Frayed Edges - A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book Seventeen) (Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mysteries Series 17)

by Terri Reid

  Frayed Edges

  A MARY O’REILLY PARANORMAL MYSTERY

  (Book Seventeen)

  by

  Terri Reid

  FRAYED EDGES – A MARY O’REILLY PARANORMAL MYSTERY

  by

  Terri Reid

  Copyright © 2016 by Terri Reid

  All rights reserved. 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, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  The author would like to thank all those who have contributed to the creation of this book: Richard Reid, Sarah Powers and Hillary Gadd. Also, thank you to Jennifer Bates, John and Vicki Daley, and Virginia Onines for the time they took to beta read this book.

  She would also like to thank all of the wonderful readers who walk with her through Mary and Bradley’s adventures and encourage her along the way. I hope we continue on this wonderful journey for a long time.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Chapter Fifty-four

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Prologue

  The super moon loomed over the harvested cornfield, its bright yellow glow illuminating the rows of stubbled plants and occasional missed ear of corn. Those forgotten ears of corn were exactly the prize honor student Ruth McCredie was pursuing. Parking her late-model car in the parking lot of the Convention and Visitors Bureau across from the field, Ruth then made her way across the country road, jogging slightly to the north to avoid being seen by passing vehicles on busy Highway 20. She didn’t think what she was doing was illegal, but she didn’t want to have to explain why she was walking through a cornfield at nearly midnight.

  Standing on the edge of the ditch separating the road from the field, Ruth looked around. The moonlight was so bright that she stuck her flashlight into her backpack with a shrug and started across the ditch without it. The ditch was steep and she nearly lost her footing as she climbed up on the field side, but digging her hiking boots into the soft dirt, she was able to catch herself and reach the other side.

  Stopping at the edge of the field, she looked down at the ground, scanning it quickly. She knew the outside perimeter of the field was the most vulnerable spot, so she needed to grab samples from this area quickly and move on toward the center of the field. She finally spotted a nearly complete ear of corn, its browned husk curling at the edges. She knelt down, picked it up and separated the protective leaves and fine strands of silk. The corn inside looked perfect, untouched by raccoons and insects. Pulling a plastic bag from an outside pocket of her backpack, she placed the ear inside the bag, sealed it and wrote on the outside with a black marker. “October 27, 2015. Exterior row. Southeast quadrant. Near Gund Cemetery.”

  Sliding the filled bag into her backpack, she sighed with satisfaction. This was going to work. The samples from this final field would be enough to prove her theory. She was bound to ace this class and, if she was lucky, qualify for the scholarship.

  Zipping her backpack up, she stood and moved across the field, stepping over the rows rather than walking down them to get to the center of the field. The crop had been recently harvested, so depending on whether the tractor wheels had rolled down the row, the ground below her varied from very soft dirt to hard, compacted soil. She walked carefully, looking down at the ground, not knowing what kind of footing to expect, and not wanting to fall and cut her hands on the sharply spiked harvest remnants.

  Hearing movement ahead of her, she froze, her heart thumping in her chest. She looked up and released a sigh of relief as she watched a small herd of white-tailed deer run swiftly along the edge of the field that bordered the Gund Cemetery. She watched them leap gracefully across the rows that she had been struggling to cross. “Show-offs,” she chuckled softly, then shook her head with resignation and continued her trek. A similar noise ahead of her did not distract her this time from her progress. The super moon was probably confusing the deer population from knowing whether it was daytime or night, she decided.

  “I wonder if there have been any studies researching deer movement during the full moon,” she mused softly as she stepped over an unusually high row.

  Stopping, she looked around, getting her bearings. She was about in the middle of the field, she decided. This would be a good place to get a few more samples. She looked back at the row she was standing in and saw four ears laying in the dirt.

  “Perfect,” she said, reaching back for another plastic bag. “These will be great.”

  Hurrying down the row towards the ears, she was surprised to hear a crack in the distance. Before
she could react, she felt the blow of the bullet entering her body. She stared, wide-eyed, at the blood blossoming across her sweatshirt.

  “I’ve been…” she began, more bewildered than afraid, but then her knees gave out and she fell to the ground. The soft earth absorbed the impact from the fall, but a sharp stalk scraped her face. She gasped in pain, but the gasp gave way to choking as her life ebbed away, the rich, brown soil absorbing her blood.

