Chapter Nineteen
Jace walked through the wall into the Chase kitchen. Cameron was eating a sandwich at the island bar, watching a small TV on the counter. He was alone in the house. He had bruises and stitches on his face and neck.
That pleased Jace, knowing he inflicted that much pain on his murderer. It wasn’t close to what he endured the day Cameron murdered him. The feel of that blade slashing into him would haunt him for eternity, seeing his demented face over him stabbing him again and again.
Cameron would pay for that.
He focused his energy on the pots and pans hanging over his head and rattled them slightly, just to get his attention. Cameron stiffened and looked up, a look of fear in his eyes. He looked around the kitchen for a minute and went back to watching TV.
Jace glared at him and looked at the TV, just a hard push enough to send it sliding off the counter. That got Cam’s attention. He jumped up from the bar stool and backed away, looking around the kitchen wildly.
“Go away, Jace! I’m not afraid of you! You’re a ghost! A ghost! You can’t do nothin’ to me!” he raged and looked around.
Jace smiled without humor and stared at the block holding all the knives on the opposite counter. He pulled one free and sent it sailing at Cameron. The knife embedded itself into the wooden pantry door only inches from his former friend’s head. Cameron looked sick to see it, looking around and backing away slowly.
“You come after me anymore and I’ll kill Lindsay, Jace!” he threatened boldly and smiled as he looked around the kitchen. “You can’t protect her! You’re dead! I mean it! You leave me alone or I’ll cut her worse than I did you! Do you want that, buddy? Think about it!”
Jace did, and sent another knife careening through the air. This one stopped before it penetrated Cameron’s chest, poised in the air in front of him. He grinned to see a wet spot forming in Cameron’s jeans, knowing he peed himself.
He released his hold on the knife and it clattered to the ceramic tile noisily.
Cameron looked like he would throw up at that moment. Jace sent all the pots and pans hanging over his head flying, all of them slamming into walls and one hit Cameron in the shoulder.
He covered his head as the missiles flew, finally running out of the kitchen and locking himself into the hall bathroom. Jace followed and watched him crying on the commode, seeing how scared he was. For the first time since he was murdered, Jace felt powerful.
Cameron put his head down between his knees.
He used one mental push to turn on the water full blast. Cameron jumped and stood, wrenching open the door and running up to his room.
Jace let him go; satisfied he let his good buddy know he could give one hell of a fight. If he went after Lindsay, more than a knife would fly at him. He wasn’t done yet. He went outside. Artie the nerd and Sal and the others were there. They all grinned at him.
“Did ya scare the little creep to death?” Sal asked pleasantly.
“Nah, just made him piss his pants.”
All the ghosts snickered at that.
Sal raised an eyebrow. “Is it our turn yet, Boss?”
Jace nodded. “Have at it, guys.”
He watched the ghosts all pass by him, each one walking through the walls of the Chase home in pursuit of his killer. After about two minutes he heard Cameron shrieking and screaming from his room, knowing Artie and Sal were giving him the treatment. He knew he left Cameron in good hands. The other ghosts were going to rock his whole world judging from his fearful cries within the house.
Jace found himself outside Hooligan’s, having put this off since he got here. He had to face his dad now. It was funny how he hesitated outside the bar just as much as when he lived. He used to dread this part of his day; coming to collect Everett Turner from the bar.
He walked through the front door and saw the same regulars sitting there. Margene was toting ice from the back. The dark-haired barmaid was showing now. She still managed to look sexy, wearing shirts to cover her growing pregnancy while showing her other assets to their best advantage.
Jace saw his father and fought the wave of disgust, seeing Evie’s head down on the bar. Margene just scooped up the change and ignored him, used to his taking a nap this time of day. They all knew he would wake up and continue drinking until the evening rolled around.
Jace saw his father’s haggard, unshaven face and approached. Evie’s dark hair and beard looked greasy and unwashed. His clothes were whatever he picked up off the floor. The once powerful build was hunched over and gaunt.
He sat on the barstool next to his father and cringed to see how dirty and disheveled he was. Evie snored softly, his hand still wrapped around his whiskey and water. Margene knew better than to pry the drink out of his hand or he’d wake up madder than a hornet.
Jace felt resentment and anger; pity and scorn, all at once. The wave of sorrow was a surprise and not welcome. All his life he tried to keep his pa on the straight and narrow so they wouldn’t wind up in state homes and it didn’t matter in the end. If not for Lindsay’s mom and Jack Miller; his siblings would have suffered that fate while Evie slept it off somewhere.
The helpless feeling he’d always had and the gnawing anxiety was gone. Death released him from that. All he could do is watch his father sleep it off and hope Lance showed up by six to get him home.
What would become of him when Lance and Marnie left for Georgia was anybody’s guess. Thoughts of his father passing out and freezing to death in an alley had always been one of his greatest fears. He couldn’t do anything for him now, anymore than he could have then.
Letting go was easier now because he had no choice. He spied a stack of lotto tickets on the counter in front of Evie’s head. He concentrated on the small pencil lying next to the stack, watchful of Margene, who had her back to them, counting the till.
He felt his energy depleting fast but still managed to propel the pencil to fill in six spots on the lotto slip in front of his pa’s stack of one dollar bills. He watched the pencil fall and roll away. He would have gotten up and left had he not seen what Everett clutched in his other hand.
