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Her dream car comes with a hidden nightmare... |
| "Oh, Dan—you shouldn't have!" Reema Sullivan clasped her hands, staring at the shining red Corvette in the driveway. Concerns about how it got there overwhelmed her joy at how beautiful it was. "Honey, it's your thirtieth birthday. I wanted to buy you the car of your dreams." Dan rested a hand on her shoulder. "It's wonderful! But… how much did it cost? Are you making payments? We agreed not to make any big financial decisions without involving each other." He chuckled. "I sniffed out the perfect deal. It's a one owner car—he's moving, had to sell fast. You won't believe how cheap. All cash." He named a price so low, Reema's mouth fell open. She raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? You're sure it's legit?" "Yep, I had our mechanic check it out completely. No issues at all." She tipped her head sideways thoughtfully. "For that price, we could flip it." He slumped with an exaggerated face of disappointment. "But I thought you wanted one! You have a Corvette calendar over your desk. You always remember the one your brother let you drive. And what about your collection of model Corvettes?" She giggled. Dan was right: a red Corvette was her dream car. She pictured the two of them cruising along the coastline at sunset, singing with the radio together like the movies. And yet… "I tried not to be airheaded." She shuffled her feet. "It's a silly dream, like a kid with a toy. My real dream was to marry you, for us to be detectives." "Yes." Dan hugged her shoulders. "I know. Look how much we've accomplished over the years. After you worked so hard on our last case, I knew I had to do something special for your birthday. We've saved enough to celebrate a milestone." Reema smiled and relaxed into his embrace. "Thank you, sweetie. I couldn't think of a better birthday gift." "Wanna drive it?" He dangled the keys. Her eyes widened gleefully. "You know I do!" They climbed in, and she took off down a quiet country road. It ran parallel to the mountains, headed towards a state park where they often hiked. The Corvette spun around curves with the steady grace of a powerful vehicle, eating up the roadway easily. Reema maintained the speed limit, resisting the urge to accelerate wildly. "This is amazing! It handles beautifully. Where should we go?" "Anywhere. I'm up for the journey." Dan leaned back in the passenger seat. "It's your day to have fun." She glanced at the console to check the time. The word HELP flashed across the LCD screen where radio settings should've been. "What's that?" Dan sat up, staring. "No idea. I oughta read the owners manual." Another word added itself, blinking rapidly: HELP ME. "Uh, Dan? That's kinda weird." "Yeah. It is." He reached out and pushed the radio button. A blast of static erupted. He scanned the stations. Nothing came in. The static quivered and buzzed like painfully distorted voices. "Turn it off—you're making me nervous!" The steering wheel vibrated under Reema's hands. It twisted to the right as if someone was pulling on it. She struggled to keep the car in the lane. "Something's wrong! I can't drive it!" As she hit the brakes, the engine shut off. She used the remaining inertia to glide the sports car to a parking spot at a tiny gas station. "What happened?!" "Maybe the battery died." Dan got out and went to the front of the car as Reema bent down, searching for the hood latch release in the unfamiliar vehicle. She helped him lift the hood. They studied the engine. "I don't understand." He shook his head. "It was fine at the inspection." Reema went back to the driver's side to try starting it. She opened the door and let out a horrified shriek. "Dan! Look!" He rushed over. A dark red-brown stain lay splotched across the beige front seat like spilled wine. "Is it on me?" She turned for him to check the seat of her pants. "No, nothing." They stared at each other, wide-eyed. Reema bent to peek inside. Another word now blinked on the console: JUSTICE. She backed away, pulling Dan with her. "I—I don't think this is a mechanical issue." "Aw, that's silly. Of course it is. Maybe there's a power steering leak, messing with the electronics." "Leaking on the driver's seat?" She wrinkled her nose. "Whatever's wrong, I'm not driving it again!" *** They ended up having it towed back to their house, where it sat in the driveway. "I'm sorry, honey… this was an awful birthday gift." Dan slouched at his computer desk. "Actually, I'm fascinated." Reema sat down beside him with a bundle of paperwork. "Here's the title, registration and insurance. Let's research who owned the car. I'm thinking it's haunted." Dan burst out laughing. "Haunted? Jeepers, just because it—" "The words help me and justice are not exactly mechanical terms," she pointed out wryly. "Our new Corvette is literally crying for help. We're detectives." "Why don't we try talking to it, then? Maybe it can communicate through the sound system." Dan's voice was half teasing, half serious. "Maybe we should hire a medium. Isn't this out of our league?" "We'll fact-check first." Reema punched the VIN number into her laptop. "It was registered to Dr. Edward Sebring, sole owner before he transferred title to you." "I knew that. Remember when he was in the news?" Reema googled the name, bringing forth a flurry of articles from a few months back. "Doctor's wife killed by autistic son," she read aloud. "Yeah, I remember. A tragic situation. You bought the Corvette from him?" Dan shrugged. "Guess that's why he's moving away." They read the article together. The husband