Homecoming (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller Book 1)

by Scott Langrel

“I’d better be going,” John said, looking a trifle embarrassed.

  “Hold on,” McCoy said as Amanda once again released him from the death grip. “One more thing I need to tell you. Come close.”

  John walked over and lowered his ear toward McCoy’s mouth. McCoy whispered six words. John raised his head and looked questioningly at him, but McCoy just smiled and turned his attention back to Amanda. John left the room puzzled, but he was sure his new friend wouldn’t leave him in the dark for long.

  “The doctor says it may be a while before you run your next marathon,” Amanda said.

  “That’s okay. I was thinking of taking a break from them, anyway. I hope you didn’t break my walking stick.”

  Amanda nodded across the room. McCoy followed her gaze and saw the stick leaning against the wall.

  “And my knapsack?” he asked.

  “In the closet with your clothes. What’s left of them.”

  “Oh God. Tell me my hat’s okay.”

  “Don’t worry. It doesn’t look any worse than it already did.”

  “I’ll ignore that. What about Boo?”

  “Unfortunately, John had it towed into town. They’re working on it, at the town’s expense.”

  “Well, I hope they’re gentle with him.”

  “Finn?”

  “Yes?”

  “Will you promise me something?”

  “If I can.”

  “When you’re up and able, can we go somewhere, just the two of us?”

  “Sure. Where would you like to go?”

  “Somewhere where there aren’t any mountains or forests. Definitely somewhere where there are no Fey. The beach, maybe. How about that?”

  He scrunched his nose. “I dunno. I burn easily.”

  “Finn!”

  “Okay, okay. I guess I could use a break. The beach it is.”

  “Thank you,” she said, not knowing how much she would later rue making the request. She gave him a big, sloppy kiss which ended only when the doctor entered the room, and even then only after he’d stood there several minutes, coughing loudly with embarrassment.

  Epilogue

  John Talbot took a pitcher from the refrigerator and poured himself a glass of iced tea. It was the same refrigerator he had raided as a ravenous teenager, possibly the same one he’d struggled mightily to open as a youngster. He couldn’t be sure about that, but he knew this particular model had been serving the Talbot household for the last twenty years, at least.

  “You want some tea, Dad?” he asked his father.

  Guy Talbot shook his head. “I drink more than two glasses a day, I’m up pissing all night.” He looked with pride upon his only son. John had always said he was going to be a cop, and he had made good on that promise. Now, he was also a hero, and to top that off, probably the next sheriff.

  “I didn’t catch you at a bad time, did I?” John asked.

  “No, of course not. I’m glad you stopped by. Have you heard anything from the town council yet?”

  John took a seat at the round kitchen table. “It’ll probably be tomorrow.”

  “Well, it’s a foregone conclusion, the way I see it.”

  “I guess so. Dad, I know this is going to sound funny, but did anything strange ever happen to you and Mom? I mean, like, before I was born?”

  “Strange? What are you talking about?”

  John tossed up his hands. “I don’t know. Anything out of the ordinary, I guess. Did you see anything odd? Hear strange noises? See a flying saucer?”

  Guy laughed. “Son, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but me and your Momma were about the two most normal, boring folks around. Ask anybody. Flying saucers, geesh.”

  “Yeah,” John said, more than a little embarrassed. “I guess it was a stupid question.”

  “The only excitement we ever had was that time your mother got lost in the woods. Now, that wasn’t strange, but it sure the hell was scary. For me, at least.”

  John perked up. “Mom got lost in the woods? When?”

  “I don’t know. A year or so before you were born, I think. Yeah, it must have been, because we were living on Miller’s Ridge then. We moved to town right before she had you, so we would be closer to the hospital.”

  John’s heart sank. He really didn’t want to hear anymore, but he knew that he had to listen.

  “I was working out at the Cold Ridge mines,” his father continued. “I was on the hoot owl shift, and when I got home that morning, Tessa was nowhere to be found. I’d left her in the house the night before, and I always locked the doors before I left, but when I got there the front door was standing wide open.”

