Three girls have disappeared in the small Town of Clear Springs.
At first, they were suspected of running away, bored with small town life.
But then the body of the mayor's daughter is found in the forest with no apparent cause of death and no DNA...
I'm sure that I fell asleep in my bed or rather, passed out. I was talking to Ian, something about clowns for some obscure reason. I hate clowns.
I don't know why the painkillers hit me so hard. The pain meds are nothing compared to what I took after I was stabbed-.
What was that?
I instinctively reach for the gun I do not have on me. I seem to be in a garden. It's a huge, beautiful garden but off somehow. There's a slight breeze whispering in my ears and causing the tiny hairs on my arms to stand on end. I hear movement somewhere off to my left followed by faint laughter.
Not creepy at all!
Despite the beauty and the aroma of flowers enveloping me, I realise that I'm scared senseless. I dare my legs to move but they aren't listening.
Suddenly there is a girl standing a few feet from me.
What the hell? She wasn't there a second ago, I would have seen her... heard her? This must be some dream, everything feels wrong. Foggy... vague. Smiling, the girl beckons to me. She looks to be about 15 years old, with wispy light brown hair. She might be older but I'm not sure. She is skinny, frail looking.
"Detective, are you going to stand there forever?" she sing-songs and runs away giggling.
I feel like I have no choice. I force my legs to move forward this time and I run after her. She leads me through bushes, and I can feel branches leaving tiny scratches on my naked arms and legs.
"If you want to know; this way we go," the girl rhymes.
Suddenly she stops in front of me and turns around.
"This is just a dream, you know. But we are really here."
She's standing right in front of me now and I can see that she looks different to what she looked like when she first appeared.
"Who are you?" I ask nervously, the tremor in my voice annoys me. I am a friggin' detective, I have apprehended violent criminals... I got shot and stabbed. I... am scared as all hell right now.
"I'm Cassie, I think. One can never be too sure."
What a strange thing to say.
I look up and notice an oddly familiar building near us peeking out from behind a cluster of trees and bushes. Is it starting to get dark? I shiver.
"Come with me, Detective. There is nothing to fear. Not yet... Not yet. Maybe later. They're waiting."
She runs into the building and despite my shaking legs and hammering heart, I follow her. The inside of the building is stark white and empty. It smells like disinfectant, and I can hear a faint beeping sound however I can't pinpoint the source. There are girls standing around. They don't speak to me or the girl who brought me.
"Hello!" I call out and my greeting echoes throughout the empty space.
The girls just stare. I recognize two of them from my case files. Marina Cortés and another girl from a few towns over, Maya... something.
"They will not speak to you. They can't," the girl explains.
"But why...."I trail off as another girl steps into view. She has long, dark hair and big green eyes. I know this girl.
"Hi," the green-eyed teen says, "I'm Danica. You might know me from the soap opera, Confessions of an Incorporeal Teen."
I give an involuntary snort chuckle despite the creepy, surreal setting I find myself in. This one has spunk, I like her.
Danica
"You look like you've seen a ghost, Detective," I say brightly, but I can feel the pull and I'm fighting hard to stay here. I hope Kylie doesn't wake up.
The detective looks pale and slightly ill.
"Where are we?" she asks, "I smell disinfectant and there's a beeping sound. Are we in the hospital? Did I fall off a barstool again?"
"A barstool? What? No, it's someplace else. Someplace in Cassie's mind, I think. I'm not entirely sure but I think we're in a dream created by my friend here. I intended on getting into your head while you sleep, in an attempt to ask for help, the way I did when you were in the hospital, but this is where I came instead. Before you had the weird conversation with the hot guy about green towels and took your nap, I popped up in your bathroom."
"He insists that they're aquamarine. Wait... You were in my bathroom? While I was in there?"
"Yup. it's hard to navigate the ghostly GPS. I'm just glad you weren't... okay, I'm wasting time." I look at Cassie, "Cassie doesn't really know what's going on either. She has been here a very long time and the girls just appear. She tries to talk to them, but she says they mostly stare."
The detective nods and asks softly, "are you... are you dead?"
"Those girls aren't... I think. I'm not sure," I shrug, "I don't make the rules. I'm different though and so is Cassie. I don't know why... I don't even know what happened to me or who..." I'm starting to feel tingly! "I just know that there is a very bad person out there and I think that person is going to take my friend next. Please. She needs protection. Her name is Ky-"
"Ah, shit." I'm back in Kylie's bedroom, she's sitting up in her bed and yawning.
"What? Why are you making my bed shake?"
"You just interrupted a very important meeting with the detective is all," I facepalm.
"Ugh," Kylie groans and falls back into her pillows.
Catherine
"You should go. You could get trapped in here," Cassie, the girl who can't seem to stay the same age, whispers.
I open my eyes and Ian's face is inches from mine.
"What the heck, Ian?"
"Argh. I was sleeping. Why are you yelling?" he exclaims, nearly falling off of the bed.
"Why are you in my bed, with me in it?" I lift my blanket and inspect my arms and legs.
"Catherine friggin' Samson. Are you checking to see whether your PJs are still on? What kind of jerk do you take me for?"
"Hush, Ian. I'm looking for scratches."
"Scratches? Why would you have scratches?" Ian frowns.
I'm still inspecting my arm, not only are there tiny scratches but there are bits of dried blood here and there. I smile, "You probably won't believe me, Ian. I don't know what to think, but I might have a lead. It's not much, but it's something."
He sighs a long-suffering sigh.
"I'll go put the kettle on," Ian looks at my arms, "and I'll get the antiseptic ointment for those scratches."
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