had found his fourteen-year-old nonverbal stepson, Aaron, in the kitchen, holding a knife. The boy's mother lay on the floor, stabbed to death. Dr. Sebring's testimony was the sole evidence sending the boy to a detention facility for life. Sebring spoke to a reporter on a news video. He was standing in front of a red Corvette: the same one now belonging to Dan and Reema. "I can't believe this happened. My heart is shattered. We had just celebrated her birthday—in fact, this car was my gift for her. She always wanted a red Corvette." "Did you ever think her son was capable of doing that to her?" The reporter held the mic in his face. He lowered his head with a deep sigh. "I knew Aaron was susceptible to fits of rage, but of course no one thinks a young person could murder their own mother. What can I say? Autism is a tragedy—we can only pray for a cure." Dan shut off the video, turning to Reema. "That's too glib, too easy. The autistic kids I know wouldn't hurt a flea. You think the husband did it and pinned it on her son?" "And now she's haunting the Corvette?" Reema shuddered. "How can we reopen the case?" "We gotta hurry—he's selling the house." "That poor Aaron! He must be vindicated." *** "You sure this is a good idea?" Dan adjusted the phone speaker and prepared to record. Reema twisted a napkin in her hands. "If Sebring is innocent, he'll know it's a trick. If he's not, he'll take the bait." "But what if he knows the Corvette didn't have anything in it when he sold it to me?" "If it was hidden, he didn't find it." "Ok… here goes." He took a deep breath and dialed the doctor's number. "Dr. Sebring. Who is this?" "Hey. It's Dan Sullivan, the guy who bought your Corvette. I found something inside that's extremely valuable to you." "Like what?" "A journal. I believe it's your wife's journal." A quick response, "Bring it back immediately, please." "Ah… it's complicated, Doctor." He fidgeted with a pen, eying Reema. "Yes?" "It contains, shall we say, incriminating statements about you." Silence for several seconds. "What do you mean?" Sharply. Dan doodled a skull on his notepad. "Listen, we both know what you did. If I turn this journal in to the police, they would have cause to re-examine the murder of your wife." Heavy breathing whistled through the speaker. "You liar." Sebring's voice was cold and harsh. "How dare you try to blackmail a widower—after I sold you that car for a song? There was nothing inside. I didn't kill her. The boy did. Go play tricks on someone else." "Very well then. I will release the evidence. Don't say I didn't warn you." Sebring hung up with an amplified click like a gunshot. Dan turned off the recording, shaking his head. "Did we accomplish anything? This is all based on wild assumptions and a malfunctioning Corvette." Reema gulped and shifted in her seat, goosebumps rising on her arms as a chill draft descended. "I think we should sit up tonight." *** At 1:15 AM, a car alarm went off in their driveway. Reema leaped to her feet and pulled back the living room curtain. "Look! It's the Corvette!" The sports car's headlights were flashing in time with its alarm, illuminating a figure caught frozen in front of it. "Dr. Sebring!" Dan rushed outside, gun drawn. Sebring raised his arms when he saw him. "What are you doing here?" Dan growled. "I'm here to discuss payment for the journal you found, as we agreed on." "You can't lie about us the way you did about Aaron." Reema stepped forward, holding her phone. "We can tell our side of the story. We're not victims of your bullying." "Why don't you tell the truth for once?" Dan said. "The truth we already know." Sebring's face twisted in an angry grimace. "You really thought I was going to pay you to keep quiet for the rest of my life? Far easier to kill you off, or take her little tell-all journal back by force." Dan edged closer, waving for Reema to stay back. "Why did you kill her?" "Because I hated that retarded bastard son of hers! I told her to get rid of him and she refused. I wasn't going to live with someone like that in my house. She loved him more than me." "Indeed?" Dan cleared his throat as sirens approached. "Well, your game is over now." *** In the morning, headlines blasted: Doctor Arrested For Trespassing, Suspected Murder of Wife. "The bluff you set up has blown the case wide open," Dan reported from the kitchen table. "Sebring is refusing to admit he confessed, but your video of what he said in our yard is pretty indisputable. They're going to re-examine the autopsy results and see if the kid could have really done that." "He's slightly built." Reema poured a coffee. "It wouldn't match what a grown man could do… particularly a doctor who knows where to place the knife." "Aaron's conviction will likely be overturned. And unless they can prove someone else entered the house, that leaves Sebring as the only suspect." Silence for a few minutes. Then, "Dan, do you think the Corvette is safe to drive again?" "We'll see." They went out to the driveway, stopping to admire the gleaming red sports car. There was no dark stain on the driver's seat. When Reema pushed the Start button, a message flashed on the screen: THANK YOU. A puff of white smoke flew out from under the hood, fading into the clear blue sky. Shivers rippled down her back. "Dan, by fulfilling my own silly dream, you've averted a nightmare." "Hey, it was all your brains," he chuckled. "I thought the power steering pump was broken!" She smiled as she spun the red Corvette smoothly around the road's first bend. Notes ▼ lyrics to The Ghost Intervention ▼ video ▼ |
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