  “I’ll bet you were freaking out,” John said. He felt like he’d just swallowed a sizeable rock.

  “Son, you don’t know the half of it. I went through the house and checked all the rooms, but there was no sign of her. We had a little dog at the time, a Jack Russell named Puddles, and she was missing, too.”

  “I don’t remember that dog,” John said.

  “No, you wouldn’t. We never saw her again. Tessa turned back up, though, about three that afternoon. She’d heard Puddles barking the night before and had gone out to check on her. She’d gone out on the porch just in time to see the dog take off lickety-split into the woods. Of course, Tess being Tess, she followed the mutt. Got lost and spent all night and half the next day wandering around in those woods, trying to find her way back.”

  “And she just came walking back in the next day?”

  “Yep,” Guy gave a sad little laugh, the one he always gave when talking about his wife. “Of course, this was after I had the sheriff and half the town out looking for her. Embarrassed the hell out of her.”

  “Do you remember what time of the year it was?” John asked.

  “Well, it was warm, thank God. If it had been during the winter, she likely would have frozen to death. But it was late summer. August, I think.”

  John had been born in May. He did the math in his head. It added up.

  “That’s some story,” he said. “I don’t think either of you ever mentioned it.”

  “I’d just about forgotten about it until you asked. That was a long time ago. Now, why don’t you stay for supper? I’m no cook, but I’m sure I could round up something.”

  “I’ll have to take a rain check,” John said, rising. “Two of us are trying to cover the county right now. As soon as the council appoints me, if they do, I’ll get some new deputies sworn in.”

  “You call me as soon as you find out,” Guy said. He gave his son a big bear hug. “I’m awfully proud of you, John. I love you. You know that, right?”

  “I know it, Dad. And I love you, too. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  John left the house and walked out to his cruiser. The day was as bright and beautiful as a mid-October day could be. On a day like this, it didn’t seem possible that evil could exist in the world.

  John had always wanted to be a cop, and nothing more than a cop. But he now knew that he was likely something more, and the thought unsettled him more than any other thought he’d ever had. He thought about the words McCoy had whispered in his ear. He wanted to take comfort in them, but he didn’t know if he could.

  You have a destiny to fulfill.

  Big John Talbot climbed behind the wheel of his cruiser and drove off to be a cop, the only thing he’d ever wanted to be.

  Preview of Shadows in the Sand: A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller

  Prologue

  The moon was just rising above the outer rim of the sea when Stef Albright started her walk. The wind coming off the ocean was cool, and she shivered in spite of the fact she’d worn her sweater. Gulls and terns competed with pigeons for scraps of food left by beachgoers earlier in the day. The tourist season wouldn’t start for another month or so, but there was a good share of locals who visited the beach on a daily basis, not to mention the odd vacationer who’d gotten a good deal on a beach house during the off season.

  It wasn’t
like White Pine Island was a hub for the tourist crowd even during the peak of summer. It was more of a retirement community; the houses were older, the residents were older, and there were none of the gift shops and restaurants which littered every square inch of real estate up in Myrtle Beach. White Pine Island sat further off the beaten path, and the full-time residents liked it that way. A few of the houses were rental properties, but not many. Stef could remember a time when none of the houses were rentals, but times changed, and seldom for the better.

  A gull circled her briefly as she walked, casing her for food, then went off in search of better prospects. In the distance, the fading light gleamed off a jet which was making its way to the airport in Myrtle. Stef’s sandals splatted on the damp sand as she walked. Bob called them Jerusalem cruisers, and it never failed to make her laugh when he did so. This particular pair was looking kind of ragged. She made a mental note to pick up another pair the next time she went shopping.

