The Shadow Walkers

by Shannon Reber

  THE SHADOW

  WALKERS

  A Madison Meyer Mystery

  Book 4

  SHANNON REBER

  Copyright © 2018 by Shannon Reber

  First Edition

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means

  (electronic, mechanical, photo‐copying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

  Published by Magic Fire Publishing

  Westfield, NY 14787

  This book is a work of fiction. Incidents, names, characters, and places are products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. Resemblances to actual locales or events or persons living or dead, is coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Table of Contents

  ONE 4

  TWO 12

  THREE 13

  FOUR 20

  FIVE 27

  SIX 33

  SEVEN 41

  EIGHT 43

  NINE 51

  TEN 55

  ELEVEN 62

  TWELVE 73

  THIRTEEN 80

  FOURTEEN 87

  FIFTEEN 89

  SIXTEEN 98

  SEVENTEEN 108

  EIGHTEEN 114

  NINETEEN 122

  TWENTY 128

  TWENTY-ONE 136

  TWENTY-TWO 142

  TWENTY-THREE 148

  TWENTY-FOUR 156

  TWENTY-FIVE 166

  EPILOGUE 171

  AUTHOR’S NOTE 174

  About the Author 178

  “While all deception requires secrecy, all secrecy is not meant to deceive.”

  ―Sissela Bok

  ONE

  I read a quote once that said, Punctuality is the virtue of the bored. I tried to convince Erkens it was true but he hadn’t agreed. He’d told me punctuality was the virtue of the employed. I didn’t think he’d really fire me for being late. I hoped that was true, anyway.

  It had been a difficult morning so far. I’d hardly slept the night before, so had taken that time to try and find my sister again. It had been ten days since I’d last heard from her and my nervousness was quickly turning to fear.

  I had gone so far as to look up her family in hopes they would have some way to contact her. I had chickened out of the idea of calling them, not wanting to be the one to tell them I was afraid something had happened to her. I had continued searching, though, and had found out Quinn had a brother who also lived in Pittsburgh.

  That had been strange to uncover. I had only just discovered that Quinn existed. My mom had given her up for adoption the day she was born and had never mentioned her to me. To find that she had a family, with two brothers who were both Ian’s age, it had thrown me. I didn’t know why.

  I had gone so far as to drive to the address listed as her brother’s. Needless to say, I hadn’t gone in. It hadn’t felt right. I had decided to send him a message on social media and see if he would choose to speak with me.

  That side-trip across town was why I was running late. Well, there was also a speeding ticket now sitting like an accusation on the passenger seat that had slowed me down quite a bit. It wasn’t the best morning I’d ever had.

  Erkens scowled at me when I pulled into my parking spot at the office. He stood next to his truck with his arms folded, tapping his foot as he waited for me. He wore his cop-face, making him look even more like a bulldog than usual. Since he was in his late sixties, it was more of a retired-bulldog-face but it was still intimidating.

  I did my best to look contrite as I got out of my car and stuck my bag in his backseat. I wasn’t feeling particularly contrite. My nervousness, fear, and irritation were too strong to bother with another emotion.

  I pushed my dark hair behind my ears and smoothed my black t-shirt as Erkens stormed around to the driver’s side. The weather had begun to warm over the last few weeks, which made the trees bloom as the grass shone emerald green in the sunlight. I wore a light layer of sunscreen to protect my fair skin and keep it from freckling further. Okay, so that was nothing more than a fantasy. My freckles would not be tamed no matter how hard I tried.

  A weight filled my belly as I closed the door behind myself. Erkens had asked Ian to work with us on that case but he had said he was busy. Granted, he did work a couple of jobs but it felt more like a refusal to be near me.

  The pain of his rejection only compounded everything else that had gone wrong in the last ten days. More than anything, I wanted to be able to talk to my boyfriend about all of it. He apparently wasn’t interested in talking to me anymore.

  We’d had a tumultuous relationship the whole time we’d been together. We had reached a point where I thought we were kind of perfect together. Then disaster had struck. Something had changed after our run-in with the Muellers. Ian had chosen to walk away from me rather than to face it.

  I’d tried to talk to him, to tell him I didn’t blame him for any of it, that I was beyond grateful to have him back. Every time, he’d shrugged me off. It made the whole situation even more difficult.

  Now, I was stuck in the truck with an irritated Erkens for the next four hours. It was not my idea of a good day. The thing that made me even more nervous, was the fact our case was in a suburb of Philadelphia . . . where my mom lived.

  I hadn’t seen her since I’d moved out the previous summer. We’d talked once or twice but mostly, we’d both pretended the other had dropped off the face of the earth. Now, I was spending the night at her house.

  I had tried to ask her about everything I had found out recently when we were on the phone. She had cut me off, demanded that I come by. I hated myself for not having the cojones to just say no. She shouldn’t bother me. I should be used to her.

