The Cathville Haunting (Jack Raven Ghost Mystery Book 2)

by Robin G. Austin

  “Didn’t get a name. Is Holt the one who took the poppet doll? We need to get that back.” Levi gets out his leather notebook and writes himself a poppet reminder.

  “Forget about the doll.” I’m about one breath away from telling Levi about Holt, but a lecture about my sassy attitude would unravel my nerves right about now. “Doing the job means doing it right. I’m not leaving work still on the table.”

  “Again, point is this so called undone work, doesn’t much matter. Emma’s almost certain that Dexter is getting out on bail tomorrow. I plan on being at the hearing, and it would sure be nice to tell the man that you’re close to finishing the job he hired you to do: getting rid of the ecto-mist. Who, what, why aren’t the point.”

  “Point—

  Levi waves his cornbread in my face. “If the police and the court make a mess of things after we leave, it’s not on my head. My job was to clear the man’s name, and now that they’re investigating Roland, that job is about done. Forget Kylee, find the ecto-mist, and let’s get out of Cathville.”

  “Point is,” I say, kicking him under the table. “If Silas tells me where Morowa’s buried and what really happened to Kylee, I can finish the job and get it done right.”

  “You’re imposing your Navajo beliefs on a woman who practiced voodoo. Who knows what she wants. For all you know, those bones mean nothing to her at all. It’s not like she’s using them anymore.”

  The waitress brings Levi a piece of possum pie with ice cream even though he didn’t order it. She brings me the check. They exchange winks and Levi laughs at me. He starts to give me a bite of pie, jerks it back, and eats it. It’s the third grade all over again.

  Once we’re back on the road, I tell him I don’t think Dexter’s guilty of anything more than adultery. Not guilty, but not innocent either.

  Levi’s done listening.

  As soon as we’re back in the trailer, I search for information on yarb doctors. Other than some personal blogs and forums, there isn’t much on the subject in cyberspace. People like Silas probably don’t even know the internet exists, and don’t want to know. Since they’re the ones with the knowledge, nothing much is getting written.

  I do another search for Kylee and Roland. Her name’s been removed from Dexter’s real estate website, and the same small article about her murder is all I find on her.

  There’s an even smaller article about Roland being questioned about his wife’s murder, while implying that he’s helping the police in their investigation. No wonder Holt’s angry at me, beyond my attitude; we’re messing with his kinfolk, and I’m an easier target than Levi.

  An hour before my mid-nit rendezvous, I gather my things while listening to Levi try to talk me out of going. He tells me he’ll be watching, and I warn him not to since I know Silas won’t show up if any eyes are on him.

  “I’m not afraid of Silas,” I say. My words are hollow, but I don’t doubt them. I trust my sixth sense and they say he’s weird and powerful, but not dangerous... entirely.

  By the time I’m ready to go, Levi’s sulking.

  “I can’t not go,” I say. “This is what I do. Trust me to handle things my way. You can come if you hear me screaming. Otherwise, I’ll be back when I’m done.”

  I head for the lone piece of police tape still tied to the snake tree. The fog is thick and wet and I’m shivering despite layers of clothes.

  I’m searching in all directions for an ecto-mist face, but nothing catches my eye. After I spread a layer of rock salt in a circle, I light a candle and my smudge stick and say a prayer that I don’t burn down any trees. Then I crawl in my sleeping bag and throw a blanket over my head with the intention of not freezing to death while I clear my mind. Clearing my mind of my fears and doubts would sure come in useful right now.

  Mojo is beside me under the blanket, his chin rests on my bent leg. We’re listening in sync to the frogs, which have worked themselves into a creepy rhythm like voodoo drumming. I’ve already accepted that I won’t hear Silas approach. With the critter music that I assume he’s orchestrated, I figure he’s making sure I don’t.

  I slip my phone from my pocket and check the photos and the time and turn it off again. Thirty more minutes. I’m facing the hill and leaning against the snake tree trying to sense the messages imbedded in its smooth bark. I focus on my breathing and the frogs and start to drift off. Not sleep, not consciousness either.