  She often wished that Bob would come with her on her evening walks, but her husband would rather sit on the balcony and watch the sun set with a glass of wine in his hand. True, it was sometimes nice to be alone with her thoughts, but Bob had been putting on weight in the past year or so, and a little bit of exercise wouldn’t hurt him a single bit. Still, trying to get him to tag along was like trying to pull a sore tooth, and she had pretty much given up for the time being.

  Steph’s walk usually took her down to the pier and back unless she was really tired, in which case she only walked about half that distance before turning back. The total distance for a full trip was slightly less than two miles, and she never walked at a brisk pace, preferring instead to take her time and enjoy the sights and sounds of the ocean at sunset. This evening, she intended to go all the way to the pier before turning back toward home, unless the evening wind chilled her too much.

  Her presence startled a group of terns, and they chided her for the intrusion. The sun was almost gone, a mere cuticle peeking above the dark waters of the ocean. The sound of the waves breaking against the beach was hypnotizing. Other than the ocean and the occasional cackling of the birds, the world was silent. The salty, sweet smell of the ocean filled her lungs as she walked. The wind began to pick up slightly, and it stung her bare legs with grains of sand and other debris.

  She stopped as the sound of a radio drifted across the ocean breeze. She looked around for the source of the music but could not pinpoint it. As far as she could tell, she was alone on the beach. There were no houses nearby, and the pier was still half a mile in the distance. She listened more closely and decided that it wasn’t a radio, after all. It sounded like someone singing. The voice was high, like a woman’s voice, and the tune reminded her of a lullaby, or maybe an old blues tune by Billie Holiday. Stef couldn’t make out the words, but they definitely had a sultry feel to them.

  Puzzled, but not overly concerned, she continued her walk. Sounds had a way of behaving strangely on the beach. Likely, she was simply hearing the sound of someone singing from a distance.

  She began to hum as she walked.

  Near the water’s edge, she could see several large shells glistening in the light of the rising moon. Slipping off her sandals, she walked across the wet sand and bent to examine them. One of them was broken and useless, but the other two appeared to be intact. She picked them up and slipped them into the pocket of her sweater.

  She could still hear the singing, and she noticed that she was humming the exact same tune.

  That was strange. The tune wasn’t familiar to her; she was positive she hadn’t heard it before. But here she was, humming along in perfect time and pitch. The singing seemed to be growing louder, as well. Or was that only a trick of the wind?

  She gazed out over the dark ocean and saw someone in the water.

  That was ridiculous. The water temperature was too cold this time of year for all but the most hardy of swimmers, and even then only in the daylight hours. Her eyes had to be deceiving her. She strained harder to make out the object. Surely it was nothing but a buoy or a large piece of debris. Whatever it was, it wasn’t splashing around or making any motions that would indicate swimming. It looked, for all in the world, like someone treading water, their head and shoulders visible as they bobbed along with the ocean’s current.

  Though Steph could not make out any features, she could feel eyes upon her. Suddenly spooked, she stood and began retracing her steps back to her house. She was not in the mood to walk anymore. She simply wanted to return home and join Bob on the balcony, maybe even have a glass of wine herself. The night was getting too chilly, anyway.

  She expected the singing to recede as she walked away, but if anything, it was getting louder. Slowing, she turned and looked back at the sea. The object she had seen was gone. Perhaps the tide had carried it further out. Or perhaps she hadn’t really seen anything at all. The caps of the incoming waves could play tricks on the eyes.

  She caught herself humming again and forced herself to stop. She didn’t want to go back home with a case of the heebie-jeebies; Bob would never let her live it down. The moon was on the rise and it cast a soft illumination upon the beach. The waves danced and twinkled in its light.

  Stef began to feel foolish. At fifty, she should have been well past the age of jumping at shadows. Here she was, in one of the most relaxing places in the world, and her nerves were wound up tighter than Dick’s hatband.

  The wine was sounding like a better idea all the time.

  She was nearly home. The lights from the nearest houses were maybe a hundred yards away. The singing was growing louder, and she supposed it could be coming from this direction. Either someone in one of the houses was singing or they were listening to a radio or CD player. She could make out some of the words, but the song was being sung in a foreign language. It sounded like German, but since Steph didn’t speak German, she couldn’t be completely sure.