  It would be a lot easier if my car was in working order. There was something wrong with the ball bearings that made it unwise to drive on the highway, so Erkens had offered to drop me at my mom’s that evening on his way back to Pittsburgh. He had an appointment with a contractor the following day that he needed to be there for and the client had insisted we show up as soon as possible. Spencer would pick me up the following morning so the two of us could hopefully finish our investigation. The idea of being trapped at Mom’s house made my former insecurities rise up.

  The fact Ian could have fixed my car so easily made everything hurt so much more. I felt betrayed, no matter how unfair that probably was.

  Erkens turned the radio off as he pulled onto the road. I had a feeling a lecture was about to be bestowed on me. I wished he wouldn’t. I really needed a break.

  He contemplated the road for a bit before he finally spoke. “Madison, if this is too much for you, I’m happy enough to work this case alone.”

  I glanced at him, confused by that offering. “What do you mean? Why do you think this is going to be so hard on me?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m not oblivious, Madison. I know how hard this has all been on you.” There was so much compassion in his voice, it was like he thought I was about to have a breakdown or something.

  He wasn’t too far off the mark. “I’m not trying to get out of work.” I blew out a breath and rubbed tiredly at my brow, not wanting to talk about any of it.

  He kept his eyes fixed on the road. “This case is probably just a lonely little lady who’s looking for some attention,” he said, his gruff, bulldog’s tone back in its usual place.

  I smiled a little. “Is that why you asked me to come along, so you wouldn’t have to bother being friendly to a lonely little lady?” I teased, wanting very much to
have something light and non-threatening to think about.

  Erkens humphed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Madison,” he said but the telltale furrow of his brow told me the truth.

  I hadn’t spoken to the client since I had been with Ian’s parents when she’d called, doing my best to comfort them, as well as myself. And yeah, that was the main reason for my funk.

  A grand jury had decided a few days before that the DA didn’t have enough evidence to go to trial against Adrian Ezra. The girl who had planned out my best friend’s murder and had tried to kill me as well was going to get away with it. That was the reason for my recent sleepless nights.

  Working as a paranormal investigator probably should give me nightmares. It didn’t. The only thing that truly frightened me was the idea of a sociopath like Adrian not paying for the things she had done. It was like she was being told she had done nothing wrong.

  I did my best not to think about it. Instead, I let Erkens quiz me about the various forms of hauntings and the best ways to deal with them. We’d brought along protections for everything we knew about, so hopefully, the case would be taken care of quickly.

  The rest of the trip to Philadelphia went by in a blur of paranormal facts. It was one of the things I liked about Erkens, his ability to ease me out of my bad moods. He wasn’t usually compassionate which somehow comforted me far more than soothing words could ever do.

  As we got closer to our destination, I allowed my own life to fade back completely. All that was left was the case we had come to work, a case I knew nothing about.

  When Erkens had told me the day before who our client was, I’d almost fallen out of my chair. Dorothy Otto was the wealthiest woman in Philadelphia. Her family money, mixed with her husband’s family money, made that couple among the richest in the world.

  Leopold Otto had died eighteen months before. The couple had no children. Their charitable contributions to numerous foundations were something that had made a lot of good possible in the world.

  And now, Erkens and I had been hired to investigate what he said was a possible haunting . . . at Mrs. Otto’s estate. To me, it was as prestigious as being asked to investigate something at the White House.

  Erkens did NOT look excited as he slowed, pulling into the driveway of the illustrious old colonial manor. It was three stories of old world charm that looked large enough to house an army comfortably. Erkens’ tough pickup truck looked downright comical in front of it.

  The picturesque house was surrounded by flawless gardens that were all in bloom. Small pops of color set next to the house and the bold, green lawn made the place stand out even more. It looked like a painting, a place where I didn’t belong.

  I did my best not to stare. It was no easy feat. What made it even more unbelievable was the adorable little old lady who practically sprinted toward Erkens.

  By the time I got out of the truck and walked around to Erkens’ side, she had her arms around him in a surprisingly firm hug. I would have found it hilarious if I hadn’t noticed the pallor of the woman’s skin. Her whole body shook as she clutched at him.

  When I stopped next to him, Erkens eased the woman back. “Dorothy Otto, this is my associate, Madison Meyer,” he said, his voice as brusque as usual, a voice that made him sound like he was still a cop.

  Mrs. Otto turned her eyes to look at me and I was struck by the sweetness of her appearance. The lines, sags, and wrinkles gave a good-natured glow to a face that had been beautiful when she was younger. She was still beautiful, though in a very different way. She wasn’t the knockout she had been in the photos I had found of her when she was younger. She was stately, yet also anxious like a porcelain doll on the verge of cracking into a thousand pieces.

  I looked at Erkens and nodded. It was my way of telling him that no matter what, I was determined to help Mrs. Otto. It was altogether possible she was simply a lonely old lady who was developing some form of dementia. I didn’t care. I recognized the signs of desperation and I was determined to alleviate it for her.

