The Ghost Who Wasn't (Haunting Danielle Book 3)

I
sabella sat
sideways in the Tahoe’s backseat, propping her bare feet up on the middle console. She had never traveled in the back seat before this trip, which wasn’t surprising since it was her car. She had to admit it was roomier than what she expected, yet she would still prefer to be the one behind the wheel. But that was not going to happen—Hunter insisted on doing all the driving.

Judging by the road signs she’d noticed before pulling into the rest stop, they weren’t far from Palm Springs, California. Isabella had never been to Palm Springs before, and she certainly never imagined she would get there this way.

Stretching out, she leaned against the inside of the right rear car door and looked out the side window, where Hunter stood in the parking lot with Claire, arguing with Justina. They’d left the windows down so she could easily hear what they were saying. Hunter claimed it was the alternator but Justina insisted they just needed a new battery.

As she listened to them argue, she wondered what Hunter saw in Claire. The woman desperately needed a day at the salon to bring some style to her long stringy hair. Only a good cut would eliminate the split ends, which were probably the result of too much peroxide. The white-blond shade was not a good look for Claire’s olive complexion. By the amount of dark roots showing, it was obvious she hadn’t been to the hairdresser in a long time. Considering her hair’s condition, Claire probably got the color from a box purchased at the drug store and not from a salon.

And then there is the matter of Claire’s face. Isabella immediately felt guilty for such an unkind thought. Unkind but true. Claire’s hazel eyes were too small for her face and her nose too large. Hunter didn’t seem to mind, yet Isabella thought that had to do more with Claire’s figure. She was a petite thing, maybe five foot three inches, with a tight little body. While she wasn’t voluptuous, she was well toned with ample curves. Hunter seemed to like it, considering how he couldn’t keep his hands off her.

Justina was far better looking than Claire. She reminded Isabella of a poor man’s Angelina Jolie—one dressed in faded baggie denim overalls and a tie-dyed tank top. Isabella had an idea Justina might prefer girls. She wasn’t sure, and she certainly wasn’t going to ask.

Isabella had been trying to figure out their ages. At first, she guessed they were in their mid-forties—at least twenty years older than she was. But after a few days traveling with the threesome, she began wondering if they were younger, maybe in their thirties. Considering their lifestyle, she wouldn’t be surprised it they weren’t as old as she initially suspected. Drugs, booze, and cigarettes tended to age a person, and they embraced all three vices.

“Maybe we should just get another car,” Claire suggested.

“You might be right, but exactly where do you expect to get a car out here?” Hunter asked.

Isabella glanced around. Theirs was the only vehicle in the rest stop, aside from the motor home, which looked like it was getting ready to pull out. Hunter walked to the front of the Tahoe and slammed its hood shut.

Glancing to the exit again, she watched as the motor home pulled out and backed onto the highway, without asking if they needed any help. She looked to Hunter, who now paced in front of the car.

Isabella marveled at how a person’s appearance could change so drastically after you got to know him better. When she first spied Hunter at the beach, she found him handsome. He wore his hair longer than she preferred, pulled back into a haphazard man-bun. Some of her friends found the look quite sexy, something she never understood until Hunter entered her world.

Days ago, the man-bun had again fallen out of favor with Isabella, and instead of finding Hunter attractive, now he repulsed her. Part of it might be attributed to the fact he hadn’t bathed since she had first seen him—nor shaved. The armpit stains of his ragged gray T-shirt grew daily. His stench didn’t detour Claire, whose grooming habits weren’t much better than his. They deserve each other, Isabella thought.

“Maybe a car will come to us,” Claire suggested.

“Perhaps Hunter will use his magic.” Justina snickered.

“Oh shut up,” Claire snapped.

“It’s okay, babe.” Hunter wrapped his arm around Claire and gave her shoulder a reassuring pat. “Justina gets a little cynical sometimes. I think she’s just hungry.”

“I am that,” Justina agreed. “Do we have any more of those sandwiches?”

“I ate the last one,” Hunter said.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Justina grumbled.

“Don’t you have any more of those candy bars?” Claire asked. “I’m kind of hungry too.”

“You mean the ones she stole at the last place we stopped for gas?” Isabella asked.

Justina shrugged. She walked to the rear car door, behind the driver’s side of the Tahoe. Opening the door, she snatched her purse off the empty seat next to Isabella. Digging into the handbag, she grabbed a candy bar and then tossed the purse onto the floor before walking to the front of the vehicle, leaving the car door wide open.

Isabella scooted across the seat to the open door and jumped down from the car. Walking toward the front of the Tahoe, she found Hunter sitting on its front hood.

“You’re going to scratch the paint!” Isabella snapped.

Hunter seemed oblivious to Isabella’s outrage and focused his attention on Justina, who had just unwrapped her candy bar and was preparing to take a bite.

“Did you bring me one?” Hunter asked.

