Wait! This must be a joke! A colossal joke! I half chuckled. Maybe it’s some kind of birthday gag. Is Jennifer in on this too?
I glanced around for a hidden camera but didn’t see one. With a sigh of exasperation, I tugged on the door handle, surprised that it actually opened. I was even more surprised by what I saw on the other side.
This was totally wrong.
I have to be hallucinating. Yeah, there must be radon up here or something. Did that stuff make you hallucinate?
I closed the door and opened it again. A hallway stretched out before me as if the two buildings were connected on the inside and as if…I’d stepped back in time a hundred years. There were no tin ceilings, no smooth Sheetrock or cool paint. There was wood on the walls and on the floors, and there was a heavy wooden table against the wall. It held two gas lamps that cast the hallway in a dull, golden light. And except for a threadbare carpet runner, there wasn’t much else to see.
But I could hear music. The jangly, old-fashioned kind you might hear in an old western saloon. No, that wasn’t right. Maybe that was music from Dauphin Street. The street was close, but it just didn’t seem right. It sounded like it was coming from next door, and that was definitely wrong. Yeah, this is total bull. I’m getting out of here.
But I couldn’t stop staring. I stepped back, intending to reach behind me for the door handle and get the hell out of here, but the door wasn’t there. Instead my hand felt fabric, stiff, rough fabric. I froze as my body went cold, as if I’d stepped into a deep freeze or something. I swung around, surprised to see a woman standing there. She wore a filthy pewter gray dress, as if she’d been standing there forever and had collected a thick layer of dust. The top four buttons of her dress were undone; and I could see a dry-rotted underdress peeking out and pale bloodless skin. She wasn’t moving, her head was crooked at a horrible angle like it had come off her neck, and I saw ugly purple bruises just under her chin. She had blond hair as white as cotton, like Jennifer’s, but it was also dust-covered. Was this a mannequin? How had I missed her? I just walked through here!
Then she let out a low hiss…as if she were trying to speak but couldn’t. I still didn’t move. She was only a few inches from me, and I was afraid that if I stepped away from her she would move.
And then she did. She lifted her head and peered at me with her dead blue eyes, and she hissed again. Her gray lips moved, but there were no discernible words. I swore like a teenager and took off running down the hall. I had no idea where I was or where I was going, but I wasn’t about to touch her again. I ran down the hall without looking to my right or left. I think I dropped the camera, but screw going back for it. I didn’t dare look, but I sensed there were other people here too. Other women. They giggled and whispered my name as I sped by the darkened doorways.
God, the sun was down. If I stayed here, I would be lost!
I came to the end of the hallway and was surprised to find stairs that led to the bottom floor. I paused on the landing. There were people down there! I could hear them, lots of men and that tinkling music. What should I do? I’d have to think of something. Think, Mark, think! Should I go back? I glanced down the hallway, sickened by the sight of the woman shambling toward me. And the others, the other women, they were gathering too. Just in the doorways of their rooms. Oh God, this is some kind of nightmare! Wake up, Mark!
I had to go down. I had to face whatever waited for me there. It was the only way out.
Chapter One—Cassidy
I heard the microwave ding in the kitchen, but I was totally immersed in the touch-ups I was making to Kylie’s painting. I brightened the sky a bit by adding a subtle touch of gold. I’d had no vision, no compulsion to paint when I woke up. Just a sense that this was how it should be. I hoped it was a good sign, but I tried not to think about what it all meant. I followed my heart and stepped back from the painting. Feeling satisfied, I plunked the brush in the Mason jar of water, swirled it a few times and walked into the kitchen to retrieve my early lunch. It was now eleven, but it felt much later than that. That’s the way it had been the past few days. I didn’t have much going on and spent all my time painting, listening to music and hoping Midas would call me back. I’d worked on a few sketches but didn’t feel inspired to do much else.
