Dead Endings: Chapter 3

“I missed this,” Gabriella said as they walked along the remaining deserted blocks to Jacob Warner’s apartment.

Cailen took in the creeping dark alleys, poorly lit streets, and overflowing garbage bins. “You missed being mugged?”

“Hasn’t happened in ages,” her roommate retorted. “I mean the feel of this place. New York is just so…”

“Dirty?”

“For such an avid reader,” Gabriella sniffed, “you sure have a dead soul.”

“I prefer the term ‘realist.’”

The night air was chilly, but calm compared to the last few days. Only Cailen had felt the need for a scarf; Gabriella’s furry anorak was open to the elements.

“Say what you will, it’s a lively place.”

They reached the tall, imposing apartment block and stared up at the third floor.

“Very lively,” Gabriella breathed.

“Shouldn’t we have called Everett?”

Gabriella shrugged. “I think three’s a crowd for a house call. We’ll give him a ring tomorrow and let him know what we found.”

“I nominate you for that phone call,” Cailen said.

She got a grunt in return. They both stared at the entryway.

“Well, go on,” Gabriella said, laughing. “The door’s not going to open itself.”

Grudgingly, Cailen punched in the code she had seen Everett use, and together they mounted the stairs to the upper apartments. They reached the familiar, darkened hallway far too soon for Cailen’s liking. As the stairwell disappeared behind them, she supposed she was too far along to back out without looking like a coward.

Gabriella led the way, her burnished hair glinting like a beacon in the shadowy light. She counted the apartment numbers softly under her breath as they passed. When they reached 3C, she paused and took a long look at the scarred, wooden door.

“Hmm…”

Cailen felt the slightest tickle of awareness from the other side of the door. She saw Gabriella smile as the feeling became stronger.

“That would be Mr. Warner, I presume.”

Gabriella stepped in closer and pressed her ear to the door. Nervous, Cailen thought she could hear something faint, too. She edged in ever-so-slightly and strained to make out the sound.

It was running water.

It stopped.

Started again.

Stopped.

“Active one, isn’t he?” Gabriella said with a raised eyebrow.

“He wasn’t this…noisy last time.”

The taller woman tsked and considered the door.

“Don’t suppose you still have the key?”

Cailen shook her head. “Everett slid it back under 2C’s door when we left. I think our only other way in would be to scale the walls.”

“Okay. Plan B.”

Cailen was about to ask, but her roommate was already walking away…and right up to 2C’s door. Cailen couldn’t do anything but gawk in surprise as Gabriella knocked.

The light blinked on from under 2C’s door before it opened a crack. A yellowed eye peered out at them.

“Who’s that?” asked the withered raisin lady. She looked Gabriella up and down, then spotted Cailen still gaping in the background.

“Hey, white girl. Back again? Where’s that reporter boy?”

“He couldn’t make it today,” Gabriella said amiably.

“And who are you, girlie? Why you ringing me at this hour?”

2C’s owner opened the door a bit more and squeezed out. She crossed her bony arms in front of her. “You’re no reporter, are you? Here to steal that poor boy’s stuff? Despicable!”

Gabriella raised her hands in protest, but the old woman continued.

“You get yourself out of here before I call the cops! Bad enough he got himself killed, but you’re gonna take his stuff. Shame on you!”

“Ma’am,” Gabriella said calmly. “We’re here about the problem.”

“What? What problem? You’re thieves, the pair of you! Or ex-girlfriends! That’s what you are, aren’t you!”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, ma’am. These walls are thin. I’m sure you’ve heard him.”

The old woman grew very still. She stared at Gabriella, clearly reassessing her.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she murmured cautiously. “We don’t have any roach problems here.”

“A problem with a different kind of pest. I’m sure it’s been keeping you up. And more than just sounds, I bet.”

The old woman glanced at the door to apartment 3C and then back again at Gabriella. Softly, ever so softly in the background, the sound of running water turned on and off. The lines on her wrinkled face deepened with trepidation.

“You can’t get no rest when you’ve been killed like that,” she said, almost to herself.

Gabriella nodded in solemn agreement. “Sometimes it’s hard to let go when it happens like that. We’re here to help him, if we can.”

The old woman studied Gabriella’s face again, and whatever she saw in it made her turn around and step back into her apartment. After some time, she returned with the key.

“You put it back under my door when you’re done, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t you take nothing, neither.”

“No, ma’am.”

She slipped back inside her apartment, but before she shut the door, she fixed them both with a stern look.

“He was a good boy. Don’t leave him like that. Send him on to his mother.”

Gabriella nodded. “We will if we can, ma’am.”

