Dead and Missing: Ripsters, #2

Dead and Missing

Book 2 of Ripsters

Chris Myers

www.chrismyersfiction.com

Praise for Date with the Dead (Book 1 of Ripsters)

…THERE HAS TO BE A SECOND!!!! Seriously!!! The Read-a-holic Blog

…Read this incredibly funny fast paced suspense story! A Diary of a Book Addict

…What I liked most about Date with the Dead is that it wasn't quite like anything else that I had been reading. It was unique. And that was really refreshing to see. I can't wait to see what RIPSTERS will be up to next! Book Briefs

…Only a very good author can write a mystery story where the reader keeps on guessing what the suspense is gonna be till the end and still gets it wrong. Hats off to the author for writing that part so well! If you like a YA supernatural book with kick-ass characters and a great mystery, the Date with the Dead is definitely for you. Reading 24X7

…I recommend this book to everyone!!! I absolutely loved it!!! Ever and Ever Sight

…What a wonderful and fresh story. Tammy Ann Books

…This was an action packed mystery filled with the paranormal element and creepy factor I love along with a sweet budding romance that will bound to please everyone… I will be picking up future releases in the series for sure. My Guilty Obsession

…At times, I felt like Hansel & Gretel being fed crumb after crumb--a total hook. Writers Ally

…It was unique. And that was really refreshing to see. I can't wait to see what RIPSTERS will be up to next! Book Briefs

…Without reservation, I would absolutely recommend this book to young adult and adult readers alike. Rolo Polo Book Blog

…And one of the most appealing aspects of this novel is the author’s ability to create suspense as Jolie and her friends come closer to solving the mystery behind Distal’s murder. Well–crafted characters fill the pages of the swift–moving plot which culminates in an explosive finale. Publishers Weekly Review

SUMMARY

Sixteen-year-old Brittany Howland only knows one other girl, Jolie Livingston, who can communicate with the dead like herself. When Brittany takes Jolie’s haunt fishing to get him out of Jolie’s hair, he mysteriously disappears. Brittany isn’t sure how she’ll tell Jolie she lost her ghost. Jolie thinks her dead best friend Drew has finally crossed over, but Brittany knows better. Just before Drew went missing, he revealed why he hasn’t hitchhiked to the afterlife, a secret Brittany swore she’d take to the grave.

1. Young Adult Mystery & Teen Mystery (Children's Mystery)—Juvenile fiction. 2. High schools —Fiction. 3. Social Anxiety (Social Issues) 4. Pop Culture 5. Paranormal 6. Mystery 7. Teen Literature 8. Romance 9. Teen 10. 99 cent sale 11. Free sale 12. Free Kindle

The characters, places, and events in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. All characters, except historical and public figures, are products of the author’s imagination and should not be construed as real. In the case of historical and public figures, the situations, events, and dialogues of those people are fictional and do not depict actual events. In all other respects, any similarity to real person, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Copyright © 2013 by Chris Myers

Copy Editor: Michelle Borek

All rights reserved. This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

Cover art: Books on the Edge

Photo: Shutterstock

www.chrismyersfiction.com

ISBN: 978-0-9857169-2-9

Published by Books on the Edge

This book is dedicated to my sisters.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Title

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Acknowledgements

Author's Note

CHAPTER ONE

BRITTANY

When the alarm rings, I roll over and see it’s only seven in the morning. I throw my pillow at the stupid alarm to make it shut-up. I would normally never get out of bed before noon unless it’s for a lacrosse game or a day at the spa, but I’m helping out a friend—a dead one that is.

I crawl out of bed, stretching and yawning. I tug on warm clothes, put on makeup, and drag a brush through my blonde hair because I look a fright.

I pad into the kitchen where my twenty-something stepmother scrounges in the fridge. She pretends to be my stepsister. My friends get a good laugh out of that. It just hurts that someone like her replaced the mom I love, who now spends her days medicated in a psych ward.