To be honest, I was kind of disappointed that I hadn’t heard from Sierra recently. My new friend had stopped communicating with me, and I refused to become “that needy friend,” the weird single one who demanded all your time. Even though the last investigation had ended a few months ago, I hadn’t seen much of Midas either. The hunky founder of Gulf Coast Paranormal had been tied up with paperwork, now that Sara, his ex-girlfriend, had sold her share of the business to him. I guess she found Hollywood to her liking, which was no surprise to me. Sara was fearless, beautiful and apparently like catnip to Midas, according to Sierra. I didn’t really know Sara, but I knew she didn’t care much for me. She let that be known during our first investigation together. Gosh! It seemed like forever ago that I first got into the supernatural world, but it really had only been a few months.
I stirred my mashed potatoes and frowned in disgust when I realized they were still frozen in the center. I popped the tray back in for another minute and stared out the kitchen window. Yep, it was a beautiful day. Maybe I’d go to the bookstore down the street or walk to the park, just to get out of the house for a while.
You know where you need to go. Just suck it up and go, Cassidy.
I hadn’t been to my parents’ graves in almost a year. I promised myself I would, but I hadn’t been very good at keeping that promise so far. I checked my phone. It was fully charged now, and nobody had called. I had only one legit email—from Uncle Derek. I hadn’t seen him in months, and I couldn’t avoid our quarterly meeting forever. That was the rule. I had to see him and sign papers every three months to receive my dispersal. Which was ridiculous! I quietly vowed that this time I would actually hire an attorney to see if I could change those requirements. I felt a knot in my stomach just thinking about seeing my uncle. I couldn’t explain my dislike for the man, besides the fact that he was an arrogant bastard who had treated my father badly when he was alive. Yeah, that might be why.
While I waited for my frozen food to become something palatable, I peered at my work. Oh, I know what’s missing!
I slid back to the canvas in my stocking feet and began prepping the paint. Thirty minutes later I was staring at the changes and feeling satisfied with all of it. I’d drawn power lines behind the field Kylie was in and added the corner of a building to the left edge of the portrait. Yes, this just feels right.
I stepped back and looked from left to right. Yes, this was absolutely right. A knock at the door shook me out of my contemplation. I dropped the brush back in the water and walked to the door. Peeking through the peephole, I smiled. It was Midas. This guy had to be psychic. I’d been thinking about him all day, and then he showed up. I swung the door open with a big smile, uncaring that I had on no makeup and a painting smock with torn tights.
“Hi!”
“Hi to you, Miss Artist. Did I catch you in the middle of painting the Sistine Chapel?”
I waved my hand at him playfully and invited him in. “What would you say if I told you I was painting you?”
He grinned, and my heart melted. How long had it been since we’d kissed? “Really? I want to see.”
I darted in front of him and blocked his path. I actually had begun to paint him, just for fun, but I was nowhere near finished. In fact, I was still in the sketching stage, and the image hadn’t turned out too flattering. He looked too stern, too serious. Although Midas rarely smiled, he was not an unhappy person. Just a thoughtful one.
“Not today, but soon, I promise.” Hoping to distract him, I added, “I see you have something there. Is that lunch?”
“Yes. I assumed you’d be eating something unhealthy, so I brought you some caprese salad and veggie lasagna from Papa Angelos’. If you haven’t eaten
yet.”
“Nope.” I suddenly remembered my unappetizing frozen dinner in the microwave and grabbed the bag from his hand. “Smells wonderful. I guess he’s gone full-time diner now? I can’t say that’s a bad thing. Your grandfather can cook like nobody’s business. I hope you inherited some of those skills.”
“Just what he taught me. Mind sharing that food? I did pick up enough for two.”
I put the bag on the counter and leaned toward him. Midas took his usual seat at my two-seat bar. “For a price…” I purred.
“I think I’m the one who should be demanding a price. I brought the food,” he growled sexily in his deep voice.
“Yes, but I’m serving it up on a plate and pouring us something to drink. That should count for something.”
“It does.” He was suddenly in the kitchen with me, and we shared a deep kiss. Wow, this is nice.