  The wolfdog lifts his head and slips from under the blanket. My breathing is deep and my body weightless. I hear footsteps approaching, but they’re not coming from the hill. I shake my head and hands to get out of my trance.

  The footsteps stop and start again. They’re coming from the road and they’re not the silent steps of a hillfolk. I slide the blanket off my head and see a shiny flash in the distance, one that’s small and quick. The footsteps stop. Another few seconds and they start again. I see a tall figure, bulky with an uneven step that I know isn’t Silas.

  My jacket is stuck in the zipper of the sleeping bag. It’s impossible to free myself without making a racket in these woods, which are now oddly muted. A flashlight blinds my eyes. The fabric slips out of the zipper, and I roll to my side to crawl into the brush.

  The sleeping bag has followed me, and I kick it away while trying not to make a sound. I lie flat in the wet grass as the bulky figure gets closer. In the flashlight’s beam is a hand pointing a gun my direction.

  I’m trying to scoot back farther when there’s a scream so loud I think it’ll wake the dead. I’m frozen with my mouth wide open. Then I’m crawling to my phone, fumbling with the buttons, snapping photos of the ecto-mist, especially its face. A face that not even a kid with Photoshop could create. It’s exciting, thrilling, surreal, and cruel all at the same time.

  After his psychotic scream, Lieutenant Ollie Holt hit the ground, ironically, face down. A dozen or so clicks of my camera, and the man still hasn’t moved an inch.

  Chapter Thirty Four

  §

  When the ecto-mist floats into the woods, I start to follow. If Holt hasn’t already taken his last breath, he will soon if I don’t get his face out of the dirt. I’m tempted to leave him anyway.

  I grit my teeth and go to check on the man who had my murder on his mind. There’s a figure running from the direction of the trailer. As soon as it gets in the beam of Holt’s flashlight, which is beside the man, I see Levi charging with a tree branch in one hand and a steak knife in the other.

  “Don’t run with that. You’ll fall and I’ll have two bodies to deal with.”

  “What’s going on? Who’s that? Did you scream? Didn’t sound like you. Is that Silas?”

  “Calm down. Seriously, put the knife down. You’re going to hurt yourself. It’s Lieutenant Holt.”

  “Is he dead? Did you kill him?”

  I turn Holt over while Levi shines the light in his face.

  “Looks dead to me,” he says, as he kneels down to check for a pulse. According to Levi, Holt doesn’t have one. “I learned CPR in prison. Call 911 while I try to get his heart started.”

  “They teach prisoners CPR? Talk about irony.” I call for help and about the time we hear sirens, Levi has Holt breathing on his own.

  It’s half past midnight and I’m scanning the woods for Silas, who I figure wasn’t the note writer after all. Still that doesn’t mean the man didn’t show up and watch everything, and maybe send Morowa to the rescue.

  When we see the ambulance’s lights on the dirt road, Levi goes to flag them in. I shine the flashlight in Holt’s dirty face. “Something you came out here to talk to me about? Or did you have other plans on your mind for mid-nit? And more importantly, how did you know about that snake?”

  Holt’s leaning up against a rock, breathing like he’s run a marathon. His buggy eyes look at me before they dart away to where we saw Morowa. He’s acting like he wants to get up and bolt, but his body won’t let him.

  I hear him wince as his eyes search the ground around him.
I’m assuming he’s searching for his gun, which he won’t see again until Emma turns it over to the Chief– hopefully after they have it tested for the gun that killed Kylee. His eyes meet mine for a second, all I see is fear; it’s almost hard not to feel smug.

  Around two o’clock, the police finish taking my and Levi’s statements and let us go back to the trailer. I was told I needed to cooperate when I demanded to know why Holt was on the property at midnight. That’s when I decided to give Emma the note at the same time I hand over the man’s gun.

  After searching the area, I was told they didn’t believe me when I said I had no idea where Holt’s weapon went. The man would be a fool to claim he had it pointed at me just before he saw a vaporous mist with a face– just prior to suffering a heart attack, and quite fittingly, dying in a clump of dirt– a state he’d still be in if not for Levi.

