The Unearthed
Author: Evan Ronan
Date: 2014-09-18 07:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Thriller; Ghosts; Paranormal; Ghost Stories; Paranormal Mystery; Horror; Fantasy
Description: Three years ago, a father, mother, and son murdered each other at home—a bloody tragedy that would later be known as the Moriarty Massacre. Only the youngest son, Eamon, survived that horrific night. Now the Rossellis, the family currently living in the home, are experiencing strange phenomena. The phone rings randomly, a bloodlike stain continually reappears in the dining room, and their son, Billy, is talking to someone. Someone nobody can see and only Billy can hear. The Rossellis hire Tim and Eddie McCloskey, local ghost hunters, to investigate. As the case quickly develops, their investig

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Thriller writer Evan Ronan, author of The Unearthed, brings you the second edge-of-your-seat adventure in his paranormal series.

Fourteen years ago...Tessa and her friends played a dangerous game on an icy lake. When the ice broke, no one could save Tessa from drowning. Her death cast a pall over the lives of everyone there.

Five years ago...Eddie McCloskey’s brother was murdered on their last paranormal investigation. Now Eddie, who swore off ghost hunting, faces the biggest case of his life.

Now...Marty Kindler, heir to the local gentry, claims the whole town is haunted. Either this is the find of the century, or it’s all a hoax. Only Eddie can find the truth.

But Eddie better hurry, because someone is trying to kill the people who were on that ice with Tessa all those years ago.

The Lost is approximately 80,000 words and is specifically formatted for Kindle, with an active table of contents.

THE LOST
by evan ronan

TABLE OF CONTENTS

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Four

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Six

Thirty-Seven

Thirty-Eight

Thirty-Nine

Forty

Forty-One

Forty-Two

Forty-Three

Forty-Four

Forty-Five

Forty-Six

Forty-Seven

Forty-Eight

Forty-Nine

Fifty

Fifty-One

Fifty-Two

Fifty-Three

Fifty-Four

Fifty-Five

Fifty-Six

Fifty-Seven

Fifty-Eight

Fifty-Nine

Sixty

Sixty-One

Sixty-Two

Sixty-Three

Sixty-Four

Sixty-Five

Sixty-Six

Sixty-Seven

Sixty-Eight

Sixty-Nine

Seventy

Seventy-One

Seventy-Two

Seventy-Three

Seventy-Four

Seventy-Five

Seventy-Six

Seventy-Seven

Seventy-Eight

Seventy-Nine

Eighty

Eighty-One

Eighty-Two

Eighty-Three

Eighty-Four

Eighty-Five

Eighty-Six

Eighty-Seven

Eighty-Eight

Eighty-Nine

Ninety

Ninety-One

Ninety-Two

Ninety-Three

“Three may keep a secret if two of them are dead.”

-Benjamin Franklin

One

Eddie killed his beer and wondered, not for the first time, whether he was an alcoholic. He decided to think about it.

Over another beer.

He’d managed to lay off the drugs since he got out of the joint. The years between his brother’s death and Eddie’s incarceration had been a confused blur of booze, broads, and bongs.

But the last year had been good. He’d bounced around but now he’d found a quiet little place, a decent job, and was scraping money together. In a few months, he’d have a safety net again and could go back to school.

He put the empty on the bar and signaled for another.

George, the bartender, darted his eyes toward the entrance and pretended not to understand Eddie was asking for another. George had a wicked comb-over that defied gravity.

“All set?” George asked.

George had been anxious for Eddie to leave after the previous night’s tiff with Marty Kindler. Eddie didn’t care much for Kindler, but townies treated his family like royalty. The Kindlers had founded the town way back and more recently the Mill, which at one point had been the town’s largest employer. The Mill had fallen on hard times of late and had laid off three-quarters of its employees over the last couple of years.

Normally that level of job loss would piss people off, but Kindler had the ready-made excuse of the worst downturn in the economy since the Great Depression.

So the townies still treated Kindler with deference even though Eddie had it on good authority that the man’s incompetence was to blame for the Mill’s troubles.

Eddie almost pushed the issue and asked for another brew but thought better of it. “Take it easy, George. I’m rolling.”

George did his best not to look relieved. “Nothing against you, Eddie. This is a small town and I can’t afford to piss off the wrong people.”

Small was an understatement. The city limits were about a nine-iron apart.

Eddie stood up. The townies should have run Kindler out on a rail. Instead they walked on eggshells around him.

“You shouldn’t worry about a jerkoff like Kindler. Guy like that feeds off it.”

“Easy for you to say.” George folded his arms. “Case you didn’t notice, business ain’t exactly booming. And you’ve got nothing to lose.”

Last night, Kindler had come into the bar with five athletic-looking strangers all wearing expensive suits. After a blitzkrieg of Tequila shooters, Kindler set his sights on Lenny Brisbane, a harmless local drunk who had had his fill of cheap whiskey and was half-laying on the bar blubbering about the inanity of the two-party political system and how the Irish lived in France before the French till Caesar subjugated Gaul.

Kindler decided it would be amusing if he shoved some ice cubes down the back of Lenny the Drunk’s shirt.

The cold was enough to reach Lenny through his drunken stupor. Lenny’s body jerked upright like he’d been shot with adrenalin. He fell off his stool and landed in a heap on the floor.

Eddie owed Lenny nothing. Lenny the Drunk could in fact be annoying at times, spouting off all this useless knowledge of questionable veracity that he’d never used to any benefit.

All the same, Eddie didn’t care to see the guy get run over by an entitled asshole like Kindler.

“Why don’t you leave the guy alone?” Eddie said.

“Why don’t you mind your own business, Drifter?” Kindler called him that because he’d been in town for three weeks and, truth be told, looked the part.

“Speaking of business, I heard yours was flushed down the shitter by some idiot who didn’t know his ass from page eight.”

Still on the floor, Lenny the Drunk went apoplectic with laughter.

But the rest of the bar went quieter than a high-school kegger just broken up by the cops. For a standing eight-count, the only sound in the bar came from the TV tuned to the Sixers game.

Then Kindler pushed away from the bar.

Eddie slipped off the seat and faced Kindler. He balled his fists and fought the butterflies and girded himself for the main event of the evening.

One of the suits cuffed Kindler’s arm.

“We can’t be involved in …” The guy lowered his voice and spun Kindler around and tried to herd him toward the front door. Eddie didn’t hear the guy’s next words, but Kindler was distracted enough to give George time to act. The bartender hurdled the bar and forced Eddie out the back door before the shit hit the blender.

Now as he headed for the door, Eddie realized he still hadn’t thanked George for last night. He should have. The bartender had most likely saved Eddie from a serious ass-whooping. Eddie was okay with his hands but he wasn’t Bruce Lee good. Against Kindler and his crew, he would have come out looking worse than last week’s garbage.

Eddie felt the bartender’s eyes on him. He stopped next to the old Donkey Kong cabinet and looked back at George.

“Don’t worry, George, if it happens again, I’ll take it outside. And thanks.” Behind him, the front door creaked open and the cold December wind raced inside.

George shot him a skeptical look. “You’re wel—”

“What’re you going to take outside, Eddie?”

Eddie’s stomach dropped. He turned.

Marty Kindler filled the doorway.

Kindler wasn’t tall, but he was thick. Not fat. He didn’t look like Mr. Universe but the strongest guys don’t. The strongest guys look like refrigerators with fire hydrants for appendages. Kindler was the kind of guy you had to hurt to defeat.

Eddie waited a second for his stomach to climb back into its correct position. “Well if it isn’t the great white dope. Beat up any drunks lately?”

Eddie had learned in the joint that you never back up. You always move forward or you’ll be shorn.

Kindler stepped inside. This was it.

“You threatening Mr. Kindler, Eddie?” said another voice.

Lieutenant Whitmore, in charge of the local donut-eaters, sauntered in.

The cold wind slammed the door behind him.

Two

Shit.

Eddie shifted gears. Kindler had brought the law with him. And that wasn’t good for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was Eddie being a convicted felon.

Eddie was a drifter and nobody liked drifters. Not even drifters. The townies looked at him like he was sporting fangs and casting no reflections even though he’d been gainfully employed for the last three weeks. But what was three weeks compared to the families who’d lived here more than a hundred years? To them he was just a guy from someplace else who would be better off elsewhere. Eddie liked being alone, in fact he loved and craved solitude.

But why had Kindler brought the law? Eddie couldn’t be locked up without cause. Or could he?

Of course he could.

This was after all a small town and he’d seriously pissed off one of the landed gentry. But why had Whitmore brought no backup? The law could make life miserable for him if they chose.

Whitmore didn’t look like he was ready to brace Eddie. The cop’s hand wasn’t riding his holster. His neutral stance and general attitude were not aggressive, just coldly authoritarian. For all Whitmore knew, Eddie could be armed and dangerous, an unknown element. But the cop made no moves. And if he’d come here to arrest Eddie, some drifter he didn’t know, he should have taken the shock and awe approach. It wouldn’t be like arresting some local-yokel he’d known for twenty-plus years, some guy he could have asked nicely and eased off the bar stool. He didn’t know Eddie from Adam. If he was here to make an arrest, he should have come with one other guy at least. And he should have had another covering the back door in case Eddie tried to pull a Usain Bolt.

Whitmore wore one of those abbreviated cowboy hats that looked good on nobody. As if realizing this, the cop removed the hat and stared impassively at Eddie.

Eddie looked at Kindler. The man wasn’t exactly dressed for a fracas. Cashmere topcoat over a blue blazer, pink button-down shirt, grey flannel slacks and penny loafers.

Despite their laid-back attitude, Eddie didn’t relax.

Maybe they were just stupid. In fact, he knew Kindler was stupid. He couldn’t put it past Whitmore. The Bubblefuck, Pennsylvania Chief of Police didn’t hire astronauts exactly.

Kindler stepped toward him and Eddie instinctively assumed his ready-stance. Left side to opponent, hands loose, weight on the back foot.

But he was totally unprepared for what happened next.

Kindler smiled. “Let me buy you a drink, Eddie.”

Three

Kindler said, “We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot and I want to make it up to you.”

This reeked of a set-up.

Kindler closed on him and snaked an arm around Eddie’s shoulder and continued talking like he’d just ingested a kilo of speed.

“Crazy cold, huh? Maybe the Mayans were right, maybe 2012 is the end, huh? You know, Nostradamus predicted it. So did Aramis. Or Dumas. Or that other frog … Hugo? I don’t know.” Kindler let go of Eddie. “End of the world, or a new age, or both. Nobody knows. Nobody knows. Buy you a drink? You thirsty?”

Whitmore watched this whole display stoically. He didn’t roll his eyes but his left eyebrow arched due north. His cold gaze never left Eddie.

Eddie was still suffering from acute awkwardness but managed to blurt, “I’ll have a drink.”

Kindler gave George the nod, and the bartender went to work.

“Let’s grab a booth. More privacy. We can talk.” Kindler looked around like the place was crowded. But other than them, only Lenny the Drunk was patronizing the bar, and he was busy checking his eyelids for holes.

Kindler led the way to the last booth and sat with his back to the wall so he could watch the bar. Eddie didn’t want his back to the door, but Kindler didn’t move over for him so he sat opposite. The booths were designed for one person a side, so when Lieutenant Whitmore nudged Eddie over he felt trapped.

Nobody said anything.

Kindler’s lips smiled but his eyes declined to join the fun so Eddie just stared at him, perplexed.

Whitmore made a big production of peeling his gloves off one finger at a time.

George brought a tray of drinks. He deposited a shot and a beer in front of Kindler, a pint of lager in front of Eddie.

George had another beer on the tray, but Whitmore held out a palm like he was directing traffic. “On duty, George. No thanks.”

George put the last beer in front of Kindler too. Before he left he managed to look disapprovingly at Eddie.

Eddie laughed. He didn’t know how else to react to the bizarre situation.

Startled, Kindler almost tromboned the shot of Canadian Club but managed to keep it down which of course only made Eddie laugh more. Even Whitmore cracked a smile in spite of his earnest Dirty Harry demeanor.

“I’ll cut to it,” Kindler said. “Something I want to ask you.”

Eddie assumed they were about to go First Blood on him so he might as well have a good time before he got his head bashed in or before he was run out of town. “I didn’t kill Kennedy.”

Whitmore frowned at Eddie’s joke. Kindler didn’t seem to get it.

“Look, Kindler, I know you’d like nothing better than for me to leave your little fiefdom, but I like it here so I’m going to stick around for awhile.”

Eddie swigged his beer and looked from Kindler to Whitmore. Nobody said anything.

Eddie put his beer down. “Last night, you and the manbots were about to do the Mexican hat dance on my face and now you’re buying me a beer?”

“Forget last night. I was just playing, wanted to see if you had any bottle. All in good fun.”

“I get it. You want me out. But I won’t go willingly.”

Kindler frowned. “Eddie, that’s the last thing I want.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say so he sipped some more beer. Whitmore made a big show of looking away as if he didn’t approve of this conversation.

Kindler’s frown flipped to a smile. “I want you to stay.”

Eddie couldn’t square the Marty Kindler sitting across from him with the guy who, less than twenty four hours ago, had been ready to use him as a punching bag.

Eddie had broken one of the unwritten rules of this town: never talk back to Marty Kindler. The Kindler family had opened the Mill sixty years ago and for fifty-nine of those years had provided good jobs to the locals. At least, that was how some of the people saw it. Others feared him for the same reason they loathed him, because he had money. Many in the town just thought of him as a dangerous but incompetent twit, somebody who couldn’t figure out where to put his dick even after watching a porno.

“You’re thinking about last night.” Kindler waved a hand in front of his face as if to suggest the details were meaningless. “Forget it. I was just seeing what kind of soul you had. Two kinds in this world.”

“Yeah. The living and the dead ones,” Eddie said.

Whitmore groaned like he had kidney stones and rolled his eyes. Kindler did a double-take as if Eddie had just laid some profound truth on him.

“Exactly right. Exactly. But we’ll get to the dead ones later. I was only talking about the living ones. You know, two kinds of living ones.”

Eddie looked to Whitmore again. So far, the cop hadn’t given him the MIranda or otherwise invoked his authority.

Whitmore patted down his unpat-downable buzz cut. “We’re just here to have a word.”

“You’re not here to arrest me?” Eddie said, heavy on the skepticism.

Whitmore stiffened. “You done something worthy of arrest?”

“Not unless you want legal trouble.”

Whitmore’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “I don’t have much of a sense of humor about arresting someone.”

“I’d say you don’t have much of a sense of humor about anything.”

It was an incredibly dumb thing to say. But Eddie said it anyway. He didn’t like being boxed in, didn’t like cops trying to push him around when he hadn’t done anything.

Kindler reached across the table and patted Whitmore’s shoulder. “Ease up, Lieutenant.” Kindler looked at Eddie. “Eddie, cops are a necessary evil. They’re just part of the simulation.”

Eddie had no idea what Kindler was on about and Whitmore might as well have been a cigar store Indian the way he was sitting there. Eddie decided to listen and suck down as many free brewskis as Kindler was willing to buy.

Kindler said, “George, my man’s dry over here!”

Four

Over the last year, Eddie had almost gotten used to the questions.

He waited for Kindler to start the interrogation, deciding he would be truthful up to a point. He was prepared for the usual bullshit:

Where do you come from?

Why are you here?

How long are you staying?

Ad nauseam.

The answers:

Eddie McCloskey.

From Jersey, South Jersey.

I don’t know how long I plan to stay.

I have a job.

Eddie had found this town on a map through a quick Google search. Small town. Hit hard by the devastating one-two combination of the economic recession and the impending closure of the Mill. Before arriving, he’d called around, gotten a few non-committal answers about employment, had landed on a conditional yes from a local grocer. The guy wasn’t old enough to be a real hippie, but he was trying hard. His name was Victor and he answered the phone by saying, “Think Global, Buy Local.” Victor had told Eddie that he could probably give him a job but he’d have to interview face-to-face first.

Victor had asked him one question. “You going to work hard for me?”

Eddie told him yes, which was true, and was grateful Victor hadn’t run a background check.

Eddie started working on his fresh beer while he eyeballed Kindler. He had a round, puffy face that looked shot up with collagen and unstylishly long hair. He had really bad breath. Really bad. He also had the unfortunate habit of leaning forward when he talked which compounded the breath thing.

Kindler leaned in close like they were a couple Greeks drinking ouzo.

Kindler said, “I really believe in a higher power. Somebody’s up there watching. Fate. Things happen for a reason. You’re here, I’m here, this bar was put here, George is the …” indler’s voice dropped off and he shook his head as if that would clear his jumbled thoughts.

“What I’m saying is, the timing is key. We’ve reached critical mass and here you are.”

Eddie said nothing.

Kindler started up again suddenly, like an old lawn mower. “The Mill is, unfortunately, going to close. Nothing we can do about it. That’s how it is. You know? And you’re here now. Just when things are heating up.”

Eddie took a long drink from the beer.

“Not to strike a discordant note, Kindler, but I’ve got no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Kindler gave Eddie the stiff one eye then shook it off. “I know who you are, Eddie McCloskey.”

This caught Eddie off-guard. He tensed and wondered if that explained Deputy Dog’s presence. He hadn’t done anything illegal.

Kindler leaned ever closer. His pupils were dilated. Guy was probably on something and the booze was amping up the effects.

Kindler killed his Canadian Club and chased it with the beer. “I know who you are and I could use your help.”

“I don’t know what you want but I promise I can’t help.”

Eddie tried to stand up. There wasn’t enough room in the booth, and the table butted against his thighs. Whitmore again didn’t move and his eyes went from neutral to hostile without stopping at interested.

“You’ll hear Mr. Kindler out,” Whitmore said. “Or there’ll be trouble. Just like us folks, I’m sure the good people of New Jersey take a dim view of parole violators.”

Kindler grabbed Eddie’s wrist. “Please. Just hear me out.”

Eddie broke Kindler’s hold of his wrist by executing an elbow flick he’d learned in tae kwon do as a kid.

“The hell are you talking about, parole violation?”

“Pot’s illegal in this state, McCloskey.”

“What’s that got to do with me?” Eddie said.

“We both know what I’m talking about.” Whitmore’s eyes narrowed to venetian blinds.

Eddie could see the meanness behind those eyes now. Whitmore was enjoying himself. He was waiting for Eddie to do something stupid. He would show the drifter who the man was. He was Hitler, without the charm.

Drifting was proving to be problematic. Third town this year, since he’d left the joint.

And he was starting to like this little town. Nice library, couple of passable bars, some willing women both single and married, though nowadays he shied away from the married ones. He’d been on the receiving end of one too many cuckolded fists. There was nothing as disconcerting as a wronged husband armed with an assault rifle.

Whitmore’s accusation surprised Eddie, but he knew the source of the problem. His co-worker, Ana, had thrown an impromptu get-together two weeks ago. He had no business hanging out with a bunch of twenty-year-olds, but he had nothing better to do and he liked Ana. Then someone broke out the ganga and passed around a community joint. It had been so long that Eddie was tempted. He looked at the joint for a moment, knowing that one drag was harmless, but all the same drugs had landed him in prison and he wasn’t going back.

He’d passed the joint along, not taking a hit.

“I haven’t smoked any pot, Lieutenant.”

“Let’s not get excited.” Kindler was trying to smooth things over. “We’re all reasonable men. Rational animals. Homo sapiens.”

Eddie ignored him. “Charge me. I know a good lawyer.”

“All the trouble you’ve been in, I’ll bet you do,” Whitmore said.

An iceberg slid down Eddie’s spine. These guys had done their homework. They knew about his past. They had him and everybody knew it. He was cornered. Fear and anger washed over him. He had to listen to this Kindler clown now and make like he was interested in what he had to say. First chance he got he’d be tail lights and find another little town, maybe head down south.

Eddie sat back down.

“There’s money in it, Eddie,” Kindler said. “A man should be paid for his work.”

With this, Whitmore rose and went to the bar, apparently disgusted that he wouldn’t be making an arrest.

Eddie knew what Kindler wanted from him. He had heard the rumors. Ana had mentioned to him that she and her friends were already investigating the strange goings-on.

“This town is haunted,” Kindler said.

Five

“Call the Ghostbusters,” Eddie said.

Kindler guffawed. Ordered two more beers, which Eddie did not object to.

“I’m serious, Eddie, something big is going down and this town is the epicenter.”

Epicenter? Eddie looked over at Whitmore. “Why are you here, Lieutenant? Don’t tell me you’re buying into this bullshit.”

Whitmore faced Eddie. “Just for the record, hot shot, I’m here to warn you.”

“About Casper the friendly ghost and his buddies?”

Whitmore smiled in spite of himself. Then he went for the kill. “We all know how your last investigation turned out. One child butchered, your brother gutted, almost two more dead.”

Eddie almost burst out of the booth and strangled Whitmore. But that was exactly what the cop wanted. He was seeing red but forced himself to stay seated.

“What’s your stake in this, Whitmore? Police Chief, the next go around?”

Once again, Eddie had gone too far. Whitmore approached him, violence in his eyes.

“I don’t care if you take or leave this job. I’m not going to force you to do anything. But your criminal history is a matter of record. You’re on parole. A drug charge right now would throw your sorry ass right back in the hoosegow where you’ll have to worry about dropping the soap. I’d also be in my rights to let your employer know about your checkered past. It’s your choice.”

The timing couldn’t have been worse. Eddie had yet to receive his first check from the store. Victor, his boss, seemed a good egg but you never knew about people. Once they knew you were an ex-con they looked at you differently, like they couldn’t trust you and more often than not they were right.

He’d split the life insurance proceeds with his dead brother’s fiancee. At the time, it had seemed liked a lot of money. He’d thought he’d invest some, maybe buy some real estate. His investing skills proved to be less than exceptional and … then there were the lawyer’s costs. He’d racked up legal fees like they were bar tabs. The best laid plans ...

“Now, now Lieutenant, let’s all calm down,” Kindler said.

Whitmore’s mouth twitched and he gave Kindler a look that could freeze the sun. “Marty, you want this vagrant to help you, that’s your deal. I don’t have to like it though.” Whitmore returned to the bar and gave them his back.

Kindler watched the cop for a moment before facing Eddie again. He lowered his voice. “Listen, Eddie, I know what happened all those years ago wasn’t your fault. If anything, I’d say you saved two lives out there on that terrible day.”

Eddie grimaced. One of those he’d saved was Sean McKenna, but McKenna didn’t see things that way. He blamed Eddie for the death of his son and wanted Eddie dead. In fact, Eddie was reasonably certain McKenna had already tried to have him killed once.

Kindler’s voice rose to full volume again. “Eddie, what’s happening here is far past exciting, it’s life-changing. You can be a big part of this, with your experience and knowledge. It’s why you came here of all the places you could have gone. You were drawn here.”

“I picked the name of this town off Wikipedia. It was the third name on the list. I like the number three.”

“Don’t you see, Eddie? Three, the number three, the trinity. All things holy. I’m telling you Eddie it’s as plain as the nose on your face.”

“What about Ana? What has she done?” Eddie asked.

Kindler leaned in conspiratorially. “Ana! Ana, Ana, Bo-bana. Good-looking little philly and I bet she’s hell in the sack.”

Kindler had a way of saying things that would creep out Jeffrey Dahmer. Not that Eddie hadn’t had some impure thoughts himself about the nubile Ana. But she was young and innocent and nice. Eddie did not want to be the one that tainted her.

“Nice girl,” Eddie said.

Kindler touched the side of his nose and pointed at Eddie like they were in on some joke together.

“She gets all her info about this sort of thing from movies and idiotic TV shows where these frauds are stumbling around in the dark with flashlights. Don’t get me wrong—she’s motivated and wants to do a good job, but she doesn’t have the tools. Hasn’t come up with anything solid.” Kindler had said this last part more to his beer than to Eddie.

“Maybe because there’s nothing solid to come up with. Ockham’s Razor.” Eddie was just talking to talk. He was really trying to figure out an exit strategy.

“Or more like the razor’s edge.” Kindler mumbled to his beer.

The guy wasn’t making sense again but Eddie let it go.

Kindler finally looked up at him. “Lots of people have seen things. Wondrous things. Things that will make your hair stand on end. This is all prologue to something huge. Mark my words. Something truly amazing is happening.”

Kindler had the eyes of a zealot but the sales skills of a used car peddler. If the phenomena were as prevalent as he was claiming, a professional team would have already ransacked the town. Each event would have been painstakingly researched, recorded, and reviewed. The three Rs.

Kindler leaned in. “I know what you’re thinking.”

Christ, I hope not, Eddie thought as he enjoyed more beer.

“I can read you like a book, Eddie. You’re wondering why no one else has come and looked into this yet, aren’t you?”

“The thought did occur to me.”

Kindler smiled. “You’ve got something to prove. You’re bruised. You need this to be true, even more than me. This is your chance, Eddie. Climb out of that hole you’ve dug for yourself.”

Maybe Kindler was smarter than Eddie gave him credit for.

“Three days work, Eddie. You’ll be handsomely compensated. Can you afford not to take this on?”

Eddie pretended to think about it. “If I do this, Kindler, I’m the Honcho. I don’t want anybody second-guessing what I do.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Six

Kindler celebrated like he’d just become a father.

Eddie slid out of the booth and headed for the door. Time to get out of Dodge.

As he approached the front door it opened and Ana breezed in. She was so tiny, two of her could have fit through the doorway. Seeing Eddie she stopped short and nervously fidgeted.

“Eddie … I’m glad I caught you … can we talk for a minute?”  She gave him a nervous smile and puppy-dog eyes.

She looked apologetic, which meant Eddie’s suspicions were correct: Ana had somehow gotten wind of Eddie’s past and tipped Kindler off.  But how? He hadn’t told anybody. There was only one way she could have known.

Before he could formulate a response, he felt Kindler’s hand on his shoulder.

“She just wants to have a word, Ed.” Kindler the diplomat.

Eddie shrugged off Kindler’s hand and headed for the door just as Lenny the Drunk came to and nearly fell out of his seat.

“Eddie, hold up.”

Lenny the Drunk wobbled over and grabbed Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’m indebted to you, sir.” Lenny let out a burp that almost caught fire. “I wanted to thank you for sticking up for an old fool last night.”

Eddie waved him off. “It was nothing.”

“It was to me, Edward. I won’t forget it.”

“Forget it, Lenny.”

Eddie exited the bar and stepped into the cold and heard Ana hot on his trail. He was half-drunk and full-angry. Never mind she’d didn’t realize how much trouble he was in.

He noticed Whitmore had exited the bar and was staring at him through the windshield of his patrol car. The last thing Eddie needed was a Dewey. His only alternative was to ask Ana to drive him home. He didn’t really want to talk to her but reason trumped anger so he turned to her.

“Ana, I’m more than a little pissed at you right now but I need a ride.”

She approached him tentatively, like she didn’t trust him and that tugged at his heart. She was so young, adorable really. She had no idea the trouble she’d caused him.

“You read the book, didn’t you?”

She nodded.

“Come on, give me a lift.”

* * * *

Her car was, like her, petite. Unlike her it was old and rust adorned it like acne. She had a death grip on the steering wheel and drove cautiously like she was trying to pass her driver’s test. All the while stealing sidelong glances at him.

She could no longer stay quiet. “I came to say I was sorry. I was so caught up in the excitement of this thing, and then I find out the person working next to me is an expert in all this paranormal stuff …”

“Why didn’t you just come to me? Why go to Kindler?”

It took her a long time to get it out. “I’m just a little yokel and you’re this mysterious guy who’s been places and done and seen things I could only dream of. I was intimidated by you. I’m sorry, Ed.”

“Call me Eddie, alright? Only my brother called me Ed.”

At the mention of his brother, her mouth sagged into a pitying frown.  She had read the book so she knew about Tim’s murder. The mere mention of his brother darkened him, made him extremely sad and murderously furious at the same time.

A couple bends in the road later, she said, “Okay, I’m not stalking you but I know where you live. It’s a small town and everybody knows everybody’s business.”

Eddie nodded as he did the math in his head.  Ten minutes to the house. Five minutes to talk to his boss, Victor. Fifteen minutes to pack. Another fifteen to get back to his car, hopefully via Ana. With luck, Whitmore wouldn’t be skulking in the shadows and he’d be tail lights, off to another wondrous adventure someplace else that didn’t involve the past or the paranormal.

Ana turned the music down. “Eddie, this is Kindler’s thing. This is his town. He’s the guy with the juice. Once I found out who you were, I had to tell him.”

“Ana, you can’t investigate while constantly looking over your shoulder for approval. Your results will be skewed.”

“I know, I just got ahead of myself…”

She slowed and pulled into the short drive of the house he was staying in. He occupied the second floor, which had a kitchen and a bathroom that wouldn’t have fit on an airplane.

Fortunately the owner of the house was an absentee landlord, so Eddie didn’t have anybody in his business.

She parked and they got out.

“Can I come in? I feel real bad about this,” Ana said.

“Yeah. You’re going to drive me back to the bar anyway.”

Seven

Inside Ana peeled off her jacket, revealing a hodgepodge of thrift store clothing: a mustard colored t-shirt with the Think Global Buy Local slogan Victor the boss always parroted on the phone; a thermal under the t-shirt; grey stretch pants that hugged all the right places; knee-high striped socks; and worn, unlaced sneakers that threatened to trip her every step.

Eddie didn’t usually go for the hipster look because it always seemed so affected. But it worked for Ana.

She tossed her purse and keys on the living room table like she lived there. Eddie couldn’t help checking her out while she wore a hole in the carpet by pacing.

“Eddie, you gotta believe me, I had no idea Mr. Kindler would involve the police in this …”

“Victor still at the store?” Eddie asked.

“He left when I did.”

“Got his phone number?”

“I’ve got his cell.” Ana bent and pulled her phone out of her sock. Of course she kept it there. She read off Victor’s number.

Eddie interrupted her. “I don’t have a phone. Mind if I use yours?”

“You don’t have a phone?”

“No, Ana. I don’t have a phone. Can I use yours?”

She rolled her eyes and thrust a defiant hip forward. “I’ve said sorry several times now. If you were a gentleman, you’d accept my apology. I don’t see what the big deal is, Eddie.”

“I’m no gentleman. And you have no idea how much shit I’m in.”

She tapped her hip impatiently.

“Okay, apology accepted. Now can I use your phone, please?”

She tossed him the phone. “His number’s highlighted.”

Victor answered on the fourth ring. “Hey, Ana.”

“Victor, it’s me, Eddie.”

“Oh ... hey.  Is everything alright?”

Eddie watched Ana tiptoe toward his sleeping bag and stoop to examine his pile of books.

Eddie knew to keep the lie simple. “Something’s come up. My …”

He stopped himself. That was the old Eddie about to lie.

“Vic, look, there’s something I never told you.”

“You’re an ex-con.”

Vic hadn’t asked for his background information to do a screening when he’d come on. “How did you …”

“I did my checking, just didn’t let you know.”

“And you took me on anyway?”

“Somebody had to give Jean Valjean a second chance, or there’d be no story.”

“Vic, I don’t know what to say.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Marty Kindler. He’s squeezing me to help him. I don’t want to.”

“So don’t.”

“I have to leave town, that’s the only way.”

Victor hesitated and his voice flattened. “Look, Eddie, I can get you two weeks’ pay.”

“This was my third week—”

“And I don’t know if you’re telling me the whole truth. I like you, I gave you a second chance, and I may be an old hippie but this isn’t my first rodeo.”

Eddie bit his tongue. “I appreciate that, Vic.”

Ana crept up behind him and whispered. “What are you doing?”

The smell of her distracted him. So clean that smell, faint and flowery. Probably her shampoo. He shot her a mind-your-biz look.

To Victor, he said, “Could I come by and get it? I want to get moving as soon as possible.”

Victor gave Eddie his address and they hung up. He was so close to getting out.

Eddie tried handing the phone back to Ana, but she crossed her arms and wouldn’t take it.

“What are you doing? Why did you lie to Marty and say you were going to do this?”

She looked so cute when she was angry.

“I’ve gotta hit the old dusty trail, Ana. Thanks for the phone.”

He offered her the phone again but she wouldn’t accept it so he laid it on the table next to her purse and went about gathering up his possessions. He could pack faster than a homesick freshman.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “You could help us.”

Eddie said nothing and started packing his books. He had more books than clothing.

The whole time he felt Ana’s eyes burning a hole in his back. The second duffle bag he stuffed to the gills with his books. When finished, he left both bags on the floor and went into the tiny bathroom to retrieve his toothbrush and shaving gear.

“I said I was sorry,” she called after him.

He came out of the bathroom holding his toiletry kit and packed that away. Then he grabbed the last book off the kitchen counter. It was the one that had started this chain of events. Eddie held it up, cover forward, so she could see it.

“When’d you realize?” he asked. How long were the odds she’d have read the book and made the connection to him?

“Yesterday. I read it cover to cover on my day off. You were in some of the pictures in the middle of the book.”

Eight

Eddie frowned. Long odds. Very long. He looked at the cover of the book again. The dust jacket was getting a little ratty, the spine cracked. He’d always thought the title heavy-handed:

The Unearthed.

Five years ago, Eddie and his brother Tim had investigated a cluster of paranormal events happening in a house in their home town. The investigation had turned up a lot of good finds, though Eddie and Tim had butted heads repeatedly throughout. Then … things had gone horribly wrong. Something they could have never anticipated happened, ending in the murder of two: a teenaged boy and Eddie’s own brother.

Eddie shook his head at the nightmarish memories. A local author, Evan Ronan, had gone to work on the non-fiction account of their investigation and its aftermath. The result was the book Eddie now held in his hands.

He packed the book. There was nothing else to collect. He cinched the sack and hefted it over his shoulder. “What made you buy this book?”

Ana’s shoulders tensed. “I saw you reading it. I got interested.”

“Why?”

“You’re always reading. At the register, or on break. But one day I saw you reading that book in your car. I wondered why. You always brought your books inside, but not that one.”

Eddie nodded. It had been stupid to bring the book to work, even if he’d only read it in the car. He wouldn’t repeat that mistake ever again.

“Give me a lift back to the bar.”

She opened her mouth but didn’t say anything. The words died somewhere in her tiny throat.

She nodded.

Eddie scanned the room one more time to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. He’d never be coming back. This was sayonara.

Nine

He slung his bags into the back of her VW then got in. Ana started the engine and put it in gear.

“Can I ask why you’re leaving?” The engine hummed, but she kept her foot on the brake.

There was no point in lying to her. She’d read the book. “I’ll tell you if you tell me something first.”

Her head went sideways but her eyes stayed on him. “Okay.”

“Who brought the weed to the party?”

Her eyebrows molded together. “Why?”

He gave her a look. “Was it your boyfriend, what’s-his-name?”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t Jimbo. It was his friend, Tony. He’s the guy that always brings.”

He nodded and filed that way just in case. “I’m leaving because they’re about to slap a bullshit parole violation on me. I’m leaving because I don’t like cops pushing me around. I’m leaving because Kindler’s claims sound like bullshit. And I’m leaving because if I do this it might get noticed by a man that wants to kill me.”

She did a double-take. Then, slowly put it together. “Sean McKenna? That kid’s father?”

Eddie gave her a grim smile. “He’s already tried to kill me, at least once.”

“When?”

He took his eyes off her and put them on the thin strip of road ahead. “Ana, I have to leave. I’ve still gotta stop at Victor’s.”

She stared at his profile a full ten seconds before she took her foot off the brake. She made a left and backtracked to the bar. They rode in silence the whole way, though Eddie could almost hear all the questions bouncing around in her head.

She pulled into the bar’s gravel lot. Eddie didn’t see Whitmore’s cruiser anywhere. The lights in the bar were still on. George was being optimistic if he thought he’d get any more business tonight.

Eddie opened his door. The cold night seeped through his pea coat.

Ana watched him with sad eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay? This could be big.”

“I’m sure.” He hit the lever so the passenger seat tipped forward then reached into the back for his bags.

“Don’t you believe in fate?” she asked.

“No.”

He pulled the first bag out.

“Eddie …”

“You read the damned book, so you know why I don’t want any part of this, Ana.”

She turned away from him and put her hands at ten and two on the wheel again. Eddie pulled the second bag out.

He was about to walk away without saying anything. He should have. But out of the corner of his eye he saw Ana swipe the back of her hand across her cheek.

The passenger seat popped back into place. Eddie had his hand on the door. He should have just closed it. But then Ana sniffled and he knew she was crying.

He took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’m sorry, Ana. I wish I could help you but I’ve got my own problems. Good luck and work hard. If something’s there, you’ll find it.”

They were all meaningless platitudes.

Ana buried her face in her hands for a moment. She wiped under her eyes and looked back up. Why was she so upset? She hardly knew him, so it wasn’t about Eddie leaving.

It had to be about the paranormal activity. But why would she take it this personally?

Then she turned to face him and put on a brave smile.

“I think she’s trying to tell me something,” Ana said. “That’s why I’m so excited.”

Eddie was lost. “Who’s trying to tell you something?”

“Tessa.”

The name didn’t register, but he figured she was referring to the girl who’d died years ago. It was the preferred theory of the locals, that Tessa was the one causing all this activity. That old cliche of the vengeful spirit wreaking havoc against those who wronged her.

Eddie was starting to doubt Ana’s sanity. Why would Tessa try to communicate with Ana specifically? And why would she—

“She was your sister.”

Ten

A lone pick-up truck negotiated its way down the tiny road. Eddie looked away from the teary twenty-two year old in the VW and eyed his car on the other side of the parking lot. The music coming from the jukebox in the bar suddenly quit, giving them quiet.

“Yes, she was my sister,” Ana said.

Eddie knew he should just shut up and go. He needed to get out now.

Ana left the car running and got out. She put her forearms on the roof of the VW and looked over at him. Her tears glistened in the weak light coming from the bar.

“I want to know what happened to her, Eddie. Or whatever it is she’s trying to tell me. I want to know. I have to know.”

“Your sister,” Eddie said again.

Ana nodded.

He looked off into the middle distance, remembering the day Tim had been killed. He could still feel the sticky wetness of Tim’s blood as it pumped from the wound, the knife buried in his brother’s chest. The look of pain on his brother’s face.

His mouth twitched at the memory. “Knowing what happened won’t make it any easier.”

“I don’t care. I need to know and so would you if it was your sister.”

Eddie slowly shook his head, but she was right. He turned to look at her.

He’d always thought of her as cute in a pixieish sort of way, looking closer to seventeen than twenty-two. She’d get carded for the next eight years, easy. But in this moment she looked different. Resolute and unafraid, even noble. Her chin was a little prouder. Her eyes a little sharper. Eddie admired her for that.

“If you’ve studied hauntings, then you know that most are just recordings. No intelligence there.” The one bag was getting heavy in his hand so he put it on the ground. “Even if it is Tessa, she’s probably not saying anything.”

He let that sink in and added, “That is, if anything is actually occurring.”

She rose to her full height.

“Things are definitely happening. Most everyone in town has seen or heard something.”

Arguing with her was fruitless he knew. She had the passion of a born-again and the belief of the innocent.

She came around the front of the car and stood close to him. She put her tiny hand on his shoulder. “I’m really sorry about your brother, Eddie.”

Her touch made him go still.

She surprised him by wrapping her arms around him and crying. He struggled to keep his resolve.

He clamped his jaw shut. She was way too close to the deceased to maintain any sort of objectivity. A bias would taint the entire investigation.

“And I’m sorry about what happened to Tessa. I hope you find something.”

He broke the hug and moved away from the VW. She didn’t follow. The night was cold, the wind bitter. It was highway time. He headed for his car.

Got about halfway.

“Please,” she said.

Eleven

“I don’t know about you,” she said once they were back in her car. “But I could use a drink.”

He didn’t want a drink. He wanted a hundred drinks.

“Yeah, but only one,” he lied.

She smiled over at him.

She pulled out of the lot back onto the same road. Steered them away from his apartment, farther from town.

They drove another stretch in silence but he could sense the shift in her mood. It was stronger than the moon’s pull on the tides.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

“Don’t ...”

She didn’t seem to hear him. “I’m so excited. With you on board—”

“Listen, Ana, we do this my way.”

“That’s what I meant. Totally. I’ll try to ratchet it down.” She beamed him a smile he could feel all the way down in his toes. “I just want to learn. Teach me everything you know.”

“First you’re going to teach me. Tell me about Tessa.”

“Well, for one thing we were stepsisters and she was a lot older than me.”

Ana came to a stop at a lonely red light. No cars in sight in any direction. “I was only eight when she drowned.”

The light changed to green. Ana accelerated.

“After Tessa died, my mom left. Tessa’s dad and mine weren’t even on speaking terms, so you can imagine how much worse it got after. One dad blamed the other, and it actually came to blows. It was terrible.”

Eddie inventoried the mess of a situation. Divorce. Death of a child. Followed by another divorce. He was surprised Ana wasn’t selling her body or riding a pole or addict-deep in drugs.

“Tessa’s pop rolled my dad real bad. He ended up in the hospital a couple days. The Sheriff wanted to arrest Tessa’s father but dad wouldn’t press charges. All he would say is that it takes two to tango. I think he just felt sorry for the guy after the fight. Tessa was all he had.”

Eddie was amazed Ana had turned out so normal with her family history.

Ana continued. “She was pretty and popular. And hot. I think she, uh, got around. Everybody tells me she was nice, but I think that’s them blowing smoke.”

“Why?”

She looked over at him. “I’m her sister, what else are they going to tell me. What’s the Latin, nil nisi boner?”

Eddie laughed. “Bonum.”

She took her eyes off the dark road for the briefest of moments to give him a knowing look. “It was a joke.”

“Got it.” He was surprised by her bawdy sense of humor. “So why don’t you think she was nice?”

Ana slowed and put her signal on. Eddie spotted the six-pack store that tripled as a deli and the post office ahead. One old plastic sign lit up the naked trees surrounding the parking lot.

“One of the prereqs to running with the popular crowd is you have to be either a prick or a see-you-next-Tuesday.”

“See-you-next Tuesday ...?”

“God, you’re an old head, Eddie.”

“I’m not that old. What does it mean?”

She looked over at him slyly. “A cunt.”

Eddie laughed.

Twelve

Ana had read the book but still Eddie was a puzzle to her. Okay, The Unearthed wasn’t entirely about him. Still she couldn’t find his center. The author had missed some fundamental part of him. She thought after reading the book she would have a handle on him, perhaps even a lever to her shame.

He was still a mystery.

He was nice-looking when he wasn’t angry and he had a killer sense of humor when he wanted to. When he was angry there was a danger to him that admittedly turned her on. He hadn’t hit on her … yet, and even that surprised her. She knew she wasn’t a raving beauty but men of all shapes and sizes gave her the Don Juan leer. She’d fantasized about Eddie one night …

Her boyfriend was … he just was. He floated along with the many other young guys in town going nowhere and more often than not arriving there.

She made a left out of the parking lot and headed back to Eddie’s place. Eddie stared straight ahead, the brown bag containing the two six-packs cradled in his arms.

“Mind if I use your phone again?” he asked.

She handed him her purse while keeping her eyes on the road. “It’s in the little compartment on the front of the bag.”

Eddie removed the phone and stared at it.

“You’re completely helpless, aren’t you?” She winked at him. “If you’re calling Victor, just hit SEND twice. It’ll redial.”

Eddie did so and parked the phone on his ear. She wondered what he’d say this time.

“Hey, Vic, it’s Eddie … Change of plans here. I’m sticking it out … I’ll see you in the morning.”

Eddie put the phone away. “Your friend Tony, he ever been in trouble with the law before?”

She wondered why he was so fixated on Tony. “I think so but nothing major. Typical adolescent crap.”

Eddie didn’t respond and kept looking out the window.

She snuck a sidelong glance at him. He was in a brood mood which she found irresistibly cute. Strange to think of someone in their thirties as cute. Thirty sounded so old to her and yet here was this guy with his mischievous eyes and world-weary grin that made him seem a bad boy. The book hinted at his womanizing but she didn’t see that in him. He looked … wounded somehow and vulnerable and tough and she was thinking too much about him when she should be focusing on the happenings. She wanted to impress him for reasons she couldn’t quite fathom. She wasn’t just a small-town bimbo, she was smart and ambitious and if the phenomena turned out to be something extraordinary, well, they’d see where the chips ...

“Let’s do this in reverse,” he said, breaking her train of thought. “How did Tessa die?”

“She drowned,” Ana said. “You know how they say hypothermia keeps drowning victims alive? It’s bullshit. It rarely works.”

Ana steered them around the long curve in the road. Ahead, George’s bar was dark, the solo floodlight on in the parking lot. They zipped by. Eddie’s car was still there.

“She was eighteen, right?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah. It happened December 8th.”

The eighth was three days away, but Eddie said nothing.

“Don’t you think that means something, with all this activity and the eighth only ...?”

“Why didn’t something happen last year or the year before or five years ago? Why now, fourteen years later? Why not after ten years, or fifteen?”

“I understand, Eddie.” She was taken aback by the edge in his voice. “I want something to be there so I attach significance to every event. That’s why I need you to keep me grounded and objective.”

“Tell me how it happened.”

His place was just ahead. She maneuvered into a parking spot and put it in PARK.

“They were being stupid. That’s why she’s dead.”

Thirteen

Stupid? That was how Eddie felt for getting involved in this mess. Did he really want to help, or was he just thinking with the wrong head again? Pretty girl, emotionally vulnerable, late night with a snootful of alcohol and more to come, hero worship in her eyes. It would be easy, he thought, and hated himself for thinking it.

Eddie led her up the stairs into his apartment and tried to keep thinking with his head instead of his dick.

He dumped the contents of the duffel bag onto the couch and placed the dog-eared copy of The Unearthed on the kitchen counter.

He heard Ana pop the top of a beer can and turned in time to see her take a healthy swig. He didn’t want another beer but he took the offered can from her and took a small sip more to be polite than anything else.

Ana walked to the window and looked out. The electric blue light from the street lamp made her appear almost ghost-like.

Ana said, “Tessa and her friends were messing around on a frozen lake. She … went under and nobody could get to her.”

Eddie sipped and the cold light beer tasted like ice water. The image of the eighteen-year-old Tessa trapped under the frozen lake invaded his mind. He imagined the dull thuds of her futile pounding against the ice above, the panic and fear she must have felt. How her long hair streamed around her head, Medusa-like. Her skin pale in the water, almost translucent. Her eyes wide. The pupils dilated. Then, the first spasm of the lungs, sucking in water. The gulp-cough. The lungs trying to expel water and breathe at the same time. The pain of that icy water filling her lungs ...

He shuddered because he knew exactly how she’d felt.

He’d almost died the same way.

In his infinite, nine-year-old wisdom, he’d decided to play on the ice contrary to his brother’s instructions. The ice cracked, and he was sucked in, but luckily he was close to shore and his brother had been able to pull him out. The rescue was eerily prescient—Tim would continue to save Eddie from his bad decisions for the next two decades, until he was murdered.

During the occasional nightmare, Eddie found himself under that sheet of ice again and felt that water choking him. He’d wake in a sweat, hands shooting up to his throat. The summer following the near-drowning he’d forced himself to learn to swim really well, not wanting to live in fear of the water.

But ice still scared the hell out of him, and he’d never gone skating since. He’d survived going under the ice once. He wouldn’t tempt fate and try it again.

Eddie folded his arms. “They were ice skating?”

Ana took another big gulp. “No.”

“Then what were they doing?”

Fourteen

Ana didn’t answer right away. She moved to the middle of the living room.

Eddie said, “Who was with Tessa?”

“It was Tessa and her boyfriend, Mike Hollis, and the Three Musketeers or whatever they called themselves: Marty, Bernard, and Colin.”

“Marty as in Marty Kindler?”

“Yeah. And Bernie and Colin, the same two guys who’ve experienced a lot of activity in their houses.”

“You called those three guys the musketeers … I’m guessing Tessa’s boyfriend, Mike Hollis, wasn’t part of the crew.”

“Not really. Mike was the guy they brought along to make fun of, so he tells it. He was on the basketball team because he was big. They let him hang out because he’d do whatever they told him.”

Eddie could see Ana’s silhouetted figure in the darkened room by the meager light coming from the kitchen. He could sense rather than see her tenseness as she collected her thoughts.

Ana said, “They were playing a stupid game. You had to walk to the middle of the ice, jump as high you could, then run back to shore.”

Eddie pictured the five of them standing on the edge of that frozen lake, teasing each other, all the guys wanting to look tough in front of Tessa.

Recipe for disaster.

Ana continued. “All the guys except for Mike took a turn. Like I said, he was a big guy. He didn’t want to do it because he was the heaviest.

“They teased him. He says Tessa got in on it and really humiliated him. Called him a vi-jay-jay and all kinds of things. He claimed that Tessa said she was going to blow the other guys in front of him because she preferred men to boys. The other guys denied this.”

Ana grew so quiet Eddie could hear himself breathing.

Gently, he said, “Go on.”

“She went out onto the ice. He said she embarrassed him so much that he went out too. Before he got halfway to her, the ice under them cracked. They both went in. Mike was able to hold on, but Tessa wasn’t. She went under and that was that.”

The vent in the wall banged as the heat kicked on and it startled both of them. Ana laughed nervously.

“She went right under?” Eddie asked.

“No.” Ana shook her head. “She didn’t.”

Eddie moved into the darkness of the living room and leaned against the wall.

“Is Mike Hollis still around?” Eddie asked.

“No. He dropped out of school shortly after and moved away. His crazy Dad’s still here, though.”

“His Dad stayed here?”

“Yeah. Mike went to live with relatives or somebody in Ohio.”

Eddie thought that strange and decided to look into it. Having lost his parents at an early age, he was always amazed by families that willingly parted ways. He would have given his left arm to see his parents and Tim again.

“What is it?” Ana went to the fridge for another cold one.

“Nothing. So let me guess. Weird things are happening at the lake. Where else?”

Ana cracked another beer and seemed to stumble a little when she took that first step away from the fridge. She was holding two beers and handed him one.

“There’s been activity reported at the lake ever since Tessa died. But the activity at Kindler’s and the other two guys’s houses is recent.”

Eddie gave her room to get by then slid down the wall till he was crouched. He took a long pull. He was starting to enjoy the beer again. The buzz from earlier was coming back. It was like running into an old friend from childhood. You just slipped into conversation easily, naturally, like it was only yesterday you had been jumping ramps on your ten-speeds.

“Kindler says the whole town’s haunted,” Eddie said. “You know how unlikely that is?”

“Everything’s unlikely until it happens for the first time.” She wobbled as she sat down on the carpet.

“You okay there?”

“I’m good … Dad.”

“We’re going to work tomorrow, you’ve gotta be sharp. That’s why I’m asking.”

“You’re right.” She sprang up like a jack-in-the-box, suddenly full of energy again. “This is going to be wicked. You know they’ll write a book about this if we find something. This’ll be a big story.” She deposited her half empty beer can on the table.

Eddie held out his palm in a stopping motion. “Slow down there, rock star. I’ll do what I can but you gotta have reasonable expectations. I’m no miracle worker and chances are we’ll find rational explanations for everything. That’s the mindset we take going in. Better to be cynical about this than to talk yourself into believing things because you want them to be true.”

“Then who’s leaving wet footprints in Kindler’s locked house overnight while he’s sleeping?” she asked.

“Probably Kindler. He’s an addict and under the circumstances not the most reliable of witnesses.”

“He’s an addict?”

“I think that’s enough for tonight.” Eddie stood and put his half-finished beer next to his other empty can. “You okay to drive?”

She looked at him like he’d grown another head. “Of course I’m okay to drive. It’s only eleven-thirty and I’ve only had two and a half. I can go all night.”

Eddie tried not to picture her in his bed, going all night.

Ana said, “On the other hand, maybe you’re right … If you want to keep working, I could just crash here. No big. My boyfriend won’t care.”

Eddie didn’t buy that for a second. It took all his will power to say no. “Sorry, I’m running on empty here. I got a shift in the morning then you and I are going to work. You sure you can drive?”

Ana folded her arms and jutted a hip playfully. “You are L-A-M-E, Eddie. And don’t worry. I’ll be alright getting home, I’m not some over-the-hill thirty year old.”

She stopped next to him on her way to the door and touched his hand.

“Thanks, Eddie.”