When I plod over to her and tap my toe with impatience, she looks at me with disdain. After she’s done raiding the fridge, I grab yogurt and an apple from the stainless steel fridge she just had to have along with a whole new kitchen, even though she doesn’t cook.

She clutches onto a slab of pizza, the size of Texas, like it’s a lifeboat. That’ll reverse the tummy tuck she just had.

Her face screws up into a huge question mark.

What? I ask, biting into my apple.

Where’re you going at this hour, Brittany? You’re not a morning person.

Okay, so she’s right. What’s it to you?

You can’t talk that way to me. She purses fat lips my dad bought. All her liposuction and injections have resulted in an explosion of flesh. It’s pretty gruesome, and she’s ruining my appetite. I throw the yogurt in the sink, and it splatters all over.

You, clean that up.

Good gravy, she gets on my nerves. If only Mom were here, instead of this imposter. I miss her. Why don’t you? Not like you have anything else to do. Remind me in the future not to offer my assistance to the oh-so-dead one at this hour when I’m at my worst. Dad will give me a lecture tonight about being nice to his pet.

The front doorbell rings. My jaw clenches. I’m going to kill Drew. How do I explain what looks like a dingdong ditch at this hour when it’s only dead Drew?

Pretend Mom reels around. Who could that be at this hour?

I’ll get it. Not that anyone of importance is here or one that clueless Stepmom can see.

When I open the door, Drew drops to the ground in a fit of maniacal laughter. He rolls around on my front porch and points at me. He’d be cute with his grizzly-bear hair and dark brooding eyes if he wasn’t such an idiot and dead. Why did I tell Jolie I’d take her sidekick fishing just so she could be with her dad, who mysteriously shows up after sixteen years of not paying child support? How convenient is that?

What is wrong with you? I say with all the vehemence I can muster at this hour.

Drew busts a gut while pointing at my outfit. Your clothes.

I look down. Pink Hollister hoodie, pink dungarees with matching Bobos. What’s wrong with them? I’m wearing my signature color because I look good in pink.

You look like the Energizer Bunny.

I kick him. It hurts me more than it does him. He laughs harder.

I hate you, I spit out my words, which is so unladylike.

I slam the front door and huff, determined not to cry, even though hot tears prick the back of my eyes. Drew and Jolie ride me whenever I do, along with the rest of the planet. I can’t help that I’m sensitive.

Stepmom gives me a sideways glance. Who is it? Who were you talking to?

Nobody. I stomp to my room.

Drew glides through the closed front door and follows me into my room where Stepmom cannot hear. We’re going fishing, not Nordstrom. You’ll get your outfit dirty. Be practical.

Drew plops down onto my bed with his shoes on. So what if he’s dead. He needs to remove them first. I’m sorry…that you’re so temperamental.

Tears threaten my eyes. I’m such a baby sometimes. Am not. And how do you know I shop there?

His fingers flutter over my outfit. Not hard to imagine.

My hoodie is Hollister.

So is mine. He twirls around, laughing at me and showing off his dark grey Hollister.

Pouting will give me early wrinkles. I need to stop but can’t. Why does a dead guy even need to change clothes?

You wouldn’t want me to stink like a rotting corpse. Would you? He gives me a playful shove.

I wipe my eyes, probably smudging my mascara.

Come on. You’re not going to cry. Are you? He rubs his eyes and puckers his lips while mouthing, Boo hoo.

No. I won’t. I hate him. I’ll take him to the deepest part of Bloody Pond and toss him overboard. I’ll probably have to tie him down with chains, so that he sticks to the bottom. Chains are no good. He’s already too noisy as it is. The dead French soldiers claiming the pond can haul him off though.

Drew tugs on my arm. Come on. I promise to show you a good time. I’m loads of fun. Just ask Jolie.

That’s because she likes him. I’m not counting on having fun. This is for Jolie, my only friend who can talk to the dead like me, a death speaker, and doesn’t make me feel wicked crazy for seeing them.

