Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  I took the two-lane road that led to the lake, watching the town disappear in the mirror. It was a strange parallel to my life, I thought, as I saw the last of the town’s buildings slide over the horizon. After years of my trying to fit in, the town seemed to be pulling away from me. I flipped the mirror up to the roof, sick of the sight, and decided the best thing to do right now was to focus on the road ahead.

  TWENTY-TWO

  January twenty-first

  My work phone rang, shocking me out of a deep sleep. Realizing how early it was, I began to regret my career choice, and not for the first time. I pawed for the phone and croaked. “Olivia Harmon.”

  “Hey, Olivia,” Jenny’s overly chipper voice chimed back. “Someone called in about a body found in the abandoned mill off of Hungry Hollow Lane. Looks like there’ve been some squatters setting up camp again.”

  “Ian’s on call tonight,” I said, unable to keep from sounding pissy. “You should call him.”

  “Mike told me to call you, so I called you,” Jenny answered in an equally sour tone. “Do you want me to tell him you refused to go?”

  I had already gotten out of bed and started pulling on a pair of jeans before she finished the sentence. “Whatever. Just let him know it’s going to take me an hour to get out there.”

  Tossing the phone onto the bed, I pulled out a t-shirt and warm sweater. I should have gone to bed early, but I wasn’t able to sleep. Charlie’s speculation about a rogue black-market charms dealer left me restless. I spent most of the night poring through textbooks and journals, trying to learn more about these specialized shields. Mostly, it was a waste of time. Lots of useless histories about royals and heads of state using shields as protection during the Burning Times.

  After about the Middle Ages, charms that blocked specific powers fell out of fashion. People had moved to the less effective but more practical personal shield. The academies didn’t even teach single-power charms anymore. And while the history had been fascinating, it gave me nothing to go on. It was well after midnight when I abandoned any hope of contributing to Charlie’s hypothesis. I went to bed defeated, realizing once again my education—or the lack thereof—was failing me.

  After putting on a heavy Carhartt jacket and some hiking boots, I headed out the door, comforted in the knowledge that at least this was something I was good at. The work would do wonders to keep my mind off the killings and my personal issues with the sheriff. I checked the address on the GPS before pulling out of the drive and headed west toward the county line.

  It would take almost forty minutes to get there; I thought about calling Jenny back to let her know I wouldn’t make that hour estimate I’d given her but decided against it. The last thing I wanted to do was to give them a reason to call Ian. Even though I’d been annoyed by the wake-up call, I realized I needed this bit of normality back in my life, so instead I turned on the radio and hit the gas. Six a.m. on straight country roads was prime need-for-speed time, and I was determined to make it to the county line in under thirty minutes.

  With Muse blaring from the speakers, I had reached a nice cruising speed of seventy when headlights flashed from a hidden driveway. Without warning the car pulled out and clipped the back of my SUV, causing it to fishtail and careen out of control.

  Like a sequence from an action movie, everything slowed down. I pulled hard to the left to compensate and careened off the road right into a stand of trees. Suddenly, I found myself playing a high-stakes game of Frogger with the obstacles in my path. My fingers bit into the steering wheel as I tried to make subtle adjustments to avoid tree trunks, all the while keeping my eye on the marshy pond to my right. The one thought that kept going through my mind was that I needed a better score if I was going to die. The car seemed to travel forever through the wood, but in reality my trip was over in mere seconds when I finally failed to miss a good-sized oak. The crunching of metal mixed with Bellamy’s voice proclaiming madness taking control added yet another layer of theatrics to the whole scene.

  Pure luck was the only thing that saved me from serious injury. The car had slowed down considerably before hitting that tree, so the airbag didn’t deploy. With a shaky hand, I turned off the pulsing music and sat there in stunned shock. I could have died with my car wrapped around a tree. Crap, I could have ended up at the bottom of that pond if I hadn’t pulled the wheel when I did.