He nodded, already regretting his chivalry.

“See ya.”

She walked out and left the door open behind her. He wanted desperately to call after her, to feel the warmth of her in his arms, to smell her hair, but he let her go. He was tired, and she was too young. Last thing she needed was to get mixed up with him when she already had a boyfriend.

So he didn’t chase after her. That was what the old Eddie would have done.

Fifteen

Eddiedidn’t go to sleep. Instead he worked his way through a six-pack and rewound his memory back to his mid-twenties, when he and his brother Tim worked together. Tim was the boss and Eddie was more than happy with the arrangement. He didn’t want the responsibility. Just wanted the work and the experiences. Some of the things they’d seen were beyond belief.

Now Eddie was drawing on his memories of Tim for guidance.

He thought back to their last investigation. He’d been more in tune with that one, emotionally invested because of the clients. A nice family, living in a house where a triple murder had taken place years before, was in danger of having the same violence visited upon them.

As intense as the investigation was, the tension between Eddie and his brother had grown to an all-time high. Eddie, living in Tim’s apartment, was becoming a third wheel. Tim was about to become engaged and once the girlfriend moved in, Eddie would be persona non grata. Eddie knew he was wrong to think the way he did, but still he felt betrayed. Tim’s engagement would signal the end of Eddie’s safety net. He’d need to figure out the course of his life, once and for all.

The danger of the investigation and their bickering had somehow brought them closer. They’d made a major breakthrough. They were brother, linked by a tragic past, but also supportive of each other’s future.

Then things went to shit.

He tried pushing aside the horrible memories and just focus on Tim and how he organized the investigations. But try as he might, the image that kept forcing its way to the forefront was of his brother Tim, the knife embedded in his chest, trying to talk as the tears streamed down his face, his lifeblood draining ...

* * * *

A nagging headache woke Eddie. The sun slanted through the windows, hitting the wall and making the headache worse. Eddie rubbed the sleep from his eyes, popped three aspirin, took a scalding shower, and rooted through his duffel bag for the least objectionable garments he could find. He shrugged into his pea coat. As he left the apartment he remembered that his car was still back at the bar so he hoofed it to the grocery store.

It was damp out. The air smelled of snow.

Twenty minutes later, he entered Victor’s store thankful to get out of the cold. It was a new building made to look like an old log cabin.

Victor tapped his wrist as Eddie removed his coat.

“Sorry I’m late,” Eddie said. “I forgot I didn’t have my car this morning.”

Victor gave him a skeptical look. Rather than go into further explanation, Eddie kept his mouth shut.

Victor said, “I had a talk with Marty Kindler. He filled me in on what’s going on.”

Eddie nodded. “You want me on the register this morning?”

“No, Eddie. I want you to stock, then clean the meat trays and take care of the dumpster.”

Eddie scanned the shelves of the nearest aisle and saw they were in decent shape.  He’d scoured the trays yesterday. And the dumpster …

Eddie realized this was Vic’s way of punishing him. But for what? He’d come clean last night.

The Old Eddie would have given his manager lip. “You got it, boss.”

As Eddie walked to the back to hang up his pea coat, Kindler stepped around the corner of an aisle and ambushed him.

“Eddie, Eddie. I wanted to have a few words and figured there was no time like the present.” Kindler’s hair was slicked back and he wore an expensive track suit and vintage Air Jordans.

Eddie felt Victor’s eyes glued to his back as he met Kindler in the aisle.

Kindler pursed his lips and tried to look intelligent. “Funny how things are so much clearer the next morning, isn’t it? I realize now I was out of line. I didn’t mean to offend you by offering you money last night. I know your brother, when he did this, kept his fees nominal, just expenses really. Forgive me. A man like you, he doesn’t do this sort of thing for the money. He does it for the truth. You’re like an artist that way. It’s all about the …” Kindler stuck his thumbs and forefingers out and joined them in a rectangle. He pretended like he was looking through a screen, like some director. “ ...It’s all about that. Right there. The truth. Offering you money, that was, that was gauche, as they say.”

Eddie laughed. “You’re right, Kindler. I don’t do it for the money, but while we’re on the subject my fee is a grand plus expenses. That covers the first week. Additional time is billable at five hundred a day.”

Eddie enjoyed watching Kindler as the man’s eyes went heart-attack wide. Miffed, Kindler reached into the pocket of his track suit and removed a gangster wad of bills and peeled off ten Franklins.

“Here’s a retainer. I’ll get you the rest in three days, after you’ve got something to report. You’ll have to take care of your team with that also.”

Team? “It’s me investigating and Ana interning. There’s no team.”

“How about her boyfriend and Tony?”

“It’d be better to pay them to stay out of my way. If that doesn’t sit with you, here’s the money back.”

It pained Eddie to hand the cash back. One grand was a ridiculous amount for this job. Eddie had never expected to get it.

Kindler gave Eddie the hard stare, then suddenly bleated like a sheep. Literally. Bleated like a sheep.

Eddie waited for him to actually say something but he didn’t.

They eyeballed each other for awhile.

There was no way Eddie was taking on three amateurs. It’d be difficult enough trying to do this job while training Ana on the spot.

Kindler still hadn’t taken the cash. He just looked down at it and back up at Eddie. Then he said, “I’m on a drug. You know what it’s called?”

“I’m guessing it’s a little stronger than cough syrup.”

The corner of Kindler’s mouth smiled. “It’s called Marty Kindler.”

“This is my investigation.”

“Bah-ah-ah-ah-ah.”

Eddie just held Kindler’s weird stare until finally Kindler nudged the money back toward Eddie.

“Like I said last night, I like you Eddie. You don’t back up like most of the sheep in this town. We’re going to get along just fine.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “As long as we do things my way.”

Kindler clapped Eddie on the shoulder. “Sure, Eddie, sure. Listen, why don’t you start at my house tonight. Ms. Anders and Lori won’t be around.”

“I’ll let you know.” Eddie steered Kindler toward the front door. Eddie was just doing what Tim would have done. He never let the client dictate the plan of action.

As he approached the electronic doors, Ana’s VW pulled into the lot. She waved at them through the windshield after she parked.

“That one’s got some fire in her.” Kindler licked his lips. “I wouldn’t mind slipping—”

“I’ll let you know where I’m starting tonight,” Eddie said, wanting to throw Kindler off the store’s porch for eye-fucking Ana.

Kindler winked at him and bounded to Ana’s car and got her door for her. She let him help her out of the car.

Kindler said, “My dear, if you ever want to live at Mach-3, you let me know.”

Ana giggled but she looked like she wanted to throw up.

Sixteen

“So, Kindler has a wife and kid?” Eddie asked.

He was making sure all the labels on the canned goods faced out. He’d already stocked, cleaned shelves, and did the ever popular dumpster-diving. He’d done the same kind of work years earlier in high school. It beat shoveling shit.

By a paper-thin margin.

Ana gave him a sideways look. “Not that I know of.”

She was dressed by committee again: billowing sundress, black stretch pants, and non-matching Eisenhower jacket. She gushed incongruity.

Eddie slid a can of tomato paste out and spun the label. “Wife and a sister?”

Ana chuckled. “You actually think Kindler’s married?”

“Alright, so who are Ms. Anders and Lori?”

“His girlfriends.”

Eddie almost hurt his neck his head snapped around so quickly. “Come again?”

“Yeah. The three of them live together.”

“Must be cozy. But how does it work?”

“Lori is my fifth or sixth cousin, I can’t remember. She’s weird.”

Eddie left that alone. “So here’s the plan. This afternoon I want to watch what you recorded at the lake, then I want to go to Colin’s. We need to set up the feeds.”

“Only one camera,” Ana said.

“We need more than one.”

“And I wish I was five-nine with double Ds.” She patted her chest.

“You’ve a lovely girl. Not every guy wants a porn-star looking bimbo.”

“What about you?” She smiled playfully.

“So only one camera … how many digital recorders?”

She frowned at his seriousness. “You mean tape recorders?”

“Yeah.” Eddie laughed. He was used to having state-of-the-art tech. “How many of those?”

“Two. But one doesn’t really work.”

Victor appeared at the end of the aisle, skeletal arms akimbo. “Ed, I need a word with you.”

Seventeen

Victor shut the door to his office and negotiated his way around his crowded desk to face Eddie. “Something you want to tell me?”

Eddie put on his Richard Kimball face. “Can’t think of anything, Vic.”

“Has Marty Kindler roped you into this nonsense, Eddie?” Victor was POW thin and with his arms crossed it accentuated his emaciated appearance. If the man turned sideways and stuck out his tongue, he’d look like a zipper.

“I’m doing it for Ana.”

“You’re doing it for the money.” He said money like it was a dirty word.

Eddie shrugged. “Shoot me, I’m a capitalist.”

Victor grabbed a half-empty bottle of water from his desk and drank. “Capitalism is a dying system, about to implode. We live in an administrative state. You should learn to evolve.”

The Karl Marx of grocery store owners, Eddie thought. He liked Victor but the guy’s agitprop was grating.

“Vic, all due respect, but I don’t tell you how to run your business. And last I checked this store was for-profit and privately owned.”

Victor smiled. “I’m a slave to the system.”

“You say so.”

Victor ignored that. “Just look at the Mill. All those jobs will be totally gone soon. And what did Marty do about it? Nothing. Why? Because he’s alright. Men like him are the burden to society, not the poor. And instead of trying to resurrect the business or start a new one, instead of doing something useful with all that money, he’s paying people to run around in the woods with flashlights to chase ghosts.”

Eddie fought to keep the weariness out of his voice. He was in no mood to argue politics. “Vic, Ana needs the help and I need the money.”

“Speaking of Ana. She’s just a kid. It hasn’t occurred to her yet she doesn’t know shit. I’d hate to see her get hurt.”

Eddie couldn’t argue with that. “I’ll take care of her.”

“Make sure taking care doesn’t mean taking advantage.”

“I wouldn’t dream.” Eddie turned and reached for the door knob.

“And make sure Kindler doesn’t fuck her over.”

Eddie stopped at the door. “What could he do to Ana?”

Victor looked down like he was studying something on his desk. “He uses people. He sucks them dry then spits them out. He’s not a nice person.”

“Do you think what’s going on here is some sort of scam by Kindler?”

Victor hesitated. “I don’t know. There’s much we don’t understand about the universe … so maybe something’s happening. But that doesn’t make me trust Kindler. That bastard would sell his soul if he could find it. And he loves being the center of attention, the big fish in the little pond here.”

“What do you think happened on that lake, all those years ago?”

Victor didn’t waver. “Stupidity and hormones are a volatile mix.”

Eighteen

As Eddie checked out his last customer he couldn’t help but notice she was definitely red-lining on the fun bag meter. She was a mom, early thirties, but she looked great, like someone else had given birth for her. She wore one of those mom sweaters but even that couldn’t hide her bust that well.

Her towheaded twins were doing their best to drive her homicidal. They sprinted up and down the aisles and screamed at every turn.

Mom smiled at Eddie as if to say, Would you like to buy the little bastards?

She barked at them to stop when they popped into view. They slow-timed it around the corner of the next aisle, little impish grins on their faces, and when they were out of sight they started sprinting again.

“I can hear you running.” Her eyes rolled up to the ceiling. When she looked back at Eddie, she smiled like this was all very cute, but he knew the lads were in for it once they got in the car.

“Don’t worry about it, ma’am. Victor loves kids.”

She paid. As he handed back her change she leaned over the counter, giving him a birds’ eye view of her twin peaks. She took off her shades and revealed playful eyes.

“So you’re the ghostbuster.”

“Ma’am?”

She lowered her voice to a sexy whisper and leaned even more forward. Eddie imagined diving into her cleavage.

“Excuse me, I meant the paranormal investigator.”

He wondered when she’d last used that breathy whisper. It was a perfect delivery. Either she practiced it a lot in front of a mirror or she practiced it a lot on men.

Eddie gave her his best aw shucks smile and finished bagging her groceries. She kept staring at him, her mouth slightly open.

“You know what the best thing about the boys running around all day is?”

Eddie gazed into her eyes, seeing the invitation there. “What’s that?”

“They’re asleep by eight and don’t wake up till seven.”

“That’s good. All that sleep will help them grow.”

“Doesn’t hurt me either. I like my free time, especially at night.”

Eddie winked at her. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m not a ghost ... whatever. You must have me confused with some other gorgeous hunk.”

She laughed then. It was a good laugh and unself-conscious. She batted her eyelashes. “It’s okay. I won’t tell a soul.”

She pretended to zip her lips shut and he wondered what those lips tasted like.

“It’ll be our little secret then,” he said.

They held a sexually-charged stare for a moment. As he came from behind the counter to put the last bag in her cart, their hips touched. He double-checked her ring finger, saw that it was naked.

She moved a little closer and put her hand on his arm. “Are there really ghosts?”

He was about to answer but her tweens ran breathless to her cart. One of them said, “Can we have some ice cream, Mom?”

“No, it’ll spoil your dinner.”

“It’s only two-thirty, Mom,” the other said.

“Maybe after dinner if you’re good.” As she turned to leave she pressed something into Eddie’s hand. “Nice talking to you.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

He waited till she left the store and read the piece of paper. It had her name and phone number on it.

Elsie.

He slipped the piece of paper away and caught Ana watching him.

“Was she looking for a private consultation?” Ana said.

“She wanted to sell me her twins.”

Ana gave him a disbelieving look.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

As they walked to her car, alarm bells started going off in his head. If Elsie knew who he was, then half the town knew and it wouldn’t be long before the internet chatter would start.

He had to work fast then blow town.

Once his name popped up on the grid, Sean McKenna would come looking for him.

And Sean McKenna wanted him dead.

* * * *

Outside, Eddie said, “Smells like snow.”

Ana looked up at the grey sky. “There’s a nor’easter coming.”

Their breaths came out in foggy blasts. Eddie thrust his hands in his pockets to keep them warm.

“So tell me about the other two guys. Bernard and Colin.”

Ana hugged herself against the cutting wind as they trudged to her car. “Bernard and Colin used to work at the mill as foremen until a few years ago when Bernie had a falling out with Kindler. He left, but Colin’s still there.”

“What kind of falling out?”

“It had to do with safety. Bernie lost the tips of two fingers in an accident. He made a stink about outdated equipment … something about how they should have had a collar on the saw … ”

They got in her car and Ana blasted the heat. The windows fogged.

“People will think we’re making out,” she said.

Eddie ignored that. “And now the Mill’s closing.”

Ana shrugged. “Had to happen sooner or later.”

Eddie peered over at her and wondered if she, like a lot of the townies, was giving Kindler a pass.

“What about the other guy, Colin?”

“He’s still at the Mill. Still tight with Kindler. And he’s a real piece of work.” She looked over at him. “He’s divorced, he’s an ex-con, and he’s into some weird kinky sex.”

“He’s … divorced?”

“Funny. You know you’re pretty cool when you act like a normal human being.”

“Why was he in the clink?”

“Street pharmaceuticals.”

They didn’t usually bust you for weed. If they did, the prisons would be twice as full. That meant Colin had been into the hard stuff. Eddie knew from personal experience that was how it worked.

“Was he working at the Mill when he was busted?”

Yeah. Pretty good of Kindler to hire him back.”

“Yeah, Kindler’s a true humanitarian. Just like Genghis Khan. So tell me, who’s seen what?”

She laughed. “You don’t like Kindler, do you?”

“What gave you that impression?”

“All the vitriol spilling out of your mouth.”

“Vitriol. Nice word.”

“I told you before, I’m pretty smart.”

“Why’d you stop going to school?” He was hoping she didn’t say because of her boyfriend.

“I was having trouble paying. I decided to take some time off, save up the money.”

People never went back to school when they took time off. It was too easy to get used to a paycheck. He’d seen it happen to a lot of his friends back home.

“So who’s been seeing what?”

“Bernard’s house gets freezing cold overnight and Colin’s hearing strange noises.”

All the old questions and procedures surfaced like they’d been at the bottom of a recently thawed lake. “So, we have wet footprints at Kindler’s, major cold spots at Bernard’s place, and the ex-con who used to take drugs is hearing voices. Is that it?”

“And the lake. There have been sightings over the years. People have seen her wandering, others claim to have seen her body under the ice, a hand coming out of the water. That sort of thing.”

“You believe any of that?”

Big shrug with tiny shoulders. “I want to, maybe too badly.”

He looked her over. She had a good mind for this sort of thing. “But you believe Kindler, Bernard, and Colin?”

She pursed her lips. “Why would they make it up? I mean, wet footprints in your living room? Why would Kindler go to the trouble?”

“Look, Ana.” Eddie sat up straighter in the passenger seat and tried to put some authority into his voice. “You’ve got to look at everything like there’s a rational explanation. Once you’re at the place where there is no rational explanation, you’re then at the beginning of a possible paranormal event.  We’re here to invalidate claims, not the other way around.”

“What if it is Tessa, though? What if she’s trying to tell us something and we dismiss it?”

Eddie didn’t answer. He was thinking about how Tim, his brother, would go about this. He would have a definite plan before he started asking questions and he would stick to his plan and record everything that was said no matter how minor or immaterial it might seem. He would go to each site, record and collect data. He’d also try to get a complete picture of the history of any given site—

Eddie had a thought. “Where does old man Hollis live?”

Ana’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Mike’s dad?”

“You said he was still around.”

“Oh boy.” She laughed nervously like she was sitting on top of a bomb. “You can tackle that one yourself. I’m not going anywhere near that shit shack of his.”

“Where is it?”

“He lives in the park, outside town. But I’m telling you I can’t go. He hates Tessa, pretty much hates everybody. He thinks his son was the victim in this. Thinks everybody shunned Mike because of this, made him out to be the baddie.”

“We’re going to pay him a visit.”

“I can’t go out there, Eddie.”

“Turn this thing on its head for a moment. If the theory is true and Tessa is out there trying to speak to the people she feels are responsible for her death—”

“But Mr. Hollis wasn’t there. His son was.”

“Maybe she can’t get to the son. How better to hurt Mike than to go after his dad?”

“Mike and Hollis hated each other.”

“They’re still blood.”

“He can connect us with his son. Maybe Mike has seen things too.”

“I’m not going.”

“Old man Hollis believes his son’s story, right? If he does then that doesn’t paint Tessa in a very positive light.”

She shook her head. “You can drive yourself.”

“You can’t avoid something important to the investigation. I want to see how he reacts to you and it sounds like he’s got an axe to grind with the three stooges.”

“The musketeers. And I’m not going.”

He finally looked over at her. “My investigation, my way. You agreed.”

She shook her head. “Fine. But there’s no way Hollis is responsible for what’s going on. The guy’s a turtle. He doesn’t poke his head out of that house.”

Eddie smiled. “Then he has got a good alibi, doesn’t he?”

Nineteen

A few minutes up the road, Ana said, “She didn’t take shit from anybody, man or woman.”

“Your sister.”

“Well, except for Mike Hollis, and I never got that. She could have had her pick of the litter, but she dated that loser instead.”

Eddie settled into the passenger seat. “Her options were pretty limited.”

It was kind of like home, only smaller. Eddie thought of all the girls he’d finessed into dating him during high school.

“There were some good guys in the mix. She didn’t have to end up with Mike Hollis of all people.”

“You really think this is her tormenting everybody?”

“I told you she was bitch?” She arched her eyebrows. “This one girl pissed her off in high school so Tessa spread a rumor that she had herpes.”

Eddie laughed. “That girl that Tessa spread the rumor about still around?”

“You’ve met her.”

“Huh?”

“The woman at the store. Elsie. Little miss milk crates.”

Eddie wanted to say, Are you sure the herpes thing was just a rumor? “Small world, huh?”

The monotonous sound of the road dulled the conversation and Eddie’s mind wandered as the car ate up the miles. How many people had he slighted over the years? How many of them still carried grudges?

He’d done a stretch at the old cross-bar motel awhile back for possession with intent. At the time, he’d felt he was just unlucky to get caught and stewed at the injustice of it all. All the users he knew who never got caught, all the sellers who paraded their wares unmolested by the cops.

He now realized he’d been lucky. Getting pinched was just the law of averages finally catching up with him. And all those other criminals, who hadn’t been collared yet, would get theirs someday.

And in prison, he was able to get his life back together. He got off the drug train and started to take stock of himself. He didn’t like what he saw. He was a loser going no place in a hurry, using the death of his brother as a crutch. He resolved to turn things around.

He turned into a model prisoner, making trustee and earning the respect of most of the guards, some of them who knew who he was and what had happened to Tim.

A week before he was due to get out he was attacked by one of the tatted-up skinheads in the shower. The man came at him unprovoked with a shiv. The skinhead came fast and lunged his right hand at Eddie. Ever since Tim had died in his arms and he’d almost been killed with a blade, Eddie had an aversion to knives.

He’d dodged the blow and the skinhead lost his balance on the floor. Eddie dropped and kicked the guy’s leading leg. The skinhead’s knee buckled and his leg went out from under him. Eddie let him fall and threw the bar of soap he was holding as hard as he could into the face of his attacker, momentarily stunning him. Eddie then landed his knee to the attacker’s solar plexus with all his weight behind it. He kicked away the knife with his foot and, not being one to turn the other cheek, for good measure smashed the skinhead’s nose with a devastating blow with the heel of his right hand.

The skinhead spent a few days in sick bay then was confined to solitary for the remainder of Eddie’s time in prison. Eddie never had any words with the guy and couldn’t think of anything he’d done to annoy the local white supremacist chapter.

The attack remained a mystery until the day he was released. As he exited the main gate there were two men standing by their cars. One was Eddie’s friend, Stan, come to pick him up and the other was Sean McKenna, leering at him.

Eddie realized that McKenna must have paid the skinhead to kill him.

Eddie restrained the urge to charge McKenna and beat the hell out of him. Good thing too, because McKenna was built like Mr. Universe and knew how to fight. And an assault charge would have been an immediate parole violation.

Eddie flipped McKenna the one-finger salute and Stan drove off. That was over a year ago but he could still see the hate and anger in McKenna’s eyes.

Twenty

“I mean it, Eddie.” Ana pulled off the main road into the soft shoulder. “You owe me. This guy’s nuttier than a Snickers bar.”

She entered a narrow dirt road, bumpy and rutted. Winter had stripped the trees on the hill naked. Wet leaves all over made the dirt road slippery. The slate grey sky above was ominous.

Eddie squinted and peered up the hill, trying to find the house.

“Told you.” Ana slowed as the passenger side of the car passed over a deep indent in the road. “It’s a shit shack.”

Eddie spotted the shack poised precariously at the top of a little rise. It gave the appearance of having been built as a temporary shelter years ago while more suitable living arrangements were being made.

The yard was covered with junk, old-washing machines, a rusted eighties-era Dodge Caravan, a stained commode and the ever-popular gaggle of used tires strewn about.

Eddie heard the generator before he saw it. Another rusted hulk, sitting on cinder blocks, peeked out from a tarp that didn’t quite cover the hood of the car.

“He lives alone, right?” Eddie asked.

Ana gave him a look. “Yeah, just him and the voices.”

Eddie saw something hanging in the trees near the shack. Some kind of animal had been strung up.

“That a deer?”

“God that’s gross.”

The dirt road narrowed and transformed into two long tire tracks. They bumped and jostled up the hill. Ana had to slow even more to go over some tree roots.

The dirt tracks continued straight ahead and did not veer toward the house. Ana picked a wide opening between a pair of trees and cut the wheel. She couldn’t get much closer to the house so she stopped about twenty yards shy. Kept her hands on the wheel.

A Labrador retriever sat in front of the shack, panting in the cold air. It lifted its head and watched them.

Ana stared out the windshield, her eyes intent on the shack. “How long are we gonna be here?”

“Twenty or thirty minutes.”

“Can you make it twenty? I want to keep the engine running.”

Eddie looked over at her. “Take it easy. Everything’s going to be fine.”

At that exact moment the screen door burst open and slapped against the wall of the shack. Ana jumped and accidentally hit the horn, which caused Eddie to jump.

“Sorry,” Ana said.

An old man hobbled into view, squinting against the weak daylight like he hadn’t seen it in years. He had yellowing grey hair in need of a good pair of scissors and a better bottle of shampoo. His face seemed frozen in a permanent scowl.

He stood in the doorway and stared at them, keeping one hand inside the house hidden from view.

“See what I mean?” Ana’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

Hollis shielded his eyes with a hand to get a better look at them.

“Better keep the engine running,” Eddie said.

“Told you.”

Eddie got out but kept his door between him and Hollis. Ana did the same thing.

“Mr. Hollis?” Eddie asked.

“The hell are you?” His intonation was off. It sounded more like a statement than a question. It was like his voice was out of practice.

The Labrador mimicked its master and stared at them.

“I’m Eddie. And I think you know Ana here.”

Hollis looked from him to Ana. She brought her hand up and waved. Squeaked out a hello.

“Anastasia Lovsky?”

She nodded and smiled badly.

Hollis grunted and made it sound like a four-letter word. He looked back at Eddie. “So who the hell are you?”

“I’m Eddie. It’s nice to meet you.”

Hollis hawked up a gob of spit, turned his head, and hurled it a good seven feet. Ana’s face turned green.

Hollis looked at his dog. “Lookee here, Zeus. It’s Eddie.”

“I wanna leave now,” Ana whispered.

Eddie did too. He felt like he’d stumbled upon the Unabomber’s shack in the middle of a bomb-making session.

Hollis suddenly brought his other hand into view. It clutched a shot gun. He advanced on them and crunched a shell into place.

Eddie put his hands up, cursing himself for not listening to Ana.

Hollis stopped about ten feet shy of Ana’s car. “I don’t give a shit what your name is, boy. I asked who the hell you were.”

Ana crouched behind her door now, her eyes wide with terror. The car was still running. They had doors and a windshield between them and Hollis’s shotgun.

Eddie moved away from the car and the shotgun followed him. That was good. If things got messy, Ana could jump in the car and get away easier.

Time to improvise. “I think Tessa Lovsky is trying to tell us something. I think she wants everybody to know what really happened fourteen years ago.”

Hollis stared at Eddie over the barrel of the shotgun for five or six heartbeats then he lowered his weapon and looked over his shoulder at the dog. The Lab barked and wagged its tail.

“You think they’re alright?” Hollis said.

The dog barked again.

“Mr. Hollis, we just want to talk. Can you put the gun away?” Eddie said.

“I’m still sick.”

“I believe you.” Eddie fought to keep his voice calm and neutral.

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

“I wish I weren’t, but I am. I’d trade all the money for my health. Don’t you understand.”

Eddie decided to play a hunch. “I don’t care about your social security or disability. Do I look like a government stiff?”

Hollis looked back at the dog again and mumbled something unintelligible.

“Eddie.” Ana was back in the car.

Eddie held up his palm to her, not wanting her to move.

Then Hollis smiled, revealing a mouth of missing and rotting teeth. “It ain’t even loaded.” He held up the shotgun with a maniacal grin on his face. “But I’ll load it as soon as you’re gone, so don’t bother telling no one, Mister Eddie!”

“I’m not telling anyone, least of all those government people.” Eddie approached the old kook slowly and kept his hands in plain sight. “Mind if we talk for a few minutes?”

“You can come inside. But that bitch stays in the car.” And without another word, Hollis whirled and marched into the shack. He left the shotgun propped against the wall outside.

Ana said, “I’m going to kill you. I told you he was missing some files in his computer.”

Eddie lowered his voice. “You’re right, he’s crackers. But I still gotta talk to him.”

“You’re not actually going in there.”

“Keep the motor running.”

Twenty-One

TheLab tracked Eddie as he approached the shack.

“That’s a good boy.”

The dog didn’t respond, just watched him with knowing eyes.

The generator blared loud enough to drown out all other sound near the shack.  Tucked away in a copse of trees, Eddie spotted a homemade fountain gurgling a weak stream of water. He stopped five paces from the front door and squinted his eyes to see better.

It seemed pitch black inside the shack, and the generator blocked out any noise Hollis might have been making.

Eddie looked back once at Ana. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around the steering wheel at eleven and one. He wondered where this ranked among his list of all-time bad decisions.

Ana waved at him to come back.

Eddie turned back around and eyed Hollis’s shotgun, leaning up against the shack. It wasn’t loaded but it made a better weapon than his bare hands. But he decided against it. Hollis might have really armed himself inside and any suspect moves by Eddie would probably earn him two slugs to the chest and a trip to the morgue.

Eddie walked forward, staring into the gaping darkness of the shack.

He stopped in the doorway. Waited a moment to see if Hollis would call to him in the darkness. But he heard nothing except the faint sound of music and the annoying whir of the generator outside.

“Mr. Hollis?”

“Right in front of you.”

Eddie jumped backward and Hollis cackled. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the cabin, Eddie could make out the silhouette of Hollis.

The shadow that was Hollis shifted forward, and the old man’s weather-beaten face came into view under the grey light eeking through the grimy window next to him. Eddie’s eyes adjusted more. Hollis sat at a small crooked table. There were things scattered around the floor, the inside of the shack a mess, matching the outside. Eddie knew that style. It was called Early American Cluster Fuck.

Heart still in his throat, Eddie said, “Mind if I come in?”

“Get the fuck in here and shut the door, it’s cold.”

Hollis reached to the floor and Eddie feared he was going for a weapon but then an old space heater rattled on.

Eddie left the front door cracked because he could barely see.

Hollis drank from a bottle of something that looked suspiciously like moonshine. “I was taking a nap, that’s why it’s so dark in here. I get migraines.”

Eddie found an ancient chair and took a seat, hoping he wouldn’t stick to it.

The music he’d heard a few moments ago came back. It was a Steve Miller Band album. A record player spun somewhere. The needle jumped twice but the song kept playing.

This scene had all the earmarks of a bad dream.

“You’re here about Tessa?” Hollis asked.

“That’s right.”

Hollis took another swig of moonshine. “I bet you wanna hear about the water then.”

Eddie had no idea what Hollis was talking about but decided to let it play out like Tim would have.

“That’s one of the reasons I’m here.”

Hollis leaned forward. “You wanna tell me how you know about the water, Mister Eddie, beings I haven’t mentioned it to a soul?”

Uh-oh. “Some strange things are happening in this town and some of them involve water.”

Hollis leaned back in his seat and lapsed into a suspicious silence.

Eddie returned the old man’s stare. The seconds ticked by and still Hollis didn’t look away. The stare-off wasn’t unusual to Eddie. In prison it happened often. If you looked away you were inviting some goon to make you his girlfriend. So Eddie kept his eyes glued to Hollis’s, and stayed quieter than a silent film actor.

They held each other’s gaze like they couldn’t look away. Eddie was starting to get creeped out. No sane man eyeballed someone else this long. He pictured Ana in the car and wondered why he wasn’t in it with her.

Then something beeped and Eddie nearly jumped out of his seat.

Hollis brought a wrist up into the weak light and looked down at an old watch.

“Time for my meds.”

Hollis didn’t need to move. A pill organizer sat on the table in front of him. He opened one of the Thursday compartments and poured out a few pills and shoved them into his mouth and took a pull on the bottle to wash them down.

The mood in the dark room seemed to change.

Hollis said, “The water’s a pain the balls. It gets in everywhere.”

Eddie leaned forward in his chair. “Where’s it getting in and how often?”

Hollis rose and limped to the far side of the room. He switched on a lamp.

Eddie saw something scurry out of the light and make a dash for some yellowing newspapers. He tried to ignore it.

“Here.” Hollis tapped the wall with his boot.

A dark water stain had formed a crescent in the corner of the room. Eddie looked at the ceiling for any tell-tale signs of a leak.

“It ain’t coming from there,” Hollis said. “That’s the first place I looked.”

“How long’s it been there?”

“This one? It’s new.”

“There’s more?”

Hollis nodded. “Every few days there’s a new spot.”

Eddie moved closer to the corner to inspect the stain. “How long’s this been going on?”

Hollis shrugged. “Coupla months.”

“And there’s no leak.”

Hollis bristled. “I told you, there ain’t nothing wrong with the damn roof. This place is old but my son sent me money to fix that roof. It’s sound.”

Eddie had been waiting for Hollis to bring up his son. “How’s Michael doing?”

Hollis looked like he wanted to spit. “Still a pussy. He got hitched to a real hellcat. That bitch wears the pants. She says jump and he says, how high?”

Eddie let that pass as he scanned the room for any additional weapons. Not seeing any, he did notice a few loops of rope hanging on hooks on the opposite wall, reminding him of the deer outside.

“You’re pretty good with a rope, huh? Me, I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“Course I am. I’m a man.”

“You know how to tie one of those African tarantula knots?”

Hollis thought about it for a second, then shook his head. He even managed to chuckle. “You’re full of shit, you know that?”

Eddie smirked. “Just testing you. I saw that deer outside too. What kind of rifle do you use?”

Hollis sneered. “You know anything about rifles?”

“I had a water pistol once.”

The old man cackled at that. “Guess you one of them city boys, huh?”

“Not exactly. Can you show me where the other wet spots were?”

Hollis pulled a toothpick out of his shirt pocket and jabbed it in the corner of his mouth. “C’mon, I’ll give you the grand tour. This here’s the living room.”

Hollis mumbled something before limping into a room smaller than a rat’s nest. “Here’s the kitchen.”

Eddie looked around. Saw an old freezer but no fridge. There was a rusty sink, an old formica counter with two cabinets perched above it and a seriously grimy linoleum floor.

Hollis pointed to the middle of the floor with a long, crooked finger that looked like it had been broken half a dozen times.

“Last time, the water was right there. Right in front of you.”

Eddie knelt and examined the floor. The caulk had long ago disintegrated. Most of the tiles were loose. “How much water?”

Hollis’s arms formed a circle. “About yea big.”

“And it was just here, in a circle? It didn’t spread or run anywhere?”

An edge formed in Hollis’s voice. “That’s the lowest point in the room. So it just stayed put.”

Eddie checked the ceiling. Hollis wagged a finger at him.

“No leaks, I said.”

“Could it have come from somewhere else and collected here?”

“Rest of the room was bone dry.”

Eddie looked around the room as Hollis started mumbling to himself again.

All Hollis’s claims were unverifiable. To do a proper job, Eddie would need someone to certify the roof and check the walls and plumbing for leaks. He’d also like to have a couple cameras on site for at least a couple nights.

“You mind if I come back tomorrow and set up a camera or two? I’d love—”

“No fucking cameras in here. You’re lucky I let your scrawny ass in.”

Eddie held his anger in check and screwed his face up into a smile. “Any more wet spots?”

“In here.” Hollis shuffled backward into his bedroom and propped himself against a chest of drawers for support.

Eddie decided to wrap it up as quickly as possible. Hollis wouldn’t let him film and probably wouldn’t let him come back inside again. Hollis hadn’t known Eddie was coming so why would he make up this story. Plus, Hollis clearly didn’t like visitors, and these claims would invite attention he didn’t want. That made these admissions against self-interest. Eddie had learned over the years to generally trust such things.

“When do these wet spots appear?” Eddie asked.

Hollis shifted his weight heavily to his other foot. “No particular time. Just all of a sudden-like and there they are.”

“Bad hip or bad back?” Eddie asked.

“Not that that’s any of your business, Mister Eddie, but both. Herniated discs and pinched nerves. Then those wetbacks hit me with their fucking car. Twice.”

Eddie did a quick scan of the room, by far the darkest in the whole shack. Heavy black curtains were drawn. A shoebox of a bathroom to Eddie’s left. The record player in the far corner of the room, the needle bouncing over the end of the album.

A cot in the middle of the room. A chair and a tall reading lamp. There was something rectangular on the cot, with a plug running to the wall.

“Did you ever work at the Mill?” Eddie asked.

“Long time ago. Back when old man Kindler was running things. He knew what he was doing, not like that worthless son of his.”

Eddie felt like there was more to the story there but Hollis wasn’t going to open up. Hollis shifted his weight back to his other leg. It seemed like he couldn’t make up his mind which side hurt more.

Hollis said, “The latest puddle appeared two days ago. Was up to the doc’s office and when I come back, there she was.”

Eddie realized what the black rectangular box on the old man’s bed was. “Is that a laptop?”

“Bet you didn’t think you’d find one of those in here.” Hollis snorted. “My boy bought it for me so’s we could keep in touch. Been e-mailing back and forth, just like you high-falutin city folk.”

Eddie suppressed a smile. The old man was playing up being a rube, he could tell.

Eddie looked at Hollis like a thought had just occurred to him. “Why would Tessa haunt you?”

Hollis stiffened. “How do you know it’s Tessa? May be my ex-wife. Folks seem to think I treated her a lot worse than that bitch Tessa Lovsky.”

“Just wondering.” Eddie scratched his chin like he was thinking. “Me, I think Tessa went out on that lake by herself. From what I hear, she didn’t need any coaxing to be a wild child.”

Hollis’s body slowly untensed. “My son never went out on that ice. I know that because he was a chicken-shit. More coward than a draft-dodger. Those assholes got together and made up a story and the whole town bought it because they loved that little tramp. God knows why. And they love that little whore sister of hers too.”

Eddie knew the old man was goading him. All the same, Eddie decided to say something.

“You’re just a broken down, bitter old man, Hollis. I almost feel sorry for you. Almost. You’ve got everyone around here scared of you and you’re nothing but a pathetic geriatric fuck.”

“You, you get the fuck out of my house before I—”

“Before you what? You gonna shoot me? You make a move for that gun and I’ll stick it up your ass your miserable piece of shit.”

Hollis wasn’t expecting this and he was momentarily taken aback. He must have seen the anger in Eddie’s eyes.

“You get outta here or I’ll sick the lieutenant on you for trespassing and making threats.”

Eddie laughed on his way out of the shack. “Have a nice day, asshole.”

Eddie took the slope of the hill on the way back to the car. He wondered how Hollis, with his bad hip and back, could move soundlessly through the hilly woods of Pennsylvania quiet enough to kill a deer.

Twenty-Two

MitchellHollis stood in the doorway and watched Ana Lovsky’s car trundle down the hill as the chill wind made the dead leaves dance.

Hollis was long used to the damp cold winters of Northeastern Pennsylvania. He hardly noticed it anymore.

He wondered if Eddie had swallowed his act. Maybe he’d overdone the crazy old coot part.

It was important to keep up the charade. It kept those disability checks coming in and the nosy out.

He stood there, framed in the doorway, till the car was out of sight and he could hear it no more. He could smell the damp leaves and taste their earthy smell. The wind hinted of snow.

The ghostbuster, or whatever he called himself, was a nobody jailbird with a checkered past. He wouldn’t come back but the seeds were planted.

He stepped outside and petted his dog. The Lab whined happily and thumped its tail against the old tree stump it liked to cozy up to.

“We did good, Zeus,” Hollis said. “They think my place is haunted too.”

The dog yawned and rolled to its side, inviting a belly rub. Hollis gave him one, then went back inside.

He wasn’t having a migraine. Had never had one, actually. That was just part of the ruse. He had the government convinced he was disabled from a car wreck ten years ago. He’d been to the right doctors, so it was difficult to challenge his claims of back and hip pain. He had the normal aches and pains associated with aging but he was far from disabled. The migraines were a nice touch because they were impossible to disprove.

Hollis lived mostly off the land and was a born spendthrift. His boy frequently sent him cash too, which Hollis greedily accepted as payment for having had to raise such a disappointing son.

And he was pretty savvy with the computer for an old coot. He piggybacked on somebody’s wireless server to access the internet. The townsfolk would be surprised at how much he was able to find out with his little laptop, despite his hermetic existence.

That was how he knew all about the ghostbuster. He knew all about the silly ghost stories circulating around town. Knew a lot about a lot, knew a lot about everybody in town.

He began writing an email to his son.

There’s a lot doing down here. It’s time you and I talked. It’s time for a lot of things. Give me a call.

Hollis hit SEND and then went outside to butcher the deer.

* * * *

Two-hundred and fifty six miles away, Michael Hollis was getting ready to leave his office when the email arrived.

He noted the sender of the email, his father, and was filled with a sense of dread. As always, dear old dad hadn’t bothered to put a subject line in the email, making it impossible for him to gauge the importance of the communication. It could be nothing or it could be an emergency.

He didn’t like his father. Didn’t love him either but tried to engage the old man out of some obligation he could never fathom or explain. Deep down he still had an irrational fear of the old bastard.

Michael had hoped that the passage of time would provide his father some much-needed distance on things, but that longed-for perspective had never materialized. Dad was dad was dad.

He figured the email was probably another plea for money or something else unpleasant. Probably nothing earth-shattering. He reasoned that if it was an emergency the old man would call him.

Michael closed his inbox and shut down his computer. He’d had a good day and didn’t want to ruin it by talking to dad. He wanted to get home and share a nice bottle of wine with his wife. He switched off the light on his way out.

Twenty-Three

“Thanks for almost getting me killed,” Ana said after a tense fifteen minute silence.

Eddie, lost in thought, wasn’t in an apologetic mood. “The gun wasn’t loaded.”

“Yeah, but Hollis was. That old head is a pinless grenade.”

Eddie stared out the window. Maybe he should have listened to Ana. It was a bit reckless, going at the old bastard. But that was who he was. Tim would have done things differently for sure, dottings his i’s and crossing his t’s. He could try to be like Tim or he could do things his way.

After Tim’s murder he thought he would change. Grief, guilt, and regret were his constant companions. For awhile he did change. He laid off the booze and drugs. But as the initial shock faded into the background, the old Eddie emerged.

He started drinking again and of course he needed to smoke when he drank and there was the weed again, the great numbing elixir. He was adrift with no plans and no purpose. Idiots tried to romanticize being penniless and without any prospects, mooching weed and smokes from your friends.

That existence had been fun, freeing when he was younger. His carefree, seize-the-moment attitude had made him the envy of all the working-stiffs and of many of the women around town. But at the end of the day, he was the grasshopper with no food for the winter.

Finally, he’d turned to selling for one of his “friends” and wound up in the clink.

In hindsight, probably the best thing that ever happened to him.

Ana came to a stop at an intersection. “Earth to Eddie.”

“Yeah.” He was thinking about the project ahead and how his brother might handle it. Truth be told, neither he nor Tim had worked an investigation of this magnitude. Multiple claims at multiple sites. Many witnesses to debrief.

“How should we handle Kindler?” Ana said.

Eddie snapped out of his reverie. What would Tim have done?

Then Eddie realized. “We’re not going to Kindler’s tonight. We’re going to Colin’s.”

“Why?” Ana turned onto a small road Eddie didn’t recognize.

“Marty Kindler is the subject of this investigation, not in charge of it. You can’t let the subject take control.”

“But he’s expecting us.”

“Call him and tell him we have plans already and we’ll let him know when we can see him.”

“I have to call him?”

“Yeah. That way, you can push it off on me as the unreasonable one. Then when I talk to him it won’t be a surprise we’re not coming.”

“He’s going to be pissed.”

“He’s a big boy, he’ll get over it.”

“What if Colin can’t do tonight?”

“Then we don’t go anywhere. We do some research, massage the plan and talk about what I found out at Hollis’s.”

An impish grin on her face. “Wait a minute—there’s a plan?”

“Very funny.”

“So what did that old shit tell you?” she said.

“He had nothing but good things to say about you. I don’t remember the first couple words but the last few were and the horse she rode in on.”

“You’re a riot.”

“He did say that puddles of water were collecting in different parts of the old ratstead.”

She nearly drove off the road. “Shut the fruit cup! Water?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You said it yourself, the old man’s got one oar in the water.”

“Water, Eddie. Water. It’s Tessa. It’s her footprints, just like she’s leaving at Kindler’s. It’s her under the water crying for help. It’s all right in front us.”

Ana shivered like she’d just plunged into freezing water.

“Except for what isn’t,” Eddie said.

“Huh?”

“There’s always something you don’t see.”

When Tim was stumped, he’d talk it out with one person and only one person. Eddie wondered if that same person would talk it out with him.

“Can I use your phone?” Eddie asked.

“You really need to get a cell phone.”

“Somebody I need to call.”

“Hence, the phone.”

“Smartass.”

Ana retrieved her phone from her altogether too tight pants by lifting her cute little fanny off the seat. She handed the phone to him.

“Hey, listen. I know you met my boyfriend the other night when we were all out having a good time but …”

“But what?” he asked.

Worry lines formed around her eyes. “He’s going through a tough time right now, okay? I just want to leave it at that.”

Eddie didn’t say a word.

But Ana didn’t leave it at that. “He’s a good guy. He’s just having a hard time right now, you know what I mean?”

“Sure I do.”

Twenty-Four

They drove to the bar to pick up Eddie’s car. He would have given one of his toes for a beer but there was no time. He had to make a call, look at some tape, and get ready for Colin’s.

He’d planned to think about the investigation on the way to Ana’s apartment, but he kept thinking about Ana instead.

They pulled into her complex and parked next to each other. Ana went ahead so Eddie could make the call from his car.

He watched her walk away in the side view. The lack of panty lines around her ass intrigued him. So what if she had a boyfriend? He didn’t owe the guy anything and they could keep it between themselves. Or maybe she’d even dump him. Eddie could tell she wasn’t happy with Jimbo. The more she tried to say how nice a guy he was, the hollower it sounded.

But did he really intend to date her? More likely that was the Neanderthal inside him trying to rationalize what he wanted to do.

Eddie looked down at the phone and realized some female companionship would go a long way and was also available.

He fished out the piece of paper from the grocery store and dialed.

“Hello?” Elsie said.

“Hello.”

“Who’s this?”

“My dear, we met earlier today, and I haven’t stopped thinking about you since.”

Her voice grew warmer. “Oh you. I was counting the minutes.”

“That sure I would call?”

“Yes.”

He laughed. “I heard your cable was out and you needed somebody to come by.”

“It’s about time. I’ve been calling you people for months.”

“My schedule opens up later tonight.”

“When can I expect you?”

“You know how it is. Customer service overbooks us. I’ll be there between the hours of eleven and two.”

“When is the cable company going to learn?”

“Never. Are you available in that window?”

“You’re in luck. The kids are down the street at a sleepover and I have a couple bottles of wine. I hope you like red.”

“No can do. I’m a Pinot Grigio guy.”

“Too bad. I guess I’ll have to settle for the next slightly-adorable hunk that calls me out of the blue.”

“Slightly?”

“Goodbye, Ed—”

“I’ve reconsidered. Is it okay if I come by that late?”

“I’ll leave the back door open.”

Eddie left that one alone. “The kids will be out, but what about their father?”

“He’ll be here. We like to swing.”

Eddie waited for it.

“I’m kidding. He’s out of the picture.”

Eddie smiled. “Look forward to seeing you, Elsie.”

“Me too.”

Women had always been easy for him. Well most of them anyway. The one that didn’t was the only one he’d ever loved. She’d dumped him and married Stan, one of his good friends.

Which brought him to his next call.

Twenty-Five

Eddie dialed Stan’s phone number from memory. It was a land line in Stan’s house, a huge place that he and Tim used to jokingly call The Stansion.

Eddie took a deep breath and hoped Stan would answer.

“Hello?”

It wasn’t Stan. “Hey, Moira.”

“... Eddie?”

Her voice sent his mind racing and it took him a moment to answer. “It’s me, alright. How are you?”

“My God, is it really you?”

“Back from the dead.”

“Eddie …”

She didn’t sound excited but she didn’t sound cold either. Eddie looked out the window and tried to block out the memories of all the bad choices he’d made over the years.

“I miss you guys. I’ve been meaning to call. But I’ve been ... you know how I am.”

Her voice went flat. “Do you need something? Money, or a place to stay?”

She spoke to him like he was an embarrassing distant relative who always had his hand out. Stan had helped him with bail money back in the day.

A spark of anger lit inside him. It was the anger of a man who’d been honestly accused.

He kept his voice calm. “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m actually working a case and wanted to run some things by Stan.”

“What kind of case?”

The power this woman still held over him was surprising. “There’s only one kind of case I’d be working, M.”

Just the sound of her breathing now. Eddie waited.

“I’ll give you to Stan.”

He waited for the phone to be handed over. Imagined her offering it to Stan with a cross look on her face. Don’t go easy on this guy. He was nothing but trouble and now he wants your help again.

But it was Moira’s voice he heard again. “I hope you’re okay, Eddie. I really do.”

“M, I’m real—”

“Eddie?!”

“Stan!”

“Who the fuck pulled the stake out of your heart?”

And just like that it was ten years ago. Two good friends having at each other. Eddie relaxed.

“I know, Stan. It’s been awhile.”

“Too long, brother.”

There was a lull. Eddie knew he owed them an apology and if he didn’t say it now, he might never.

“I’m sorry about the wedding. No excuses, but I am sorry.”

Stan didn’t even hesitate. “I appreciate that, but don’t even think about it. I know it was a tough time for you.”

Eddie was just out of the joint and still going through withdrawal and rehab.

“I’ll bet it was great.”

They caught up for a few minutes and had a couple laughs. As Stan relayed the latest from home Eddie felt a pang of nostalgia. Sheriff Charlie Waite was now coaching the community college basketball team. He’d helped them out on their last investigation. Old Mrs. Dilworth had passed away, finally. She’d been telling everyone she was dying for the last twenty years. Her son Willie had decided he was really a woman so he was spending his inheritance on gender reassignment.

“That fucker was at least six-three, two-sixty.”

“Son of a bitch was hung like a giraffe.”

“You would know that, Stan. Sometimes I wonder about you.”

Then Stan grew serious. “Listen. I know where you are. I’d like to come out there.”

“What? How?”

“Electronic chatter, brother. I set up a google alert on your name some time back and got a few hits last night.”

Eddie didn’t know whether to feel flattered or offended. He settled on the former. Stan had only been looking out for him.

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

“Not good. If you figured out how to find me, old man McKenna shouldn’t have any problem. You know where he is?”

“He’s not around here anymore. He and the wife split up last I heard.”

Now Eddie had to figure Sean McKenna would come looking for him.

Stan said, “Look, man, I could help you. I’m only four hours away.”

Eddie paused. It would be great to have Stan’s knowledge, gadgets … just his presence. But he balked at the idea.

“I’ll bet Moira would love that.”

“She’s pissed but she still cares about you.”

“That’s a start.”

It would be great to have Stan’s help but Eddie didn’t want him getting mixed up in anything. The last job had gone bad, horribly bad, and he’d never forgive himself if something happened to Stan. Eddie had already screwed up Moira’s life once with his drinking and drug use. He wouldn’t hurt her again by getting Stan into trouble.

“No, Stan, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“You sure?” Stan leaned on the word and it was almost enough to change Eddie’s mind.

“Thanks, but I’m sure. But I could definitely use your advice right about now.”

“About what?”

“Tim always went to you when he needed to kick ideas around. I was wondering if you could do the same for me.”

“What are you looking at?”

“Multiple sites. Dozens of varying claims. If the claims are valid, we’re looking at intelligent hauntings.”

Stan laughed. “You sure you don’t need some help on this?”

“Yeah. But I do need some ideas on how to bogus these claims.”

“Tell me again how you got roped into this.” Stan was almost in stitches on the other end of the line.

“You know me. I’m a sucker for a damsel-in-distress.”

Now Stan was dying.

It was full dark out now. The moon hid behind dense clouds.

Eddie said, “Some dude’s saying his house gets freezing cold at night.”

Stan chuckled. “Did they pay their oil bill?”

“Not all of us hit the lottery, Stan.”

Stan had hit the mega millions seven years ago and since had never worked a day in his life. But he had a lot of hobbies.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. See, Eddie, there’s this thing called a thermostat …”

“Yeah, no shit.”

Stan laughed again. “They’re sophisticated nowadays. You can set the temp to change throughout the day. Simplest explanation: he sets it to get cold overnight.”

“Yeah, but couldn’t I just check the thermostat to see if he’d programmed it that way?”

“You’re hopeless, dude. Totally hopeless.”

“Okay, Mr. Homeowner, please teach this poor man’s renter how to manipulate a thermostat without touching it.”

It took Stan less than five seconds to explain.

“Really?”

“Yeah. That’s all it would take.”

Eddie rubbed the day’s worth of stubble peppering his face. Thought about what to do. They spoke about the other two claims Eddie was to investigate. The conversation started to wind down.

“Seriously, I’m only four hours away,” Stan said.

“Five, the way you drive.”

“Ha, ha. Least I’ve never lost my license.”

