by Terence West
Joanne nodded. "Hurry."
Kelley turned to her right and walked into the computer room. She reached for the light switch on the wall and clicked it. She glanced around the still darkened room and then clicked the switch again. "Bulb's burned out," she announced. Looking around the small room, she could see nothing out of place and the window appeared to be tightly shut. She walked a few steps across the room and placed her hands on the window. She checked the latch with her fingers. It was locked. "Anything?" She yelled across the hall.
"Nothing over here," Joanne yelled back.
Kelley peered out the window to the ground three floors behind her. The wind outside was playing havoc with the trees, tossing them about like they were just saplings. The streets were oddly empty. A lone streetlight at the intersection was blinking a steady yellow light. Kelley shifted her gaze to the apartment complex across the street. A few lights in the building were still on, but a majority of it was dark. She glimpsed something odd on the rooftop. A dark form weaving back and forth as it approached the ledge. It was very difficult to make out against the dark sky behind it, but it didn't look right. It wasn't moving like a person, or even an animal for that matter. A flash of lightning broke through the sky illuminating everything for a brief second. Kelley fixed her eyes on the form across the way. It seemed to be proportioned like a human, but something still seemed off. It suddenly stopped, apparently aware it was being watched. Kelley saw two quick red flashes, then it was gone. She stood staring at the rooftop for a long time before pulling herself away. Turning, she began to walk toward her bedroom. "Joanne?"
No reply.
Kelley stopped when she reached the hallway. The bedroom door was closed. "Joanne, are you all right?" She took the few steps across the hall and stopped. She pressed her ear up against the door and listened. There was nothing but silence. Kelley reached down and wrapped her slender hands around the silver handle and began to twist it. It was unlocked.
Tossing the door open, Kelley stepped inside expecting the worst. Instead, she saw Joanne lying seductively on the bed. A small flickering candle on the nightstand was casting long beautiful shadows across Joanne's shapely, naked body.
Joanne motioned with her fingers. "Come here."
Kelley reached down and undid the tie on her pants. They fell to the floor in a pile. Reaching up, she pulled off her shirt in one quick motion. Sliding her hand behind her back, Kelley unsnapped her bra and slowly let it slip off her shoulders. Sliding her hands unhurriedly down her body, Kelly began to pull off her panties. Now fully unclothed, Kelley crawled onto the bed toward Joanne.
The two began to wrap around each other, legs and arms intertwining as they kissed passionately. As the candle began to fade, neither of them noticed the pair of burning red eyes watching them from the corner.
****
Detectives Enbaugh and Montoya stood quietly amidst the scheduled insanity of the Stone Brook Airport. It was a small terminal that would easily fit inside Miami's International Airport, but it was all they had. There was a large main lobby in the middle of the terminal with several rows of off red plastic chairs running through it. On the far side, several small booths lined the walls containing car rental agencies and magazine stands. On the other wall were the obligatory airline counters with their smiling, bleached blonde, ascot wearing flight attendants. A family of tourists was just entering the terminal through the row of metal detectors. They made their way through the people toward the luggage conveyor. Enbaugh watched with amusement as the father began to curse when he found his leather suitcase scratched. Enbaugh laughed to himself as he turned to his partner.
"Where the hell are these fucking guys?" Enbaugh asked.
Montoya had sank into one of the off red seats next to Enbaugh. Her legs were crossed and her long black trench coat was laid neatly over them. "How should I know?" She checked her wristwatch, "Their plane should've landed over an hour ago."
"I'm giving them fifteen more minutes, then I'm out of here," Enbaugh stated.
Montoya shook her head. "The Captain said we had to extend every courtesy to them. I don't think ditching them at the airport would be very ‘courteous'."
"Who cares?" Enbaugh asked with a shrug. "We don't need the goddamned Ghostbusters on this case." He turned and began to ominously eye the snack counter. "Whatever this is, we can solve it."
"Did you not say you saw some kind of glowing eyes in that house?"
"Probably some fucker in a pair of night-vision goggles. You know those things glow when they're turned on," Enbaugh rationalized.
