A Brady Paranormal Investigations Box Set

by Harper Crowley

  “Is that a problem?” His eyes darken.

  Am I imagining this? I have to be. Guys aren’t interested in me. They like Jess, the wild, fun, angsty one. Not me. I’m the plain sister, the responsible one, and responsibility is no fun at all. “No, not at all.” Get ahold of yourself, Mer. He just wants to help you provide some good footage for your subscribers. He said so himself. Yeah, he’s hot, but so was Graham, and nothing happened there, either. You never stick around long enough for anything to happen. “Let me get my camera, and I’ll be right back.”

  He tips his hat, and I slip back into the cabin. So it’s not a candlelit breakfast for two, but the morning should feed my cowboy fantasies for a while.

  “Who was it?” Jess sits up in bed, her hair a wild bird’s nest of black-and-pink tangles.

  “Beau. He wanted to know what we’re doing today.” I rummage around in the duffel bag until I find a harness and one of our two working GoPro cameras. I am definitely not letting this one out of my sight, not even for a second, hot cowboy or not. Unless he’s offering to pay for a replacement, I’m wearing this one the entire time.

  “So where are you going, then?” she asks, a shrewd look crossing her face.

  “He offered to take me for a horseback ride. I figured the subscribers might like a better glimpse of the ranching life, so why not?”

  Russ chuckles, leaning against the doorway to his room. “And it’s coincidence that he only asked for you?”

  My shoulders stiffen. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Jess arches her eyebrow. “Uh huh. I don’t buy it. He likes you.”

  “Shut up. He does not.”

  “Does too.” She swings her legs over the side of the bed.

  “I’ll be back soon.” I stomp past them and hurry to the door, as if that will help me escape Jess’s cackling and Russ’s amused snort. Jerks.

  Beau stands at the head of one of the horses, the one with the white socks, and turns to me as I approach. “Ready?” Then he cocks his head.

  I touch my burning cheeks. Great.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. My sister’s just being a brat. Do you have any siblings?” He nods. “Then yeah, you know what it’s like.”

  His lips twitch. “Oh yeah, Gunner was a brat when he was younger, but I know I was probably the same way to my older brother.”

  “You? Never.”

  With a lighthearted laugh that makes the dead body from last night seem even more surreal, Beau hands me a helmet. “It’s better to be safe than sorry,” he says. “I picked a bombproof horse for you, but you never know what can happen out there.” His words send a chill down my spine. Yeah, I doubt anyone could have foreseen what happened last night.

  “I bet.” I slip the helmet onto my head and buckle it. After I do that, Beau helps me up onto the horse. Thank God I’m not live streaming this. I’m about as graceful as a toddler. I almost fall off twice, but bless his heart, Beau doesn’t laugh. He chuckles, maybe, and I think I catch a smirk, but there’s no laughter at my expense. He must be able to tell how long it’s been since I’ve ridden a horse. Once I’m teetering nervously on top of the horse, I turn on the GoPro. “Where’s your helmet?” I adjust the camera as he smiles, his eyes twinkling.

  “If you don’t mind me saying, Miss Brady, I don’t need one, but I’d feel safer if you wore one. I’ve ridden horses from before I could walk.” He tips his hat and gives the camera a wink. God, our audience is going to love this.

  He clicks his tongue and guides his horse away from the cabin, and mine follows. I try to hold the reins like he does, but my poor horse probably thinks I’m nuts because she turns her head around and looks at me.

  “What’s her name?” I ask, reaching down to stroke her neck.

  “Swift,” he says. He pats his own horse. “And this one’s Scout. Swift is his mother. She was one of the best cattle horses we had when she was younger.” He smiles affectionately at my horse. “And her son’s even better.”

  “How old is she?” Our horses pick their way carefully through the rocky terrain as we leave the ranch behind.

  “Nineteen. We still work her sometimes, especially when we want to show a prospective client what we can do. She’s pretty impressive,” he says.

  “I bet.”