Jace used the last of his energy to pull the tattered paper out of his father’s other hand, grown lax in his stupor. It was a picture, he saw, as it fluttered onto the bar. It was ragged and worn. The picture was of his mother holding a baby; him, he thought.
He’d never seen the picture before. His mother’s look of joy was obvious. Why his father carried it was a surprise. The picture probably reminded him of better days when Dawn Turner was alive.
Jace was overwhelmed to know his father still mourned his wife as deeply as he did. In that moment, he forgave his father for spending every dime they had on whiskey, neglecting them shamelessly, and not caring about anything else but his own pain.
“Good luck, Pa,” he whispered softly and turned away from the bar, retreating with a tight feeling in his chest.
He was rewarded with Evie raising his head at that moment and latching back onto the photo. Margene wandered over and snatched up the betting slip, running his numbers and taking five ones off the bar. Jace watched her put the lotto ticket under his pa’s drink and walked back through the wall to the street outside.
He had one more stop.
Jack Miller’s house was a modest ranch with a nice, well-tended yard. He walked up the driveway and saw the shiny new red bike lying in the grass and shook his head. Dougie never knew when he had it good.
He found his brother in his room. Dougie was working on a model kit, one of his favorite hobbies. They could never afford them when Jace was alive. His brother pilfered them from the discount store every time the clerk’s back was turned.
The model he worked on was an old Chevy truck, similar to his. He saw his brother biting his lip in concentration as he struggled to affix the tiny doors to the model vehicle. He looked around the room, seeing his brother was being well-taken care of.
The probation officer obviously had a s
oft spot for his little brother. It was evident everywhere he looked. New toys, sporting equipment, and a brand new desktop computer told him all he needed to know. The piggy bank was new. It sat on top of his dresser. He was pleased.
“Dougie!” Deborah Morgan called out from beyond the door. “The trash needs to go out!”
“Yeah, yeah,” his little brother muttered under his breath, still working on the doors, wanting to finish.
“Dougie! Now!” The imperious order from beyond the door didn’t negotiate. Lindsay’s mom was like a Pit Bull about chores.
Dougie rolled his eyes and moved away from his desk, leaving his project. Jace’s eyes twinkled to see his brother hop to it. He eyed his project and decided his little brother could use some help. The doors were always the hardest.
He focused, pulling the last of his energy to glue the tiny doors on both sides of the plastic model. At the rate Dougie was going, he’d be there all day struggling with it. He heard the door open and close, looking to see Dougie pulling out the aluminum cans to the curb.
Jace almost did a double-take when his little brother picked up the shiny new red bike on his way back and wheeled it into the garage. He felt pride at that moment. Dougie did know when he had it good. He wouldn’t push it. Jack Millers didn’t fall out of the sky and he was glad his brother recognized that. In that moment, he knew Dougie was going to be alright.
He left his brother’s room and sought out Sara.
He found his sister in her room and rolled his eyes. Deborah Morgan was spoiling his sister rotten, just like she had Lindsay. The fashionable bedding and teenage digs were every young girl’s dream. His sister was lying on her bed scrapbooking. Deborah Morgan obviously got his sister hooked on it.
Sara was putting a family album together. Her dark eyes were sad as she assembled pictures of them in the book. He could see she struggled with deciding which ones to use. The pictures were old and crumpled, some of them ripped.
He waited until she got up to use the restroom and rearranged the pictures she chose, assembling them better than she could have. When she returned to her project she frowned slightly, and then smiled and kept the arrangement he put together for her.
The pictures were of Christmas morning years ago. He was ten, Sara was six, and Dougie was just a baby. They cut down their own tree in the woods. Jace didn’t have any money for ornaments and decorations so they made their own out of whatever they could find.
They strung popcorn and soda pop tabs for garland. The ornaments were fishing lures from their father’s tackle box. They all sat in front of it looking proud as the picture was snapped.
Jace could recall it was one of the best Christmas’s they ever had. He bought his sister a doll and Dougie got a light up truck with sounds that year. The church dropped off a box for Christmas dinner and they spent it alone. His father spent that night in the drunk tank for getting loud on a barmaid at Hooligan’s.
Sara was busy decorating the page. He left her room, content to know his family was well cared for and would be alright. He didn’t look back as he left Jack Miller’s house. He was proud of the job he’d done. Some things he regretted in his life. Some things he didn’t. Raising his brother and sister was one of the best things he’d ever done. He saw that now and felt full of pride. They wouldn’t forget him or the lessons he tried to teach them when he was alive.
Jace knew he had hours before his energy returned. He spent his time in the park, sitting on a swing, watching the birds. His mission was coming to an end. The two weeks would be up on Sunday. He would be able to see Lindsay graduate on Saturday and then he had to go back.
Merrick was probably getting crap from Raymond about his absence. He didn’t care. He’d deal with Raymond when he got back. He had four days to make Cameron pay for what he did and wouldn’t waste a minute of it.
The other ghosts were probably driving his former friend crazy right about now. Artie was just as annoying as a ghost as he had to have been in life. Sal had a way of making his presence known too. They would all put their two cents in until Cameron was driven out of his mind.
Jace counted on it. Cameron was losing it. He could see that in the bathroom as he cried trying to escape him. He thought of the party planned at The Point on Saturday night. Lindsay was reluctant to go, but he told her it was necessary. Cameron and all his friends would be there. Jace decided they would crash the party.