"Probably," Montoya snickered. Looking away from Enbaugh, she saw another plane begin to pull toward the terminal. She reached up and tugged on his dirty trench coat, "I think our boys have just arrived."
Enbaugh spun around. "Shit. I was hoping they wouldn't make it."
"I know," Montoya said as she stood up. She patted her partner on the back as if he were a child. "Remember to play nice, Jack."
Enbaugh muttered grumpily under his breath. "If they impede my investigation in any way, they're gone. No questions asked."
"Give it up, Jack," Montoya said as they began to walk toward the boarding ramp. "Don't mess this up and piss off the captain again. You're already on thin ice as it is."
Enbaugh had no retort. The two detectives stood silently in front of the large windows. He knew he wasn't in the best of positions, but Enbaugh didn't care. This was his investigation. This was his crime to solve.
They watched as the scant number of passengers quickly moved single file out of the plane beneath the ominous dark sky. Behind it, both detectives could see the black storm clouds hovering over their little town. There had been a small break in the storm, probably the only reason this plane was allowed to land. Enbaugh wondered why the airport was even still open during this mess. The last of the passengers strode onto the tarmac and began to make their way toward the terminal. A group of three was talking amongst themselves as they walked inside. Enbaugh was startled at their appearance. He hoped these weren't the people he was waiting for.
An older man dressed in black walked up to Enbaugh and Montoya and stopped. "Are you from the SBPD?" he asked tentatively.
Enbaugh sighed and nodded. "I'm Detective Jack Enbaugh, and this is my partner, Detective Caroline Montoya."
The older man extended his hand to Enbaugh. "Nice to meet you, Detective. May I call you Jack?"
Enbaugh refused to shake the man's hand. "No."
"Okay," Cane said slowly, retracting his hand. "My name's Zachary Cane," he pointed behind him, "and this is my team. We're with the Office of Paranormal Investigation."
"I gathered as much," Enbaugh said spitefully. "Look," Enbaugh said as he took a step closer to Cane, "You stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours. Got that?"
"Fair enough," Cane said with a nod. "We're here to help you, Detective, not to be a hindrance."
A smile flashed across Enbaugh's face, but was gone as quickly as it appeared. "Good to know that you understand your place, Mr. Cane."
Cane nodded. "We're here as guests of the city of Stone Brook and the Stone Brook Police Department. I don't want to screw that up." Cane cast a quick glance back at Dawn and Bishop. Dawn had a wide-eyed look of disbelief on her face. Cane ignored her for the moment. "Now if you don't mind, Detective, my colleagues and I would like to get a look at the crime scene."
Enbaugh nodded. "We were heading there anyway." He tapped Montoya on the shoulder, "We'll wait for you outside while you round up your baggage."
Cane smiled. "Thanks, Detective." He watched quietly as Enbaugh and Montoya turned and walked out of the terminal.
Dawn grabbed Cane by the shoulder and spun him around. "What the fuck was that?"
Cane laughed. "You can catch more flies with sugar–"
"Shut up," Dawn snapped. "He was talking down to you, to us, like we're a bunch of children he has to babysit."
"I realize that, Dawn."
"Then why did you let him?" She asked.
"Unfortunately, we need the police, they don’t need us. We need to have access to their files, crime scene photos and autopsy reports," Cane stated. "We can't afford to piss them off." He looked back at Bishop, who was standing quietly behind them. "Getting all this?"
"Of course," Bishop said with a nod. "Access to local law enforcement is essential for any good investigation."
Cane grinned. "Very good, now go get our baggage."
****
Chloe Andrews looked over the cabin of the small jet the production company had rented for them. There were just two rows of white seats along the thin center aisle. Members of the crew had dispersed themselves as much as possible. Spotting her target, she adjusted the dark blue skirt she was wearing and straightened her white blouse. She pushed her long, wavy brown hair away from her face and began to walk down the aisle.
"Rivers, we need to talk."