  Before the officers left, they strung more police tape around a wider area and warned me and Levi not to set foot in it. They took my rock salt so it could be tested for an illegal substance, and said they’d be back at daylight to search for Holt’s missing gun.

  “What happened out there tonight?” Levi asks, after he closes the trailer door and crawls into his sleeping bag.

  I’ve been suppressing my excitement for so long, I almost forgot what happened. “I saw her. Morowa.” I grab my phone. “I’ve got proof. She was incredible, and she may have saved my life. Holt came out here to kill me.”

  “You have his gun, don’t you?”

  “Not on me. Look,” I say, handing Levi my phone. “They’re a little light, but she’s definitely not fog or smoke. Dexter was right, an actual face. Amazing. I’ve got to get back out there and find her. I can’t believe Holt messed this up for me. I should have left him in the dirt.”

  Levi’s clicking through the photos on my phone. “It’s barely more than fog. Maybe one with eyes. You need to put these on your website.” He tosses my phone back.

  “I’m afraid the cops are out there waiting for me, spying on me.”

  “Because you’ve got Holt’s gun. Why didn’t you give it to them? You could go to jail for this.”

  I give Levi a dah stare. “Why did he point it at me? Why was he even out here? Why are the cops so worried about that gun? Could it be that it’s evidence in a woman’s murder?”

  “Could it be he was just patrolling the area? You heard the other cop say Holt was on duty tonight. The man saw the smudge smoke and someone in the woods, so he pulled his gun out to be safe.”

  “Logical, but not probable. He knows we’re on the property, so he should have assumed it was us. And at mid-nit?” I take a deep breath. “We had a disagreement last evening. He made it clear that I’m not welcome in town or on this property. He also seemed put out about any role I have in helping Dexter get out of jail.”

  “He did? Why didn’t you mention it? You think the note was from him and he’s the killer? What was his motive? Have you been giving the man a piece of your mind?”

  “Don’t start on the lectures. He was a total jerk when I called about the poppet, and we had a falling out about him helping me find you when you disappeared. Plus, he has Roland on speed dial.” I’m on a roll now and can’t stop myself.

  “I think he’s got something to hide, and that he’s been watching me and having others watch me too, like people at the Waffle Griddle.”

  Levi grunts and shakes his head. “Nobody’s watching you at the Waffle Griddle. They like me.”

  “I’ve noticed. When I talked to Jessica Juniper, she said Silas couldn’t read or write. She didn’t come across as all that reliable about Silas so I doubted what she said. Looks like she was right and Holt set me up. Whoever wrote it isn’t important now. I need to get back out there and find Morowa. I’m leaving Silas a note on the hill just in case it was him who planned on meeting me.”

  “Why haven’t you been telling me these things? Sounds like Holt’s in cahoots with Roland. Sounds like he’s covering things up for his in-law. Busting a dirty cop would be good for my reputation. It’s something I could put on my website. You get a photo of Holt out there? One with his face in the dirt would be perfect.”

  “No. The photos of Morowa don’t do her justice. Her face was clearer. Try telling Holt it was barely more than fog. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  Mojo gives me an are you kidding me look. “Stay if you want,” I tell him, as he pushes past me out the door.

  “You ever think about getting a day job, one in an office?”

  “Never,” I say, closing the door.

  First thing I have to do is check for cops. I hunch down and go the long way through the brush to the road. After ten minutes of waiting and watching, I decide I’m alone. I climb the hill and slip my note to Silas between a tree and a rock. “Sorry if I missed you,” I yell. I go back to the snake tree and slip under the police tape.

  “Come on, Morowa. Let’s get this over with.” I crawl back into my sleeping bag and light my smudge stick and candle.

  “I know you’re here, Morowa. Know that I’m here to help you crossover. I think you have some unfinished business that we need to address first. Maybe some of it has to do with Kylee Price. Whatever you need, I’ll do all I can to make it right. Otherwise, I need to know how to take off the cuss. Just tell me how, and I’ll do my best.”

