How’s Your Car?

My forehead hit the steering wheel harder than I meant it to.

“I saw a ghost.”

Saying it out loud didn’t help. It made it worse.

The words hung there in the Jeep like I was in a PBS educational show. Like they had been waiting for me to finally say the line.

A ghost.

And not the friendly, Casper kind. Not the kind that rattles chains and floats through walls just to prove a point.

No. This one had a purpose. It had timing. It had reacted when I said Rachel’s name

I dragged my hands down my face and sat back in the seat. The parking lot stretched out in front of me, too normal for what had just happened inside the school. Kids moving between classes. Teachers pretending not to stare. A couple of cars pulling in, a couple pulling out.

Normal.

I didn’t feel normal.

I gripped the wheel and stared straight ahead.

The farm.

The thought came back like it had somewhere to be.

Not loud. Not demanding. Just… there.

Steady.

Persistent.

I needed to go out there. I didn’t know why. I didn’t have a reason I could explain to another human being without sounding like I belonged in a padded room. But the thought kept circling back, like a dog refusing to leave a spot in the yard.

Take Sasha.

That part didn’t feel like mine. I frowned.

“She’s the one who woofs at empty rooms,” I muttered. “Maybe she knows something I don’t.”

I let out a breath and tightened my grip on the wheel.

“Yeah. Okay. Sasha first.”

If you say it like a plan, then maybe it becomes one.

I put the Jeep in drive and rolled forward.

The impact was soft. A polite kind of collision. The kind that said you weren’t paying attention, not that you were in trouble.

Still.

Metal kissed metal.

I closed my eyes.

“Of course.”

I didn’t need to look up to know who I had just hit. But I did anyway.

Captain Henderson sat behind the wheel of his unmarked cruiser, already looking at me.

Waiting.

Not surprised. Not annoyed.

Waiting.

A slow smile spread across his face. Not wide. Not friendly. Just enough to let me know this had gone exactly the way he wanted it to.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered.

We put our cars in park at the same time. Of course we did.

I unbuckled and reached for the door.

He lifted a hand.

Stay.

I froze.

And for a second—just a second—I listened.

I took my hand off the handle and placed both hands back on the wheel.

Good boy.

Henderson took his time getting out of the cruiser. One foot. Then the other. Straightening up like he had all the time in the world.

Which, apparently, he did.

He walked around the front of his car, eyes never leaving me. Not even when he glanced down at the point of impact.

Performance.

All of it.

He stopped just short of my door and tapped on the window.

I rolled it down.

“How’s your car, Captain?”

His smile twitched. Just a flicker. Then it settled back into place. We both knew what we were doing.

“Seems we’ve had ourselves a little mishap,” he said. “You in a hurry, Mr. Lewis?”

“I’m sorry, did you say mistap?”

“Clever.” Henderson smiled with everything but his eyes. “You always were good with words. Weren’t you, Mr. Lewis?”

Before I could pat myself on the back, one of his hands shot out and yanked the door open. The other caught a fistful of my shirt and hauled me from the Jeep before I had time to brace.

My shoulder struck the doorframe.

Metal. Bone. Pain.

“Hey—!”

He didn’t care.

He slammed me against the hood of his cruiser, hard enough to knock the air out of me.

“Where are you going?” he asked, as if he wasn’t the one causing my movement.

“I wasn’t—”

He grabbed my shirt and shoved me back into place when I tried to move.

“Shouldn’t we look at the damage first?” I said, breathless. “Make sure we don’t need a tow truck or our Miranda rights?”

I don’t know why I said it. I couldn’t stop myself. It’s the downside to being good with words. Sarcasm should be one of the seven deadly sins.

I could tell I’d put the idea in his head. He stared at me for a long second. I could see his thought process before he spoke.

“Good idea.”

His cuffs came out like a magic trick. Cold metal snapped around my wrists before I could react.

Behind my back, of course.

“Destruction of police property,” he said. “Hostile suspect. Attempted to flee.”

“I didn’t—”

“Did you move away from me during questioning?”

“That’s not—”

“Do you admit to damaging county property?”

“Now who’s being clever with words?”

I can’t help myself sometimes.

He wasn’t listening. He already had his notepad out. Pen clicking. Scribbling.

Writing it down like it mattered. Like this was real.

“Fine,” I snapped. “Yes. I hit your car. Congratulations. Can you take these off now?”

He looked up. Paused. Tilted his head. “You want to admit to anything else?”

