The Lost: Book Two, The Eddie McCloskey Series (The Unearthed 2) (30 page)

An
a
stood in the dirty grey snow outside the police station. The wind caught hold of her scarf and shot one end straight out. She smiled at Eddie and tucked the loose end into her jacket.

The thought of her being hog-tied by Hollis still tugged at his heart. Thank God the cops had found her so quickly. She must have been terrified.

Eddie walked right up to her and kissed her. She wasn’t expecting him to but she caught up quickly, kissing him back hard.

He pulled away and put his free hand on her cheek and looked into her young eyes. She had so much ahead of her.

“I’m still mad at you,” she said.

“Sorry. But I knew you had to be close by the lake. Hollis didn’t have time to put you in a car, drive somewhere, and get back. The road was gridlocked.”

She gave him a look.

“And with over a thousand people fanning out through the woods, I knew we’d find you quickly.”

She buried her head in his chest. “I wasn’t in on it with Marty.”

He smiled. “I know.”

She looked up at him. “How?”

“Because you’re a good person.”

She was about to argue but he put his fingers to her lips.

“Just take the compliment.”

She smiled and kissed his fingers. “Come back to the apartment with me?”

“Jimbo?”

“He’s getting his stuff now.”

This wasn’t part of his plan. He wanted to say goodbye and move on, but if he did it right here she might be tempted to take the big lug back.

Eddie didn’t know why, but he had to tell her. “I saw Tessa.”

Ana’s eyes widened.

“Under the ice.”

For a brief wondrous second, he could tell she believed her sister had been down there, possibly trying to help him. But then she nodded, her eyes growing skeptical.

She said, “You were delirious with pain and oxygen-deprived. You were probably seeing things. Simplest explanation.”

He didn’t say anything.

“It’s just a good thing Whitmore had all that diving gear ready. Otherwise you would be seeing Tessa right now.”

Eddie turned and looked once more at the tiny police station. “Fucking Whitmore. That guy’s alright.”

They went to their cars. Lenny the Drunk had bought him new tires while he’d been in the hospital. Eddie had no idea where Lenny got his money from but he wasn’t asking questions. The guy had certainly repaid him for the other night at the bar and then some. Eddie opened the door and before getting in looked at Ana again. She climbed into her car and after a hiccup, it started and spat out black exhaust into the frostbitten air.

He got in his car and backed out of his spot. Out the lot, left turn, then a ten minute stretch of road followed by one turn. The ground was poking out in places where the snow had melted, but the weather was threatening again. If he stayed tonight and it snowed, he’d stay tomorrow night, and then maybe the next night ...

And with each small adjustment of the steering wheel, he wanted more and more to stay. She was only twenty-two but had been working and paying rent for four years.  That made her older than any kid who’d gone to college and didn’t have to worry about money. And he wasn’t that old. Besides, Tim had always said he acted five years younger than his age.

So she was an old twenty-two, and he was a young thirty-three. Maybe they could make it work.

They made a left and her apartment building grew in the windshield as they approached. Ana turned into the lot and found a spot near the entrance. He pulled up in front of the sidewalk and killed the engine.

She walked up to his window. Tapped on it playfully and batted her eyelashes and did a million other things that sent a jolt through his groin.

He rolled the window down and she put her forearms on the door frame and rested her cute little chin on the fleshy part of her arms.

“Ana, I—”

Then her mouth was on his. Her fingers dug into his neck. He felt her tears burn his face.

She pulled away. “I know you’re leaving.”

“It’s okay.” Like she was pre-forgiving him. “It’s okay.”

“How do you know I will?”

She palmed his jaw and then ran her fingers through his hair. “Because I read a book about you, Eddie McCloskey. That’s how I know.”

“Maybe I’ll be here when you come back out.”

She swiped at a tear and put on a brave smile. “I want you to do me one favor.”

He said nothing.

“If you ever change your mind, look me up.”

He opened his mouth but had no words.

“I’m not saying I’ll wait. All I’m saying is look me up.”

Then she kissed him on the forehead and walked away. He watched her the whole way, waited for the door to shut, waited another minute, and another.

He could stay.

He had a job. A certain local celebrity. For once, people liked  him. It was the best set-up he’d had in awhile.

Maybe ever.

Eddie watched the entrance to the building. In his mind, he went upstairs to Ana’s apartment and made wild, passionate love to her for the rest of the day. They’d take a break for dinner, probably takeout, and cozy up on the couch, saving up their energy for another bout of the best sex ever that night.

It could work, being here. Being with her.

Eddie smiled at the thought.

Jimbo came out the door a few minutes later, carrying an overstuffed cardboard box. He didn’t see Eddie in the parking lot. Jimbo shuffled miserably to his car. Either he’d climb out of his hole, or he wouldn’t. Most importantly, it was on him now. He wouldn’t burden Ana anymore.

The lost could be forgotten, threatened, nudged, pushed, reasoned with, or steered. They could be ignored, treated, loved, or abandoned.

But no matter what, the lost had to find their own way.

Eddie knew Ana would now.

He drove off.

********

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EXCERPT FROM THE ACCUSED AND THE DAMNED

Thriller writer Evan Ronan, author of 
The Unearthed
, brings you the next edge-of-your-seat adventure in his paranormal series …

When the police arrest Anson Ketcher and charge him with murdering his wife, all he keeps saying is: "The ghost killed her."

