[Not Just Any Other] Ghost Story

Chapter 13

The skull, for better or worse, wasn't alone. It sat atop what appeared to be an entire, long-dead body.

"Holy shit," whispered Sarah when no one else reacted.

That drew Officer Quinn out of their own momentary silence. "All right everyone. This is now officially a crime scene. I'm going to need to take a statement from all who were present at the initial discovery," they said, still halfway crouching to look into the void, before turning to Sarah. "And you need to leave."

"But--"

"No buts. I'm sure Jane can drive down to get you. Do you need me to--"

"No, it's fine," she waved them off, recognizing the tone of an adult who wouldn't change their mind. "I can get home by myself."

Sarah reluctantly left the room, taking one last look over her shoulder at the scene. With the high contrast between the bright sunlight filtering in to illuminate Alex Quinn and the dark shadows covering the fireplace flanked by the three workers, it was like a Renaissance painting come to life. Art history had always been one of her favorite subjects, and knowing what was hidden within the walls, it was a perfect study in symbolism.

Stepping out of the house, Sarah breathed in the crisp November air. It smelled of dry leaves and fog, stirring within her thoughts of Starbucks pumpkin spice latte commercials and girls in wide-brimmed hats, cable-knit sweaters, and knee-high boots. It was fair enough to say this place wasn't her past or her future, merely her present.

At the end of the walkway, she almost turned right, but then had second thoughts.

She guessed that Jane's house was more-or-less the same distance away as the hardware store, just in the opposite direction. Her bike had to have been repaired by now, and with nothing else to do, she might as well go and pick it up.

A good twenty minutes later, Sarah was internally scolding herself for the decision.

Without a sidewalk after the first block, she was relegated to trudging along in the wet leaves on the edge of the single-lane country road. The walk was also making her sweaty, which--coupled with the low temperatures--ended up cooling her down. And as a lifelong Cali girl, she did not like to be cold.

All the while, she kept thinking about the dead woman behind the fireplace mantel.

There was no confirmation as to the identity of the person who once walked thanks to the bones that were now crumpled in a dark, cobweb filled crevice. Even so, Sarah was sure that it was a woman.

A daughter. Perhaps a sister. Maybe even a wife.

But a woman, she was certain. Because it was women who most often met with a violent end. It was women who were abused. It was women who ended up dead.

Who had she been? Had she been missed? Was someone out there still hoping for her to return one day? There were too many questions, and no use for speculation. Hopefully Officer Alex Quinn would find the answers. After all, the hard part--discovering the remains before the whole house was pulled down--had already been achieved.

Could that have been why Sarah had felt drawn to the place from the first moment she'd laid eyes on it?

Impossible. The mere thought of it was absurd. Almost as absurd as city-girl like her setting out on this stupid walk.

Passing cars were few and far between, but Sarah eventually found herself wishing that one of them might carry a familiar face. At this point, she was too proud to call Jane, but she would have accepted a ride even from Caleb.

Of course, he would have had to be willing to offer one, and the more she thought about it, the more Sarah began to doubt whether that would even have been a possibility. She'd totally flipped out on him last night, and one thing she knew about boys was that they did not like drama.