Read Spirits of Spring (The Haunting Ruby Series Book 4) Online
Authors: Joy Elbel
My car.
My car was not where I parked it when I got
home on Saturday night.
My car was missing.
I tried to
rationalize the situation in my head. Dad or Shelly must have
moved it for some reason and forgotten to tell me. That was a
logical explanation. It made perfect sense. Except that it didn’t.
There was only one set of keys to that car and I was currently
clutching them in my rain-soaked hand.
Even on the most organized of mornings, I had to at
least spend five minutes tracking down where I left them the
night before. As a matter of fact, this morning I found them on
my bathroom counter lying underneath the sweater I wore on
Saturday.
There was no way that Dad or Shelly would have
found or returned them to that very spot. My car was officially
gone.
Someone stole my Neon.
Wrinkled clothes and frizzy
hair didn’t seem like such big problems anymore. I let my
jacket drop down around my shoulders and ran like hell back
into the house.
Clay looked at me like I was crazy but followed
me back into the house anyway.
They both came running into the foyer from opposite
directions, nearly colliding into each other as they slid onto the
now wet floor. I stood there dripping everywhere and with one
last dramatic gasp, I spat out, “Call the police!” Then I threw
myself down onto the bottom step of the grand staircase and
proceeded to cry.
When they looked at each other and smiled, I felt like
throwing one shoe at each of their heads. What was so funny
about a stolen car?
“Ha ha,” deadpanned my dad, “Nice one, Ruby. Quite
creative as a matter of fact. Much better than the year you tried
to convince me that there was a downed alien spaceship in the
backyard. Happy April Fool’s Day, anyway.”
I had forgotten what day it was. Did they hide my car to
pull the ultimate prank on me? If so, they got me, they got me
good. What a sense of relief! Of course, I was going to have to
plot the perfect revenge over the next year.
“Thank God! I really thought someone stole my car!
I
dub thee King and Queen of Fools—now where’s the Neon?
Your joke is going to make me late for school. And how did you
move it without using my keys?” I said as I dangled my
keychain in the air.
Once they realized that I was telling them the truth,
they both sprang into action. Dad flew outside in his pajama
pants and bare feet to double check as Shelly grabbed her
phone and waited on the front porch. While I knew for certain
that it was
gone, I still held out hope that Dad would
miraculously find the bright red, two ton hunk of metal that
curiously eluded me.
When I heard him tell Shelly to go ahead
and call, I knew that was nothing more than wishful thinking.
“I know you do, Ruby,” Clay said as he placed his hand
on my shoulder to comfort me. His icy cold touch mixed with
the chill I was already feeling from the rain making me a
thousand
times colder.
I shuddered and
pulled my
jacket
tightly around me. What was meant to be a thoughtful gesture
made me feel worse. Clay removed his hand with an apology.
“Sorry, when I touch you I feel warmth. I keep forgetting that
you don’t feel it, too.”
I felt like a complete shitass, especially when it sunk in
that there was a deeper meaning to his words. Could my day
get any worse?
I returned to his original line of questioning in
a desperate attempt to change the subject.
Without looking me in the eye, he said, “I’m thinking
that Shane may be behind this. You know, as a kind of warning
to stay out of things. I wish that I didn’t have to say this, Ruby,
but I think you can thank me for the fact that you don’t have
any wheels.”
Just when I thought that I couldn’t possibly feel any
shitassier than I already did, he had to go and blame himself for
grand theft auto by proxy. Weird. I always thought that life
must get a whole lot easier once you were dead. Guess I was
mistaken. Guilt sure was one nasty son of a bitch.
“It isn’t your fault, Clay. But you’re probably right. No
real car thief would be dumb enough to steal an old Neon like
mine.
My car is most likely up on blocks and being stripped as
we speak.”
The thought of someone gutting my precious piece of
crap for spare parts was unthinkable—thugs disemboweling
my baby for extra cash on the black market. Oh, and I just put
in a new air freshener, too.
I usually only stuck in one of those
dollar store tree-shaped ones that last for a week tops. This
time I splurged and bought a red sparkly crystal one that
smelled like black cherry.
While mourning
the loss
of that scented bauble, I
realized that all of my personal belongings that were inside my
car were gone now, too.
Bye bye, black ballet flats that I
stashed in the backseat for those days when my heels started
killing my feet.
Sayonara comfy red hoodie that I forgot to
bring in to be laundered.
I also left my bag in there after the
track meet on Thursday. I would certainly not miss seeing that
“I see dead people” shirt ever again.
The special text tone I had for Zach began to echo
through my bag, bringing me back to the reality at hand. There
was no doubt about it—I was
definitely
late for school now. His
message was simple and so was my reply.
While I waited for his reply, he must have passed that
information on to his sister because my next text came from
Rachel. Even if I hadn’t checked to see who sent it, it would
have been impossible for me to misidentify the sender.
Her question was even more nonsensical than when she
asked me why cemeteries didn’t have Wi-Fi. Why couldn’t I live
in a happy little bubble like she did? She wasn’t stupid—she
was merely naïve to the truly crappy nature of life. I envied her
innocence yet it also gave me a reason to laugh.
Without
correcting her or supplying sarcasm, I replied.
Just then, Shelly ended her call to the police station.
“They’re sending some officers over now to get a basic
statement from you. I’m going to call the school and let them
know why you won’t be coming in today.”
A
free day off
from
school should
have felt
more
satisfying to me than it did. It was just a car, right?
It could
easily be replaced. So why did I feel so terrible right now? It
wasn’t the car at all—it was the memories attached to that car.
For one thing, it was my
first
car. If I owned a thousand
different vehicles
in
my
lifetime, I would never
forget the
feeling I had when I drove that thing out of the lot. Priceless
and irreplaceable. There was one other reason why I dreaded
the loss of the Neon.