Eddie got out of the fogged-up car and stepped into the blustery cold. “Kiss my ass. And think about the footprints for me.”

“I could ask Moira to do some research—”

“Don’t.”

“It’s cool.”

“It’s not.”

“You’re just as stubborn as Tim was.”

“Thanks.”

“Dude.”

“Yeah?”

Stan paused. “It was good talking to you.”

“Same here.” Eddie started walking toward Ana’s building.

“One more thing I wanted to tell you.”

The tone in Stan’s voice stopped Eddie dead in his tracks. “You’re considering a sex change, aren’t you?”

Stan didn’t laugh. He took a long time to say the next thing. “Moira’s pregnant.”

Jealousy knifed Eddie’s gut. He’d thought he was over her. But there it was, the green-eyed monster, telling him how much he still regretted losing Moira. And now she was having a child ...

“That’s awesome. Tell her congrats for me. When’s the baby due?”

“Thanks. We’re real excited. She’s due in three months.”

“Just one question, Stan. I don’t know how to ask this …”

“Fire away, dude.”

“Who’s the father?”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

They were both laughing when they hung up.

Twenty-Six

Ana heard a knock on her door as she scurried to tidy the apartment up. Jimbo was two hours deep into his daily nap in the bedroom, and she’d used the time to collect his beer cans and put them into the recycling. She didn’t want Eddie to see how much her boyfriend drank and how little he did around the apartment.

Satisfied that she’d gotten the living room into satisfactory condition, she said, “It’s open.”

Eddie came in.

He’d been in his car for awhile. That was along time for a man to be on the phone. She was curious who he’d been talking to and wondered if it would be bad form to check out the call history on her cell phone.

“Everything alright, Eddie?”

“Yeah.” He handed her the phone. “Thanks.”

Their fingers touched as she took the phone. A tiny jolt of excitement ran through her body.

“So what’s the plan?” she asked.

“Call Colin, we’ll try to see him tonight.”

“Sure.”

“You were out filming at the lake last week, right?”

She nodded and chewed on her bottom lip. She was embarrassed by the thought of him thinking how amateurish the tape would show her to be.

“I’ll take a look-see at the tape while you get a hold of Colin and set up the meet.”

“Yeah. Okay … Jimbo will be up soon.”

“It’s okay I’m here, right?”

“Oh yeah. It’s just, we only have the one TV and Jimbo .. he’ll want to watch his shows when he gets up.”

She noted the disapproval in his eyes.

“I don’t want to cause any trouble,” he said. “I just need a place to watch this. I don’t have a TV.”

She said, “It’s alright. I’ll tell him it’s important for the investigation.”

Twenty-Seven

Ana put the tape into the VCR and he was treated to a startling view of her magnificent posterior but managed to peel his eyes away before she turned around.

She grabbed one of the six remotes off the coffee table and handed it to him. “Okay, I’m going in the other room. I can’t stand watching myself and I hate my voice.”

“Did you watch this yet?”

“I was going to but I got caught up in that book, and then everything happened so fast last night …”

Eddie hit PLAY. Ana left the living room.

The tape started. Eddie had been expecting a green, shadowy landscape indicative of night vision tech and was surprised when the screen showed an almost pitch black view with just a couple of barely discernible shapes.

On the tape, Ana said, “Uh, guys, you wanna get the lights?”

There was a jump cut, the tape skipping ahead in time. Suddenly the dark landscape could be made out.

Someone’s breath kept fogging a corner of the screen.

“Dude, move over,” Ana said on the tape.

Someone responded to Ana unintelligibly, and she repeated her command. The breath disappeared.

Eddie heard somebody coming down the hallway. Ana appeared in the living room a moment later. “Sorry, I’m just getting a drink.”

Ana tiptoed into the kitchen and rummaged around the fridge for an inordinate amount of time before finally deciding on something then looked at Eddie while taking a swig from a bottle of seltzer. It was obvious she’d changed her mind and now wanted to watch.

Eddie paused the video. “Ana, could you do some research for me?”

“Sure. Like what?”

“Anything you can find on the houses we have to investigate. Rumors, previous owners, unsolved crimes, any violence associated with the residences. That sort of thing.”

“Busy work?”

“Important work. We do this on every investigation.”

“Yeah, okay.” She disappeared down the hallway again with her seltzer.

Eddie pushed PLAY again.

A male voice on the tape. “This is awesome, just like watcha-call-it paranormal movies.”

Another mail voice, muffled. “That’s what they’re called. Paranormal something.”

“Nah, that’s what I’m asking, what’re they called?”

“Paranormal—”

“Guys, keep it quiet,” Ana said.

No noise for some time. Someone slowly panned the camera and Eddie could see the far left end of the lake, where the water glittered from the reflection of moonlight.

* * * *

Eddie watched for what seemed like hours but in fact was twenty minutes. Reviewing the evidence was always the worst part of the job. On the tape, the two dimwits said they were going to try and capture some electronic voice phenomenon. Eddie heard them moving behind the camera.

Ana laughed. “Guys, you might want to take the tape recorder with you.”

“Oh yeah.” They promised to be back soon.

Eddie figured the real purpose in their going off was to fire up a fatty. He knew one of the guys was Jimbo, Ana’s boyfriend, and suspected the other was his best friend, Tony, the dude who’d brought the weed to the last party.

Eddie heard Jimbo’s heavy footsteps coming down the hallway. Ana’s boyfriend appeared sporting basketball shorts that were falling off him and a long-sleeved t-shirt.

Eddie paused the tape. “I’m Eddie, we met before.”

“Sure, I remember you,” Jimbo said.

Jimbo was a big guy with a dull expression on his face. His eyes were half-open. It could have been from sleep but Eddie suspected it was because Jimbo couldn’t be bothered to open them the whole way. Would have required too much effort.

Eddie asked himself the eternal question: how did this guy end up with that girl?

Jimbo took two long strides so he could see the TV better. “You almost done?”

“Think I’ve got another hour.”

“Really? We were only there about a half hour, I thought.”

Eddie kept the laugh to himself. The fool had gotten high and lost track of time and didn’t understand that the tape needed to be studied.

Jimbo put his chin to his chest and scratched the back of his neck. “It’s cool, I guess,” he said, as if giving permission. Eddie knew this was Ana’s apartment and guessed that Sasquatch wasn’t too helpful when it came to paying the rent.

Eddie hit PLAY.

Jimbo shuffled lazily into the kitchen and relieved the fridge of two beers, neither of which he offered to share with Eddie. He plopped on the love seat and put his clodhoppers on the coffee table.

On the tape, Ana said, “Hey, sis. It’s me. You around?”

Slowly, Ana panned the camera from left to right as if she were performing a tracking shot in a Spielberg flick. Then back again.

The lake was calm, the wood silent.

“My earliest memory is of you,” Ana said, projecting her voice. “I was four. We  were in the backyard and you showed me how to brush my doll’s hair.”

The camera panned back again. Jimbo chugged his beer, his eyes not even on the TV screen.

“My last memory of you was … not so nice. I was screa—”

The camera jerked to a stop and the lens auto-focused on the middle of the lake. A ripple glided across the lake.

“Tessa?”

There was another ripple on the lake. Eddie figured it was just a fish.

“Tessa?”

Nothing.

Nearly two minutes of breathless film unrolled, and the lake went still.

“If you’re there, could you do something to let me know?”

Nothing.

“Can you do that with the lake again?”

A sudden noise off-camera made Ana jump. The camera tilted and the world turned sideways.

“Who’s there?”

Another shuffling noise, but the audio was so bad, Eddie couldn’t even hazard a guess. Probably just some animal.

“Are you there?”

Ana suddenly righted the camera, as if just remembering it was running, and spun one hundred and eighty degrees. The screen went nuclear bright as the halogen lamps they’d posted for back lighting hit the lens. Then the screen went black again for a moment. After the cut, Eddie could see the woods behind Ana. The landscape looked as though it rose then peaked with some unseen hill. The trees cast eerily long shadows.

“If there’s anyone out there? Jim … Tony … This isn’t funny.”

No answer.

Then something rippled on the lake again, and Ana cursed worse than a sailor. The camera stayed put, but he heard her scramble away.

Her voice was distant when she spoke next. “Hello? Is that you, Tessa?”

On the love seat, Jimbo laughed. “She got really freaked.”

Eddie ignored him.

Nothing on the tape. Three minutes passed. Then, another noise from the woods.

Ana panned the camera to the right then realigned the halogens.

“Are you there?”

Another sound, but the audio was so bad Eddie couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Hello?” Ana said.

Then Eddie spotted something.

He reversed the tape and sat forward on the sofa. Hit PLAY.

Ana’s voice saying hello.

Then an image of something.

Eddie jumped off the couch and sat a foot away from the TV. He backed it up and hit PLAY.

A shadowy image formed on the far edge of the lake. It wasn’t sharply defined, but it had a human-like shape. Two arms, one foreshortened like it was pointing at the camera. Two wispy things that might have been legs. The shape seemed suspended just above the far shoreline.

It disappeared abruptly.

“Holy shit,” Jimbo said. “She said she saw something but … dude, back that up.”

Eddie kept backing the tape up and watching the image appear then fold back on itself.

“Cool, isn’t it?” Ana stepped out of the hallway. “I was looking through the lens when it showed up. Didn’t see it with the naked eye.”

Eddie hit PAUSE. “Is that lake stocked?”

“With fish?” Jimbo asked.

No, with refrigerators. “Yeah.”

Jimbo shrugged and finished his second beer. “Guess so.”

Ana approached the screen and touched the image. “I didn’t see it again, but maybe the camera caught it.”

Jimbo looked at his watch. “So you guys are almost done, right?”

Eddie took a deep breath and tried to relax. Ana looked over her shoulder at Jimbo. “Just a little bit longer, okay?”

“Whatever.” He went to the fridge for another cold one. Then he exited stage left, down the hallway.

“Did you find anything online?” Eddie asked Ana.

She was too close and her lips sparkled with gloss and she’d put makeup on and she smelled too nice so he put some distance between them and sat on the couch.

“It turns out this town does have a history,” Ana said. “This girl named Tessa Lovsky drowned in the lake …”

“Smart ass.” Eddie smiled. “Anything else?”

“It was a coal-mining town a hundred years ago, but then the coal-breaker opened up in Wilkes-Barre and the Kindlers opened the saw mill. Some occupational deaths and some arms and legs amputated but nothing too juicy.”

“What about the three houses we’re going to investigate?”

“Kindler built his house five years ago, so it’s got no history. There’s no record of anything bad happening at Colin’s or Bernard’s.”

“Good work. Thanks for looking into it.”

Ana smirked. “The lack of other history supports the prevailing theory. That it’s Tessa.”

“Don’t confuse wish-fulfillment with theory.”

She stiffened. “You think you’d act differently if there was an outside chance it was your brother?”

Her words cut him to the quick. He sprang off the couch and went to the window. It was full dark. He saw her reflection in the glass, her eyes glued to his back. Two deep breaths later, he was ready to be civil again.

“Yeah, Ana, I probably would but I would be just as wrong for not following protocol.” He faced her. “I’ve gotta finish the tape.”

She nodded sheepishly and left him alone.

Eddie sat back down and hit PLAY.

He watched in silence. Ana changed camera positions a few more times. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Jimbo and Tony returned eventually and Ana asked if they’d seen anything. They hadn’t. She then asked if they were trying to prank her in the woods but they denied it.

Ana said, “You guys wouldn’t believe what I saw through the lens … guys, where’s the tape recorder?”

There was a brief silence then Jimbo and Tony started cracking up. “Guess we left it on the other side of the lake.”

They had the ganga-giggles and couldn’t stop laughing.

“Great,” Ana said under her breath. “Let’s go find it. Where were you?”

“On the other side …”

“Alright, let’s go.”

Their voices faded. The camera kept rolling. The lake was still again, the moon’s reflection captured on the right side of the screen.

Eddie was about to fast-forward but his thumb stopped over the button.  He lowered the remote and watched, his mouth open.

No way …

The lake had to started to glow.

Twenty-Eight

Eddie moved closer to the screen.

A green light filled the lake, like a colony of phytoplankton had suddenly lit up. But that was impossible. Wrong season, wrong kind of water, wrong locale.

And then it was gone.

He’d never seen or heard of anything like it.

Eddie watched it several times. The light was definitely coming from the lake. It lasted about five seconds and then was gone.

He watched it again, this time checking the surroundings for anything out of the ordinary. He spotted no wires or other mechanical devices.

Eddie must have watched it twenty times before letting the tape play out. On screen, Ana and the guys came back a few minutes later but nobody mentioned the mysterious glow from the lake.

Was it possible they hadn’t seen it?

Yes, it was possible. They were away from the shore, maybe with their backs turned, searching for the recorder. The light wasn’t blinding, just a glow that lasted only five seconds.

Strange that Ana had recorded for almost two hours and in the ten minutes she wasn’t watching the lake, it had glowed.

The probability of a hoax was low. When she’d made the tape, Ana had no way of knowing Eddie would eventually watch it. Instead she would have told someone right away—without ever needing to view the recording. She wouldn’t have sat on the evidence.

After the tape ended, Eddie hit REWIND and thought about it while the tape spooled back.

If Ana had rigged the lake, she would have triggered the lights to go off when someone was watching. Video footage could be doctored and it was true that eyewitness testimony was inherently unreliable, but if you had both to bolster one another, the evidence got a lot stronger.

It followed then that if this was a hoax, it would have happened while Ana was watching the lake.

A door opened down the hallway. Ana came into the living room.

“Did you see anything else?” she asked.

There was nothing in her tone approaching expectation.

“No.”

Twenty-Nine

Ana’s phone buzzed. She held it out for Eddie. “It’s Marty.”

Eddie took the phone. “What’s up, Kindler?”

“Eddie, my brother from another mother, just calling to see what the game plan was and to talk to you about Saturday night.”

“The plan for tonight is I do my job. What’s Saturday?”

“Who’s going to Colin’s tonight?”

“Me and Ana.”

Kindler asked, “What about her boyfriend and that other guy?”

“What about them?”

Eddie could hear Kindler yelling for another drink.

“Those two might be of use to you.”

“I can’t babysit while I’m doing this.”

“Yo, Ed. What’s with the badittude?”

“It’s my modus operandi. So what about Saturday night?”

“Listen, Eddie, in all seriousness. These two boys don’t have much. Nobody around here does, with the Mill closing. I just thought you could show them something, give them an experience, you know?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Eddie lied. “Now I’ve gotta roll.”

“Wait, I have to talk to you about Saturday night.”

“We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Eddie killed the call and laughed at Kindler’s clumsy attempt to use Thing One and Thing Two to spy on him. Maybe he could use those idiots for some disinformation.

* * * *

Ana pulled on her coat and lowered her voice. “Hey, listen, I wanted to talk.”

Eddie was staring at Jimbo, who was trying to beat the land speed record for inhaling fried chicken. He tore through it like a Gremlin.

Ana said, “What do you think that shape was on the tape?”

“I don’t know.”

“You ever seen anything like it?”

“Yeah, I saw something like that in a prison job we did once.”

“Did you figure out what it was?”

“No. We couldn’t verify or reproduce it, so we wrote it off.”

Ana shrunk. “Oh …”

“Come on, let’s get going.”

Outside it was blustery and cold. The smell of electricity in the air, like snow was coming. Ana steered her car out of the lot.

“How long you and Jimbo been dating?” he asked.

She looked over at him. “Listen, he’s a good guy who’s had a run of bad luck.”

Jimbo would always be down on his luck because Jimbo believed in luck instead of cause and effect, but Eddie kept that to himself. If you made enough bad decisions in your life, they’d catch up to you eventually. Law of averages.

“I’m just asking, not judging.”

Her voice oozed skepticism. “We’ve been together a year.”

“How’d you meet?”

“Under the jungle gym in third grade. He held out a screw and said—”

“Wanna screw? Yeah, I heard that one before.”

She smiled. “Maybe you’re not as old as I thought.”

“I’m just reaching my prime. He always like you?”

“I always liked him.”

“I know what that’s like.”

Ana negotiated a sharp curve, and Eddie spotted a few deer standing guard on the tricky slope of the passing hill. The deer stared for a moment then bolted for the street after they passed.

“You mean Moira,” Ana said.

“Don’t believe everything you read in books. How much farther?”

“Couple minutes.”

“Okay. Pull over.”

She gave him a strange look then realized he was serious and pulled onto the shoulder.

“What’s up?”

Problem was, she was just too damned cute. Even in the silly outfits she threw together. He almost lost his train of thought looking at her.

“... First, you did a good job with the camera at the lake. You got scared but you kept your cool.”

“Thanks.”

“Next time, don’t get left in the woods alone at night. Jimbo should know better.  That’s just plain stupid.”

“But—”

“Bad things happen to women all the time when they are isolated and alone at night.”

“It’s not that isolated. Besides, Kindler knew I was there.”

“Oh, I see, Kindler travels at the speed of light. Excuse me, Mr. Rapist, while I make this phone call for help?”

“Okay, Dad, I’ve heard enough. I’m a big girl.”

Eddie let it go. “While we’re on the subject, why did Kindler know you were there?”

“I told you, this is his thing. He gave us that old camera and tape recorder. I told him when we’d be there.”

Eddie filed that away. Kindler had his fingers everywhere. “Next thing, did you get Thing—Jimbo and Tony to account for their whereabouts while you were alone?”

“No … they couldn’t remember exactly where they were. They…”

“Were seeing dinosaurs, I know.”

“Don’t tell anybody.” She touched his arm. Even through her gloves and his clothes, the touch was electric. “Please … Jimbo had a rough day, he had another interview that went bad and he just needed something to…”

“Take the edge off.”

“You understand, right?”

The old Eddie did understand. All too well. “The problem is, that Dairy Queens a lot of the sound on the tape. It could have been them making all those noises without realizing it. Hell, for all we know they could have been throwing stuff in the water absently, causing the ripples.”

“Dairy Queens?”

“DQs … Disqualifies.”

She leaned back in her seat. “If I wasn’t so disappointed by what you just said, I’d tell you that’s the lamest expression ever.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. They should have taken this more seriously—”

She could have moved the Richter scale. “What about the shape? Can you DQ that?”

“You mix the grainy quality of the picture with the low lighting, and you got yourself a chemical accident that looks like something.”

“That was no chemical accident and you know it, Eddie.”

Eddie held his palms up. “I’m playing devil’s advocate here. All I’m saying is we need a lot more evidence than we have now to confirm anything.”

Ana’s eyes went from angry to hostile.

Eddie said, “The other problem is the nature of the site. It’s wide open and public. No way to control the scene. Those noises could have been animals moving around.”

There was a sharp edge to her voice. “Anything else?”

“You did a good job with what you had to work with, Ana. You held your own. I know what’s it like to be on a job by yourself and—”

“Thanks.” She put the car in gear and burned rubber.

As the trees whipped by, Eddie thought about the many ways he could have handled that better.

Thirty

They drove in silence and Eddie thought about Tim. He wasn’t a people person but he knew how to chastise without ruffling feathers. That was not one of Eddie’s gifts.

“It’s up here,” Ana said.

The road was slightly wider than a bowling lane with thick trees on each side. Ana braked and turned right just past a badly-rusted mailbox. As she slowly negotiated the rutted dirt driveway, floodlights came on and startled them both.

“Motion sensors,” Ana said.

Eddie squinted against the glare. The house was bigger than he’d expected. Two storeys with a wraparound porch. Off to the left, another building that might have been a stable at one point and a long, wide yard stretching behind the place. A creek meandered along the left border of the property and disappeared behind the house.

A four-by-four and a new white van were parked in the front yard.

Eddie said, “Does Colin live alone?”

“An ex-wife shows up every now and then to help him move the bed.”

“Kids?”

“No.”

They bumped along the dirt driveway and Ana parked near the van. Eddie saw the local news station’s logo prominently displayed on the side of the van.

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” Eddie said.

A woman in a tailored suit burst out of the front door of the house, mike in hand, trailed by a cameraman.

Ana cursed and tilted the rear view mirror so she could see her face and rummaged for her emergency makeup kit. “I can’t be on TV right now …”

Eddie sprang out of the car.  The reporter homed in on him like a great white after a seal.

“Edward McCloskey?” the woman said in that neutral, reporter’s accent. She was maybe thirty, looked twenty-five, sounded forty. “What do you think of all these paranormal claims cropping up—”

“What are you talking about? We’re from the Publishers’ Clearing House.” Eddie brushed past her, but she stuck with him.

“Have you ever seen this amount of simultaneous activity in one town before?”

“We have no comment at this time.” Eddie grabbed Ana’s arm and steered her towards the front door.

The reporter followed and turned to Ana. “Ana Lovsky, do you believe this is your sister attempting to communicate with you?”

Eddie and Ana climbed the three steps to the porch, and out came the owner, Colin Winspear.

Thirty-One

Colin Winspear had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his work jeans and only reluctantly offered his hand for a shake. He wore a long-sleeved flannel that had been through the washer too many times.

The camera crew would have forced their way inside, but Eddie closed the door and locked it.

Colin said, “Those news folks would really like to talk to you guys.”

Eddie smiled. “I’ll bet, but this is an ongoing investigation. And just a word of advice. You shouldn’t talk to them either. Before you know it there’ll be all sorts of nutcases banging on your door, disrupting your life and trespassing on your property.”

“How would that be any different than what I got now?”

Colin smirked like he was joking but Eddie knew he wasn’t.

Colin said, “Just a few minutes with them wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

Eddie kept that friendly smile on his face. “It would hurt, trust me.” Eddie looked around the living room. He felt the cold stares of dead eyes on him. Stuffed animal heads decorated the walls.

Colin looked at Ana. “Wow, you’ve grown up. How old are you now?”

“Twenty-two.” Ana smiled and put her backpack on the floor.

Colin shook his bald head. “I can’t believe it. High school was just yesterday. I can still see Tessa strutting down the halls between classes, turning heads.”

Colin and Ana exchanged awkward smiles.

Eddie broke the silence. “Did you call the news crew?”

Colin answered a little too quickly. “No.”

“They say who did?”

“I didn’t ask.”

Eddie sized Colin up. The guy was an ex-con, which made him guarded, suspicious, waiting for the screw-job.

“Did you talk to them at all?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Same thing I’m gonna tell you.”

* * * *

Colin Winspear’s icy attitude warmed, like Antarctica in the summer. Having Ana there helped. She must have gotten an A in schmoozing. As Colin and Eddie spoke, she scribbled notes in an old marble-bound notebook.

Colin had been hearing noises in his house for quite awhile. He’d never given them much thought.

“I figured it was the house settling.”

“When did the noises start?” Eddie asked.

Colin shrugged. “Ever since I bought the old palace. Seven, eight years. I didn’t pay them any mind because I didn’t think they were anything.”

“Where do you hear the sounds?”

“All over. Place ain’t that big. Being in the joint you learn to listen. Never know if some punk’s taken a dislike to you, gotta know what’s going on around you.”

Colin explained that his ex eventually got creeped out by the sounds. They’d wake her from a dead sleep and then Colin would have to stomp around with a flashlight. Weariness lined Colin’s voice as he shared the information. Eddie got the sense this had been the cause of many arguments between husband and wife.

Colin continued. “You’re half-asleep and you hear something and your brain cooks up all sorts of scenarios, none of ‘em good. One night after some pizza and beer I cut one loose and she jumped out of bed.”

“You have central air here?” Eddie asked.

“Put it in myself.”

“You’re a better man than me. I couldn’t tell you which was the working end of a hammer.”

Eddie looked around the living room and saw two registers at shin-height. Heating and ventilation often caused strange noises and carried sounds from one room to the next, making them seem louder. When he and his brother were young, they used to listen at the vent in their bedroom to hear what their mother and father were talking about. It always ended up being about something boring, like insurance or taxes or politics.

“What kind of noises are they?” Eddie asked.

“Varies.”

Eddie waited politely for Colin to continue, but he didn’t. “Can you give me a few examples?”

“I guess the most frequent one is the pounder.”

“The pounder?”

“Yeah. It’s like somebody’s pounding on the wall in the next room.”

Ana stopped taking notes and he knew exactly what she was thinking. Because he’d thought it himself.

Tessa must have pounded frantically against the ice with her hands, hoping to make a hole or draw someone’s attention for help.

Eddie sat forward on the couch. “What other noises?”

Colin looked away from him and peered out the window, almost like he was looking into the past. “Screaming.”

“Screaming?”

“Yeah. Like someone screaming on the other side of the wall. You can’t hear it too well and you can’t make out what they’re saying.”

Eddie ignored Ana’s stare. “What does the screaming sound like?”

Colin turned from the window and looked at him again. “It sounds like screaming.”

There was a long stretch of silence while the two men looked at each other. Eddie felt the hostility coming off Colin like it was heat. It was a strange attitude to take, given that Eddie hadn’t pushed to come here. Kindler and Ana had made it sound like everybody was anxious for his investigation to begin.

Eddie said, “What kind of screaming? Scared, angry, cheering …?”

Colin leaned back in his chair. “Never thought about that.”

“Thinking about it now, what would you say it was?”

“I don’t know. It’s muffled.”

“How many times have you heard it?”

Colin looked hard at him. “Lots.”

“Ballpark it for me.”

He had to think about it a little too long. “Hundreds.”

“That’s a lot.”

Colin’s voice dropped an octave and he put on his prison-face. “I’m guessing. It’s not like I keep count.”

Eddie ignored the hostility. “Hearing it that many times, couldn’t you guess what kind of screaming it is?”

“Aren’t you the investigator?”

Eddie felt his blood pressure climbing. “I want to establish a baseline.”

“Listen for yourself, that’s why you’re here.”

Eddie let that one go. “I will. Where do you hear the noises the most?”

“Everywhere, I said.”

“Yeah, but—”

Colin stood. “Couldn’t say. I’ve heard lots of them over the last seven years. They’re everywhere.”

Ana smiled. “Is there anything that triggers the noises?”

Colin faced her and his voice softened. “I’m doing all kinds of things when I hear them, depending on the time of day.”

Ana smiled. “We’re trying to find a pattern so we can reproduce them.”

Eddie was impressed. Ana had absorbed a lot of material from their earlier conversation at the store and now spoke with a veteran’s authority.

Colin gave it some thought. “There’s really nothing … I don’t think there’s a link between me doing anything and the noises.”

Eddie knew the man was in no mood for reminiscing, but he had to ask. “Just a few more questions, then we’ll be out of your hair. Why don’t you tell us about that day on the ice.”

Colin gave Eddie the laser stare. “What’s the fu … “ He stopped himself and smiled at Ana. “Everybody knows what happened.”

“Sometimes the least little thing might have some meaning you don’t know about.”

Colin looked put out but sat back down and started talking. “We were just playing around. Mike Hollis would only go out a few steps because he was spooked. That fat ass weakened the ice so that when Tessa went out she had no chance. She went under and …” He looked apologetically at Ana. “It happened so fast after the ice cracked.”

“You guys teased Mike.”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Everybody got grilled.”

Eddie didn’t buy it for a second. Every group from the dawn of time had a hierarchy.

“Even Marty Kindler?”

“Like I said, everybody got it.” Colin stood, signaling the end of the interview.

Eddie stood also. “Hey, not that it’s any of my business, but what are you going to do when the Mill shuts down?”

Colin moved toward the front door and grabbed an oil-stained Phillies cap. “Like you said, it’s none of your business.”

“It has to be tough, knowing the end is coming and with this economy.”

“It’s not really.”

“It’s not?”

Colin grabbed his winter coat off the hook in the hall by the front door and shrugged it on.

“Life is change. I’ll find something else when I have to. Now look, I’m gonna get out of here so you can do your thing. I’ll be back around midnight. That’ll be enough time.”

It wasn’t a question.

Eddie decided to sidestep the issue. If they were onto something when Colin returned, they’d sort it out then. If not, there was no point arguing about it now.

Eddie said, “Before you go, can you show me your breaker?”

Colin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What for?”

“We need to kill the power.”

“Why?”

“It’s just protocol. I don’t want to bore you with the details.”

“Well you’re gonna have to break protocol. It’s freezing outside and I don’t want to come home to a cold house and I’ve got stuff in the fridge and freezer that won’t keep.”

Eddie pretended to think about it. “We’ll only do it for a little bit. How about I turn it back on a half hour before you get home? That way, the house’ll be warm.”

Colin looked at Ana to see what she had to say. She gave him that cute little half-smile.

Colin caved. “It’s an old breaker. Let me show you how it works.”

“I can figure it out if you show me where it is.”

“Like hell you can. You don’t know which is the business end of the hammer. You’ll fry yourself and your family will sue my ass.”

Eddie waited for the man to say more, but Colin didn’t. He just turned and led the way into the kitchen. He opened the door to a tiny closet. Colin squeezed in and flicked on the light. Eddie peered inside and watched Colin tap the electrical box.

“Throw this switch after I leave. I want the power back on by eleven-thirty. Don’t touch anything else in here.”

Colin came out of the closet and Eddie trailed him into the living room.

Colin turned to look at Eddie. “Make sure you reset my damned clocks for me. I’ve got a little bit of OCD in me, so I hate to see blinking clocks.”

“Sure, no problem,” Eddie said. “Hey, you wouldn’t mind if we spoke to your ex, would you?”

Colin’s hand froze on the door knob. “Yeah, I would.”

“I just wanted to ask her some questions about the noises. She might remember something else that could help.”

“She’s got an axe to grind. She’d say anything to make me look like a liar.”

Colin opened the door.

Eddie said, “Did you ever tell anybody else about the noises?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Colin’s lips formed a thin line. “I wasn’t about to go around telling everybody in the world I was hearing noises. I only came forward because I heard about the other claims.”

Ana shifted her weight nervously from toe to toe.

Eddie said, “Alright. Thanks, Colin. We’ll get to work.”

Colin gave him a skeptical look and left.

Eddie waited till he heard Colin’s truck start. “Nice guy.”

Ana said, “And he’s a freak in the bedroom, into all that weird sexual stuff, S&M and bondage.”

Eddie winked at her. “How would you know that, Ms. Lovsky?”

“Gross … Everybody knows everything in this town.”

Thirty-Two

Ana capped her pen and closed her notebook.  She put them on the coffee table. Her hands were shaking and she felt jittery. If all this activity represented her dead sister’s attempts to communicate, Ana didn’t want to screw up her one chance at connecting with Tessa.

She also wanted to look good in front of Eddie.

“You know what I don’t understand?” she said. “Colin doesn’t want his wife to get involved in this, but he’s willing to talk to a reporter?”

Eddie stopped tinkering with the tape recorder. “That’s a very good point.”

“So what gives?”

“Maybe he didn’t think it through. Maybe he wanted to see his name in print but didn’t consider the ramifications. Make sure you write that thought down.”

She smiled, happy to receive his approval.

Eddie handed her the tape recorder. “This is a brand new tape in here, right?”

“Yeah. I made sure of it.” She’d learned a few things online, like the absolute necessity of clean tapes for every recording. You couldn’t just record over a previous session because then you ran the risk of mixing old sounds with new.

“I never put much stock in EVP,” Eddie said. “Too many natural explanations. The brain tries to make sense of all stimuli for us, and sometimes it works too well. You hear random, meaningless sounds and transform them into something familiar, like words in a language you know. There’s a potential for interference from other devices, and even from the device itself. This tape recorder will make electronic noises while it’s recording, and these can make their way on to the tape. That’s where white noise usually comes from.”

Ana tried to absorb everything he was saying but she was so new to this and a little intimidated by him. She wanted to say that EVP had helped them break their last case but stopped herself in time. EVP had also set the final, murderous chain of events into motion leaving Eddie’s brother dead.

“You okay?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t want to screw this up.”

“You’ll be alright.” Eddie smiled reassuringly and went into the kitchen. “So where’s Colin going tonight?”

“Probably getting his freak on.”

She heard him laugh. Jimbo never laughed at her jokes, not anymore.

“I’m going to kill the power,” Eddie said. “You ready for this?”

If by ready he meant nervous and excited and even lustful at the thought of being in a dark house alone with him, then yes. She was very ready. Ana looked around the room one more time, trying to memorize where everything was so she didn’t have a blond moment and bang her shin on the coffee table.

“Okay.”

“Here goes.”

She heard him flip a switch and the house went dark. The heat coming out of the vents stopped. There was no light from outside. All she heard was the howl of the wind.

Then the sound of Eddie’s tentative footsteps. He laughed.

“What?” she asked.

“Just remembered an old case where I accidentally walked right into somebody after we went dark.”

“Who?”

“Moira.” The word was filled with meaning.

She sensed him near her. “Is that you?”

“That’s me.” He stopped walking.

Her hands were shaking again. Her stomach in knots.  “Okay, I’m already creeped out.”

“It’s normal. Strange house, no light, and we’re waiting for weird noises.” He seemed to move closer to her in the darkness. “How long does the Mill have?”

“Maybe till spring.”

“You’d think a guy like Colin would have his next job lined up or be looking for work.”

She knew he was just making conversation to ease her nerves. And she was grateful for it. “Maybe he’s in denial.”

“But he’s not,” Eddie said. “You heard what he said when I asked him. He knows what’s happening but isn’t in any rush.”

He sounded like he was right next to her. Her knees were weak, though now she couldn’t tell if it was just from nerves or something else.  Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness and she could almost make him out.

Eddie continued. “Colin said that life was change.  He’s accepted the Mill closure but doesn’t have anything lined up. I’d understand if he was a drifter like me. But this guy has a mortgage and an ex-wife. He’s been tied to this town his whole life.”

Like me, Ana thought. Not for the first time, she wondered how exactly she’d get out of this town, what kind of career she could make for herself.  Paranormal investigation was a lot of fun, but there wasn’t a lot of money in it.

Maybe she could leave with Eddie when he was ready to move on.

She could almost see his profile now.  He was more a presence than a tangible thing. What was it about the dark that made it so much easier to be reckless? Where in the light of day you’d be cautious, rational?

“Maybe he’ll call Victor,” she said. “I hear he’s got a soft spot for ex-cons.”

Eddie laughed. The murky darkness shifted. Shadows grew out of shadows. She could see the walls and the shapes of stuffed animal heads.

“Okay. Let’s get that recording going,” Eddie said.

She brought the tape recorder up to her face and used the light from her cell phone’s display to see better and pushed RECORD.

“You gotta turn that phone off. And get comfortable,” Eddie said. “As my brother used to say, now we hurry up and wait.”

Thirty-Three

Sitting alone in the dark with a young woman reminded Eddie of his first youth group retreat. Their church had arranged for the freshmen to spend a long weekend at a camp in the Jersey Pinelands. Two cabins. One for the guys, one for the girls. Of course the braver kids snuck out to meet up after lights out. Eddie had scored points with everybody because he managed to procure a half dozen forties.

He could trace the beginning of his crush on Moira back to that night. Before that, he’d always seen her as a goodie-two-shoes, but she’d snuck out of the girls’ cabin with the others. That made her something of an anomaly and when it came time to play spin-the-bottle, Eddie hoped he’d get lucky and be matched with her. As a freshman, she was a head taller than the other girls and had long, volleyball-player legs.

The gods did not favor him that night. He’d been paired up with a girl whose name he didn’t even remember now, and they’d shared a minute of hopeless, sloppy kissing. He’d barely gotten hard, and that was saying a lot because being a teenaged male meant walking around with a constant erection. After spin-the-bottle, everybody went skinny-dipping but Moira didn’t want to. Normally he’d jump at the chance to see naked chicks but instead he stayed with Moira, alone in an unoccupied cabin.

They talked about their teachers and how much she liked to read and they shared half a forty. He put his arm around her, and she let him, and from that moment on he was hooked. He was about to make his move but then the other kids came running back, half-naked and dripping wet, trampling through the woods as flashlights cut through the darkness. The chaperones had woken up and were hot on the trail.

He came back to the present and put his back against the wall and sat down. The house was starting to get cold because the heat had been off an hour. He didn’t feel nervous. He’d been on too many jobs and nothing could ever be worse than the last one.

Ana’s voice was a whisper in the darkness. “Eddie?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m getting sleepy.”

“Stand up, walk around.”

She got off the couch and moved into a darker part of the living room. Her feet padded quietly along the carpet. “Is it usually like this?”

He didn’t want to talk too much because he didn’t want the tape recorder to miss anything. “Yeah. Most times, nothing happens. We’ll be lucky to hear anything.”

“Can we try to get a reaction?”

It felt strange to be the patient one in the room for a change. He’d always been the one pushing his brother to go faster.

“Give it a few more minutes.”

“... Okay.”

He could hear her thinking. “You might as well say it.”

“What if we don’t hear anything?”

“Then we don’t hear anything.”

“Okay.”

She fell silent. Eddie waited a few minutes and stood. He went into the kitchen for a few minutes. Waited some more. He thought about the woman he’d be meeting for a late night rendezvous later, Elsie. She was nothing like Ana. She was tall and full-bodied and a mom. He wondered if a night with her would be enough to slake his libido, so he didn’t direct it at Ana.

“I’m going upstairs,” he said.

Each old step groaned under his weight. The upstairs had no real hallway. At the top of the steps he stood in an open space that had been converted into a bedroom, and a doorway led into the master bedroom. He went in there and waited some more. He heard nothing except the wind and Ana walking around downstairs.

Ten minutes later, he went back down and found Ana still on her feet. She stood in the middle of the living room and twisted herself from side-to-side like she was warming up for an aerobics class.

“They still offer aerobics at the gym?” he asked.

“What’s that?”

He groaned. God, he was old. “Forget it.”

“Just kidding. I know what aerobics is.”

He laughed. “Alright, let’s try to get a response.”

Thirty-Four

“What do I say?” Ana asked.

She panicked like she’d been called on in class without having done the homework. To calm herself, she kept repeating that Eddie was just like any other guy.

So what if he’d been in some dumb book written by some hack author?

She’d imagined a different future for Eddie the character than this. The man in the book had left his home town, never to be heard from again, was living on the west coast somewhere, was dating a nice girl who grounded him. He didn’t have a degree, but he made a good living in the trades. He’d invested the money from his brother’s life insurance policy. It wasn’t a lot, wasn’t enough to tell the world to fuck off, but it was a security net. And though the emotional scars were still visible, though he’d get a faraway look in his eyes sometimes when someone referred to an older brother, though he’d hastily change the channel when one of those ghost-hunting shows came on, his wounds had healed. He was better. If not whole, he was on his way. He’d learned how to mourn his brother without allowing the grief to sink him in a pool of drink and drugs and self-destruction.

She knew so much about him.

And yet she knew nothing at all.

“Take a deep breath,” he said.

Eddie remained in the shadowy corner, more a vague shape than a human being. Her throat had gone dry and she felt her pulse in her neck.

“What do I say?” she asked again.

“General questions. Like you’re talking to somebody you’ve never met before. Be polite and mind your manners.”

She shook her hands to fight the jitters.

“Hello, my name’s Anastasia. Is there anyone here?”

A finger of ice ran down her spine.

“Eddie. I’m cold.”

“Deep breath. It’s okay.”

The chair he was sitting in creaked as he stood. The weak light from the window trapped the side of his face, making him appear ghost-like.

Eddie said, “Keep going. You’re doing great.”

“If you’re here,” Ana said, “can you do something to let me know?”

She waited for that wave of cold to flash through her body. But it didn’t. She looked over at Eddie who approached her and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Keep talking. Pretend like you’ve just met a person.”

His touch calmed her. She held the tape recorder out, as if the ghost would press its pale, tenebrous lips against the machine and speak. She wondered what ghosts actually did look like. Eddie had seen them on his last job but she didn’t dare ask out of fear of bringing up the past.

“How long have you been here? … Do you want to tell me about yourself?”

Hopefully they’d get some EVP. Something.

Anything.

“I’m from this town. Are you? Did you live here?”

Eddie took his hand off her shoulder. She missed his touch immediately as he walked to the other side of the room.

“I’m twenty-one, how old are you? … Do you know Colin? … Did you live in this house before?”

She took deep breaths and slowed herself down with the questions. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention as she waited for another cold flash. She’d read somewhere that ghosts could do that to people.

But now the only cold she felt was the sweat that had broken out on her back.

“How long have you been here?”

“Is there anything you want to tell us?”

“Could you tell me your name?”

And on.

“Is there something I can do for you?”

And on and on.

Thirty-Five

Eddie remained silent and listened to Ana’s voice.

He waited for the banging or the screaming but didn’t hear anything. A few minutes later, a car whizzed by without slowing and it reminded him that the clock was running and they needed to get the power back on before Colin returned.

He got up.

“Nothing,” Ana said, her voice filled with disappointment. “Did I forget to ask something? What else could I have done?”

He wanted to touch her shoulder again but stopped himself short. One more touch, however harmless, could send the wrong signal.

“You’re a natural. There’s no formula to this.”

She turned off the tape recorder. “Should we turn the power back on?”

“I’ll get it.”

Eddie moved past her and went into the kitchen. He found the door to the tiny closet and groped for the main switch and flipped it.

The light came back on and was blinding.

With eyes squeezed tight, he groped his way back into the living room. He heard Ana’s cell phone vibrate as she turned it back on.

“Quarter to twelve,” she said. “Good thing we didn’t go any longer.”

“We’ll start again with the recorder.”

The heating kicked on and worked overtime to match the notched temperature on the thermostat. The old vents banged and whirred as the hot air rushed through them.

Ana crinkled her nose. “I know what you’re thinking. The banging noise is just the heating and AC.”

“Could be.”

“This will suck if we walk away with nothing.”

“That’s the way it goes most of the time.”

Ana looked away, not happy with that answer. She pointed at the entertainment center and Eddie saw the clock on the DVD player blinking 12:00. “We said we’d fix them.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get the one in the kitchen.”

She looked at her cell phone again. “I’ve got 11:47.”

Ana walked to the entertainment center, and he went into the kitchen and fixed the time on the microwave.

“Listen,” he said from the kitchen. “Just to be overly anal, let’s put the recorder in front of one of the registers and get some tape.”

As he crossed the threshold from the kitchen to the living room, he saw the disappointment in her down-turned eyes and in the hunch of her shoulders.

“Okay.”

Ana held out the tape recorder and knelt beside the register as the heat blasted out of the vent.

Eddie felt disappointed for her. She had wanted to hear something so badly, but no dice. And she’d been unlucky enough to see the lake glowing the other night. She deserved a break somewhere.

Ana swiveled her head around. “Just because we don’t hear anything doesn’t mean—”

Bang. Bang. Bang.

It sounded like someone upstairs was pounding on the floor in the master bedroom.

Ana jumped at the noise and the recorder clattered on the carpet.

Eddie ran to the stairs. “Make sure that’s still on!”

Thirty-Six

“The recorder’s still on!” Ana yelled as Eddie raced up the stairs.

There was more pounding. One. Two. Three knocks. He sourced it in the master bedroom as he reached the top of the stairs.

Ana shouted, “Should I come up?”

“Stay there!” Eddie pushed the master bedroom door open and stepped inside. The pounding had stopped.

He scanned the room for any sort of device that could have produced that noise. The room was spartan. A dresser, queen-sized bed, hamper, nightstand, a pile of books on addiction on the nightstand. A closet. There was no TV in the room. No stereo. No CD player. No radio. No house phone.

There was a mirror on the ceiling, of course.

Eddie crossed the room and flung the curtains of the closet open and peered inside. A neat row of shoes were lined up on the floor. Work shirts and flannels hung in a predictable line on the rod, followed by khakis and denims, followed by some nicer sweaters.

He looked for anything heavy, anything that might have fallen and made a noise. There was nothing.

He dropped to his knees, pulled up the bed skirt and checked under the bed. He could see clear through to the other side of the room.

Nothing under the bed.

He got up off the ground and waited in silence. He felt his pulse in his neck and realized he was smiling. He’d sworn off ghost-hunting after the last job with Tim had gone so horribly wrong. In those five years, he’d meandered through life, in and out of prison, and he’d never given thought to returning to it.

Only now, while he waited for the strange banging noise to begin again, did he realize he’d missed it. The thrill and terror of the unknown was a greater rush than drugs or booze could ever provide.

Ana called from downstairs. “Eddie, what do we do?”

“Stay there. Keep recording.”

He quietly sat on the edge of the bed and caught his reflection in the mirror on the dresser. It was starting to feel like before. Almost like Tim was there with him.

Closing his eyes, he slipped back into the old routine.

“My name is Eddie. Could you make that noise again?”

He waited impatiently on the edge of the bed for the banging.

“I just want to make sure we’ve got it on tape. Could you do it a—”

“Eddie! Get down here!”

Thirty-Seven

Eddie was off the bed and down the stairs in five seconds. Ana’s arms were fully extended, her hands holding the recorder in front of her toward the kitchen.

Eddie bobbed his head toward the kitchen, encouraging her to go in. She shook her head no. It looked like her feet had taken root.

He eased the recorder out of her death-grip.

He tiptoed to the threshold. Looked around. The back door was still locked. Nothing had moved, or was moving. Nobody was hiding under the table. The fridge hummed quietly.

He felt Ana come up behind him. He owled his head around and put his lips to her ear. “What did you hear?”

“Screaming.”

He ignored the chill that ran down his spine. Man had evolved to know fear so he could survive.

“Is there—”

“aalllll mmmmmmm!”

Eddie nearly dropped the recorder at the sound. It wasn’t loud, it was like somebody yelling from a great distance. Or from a basement. But Eddie knew this place didn’t have a basement.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but the screaming restarted. “al mm! all mm! all mmm!”

Ana’s nails dug into his arm. “Jesus.”

He looked over his shoulder at her. With her free hand, she crossed herself.

Eddie stepped into the kitchen.

“ohmygodwhatareyoudoing?” Ana said in one breath.

Eddie ignored her. He was trying to locate the sound, which seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

“Can you say that aga—”

“al mm al mm al mm al mm!”

It sounded like someone was shouting at him from down a long wind tunnel, the noise broken up by a great rush of air.

Ana was superglued to his side. “Eddie, this is freaking me out.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “Voices can’t do anything to you.”

They stood like that in the kitchen for another few minutes, waiting for the awful screaming to return.

* * * *

It was quarter to one when the floodlights outside came on and they heard the crunch of tires as Colin returned home.

“Listen,” Eddie said, “I need to debrief with Colin alone. Can you get our things together?”

She looked confused more than hurt. “Yeah, okay.”

The front door opened and a mean-looking, tired Colin appeared. “You done?”

“Just wrapping up,” Eddie said.

Colin looked around the living room as if making sure nothing had been stolen. “Hear anything?”

Ana zipped her backpack and smiled at Colin on her way out. “Thanks, Mr. Winspear.”

Once she was out the door, Colin pulled off his Phillies cap and hung it on the hook by the front door.

Colin faced him. “Did you hear anything?”

Tim would have said, Sorry, sir, we can’t discuss an on-going investigation. We need to review all materials before we develop any theories. He would have sounded very cop-like, very professional.

Eddie opened his mouth to repeat those very same words but something stopped him. Maybe it was Colin’s attitude, or maybe it was just Eddie wanting to be different than his brother. Funny thought, that. Eddie and Tim had been opposites without either needing to try too hard.

But now Eddie had to put some effort into it.

He wanted to see Colin’s reaction. “We didn’t hear anything.”

Colin frowned. “That’s weird.”

“Not really. These things happen at random times, not necessarily when I’m looking for them.”

Colin was still frowning. “It’s weird because I hear it all the time. Then the one night you’re here, nothing?”

The two men shared an uncomfortable stare.

Eddie said, “It might not be a total write-off. We might have caught some EVP on the recorder.”

“How long will that take?” Colin asked, for the first time showing any interest in the investigation.

“Few days.”

Thirty-Eight

Ana had her hands in front of the vents on the dashboard and was rubbing them together when Eddie slid into the passenger seat.

“Cold as balls out here,” she said.

Eddie was thinking about Colin’s reaction to the news that nothing happened. “Yeah.”

“You wanna come back to my place? Jimbo’s friends are over. We could unwind with a beer?”

Her invitation made him think of his later appointment. “No, that’s … which friends?”

“Same guys as before.” She K-turned and drove out of Colin’s driveway. “Tony and Liam.”

Did he have time for a quick stop to take care of business? “They bring any paraphernalia?”

She nodded. “Why? You wanna?”

“No.” Now he imagined Jimbo and company getting stoned, becoming sleepy, and leaving him and Ana alone …

They rode in silence for a stretch. He liked her driving. Liked being a passenger in her car. It made him feel part of somebody else’s life. He hadn’t had that in awhile.

Ana said, “How come you weren’t scared? I was about to pee myself.”

“I was. But I’m used to it. Me and Tim did this for years.”

“I know you don’t want to hear this,” she said. “But I think it was Tessa.”

“We’ll see. You know where Tony gets his weed?”

“Some guy, I don’t know.”

“From outta town?”

She gave him a look. “Probably.”

“You know, I’ll stop over for a little bit. But let’s get my car first.”

* * * *

Eddie could hear the guys in Ana’s apartment from down the hallway. Ana cursed and hurried forward. She stabbed the lock with her key and was inside in a flash. The stereo blasted music into the hallway. Eddie quickly closed the door behind him to kill the noise. Inside, one of the speakers shook with the bass.

There was nothing like the sight of three white dudes listening to loud hip hop.

A cold draft filtered through the room. Eddie saw the cracked window and knew immediately they’d been smoking up.

“Guys, turn the effing music down. You want me to get in trouble again?” Ana said.

The three guys were in the living room. Jimbo and Tony were sitting on the couch and shared a look. Then Jimbo rolled off the couch and stumbled forward.

Tony had dark hair and an I know something you don’t look on his face. Eddie disliked him immediately. The third guy was on the love seat and had to be Liam. He stared vacantly at the ceiling, bombed out of his mind.

Jimbo turned the stereo down till it was barely audible. “Low enough?”

Eddie could tell Ana was bursting to say something back to him, but she bit her tongue.

“Guys, seriously.” She addressed the whole group. “I got in trouble last week.”

Tony muttered he was sorry and Jimbo plopped back down on the couch next to him. The room reeked of pot and cigarettes, and beer bottles covered the coffee table.

Jimbo didn’t say anything.

Tony smiled like a politician. “Ana, take it easy. If there’s a problem, I’ll handle it.”

The guy tried to sound so smooth.

Eddie intervened. “It’s Thursday night, fellas. Honest people gotta get up for work tomorrow.” He winked at Tony.

Tony’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his skull and he gave Jimbo a who-the-fuck-is-this-guy look.

Jimbo shrugged it off, but then, realizing he was the de facto man of the house, said, “Chill out, Eddie.”

“I’m cooler than Lake Vostok in winter.”

Eddie didn’t think anybody would get the reference, but Liam suddenly roused from his stupor. “That’s the underground lake in Antartica, dude!”

Ana positioned herself between Eddie and Jimbo. She must have felt the violence brewing in the room like coffee. “Okay, guys. No big. Everybody relax.”

Her eyes ping-ponged from Eddie to Jimbo to Tony.

Eddie held out a palm. “Hey, I just don’t want Ana getting in trouble. You guys don’t want that either. Right?”

That unctuous smile settled on Tony’s face again. “Course not.”

The party seemed to resume. Jimbo and Tony went back to drinking, and Liam studied the ceiling again like it held the answers to all mysteries in the universe.

Ana faced Eddie. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I’ll get you one for a job well done. Fridge?”

She nodded.

Eddie went to the fridge and fished out two light beers. While he was half in the fridge, he heard Tony mutter under his breath.

“We weren’t being loud.”

Eddie smiled at the passive-aggressive move. He handed one beer to Ana and popped his. He tasted it to be polite then put it on the counter.

Across the room, Tony was giving him the eye now and speaking in hushed tones to Jimbo. Eddie didn’t have to hear him to know what he was saying.

Old dude’s moving in on your girl, telling us to shut up, acting like the man of the house. You gotta do something.

Eddie didn’t fear Jimbo, but the guy was big. And he didn’t have a lot to lose. A guy like him transformed all his disappointments into anger and could call upon that anger in a flash when he had an easy target.

But Eddie was no easy target. He waited to see if Jimbo would do something because he didn’t want to fight a two-front war.

Jimbo looked at him sideways but didn’t get up.

