Spooked on the Gulf Coast (Gulf Coast Paranormal Trilogy Book 3)

by M. L. Bullock

  “What’s what?” She did her best to avoid answering my question.

  “What are you not telling me?”

  “There’s nothing to tell. I was telling the truth. Sometimes I see things, and I don’t tell you guys about it. End of subject. I don’t think I have to tell you every time I see something, right?”

  “No, and I don’t think anyone said that. Unless it’s related to the case, and then I would hope you would tell me. Does this have to do with Cassidy?”

  She sighed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but…”

  Movement on the camera beside her drew my attention away from her suddenly serious expression. “Did you see that?” I was trying to stay focused on our conversation, but something passed in front of the camera in the hallway. I had no idea what that was.

  “Of course I didn’t see it. I was talking to you. What was it? Where did you see it?”

  “In the hallway. Someone walked past the camera. Can you go back?”

  “Sure. Oh, yeah. I see what you mean.” I could clearly see a head and a left shoulder. “Maybe you should check it out, Midas.”

  “On it.” I reached for a walkie-talkie and a small LED flashlight. I investigated the hallway and found no one there. There was really nowhere to hide, and all the doors were closed, except the one at the end of the long hallway. Just then I heard a REM pod going off on the staircase. I poked my head back in the door of the kitchen and told Sierra I was headed upstairs. “You keep an eye on those guys. I’ll go check that out.” I could hear more of them dinging now. Yep. There was certainly activity on the staircase. As silently as I could, I hiked back down the hall and up the stairs just to verify that no one had slipped inside. Aaron and Pete were in the basement. Everybody else was exactly where they were supposed to be, except Bruce and Helen, who hadn’t come in the farmhouse yet.

  I stepped onto the landing and waved my flashlight around. At the end of the hall, I thought I saw movement; I shined my light on the spot for a few seconds, but nothing reappeared.

  “Anyone up here? Jason? Bruce?”

  That’s when I heard humming.

  Chapter Eleven—Cassidy

  Nothing was happening in the guest room. Joshua shrugged and offered me the IR camera while he did an EVP session on the bed, but neither one of us saw anything or heard anything. That was so strange because I was convinced that Private Darcy wanted to speak to us. I mean, he asked about the dog. That had to be him. I felt sure that was his voice we’d heard. We hung out in the bathroom, placed some antiques we found in the house on the nightstand as trigger objects, but even that didn’t stir things up. After a while, Joshua and I headed back to the kitchen to see if one of the other teams wanted to trade out with us.

  Midas told us that he’d had some action upstairs. “There is definitely some activity on the top floor and the stairs tonight. I heard humming. I think we’ve decided that is probably the late Mrs. Anderson, but I would still like to leave with more evidence.” Someone knocked on the front door, and I raced to answer it. It was Helen and Bruce. Helen was a lovely woman with long white hair, tan skin and vibrant eyes. Today, she looked completely washed out, like she’d given it her all and was ready to find somewhere to quietly collapse.

  We embraced as she stepped inside, and she whispered, “I hope we aren’t screwing up the investigation. I told Bruce we should stay in our friend Trudy’s travel trailer. They had plenty of room out there.”

  “No way. And you aren’t messing up anything. We were hoping you guys would join us. How are you? I mean, how was your day?”

  “Wonderfully active. I’m exhausted.”

  Bruce kissed her cheek. “We tried to get in here right after dark, but we had some straggling visitors. Sorry, guys.”

  Midas said, “It’s been quiet around here until a few minutes ago, but then again, there’s a lot going on here at Harrington Farm. Come on in the kitchen, guys. We’re just about to shuffle things around.”

  “Great,” Bruce said as he rubbed his hands together excitedly.

  “I hope you don’t mind if I sit this one out, Bruce. Maybe I can watch things from here?” Helen asked.

  Sierra patted the empty chair beside her. “We could always use an extra pair of eyes. Especially fresh ones.” As frail as Helen was looking, I wanted to scoop her up and hug her, but that was the last thing she would want. My friend was fiercely independent and always the hug giver. Never the hug receiver. Midas filled them in on the lost palmetto field, and we played the voice for them. Helen shivered visibly.