Justina glanced up and glared at Hunter. “Did you offer me part of the last sandwich before you ate it?”

“And since when do I need to ask you anything? Either share the candy bar, or give it all to me.”

Reluctantly, Justina snapped the candy bar in two and tossed a half to Hunter. Instead of eating the candy, he handed his share to Claire.

“Thanks, baby,” Claire cooed.

“Please get off my car! You’re going to scratch the paint,” Isabella repeated. When Hunter continued to ignore her, she angrily stomped her foot.

Hunter closed his eyes while Justina and Claire silently devoured the candy. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes and asked, “Now did you hear that? Seems Isabella does not like me sitting on her precious car.”

“I don’t think there’s much Isabella can do about it now,” Justina said as she popped the last bite of candy into her mouth.

“I don’t want to upset her,” Hunter sniggered. He slid off the hood and walked to Claire, who now sat on the curb by the front of the car. He sat down next to her.

“I want to sleep in a real bed tonight.” Claire leaned her head on Hunter’s shoulder. “And I want to take a shower.”

“It’s about time,” Isabella mumbled under her breath.

Hunter wrapped his arm around Claire and pulled her close. “If we play our cards right, we’ll be able to do that. I promise.”

“I wish you would have listened to me yesterday when I said we needed to dump this car.”

“Don’t start nagging me.” Hunter pulled Claire closer.

“But it was a Mustang and that stupid woman left it unlocked with the key hanging in the ignition,” Claire whined.

“Yeah, and the minute we take off she’d call the cops and we’d get pulled over. No thanks. We’re going to do it smart, like this one.”

“Exactly what is that supposed to mean?” Isabella demanded. “We don’t need another car. I certainly don’t intend to abandon my Tahoe! I bet it’ll start if you just try. Put some water in the battery; that’s all it needs.”

Hunter started to say something but looked up instead. Claire and Justina must have heard whatever he had because they looked in the same direction. Isabella turned around to see what caught their attention.

A red Mustang had just driven into the rest stop. Silently, the four watched as it pulled into a parking space some twenty feet from the Tahoe.

“It’s a Mustang,” Hunter said in a low voice. “I believe it’s a sign.”

“Looks like she’s alone,” Justina noted.

“How is this Mustang any different from the one Claire wanted to take?” Isabella asked. “I don’t think the woman will just let you drive off in her car. She’ll have the cops on us before we hit the highway.”

Isabella watched as the driver, a young woman in her late twenties or early thirties, got out of the Mustang. The woman, a purse in one hand and keys in the other, slammed the car door shut. Isabella watched as she used the keychain to remotely lock the vehicle before heading toward the restrooms.

“She didn’t leave the keys in her car,” Claire grumbled.

Isabella watched as the driver of the Mustang walked into the woman’s bathroom.

“I didn’t expect she would.” Hunter stood up and offered a hand to Claire.

“So what do we do?” Claire looked up to Hunter and took his hand. He gave her a little tug, and she stood up. Standing beside him, she dusted off the back of her faded jeans.

“We’re going to take the keys away from her,” Hunter said.

“And her cellphone,” Claire said. “I bet she has a cellphone in that purse.”

“With or without a cellphone, we can’t just leave her here,” Justina insisted. “As far as we know the next car that pulls into this rest stop could be the highway patrol.”

“We can’t take her with us!” Claire said.

Hunter began to laugh. “I don’t think that’s what she’s suggesting.” He looked over to Justina and asked, “Something a little more permanent?”

“Yep,” Justina said with a nod, her eyes focused on the restroom building. “Lots of empty desert around here. Shouldn’t be too hard to get rid of her. But we’ll have to move quick.”

Isabella felt a sickening twisting in the pit of her belly. “No, please don’t do this!” Isabella begged.

“Justina’s right, if we’re going to do this we better hurry, before another car pulls in here,” Claire agreed.

“While I take care of her, you guys start wiping down the inside of the Tahoe,” Hunter instructed.

“Why do we have to do that?” Isabella asked.

“It may not take long for them to find the car, and we don’t want to be tied to it,” Hunter said.

“They’d expect to find my prints. After all, it is my car!” Isabella snapped.

“And grab the license plate. We’ll need to put it on the Mustang,” Hunter said.

“Should we put the Tahoe’s real license plate back on? It’s still in the back,” Claire asked.

“I don’t care what you do with it. Just make sure it doesn’t have our fingerprints on it,” Hunter said.

Justina glanced up to the restroom building. “You sure you can handle this by yourself, Hunter? I think you’ll need another hand. I’ll go with you.”

“You’re probably right,” Hunter agreed.

“Oh come on guys, you aren’t really going to do this, are you?” When they didn’t answer her question, Isabella took off running, racing toward the women’s bathroom in her bare feet. Barging into the building, she found the woman inside one of the stalls. Frantic, Isabella began pounding on the stall door.

“If you have a cellphone with you, call 911 now! You are in danger!” Isabella shouted.