Page 36 of Ghost
“They hurt you, bunny. No one gets to go on about their lives in peace after they put their hands on you.”
“And I told you that I handled it,” I say, knowing it’s fallin’ on deaf ears. He’s going to have to see for himself before he can let this go. Maybe he'll be able to live with it… like I have.
“I set out in the morning,” he says and I just kiss his chest and nod.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ghost
Driving through the small, poor little rinkie dink town my woman grew up in, I can’t help but scowl at the bright lights and colors of the shops downtown. I watch couples and their kids talk outside the General store. I observe the people gossiping outside the salon. These are all the fuckers who went on about their lives as my bunny was being tortured day in and day out by their neighbors. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of these people added in on the torture. Tizzy once admitted to never having a friend in this town because of where she came from and who her parents were.
I’d burn this whole fucking town to ashes if I wasn’t afraid of hurting some innocent kids or bystanders. This shit went down over twenty years ago, but I still feel like I have an ax to grind. As far as I’m concerned, all the people involved can go to fucking hell, and I’m going to send them a nice personal letter with the blood of one Taylor Ann Pickins and Paul Leroy Pickins. Tizzy’s soon-to-be deceased ex-family.
Turning right at the railroad tracks, I take my bike down the broken, busted gravel road leading to an almost desolate-looking trailer park. Tizzy wouldn’t give me any information I needed, but it really didn’t slow me down much. Even if I didn’t have Crypt, I have more contacts than the devil himself.
Turning onto the overgrown front lawn of the third trailer to the left, I look around, surprised at what I see. The place looks abandoned. Like no one has lived here for the twenty-five years Tizzy has been gone. That can’t be right. Because the last known location of those two was this address. Maybe the place just looks as bad on the outside as the people that dwell on the inside.
Climbing off my bike, I make my way closer to the old, rotted wood steps. Yeah, no way in fuck those things would hold my weight. Leaning up and over the three steps and the small landing, I bang on the dirty ass door, waiting and listening, seeing if any sounds come from inside.
Nothing.
“What you doing all that banging over there, boyo?” I hear from behind me. I turn with a raised brow. I haven't been called a boy in a very long time. Usually, I’m the one using that line, so this old timer already has me on my toes.
“Yeah, just looking for the trash that resides in this dump. Seen ‘em lately?” I ask, wanting to get this show on the road. I should be keeping a low profile, but in a place like this, no one is going to come looking. I could fire off ten rounds right here in broad daylight, and no one would bat an eye. They don’t want the cops swarming this place and snooping around. They’ve got their own illegal shit they want to hide.
“I don’t know who you think you gone find in that place, but I can tell you all it is is ghosts. Ain’t no one been there in, hell, probably twenty-five years,” he says, shaking his head.
“Wait? Twenty-five years? Are you sure?” I ask, stunned.
“Do I look like a person that has time to play fucking games? You don’t want to take my word for shit, then get the hell out or at least keep the mother fucking noise down,” he complains, turning to go back inside. I can’t help the chuckle that escapes at this old ornery bastard. I like him.
“Wait, wait, wait! Don't take no offense to me. Had a hell of a drive and someone’s been after my family. Thought I would find some answers here and hate the fact it seems to be another fucking dead end,” I complain.
“Well, I can damn near guarantee you ain’t going to find it here, but who was it you said you were looking for?” he asks. I didn’t tell him, but seeing as no one’s been here for years, I know there’s no harm in it.
“Paul and Taylor Pinkins,” I say, giving Tizzy’s parents' names.
“Yeah, sorry to be the one to break it to you, but ain’t no one seen that family in over two decades. Tell you the truth, didn’t no one really look for that bitch and her bitch boy of a husband. They were the worst of the worst, and it was a blessing when they were finally gone. But that poor thing they basically kept hostage. Well, she didn’t deserve that. Me and a few of the other people who looked out for her best we could. We tried looking for her but no one ever found nothing.”
“What do you think happened to them?” I ask, wanting to get every bit of information I can from this guy.
“Honestly, no one could really tell ya for sure. We all got our own assumptions. The slimy fucker had a gambling problem and owed a lot of bad people a fuck ton of money. That whore of a mother was no prize either, and not short of enemies. The sweet child who lived there, though, she lit up every room. Even on her worst days, ones where you could tell they done beat her to high heavens, she still skipped down this old broken road smiling and waving as us weary old fuckers. She would pick wildflowers and leave them on my stoop every Sunday. I wanted so much to help her. To take her away.” I see the sadness and pain on his old, withered face and can’t help the bitterness in my reply.
“Why didn’t you help her?”
“I tried. Once. I watched him drag that poor child by her hair from the bus stop all the way to the front of the trailer. In front of everyone she knew at school. I stepped in. Told him if I ever saw him lay a finger on her again, I’d take him out back. I never saw him touch her again, but that don’t mean I didn’t see the bruises and limps she carried. I confronted him once, but he pulled a gun on me and damn near shot my ear off. I didn’t know what else to do.”
I want to yell at him, to tell him he should have manned the fuck up and shot first. Buried the fuckwad twelve feet under, but I know what’s done is done, and at least he was in the few who tried.
“What happened the night they disappeared?” I ask instead.
“As far as I remember, it was the same as usual. Heard a lot of yelling coming from inside and did my best to drown it out in my own pity party and beer bottle. Then, all of a sudden, hours earlier than normal, it all just stopped. I remember that being strange, but I was so relieved to have one night of peace that Ididn’t think too much of it. Well, for a couple days, I guess. Once I realized I didn’t see Tiffany coming and going for school, I stared getting suspicious. After about a week, I started knocking on the door, but when no one answered, I tried the lock. It was unlocked, and when I went in, I saw so much blood on the carpet I figured they were all gone. Someone came in and just took ‘em all out.”
“Did you ever report it?” I ask, knowing the answer. If he had, I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t be looking in the wrong direction.
“I did try, believe it or not. Called in a tip anonymously, but when they heard the address, they hung up. No one ever came out. So, wasn’t much else I could do.” He shrugs, and by looking around, I know he’s right. I was thinking the same thing not moments ago. I decide now’s my time to leave. I think I’ve got all the information I can from here.
As I thank the old man, hop on my bike, and head back out of town, I have time to think over everything I learned. Something happened that night. The night Tizzy decided to leave town, and it’s not adding up to what she’s told me about her past. I have a feeling I know what happened, but there’s some holes I’m going to need my Bunny to fill in before I can confirm.