There it was. Finally.

I leaned in close. Close enough to see myself in his mirrored lenses. Close enough that if either of us burped we’d bump noses.

“Write this down,” I said quietly. “I didn’t kill my wife. I didn’t take her. And she’s not missing because of me.”

His jaw tightened.

“But I’m going to find her,” I continued. “With or without you.”

Silence.

Then, softer—

“And when I do, I’m gonna figure out if you were part of it… or just in the way.”

For a second, I thought he might hit me.

Instead—

He laughed. Loud. Sudden. Too big for the moment.

Then just as quickly, it stopped.

He spun me around, unlocked the cuffs, and shoved them back into his pocket.

“You’re right,” he said lightly. “No damage.”

Like none of it had happened. Like he hadn’t just dragged me out of my car in front of half the school.

He patted my Jeep.

“I like this one,” he added. “Good color. Better than the last. Never was a fan of green”

My stomach dropped.

He leaned in slightly.

“Be careful with it.”

Then he walked back to his cruiser, got in, and drove off.

Just like that.

I stood there for a second, rubbing my wrists.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “You too.”

I don’t remember much of the drive home.

I remember the windows down.

The music up. Too loud. Loud enough to drown out thinking.

That was the point.

Because if I let myself think, I’d go right back to—

Henderson.

The ghost.

The voice.

The farm.

Especially the farm.

It sat in the back of my head like an itch I couldn’t reach.

Go there. Take Sasha.

Jessica had agreed to keep Sasha upstairs while I was at the school. All I had to do was pick her up and go.

I tightened my grip on the wheel.

“Later,” I said out loud.

The garage door rolled open as the song hit the chorus.

I pulled into the bay opposite the one where Rachel’s Honda had sat and killed the engine—

And everything went quiet.

For half a second.

Then the Jeep shook.

Not a rattle.

Not a vibration.

A shove.

The whole vehicle lurched sideways like something had slammed into it.

“What the hell—”

Another hit. Harder.

The Jeep slid across the concrete and slammed into the wall.

Tools crashed off the workbench. Metal clanged against metal.

I grabbed the wheel, bracing—

Another impact from the other side.

Back across the garage.

“Stop!”

My voice disappeared in the chaos.

The Jeep jerked again, lifting slightly this time before slamming back down. The frame groaned. The glass trembled.

There was something in the garage.

Not visible. But there.

Pressing in. Angry.

I could feel it.

Like pressure in my ears before a storm.

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the next hit—

Nothing.

Silence crashed down just as hard as the Jeep had.

I opened one eye.

Then the other.

The garage was still.

Tools settling. Metal ticking.

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Slowly, I reached for the door and pushed it open.

No resistance.

No force waiting to slam it shut.

I stepped out.

Careful.

Every movement measured.

The side of the Jeep was dented in. Mirror hanging. Glass cracked.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay…”

I took a step back.

Then—

The Jeep started to vibrate again.

Low at first.

Then building.

A deep, grinding sound rose from inside the metal. Like something twisting it from within.

“No, no—”

The frame bent.

The hood warped.

Metal screamed.

And then—

“BODHI!”

The voice hit from everywhere at once.

Inside my head. Off the walls. Through my chest.

“Rachel?” I shouted, but it came out small. Weak.

“BODHI!”

Fear. Raw. Desperate. Not anger. Fear.

“I’m here!” I yelled.

The Jeep twisted harder. Metal folding in on itself like paper.

“BODHI!”

Then—

A crash.

From above.

Sharp. Heavy. Close.

Everything stopped.

Instantly.

The pressure vanished.

The noise died.

The Jeep dropped back into place with a dull thud.

I blinked.

Looked at the car.

The dents—

Gone.

The glass—

Whole.

Like nothing had happened.

I had seen metal repair itself in this garage once before.

Rachel’s Honda.

The car I had paid to destroy.

Another sound from upstairs.

Something falling.

Then—

Sasha.

Barking.

Loud. Rapid. Losing her mind.

I turned toward the door.

Heart hammering.

“Girls?” I called out.

No answer.

Just barking.

And something moving above me.

I didn’t think.

I ran.

Out the side door. Up the steps two at a time.

Behind me, in the garage—

The Jeep’s radio crackled.

And the music came back on.

Like it had never stopped.

I froze halfway up the stairs.

A chill ran down my spine.

“Not again,” I whispered.

Then I kept going.