She'd spent years running from that place, and now she was driving straight back into the haunted memories that had never stopped following her.
The stun gun her boss, Ryley, had given her for her birthday and the hunting knife in her bag were useless unless within reach of the assailant.
She pulled the bag onto her lap, keeping it close. “I can only imagine what the file says.”
“The notes say you've seen ghosts your entire life. Your father was a decorated detective. You identified a serial killer when you were just a young kid and have quietly helped solve cases ever since, even if you're not exactly a fan of law enforcement. Then, one day, you abruptly left town.”
“That's wrong. I haven't helped cops the entire time. I helped my father and his best friend, who happened to be the sheriff before Dad died. He’s since retired.”
“Right.” Mason nodded. “You moved around a lot before you were ten years old. Most people you met in those cities don't remember you, but the ones that do thought you were weird.”
“Well, they weren't wrong,” Savanah said. “I’m bad news. It's a curse I've yet to break, so it's best to keep your distance if you don't want any of it rubbing off on you.”
“My best friend is as weird as they come and psychic, too. I think we'll work well together.” Mason's lips tugged into a crooked smile, amusement flickering in his eyes.
“I don't plan on working with you. I'm just along for the ride to prove I'm not losing my mind.”
“If you say so.” His tone carried a trace of amusement, but he didn't argue.
Thirty minutes later, he pulled off the interstate and into a town she never thought she'd see again. The paint on the welcome sign had faded, and the corner store now sold smoothies instead of tires, but most of it looked the same. The familiar streets tugged at memories she wasn't ready to unpack.
Savanah's stomach clenched as they passed the high school. Her last day there flashed through her mind; the red paint splashed across her locker, the word FREAK dripping like blood. The crowd of laughing students while the teachers looked the other way.
“You okay?” Mason asked.
“Just some bad memories.” She turned away from the window.
“Want to talk about it?”
She hesitated. “This town wasn't kind to me after that day at the station. When I was a kid, it was mostly parents whispering,keeping their children away. My dad protected me as much as he could. People weren't brave enough to cross a detective.”
“Parents can be protective of what they don’t understand, no matter how right or wrong.”
Her voice softened. “But after my dad died, things changed. The whispers became taunts. By high school, it was full-blown harassment. The kids were cruel, but the adults were worse. Mom tried defending me as best she could, but it didn’t stop the harassing phone calls or the vandalism. Someone shattered our front window with a brick.”
She hadn't meant to say so much, but once she started, the words tumbled out.
“The police reports mentioned harassment,” Mason said quietly. “But not the extent.”
“We stopped reporting it after a while. There wasn’t a point. The cops thought I was either crazy or a liar. Some thought I was dangerous.” She laughed without humor. “The psychic girl who got messages from god-knows-where. Personally, I think people were scared a ghost would blab their dirty little secrets.”
Sometimes they had.
“Your gift helped save lives.”
“Lot of good that did me. After my dad died, my mom got remarried to Richard. He tried to understand me, but they fought constantly about what to do. He wanted me to stop talking about what I saw. Said I was bringing it on myself. Mom defended me, but...” She shrugged. “The marriage couldn't survive it. When they split, I knew it was my fault.”
“You were a kid, Savanah. None of that was your fault.”
She didn't answer. The farther they drove, the more the number of houses thinned. He turned off the pavement onto an old dirt road worn down by years of use. Weeds lay flattened where tires had carved a path through them.
Dust kicked up behind the car, coating the windshield in a thin layer of grit. The trees grew thicker, and the scent of pine seeped in through the vents.
At the end of the road, floodlights lit a clearing. A line of police cars and black SUVs filled the drive in front of a weathered gray barn.
She hadn't been here since she was ten and saw her first dead body. That day haunted her worse than any scary ghost.
Her heart hammered at the memory as the need to remain in the safety of the car sat like a knot in her throat.
