October Ghosts (A Southern Romance Monthly)

by Hockenberry, CJ

  "You should do a Google search on him. The guy's never with women—other than the ones he works with. And the rumor mill did say he was still in the closet and maybe one day soon he'd be out."

  Never with a woman. Really? "That's odd, because he told me about this girl he dated in college and almost married." Yeah and that kiss wasn't one from a gay guy.

  "Yeah." Kevin snapped his fingers. "Oh that I did read. It was in one or two of his earlier bios I read online. The chick went crazy or something and tried to have him killed."

  Chloe's senses abruptly went on high alert. Matt mentioned that. She wanted to ask Kevin more about what he'd read, but she didn't want to bring attention to her own curiosity, or the crazy ex.

  She would read it online, as soon as she had a moment alone. But for right now, she needed to do as much research on the Barrett House as she could before she called Matt and accepted his challenge. She wasn't going to let him get away with making fun of her. Chloe planned on taking him to task and not be a pawn in this little show.

  Once Kevin left to grab lunch, she jumped online and looked up the Barrett House. What annoyed her was the fact she kept thinking of Matt as she searched. She kept seeing him fresh out of the shower, emotional, and so…just so damn sexy.

  Within an hour she had enough on the Barrett House to put together her own dossier. Kevin had picked up a couple of salads and a calzone to split. She had tea in the office refrigerator so she worked while she ate. Kevin gathered her print outs and started reading.

  When he whistled she glanced back at him, her mouth full of lettuce and tomato. "What?"

  "Are you reading any of this stuff?"

  "Yep." She chewed and swallowed. "The house was actually built in 1842 not long after the Primrose house was built."

  "The what?"

  "The Primrose House. Built by the city's founder, Roswell King."

  "I did not know that."

  "Yep. Very similar houses. The Barrett House is actually in the same neighborhood. The only difference is, the owner of the Barrett House was found murdered in his parlor. Along with his wife, and his two daughters." She wiped her mouth with her napkin and drank some water. "Back then, they didn't have any leads, any forensic means of testing for DNA, and no one in the city knew why someone would kill an entire family. After five years the house was taken by the bank—none of the relatives wanted it because they all feared it would be haunted—and the bank renovated it and sold it in 1865. The couple that bought it were expecting their first child."

  Kevin skimmed through the pages in front of him. "Oh I read this. The child died of crib death and the mother committed suicide by jumping off the roof."

  "Yeah. The grieving husband abandoned the house three months later and again, the bank had it. It sat empty for years before someone else bought it. This time it was a single guy who turned out to be a rapist. It was 1878 when he was caught and executed. The yard was dug up and several bodies were found. The bank had the house again. After twenty years the Historic Society took a look at it around 1900. It took twenty years to restore it and then they set up shop inside."

  "And then they left because they said it was haunted."

  "Yep. And there were a lot of stories that came from them, visitors, and even the maintenance group that refused to go back in. There were reports of women screaming, children crying and wanting their mommy, creepy laughter in the basement," Chloe shivered as she thought about the yuck that had cumulated in that house.

  "And it's been empty since when?"

  "Since 1930 it's been empty, but the city has refuted several petitions to have it torn down. Unfortunately it's hard to get crews to go in there and fix things. My suggestion would be to burn it and consecrate the ground. Turn it into a park or something."

  Kevin shuffled the papers together into a stack. "A haunted park. Yay. Do you feel good enough to do this? He did give you an out."

  "Yeah he did." Chloe turned in her chair to face him. After nearly an hour and a half of reading on the Barrett House, she was a bit overwhelmed and had thought of just calling him to tell him to find someone else. But then she'd think of the show she'd watched and felt she needed to set the reputation straight for psychics.

  A part of her sort of knew under her skin that even if the show went in her favor, the producers would edit it to make a different story. So she was going to have to be on her best behavior and not give them any sort of soundbite to use. Which, when she thought about it, felt like it was going to be harder than going into a haunted house and not go all girlie scared.