  I listen to the silence and watch the fog as it surrounds me. I’m willing it to take form. “If you want to tell me what happened to Kylee,” I say, and wait. “I promise I’ll do what I can to make whoever killed her pay. Lodell says I’m not here by coincidence. He says I need to listen for your truth, and I am. Morowa, tell me what it is that you need to finally find peace.”

  A coyote howls in the distance. Mojo is watching the hill and ignores it. His amber eyes scan the trees behind me and he creeps slowly around the tape, his head’s dropped below his shoulders. My breathing is slow and shallow, the frogs are quiet again.

  I sense a presence. It’s like a kundalini snake crawling up my spine inside my body. I don’t need an awakening, I need an answer.

  I stand up to shake off the sensation. The smell of pine and pumpkin spice is so thick, I can feel it in my throat. An owl hoots three times, and I know I’m not alone.

  “Morowa, your presence is requested. Come forth and make yourself known. Speak your truth that was left unsaid in life.”

  Mojo’s gone to stand at the hill. He’s turned back to me; his eyes are bouncing in the candle’s light as he walks my way. I watch for Silas to appear over the hill, and shake my head to clear my thoughts of him.

  “Morowa, your presence is reques— My throat catches just as a heavy hand grips my shoulder.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  §

  “Don’t be scared none.” His voice is slow and as thick as pea soup and not at all twangy anymore.

  Over my shoulder, which he’s still holding tight, he blows smoke that’s not like any tobacco I know. It’s that sweet, spicy scent I’ve been smelling.

  “Hello, Silas,” I say, feeling lightheaded and calmer than I should. Mojo is laying at the bottom of the hill watching us.

  “Hello, Jack,” he says, removing his hand and walking around to face me.

  I pull back without meaning to and he steps to my side. He looks even thinner up close, if that’s even possible. His skin is dark, his long hair is smooth and straight. His eyes are so black it’s hard to tell where the pupils start, or if they even do.

  “Are you here to tell me who killed Kylee, or do you plan on helping me contact Morowa? I’m hoping both.” My voice sounds rough like my throat is drier than it feels. I’m not even sure it’s me who’s speaking.

  “You need to come with me.” He blows more smoke in my direction, but I don’t see that he’s smoking anything.

  I bat the smoke away and walk around him. “What is that stuff?”

  “Cudweed’s all,” he says, walking to my side. “Won’t hurt you none. Calm you down some. Let you
see across the veil.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t need drugs to do that.”

  It looks like he’s laughing at me, but I can’t hear anything beyond the squeaky chirping of bats, whose shadow shapes I can see in the thousands, whose eyes are like Christmas lights watching from the trees.

  I shake my head and move away from the man again. Mojo has come to stand beside him. “You need to answer my question. Are you here to—

  “I said you need to come with me.”

  “Not until you tell me where we’re going.”

  He nods his head to the far end of the property and starts walking. Mojo looks at me and follows him. I wonder how much of the cudweed smoke the wolfdog’s inhaled.

  I follow at a distance in Silas’ footsteps, as best as I can in the dark. I know the air is cold, but I can’t feel it anymore. When a full moon that I didn’t notice before slips behind the clouds, the eyes of deer shine like silver coins from a line of trees. I hope they’re deer anyway.

  A stream of smoke trails after Silas, and I wave it away. Now I can see he has a pipe and he’s packing it with more of his cudweed, whatever that is. We’re headed to the place where the surveyor saw the ecto-mist, and I’m good with that in a distressing sort of way.

  I’m not afraid of Silas the way I would be tagging after a stranger in the dark on your average American street. I respect his powers while questioning his intentions in using them. I stumble on a rock and catch myself. When I look up I’m alone. I scan the trees and brush and call for Mojo.

  “We’re here,” Silas says, from inches behind me. “This way.” He disappears into the trees.

  I shouldn’t follow a man into the woods who can make himself and a dog disappear. Still I’m going to, but not before closing my eyes, taking a few deep breaths, and asking for protection from the Great Spirit.

  When I open my eyes, Silas is standing next to me. He blows a cloud of smoke in my face and smiles. His pearl white teeth flash in the full moon, which has moved behind him like it too is following the man around.