Scene Of The Crime: The Deputy's Proof. Carla Cassidy

      “Then we’re still on for tomorrow night?” he asked.

      “Definitely. We’ll meet at the bush in the backyard at around eleven thirty or so tomorrow night.”

      “Then I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

      She breathed a sigh of relief as she closed and locked the door behind him. She sank into a nearby chair, the scent of him still filling her head.

      There had been a time when she’d been certain he was going to ask her out, and there had been a time when she’d desperately hoped he would. He’d been the one man in town who had managed to quicken her heartbeat at the mere sight of him.

      They had flirted outrageously with each other whenever they were together in a group. Shelly had teased her unmercifully about her crush on Josh.

      But that had been before life had kicked her so hard she didn’t want to play anymore. She’d picked up her marbles and crawled into a cave where she felt safe and secure, a place where no more hurt could touch her again.

      She got up from the chair and went back into the kitchen to clear the dishes from the table and clean up the rest of her cooking mess, dismissing any more thoughts of Josh.

      She slept late the next morning, as was her custom with her night job, and spent most of the afternoon and evening restlessly pacing the floor, cleaning things that were already clean, both anticipating and dreading the night to come.

      By eleven o’clock she was in the bathroom, using powder to whiten her face and already clad in her “ghost” costume for the last time.

      Tonight she would hear Shelly’s name shouted, and after tonight she didn’t know if she would ever hear anyone speak of her sister again. It was as if Shelly was dying a second time, and this time it would be final.

      By eleven thirty, she was at the bush, waiting for Josh to arrive. She couldn’t ignore the aching sadness in her heart and yet also knew that these Shelly walks were a part of her that wasn’t quite rational.

      She waited impatiently, expecting Josh to show up any moment. But minutes passed, and when she’d waited fifteen minutes, she had to move. She’d warned him that if he wasn’t here on time, she’d go it alone, as she had so many times in the past year.

      With a final glance around the backyard and no sign of Josh in sight, she slipped down the rabbit hole and turned on her penlight.

      Everyone knew that Shelly’s “ghost” usually showed up on Friday nights around midnight. She couldn’t let down her “fans” by being late. She’d even heard from Chad one time that young teenagers planned slumber parties and included coming to watch for Shelly’s ghost as part of the night’s activities.

      She moved through the tunnel more quickly than usual, all the while listening for the sound of Josh coming down to join her.

      Tomorrow this place would probably be crawling with people. Experts of one sort or another would explore all the passageways, try to date the network, and eventually there might even be tours set up by the town, eager to make money off the unexpected find.

      She reached the planks that would take her up, surprised that she’d heard nothing to indicate that Josh was somewhere behind her. He’d obviously been held up by something.

      She went up the steps and crouched by the trunk of the tree. For a moment the only things she heard were the croak of frogs and the splash of water from the nearby lagoon.

      Wouldn’t it be ironic if there was nobody hiding behind the bushes tonight, nobody to witness this final tribute to her dead sister? Then she heard them...the giggling and whispering of her audience. Thank goodness she wouldn’t make this last walk without anyone to watch.

      When she thought it was just around midnight, she turned on the flashlight that gave her the otherworldly glow. She made her walk as cries of her sister’s name filled the air.

      Shelly. Savannah missed her so badly. Without these walks, Shelly would eventually become completely irrelevant and forgotten. The fact ached in Savannah’s heart.

      When she reached the other side, she turned off the light and hurried to the opening of the cave. She disappeared inside and leaned weakly against the earthen wall of the tunnel.

      It was done. It was over. Now the memory of Shelly would remain only in her mind. Perhaps for several weeks, maybe even a month or so, teenagers would gather behind the bushes to see her “ghost,” but when no more appearances occurred, eventually they’d find something else to do on their Friday nights.

      Turning on her penlight, she then began the trek back to where she’d begun. Weary sadness moved her feet slowly. Her parents rarely spoke to her. She had no relationship with Mac. Now her last link to Shelly had been broken.

      She’d been alone for the past two years, but now she felt an emptiness, a depth of loneliness she’d never felt before. You’ll be fine, a little voice whispered in her head. And she would be okay. She still had her work at the inn and her nights of cooking, and that was all she really needed.

      She had three more dark offshoot passageways to go by, and then she’d be home. As she started past the first one, a hand reached out and grabbed her by the arm.

      She shrieked in shock and yanked backward. She crashed to the ground, the penlight falling just out of her reach. Panic and terror shot through her as somebody or something grabbed her by the foot and began to drag her into the dark tunnel.

      She kicked and clawed the ground in an effort to get away, but whoever had her was strong, and she felt herself being slowly pulled into the blackness of the unknown corridor.