"Matt, this isn't actually a movie.  Things just don't work that way," Clydie stated, feeling the sudden urge to jab Matt with her chop sticks.

"She's right, Matty," Julian agreed, shaking his head. "This isn't a movie. Even if Clydie could manage to...go come up with...specific details, the chances of anyone believe the method used to gather those details is slim to non-existent."

"But, they'd have to believe that she didn't have anything to do with whatever happened to Jessica. She's only been in the state for a couple of days . And that can proved," Matt argued.

"Right. They can prove that," Julian agreed. "But, you have to think like a cop. The sheriff won't buy that the spirit of a dead girl told Clydie what happened. He'll assume that a living person gave her those details. Sheriff Benton already mentioned that angle, in fact."

"So? They won't be able to find that person because they don't exist," Matt proffered, shoveling in a mouthful of beef and broccoli.

Clydie listened to the two men, finding it almost preposterous that she was sitting at Julian Donovan's kitchen table, eating Chinese takeout, and discussing the fact that she was seeing ghosts as if it was a normal, everyday conversation.

Julian took a bite from his own paper carton. "Clydie says they don't exist. But, the police will see it as her refusing to give up the person responsible. If they're feeling pissy enough, they can charge her with being an accessory after the fact, withholding evidence, obstruction of justice, and probably about ten other things that could all lead to a really long jail sentence."

That statement plunged the room into silence and Clydie decided right then and there that even if Jessica Hyatt came to her with explicit details of what had happened, including maps and a DNA breakdown of the person responsible for the crime, if indeed a crime had been committed, she would not speak a word of it to the police. Not even under threat of torture and death.

"W-well, just because I've seen her with my sister doesn't mean that someone actually killed her," she pointed out. "I mean, I'm seeing my sister and I know for a fact that she killed herself. Maybe that's what happened to Jessica Hyatt. Maybe she...killed herself?"

Julian and Matt both seemed to consider that option.

"I guess that's possible. But, I knew Jessica. She didn't seem like that kind of girl," Matt stated. "I even saw her the night before she went missing and she seemed...normal. She didn't act like anything was wrong."

Clydie felt herself jolt, but it was Julian who spoke. "You were with her the night before she went missing?"

"I wasn't with her," Matt clarified. "Everyone was at the Harvest Festival Corn Maze that night, including me, and I saw her there."

"W-wait?  Wait," she heard herself rasp.  "If she was out at a corn maze, then wouldn't everyone have seen the burn on her arm?  I mean, other people must have known about it!"

Matt drew his brows together.  "I didn't notice it.  But, I think she was wearing--"

"A jacket?" Clydie finished for him, prompting his eyes to go wide.  "She was wearing shorts and a tank top....and a jacket or a sweater?"

"Actually...she was," he replied in rather a credulous tone.  "I remember that it was hot as balls that day and she was wearing shorts, but she had a jacket or something on, which I thought was weird."

Damn.  She just could not catch a break.

Julian cleared his throat, giving his head a bit of a shake, as if clearing the cobwebs.  "So, other than...her clothes...was there anything else out of the ordinary?"

"I didn't think so.  I've thought a lot about that night and I can never pick out...anything..." Matt's voice trailed off and an expression went over his face that caused Julian to stiffen in his chair.  

"Did you remember something, Matty?"

Matt didn't answer for a few seconds. And then he shot a dark look at Clydie that made her stomach drop downward a few inches. "Some of us stayed at the maze late, to hang out and goof around. Everybody was drinking a little and I...I saw Jessica with Shep."

Clydie let out a little gasp, feeling something sharp lance her.

"Shep? Do you know this Shep, Clydie?" Julian asked, looking between Matt and her.

"Are...are you sure?" Clydie asked weakly, ignoring Julian's question.

Matt visibly sifted through his memories before answering. "Like I said, I've thought about that night a lot and Jessica was sitting around the campfire that we built, talking to Shep. She was sitting right next to him on a bale of hay and I remember watching Shep pour a shot for her from a flask that...he always brings to parties."

A cold feeling crept along Clydie's spine and she felt her breath quicken. "Wh-what happened then?"