I feign a smile at him. We should go before Stepmom becomes even more suspicious. Also the sooner we leave, the sooner we’ll return, and I can dump the stupid dead guy.

I trundle out to the garage with Drew lounging on his side, hovering beside me.

Stepmom watches me curiously. Where are you going?

Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon. Toodle-loo.

Drew gives me a sideways glance. No we won’t. This is an all-day affair.

No, it’s not, I mutter, hoping Stepmom doesn’t hear me talking to myself and tells Dad. Then I’ll end up like my real mom—in the loony bin.

I slip into my convertible BMW. Drew floats over it then drops onto the passenger seat. My dad lent me his fishing gear, plus I picked up nasty worms and bait that glows in the dark. Yuck. I so hate squirmers, stinky fish, and bugs. I should’ve never agreed to this, except Jolie deserves it. She did get rid of my dead stalker.

As I wend my way through Plymouth, a light sea breeze blows in from the east. The water is as smooth as sea glass, which reminds me of my comfortable bed that I should be sleeping in. Drew sticks his head out the window, letting his gums and lips flap in the wind like a dog’s.

I give him a small smile. He really is cute and funny for a dead guy. No wonder Jolie doesn’t want to give him up. I couldn’t wait to get rid of the dead soldier haunting me. Unlike Drew, my dead stalker was so out of date and annoying, so is Drew but in a less offensive way. Mine actually followed me to the bathroom.

The cool air whips through my long hair as we make our way down Long Pond Road then onto the side road. I don’t like driving my BMW on dirt roads, so I take it slow.

Hurry up, Drew says.

Not with this car.

You won’t hurt it. Drew grows visibly excited while clutching the dashboard and grinning like the idiot he is.

Jolie told me he loves to fish, so that’s why I’m taking him. I owe her. She doesn’t want to be caught talking to Mr. Invisible while she’s getting to know her dad. That would be way awkward.

Drew not only misses fishing but seafood and chocolate chip cookies, et cetera, et cetera. Oh, and his life. He’s about our age, and that makes it especially difficult.

Personally, I don’t see why Jolie is attracted to someone who is dead. Now Reese, our other noteworthy ghost hunter, yes I’m a ghost hunter too, who could double for Drake, is worth fantasizing about. I happily do so and almost slide into the dead brush alongside the road.

Watch it, Drew says, grabbing the steering wheel.

After jerking the car back to the road, I smack his hand. Hands off, deadly.

Yes, sweetie pie. He smacks my cheeks with his lips. It’s good that he doesn’t leave ectoplasm there. That would be disgusting.

Why aren’t you like other stupid dead guys? Gosh, your hair is even growing. I tug on the now shoulder-length strands. And is that stubble?

For one, I’m not stupid. He bops me on the head.

Ow. I rub the sore spot.

I don’t know why it’s growing. Drew yanks the rearview mirror over to him. I just started noticing the hair. What do you think it is?

I shrug. I’m not even sure how he can see himself. You’re not gooey, you haven’t crossed, you’re quasi-normal. It’s like you’re not dead.

Sadness creeps into his expression. Trust me I am.

It’s too bad he is. I don’t want to die right now or ever, especially since I haven’t kissed Reese yet.

Keep your eye on the road, Drew says.

I can’t help that I get distracted thinking about Reese.

The oaks and maples surrounding us have shed most of their autumn glory. The remaining leaves crackle in the soft breeze. The last time we were at Bloody Pond, we caught a killer and found the remains of a corpse, unfortunately, all part of the ghost hunting experience. Goosebumps form on my shoulders as the ghoulish dead body comes to mind and the BMW rocks along the dirt road.

Why are we going here? I ask.

Because I saw lots of fishies the last time we were here.

I roll my eyes at him.

If it weren’t for Reese belonging to Jolie’s band of misfits, a ghost hunting business called Ripsters, I might not have helped them out. Reese is cute and has skin the color of melted chocolate, my fave. I’m not a vanilla kind of girl.

