Phantom Game (GhostWalkers 18)

His gut clenched hard. He could still hear his mother’s screams. First there had been silence broken occasionally by his father’s voice asking for a tool. Then the screams of sheer terror—of agony. Jonas would never forget that sound for as long as he lived. Sometimes he awoke hearing those screams echo through whatever room he was in.

“She screamed. My mother. She screamed like the world was coming to an end. My father took off running so fast I couldn’t keep up with him. I remember seeing birds lifting off the branches of trees, startled by the sound of her screaming. Then the kids were screaming, the ones who had gone looking for the swimming hole. There was so much noise coming at me from all directions. Adults were running from the other cars and rigs toward our camper.”

Camellia’s hand had gone very still, but it was buried in his hair. He could feel her trembling, as if she knew what he was about to tell her. His mouth had gone dry. His throat ached. Felt raw. His eyes burned with unshed tears.

“Honey,” she whispered softly. “I’m here with you.” Her fingers trailed briefly over his face. So gentle. Almost tender. It was nothing less than a caress. “You aren’t alone.”

“I got there, but I didn’t see anyone. Not my father or mother. But then the camper sort of rocked. I heard a grunt. Then another. A sob, not my mother’s, but a man’s. I opened the camper door. There was blood everywhere. Soaking into the floor. On the walls, the curtains. Splattered all over the chairs and up the sides of the counters. I could even see splashes on the windows. The table was smashed right down the middle, and the seats around it were crushed.”

At first her hands were still, then the one in his hair smoothed back strands from his forehead very gently, almost tenderly. Her breath hitched in her throat. “Your mother?”

“I could just see part of her nude body covered in blood lying under the smashed dining table. My father had gone insane. He beat her assailant to death with his fists. The man still had a gun in one hand and a knife in the other, but my father just ripped him to shreds. He was like a wild beast, and no one could tame him, not even me. He was so wild with grief that when I tried to get into the camper to go to Mom, he turned on me. The others pulled me out. Then the cops were there.”

His face felt damp. He used the edge of her hand to brush down his face to clear it, then put her hand in his mouth, sucking at the fleshy part where he’d dragged it over his cheekbone.

“To be fair, the cops didn’t know who killed my mother. We were all shouting at once. The kids were crying. The animals were roaring and acting up. The heat was unbearable. My dad had the gun and the knife, and there was blood all over him. He paced back and forth like a wild beast, and then would go to my mother and lift her into his arms.”

“How terrible for all of you.”

Camellia was crying, weeping for him and his parents. His soft woman. He knew her. Knew the inside of her.

“The cops ordered him to put the weapons down and to come out with his hands up. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t leave her. I truly think he was insane right then, unable to hear anything any of us said. I tried to get to him, but the cops and my circus family wouldn’t let me near the camper. He suddenly turned toward them, the gun in his hand. I know he wouldn’t have shot them, but they opened fire and he went down. I lost them both that day. He crawled to her. He had one arm around her waist and his head on her heart when they went in. She’d been stabbed over forty times.”

“Do they know who the man was and why he killed her?”

Jonas found her hand smoothing his temples and caressing his hair, something he wanted to drift off to sleep with for the rest of his life.

“Later, the kids told the cops that one of the young girls, Betsy—she was eight—was being dragged by her hair through the trees from the swimming hole to a car. Mom intercepted them and got Betsy free. She told her to run. Betsy ran, but she saw the man pull a gun on Mom. He walked Mom to the camper. Betsy ran to get her parents, but they were a good distance away. They were the ones who called the cops.”

Camellia was quiet for a long time. “I’m so sorry, Jonas. Your mother was a heroine, saving a child.”