The Ghost of Whitney Miller

Prologue:

"She's there." Magnus Brown pranced into the police station with a box of crispy creams and a tray of coffees. "I saw her, I saw her" he sang, "You owe me $20 Marty!"

"You got the pictures?" Marty asked, pulling a thin leather wallet from the back pocket of his pants, his every move oozed of disappointment. That was $20 he was never getting back.

"Yup -" Magnus said, tossing his digital camera onto Marty's desk, for a piece of crap he was surprised it didn't shatter into a million pieces right then and there. Marty retrieved a small 4GB chip from the side of the camera and shoved it violently into his computer, muttering obscenities beneath his breath. Marty waited while his snail-pace computer hummed annoyingly through a downloading process far too advanced for the turd-machine sitting atop his desk.

Magnus bit into his donut, his smile revealing crumbs of pastry within his mouth. His smile slowly faded for impatience as Marty flipped through the photographs with a frown of confusion. "There's nothing here Magnus, you got NOTHIN'!" he declared with relief, kissing his wallet and tucking his $20 safely back inside.

"You're shittin' me." Magnus moved around the desk. Marty's computer revealed shots of a road side, with trees, and an old wood gate, but nothing else.

"She was there when I took the pictures!" Magnus stood over Marty, carelessly dropping crumbs from his mouth onto Marty's head. Marty didn't notice.

"You're nuttier than Jiffy" Marty said, and pulled the chip from the computer, throwing it over to Magnus' desk."

Magnus stood dumbfounded. He tossed his donut into the trash and took the rest of the day off.

From behind his computer screen, it took all Officer Clay Miller had to suppress his anger. He wanted to kill Magnus, slowly. The very idea that his dead sister Whitney was still alive back there somewhere, with him, made Clay sick, and that Magnus and Marty constantly joked about it, made strangling both of them with his bare hands seem little more to him than throwing away old and used mouse traps.

Chapter 1:

"Tommy Miller get your butt back here and finish your dinner!" Cheryl angrily loomed over a half eaten plate of pork chops and vegetables. "When your father gets home you're gonna get it!"

Tommy rattled himself back to the dinner table, throwing himself upon his chair and whining viciously "But Mom, why? Why should I eat this? Its gross, Its disgusting, you can see the green clouds of smoke coming off it like on Bugs Bunny!"

"Just finish your dinner or you're not going camping this weekend!"

Tommy's eyes maintained a wide stare, and he quickly cleared his plate. Cheryl smiled to herself, and wondered if all ten year olds were so gullible, or just this one. She headed up to the restroom, combed her chestnut hair, re-did her make-up, and came running down the stairs just in time for Clay to walk through the door.

"How was your day honey?" She asked, planting a kiss on his cheek, and hastily grabbing the mail out of his hand. She flipped through the stacks of bills, Clay's science magazines and junk, disappointed that her monthly Home-Chic magazine wasn't here.

"Stressful" Clay answered.

"Why? What happened?" Cheryl took her son's plate from the table and proceeded to the kitchen,

"Agnus came into the office after lunch hour today shouting that he'd seen her."

Cheryl shook her head. "Oh dear." she sighed. She knew his sister had died a brutal death a little over a decade ago, and couldn't understand why his colleagues would play such horrid games. "Oh Honey I'm so sorry." She walked up to him and embraced him warmly. "Try not to let them bother you, its Thursday, you get tomorrow off and you're going to give Tommy the adventure of his life!"

Clay held to his wife tightly. He had bad feelings already about going into those woods. All week long the anxiety welt up within his chest, and every night leading up to this trip his sleep became shorter and shorter. At first when Cheryl suggested they go camping out there he left the room, wouldn't talk about it, but when Cheryl became suspicious about why he feared the campsite so, Clay decided to give in. He would never tell Cheryl what really happened back there, the last thing he needed was another person, let alone his own wife, thinking he was crazy. The more he thought about it, the more obsessed he became. Those thirteen years Clay had devoted his life to enforcing the law, and readying himself for the one day he would finally catch and murder the man who murdered his sister. Besides, Tommy deserved a normal American childhood. He would not inflict the horrors of his past upon his son... if he could help it.

"You're right" he said.

"Now come eat dinner, and when the cake is ready I'll even let you put the icing on."

"Great" he said, with a half smirk.