However, me joining them boosted their reputation and gave them more legitimacy because I’m popular. I also need to find out how my mom is related to the Paranormal Guild, a secret underground society, and if they can free her mind from its state of insanity.

My eyes train on the ruts in the road, so I don’t damage my Beamer. I love this car. It was a present for my sixteenth birthday from my dad whom I rarely see since he travels to Boston almost every day to play Judge Mathis by ragging on the dummies that end up in his courtroom.

I park in one of the two spaces at the end of the public access road. Drew jumps out of the car. He grabs the fishing gear out of the back, so for the general population, it’s free-floating. Shaking my head, I take the gear from him then grab my pink bomber jacket because the autumn air holds a slight chill.

Just trying to help, he says, skipping ahead of me. He’s so lively for being dead.

You’ll give one of the old guys fishing a heart attack.

We stroll down the path to the pond. A mist hangs over the lake, reminding me of the night we found the dead body. Bitter cold snakes into my bones. I hate this place, so why did I agree to do this?

Maybe we should go to Long Pond instead. I shiver from the damp, cool air and the thought of the dead rising from the shadowy depths. Bloody Pond got its name from the French soldiers massacred and dumped into the pond after an American Revolutionary battle.

Nonsense. Trust me. There are tons of fish here.

It doesn’t surprise me that none of what happened here before bothers Drew. He doesn’t have to worry about some axe murderer cutting him into tiny pieces to feed the fish since he’s already dead.

The pond is deserted. I sigh with relief because I won’t have to cover up for Drew. He helps me drag a canoe that I was told we could borrow down to the water’s edge. I grab two paddles so Drew can help. I’m not that generous.

He rows us out to the middle of the pond. The fog draped across the water gives fishing a surreal quality, like we’re hanging in the clouds.

I hold the squiggly, by one end, out to Drew. Put the worm on for me.

Yes, your Highness. Drew snags the worm with the hook and wraps it around. Icky goo gushes from the little squirmer.

Ew and thank you. I drop the hooked worm over the side of the boat. Now what?

Drew casts his line into the pond. We wait.

And wait and wait, I mutter. So why do you keep hanging out here when you could be tramping through the universe?

A long silence follows while Drew stares out over the pond. He has these really thick lashes girls would kill for.

I smack him to knock him out of his trance. This is one talent I have that Jolie hasn’t mastered. I can touch the dead. So? You told your story about your death to Jolie, so now you’re supposed to hitchhike to the galaxy.

His face droops. She told you?

I could swear he blushes, and that’s not normal for a ghost. "Not the gory details. I found you online and your au revoir on Facebook."

I shouldn’t have made that so public.

What girl was actually worth all that? I ask. He had made a suicide pact with some girl dumber than him.

She wasn’t. It was an accident.

Popping pills to kill yourself is an accident?

Drew’s dark eyes shine. I only took two, but I had an allergic reaction and that killed me.

Oh. That sucks. I tug on the fishing pole. Still no bite. Why are you here then? You told your story, so shove off.

He lets out a long sigh. I can’t. I have to keep an eye on Jolie.

She’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and her boyfriend Hayden will watch out for her. He’s a great guy and alive.

Drew hangs his head. "You’ve never seen her go after a mazzik."

This is Jolie-speak. A what?

A harmful spirit. One tried to possess her, kill her, and lop off her head.

Nice. Spirits can do that?

Some, Drew says, still not facing me.

You like Jolie, I say, snorting out a laugh. I mean you love her. Don’t you? You get that you’re dead, right? Didn’t you meet her after you died?

Yes and no. Jolie ghost hunted the house across the street from us. I saw her come out in this amazing outfit. She dresses hot.

Now my laughter carries across the pond. She dresses like she belongs to a carnival or a mortician.

Drew chuckles. You dress like some child’s play toy.

I snarl at him. It doesn’t matter. You can’t be with her, ever, so you should run along. I make a little shooing motion.

