Chapter Four

Frank tucked Betsy under his arm when he left the car to check out the park. If he didn’t end up in Kenton’s court for drinking and driving, he might be arraigned as a child-molester. Not many men walked around a park carrying a doll.

A typical playground area for kids, a set of swings anchored one side, a jungle-gym the other. Interestingly enough, a dense copse of forest surrounded the locale. In fact, he’d followed a line of trees that ran parallel to the sidewalk for an entire city block before he found the park. Someone must have exited the woods and stopped Mindy as she rode her bike to the park. The perfect cover for an abduction, a quick hit-and-run. Walk from the woods, stop child, grab her, and duck into the forest again.

Miriam was right about one thing; whatever happened, it went down fast. Frank took several pictures of the park with his cell phone, jumped back into the car and snapped a few photos of the woods through the windshield before heading for the Super 8. He needed to check in, grab a drink and call Rand.

Although sick and tired of carrying the damn doll with him at every turn, he couldn’t afford to lay her down and run the risk of Ghost-girl snatching her. If the little imp had the capability of moving objects, she could damn well move Betsy right on out of the hotel room. Once the little spirit got what she wanted, she’d leave again. Or would she? Maybe she’d left the otherworld to help him and then she became fascinated with Betsy. The doll and the lullaby were synonymous—connected.

To Ghost-girl.

Frank plugged in his laptop, flipped it open and typed Shut Your Eyes of Blue into the browser. A web site called BusSongs.com popped up. Then he did a search by using the simple lyrics Ghost-girl had planted in his brain. "Bingo!" he said under his breath. "My Doll’s Lullaby." He downloaded the lyrics but nothing remarkable turned up. No history about the song, only four simple lines: Go to sleep my dolly, Shut your eyes of blue. Soon will come the sandman, Bringing dreams to you! Another Bingo. So, he had the name of the lullaby and the lyrics Ghost-girl sang, but what did they mean? She knew the words to the song, so it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize someone had sung it to her at one time or another. Apparently often. Is that why she’d become so attached to Betsy or did she have a similar doll at one time?

The questions rattled around his brain and drove him nuts. Somehow he had to get Ghost-girl to communicate with him. In order for that to happen, he had to earn her trust, find out why she came forth and what she wanted. He sensed her restlessness, and knew from past experience in communing with the dead, Ghost-girl wasn’t a poltergeist. The quasi-scientific definitions for a poltergeist were quite simple, although not proven. Poltergeists didn’t possess personalities. Ghost-girl oozed individuality. Check. Poltergeists can’t hold a conversation with the living in any manner. She had communicated with him through the windshield wipers, however rudimentary. Check. He knew some ghosts could move objects and make noises. Check. Check. She moved Betsy’s eyelashes and he’d felt the tug on the doll’s dress numerous times. As for noises, well she hadn’t actually made noise in the real sense. The words to the lullaby he heard in his head, albeit in her sweet voice.

Frank also knew that some ghosts could manifest into balls of light or other forms of energy, and some could speak, communicate with the living in a sentient manner. Hmm. He’d already seen her form of energy when he called on his Inner Spirit and accidentally called her forth. How could he get her to speak to him, and more importantly, could he handle it when and if she did?

He’d become attached to Ghost-girl strange as it seemed. Could he handle looking upon her angelic face? He knew it would be angelic, like Mindy’s, Chelsea’s and Lauren’s. What if he couldn’t deliver what his newfound little friend needed? What if he failed to deliver the peace her lost soul longed for?

With Betsy resting on his thigh, Frank rubbed his chin, stared at the screen and dissected the messages rushing through his mind. Ghosts are the sentient remnants of dead people, what is left after the body dies. Most of the time the soul moves on to the next thing, whatever that thing is. Sometimes the soul remains for whatever reason, but there is always a reason. His Ghost-girl—he thought of her as his now—had moved on to another place, but not permanently. If she had, he wouldn’t have been able to call her forth. Damn, why did he take on these complicated cases? How could he have known looking for three missing girls would lead him into the afterlife?

He slammed the laptop shut, rose from the bed and poured a drink. With his head pounding and his brain scrambled, he picked up the phone to call Rand.