  It took a few minutes for me to come out of my dazed state, and I began to worry the other driver might not have been so lucky. My cell was now on the floor board; I grabbed it, along with the coroner’s kit, before leaving the car. The black bag didn’t have much in the way of medical supplies, but it did have some basics that could be helpful. Flashlight in hand, I hiked back to the road.

  The car had only traveled a few hundred yards from the pavement, so I was able to get back without incident. When I reached the shoulder, I could see evidence of the impact, but the other car was gone. Just to make sure, I searched both sides of the road until I was sure the other vehicle had left the scene.

  I tried to dial Jenny at the station, but of course, I didn’t have a signal. It seemed to be par for the course, the way my luck had been running. I let loose a long string of obscenities that would have made a longshoreman blush, and headed back to my car, glad I’d worn my heavy outdoor gear.

  For the second time that night, I thanked my guardian angel. Despite the impact with the young oak, the front end showed only minor damage and the frozen ground meant the car hadn’t sunk into the loam. I got back in and flipped on the roof-mounted flood lights. Charlie had laughed at me for having them installed. I was the one laughing now as I put the car into reverse and backed up. With the additional light, I managed to weave my way at a snail’s pace through the trees. When I realized how densely packed they were, I felt a little nauseated. I couldn’t believe I’d managed to avoid killing myself.

  Between the accident and the slow pace at which I drove the rest of the way, it was another hour before I made it to the old mill. But it didn’t seem to matter; the place was deserted. I parked and called the station on my cell.

  “Jenny, you did tell me the abandoned mill by the county line, right? I’m here, but no one else is.”

  “Oh, Olivia,” Jenny said in her soft, squeaky tone. “I left a message with your answering service. You were right.”

  “I was right about what?” The adrenaline from the accident was finally wearing off, and I didn’t have the patience to be polite. “Where the hell is everyone?”

  “You were right about Ian being on call.”

  “Even if that were the case, they’d still be here. You only called me, a little over two hours ago.”

  “Yeah, see, Brad called Ian when he arrived on the scene, and by the time I called you... Well, I guess they were almost done.” She seemed to be dancing around the issue without actually admitting she’d made a mistake.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Knuckles white and nearly cracking my phone in my grip, I lowered my voice to almost in a whisper. I was teetering close to the edge of my control. “Are you telling me, you got me out of bed and sent me on a call after Ian was already there?”

  “I’m sorry if it was an inconvenience, but…”

  I cut her off. “Don’t. Not after what I went through to get here. I was in an accident, so I’m really not in the mood.”

  “Oh, dear. Are you okay? Do you need me to send some help?”

  At least she sounded genuinely concerned, and my anger softened a little. “I’m not hurt. Just a little shook up. The car has some damage, but I was able to drive away.”

  Weariness seeped into my bones, and I really wanted to be at home, curled up in front of a fire with a cup of tea. “Listen, since I’m not needed, I’m going home. Until Ian tells me otherwise, I’m not going to take any calls. Please call him first.”

  I disconnected, tossed the phone onto the empty seat, and pulled back onto the road. As if to add insult to injury, the sun had started to peek
over the horizon; I was going to have to drive the entire way with the morning light blinding me. Screw the tea, I decided, I might start on the Scotch when I got home.

  But despite the crappy beginning, the rest of the day went off without incident. Still, it wasn’t long before I started to climb the walls. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I touched base with Dan, and as expected, nothing was going on at Armstrong’s. I checked my email. There were no new inquires from the website. Resigned to the fact I was going to have take money from the family trust, I pulled out the file and spent the rest of the morning weighing my options.

  Rick pulled me out of an accounting haze around lunch when he phoned to fill me in on his progress. “I’m going to email you some photos. They’re of the high school Bushard attended. Let me know if any of the people look familiar. Maybe someone new that moved to the area or has a vacation house.” I could hear paper rustling in the background. “I also managed to get the medical examiner’s report. I’ll send that too. I’m convinced these cases are related. His car was abandoned by the river. That was the main reason he was suspected of the killings. But they also recovered a charm in the trunk that sounded a lot like the ones from the Malone case. Unfortunately, no one can seem to locate that evidence and there wasn’t anyone skilled in the arts to identify it.”

