by Yvonne Heidt
Jordan kept watch as the person came back out of the house and returned to the van, setting it rocking slightly in the wake of her entry. The situation looked hinky.
Once again, a flashlight beam cut through the dark windows. Jordan slipped out of her truck and approached the van. She heard someone talking inside and was reaching for the door handle when it opened, nearly catching her in the face. She immediately dropped into fighting stance.
“Who the fuck are you?” a female voice snarled at her.
“Freeze!” yelled Jordan and pointed her gun. The woman, whom she could see clearly now, yelped and dropped what she’d been holding in her right hand and Jordan kicked it away.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, there goes a few hundred dollars in equipment, asshole. What are you doing?”
“I’m going to ask you the same.” Jordan held her phone open ready to dial. “It’s the middle of the night and this looks pretty suspicious to me.” So did the woman. Jordan took in the black fatigues, trench, and black boots she was wearing and combined the sight with choppy hair styled into tufts and dark eyeliner that made her eyes look three times larger than normal.
“I repeat,” said the walking Goth billboard, “who are you?”
“Officer Lawson. Mind telling me what you’re doing?”
Static sounded from a radio on the woman’s hip and Jordan’s eyebrows went up.
“Shade? What’s taking you so long?”
“Can I get that, Officer?” she asked. “We’re not criminals, and please, put that thing away.” She motioned to the revolver.
Jordan noted the sarcastic tone but nodded. She kept her gun pointed at her.
The woman shrugged and talked into the radio. “Tiff?”
“Go for Tiffany.”
“Officer Friendly here just broke my new EMF meter.”
“What? Come again?”
“Just get out here, will you?”
Another woman came out the front door and reached the van just as a sleek, black Lexus pulled in behind it.
The Lexus driver saw her gun and screamed. “I’m calling the police right now!”
“I am the police, lady!” Jesus, what a farce.
The woman drew closer. “Where’s your identification?”
“It’s in my jacket, in the truck,” Jordan answered. How had she lost control of this situation so quickly?
The woman stood firm, phone in hand still ready to dial. “Get it, please.”
“Don’t move, any of you.” Jordan lowered her revolver and backed to her truck to get her badge. The last thing she needed was another fiasco that would bring attention to her. She grabbed her leather coat and holstered her gun before flipping her wallet and badge out to show the trio, who stood looking back at her like a small fighting force in their matching black clothes. A black-and-white patrol car pulled around the corner. Great, thought Jordan as it slowed and the officer rolled down his window.
“Problem here? Someone called in an altercation.” He directed his light to see the women. “Oh, hey, Sunny.”
Jordan watched the woman smile, almost illuminating the rest of the block. “Lars. No, no problem. Sorry about the noise. Just a misunderstanding. This officer was just getting her badge.”
He swiveled his attention to Jordan. “Lawson, right?”
Jordan nodded. She recognized him from the squad room.
“These ladies are all right.” He laughed. “I can understand why you would be suspicious. Hey, Shade?” he called. “You got all your paperwork in there?”
“Of course.”
Lars motioned Jordan over to his window. “They’re okay. Local ghost hunters. They’ll have permission from the owners to work late at night. They always do.” Did she just hear him right? Ghost hunters? Could this situation be any more bizarre?
“They’re harmless.” He chuckled again. “Have a nice night, ladies.” He pulled away, leaving Jordan standing in the middle of the street with the nuts.
Sunny put away her phone and introduced Shade and Tiffany before holding out her hand. “Sunny Skye.”
Jordan carefully kept her expression blank and thought it couldn’t be the name on the woman’s birth certificate.
“Yes, it is,” said Tiffany. “Her mother’s name is Aura. Her grandmother was—”
Shade popped in. “—Star.”
Sunny shushed them. “I’m sure that Officer Lawson here doesn’t need my pedigree.” Her hand still hung in the air.