Tony, on the other hand, was a different sort. He didn’t have the sad-sack look about him. According to Ana, he’d been in trouble a few times, but it hadn’t set him back yet. All Eddie had to do to know what Tony was thinking was rewind the clock about ten years and remember how he used to be.

Tony looked like an athlete, or at least, somebody who’d been athletic in high school. If he’d been a wrestler, he’d know how to roll.

Ana faced away from the group and lowered her voice so only he could hear. “They get carried away sometimes. They’re okay guys, though.”

Eddie was hot under the collar and wanted to shake some sense into her. “No worries.”

“What’d you guys find tonight?” Tony asked.

“Sorry, pal. It’s an on-going investigation.”

Tony’s eyes could have burned a hole through paper.

Liam lost his precarious balance on the love seat and fell onto the floor. Tony and Jimbo became hysterical.

“Listen,” Eddie said to Ana. “I’m the old guy dragging the party down.”

“Don’t go,” she said.

The pleading look in her eyes was almost enough to make him stay.

He broke her gaze and looked over her shoulder. “Hey, Tony. Mind if I have a word outside?”

Tony did a double-take. His dark eyes shifted from Eddie to Jimbo and Ana, like the four of them were playing high-stakes poker and Eddie had just made a move that defied logic.

Ana’s jaw dropped. “What are you doing?”

“Just be a minute,” Eddie said, all smiles.

Tony set his beer on the coffee table and followed him to the door. Eddie opened it and made an after-you gesture.

“Hey, who’s that guy with Tony?” Liam said.

Thirty-Nine

The next one hundred and twenty seconds were over in a flash.

Eddie faced Tony in the hallway outside Ana’s apartment.

Tony’s hands were on his hips and he leaned forward. From that stance, he could easily throw the first punch.

Eddie folded his arms so his hands were closer to his face. “You narced on me to Whitmore when I didn’t even smoke up.”

“Wha—”

“Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

Tony hesitated, just long enough for Eddie to know he was lying. “I don’t know what you’re talking—”

Eddie got right in his face then. “Shut up you piece of shit and listen to me. I know it was you that lied to Whitmore. Nobody else had any reason to. I get anymore flak from Deputy Dog over this and I’m going to put you in the hospital.”

The law of averages got everybody. Tony had been in trouble with the law before, so it stood to reason he was again. The only way to get out of trouble was to throw somebody else under the bus. Who better than Eddie, the drifter, the guy Whitmore already didn’t like?

Tony laughed nervously, obviously deciding whether to fight or flee. He looked over Eddie’s shoulder down the hallway. Eddie could read the guy’s mind. There were too many potential witnesses and Ana was only a door away. Tony was smart enough to have understood the connection between her and Eddie, and knew firsthand of the spiraling relationship between her and Jimbo. If she got involved she wouldn’t have Tony’s back.

“You try anything with me and you’ll regret it, you old fuck,” Tony said.

Eddie smiled. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Another time, another place.”

Tony looked like a spring-loaded trap ready to snap. He was all nervous energy. That smile was gone. Maybe he was going to fight.

Eddie could feel the punch coming, but then the apartment door swung open and there was Ana.

“Everything okay out here, guys?”

Eddie smiled but kept his eyes on Tony. “Everything’s fine, Ana. I was just leaving.”

Forty

Colin Winspear went room-to-room in his house to make sure nothing had been taken or tampered with. As an ex-con, he’d learned to trust nobody.

Satisfied his possessions were intact, Colin plopped down on the sofa and put his feet up on the coffee table. His ankles were a bit raw from the night’s bondage session, so he pulled up his pants and gently rubbed them. A fiery red ring circled both his ankles from where Angie, if that was even her real name, had tied him up.

God, he loved the internet. It had made hooking-up so much easier. Given how rural the area was, he hadn’t expected to find that many local women into the no-strings kinky stuff, but he happily discovered how wrong he was. There were plenty. Women that didn’t even want to know your name. Women that liked being humiliated. Women that enjoyed humiliating.

Colin got off with both kinds. He’d always been that way. It didn’t bother him.

The night’s carnal pleasures, however, weren’t enough to take his mind off what Eddie had told him. How was it possible the guy hadn’t heard anything? Colin should have called Marty, but it was late and he didn’t want to ruin a great fucking night with worry.

He’d figure it out tomorrow.

He got off the couch and headed for the stairs.

Bump.

He stopped, wondering if he was hearing things. It sounded like someone was in the backyard.

He waited.

Bahhh-ummm.

What the hell was that?

Colin entered the kitchen and peered out the back window. It was pitch black outside. He checked the switch and realized the floodlight should have been on. Maybe the bulb had burned out. It had been awhile since he’d changed it.

He put his face up to the window. It was probably just an animal making the noise. One time, a bear had literally knocked on his front door.

But he saw nothing when he looked out the window.

He went to his cabinet and grabbed the shotgun. Then he went to the back door, grabbing the flashlight on the way, and went outside.

It was a cold, moonless night. Nearby the creek gurgled, and the wind moaned. He shivered.

Colin pumped the shotgun and waited for another sound.

An animal darted across his yard along the tree line and disappeared in the woods. It moved so fast that he didn’t capture it with his flashlight. He swore it had looked like a stray dog. His nearest and only close neighbors didn’t have any pets.

It was too cold to chase any strays. It was time for bed. Tomorrow he’d give Kindler a call and maybe together they could—

There was a noise from the woods. It sounded like someone moaning.

Colin frowned and moved toward the sound. He kept his flashlight pinned to the barrel of his shotgun and kept the barrel trained ahead of him as he approached the creek. He couldn’t see anyone, but there was definitely a noise. A low moan like someone was barely conscious and in pain.

He stopped short of the creek and swept the woods with his flashlight. The moaning stopped. Colin listened intently, waiting for it to start again.

He took a step to his right to get a different view, and the moaning started again. It was coming from the other way. Colin took three quick steps to his left and thought he saw—

Something grabbed his ankles and yanked him upside down into the air. He screamed but it was useless.

Nobody would hear him.

Forty-One

Eddie pulled into Elsie’s driveway. A dim, flickering light played out the large bay window that opened to the living room of the rancher. He couldn’t see Elsie but knew she was there.

He sat in his car and remembered the sexual heat this woman exuded. She was built for pleasure. Large boned and amply breasted where Ana was petite and slender.

Why was he thinking about Ana at a time like this?

He got out of the car. Before he reached the front door it swung open and there she stood in a white satin teddy that barely covered her undercarriage. The cold air brought her nipples to attention. She had let her hair down and was holding a glass of red wine.

She smiled. “You’re late.”

“As a friend of mine used to say, you’re not late until you show up.”

She moved back into the house, affording him a view of her well-rounded ass.

“Hello,” he said.

“You coming in?”

“Just admiring the view.”

She smiled prettily at him and he stepped inside. She looked five years younger in her sexy get-up than she had at Vic’s store. She half-turned and looked over her shoulder at him.

“Like what you see?”

“I’d like to see more.”

“Would you like a glass of—”

He shut the door behind him and encircled her in his arms as he sought her lips.  She was momentarily startled but got into the moment soon enough. They somehow stumbled into the bedroom as Eddie tried to yank the teddy over her head and she fumbled with his zipper, both giggling and breathing hard. They fell onto the bed and she got out of that teddy. As he looked at her fully naked, his need for her consumed him. He struggled out of his clothes and they went at each other like beasts. She smelled wonderful and she made the right noises at the right moment. Afterwards he leaned on his left elbow to look at her. A sheen of sweat covered that luscious body.

“Next time we’ll take our time,” Eddie said.

She giggled. “How soon till the next time?”

“About twenty minutes.”

They both laughed.

She said, “I think I’m going to enjoy you, Eddie.” She got out of bed and asked from the living room, “Would you like something to drink?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

She returned a few moments later and handed him a glass of wine. She made no move to cover herself which suited Eddie fine. He took a sip of the wine and put the glass on the nightstand and looked at her stretched out on the bed.

“You know, Eddie, you’re the talk of the town right now.”

He laughed. “I’m hardly worthy of it.”

“The jury’s still out on that … so how is the investigation going?”

“It’s going.”

“Can you be more specific?”

He toyed with her left breast. “Sorry.”

She sighed her contentment. “I won’t tell anybody. You can trust me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Come on, Eddie.” Her hand found his groin, and he was ready for lift-off again. “Tell me something.”

“Sorry, honey.” He slid his hand down her flank, felt the velvet softness of her. “I can’t talk about it.”

“Well in that case, would you like to fuck me again?”

Appropriately enough, Eddie thought about a line from one of the Ghostbuster movies. “Is this a trick question?”

They joined again and he wondered in her body but still he compared her to how he imagined Ana to be. He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Forty-Two

Sean McKenna couldn’t stop thinking about something either. And it had bothered him for years.

Because of Eddie McCloskey, his son was dead.

Now, Eddie hadn’t put the knife to Steven. Eddie’s guilt was more indirect, but it was there all the same. He and his brother had gone poking their noses in Sean’s family’s business, triggering a psychotic break in Sean’s nephew Eamon, and Eamon had gone on a killing spree.

That Eamon had also killed Eddie’s brother, Tim, meant nothing to Sean. It had been their own fault. They’d intruded. They’d suffered for it.

But not enough.

Sean dreamed of putting a knife in Eddie. Of shooting him in the gut. Of killing him with his bare hands. Painful, slow.

Once Sean had caught wind of the electronic chatter online and heard where Eddie McCloskey was, he’d dropped everything. He had been in the middle of cooking dinner but instead turned the stove off and packed five days’ worth of casual clothes and grabbed the unregistered gun he’d purchased illegally just in case this opportunity ever presented itself and jumped in his car.

He sped within reason and reached Wilkes-Barre in under three hours. He found a cheap motel and paid for three nights in cash and gave the manager a fake name. He didn’t want to get a room in the town where Eddie was. It was safer this way, and he was only twenty minutes away.

Sean took the key from the manager and walked to the room like he was turning in. But he wasn’t. He kept his clothes in the car, not wanting to leave any personal effects in case he had to run. He walked around the building and came back to his car.

He was in no hurry. He’d waited this long, now he could wait another few days. But he pushed on because he wanted to locate Eddie as soon as possible.

He drove to the town where he knew Eddie was living. He didn’t have an address but he could get one pretty easily. A lowlife like Eddie would spend most of his time in bars, slowly poisoning himself with alcohol.

It was a good thing Eddie wasn’t dead yet. Sean had wondered for the last few years where he’d pop up. Ex-cons didn’t have too many choices. They could take whatever shitty minimum wage job they could find or they could drop off the grid altogether. Sean had feared that he’d never find Eddie.

He kept it to the speed limit. Sean didn’t need to meet the local police department. He needed anonymity. He needed to slip in, settle his account with Eddie, and slip out quietly.

Then he could drop off the grid.

He reached the town limits and immediately started looking for the center of the town, where he could find a bar. There was nowhere else open at this hour for him to get information.

He made a right and drove down a stretch of road. The treeline broke and darkened houses zipped past. A few minutes later, he came to an intersection where he was forced to turn. He chose left and finally he saw street lights ahead. He passed a row of dark offices, a mechanic’s garage, an all-night gas station, a fast food joint, then another row of offices till he spotted a bar on the corner.

He found a spot and slotted the car.

The pub was a medium-sized joint with a long bar, a broken juke box, and three pool tables. There were jerseys hanging on the walls and other cheap sports memorabilia and the TVs were tuned to the sports channels.

There were plenty of openings at the bar so he sat down. The female bartender was wearing a white tank top over a black bra and tiny, ripped jean shorts and gave him a once over as she approached.

“What can I get you?” she asked in a neutral voice.

“Lager.”

“Draft or bottle?”

He gave her his salesman’s smile. “Gotta go draft.”

She bobbed her head. “You’re a man after my own heart.”

Sean turned and looked around. He didn’t want to appear too anxious to start a conversation. A few moments later, he heard the pint glass clink on the bar behind him.

He turned and gave the bartender another smile. “How much do I owe you?”

“It’s happy hour. One-fifty.”

“It’s happy hour right now?” he said.

She winked. “It’s always happy hour in here.”

Sean didn’t drink alcohol normally. He’d been into bodybuilding since he was sixteen and he shied away from the empty calories of a beer can.

But tonight, he’d indulge himself.

He deserved it. Everything else had gone to hell since his son’s death. His friendships. His career.

His marriage.

The only thing that had kept him sane was moving iron. When most builders his age were just looking to stave off atrophy, he’d actually gotten bigger and increased his vascularity over the last five hellish years.

The bartender came back over. She absently washed a pint glass and offered him a tired smile.

“So what brings you here?” the bartender said.

“All this alleged paranormal activity.”

“You and everybody else.”

“Like who?”

“Some college kids came in asking about it.”

He shrugged in an aw-shucks kind of way. “It’s a hobby. Did you ever hear about the faces of Belmez?”

She shook her head no and looked mildly interested.

“Long story short, these faces started appearing on the floor of this woman’s kitchen in Spain. She replaced the floor but they’d come back. Some would disappear and reappear. This all happened over thirty-some years.”

“You’re kidding.”

He told himself to act more excited. This was his cover, after all. A paranormal whack-job who spent all his time in the basement, either talking to an empty room or jerking off.

“A lot of different people came through the house and tested the floor. One guy sealed it off, so it couldn’t be tampered with, but when they unsealed it, they discovered that new faces had popped up.”

“That’s crazy.” She stepped closer. “I’ll bet it was all a fraud.”

“Some people think that. One explanation was that the homeowners used some kind of chemical agent on the cement. After exposure to light, the agent would change the structure of the concrete.”

“Wow. You know a lot about this stuff.” She sounded sincere. “Maybe you should help the ghost-hunter here.”

“You know, it’s funny you say that.” Sean laughed nervously, like she’d caught him out. Then he leaned in and motioned for her to come closer.

She turned sideways and leaned against the bar.

He lowered his voice. “I’m actually a fan of his. I was hoping he could sign a book for me.”

“He wrote a book?” she said.

“No, but he’s in a book. He ever come around here?”

She nodded. “He’s been a couple times, but I’m told he goes to George’s usually.”

He asked her where George’s was and she told him. Then she had to wait on one of the old-timers and he was alone with his beer.

Sean took a sip and closed his eyes ad smiled. He was close. Oh so close to Eddie McCloskey now.

Sean McKenna would have his revenge.

Forty-Three

Eddie woke to the smell of bacon sizzling on a stove. It took him a moment to remember he was at Elsie’s.

He yawned, stretched, and climbed out of Elsie’s king-sized bed. He retrieved his boxer briefs off the floor and padded toward the kitchen. It was early. Felt like eight or nine. He had to get to Vic’s by ten for a short shift, then he and Ana could continue their work.

The sight of Elsie in a short, white cotton robe stopped him cold in the threshold of the kitchen.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he said.

She smiled back at him sleepily. “Hungry?”

“You bet.”

“I meant for food.”

“Damn.”

They shared a laugh and Elsie told him to sit. A few minutes later, she was putting eggs, bacon, and coffee in front of him. She took nothing for herself, just sat down across from him.

“Aren’t you eating?” he asked.

“Already did.” She held up a glass filled with green liquid. “Motherhood has not been kind.”

“Could have fooled me.” Eddie dug in and hurried through his food.

“So how did it go last night? You never told me.”

Eddie forked the last egg into his mouth and noticed how she’d put her foot up on an empty chair, revealing a long, naked leg.

He winked at her. “That’s right. I didn’t tell you.”

“Oh, come on. As a single mother of two young boys, I have to live vicariously. It’s the least you could do.”

Her insistence was putting a bad taste in his mouth. She was pushing just a little too hard. But he could see no ulterior motive to her asking him for information.

She put her hand on his wrist. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to add a little spice to my dull, suburban life.”

“I’ll bet your life is anything but dull.” He saw the time on the microwave, and it reminded him of Colin’s last night when they’d reset the clocks. No client had ever asked him to do that before. It seemed a reasonable enough request but it was striking him as odd.

“What is it?” Her lilting voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Nothing.” He smiled. “I’ve gotta get to work soon.”

“Oh, I see.” She stood and opened her robe. “Guess you don’t have time for a shower.”

“I’ve got time for more than a shower.”

* * * *

Elsie gave him a kiss and a parting look before shutting the front door. She went to the bay window and waved goodbye to him as he pulled out of the driveway. He flipped her a salute and drove off.

She laid down on the couch and stretched out. She wanted to slip under her covers and sleep for a few hours before the boys came home, but she had to make a call first.

“Elsie, my dear, how’s it going?” Marty Kindler said.

“It’s going.”

“Do you have any news for me?”

“He wouldn’t talk.”

“Not one word? Did you put on the full court press?”

“Believe me, Marty, I plied my feminine wares on the man but they didn’t unseal his lips.”

“I see.” Kindler sounded more intrigued than disappointed. “I hope you enjoyed yourself at least.”

She smiled at the memories of last night and the still fresh ones of this morning. “The man knows his way around the bedroom, Marty.”

“How does he compare to me?” Kindler asked.

“Now, now, Marty. A lady never kisses and tells.”

Kindler chuckled. “Elsie, you’re no lady.”

She hung up, pissed off. Truth was, Kindler was right. He hadn’t paid her to sleep with Eddie. She’d decided that was what she wanted when she saw Eddie in the grocery store. She liked the bad boys. All too well.

Kindler had only paid her to get information out of the guy. For what reason, she didn’t know. And she didn’t care. Money was money, especially when her dead-beat ex-husband didn’t send her or the kids any.

Forty-Four

Vic’s store was busier than an Atlantic City strip joint. Little old ladies and stay-at-homes with kids in tow negotiated the tiny aisles of the store, preparing perhaps for the coming nor’easter or maybe just to catch a glimpse of Eddie, the town’s newest and certainly one of the few celebrities to grace this berg in a long time.

Eddie felt all the looks, heard all the whispering. It didn’t excite so much as embarrass him as he was a private person, not given to attention.

Because of the overflow, Vic called in all favors and had his entire staff present. Ana got in at noon. Eddie smiled when he saw her get-up: loose khaki pants with a white button-down shirt, the otherwise conservative ensemble completed with a garish scarf from the thrift store. Her eyes were puffy.

“Get any sleep last night?” he asked during a lull. “We’ll be up late tonight.”

She stifled a yawn. “About five hours.”

“Everything okay between you and—”

“Let’s not go there, Eddie.” She removed her scarf and hung it on a nail in the wall behind her. “How’d you sleep, Eddie?”

He had the sinking feeling that she knew about him and Elsie. “Slept like a baby.”

Marty Kindler entered the store with an unleashed golden retriever. The dog sat obediently by the exit and basked in the gushing attention of all the kids in the store.

Kindler glad-handed everybody as he slowly made his way to Eddie.

“Nice dog, Kindler. Are you running for mayor?”

Kindler laughed like they were old friends, took Eddie’s arm, and guided him to the back of the store. Eddie shrugged out of Kindler’s grip.

“Better run on a liberal ticket or go the independent route,” Eddie said. “Conservatives won’t like a man who has two live-in girlfriends.”

Nor would they like a failed businessman.

Kindler ignored the comment. “So how’d it go last night?”

“Fine.”

“Anything to report?”

“You’ll have my full report when it’s over.”

“Look around you, Eddie.”

“What am I looking at?”

“Look at the people, Eddie. They’re excited about their town again. First time in a long time.”

Eddie nodded. He’d felt it all morning. They were excited to be part of something.

Kindler continued. “They want to hold a gathering Saturday night at the lake. You believe that?”

“How does Tessa’s dad feel about that?”

“I haven’t asked him.”

“Or Ana?”

“Haven’t asked her either.”

“You should.”

“Eddie.” Kindler leaned in and for once, his breath didn’t stink. “Between me and you, I think the whole thing is nuts, but you need to throw some crumbs to the masses every now and then. Give them the illusion they’re in control.”

Eddie didn’t bother digesting Kindler’s Nietzschean philosophy. “Gathering?”

Kindler said, “Saturday night is fourteen years to the day.”

“What are they gonna do at this gathering?”

“Whatever they want. Maybe they’ll pray. Or say goodbye. Or say hello. The point, my dear friend, is that it’s growing into something huge. I need you there.”

“I can’t conduct an investigation at the lake with hundreds of people running around.”

“Not as part of your investigation. I want you there to be part of the community. The people around here are ready to welcome you. It would mean a lot if you were there. They want to meet the man who’s going to give them the answers.”

“They might not like my answers.”

“It would mean a lot to me if you went.”

Then Eddie understood. Kindler had probably promised someone Eddie would be there. “How much would it mean to you?”

Kindler grinned and touched the side of his nose like they were in on some con together. “You’re sharper than a serpent’s tooth. Should we call it another grand?”

Eddie wanted the money but there was a problem. “Hold on. I wanted to go dark at your place tomorrow night. I can’t be at your house and the lake at the same time.”

“You have to do my place tonight.”

“I’m going to Bernard’s tonight.”

“You can do both houses.”

“No effing way.” Twofers were not uncommon, but Eddie was tired and didn’t want to rush this, his biggest job to date.

“Eddie, we need you at the lake tomorrow night. The people will want answers.”

Eddie looked away. He could use the money. And he could sleep in tomorrow. He’d worked on less sleep before.

Kindler said, “Tomorrow night is fourteen years. It’s fate, Eddie.”

He was tired of being pushed to follow somebody else’s schedule, and he was real tired of Kindler’s talk of fate.

“Enough of the bullshit, Kindler. You lied.”

Kindler backed up a step. “What do you mean?”

“Colin’s been hearing those noises for a long time, long before I showed up. At the bar, you said everything had started happening around the time I got here. And why did Tessa wait fourteen years? Why not five, or ten?”

“She was waiting for someone good to come along, who could look at these things and know they weren’t phony. She needed someone people would believe. You’re not from here. Think about it. If we locals ranted about our town being haunted, who’d believe us? But if it’s coming from an outsider, someone without an angle, someone credible with paranormal experience, then people will believe.”

“And why would Tessa care whether anybody outside town knew it was real?”

Kinder didn’t know how to answer that. “She was waiting for you, Eddie.”

Twofers were about as much fun as a root canal without novacaine. The tail end of the second job could get messy. You had to fight sleep the whole way. Had to keep your brain humming and wait for the big show.

But another grand would be nice too.

Tim would never have allowed the client to dictate the schedule like that, but Tim had never been hard up for cash.

Also, it was better to get the job done quickly and slip out of town.

“Look, Eddie.” Kindler lowered his voice. “I’m a little nuts when it comes to home security. Ms. Anders and Lori are not to let anybody in the house when I’m not there. And tomorrow night I’ll be at the lake, so you see, you can’t come to my house tomorrow night. It’s impossible. It has to be—”

“Alright, alright. A grand for me and five honey for Ana for the added inconvenience.”

Forty-Five

The customers cleaned out the store. Eddie overheard their gossip without trying, because they tended to raise their voices when he was near, like they wanted him to hear.

“There were footprints in the snow.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.”

“We saw something that one night, looked like a young woman.”

“I was ice skating out there—”

“Wait, you were ice skating out there?”

“Yeah, yeah, and I swear—I swear—I saw something under the ice looking up at me.”

Talk of the hauntings was taking over the town. Eddie imagined all the Me Too claims multiplying as people tried to outdo each other.

“This was five nights in a row.”

“That’s nothing. Mine was over a week.”

“Screaming, just like in Winspear’s house.”

“They’re called cold zones—”

“That’s not what they’re called.”

“I’m telling you, I heard it on the Discovery Channel.”

“Cold spots. Spots, you dumbass.”

“Spots, zones, same difference. I don’t care just as long as I’m not looking up at the roots tomorrow.”

“Just like that, one-two-tree of them.”

Eddie smiled at the Northeastern Pennsylvania slang, which people either lovingly or condescendingly referred to as heynabonics. Today was the perfect opportunity to brush up on it with all the locals poking around the store.

“Dem perogies are good, heyna? Wait, is that the guy?”

They made outrageous claims like they’d seen their great-grandma in the shower or their dog had spoken. They all spoke with grave concern about the coming nor’easter, like they planned to be shut in for a week.

It was three-thirty when Eddie punched out and motioned for Ana to meet him in the back.

“You heard about the gathering?” Eddie asked. With all the customers, they hadn’t had a chance to catch up.

She pushed her pixie glasses farther up the bridge of her nose. “You mean the vigil?”

“Whatever they’re calling it. Kindler wants us there so that changes our schedule. We’re doing both houses tonight.”

“I’m crapped out as is.”

“Get home and take a long nap. You’ll be alright. It’s only one more night and we’ll be done.”

She folded her arms. “I thought we didn’t let the client dictate the investigation.”

“I have to get this wrapped up by Saturday night.”

“Why? So you can blow out of town? You know what? Tim wouldn’t have done it this way. He would have—”

Eddie snapped. “He would have what? Done the job right?”

She seemed to shrink six inches. “He would have done Sunday night is all I’m saying.”

Eddie wanted to say more but her ego was so delicate. He didn’t want to bruise it. “Anyway, that’s the plan.”

“I know where you were last night.”

“What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?”

Her whole face reddened. “Forget it. I’ll see you at Bernie’s house later, I guess.” She stormed off.

He gave her a few minutes to get in her car and drive off, then he said bye to Vic and walked out to his car.

Three news crews were in the parking lot, sticking mikes in people’s faces and asking questions. Eddie hurried to his car, hoping to avoid them but one of the reporters noticed him.

“Mr. McCloskey?”

He no commented his way to the car and got in.

Forty-Six

Sean McKenna pretended like he was reading the newspaper as Eddie pulled out of the parking lot. He watched the reporters and cameramen practically chase Eddie’s car onto the street.

Sean smiled.

He knew where Eddie drank, where Eddie worked, what car Eddie drove, and in a few minutes he might know where Eddie lived.

Sean pulled out of the parking lot and turned left like Eddie had. He caught up to Eddie’s car and kept a discreet distance.

A few minutes up the road, Eddie’s brake lights came on. Sean saw the small two-story house just off the street to his left. Eddie put his turn signal on. Sean slowed to a crawl so he didn’t get too close to Eddie.

Eddie turned into the thin, short strip of driveway. The house looked empty, like only Eddie lived there. But Sean couldn’t be sure. As much as he wanted to jump out of the car and do the deed, he had to be careful.

Patience was the virtue that would help him commit the sin.

Sean drove past the house and after the next bend in the road looked for a good place to pull off. Another minute ahead, the road widened and there was an entry that led to a camping ground.

Sean parked.

He’d come prepared. One of his friends had been a locksmith for a time and had taught Sean how to get doors open. Sean had purchased a lock-picking set and also had a pair of binocs with him. He grabbed his backpack off the passenger seat, made sure all his tools were in it.

Including the gun.

Sean got out of the car and crossed the street and climbed the wooded hill till he was reasonably out of sight from the road. Then he backtracked through the woods. In the ten minutes it took him to get back to Eddie’s, not a single car passed.

He stopped where he could just see the house from the woods and peered through the binocs. From his vantage point on top of the hill’s slope, he could see through two windows on the second floor. He could see a coffee table covered with books and a couch.

A light flicked on in an outlet window. Probably the bathroom. Then the light went off and Sean checked the two windows again.

Eddie came into view. He went right for the couch and practically fell into it. He covered himself with a blanket.

Sean could barely believe his luck.

All Sean needed was fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. Just enough time to allow Eddie to reach a deep enough sleep that he could get into the house. Once he was in the house, Eddie couldn’t get away.

He just needed to make sure Eddie was alone.

Patience.

Sean waited a few minutes, hoping Eddie would drift off. He kept his binocs trained on the window giving him a view of the couch. Eddie turned to his other side once, then didn’t move much.

Sean waited ten more minutes. He was certain Eddie was asleep when he put his binocs away and crept toward the house.

If anybody else lived there, it would look suspicious if they saw him come out of the woods. So Sean went down the hill and walked along the roadside. With his backpack, he’d look like he was just out for a hike. He put on a big pair of sunglasses and a wool hat and wrapped a scarf around his neck. The three days of stubble helped. If Eddie saw him, he might not recognize him.

He didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing him because no cars passed. He slowed as he neared the house and kept his head forward but turned his eyes sideways at the house. There were no other cars. Spiderwebs filled the corners of the porch.

He decided to take a chance and came to a dead stop and peered through the windows of the first floor. There was furniture, but no lights were on. Maybe somebody else lived there but they weren’t around.

Sean stepped onto the porch and put his face up to the window. Aside from the furniture, the first floor was empty. The coffee table bare. Who didn’t cover their coffee table with random shit? Then he spotted the TV-less entertainment center.

Nobody lived on the first floor.

Sean heard a car coming and dropped soundlessly to his hands and knees on the porch. He waited for it to pass then thought about what to do.

This wasn’t enough surveillance but at the same time, Sean didn’t want to wait any longer. He’d waited five years for this moment and that was long enough.

He jumped the porch railing and went to the side of the house. It was foolish to attempt entry by the front door. He could be spotted too easily.

Around the side of the house, he saw another windowed door. He wondered if Eddie had used that to reach the second floor. Maybe the owners rented that space out.

Sean peered through the door and saw the stairs leading up to the second floor. At the top of the steps was another door. He was right. It looked like the two floors were maintained as separate spaces.

And he was right up there. Asleep.

Sean hesitated. Could he really do this in broad daylight?

The answer was yes.

Fuck yes.

The house sat alone on a quiet stretch of road. Anybody driving the speed limit might not even see him as he picked the lock on the side of the house. And if anybody did see him, he’d have his back to the road and Eddie’s car was parked in the driveway. They’d just assume he lived there.

If they bothered to think that much about it.

Sean unzipped the backpack. He already had his gloves on so there was no fear of leaving any prints. Then he opened his lock picking kit. He took out a tension wrench and a hook pick. He put the backpack down and took a deep breath.

He’d be inside Eddie’s apartment in two minutes.

This was it.

He wouldn’t kill Eddie right away. They were going to have a chat first. Sean would remind Eddie of his part in Sean’s son’s death. He’d make Eddie say his son’s name, Steven. Then he’d put a couple slugs in Eddie’s gut and watch him bleed.

He put the tension wrench into the lower part of the keyhole and turned it clockwise, then counterclockwise. The lock gave more when he turned the wrench clockwise, so he knew the lock had to be turned in that direction. He applied a little pressure to keep the lock turned slightly that way.

Next he slid the hook pick into the upper part of the keyhole, above the tension wrench. He raked the hook pick across the pins inside the lock to see if any would set for him easily but no such luck. He’d have to set them all individually.

He slid the hook pick as far back as it would go so he could start on the last pick. He fidgeted with the pick and heard a faint click as he got the pin set.

He moved on to the next pin.

Sean got that one set with only a few movements. This was going to be easy.

The next two pins were more difficult but fell into place after some prodding. He was pretty sure there were only five pins—that was standard for most doors and his hook pick was almost completely out of the keyhole. So just one more, and he’d be inside. The door at the top of the stairs looked flimsy. He could pick that or just as easily kick it in. He’d be five feet from Eddie with his gun drawn before Eddie fully roused from sleep.

He applied a little more pressure with the tension wrench, moving it clockwise, and found the last pin. He nudged it down but it wouldn’t set. He re-angled his pick and pushed again.

The last pin set.

He turned the tension wrench and the lock opened, not making much noise.

His heart was racing now. A knot formed in his stomach. Sean grabbed his backpack and put his tools away and had his hand on the knob when he heard a car.

It was moving slowly and then he heard its tires eat gravel.

It was turning into the driveway.

Sean zipped the backpack and sprinted toward the rear of the property. He ran through the tree line, up the hill, and got behind some pines. He peered between the trees and watched as a young woman he recognized from the grocery store walked to the door he’d just unlocked and go inside.

Forty-Seven

Eddie was having the nightmare again.

It was different than what had happened in real life, because in the dream he had the vision, the ominous foresight that his brother was going to be knifed on the stairway. Always he tried to talk Tim out of going up there, but Tim never listened.

The dream started with Tim pounding on the McKennas’ front door, demanding to be let in. In reality, Chefaun McKenna had opened the door and they’d argued outside, but in the dream Sean McKenna opened the door and let them in. Like all dreams, the story had lost its continuity long ago. Tim was stabbed with gut-wrenching finality but then he and Eddie were back in the dining room, about to go upstairs.

“Don’t go. You’ll die,” Eddie was saying.

Tim usually didn’t answer, but this time he did. “I have to, don’t you get it? There’s a kid up there.”

But Eddie knew from reality what had happened to the kid upstairs. He was swimming in a pool of his own blood on a bean bag chair.

Before Eddie could say another word, Tim rounded the corner and his feet hit the stairs and Eddie hurried to catch him. Tim fell into his arms, the knife buried in his chest, blood spilling out of him.

“The kid’s already dead,” Eddie said as Tim writhed in his arms on the stairs.

Tim then opened his eyes and gave Eddie a stern look. “You’ve gotta control the environment. You understand? You’ve gotta control it.”

Eddie said, “We can’t.” But he wasn’t sure why he’d said that. Somehow he knew Tim was talking about Colin Winspear’s house but he couldn’t divine any other meaning from his brother’s words.

“If you don’t control it, you’ve got nothing,” Tim said.

The dream shifted. Tim was still there, but the scene around them had changed. The house disappeared and now they were in Eddie’s current apartment.

“Remember Mrs. Erhart? She was hot,” Tim said.

Eddie hadn’t thought about their art teacher from grade school in a long time. His mind called up an image of her but instead of her usual outfit, she was dressed crazily like Ana. Eddie looked down at his brother, but something about Tim was different now, and Eddie realized he wasn’t looking at his brother but some impostor.

Someone who was out to get him.

He had a terrifying feeling that he wasn’t alone in his apartment.

Dread filled him. The impostor was somewhere in the room, talking to him, but Eddie couldn’t see him.

And worse, he couldn’t move.

He couldn’t fucking move.

Then he spotted the person in the corner of the bedroom. He was just a dark shape.

“Eddie.”

Eddie willed himself to move, but he couldn’t. The man continued talking, but it came out as a mumble. He spoke in Tim’s voice and now Eddie was panicked.

“Eddie.”

Ana appeared in front of him and he sprang off the couch, his motion suddenly restored.

“Eddie, it’s just me,” Ana said. “Your door was open.”

He looked around the apartment, his eyes searching every corner. His chest felt hollow. His breath fast.

“Jesus, you okay?” Ana said.

He nodded absently, his senses coming to him. “Yeah, sleep paralysis. It’s a bitch.”

She brought him a glass of water. She was still dressed as she had been at work, with her khakis and button-down.

“Sleep paralysis is for real?” she asked.

He sipped the water. It felt good against his dry throat. “Yeah, but it’s not paranormal.”

“It’s not?”

He shook his head no. “At least for me, it isn’t. When we go to sleep, the brain releases some chemical that paralyzes us. That way, we don’t act out our dreams. Sometimes, things get all screwy and we start to wake up before the chemical is out of our system. In that space of time, we feel like we can’t move and we’re only partially awake. Whatever we’ve been dreaming about we see in the room with us.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“Speaking of lovely, what brings you here? I told you to get some sleep.”

She smiled. “Jimbo was watching some dumb, loud action movie with Tony. And of course they needed the fucking surround sound on.”

Eddie forced himself not to say what he really wanted to say about Jimbo. “You need to sleep. You know, you’re not a kid anymore.”

She laughed. “If I’m not a kid, you’re a senior citizen. But anyway, that’s why I’m here. Can I crash here for a few hours?”

The red-blooded male in Eddie mentally undressed Ana quicker than his mind could formulate a response.

“Sure.”

“You don’t mind?”

“It’s fine.” He got up. “You take the couch. I’ll use the sleeping bag.”

“Okay.”

He watched her curl up on the couch and reflected on how bad an idea this was. He should not be alone with this girl. Last night’s escapades with Elsie had been fun but they’d done little to slake his desire for Ana.

Now here Ana was. And as much as she said she loved Jimbo, it was clear she wasn’t happy in the relationship.

But something she said struck him. “You said my door was unlocked?”

“Yeah.”

Being an ex-con, Eddie was usually paranoid enough to double-check every locked door.

He got up and locked the door at the top of the stairs. He usually left that one unlocked.

He settled onto the floor under his sleeping bag and turned away from her. He wondered why he’d dreamed of his art teacher, Ms. Erhart. She used to say something everyday, about how all art was a lie. About how every great artist only let people see what they wanted them to see.

“I’ve got my alarm set for six,” he said. “We’ll get some takeout then go to Bernie’s.”

“Okay,” she said sleepily.

Eddie forced himself not to think about the young woman on his couch and was tired enough to drift off to sleep.

Forty-Eight

Eddie woke before the alarm and decided to work while Ana slept. He found her backpack on the kitchen counter, took out the tape recorder, and went into the bathroom to listen to last night’s tape.

Before the last investigation, Eddie had never put much stock in EVP. It didn’t make any sense. Why would ghost noise be picked up by a recorder but not by a human ear? There was no science to back it up. Tim hadn’t cared much for it either. But it was EVP that had cracked the last case. For better. And for worse.

So Eddie listened.

On the tape, he heard only himself and Ana talking and the normal sounds of the house. He listened for twenty minutes and was interrupted by someone pounding heavily on the downstairs door.

He hit STOP and left the recorder in the bathroom and went downstairs. Through the window, he saw a cop standing with his back to the door.

Eddie opened the door. “Lieutenant Whitmore, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“We’ll talk about that down the station. Let’s go.” Whitmore looked past Eddie’s shoulders up the stairs. “Both of you.”

Ana looked frozen in place, like she’d been caught doing something. “What’s going on?”

“Let’s go, Ana. You can follow me to the station.”

“Cool. I’ll ride with her,” Eddie said.

“Like hell you will. You’ll ride with me.”

* * * *

“This big storm ever going to start?” Eddie asked.

Whitmore grunted.

That was the extent of their conversation.

Whitmore drove the rest of the way in silence for the twenty-minute ride to his tiny police station as the sky turned from grey to black. The police station was about the size of Victor’s grocery store.

So far, it wasn’t an arrest but it wasn’t a friendly invite either. The cop helped Eddie out of the car in the parking lot and kept his hand on the back of Eddie’s arm the whole way. As they walked up the front steps, Ana pulled into the municipal lot and parked.

Inside, there was a small waiting area. A soft-in-the-middle desk sergeant nodded at Whitmore and scowled at Eddie. She looked about forty and rolled her eyes when Ana came in behind them, the disapproval making her face more severe.

“Ana, you wait out here,” Whitmore said.

Whitmore led Eddie through the open space, past the central office that had Whitmore’s name stenciled on the glass door, and down a narrow hallway that Eddie figured led to the interrogation room and the holding cell.

Whitmore opened the door to the interrogation room and put Eddie inside.

“Am I under arrest?” Eddie asked.

“Should you be?” Whitmore asked.

“No.”

Whitmore didn’t say anything else. He just shut the door and locked it.

The interrogation room was typical. The standard two-way mirror on one wall. Eddie sat at the lone table in the room and faced away from the mirror. Whatever was going on, he planned to make it difficult for Whitmore.

Then he waited.

Eddie knew Whitmore would make him wait for awhile. Twenty or thirty minutes at least. That’s what cops did. Let the suspect sit in a room alone. Let the uncertainty gnaw at him.

But Eddie had been arrested before so he knew the game. So he retreated inside himself and replayed last night’s fun. Elsie had surprised him with her sexual prowess. She knew her way around the bedroom and had even taught him a thing or two. He kept picturing her atop him, her big, full breasts drooping toward him, as she danced her hips in a circle.

But his mind kept replacing her face with Ana’s.

Finally Whitmore returned. He closed the door and sat opposite Eddie and folded his arms. Whitmore looked at him like he’d been responsible for every major crime of the past century.

“Where were you last night?” Whitmore asked.

Eddie knew from experience that the truth came out faster than a lie, so cops could spot bad liars pretty easily. It was a good thing he didn’t have to fabricate anything.

“We got to Colin’s around nine. He left a few minutes later. We proceeded with our investigation. Approximately three hours late, Colin returned home. We spoke to him briefly, and then we left.”

Whitmore’s eyes rolled at the word investigation. “Where did you go from there?”

“Back to Ana’s for a little bit. Maybe fifteen minutes.”

“What time was that?”

“I wasn’t keeping track of the time. Around one, if I had to guess.”

“What time did you get home?”

“I didn’t.”

Whitmore’s arms unfolded and he sat forward. “You wanna explain that to me?”

“I spent the night with a woman.”

Whitmore spread his palms on the table. They left streaks on the wood. “What woman?”

“Elsie.”

“Elsie who?”

“You know who I’m talking about.”

“I want you to tell me about it. What’s her last name?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You spent the night with her but you don’t remember?”

“You never had sex with a woman just for the hell of it, Whitmore?”

Whitmore hmphed. “Where does she live?”

Eddie told him the address.

“What time did you get there?”

“I told you, I wasn’t paying attention to the time.”

“Ballpark it for me, asshole.”

Eddie thought about it. “Assuming I left Ana’s around one or one-fifteen, between one-thirty and two o’clock.”

“Hmm.”

Eddie knew that trick. It was a cop’s way of fooling a suspect into asking a leading question that would give some vital information away. He said nothing.

“What time did you leave Elsie’s?”

“Not till this morning.”

“Can she confirm that?”

Eddie leaned forward. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“I plan to. What did you and Elsie do?”

Eddie fought a laugh. The better question was, What didn’t they do?

“What’s so funny?” Whitmore asked.

“Nothing. We were up for awhile then both fell asleep. Did you want the details?”

Whitmore ignored his attitude. “What time did you fall asleep?”

“We were up for awhile.”

“What time?”

“Christ, Whitmore, I don’t check the fucking time before I fall asleep in the event a prick cop is going to grill me the next day.”

Whitmore’s eyebrows knitted together.

“Probably around four o’clock.”

“Were you two drinking?”

“Yes. That is still legal around here, right?”

“How much did you drink?”

“We shared a bottle or two of wine.”

“So you were pretty drunk.”

“Not really. My tolerance is pretty good.”

“I’ll bet it is. Was she?”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“I’m asking you.”

“Maybe.”

Whitmore ignored the evasive answer. “Did you leave her house between four and when she woke up the next morning?”

“No. She woke me up.”

“What time was that?”

“Around nine.”

“Then what?”

Eddie folded his arms. “We had breakfast, then we took a shower, then I went straight to work. My shift started at ten.”

Whitmore sat back and folded his hands. Twiddled his thumbs. Never once took his cop’s eyes off Eddie.

Then Whitmore said, “I ask her the same questions, am I gonna get the same answers?”

Whitmore was expecting him to say yes, so of course Eddie said, “No.”

Whitmore nearly fell out of his chair. “What?”

Eddie smirked. He was having too much fun and pushing Whitmore too far. “You’re a cop. You should know from experience that two people will never describe something the same way.”

Whitmore shot out of his chair and put his knuckles on the table and leaned forward. “Okay, smartass. Sit right there like a good citizen till I come get you.”

Whitmore stalked to the door. Before opening it, he said, “You know what’s funny, drifter? Not once have you asked me what this is about.”

Eddie winked at him. “I figured you’d get to that in good time.”

“Keep it up. I’m just itching to charge you with murder.”

Forty-Nine

Eddie chewed on that last exchange for the better part of thirty minutes in the interrogation room by himself. He occupied himself by comparing the last three women he’d slept with. They were all so different, all so talented in different ways. A few times, to stave off the boredom, he turned and waved playfully at the two-way mirror.

Eventually it got to him. He got out of his seat and paced the claustrophobic confines of the room. There was no window to the outside.

He sat back down and forced himself to doze. He took deep breaths and let his mind wander. He could just feel himself slipping away when there was a noise at the door.

Whitmore came in.

“If I’m not under arrest—”

“Save it.” Whitmore motioned for him to follow.

Eddie got up and followed Whitmore to his office. Ana and Jimbo were sitting in front of Whitmore’s desk and Tony could be seen sitting alone just outside the office. He gave Eddie a razor sharp stare.

Whitmore waited for Eddie to step into the office then turned to Ana’s boyfriend. “Jim, thanks for your help. We won’t be needing any more of your time.”

Jimbo went to the door, then remembered he should kiss his girlfriend or at least say goodbye. “Me and Tony are headed out, hon. You know, since you’re busy tonight.”

Eddie heard the accusation in Jimbo’s voice, and it pleased him. Jealousy was alive and well in old Jimbo.

Ana gave him a quick hug and kiss before Jimbo shuffled out of the office. Whitmore shut the door behind him. Through the glass, Eddie watched Jimbo and Tony leave the police station. The desk sergeant went back to typing.

Whitmore said, “Both of you should sit down for this.”

Eddie put an edge in his voice. “I’ve been sitting for over an hour.”

Whitmore ignored his tone. “Colin Winspear died last night. Sometime after you two left.”

“Died?” Ana said.

“Between one and two.”

“Died?” Ana repeated.

“Why are you sharing with us?” Eddie asked.

Whitmore turned and faced Eddie. “Because now I know you didn’t do it.”

“I could have told you that myself.”

Whitmore smirked. “Ana confirmed your story, up to a certain point. Then I confirmed the rest for myself.”

Eddie felt Ana’s eyes on him. He didn’t meet her stare.

Whitmore continued. “Jimbo and Tony confirm her story. So you’re both clear. And you’re both the last people to see Colin alive.”

“The last person to see him alive killed him,” Eddie said.

“So who did it, wiseass?” Whitmore said.

Eddie said, “Signs of a robbery?”

“No.”

Ana had a hand over her mouth. “My God … how did it happen?”

Whitmore gave her a fatherly look. “You sure you want to know?”

Ana looked to Eddie for guidance. He kept his face neutral. He wanted her to decide for herself.

Finally Ana said, “I guess I’ll find out eventually. Might as well hear it now.”

“He drowned in the creek in his backyard.”

Ana gripped her armrest and disbelief flashed in her eyes.

Eddie said, “You sure it’s murder?”

Whitmore shook his head. “Unclear. Trauma to the top of his head. And there was alcohol in his system. Which is strange because Colin’s a recovering alcoholic who hadn’t touched a drop in years apparently.”

Ana frowned. “I didn’t know that.”

“One of the few things he kept pretty quiet.”

Eddie thought about it. “So let’s say he was bombed. He wanders out in the middle of the night, unsteady on his feet, loses his footing, hits his head on the creek bed, loses consciousness, drowns. Sounds great. You could wrap it up right now. The only problem is, what the hell is he doing out there in the first place? It would have been after we left, so around one, maybe one-thirty. The temperature was in the teens last night. So what’s he doing out there?”

Whitmore nodded reluctantly, as if he didn’t want to give Eddie any credit. “You need to tell me what you found in his house last night.”

Eddie looked over at Ana. Her hand finally loosened on the armrest, and she sat back her chair.

Whitmore leveled his eyes on Eddie, and his lip curled into a sneer. “Ana kept her lips sealed about your investigation when I asked her.”

Eddie put a hand on Ana’s shoulder. “That was good of you, kiddo, but you didn’t have to do that. This is way more serious.”

“That’s right,” Whitmore said. “So start talking.”

Eddie walked Whitmore through the three hours they’d spent at Colin’s. He left nothing out. There was no reason to hide anything. Whitmore seemed unimpressed by the paranormal activity Eddie related to him, but he did jot a few notes down on his coffee-stained legal pad.

When Eddie was done, Whitmore grunted. “So why’d you lie to Colin and tell him you didn’t hear anything?”

Ana regarded Eddie with a wary look. She must have been wondering the same thing.

“I don’t know,” Eddie said. “I just wanted to see how he’d react.”

“You think he was making it up?” Whitmore said.

Eddie shook his head. “Not now. Not after what we heard. I don’t see the point of him making it up either. If anything, he seemed more hassled by us than anything. Most people want you to take your time, find something to validate what they’re saying. He couldn’t wait for us to get out of there.”

A pained look appeared on Whitmore’s face. “Much as I don’t want to, I have to ask. Do you think a ghost could have done this?”

Eddie finally sat next to Ana. “Ghosts don’t kill people. At least, not directly. That only happens in movies.”

“That’s good, because I don’t believe in any of your bullshit. I don’t believe this town is haunted either. I think you’re wasting your time. I think this is all the product of a lot of overactive imaginations. I think a lot of people are out of work and this town is slowly dying and people want some excitement so they make their own.”

Eddie said nothing.

Whitmore let out a big sigh and went on. “That being said, I have to explore all possibilities. So when you say ghosts don’t kill people, are you being literal? Does it never happen? Have you even heard about it happening to someone else?”

Eddie shook his head no. “The worst spirits out there do their damage emotionally. It’s more like psychological warfare. Weaken the enemy’s mind until they break. People get scared, they’re on edge, they start acting out of character, doing things they normally wouldn’t do. I’ve seen ghosts ruin families, sure, but when you come down to it, it’s not the ghosts doing the actual killing. It’s always the people. And even then, killings are very rare. You’re talking less than one-one-hundredth a percent of validated claims.”

Whitmore and Ana said nothing, though it was obvious what they were thinking. Eddie’s last investigation had ended in several killings.

Eddie said, “Anything else strange about the body?”

“Trauma to the ankles consistent with severe rope burns.” Whitmore looked at Ana like he was embarrassed to bring up Colin’s sexual habits. “His ankles were pretty raw, but we know he had a ... date last night.”

Ana’s face turned red.

Whitmore said, “How was Colin acting?”

Eddie shrugged. “I don’t know the guy, so I can’t say if he was being himself. But if you’re asking whether he seemed depressed or suicidal, I’d say no.”

Ana sat up. “He was himself.”

“Did he say anything that struck either of you as odd?

“No,” Eddie said, then remembered about the clocks.

Whitmore must have read his face. “What?”

“He asked us to reset his clocks for him.”

“So what?”

“Nobody’s ever asked me to do that before.”

“Maybe he just thought ahead.”

“Maybe. No one else ever has.”

“So what?”

“So maybe nothing. How much booze did he have in him?”

“Three or four drinks.”

“What does the M.E. think?”

Whitmore hesitated. “The M.E. doesn’t think. He just gives us the facts.”

“I hope the bump on the head knocked him out. Drowning’s a bad way to go.” Eddie shuddered at his own memory of nearly drowning.

“Who found him?” Ana asked.

Whitmore shook his head. “Marty Kindler.”

“Why was Kindler there?” Eddie asked.

The skin around Whitmore’s eyes tightened. “Marty’s not a suspect in this, Eddie.”

“You think there’s a connection between the paranormal events and this death?” Eddie said.

“I doubt it, but the truth is there are no other connections,” Whitmore said. “Colin’s ex has an alibi. He’s got no enemies we know of. It’s not a robbery. And the timing is bizarre. Either it’s a coincidence that you were there last night, poking around, or it’s not. I have to treat it like it’s not.”

Eddie nodded. It was interesting how much Whitmore reminded him of his brother Tim. That was exactly how he would have done things.

“Is anybody gonna talk about the elephant in the room?” Ana asked.

Neither man said anything.

She continued. “Colin drowned.”

Whitmore looked from her to Eddie, as if he blamed Eddie for putting such a thought in her head. The cop picked up what looked like an old cup of coffee and drank.

Ana said, “He drowned just like Tessa.”

The three of them sat in silence for a moment. The only sound came from the common area: the clack of the desk sergeant typing a report.

“Assuming worst case, assuming this is all connected,” Eddie said, “then you’ve gotta be worried about Bernard and Marty too.”

Whitmore put his coffee down. “I’ve got my people with them already.”

“And if it’s all connected, then it all goes back to Tessa,” Ana said.

Whitmore ran a hand through his buzzed hair. “That’s a big if, but it’s all we have right now.”

Eddie didn’t buy it for a minute. Ghosts didn’t kill people. “It was Mike Hollis. So what it’s been fourteen years? He’s still pissed off that everybody blames him for Tessa’s death when it wasn’t even his fault. His whole life took a turn for the worse after that. He had to leave town. And who else can he blame except Colin, Bernard, and Kindler?”

Whitmore said, “Mike’s got an airtight alibi for last night.”

Eddie couldn’t help but be impressed by how quickly Whitmore had gotten all this information together. “Where was he?”

“He was home with his wife. He lives several hours away. The timing makes it impossible.”

Eddie laughed. “So it was his crazy old man.”