  We ride in silence for several minutes, going in the opposite direction from where we went before. The morning sun soaks into my skin, warming my shirt, and I take a deep breath. Right now, right here, in this silence, this comfortable quiet, I can finally take a breath. It’s as if all of that crap that happened in Georgia and Oklahoma can fade away now. Yeah, we did find another dead body last night, but it almost feels distant. Out here with Beau, feeling the rhythm of the horse beneath me, it belongs to someone else.

  “We’re almost there,” he says, his voice cutting through my inner meditation.

  I snap my eyes up to meet his. All I see are more hills and, closer than before, the first of the towering red mountains that surround the ranch.

  “Those are the Huachuca Mountains,” Beau says. “My brothers and I went camping out there before. It’s been years now, though.” Silence hangs between us. The urge to ask him about that burns my tongue, but I don’t. He deserves his secrets, just as much as I do.

  “Have you ever seen anything strange out there?”

  “You bet.” He flashes a sheepish grin over his shoulder. “You know how kids are. We jumped at everything—every single shadow, sound, and shape was the ghost of a dead outlaw searching for his hidden treasure.”

  I regard the mountains with a new appreciation. “Buried treasure, eh?” If so, maybe we could do a mini-series on searching for treasure. I bet with Russ’s skills and my sister’s annoying persistence, we could find something. Then I could finally set up a good nest egg for the future and get our aunt off of my back. Money always shuts her up.

  “Nah,” he says. “If there were any, it would have been found a long time ago. There are always rumors, of course, but I don’t think any of them are true. I think there’s still some people searching up by Phoenix, though, in the Superstition mountains, but that’s a long way from here.”

  We crest the top of a small ridge overlooking a dip in the wide, grassy plain. Nestled in the valley, about twenty cattle are spread out, grazing, their black-and-red bodies a stark contrast with the golden grass and round barrel cacti.

  Shading my eyes against the sun, I scan the horizon. “So where is this fence you wanted to take a look at?”

  Beau dips his head, his cheeks reddening.

  Oh. I get it. My stomach flip flops. “There is no fence, is there?”

  “No. I might have stretched the truth there.” He ducks his head, guiltily.

  “Were you just trying to get me alone?” This is impossible. Why would he want to be with someone like me? Be careful. Remember you’re a professional.

  He chuckles, but it’s got a self-conscious tone. I wonder if he’s as nervous as I am. “Is that okay?”

  What do I do? Do I nip this in the bud now? To be honest, I kind of like the attention, it’s been so long since I’ve been in a real relationship. Actually, it’s been years since the asshole-who-shall-not-be-named, and I’ve shied away from relationships since then. But Beau is a client, and I’m a professional paranormal investigator. This is temporary. It’s always temporary. That’s both the benefit and downside of not putting down roots. If shit gets too tough, I can pick up and go. I’m not stuck anywhere where I have to see an ex-boyfriend making out with my best friend or anything. I can leave. I love the freedom, even if it means I sacrifice normal stuff people do who are my age, like dating.

  “Yeah, the viewers will love this.” I emphasize the word “viewers” so he knows where my head is.

  “Of course,” Beau says. “The viewers.” He takes his hat off and runs his hand through his hair.

  Against the morning light, he looks so quintessentially Western that I snap a picture with
my phone without thinking.

  “I know it’s about the viewers, but I thought, I don’t know, that you might want to... Well, it seemed...” He shrugs, trying to be nonchalant, but I can read the embarrassment in his eyes.

  Good going, Mer. Time for damage control before I look like a truly horrible person. I pull my horse alongside his.

  “It’s not that I don’t think you’re an amazing guy, I do, but you’re our client, and this is my job.” Hopefully, he’ll let it go at this, and he won’t ask anymore questions. “I have to be professional, even though I’m not always good at it.”

  Some of the embarrassment fades from his face. “So I’m not just reading the situation totally wrong?” He threads his fingers through mine and I study our joined hands. His tanned, calloused fingers, compared to my smaller, paler ones, dotted with freckles.

