Read End of the Road (Ghost Stories Trilogy #1) Online
Authors: E. J. Fechenda
Over the next few weeks Lieutenant
Adams kept me assigned to desk duty and gradually people got used to me
grumbling around the station. Reporters stopped calling and even though my
parents had to change their phone number, nobody showed up at their front door.
The marked car in front of my apartment kept them away from me. Thank God a
murder suicide and a meth lab explosion took the media focus off of me and
things returned to almost normal after that.
I didn’t like being
confined to a desk, but I took advantage of the access to old files and the
database. I started with Frank Murphy, the one name I did know. I got three
hits in the system and on the last one, I found a match. My heart raced when I
clicked on the only granulated black and white image. Frank Murphy smiled at me
from the screen, faint lines ran out from the corners of his eyes and his hair
was greased back from his forehead except for two thick strands which hung down
over his eyes.
I scanned the report. He
wasn’t murdered, but died in a car accident in 1955 at the age of 29. I frowned
when I read the details; about the crushed chassis and how empty beer cans were
found at the scene, strewn about inside his car. His wife, Faye, who was
pregnant, didn’t have the funds to pay for the car to be towed out of the
canyon. Only the body was retrieved and delivered to Morrison’s Funeral Home in
Phoenix. I printed out the brief report and stuck it in an empty manila folder.
There were still four
other ghosts to account for and I didn’t have any information so I started with
cold cases and did a quick search of anything unsolved that happened on that
stretch of highway, starting with the year Frank died.
Four items appeared and I
clicked on the first one. A hitchhiker had been struck by a car and killed. The
transient’s identity remained unknown. I moved onto the next file. An image of
a man, face down in the dirt with a bullet wound to the back of his head filled
up the screen. I quickly closed the window in order to read the details. This
wasn’t a cold case per se. The execution style murder fit the profile of others
and the body was dumped at the spot on the highway. Since the original crime
scene was never discovered and there was little evidence at the scene, the case
remained unsolved. However, it was linked with a larger, ongoing investigation
of the Mexican Mafia.
I found it interesting,
but not relevant to my search, so I selected the third case, one that went back
close to forty years, to 1969. A young woman had been raped and asphyxiated. A
family discovered her body on a clearing next to the northbound side of I-17.
The woman’s killer had never been identified.
A separate file contained
scanned images from the crime scene and I clicked on the first thumbnail. Recognition
was immediate. The girl, lying lifeless on the desert floor, was the same woman
I saw standing beside Frank. The long, blonde hair and the wide-set eyes were
the same - even the clothes matched.
Georgia was her name. I
stared at the photo, without really seeing it. My eyes went unfocused as the
reality sank in; I wasn’t crazy, these people were real, their deaths sudden
and tragic. The real tragedy being they weren’t at peace, their sprits still
haunted the area where they died and I had no idea how to help them.
I heard movement behind me
so I quickly minimized the screen and shuffled papers around to sound like I
was busy. An officer walked by my desk and I looked up. We nodded to each other
and then I was alone again. I wrote down Georgia’s name and her date of death
in my notebook. I wanted to know more; about her, Frank and the others. I needed
to ask them in person.
FRANK
Days passed and Elena
never came back. The amount of people showing up dwindled and the plume of
smoke on the horizon faded away. We went back to our usual routines, only there
was an increased restlessness among us. Bob, who couldn’t stay in one spot for
very long to begin with, paced like a lunatic up and down the center lane of
the highway. He shouted at cars as they passed by or through him. I don’t know
what he was hoping to achieve. Maybe he just liked to yell.
Occasionally a car pulled
over and I’d wait, hoping Elena was inside. It got to the point, after the full
moon had passed once, that I stopped expecting her. One night, when the moon
illuminated the desert around us, I stood on the edge of the highway and
watched Lawrence, who was underneath Juanita’s tree. He hadn’t moved from his
spot in days and I worried about him. We all did. First Georgia and Peggy tried
to talk to him, asked him what was wrong. Each time Lawrence shook his head and
said he couldn’t explain. He didn’t say anything else. I decided to give it a
try.