Whitmore laughed too. “I’m going up there tonight to have a chat. But I seriously doubt it. Mitchell Hollis can barely walk with his hip and his back and his foot. When I’m done with him, I’ll meet you at Bernard’s place.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to watch you do your work. And if I see anything I don’t like, I’m going to arrest you. One arrest counts as a parole violation. Remember that.”

“I don’t murder people,” Eddie said. “And ghosts don’t either.”

“Then how do you explain the drowning?” Whitmore said.

“You’re a cop. You know there’s usually a rational explanation for everything.”

“Until there is, don’t think you and I are on terms. Got it?”

Fifty

“Take a look through the paperwork,” Whitmore said. “It’s just the preliminary and final report and several statements. The interviews weren’t long because it was pretty obvious there was no foul play involved.”

Eddie and Ana sat down in the interrogation room. There was no other space for them to work in. Whitmore put a half-filled cardboard box on the table and popped the lid.

“What time are you due at Bernard’s?” Whitmore asked.

Eddie said, “Eight.”

Whitmore checked his watch. “Okay, assuming nothing comes up with Mitchell Hollis, I’ll see you there.” He left them alone in the room.

“I’ve always wanted to read this,” Ana said. “Just never had the guts.”

“You go first, then.”

Ana looked down into the box. She pulled out a few manila folders, worn and bent with age. She opened the one on top and Eddie recognized the police report. Though it was fourteen years old, it had been generated on a typewriter. Some of the letters hadn’t aligned with the blank spaces, and the font was difficult to read.

He waited till she was finished. She read it a couple of times. It didn’t take her long because the report was so short.

She handed it over.

Eddie flipped it around and read.

Deceased: TESSA LOVSKY. 18 Y

Witnesses: MICHAEL HOLLIS, MARTIN KINDLER, BERNARD HATHAWAY, COLIN WINSPEAR

Description: SEVEN TEENAGERS NOTED ABOVE CONGREGATED AT LAKE # 267 (UNNAMED AT PRESENT) ON NOVEMBER 22, 1998 AT APPROX. 1400 HOURS. PROCEEDED TO HORSEPLAY ON ICE. DECEASED STEPPED ONTO ICE AND IT BEGAN TO CRACK. DECEASED FELL INTO THE WATER. WITNESSES UNABLE TO ASSIST HER.

DECEASED RECOVERED FROM LAKE THAT EVENING AT 1930 HOURS. NO SUSPICION OF FOUL PLAY. REFER TO WITNESS STATEMENTS ATTACHED.

Though he didn’t need to, Eddie read the report again, taking in the administrative details. DROWNING. 18 YEARS OLD. BORN SEPTEMBER 3, 1980. SURVIVED BY MOTHER, FATHER, SISTER.

Ana finished with the first witness statement and slid it across the table to him. It was Michael Hollis’s.

Michael Hollis: Had dated DECEASED for approx. ten months prior to DOL. Was engaged in “game of chicken” with others about crossing the ice on the lake. Says was provoked. Says others teased him and “shamed him” into doing it. MH stepped onto ice and proceeded to cross. Did not go whole way. Heard the ice make noise. Went back to shore. DECEASED then taunted him and attempted to cross ice herself. Was pulled in when ice broke. MH afraid to go out and help her because of size and weight. Others afraid too. DECEASED went under before help could be given.

* * * *

Ana checked the time on her cell as they stepped outside. Her breath fogged in the cold air. She shivered and wished she’d brought her other coat.

“Everybody teased Mike Hollis about his weight after,” she said. “It was all his fault. He’d gone out there and weakened the ice just before Tessa went out. Then, because he was too fat, he was too scared to go out and save his girlfriend. They were horrible to him.”

Eddie followed her to her car as the flurries began.

“Storm’s finally here,” Eddie said.

They got in the car and Ana started the engine. “I can’t believe we were in his living room last night, maybe less than an hour before he died. I’ve never been that close to death before.”

Eddie nodded and seemed to retreat, like he often did, into himself.

“I need to eat something,” she said.

“Where do you want to go?”

She wanted to go home. Cook herself some pasta and curl up on the sofa under a blanket. She wanted him to be there too. And she didn’t want Jimbo around anymore.

Guilt stabbed at her. She knew she had to break up with Jim. It was time. It had been time for awhile. But the moment never seemed right. He was always just coming home from a bad interview, or getting more news about his grandmother’s failing health, or … It was always something.

“You okay?” Eddie asked.

Ana nodded. “I know a good place.”

* * * *

Ana drove on auto-pilot. She knew these roads better than she knew her multiplication tables.

She drove until she could stand the silence no more. She had to ask him.

“I know what you said to Whitmore about ghosts not killing people, but between me and you, do you think Tessa could have killed Colin?”

Eddie took his eyes off the road. “No.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“It just doesn’t happen, Ana.”

“Then who would do it? Who would drown him?”

“They’re not even sure it was murder.”

“But they don’t know. The whole thing is weird. The timing can’t be coincidence.”

He shook his head. “But that’s just the problem: the timing is most likely a coincidence.”

“How can you say that? I mean, come on.”

Eddie scratched the back of his head. Was quiet for a stretch. “What’s more likely, Ana? That Tessa forced or tricked Colin into going to the creek in his backyard and somehow drowned him? Or that someone living did? Or, that Colin went out there himself, slipped, and lost consciousness when he hit his head?”

“Of course the latter two are more likely.”

“Then that’s more likely the answer. Ockham’s Razor.”

“But you said it yourself: what was he doing out there?”

She turned at Route 55. The flurries grew into a storm. No matter how much she cranked the car’s heater, the cold seeped in and froze her. Her toes were numb.

Eddie faced her. “Look, I don’t want to say this but about Jimbo—”

“If you don’t want to say it, don’t say it.”

She chewed her upper lip and managed to keep from yelling at him. The moment passed, and the pizza parlor appeared ahead. A lonely building, its windows alive with neon lights, sitting on the quiet roadside.

Fifty-One

Eddie liked the place immediately. It reminded him of a pizza shop back home. Small, family-run, friendly staff, cheap but good food. Ana ordered a bowl of pasta and Eddie got a personal pie.

“Never say never, but yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s not a ghost.” Eddie grabbed a steaming piece of pizza and took a bite. It was greasy and delicious. He could hear his arteries protesting.

“More likely just an accident,” Eddie said. “It’s a simpler explanation.”

“But you said it. What was he doing out there at two in the morning?”

“He couldn’t sleep. Maybe he always walked around at night. Maybe he heard something. Any one of those things is more likely than a ghost drowning someone.”

Ana sighed. “Ugh, okay, whatever. I don’t want to fight. I’m just trying to talk to you.”

Eddie sat back in the booth, surprised by her anger. “I’m not fighting with you.”

“You’ve got a funny way of not fighting with people. You’ve been weird since last night.”

“Ana, I’m not mad at you, okay?”

Ana put her fork down and looked away for a moment before launching another volley. “I’m not stupid, you know. I got good grades in school and if I had money I could go to a good college. I could do something with my life. I don’t have to spend it in this town, working at a grocery store.”

Eddie held out a palm. “Take it easy.”

But she didn’t. “I’ve seen the way you look at Jim. The way you judge him. You’re judging me when you do that. Don’t you get it?”

Eddie said nothing.

“Who the hell are you to judge, Eddie? You’re an ex-con, drifter who’s stocking shelves in his thirties.”

The only other patron in the parlor sitting a few booths away stopped eating and looked over at them. Ana realized she’d made a scene and shrunk in the booth. Eddie stared the guy down till he went back to minding his business.

Ana picked up her fork and twirled some pasta with it, but she didn’t start eating again.

“Ana, you’re a great woman. I mean it.”

“Oh please. What the hell have I done with my life? Nothing. The most I can say is I didn’t graduate college and I’m too nice to Jim.”

“Listen to me.”

She finally met his eyes.

“I’m nobody. Just a drifter. Thirty-three with no clear future. But you know what, I’ve learned a few things along the way. Things I’m sure you would have figured out on your own, but what if I can help you not make the same mistakes I made? Wouldn’t a little unsolicited advice be worth it?”

“Maybe.”

“You already know what I’m going to say.”

She wiped under her eyes. “I know I have to leave him, goddamnit.”

“Then do it.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He’s going through a hard time.”

“He makes his own bed.”

“No, there’s something wrong with him. Like clinical depression or anxiety or something. He’s not like you or me.”

“And what’s he doing to help himself?” Eddie said.

“He can’t help himself. That’s the point. When you have a problem like that, you literally cannot help yourself.”

“Yes, you can.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“You can help yourself,” Eddie said. “I know you can because I was there. I’ve been depressed. Shit, I’ve been suicidal. I know what it’s like.”

She looked at him with new eyes. “Was it after Tim died?”

“Yes. But also before. I was in a rut. I didn’t want to admit it was my own fucking fault, but it was. When I did realize, I used that as an excuse to feel sorry for myself. It’s all cyclical.”

“So if that’s what Jim is feeling like right now, how could he possibly get out of it?”

Eddie put his elbows on the table and folded his hands in front of his face. “He needs to change the way he thinks. This is all his own doing. He can either feel sorry for himself, or he can use that to his advantage.”

“How so?”

“If it’s his fault he’s where he is in life, then that means he just needs to make different decisions and he’ll get better, right? If he can make bad decisions and be unhappy, then he can make good decisions and be happy.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“It is. Once he accepts responsibility for his shitty life, he’ll realize he can also take responsibility for having a good life.”

“You’re simplifying things.”

“You can make a good decision just as easily as you can make a bad one.” Eddie wasn’t sure where all this wonderful advice was coming from. It was like his brain had amassed it all over the years and had been waiting for the opportunity to share the knowledge with someone who needed it.

“And is that how you dealt with it?” A challenge in her voice.

“Not at first, no. It took awhile to see the truth. But once I did, there was no going back.”

“And, what? You’re all better now? Everything is perfect in your life?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Far from it. But things don’t seem as difficult anymore. I feel like I’m figuring it all out. Slowly, but surely.”

“Well good for you.”

“Ana—”

“You’re full of shit, Eddie. You didn’t figure anything out. You’ve just run from your problems all this time.”

Eddie took it on the chin. He had to. She needed an outlet for her anger. If it made things easier for her, he’d be that outlet.

“You’re …” Her voice faded to nothing.

“I’m what?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “You’re … right. I know you’re right.”

“He’s only dragging you down.”

“If I dump him, what would that make me?”

“Smart.”

“A bitch.”

He shook his head. “It’ll be the best thing for him. It’ll be the kick in the ass he needs.”

“Or he’ll just get worse.”

“Maybe. But if things stay the way they are, he will definitely get worse. You’ll coddle him. He’ll grow more complacent and entrenched in your life. It’ll get harder to leave him, the longer you’re with him.”

Ana took a long time answering. “I know.”

“So do it.”

She sighed. “I will.”

“When?”

“Not right now, not this very second.”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

She got up and left the restaurant. Eddie gave her a few minutes and had their food boxed. Then he paid the bill and met her in her car.

Fifty-Two

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said.

She didn’t look at him. Just kept her eyes on the road and drove. “It’s time to go to Bernard’s. I just want to get this fucking night over.”

He regretted what he’d said. She needed to hear it, and hopefully she would take his advice, but now there was a wall between them. And she was the closest thing to a friend he’d had in awhile. More than a friend, if he was honest with himself.

“How far is it?” he asked.

“Fifteen minutes.” She flicked on the radio and blasted the music so they couldn’t talk.

Eddie watched the telephone poles whip by as the snow fell faster and it began to accumulate. Ana eased off the gas and took the curves more carefully as the roads slickened.

Eddie thought about Tim and tried to picture how Tim would have handled news of the murder. His brother wouldn’t have thought a ghost could kill someone, but at the same time, he wouldn’t have been as quick to rule it out.

Was Eddie being too dismissive?

The last time he’d jumped to unfounded conclusions, he’d triggered a series of events that had led to Tim’s death. Was he just doing the same thing here?

He played devil’s advocate. As Colin had said, he’d heard noises for years. Perhaps that was the ghost trying to communicate with Colin but not succeeding. Either the message wasn’t getting through or Colin wasn’t really listening. So the ghost had had enough, had figured out a way to drown the man in his own backyard ...

The theory was pretty thin. He’d never seen or heard of a ghost capable of murder. But like they said, there was a first time for everything. He turned the radio down.

He said, “I want to bounce some things off you.”

“As long as it’s not about Jim or about how messed up you think my life is.”

“Ana, for Christ’s sake, I think you’re a great woman. Okay?”

“Oh really?” she said incredulously.

She yanked hard on the steering wheel, startling him, and pulled over. There was no true shoulder, so she went off-road, the tires kicking up mud as they bounced to a juttering stop.

“Ana, what the hell?”

She unclipped her seat belt and faced him. “You think I’m great? You don’t act like it.”

“Ana—”

“I practically throw myself at you, and you don’t even miss a beat, Eddie. How great am I? How—”

He kissed her.

He grabbed her hair and the gear shift jammed uncomfortably into his hip, but he didn’t care. She kissed him back, just as hard. Her need matched his. Her tiny hands strong, one gripping his shoulder. She was trying to slip his jacket off.

Breathless, he said, “Wait.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Ana—”

“Please …”

“Ana, hold on.”

He pulled his head away from her, but they remained locked in an awkward embrace, him stretched out over both seats, the steering wheel digging into his back.

Eddie said, “I want to, but I can’t.”

“Why not?” She leaned forward to kiss him again, but he moved an inch away.

“I want to, goddamnit. I’ve wanted to ever since I met you. Why the hell else do you think I came to that party two weeks ago? What business do I have hanging out with a bunch of twenty-year-olds?”

“Why can’t you?”

“Because you’re with Jim.”

“Bullshit,” she said. “You don’t owe him.”

“Because I like you too much.”

She put her hand on the back of his head like she was going to pull him closer, but she didn’t. “You hear yourself? You don’t want to because you like me too much? You’ve got it backwards, Eddie.”

“Last thing you need is to go from Jimbo to Eddie McCloskey.”

“That’s my choice.”

“Mine too.”

“So that’s it then?” Her hand fell off his shoulder and traveled to his chest.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“Can’t take it back now.”

“Don’t want to.“

She rubbed his stomach. Any lower and he’d do something incredibly stupid.

“Ana—”

Her hand started reaching, but he grabbed it before it got to his groin.

Ana said, “I’ll break up with him.”

“You should do that regardless of me. Not because of me.”

“Either way, I’ll do it.”

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. “Do it, then we’ll talk, okay?”

“Just one more kiss?”

“It’s never just one more.”

“Come on, just one.”

“We’ve gotta get moving.”

They stayed like that for a minute, just looking at each other. She sprawled in his lap. He realized that he needed this just as much, if not more, than she did. All the one-nighters over the last five years had been fun, but they hadn’t done anything for him.

This was a real connection to another human being.

It excited and scared him, and he realized that was a good thing.

“Okay, we’ve really gotta get going.” He still didn’t move.

“Okay.”

“Really.”

“Okay.”

They both started laughing. Eddie couldn’t believe he was giddy, at thirty-three years of age.

Fifty-Three

Bernard’s house was an older rancher with a long driveway and a big yard that sloped away from the house and into the woods. Ana parked between a pick-up truck and a police cruiser. A floodlight perched on the corner of the roof kicked on.

The snow was coming down in sheets now. Both the truck and the cruiser were covered.

“One thing before we go inside,” Eddie said.

She looked over at him mischievously. “And what’s that?”

Eddie smirked. “Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m going to ask to use your cell when we get inside.”

She grabbed her purse and fished for her phone. “You can use it out here.”

Eddie shook his head. “Don’t want to use it at all. But when I ask you inside, just say you forgot it.”

Her hand stayed buried in her purse. “Why?”

Eddie looked through the passenger window at the house. One of Whitmore’s men stepped off the porch and walked toward them. A man Eddie assumed was Bernard stuck his head out of the front door and peeked out at them, like a turtle coming out of its shell. Eddie waved at them and turned back to Ana.

“Better you don’t know why. It’ll make you a better actor.”

Ana tried to give him a withering look but couldn’t quite pull it off.

Eddie smiled. “I’ll tell you why after.”

She was about to respond, but then she looked past his shoulder. “The cop’s almost to the car.”

“What’s Bernard like?” Eddie asked.

“He’s … okay.”

“Don’t sugar-coat it.”

“He’s a sad sack.”

He winked at her. Then he opened the car door and smiled at the cop. “Officer, how are you?”

The cop wore a Burt Reynolds mustache. He held out a palm in a stopping motion. His other hand rode his hip.

“What’s your name?”

“Eddie McCloskey. That’s Ana Lovsky.”

Bernard came out of the door and to the edge of the porch. He cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted like they were in the middle of a hurricane. “That’s Ana! I know her!”

The cop ignored Bernard. He kept one hand on his holster and used the other to speak into a cell.

“This is Officer Toll. What does McCloskey look like?”

The cop listened for a few seconds and looked Eddie up and down. Bernard stayed on the porch.

“What kind of car does Lovsky drive?” Toll asked. Then he listened some more.

Eddie played nice and didn’t say anything. The guy was just doing his job and doing it well. And besides, Colin’s murder was probably the first the town had seen in a long time. It was impossible to be too careful if you were a podunk cop.

Toll thanked the person on the other end of the line and hung up. Then he scanned the property as if expecting to catch Colin’s murderer hiding behind a tree. When he was satisfied, he looked back at Eddie. “I’m Officer Toll. I’m going to search you now. Turn around, hands up.”

Eddie complied. Toll patted him down.

“Most you’ll find in there is a debit card and about fifteen in cash,” Eddie said.

Toll ignored him and finished the pat-down.

Eddie faced him with a smile. “Tall, dark, and handsome, right?”

Toll gave him a strange look. “Excuse me?”

“That’s how they described me to you, I’ll bet.”

Toll cracked a toothy smile. “Not exactly.”

“What did they say?”

“That you looked like a drifter.”

Eddie kept a smile in place but he was getting tired of these yokel cops giving him a hard time. Toll moved on to Ana.

”Sorry, Ana. I’ve gotta check you and your back pack.”

Toll searched her and the bag then motioned for everybody to get inside. Bernard held the door.

“Sorry about this, guys,” Bernard said. “Officer Toll is just following orders. Ana, how are you?” He hugged her, then offered his hand to Eddie.

“Under the circumstances, it’s no big deal.” Eddie shook his hand and felt the absence of a couple fingertips, reminding him of Bernard’s accident at the Mill. “I’m sorry to hear about your friend, Colin. You must be ...”

Bernard wiped the snow from his thinning black hair. “I’m okay. I’m good. Life’s good, right? I can’t complain. It’s terrible what happened to Colin. Just awful. That’s how it is, though. Shit happens all the time, there’s nothing we can do. On the knife’s edge, as they say. Bad things happen for no reason.”

He was trying to convince himself of everything he said.

Bernard went on. “Ana, how are you? You must be, what, twenty by now?”

She laughed. “Twenty-two. Old enough to drink.”

“But I’ll bet age never stopped you before, did it?” Bernard winked at her, then shot an apologetic look at Officer Toll.

The cop’s face was blank.

Ana laughed again. Eddie smiled too. Bernard seemed genuinely nice. But was it part of an act to gain their trust?

Beware the overly eager and helpful client, Tim had told him over and over. They were nice and helpful because usually they were looking for you to validate a spurious claim. Some did it for attention, some to feel special, some to add meaning to their lives.

But why would these three men—one of whom wasn’t on great terms with the other two—make up these claims at the same time? Eddie couldn’t see a reason.

“I’ve got some snacks out and I can get you drinks,” Bernard said.

Eddie spotted chips, pretzels, candy, salsa, dip, and tomato pie crowding a small coffee table near the sectional. Then he looked around the room and was grateful to find no dead animals staring back at him. So far, Bernard was giving them the royal treatment, just the opposite of how Colin had acted.

Officer Toll separated from the group and left the living room without a word. That was good.

Bernard said, “This is so exciting—how is this going to work—what I can do?”

Eddie said, “We’ll attempt to reproduce the phenomena you describe. But first we need to do background.”

“Great. Anything you want. Just let me get us all some water.”

Bernard double-timed it out of the room. Ana pulled out her notebook and recorder and set them on the coffee table next to the tray. When she looked up at him, there was a twinkle in her eye, a reminder of their newfound intimacy.

Before either could say anything, Bernard reappeared with another tray that held a pitcher of water and four glasses and napkins. “I’m low on ice right now. Sorry about that. I’d run out and get some, but you know.” He signaled toward the window at the snow that was piling up and looked from Eddie to Ana and back. “Sorry about that.”

Eddie got the feeling Bernard was the type to apologize for everything.

Everyone sat. Ana and Eddie on the sofa, Bernard on the recliner. Bernard poured four glasses of ice water and then rubbed his hands together.

“Okay, where should we start? I really want to help.”

“We should get started at …” Eddie stopped what he was saying and patted his pockets like he’d forgotten to bring something.

“Something wrong?” Bernard asked.

Eddie looked at Ana. “Can I use your cell?”

Ana reached for her pocket. For a moment he thought she’d forgotten to pretend like she didn’t have her phone. But then he realized it was playacting.

“That’s weird,” Ana said. “I always have my cell on me.”

Eddie put on an embarrassed face and looked at Bernard. “I’m so sorry, but could I use your cell?”

Bernard shot up. “Sure. You can actually use the land line.” Bernard reached for the reading table next to the recliner.

“If you don’t mind,” Eddie said, “could I use your cell? I have to call the lieutenant and he wants everything under wraps for now. I’ll just step outside.”

Bernard’s hand retracted. “Umm, sure. Let me go find it. I’m always losing the damned thing. Always losing everything. I’m only thirty-two and already senile.”

“I’ll come with you.” Eddie got up and followed him. “I hope you don’t have one of those iPhones. I have no idea how they work.”

Bernard smiled as they left the living room. “Yeah, right. My cell phone is so old, it’s got a rotary dial.”

Eddie laughed. The guy was funny when he tried. A lot of sad sacks were.

They walked down a short hallway, passed a laundry room, and made a right into a work space. There was a table covered with tools and pieces of wood, with carvings on the floor.

Bernard went to the work table and moved some papers and uncovered his cell phone. It was big and bulky and plugged into a wall outlet behind a vise.

Eddie said, “Thanks. Let me ask you something, from one non-tech guy to another.”

Bernard unplugged the phone and handed it to Eddie. “Sure thing.”

“I might bite the bullet and buy one of these things. You know, catch up with the times.”

“Ha, yeah, I hear you. Man after my own heart.”

The phone opened sideways. Eddie eyed the tiny console. “I don’t want all the bells and whistles. You know, I don’t need a camera and all that jazz. And the last thing I need are apps for God’s sake. Apps for this, apps for that. I heard there’s an app now to manage your apps. You believe that? I just want a phone so I can call people when I need to. You know what I mean?”

“You bet I do.” Bernard smiled like he’d found a true friend, another soul who really understood him. “I don’t have any of that shit on there. It’s just a phone. The guy at the store tried to talk me into getting text messages, oh it’s great, you don’t have to talk to anybody if you don’t need to, but I told him no. I’m not gonna pay for something I don’t need. That’s like paying for tits on a bull.”

Eddie smiled like Bernard was speaking his language. He held the phone up. “So you can get a phone without any of the gadgets on it? A phone, a whole phone, and nothing but a phone?”

“Yeah. You can do that.”

“Like this one? Not a single app or any of that crap?”

“Just like that one.”

“Hey, while I got you in here, do you have a computer?”

Bernard shook his head no. “No need. If people need me, they can call me. You know, on my brand new cell.”

Eddie nodded thoughtfully and made up another story about how he was looking to buy a laptop because he traveled so much.

But he was really thinking about something else.

Eddie was thinking, Shit, this guy might be telling the truth about the cold spots in this house.

To stick with the ruse, Eddie asked where the back door was.

“Just follow this same hall here.” Bernard pointed. “The deck is covered so you don’t have to worry about the snow but the wind’ll still get you. Sorry about that.”

Eddie thanked him and went out back and pretended to dial and pretended not to get anybody.

When he was done with his fake phone call, he found them in the living room. Ana still on the couch, Bernard across from her on the love seat, Tolll standing by the front door.

Eddie handed the phone to Bernard. “Okay, let’s get started.”

Fifty-Four

Ana cracked her notebook and asked Bernard when he first noticed the cold spots.

“They started … hmmm, well I first noticed them about six months ago.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“It was the weirdest thing. I remember the first night because Marty Kindler stopped by with his …” Bernard looked awkwardly at Ana. “… you know, with his two girlfriends.”

“You guys are friends?” Eddie asked as casually as possible.

Bernard raised his injured hand and splayed his three-and-a-half fingers. “We had a falling out, I’m sure you heard. But since then we’ve made up.”

Eddie couldn’t have disagreed more. Some things were worthy of a lifelong hostility, like the cold-blooded murder of his brother.

Eddie said, “So he came over with his harem?”

“Yeah. Just stopped by. We just shot the you-know-what for awhile. Had a few beers. It was good. Like old times.”

“What exactly did you do?” Eddie asked.

“Why? You think it has something to do with all this?” Bernard frowned as if Eddie were intruding on a private matter.

“Probably just a coincidence, but him stopping over was out of the ordinary, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Your buddy who’s not really your buddy swings by, and then the activity starts? Could be connected.”

Bernard went silent, as if trying to remember that night six months ago. Toll padded across the living room and checked one of the side windows.

Bernard said, “Not much to tell. He came over and we jabbered for awhile. Got to talking about the Mill. I don’t hold grudges, so I’m sad to hear the place is shutting down. The Mill’s a symbol of this town. When the symbol dies, you know …”

“Did you talk about fourteen years ago?” Eddie asked.

Everyone, even Toll, watched to gauge Bernard’s reaction.

“It came up.”

Bernard looked anxiously around the room.

Toll hooked his thumbs in his belt and leaned against the threshold to the hallway.

“That’s no surprise.” Eddie wanted to relax Bernard. “You guys don’t see each other for a long time, I figure one of the most important events in your lives is gonna come up.”

“Yeah.” Bernard looked sideways at Ana.

“So what did you say?”

Bernard pursed his lips. Looked at the cop suddenly like he wanted the guy out of the room. “We just talked about that day, you know, what went down.”

Bernard’s head swiveled side-to-side. He looked mortified. “Sorry, poor choice of words.”

Ana gave him a warm smile. “It’s okay.”

“So, uh, we talked about what happened.”

“And what did happen?” Eddie asked. “I’ve heard this, that, and the other thing, and the police report says something else.”

Eddie could feel Toll’s eyes on him.

“There’s not much to tell. If you’ve heard already, then—”

“But in your words,” Eddie said. “I want to hear it in your words.”

“Why?”

Eddie kept that friendly smile painted on his face. “Because we never know what piece of information is going to help us do our job.”

Bernard expelled a great sigh. Looked over at Ana. “You sure this is okay to talk about?”

She nudged her glasses back up her nose. “Yes. It’s why we’re here.”

Bernard took a sharp breath. “Okay. Well … I told Marty how memory plays tricks on you.”

Eddie could feel the center of gravity in the room shift closer to Bernard. Toll’s head turned and he too watched Bernard.

Ana scooted forward on the sofa. Did a pretty good job at hiding her excitement.

“I still remember that day like it was yesterday. But the weird thing is, when I talked to Marty about it, it’s like I was remembering something totally new.”

“How so?”

“We badgered Mike. Totally shamed him. We all did it. We all tormented him. I don’t know why. He didn’t deserve it. Nobody does. It was just like the group agreed he would be the guy getting picked on. And we just fell into our roles.”

“Situational attribution,” Eddie said. “You ever hear of the Stanford Prison Experiment?”

Bernard shook his head no.

“College students did this experiment where they assumed the roles of guards and inmates in prison. Pretty soon, they started acting just like real guards and inmates do. Exactly like them. They were all filling roles they thought needed filling, even the inmates who were getting dumped on.”

“Yeah … don’t get me wrong. We weren’t that bad, we weren’t horrible to him …” Bernard looked away. His eyes told a different story.

“You weren’t?” Eddie said.

“I guess we were. He just wanted to be one of the guys but he was the scapegoat. He thought by making the basketball team and playing with us, he’d be in. But that didn’t change things. No matter what he did, we picked on him. He was tall and big and kind of oafy.”

Bernard took a deep breath. Toll took his cell phone out and left the living room.

“We pushed Mike onto that ice.”

“Literally?”

Bernard shrugged. “It was just us being us. We didn’t mean anything. Or maybe we did. Maybe we were just rotten to him because we could be. He was standing on the bank, and somebody started nudging him toward the ice.”

“Who?”

Bernard licked his lips, rubbed his chin. Looked at Ana. “Tessa. She started shoving him.”

Ana’s eyes went wide but she continued to scribble her notes.

“It wasn’t just us guys making fun of him. She did, too.”

Eddie watched Ana closely, waiting for a challenge to Bernard’s version of the story. Her pen stopped moving, but she didn’t look up.

“Why didn’t this get into the police report?” Eddie asked.

“Because she died. None of us wanted to speak ill of her. Even now, it’s tough to tell the truth.”

“Because I’m sitting here?” Ana said.

The room went cold.

Were they experiencing a true cold spot, or was it his mind imagining it?

He got up and went to the thermostat. It had a fancy digital display. The temperature was set to 70 degrees.

“This thing new?” Eddie asked.

“Only a year. I got a new heater.”

Eddie turned back to Bernard and Ana. The pair of them sat five feet from each other, but they acted like they were miles apart.

“Are you okay?” Bernard asked.

Eddie waved him off. “Oh yeah. So why are you uncomfortable? Because Ana’s right there?”

“That’s part of it. But it’s not just that.” Bernard pressed his palms together. “I don’t want that to be everyone’s last memory of your sister. That moment shouldn’t define who she is. She was … decent.”

Ana’s body was wound tighter than a two dollar watch. She dropped the pen and pushed away from the couch. Went to the front door and looked out the side window. Her shoulders shook.

Eddie realized she was crying but he needed Bernard to let them in completely.  “What happened next?”

Bernard kept his eyes on Ana’s back. “Eddie, maybe right now isn’t …”

“There is no good time for this, Bernard. Things are moving fast. Colin’s dead. We have to move forward.”

Bernard nodded. “Tessa got into it. The teasing. Pretty soon it was just her.”

Ana’s head dropped to her chest. Eddie wanted to hold her more than anything, but they couldn’t lose this moment with Bernard. It finally felt like they had momentum.

“Did she push him onto the ice?”

Bernard nodded.

“All the way?”

Ana whirled. “He was a foot taller and had a hundred pounds on her. You’re telling us she pushed him out there?”

Bernard blushed. “He was physically stronger than her, but … weak-willed. He didn’t put up much of a fight. He was in a bad spot. Here was his girlfriend, calling him a coward in front of all his friends. He couldn’t very well man-handle her. He’d look even more like a loser. Guys can’t win when a woman gets physical.”

Ana’s face shone with tears. She wiped under her eyes and smeared her mascara.

“I’m sorry,” Bernard said.

“Don’t be. It’s the truth.” She looked at the floor. “I always heard she could be a bitch.”

“Look, if she had known what would happen … if any of us had …”

Eddie went to the couch and grabbed Ana’s pen. “What then?”

“She shoved him onto the ice, with all of us laughing at him. God.” Bernard shook his head. “How emasculating that must have been. To have your only friends and your first love do that to you.”

“Then what?”

“They were on the ice together. He ran back to the shore when she let go, but she stayed to shame him. Then the ice cracked. Everybody panicked. Mike didn’t want to go out there because of his size, nobody knew what to do.”

“And she went under?”

In the corner of the room, Ana stifled a sob.

Bernard nodded.

Eddie put the pen down and sat back. His head was swimming with possibilities. “Did any of you try to save her?”

“We panicked. She went down so fast, there was no chance. The ice was just a thin sheet ready to come apart.”

Ana’s sobs turned into real tears.

“It was awful,” Bernard said.

Eddie saw guilt everywhere. In the tone of Bernard’s words. In the slump of his shoulders. In the way his eyes couldn’t quite hold anybody’s gaze. Tessa might have died fourteen years ago, but for this man, it had happened yesterday. All of Bernard’s self-deprecating humor and his incessant apologizing were signs of a deep depression.

Eddie said, “You ever reach out to Mike? Ever talk to him since?”

Bernard nodded. “Recently, actually. I wrote him a letter.”

“Did you hear back?”

Bernard shook his head no. “I had to take the letter to his old man. I didn’t have Mike’s address so I asked him for it. He wouldn’t give it to me, said he’d mail it himself.”

“What did the letter say?” Eddie asked.

Bernard gave him a look like that was none of his business, but Eddie stared the man down. It wasn’t hard. Bernard caved.

“Just about how sorry I was. Am. And … I knew we shouldn’t have gone out there.”

“You were young,” Eddie said.

Toll suddenly came back into the room. His gun was out. “Ana, Eddie, get in the kitchen right now. Bernard, you stay right there.”

His tone left no room for argument.

Fifty-Five

“Lieutenant Whitmore doesn’t have any missed calls, Eddie. So start talking.”

Toll had forced them up against the far wall of the kitchen. One flick of the wrist would bring the gun to bear on Eddie.

“I wasn’t talking to anybody,” Eddie said.

Ana looked over at him.

“Why’d you lie?” Toll asked.

“It’s part of my investigation.”

“Don’t fuck around with me. I’ll put one in your knee and make up a story about how you lunged when I confronted you about lying to a police officer.”

Eddie held out a palm. “I just needed to know if Bernard could remotely activate his thermostat.”

“What?”

“All phones nowadays have apps. I needed to see if he had one that would enable him to use his phone to change the temperature in his house. It’s why I asked him about the computer too.”

Toll relaxed a little bit but still kept the gun out. He raised his voice. “Bernard, you okay?”

“Yeah. What’s going on in there?”

“Just hang there for a few minutes.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t go anywhere. Don’t open the door if somebody knocks, either.”

“Okay.”

To Eddie, “You lying to me?”

“Not when you’ve got a gun pointed at Ana.”

Toll safetied and holstered his weapon. But he stayed in the doorway, blocking their way back to the living room. “Don’t move. Just stand there.”

They stood in uncomfortable silence as the minutes ticked by. Toll never once took his eyes off them. Ana sat down at the kitchen table, and Toll was about to tell her to stand up but there was a knock at the back door of the kitchen.

Toll raised his voice. “That you?”

“It’s me.”

Toll pointed at Eddie. “Open the door.”

Eddie did and came face-to-face with Lieutenant Whitmore.

* * * *

Whitmore’s eyes bounced from Eddie to Toll. “This stays between us. Much as I don’t want to, I believe him.”

“Thanks,” Eddie said. “Now we’ll get back to business.”

Eddie and Ana went back into the living room to find a very confused-looking Bernard. “Everything alright?”

“We’re good. Just a misunderstanding.”

Ana sat on the couch and grabbed her pen and notebook.

Eddie said, “Let’s get to the phenomena. What happens?”

Bernard rubbed his palms on his jeans. “It gets cold in here. Happens fast, like somebody’s opened all the windows.”

“How often does this happen?”

“Not often at first, but happening more and more. The last two weeks, maybe seven or eight times.”

“What are you doing when it happens?”

“Anything. Nothing. It’s random.”

“When was the last time—”

The thermostat beeped.

Ana dropped her notebook. Eddie froze in place.

The vents immediately stopped pumping air. The heating sputtered to a stop.

Whitmore and Toll both turned to look at the thermostat as they were closest to it.

Bernard stood up. “This could be it.”

Eddie was wondering what the chances were that he’d see activity in two different houses on consecutive nights, but he didn’t have time to do the math because he was hurrying to the thermostat. The pre-set temperature had changed to 65.

They all crowded in front of the tiny box on the wall.

“It’s gone down. Everybody see that?” Bernard said.

Eddie was starting to believe it could be Tessa. That he’d stumbled across one of the most peculiar paranormal events ever recorded. Multiple hauntings in one town, all of them connected. And now one man was dead …

The thermostat beeped again. The temperature changed to 62.

“This is how it happens!”

60.

58.

Eddie felt Ana next to him. Her eyes were wide-open. He moved out of her way so she could get in front of him.

56.

54.

“How low does this thing go?” Eddie said.

“Down to 50.”

The vents whirred. This time they blew cold air.

52.

50.

Ana held her hand out in front of the thermostat and traced a haphazard line through the air. Like she was trying to touch an invisible person.

Eddie ran to the coffee table and fished the tape recorder out of the backpack. He hit RECORD.

“Is there anyone here?” he asked. “Are you changing the temperature?”

Fifty-Six

Over the next hour, the temperature in the house dropped like it was trying to match the weather outside. The snowflakes got fatter and fell relentlessly. The wind kicked up and buffeted the rancher.

But nothing else happened. Eddie continued to ask the empty air questions. Nobody said much, except for Bernard who couldn’t go five minutes without asking to help or apologizing for something.

Eddie wrapped at ten o’clock. “Thanks, Bernard, for your time and for your honesty.”

“I hope I was helpful.”

“You were.”

“McCloskey.” Whitmore gestured toward the kitchen.

Eddie followed the Lieutenant into the kitchen. Toll stayed with Bernard in the living room while Ana packed their gear.

“Keep your voice down,” Whitmore said. “I have to ask you something.”

Eddie said nothing.

“I’m not ready to accept that a ghost killed Colin. But for the sake of argument, let’s say it happened.”

“Okay.”

“And let’s say that same ghost, or a different one, wanted to do the same to Bernard.”

“Okay.”

“What could we do to stop it?”

“One thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Get Bernard away from this house. Get him into a motel somewhere. Wait to see if this blows over.”

“I already wanted to do that, but Bernard’s refused. Says he feels safer here than somewhere else.”

“Then there’s nothing you can do.”

“You can’t offer any practical advice? I thought you were an expert.”

“Whitmore, nobody’s an expert. The people who know a little are still in the Dark Ages. I don’t know of a ghost killing anybody but there are no rules. We’re still learning.”

“Lot of help you are.”

“I told you what to do. Get him out of this house. Ghosts tend to loiter. I’ve never heard of one following anybody around.”

Whitmore rolled his eyes. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

The cop was about to brush past him, but Eddie grabbed his arm. “Did you talk to Mitchell Hollis?”

Whitmore looked at Eddie’s hand as if Eddie were a leper. “Take your hand off me.”

Eddie let go.

“Hollis wasn’t there.” Whitmore narrowed his eyes. “Now let’s get a move on to Kindler’s.”

Fifty-Seven

A thin sheet of snow covered the driveway. It was twice as thick on the lawn. Ana was behind the wheel, Eddie in the passenger seat. They were waiting for Whitmore to come out of Bernard’s.

Ana had her hands on top of the wheel and her eyes down.

“You okay?” Eddie asked.

She nodded.

“I doubt it’s Tessa.” But he was starting to wonder.

“Why didn’t you let me in on the phone thing?”

“Huh?”

“With Bernard. It’s like you didn’t trust me.”

As she said it, he realized it was the truth. He didn’t trust her. But why?

Despite what he’d seen on the videotape and at the two houses, he wasn’t ready to verify the claims. This much, happening to this many people, happening whenever he showed up to investigate—the odds were long.

He couldn’t rule this out as a carefully-orchestrated hoax yet, despite what his gut was telling him. If Kindler, Colin, and Bernard were in on something together, then it was a safe bet they’d co-opted others too. Maybe Ana? She seemed like a decent person but he’d been burned before.

Kindler knew about his past. Knew he was a womanizer. Ana was the classic honey trap. Pretty, soft around the edges, younger. And he already had a friendship with her from work.

It was all very cynical, and Eddie didn’t think Ana capable of such behavior. She was too sweet, too genuine.

But still …

Eddie said, “It’s not that. I trust you.”

She didn’t seem convinced.

He squeezed her tiny gloved hand. “I wanted you to look surprised.”

“It’s Tessa. You know it is. I’ve been saying it all along.”

“We don’t know what we have yet.”

Whitmore K-turned his cruiser and started up the snowy driveway. Ana did the same.

“Eddie, they tried to whitewash what happened because she died, but the truth is, she was a bitch. And she’s still a bitch even now in death. You heard Bernard. They didn’t try to save her. She’s getting them back for it now.”

Made sense up to a point. “But why now? Why these three guys? Why not Mike Hollis too?”

“Maybe looking back, she feels bad about how she treated Mike.”

“You can’t have it both ways. Either she’s a mean bitch or she’s not.”

“People are more complex than that, Eddie.”

“In my experience, they’re not.”

“Plus, how do you know Tessa hasn’t been to see Mike?”

“We would have heard about it,” Eddie said, though that wasn’t necessarily true. People were normally loath to report paranormal activity out of fear of the social repercussions.

“This is all over the internet,” Ana said. “If it was happening to Mike too, he would have called somebody.”

Ana followed Whitmore out of the driveway. The snow made the road treacherous. The speed limit was forty but Whitmore and Ana kept it to twenty-five.

Eddie’s mind drifted. His eyes were tired. He was slipping into sleep.

He cracked the window and sat up. The freezing gush of air and snow woke him right up. He rolled the window up.

Ana took her eyes off the road and looked at him. “You didn’t get enough sleep because I came over. Was that because you didn’t trust yourself?”

“Pretty much.”

“I knew it.”

“I was having this dream about Tim … he was trying to tell me something.”

“The one with your hot art teacher?”

Eddie laughed. “She had this thing she always said.”

“Let me guess: ars gratia artis, right?”

“That’s a good one, but no. About how all art is a lie, that the good artist only lets you see what he wants you to see, but at the same time makes you think you’re seeing everything.”

“You know you broke one of your rules in Bernard’s house.”

“I break many rules. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Ana grinned ear-to-ear, eager to point out her mentor’s mistake. “You didn’t control the environment.”

“Yeah, we left the power on. That’s not SOP, but we had to.”

“At least you got it right at Colin’s.”

Something bothered him about what she just said but she interrupted his train of thought.

“The Kindler compound is over yonder.”

Eddie saw a rare flat Pennsylvania plain stretch away from the road. About a third of a mile away, Kindler’s mansion rose above the security wall circling it.

“Looks like the Magic Kingdom,” Eddie said.

Ahead, Whitmore turned into the long drive and Ana followed.

“Couldn’t he have found a bigger place?” Eddie asked.

Ana smiled. “This is the biggest place. He built it himself.”

Fifty-Eight

The nor’easter drove the snow hard.

Kindler’s driveway peeled left of the mansion toward a two-story garage whose second floor probably served as guest quarters. The garage itself could accommodate four cars. A small roadway led from the garage to the main house where it circled an icy-dry fountain that fronted the estate.

Whitmore pulled three-quarters of the way around the circle and stopped. Ana parked behind him.

“Okay, what are my instructions?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“For the job?”

“You lead with the questions. I’ll jump in.”

“Good cop, bad cop?” She smiled.

Eddie smiled back. “That doesn’t actually work. Everybody sees it coming because of the movies.”

They got out of the car, and the snow enveloped them. Ana ran up the steps and got under the portico, but the ceiling was so high it did nothing to keep the heavy snow off them. Whitmore stepped between them and hit the bell.

The doorbell chimed, loud enough to hear outside in the snowstorm. Footsteps grew louder as somebody approached.

The door flew open.

Kindler was wearing a robe that was tied a little too loosely and carrying a glass of what looked to be bourbon. Kindler wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist.

“Come in, everybody! Come in! Now it’s a party!”

He motioned with the hand holding the glass and the bourbon spilled out and landed on the throw rug by the door.

“Ahh, whatever.” Kindler shooed at the spilled liquor like that would make it go away. “Colder than an ex-wife out there. Come on, hurry up.”

Eddie pulled the heavy door shut. It reminded him of one of those big oak doors that are in all the old horror movies. Only this one didn’t creak. And it was made to look like wood, but it was something else.

“Hons, come out. I want to display you.” Kindler killed his bourbon, then seemed to forget he had just called his two girlfriends to the foyer, because he plodded off somewhere to get a refill.

Eddie and Ana shared a look.

Whitmore took his hat off and brushed the snow from the wide brim. “I don’t care what he’s up to, you’re gonna be professional. You got it, McCloskey?”

Eddie gave the cop the eye. The one that said, Quit riding me. “I will so long as you stay out of my way. I’ve got a job to do.”

“So do I.”

The first of Kindler’s girlfriends appeared in the foyer. She was tall, tan, and stacked. Wearing a two-piece bikini that was four sizes too small. Her high heels clicked on the tile floor and she sipped from a champagne flute. Eddie thought people like her only existed in Bond movies.

“Hi there,” she said in a deep, breathy voice.

“Ms. Anders.” Whitmore gestured toward them. “This is Ana and Eddie.”

She tapped a fake fingernail against the flute and smiled wickedly. “You’re cute.”

Eddie wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or Ana. “Hi.”

Ana’s eyes were wide and zeroed in on Ms. Andersen’s comically large bust. “Nice to meet you.”

“Christ, there you are.” Kindler returned with his refill. His free hand wrapped around the bombshell’s waist. With her heels on, she had a couple inches on him. “Where’s Number Two?”

“Hot tub.”

“Where are her manners?” Kindler took a healthy swig of bourbon. “You’ve met them? Good. Oh, one thing. Eddie’s not a sheep like everybody else. Keep an eye on him. That one—” He pointed his glass at Ana. “—is tough. She won’t take shit and you can’t hide anything from her.”

In that outfit, Anders wasn’t hiding anything from anybody. And Kindler seemed to like that.

“We’d better get started,” Eddie said. “We’ve got a long night.”

* * * *

The tour of the mansion took thirty minutes. It would have been shorter, but Kindler insisted on spending ten minutes in his man cave. A showcase stretched along one wall and housed Kindler’s dozens of trophies. There was some bona fide, non-vanity hardware on display, including one for the Regional Basketball Championship in 1998.

“I was a two-guard.” Kindler mimicked hoisting a three-pointer at an imaginary basket. “Nobody could outshoot me. You know, Hersey Hawkins came to our high school when I was a freshman. This guy was starting the two for the Sixers at the time. He asked for a challenger. Yours truly matched him basket-for-basket, till he moved out to the three point line. He said, Kid, you’ve got the eye. Now all you need is to grow another foot. You know what happened?”

“You didn’t grow another foot,” Eddie said.

“Not even close. Got two more inches and ended up this height. It’s slavery.  Slavery screwed the white man.”

“Black man got it pretty bad too.”

Kindler swung his glass of bourbon around. An ice cube flew out of it and tumbled onto the carpet. He didn’t care. “Of course they did, but it was like evolution on fast forward. Only the toughest, meanest, strongest sons of bitches survived slavery. They passed their genes on. That’s why so many African-Americans make great athletes. They proved it.”

“Right. Has anything happened in this room?” Eddie asked.

“The footprints have shown up in here too.”

A splash from the pool echoed down the hallway. Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Pool’s not that far away is it?”

“No, but my girls were with me the nights the prints showed up.”

“How do you remember?” Eddie asked.

“Because my girls are always with me. My angels have to sleep in my bed every night.”

Eddie stole a glance at Ana. She made a face like she’d just thrown up in her mouth.

Kindler suddenly whirled and pointed at the Regional Champs trophy from 1998. “This was a good year. The four of us were on the team. Me, Colin, Bernard, Mike. We all started. The fifth was a fella we called Perk. He was big and slow but he clogged up the middle good. He died two years later in college from meningitis. The Lord gives, the Lord takes away.”

“You guys were tight?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah. We gave Mike the business, but he was a good sport about it. Everybody picked on him, but you know what, I think he was the toughest of the bunch because of it.” Kindler looked back to the trophy. It gleamed like a priceless artifact from an Indiana Jones flick. “Great year.”

“Same year my sister died,” Ana said, addressing the mastodon in the room.

“You’re wrong. That happened in November, hon. We won the Regionals in February. I was talking about the year after.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t get me wrong. Bad school year, for sure. Horrible school year. The halls weren’t the same. The classroom wasn’t the same. We dedicated our championship to her, did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t.” Ana rolled her eyes when Kindler looked away.

Eddie got a feeling Kindler was full of shit. Nobody had dedicated that basketball season to Tessa. Revisionist history.

“Yeah, about that. We need your version of what happened on that day,” Eddie said.

Kindler gave Eddie a look like he’d just insulted the guy’s mother. “You want the truth, you mean.”

“Yeah.”

“I might speak in riddles but the truth is a riddle. I can’t help it if people don’t live at the speed of sound like me.”

Fifty-Nine

Bernard got up off the sofa. He’d been stuck in the house all day. Had intended to go out in the afternoon, but then the news about Colin had come in and the nor’easter started.

Officer Toll stayed on the recliner but his eyes tracked Bernard.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

Toll nodded. There was nowhere to go anyway. “I’ll be right here.”

Bernard left the living room. He needed something to do. And he needed some privacy. It was awkward sharing a room with a stranger for hours with no end in sight.

What he really needed the most, though, was to be free of this guilt. It had tracked him his whole life. Maybe he was just wired this way—to feel guilty more than others.

People he knew had done worse. Colin, for example, God rest his soul, had dealt drugs and wasn’t good to women. He’d been a mean drunk and a poor friend. That day on the ice, he’d egged Tessa on just as much as Marty had. He’d called Mike the worst name you can call a young man who doesn’t have a lot of belief in himself: pussy. And in front of everybody too.

And yet, Colin didn’t feel responsible. In their fleeting conversations over the years, Colin had just once admitted to feeling bad about the whole thing. But never guilty. He’d simply brushed it off and gone on with his life. Gone on drinking and knocking a woman or two around.

And Marty? Who knew what that guy was thinking. Ever. He’d been a strange boy. The girls had seen him as mysterious, and being the son of the most prosperous man in town had also helped in that regard too. Women had flocked to him.

Marty had never seemed to feel guilty about it. Especially right after, when they were at the police station, and he’d put it all on Mike. For panicking on the ice. For not staying still. For not helping his girlfriend. Marty had said Tessa would still be alive if Mike had just manned up.

Bernard could have spoken up at the lake. He didn’t think the ice was safe enough to take the weight of one person, let alone two, but he didn’t want to appear the coward. So instead he’d joined in the ragging. As long as Marty, Colin, and Tessa were making fun of Mike, they weren’t making fun of him. He shouted that Tessa had more balls than him.

He could still hear the awful groan of the ice as it cracked.

If only he’d said something.

Afterward, when he had a chance, he still didn’t speak up. He didn’t say what he’d been really feeling the entire time. That playing chicken was dumb, especially when the temperature was hovering around thirty degrees. Monumentally dumb.

Rather than be brave and say something, he’d been a chicken shit. And he continued to be a chicken shit.

He wondered how the others could shake it off. It was like they’d sustained some minor injury, sat out for a few minutes, then returned to the game like nothing had happened.

He hadn’t. After the drowning, he’d retreated inside himself more. He still hung with the guys, but he didn’t laugh as much. With each day, he’d enjoyed going to school less, while everyone else was living up their senior year. He’d avoided senior week altogether. Hid out in his room most of the week, watching TV or reading. When Marty called, he told his mom to say he wasn’t feeling well. When Marty called a second time, he told her to say he wasn’t there.

After that, Marty stopped calling.

Not only was he partly responsible for what had happened, but now he was being a bad friend too. He was making up for it by compounding his mistake.

He lasted a semester at college. Dropped out and told everybody he’d be back when he figured out what he wanted to do.

He’d been bright in high school, but his grades in college were a joke. Now he was wasting his talent.

Marty’s old man took him on at the Mill that summer. He was grateful for the job, for any job. But two weeks in, he realized he hated the work. He let his mind wander to stave off the boredom. But that wasn’t the smartest thing to do when you were using a power saw.

Someone else almost got hurt because of his careless attitude. It shocked him into action. He rededicated himself to the job, and for a few months, he was a model employee. But then the boredom came back. The negligence followed.

He lost the tips of two fingers.

Outraged by how unfair the universe could be, he blamed the Mill for its lax safety standards. Blamed everyone except himself.

He knew deep down that he’d been at fault, but he wasn’t brave enough to admit it. So instead he’d pointed what fingers he had left at the Mill. Turned on the people who’d given him, the college drop-out with no future, a job.

There were days when he just sat in his living room and looked out the window. The guilt and shame sapped him of his will. He bounced from job-to-job, his only goal to give notice before he got fired.

