“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at two.”
Trina could only nod. Their time together was running out. It was just what had to happen. If she kept a positive attitude, something good would come of it. It always did. So why was she desperately holding back tears?
***
“Brace yourself.” Casper had driven them to his brother’s house. It sat next to what looked like an abandoned trailer, a brand new house far back from the road. “That’s Thorn’s place. His squeeze is Felicity, the property developer who’s making us all the money.”
Laramie’s driveway was full of trucks so they parked on the street. He got out and opened the door for Trina. He admired her beige turtleneck and jeans with the back pockets bedazzled. Even dressed down, she gave his heart a lift.
“Why should I brace myself?”
Casper opened the door to chaos. Children ran everywhere, adults yelling at them. The scent of food drifted out, and music, and talking below the shouting, and glasses and dishes clinking, and a game on TV. With practiced ease, he led her into the whirlwind.
“Cass, finally! We’ve been dying to meet this woman everyone’s talking about. I’m Wendy Marino, Laramie’s wife.” Wendy sashayed over and handed Trina a glass of wine. “C’mon in, take a load off. Why have you been hiding her from us?”
He watched with amusement while Wendy kidnapped Trina and took her to the big sectional—and the clutches of the Marino alpha bitches.
“We got chips and dip. Dinner is venison cooked three ways,” Wendy sat Trina down. “You’re in show business? That must be exciting. Do you meet a lot of movie stars?”
“Wendy watches too many cooking shows when she’s not playing video games constantly.” A woman held out her hand. “Carolyn Marino, Cheyenne’s wife.”
“My God, you’re gorgeous. Why did you say she was fat, Sheridan? Fuggedaboutit, I’d die to be fat like her! Hi, I’m Marsha, Sheridan’s wife. You are so gorgeous!”
Casper edged away.
“Uh, that’s nice of you to say.”
Casper’s eyes roved the room as he slipped into the kitchen. Scarlet made an appearance, moving into the circle of the alphas. Sheridan’s little girl leaped into Trina’s lap. “Hi I’m Katie! Your hair is pretty. Is it real?”
“Katie Alison Marino!” Marsha scolded.
“You should never ask a woman about her dye-job,” Scarlet smirked.
“Scarlet O’Hara Sanders!” Marsha scolded.
Casper worked his way toward the back of the house and the stairs. Though he was obligated to attend, he had more on his agenda than eating. He waited until he heard the downstairs bathroom door close and slipped upstairs.
“You hunt ghosts,” he heard Katie say. “My daddy hunts deer. What do ghosts taste like?”
Scarlet was staying in Laramie’s daughter’s room. Casper slipped in, fully focused on his lupine olfactory sense. It smelled like wolf bitch in here, as it should. Smells were particulate. Only a wolf brain could sort out the billions of molecules that identified an individual. He locked on at once. Trina’s scent, then his own scent, and the vaguely ursine smell of Ben. It took him only a few seconds to locate the small blue rectangle. He pocketed the camera data card and moved back downstairs.
He thought Trina might need rescuing. Instead, he saw her head thrown back in laughter. Why should he have even worried? Even among the Marino pack alpha bitches, Trina Adams was still in her element.
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Chapter Thirty-Five
Trina had no idea what Casper was so worried about. The Marinos were pretty awesome. It had been a long time since she had a lot of family around. She might feel bitter about it, but she was enjoying herself too much. With your chin up, and a positive attitude, it was all about perspective.
The kids sat at their own table. Wendy produced her dishes with a flourish. More beer and wine appeared. Platters were passed, and Trina filled her plate.
“Casper tells me you’re remodeling a bathroom,” Trina said to Laramie.
Laramie forked all three kinds of venison onto his plate. “Yeah, that’s right. You’re in the spooky business, right? Cass said something about ghosts turning up when a place gets remodeled.”
She leaned toward him. “Have you seen anything strange on the job site?”
Laramie leaned toward her. “Last night, I couldn’t find my screwdrivers. Turns out, they were downstairs in the kitchen silverware drawer.”
“Oh, come on,” Trina said. “You’re kidding me.”
“I kid you not. Of course, my brothers are idiots, and they might confuse an allen head with a freaking fork.”
“Shuddup, Larr,” Sheridan drank his beer. “Although, it is kinda creepy. We usually don’t—”
“Work out so far in the woods,” Cheyenne talked over him.
“What are you talking about?” Carolyn said. “We live in the freaking woods.”
Before suspicion could brew, a commotion broke out at the kids’ table. “Mom! Darren’s touching me!” Katie wailed.
“I am not, I’m just doing this.”
“Stop not touching your sister,” Marsha shouted.
“So I should touch her?”
Carolyn pointed with her fork. “You knock it off, Mister!”
Scarlet stared at Trina, her eyes slits. “So, are you going to make the remodeling part of your show?”
Trina cut into her second version of venison, surprised she actually liked it. “Well, if anything happens, yes, it’ll go into the show.”
“Ohh.” Scarlet drew the word out, her eyes on Casper.
So far, Trina had managed to be civil to Scarlet, even though the bitch was blackmailing her. Now, she wanted to walk around the table and throttle her to find out what she was up to now.