"Nothing. Jessica got up and left a little while later. I don't really remember seeing Shep after that, but I wasn't really paying attention to him once Jessica was gone," Matt stated. "And the next morning, word got out that she never came home."

Clydie felt sickness rolling through her. After what Katie Hyatt had told her about Shep...

"Who is Shep?" Julian urged.

Clydie looked to Julian, figuring there wasn't much point in hiding anything from him. He seemed to be accepting all the rest of it with a fair amount of ease. "At the bonfire last night, Katie Hyatt came over to warn me about taking drinks from Shep. She said that he...he doses girls' drinks and that he'd done to her and a lot of other girls."

Julian's grey eyes went a fraction harder. "The missing girl's sister told you that?" Clydie nodded and Julian turned his attention to Matt. "Was this ever brought to the sheriff's attention? That Jessica Hyatt was last seen with a boy who's known to do that to young girls?"

"I doubt anybody brought up the fact that Jessica was sitting with Shep at a party. There were a lot of people there that night and I'm pretty sure she didn't only hang around with him," Matt explained. "Besides, Shep is Sheriff Benton's son, so even if his name had been brought up, not much would probably be done about it."

"Ah," Julian said in a knowing sort of tone. "So, I'm guessing the fact that Shep has been known to roofie girls has never been looked into?"

"Katie told me that no one wants to speak up because it'll cause trouble for their families," Clydie stated.

"That figures. These small towns have those kinds of problems," Julian said. "But, you're absolutely certain that you saw this Shep giving Jessica Hyatt a drink right before she left the party?"

Matt gave his head a firm nod. "Absolutely. I was sitting right across the fire from her and Shep. I was looking right at them."

"Well, even if Shep...did something to Jessica...there wouldn't be any way to prove that now, would there?" Clydie asked unevenly.

"It could be proven if Jessica was found. There could be toxicology tests performed. If there were still traces of any sort of drugs in her body, and Shep sticks to using the same drug, the two could be matched up, which could at least prove malicious intent.  And once that got out, it would probably prompt other victims to come forward, and that'd likely wind this asshole up behind bars for a good long while."

Clydie stared at Julian, her piece of coconut chicken stalled halfway to her mouth. "So...why aren't you a police officer?"  Because it really seemed as if he should be.  Well, when he wasn't out in the desert, being a cowboy...

Julian lifted a shoulder. "Because of this," he stated, waving a large hand around the table. "Missing girls and dealing with corrupt officials who lord over their town, making it easy for the bad guys to do their bad guy shit without consequences. It's just not the way I want to spend my life."

That made sense. It had only been a short while since the sheriff had shown up at her door and she was already on the verge of having a breakdown.

"There's probably a lot of guilt that goes with being a cop, too, right?" Matt wondered, looking suddenly dark and dejected.

"I reckon," came the reply. "My pop still talks about cases that he couldn't solve from decades ago. No matter how many bad guys he stops, it's the ones he didn't that nag at him."

"I can understand that," Matt said on a sigh.

"Can you?" Julian asked curiously.

Matt nodded. "I feel guilty every time I think about the night Jessica disappeared. I can't help but think that if I'd offered to walk her home, she'd be with her family right now."

Clydie felt her heart give a hard tug.  Matt Tanner would be burdened by guilt over something that had nothing to do with him, because he was a decent human being. He obviously had a conscience and morals, which so many other people seemed to be lacking.

"I know a little something about guilt, Matt. And you really don't have any reason to feel guilty," she told the young man, reaching out to give his arm a squeeze. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Well, it feels like I did," Matt said somberly.

"The only person that bears any guilt here is the one who knows what happened to the missing girl," was Julian's opinion.

She actually agreed whole heartedly with Julian.  It wasn't fair for Matt to be weighted down just because he'd been at the same party as the missing girl. A lot of people had been there and none of them probably carried a single shred of guilt with them.

Matt nodded. "And that's why I really believe that if Jessica is coming to you, Clydie, it's probably because she's trying to tell you something. That's how it works, right? If there's unfinished business or if somebody was taken before their time, then they can't rest."