I can’t. I worry too much about her. Drew finally meets my gaze. You can’t tell her that I… You have to take this to the grave with you.

Why should I keep your secret of amore? She’s my friend, and she should know.

Because I want Jolie to have a life. The way she looked at my photo in my old room. It was if she’d known me for a long time. We’d connected on another level. Like we should’ve met before I screwed up.

It’s too late for that now. You’re just being selfish, and she has Hayden. He’s been my friend for years, and I don’t want Jolie to hurt him over Drew.

His glum face will spoil our day. Once I know he’ll take care of her, then I can leave. I hope.

What do you mean ‘you hope’?

I’ve tried to move into the light. It doesn’t happen for me. I guess they don’t want me, or heaven doesn’t take suicides, and I belong down south.

That’s a problem. For Jolie. I know she likes him, but if Drew weren’t around, she’d be completely in love with Hayden.

Drew picks up a pebble from the bottom of the boat and skips it across the surface. His sadness gets to me, but he’s not part of the living anymore. He has to get over Jolie. She needs to have a life free from his ball and chain.

I nudge him. You’ve got it bad. You should’ve jumped on her before you decided to down a few pills.

Tell me something I don’t know.

I won’t tell her. I feel bad for Drew. He had his whole life in front of him, and now look at him. He’s almost see-through from the energy he’s expending. Jolie cares for you, too.

I know, but it’s too late for us.

How can you be sure? I ask, not really believing him. Hindsight is 20-30, not as perfect as everyone wants to think. Maybe you’ll meet up in the next go around. If you get going that is.

He laughs. It’s just that we get along. I’ll miss her too much.

You guys fight all the time.

If we didn’t, then that only means we don’t care enough to argue.

I guess so. I can’t even get a rise out of cute Reese, which doesn’t leave me much hope if what Drew says is true. He’s probably wrong.

Low crying and guttural moans drift over the pond. Tremors work in waves over my shoulders. What was that?

What was what? Drew’s pole tip goes down. I’ve got a bite. He’s grinning like the fool he is.

The cries grow more intense. You can’t hear that? I swivel from side-to-side to figure out which way they came from.

Drew reels in a fish. It’s not very big, so he unhooks it and throws it back. No. I can’t.

Honestly, you’re not just dead, you’re deaf. I scan the shore and listen more closely. It’s coming from over there. I point at the shore across from us. Come on. Let’s go check it out.

What if it’s a pedophile?

I stare down at the cleavage that I try to hide but never can. Then he definitely won’t want me because I look nothing like a ten-year-old.

Drew casts his eyes up and down my body. That’s for sure.

I smack him for good measure. What if it’s someone in trouble? It sounds like a child. What if she’s hurt or lost?

What if you get hurt? There’s only so much I can do in my condition, and Jolie’s not here to get you out of a bind.

What? You’re worried? I can take care of myself, better than scary-thin Jolie. I pick up the oars and row in the direction of the sound. Don’t be such a wuss.

Doubt shadows Drew’s dark eyes. If you get hurt, don’t say I didn’t warn you. He usually only looks this worried when Jolie is in danger, so his response kind of warms me to the cold guy.

We shouldn’t go. Why don’t you call Jolie?

She’s with her dad.

I don’t trust him. Why did he show up after all this time?

I keep paddling because it drains poor dead Drew. Yeah, that doesn’t add up.

The mist sticks to my skin and seems heavier on this side of the pond. The soft moans remind me of a child crying or whining about being lost in the swamp because she has stupid parents.

You heard that, right? I ask.

Yeah. It’s creepy. Maybe you should call for backup. I don’t like this.

Normally, Drew isn’t this skittish, so I’m wondering if I shouldn’t be too, but it’s just a weird noise. It could be anything—a cat being tortured by the sked biker boys or a murderer sharpening his axe. That sends a ripple of terror through me. It’s nothing I tell myself.

We land the canoe on a spit of