“So, dessert before dinner? Is that a Greek tradition?” I asked him playfully as I stood on my tiptoes, my arms loosely around his neck. Midas and I hadn’t been together-together, but we’d come close a few times. There was obviously a strong attraction between us. I mean, who wouldn’t be attracted to him with his muscular physique, chiseled face and dark eyes? Whoever came up with the phrase “tall, dark and handsome” had to have been talking about him.
“I wish, but I’ve got to meet a client in about thirty minutes. It’s for the team.”
I kissed him one last time. “Okay, rain check, then.”
“Rain check for sure. What are you doing tonight?”
I gestured around to the paintings. “This is it. Unless you have something else in mind.”
He filled our glasses with iced tea while I loaded two plates with the delicious-smelling food he brought. I set the plates on the bar, and he added the glasses.
“Yes, I think we can arrange something else.” He stopped in his tracks, his eyes riveted toward Kylie’s canvas.
After a few seconds of silence, I asked him, “Are you okay? What is it?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. You added some new details?” He walked into my workspace and continued to survey my sister’s painting. “All this?”
“Yes, I added a few things just this morning. Why? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” I laughed at that phrase, but there was no humor in it. Something was wrong. Majorly wrong. “You know that place? Where is it?”
“No. I mean, I can’t say for sure.” Before I knew it, he was snapping photos of the painting while my desperation rose dramatically.
“Yes, you do! You’re not a very good liar, Midas.” I got in his face. My sister had been missing for four years, and I’d had no word on her whereabouts. The only clues I had were in this painting, and that came from God-only-knows-where. The image had come to me in a vision the day she disappeared, and I’d been adding things to it, making subtle changes when they came to me.
He slid his phone back in his pocket and glanced down at me with a deadly serious look. I couldn’t interpret his expression, and he didn’t offer any further details. He glanced at his watch. “You know, I think I better go. I have to meet Mark in a few minutes. I’ll call you in a bit.” Before I knew it, Midas was gone and I was left staring after him.
How can he have information and not share it? I know he’s a cautious guy, but to know something and not tell me? That’s just wrong.
I studied the picture too, but no additional information was revealed to me. Whatever Midas knew, he wasn’t sharing yet. But I quietly vowed to get to the bottom of all this tonight. If he actually showed up later. I chewed my painted nails as I stared again. Nothing. I didn’t know what a few power lines and the corner of a building had revealed to him, but it was clearly something he didn’t want to talk about.
I sat down to eat my food by myself. I wrapped his plate in cling wrap and tucked it in the nearly empty refrigerator. Although Papa’s food smelled divine, I had no appetite now. Not at all. I wrapped up my plate and put it in the fridge too.
My phone rang, and I answered it quickly. “Hello?”
“Cassidy, is Midas there? He’s not answering the phone, and I need to talk to him. It’s really important.” Sierra’s voice was distressed, and her sentences ran together. I could tell she was crying or had been.
“Sierra, what is it?” She mumbled again. “Sierra? I can’t hear you.”
She sniffed and slurred her words. Oh my God. Is she drunk? “I made a huge mistake, and I have to talk to him. Josh knows what I did, and now he’s furious…” More crying ensued, but I impatiently waited. “Is Midas there?”
“He was here, but he’s gone now. Is there something I can help you with? Are you okay? Where are you?”
She started crying again, and I was sure now that she was stone drunk. “I have to go, Cassidy. If you see Midas, tell him to call me. Please, Cassidy. I need him so bad.”
“All right.” She hung up and left me wondering what the heck was going on. I need him so bad…
Shake that off, Cassidy. It’s not what you think. It can’t be. She’s like his sister, for goodness’ sake.
I cleaned up the kitchen and made myself presentable. Might as well take that walk now. I could use the exercise, and I needed to think about other things besides Midas and Sierra. Yeah, I had a lot to think about.
On my way out, I passed by Kylie’s painting one last time. Where are you, Kylie? Help me find you!