Clydie could only offer a helpless shrug. "I don't know how it's supposed to work. My...my sister doesn't have any unfinished business. So, why would she be coming to me? And what about the other girl? How am I supposed to know if she's even real or not?"

"Well, I could try and help you with the other girl," Julian posed.

"How can you do that?" asked Matt, going back to his beef and broccoli.

"I have connections, remember?" Julian said. "If you can give me a good enough description, I can put in a call or two and we can see if she shows up in any of the databases."

Clydie's pulse quickened. "I-I can give you a pretty good description."

Julian rose from the table and strode from the room, returning shortly with a notepad and a pen. "Go. And be as detailed as you can. Approximate age, eye color, anything you can remember."

Well, the eye color would be a problem, but she could give Julian everything else. So, she told him every single detail she could remember about the third girl, from the light colored hair done in a boyish cut, to the sharp features, to the facial piercings, to the short skirt, boots, and the hi-lo sweater she was wearing.

"I'm impressed. Most people wouldn't be able to recall this sort of detail," Julian said as he finished jotting down the description.

"It's easy to remember when the person is...clawing at you," she answered rather flatly.  

"Clawing at you?" Julian repeated, clearly disturbed by her words. "Is...is that what they do? These people that you see? They claw at you?"

"Lately, yeah," she answered, wanting to drop her gaze, but refusing to do it.

She suddenly felt, for the first time since all this had started, that she didn't have anything to be ashamed of.

Julian let his gaze drop down to her arm, which was hidden beneath the fisherman's sweater. "Was that what happened to your arm? Did the...things...that you're seein' hurt you somehow?"

"I was there the night that happened and whatever she's seeing absolutely did that to her," Matt stated with conviction.

That statement surprised Julian. "You were there with her when she was seeing them? You actually watched it happen?"

"Yeah. It was the damnedest thing I've ever seen. And after watching that, there's no way I'd believe that she was imagining what's happening to her."

Julian seemed to take a moment to absorb Matt's words. "Well, then, I think the logical next step...might be...for Clydie to see if she can get any answers from...them?"

"What have I been saying?" Matt asked, popping a dumpling into his mouth.

"Of course, if anything is found out, I suggest it's kept between ourselves for now. With the sheriff sniffing around, Clydie has to be careful about saying or doing anything that might implicate her in any sort of way," Julian stated.

Clydie, listening to the two men discuss the matter as if she was simply going out to grab a pizza, was washed with annoyance. "You two make it sound like it'll be as easy as anything to find out what those girls want from me."

Both men looked at her, slightly blank in their expressions. "Well, I-I didn't say it'd be easy. But, they are coming right to you. Maybe you just have to ask," Matt posed.

"I'd love to just ask, but there's a problem," she said to the boy.

"What?" asked Matt.

"I can't hear them. I can only see them."

There was a brief instant of silence. "Well, that could be a bit of a hurdle," Julian conceded. "But, if these visions are trying to communicate with you so desperately, surely they'll find a way, once they know you're listening?"

"Maybe. But, first I have to stop freaking out when I see them," she admitted, feeling a bit off-kilter talking about this part of her life so openly when she'd kept it hidden for so long. 

 And to have Julian and Matt just accept the things she was saying without even questioning her was even more disconcerting.  Ordinarily, she'd be told it was time to switch her meds.

"Well, I'm sure you'll be able to do that. I mean, maybe after your brain understands what's really going on," Matt suggested helpfully and she again found herself wanting to jab him with her chop stick.

She wondered how easily he'd find it to deal with if his own dead sister suddenly popped up, screaming and clawing at him like a wild animal?

"Look, Clydie, I know we're talking about this like it's practically an afternoon stroll, but I don't want to push you.  We need to look at this from all sides," Julian said seriously. "You're dealing with something that's obviously caused you a lot of trouble. I don't want you to feel forced or uncomfortable. And I really don't want to make things any worse for you than they already are."

Clydie nodded, a little taken aback by his concerned tone. "I-I've been dealing with this for a while. I won't do anything that I don't think I can."