“We might be able to write some of it off as advertising,” Casper shrugged. “Should take care of the overtime.”
Marsha, sitting on Casper’s other side, slapped his shoulder with the back of her hand. “Always the smart one.”
But Casper didn’t look pleased with the comment—he looked downright confused. He ate mechanically, as if his mind were someplace far away. While Trina felt welcomed, accepted even, into the Marino fold, things had already changed between her and Casper. Their time together felt fragmented, like jump cuts in the edit, the smooth transitions missing. They lived two doors and a porch apart from each other, yet the space between them increased, even as they sat together. It felt like if she wanted to take his hand, there was an impossible gap between them.
“So, you think the place is haunted, Trina?” Wendy asked.
Trina had lost track of the conversation. “I don’t know. I hope so. We’ll have to see.”
“To your success,” Carolyn raised her wine glass. Other glasses and beer bottles followed suit. Trina raised her glass and smiled. Why did she feel like a hypocrite?
After the food was gone, the gathering broke down quickly. Kids had to be put to bed, adults had an early morning, and even though it wasn’t late, goodbyes were said. Casper walked her out to his truck.
“I wanted to ask you if we could do this investigation alone.”
Trina paused. “Just you and me?”
He shrugged. “At least the first time. Like you said, there might be nothing going on there, paranormal wise. Would that work?”
Casper seemed to be asking more than his words defined. Did he just want her to himself for a while? Trina was okay with that. The closing off of his expressions made her think that this wasn’t the sole issue. She couldn’t read him. Distance between them blurred his intent. “That would work fine. I’ll give Ben the night off.”
“Awesome.” He opened the truck door for her. But Trina noted that he didn’t move closer for a kiss. Her heart fractured a little.
***
Casper had to admire the amount of completed work in the bathroom as he set up a static camera. Painted and tiled, the crew only had to assemble the
standing shower walls and install the back-ordered toilet. The rest was simple finishes that had to wait for the installations.
He said none of this out loud. While he told Trina he needed to be at the job site all day; that was a lie. Instead, he spent time alone at the river that ran through Ripple, thinking. He had relationships with many women. None of them were long term, nor particularly emotional, save one—the one that had doomed his brothers. Being alone was something he had become pretty good at.
Once the camera sat steadily on a tripod in the hall, he focused on the unfinished room. Scrap boards, a square and a broom leaned on the wall.
Finished, he stood still, listening hard, smelling the air. It was so quiet, he felt the need to snap his fingers to assure himself he hadn’t gone deaf. He felt no tingling, no otherworldly sensation. The house didn’t seem haunted, only lonely. Casper’s emotional compass spun.
Boards creaked, and he focused on Trina setting up a camera on the far side of the second story. He ignored the tug at his heart. This was it, the final chapter, and he wasn’t about to go to pieces. Her camera faced out the door of the master bedroom, the red glow of what Trina called a tally light vivid in the dim. For their purposes, the light would shut off during recording instead of the other way around.
“Do you think the owner will do an interview on camera?” Trina palmed the remote control.
Casper met her halfway, at the top of the stairs. “I’ll talk her into it. But probably not until next week.” He had to talk her into some of this, so why not go all the way? The only other option was legal action. But Casper was a pretty good talker.
“Okay, pretty simple setup for this,” Trina said. Two cameras covered the upstairs, cameras downstairs took in the living room and kitchen. Hopefully, nothing happened in the dining room, or one of the other bedrooms. Casper hefted camera number five and framed Trina.
He felt almost professional as he counted down. “We’re live in four, three, two—” He made a circular gesture with his finger.
Trina gave the date, time and location. Everything came down to this. Casper had stuck his neck way the hell out for this. As he stood there, recording Trina, it suddenly dawned on him how stupid the whole thing was. The time had passed for clear thinking.
“Is there anyone here with me?” Trina asked, gazing around dramatically. “Mr. Carstairs, are you here? Do you have anything to say to your wife?”
Time ticked by, measured by light rain showers and gusts of wind. They shot upstairs, then downstairs. Finally, Trina bit her lower lip. “I’m not getting anything. No creepy feelings.” She flapped her hands. “I think this is a bust.”
Casper took a breath to say that they should give it more time when a loud bang sounded upstairs.
“What was that?” Trina asked the camera. It struck again.
They hurried up the stairs, hearing the sound again. Even on the second floor, it sounded distant. Both of them lifted their faces to the ceiling.
“The attic,” Casper said.
Trina nodded to the camera. “The attic,” she repeated. Casper remembered she was supposed to be alone. She pulled out a flashlight. “Okay, cut. Where’s the attic door, Casper?”
Again, the bang, this time loud enough to make them both jump. Casper paused the camera and led her to the attic door. He set up again to let her open it and walk up the narrow stairs. “Hello?” she called.
Treads crunched and creaked beneath her as she ascended. She stopped at the top, waiting for him. He followed, putting the camera on its tripod once he reached her. Rain pattered the roof above. Boards squealed underfoot. Boxes hunkered, casting shadows opposite the moving flashlight.
Trina stopped and gagged, her hands and the flashlight flailing. “Spider web!”
