Ghosted Read Online Free PDF Page B

of defense system in her apartment…"
    I move through the door. He stands by the
elevator, waits for it to open.
    I put my hand through the button panel. We
both hear a click and the light goes out. He presses the button
several times. "Looks like the elevator's out." He turns back to
the living room.
    I slam the doors.
    Mr. Jones lowers the phone. "What the fuck is
going on?" He screams. "Who ever you are I swear I'll find you and
kill you."
    "You already did," I say aloud.
    I am shocked when he hears me.
    Mr. Jones takes a step back, his weapon up. He
aims it at the door, at the wall, and at the two inert officers.
"Who's there?"
    "A victim."
    "A victim, eh? Well you're going to be a
victim soon as I find you, you son of a bitch."
    "Why did you try to rape Caroline?"
    He doesn't answer right away, so I wait. I
know I can hold the doors closed. How long can he commune with the
dead?
    Mr. Jones bangs on the elevator doors. He
turns to the apartment doors but I push larger pieces of the broken
arrangement at him. He stumbles head first into the
door.
    "I'm waiting." I stand close to
him.
    He laughs. "You're not going to get me to
admit to anything."
    I wish he saw me.
    I wish it with all my heart.
    He gets up and starts to walk through me. He
stops. His eyes widen. He raises a finger and points…
    … at the elevator.
    I turn and see my reflection staring at him
from the polished gold doors. I look terrible. Blood covers half my
face. The other half are bruises. My clothes are torn. Mud covers
me.
    "I killed you…" he says. "You're not here. I
dumped you into that ditch."
    "Why did you try to rape Caroline?"
    "Oh no. This is a trick!" He shoots the
elevator. Holes appear in my chest. "You're not real!"
    "Why did you try to rape Caroline?"
    "Shut up!"
    "Why?"
    "I said shut up!" He fires again, and again,
and again. Finally his gun clicks.
    But I am still there.
    "Why?"
    Mr. Jones laughs. "You stupid bastard. You had
to get in the way. Just had to be a hero."
    "Why?"
    "Because he pays me to get rid of problems,
kid. He paid me to get rid of you."
    "Why?"
    "Because you were going to identify me. And
you stopped me from killing that bitch!"
    The truth.
    I see the apartment door open and the nozzle
of a gun slip through the crack.
    "Why?"
    "Because he wants her inheritance. The
bastard's broke. She dies then he can use it."
    Broke? "Who?"
    But Mr. Jones never answers me. The gun fires
twice and strikes him in the back. He falls at my feet. I watch the
door as Mr. Black steps through. He wears a gray suit and black
gloves. He looks around the small room, sees the two officers and
smiles.
    I recognize the gun.
    It's Detective Pellis's gun.
     

 
     
     
     
     
    7
     
    I don't want to face the implications of the
gun. But they stare at me from Mr. Black's gloved hand. A cell
phone rings. He pulls one from his pocket as he stands in the
center of the carnage. "Black…" his expression shifts from smug
satisfaction to irritation. "They what? How could they find him?
Jones said he hid the kid's body…"
    Kid's body?
    My body?
    "All right. Things are settled here. That
half-ass bastard can take the fall. Give me a few seconds while I
set things up here." He disconnects his call and tucks his phone
into jacket pocket. He kicks Jones's body. Mr. Mercedes. "Shit
head. They found the body, you moron. You never could do anything
right." He steps inside the apartment and leaves the doors
open.
    They found my body. I believe I should feel
some sort of excitement at this fact. It won't rot out in the
elements. Nor will it be consumed by wildlife. But my immediate
thoughts move back into the apartment to look for Detective
Pellis.
    And Caroline.
    Mr. Black makes noises in the kitchen. He
discovers a bottle of cleaner and paper towels and uses them over
several surfaces. Perhaps he believes it will erase his own
fingerprints. But nothing erases the blackness from his
soul.
    I walk slowly past him, past the kitchen down
the hall. I step through