The last thing she wanted was to wind up back in the nearest psychiatric facility, locked down for weeks on end. Going through that hadn't helped her at all. Of course, she now knew it was because she wasn't sick. All those doctors with their pills were trying to cure something that was outside of herself, which was impossible.

"Well, I should get back," Matt said after a brief silence. "Unless my dad decided to run for the hills, there's still a house that needs renovating."

Clydie felt dread course through her, but she shoved it aside. She needed to get back home, too. She was going to have to face her parents at some point, so she might as well get it over with.  And once she was face to face with them, surely an apology couldn't hurt.  She hadn't ever wanted them to find out about Sam...and they probably never would have if the sheriff hadn't shown up.  Stupid man!  

Because of him, there were two parents who now knew that their daughter was suffering in some dark and restless place.

And just to cap it off, there was the possibility that because of the sheriff's own son, Sam wasn't in that place alone.

*  *  *  *  *  *

Although she thought she'd be walking back into complete chaos, with her mother curled up on the floor in tears and her father possibly still throwing up in the sink—and both of them ready to tell her to leave because they didn't want to look at her now that she'd ruined what little peace they'd thought they might have---she'd found the house had been quiet, with everything in order and the work continuing onward.

Mr. Tanner had been scraping away at the wallpaper and Ella had been busily bandaging Frank's hand because he'd apparently cut himself while scraping wallpaper, and everyone had been acting as if nothing at all had happened, as if it was rather a normal afternoon, just like all the afternoons that had come before.

Matt had gotten back to work beside his father and Ella had shown Julian to the front parlor, where the two of them were to get started on going through some of the junk left behind by the previous owners. And she had been told to go on and finish working on her room so she could get a good night's sleep.

She had obeyed, retreating to the safety of her bedroom and leaving her parents to their own work...and also leaving them to what appeared to be their own denial. But, if Ella and Frank found it easier to ignore what she'd told them, then she wouldn't say a word to the contrary. She wished she could pretend it wasn't happening.

God, how much easier things would be if she could pretend nothing was happening...

For the next while, Clydie busied herself with filling the dresser with all the clothes that should be there and then moved onto the closet, which was about the size of a postage stamp. That tiny space, which Matt had washed clean, wouldn't hold more than half of her wardrobe, so she decided to hang up her shirts and sweaters and leave her jeans and skirts for the chest-of-drawers. She knew she'd never fold up her shirts before she put them back into the drawers and then she'd be perpetually searching through a tangle of stuff looking for the shirt she wanted.

She found her radio in one of the boxes piled up in the floor and it wasn't long before there was some sort of mindless babble set to an obnoxiously perky tune bouncing around the room. There was bright afternoon light filtering in through the open window and the cool, salt laden air was wafting about, billowing out the old lace curtains and making the room chilly enough for her to appreciate Julian's sweater.

As she worked putting her clothes away, listening to the obnoxious music and the sound of the ocean moaning just outside, and watching the curtains lifting and dancing in the breeze, she felt herself thinking that she might eventually be comfortable in the room. It was so old fashioned looking, with the pink, rose spattered wallpaper and the dark wood floors and dark, ornate furniture left over from another time.

Thinking on it, she could almost feel the history in the place, almost see the lady of the house, wearing her fancy dress with the bustle, carrying in clean towels for the bathroom. This time of year she was sure that the fireplaces downstairs would have been burning and the kitchen would have been filled with all sorts of delicious smells, fresh baked bread to last the family for a few days and a stew made with fall vegetables.

It wouldn't be hard to see why guests might be drawn to the old house, if they could ever get the nicotine cleaned away. The age and the charm of the place, the feeling that they were being swept back to a simpler time, maybe a better time, was something people might actually pay for. She'd certainly pay to feel like she was in a better place for a couple of days, a place where nothing bad had happened yet, a place where most things could be fixed with a full belly and a warm hug.

The wind gusted through the room and she snuggled into Julian's sweater, the wonderful scent enveloping her, making her insides clench sharply. She just couldn't get away from the notion that all men should smell like Julian Donovan.