When I approached him, he
smiled; a sad shadow of his real smile. “Do you think this woman, Elena, will
come back?” he asked.
“I think so. There was
something in her eyes. I know she is curious about us, plus I saved her life.”
“Do you think she’ll be
able to help us?”
“I don’t know,” is all I
could say.
“I don’t think there’s
anything she can do. My hope is gone,” Lawrence said and disappeared. I didn’t
bother seeking out where he chose to reappear. The last time he became trapped
by his melancholy, he eventually came back to us.
I did seek out Peggy and
Georgia who were standing in the clearing. They were both staring at the sky
and Georgia’s arm was stretched out, pointing at something. They glowed in the
moonlight, flickering occasionally with the fluctuations of their energy
levels.
“What are you looking
at?”
“The stars. See, there’s
The Big Dipper,” Georgia answered and I too followed her pointing finger. Even
though this wasn’t a new activity for us, it was one we hadn’t participated in
for a long time, and it was just what I needed to take my mind off of Lawrence.
“What do you think the
view of the stars is like from Heaven?” Peggy asked, her voice coming out as a
whisper because her head was tilted so far back.
“If there is a Heaven, I
hope we get to see the view someday,” Georgia said. “And I hope it is even more
spectacular than this.”
We were silent after
that, caught up in the expanse of glittering white dots populating the night
sky.
The next day Elena showed
up.
***
A small silver car pulled
over onto the shoulder. Nothing happened, the engine remained idling and no one
got out. It stayed like this for a while so I moved closer. I could see the
driver was the only person in the car, but I couldn’t make out much more than
that so I made myself appear next to the driver’s side.
“Hello Frank,” Elena
said. Her window was rolled down as if she was expecting me. I could barely
hear her over the roar of the cars speeding by on the highway behind me.
“I knew you would come
back.”
“Yeah, sorry I couldn’t
get here sooner.” Elena explained to me that she’d lose her job if she was
discovered. “But, I want to know if I can help you. After all, you saved my
life.”
She opened her door and
quickly got out, walking around to the other side, away from the traffic. She
pulled a small notebook out of the back pocket of her jeans and started walking
towards Juanita’s mesquite tree. I moved alongside her.
“I needed to wait for
things to quiet down to come here to talk. How can I help you, what do you
want?” she asked.
“We all want to move on.”
“All of you?” Elena
paused and looked at me, then to Peggy and Georgia who stood underneath the
tree. Bob hung back closer to Juanita’s memorial. Lawrence still hadn’t shown
up. “How long have you been here? Wait,” she opened the notebook and pulled a
pen out of the spirals. “Let’s start with who all of you are; full names, dates
of birth, and…um, dates of death,” her voice trailed off at the end and she
broke eye contact with me.
“Okay, but why?”
“Because I need more facts;
proof you were real people and I’m not completely crazy. I’m a police officer
and this seems like the most logical approach. This is new territory here!” She
laughed uneasily and tucked a section of hair behind her ear. “I did some
research and I found your file, plus Georgia’s.” Juanita turned towards Georgia
who had locked eyes on the police officer when she heard her name.
“Will you be able to find
out about our families?” I asked.
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes!” The excitement in
my voice drew Georgia, Peggy and Bob closer to us and Elena asked them. Bob was
the only one who didn’t care and didn’t give Elena many details about his
family; just the basics she needed to do a preliminary search for his records.
We started throwing names
and facts at her to the point where she was writing as fast as possible. We
were too preoccupied to notice when Lawrence joined us.
***
LAWRENCE
My original plan was to
stay away from the others for a while. After talking to Frank I went to the
furthest spot possible, which was an uneven patch of desert, once overgrown
with brush, now barren and scorched. With enough focus I was able to shut my
body down from absorbing any energy. This effort guaranteed almost absolute
invisibility.