When his dad died young, he’d inherited the rancher. His pop had just paid the property off, so he owned it outright. A good thing, too, because otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to afford it.

There were nights when he looked at his pistol and wondered.

He’d done the right thing only once.

Six months ago, he’d written to Mike Hollis. Admitted to not speaking up that day on the ice. Apologized for being so bad to Mike. Said he wished he could change things. Sometimes he wished it’d been him that had drowned.

He didn’t have Mike’s address, so he’d gone up to see his crazy old man, Mitchell. He explained that it was a letter for Mike and asked for the address. Mitchell told him he didn’t give the address out but he’d mail it himself.

Bernard went into the kitchen and walked to the back door. The single bulb over the backdoor was on outside, but he hadn’t powered on the floods. Normally he’d keep them off but tonight was different. What if somebody was stalking them? It made sense. They all deserved it for what happened.

He most of all because he hadn’t spoken up.

The high-powered bulbs lit up the backyard. The snow came down in swirls and was piling up now. He put his face up to the window and looked out. He didn’t see anybody. And he almost didn’t care if he did.

His breath fogged the windowpane in the door.

And he saw it.

In the corner of the pane he’d fogged, a shape. It looked like a J. On a whim, he blew on the glass more. The J took shape and became a U.

Then he squinted and focused closely on the pane. Something was written on it.

He blew again and more letters appeared. It reminded him of the invisible ink he and Marty had used in grade school to pass notes during class.Y and O appeared.

He blew again to be sure.

YOU

Sixty

Kindler walked them down a long hallway. “The truth is, we were dumb kids living on the edge. But hey, that’s the way we all live.”

Eddie said nothing, looking to draw Marty out.

“You know, the edge … what do they say, about how fragile our existence is on this planet?”

“The knife’s edge.”

“Bingo, bango, bongo. The knife’s edge. We’re all there, whether we have the bottle to recognize it or not.”

“So …?”

“So what? Like I said, we played our game. Life is a game. Sometimes you die. That’s all there is to it.”

Ana’s lips formed a thin line. “That’s all there is to it?”

Kindler palmed her shoulder. “Oh you sweet girl, don’t get me wrong—Tessa was a remarkable woman. Remarkable. She had a bright future. It’s a goddamned tragedy what happened. Kind of like a Greek tragedy. Yeah, that’s it. She’s the heroine of the play. You get it?”

“No.”

Kindler shrugged like he couldn’t be bothered to explain it. “So that’s what happened.”

His story largely comported with what Colin had told them. There was none of Bernard’s angst, none of the second-guessing. They followed him into the pool room and Kindler stopped in front of the hot tub. Girlfriend Number Two was in it, her lips barely above the bubbling water line.

“So where do these footprints appear?” Eddie asked.

Kindler disrobed to reveal a Speedo that was hanging on for dear life. He adjusted the banana hammock and climbed into the hot tub with Girlfriend Number Two.

She got up to give him the spot where she’d been sitting. She was nothing like Ms. Anders. Just the opposite. Meek. Could barely meet their eyes. Fair-skinned to a fault, like she was allergic to sunlight. On her good days, she was a B-cup.

The only similarity between the two women was the boyfriend they shared.

“Eddie, Eddie, Ed, I want you to meet somebody first. This is Lori. Say hi, Lori.” Kindler put his arm around the girl. Eddie recalled that she was distantly related to Ana.

“Hi.”

Her voice was so soft, Eddie wasn’t sure if she’d spoken at all or just opened her mouth and his brain had filled in the sound. “Nice to meet you, Lori.”

She could have been sixteen or twenty-six. It was impossible to tell. She and Ana exchanged polite hellos.

Ms. Anders appeared with a tray of drinks and set them down next to the tub, within Kindler’s reach. “Ana, would you care to join us. We have plenty of spare suits around.”

Ana squirmed like she’d stumbled upon a nest of centipedes. “No, thanks. I’ve gotta help Eddie.”

“When you’re done, maybe?” Kindler asked.

Eddie was about to say something but Whitmore actually beat him to it. “Marty. Can we focus here?”

“The footprints …” Kindler inhaled another drink. “ … they’re everywhere. And nowhere. Like God.”

Eddie was in no mood to decipher Kindler’s painful aphorisms. “Which rooms?”

“My man cave. Just about every hallway. Never upstairs, though. They could show up just about anywhere.”

“Does it happen at a certain time?” Eddie asked.

“Always at night. Always when we’re sleeping.”

Ms. Anders made a big show of turning around to climb into the hot tub. And Eddie saw why. The bottom of her bikini was a dental-floss thong. And she had an absolute moral right to wear it.

Ana gave Eddie a sharp look and said to Kindler, “So, uh, anywhere on the first floor and any time after you go to bed.”

“That’s right.”

“Where does it happen the most?” Eddie asked.

“The man cave. Why?”

“I’ve only got one camera, so we’ll set it up in there and place ourselves—”

“Ed, you don’t need your camera. I’ve got my whole palace on film. Closed circuit. There’s a camera in every room.”

“What?”

Kindler gave Ms. Anders and Lori a kiss then stood up in the hot tub. Water dripped down his hairy abdomen. He was sporting a semi. Ana turned away.

“I’ve got a few of them on tape.” Kindler stepped out of the hot tub on surprisingly steady legs. The guy had downed three stiff drinks since they’d arrived. “You don’t need to set-up your camera anywhere.”

Eddie shook his head. “My investigation, Kindler. I’ll put my camera in the, uh, man cave.”

“No need.” Kindler wrapped a towel around himself. It didn’t help to hide the erection. “I just told you I have cameras everywhere.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed. He was thinking about what Ana had said in the car on the way over. He hadn’t controlled the environment at Bernard’s. Using Kindler’s own cameras right now would violate every principle of paranormal investigation.

And yet, he couldn’t not use them. According to Kindler, there was activity throughout the first floor. Hoping to catch it with one camera was a long shot. And with Colin dead and Bernard and Kindler possibly in jeopardy, the need for answers was absolute.

“Colin’s death might be linked to the activity in town. And you don’t seem that worried,” Eddie said.

“I don’t worry.” Marty grabbed another towel and dried his torso. “My soul is beyond that. Only the sheep worry. Worry doesn’t rhyme with sorry, but it should.”

“You’re not even a little worried?”

“This place is a fortress, I’m its lord, and no ghost is going to kill me.”

All eyes were on Eddie. He weighed his options. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Sixty-One

Bernard blew on the windowpane one final time, though he was certain of what it said. The words were branded on his mind.

YOU SAID

NOTHING

He blew on the next pane and found more letters. After fogging up the window, more words appeared:

YOU DID

NOTHING

He cupped a hand over his mouth to stifle his sobs. He blew on the next and final pane.

I WAS SO

COLD

It was just too much. Too damned much.

In his mind, he saw Tessa go through the ice and slip into the murky blackness of the lake. Bernard had stood rooted to the shore. Unable to move. Unable to help. Paralyzed by fear and self-preservation.

And all along, he’d seen it coming.

He thought he heard Toll approaching, so he stopped crying and straightened up, putting on a brave face like he had been for years. But Toll wasn’t coming. It was just the house creaking, making a noise like the ice had, still settling even though it was fifty years old. Maybe the house would never settle.

Just like his memories.

He wanted to scream. Had to. But then Toll would hear him and wonder what was wrong. And he’d have to explain. He couldn’t bear the telling. It had taken him all those years to write one letter to Mike Hollis. And Mike had never written back. There was no forgiveness, even after all this time.

The thermostat made sense. He’d known all along.

It was Tessa lowering the temperature. She’d come back to repay him.

It was true what they said, hindsight was twenty-twenty. But foresight wasn’t completely blind, either.

There was no other way to explain the thermostat. The lowering of the temperature was too obviously symbolic to ignore. Before drowning, Tessa had known the cold. Now she wanted him to experience it too.

It was only fair.

And now he had the perfect opportunity. A beautiful symmetry appeared before him. The nor’easter had come. Snow piled on snow on ice. The temperature in the teens, maybe the single digits. Tessa wanted him to go outside.

To know the cold.

I WAS

SO COLD

Bernard soundlessly turned the deadbolt then eased the back door open.

The cold assaulted him. The snow covered him in an instant, and the wind punished him.

But he didn’t feel a thing.

He stepped outside.

Sixty-Two

Kindler showed some good manners. Instead of stripping naked in front of them, he gracefully tugged off his Speedo under his towel like he was getting changed at the beach. At least his flag wasn’t flying anymore.

Kindler said, “Don’t want to drip on the carpets and foul up your investigation, do I?”

Eddie and Ana followed in Kindler’s wake. Whitmore stayed poolside with Ms. Anders and Lori. The good lieutenant showed a great deal of restraint and kept his eyes conspicuously away from Ms. Anders’ boobs.

Eddie gave Kindler a good lead so he could watch the carpet. Kindler’s feet left prints, but not how he was expecting. The marks left on the carpet reminded Eddie of the North Carolina Tar Heels’ logo: a question mark with five dots floating above it. By the time they reached what Kindler termed the Control Room, his feet weren’t leaving any trail behind him.

“Just remember, that corridor might have some residual water,” Kindler said.

“Got it, Kindler.”

Kindler pulled open a heavy door that looked like it had come off a battleship, did a flourish like he was about to show them something incredible, and waited for them to enter.

“When I find the right security team, they’ll sit in here.”

It was the size of a living room. Screens on one wall and a vault-looking thing on the other.

Somewhere, a phone rang. Eddie ignored it and sat in front of the TV screens displaying the closed circuit. “Is this—”

When he turned, he discovered that Kindler had vanished.

“I think he went to get the phone.” Ana sat next to him and gripped his forearm. “He’s acting weirder than normal.”

“You say so.”

“Colin was the closest thing to a best friend he had. And he hasn’t said a thing?”

“He’s an addict.” Eddie looked into her eyes. “Addiction fouls you up completely. Aloof when you should be connected. Revved up when you should be down. The guy’s a walking pill.”

He heard Kindler talking in the hallway. “Hang on. I’ll get him.”

Kindler popped his head in the door and held out his iPhone.  “Bernard has flown the coop. I have to get the lieutenant on the line.”

Eddie said, “What else did Toll say?”

“That’s all I know.” Kindler’s towel towel almost came off as he dashed off.

“Shit.” Eddie leaned back against his seat. Ran his hands through his hair. Wished he had a drink. No, ten drinks. The whole time they’d been talking to Kindler, he’d been focusing on the job but his eyes kept drifting to Kindler’s drink. Whiskey, bourbon, whatever the hell it was, it didn’t matter.

He wanted it. Craved it.

Needed it.

“Eddie?”

He opened his eyes and took her in. She leaned forward in her seat, looked anxious. Her legs twitched.

“My God, Eddie. What if it’s really her? My … sister.”

“Then who better to figure it out?”

“It would make her a killer.”

“Might be a touch difficult to prosecute her.”

“Funny.”

Eddie said, “Stay in the moment. We’re only a third of the way done. The important part comes when we go over the evidence.”

“Eddie …”

Professionalism be damned, he stood and pulled her to her feet and wrapped her up.

“Eddie …”

“Ana, take a deep breath.”

“I’m not ready to deal with this.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Before, when I said it was her, it was still hypothetical. But now it feels real. She’s doing this.”

He shifted her away so he could look her in the eye. “Stop it.”

Tears filled her eyes.

Eddie squeezed her shoulders. “Last time I did this, I jumped to a conclusion.  I didn’t listen to Tim. Now I’ll never know if what followed was my fault. I have to live with it. But that doesn’t change the fact that my brother died.”

They looked in each other’s eyes for a long moment. He wondered what she saw in his. In hers he saw innocence, worry.

Somebody in the doorway cleared his throat. “Excuse me.”

Eddie and Ana broke their hug.

Whitmore came in. “I have to leave you two here.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’ll be back when I can. You’re safe here. The security system is on and it could stop Jason Bourne from getting in.”

“What happened?” Eddie asked.

“Bernard pulled a Houdini. Looks like he went out the back door.”

“Willingly?”

“Looks that way.”

“And there’s—”

“Absolutely nothing. The guy’s coat is hanging in the closet. He won’t last long if he didn’t bundle up.”

Whitmore left in a hurry.

Kindler reappeared, iPhone in one hand, drink in another. He downed the liquor. “Lori! Get me another, would you?” He dropped his voice. “I’d better show you what I found before.”

Eddie put a hand on Kindler’s still wet shoulder before he reached the console. “Colin is dead. Bernard is missing. Two of your good friends. You wanna take a minute here?”

Kindler twitched and shook his head. “I don’t know what’s going on. But what else are we going to do? Maybe there’s an answer waiting for us in these tapes or later tonight.”

Kindler sat down and brought up a new window on the computer screen.

“This was from two nights ago.”

Sixty-Three

“Tell me this isn’t real.” Kindler double-clicked his mouse, and the frozen screen came to life. “Come on, tell me.”

The picture was black-and-white and grainy. The camera panned slowly then held a steady, angled shot of the hallway. The corridor entered the bottom left corner of the frame and exited the top right corner. There was one light on, casting a bright sphere onto the carpet.

“Where is this?” Eddie asked.

“Right out here.” Kindler bobbed his head. “LORI! Where’s the goddamned drink?”

Next to him, Ana got a chill. She looked over her shoulder, through the open door, into the hallway.

“It’s alright, cutey pie.” Kindler pointed at the screen. “Here it is.”

Eddie and Ana leaned forward together till their faces were a foot from the monitor. Kindler scooted back to give them space.

The date and time were in the bottom right corner of the screen. The clock was running. The camera didn’t move an inch. It just watched the hallway, almost like it was waiting for something to happen.

Then something did.

Ana put a hand over her mouth.

In the middle of the hallway, a strange shape appeared on the carpet. Then, twenty-four inches in front of that, another one. Then another.

Four steps. Five. Six. Then the footsteps disappeared.

“Impressed?” Kindler asked.

“Let’s see it again,” Eddie said.

Lori came in with Kindler’s next drink. She waited for him to taste it and tell her it was okay. She didn’t look once at the monitor. Kindler approved of the drink and she started to leave.

“Are you okay, Lori?” Ana said. “You don’t seem yourself.”

“I don’t feel well. My stomach.” She rubbed her little belly. “I’m going to bed.”

Kindler nodded absently, his eyes still on the screen.

Lori left the room in a hurry, never looking at the monitor.

Eddie thought that was weird but then again Lori didn’t look like she was golfing with all fourteen clubs.

Kindler backed the tape up and hit PLAY. Eddie watched the same scene play out. He knew from working with Stan in the past what to look for. He watched the corners of the screen for jumps signifying an edited film. Checked for sudden changes in lighting. Any kind of discrepancy.

“Play it again,” he said.

The footsteps came and went. Eddie watched it on REWIND to see if anything jumped out at him. Nothing did.

“You said you have footage from another night?” Eddie asked.

“Yep.”

Kindler got in front of the console again and tapped the keyboard and another frozen image appeared on the main monitor. “This was about three weeks ago.”

The camera was centered on the man cave, angled downward from the ceiling. Eddie could see most of the room, including Kindler’s trophy case.

Kindler clicked the mouse then gulped his drink. “Watch by the trophies.”

The camera panned from the middle of the room till it centered on the trophy case. Then it held the shot.

Eddie’s eyes homed in on the carpet by the trophy case. Ana inched even closer to the screen.

“There!” Ana said.

The first footprint materialized. From the camera’s distance and angle, it was just a tiny smudge darkening the carpet. Eddie’s mind instantly generated a set of explanations: drip from the ceiling, adjusting the camera lens to increase or decrease the amount of light …

But then the second smudge appeared, approximately two feet closer to the trophy case. His eyes roved the screen, looking for the hidden cut.

The third smudge materialized right in front of the trophy case. Another smudge popped up next to it.

“I don’t believe it.” But from Ana’s tone, he knew she did.

Eddie stopped the footage. Rewound it and watched again. And again.

And again.

When he was done he faced Kindler. The guy was leaning back in his seat. He raised his glass.

“Well?”

Eddie had seen plenty of doctored footage in his days with Tim. He knew how to spot a hidden cut. A good editor could make cuts disappear—after all, that was exactly why the studios paid them so much money. Their job was to hide cuts so the audience wasn’t completely jarred out of the story.

Eddie said, “Interesting.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say?” Kindler pointed at the screen. “In the history of paranormal investigation, has anyone ever got something like this on tape?”

“Thanks for showing us, but I can’t rely on this footage.”

A vein in Kindler’s head looked ready to burst. “Why the hell not?”

“Investigation one-oh-one, Marty. There’s no chain of custody with this footage. If I accepted something like this, I’d be the laughing-stock because I never had control over your cameras when this allegedly happened.”

“Allegedly?”

Kindler’s face was six inches from his. Eddie didn’t care. The guy could go to hell. He had Kindler’s money already, he could walk if he really wanted to. If Kindler kept trying to interfere, he’d do just that, though Ana would probably see it as a betrayal.

“I’ll use your cameras tonight if—and only if—I feel comfortable. First things first, I’ve gotta establish a chain.” Eddie peered into Kindler’s eyes. “Is there any place else in the house where this closed circuit can be accessed?”

“No,” Kindler said.

“Now I know you’re lying to me.”

“No, this is it. I have monitors upstairs in the master bedroom, but no controls up there.”

“Let me see.”

Kindler’s laugh was high-pitched. “Nobody but me and my angels can access the throne room, buddy. That’s my own private Idaho.”

“I have to see it.”

“You don’t get it. Nobody is allowed upstairs in my kingdom.”

“Kindler, quit fucking jerking us around.” Eddie stabbed Kindler’s chest with his pointer. “You’ve been trying to steer me the last two fucking days and I’m not having it. I will walk right now if you don’t let me upstairs.”

“Eddie,” Ana blurted out. She seemed to regret it instantly and clamped her hand over her mouth.

“A man like me has a lot of enemies.” Kindler’s eyes slowly tracked over to Ana. “They all think I just inherited my dad’s money and did nothing for it. It’s the green-eyed monster. Jealousy. So I guard my privacy vigilantly and I keep tight security around here.”

“That’s funny. You say you’re worried about security, and yet you don’t seem that nervous with Colin dead and Bernie missing.”

“Don’t fucking speak their names!” Kindler thrust his finger in Eddie’s face. “You don’t even know them!”

Eddie smiled and batted the finger away. He was finally getting to see the real Marty Kindler. “Whatever. I’m walking, then.”

“The hell you are. The hell you are! I’ve got your entire record, man. I’ve got you by the short and curlies. One call and Whitmore is on his way back here and you’re shit out of luck. It won’t take much to trump up a charge. With your priors, you could actually serve some time.”

“Fuck you very much, Kindler.” Eddie stood and shouldered past him. “Let’s go, Ana.”

“Eddie …”

He stopped at the door. Turned slowly. Looked at her.

Her eyes were puffy behind the glasses. “Eddie, please.”

His mind did somersaults. The smart thing would be to walk. He had the money. He didn’t need this trouble. One man was dead, another might have been on his way, and everything about this set-up was wrong. He had no control over the equipment, and he couldn’t search the entire house.

“Please.” She wiped under her eyes. “Just … please.”

He wanted to scream at her for undermining him in front of the client. And yet, there was a dramatic irony to the situation, because he had done the same so many times to Tim in the past. Spoken out of turn. Said too much. Promised too much. Flirted with the client’s wife. You name it, he’d done it. The words Eddie and professional had been antonyms back then.

Ana walked toward him. “What if it’s her?”

It was a set-up. She was in on it. Turning on the water works was part of the plan, a last ditch effort to get Eddie to stay when nothing else would keep him from walking. She had played him the entire time.

Classic honey trap.

A young girl. Twenty-two. A bright future ahead of her if she went back to college. A good head on her shoulders. Cute. Funny. Even if she wasn’t his type, she would appeal to him, a man of thirty-three years, a man running out of options, a man with no future, a drifter, an ex-con. He would have to be flattered by her interest. By her attention. Would have to feel like the luckiest dude on the planet.

And, even worse, she was his type.

A little bookish, a little nerdy, a little off-beat. Borderline hipster without the affect and attitude. An innocent who didn’t see him for what he was. Who looked at him and saw potential, or some kind of strange ideal.

Honey trap.

And yet, why was Colin dead and why had Bernard disappeared? It was easy enough to fake a disappearance, but Colin was as dead as disco. No way to fake that. Not unless the police force and coroner were in on this too. Whitmore seemed too morally superior to help perpetrate a fraud. And besides, the more people you brought in on a con, the more likely it wouldn’t work.

No, the police force and coroner were not in on anything. Colin was dead.

The murder and the disappearance muddied the waters. If all this paranormal activity was bullshit, who killed Colin and why did Bernard run away and what were the odds it would happen the same nights of the investigation? The easiest conclusion to jump to was that Bernard had killed Colin, had felt guilty after the fact, and had run away. But Bernard didn’t seem the murdering type.

Eddie was starting to believe it was all happening. That Tessa had come back looking for blood. And if she’d managed to kill Colin and scare Bernard off, then what else was she capable of?

What did she have up her sleeve for the grand finale, which would obviously take place tomorrow night at the lake on the fourteenth anniversary of her drowning?

He shook his head and looked at Ana.

She was too good, too pure, too beautifully naïve to be in on anything with Kindler. She had lost a sister, but it had happened when she was young. The emotional blow had come before she had a mind to question the cruelty of fate, the cold indifference of the universe.

“Eddie, please.”

Eddie took a deep breath and held up his index finger. “I want to see the upstairs one time, then we’ll come back down here. That’s the deal.”

Sixty-Four

The second story was just as impossibly massive as the first. Kindler showed them down the main corridor to what he called the study. Eddie was expecting anything but a library but was surprised to find a room of shelves filled with dusty volumes.

“There are cameras everywhere else in the house.” Eddie followed Kindler and Ana out of the study. “So how about up here?”

“Yes. All areas except the master bedroom will show up on the monitors downstairs. I’ll show you which screen corresponds to which cam.”

They went back down the hall. Kindler opened each door they came to, showing off one bedroom after another. The fifth door opened to reveal a weight room with a Smith machine, two ellipticals, a treadmill, and gym quality free weights.

“Ms. Anders does her Pilates in here,” Kindler said.

They came to a double-door that Kindler did not open.

“Master bedroom?”

“Yes. And I’ll only let one of you in here.”

Eddie looked at Ana. “I’ve got to see the set-up and check the equipment. I’ll be out in a few.”

She nodded, looked down the dark hallway tentatively. “Be quick, alright?”

He gave her a smile.

Kindler pushed open one of the doors to reveal a dark room. Eddie stepped inside and Kindler shut the door behind them. Kindler flipped a switch, and soft light bathed the room.

They stood in a sitting area with two couches and some nice furniture. Women’s clothes were piled and spilled everywhere, and Eddie saw two walk-in closets on opposite sides of the sitting room. Beyond, the sitting room opened to a high-ceilinged bedroom with an oversized bed.

Eddie looked back at the door they’d used to access the master bedroom and saw long indents on both sides of the doorway in the walls. He knew what they were immediately.

“Where are the monitors?” Eddie asked.

Kindler turned into one of the walk-in closets and Eddie followed. Kindler turned on a light in the closet, and Eddie saw another console, identical to the one downstairs.

“I’m big on security,” Kindler said. “You never know. There are a lot of nuts out there.”

And a lot of nuts in here too. “You can’t tamper with the cameras up here?”

“It’s just a feed.”

“Come on, Kindler. I can tell this is a panic room. You’ve got reinforced steel doors in the walls outside. If you’ve got intruders and you’re trapped in here, you’d want to be able to control the cameras.”

“Yeah, okay, it’s a panic room.” Kindler shook his head. “But that’s top-secret, need-to-know, confidential, you got it?”

“I won’t tell a soul. Now answer the question.”

“Look, all I can do is zoom and pan.”

“Where’s the footage saved?”

“On DVDs. They’re recycled every two weeks. Anything of interest that I want to keep long-term is transferred to a hard drive.”

Eddie gave Kindler a skeptical look. “I want this console turned off while I’m downstairs.”

“Not a chance,” Kindler said. “With Colin dead and Bernard missing. I’m not turning this off.”

Eddie stretched the silence a moment. “I know a guy. He can spot a fake a mile away. He’s going to review the footage for me.”

“That’s fine, but I want this wrapped in a few days. And I want your preliminary findings to be made available tomorrow night at the lake.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to watch the footage myself tomorrow. If I see anything funny, I’m calling bullshit.”

“Eddie, Eddie …” Kindler shook his head. “Why would I go to such desperate lengths?”

“I’m going back downstairs now. We have an understanding.”

Kindler put his hand over his heart like he was standing up for the national anthem. “I find your lack of faith disturbing.”

They went back downstairs.

Kindler asked them to sit down at the bank of monitors. Eddie felt like a mall security guard.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Kindler disappeared again.

Ana turned in her chair to look at him. “Well?”

Eddie shook his head. “There’s another set of monitors up there. He claims he can’t tamper with the footage in real-time.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I threatened him with my special effects expert. He didn’t balk. He’s not scared of having someone technical look at the footage.”

“Who’s your expert?”

“Stan is the closest thing. But really I just wanted to see how he reacted.”

“If he’s not afraid of someone looking at the footage …”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

Kindler came back in. “And now for a demonstration. Please keep your eyes on the screens.”

“What am I looking for?” Eddie asked.

“There. In the foyer.”

Ms. Anders appeared in the bottom left monitor and waved at the camera. She was still in her undersized bikini.

Ms. Anders crossed the room and disappeared.

Kindler pointed. “Watch this screen.”

Ms. Anders appeared in the next screen a few seconds later.

Kindler said, “Ms. Anders is going to walk through the house and you’ll see what all the cameras are looking at. Now she’s in the main hallway.”

“Why do you call her Miss Anders?” Ana asked.

“Because that’s her name, silly rabbit.” Kindler pointed at the next screen. “Drawing room.”

“No, I meant …”

Kindler gave her a puzzled look, and Ana didn’t finish her question.

“Parlor room.”

They repeated the process until Ms. Anders had traversed the entire mansion. It gave Eddie a better sense of the layout. Kindler even let him use a Sharpie on the monitors for some of the rooms.

“Now if you’ll excuse me.” Kindler clapped his hands together. “Me and the girls have a special night planned, if you know what I mean, so I’d appreciate no disturbances.”

Kindler winked at Eddie like they were old friends. Then he said good night to Ana and disappeared.

“Gross,” Ana said. “Is that really every guy’s fantasy?”

“I’m pleading the Fifth on that one. Now let’s get to work.”

Sixty-Five

Two sweeps of the downstairs later, they regrouped in the Control Room. Ana plopped down in front of the monitors, blew out a big breath.

Eddie said, “Okay, I’m going upstairs.”

“You can’t.”

“Relax. Kindler is otherwise occupied right now. He’s not watching the monitors.”

“How can you be sure?”

Eddie stretched out, rolled his head to loosen his neck. It was after midnight, but they had another couple of hours ahead of them.

He said, “I have to be sure they haven’t pulled a switch with the feeds or the footage. Keep your eyes peeled.”

Eddie didn’t give her a chance to object. He walked out of the control room and tiptoed upstairs.

It was dark and quiet. The double doors to the master bedroom were shut tight. No light came from inside the room. Eddie kept walking down the hallway, went into one of the guest bedrooms, then peeked into the exercise room. He went back downstairs.

“Well?”

“You were outside the master bedroom, the first spare bedroom, and then where Ms. Anders does her Pilates.” Ana batted her eyelashes at him.

“Okay, fine.”

“Does this mean that finally you’re okay using these cameras?”

“I’ll reserve judgment till I see the actual footage.”

She shook her head, but she was smiling. “Very thorough.”

“It’s one of the lessons I had to learn the hard way. Don’t be like me.”

Eddie sat next to Ana and put his feet on the desk and his eyes on the screens in front of him.

“Now we hurry up and wait.”

* * * *

Ana stood and paced the room.

They had been watching the screens for an hour. They didn’t pay security guards enough, whatever it was. This was boring.

“Wonder if it’s still snowing,” she said, more to make conversation than anything.

“Go check. Take a few minutes.”

She didn’t want to be alone, well-guarded as they supposedly were. It was a strange house, on a strange night. And her dead sister might have been roaming the halls.

But she couldn’t ask Eddie to go with her. She knew what he’d say: they needed someone manning the monitors.

Ana hovered by the door and looked down the hallway. She kept her eyes on the dark interior of the house. “What are the rules?”

“Rules?” he said.

“Let’s say Tessa is a ghost now. And let’s say she can interact with our reality. Can she hear me? If I talk to her, will she understand?”

“Nobody really knows.”

“I’m wondering if her spirit is just a monster …” Hot tears stung her eyes. “ … Or if she can be talked to. Maybe that’s all she wants. Someone to listen to her and talk to her.”

She turned to face him and leaned against the doorway. He’d repositioned his seat so she was in his periphery.

“Doesn’t hurt to try. Why don’t you talk to her?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“She’s your sister.”

“I was eight when I last saw her.”

Eddie took his eyes off the screens for a moment to look at her. “Be polite. Courteous. Heartfelt. Don’t push. Don’t antagonize. Just imagine she is standing in front of you and you’ve got just one chance to communicate with her. Imagine this is it.”

Ana choked back her tears.

“Just start talking. You’ll forget I’m here.” Eddie swiveled in his seat and focused on the monitors again.

Ana took her glasses off and cleaned the lenses with her shirt.

“Hi, Tessa, it’s good to see you.”

Ana moved from the doorway into the middle of the room. She imagined Tessa standing in front of her. Tessa had long dirty blond hair and she rocked a pair of jeans and a retro t-shirt.

“I saw your dad last week at the mall. He was buying some flannel button-downs. He’s gotten old, but he looks pretty good. He saw me across the way, and we just kind of looked at each other. I wanted to go up and talk to him. I don’t know if he wanted to talk or not. Anyway, we just shared a look and then we waved and that was it. It was kind of sad.

“I haven’t heard from mom in a long time. I don’t know where she is or what she’s doing. Last I heard, she’d gotten married again to some thirty-year-old down in Florida who was fresh out of rehab or something. I don’t know. For awhile, I made an effort but as time passed it was too much.”

Ana smiled.

“I’m talking your ear off. I’m sorry.”

She chuckled as a tear raced down her face.

“Colin is dead. I don’t know how close you actually were in high school, or if you just ran with the same crowd. I … I don’t think … I don’t know what I think. And Bernard is missing now. I don’t know if you can do anything, but if you can, could you help either of them?”

She paused.

“Your dad once told me you planned on going to Drexel. It’s funny because that’s where I ended up, but only for one term. You might think I was trying to follow in your footsteps or something, but truth is, I didn’t know that about you until after I started. It makes me wonder how alike you and I would have been. I never thought we were.

“It sounds like you were really popular. I wasn’t. I had my friends, but I wasn’t breaking hearts left and right. What I don’t understand is, why did you date Mike Hollis? You could have had your pick, and you …”

She glanced at Eddie. His eyes were glued to the monitors.

“Tessa, I hope you’re not scaring these people or … anything. I know how mad you must be about what happened, but nobody did this to you on purpose. Sometimes, bad things just happen and—”

Eddie sprang up in his seat and pointed at a monitor in the middle of the bank. “Look!”

Ana shot forward.

Footprints in the laundry room.

“What do we do?” she asked.

He was moving toward the hallway. “Keep your eyes on these screens. I’m taking your camera.”

“Eddie, I’m freaked. Don’t leave me alone.”

“It’s okay, Ana. If this is your sister, she doesn’t blame you for anything.”

He grabbed her video camera and hustled out of the room.

“What if it’s not my sister?”

Sixty-Six

Eddie raced down the hallway, past the man cave, past the pool, past the entertainment room, past the family room, past an office. The door to the laundry was open. He counted three footprints coming toward the doorway. The last one bisected the threshold. He knelt and double-checked the hallway to make sure he hadn’t missed more.

He hadn’t. The footprints just stopped right there.

He turned on the video camera and filmed, getting a wide angle on all three prints then zooming for individual shots.

When that was done, he held the camera with one hand and touched the footprints with his other hand. They were cold.

“Eddie?”

Ana’s voice made him jump. He banged his head on the door to the laundry.

“Jesus! What’s up?”

She called out from a great distance, like she was still in the control room. “There are more. In the trophy room!”

More? Eddie backtracked to the man cave. Immediately saw the prints leading to the trophy case. Then they just stopped.

Carefully straddling the prints, he filmed each one. Four, five, six steps. Then he pulled back for a wide shot again, trying to squeeze them all into the frame.

Then he touched each one. Wet.

He couldn’t believe it.

The final footprint reached the trophy case. If someone had been standing there, they would have been face-to-face with Kindler’s most prized trophy of all. Regional Champs, 1998.

He stood and did another sweep of the downstairs. Checked the front door. Still locked, and the security system was activated. Nobody had come in or out from what he could tell.

He went back into the Control Room.

Ana got out of her seat. “Well?”

“They’re wet.” Eddie sat down at the console. He’d check the footage later. For now, he wanted to keep a live feed in case more prints materialized. “What did you see?”

“Nothing. One second they weren’t there. Next, they were.”

“You saw the prints appear?”

“No, not exactly. Both cameras panned and the prints were there.”

Eddie said nothing.

Ana was bursting with nervous excitement. “Did you see any prints between the laundry and the sports room?”

He shook his head no.

“Wow, it’s gotta be her.”

Eddie leaned back. His mind raced with questions. The initial excitement was starting to give way to cold, analytical reason. “Two sets of prints, three people in the house other than you or me. Kindler could have had two people set up to create the prints. Maybe his two lovely ladies did it.”

“Now you’re just being stubborn.”

“I’m being thorough.”

“You’re telling me that not one, but two people avoided all the cameras in the house?”

“Or he doctored the footage.”

“But you independently verified the footprints yourself. They’re on film and you saw them with your own eyes.”

Eddie thought about that. “You saw me on the monitor, right?”

“Yes, in front of both sets. Don’t the prints just stop also? They walk to the trophy case but that’s it?”

Eddie could see her point. There were three—and only three—prints in the laundry room. How would a person make those prints and then not leave another trace as they continued down the hallway into the man cave, where they suddenly started making more prints again?

“But if it was two people making the prints?”

She shook her head no. “The prints in front of the trophy lead toward the case. There aren’t any coming back. I guess someone could have been in that room, hiding from you, and waiting for their chance to get back out.”

“Too difficult. They would have to know when the camera was off them, when you and I wouldn’t be able to spot them if we left the Control Room …”

Eddie looked away. The footprints, if verifiable, were a huge find. What would Tim do with evidence like this? He’d try to quantify it somehow.

“You want to see them?”

She nodded tentatively. “Not alone.”

“Bring your notebook.”

They left the monitors and walked to the man cave first. Eddie knelt next to the first print.

He was sailing through uncharted waters here, so he did the only thing he could think of. He measured.

He didn’t have a ruler so instead he opened Ana’s notebook to a clean page and laid it down next to the print. She handed him a pen and he marked the toe and the heel on the page.

He said, “What size shoe did your sister wear?”

“I have no idea.”

“Find out tomorrow.”

Eddie repeated the process with the next footprint and then with the third.

Ana said, “Can I touch them?”

“Go ahead.”

She knelt outside the doorway. Her tiny hand hovered over the nearest print.

“Go ahead. It’s okay.”

She gulped then slowly lowered her fingertips. “It’s wet.”

“Let’s look at the others.”

They went back the way they’d come to the man cave.

“Wow …” Ana strolled in step next to the footprints, as if she was walking beside her sister. “I can’t believe it.”

Eddie measured the first two footprints then gave up. They were all about the same size, so he saw little point in continuing.

“Go ahead and talk,” Eddie said.

Ana sat beside the final footprint, nearest the trophy case. She ran her forefinger along its perimeter. “Unbelievable.”

Eddie unzipped her backpack and found the recorder. He punched the RECORD button.

Ana smiled. “Hi, my name is Ana. Did you make these marks on the carpet?”

Silence.

“Can you do it again?”

Sixty-Seven

Ana woke him up.

“We’re snowed in. Can’t leave.”

Eddie experienced a moment’s disorientation and then remembered he was sitting in Kindler’s Control Room. Checked the time on the monitors in front of him.

4:07 AM.

After the wet footprints had appeared, they’d watched the footage. Nothing else had happened, and Eddie must have finally drifted off.

Ana’s eyes were red-rimmed. “I don’t want to stay here.”

He slowly got out of his chair. “Why not?”

“Look what happened at the last two houses we investigated. Something bad is going to happen here.”

Eddie stretched his arms over his head. “If it was going to happen, it would have already. Besides, you have nothing to fear.”

“Why not?”

“Only the people at the lake have been affected. You weren’t there. And if this is Tessa, she’s got nothing against you of all people.”

“Still …”

“Come on. Let’s pick out a couple guest rooms.”

“Can we stay in the same room? I’m seriously freaked out right now. I don’t know how you fell asleep. I’ve been up the whole time.”

That was a really bad idea.

“Eddie, this isn’t about you and me. I’m scared.”

Sharing a room would overcomplicate an already messy situation. But she had a point. Colin was dead and Bernie was missing. What if something happened here too? He wanted to be near her. Wanted to protect her.

“You take the bed. I’ll take the floor,” he said.

They grabbed their gear and took the first guest bedroom they found upstairs. Ana immediately locked the door.

He gave her a look.

Ana said, “This door is staying locked. I am freaked out, Eddie.”

“I was too the first time I spent the night on-site. You’ll get used to it.”

“Yeah, but I’ll bet you didn’t have a murder hanging over your head.”

Eddie smiled at the memory of his first job with Tim all those years ago. Neither one of them knew what the hell they were doing, but at least Tim had known how to act the part.

She must have mistook his smile as an invitation.

He watched her as she approached. Ten feet away, he still had his convictions. Five feet away, he wavered.

Six inches away, he was in trouble.

Ana looked up at him. Then she closed those cute eyes of hers and leaned in.

He fought every fiber of his being and didn’t kiss her. Wrapped her in a hug instead. “Get some sleep. Everything will be fine.”

Sixty-Eight

Eddie woke around nine. Ana was still asleep on the bed, her tiny body hidden under the covers. Eddie slipped out quietly and went downstairs.

Kindler was sitting in the kitchen, wearing his robe again. Ms. Anders was working over the hot stove on some eggs. She wore a tiny t-shirt and very loose pajama shorts that didn’t have the resources to cover her ass.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Kindler said.

“Everybody okay?”

“Right as rain, aren’t we, Ms. Anders?”

Ms. Anders purred and gave him the googly eyes. Eddie almost threw up in his mouth.

Eddie said, “Can you email Ana the old footage you showed us last night?”

Kindler didn’t miss a beat. “Sure, Eddie. And I’ve got some good news too. They found Bernie.”

“Is he okay?”

Kindler shrugged. “Hospital. Almost died from exposure. But he’s stable now.”

“Did he say anything?”

“He wasn’t in any condition to say anything from what Whitmore tells me. But they think he’ll be up and around later today.”

“Where’s the hospital?”

“Scranton.”

Eddie really wanted to talk to Bernie, but it didn’t make any sense going up there if the guy wasn’t talking yet. “Hey, you got a phone number for Mike Hollis?”

Kindler frowned. “No, but I can get it for you. This is America.”

Ana appeared in the doorway, her puffy eyes barely open.

“Did you get any sleep last night, my dear?” Kindler looked from her to Eddie.

“Not really.”

Eddie cringed. She didn’t realize how Kindler would take it. He grinned ear-to-ear at Eddie.

Sixty-Nine

Jimbo immediately complained about having to share the living room with Eddie.

“I don’t like this dude always in my apartment,” he said.

Ana folded her arms. Eddie watched her and wondered how she’d respond. All they’d done last night was kiss. But he figured the guilt was gnawing on her now. He feared as a result she’d cave to Jimbo’s silly demands.

But Ana surprised him. “This isn’t your apartment, Jim. My name’s on the lease and I pay rent here. Not you.”

The look of hurt on Jimbo’s face was unmistakable and deep. Betrayed in front of another man. Jimbo shot a resentful look at Eddie.

“Whatever. I’m going out. Give me some cash.”

“Where are you going?”

“Just out. Why do I …”

Jimbo shook his head, didn’t bother to get his coat, and slammed the door on his way out.

For a moment, a heavy silence between Ana and Eddie.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Eddie said.

“Yeah I did.” Ana walked over to him and pointed at the computer on the coffee table in front of him. “The password to my laptop is Tessa18. My email should be open. I’m going to lay down for another hour.”

“Thanks.”

Ana started to leave but then hovered by the hallway. “How do I break up with him?”

“Just say, I’m breaking up with you.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Didn’t say it was. But that’s all you have to say.”

“No.” She sighed. “That’s not all I have to say.”

* * * *

Her email account was open. Eddie wondered whether that was laziness or if Jimbo had her password and kept tabs on her account.

The most recent email was from Kindler. It contained three .wmv files. Kindler had written Mike Hollis’s number in the body of the email.

Eddie was tempted to call Mike Hollis right away, but that was just because he wanted to put off reviewing the tape. That was a boring-ass job he’d never enjoyed, and he still didn’t relish the thought of it even knowing there was something good to watch.

But he had a lot of tape, and the sooner it was done, the better. He opened the first two files. These contained the short footage of the footprints from the other two nights. Eddie watched both clips a few times, not noticing anything new or interesting about them.

The third file was compressed and contained many smaller files. With a groan, he started watching. There was almost four hours of tape to review.

* * * *

Around the two-hour mark, the footprints they’d encountered last night appeared. The timing jived with his notes. Unlike the other two sets of prints that had been left previously, these formed off-camera. That bothered him and reminded him of the lake, where Ana had walked away from the camera for five minutes only to miss the major paranormal activity of the night.

But aside from that gut feeling, there was nothing else about the footage he could find fault with. The prints from last night had appeared in two wholly different parts of the house, well away from the main, and only, stairway. It would have been next-to-impossible for someone upstairs—either Kindler, Ms. Anders, or Lori—to have snuck downstairs and leave them without being caught on film.

And the prints showing up in different places without a connecting trail between the two rooms was important also. The only way to fake that would be to have two people downstairs—and that would have increased the chances that a forger would have been seen either in person or on film.

But …

If two different people had left the footprints last night, then the size or shape of the prints would have been different. He homed in on the footage of both sets of prints from last night. They looked roughly the same but given the differing camera distances and angles, he couldn’t hang his hat on it.

Then he remembered that he’d measured last night’s prints.

He found the notebook in Ana’s backpack and flipped to the first page of the print measurements. It was marked: Laundry Room #1.

He eyeballed the lines demarking the toe and heel of the print, then flipped to the first page of measurements from the trophy room, which was marked: Man Cave #1.

He went back and forth between to the two pages but he knew right away they were the same size. That tended to rule out the two-person theory.

He checked the other prints. They all matched.

He dropped the notebook on the table and walked away from the couch. Ran a hand through his black hair and went to the window. Outside, the ground was white and the sky was blue. A few meager paths had been carved through the snow for vehicles and foot traffic.

His mind kept harping on the size and shape of the prints, but he didn’t know why. Maybe he just wanted all this paranormal activity to be bullshit. Maybe he couldn’t believe that a ghost or several ghosts were haunting three different houses and that they might have been responsible for killing Colin and driving Bernard into the dangerous elements last night.

Maybe he was just too rigid in his thinking. It was true that he’d never heard of a ghost killing anybody. But that didn’t necessarily negate the possibility. After all, he and Tim had never seen what was coming during their last ill-fated investigation. He’d never heard of a living boy subconsciously haunting the house he used to live in.

So maybe it was possible. Maybe he needed to take a step back and consider it.

The problem was the long odds.

The chances that a paranormal team would encounter activity in a supposedly haunted house during one short evening were slim. And even when allegedly paranormal activity was encountered, the evidence was usually ambiguous at best. Strange noises, unintelligible words captured through EVP, otherworldly orbs popping up in photographs. It was rare you got something at all, and even rarer that you got something good, and rarer still that you got something extraordinary.

And yet, he’d witnessed three pretty extraordinary events in three different houses. And only over the course of two nights.

It was like hitting the lottery two days in a row.

What were the chances?

Slim and none. He kept coming back to the near-statistical impossibility of the last forty-eight hours. What were the chances?

He paced the living room, not ready to go back to the mind-dulling routine of watching uninteresting footage. He’d already reviewed the tapes of the prints many times over. So now all that was left were the slow panning shots of empty, boring rooms.

He checked the time on the laptop: 1:59 PM. Ana still wasn’t up, but he didn’t want to wake her. Let her dickhead boyfriend do that, whenever he got back.

Eddie used Ana’s cell phone to call Mike Hollis. He had no idea where the conversation would go, but at least it would take him away from the footage for a few minutes.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Mike Hollis?”

Seventy

After a brief explanation, Mike Hollis warmed a little. He wasn’t about to buy Eddie a beer, but at least he was talking. Mike had a nasally voice that made him sound younger than he was.

“So what can I help you with?” Mike asked.

“There’s a lot of activity allegedly happening around here,” Eddie said. “Have you experienced any yourself?”

Another long shot. Ghosts were usually geographically limited. The chances of Tessa or whoever also materializing in Mike’s neck of the woods were slim. But so far, this case had beaten all the odds.

“No,” Mike said. “Nothing like that.”

“I’ve gotten the story from everybody else, but I was wondering if you could tell me what you remember about the day Tessa died.”

Mike exhaled sharply. “Oh, jeez. Long time ago.”

“That’s okay. I’m not looking for little details. More big-picture stuff.”

Mike was silent for ten seconds. “It wasn’t my finest hour, I can tell you that.”

“You were just a kid,” Eddie said.

“Yeah, guess that counts for something … We were playing that stupid game on the ice. I didn’t want to. They all made fun of me, everybody except Bernard, I think. He kind of hung back and didn’t say much.

“Anyway, Tessa kind of forced me partially onto the ice. Then she came out too. It was too much weight. I told her we should go back, but she didn’t listen.  I left her out there and the ice cracked … There wasn’t much we could do. She was in the middle of the lake.”

“Doesn’t sound like it to me. You ever think about coming back?”

Mike sighed. “No. Me and my old man don’t get along. No reason to.”

The scary image of Mitchell Hollis armed with a shotgun came to Eddie’s mind. He remembered the laptop on Mitchell Hollis’s bed. “That was nice of you to get him that computer, though.”

“Huh?”

“I was out at his place three days ago. I saw the laptop on his bed.”

“That thing?” Mike laughed ruefully. “You’d never think it, but that man’s got money squirreled away.  I still send him money whenever he asks though. Dutiful son and all that. But he paid for that laptop probably himself. He just doesn’t want anybody to know he has that kind of cash lying around.”

Eddie couldn’t blame the crazy old man for that. People bothered you less when they thought you had nothing.

“That’s funny … he acted like he couldn’t be bothered with the thing.”

Mike laughed. “He was blowing smoke. That’s what my old man does. He’s got money saved and he knows how to use that computer. Not as good as you or me but still.”

Eddie was running out of questions. He had the full picture of Tessa’s drowning now. The accounts only differed on how nasty the guys and Tessa had been to Mike.

After a pause, Mike said, “What do you think’s going on there?”

Eddie didn’t see an ulterior motive to his question. The guy lived hundreds of miles away and had an airtight alibi for the night of Colin’s murder according to Whitmore. Normally he wouldn’t talk about an open investigation, but he saw little harm in telling Mike. The guy’s only tie to the town was through a father he hardly spoke to.

“It’s either the find of the century or it’s all bullshit.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It just doesn’t feel right.”

“Why would anybody go to the trouble?”

It was the million-dollar question.

“Anyway, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anybody,” Eddie said.

“I won’t.”

“I don’t know if you heard about Bernard?”

“I haven’t.”

Eddie filled him in. “They say he’s going to be okay.”

“That’s too bad. I always liked him the most. He was a good guy. I wished we had kept in touch.”

Eddie remembered something Bernard had said. “You got his letter, right?”

“Letter?”

Eddie frowned. The last two days had been a blur and he’d gotten very little sleep. But he was sure Bernard had told him he’d given a letter to Mitchell for mailing to Mike.

Eddie decided to pursue it. “Bernie didn’t have your address, so he gave your dad a letter to forward to you.”

“When?”

“I don’t know exactly.”

“I never got it.”

“Really?” Eddie was certain Bernard hadn’t been lying about the letter.

“Yeah, I’d remember that.”

“Your old man has your address, right? Have you moved recently?”

“No, I’ve been in this house for the last seven years.”

Eddie wondered why Mitchell Hollis wouldn’t have forwarded a letter to his son. Maybe the old man just couldn’t be bothered. But then why would he lie? Mitchell wouldn’t worry about hurting Bernard’s feelings.

Eddie said, “Hey, if you think of anything else, could you give me a call on this number?”

“Sure. Before you go, I want to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

There were noises over the phone like Mike Hollis was switching ears. “What’s Ana like?”

“Great girl.” Eddie looked down the hallway at her bedroom door. “I think she’s going back to school soon.”

“I hear she’s nothing like her sister.”

“I couldn’t help you there, pal. I’m getting conflicting accounts of Tessa.”

Mike sighed. “She could be a bitch. A real mean bitch.”

“Ana’s not like that. She’s sweet, to a fault.”

“I shouldn’t talk like that about Tessa.” Mike’s voice grew nostalgic. “She was my first love. She was cool, and beautiful, and she was going places. And it didn’t hurt that she was drop dead sexy.”

“Anything else about her? Anything else about that day?”

“No, nothing. To think she’s a ghost now and …”

“What is it?”

“It’s probably nothing.”

“What, Mike?”

He sighed. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

Eddie gripped the phone tightly.

Mike said, “When she went in the water, before she went completely down, she said she’d fucking kill all of us.”

Eddie said nothing.

“She was about to die so—”

Eddie cut him off, because he sensed there was more behind the story. “It’s understandable given the situation.”

“Yeah … yeah.”

“Mike, you’re holding something back. It could help us solve this thing, maybe prevent another death.”

Mike sighed. “It’s going to sound crazy.”

“We’re way past crazy here.”

Mike paused a long time. “Okay. There’s something else I need to tell you.”

Seventy-One

Mike Hollis hung up and went to the kitchen of his rancher. He looked out the window above the sink. They’d gotten a dusting of snow last night. Nothing like what they’d gotten back home.

Funny how he still thought of that place as home, even though he hadn’t been back in fifteen years.

His wife came into the kitchen and rubbed his back. “Hey, you okay?”

She could often tell how he was feeling before he could.

He put his arm around her shoulders. “That guy poking around back home just called.”

“What guy?”

“The ghost hunter.”

“What did he want?”

“Just wanted to ask a few questions ... there was a letter from a guy … hey, hon, you never saw a letter forwarded to us from my dad, did you?”

She gave him a look. “You think your pop would go to the trouble?”

As usual, several conflicting feelings swirled in him about his father. “You’re probably right.”

“Why don’t you call him?”

“Yeah. That’ll be fun.”

“It’s been awhile.”

“He emailed me a few days ago … I never got back to him.”

She shrugged. “Do what you want, but it’d be good if you confronted him from time to time.”

“How so? The old bastard’s never going to change. That’s wasted breath.”

She put her hand on his chest. “You’re not calling him for him. You’re calling him for you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” How many times had they had this conversation?

She kissed him on the cheek and went to the living room.

Mike stared at the phone. He had half a mind to forget it. But he was tired of being scared by the old bastard.

“Fuck it.”

The phone rang several times before dad answered.

“Hi, Dad.”

The old man snorted. “You.”

“Yeah, me.”

“Takes you three days to return a call?”

Mike wasn’t going to take shit today. “Yeah, well at least I return the call eventually. You never forward me mail.”

“The fuck’re you talking about?”

“Bernie gave you a letter for me, ring a bell?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dad’s words were a little rushed. His normally slow cadence picked up a few beats when he was lying.

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Bernie lied about trying to get me a letter.”

“You’re in a mood.”

You’re always in a mood. “So, yeah, what was that message about?”

“Forget it. I don’t need your help.”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on. Forget it.”

Dad was always up to something, but Mike didn’t feel like dragging it out of him.

“Did you hear about Colin?” Mike said.

“Who?”

Mike shook his head. He knew the old man was lying now. The old buzzard kept tabs on everybody in town.