  Midas said, “Let’s focus on the guest room at the end of the hall. That’s where Cassidy and I had the initial activity. I’d like to try to contact this Bart person. Obviously, he wants us to know he’s here. Aaron? Pete? Anything happening in the basement?”

  Aaron brushed his long hair out of his eyes and said, “We used the laser grid and the usual stuff, but we didn’t catch anything. Except for a few spider webs. I’d like to have a shot at the guest room.”

  “Okay. Sounds like a plan. Sierra, Aaron and Pete, you guys head to the guest room. I’m going to head upstairs. Joshua? Bruce? Why don’t you come with me?”

  “Sounds good,” they both agreed.

  “Great. I could use a break, and I’ll hang out with Helen. If we see anything, we’ll let you know.” I took my seat in front of the monitor.

  Cracking open a bottle of water, Helen tucked her legs up in the chair. At least she wasn’t in a period costume today as she’d been yesterday. Still, she looked disheveled. So not like Helen. That diagnosis had taken the winds out of her sails for sure. We listened and watched for a good while, but it was strangely quiet. It was as if whoever hung around here, Bart or maybe Plum Darcy, knew we were waiting. They knew we were watching and didn’t want to show themselves for their own reasons.

  I murmured to Helen, “This is really frustrating. I’m sure that the ghosts know what’s up.”

  Helen took a sip of her water. “Maybe. Maybe they have no idea we are here. That’s a horrible thought, isn’t it? Nobody wants to think that when you die you don’t know what’s going on, you don’t understand that you’re dead, but maybe it’s a possibility.”

  I didn’t like hearing her talk like that. I couldn’t let her go there. “You and I both know that’s not the case. Kylie knew. My sister knows.”

  Helen smiled sadly and showed her beautiful white teeth. “I’m not being insensitive, am I? I didn’t mean to be, Cassidy. I guess I’m kind of in a funk.”

  We sat in silence and watched the monitors for a little while longer. Sierra was holding an EVP session in the guest room, and I was completely riveted because her hands were moving in an animated fashion. That was a sure sign that she believed someone was there, that she was connecting with a spirit. I turned the volume up, but then everything went quiet.

  As we waited, Helen stirred beside me. “Hate to bail on you, Cassidy, but I really need to visit the restroom. Those portable restrooms are deplorable. Do you think I would get in the way if I slipped away for a minute?”

  “Of course not. The REM pods are on the staircase, so I don’t believe there is any danger you’ll set them off. Laser grid is in the basement, although we haven’t even seen a mouse down there. Go right ahead.” As soon as she left the room, one of the motion sensors outside the kitchen window went off. I clicked the mouse to pull up the corresponding camera and to my surprise saw a tall shadow pass by. My hands shook as I grabbed a walkie-talkie.

  “Cassidy to Midas.”

  “Go ahead, Cassidy.”

  “There’s movement outside. Near the kitchen window. One of the motion detectors is going off. Somebody might want to go check it out.”

  “Not much going on up here. We’ll go.”

  I heard the guys coming down the stairs, and the REM pods began to wail. I saw the shadow pass by the camera again, but I wasn’t absolutely convinced it was paranormal. There were dozens of people outside—someone was bound to be curious a
bout what we were doing in here. Probably just a living person, not a ghost at all. The guys opened the back door and stepped out into the humid night air. I alternated between watching them and watching the team in the guest room. It was a challenge to keep up with everything at once.

  I should’ve been watching Helen.

  I heard her scream.

  Chapter Twelve—Cassidy

  When I got to the bathroom, the door was closed, but I could hear Helen on the other side. She was having a difficult time breathing; in fact, she sounded as if she were choking.

  “Helen! Open up! Please!” I banged on the door with the palm of my hand. Suddenly, Midas was there ready to throw his shoulder into the door to force it open. I could hear Helen draw a ragged breath, and just when I thought the worst, she opened the door. Still gasping for air, she fell into my arms, and Midas and I led her down the hallway away from the bathroom.

  “What happened, Helen? Are you okay?” I asked as some of the color returned to her face. Bruce flipped on the nearby lamp and was checking out her neck. I winced at the red marks rising on her tanned skin.

  Sierra gasped at the sight too. “I’ll get her a glass of water,” she offered as she backed away, clearly shaken. She’d been grabbed earlier but not as violently as this.