  She looked back out at the ocean, saw nothing, and continued walking. There were more shells scattered along the beach here, and she scanned the sand under her feet for some more take-home treasures. Bob would fuss—there were shells piled up everywhere already—but he would get over it. She glanced at her shadow, looked back at her feet, and then froze in her tacks. She looked at her shadow again, and her breath caught in her throat.

  Directly behind her shadow was another shadow. It was longer than her own, indicating a much taller person. When she had stopped, the other shadow had stopped as well.

  Stef turned slowly and deliberately. She was not a large woman, but she had taken a few self-defense classes, and she had always thought that she could handle herself in a situation such as this. The eyes and the groin, she thought. Always go for the eyes and the groin. She remembered one of her instructors drilling that into her. If they can’t see and they can’t walk, they can’t chase you.

  There was a man standing behind her. He was smiling, he was naked, and he looked like the image of a Greek god carved into flesh-colored stone. His beauty was so stunning that Stef was taken aback. All vestiges of fear left her and she stood frozen, entranced by the man’s mere presence. She felt as if she were suffocating, and she suddenly realized she was still holding her breath. She exhaled the stale air and took in a deep lungful of brine-tinged night.

  The man said nothing, but the smile remained. He was tall, maybe six-two or six-three. His hair was dark and tousled, and his skin was a golden bronze. Stef had never before gazed upon anyone so perfect, male or female. She began to feel aroused, and was instantly ashamed. She tried to picture Bob, her husband of thirty years, and was inwardly horrified to find that she couldn’t.

  The man held out his hand as if inviting her to dance. She had no intention of taking this stranger’s hand, and was amazed as she saw her own hand raise and slip delicately into his. The strange singing grew even louder, and her head started to spin. She felt drunk, euphoric. She hadn’t felt this way since she’d tried marijuana back in college, and that had been many moon
s ago.

  The man began to walk toward the ocean. He kept his head turned toward her, his eyes locked on hers, his smile hinting of things she had only dreamed about in her wildest schoolgirl fantasies. A part of her struggled to resist, but her mutinous body followed him anyway.

  Hand in hand they walked into the ocean. She was vaguely aware of the chill of the water as the waves rushed against her bare feet and legs. Where were her sandals? She must have dropped them; she wasn’t carrying them anymore. His hand felt much too cold, but whenever she tried to think about what that might imply, the singing grew louder still and her head swam even more.

  They waded in up to their knees, then their waists. Stef was shivering so badly her teeth were chattering, but she could not take her eyes off his, and she could not stop walking. Soon the incoming waves were washing over her head, and still she walked, until her feet could no longer touch the sandy bottom. She swallowed a mouthful of saltwater and gagged violently. Their eyes never left each other’s.

  They began to move swiftly away from the beach. A small part of her, a part that was aware and screaming for the rest of her to wake up, realized that they were caught in a rip current. Her sweater and denim shorts were soaked, and she was having a hard time keeping her head above water. He was still grasping her hand, but he made no attempt to aid her. He simply stared into her eyes and smiled.

  She swallowed more brine. She could no longer keep her head above the water. They were both under now, and as she stared at him through the dark and churning water, she couldn’t decide if his eyes were blue or green.

  Green, she thought. I do believe they’re green.

  And then the darkness came and carried her away.

  ***

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  Preview of Cold Chills: A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller

  Prologue

  The snow fell wet and heavy, a cause for celebration among the children and a bane for their parents, who were already imagining school closings and treacherous commutes to work. The holidays were looming—a mere three weeks until Christmas—and so the wintry weather was not entirely unwelcomed by the majority of the residents of Shallow Springs. The snow which covered the ground and clung to the limbs of winter-bare trees glistened in the fading light of the day, lending a magical quality to the landscape.