  “No, it’s not you.” I bite my lip before gently untangling my fingers. “If we met a different way, then maybe, but...” There’s no maybe about it. I would totally take him up on his offer, whatever that offer might be, if he wasn’t a client.

  “Phew.” Beau dramatically swipes one hand over his forehead, his earlier easy confidence returning. “That’s good to know. What about after the case closes? I’m not a client then, am I?”

  Is it possible for my face to burn any more without bursting into flames? “No.”

  “Good.” He clicks his heels on the sides of his horse, and it takes off in a trot. My sedate, sweet, bombproof mare skitters to the side and then hurries after them, with me holding onto the saddle horn for dear life.

  Chapter 7

  By the time we get back to the ranch, Russ and Jess have finally woken up and are outside the cabin. Jess’s curled up on the porch swing staring at her phone, and Russ sits in front of the computer at the wooden table on the other side of the door.

  “How was your ride?” Jess waggles her eyebrows with the last word.

  I paste a sharp smile on my face. “Excellent, of course. We saw a lot of the property, and Beau told me so much about the history of the place.” Okay, so maybe that’s stretching it a bit, but I’m certainly not going to tell her what we really talked about.

  “Uh huh,” she says. “Sure.”

  Russ stands up, stretches, and closes the laptop. “I don’t know about you,” he says overly loud, “but I’m starving. Didn’t you say there was breakfast in the main house?”

  Smooth move there, Russ.

  Beau nods. “Oh yeah. I usually grab some fruit or something to get me started, but our housekeeper, Lucia, always cooks actual food, too.” He glances at his watch. “It’s a little late for breakfast, but I’m sure there’s some left, or we can whip something up.”

  I press my hand against my stomach, playing along. If it gets Jess off of my back, then I’ll do anything. “I’m starving, too.”

  Jess rolls her eyes. “Sure you are.”

  In the kitchen, a slim young woman expertly chops onions, dicing them into tiny little pieces before dumping them into a large soup kettle on the stove. She glances over her shoulder when we enter, the only betrayal of her true feelings in the way her skin tightens around her mouth and her eyes.

  “Good morning,” Beau says, removing his hat and holding it against his chest. “We were wondering if there was any breakfast left over.”

  “Breakfast is served at eight,” she says, “but there are some leftover pancakes and scrambled eggs in the fridge.” She gestures with the knife at the double-sized stainless-steel fridge taking up a good chunk of the wall across from her.

  “Thank you.” Beau grabs some plates and dishes us up four plates of food before microwaving them one by one. “I’m sorry we’re late, but I was just showing our guests some of the beautiful sights we have around here.”

  Jess gives me a pointed look and my cheeks start burning. I’m going to kill her.

  Once we all sit down, we eat quickly. Jess, Russ, and I are used to only having a few minutes to scarf down some food before we have to go back out again, and rarely do we have homemade food like this. It’s a welcome reprieve, but old habits die hard.

  “What time did the cops leave last night?” Russ asks Beau.

  I cringe at the question. I was hoping to get out of talking about the body, at least for a little while longer.

  Beau scrubs his hand through his hair. “About an hour after you all left. There wasn’t a lot to collect, but they were thorough, that’s for sure.”

  “What are they saying so far?” Jess asks before shoveling another bite of pancake into her mouth.

  “They’re not sure. Or, at least, they’re not telling us anything, though I wouldn’t be surprised if they were looking for a drug connection.” Beau stares out one of the big windows overlooking the mountains. For all this place’s beauty, I guess it does have a dark side, it’s not paranormal in the least.

  “I uploaded all of the footage,” Jess says, her voice artificially bright. “People are all over it. It’s pretty cool.”

  “You cut anything about finding the body, right?” There’s a cold pit in my stomach, and it grows the longer Jess studies her plate and refuses to meet my gaze. “Jesus, Jess. We could get arrested for this. I don’t care how much you think the viewers would love this. A man died there, not to mention it was an active crime scene. We could get into a lot of trouble for this.”