My hand hovered over the wet paint. It had been months since the last investigation and that long since I had any kind of visionary experience. The trigger for those visions was usually touching the wet paint of a portrait. Although that surprising method had not brought any clues as to the whereabouts of my sister, it had helped solve a few ghostly mysteries. Who knew the world was such a paranormal place?
My hand still hovered. What if I saw something I didn’t want to see? Something I could never forget? Did I want to do this? Even if I didn’t see Kylie, did I want to meet another Estella Winters or suffer alongside another Aurelia Davis? I’d encountered both ghosts through my paintings, and those women had not had a happy ending.
But what if Kylie was waiting for me? I couldn’t believe that she was dead, but why had Midas freaked out on me?
I held my breath and tapped the wet paint with my finger.
And that was all it took.
Chapter Two—Sabrina Elizabeth
Mobile, Alabama, 1910
Shannon had a cruel streak a mile wide, and she didn’t mind turning her savagery on children, including the “cotton boys” who traveled to and from the Mobile Cotton Mill. Although she was rarely up when they journeyed to work in the morning, she catcalled them in the evening as they trudged down Bloodgood Row making their way home to their families and hopefully to a decent meal and some rest. Each group of boys, spinners, doffers and sweepers, stuck together and formed their own tight-knit community—they looked out for one another, for the most part.
On Saturdays she took on a much more persuasive tone because Saturday was payday at the mill. In her words, “A boy’s money is as good as any man’s.” As I was no better than she was, at least occupationally, I could hardly scold her. And I had no desire to come to blows over it. Those boys appeared well able to protect themselves, but my heart still went out to them, especially the small ones. Oh, brothers, I miss you every day.
Today Shannon posed in the doorway with her dirty yellow blouse strategically unbuttoned. She smiled and waved at the boys, hoping one or two would be stupid enough to step closer with their coins in hand. I didn’t believe she’d ever stoop so low as to harm a child, not really, but she’d rob him blind without apology and box his ears for his trouble.
Week after week she did this, and this Saturday was no exception. The mill had a constantly changing supply of cotton boys, all supposedly twelve and up, but it was clear that many were much younger than that. It was the new ones who usually fell for her ploys. Eager to see their friends thrashed, the others wouldn’t tell, and the cotton boys who didn’t
know much about the ways of the world—or women like us—would get a rude awakening.
Women like us.
Every day the lines between my life and Shannon’s blurred. Why did I pretend that I was any better than she was? I wasn’t, not by any stretch of the imagination. We were both women who relied on their bodies to make a living. I didn’t know when she arrived in Mobile or how she got here. Shannon wasn’t one to share more with you than she wanted you to know. However, I imagined that she had an interesting story, much more interesting than mine.
I’d come to Mobile on the promise of a good life made by a boy I barely knew yet had agreed to marry. I’d lost my father in a mining accident, and with my mother and brothers dead from tuberculosis, I was alone in the world. I had no other prospects for marriage, so it seemed like the right thing to do—the only thing to do. Richard was a nice enough young man. He wasn’t from my small town in Tennessee but from further north in Brownsville. I’d met him at the church house a few times before we actually talked.
“I’m passing through, Sabrina Elizabeth. I’m going to Mobile. I’ve got me a decent job down there, working in a lumber mill right on Mobile Bay. They pay you by the week, and it’s at least a year’s work guaranteed. Have you ever seen the ocean?”
“Nope. But I’d like to. What’s it look like?”
And that was all it took. But rather than seeing Richard’s round, pleasant face at the train station, I was met by a strange man who informed me that my husband had died. He’d taken a fall off the deck of a ship and his body had not been recovered. I’d wandered through the downtown streets with just a few coins in my purse, hoping I could find a job or at least a way back home.
Friendly faces were hard to find, and none that I met felt compelled to help me in my time of trouble. Except Shannon. She watched me for a while as I sat on the steps of the store and finally walked over to speak to me. It didn’t take much to induce me to follow her home for food. And after that, I never left.
Ghosted on the Gulf Coast (Gulf Coast Paranormal Trilogy Book 1) Page 25