Rivers looked up to see Chloe standing above him. "I've heard that a lot lately." He was sitting with an issue of Cosmo in his lap and a whole pack of nicotine gum in his mouth. He was chewing loudly as he looked at Chloe. He knew it bothered her when he chewed with his mouth open. He was making a conscious effort to open it as wide as he could.
Chloe slid down into the seat across from him. "We need to talk about the shoot. I think it's best if we're on the same page when we arrive."
Rivers chomped louder on his gum. "Sounds like a plan, boss."
Chloe stared at Rivers angrily. "Close your damned mouth when you chew! You look like a pig, Riv."
Coyly, Rivers smiled. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was doing it."
"You're such an asshole."
Rivers smiled broadly. "Thank you."
"Now, can we talk business?" Chloe asked.
"Whatever you want. You're the director."
Chloe stared at Rivers for a moment. She couldn't believe he was acting like this. She shook the thought; she had to power through it. This was her job after all. "I thought we could start with a few exterior shots of the house, then we could move inside to you. I envision you hosting this show from the living room surrounded by your Ghost Chaser teammates."
"Teammates?" Rivers asked.
"We've brought in world-renowned psychic Sam Peters, and a young Wicca practitioner named Morgan LeFay."
"To do…?"
Chloe smiled. "That's the beauty. These people claim to be able to communicate with spirits." She leaned back in her seat, confidence oozing from her.
"Sam Peters," Rivers said to himself. "Hey," he said, snapping his fingers, "Isn't that the guy who used to go on Letterman and bend spoons with his mind?"
Chloe shot him a cross glare. "Don't be ridiculous."
Rivers shrugged, "I was just wondering."
"Look," Chloe said after a moment in a quiet voice, "I realize you're still upset with me for breaking up with you, but the fact remains that we have to work together. Can we at least try and be civil?" She paused, "Besides, from what I read about this place, this could be one of the best episodes of Ghost Chasers, Inc. that we've ever produced." Chloe smiled. "I smell an Emmy."
Rivers stared contently at Chloe across the aisle. "If you remember correctly, I dumped you."
"You're so full of shit," Chloe said, adjusting the thin, wire rimmed glasses on her face. "If I… "she let her thought trail off.”I'm not going to let you suck me back in, Rivers. Our relationship is over. I'm sorry we have to work together, but that's just the way it is. Either you get over yourself, or I have a little talk with Stephen."
"Is that a threat?" Rivers asked surprised.
"You bet your ass it is." Chloe leaned forward, "And I will follow through on it."
Rivers was taken aback. "Since when did you grow a spine?"
Chloe stood up in a huff. "Fuck off." She marched to the back of the cabin and slumped down into a seat.
Rivers leaned back in his chair and quietly giggled to himself. Pulling another piece of nicotine gum out of his pocket, he stuffed it into his mouth. He lifted his magazine and began to read again. This could be more fun than I thought.
Chapter 7
Kelley was wrapped in a tan hospital blanket as she cowered in the corner. A long splash of red blood was covering the right side of her face. She was naked except for the blanket, but at this point, she didn't care. She could be on fire and wouldn't feel any less comfortable. She was slowly rocking back and forth and muttering to herself.
The flash of blue and red alternating lights in her apartment was unnerving her. Most of the furniture in their living room had been moved out of the way to allow the ambulance gurney access. She looked up to see the gurney and two EMTs exiting her bedroom. The white sheet covering Joanne's body was starting to absorb some of her blood, changing it into a sickening maroon color.
Kelley had seen this many times at the hospital and had been trained to overcome it, but it was still gruesome. Usually, she didn't know the person under the sheet, but this time, it was different. This time, it was someone she loved.
She felt a lone tear run down her bloodstained cheek. Quickly wiping it away, she took a deep breath. She didn't want to cry. Not now.
Two officers dressed in black emerged from the hallway and approached her. They were both dressed in the black uniforms of the SBPD, but they had clear plastic covering their hats and long black vinyl trench coats on. The first officer knelt down next to Kelley. "What happened here?" he asked as he tilted his hat back on his head.