That was creepy. Did the one called Tiffany just read her mind? Jordan finally shook Sunny’s hand, and startled at the contact. Tiny shocks traveled up her arm, catching her pulse. She felt her heart skip a beat right before a fire began burning in her belly. She immediately let go of Sunny’s hand and felt drunk, like she’d been in a bar for hours instead of on duty. She couldn’t stop staring at her. Creamy white skin glowed under the yellow light, almost blurring the freckles sprinkled across her nose. She looked into Caribbean blue eyes. No, wait—not blue, green. Sunny’s eyes were two different colors, and the otherworldly sight caught her and pulled her under, nearly taking her breath away.
She had to leave. “Okay, sorry about the misunderstanding. Um, be careful.” She felt lame before she even finished the sentence. Careful of what? Ghosts that didn’t exist?
“See you around, Officer.” Shade stood with her arms crossed, her look challenging.
Jordan snapped on her seat belt and pulled away. What the hell was that? Was the granola girl some kind of witch who’d put a spell on her? Not that she believed in witches either, of course. What was it with the people in this town? First her dorky neighbor, then the landlady, now ghost hunters?
An image of Sunny’s face fixed in the reflection of her windshield, and Jordan felt a lustful burn between her thighs an instant before the truck cab filled with the scent of summer flowers. She slammed on her brakes. What the hell was going on? She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, the vision was gone.
She opened the windows and let the night air blow out the strange floral scent. Her head cleared and she felt a bit better, though she was still unsettled.
*
Sunny watched the truck pull away and turn the corner.
“Uh-oh,” Tiffany said.
“What?” asked Sunny.
“I saw that little exchange right there. You both lit up like little Christmas trees.”
“If you like tight-assed authority figures. Can we get back to work now?” Shade walked to the house without waiting for an answer.
After following Tiffany inside, Sunny locked the door behind them. “Wow. Mrs. Barbieri wasn’t kidding, was she? I didn’t feel this when I walked through with her earlier.”
Her shoulder tingled. It was a telltale sign she was being watched. “I know you’re here.” She waited for other to communicate with her, but the only image in her mind was the police officer who just left. She gave herself a mental shake and focused on the job at hand. “Ready?” They picked up their equipment, turned out the overhead lights, and headed to the area where Mrs. Barbieri had stated the most paranormal activity occurred.
“Barbieri investigation, master bedroom. Shade, Tiffany, and myself, twelve oh one a.m.” Sunny paused while they each took a different position. “Readings?”
“Temp seventy-two degrees. Electromagnetic holding at a point one.” Tiffany’s voice came from near the bed.
“Good. Anyone getting any indications other than something that would show on the electronics?”
“Wild monkey sex, but it’s the clients.”
Shade laughed, “God, Tiff. They’re in their sixties.”
Sunny reined back her amusement. “Working here, guys.”
“I’m sorry,” Tiffany said. “It’s very strong energy. Here. Switch places with me.”
“I can cut it out of the recording,” Shade said.
“Okay. The client stated that the closet door opens and shuts on its own.”
“Great,” Tiffany said. “Ca
n I have the bed back?”
A floorboard creaked in the hall.
“Did you hear that?”
“Shh.” Sunny listened at the door, but her senses insisted that other was behind her.
“Sunny?”
“Yes?”
“Orb to your right,” Shade said.
“What do your spidey senses say?”
Shade studied the viewfinder. “It just disappeared into the closet.”
As soon as she finished her sentence, there was a thump behind the door followed by a noise in the bathroom across the hall.
“What is that?”
“The faucet turned on.”
“Crap,” Tiffany said. “I hate the really active ones. EMF spiking and bouncing between a point four and five.”
“What is your name?” Sunny asked. “Can you tell us why you’re still here?”
“Bathroom is clear,” Shade called.
Sunny stood in front of the closed closet. “Hello?” Icy cold air seeped around the frame. “Temp?”
“Sixty-four.”