It was lonely out there
and it was stupid of me to reject everyone when companionship is what I needed.
So I went back and was shocked to see the police officer had returned. At first
I watched from a distance. The others were animated and talking to her. She was
hunched over at the shoulders, writing in a small notebook, her forehead
creased in concentration. Slowly I approached. Frank nodded at me and smiled.
Peggy was telling the woman about her fiancé, Stanley. She spelled out his last
name and the woman wrote it down. “What are you going to say if you find him?”
Peggy asked.
“I honestly don’t know.
I’ll just work on finding him first.” She started to tuck the notebook into her
back pocket when Frank stopped her and gestured towards me.
“Elena, this is Lawrence.
He’s been here the longest.”
She took a step closer.
“Nice to meet you,” she said and smiled hesitantly, the corners of her mouth
slowly opening up to a reveal white, even teeth. “I’ve been writing down
information about each of you so I can research your families. Frank thought
this would be a good place to start.” She opened up her notebook and looked up
at me expectantly. “Do you want to add anything?”
“I don’t know if it will
do any good. My family died with me.” How quickly the memories surfaced – of me
cradling Teddy and Sarah’s limp bodies in my arms and the hollow, desperate
expression on Helen’s face when she placed the gun against her temple. I
remembered how her steady hand stilled my shaking one so I could pull the
trigger. I told Elena everything; not even caring if she was able to write fast
enough. Once I began I couldn’t stop. Only when I got to the part about Juanita
joining me did I pause.
Elena was crying and
tears dripped on the pages while she finished writing causing the paper to
ripple and the ink to smear. She rubbed the back of her hand across her nose
and sniffed. “I met Juanita’s daughter at the hospital,” she said with a thick
voice. “She encouraged me to come back…told me what she experienced here. It
was such a relief because I really thought I was losing it.” She laughed and
shook her head. “I still wonder…”
“I wish I could tell you
we’re a figment of your imagination,” I paused and stared out past the highway
before continuing. “I don’t expect you to be able to help me.”
“And I’m not making any
promises.”
Elena stayed for a few
minutes after that collecting more information, before leaving. Still, as I
watched her tail lights disappear, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of hope.
ELENA
Once I met with Frank and
the others I became obsessed. Their stories were so tragic – I even had some sympathy
towards Bob although he had been a drug dealer when he was alive. Lawrence’s
history really broke my heart. His face was marked with anguish as if he lost
his family only days before, the sadness that haunted his eyes was magnified by
the lenses of his glasses and he visibly sagged with the burden of guilt he
carried around.
Alone in my apartment
with the blinds drawn, I started researching that very night and was surprised
to find information on Lawrence. It was a death notice from a Boston paper
which had been loaded onto a genealogy website.
While my printer hummed
and vibrated as it printed out Lawrence’s notice, I typed in his wife’s name.
Just like Lawrence, Helen also had a death notice. I printed this out as well.
I was able to learn that their bodies, and those of their children, were laid
to rest in Phoenix. Their families back East had made the funeral arrangements.
There was a strong possibility I’d be able to find Lawrence’s extended family,
but what exactly would I say to them. “Hi, your dead ancestor’s ghost asked me
to track you down.” I smiled, imagining the facial expressions.
I added the pages to my
file and stood up to stretch. With a reheated mug of coffee, I sat back down
and started my search on Peggy. I found an archived Motorola newsletter which
contained a nice eulogy. Peggy was described as being a hard worker and
dependable. The article mentioned her engagement to Stanley Gruber, a fellow
Motorola employee. A small, black and white picture of the couple accompanied
the eulogy, which I was surprised to discover, was written by Stanley. A veil
of tears clouded my vision and I blinked them away. Poor Peggy, she was about
ready to embark on a new chapter in her life when it was snuffed out. The
experience in the fire gave me a newfound appreciation for my mortality.
Reading about these lives cut short drove the appreciation in even deeper.