He answered on the second ring. "Hey, Frank, how’s life in the Alleghenies?"

"I’m not exactly in the mountains, but close. You’re not mad at me?"

"Would it do any good to be mad?"

"Probably not," Frank said. "I have this weird sense of the macabre."

"Don’t I know?" A burst of laughter pedaled through the line from Rand. "Speaking of bone-chilling morbidity how is our little ghost doing?"

"My little ghost, you mean." Frank scanned the room and wondered if eavesdropping fell under the column of ‘Ghost-girl-specialties’. "She won’t talk to me. I can hear her sing, but nothing else. "

"You’re kidding me, right? You can hear her sing?"

"Yep, the words to a lullaby, and she launched my wipers into high-speed today in the car when I tried to question her."

Another laugh from Rand. "You sound so dejected. Shit, should I be worried about this little love affair you’re having with a female spirit?"

"She’s a child, Rand, and she needs me right now."

"Well, damn, that makes two of us, Frank. You’re so popular and drool-worthy, I’m sure you’ll have her wrapped around your finger in no time.”

"Do I detect sarcasm? Christ, I’ve only been gone a day. What if it goes on longer? What will I hear the next time I call?”

"Hard to say. We need to talk about something."

The pulse in Frank’s head throbbed. At times Rand could be needy, and, most of the time that need turned him on until he couldn’t think straight. However, now wasn’t one of those times. He had his hands full with this missing kids’ case and hadn’t even put a hairline fracture in the tip of the iceberg.

"You’re going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not, aren’t you?"

Rand sighed. "I gotta get it off my chest."

God, how many times have I felt his warm breath against my neck, around my cock just before. . .. "Jesus, Rand, you are pissed off about my lack of attention last weekend. You know I always want you but I had this crazy feeling that Ghost-girl was standing guard over us like an avenging wraith. I couldn’t bring—”

"Ghost-girl? That must mean you don’t know her name yet. You’re slipping, Frank, slipping."

God, the sound of Rand’s voice, low and husky, sent a shiver of desire through him. "I don’t exactly hear a ring of confidence in your voice."

"What do you hear in my voice?"

"Don’t go there, Rand. The child is in the room with me. She could be watching."

"Send her away."

"I can’t. I don’t have the ability to do that." Frank clenched his hand around Betsy, clenching his teeth at the same time.

"I want you, Frank; I’m so fucking hard right now."

"What is this, payback for brushing you off last weekend?"

"I don’t do payback, but once I heard your voice, the images started rolling in."

"Images?"

"Yeah, of me sucking you off and licking your balls."

"Christ, stop it, Rand." A throaty groan escaped his throat. "Are you trying to torment me?"

"No, pleasure myself. I’m going to jerk off and just let the images flow in. What do you think of that, McGuire?"

Frank felt his cock jerk and spring to life. Caught up in Rand’s voice and the visions of him jerking himself off, he was too far gone to stop his burgeoning erection. "Hang on for a minute, Rand."

"Where you going? Here I am, talking dirty to you and you’re off to take a leak or something?"

"Fuck! Just hold on, will ya?"

Frank set the cell phone down, grabbed his handcuffs from his briefcase and rushed into the bathroom with Betsy in his hand. A stream of pale white mist followed him. "Now you decide to show yourself? Now, when I’m in the middle of a crisis here?"

Ghost-girl’s harmonious voice echoed in the small room. Soon will come the sandman.

"You want Betsy? Here," Frank said. "Look, she’s right here." Frank squished Betsy’s pliant body into one handcuff and locked the other around the shower curtain pole. The doll hung in midair with the smoke-like mist swirling around her. "You play with Betsy and I’ll be right back." With his balls aching, Frank rushed from the room and closed the bathroom door behind him. Her obsession over Betsy should keep her fascinated for a long time, at least long enough for him to finish the phone-sex session with Rand. "All right, I’m back you little prick."

"Oh, yeah, I’d rather you were here fucking my brains out right now."

"You keep talking about me fucking your brains out, and I’ll be jerking myself off."

Rand blew air through his lips. "Do it. Jerk yourself while I’m doing the same. Here, I’ll help you."