  I was nodding even though he couldn’t see me. “If there are photos, that might help. Send them too. I left my laptop at work, but I’ll try to look over the information on my phone. If nothing else, I can go into the office and check it out.”

  “Don’t bother. I’m headed home in the morning. I’ll stop by sometime Monday so you have some time to study the files. Unless you find something important—then call me right away.”

  We said our goodbyes, and I was left once again with nothing to do. I tried cleaning; when that didn’t work, I decided to sort through my personal bills. With Spike curled in my lap, I ended up watching TV in my bed until I fell asleep from sheer boredom.

  The next day didn’t fare any better. I scrubbed the bathrooms and reorganized the charm books. And still by three, I was thinking of calling Sally’s just to talk to another living person. I decided reality sucked, and I needed to find something to take my mind off everything. I found a fluffy romance novel in my to-be-read pile and fell asleep on the sofa. The buzzing of the phone woke me at eight that evening, and I answered it with a yawn.

  “Are you okay? I can’t see what’s happening, but something doesn’t feel right.” Charlie’s voice greeted me when I answered the phone. “Brad didn’t show back up and give you trouble? No, you would have called. Did you get arrested? No, that’s not it either. You wouldn’t still have your phone. You’re not hurt, are you? Feeling ill? Please tell me you aren’t cooking? Last time you set the kitchen on fire.”

  “Stop. For once, I’d love it if our conversations started with a hello.” I sighed. I guess it was to be expected. Since she’d confessed her visions were on the fritz, Charlie seemed more manic than usual. I tried to quell her fears. “Yes, I’m fine. And to answer your other questions: No, no, no, no, and that wasn’t my fault. The thermostat was broken on the stove.”

  “Something happened. I can feel it,” she said, dismissing my comment, the urgency still in her voice.

  “I was in a minor car accident this morning, but I’m not hurt and the car is fine,” I said.

  “Accident? You promised you’d stay home this weekend.”

  “I know, but dispatch called for a coroner’s ruling and I had to go to the scene.”

  “They called you?” Her panic was finally under control, but it was replaced with confusion. “Ian was on call. I spoke with him myself. He said you would be off until next week.”

  “It was a mix-up. Everything is square now, and like I said, I’m fine. Please tell me you’re having fun? Or at least drinking. Is the family behaving?” I tried to change the subject.

  “They were on their best behavior, but half of Chicago was at the party. It was nice, but I’m coming home.”

  “Don’t. Please stay. Enjoy the party. I don’t need a babysitter.” Charlie started to argue, and I quickly added, “Rick said he’d stop by soon, if you’re worried.” “Soon” was a relative term. I thought Monday was soon, but I knew Charlie wouldn’t agree so I kept it vague. “He has some things for me to look at. I’m not planning on leaving. No death calls, no trips to the store. I’ll sit tight.”

  “I’m already on my way, but if you’re fine, I won’t come out to the house tonight. Zoe and I haven’t had much time together and I’d like to surprise her. We’ll see you first thing tomorrow for breakfast.”

  “That sounds like a plan. I’m beat anyway. Why is doing nothing so exhausting? I’m going to bed early. I’ll see you in the morning. I love you, Charlie. I appreciate everything you do for me.”

  “I know, sweetie. I love you, too.”

  I picked up my book, grabbed a slice of cold pizza out of the fridge, and headed to bed. But like the annoying albatross it was, the phone buzzed on the nightstand, dragging me out of a contented sleep. The bright light from the screen lit the otherwise dark room, and I opened one eye to check the clock. Three twenty-five a.m. I was trying to remember the last time I’d had a full night’s sleep.