  When Helen spoke, her voice sounded rough and ragged. “It wasn’t an intruder if that’s what you’re wondering. Not a living person. It was a ghost. An apparition. He had on a uniform. As soon as I realized he was there, his hands went out and he reached for me.” Sierra handed her the glass of water, and Helen took a few sips before handing it back. “His mouth was wide like he was screaming at me, but I couldn’t tell you what he said. I just don’t know. Then his hands were around my neck, and he was choking me. I’m pretty sure he would have killed me if you hadn’t come after me.” She didn’t cry, but her eyes were wide and fearful. Not an expression Helen usually wore. “I’m sorry, you all, but I just can’t do this.”

  Midas started to say something—ask the usual questions, I supposed—but I gave him a warning frown hoping he would know me well enough to read my expression. Don’t push this right now, Midas.

  Whether it was my face or seeing Helen looking so distraught, he immediately went into “Midas the understanding paranormal investigator” mode. I was grateful. Although the investigation was essentially over at this point, I didn’t really care. Helen was our first priority; she was a member of our family. When a family member needed you, you stopped everything to be with them.

  “Bruce, will you take me home? I hate to ask you to leave Harrington Farm, but I rode with you. And I really want to go home.”

  Bruce held her hand and helped her up. “Of course I will take you home. Let’s go pack our stuff and hit the road. I’ll tell Jason we’re leaving on the way out. The rest of you, are you sure it’s safe to stay here? After this, I don’t think I’d advise it. Clearly, this isn’t Rose’s spirit. She’d never harm a fly.”

  “I think we have to continue, for Jason and now Helen. He’s right to be worried about selling this place if there’s a spirit here attacking people. But I can promise you, Bruce, we’ll be careful.”

  Bruce didn’t approve of our decision, but he didn’t argue with Midas. Ten minutes later, the two of them packed up their gear, offered us brief hugs and left us alone at Harrington Farm. I couldn’t describe the level of loneliness I felt even though there were six of us left behind. Why in the world would anything attack Helen? I couldn’t fathom it. This attack had been a horrible blow for her and for us all.

  Naturally, Jason came to check on us, and Midas assured him we’d be alright and that we weren’t in any danger. I wished I agreed with him; I felt more than a little worried now. “Well, if you’re sure, but I don’t want anyone to get hurt. If you need me, you know where to find me.” How strange that he didn’t want to stick around, even in his own house.

  Midas locked the door behind him and rubbed his hands through his short dark hair. “I guess there’s nothing left to do now but pack up our gear and get ready for the trip home in the morning. Hopefully, we’ve gotten more than enough evidence to support our thinking that there are one or more spirits here. I think it’s safe to assume that Rose Goddard is not haunting Harrington Farm.”

  Sierra frowned at him and tilted her head. “We’re not giving up yet, Midas. I love Helen as much as anyone else does, but we came here to do a job. I think we should do it. Let’s just take a break, regroup and come at it another way. I mean, the fact that Helen was attacked adds so much more credibility to our belief that there’s something paranormal going on here.”

  Aaron shook his head, and his shaggy dark hair fluttered around him. “Well, I kind of agree, but then again, our fellow investigator was assaulted—and not just scratched. There’s definitely a negative vibe in here now, and I wasn’t getting that before. But I’m up for taking a break and heading back in.”

  Everyone agreed with Sierra and Aaron. Everyone except me, but I didn’t quite disagree either. I wanted to do more investigation, but not necessarily with the team. I wanted to draw. Yeah. I needed to. That was the only way I was going to get the answers I needed. How could I explain to these guys how much of a connection I felt with Private Plum Darcy? It was impossible to express it, and although I could sense there was some tension between Sierra and me, I had to press on. I guessed she didn’t like the idea of me working on my own, but that was how my gift worked. It wasn’t one I could share, at least not during the process. It didn’t really seem to matter because nobody asked me what I thought. Midas looked up once as he reviewed the footage of the shadow racing down the hall, but I didn’t stick around. I was going to go back to the one quiet place I knew of here in Patch Town. But I would need a few supplies first. I stuffed my sketch pad, pencils and a flashlight into my backpack and headed toward the back door. I wasn’t worried about setting off the motion detectors because those had been disabled after the shadow had appeared on our cameras. Nobody would know I was gone for a while.