Sunny felt energy crackle against her skin, and an image fluttered in her mind then grew stronger. It was an older woman in a blue shirtwaist dress. Her hair was up in a severe bun and her face appeared thin and drawn. When Sunny reached for the knob, the spirit shook her head.
“I’ve got something,” Sunny said. “But she’s either shy or afraid.” She sat on the floor and remained still in an effort to receive more. “It’s okay. Who are you?” The woman showed her an E and R consecutively. “Erma? No?” L and another E. “Erleen? Yes? Okay, Erleen. Why are you here?” The ghost spread her arms then pointed to her chest.
“But it’s not your house anymore, dear.” Sunny gently smiled telepathically at her.
“What’s she doing?” Tiffany asked.
“She’s crying.”
A loud crash in the kitchen startled Sunny, and the image wavered. “Did you do that, Erleen?” The image of the woman in her mind looked frightened, shook her head, and abruptly disappeared.
“Shade, what do you feel?”
“Aggressive male energy. Let’s go.”
“I’m not getting anything,” Tiffany said. “It’s all that, um…” She paused. “Um, recent stuff that I feel.”
“It’s okay, Tiff,” Shade said. “I got it.”
The air in the kitchen was heavy and stifling. They waited, but there were no more noises in the area. Tiffany crossed to the counter and laid her hand on it. “Residual,” she said. “I can see an older man, and he’s wearing one of those old-time tank tops. He’s balding and has a pot belly. He just threw a chair. Wait, it’s looping again and I can see a woman cowering on the floor. He’s telling her if she ever leaves, he’ll find her and kill her.”
Sunny heard an audible scream and knew the recorder caught it.
“Still residual,” Tiffany said.
“Asshole. Do you want me to call his ghost up?”
“Absolutely not. Poor Erleen is terrified enough. She’s been trapped here too long.”
Tiffany turned to Shade. “Are you sure he’s not still here?”
“I’ll go downstairs and check.” Shade chuckled. “Do you want to come to the basement with me, little girl?”
“Bite me, Shade.”
“All right, you two,” Sunny said. “Tiffany, will you come with me to talk to Erleen?”
“Of course.”
Sunny grabbed her bag before reentering the bedroom. She lit three white candles before settling on the floor across from Tiffany and holding her hands. Sunny imagined a tiny light and focused on it. Tiffany’s energy joined with her own, and the light grew until it was a bright sun.
“Erleen?” Sunny called. “He can’t hurt you anymore. Honey, it’s time to go home.”
The spirit looked longingly at the light through obvious tears, and Sunny felt the desire emanating from her even as she hesitated to go.
“It’s okay. Do you still see the people waving? They’re waiting for you. Go on. I promise you, it will be all right.”
Erleen looked over her shoulder and smiled. The older woman vanished, and in her place stood a much younger woman whose hair fell in soft waves around a lovely face. Thank you.
She turned back to the light and took a step. Sunny briefly felt her intense joy before the light went out.
She loved her job.
Chapter Four
Jordan nearly spilled her beer when Steve jumped off the couch. “Where’s my flag?” he yelled. “What are you, blind?”
Jordan laughed and moved the potato chip bag to safety. “Ain’t no flag, son. The Niners are kicking your ass!”
Steve turned, horror clearly visible on his face. “Where’s your loyalty?”
Jordan held up her hand. “Hey, born in San Francisco, nineteen seventy-nine.”
“Oh,” he said. “Now, that’s just wrong. Go home.”
Jordan raised her eyebrows and tipped her bottle at him before setting it back down on the coffee table. At halftime, the 49ers were a touchdown ahead of the Seahawks, and Steve left to use the bathroom. Jordan looked around the mostly cleaned-up apartment from her perch on the couch. At least he had made an effort.
It was still a far cry from her obsessively clean rooms, but it was comfortable. She reached for her beer, and her hand stopped in midair as she watched the bottle slide four inches to the right. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she pulled back. It must be the condensation on the bottom of the bottle. Of course.