  TWO

  Lars Nemen watched warily as the paranormal investigator and the teenage girl walked into the house with the Otto woman. His partner looked equally annoyed, although there was a pounding in Lars’ ears as his vision clouded. The old woman would pay dearly for bringing others into her house. He would make sure of it.

  He balled his hands into white-knuckled fists as he looked at the truck the two had come in. Slowly, a smile crossed his face. The truck. It was the key. He would make sure the detective never came to the Otto house again.

  THREE

  I had assumed the house would be stuffy and ostentatious, without a sign the place was even lived in. It turned out, it was cluttered both with books and junk. There were shoes on the floor next to the door and several empty cups lay around apparently wherever Mrs. Otto had set them. There was something so approachable about the whole place, the clutter making it homey.

  “I was about to make some tea. Would you like some?” she asked, her eyes fixed on Erkens.

  Because I could tell she needed something to occupy herself with, I spoke before Erkens could tell her how much he hated tea. “That would be great, Mrs. Otto. Thank you,” I said, aware that sometimes, occupied hands helped to calm nerves.

  She looked at me and smiled, shaking her head. “Dorothy,” she corrected, her chin tipped a little to the side. “I apologize. I was a little distracted when Tiberius introduced you. What was your name again?”

  “I’m Madison,” I told her, looking around the house. “Did something happen? Did you hear or see something?”

  She pursed her lips and fluttered her hands. “Oh, I’m sure it was nothing. I was simply startled,” she said, winking at Erkens. “And when a handsome man shows up to rescue you, it’s a woman’s duty to show him how grateful she is.”

  Erkens shifted back slightly, flicking his eyes around in an uncomfortable way.

  Dorothy let out a titter of laughter and beckoned me to follow her. “Madison is a good, strong name that has a marvelous definition,” she informed, guiding me through the beautiful house.

  The rich, wood floors were covered by rugs that had probably cost thousands of dollars apiece. The ceilings were twenty-feet high, with huge windows looking out onto the property around. There was a slight scent of must in the air like stepping into a library or a museum, a smell that was just as homelike as everything else.

  There were trinkets on every surface, ones that ranged from probably being worth thousands of dollars, to ones that might have been found at a flea market. She was obviously a collector, one who gathered things not for their intrinsic value but for their beauty and uniqueness. I was sure that was her criteria and it made me like her even more.

  I peered around interestedly as she led me into a gourmet kitchen. “Madison is a derivation of the name Maud, which means powerful battler. I assume you go by something more friendly, like Maddie,” she asked me, her eyes alight with joy in the life that was hers.

  My heart twisted. I never allowed anyone other than Ian to call me Maddie. I hoped she wouldn’t tear that wound open for me. “My best friend and her family always called me Maddie,” I said, a feeling of nostalgia passing over me.

  She took out an interesting, painted box that had a Native American feel to it. I watched as she scooped loose leaf tea out of the box, pouring the water from a hot water dispenser onto the concoction.

  She smiled over her shoulder at me as she placed the cover on the teapot. “My husband always called me Dot. I found it charming from him but I can’t say I’d want someone else using that particular name.”

  I kept my eyes fixed on the box she’d taken the tea from. It was a Native American spirit box, one I’d seen in my research.

  It looked like the box that legend stated Coyote and Eagle had stolen in order to have enough light to hunt by. According to the legend, the moon had been stored in one box, the sun in the other. How was it possible that such a precious artifact was being used to
store tea? I examined the kitchen more closely, spotting other even more fascinating objects on shelves built into the wall.

  Dorothy saw where I was looking and smiled. “Ah, yes. My collection is my pride and joy. I have a small museum of fairytale doodads. I’d love to show them to you if you’re interested,” she enthused, as excited as a little kid being asked to show off her collection of toys.

  I lifted a finger to tell her to wait, pulling the chunk of amber Spencer had given me out of my pocket. I stepped over to a few of those priceless ‘doodads’ and held the amber close to them. The clear stone inside would change color when it was around something magical.

  The stone turned a bold purple with streaks of silver through it. Okay, those colors meant magic and purity. I checked a few of the other pieces but there was no black anywhere in the stone. That meant those objects were safe or I hoped that was true, anyway.

  Dorothy’s eyes were fixed on the chunk of amber. “My dear, where did you get that? It’s fascinating,” she said, her eyes not moving from the amber.

  I nodded. “A friend gave it to me. It can help me identify if something is haunted,” I said, glad when Erkens walked into the kitchen.

  It was clear he’d been looking around and it was equally clear he had spotted just as many fabled items as I had seen. It was altogether possible we were in over our heads. Even Erkens couldn’t have dealt with that large an amount of magical items.

  “I think maybe we should see if Spencer can drive out today,” I said, suddenly nervous because of the size of that task.

  Dorothy smiled sweetly at us. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. Being as old as I am, most of my friends have either died or have bats in their belfries by now. I’ve missed having company, especially ones who enjoy my collection as much as I do.”

  I motioned around. “Were you getting a bad feeling from one of your baubles?” I asked, curious if she could have some sort of cursed object in her house.