CHAPTER 1
Cast:
Blake Ghost.
Jackson Moore.
Daren Lowe.
Kathy.
Capt. Paul
Milo Brown.
Joseph Brown.
Billy.
…
Hegar Hills, Alabama:
“What’d I tell you?! Stay in the fuckin’ car!”
Blake walked past a man shouting at his wife in the gas station parking lot, barely sparing them a glance. She entered the store, heading straight for the snacks aisle. Grabbing a family-sized bag of Hot Cheetos and a peach Red Bull, she made her way to the counter. As she set her items down, the cashier—a rough-looking man with cold blue eyes—stared at her with an unsettling intensity.
“Ain’t never seen you ’round here before, girl,” he grumbled.
“Just moved up the road. Only house on Hegar Road,” Blake replied coolly.
She didn’t want to be here. Hegar Hills was a small, rural town with a population of only 2,500—far from where she imagined herself ending up.
“Can I get a pack of Newport Shorts?” she asked, ignoring his scrutinizing gaze.
The cashier scanned her items, then leaned forward slightly. “You know they killed that detective in that house?”
“I’m aware.”
Her indifference seemed to throw him off. His lips curled into a smirk. “Damn, girl. You got balls, huh?”
Blake finally met his gaze. “Blake. My name is Blake.”
His grin only widened, sending a chill down her spine. Something about him was off, but she didn’t linger. After swiping her card, she grabbed her items and headed out.
Just as she stepped outside, she caught the tail end of the argument between the man and his wife.
“Billy, calm d—”
A sharp slap echoed through the lot. The woman stumbled against the side of their pickup truck, her hand flying to her cheek.
Blake stopped in her tracks. Placing her snacks and cigarettes on the hood of her car, she turned and walked straight to Billy. Before he could react, she grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him onto the pavement.
“I’m Officer Blake Ghost.” She flashed her badge. Billy instantly froze.
“Darlene, tell her everything is fine!” he shouted, his voice frantic.
“I-It was an accident! He didn’t mean anything by it!” Darlene pleaded, her wide eyes full of fear.
Blake wanted to help her. She really did. But she was new here, and she knew better than to shake trees on her first day. Gritting her teeth, she let Billy go and helped him to his feet.
“I’ll let you off with a warning,” she said, voice firm. “But if I have to come back for you, I’m bringing cuffs. Got it?”
“Yes, officer.”
Blake stepped back, retrieved her things, and got into her car, pulling out of the lot without another glance.
Blake pulled into the parking lot of Hegar Hills Police Department, the acrid taste of two cigarettes still lingering on her tongue. Small towns like this had always been a blur in her rearview mirror—places she sped through on road trips, just trying to make it to the next city safely. Now, one of them was home. The weight of uncertainty pressed against her chest as she shut off the engine and stepped out of her car.
Inside, the department had a quaint, almost too-friendly atmosphere. A woman at the front desk greeted her with a wide, knowing smile.
“Hey, darlin’. You lost?”
Blake adjusted her stance. “No, I’m Blake Ghost, th—”
“The new patrol officer!” The woman beamed. “I ain’t gonna lie, sweetie, I was expectin’ a good-lookin’ man. Name’s Kathy, one of the dispatchers. I think you’re the first woman officer I ever met!”
Blake forced a polite smile and extended her hand just as Kathy rounded the counter. Instead of shaking it, Kathy pulled her into a warm, unexpected hug. Stiffening, Blake hesitantly patted the woman’s back.
“Sorry, honey, we’re huggers ’round here!” Kathy chuckled. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the captain.”
Blake followed her through a set of doors marked No Unauthorized Personnel Allowed. They walked past a maze of desks before stopping at an office with Captain Paul Whittaker printed on the door. Kathy knocked before turning to Blake.
“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come talk to me,” she said with a wink.
Before Blake could respond, the door opened.
“You must be Officer Blake Ghost,” Paul said, nodding toward Kathy in dismissal. She left, and Paul stepped aside, motioning for Blake to enter.
“Have a seat.”
She did as told, watching as he retrieved a file, exhaling sharply as he flipped it open. His face darkened, the deep lines in his forehead pressing in.
Blake’s stomach knotted. She knew that look. The same look every superior had given her since the moment she broke the code of silence at NYPD. She’d done the right thing—exposed corruption, stood up against dirty cops. And for that, she’d been shunned. Her home had been vandalized, her coworkers ignored her on duty, and no one wanted her around. It had been hell. And now, her new captain was already disappointed?
“I commend you, Officer Ghost,” Paul said, pulling off his glasses.
Blake blinked. “Huh?”
“I requested your transfer here.” He leaned back. “Not many would take you, but I respect what you did. You were brave enough to stand up for what’s right. And that’s exactly what this town needs—an officer who gives a damn about its people.” His voice softened. “I won’t lie to you, settling in won’t be easy. But know this—your work is respected here.”