  “I had to tell our viewers something,” she cries. “They would wonder why we cut the feed like that. Besides, they deserve to know. We wouldn’t find even half of the evidence we do if we didn’t have their help.” She stands up, pushing her chair back so quickly it almost falls over. “I’m trying to help BPI and if that wasn’t the right thing to do, then I’m sorry. I’m doing the best I can.” She spins around and flees, slamming the door behind her. My shoulders sag and I bury my head in my hands. Stupid.

  Russ types furiously on his phone and then sets it down. “There. I took the video off. I’m sorry, Mer. I didn’t know she was going to post that much. I figured she would end it right before we got back down there. That’s what we decided.”

  “No, it’s my fault,” I say, my voice muffled in my hands. “I should have done it myself. Jess probably hates me now.”

  He arches his eyebrows. “She’s seventeen. She hates everyone.”

  “I know, but I shouldn’t have snapped at her.” I glance at Beau out of the corner of my eye. If there’s anything that will kill the romantic vibe we had going, it’s him seeing me lose my temper. Smart man that he is, he stares at his pancakes, eating them with a focus usually reserved for rocket scientists and their calculations.

  “I’m going to go talk to her,” I say, standing up.

  “Sure you don’t want to give her more time?” Russ asks. “If she’s still pissed, she might kill you. Like actually, physically kill you.”

  I shake my head. I’m not one to turn away from an unpleasant task. “No, I need to do it now. I don’t want to be stuck in a car dealing with the silent treatment on our way to the ghost tour.”

  Russ nods. “Smart thinking.”

  Back in the cabin, I knock on the door to Jess’s and my room.

  “Go away,” she yells. “I hate you.”

  I sink against the door and rest the back of my head on it. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I freaked out and I shouldn’t have. I was an idiot. I guess I just panicked and thought about what would happen if the cops found out. What if they made you go back to Detroit? I don’t know what I’d do without you here.”

  The door flies open, and I fall backward. Looking up, I meet my sister’s fierce gaze, which is surrounded by a halo of black-and-purple hair. “No one, and I repeat, no one, is going to send me back to that house. Do you hear me?”

  I nod, more than a little in awe of her rage.

  “Yeah, I made a stupid mistake, but I just wanted to help. I want to grow this thing and make it bigger and better than ever because that’s what you want. I was trying to help. So no need
to bite my head off, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.” She stands up and steps over me. “Now, are you ready to go on that ghost tour, or do you want to stay here with your cowboy?”

  “I’m ready for the ghost tour.”

  She gives me a triumphant grin. “Excellent. Now get off of your ass and get our gear packed. Maybe we’ll figure out who the dead guy was and get some good footage for our show.”

  Twenty minutes later, we’re on the road back to Tombstone to catch the first haunted tour. We have our cameras charged and backup batteries ready, so we’re good to go.

  Russ stares out the window, watching the mountains and the prairies fly by. “I wonder how many paranormal investigators go through Tombstone?”

  “Tons, I bet. They seem pretty ghost-hunter friendly. I mean, I couldn’t book a private tour of the Bird Cage Theater on such a short notice, but it would still be a great place to investigate,” I say.

  I park on the edge of town, along one of the side streets the printed map in the brochure lists as being close to the beginning of the tour. This town is throwing me off kilter. On one block, Tombstone looks like a normal, slightly derelict, sleepy little town, but then there’s a time warp, and all of the buildings are authentically old Western, and there are women in big, old-fashioned dresses, men in chaps and cowboy hats, carriages, and people riding horses down the dirt street. It’s almost as if we’ve been thrown back in time, except for the tourists in T-shirts and shorts strolling down the middle of the road, stopping every few seconds to talk to one of the costumed people, who must be actors, leaning against fence posts or railings or even chatting with each other on the corners, never breaking character. A couple of the horses doze, tied up to the hitching post in front of a bar, their ears flicking lazily and their tails swishing from side to side.

  “Are you getting this?” Jess asks Russ. She scans one side of the street with her camera while he gets the other.