Shutter(36)

“Well, that was scary,” Shanice said. “Don’t you think, Rita?”

I stopped. I almost couldn’t breathe when he walked in front of me and stared into my eyes, a confused look on his face.

“Rita? Are you okay?” Shanice said.

I couldn’t break his stare, no matter how many times I tried. It was as if he willed me to hold his gaze.

“He’s right there. Right there,” the man spat. “Rodrigo. He stood right there and watched them take me away. Do you see him?” I hadn’t felt a force so full of hate before. His finger pointed at a thin man in a black and orange shirt. When he saw me looking, the so-called Rodrigo began walking away fast, his hair wet with sweat.

“Let’s keep walking, Shanice. Keep walking.” We pushed our bikes faster.

“You’re seeing something right now, aren’t you?” Shanice sounded scared.

“Just keep walking.” I kept us moving so fast that cramps rose in my shins.

“Just go over there and tell him you know.” The ghost trailed us. “Tell him that you’re gonna tell the cops. Tell him!” His voice was a scream now. “Go tell him, you ugly little bitch. Tell him!”

We kept walking. His presence made my stomach ache, and each step made it worse. Shanice struggled to keep up. “Are you okay, Rita? Look at your face. Your nose is really bleeding. Hold it like this and sit down.”

As she wrapped my hand around my nose, I turned around to see nothing. The screaming man had disappeared as quickly as he had materialized. I pinched my nose tighter, but the blood kept coming, puddling on the sidewalk.

Shanice walked into the corner store and bought us some water, putting one of the bottles on the back of my neck.

“What did you see back there, Rita?”

“I’m afraid to say. I don’t know if he’ll come back.”

We drank our water in silence. The bleeding eventually stopped, but I couldn’t help looking back at that tree line, knowing that a man took another man’s life back there.

“He told me who killed him, Shanice; he showed me.”

Shanice’s face filled with fear. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. What would I say? ‘I know how that guy at the park died because his ghost described it to me?’ I don’t think they would believe me.”

“Are you just going to keep it a secret?” I could hear the pressure in her voice. “You should tell the cops. You don’t have to tell them how you know, but you should tell them something. Like the guy was looking suspicious or something like that.”

Shanice was right. How bad could it be?

We arrived at the police station about twenty minutes later. The inside was sterile, four sets of four chairs attached to each other in rows. We waited for the woman at the reception desk to get off the phone. She wore heavy eye shadow and chewed gum like it was supplying oxygen to her brain.

“Can I help you?” the woman barked. Her fingernails were bright orange with black dots, like ladybugs.

“We had some information on the body they found in the park by the north pool,” Shanice said, suddenly sounding like an adult.

“Hold on. Have a seat and someone will be up here to talk to you.”

We sat there for thirty minutes, watching people come in and go out. There were people in handcuffs, some spitting and carrying on. There were crying women and babies. It was quite the spectacle. I wanted to leave before any angry dead people decided to make an entrance.

“Can I help you two?” The detective was in a foul mood and reeked of coffee and cigarettes.

“We had some information on the body over at the park today.”

“Come to my office.”

His office was a desk in the middle of a loud room full of sweaty men on the telephone, typing away at their computers. He cleaned some crumbs off his desk and pulled a file from underneath a crinkled sandwich wrapper.

“Well, I’m Detective Walsh. I’m working on the case. Where are your parents?”

“My mom is at work,” I said.

“Mine too.” Shanice elbowed me in the side.

“Well, I’m sure that we’ll need to let your parents know that you’re here. But for now, tell me what you know.”

“It’s my friend Rita,” Shanice said. “She’s the one who knows who did it.”

“Well, kind of,” I said. “I saw a suspicious guy over by the park when we were watching you guys take pictures and stuff. He had an orange and black shirt and a funny mustache. He was really skinny.”

“And how do you know it was him?” The detective seemed skeptical.

Shanice and I looked at each other.

“I just have a feeling.”

“What if I were to tell you that another witness reported that there was a girl there right before this guy died wearing a black shirt and cutoff jeans? Just like the ones you’re wearing right now.”

This was not working out as planned. “We were at our swimming lessons this afternoon,” I said. “You can check with our teacher, Ms. Leslie.”

“She’s telling the truth, Officer. Why would we come and tell you if we killed the guy?”

He eyed me up and down. “I think you two might know a little more than you’re telling.” He pointed at Shanice. “You come with me. We’re calling both of your parents.” The officer pulled Shanice out of the room by her arm.