  Chapter One

  “Corn pudding?” Bradley called from the bathroom, his voice a mixture of horror and disgust. “Who in their right mind puts corn in pudding?”

  Mary leaned against the doorjamb, enjoying the sight of her husband dressed only in a towel while he leaned over the sink, peering into the mirror as he shaved. The smells that were carried in the bathroom’s steam were uniquely male, cedar, musk and a slight hint of mint.

  She inhaled deeply and sighed her approval. Bradley turned sharply to look at her. “Are you okay?” he asked, concern furrowing the lines between his eyes.

  She smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m fine,” she said. “I was just enjoying the moment.”

  He shook his head, mystified. “What moment?”

  She mentally rolled her eyes. “The moment of standing here, watching my incredibly sexy husband with only a towel draped around his waist shave his face,” she said. “It’s a very sensual experience, from the scent of male in the air, to the sound of your razor against your face.”

  Grinning, he picked up a hand towel and wiped off the excess shaving cream. “You think I’m sexy?” he asked.

  Chuckling, she walked towards him, fingering the edge of the tucked in towel. “I know how you could be even sexier,” she whispered up to him.

  Passion filled his eyes for a moment, and then it was replaced with remorse. “I can’t,” he said. “I’ve got an eight o’clock meeting with the mayor. I can’t miss it.”

  She sighed, but this time it was filled with regret. “I know,” she agreed. “I’ve got places to go, too. It was just…”

  He bent down and kissed her slowly and deeply. “A really good idea,” he finished for her as he lifted his head. “And one that I promise to take you up on this evening.”

  “Promise?” she teased.

  “More than promise,” he replied.

  He moved past her into the bedroom, opened his dresser and pulled his underclothes out. “So, what do you have planned for today?” he asked. “You’re not dressed for the office.”

  She looked down at her maternity flannel shirt and jeans and nodded. “I’m going out to Gund Cemetery again,” she replied.

  He stopped halfway through pulling a t-shirt over his head and looked at her. “Okay, remind me again, Gund Cemetery?”

  Sitting on the edge of their bed, she nodded. “It’s out near the Visitors Center,” she said. “And it’s still an active cemetery. But in the late 1800s a town a little north of the cemetery got hit with the cholera epidemic. It was so bad, so many people died, that all the few survivors could manage was a mass grave instead of individual ones. The survivors planted an oak tree in remembrance of the dead, hoping it would be enough to help them pass over. But, whether it was because of the suddenness of their deaths or the lack of a proper burial, many of the spirits are still hanging around.”

  He shrugged into his shirt. “You’ve been out there a number of times,” he said. “Don’t they want to cross over?”

  Mary nodded. “Yes, they do,” she explained. “But they’ve been dead for over a hundred years, so some of them are pretty shy about letting me approach them. The children were easy, most of them have crossed over now. It’s the adults that are the hardest.”

  Bradley shook his head. “You constantly amaze me,” he said with an admiring smile. “How many people would stand in a cemetery in the middle of November to help dead people cross over?”

  She laughed. “Um, not too many,” she agreed. “Most people probably wouldn’t even think it was a thing to do.”

  He shrugged. “Well, okay, that’s true,” he agreed, coming over to stand next to the bed. “But you, my darling wife, are amazing.”

  She smiled up at him. “And you trust me?” she asked.

  “Completely,” he replied, lowering his face towards hers.

  “Good, so I can put corn pudding on the Thanksgiving menu?” she inserted, just before their lips touched.

  He pulled back and stared down at her. “That was tricky,” he said.

  “Uh-huh,” she grinned back.

  He rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll try it. But I don’t think I’m going to like it.”

  She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, believe me,” she said, pulling him down towards her. “You’re going to love it.”

  After the kiss, Bradley slipped his arms to her waist and held her while he looked into her eyes. “All kidding aside,” he said seriously, “are you sure you should be taking on Thanksgiving and a surprise birthday party for Clarissa?”

  “I’m fine,” she insisted. “I have two more months to go, and I feel really healthy and strong. Besides, this is Clarissa’s first birthday with us, and it needs to be special.”

  “It doesn’t need to be an extravaganza,” he argued. “We could just have ice cream, cake and a few presents.”