“Never mind … I just talked to that ghost hunter, he came by your place he said.”

Dad was quiet for a moment. “Tell me exactly what he said.”

“What’s it matter to you?”

“It matters. Tell me.”

Mike sighed. “He thought it was all a hoax, till I told him a couple things about Tessa.”

“Like what things?”

“Do we have to talk about this?”

“He say why he thought it was a hoax?”

Mike frowned. His father had suddenly gotten very intense. Very focused. “No. Just a feeling, I think.”

“When did you talk to him?”

“Few minutes ago.”

“Did he say what he was going to do?”

“No.”

“And you didn’t ask, of course.”

“Why would I?”

His father unleashed a torrent of curses. “Of course you wouldn’t.”

“Dad, what the fuck’s your problem?”

The old man laughed balefully. “So long, kid. It might be awhile before we talk again.”

Mike hung up feeling better about himself. He’d challenged the old buzzard. He’d learn later calling dad was the worst thing he could have done.

Seventy-Two

After a few minutes of solid deliberation, Eddie knocked on Ana’s bedroom door. He heard her stir inside.

“Ana?”

“Come in.”

“Are you decent?”

“Just come in.”

“Ana, this is serious. Can you put some clothes on?”

“Okay. Be right out.”

Eddie backed away a few steps and leaned on the wall. He still wasn’t quite sure how to share what he’d just learned, or how she’d react.

Her door opened. She had some cotton pajama pants and a t-shirt on. Her eyes were half-open and she put her glasses on.

She stood across from him in the tiny hallway. Her bare toes touched his shoes.

“What is it?”

“I just talked to Mike Hollis.”

She watched his face.

He said, “Did you keep any of Tessa’s old stuff?”

“I have some of her clothes, some of her jewelry, her favorite movie, some pictures. Sounds like a lot but it really isn’t.”

“How about her old man?”

Ana thought about it. “Maybe … I’d guess that he kept the same things.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Why?”

He didn’t want to tell her. “I just do. Can you connect us?”

She was already shaking her head. “He won’t talk to you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he called me when this all started and said he didn’t want anything to do with it.”

“Ana, we need his help now. Things have escalated.”

“Tell me why.”

“Your sister was into the occult.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mike Hollis told me.”

“No, she wasn’t.”

Eddie put his hands on her shoulders. “She didn’t broadcast it, but Mike knew.”

“Tell me this isn’t happening.”

“It’s probably nothing, but we have to run it down.”

“Probably nothing? Do you hear yourself, Eddie? She’s doing this. She’s come back to kill all of them.”

Kill all of them. The words hit him hard. He’d been fighting the hypothetical this whole time, trying to put holes in it. But maybe there were no holes. Maybe this was happening. And maybe he needed to start thinking like it was real if he was going to solve the problem.

“We need to talk to him,” Eddie said. “He might have some of her old things or might know something.”

Ana’s eyes got a faraway look.

“Ana?”

She kept looking through him. “I’ll talk to him.”

“I’ll go with you.”

She met his eyes. “No. He won’t open up to you. He probably won’t open up to me, but at least I have a chance to get him to. It’s gotta be me.”

Eddie opened his mouth to protest, but she put her finger on his lips.

“When I turned sixteen, I thought I was a woman. When I graduated high school and went to college, I thought I was grown-up. When I came back home and took a full-time job and paid rent, I thought I was an adult. But I was wrong. Today I am.”

Eddie was speechless.

“I’ll talk to him.” She got on tiptoes and kissed him. “Thank you for telling me. Thank you for trusting me.”

* * * *

Eddie folded his arms. He had no idea where to go next. All the evidence was staring him in the face, and he couldn’t debunk it. And yet, he couldn’t believe it either. Maybe he hated Kindler so much he didn’t want this activity to be real. Or maybe it was just pride now keeping him from admitting Ana was right.

“I’ll see you at the lake?” Ana said. She pulled her snow boots on.

He looked out the window. The roads were a mess. “You sure they’ll still have it?”

“We’re used to snow up here.”

There was nothing else for him to do but go back to the evidence. “Yes, I’ll be there. In case this is real, I need to be there.”

She smiled sadly and put her coat on. “What are you going to do?”

“Follow you, make sure you’re okay.”

She came up to him again, looking older than her years suddenly. She put her head against his chest and hugged.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Seventy-Three

Eddie went to George’s. Maybe a change of scenery would shake something loose in his brain.

Lenny the Drunk was holding up the wall, sitting in his usual corner stool. For once, he was half sober, and gave Eddie a smile like they’d served in the war together.

“Edward, good to see you, old man.”

Eddie smiled at him and stopped at the bar.

George gave Eddie the bartender nod. “Usual?”

“Thanks, George.”

“Edward,” Lenny the Drunk climbed over a few stools so they were next to each other. “I haven’t forgotten about the other night.”

“Forget it, Lenny.”

George went to work on pouring Eddie’s lager. “I hear you’re the honored guest tonight, Eddie.”

Eddie put Ana’s laptop on a table in a booth and walked to the bar to retrieve his brew.

“Don’t remind me. I don’t even want to go.”

George finished the pour and gave Eddie an appreciative look. “It’s on the house today.”

Eddie liked the sound of that but made a show of paying.

George said, “Your money’s no good here today. I’ve been busy as hell the last three days, ever since you started investigating. Figure I owe you.”

“The whole town’s been drinking?”

George smiled. “Not just the whole town. We’re getting tourists.”

“Tourists?”

George nodded. “People from Mountaintop and Ashley have been in here. This is great for business.”

Eddie tipped the pint glass at the bartender. “Well, thanks for the freebie.”

“Thank you, Ed.”

Eddie retreated from George’s bonhomie to the booth, where he stared at the beer for a full thirty seconds before taking a sip. It didn’t even taste that good, when he thought about it.

The second sip tasted better.

Eddie didn’t want to look at the footage anymore. He’d seen it so many times now that his eyes had gone stale. If there was something to see, he’d miss it at this point.

But it was that or just sit there and drink beer. So he welcomed the distraction of the laptop. He waited for the machine to wake up.

“You going tonight, George?”

“Wish I could.” George leaned forward against the bar. “Sounds like it’s going to be one hell of a show.”

“Show?”

“I think Marty’s got something planned, but you didn’t hear that from me.” George winked and put his fingers to his lips to signal quiet.

“Like what?” Eddie said.

“Oh, I don’t know.” George waved both hands. “Just some lights, some music, maybe some vendors. I heard a rumor about a medium, but who knows.”

Last thing Eddie wanted was to attend some carnival.

“Marty’s always got something going, you know,” George said, like Kindler was PT Barnum reincarnated.

The laptop was finally ready for him. Yeah, Kindler always has something going, doesn’t he?

George’s words resonated. What if—

The front door swung open. Five college-looking kids came in, the three guys rowdy, the two girls sweetly apologetic for their friends.

Eddie wondered when college-aged kids had last stopped by George’s bar. Not really their scene.

He ignored the students and opened the old footage first. Watched it again. Didn’t see anything new.

He had to look at the evidence with fresh eyes somehow.

* * * *

Traffic was horrendous with the snow drifts so it took Ana twice as long to get to his house. Tessa’s dad lived on the other edge of town in an old rancher. The roof bowed near one corner and the driveway hadn’t been plowed. She was forced to park at the mouth of the driveway. Her car was just small enough it wasn’t sticking out into the street.

She trudged through the snow. She’d been filled with courage back at the apartment, ready to take on the most important step in their investigation all by herself. Ready to deal with a man who was cryptic, untrustworthy. Who didn’t really like her. But she’d learned from Eddie. Those willing to deal with the unpleasant things were the ones who got the job done.

Before she reached the porch, the outside light winked on and the front door opened.

Lee was a tall man with broad shoulders and a beer belly. He watched her from the doorway with folded arms.

Ana stepped onto the porch. They weren’t related but it felt like they should have been. Lee wasn’t her father, but he was dad to the only sister she’d ever had. She realized before she opened her mouth to speak they’d probably only exchanged a hundred words. Lee had been to the house when she was younger, to see Tessa, but he usually waited in his car and he didn’t go out of his way to speak to her.

Normally she would have called him Mr. Orly. But today she said, “Hi, Lee.”

He opened the screen door. “What do you want?”

“Your help.”

* * * *

Instead of closing the window of the old footage, Eddie minimized it and brought up another window with the new footage. Maybe looking at these videos side-by-side would expose something.

He went right to the footage of the prints from last night. Watched it again. Nothing jumped out at him. Then he rewatched the old footage. Studied the prints as they formed on the carpet.

Frustration started to get the better of him. He felt like he was wasting his time. The evidence was right in front of him. He just had to accept it and move on.

* * * *

“The occult?”

Lee hadn’t let Ana in. Didn’t show any sign he was going to. So Ana had decided to forge ahead and do the interview right from the porch.

“Yes, you know—”

“I know what it is.”

“Why are you here?” It was the third time he’d asked.

“There’s a chance she’s doing all this. We just found out she had an interest in the occult and we’re running down our only lead.”

“You think my Tessa is trying to kill these guys?” His voice nearly cracked at my Tessa.

“I was too young to really know her so that’s why I’m here. Please help me. Maybe I can help her find some peace.”

“How the fuck are you going to do that?”

She had no idea. It had just sounded like the right thing to say. Hot tears welled in her eyes.

“I don’t know yet. But I can’t help her if I don’t have all the information. Do you mind if I come inside?”

Lee gave her a look. She was sure he was going to shut the door in her face, but then he surprised her.

“Come on in.”

* * * *

Eddie killed his second beer. George had already brought a third over. All of it on the house.

Eddie flipped through the images on the laptop, but he was just going through the motions. He’d memorized the photos and nothing jumped out.

He pushed the laptop away and leaned back in the booth. It was Tessa doing this. It had to be. He had to get over being wrong. Which meant that Kindler was in danger. Tessa had already gotten Colin and almost gotten Bernard. That left Marty Kindler, who this very evening was returning to the lake shore where he’d watched Tessa drown. There was a perfect symmetry that Eddie couldn’t ignore.

He really needed to get to the lake.

But then what would he do?

There was no precedent for this. His only advice to Kindler would be to stay away from the lake, but there was no chance in hell of that now that he’d built this event up. After that, what could Eddie do for Kindler? Advise him to stay away from the lake, advise him to watch out for water in general? Convince Tessa to stop?

He swigged his beer and put it on the table. His arm came down next to Ana’s notebook and it made him think of another useless bit of trivia—the length of your forearm was roughly the same length as your foot.

“Full of wisdom, aren’t you?” he said.

But his brain seized on the thought. It made him think about the size of the footprints. He’d asked Ana to find out Tessa’s shoe size. She hadn’t done that yet because they’d been running a million miles an hour the last two days.

Some idea tugged at the back of his brain.

* * * *

Ana said, “You don’t have anything like that?”

Lee shook his head and sipped his whiskey. There was a half-empty bottle and an old notebook on the end table next to his recliner. Ana got the sense he’d been drinking all afternoon, on the anniversary of his little girl’s death.

“I kept a lot, but I got rid of that stuff.” Lee put his whiskey down. “I’m not that religious, but I believe in God and that stuff felt wrong to keep around.”

Ana wasn’t taking notes, but she didn’t have to. She’d never forget this conversation for as long as she lived.

“What kind of things did Ana have?”

“The shape with the five points and a circle … the pentagram.” Lee was having a hard time sharing this information. He drew the shape in the air.

“Did she keep a journal?”

He nodded. His hand fell on the spiral notebook on the end table. “Yes.”

Ana ignored how awkward it was talking to him and asked what she needed to ask. “Can I read it?”

Lee took in a big breath and held it for a second. “There’s nothing about devil-worship in there.”

Ana didn’t know a thing about the occult. But she’d learned from Eddie that stretching the truth could get you to the next step.

“The two aren’t synonymous. She could have been studying other things.”

Lee’s eyes drifted to the floor. His hand still rested on the notebook.

There was no other card to play. But Ana didn’t feel bad about it. Too much was at stake.

“Please, Lee. She was my sister, and I hardly remember her.”

* * * *

Eddie’s adrenaline surged as his conscious mind got to the idea that had been teasing him.

He had only measured the prints from last night and compared the ones in the laundry room with those in the man cave.

He hadn’t compared prints from different nights.

Not that that would be easy to do. He’d have to eyeball the footage and see if there were differences.

He watched the old video first, then the new one.

His breath caught in his throat.

Eddie leaned closer to the laptop. This was about as scientific as his miniature biodome project in fifth grade.

But he noticed a difference.

He fast-forwarded and found images of prints from different nights that were in the same spot in the trophy room. Same camera, same angle.

His eyes jumped back and forth from one window to the next.

One print was noticeably larger.

He blew the images up, making them grainier and less sharp.

They looked different by at least two sizes.

He could see the same foot leaving a slightly different print. It could depend on the wetness of the foot and the tiny differences in the carpet. But here the length and even the width of the two feet were different.

What the hell did that mean?

Eddie sat up in the booth. His eyes drifted from the screen.

It was all a hoax.

He laughed loud enough to draw the stares of George and the college kids. They looked at him like he was crazier than Lenny the Drunk.

Small problem. This wasn’t definitive proof. These disparities could be explained away by subtle differences in the lens’ depth of field and lighting by anybody with a rudimentary knowledge of film.

But now he knew.

He needed something more before he went to Lieutenant Whitmore. Something undeniable that would knock down the entire house of cards.

He racked his brain. He needed another piece of evidence. What would Tim do?

False in one, false in all.

It was something Tim had said all the time. Find one discrepancy, you were going to find more.

In the corner, the college kids were playing darts on the ratty old board and carrying on like it was happy hour on campus. Lenny the Drunk stumbled toward the girls, who looked at him like he was diseased.

Then the full import of George’s words hit him. College kids were coming in for a drink. And there had actually been tourists in the bar.

“Goddamnit. It’s so fucking obvious,” he said.

Now he knew what was going on.

And then the larger truth hit him.

There was a real murderer out there.

* * * *

Ana flipped to the last page of Tessa’s journal. She had written the night before her death.

A chill ran through Ana. She pulled her eyes off the page, wondering if Tessa was watching her now, wondering if Tessa considered this an invasion of privacy.

Lee had excused himself to use the bathroom and he hadn’t come back. Ana heard him in the kitchen now, occupying himself with busy work to give her time with the journal.

Ana said, “Tessa, I want to help. And I want to know who you were. That’s why I’m reading this, okay?”

No response.

Ana looked down at the cursive handwriting and read.

I just woke up from a nasty lucid dream. I’d drifted too far, I think, leaving my body where I wasn’t as protected. I felt it. It has to be a goetic demon, maybe one of the seventy-two.

Ana couldn’t believe what she was reading. Tessa named the demons she thought hers might be, all the names unfamiliar to Ana. She skipped ahead.

There is life beyond life, and life outside of death. I know it. This body, this stupid town, these people, the universe holds more. There is a beyond.

Seventy-Four

The sky was blue, the wind cold, and the roads sloppy from yesterday’s snowstorm. The temperature was dropping again. The ice and snow would refreeze and create havoc for all drivers.

And a lot of people were trying to drive.

Eddie steered out of George’s parking lot, cutting a ragged path over the snow and slush, and managed to get to the road. His adrenaline had kicked in, and he remembered this feeling from before.

It was all about the hunt. Finding something nobody else did. Seeing through another’s lies and laying bare the truth.

The snow had turned the two way street into a lane and a half. A minute up the road he was stuck in a gridlock.

The line of cars stretched ahead along the curve in the road, and Eddie pounded the steering wheel in frustration. Time was running out. A killer was out there.

Behind him, a chorus of car horns blared as somebody else forced their way out of the lot into traffic. He didn’t pay the car any mind because he was trying to get past the jam. He thrummed the steering wheel, impatient.

The footprints were different sizes.

The obvious question was: why would a ghost leave different-sized footprints? The obvious answer was: she wouldn’t. Not bloody likely.

Tim would have said: Yeah, but maybe you’ve got two ghosts.

And Eddie would have responded: Sure, and the chances they’re both exhibiting the same paranormal behavior are slim and none.

Then he multiplied those slim odds by the chances there were simultaneous hauntings in three different locations, and that all three would be witnessed by him on two successive nights.

The whole set-up failed the laugh-test.

Debunking a paranormal claim was one thing. But accusing the local gentry of fraud was something else. He needed solid proof.

Even if he could get back into Kindler’s place, he wouldn’t find anything else probably. And Bernard’s house was out. That left him one option.

False in one, false in all.

The brake lights ahead of him went off, and slowly the line of cars lurched forward. He rounded the bend and saw a uniformed cop directing traffic. A car in the opposing lane of traffic was askew, its front wheels stuck in the snow embankment along the roadside. Only one lane was getting through at a time.

Eddie got past the crash site, and the chain of cars unlinked and the road opened up. The concrete was dangerously slick so he forced himself to go slow and give the car in front a healthy lead.

The traffic thinned, but still it was probably more volume than this road had seen in a long time.

He took the next turn from memory, away from the traffic. The adrenaline was still pumping. He was close to putting an end to this charade … or he was way off base.

He slowed down, unsure of the next turn because the snow had robbed him of many of the landmarks he’d seen two nights ago. The next street felt like the right one. He turned.

The scenery looked familiar now. An old mailbox sticking out toward the street like it was trying to thumb a ride. He drove past it, recognized a break in the tree line …

Colin’s house was just a little farther.

Now his mind was playing devil’s advocate. Sure, he could debunk Kindler’s house, but could he debunk what Ana and company had just missed at the lake?

No, that was impossible because he hadn’t been there. If he was there, he would have walked the entire perimeter of the lake, checked for electrical equipment, and—

The next epiphany hit him.

If any paranormal investigator had seen that light from the lake, they would have done the same thing. They would have looked for rational explanations. But nobody got the chance, because the lake just so happened to light up when no one was looking and conveniently only when the camera was watching.

Eddie didn’t see that as coincidence.

But that meant Ana, Jimbo, and Tony were in on it too. He couldn’t imagine Ana being part of a fraud like this, especially one that exploited the memory of her dead sister. And why would anybody trust Jimbo or Tony with this kind of secret? Neither was very reliable. Even if they were being paid.

Then he remembered what Ana had said: Kindler knew when she and her crew would be at the lake. False in one, false in all.

The less-traveled road grew treacherous. He slowed even more. The car fishtailed in the slush. It was like they’d plowed this street early in the storm and had forgotten to come back for it.

He took his foot off the gas, now just idling. Despite his crawling pace, he almost missed Colin’s driveway.

His heart thudded against his ribs. His knuckles whitened against the wheel as he steered into Colin’s driveway.

Eddie had done a lot of dumb shit, but he’d never broken and entered before. He smiled.

There was a first time for everything.

Past the tree line, the snow thickened on the driveway. Nobody had plowed obviously. Colin was dead. Nobody needed to get in and out of here that badly. The cops had already done their thing, and Whitmore’s tiny crew had other things to worry about, like Bernard’s disappearance and tonight’s gathering.

Eddie stopped just past the mouth of the driveway because there was no way he’d get any closer without getting stuck. Last thing he wanted was to be without wheels at a dead man’s house.

He killed the engine and grabbed the backpack.

He was all alone.

But not for long.

Seventy-Five

The snow was cold but Eddie didn’t even feel it. He slopped his way through and under the cover of the front porch he wiped and brushed the snow off his now-soaked jeans.

The front door was locked.

But the front window wasn’t.

He tried to remember the layout of the living room and specifically what was by the window. A recliner? He didn’t want to disturb anything in the house to give away his illegal visit later. Technically, what he was doing right now was a parole violation. Funny how to expose a fraud he had to break the law.

He poked his head in, saw the back of the recliner very close. He pulled one foot through and shimmied the rest of his body into the space between the recliner and the window.

He left the window open. He didn’t expect to be here that long.

Walking through a dead man’s house felt wrong on many levels. It felt like Colin had just gone on vacation, like he would come back soon.

Ana had pointed out the problem earlier. Eddie hadn’t controlled the environment here. Not for the entire investigation.

After a half-hearted argument, Colin had given up and let him go dark like he wanted. But Colin had effectively put a time limit on the investigation, rather than allowing Eddie to do his thing his way.

Colin had told him to turn the power back on by eleven-thirty. At the time, he’d given Eddie a pretty good reason why. He didn’t want to come home to a freezing house at midnight.

But Eddie was starting to think that was bullshit.

Eddie moved through the living room and stood where he’d stood the other night when the noise began. He checked the entertainment center and spotted the clock on the DVD player. The power was still on.

His eyes tracked up to the ceiling, to where he’d heard that banging. He walked the length of the room, kept his eyes on the ceiling. There was nothing noticeable.

He tiptoed into the kitchen. Part of him expected that ungodly screaming to start, but it didn’t. His wet sneaker squelched on the floor. He went and stood in the middle of the kitchen. Slowly, very slowly, he did a 360 degree turn and looked at everything.

There were two counters, a sink, a bunch of cabinets at shin- and face-level, an old fridge that ran loudly, a small table tucked away into the corner of the room.

He did another circle.

There was a blender, a toaster, a toaster oven on the counter. A plate of fruit beginning to go bad on the table. A trashcan in the corner of the room. A radio on top of the fridge.

Everything still plugged in.

He went back in his mind to the other night. He’d been unable to source the screaming they’d heard. When he’d stood in the kitchen, it sounded like it was coming from somewhere else.

Maybe it was.

He went upstairs. He hesitated in front of Colin’s bedroom. A house was private, but a bedroom seemed sacred.

He nudged the door open. He poked his head in first, looked around.

The bed was made. The closet curtains were drawn. Colin’s dresser was still a mess, with loose change and receipts and his wallet on top of it. Eddie stepped into the room.

He’d checked under the bed last time and had seen nothing. He got into push-up position and checked again. He could still see clear across to the other side of the room.

He had to know if he was right.

The bed was on wheels. He pushed it to the far wall.

The carpet that had been under the bed looked newer and had a deeper shade to it. A few dust bunnies skittered out of his way. A pair of ratty, laceless sneakers sat under where the headboard had been.

He got on hands and knees and examined the carpet. There were no obvious seams, no rips, no tears. He ran his fingers over where he thought the sound had been coming from.

He felt something.

Seventy-Six

Sean McKenna knew it was time.

It had been a close call back at the bar. An approaching driver had horned him, and Sean had feared the noise would get Eddie’s attention.

But Eddie hadn’t seen him.

Sean parked his car up the road between some trees where the snow wasn’t deep and hustled back just in time to see Eddie step in through the front window on the porch.

If Eddie was breaking and entering, that meant nobody was home. They were alone.

Yesterday, Sean had gathered as much intel as he could and it wasn’t that hard. The town was abuzz with talk of Eddie’s investigation. Sean knew that someone had been killed and another man had disappeared.

The police were baffled by such a bizarre chain of events, and now they had this huge influx of people coming for the gathering by the lake. The local PD didn’t have the resources to keep an eye on everything, and with all the confusion and distraction and noise, and with one man dead already, Eddie’s murder wouldn’t be clearly understood and at best, just linked to the paranormal investigation.

Nobody would be looking for someone out of Eddie’s past. Sean could easily slip away after the deed.

Sean moved through the trees and got to Eddie’s car. He punctured the driver’s side tires with a hunting knife.

Then Sean took out his gun and smiled.

He’d been waiting for this moment for five years.

Seventy-Seven

Eddie bent so his eyes were inches from the carpet.

It was stitched where he was looking.

Not like the stitching that held the carpet together elsewhere. This was different. A thin eight-inch line.

He didn’t see any other stitching like that.

His fingers ran back to the strange line in the carpet. Now he saw there was more stitching at both ends of the line, like someone had cut a capital I into the carpet.

He used his keys to cut.

One stitch popped and then the rest came easily. He loosened the line, then went to work on the ends.

The I-cut in the carpet created two flaps. The carpet sluggishly resisted being folded. It had long been laid flat.

But the flaps folded up like it had been done before.

The exposed hardwood underneath was old but still had the traces of its original sheen. Probably it had been polished before the carpet had been laid down.

But that was the last thing Eddie cared about.

Because a rectangular cut had been made to the exposed plank.

Eddie tried to lift the rectangular cut out of the plank but he couldn’t get enough of a grip with his nails. He wedged his key between the cutting and the plank and jimmied the wood up and out of place.

The rectangular piece came away from the plank about a foot but would go no farther.

Because a wire was attached to it.

He flipped the wood around and discovered the wire was attached to a tiny box-like device on the back of the wood. He knew what it was immediately.

Some kind of speaker.

And he understood why Colin had asked him to reset the clocks before he returned home. The speaker had been set to make noise at a certain time.

Like when Eddie and Ana were there.

Eddie was right.

It was all a hoax.

But why was Colin dead? It followed that someone didn’t want the fraud to be exposed. Colin wouldn’t be able to talk if he was dead.

As Benjamin Franklin had once said, three people can keep a secret if—

Thud.

The noise had come from downstairs.

Seventy-Eight

Eddie put the wood down and listened.

The scariest part was that he knew it wasn’t a ghost.

Ghosts didn’t kill people. Assholes trying to cover up fraud killed people.

He felt a shift in the air. Like someone was moving down there. He got that prickly feeling on the back of his neck.

His first instinct was to find the land line in the master bedroom. But he remembered from the other night. There was no house phone.

He resolved to buy a cell phone if he got out of this in one piece.

Creak.

A footstep on the stairs.

He thought about charging. He could use surprise and daring to his advantage. But that wouldn’t work if the guy had a gun. Even if he managed to get down the stairs in one piece, Eddie still had to get out the front door, which was locked, or through the window, which was probably closed. Plenty of time for somebody to recover, take aim, and blow his ass away.

He was trapped upstairs.

Unless he went out through the window.

He closed the bedroom door then went to the window and opened the blinds. The blue sky was gone. Grey clouds lined the heavens.

There wasn’t much of a ledge outside the window. And even that was covered by six inches of snow and ice.

He slid the window up in its grooves. The cold wind blasted him. He tried to slide the worn screen up, just like the window. It resisted him at first but then he put his power into it.

The snow on the ground would help break his fall.

Eddie heard another creak, this time on the stairs. He put his foot through the window. His sneaker punched through the crusty coating of ice then buried in the snow on the roof. His foot slipped, and he latched onto the window sill inside instinctively.

This was insane.

“Eddie.”

The voice on the other side of the door sounded familiar. It wasn’t someone from around here.

It was someone from the past.

“I know you’re in there. I have a gun.”

Sean McKenna?

“You’re thinking that because I’m talking I’m going to offer you a fair fight.”

Eddie didn’t say a word. The wind started to howl outside.

“But you’d be wrong.” The man took a deep breath. Eddie could hear the smile in his voice. The words sounded rehearsed. A speech he’d been planning. “It’s Sean McKenna here, come to put two in your gut and watch you bleed out, you son of a bitch.”

Sean McKenna. Definitely. The man who blamed Eddie for his son’s death. Eddie cursed his luck. He’d popped up on the grid, and Sean Fucking McKenna had found him.

“I’m telling you because I want you to know fear before I kill you. When I open this door, things are going to happen fast, maybe too fast for you to appreciate them. I might have to shoot you dead. Or I might try to wing you but accidentally kill you. In case that happens, I want you to know it’s Sean McKenna out here.”

Eddie said, “Good thing I’ve got a gun too.”

Sean laughed. “I was a salesman for twenty years. I know bullshit when I hear it.”

“How did you find me?”

“Good things come to those who wait, motherfucker.”

Eddie stuck his leg through the open window, hoping to gain purchase on the slick ledge with his foot.

“Why don’t you put the gun away and fight me like a man?” Eddie said.

“I’m not here to fight you, Eddie. I’m here to torture and kill you.”

Eddie shifted his weight onto the foot outside the window. It slipped off the ledge. He wasn’t going to walk across the short roof and climb down. It was too slick.

“Hey, Sean, before you come in here.”

Sean’s hand was on the doorknob. “Yeah?”

Eddie brought his foot back inside and then squatted in front of the window, lining his shoulders up with the frame, and grabbed the sill with his hands.

“I just wanted to say, fuck you, asshole.”

The door flew open.

And Eddie pulled a Superman out the window.

Seventy-Nine

The ledge outside the window was even shorter than Eddie thought.

He crashed against the roof and slid. In the blink of an eye, the roof wasn’t under him anymore.

The ground raced to meet him as the world did a somersault.

Bang.

It took a second for his brain to figure out what he’d just heard. A gunshot.

He couldn’t orient himself in time so he just stuck his hands out like he was doing a push-up and hoped it would help break his fall.

The impact with the ground vacuumed the air out of him.

All at once the pain in his chest and shoulder hit him.

Bang.

Sean was shooting. The sound of gunfire distracted him from the pain long enough for him to get up and start zagging through the snow.

Bang.

Bark splintered off a tree next to him, marking where the last bullet had gone. Eddie realized he should be breaking for Ana’s car. As he tracked that way, he stole a glance back at the house.

The bedroom window was empty.

Sean was probably already downstairs.

Eddie would never make it to the car.

He sprinted back to the trees and hurried into the woods. Each breath sent a stabbing pain through his shoulder and his right knee throbbed.

He got behind a tree and tapped his collarbone.

His knees went weak and the pain nearly knocked him out.

He kept that arm glued to his side and stuck to the tree. He could run but he wouldn’t get far with a broken collarbone. And each shiver of pain threatened to black him out.

If he passed out, he was dead.

There was only one way to walk away from this.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Sean screamed.

Eddie scanned the ground for anything he could use to defend himself. The snow hid everything. His eyes spotted a branch sticking out of the ground a few trees ahead, but it would mean exposing himself.

He didn’t know how long the branch was or if it would be of any use but there was nothing else.

He bolted.

The pain in his shoulder made him light-headed. His back itched the whole way as he hurried.

There were no gunshots.

Eddie slid through the snow to the branch and ducked behind a tree.

How many shots had Sean fired? Four or five. Little good it did him though. He knew nothing about guns and wouldn’t know how many bullets Sean’s gun would carry.

He gripped the branch. It was heavy with snow. He pulled, hoping it wasn’t too big. Small would be better.

It came out of the snow. The branch was about as long as his arm and the width of his wrist. It would do.

If he could get close enough.

Now it wasn’t each breath, it was each heartbeat that sent a jolt of pain through his shoulder.

He had to get up and move again. He used the tree to bolster himself as he got his feet under him.

His arm was shaking from the pain.

Eddie listened but heard nothing. The snow was muffling all sound.

He pushed off from the tree and ran.

There were no gunshots and he didn’t see Sean anywhere. He found a slope behind two trees and a skeletal bush and hugged the ground.

He took ten full seconds to move his head up six inches. He scanned the area and spotted Sean about ten feet away. Sean was half-turned and had his gun out. The man stopped and did a slow sweep of the area. His breath fogged the air around him.

Eddie wormed to the side of the bush, making no noise. The pain was bad. Black curtains had formed on the sides of his vision but he forced them away.

He waited.

Sean completed his sweep and stood there, his eyes at about a forty-five degree angle to Eddie. He was looking toward the driveway.

Eddie waited.

Sean must have seen that Ana’s car was still there, so he turned the other way to go deeper in the woods.

Now or never.

Eddie sprang and brought the branch over his head. The black curtains formed along the edge of his vision again and started closing. He marshaled his strength. He’d only get one swing with the branch.

Sean heard him coming.

Bang.

Eddie brought the branch down with all his might and blacked out.

Eighty

Eddie found himself on the middle of an icy lake.

The lake wasn’t big. Wasn’t like they’d told him it was. Wasn’t dark and mysterious and full of menace.

It was just a lake.

Someone tugged his arm.

It was Ana.

Her hair was in an updo and was very un-Ana. She was wearing a white button-down shirt and a pair of black pants. Looked like she could have been waiting tables at a nice restaurant.

She yanked his arm. It should have hurt, because his collarbone was broken. But it didn’t hurt. It was endearing. She was trying to help him.

He looked down at his feet and saw the cracks spiderwebbing into jagged veins in the ice.

He wanted to move but couldn’t.

On the shore Moira stood. She was no longer pregnant. She cradled a bundle in her arms, her son or daughter.

Tim appeared next to her. Eddie’s brother was somehow younger-looking, less paunchy in the middle.

Eddie realized he was now older than his brother would ever be.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Eddie,” Tim said. “A fucking idiot.”

Eddie opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Ana continued to tug on his arm.

“Eddie, come on.”

She tried to pull him toward the shore where Tim and Moira were. Moira passed her baby to Tim who continued to say, “You’re a fucking idiot, Eddie.”

Then Moira stepped onto the ice.

Eddie knew the ice was cracking and that this was dangerous, but he wasn’t scared. He was too distracted by Ana and the thought of seeing Moira. The pregnancy had been kind to her. She was still ballerina thin.

She put one foot in front of the other like a model owning a fashion runway. She sauntered up to them and ignored Ana.

“You gonna tie me up, Eddie?” Moira’s mouth moved, but it was Ana’s voice.

He still couldn’t speak.

Ana stopped tugging his arm, and he realized she was no longer there. It was just him and Moira now.

“Tie me up,” she said.

Eddie looked at his feet again, and suddenly the terror of the situation hit him. The ice was cracking. He would fall through. Drown.

“I know you want to tie me up.”

I still love you.

He hadn’t actually spoken but Moira responded like he had. “No. You just want to tie me up.”

Moira offered her wrists to him, like she was just slipping into some character in a bizarre sexual role-playing game for him.

But I love you. I always have. Why did you marry Stan?

“Tie me up,” she said again.

“That’s what Colin liked,” Eddie said.

“Tie me up like the deer.”

“What deer?”

“You know.” She turned and pointed behind her. Eddie saw a deer strung up in the trees on the shore, like it had been at Hollis’s place.

Then the ice shifted under his feet. A lurch. Slow-motion. Another great crack. The wet. The cold. The suffocation.

The purity of the water. A baptism. A life in death. Some kind of redemption. Some renewal.

The wet, the enervating sting of the cold. Like electricity through his body.

He knew he was dreaming now, but the terror still gripped him. He knew he wasn’t really under the water. He knew that if he just woke up—

Eighty-One

He was on the ground next to Sean.

Sean was lying on his belly. There was blood down the side of his face and a nasty-looking bump forming just at his hairline.

Eddie got up. The pain had expanded from his shoulder into his head.

Sean’s hands were empty. Eddie quickly scanned the ground and found the gun a few feet away at the base of a tree.

He pointed it at Sean.

He could kill him and nobody would ever be able to counter his story of self-defense. It was Eddie’s word against the forest’s.

Sean stirred but didn’t come to.

Eddie had the gun trained on Sean’s head. All he had to do was squeeze and he’d never have to worry about this guy coming after him again. He could justify it to himself.

Sean moaned.

“Fuck.” Eddie couldn’t kill a defenseless man, even if it was Sean fucking McKenna.

He searched Sean’s pockets for a cell phone, instead found a set of car keys. No wallet. No forms of identification.

Sean started to wake up. “Jesus …”

Eddie kicked him in the side. “Hey, asshole.”

Sean groaned. “You motherfucker …”

“I’ve got your gun, don’t try shit.” Eddie kicked him again. The pain in his shoulder was unbearable and his head felt like it was going to explode. “Stand up.”

Sean picked his head up out of the snow and saw his gun in Eddie’s hand. “Just shoot me. Just kill me.”

“Stand up.” Eddie kicked him again.

Sean staggered to his feet, one hand to his bleeding head.

“Now walk.”

Sean did.

Eddie marched Sean to Ana’s car and found the tires slashed. “Where’s your ride?”

“I don’t remember.”

Eddie shot the ground near Sean’s feet and the man jumped high enough to dunk a basketball.

“Where?”

“Alright! Alright, it’s just down the road.”

“Guess you don’t really want to die, do you?”

Sean said nothing.

“I didn’t kill your son, asshole. That was Eamon.”

Eddie watched Sean’s whole body tense. He expected Sean to turn and come at him. But the man kept walking.

Sean said, “You set Eamon off. You and your stupid fucking dipshit brother.”

Now it was Eddie’s turn to tense. His finger squeezed the trigger. He had to consciously ease off it.

“Who also died.”

“Asshole got what he deserved.”

The anger focused Eddie. He wasn’t lightheaded anymore.

“Yeah, and you’ll get yours. For attempted murder.”

“I’ll get you one day, Eddie. I have nothing else to live for except killing you.”

Eddie shook his head. “Fucking waste of a life, considering I wasn’t even responsible.”

Sean didn’t respond. Eddie realized the man’s anger wouldn’t die soon, maybe not ever, if he was still this fired up after five years.

They walked to the road and went along the shoulder. Eddie kept ten feet between him and Sean. His head was pounding. If he could have torn his shoulder off, he would have. It would have felt better. He was careful on the ice, very careful.

Sean slowed a little. Eddie did too to keep the distance.

Sean looked back over his shoulder.

“You look back again and I’ll kill you.” Eddie kept his bad arm pinned to his side and the gun steady on Sean’s back. Sean trudged along and slowed at the bend. He’d parked just off the road between some trees.

Eddie stayed back and fished out Sean’s keys. He unlocked the car and popped the trunk with the key fob.

“Get in.”

“Fuck that,” Sean said.

Eddie didn’t know how many bullets he had left. And he was running out of time. He had to get to the prayer meeting, or vigil, or whatever the hell Marty Kindler was currently calling it. There was a murderer out there. Eddie had been thinking it was Kindler but now he had a different theory. It didn’t make sense but it was what it was. He didn’t think the killer would go after Ana, but all the same he wanted to protect her and be sure.

“Get in the trunk.”

“Fuck you.”

Eddie shot Sean just above the knee. It was the first time he’d ever fired a gun at anyone. It was loud and the result was immediate. Sean’s leg buckled and blood sprayed.

Eddie shot forward and pushed him into the trunk. Sean was too hurt to fight. Eddie slammed the trunk shut before Sean could get out.

Sean screamed but Eddie ignored him. The gun’s breach was open. Eddie wasn’t sure but figured that meant it was no longer loaded. He found what he thought was the safety and flicked it.

Sean was still screaming. And probably trying to find the emergency release to get out of the trunk.

Eddie got in and turned on the car and backed up to discourage Sean from getting out. After he got on the road he put the gun in the glove box, pointed away from himself in case it went off.

Then he drove as fast as he could to the lake.

Eighty-Two

The adrenaline was wearing off and the pain was getting worse.

Eddie tried to ignore it. He bent his elbow and kept it tucked against his side as if it were in a sling. That helped marginally.

Sean was making a lot of noise in the trunk.

Eddie kept driving and on a straight stretch of road quickly searched the interior of the car for a cell phone. There was nothing in the front. First thing he’d do after this investigation would be to go out and finally buy a cell phone. Second thing would be to learn how to use a gun.

It was already five-thirty and dark.

He had to think.

Before Sean had tried to kill him, Eddie had thought Kindler or someone else had killed Colin to ensure the paranormal fraud would never come to light.

But that meant either Bernie or Kindler would have had to kill him, and both men had alibis for the night in question. Possibly there was someone else in on the fraud, but that was a long shot. Invite too many people in, and you increase the chances of exposure.

No, something else was going on. And there were only two people Eddie could think of who would feel compelled to murder Colin, Bernie, and Kindler.

One of them was Ana. But Eddie didn’t buy that for a second.

He sped dangerously along the ice-slicked roads. By the time he got to the lake, the gathering would have already started. And it might be too late.

Eighty-Three

Ana didn’t like Jimbo’s arm around her.

She’d tried explaining the situation to him. Her sister was possibly responsible for killing Colin and almost Bernie, and who knew what she would try tonight. When she’d told him, Jimbo had shrugged it off and said that was a stretch.

He didn’t get it. Even if Tessa wasn’t doing this, the last few days had clearly worn on Ana but Jimbo couldn’t be bothered.

All he did, maybe all he could do, was put his arm around her as an afterthought. But even that seemed more a result of the emotional distance between them rather than his attempts at comforting her.

She’d resolved to end it tomorrow. But now a mere twelve hours seemed an eternity. She wanted to cut ties that evening. She could spend the night at a friend’s, or even with Eddie, give Jimbo the morning and afternoon tomorrow to get his stuff out of the apartment.

But there was just too much going on. The investigation had taken so many turns. She had reason to believe that Marty Kindler was in serious danger, but her efforts to speak with him were met with curious indifference. Eddie was nowhere to be found, and it had her worried. And now this gathering or whatever they were calling it had grown into something else entirely.

It was an event.

People she hadn’t seen in years had flocked here. Everybody was calling it Lake Tessa. Jimbo told her that was pretty cool, but Ana thought it was tacky.

“It’s dumb. It’s just a constant reminder,” she snapped at him.

Jimbo raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t it already a reminder? You’re saying you don’t look at that lake and think of—”

She shot him the nastiest look she could muster. He might have had a point, but as usual, he must have removed his sensitivity chip and replaced it with his better-programmed, more sophisticated, asshole chip.

“Look,” he said, and she knew this was going to be one of his ill-advised, ill-timed remarks. “I know this is about your sister and everything, but why you gotta be such a bitch?”

Ana wanted to slap him. Wanted to scream. Wanted to push him onto the lake. But none of that would have hurt him.

Jimbo, never quite able to read her moods, kept on. “Everybody came here to have a good time, you know, so why you gotta be the fly in the ointment?

She felt her nails digging into her palms. “Fly in the ointment?”

“Yeah. All mean and …”

His voice trailed off when he got a good look at her face.

“You’re going to stand there and tell me to cheer up?” she said.

“Well … yeah.”

“Take a long look in the mirror.” She shook her head. “No, wait, don’t do that. You already do that all day long. You’re the mopey asshole, Jim. All you do is sit around and feel sorry for yourself, when you’re not getting high with Tony and that dumbass Liam.”

“Hey!”

She expected him to say more, but there was no more he could say. She had him pegged.

And he knew it.

“Hey, guys.” Tony appeared out of nowhere and wrapped his arm around Jim’s shoulders. “Everything okay?”

Ana ignored Tony. “Jim, we’re done. Forever. That’s it.”

“Ana, take it easy, you’re just emotional right now—” Jim started to say.

Tony interrupted him by backhanding him in the chest. “Jim, maybe this is for the best. You don’t even want to date this nutter anymore anyway.”

So they’d talked about this behind her back?

In breaking up with him, Ana hadn’t felt anger. It was more relief, even regret at hurting him.

But now that she knew Jim had talked to that asshole Tony about breaking up with her? After she’d supported his unemployed ass for the last six months? After she’d only been encouraging and had accepted his lack of affection and ambition and …

She was angry enough to knock down one of these trees without an axe.

Jim said, “Ana, I never said that … I mean, I did, but it was just me and Tony talking hypothetical … you know, like, what if? You know? Please.”

He put his hand on her shoulder. It was an awkward, clumsy gesture. His hand felt out of place.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Come on.” Tony leered at her, and she could tell he’d been wanting to say this for a long time. “Just leave her, dude. She’s no good for you.”

“Fuck you, asshole!”

“Yo, Ana, don’t talk to him like that, that’s not cool. Say what you want about me but—”

She pointed at Tony, who was all smiles. “You’re going to let him talk like that about me, but I can’t say a word about him? Do you see how fucked up that is, Jim? Do you get it now? Why I’m breaking up with you?”

Jim looked away from her, then at Tony, who was still smiling and nodding encouragingly.

As if steeled by his friend’s support, Jim faced her and stood taller. The pathetic, sad-sack look was gone and now hate filled his eyes. “Fine, bitch, if that’s what you want. Whatever.”

Ana shook her head and wanted to kick him as hard as she could. But she thought of something better.

“I fucked Eddie. And it was great. The best sex I’ve ever had. Just wanted you to know.”

It wasn’t true but she didn’t care. She just wanted him to hurt for all the hell she’d endured.

The hate left Jim’s eyes and a pathetic  look took its place. His jaw hung slack and the little life in him disappeared.

“You …”

But Jim couldn’t speak. He had no force of will left.

Tony said, “You’re a fucking slut.”

Ana told them both to fuck off and wandered away.

She wanted to get in her car and drive, but she couldn’t leave with all that was going on. She needed to find Eddie. She was already regretting the lie she’d told Jim.

The woods were alive. Everybody was having the time of their life, which only pissed her off more. Bonfires raged around the lake and portable heaters and thermal lamps from the driving range had been set up. Add in nearly a thousand warm bodies and it was enough to battle the natural cold.

Everybody was drinking.

Some were doing more than that too.

Ana nearly got a contact high as she walked through the trees. A group of older teens were brazenly toking up. Whitmore’s small police force couldn’t maintain control over this environment and so many people.

She hugged herself and kept her eyes lowered and trampled through the woods, avoiding eye contact. She went to the lake and stood on the shore.

A thin sheet of ice covered the water. She could see right through it. Somebody on the other side stepped onto the ice and immediately slipped, landing on his ass. His buddies drunkenly applauded his lack of coordination and sprayed beer on him.

Ana’s eyes tracked across the lake. Vendors had set up near the shore. Smoke curled into the night sky, and she could hear the sizzle of deep-fried food.

She spotted familiar faces. People from the past. Many of them said hi. But she was throwing out the don’t-approach-me vibe in spades.

She wandered around to the other side of the lake. Where the hell was Eddie?

There were so many people and it was so dark away from the fires, she practically walked into a couple that was making out against a tree. The girl’s hand was down the guy’s jeans. They didn’t notice her.

Ana kept walking. The crowd thinned. She passed the orange glow of cigarettes or joints a little ways off. She just needed to be alone for a few minutes. She was relieved her relationship with Jim was over, but she was also sad. She didn’t know why. It felt like she’d lost something of herself in dating him. Maybe she was upset because a part of her life was over and she realized she’d never get it back.

Where was Eddie?

She wanted him there for the wrong reasons. Not to solve this case but to be a shoulder. No, to be more than that … but what was she thinking? The guy was eleven years older than her.

She wandered. She hadn’t been this far out before. She could still hear the huge crowd that had gathered, but she was alone.

“Ana.”

She jumped at the voice and turned and saw a dark figure silhouetted against the firelight from the lake. The voice was deep, old, uncultured.

A cold finger slid down her spine. “Who is that?”

The man stood his ground. And he was holding something.

“Hi … Mr. Hollis.”

He stepped forward. Without a limp.

Hollis said, “You talk to Eddie?”

He was four feet away. She could almost see his face. And there was definitely something in his hands. Maybe a gun.

Her stomach turned to liquid. Her legs weak. She thought about her answer. It took her too long. Hollis would know she was lying.

“Yes.”

She couldn’t see his ugly smile, but she could feel it in the darkness. He hmphed and took another step forward and now she could see his features. The hard eyes, the deep age ravines creasing his face, the perpetual scowl.

“No, you didn’t.”

She stepped back. He grabbed her arm.

“Don’t move. Don’t scream. This is a gun. You understand?”

She nodded.

“Good.”

“Are you going to—”

“Shut up.” He wrenched her arm and spun her around. Then he was pushing her away from the lake, deeper into the woods. “Just shut up, you little bitch.”

“Please don’t.”

He herded her deeper into the woods. She couldn’t see a thing. Could barely hear anything from the lake. He marched her. She wondered how he could see in this darkness.

His pace was relentless, dangerous even in this blackness. When she tripped, he moved with unexpected speed and saved her from falling. He was a lot stronger than he looked. And younger than his years.

“Looks like you’re as clumsy as your sister.” He shoved her forward. “Quit fucking around.”

They went farther than they needed to, then farther still, until the lake was just a memory and the raging bonfires were barely a thin smear in the sky.

“Okay.”

She stopped. Didn’t know whether to turn around or not, but she feared he was going to kill her.

Or worse.

“Turn around. Put your ass up against that tree.”

Expecting the worst, Ana slowly turned. “Plea—”

Hollis moved quickly. Smashed her against the tree and forced her to sit in the cold snow. Then she heard the stretch and tear of duct tape.

“Please, Mr. Hol—”

The tape went over her mouth. He duct-taped her hands at the wrists, then her feet at the ankles.

She couldn’t help it. She started crying.

He disappeared behind the tree, and she squeezed her teary eyes shut. She was totally helpless. The fact that there were hundreds of people less than a mile away only made her isolation worse. She had no idea what Hollis was going to do, but her imagination filled in the details for her …

A rope whipped around the tree and tightened against her chest. She was pulled violently back against the trunk. Hollis jerked the rope and tightened it until it crushed her chest and she could barely take a breath.

She was tied to the tree now.

Another rope shot around. Then more painful tightening.

She was held fast to the trunk, her hands and feet useless. She was at Hollis’s mercy.

He came back around the tree and stood above her. She couldn’t see his face in the darkness.

Thank God she couldn’t.

He knelt so their eyes were level. His breath stank of alcohol, but based on how  well he’d moved through the woods and handled her, she knew he wasn’t drunk. She tried to speak, but he grabbed a handful of hair and yanked her head sideways.

A knife appeared in his other hand.

He drew out the moment. She shut her eyes and cried. Squirmed against the grip of the rope and tried to inch away from the blade.

He let go of her hair and yanked her scarf down, exposing her neck.

The cold steel of the blade met the still-warm skin of her throat. Then, pressure. Not enough to cut. She hoped.

“Now listen to me, you little cunt.”

She shuddered. The movement almost cut her throat, the knife was so flush against it.

“Shut up,” he whispered. “If you stay quiet, you’ll live.”

She forced herself to open her eyes and look at him.

“You’re my insurance policy tonight. So long as your friend Eddie behaves, you’ll see the dawn.”

She tried not to cry.

“So stay here, keep quiet, and pray. And thank me for even giving you the chance to live.”

Her eyes went wide. He wanted her to thank him?

“I’m a hard man, but I’m fair. That’s the only reason you’re still alive, even though I oughta slit your throat on account of your cunt sister.”

Hot tears ran down her cold face.

Hollis applied more pressure with the blade. It terrified her. She felt the point of the blade indenting her skin. He could kill her so easily. One quick swipe would open a blood vessel and she’d be dead in moments.

“Now grunt one time so I know you understand.”

“Ugh.”

She couldn’t see his face that well, but she knew he was smiling. He put his knife away and then left, moving quickly through the forest.

She watched his back, afraid to take her eyes off him, afraid he’d change his mind and come back.

But he didn’t. Just before he slipped out of view, he started limping again.

She waited a few minutes till she was sure he was gone, then she started wriggling, trying to get out of her bonds.

She didn’t get anywhere. Mitchell Hollis was an expert with a rope.

With nothing to lose, she screamed for help through the duct tape.  Maybe someone would hear her. With each yell, she got braver and louder. There were a lot of people around. Someone had to hear her.

Then she heard music in the distance. The scratch of an electric guitar and the thunder of a drum set. The thudding of a bass. A rock singer wailing.

There was a band playing at the lake.

Nobody was going to hear her.

Eighty-Four

Eddie didn’t know where the lake was, but that didn’t matter.

He just had to follow the traffic.

The small country roads couldn’t accommodate the mass of people who’d flocked to town. Eddie followed the slow, steady crawl of traffic to what he hoped was the lake. Eventually, some impatient motorists turned the street into a one-way lane.

Sean had been quiet for a few minutes. Eddie watched the rearview as he slowed down, expecting Sean to use the emergency release to get out of the trunk.

He couldn’t believe how many people there were.

His shoulder throbbed.

“Shut up. Not now,” he said.

His clavicle said, Fuck you.

Eventually traffic came to a standstill.

Eddie hit the brakes hard and jumped out of the driver’s seat. Gridlocked drivers watched him curiously.

The trunk stayed closed. Eddie wondered if Sean had passed out, or worse.

Or if this was a trap.

He backed up a few feet and popped the trunk with the key fob. It only opened a few inches. He kicked it open the whole way and scurried back.

Sean’s skin was pale and he was shivering. Either he was a great actor or he was in shock. There was a lot of blood in the trunk.

“What the hell’s going on here?” Some guy with a walrus mustache got out of his car.

“Call nine-one-one,” Eddie said. “I’ve gotta find Lieutenant Whitmore right now.”

There was nothing to do but leave Sean there. Ana was much more important to him. Eddie turned back to Sean.

“Remember this, McKenna. Fucking remember this.”

Mustache was about to challenge Eddie, but the guy’s face brightened when he took Eddie in.