Taking a shirt from the box she was going through, she grabbed a hanger from another box and walked over to the closet, deciding that it would be acceptable and appropriate to give a few minutes thought to how she felt about the man. He seemed determined to...be near her. Even after everything he'd heard---things that would have made her turn and give him the peace sign if the roles were reversed---he was still there, accepting it and even trying to help her make some sense out of it.

She had no idea how she was supposed to feel about that. She actually felt more for Matt Tanner than she did for Julian Donovan. She might consider Matt a friend at this point. Julian, however, she had no label she could give him. And in her opinion, he rather wanted to be labeled. Again, she wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel about that. Or even if she wanted to feel anything about it at all.

Clydie turned away from the closet...and a hard jolt of fear shook through her, pushing a gasp out of her throat and forcing her body backward several steps, causing her to hit the wall by the closet. They were there, right in her face...all three of the faded people with the voided eyes...all three of them opening and closing their mouths in silent screams...all three of them reaching for her, their hands swiping at her.

She'd done this before and like those other times, she felt herself beginning to go numb, to freeze solid from the terror of coming face to face with her dead sister. 

 It was horrid...seeing something she knew was not supposed to be. And now...knowing that it was actually...her sister...  Knowing that the fading thing with black, empty eyes and the wild, manic expression...really was Sam...that Sam was desperate or suffering or scared...made it even worse...

And Sam did seem so desperate. And so did the other two girls...

Another sharp jolt went through her. She was actually looking at the three pale images who were right in her face, looking at them as if they were something real instead of something that she'd simply dreamed up to torture herself.  She was looking...at her sister.  Sam...  And she wasn't afraid of Sam.

She had no reason to be afraid of her own sister.  Sam...had loved her.

 Though, by the way Sam and the two girls were reaching for her, their hands clawing and grasping—she could feel that icy cold film seeping into her skin—it would seem they were trying to get hold of her, intent on hurting her or dragging her off with them. But, Sam wouldn't do that to her.  

She had to believe that Sam...the way she'd been before that horrid day...was still there somewhere, behind those gaping black voids.  And Sam would not want to hurt her.

So, even though her body was trying to revolt, trying to force her to close her eyes and shut out what she was seeing, her mind suddenly decided to dig in and face the situation...face those pale remnants...who were silently screaming out to her because...they were afraid?

With her body pressing itself against the wall and her heart pounding so that her entire body was numb, she fought to gain some sort of movement, fought to do something other than cower there, staring at the colorless faces that were pushing in on her...

"Sam! Wh-what do you want!" she forced the words out of her throat, her voice sounding high pitched and nearly hysterical as it filled the room.

The sound of her voice jolted her, but it also seemed to jolt the three people who were grasping at her. Those faded images suddenly went still, their swiping hands pausing, two of those pale faces going slack with...disbelief? 

Sam, too, went still...so still, it seemed she was frozen in time...

Oh god.  They could hear her.  Sam could hear her...

"Sam?" she heard herself whisper and she was suddenly overwhelmed by a horrid sense of sickness and...grief.

Oh god.  Sam...

Sam stood for a few seconds, unmoving...and then her pale face crumpled and she stepped right up to Clydie...stepped so close that if Sam had been breathing, she would have been able to feel her sister's breath.  Almost, it was as if she was watching an old, partially colorized, silent film.  And that film was wavering, becoming grainer as Sam lifted a hand up toward her...trying to cup her cheek. 

She could remember what Sam's hands felt like. She could remember those hands helping her through everything in her life, no matter how big or small. God, how she missed just holding her sister's hand. They had been so soft and caring and now...there was nothing but that feeling of being dashed with something thick and inhumanly cold.

Oh god.  Sam...

This was Sam...these leftovers...this was what had become of her sister. This hollow, fading, despairing shell...  

And suddenly, more than anything, she wanted this version of her sister to be gone.  She wanted Sam to be put to rest, to be tucked away in a safe, warm place...so that everyone could move on.  

As that thought ran across her mind, Sam opened her mouth...and without warning the other two girls were pushing their way forward, crowding in on her...and Clydie found herself once again beset by three grasping, clawing images.  And they seemed to be feeding off each others' desperation, very quickly becoming wild and manic...and as they began to rake and grab at her, she couldn't hold onto the courage she'd had only a few moments before.