Zach.
It reminded me so much of Zach.
Countless dates and rides to school were spent in that car. Plus,
the reason I chose that specific car was because it was exactly
like the one that he drove. Drove. Past tense. His Neon was
history now—it made perfect sense that mine should be, too.
I stayed seated there on that step—wet, wrinkled, and
frizzy—and waited for a knock on the door.
When it finally
came, Dad opened it and
two very
familiar police officers
stepped out of the rain and into the foyer. California Sun Kissed
and Milan Museum to my rescue. Again.
“Hello again, Miss Matthews. We’re here in response to
a call about a stolen vehicle.
Can you provide us with title and
registration information for your 2005 Dodge Neon, please.”
Now that my feet were firmly planted on the right side
of the law, I didn’t have
anything
to
fear
about
the
conversation.
Aside from how stupid I sounded, of course.
California Sun Kissed—whose badge bore the
last name
Nichols—was even cuter now that I wasn’t afraid of him.
So, of course, I made a complete idiot out of myself.
“Um,” I stuttered stupidly, “No, all I can tell you is that it’s red.
And there’s a super cute crystal air freshener hanging from the
rear view. Or at least there was.”
Both officers, my dad, and even Clay began to laugh in
one big testosterone fueled joke fest at my expense.
As if I
weren’t already embarrassed enough, California Sun Kissed
had to go and make things even worse.
“
Ruby
red, right?” he said, winking a gorgeous bluegreen eye in my direction. Was he trying to flirt with me or
treating me like an adolescent trying to sneak into the adult
world undetected? One thing’s for sure—even if my car wasn’t
technically that color, my
face
definitely was.
Dad came to my rescue and invited Officer Nichols to
accompany him to the Man Cave while he dug out the necessary
paperwork.
That left me with Milan Museum—aka Officer
Parker—who wanted to know when I last saw the vehicle.
I told him when I last drove it and where it was parked
outside.
When he asked if there was anything else I wanted to
add, I hesitated. If I was going to reveal my suspicions on who
was responsible for stealing my car, now was the perfect time.
I stole a quick glance at Shelly who was standing behind Milan
Museum for nonverbal guidance. She understood my dilemma
perfectly and shook her head no.
“No, I can’t think of anything else,” I said innocently.
“Unless it helps for you to know that there was also a red
hoodie on the passenger seat.” I knew that last comment was
childish but I did it on purpose just in case he thought I might
be hiding
something.
The
dumber
I sounded, the
more
innocent I would seem. Or at least that was my theory.
After the officers left, I decided to go back upstairs and
take a nap since I was off the hook school-wise for the day. I
never in my wildest dreams expected my car to be found today
or
any
day for that matter. It was gone, expertly stripped, parts
sold, and I would never see it again. Imagine my surprise when
not even an hour later, there was a knock on the attic door.
“We just got a call from the police department. They
found your car,” my dad announced with the enthusiasm of a
pall bearer.
“OMG!” I cried as I sprang out of bed and threw on the
first pair of shoes I could find. Suddenly, I didn’t care how
crappy I looked—my car wouldn’t mind my appearance one bit.
“Oh,” I said as I was about to head downstairs, “I have to grab
my keys so I can drive it home.”
Dad shook his head no. “You won’t be needing your
keys, Ruby. They just want us to come look at the crime scene
and offer any pertinent information.
We can go car shopping
with you after that if you want.”
For about thirty seconds, I felt how Rachel must feel
most of the time.
Like I was living in a Disneyesque world
where stolen cars were returned to their owners not only in
good shape, but with a full tank of gas and a fresh coat of wax.
Crime scene.
A
phrase
fully equipped to burst even
the
happiest of bubbles. Even though the thought of never driving
the Neon again was clearly a possibility, I never thought it
would actually happen. But it did. My car was officially dead.
They killed my car. What or
who
would be next? Shit just got
real.
Rain poured down around our vehicle in a watery veil
as Dad carefully maneuvered the dirt road leading down to
Silver Lake.
The wipers were swishing at full tilt but the path
before us was still nearly obscured.
As we drove, Clay sat
beside me in the backseat looking nearly as nervous as I felt.
I
had
a
terrible
fear
of
drowning
and
we
were
slowly
approaching the spot where he actually
did
. That’s when a
terrible thought struck me.
“Clay, during all that time that you were tied to this
place, were you scared while you were here? I mean, I know
that you don’t really remember dying but you certainly
remember seeing them pull your body out of the lake.
That
itself had to be pretty traumatic.”
I sat there beside him waiting for him to tell me no, that
Silver Lake was a soothing retreat for him—the way it was for
most normal people.
Even though I already knew that Clay
wasn’t normal, I hoped that maybe this time would be the
exception to the rule.
Just like that one Christmas morning
when I found only small boxes under the tree but still thought
that a Barbie Dream House could conceivably be crammed into
one of them, I was wrong.
“I hate it here, Ruby—more than you could ever know.
Fear isn’t exactly the feeling this place gives me, though.” Clay
paused for a moment as he seemingly searched for a way to
describe it. “Despair. I think that’s the word I’m looking for.
Like nothing would ever be okay again. Loneliness. Imagine
being in a crowded room.
Imagine trying to get someone’s
attention—
anyone’s
attention but no one responds
to you.
Time after time, you’re ignored. I can’t even begin to count how
many family picnics I invited myself to here—just so I could
feel like I belonged to someone but they never even sensed my
presence. I gave up after a while.
Winter was worse because
there wasn’t anyone around at all—no one that I could even
pretend was my friend. Then, I met you. I recognized Zach and
waved out of habit more than anything.
When you waved
back—”