“Are you the guy? That ghost catcher?”

Eddie pushed past him. “Call nine-one-one. This man is hurt and needs medical attention.”

He hated leaving Sean like that. But he’d catch up to him later in the hospital.

Mustache ignored what he was saying and pointed at him. “Hey! It’s the ghost chaser! Look!”

Eddie hurried.

“Is it real? Is it all happening?”

More people were getting out of their cars and waving and pawing at him as Eddie hurried. He felt like a celebrity and he hated it.

He ran past a few news vans and veered off the road toward the woods. He found some kind of path that had been cleared of snow. He followed its bend through the trees and heard the band playing and smelled the pot.

Felt the energy all around him.

Yes, that was what this was all about. This was Kindler’s plan all along.

To get people here, into town, and specifically here. He just had to find Lieutenant Whitmore and rap it down to the cop. There were no hauntings. They’d been fabricated. This was no longer a paranormal investigation. Which meant the police could take over from here.

Eddie slogged through the trampled snow into the woods. He was close now. The music was loud, the crowd thick. Everybody feeling good. Drunk, high, some both. A lot of kids running around too.

His shoulder was a little better as the adrenaline started pumping again.

The lake was just ahead. He’d find Whitmore first then look for Ana. He’d have to break the news to her gently. All this time, she’d been hoping it was Tessa haunting the town. It had been her chance to connect with a sister she’d never really known, a welcome peace to her fractured family.

The thought of seeing the hurt in her eyes made him pissed at Kindler. The pair of them were going to have some words and maybe more, away from the prying eyes of the law.

“Yo, dude!”

Somebody slapped his back. It was too hard for it to be a friendly gesture. It sent a shock wave into his broken clavicle. His nerves fired. The pain made him gasp.

Eddie whirled, balled the fist of his good arm.

It was Tony. Two guys Eddie didn’t know stood behind him, while Jimbo and Liam fanned out and flanked Eddie. For once, with everybody else plastered or ripped, Liam seemed relatively sober.

Jimbo clamped a hand on Eddie’s bad shoulder. The pain buckled his knees, and Jimbo and Tony, surprised by the discovery of this useful injury, both laughed while the other three closed around him.

“Got a little boo-boo there, you old fuck?” Tony said.

Eddie shrugged out of Jim’s grip. “Where’s Ana?”

“Bitch is around somewhere.”

“She might be in danger.”

“What do you care? You wanna hook up with my girl behind my back again?” Jim said.

Uh-oh. “Jim, I need to see Whitmore right now. This is bigger than what we’ve got going on between us.”

Tony stepped up. “Awww, big man himself has gotta run to the po-po.”

Tony shoved Eddie. The jarring motion sent an ice pick of pain through his shoulder.

Eddie stayed on his feet, but it was all he could do. “Listen you dumb fucks, you keep this up and you’ll be charged with obstruction of justice. I’ve got information—”

Tony shoved Eddie hard into Jimbo, who pushed him back into Liam. Eddie felt like a pinball. Liam grabbed Eddie’s bad shoulder, and this time Eddie howled in agony.

He looked around for help. A couple of teens had stopped to watch what was going on, but Tony scared them away.

Liam shoved Eddie from behind. A tree root tripped him. He splayed in the snow, then a knee dug into his back. It was hard to breathe. His shoulder was on fire.

Tony’s liquored-up breath blowing in his face. “The fuck do you think you are, asshole? Coming here, moving on my boy’s girl, acting like you’re God’s gift.”

Eddie took as deep a breath as he could. “Fuck you.”

Tony increased the pressure of his knee on Eddie’s back, while the other goons laughed. He was going to black out. Too hard to breathe. Too much pain. Nobody coming to help.

Tony said, “Didn’t Ana warn you about me?”

Eddie wanted to spit something back at the punk, but he needed all his air.

“Probably told you I was violent. Well I am. Been in a lot of fights. Won most of them, too. But you know, fighting other guys from town, you can only go so far. There’s a line.”

Eddie squirmed while the other guys laughed. At least his right arm was free.

“Somebody from around here, I can beat his ass, and it’s alright. Just a little spat among neighbors. No big.”

The black curtains were closing. He couldn’t pass out again. These guys would have free rein with him. They could throw him in the trunk of their car, strip him, leave him somewhere to freeze.

Tony said, “But with you, some fucking drifter that nobody’s going to miss, I could do a lot more.”

Tony was just a little too far away, and Eddie was at an awkward angle to do anything. He needed the guy closer.

“We should take you out in the woods, string you up and beat your ass. We’d get away with it.”

String him up? The phrase triggered an image of Colin being tied up. Not in a sexual way, but as if he’d tripped some man-made trap and had been hauled off the ground, a rope tied around one ankle.

Tie me up. Moira had said that in his dream. He’d taken her offer as a sexual advance, but nothing about her in the dream had been sexual. His subconscious had been trying to tell him something, through the woman he’d loved.

Rope.

He’d seen how adept Hollis was with rope, that deer hanging in the tree.

Yes. His rational brain was catching up to his intuition now.

Shame it was too late.

Tony and his friends were in stitches now. Tony’s knee dug a little deeper. Eddie’s back gave more than he thought it capable. He couldn’t breathe.

Hollis was a hunter. He knew how to lay traps. He’d lived in the woods all his life, probably.

He knew how to use a rope. How to string somebody up.

He was the only one with a motive to kill Colin, Bernard, and Kindler. Bernard wasn’t dead, and Eddie didn’t know how Hollis had coaxed the guy out of the house, but he could figure that out later.

Better yet, Whitmore could figure that out later.

And he could also figure out how Hollis, who could barely walk without a limp, was capable of killing men. For now, Eddie was more worried about the guys who were going to beat the shit out of him, or worse.

Tony leaned his elbow against the back of Eddie’s neck, forced his head into the ground and his face deeper into the icy sting of the snow.

“I’m gonna take care of you, asshole,” Tony said.

He was closer, but still just a little too far away. Eddie pretended like he couldn’t hear, mouthed the word, What?

“You having trouble hearing me?” Tony smirked and leaned in closer. Within range now. “I was saying—”

Eddie thumbed him in the eyeball.

Eighty-Five

Eddie felt Tony’s eye give like a bubble about to pop. Tony shrieked and snapped his head back.

Without aiming, Eddie kicked and swung his leg around till his heel connected with something that felt like a shin.

Meanwhile, Tony flopped to the ground, and Eddie rolled toward Liam, figuring the stoner would be the least dangerous. He wrapped Liam’s knees in a hug and twisted till the short man went down.

Eddie just needed to get to his feet. On the ground, he was in trouble.

Somebody pummeled his back. He log-rolled, hoping his body would trip someone.

It worked.

Another body landed in a heap next to him. Eddie put one foot on the ground and was about to get up, but Jim slammed into him and he went down.

Jim was on top of him and swung wildly. Eddie covered up and twisted his hips to throw Jim, but Jim stayed on top of him and kept hammering him.

Eddie felt a foot in his ribs. He was done.  These guys would take him out of the game and the murderer would get a chance to kill the last man at the lake that day, Marty Kindler.

“Fucking kill you!” Jim screamed as he rained blows down on Eddie.

Something swooshed through the air and cracked against the side of Jim’s head. Eddie felt a shower of wood splinters as Jim slumped off him and landed unconscious next to him.

“Back off!”

Eddie’s vision came into focus and he saw a man standing between him and Tony’s crew. The man’s back was to him but he held out a long branch of wood that looked like a shillelagh.

“Get up, Eddie,” the man said.

Eddie did and moved back. The man kept his stick out and backed away from the group.

Lenny the Drunk said, “Any of you bastards want to try anything, you’ll have to go through me.”

Tony’s crew went to work on Jim, trying to get him to wake up. Eddie and Lenny put some distance between them and the group.

Lenny smiled at him. “I told you I’d pay you back.”

“Lenny, I could kiss you right now.”

Lenny winked at him. “Listen old man, I like you a good deal but not that way.”

Eddie slapped the guy’s shoulder. “I’ve gotta find Whitmore, pal. If you see him, tell him Eddie said it’s all bullshit and there’s a real killer out here. He’ll know what I mean. And I’m buying you a drink tomorrow.”

“I appreciate that, but tomorrow I’m giving up the sauce.”

Eddie thanked Lenny the Drunk one more time and hustled away. Finding Whitmore out here would be difficult, as there were probably a thousand people around the lake.

His entire body hurt, his clavicle the worst. Each heartbeat sent a fresh shiver of pain through his body.

A rock band blasted music. The snow underfoot had been churned by all the traffic, and he pushed his way through the drunken crowds till the trees thinned and he was standing on the lake shore.

Some kids had decided to be stupid and were running across the ice of the very same lake in which Tessa had drowned. Another group of teens squared off in a tug-of-war spanning the lake, one team trying to pull the other onto the ice.

Eddie searched the madding crowd for Whitmore or his cops. He spotted a patrolman on the other side of the lake, trying to get some women to put their shirts and jackets back on, like that was the most important thing right now with everybody acting up near the ice, drunk, high, or both, and while dumb-ass townie thugs tried to kick the shit out of drifters.

The band was on the south end of the lake on a hastily erected stage crowded by their fuzz boxes. Eddie’s eyes circled the lake like radar. He did a three-sixty, trying to spot someone of authority.

And when he stopped turning, he came face-to-face with Mitchell Hollis.

The two men stared at each other for a moment. Eddie weighed his options. He could play dumb and hope to find Ana and Kindler in time, or he could challenge Hollis and see what happened.

“Murderer,” Eddie said.

He wasn’t sure but he watched Hollis’s reaction.

Surprise flashed in Hollis’s eyes. Eddie was right. He balled his one good fist to throw a punch, but Hollis moved fast and without a limp. The old man closed the distance between them and pressed something sharp against Eddie’s stomach.

Eddie looked down and saw the glint of a knife. He hated knives. His brother had died by a blade and he almost had too. He got weak at the knees thinking about the knife pointed at his stomach. The old scar, from where he’d been stabbed, was suddenly itchy.

The old man smiled wickedly. “How’d you know, Mister Eddie?”

“I didn’t. You just told me.”

Eighty-Six

Hollis’s breath stank. His eyes savage.

“Don’t fucking move. Don’t even fucking breathe, Mister Eddie.”

The knife pressed harder against his stomach. “You expect to get away with this?”

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you to mind your own goddamned business?” Hollis sounded genuinely interested in the answer. “You go around involving yourself and this is what happens.”

Hollis cuffed Eddie’s arm and surprised Eddie with his strength.

“You’re fucking done,” Eddie said. “You realize that.”

Hollis moved his head side-to-side. “The hell I am. You’re not gonna do shit.”

Eddie’s stomach bottomed out. Hollis spoke like he had an ace up his sleeve.

Hollis said, “I’ve got Ana. If you get in my way, she’s fucking dead.”

There was no guile in the old man’s eyes. Eddie knew he wasn’t bullshitting. It also explained why Ana hadn’t been with Jim and Tony a few minutes ago.

So Hollis had Ana somewhere. In a place where he could kill her. Where she couldn’t be found unless Hollis led them to her.

It was no bluff. She was in danger.

“I see the wheels turning in that thick head of yours,” Hollis said. “Don’t even think about it.”

The smart thing would be to let Hollis go. Let him kill Marty Kindler.  The choice between Marty Kindler and Ana Lovsky was no choice at all. Kindler was a two-bit confidence man, who’d run his father’s Mill into the ground and now looked to make his money by fabricating this elaborate paranormal hoax. Ana was just a sweet young woman, smart but innocent. Probably had never hurt a fly in her life.

The pain gripped Eddie now just as tightly as Hollis did. “If I let you walk, do you give me your word Ana will be okay?”

“So long as you let me finish my business.”

Eddie let out a sigh. Hollis was a son of a bitch, but he seemed to have an old-timer’s sense of honor. Ana would be safe if he let the guy go.

“One thing,” Eddie said. “How’d you get Bernard to …”

Hollis chuckled. “Barely had to do anything. Bernard’s a navel-gazing sad sack piece of shit, and a sorry excuse for a friend to my son. All I did was remind him he was.”

“How?” Eddie was seeing stars now the pain was so bad.

“He cried himself to bed every night, so I just wrote some words on a window.”

Eddie had no idea what Hollis meant. “All this because these guys made fun of your boy?”

“They lied. They covered up how bad Tessa was to him. Then everybody blamed him for weakening the ice because he was a fat ass. Now everybody talks about the bitch like she was a goddamn saint while my boy had to leave town.”

Eddie’s legs were getting weak.

Hollis said, “Michael wasn’t man enough to set the record straight, and that’s on him. But that doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“So you kill these guys over that?”

Hollis relaxed his grip. “My boy may be a chicken-shit little pussy, scared of his own shadow, but he’s still my boy. And these pricks ruined his life.”

Eddie sucked in a deep breath. The conversation was over. He had everything he needed. Motive, method, confession. The only problem was this psychopath had Ana over a barrel, and there was no way Eddie would trade Kindler’s safety for hers.

And the pain …

The festivities raged on. People were now sprinting across the ice. It might have been cracking but nobody would have heard a thing because the band was playing so loudly. Everybody was drunk, Whitmore didn’t have enough cops on the payroll, and nobody would give Mitchell Hollis two looks.

What had Jim said about Ana earlier, right before the fight? She was around somewhere. That meant she’d come to the lake. So Hollis had grabbed her recently, maybe very recently. That meant Ana couldn’t be far.

The smart thing would be to let Mitchell Hollis go and do murder. Hollis would go free in exchange for Ana’s safety.

It was the smart thing to do. The expected thing.

Which was why Eddie did the opposite.

Eighty-Seven

On solid ground, Eddie was no match. He’d used up everything he had fighting the townies and now he was grappling with a mean old son of a bitch who was tough and he had one working arm.

Good thing there was a sheet of ice only a few feet away.

Ice scared Eddie to death. He’d almost drowned in an icy lake just like this one all those years ago. But he fought the fear and decided to level the playing field.

Eddie dug his feet into the snow, grabbed Hollis with his good hand, and pushed off the ground with his toes.

Hollis wasn’t expecting it.

They lost their footing and toppled down the slope of the beach. Hollis tried to right himself on the ice, but Eddie turned and twisted blindly, and the old man went down again. Eddie tried to get to his feet but slipped halfway up

His bad shoulder smacked against the ice.

The pain robbed Eddie of his sense of place. All he saw was a black, starry sky above. Then he saw Hollis only four feet away and remembered he was in the middle of a life-and-death situation. The old man was trying to get up but seemed to be in terrible pain. One hand clutched a hip, and his knees were hiked up to his chest.

“Got you, fucker,” Eddie said.

There was a stretch where Eddie thought it was over. The old son of a bitch was down, hopefully with a broken hip or something. Someone would see them sprawled on the ice like that, realize they were both hurt, and get help. With help would come the cops. With the cops would come some kind of justice.

But it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Hollis started to get up with renewed vigor.

“You’re dead, Eddie.”

Eddie’s head was spinning. He couldn’t formulate a response. But he did feel the ice shudder under him.

Crack.

The memory of slipping through the ice as a youngster was fresh in his mind, like he was experiencing it all over again. Only this time, he wouldn’t be able to swim at all with his injuries and fatigue.

Eighty-Eight

“Get off the ice!”

It sounded like Whitmore, the voice full of cold authority. A chorus of screams followed, then the reverberations of many feet scrambling over the ice.

“It’s breaking!”

The rock band stopped playing one-by-one and the sound from the stage died.

“Everybody off the ice now!”

Another dull thud. Eddie craned his neck to see what had happened. Mitchell Hollis had gone down again.

“Whitmore!” Eddie shouted. “It’s Hollis! It’s him! He’s got Ana somewhere!”

Eddie wormed around on the ice till he could see Whitmore. The cop was standing on the shore. His arm extended a long branch to Eddie.

But Eddie wasn’t thinking about himself. He was thinking about Ana. He had to make sure Whitmore had heard him.

“Hollis has Ana somewhere!”

Crack.

Eddie felt an immense shift underneath him.

Wuhhhmmm.

The whole lake seemed to move as if pulled by a sudden, powerful tide.

“Can you reach the branch, Eddie?” Whitmore asked.

“It’s Tessa!” some dumb ass shouted. “She’s here!”

Despite the fact that Eddie and Hollis were in serious danger, some idiots in the crowd started cheering. They’d come for a show and now they were going to get one.

The branch was out of reach. Eddie tried to gain purchase on the ice with his heel. But there was nothing. He couldn’t move.

“Eddie, stop moving!” Whitmore yelled. “The drop is steep!”

Eddie looked between his knees and saw the cop on the shore, reaching the branch a little farther.

Hollis groaned and started moving again. The ice popped and whirred. Eddie leaned his head back and looked around. Everyone else had gotten off the ice. It was just him and Hollis.

Eddie’s eyes found the old man in the darkness.

Hollis put one elbow under him and started to sit up. “Fucking drifter.”

Whitmore took another step onto the ice and extended the stick farther. But it was still out of Eddie’s reach. And Eddie couldn’t really focus. Each throb was too much. His head pounded like he’d closed it in the door a few times.

Hollis climbed to his knees.

The ice shifted under his weight.

“Eddie, come on, reach for the stick,” Whitmore said.

Hollis shook his head. “Fucking town. Fucking Kindler.”

“Eddie.”

Eddie blinked. Tried to get his bearings. Saw Hollis on his feet. He looked around. The crowd had lined the lake.

“Eddie,” Whitmore said. “Come on.”

Hollis didn’t care the whole town was watching him. He reached into the pocket of his winter coat and pulled out a hunting knife.

“Don’t fucking move, Hollis!” Whitmore said.

Eddie saw Whitmore draw his gun. Screams from the crowd.

Hollis pointed his blade at Whitmore. “Line of fire, pig. You wouldn’t dare.”

Eddie squirmed toward the stick. Everything hurt. Even thinking. He heard Whitmore say something about a riot gun but had no idea what the cop was talking about.

Hollis took one step on the ice.

“Somebody stop him!”

“Do something!”

“HOLLIS, DROP THE FUCKING KNIFE!” Whitmore screamed.

Hollis took another step.

CRACK.

Eddie saw the people on the other side of the lake run for safety, diving out of the line of fire. But there were too many people around. Whitmore couldn’t chance a shot.

Hollis kept coming.

“HOLLIS!” Whitmore shouted.

“Fuck you, pig.”

Hollis was only three feet away from Eddie. He brought the knife up and looked ready to lunge.

Eddie wormed around and looked at Whitmore. The lieutenant leveled a big gun that resembled a shotgun at Hollis.

The ice groaned, and he knew it was seconds away from breaking.

“Shoot the motherfucker,” Eddie said.

The deafening bang of the strange-looking gun punched through the air like it was bulldozing a wall.

Hollis went down hard.

And the ice broke.

Eighty-Nine

Cold. Black.

Wet.

Pressure.

Eddie instinctively tried to paddle with both arms, but the broken clavicle didn’t cooperate. An involuntary gasp at the pain brought water into his throat.

He coughed and that made it worse.

He went down.

Through the ice, he heard a muffled din, like he was standing outside a nightclub. He couldn’t find the hole in the ice—it all looked the same to him.

He searched in the darkness and he saw another shape. He figured it was Hollis but couldn’t see. The pain had him delirious and the water was drowning him and he thought, for a brief second, he saw Tessa Lovsky.

Her long blond hair streamed behind her head and she was smiling at him.

He knew then he was going to die.

Ninety

“Wake up.”

His brother stood over him in what looked suspiciously like a hospital room. The ceiling lights made Tim’s bald dome look like a light bulb. He wore two days of stubble, which was weird for him.

“Wake up,” Tim said again.

When Eddie spoke, his words had that faraway quality, like he was speaking and then listening to the echo of his own voice.

“I am awake.”

“Open your eyes.”

“Give me a fucking minute.”

“Open them.”

“Why?”

Tim put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “I want to talk to you, bro.”

Eddie forced his eyes open. It was like trying to bench press four hundred pounds. “It’s good to see you. Now what the hell do you want?”

Tim smiled. That was the Eddie he knew. “You can’t quit. You’ve got unfinished business.”

It took Eddie a moment to process what his dead brother was telling him. Then it hit him.

“I know.”

One state away, the nineteen-year-old boy responsible for Tim’s death sat in a psychiatric facility. Eamon Moriarty. There would be a reckoning. Somehow, someway.

Some day.

But not today.

Tim smiled like he could read Eddie’s mind. “Where are you going now?”

“Away. Then back to school.”

Tim shook his head. “Don’t go to college.”

“Now I know I’m dreaming. You saying that.”

“Don’t go.”

“What do you want me to do? Write the great American novel?”

“What you’re good at.”

“Stocking shelves at Vic’s store? Humping a register?”

Tim shook his head.

Eddie turned his head away. “No.”

“It’s your best shot.”

“My best shot at what?”

“You know I’m right.”

Eddie looked back at his brother. “I hate this work.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“You feel like you shouldn’t after what happened to me. You feel you owe it to me not to.”

Eddie said nothing because Tim was right.

Tim said, “When are you going to stop punishing yourself?”

“When I can stop.”

“Until that day then,” Tim said.

“Until that day,” Eddie said.

Then he opened his eyes and found himself in what looked suspiciously like a hospital room.

Ninety-One

Eddie had to turn sideways to maneuver his slinged arm through the door to Whitmore’s office. He took shallow breaths, otherwise the clavicle and his bruised ribs threatened to detonate.

Last time he was here, Whitmore had pointed to a chair and all but ordered him to sit. This time, Whitmore opened a palm and offered the same seat to him.

“I’ll stand. Been on my ass the last two days,” Eddie said.

Whitmore shrugged in a suit-yourself gesture and propped his feet on his desk. The cop looked like he hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours.

“I’m holding McKenna,” Whitmore said. “Attempted murder.”

“He represented?”

“Why don’t you throw the book at him?”

“The DA needs a witness to bring testimony if we want to take this one to the limit.”

“Eddie McCloskey.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie thought about it. “If he pleads out?”

“Five years, he walks in three if he’s a good boy.”

“I never got why they didn’t punish people just as harshly for attempted crimes as they did for committed crimes.”

“Seems kind of backward to me too.”

“Guy gets off light because he botched the job basically.”

“Basically.”

The two men watched each other. Whitmore waited for an answer.

“Well, shit,” Eddie said.

Whitmore nodded. “Three to five it is.”

“He say anything else?”

“That he was sorry.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. I don’t know if he was.”

“He’s not.”

Whitmore nodded. “Okay then. For lack of a better phrase, I’m going to extend some professional courtesy here. You want to watch Hollis’s confession?”

“Not really. But if he hates his son so much, why’d he do it?”

Whitmore nodded. “Hollis hates everybody. But maybe he had some room in his withered old heart still for that eighteen-year-old kid who got ran out of town.”

“Guess so. Did he cop to everything?”

“Yeah. It was like you said. He strung Colin up over the creek, knocked him on the head, and drowned him while he was out. The rope marks around the ankles were supposed to throw us off because everybody and their mother knows Colin is into some kinky shit in the bedroom.”

“And he was the one who wrote on the window of Bernie’s back door?”

“Yep. And it wasn’t just the back window, it was all of them. He knew Bernie was depressed—”

“Right, because Bernie had given him that letter for Michael. Instead of mailing it, the old man read it. Michael never got it.”

Whitmore sighed. “It wouldn’t take a shrink to know that Bernie was on the edge from that letter.”

“How did he expect to get to Kindler?”

Whitmore shook his head. “He said he didn’t have a plan for Marty, but I’m calling bullshit on that. Everything else was worked out ahead of time.”

“Not that it matters. He’s going away for awhile either way.”

“Right. Maybe he had a plan, maybe he didn’t, but when the prayer service or whatever the hell they’re calling it this minute presented itself, he had his opportunity. He knew it was going to be a zoo, and dark, with too many other distractions that would give him the chance to do it when Marty was alone and then slip away.”

Whitmore paused.

Eddie knew he had more to say.

Whitmore sighed. “All the paranormal hoopla and your investigation was the distraction that Hollis had been waiting for.”

Eddie hardened his stare.

Whitmore held out a palm. “I’m not blaming you. It was Marty’s fault in the first place for trying to pull off this hoax.”

“Shame you can’t throw any charges at him.”

“After Colin was killed, Marty had a chance to come forward and tell us it was all a fraud but he didn’t. If we’d known, maybe we would have figured this out sooner, but …”

“If you came out and said you were misled by the alleged paranormal activity, you’d be out of a job.”

Whitmore didn’t nod but the affirmation was there in his eyes.

“So Hollis figured with all the hysteria, and all the confusion, and with everybody watching what I was doing, there’d be enough red herrings for him to kill three people. But here’s what I don’t get—the truth usually outs. He had to figure he’d get caught if he stuck around. He had to have an exit strategy.”

Whitmore smiled balefully. “Son of a bitch has got a ton of cash squirreled away. He’s not disabled, not by a long stretch. So he’s been collecting checks all these years, living off the land basically, in a place he inherited from a second cousin or something. He owns it outright. Pays about twenty bucks in taxes a year. He’s been in two or three car accidents that never happened also. The pig was feeding from a bunch of troughs, as they say, with very little cash going out. He planned to skip town after he took care of Marty, go somewhere warm, never come back.”

Eddie shook his head. The crazy shit people thought they could get away with.

“Speaking of money, why did Kindler do this? He doesn’t need the cash. Was it just to stay in the spotlight?”

Whitmore took his feet off the desk and sat forward. “He’s living on credit. That house of his is leveraged. He pissed a lot of the family money away gambling. He was trying to do a bunch of things: get a book deal, get on one of those reality shows, get a movie deal. Beyond that, who knows. Maybe he’d use all that juice to run for mayor.”

Eddie had never had a lot of money and it baffled him when the rich were so careless with it.

Eddie said, “They were expecting a pay-day of some kind. When I asked Colin what he was going to do after the Mill closed, he told me he didn’t have any plans. Strange for a man who’s about to get sacked.”

Whitmore nodded sagely. “Professional courtesy is a two-way street.”

“What do you want to know?”

“For starters, how you knew Kindler was a fraud.”

Eddie smiled. “It was more a feeling.”

Whitmore waited for more.

Eddie came around to his designated chair and finally sat. “The odds were too long. Excluding Hollis’s claims and all the other claims I heard about in the grocery store, we still had three sites of alleged activity. Either it’s the find of the century or it’s bullshit, and in my experience it’s usually the latter.”

Whitmore said nothing.

“Then, there’s activity at each site whenever I show up.”

Whitmore still said nothing. Just waited.

“It was my fault. I didn’t control the scene. That’s what Tim was always going on about, controlling the scene. Limiting the variables. I let Colin dictate when I turned the power back on in his house. Then I had Kindler trying to give me footage I didn’t shoot myself. And then Ana’s footage from the lake. What are the odds Ana and the others step away for five minutes out of two hours and the lake decides to light up?”

“Something specific had to trip you.”

“I compared the footprints that appeared in Kindler’s house from a few weeks ago and the other night. They were different.”

“Could have been two different ghosts.” Whitmore didn’t really believe what he was saying, he was just making Eddie go through the debrief.

“That lengthens the odds. Now there’s two ghosts leaving prints. And that would negate the whole Tessa theory. If you want to follow up on it, I’ll bet those prints match the shoe sizes of Kindler’s two ladies.”

“Why would he switch them?” Whitmore said.

“I don’t know and I don’t care. You asked what tripped me and that was the first part. Then I remembered Colin had dictated the scene to me, so I went back to his place because it was easiest to get into.”

Whitmore’s eyes narrowed.

“You’ll get no apologies from me for breaking into a dead man’s house. Because I did, Ana’s still alive. And so is Kindler.”

The skin around Whitmore’s eyes softened.

“How’d you know it was Hollis?” Whitmore asked.

“Process of elimination. I knew it wasn’t Bernie. He wasn’t the type to commit murder. And I knew it wasn’t Kindler because he had an alibi the nights of Colin’s death and Bernie’s disappearance. Who else had a motive?”

“I don’t think Bernie was in on the fraud.”

“I don’t either. Remember I checked his phone to see if he could manipulate the thermostat? I didn’t take it a step further to consider that somebody else could have. Someone with a reason to do so.”

“Marty has an iPhone and was over Bernie’s place about six months ago,” Whitmore said.

“Yep. And he knew exactly when we’d be at Bernie’s and exactly when Ana would be at the lake. He controlled everything, except Colin’s house.”

The two men shared, for the first time, a comfortable silence.

Eddie said, “It’s a variant on the old saying. Three people can keep a secret, if two of them are dead.”

“Ben Franklin.”

Eddie nodded. “It’s easier when one of the three isn’t even in on the secret, like Bernie. Cleaner that way.”

“Agreed.” Whitmore sat back in his chair. “Not many people know about the fraud. My people here and Ana. I asked her to keep it confidential while we sorted it out.”

Eddie nodded at the lieutenant. “We good then?”

Whitmore grinned. It surprised the hell out of Eddie. “We’re good, Ed.”

There was a knock on the door. The desk sergeant poked her head in. “Marty Kindler’s here.”

Whitmore called him a bad name. “Tell him I’ll meet him in the box.”

But the desk sergeant didn’t go away. She looked at Eddie. “He’s asking to speak to you.”

Ninety-Two

Kindler wore an expensive suit and stood outside the interrogation room where Whitmore had grilled Eddie previously.

“A quick word, Ed?”

With his one good arm, Eddie shoved Kindler into the interrogation room. Lieutenant Whitmore came in after them and shut the door.

Eddie said, “How’d you get past me and Ana the other night?”

Kindler smiled, pleased with himself. “I told you about my need for security. I’ve got secret passages set up in my house to allow for escape in the event of a break-in. My ladies know them well and I had Ms. Anders and Lori memorize the camera patterns. Easy work.”

“And you were at the lake the night Ana went with the camera.”

Kindler tipped his head. “Guilty as charged. I’d installed some lights in the lake because I knew somebody would go out there eventually to film. When Ana went, I waited till they went away and hit the switch. I removed the lights after they left.”

Eddie balled his fist. “I should have let Hollis ice you, you fucking prick.”

Kindler put on an offended smile. “I made a mistake. All men do. And my heart was in the right place. What makes me one of the greats is I’m not afraid to make another mistake.”

“You were sloppy. Using a different woman when I was at your house to create the footprints. Different shoe sizes, dumb ass.”

“You know women. They’re more fickle than children. Lori did the footprints during our dry run, but then she lost her nerve when you were in the house. That’s why she was acting so weird. I had no choice.”

“Far as I’m concerned, you’re almost as guilty as Hollis. You had everybody looking every which way. It gave Hollis an opportunity. Ana was almost killed.”

“I know, I know. When you dream big, you take big risks. That’s how it is.”

Eddie threw a punch, but Whitmore grabbed his fist in mid-air. He looked at the lieutenant.

Whitmore said, “I don’t want this asshole suing you for A and B.”

Kindler nodded at the cop. “Thank you, lieutenant.”

“You won’t be thanking me when I’m done with you, Marty.”

Kindler ignored Whitmore’s hostility and turned back to Eddie. “Be a rational man for a moment, Ed.”

“I’m not real good at that.”

Kindler reached in his pocket. Whitmore reacted like he was going for a gun and stopped the arm before the hand came out of the jacket.

“My check book,” Kindler said.

Whitmore loosened his grip and Kindler slowly took it out of his pocket.

“You hate me right now. Maybe you always will. You’ll not want to take money from me, but you should. It’s in your best interest.”

Eddie scowled. “I don’t want any more of your money. I got paid for the job.”

“This is for another job.”

“No thanks.”

Kindler put a hand on his shoulder. “For your silence. Name your price.”

“For once, I don’t have a price.”

“Be smart. Be rational. You can walk away more secure.”

“Okay. A cool mill.”

“I said be rational.”

“Why would I keep my mouth shut for you?”

“For the money.”

Eddie laughed. “You’re broke.”

“Not if we keep this quiet. You remember those five guys at George’s bar the other night? They were from that reality show: ParaHunters. If they come through here, that could be the start of something.”

“Not a chance. I won’t do that for you.”

“Not for me. For this town.”

“As always, I don’t follow your logic.”

Kindler sighed like he had to explain something obvious to a five-year-old. “The people around here don’t have much. They wanted a little magic in their lives. Something out of the ordinary.”

“And you wanted fucking tourists.”

“Tourists don’t just help me. They help everybody.”

Whitmore snorted. “All the sudden you’re going to tell us you’ve been doing this for the people?”

Kindler shook his head no. “I’m a businessman. I was looking to make a buck, but you can’t argue the rest of the town wouldn’t have benefited too.”

“Nice try,” Eddie said. “But the truth always outs. Maybe not right away, but eventually. Then the town would have been worse off. Everybody would have been branded a fraud.”

“Fine.” Kindler stiffened and his face reddened. “You won’t do it for me or the town, but how about Ana?”

Eddie said nothing.

“I’m making her the same deal. Her silence in exchange for future compensation. But you see, her silence doesn’t mean shit if you’re not bound by the same terms. If you don’t keep your mouth shut, my deal with her is off.”

Eddie hesitated.

“With the money, she could go back to school and get out of here like she always wanted,” Kindler said.

Eddie shook his head. “The truth will get out one way or the other, and I could never be sure you’d stick to your deal with her. No dice.”

“What’s going to convince you otherwise?”

Eddie smiled. “Have a nice life, dip shit.”

Then he walked out of the interrogation room, leaving Kindler to Whitmore.

Leaving the town to its own problems again.

Ninety-Three

Ana stood in the dirty grey snow outside the police station. The wind caught hold of her scarf and shot one end straight out. She smiled at Eddie and tucked the loose end into her jacket.

The thought of her being hog-tied by Hollis still tugged at his heart. Thank God the cops had found her so quickly. She must have been terrified.

Eddie walked right up to her and kissed her. She wasn’t expecting him to but she caught up quickly, kissing him back hard.

He pulled away and put his free hand on her cheek and looked into her young eyes. She had so much ahead of her.

“I’m still mad at you,” she said.

“Sorry. But I knew you had to be close by the lake. Hollis didn’t have time to put you in a car, drive somewhere, and get back. The road was gridlocked.”

She gave him a look.

“And with over a thousand people fanning out through the woods, I knew we’d find you quickly.”

She buried her head in his chest. “I wasn’t in on it with Marty.”

He smiled. “I know.”

She looked up at him. “How?”

“Because you’re a good person.”

She was about to argue but he put his fingers to her lips.

“Just take the compliment.”

She smiled and kissed his fingers. “Come back to the apartment with me?”

“Jimbo?”

“He’s getting his stuff now.”

This wasn’t part of his plan. He wanted to say goodbye and move on, but if he did it right here she might be tempted to take the big lug back.

Eddie didn’t know why, but he had to tell her. “I saw Tessa.”

Ana’s eyes widened.

“Under the ice.”

For a brief wondrous second, he could tell she believed her sister had been down there, possibly trying to help him. But then she nodded, her eyes growing skeptical.

She said, “You were delirious with pain and oxygen-deprived. You were probably seeing things. Simplest explanation.”

He didn’t say anything.

“It’s just a good thing Whitmore had all that diving gear ready. Otherwise you would be seeing Tessa right now.”

Eddie turned and looked once more at the tiny police station. “Fucking Whitmore. That guy’s alright.”

They went to their cars. Lenny the Drunk had bought him new tires while he’d been in the hospital. Eddie had no idea where Lenny got his money from but he wasn’t asking questions. The guy had certainly repaid him for the other night at the bar and then some. Eddie opened the door and before getting in looked at Ana again. She climbed into her car and after a hiccup, it started and spat out black exhaust into the frostbitten air.

He got in his car and backed out of his spot. Out the lot, left turn, then a ten minute stretch of road followed by one turn. The ground was poking out in places where the snow had melted, but the weather was threatening again. If he stayed tonight and it snowed, he’d stay tomorrow night, and then maybe the next night ...

And with each small adjustment of the steering wheel, he wanted more and more to stay. She was only twenty-two but had been working and paying rent for four years.  That made her older than any kid who’d gone to college and didn’t have to worry about money. And he wasn’t that old. Besides, Tim had always said he acted five years younger than his age.

So she was an old twenty-two, and he was a young thirty-three. Maybe they could make it work.

They made a left and her apartment building grew in the windshield as they approached. Ana turned into the lot and found a spot near the entrance. He pulled up in front of the sidewalk and killed the engine.

She walked up to his window. Tapped on it playfully and batted her eyelashes and did a million other things that sent a jolt through his groin.

He rolled the window down and she put her forearms on the door frame and rested her cute little chin on the fleshy part of her arms.

“Ana, I—”

Then her mouth was on his. Her fingers dug into his neck. He felt her tears burn his face.

She pulled away. “I know you’re leaving.”

“It’s okay.” Like she was pre-forgiving him. “It’s okay.”

“How do you know I will?”

She palmed his jaw and then ran her fingers through his hair. “Because I read a book about you, Eddie McCloskey. That’s how I know.”

“Maybe I’ll be here when you come back out.”

She swiped at a tear and put on a brave smile. “I want you to do me one favor.”

He said nothing.

“If you ever change your mind, look me up.”

He opened his mouth but had no words.

“I’m not saying I’ll wait. All I’m saying is look me up.”

Then she kissed him on the forehead and walked away. He watched her the whole way, waited for the door to shut, waited another minute, and another.

He could stay.

He had a job. A certain local celebrity. For once, people liked  him. It was the best set-up he’d had in awhile.

Maybe ever.

Eddie watched the entrance to the building. In his mind, he went upstairs to Ana’s apartment and made wild, passionate love to her for the rest of the day. They’d take a break for dinner, probably takeout, and cozy up on the couch, saving up their energy for another bout of the best sex ever that night.

It could work, being here. Being with her.

Eddie smiled at the thought.

Jimbo came out the door a few minutes later, carrying an overstuffed cardboard box. He didn’t see Eddie in the parking lot. Jimbo shuffled miserably to his car. Either he’d climb out of his hole, or he wouldn’t. Most importantly, it was on him now. He wouldn’t burden Ana anymore.

The lost could be forgotten, threatened, nudged, pushed, reasoned with, or steered. They could be ignored, treated, loved, or abandoned.

But no matter what, the lost had to find their own way.

Eddie knew Ana would now.

He drove off.

********

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EXCERPT FROM THE ACCUSED AND THE DAMNED

Thriller writer Evan Ronan, author of The Unearthed, brings you the next edge-of-your-seat adventure in his paranormal series …

When the police arrest Anson Ketcher and charge him with murdering his wife, all he keeps saying is: "The ghost killed her."

Nobody believes him. And nobody should, given Anson's violent past and rocky relationship with his dead wife. Everyone wants to see Anson convicted.

Except Eddie McCloskey, paranormal investigator turned expert witness. Only Eddie can prove the man's innocence, but in doing so, can he find the real killer?

The Accused and the Damned is the first of its kind, a paranormal legal thriller. It is approximately 80,000 words and is specifically formatted for Kindle, with an active table of contents.

One

Alice Ketcher could still hear her husband upstairs. She was waiting for him to pass out before she turned in. It had been three months since he’d been drunk but you never knew with men. Anson had a mean streak. They’d been in couples counseling at church for the last year. She’d thought that Anson had shown genuine remorse and a desire to change, but here he was back on the bottle.

No matter how much she prayed and tried to forgive him, she couldn’t forget the times he’d scared her. He’d put his hands on her twice. Never hit her, just grabbed her shoulders to shake some sense into her. Murder in his eyes.

The last time had been over a year ago but you didn’t forget a thing like that. He’d been boozed up that night. Alcohol and her husband were a dangerous mix.

Not to mention they hadn’t spoken more than five words to each other in the last two weeks.

“ … seen … shirt?” he yelled from upstairs.

Alice pretended not to hear him. She went into the laundry room. The washer was running and making a lot of noise. She could always lie and say she hadn’t heard him over the sound of the washer.

“Alice?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice. He’d poked his head into the doorway. Looking at him, you’d never know about his mean streak. He had a kind, soft face and sympathetic eyes.

“Yeah?”

“I …” Anson took a deep breath. “I know my drinking makes you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”

She kept her distance. “That’s okay.”

The cycle was predictable. Falling down drunk followed by scenes of absolute terror then remorse and pathetic, weeping apologies. It was way past getting old.

Anson stepped into the tiny laundry room, blocking the door. She felt how very alone they were in this house. Nearest neighbor was half a mile away. It was times like these she grew furious with the church and her God for frowning on divorce. For pressuring her into staying with a man who frightened her.

Anson studied her, his kind eyes searching for something. She hoped it was for forgiveness. She fought herself not to look past his shoulder and give away how uncomfortable she was. That could send him into a rage.

“No really.” He shook his head. “I just … there’s no excuse.”

She realized he was crying. She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. Suddenly, not scared of him at all.

Had he turned the corner finally?

He spoke into her shoulder. “I want to keep with the counseling. I don’t think we should stop.”

“Okay, Anson. Okay.”

She rubbed his back till he collected himself. “I’m trying, hon.”

“I know.” She just wondered if people were actually capable of change. The fairy tales all said they did. But life was no fairy tale. “I just want this thing gone. I’m not comfortable in this house …”

“I know, baby. I want it gone too. Why don’t we ask Giles to come back out?”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Because he’s my friend, right?”

His eyes changed. The soft sadness vanished and a hardness took its place.

“Anson, he’s a fraud. That lady proved it on national TV.”

Anson just stared at her. It was like he was deciding how to react. She wondered what the options were.

“It’s actually gotten worse since he came out,” she said.

Anson frowned. Not believing her.

“It’s more … aggressive now. Before it just used to visit.”

Anger filling his eyes. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not a liar, Anson.”

Then she felt it.

The shift in the air pressure. A tingly current of electricity that bubbled over her body. It was here.

“What?” Anson asked.

Alice was a strong woman who had endured a lot in her short thirty years. Still the hackles on her neck rose every time this happened.

“Anson.”

He looked up. “It’s here?”

Alice instinctively reached for the cross that nested in the hollow of her neck. “Yeah.”

Since they’d moved in six months ago, they’d received increasingly frequent visits from something. Alice still didn’t know what to call it. She just wanted it to go away.

“Where?” Anson asked.

“It was here, but not anymore.”

“Kitchen,” Anson said.

“I want to get out of here.”

“Come on, it’ll be okay.”

“I mean it. It’s getting worse.”

“No, it’s not. It just feels that way because it’s around more often.”

“Anson, yesterday it started moving the furniture.”

“What?”

“I left the dining room for a moment. When I came back, two of the seats were moved out.”

Anson shook his head. “You probably moved them and forgot about it.”

“I was home alone. Why would I have moved two chairs?”

“Just come on. You need to face this.”

“I face it every day. I want the night off.”

“Come on.” He grabbed her wrist.

Reluctantly, she followed him into the kitchen. It was the spirit’s most frequent haunt.

Anson disconnected the camcorder from its charger, then made a face. “Did you forget to plug this thing in?”

She ignored him. She could just feel something … right there on the edge of her senses.

Anson was fussing with the camcorder. “Damnit, this thing’s dead.”

She closed her eyes. Felt. Tried to place the ghost.

The sound of her husband’s breathing, made heavy by drink. The hum of the dishwasher.

“Alice, are you sure it was here?” Anson right next to her.

“Anson, let’s just leave.”

“We need answers.”

“I don’t care what they might be anymore.”

Alice looked into his eyes and saw he wasn’t going to drop this. She wanted to leave. Run away. She could stay with her father. Or her cousin, Billy. She could just go. She wouldn’t miss Anson much.

But she couldn’t leave. She wasn’t supposed to. She was supposed to stay and make the best of things and pray.

Fuck it. It wasn’t often that Alice cursed.

She closed her eyes. She’d never channeled in front of him before. But now she wanted him to see how far this ghost had pushed her. What lengths she was prepared to go to.

Alice folded in on herself. Tried to shut down and open up. Like closing doors but opening windows at the same time.

“Alice, what’re you doing?”

“Quiet.”

Anson huffed and she ignored him, reached out as far as she could …

There.

“It’s close,” Alice said.

Two

Anson cursed his luck. The first time in a couple weeks—not not three months like Alice thought—he’d decided to bark at the moon with the fellas at the watering hole and the spirit had decided to drop by tonight of all nights. Disinhibited by the booze, he’d reached out to Alice and she’d responded. Maybe she still did care for him. But then the ghost. Its visits had been driving them apart, Alice terrified and questioning her own sanity.

“Where is it, Alice?”

But Alice was off in Wonderland. He had no idea what she was doing. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Her body tensed. Hands fisted. At first he thought she was praying but then he took a second look at her.

“Alice, honey …”

Her mouth moved but no words came out.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He put his hand on her shoulder. Through the shirt, her skin was icy. The cold made him jump.

“The hell?”

Alice’s eyelids opened and revealed only milky whiteness.

“Sweet Jesus!”

Anson grabbed her, afraid she was going to faint, but Alice stayed vertical. Her body was as hard and cold as a block of ice. He shook her because he didn’t know what else to do.

“Alice, honey!”

Suddenly her eyes rolled back down like sevens on a slot machine and her knees buckled. She collapsed against him, still icy cold like she’d spent ten minutes locked in a freezer.

“Anson …” Her voice was groggy, faraway. “She’s here.”

Anson got a better grip on his wife and propped her up. “You okay, honey?”

“Anson …”

Anson didn’t like the way his wife looked. Her skin was flushed, she looked about to lose consciousness, and she was unnaturally cold. Was it possible to get spontaneous hypothermia? Anson didn’t think so but he was no doctor.

“Okay, honey, we need to call the ambu—”

Something pushed him from behind. Anson toppled forward and he lost hold of his wife. She spilled onto the floor, almost as lifeless as a corpse.

Anson fell into the kitchen counter, sent the dishes flying. They hit the floor and shattered.

Anson wheeled around, fists ready. Somebody had pushed him. He didn’t know who, and he didn’t know how, but whoever it was the son of a bitch was going to get it.

But there was no one there.

Anson checked the floor where he’d been standing but it was clear. He hadn’t tripped on anything.

On the floor, Alice started moving. He kneeled, gripped her arm. “Slow down, honey. Just stay like that a moment.”

Her eyes were clenched shut and she gripped her stomach like she was about to vomit and she moaned.

Something knocked into Anson’s shoulder and he fell away from his wife. Okay, this time he knew he’d been pushed.

But there was no one or no thing in the room with them.

A chill ran down Anson’s spine. There was nobody else in the house. But that left one explanation, and that explanation terrified him.

The spirit had pushed him.

Alice was right. It was becoming more aggressive.

His wife opened her eyes and the color returned to her face. “I’m going to throw up.”

“Honey, I think it’s—”

Another shove. Anson slipped, kept his balance, then got pushed again. His ass hit the handle on the cupboard.

Another shove, this time from the side. He almost cartwheeled into the kitchen table. His wife screaming. Him yelling.

He was flung off the kitchen table through the threshold. Landed in the living room. The blows weren’t that powerful. If he could see where they were coming from he could have easily braced for them but he was fighting blind.

Then the invisible hand got stronger.

It forced him backwards. The back of his legs hit the couch and he flipped. His feet crashed into the coffee table as he fell off the couch.

“Anson!”

His wife hurrying into the room. Despite how lousy he’d been to her, she was rushing to help him. Her love shamed him. He didn’t deserve it. Like all the men she’d ever given herself to, he’d been a no-good son of a bitch.

But that would stop. From now on, he’d be the man she deserved. No more drinking. No more anger. No more intimidating her. He could be better than all that. He could listen. He could provide. He could be a better man. He just had to try.

“Anson, are you okay?”

“Honey, I love you. I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She closed her eyes. “Hold on.”

“What are you doing?”

Alice didn’t answer. Her mouth started flapping again. Her eyes became white slits. Her skin translucent.

Anson felt a pressure on his arm, like the spirit was trying to pick him up. He readied for the next blow but it never came. The pressure on his arm suddenly gone. He looked to his wife.

Alice’s eyes fluttered, like they were trying to unroll. Her arm was cold to the touch again but he held fast.

“Alice, honey, I love you. Alice …”

Her eyes unrolled and she looked at him like she didn’t know him.

“Alice?”

He cupped her shoulders.

“Honey, are you okay?”

Alice’s mouth slid open and issued an unintelligible, inhuman sound.

“Alice!”

When she spoke it was with a voice not her own. “It’s. Not. Me.”

Anson felt a chilly breath on the nape of his neck and he didn’t know if it was the spirit or his own body working against him. His wife rose on unsteady legs and swayed back and forth.

Anson pushed off the couch and got to his feet.

“Not me,” his wife said.

“Honey …”

“NOT ME!”

Alice screamed like a banshee and flung herself away from him. She stutter-stepped back into the sliding door. The glass spider-webbed.

“Alice!”

She doubled over and gasped like someone had slammed her in the stomach and knocked the wind out of her.

Anson ran to his wife, but he was stopped by a shot to his jaw. The blow rang his bell but he managed to stay on his feet.

“Anson, I think it’s—” she started to say.

Alice was thrown violently and knocked the flat screen TV over. She got to her feet and screamed at him to run and was tripped by some invisible foot. She face-planted in the carpet and then her head snapped up like someone had grabbed her by the hair.

Anson raced to his wife, but then the invisible hand thumped him in the chest and he went down. But it was distraction enough for Alice. She got up and took off for the front door.

Anson didn’t know what else to do. He had his cell phone in his pocket. The reception in his house was awful. He prayed the cell would work as he frantically dialed 911.

Before he could say anything, the phone was knocked out of his hand and went under the sofa.

Three

Greg Tolliff had been working the 911 dispatch for three months. In his short time riding the line, the most bizarre call he’d gotten was from a man who’d accidentally driven a nail through his nuts, and the most terrifying call had been from a mother, sick with worry, about her seven-year-old who’d just ingested half a bottle of sleeping medication.

But the call he took that night was more bizarre and terrifying than those two combined.

“911 Dispatch. What is the nature of your emergency?”

“... help … stop, stop ...”

The woman wasn’t near the phone but Tolliff heard the raw fear in her voice. He perked up in his seat. This one sounded interesting.

“Ma’am, what is your name and phone number?”

The enhanced 911 system provided Tolliff with a phone number, name, and corresponding address, but Tolliff was following SOP in independently verifying this information. Though glitches were rare, sending EMS and local LE to the wrong place helped no one. LE especially didn’t like walking into a scene they didn’t understand. Some nutters were just waiting for the cops to show up so they could suicide-by-police.

“Stop …”

“Ma’am, are you there? Ma’am?”

“Anson … noooo!”

“Ma’am? Are you there?”

The line was still active, but there was no answer. In the background, Tolliff heard a crash and more screaming.

Tolliff connected to EMS and LE. “Unknown possible medical emergency. 225 Watoga, Cumberland. The nearest intersection is one mile away at Browning Road and Rural Route 57. Repeat, unknown medical emergency. 225 Watoga …”

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

BELLULIS MEIS SEMPER

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Evan Ronan's stories don't always fit neatly into one genre. He reads widely and tries to write as widely. His paranormal thriller series, The Unearthed, features his favorite protagonist, Eddie McCloskey, a man who's constantly underestimated and always finds a way to beat the odds through a little hustle, a little brains, and a lot of hard work.

Evan also writes in the YA, historical fiction, sci-fi and mystery genres. He lives with his family in New Jersey, in the same town Eddie McCloskey grew up in.

For more information, visit his website: www.ronaniswriting.blogspot.com.

ALSO BY EVAN RONAN

THE UNEARTHED SERIES

The Unearthed

The Lost

The Accused and the Damned

The Hysteria

The Traveler

The Dream Machine (in the works)

The Missing (in the works)

#8 (in the works)

TOMAHAWK AND SABER SERIES WITH NATHANAEL GREEN

Language of the Bear

Through the Narrows

#3 (in the works)

SHORT STORIES

Morale Was Down

Effective Immediately

Not Safe For Work (coming soon)

In The Blood

In The Blood #2

In The Blood #3

In The Blood #4

Frontier Justice

Harm

OTHER BOOKS COMING SOON

Undo (YA / sci-fi)

OtherWorld (middle grade fantasy)

The Eighth Man (sci-fi noir)

THE LOST. Copyright 2014 by Evan Ronan. All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, place and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

Edition: October, 2014