Steve returned. “What’s wrong with you, traitor?”
Jordan snagged her beer off the table. “Nothing, loser.”
They traded insults for a few minutes during the halftime show until Jordan had to use the bathroom herself. She was half-tempted to go across the hall to use her own. Who knew what strange creatures were growing in Steve’s?
Feeling a little stupid, she forced herself into his. It wasn’t too bad. He’d clearly put some effort in here as well. She liked Steve. He was a good guy. A little annoying, but friendly enough. Every time she tried to push him away, he reminded her he’d seen her underwear. Good thing it was in a little brother way or else she would have kicked his ass already. Jordan stood at the sink to wash her hands. Her right palm tingled and felt hot, but without burning. It had been doing that off and on since the night she met the granola girl and her merry band of flakes. Ghost hunters. Please. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about that woman? And why did she feel as if she were missing something important? Irritated with herself, she dried her hands on the small towel in an attempt to wipe off the heat and the memory at the same time.
*
Sunny received information from her spirit guides early in the morning, and it turned the simple Singer investigation into something much more personal than just a house haunting. After discussing the message with Shade and Tiffany, she decided to bring the information to the Singers on her own. It was a touchy situation and sure to be emotional for the couple.
Hollywood and religious dogma had attached so much fear to the phenomenon of ghosts that the whole psychology of it had to be addressed, and each client brought a different set of beliefs that had to be addressed.
Sunny knew how fortunate she was that her parents were so open to universal energy. She’d never had to contend with any of the religious stigma attached to her psychic abilities. In fact, they were encouraged at all opportunities. Her father had his own gifts and had written several books on paranormal research years before it was fashionable or in vogue. He found a kindred soul in her mother. They were a pioneering force, way ahead of their time in the field, and her father’s books were still in print over twenty years later.
Sunny blew an imaginary kiss to her dad before she gathered up the file and her laptop. It was better to go to them on their own home turf, especially after they heard what she was going to say.
She pulled into their driveway, and after noticing that the husband’s vehicle was gone, Sunny felt
relieved, since his whole demeanor had been one of skepticism, and he’d been angry with the whole investigation to begin with. Her job just got easier because she knew that Mrs. Singer would be much more relaxed and receptive. Her elbow stung as she remembered the tumble she took in the basement. The door opened before she could knock, and she was led to the dining room, where a pretty spread of cookies and coffee was already set up.
Sunny felt trepidation radiating from the woman, but she hoped the feeling would be gone this afternoon.
“I’m so nervous.”
Sunny smiled easily. “No need to be. Please sit down and relax.”
The woman held a hand to her stomach, and in an instant, Sunny knew she was absolutely doing the right thing.
“I’m sorry that it’s taken so long to get back to you and for the last cancellation. My husband…” She trailed off.
Sunny reached for her hand. “It’s fine, really. There was a reason for it, and that will become clear while we talk. First, I want to tell you that we did get an EVP.”
Mrs. Singer paled. “That’s electric voice phenomenon, right?”
“Yes, the recorder can pick up voices that the normal ear usually can’t.” Sunny made a decision on the spot not to tell her about the shadow movement caught on the video. She knew that it and the voice they caught on the recorder were the same energy. She didn’t want to frighten her unnecessarily. “Second, I want to ask if there has been any more activity since we did our investigation.”
“Honestly? No. That’s when my husband decided it was all in my imagination.”
“I’m just going to let you listen to this, and then we’ll get started, okay?” Sunny brought the recording up on her laptop and briefly explained the lines showing decibels and frequencies on the graph. “Pay attention to this area right here.” She pointed to the screen and highlighted a portion of the bar then pushed play.
“I’m okay here.”
With her eyes wide as saucers, Mrs. Singer leaned forward to listen to the small voice again. “It’s a child!”
Sunny felt the excitement radiate from her client; the feeling was eagerness and not fear. Good, that’s what she was hoping for. “Wait. It comes in again in thirty seconds.”