Kelley remained quiet. She knew if she opened her mouth, she would scream.
"Miss," the officer said politely, "can you tell us what happened here?"
Kelley stayed quiet.
The other officer looked at Kelley. "Were you the one who called 911?"
Kelley looked up at the dark-skinned man and nodded.
"That's good," the man said, "That's good. Now, can you tell us what happened to your roommate?"
Kelley inhaled an uneven breath. "She wasn't my roommate," she said quietly. "She was my girlfriend."
"I'm sorry," the officer said. "I didn't know."
"Everything's going to be okay." The officer in front of her placed his hand on her exposed knee to try and calm her.
Kelly recoiled in terror. "Don't touch me!" Kelley screamed.
"Whoa," the officer said as he pulled away. "I didn't mean anything by it." He looked up at his partner. "Maybe we need to have the EMTs take a look at her."
The other officer sighed. "That's probably our best bet right now. She's not in any condition to tell us anything."
Kelley watched as the officer in front of her stood up and began to walk away. She wrapped the tan wool blanket tightly around her body and lowered her head. She knew the police were just trying to do their job, they were just trying to help her, but she couldn't bring herself to cooperate. Not after what she had just been through. A shiver ran down her spine as a wave of nausea settled in the pit of her stomach. Dropping to her hands and knees, she felt the contents of her stomach surging up her esophagus. She vomited again and again. Each time her muscles seized, holding her in that unnatural position.
She fell back against the wall, her naked body trembling and her abdomen aching from the vomiting. She was exhausted. She knew sleep would make her physically feel better, but that was the last thing she wanted to do right now. She couldn't even bring herself to blink; lest she see those eyes again, those evil red eyes.
****
The rain had begun to fall again as they arrived at the Grant House. Mighty bolts of lightning arced across the charcoal gray sky in magnificent, but brief, dances. The wind had also picked up. Smaller trees were bending in submission while larger ones tried to remain firm. Katrina had mutated from a tropical storm to a full-blown hurricane that was just resting off the western coast of Florida. Residents were being advised to seek shelter or evacuate the area.
Enbaugh brought his beat-up blue car to a screeching stop in the driveway, followed by the black SUV the OPR had rented at th
e airport. He kicked the automatic transmission into park and popped open the door. Stepping out into the rain, he pulled his trench coat more closely around himself and pushed his fedora tightly on his head. He watched as the three members of the OPR exited their vehicle and walked toward him.
"This is the place," Enbaugh said loudly over the howling wind.
"I get the feeling you're not accompanying us inside, Detective," Dawn observed.
Enbaugh shook his head. "Nothing could get me back into that house." He reached into his jacket pocket and removed a small white business card. "Here's my number. When you're done, give me a call and I'll come and get you."
Cane graciously accepted the card. "Thank you, Detective. We will be in contact."
Enbaugh spun around and retreated to the dryness of his car. Shifting the car back into gear, he pulled quickly out of the driveway and took off. Bishop and Dawn stood amazed in the pounding rain.
"You think he doesn't like this place?" Bishop asked sarcastically.
"I sense that," Dawn smiled.
Cane began walking back to their vehicle. "Let's start unloading the equipment. I'm anxious to see what's inside." He stopped behind the black SUV and lifted the gate. He looked at the two silver trunks and assorted bags. "Bishop," he shouted, "help me with this first trunk."
Bishop glanced at the trunk. It was made of polished silver metal with rivets running along all its edges. It looked like it would survive almost anything. Two handles were recessed into either side of the case. Cane grabbed the ones facing him and began to slide the case out of the back. Bishop reached around and snatched the other handle and helped Cane pull it the rest of the way out.
"Jesus," Bishop said while holding the trunk handle with both hands. "How much does this stuff weigh?"
Cane looked at the trunk, "A rough estimate? Probably around two hundred pounds of equipment in here." Cane looked back at Dawn. "Grab bags three and five and bring them in, will you?"
Dawn nodded and started to sort through the black duffel bags arranged next to the second trunk.
"Let's get this inside," Cane instructed them.