  Which is exactly what she started to do after she called Matt and told him she was in. Six seconds after the call she wanted to throw up. The only thing that kept her from getting sick to her stomach was the thought she was going to spend the next 48 hours with Matt Hunt.

  Ghost hunter hunk.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Matt couldn't stop himself from jumping up after Chloe's call. He felt as if he'd broken through the first of several invisible barriers. He needed to get through to Chloe and let her know he wasn't the guy on the TV or on Youtube. He was a good guy caught up in circumstances beyond his control.

  Yeah he'd noticed the anger in her tone even over the phone, and he knew she was probably doing it to prove him wrong. But he welcomed it. He wanted her to be there with him.

  The fact he would be able to show her that he could be serious about the investigation was important to him. More important than anything he'd done in the past three years. He knew he was falling for Chloe—and he didn't know the first thing about her. So even though he would only be in Roswell for a few more days, it was important the she knew him.

  The real him.

  The him he'd had to hide away.

  Cause no one wanted watch a show about a nice ghost hunter.

  The front door opened and Margo came in. He was so happy he didn't even harangue her about privacy. She stopped just inside the door, her keys still in her hand. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

  Matt jumped toward her and put his hands on her upper arms. "She said she'd do it!"

  "Who said what?"

  "Chloe Stohl! She just called and said she'd do it. She's meeting us at the house at two." He stepped back and checked his watch. "Oh…we need to get packed and get over there. Is the crew set up?" He turned to the living room.

  Margo put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Wait…she said she'd do it?"

  "Yeah. She watched the last Halloween episode and agreed to work with me. Now…I don't want to go in the direction the producers do. I want she and I to work together. No running over her, no making fun of her on a different radio channel. I won't go for that. I—"

  Margo stepped back. "Stop it! Matt—do you hear yourself?" She pointed at the door. "The producers will pull the plug if they don't get more of the same as the last Halloween episode. You can't be the asshole hunter and then go all nicey-nice and expect watchers to go for it."

  "Margo—I'm sorry. But I didn't want to do it last time and they edited it the way they wanted it. I want this to be a team effort—"

  "Matt—I just spent an hour on the phone finding you a replacement. Someone who'll fit better."

  He stopped. Oh no. "Did you find someone?"

  The look on her face told him she hadn't. And he wasn't surprised. Since the Halloween episode he'd received more than one nasty email or postcard from psychics. Mediums. Witches. They all hated him.

  Is that it? Do I want to work with Chloe just clear my name? Or because I really want to spend the time with her?

  He only had to think a second.

  I want to be with her. And I'd be willing to look the fool to do it.

  Matt clapped his hands together. "Okay. So, we have Chloe and we need to get packed." He turned to the living room again.

  "Matt."

  He stopped and lowered his head. He wasn't sure why Margo was against this. He didn't turn. "What?"

  "Look I didn't want to tell you, since it
looked like Chloe Stohl wasn't going to do the show and we don't need you panicking. But after last night's incident, I put a call into New Orleans."

  "New Orleans? Why?"

  "I wanted to make sure she wasn't here. In Georgia."

  His chest tightened with apprehension. He knew what Margo was going to say. His heart sank when he saw her face. "No… please tell me she's not…" Matt's breathing became rapid and he wiped at his forehead. A light film of sweat covered his skin.

  Margo put her phone down on the coffee table and moved to him. She put her hand on his shoulder. "You need to relax, Matt. It might be she's just here visiting family." She increased her hold on his upper arms. "Matt…you need to calm down."

  "She's here? Are you sure?" Matt gasped the words out. His chest tightened further as he looked at Margo without really seeing her. He tried to take air in, but couldn't. "Please…tell me that….wasn't her last night. She…she can't come that…close." He closed his eyes as he concentrated on breathing in. He became nauseous and tried to step back. He needed air…but he couldn't get air.

  "Matt…" Margo grabbed his face with her hands. "Look at me. I need you to calm down. Where's your inhaler?"