  Fumbling for the phone, I managed to knock over every single object on my night stand. I reached down beside the bed, hoping to find the cell, but no such luck. It buzzed again, and I ended up crawling under the bed before I was able to retrieve it. The buzzing stopped, and since my streak of lousy luck was going strong, while I was still halfway under the bed, the house phone began to ring. I wiggled my way out, then leapt across the rumpled covers as though I were dodging bullets, and just managed to answer it before the voice mail picked up.

  “I’m here,” I said, my voice coming out in short huffs. When no one responded, I spoke a little louder. “Hello? Is someone there?”

  “Olivia, it’s Dan. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had a guest. I mean, I sorry to interrupt.” I could almost hear his blush through the phone.

  “It’s fine, Dan. I just had to run to get the phone. You’re only interrupting my sleep.” I crawled over to the edge of the bed, and tried to slow my breathing. “Is everything all right? Do you need help with a call?”

  “No, I’ve got that covered. I didn’t mean to bother you, but I wasn’t sure what to do. Do you just want me to lock things ups? It doesn’t look like anything was stolen, but I was sure you’d be here by now to have a look.”

  “What are you talking about?” Maybe it was the fact I’d just woken from a deep sleep, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what he was saying.

  “I thought Brad called you. He just left here after taking my statement.”

  “Details, Dan!” The inner bitch was starting to surface. I took a deep breath and tried to remember Dan was trying to help. Help in his own slow, not-getting-to-the-point way. “Start at the beginning, and tell me exactly what’s going on.”

  “I had a pick up around midnight from Green Haven. It was about two thirty and I’d just loaded Mr. West when I got another call. It was the alarm company. Well really, it was the answering service. They called the answering service, but since I’m on call…”

  “Okay, maybe not that much detail. Why did the alarm company call?” At this point, I didn’t need to ask. There was only one reason the alarm company would be calling at two in the morning, but I pressed anyway. “Dan. What’s going on?”

  “Someone broke into Armstrong’s. The police were here, and like I said, it doesn’t look like anything was taken.”

  I looked at the clock and frowned. “It’s been two hours. Why didn’t anyone call me?” Of course, I already knew the answer. I was sure I was persona non grataat the station right now, but that prick should have called me. To be honest, I was surprised Charlie didn’t call. That thought chilled me to the bone. “Tell me Charlie’s fine.”

  “She’s not home as far as I could tell. When I
stopped by to pick up the hearse, her car wasn’t there. When I came back after the call, she still wasn’t home.”

  She had said she wanted to spend some time with Zoe. There was a possibility she had simply crashed at Zoe’s house. “When you got back, did you take a look around? Check her apartment? Dan, why didn’t you call me then?” I snapped at him.

  “Of course I checked,” Dan said sounding defensive now. “Brad said he was calling you. Really. I’ve been waiting here for you to show up.”

  “Crap. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” I hung up the phone and swearing to myself. Was it too much to ask that we have one night and one morning without some crisis?

  TWENTY-THREE

  January twenty-first

  Charlie’s phone went to voicemail the half-dozen times I called on the way in. Zoe wasn’t picking up either. I tried to convince myself it was a good sign. If she was over at Zoe’s, they might have turned off the phones. But I knew that wasn’t likely.

  Dan was waiting for me in the hearse as I pulled in. He met me on the sidewalk as soon as I got out of the car.

  “I’m sorry. I should have called you right off, but Brad said he’d take care of it. He said he wouldn’t be surprised if it was junkies looking for chemicals, and I could give a statement. After he had finished his report, he said he was calling you. I know it’s not a very good excuse, but I feel really bad.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, trying hard not to sound as angry as I felt. I couldn’t blame Dan. He was just following instructions. Brad didn’t have any right to stop Dan from calling me. “This is the first time you’ve had to deal with a break-in. These things happen, unfortunately. This is actually the third time I’ve had to file a report. If you’re on call again and the alarm goes off, I expect to get a call right away.” I could tell he was about to offer another apology, so I cut him off. “Don’t worry about it. Brad was probably right,” I said, the words sour on my tongue. “I’d bet the meth cookers are after the formaldehyde. It’s always the formaldehyde.”