here.”

 Geraldine pulled Molly away and held her at arm’s length, checking her over for any injuries. The child’s face was still pale but the color was coming back. Geraldine smoothed the hair out of her granddaughter’s eyes.

Her granddaughter’s eyes.

They were green.

The End