  His chest hurt. The harder he tried to pull in air, the worse the pain became. He almost doubled over but Margo's hold kept him on his feet. She forced him to look at her. "Mar…"

  "Sshh. Matt, where is your inhaler? I need you to calm down. You need to try and breathe slow—"

  "I can't…" He gasped as his heart rate increased. He stumbled back and Margo lost her hold. Sweat rolled down his back as he turned and pressed himself into the wall. He could hear Margo talking, but all of his attention was focused on trying to breathe through the pain.

  "Phil? I need you over in Matt's apartment. Now….yeah and it's a bad one… and if you've got the spare inhaler, bring it. I know what to do."

  Matt slid down with his back against the wall. He pressed his hands against the cool surface of the wall as he tried to do what Margo said. He'd had his first asthma attack three years ago, when the stairs into the basement of a haunted house he'd been working on, gave and he fell through them and into an old well. Several hours passed before he was found. He discovered weeks later his ex had cut the stair supports. It had been the end of a string of disastrous accidents that left him beaten, bruised and hospitalized.

  Since then he had been able to handle his asthma pretty well with Advair and used his emergency inhalers sparingly. But stressful situations always brought him back to that moment, trapped in the dark, in pain, and unable to breathe.

  He heard Margo opening and closing drawers as she continued the old litany. "Sit back and relax, Matt…just lean against the wall and try to calm down and breathe slow. If you don't you're going to pass out and then it'll just get worse."

  She was right. He knew she was right. But he couldn't do it! He couldn't get any air. And it hurt…oh God he forgot how bad it hurt.

  "Found it!"

  Margo was suddenly in front of him on the floor. She took his hands and wrapped them around the inhaler. He shook it and immediately shot the medication into his throat, trying to breathe at the same time.

  He dropped the little blue inhaler and put his hands on Margo's as he felt his chest loosen. It still hurt, but the vise surrounding it was gone and he was able to pull some air in. It was slow at first, but Margo kept eye contact with him and he stared at her until he was breathing even. The door came open and Phil Johnson came in, the show's on set producer and director. He had an older man with him.

  "How is he?" Phil asked as he knelt down beside Matt and Margo.

  Matt saw him, heard him, and he was aware of the other man, but he was concentrating on breathing. Just…enjoying the wonder of taking in a breath of air.

  "He's better. I found the inhaler. He didn't even have it on him."

  "Well he hasn't had an attack in a few months. What set him off?"

  Margo glanced at Matt. He licked his lips and rested against the wall. His breathing was ragged, but he was breathing. "She's been spotted in Roswell. Here."

  "Who said she's here?" Phil's voice was clipped, sharp.

  Margo answered. "I called some friends in New Orleans and they said she left a few days ago. She has family here. So I called them to ask if she was in town and they said yes."

  Phil sighed. "So you felt it necessary to tell him?"

  "He needs to know."

  "Not if it's going to do this. Besides, there's a restraining order. She can't come within a hundred yards." Now Phil sounded irritated.

  "Yeah but that doesn't mean she can't be in the same town."

  "May I?" The older man said as he joined them. He had a little black bag with him and set it on the ground in front of Matt. "I've had some experience with asthma. One of my grandchildren has it."

  "Oh," Phil said and shuffled back to allow the older man some room. "Margo, Matt, this is Dr. Henry Coleman. He's the retiring county ME."

  Matt tried to laugh and coughed instead. That hurt his chest. "I'm not dead yet."

  Dr. Coleman put a hand against Matt's neck, then he put the back of his fingers against his forehead. "No, young man. But you did go into shock. Luckily this young lady was able to help you. As for my being the Medical Examiner, I'm still a doctor, and I was a general practitioner in my heyday. So you just relax and concentrate on breathing and let me take a look at you."

  Matt nodded. He wasn't in any condition to stop him. The doc was a unique looking character, with thinning hair and a gin-blossomed nose the shape of Jimmy Duranti.

  "Henry and my dad are good friends," Phil said as he settled on the edge of the coffee table, facing the little grouping. "We were discussing having him at the house tonight and tomorrow for the rehearsal and taping."

  "A doctor?" Margo said.