  As I put my hand on the doorknob, I imagined I heard toenails clicking on the floor behind me. I didn’t have to look back.

  I knew I wasn’t alone.

  Chapter Thirteen—Private Darcy

  The lieutenant didn’t pass out as quickly as I expected. Once I got the fire started, and it took me a good while as the wood was soaked from all the rain, I moved the prisoners. The two men huddled beneath the hickory tree, and I secured them again with ropes. Humphries dug deeper into the bottle, tilting it up like it was a jug of water. At least he wasn’t talking. I wasn’t sure what I feared more, him talking or him not talking.

  Now there was another man dead. Another man’s blood was on my hands. When he dared to look in my direction, Tolliver stared at the both of us with equal amounts of hatred. And why shouldn’t he hate us? He’d seen both Wilmer and John McCoy murdered. It was a hard thing to endure, seeing your friends die before your very eyes. Especially if you couldn’t offer any help.

  As if he read my troubled mind, the blue tick scampered next to me; he kept his head down, presumably to avoid Bart, who never missed an opportunity to kick at him. Smart dog. Too smart for me. Yes, he’d make someone a fine dog. A fine hunting dog. I patted his head briefly and allowed myself to imagine the two of us hunting in the hills of Kentucky. It didn’t last long. Bart snorted at him, and I went back to tending the fire.

  I made up my mind right then and there; I couldn’t take any more risks. Whatever justice Young Springfield and these other men deserved, they would have to get it another way. I wanted to bring the lieutenant back to Jackson, and I did not waver in my belief that he should answer for what he had done, but Tolliver was right. If I waited around, they would never make it to Jackson. The dog whimpered beside me, and I patted his head and tossed him a squirrel tail, which he promptly nabbed and chewed on absently. Yes, I liked this dog. I really should name him before I left Mississippi, but I had a feeling if I did, I wouldn’t be able to
leave him behind.

  But what if I did name him? What would I call him? Leevale had a dog once. He called him Blackie, which was humorous as the mutt had a brown coat and white paws. Blackie ran off one day, and we never saw him again. But not this one. He’d be a true friend. I’d never call this dog Blackie. He deserved a respectable name, one you wouldn’t mind yelling if you had to. One of the soldiers back in Jackson, another private whose last name I forgot, had a dog named Jack. He was always talking about how smart that dog was. He couldn’t be nearly as smart as this hound.

  No. I couldn’t do it; it wasn’t fair. I just couldn’t name him. That would mean he was mine, and I couldn’t have that. No dog should have to fight a war, and this one, if I let him, would probably follow me to the Gates of Hell. He’d have to stay here in Patch Town, even if I had to tie him to a tree. I’d managed to find another piece of rope, which I planned to use to secure him before we left. Of course, I wouldn’t abandon him tied up in the woods. I would tie him up outside of someone’s home as quietly and as discreetly as possible. This was a good dog, and he deserved to find a new home. And a new master.

  So no. I couldn’t name him. He wasn’t going to be mine. And why was I thinking about all this nonsense?

  Because I didn’t want to think about the dead man’s body in the shack just a hundred feet from me and the other one dead in the ground. I really needed to bury Mr. McCoy, but I didn’t have the energy. Bart gobbled up his share of the squirrel stew that I made, and I divvied up my part with the prisoners. The mute didn’t eat much, but Tolliver wolfed his down. He didn’t say thank you, but I didn’t expect him to.

  The stars came out above us, and the air was getting cooler. I had gotten used to sleeping under the stars and wondered how I would ever adjust to life back at Aunt Ruby’s house; how would it feel to sleep in a bed again? I had heard many men say they liked sleeping outside, that it gave them a sense of freedom and independence, but I knew they were not being honest. Every one of us missed home, me included. I wondered why Bart Humphries wasn’t in such a hurry to get back there. I sure didn’t want to ask. I knew he had no wife and not much in the way of family except for his father, the judge. Weeks ago, I ruled out the possibility that the lieutenant would have a female acquaintance to inspire him to fight on. He received no letters, and neither did he speak of anyone in particular.