Frank stifled a groan, reached inside his pants and stroked his dick.

"Do you know when you enter me; I can’t help rocking back against you, impaling myself on your cock. I can’t get enough of you, Frank. Does that swell your head?" Rand chuckled. "I mean your real head, not―"

"I know what you meant. Don’t stop now; I’m rather into this."

"Man, my balls ache, drawing up tight against my body. How about yours?"

Pre-cum leaked from Frank’s tip.

"You there, Frank; you stroking yourself, imagining it’s my hand around your cock, my lips sucking you dry? I’m imagining it. You tell me, “harder, faster”, and your eyes are glazed over. I swallow the entire length until I can feel it at the back of my throat."

Running his hand up and down the length of his rock-hard dick, harder, faster, like Rand said, he couldn’t help the muffled groan. "You’re a fucktard, you know that, Rand?"

"Yeah, I know, but you love that about me, don’t you? You’re too cool to act like a fucktard or too cool to admit you love me, but you get off on having me crawl all over you, huh, Frank? You want the truth? I’d like to crawl right inside your skin, so fucking deep I could never crawl my way out. I’d give anything to worm my way into your head and fucking destroy all those demons that torment you night and day."

"Now you’re talking stupid. I like you better when you were talking about impaling yourself on my cock." Frank’s breaths came in short bursts and he knew his release was imminent. He wanted to hear more, craved the intimate details of how Rand felt when he took him.

"I’m almost there. My dick is leaking and my heart’s pounding. I’m thinking about kneeling on the bed, my body dripping sweat. Your hands grab my hips. You hold me tight and drive in hard and fast."

With Frank’s fantasies spiraling out of control, he pumped hard on his shaft and bit down on his bottom lip.

"I cry out and you rock into me, again and again until I’m fucking mindless beneath you. "Oh, God, Frank, I’m going to come."

"Not yet, hold off."

His voice dropped to a whisper and Frank imagined him with his eyes closed and his face flushed. "I whimper like a wounded animal and clutch the bed sheets, begging you for more. You like that too, don’t you, McGuire. You like to hear me beg. You grab my hair in your fingers and force my head back. I’m hot and tight, gripping your cock like a vise, and drowning in the incredible feeling."

The stab of need between Frank’s legs rose to unbearable heights and his cock jerked and twitched with impending release.

A strained hoarseness edged his words. "Oh, God, I’m going to explode from the inside out at any second. Can’t . . . can’t hold off."

Frank pumped harder and swore he could feel his cock plowing into Rand. Semen rushed to the top like hot-running lava. He’d never heard anything so erotically perverse. For a brief moment, he thought about Ghost-girl in the other room, but only briefly. A bestial growl spewed from Rand’s lips. Frank imagined his head thrown back. Vaguely aware of his own inhuman moan, semen spurted from Frank’s cock, so intense and strong, he grew dizzy for a second or two.

Long minutes passed with nothing but heavy breathing passing through the line. Exhausted and weak, Frank grabbed the box of tissue from the nightstand, wiped himself off and zipped up his pants. "Satisfied now that you proved your point, Rand?"

He sounded replete, like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. "What point is that?"

"You know what I mean. I might get off on you crawling all over me, but you get off on having some sick type of control over me when it comes to sex, isn’t that right?"

"What does that mean? I have no idea what you’re talking about."

"Yes, you do. You wanted to see if you could pull me in deep enough to get me to jack off on the phone like a fucking high-school kid going through puberty. And, you succeeded."

"Really, that wasn’t my objective. I missed you, wanted to let you know I wasn’t sore about this weekend or the note, and. . .."

"And what?"

"I told you; I wanted to talk to you about something important. I just got carried away after hearing your voice."

Frank heard muffled noise filtering through the bathroom door. Water running; he thought. Ghost-girl wouldn’t leave the bathroom without Betsy and she obviously couldn’t manipulate the handcuffs.

"Rand, I’ll call you back. I’ve got to take care of something right now."

"What happened?"

"Let me call you back. I gotta go; will explain when I call you back. Give me an hour."

"Don’t forget, okay. It’s important."

"I won’t, I promise." Frank ended the call, hustled toward the bathroom and flung the door open.