  Mary shook her head. “We need to make up for all those parties we missed,” she said. “Besides, we need to give her a little extra attention before Mikey is born. I really want to do this.”

  Sighing softly, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently. “You will promise me that you’ll ask for help if you need it?” he demanded softly.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “I promise I’ll call in the troops if I feel overwhelmed.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “But don’t wait until you’re overwhelmed, and don’t go crazy. You’re her mother, not her fairy godmother.”

  “Her mother,” Mary repeated softly, her eyes widening in shock. “Crap.”

  “What’s wrong?” Bradley asked.

  Shaking her head, Mary stepped away from him. “Nothing,” she insisted. “Nothing at all. I just remembered a promise I made.”

  “That’s it?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

  “Yes,” she said with a wide and, she hoped, innocent smile. “That’s it.”

  She waited until Bradley went downstairs before she rushed across the room and tossed open the closet door. First she lumbered down to her hands and knees to search behind the shoes and boxes on the floor. Then she pushed the hung clothing to the side to see if there was anything caught behind them. Finally, she pulled a chair over and climbed up to search the shelves. She pushed shoeboxes and plastic storage cases to the side, searching desperately when she finally saw the white, crumpled shopping bag from a chain fabric store. “There it is,” she muttered as she reached as far as she could to catch hold of the corner of the bag.

  Pulling it out, she slowly climbed down from the chair and then sat on it, pulling out the partially finished pink quilt. “Sorry, Jeannine,” she whispered. “I nearly forgot I promised to finish this for her. I’ll get it done for her birthday.”

  Carefully folding it and placing it back in the bag, she laid it on her bed. “I can do it,” she said to herself. “How hard can quilting be?”

  Chapter Two

  “Do I really have to go to school today?” Clarissa asked as she sat at the kitchen table eating her breakfast. Lucky, her black kitten, sat beside her on her chair, batting at a ribbon in Clarissa’s hair.

  “Of course you do,” Bradley replied. “Why would you want to stay home?”

  Turning in her chair to face her father, she shook her head in excitement. “Because it’s almost Thanksgiving and Grandma and Grandpa O’Reilly are coming to stay with us and there’s so much to do!”

  Chuckling, Bradley shook his head. “Well, it’s only Monday, so we have a few more days to wait until Thanksgiving,” he said. “And Grandma and Grandpa won’t be comin
g until Wednesday. So, why don’t you try to concentrate on school for at least a couple more days, okay?”

  Picking up a spoonful of oatmeal, Clarissa sighed. “Fine, I guess.”

  “Fine, I guess,” Bradley mimicked, making sure his voice was sadder and more pathetic than Clarissa’s. “I hope you survive.”

  Trying to hide a giggle, Clarissa shook her head. “Everything in this world takes so long.”

  “Tell me about it,” Mary said, sitting down next to them at the table. She winked at Clarissa. “Can you remind me how long I’ve been pregnant?”

  Shrugging her shoulders and with a twinkle in her eyes, Clarissa turned to her mother and replied, “At least three years. Or maybe even longer.”

  Mary nodded. “Exactly what I thought, too,” she replied, placing her hands on her belly. “Hey, Mikey, it’s time for you to move out of there and get a life.”

  Laughing, Clarissa leaned over so she was close to Mary’s belly. “Hey, Mikey, if you come before Christmas, Santa will bring you stuff.”

  They were all delighted when Mikey moved inside Mary, causing her belly to shift sideways. “Well,” Mary said with a laugh. “Looks like he’s packing his bags.”

  She looked over at Clarissa. “So, what’s in the plans for school this week?” she asked.

  “We are learning about the pilgrims,” Clarissa said. “And about the first Thanksgiving.”

  “That’s cool,” Bradley replied. “Make sure you ask your teacher if they served corn pudding for dinner.”

  “Bradley,” Mary said, lightly slapping his arm. “That’s not nice.”

  Chuckling, he stood up, gave both Mary and Clarissa a kiss and then slipped on his coat. “Okay, no more corn pudding jokes,” he said. “But can we at least have pumpkin pie for dessert?”

  “With whipping cream,” Clarissa added.

  “Well, of course,” Mary said. “And apple pie, and cherry pie, and probably something even more delicious because Rosie is bringing a dessert.”

  Bradley paused and looked down at his waistline. “Yeah, maybe I’ll jog to work this week,” he said.