I found out a service had
been held for Peggy and her family scattered her ashes from Bell Rock in
Sedona, one of her favorite hiking spots. I wrote this information down in my
notebook and printed out the newsletter to show Peggy.
Would these details make
a difference and help them move on? I wondered what I’d do if I were stuck like
them and my stomach balled up at the thought. The isolation alone would be
maddening. They’ve spent years by the side of the highway without being able to
let their families know and they retained all the emotion and memories of their
lives. The concept was truly horrifying. It made me question what they did to
deserve such a punishment. The only criminal was Bob, but his weren’t violent
crimes, just misdemeanors in stupidity. Frank was drinking and driving, but did
that action justify the sentence? If this purgatory was a reflection on how
they lived, who made up the judge and jury? I didn’t believe in God enough to
give him credit.
I yawned and shut down
the computer. As I was walking into the kitchen to set my mug in the sink,
someone knocked on my door. A glance at the clock showed it was almost eleven.
The few visitors I got usually were planned and didn’t show up this late,
especially unannounced. I instantly went on the defensive and retrieved my gun
from the belt hanging on the back of the chair I had been sitting in. Feeling
more secure with the weight of cold steel in my grip, I strode over to the door
and peered through the peephole.
It was Eric, his straight
nose and strong chin created a profile I’d recognize anywhere after waking up
next to him for over two years.
“What do you want?” I
asked when I opened the door. I didn’t invite him in and stood with my body
blocking the opening.
“I drove by and saw your
lights were on,” he said and stepped closer. “Can I come in?” It didn’t take my
investigative skills to deduce he had been drinking. The sour combination of
beer and hot breath gave it away.
“Are you drunk?”
“Nah just had a couple
beers. So, can I come in?”
“Why?”
“Well, I do have to use
the bathroom and I haven’t checked in with you in while. I want to make sure
you’re doing all right.” He peered over my shoulder and surveyed the apartment.
“Unless you’re not alone?”
“What if I wasn’t?” I
crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at him.
“Prickly, like a cactus,
which means you are alone.”
I glared at him some more
before sighing and moving aside. “Fine, come in. You know where the bathroom is.
Don’t get any ideas about spending the night though.”
I watched him walk down
the hallway and the moment the bathroom door closed, I grabbed my file folder
and notebook. These I shoved in a kitchen drawer, on top of wooden spoons and
measuring cups, before busying myself by washing my coffee mug. Eric joined me
in the kitchen as I was putting it away in the cabinet next to the stove.
“You’re up late,” he
commented. “Usually you’re passed out by this time.”
I shrugged and shut the
cabinet door. “I was just getting ready for bed.” We regarded each other from
opposite sides of the room. As much as I hated to admit it, he looked good. He
had been lifting weights more and his biceps strained against the sleeves of
his tee shirt. A pale band of skin right below the hairline on his neck
revealed he recently had a haircut.
“You’ve been keeping a
pretty low profile.”
“Wouldn’t you? Half the
department thinks I’m nuts while others call me a ghost whisperer.”
He closed the gap between
us in two strides and attempted to pull me into an embrace. At first I softened
and almost wrapped my arms around him, but stopped. He must have sensed my body
tense up because he dropped his arms and backed off.
“Eric, I think you better
leave.”
“Can’t I give you a hug?”
Sure he could give me a
hug, but after listening to all those sad stories tonight, I was emotionally
vulnerable and knew where that hug would lead us…straight back to my bedroom.
“Some other time,” I said
and walked him to the front door, which I locked up tight after he left.
Long after he had pulled
out of the parking lot, I stayed by the front window. The stars were barely
visible past the street lights and the moon a pale sliver. I thought about how
often Lawrence had stood under the endless stretch of universe completely
alone. The very thought made me want to call Eric; have him turn around so I
didn’t have to spend another night in an empty apartment. Out of sheer force of
will I didn’t move towards the phone. After a while, my legs started to tingle
from standing in one place for too long and my eyes were burning so I turned
off the lights and went to bed.