The lady returned the nod and shut the door with a click.

Gabriella turned back to Cailen and held up the key triumphantly.

“You… I can’t believe you just told her!”

Gabriella’s brown eyes twinkled. “You should try being more honest about it. People appreciate honesty.”

“People also tend to think you’re crazy when you mention ghosts!”

“That’s fair,” Gabriella allowed. “But when you’re straight with people, they’ll usually be honest back. And that can, y’know, open up some common ground.”

Cailen narrowed her eyes. “Bullshit. You just smile and everyone gives you what you want. Nobody but you could just look someone in the face and say, ‘a ghost is next door, may we borrow your key to bust it, please?’”

Gabriella grinned. “It hasn’t failed me yet.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

Her roommate stepped up to 3C’s door, then glanced back at Cailen. “Ready?”

“Not really.”

“Good enough,” she said, and turned the key in the lock.

The running water stopped.

Gabriella’s hand paused over the handle, then turned it and pushed.

The familiar entryway stretched out before them. It was dark and bereft of the clutter of shoes Cailen remembered. The light fixture still remained, at least; Gabriella reached up and pulled the cord.

Empty. The apartment was very empty now. Someone had removed Warner’s scant furnishings and the air reeked of cleaning product. Clearly management meant to rent it out again, but Cailen couldn’t imagine another tenant ever wanting to live there. If it wasn’t bad enough that the apartment was the scene of a murder, surely no one could occupy the space while the spirit of Jacob Warner still lingered within it.

Cailen and Gabriella crowded into the tight space. They peered down the hallway. Thankfully, nothing peered back.

“It’s quiet,” Gabriella said, and Cailen knew she meant that on several levels.

“The first place I saw Warner was in the hallway to the left, there. That leads to the bedroom.”

“But he died in the kitchen, right?”

“Right, but he…I…we only went to that spot after leaving the bedroom. He was by the drum set.”

Gabriella considered it. “Show me the kitchen first. Maybe I’ll get some impressions there before we find him.”

“Or maybe he’ll be in the kitchen bleeding all over the floor and waiting to scare the shit out of us.”

“There’s always that,” Gabriella agreed.

Together, they bypassed the hallway to the bedroom. Cailen couldn’t help but glance at the light switch, both expecting and dreading that she would see a hand there as before–but there wasn’t one. She steered Gabriella into the kitchen.

It was empty of both personal items and spirits. Only a sad, lone roll of paper towels lay next to the fridge, and the faint smudge of a stubborn brown stain marked the linoleum floor where Warner had died. The overpowering smell of bleach in the air caused Cailen to wrinkle her nose in disgust.

Gabriella peered into the sink and ran a finger along the inside. It was wet.

While her roommate bent to examine the bloodstain, Cailen kept an uneasy lookout over the rest of the apartment. No stirring curtains or disembodied limbs revealed the location of the dead man. As Gabriella had noted, the room was silent on a spiritual level, which made it hard for Cailen to prepare herself for an inevitable ghostly appearance. She hated not knowing where the spirits were. Cailen found the quiet far more unnerving than some presence entering, energy trumpets blaring.

Cold sweat began to work its way down her back, and she shifted uncomfortably under her coat. Cailen zipped it higher for good measure, as if the puffy fabric would shield her from the sight of another knife jutting out of her chest.

“I’m getting…a sense of duality,” Gabriella remarked as she traced the outline of the stain. “Pain here, and fear, but there’s this weird…”

“Happiness?”

Gabriella looked up. “Yeah. It’s barely there, but it’s so different from Warner’s feelings that it’s kind of hard to miss. A second personality for sure, but more like an echo. I can’t say I’ve ever felt a spirit playback before, but I think you’re right. I’m also getting a sense of…waiting? Expectation? I’m not sure. It’s super weak.”

Cailen tried to tap into whatever Gabriella was sensing. She strained to reach for the faint sensation even more than she had earlier, when she’d caught the sound of water from behind the apartment’s front door.

“No idea,” she conceded eventually. If there was one thing Cailen was sure of, it was her own limitations. Gabriella could sift out and identify upwards of fifteen ghosts in one pass, but that level of sensitivity surpassed Cailen’s abilities.

“Everett did say that the smells were fading,” Gabriella mused. “We’re just getting the tail end of this thing’s mark–it’ll be completely gone in a matter of hours, I’d say. I’m still getting a lot of Warner, though.”

“You are kneeling in bits of him.”

“Classy, Delaney. Very classy.”

“Hey, I’m just–”

A squeaking sound made Cailen jump. Her mouth shut with a snap.

Proceed to Chapter 3, page 3–>