Blake exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“Now,” Paul continued, shifting the conversation. “I hear you bought Detective Milo Brown’s old house. You aware of what happened there?”
“The real estate agent mentioned it,” she said. “But I don’t believe in ghosts or haunted houses. I’ll be fine.”
Paul smirked but said nothing as he placed a service weapon, badge, and a set of keys on the desk.
“I was wondering,” Blake started, “if you had any detective positions open.”
Paul raised a brow.
“I was up for promotion back home,” she continued. “But we both know why that didn’t happen. I think I could be an asset solving cases, not just watching traffic.”
Paul studied her for a long moment, then stood and pulled open a file cabinet behind him. He flipped through folders until he found the one he wanted. Returning to his seat, he slid it across the desk.
“This was Milo’s last case,” he said. “A lot of folks think he was getting too close to solving it—and that’s why he died. Milo was like a son to me. He ran himself into the ground chasing answers.”
Blake flipped the file open. Her heart dropped.
“Thirteen missing girls?”
Paul nodded grimly. “The families need answers. The most recent girl, Jala—top of the list—vanished four months ago. I think it’s all connected. If you can finish what Milo started, I’ll pull some strings and get you the promotion you deserve. But…” He fixed her with a firm stare. “This case cannot interfere with your job. If it does, I’ll pull it from you. Understood?”
Blake didn’t hesitate. “Deal.”
She shut the file, but her mind was already racing. Grabbing her service weapon, badge, and keys, she stood and headed for the door.
As she stepped into the hallway, the weight of the case settled on her shoulders.
Blake sat in her patrol car, parked in the lot of a small diner, watching traffic like it was second nature. Compared to New York, Hegar Hills felt like a ghost town. This was easy—too easy. With one hand wrapped around a Red Bull, she flipped through the police reports detailing the nights the missing girls had disappeared. She skimmed them quickly, absorbing every detail, but something was missing. She needed Milo’s notes. They weren’t in the file, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that Paul had left them out for a reason. Asking for them directly wasn’t an option.
Her stomach knotted, and before she could dwell on it, a car sped past, the engine growling as it tore through the school zone.
“Ninety-five in a school zone?” Blake muttered, tossing the reports onto the passenger seat. She hit the lights and floored the gas, pulling onto the road in pursuit. Her patrol car roared past eighty in seconds, closing the gap. The driver must’ve spotted her because the vehicle began to slow. When it finally pulled over, Blake ran the plates through the system. A mugshot popped up.
Joseph Brown.
Blake arched a brow. What a coincidence.
Hand resting on her holstered weapon, she stepped out, moving toward the driver’s side window as it rolled down.
“You know you were doing ninety-five in a school zone?” she asked, keeping her voice steady.
The man behind the wheel let out a nervous chuckle, then his entire body relaxed. “Well, shoot, Ms. Ghost! Didn’t see you back there!” His grin stretched wide.
Blake tilted her head slightly. “Mr. Brown.”
“How’s the house treatin’ ya? And I had no idea you were a cop!” His voice carried that casual, small-town charm, but Blake wasn’t buying it.
“I’m enjoying the house,” she replied, keeping it short. “It’s peaceful. Not much traffic.”
Joseph huffed a laugh. “Yeah, not sure why my brother liked bein’ so isolated. Figured it was a cop thing, but Milo was the only officer I knew who kept to himself like that. Anyway, I’m real sorry ’bout the speeding. If you let me off with a warning, I promise you won’t regret it.”
Blake didn’t even blink. “License and insurance.”
His grin faltered, and with a resigned sigh, he handed them over. She gave them a quick once-over, then shook her head.
“I gotta ticket you,” she said simply. “I don’t play around in school zones. Thirteen little girls are missing, and this town doesn’t have no safety measures for the kids still here. Last thing I need is some reckless driver making things worse.”
She turned back toward her cruiser, that tight feeling in her gut refusing to ease up. Something about Joseph was off. She hadn’t felt that way when she met him before, when he sold her the house. But now? Now, her instincts were buzzing like a live wire.
Back in her car, she printed the ticket and returned to him.
“Slow it down, Mr. Brown,” she said, handing it over. “And don’t let me catch you again, or you’ll be spending ninety days in county.”
Joseph nodded quickly, snatching the ticket before pulling off at a more respectable speed.
Blake exhaled, about to get back in her cruiser—then she saw her.
A little girl stood across the street, barefoot and covered in mud. Her clothes were torn, her face bruised. Blake’s breath hitched.
“Sweetheart?” she called gently. “Are you okay?”
The girl didn’t answer. She just stared, hollow-eyed.
Blake’s pulse quickened. She glanced both ways before stepping off the curb, but the second she looked back—the girl was gone.
Blake froze. Her head whipped left, then right. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Just open fields and empty road. Her throat went dry.
She rubbed her eyes, inhaling deeply. Did I just imagine that?
