006

006

Brianna Pounds

“No, no, Mom, I'm here!” I shouted, running up the stairs behind her.

I knew that at some point she had to see me. Maybe I needed to talk louder, follow her more closely, or jump into her space. Surely she would feel something in the air.

“Lydia Pounds!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, and she stopped.

I took in her state. She was a wreck, weeping. Her eyes darted toward me as we stood in the hallway, a few steps from her room.

She can see me. A satisfied smile curled my lips. “I know you were pretending all along. You can see me, can't you?” She was staring right into my eyes and I was doing the same, but her gaze shifted as if she were zoning out.

“Mom, stop it.” I waved in her line of sight and her eyes returned to my face. “Drop the act, no one's here.” I looked around to ensure I was right. I was. “I didn't run away. In fact, my body is in a truck miles away, headed to God knows where. If you listen to me carefully and follow my instructions, you'll be able to find my body and help me reenter it,” I pleaded.

Mom heaved a sigh, and I saw she was now looking past me, over my head. “Mom,” I complained. “It's okay, don't be scared. Only you can see and probably hear me. I've talked to others and they couldn't.”

“Brianna, my baby,” she cracked, her eyes forming more tears that clouded her iris.

“I know, Mom, I know.” I tried my best to hide the sobs tightening my throat as my own eyes welled up. I could barely see her clearly now. Blinking back the moisture, I comforted her, “It was hard for me too, Mom. I couldn't believe Nicodemo would do that to me, and that bitch...” My speech halted when she wiped at her tears and began walking away as if I weren't the one she was talking to. “Mom, wait!”

“Brianna,” she continued talking to herself, her voice strained with a cough. “My baby, please come back. Don't do this to me. I didn't raise you to be this way.”

“You didn't raise me to be that way! Mom, listen to me, I'm right here!” But I was a few steps too late.

She entered her room and slammed the door right in my face.

What was that? She saw me, didn't she? She looked into my eyes for seconds. Was my mother pretending not to see me, too?

I could walk through the door and try harder, heck, I should, but the sound of approaching steps caught my attention. I curled into a corner near my dad's study, momentarily forgetting I was a ghost and couldn't be seen.

“To my study, son,” my dad sternly informed Nicodemo, who was walking beside him like a man he wasn't.

Such a fool.

“Alone,” he added, walking right past his own daughter.

I seethed, watching his figure disappear into his study before turning my focus to the devil of a husband.

“You can come out now,” he said slowly, and a set of stiletto heels clicked on the floor. My murder weapon, the same one she'd driven straight into my throat. My fists balled. At least she'd made an attempt to wipe the evidence, as the heels were sparkling.

“What now?” Her question drew me to their faces.

They seemed tense, like whatever my father had in store for them would either kill or drive their evil plot forward.

“I'll hear the old man out. Hopefully he doesn't chicken out.”

Interesting. My father in the same sentence as chicken out. It made me realize I might be clueless about how far this devilish plan spanned and exactly who was involved in the quest.

“He won't. Didn't you see the look on his face?” Kariana murmured. “He wants this more than anyone. More than even you do, Nico. You've got this.” She tapped his shoulder like a buddy. “Don't keep him waiting.”

Nico sighed and nodded absentmindedly to Kariana. Somehow, he appeared more tense than ever. I'd never seen Nico like this, not even on our wedding day was he this unsettled. Even while he instructed the doctor and let his mistress finish the job, he hadn't been this nervous.

Following the monster to my father's study, I outpaced him, slipping inside while he stood there inhaling and exhaling. He finally trudged in and shut the door behind him.

The study hadn't changed much. It still carried the same smell of sandalwood and that intoxicating air freshener my father had been obsessed with spraying in here over the years. Although the desk looked like it had been replaced, the chairs and sofa were in the same positions, with books, both ancient and new, adorning the shelves.

“Sit.” Dad didn't look up from his phone until Nico had sat down.

Because this meeting was about me, I took up residence in the second chair, inching a bit away from Nico. I didn't want to touch him or so much as breathe the same air.

Father dropped his phone with a loud thud and blazed a glare at Nico that made him straighten his shoulders.

“I presume Brianna is somewhere in a ditch. Clear, son?” His tone, God, his tone.

Even though what he said was as clear as day, I pushed the nagging thoughts away and reimagined a different scenario: a father interrogating his son-in-law about the whereabouts of his daughter. A father who cared. My dad was a smart man. There was no way he'd believe Nicodemo’s cock-and-bull stories.

“She ran. It surprised even me that Brianna was having an affair.” Nico spat the nonsense like he was certain with every breath in him.

Jack cackled. “I suppose you're a smart man, son. You expect me to believe that...” Jack held his tongue and corrected himself, rolling my name like it was filth, “...Brianna ran off with a lover.” He laughed again, leaning closer. “Might you do me the honor and tell me why you let her run, Harrington?” His brows furrowed in inquisition.

He let out a guffaw when Nico stayed mute, a sound so sudden it jostled me. I hadn't seen this side of my father before. I hadn't been close enough with him to know, but this was crazy.

“Harrington, where is Brianna? Mind?” He cocked his brow.

“She's dead, but not how you think it is.” The air ran cold through my spine.

Did he just admit so easily to my father that he killed his daughter?

Jack glared at Nico, who in turn was melting, and when he spoke his next words, it sent my spirit spinning on its axis.

“Good job, son. I knew you were smarter than what you let on.” He praised him with a smirk. “Now tell me, my son, how did it happen?”

This was more than I'd known. My father could be in on this, and I'd been so blind. But a feeling settled in my roaring guts that even if they all wanted me dead, I was sensing foul play. Why? Was Nicodemo Harrington trying to play my father?

Why would a three-man squad want me dead, all for obviously different reasons?

I had to find out. By all means possible. Dead or in spirit.