She couldn't stop the fear from overtaking her, couldn't stop her body from trying to shrink into itself or her hands from going up to cover her ears, even though the only sound in the room was the sound of the scream that was starting to pour out of her....

"Clydie! Clydie, it's okay! It's just me!" a deep voice said and hands were suddenly gripping her shoulders, bringing her eyes flying open.

Clydie's gaze focused on her father, standing over her with a look of fear etched onto his face and she was instantly swept with a sense of relief that made her entire body go slack. It was over for now! 

 Thank god, it was over for now!

"Clydie?  Is...is everything okay?" Frank asked, stepping back from her and wearing an expression that made her stomach turn over.

The look on Frank's face was one she'd never seen directed at her before.  It was hard and cold and in that instant, she knew she'd lost an ally.  Frank Weston had been her partner and her support over the past two years.  Even when he was on the road for work, he always made sure to call and encourage her, to let her know that everything was okay...that she was going to be okay.  But, after what she'd said...what she'd told he and Ella about Sam...  It was clear that he...hated her.  

Almost, by the way he was regarding her, it seemed as if he'd never seen her before, as if she was a total stranger to him.  And she couldn't even blame him.  She felt like a stranger to herself just then.

"Dad, I'm sorry," she croaked out, her lower lip beginning to tremble, but the sound of heavy footsteps hurrying toward the room cut off any further conversation.

A beat later, Julian appeared in the doorway, his gaze landing first on Frank, and then on Clydie, a modicum of darkness rolling through his eyes.  "Clydie?  What's going on?" he asked, striding across the room and coming to a stop before her, taking hold of her shoulders and pulling her away from her father...and toward him.

The next instant, and without speaking a word, Frank brushed past she and Julian and hurried out the door, leaving a palpable chill in his wake.  But, while she felt the move like a slap in the face, Julian barley seemed to notice the icy exit.

"You screamed, Clydie. What happened?" he questioned, leaning down to look directly into her eyes. "Did you see...something?"

"It was them," she whispered, swiping at a few tears with a hand that shook. "I-I...I tried to talk to Sam. I think she heard me, but..."

"But, what?" Julian asked, giving her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

"But, even if they're trying to tell me what happened, I can't hear them. And they just...keep clawing at me," she said, her voice wavering and before she could stop it, a choked sob escaped her.

Julian was then pulling her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly against him.  "Its alright, Clydie.  You don't have to do this if it makes things worse for you."

"But, I want to," she croaked out, burying her face in Julian's chest and trying not to...break. "I want it to be over. I just want it to be...over."

"I'm sorry, Clydie.  I really am," Julian soothed.  "I can't say that I understand what your going through, but I'm sorry that your burdened with this."

She nodded, breathing in his wonderful scent and trying to calm her quaking insides. All she wanted was for it all to be over. She just wanted to be normal again, to get through the day like a normal person...

"Clydie, I want you to know that you can come to me for anything, at any time, okay?" Julian stated firmly. "My door is always open, even in the dead of night."

She nodded again, suddenly wanting to put her arms around his waist, but she refrained.

"Do you have yer phone?  I want to give you my number, in case you need me, but can't get outta the house," he said, his tone worried, which made his dripping accent even thicker.

Julian let go of her, allowing her to pull her phone from her back pocket and hand it over to him. He quickly and dexterously entered the proper numbers into both phones and then handed hers back before setting his hard gaze on her...though his expression was a bit softer.

"Why don't you go and splash some water on yer face? And then we'll go down and help your mama in the parlor. I don't think you should be up here alone right now," he stated and she didn't argue.

She knew that Sam and the others wouldn't be back for a while, but all the same, she found herself not wanting to leave Julian's company. For whatever reason, she abruptly found his presence a comfort and that was such a nice feeling that she didn't want to let go of it.  Not until she had to, anyway.

 Peace and comfort were hard things for her to come by lately, so casting that aside when it was right there for the taking would be foolish.