With one last glance at the empty space where the girl had been, she slid into her patrol car and slammed the door shut.
She downed the rest of her Red Bull in one go.
And then, without another word, she drove off.
Blake flipped on the living room lights as she entered her new home. For the most part, she was unpacked—her furniture was set up, with only four or five boxes left to go. She pulled her service weapon from her waist and laid it down on the coffee table beside Milo’s old case file. Taking a seat on the couch, she opened her laptop, already resting on the table, and typed “Milo Brown” into the Google search engine. As the results loaded, a loud thud came from upstairs.
Instinct kicked in. She grabbed her service weapon, disengaging the safety, and switched off the light as she crept toward the steps. Another loud thud echoed through the house.
She moved like a shadow, her footsteps silent as she ascended the stairs. Easing around the corner into the guest room, she held her gun out in front of her, scanning the area. She then made her way to the room across the hall, weapon still ready. A loud thud came again, this time from her bedroom. Exiting her office, she advanced down the hall to her bedroom, slipping inside just as a man froze in front of her.
“Freeze, police!” she shouted, her voice firm, and he raised his hands.
She spotted a badge holstered to his waist along with a service weapon. He wore a red button-down shirt tucked into black slacks, fancy dress shoes, and a black tie.
“You can see me?” he asked, shock evident on his face.
“What kind of question is that? You’re standing in my bedroom,” she replied, keeping her gaze fixed on his hands. She was ready to shoot if he made a wrong move.
“You can shoot me, but it’ll be a waste of bullets.”
“Why are you in my house? Get down on the ground and put your hands behind your head.”
“I’ll do this, but only ‘cause I get how it is seein’ a stranger in your house. But if I could leave, I would,” he said, chuckling as he slowly got down on his knees, easing his hands to the back of his head. “Name’s Milo Brown. I owned this house—”
“Milo Brown is dead.” She approached him cautiously.
“Yeah, I’m dead, but—”
“Shut up.” She reached down to check his pockets, but her hand went right through him. Startled, she jumped back, dropping her gun in the process. “What the hell…” Quickly, she picked it up, aiming it at him again.
“Guns don’t work on ghosts, darlin’. I’m already dead,” he explained, unbothered. She started firing, but the bullets did nothing but hit the floor.
“What the hell…” Panicking, she bolted out of the room and downstairs. The moment her hand touched the front door, she sighed and shook her head. There were no neighbors to run to for help—she was alone on this street.
“You freakin’ out? I’m freakin’ out! Someone’s gotta stay calm here,” Milo said from behind her, making her jump and aim her weapon at him again. “Now come on, we just established that ain’t gonna kill me, darlin’,” he chuckled. “And runnin’ for help won’t do you no good; they’ll stick you in a psych ward and swear you’re crazy.” His southern drawl matched the rest of the small town. She stepped away from the door, taking deep breaths. “There ya go, breathe.”
“You’re not real…” Blake murmured, closing her eyes. When she opened them, he was still there, smiling wide and wiggling his fingers.
“I’m still here. Sit down, open your laptop, and look me up.” He plopped down on the couch, and she hesitantly joined him.
“I know you’re dead; everyone in town is talkin’ about it. No leads, no suspects, nothing. How did you die?” she asked, glancing over at him.
“Well, sweetheart, I trusted the wrong folks,” he replied, sadness in his eyes.
“I can’t make an arrest with that statement, Mr. Brown. Give me a name so I can make an arrest.”
“Slow your roll, sweetheart. You can’t make an arrest based on the word of a ghost. You gonna need evidence, and he didn’t leave any.”
“He who?” Blake pressed.
“My little brother, Joseph.” He confessed.
“The man who sold me this house? You got some life insurance policy or somethin’?” Blake questioned.
“Yeah, and he got every dime. But that ain't why he killed me. I found out he knew somethin' about the missin' girls, and he didn’t know I was onto him. I don’t know how he found out I knew, but I’m 'sho someone on the force tipped him off,” he explained.
“Oh no…” Blake mumbled, shaking her head. “I just got transferred out here for exposing corruption. If I do it again, that’s the end of my career.”
He chuckled softly. “So, you gonna turn a blind eye ’cause bad people wanna cover their tracks?”
“What’s ya name?” he asked gently.
“Blake,” she replied.
“Blake, I get it—doing the right thing can backfire, but it shouldn’t stop you. There are 11 little girls who need—”
“Thirteen. Thirteen girls are missing now,” Blake corrected.
“And by the end of the month, it’ll be more. I’m dead, so I can’t fight this fight alone, but you, pretty little lady? You can save those girls. And if it bites you in the ass, at least you’ll have brought those little girls home to they families.” He looked at her, seeing the good in her. He could tell she was conflicted. “Hey…” he said softly, his hand touching her back, and she felt it. “We need to save those girls.” She looked over at Milo and nodded.
“I need to find evidence and arrest your brother for your murder, and you need to tell me how it happened so I know where to start.”