He just managed to keep himself from chuckling when the bang echoed, loud as a shot in the silent space. Trina whirled toward it, her hands again wildly slapping invisible strands from her face. Casper realized what it was before Trina reached the window.
“Shutter’s loose,” he said. The window slid open easily. He grabbed the functional shutters and pulled them together. Their simple latch was loose. Maybe, if the widow didn’t have him arrested, he could throw in this additional repair for free. “Shit. I thought we had something.”
“It is something. Debunking counts for additional clips. Could you shoot me closing the shutters?”
Trina opened the window again, letting in cool damp. Casper recorded her, trying to keep the camera from roving toward her ass as she bent over. Still hooked on the physical. What he needed was to shake the emotional attachment. If that was possible.
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Chapter Thirty-Six
This first night’s investigation was turning into a bust. Trina hoped Casper and his crew weren’t too put out by it. For viewers, it added verisimilitude when you solved mysterious bumps in the night. She was pretty sure there wouldn’t be more than that. Not tonight. Scarlet’s deadline loomed, but she might be able to do a full set-up in the house, capture something solid before she fled town.
Casper could sense her leaving. That must be why he put distance between them, chronological, physical and emotional. Should she be angry at him? If she were, Trina knew it was only a defense mechanism against heartache. Easier to leave someone you were pissed off at. She didn’t think she had the energy for it. And it wasn’t like Casper was being mean or anything. He had never been mean to her. Unfortunately, this was one of those things that had to happen. She had to stay positive, and something good would come of it. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what that could be.
After the sunny day, the attic was stuffy. Casper’s skin shined in her flashlight. She hoped her makeup wasn’t runny. They trooped all the way down to the kitchen. Trina sat in a stool by the counter, grabbing an energy bar out of her pocket. “You want one?”
Casper declined.
“Getting late. I don’t know how much more time we should spend on this.”
His gaze fell, brows knitting.
She reached out and touched his shoulder. “It’s okay. Sometimes it takes a few nights to capture something.”
His eyes met hers, a glint of something like pain there. “I have to tell you something.”
The sentence was punctuated by a clatter upstairs. Amber eyes went wide.
“The attic?” Trina’s voice fell to a whisper.
Casper shook his head, pointing up past the balustrade. “Hallway by the bathroom.” His voice was low as well.
Cameras in hands, they tiptoed up the treads.
“Yes!” Trina hissed.
Casper aimlessly pointed the video camera for a second before he saw it as well. Leftover boards and tools had been left leaning on the hallway wall outside the remodeled bathroom. Now, they lay on the floor.
“I hope we caught that,” she said.
Creaking caught their attention. Both faced the bedroom on the other side of the second floor. Though no draft was felt, the bedroom door quickly shut, the latch clicking. A moment later, the latch clicked again and the door creaked opened.
“Are you shooting that?”
Casper checked the viewfinder. “Think so.”
“Money!” she shouted.
***
He tried to keep her in frame as she paced the upstairs hall.
“Did you knock down that stuff?” she asked her recorder. “Are you unhappy with the remodel?”
Until this moment, Casper had not realized how much stress he was under. Far too much hinged on this illegal investigation. It felt like he’d been holding his breath for a week.
“Are you Mr. Carstairs?” Trina turned to him. “Cut! Hey, do we know the late husband’s first name?”
“No idea.”
“Whatev. Action! Can you tell us your name? Do you want us to leave?”
Casper let her continue her EVP session. His stupid plan had worked. Sure, there would still be a mess to clean u
p, but for whatever reason the things in the hall fell down, Trina was pumped. She had her evidence. The pilot could be completed. She would leave Ripple without suspecting the majority of the population shifted into beasts.
His own adrenalin high staved off thoughts of the inevitable. For now, he enjoyed seeing Trina hunting her ghost. Her color was high, even in the greenish night vision, and her eyes sparkled. Quiet steps were quick, light, almost like she was dancing through the EVP session.
A moment later, a rhombus of light moved through the house, wiping away his amused voyeurism. He recognized it immediately: headlights from a car pulling up the driveway. Lupine senses picked up the crunch of gravel under tires.
Busted.
“Trina, grab the cameras. We gotta get outta here now.”
She whirled toward him, perplexed. Casper didn’t have time. He switched off the camera pointed at the bathroom and ran downstairs. In the dining room, he dumped the hand-held into the case. There wasn’t time to disassemble the tripods. He’d have to carry the rest out. Shadows shifted around him, the vehicle coming closer. He expected the spotlight of a police vehicle to shine through the front windows, but it didn’t happen.
“Casper, what the hell?” Trina finally made it downstairs.
He locked eyes with her. “We have to grab the cameras and go. We’re not supposed to be here.”
Blue eyes bugged at him. “We’re trespassing?”
“Technically, I think we’re burglarizing. Pack it up and get out the back door.”
“Omigod, we’re breaking the law?”
He pointed at the camera in the living room. “Do it!”
Dragging the case, he took down the last camera from the dining room. Trina hurried in with the other stationary cam from the living room. At that moment, the front door opened. Lights came on. Casper gripped Trina’s arm and pulled her behind the kitchen island.
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