  "It's part of the city ordinances for filming. We have to have a medical professional on set, and Henry offered to do it at no cost. As long as he could bring his niece and her friend on set. And one of them is a doctor, an ER physician. So we were buttoning up the details when you called."

  "And I can say," Dr. Coleman said as he shined a light in Matt's eyes. "If this is a chronic problem for Mr. Hunt, then I think it's in your best interest to have myself and Dr. McNally-Wallace on hand."

  Matt couldn't agree more. Especially if his ex was free and in town. Christ…what if she got into the Barrett House and rigged something in there to kill him? Idiot…stop thinking like that or you're going to end up a basket case. He listened to Margo and Phil talk as the doc did a quick but very thorough physical, down to listening to his lungs with a stethoscope and having him take very deep breaths. Slow…deep breaths.

  The doc finished examining Matt and had the two of them help him to his feet and onto the couch. He leaned into the cushion and continued to breathe.

  "How's he doing, Henry?"

  The doctor set his bag on the coffee table and his hands on his hips. "He's okay. But he's going to be tired. He started going into shock and that always takes a lot out of anyone. So if you have some time to rest, I'd do it now."

  Matt shook his head. "No time. We have to tell Chloe. And we have to tell the Sheriff."

  Margo spoke up. "She might back out if she knows about what happened in New Orleans. Oh and I already spoke to the Sheriff."

  Matt half turned to look up at her. "What did he say?"

  "Nothing much. They don't have anything to go on, or anything that proves she hung the witch up. There's nothing they can do."

  "Oh," Dr. Coleman said as he looked at Margo. "Are you talking about the effigy over in Mesa Cove?"

  "Yes. Are you friends with Chloe?" Matt said.

  "She's one of my niece's friends. I watched her grow up. I hate that someone did that to her."

  "Me too," Matt said and then checked his watch. "We have to go." He pushed himself up off the couch. Margo grabbed his shoulder when he wobbled.

  "I really think you need to rest," Dr. Coleman sai
d.

  Matt pointed to his inhaler on the floor. Margo grabbed it and he shoved it into his pocket. "I know. But I've got a job to do so everyone can get paid. And Chloe's going to meet us at the Barrett House. I have to tell her what's up. She needs to know."

  Margo sighed. "I'll drive. Phil, we'll see you there tonight? And Dr. Coleman?"

  Phil nodded and proceeded them out of the apartment. Matt locked the door and turned to see the doc looking up at him. "What is it, doc?"

  "You're really worried about Chloe, aren't you?"

  Matt nodded and held onto the railing as they descended the steps. "Yeah I am."

  "You like her?"

  He paused before he answered. He wanted to check his feelings. But he didn't answer until they hit the last step. "Yes. I do. I really do like her."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Chloe felt a blanket of relief cover her shoulders when Matt stepped out of a blue sedan. A tall, statuesque blond stepped out from the driver's side.

  Kevin pointed. "Okay…that's Margo Richmond, the tech side of the hunting team. There were lots of rumors about the two of them about a year ago. But now everyone thinks he's gay and she's a lesbian."

  He and Chloe stood near the front door of the Barrett House as crew members came and went, hauling wires, cameras, and equipment into the house. Chloe wasn't sure she'd actually call it a house a much as a mansion. The place was three stories with a central door. Looking at it from the road, the thing had 18 windows in front, several chimney stalks erupting from the roof, and a mottled brick front. The mottling came from all the years of repairs when old bricks were replaced by newer ones.

  But that's not why they hadn't stepped inside.

  Oaks and cypress grew along the drive and up to the house. They flanked the doors as well and continued in a fan to either side. The back of the property was known for its pecan orchard. Chloe could just see the tops of the gigantic trees when she and Kevin pulled up. And when they stepped out of Kevin's car, Chloe's knees gave out.

  It wasn't the stories she'd read just hours earlier on the history of the house that made her heart pound. It was the house itself. The moment they drove up she felt like she was being watched, that there were things looking at them through the windows even with all the trucks and vans parked along the drive.