Nobody believes him. And nobody should, given Anson's violent past and rocky relationship with his dead wife. Everyone wants to see Anson convicted.

Except Eddie McCloskey, paranormal investigator turned expert witness. Only Eddie can prove the man's innocence, but in doing so, can he find the real killer?

The Accused and the Damned
 is the first of its kind, a paranormal legal thriller. It is approximately 80,000 words and is specifically formatted for Kindle, with an active table of contents.

Alic
e
Ketcher could still hear her husband upstairs. She was waiting for him to pass out before she turned in. It had been three months since he’d been drunk but you never knew with men. Anson had a mean streak. They’d been in couples counseling at church for the last year. She’d thought that Anson had shown genuine remorse and a desire to change, but here he was back on the bottle.

No matter how much she prayed and tried to forgive him, she couldn’t forget the times he’d scared her. He’d put his hands on her twice. Never hit her, just grabbed her shoulders to shake some sense into her. Murder in his eyes.

The last time had been over a year ago but you didn’t forget a thing like that. He’d been boozed up that night. Alcohol and her husband were a dangerous mix.

Not to mention they hadn’t spoken more than five words to each other in the last two weeks.

“ … seen … shirt?” he yelled from upstairs.

Alice pretended not to hear him. She went into the laundry room. The washer was running and making a lot of noise. She could always lie and say she hadn’t heard him over the sound of the washer.

“Alice?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice. He’d poked his head into the doorway. Looking at him, you’d never know about his mean streak. He had a kind, soft face and sympathetic eyes.

“Yeah?”

“I …” Anson took a deep breath. “I know my drinking makes you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”

She kept her distance. “That’s okay.”

The cycle was predictable. Falling down drunk followed by scenes of absolute terror then remorse and pathetic, weeping apologies. It was way past getting old.

Anson stepped into the tiny laundry room, blocking the door. She felt how very alone they were in this house. Nearest neighbor was half a mile away. It was times like these she grew furious with the church and her God for frowning on divorce. For pressuring her into staying with a man who frightened her.

Anson studied her, his kind eyes searching for something. She hoped it was for forgiveness. She fought herself not to look past his shoulder and give away how uncomfortable she was. That could send him into a rage.

“No really.” He shook his head. “I just … there’s no excuse.”

She realized he was crying. She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. Suddenly, not scared of him at all.

Had he turned the corner finally?

He spoke into her shoulder. “I want to keep with the counseling. I don’t think we should stop.”

“Okay, Anson. Okay.”

She rubbed his back till he collected himself. “I’m trying, hon.”

“I know.” She just wondered if people were actually capable of change. The fairy tales all said they did. But life was no fairy tale. “I just want this thing gone. I’m not comfortable in this house …”

“I know, baby. I want it gone too. Why don’t we ask Giles to come back out?”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Because he’s my friend, right?”

His eyes changed. The soft sadness vanished and a hardness took its place.

“Anson, he’s a fraud. That lady proved it on national TV.”

Anson just stared at her. It was like he was deciding how to react. She wondered what the options were.

“It’s actually gotten worse since he came out,” she said.

Anson frowned. Not believing her.

“It’s more … aggressive now. Before it just used to visit.”

Anger filling his eyes. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not a liar, Anson.”

Then she felt it.

The shift in the air pressure. A tingly current of electricity that bubbled over her body. It was here.

“What?” Anson asked.

Alice was a strong woman who had endured a lot in her short thirty years. Still the hackles on her neck rose every time this happened.

“Anson.”

He looked up. “It’s here?”

Alice instinctively reached for the cross that nested in the hollow of her neck. “Yeah.”

Since they’d moved in six months ago, they’d received increasingly frequent visits from something. Alice still didn’t know what to call it. She just wanted it to go away.

“Where?” Anson asked.

“It was here, but not anymore.”

“Kitchen,” Anson said.

“I want to get out of here.”

“Come on, it’ll be okay.”

“I mean it. It’s getting worse.”

“No, it’s not. It just feels that way because it’s around more often.”

“Anson, yesterday it started moving the furniture.”

“What?”

“I left the dining room for a moment. When I came back, two of the seats were moved out.”

Anson shook his head. “You probably moved them and forgot about it.”

“I was home alone. Why would I have moved two chairs?”

“Just come on. You need to face this.”

“I face it every day. I want the night off.”

“Come on.” He grabbed her wrist.

Reluctantly, she followed him into the kitchen. It was the spirit’s most frequent haunt.

Anson disconnected the camcorder from its charger, then made a face. “Did you forget to plug this thing in?”

She ignored him. She could just feel something … right there on the edge of her senses.

Anson was fussing with the camcorder. “Damnit, this thing’s dead.”

She closed her eyes. Felt. Tried to place the ghost.

The sound of her husband’s breathing, made heavy by drink. The hum of the dishwasher.

“Alice, are you sure it was here?” Anson right next to her.

“Anson, let’s just leave.”

“We need answers.”

“I don’t care what they might be anymore.”

Alice looked into his eyes and saw he wasn’t going to drop this. She wanted to leave. Run away. She could stay with her father. Or her cousin, Billy. She could just go. She wouldn’t miss Anson much.

But she couldn’t leave. She wasn’t supposed to. She was supposed to stay and make the best of things and pray.

Fuck it. It wasn’t often that Alice cursed.

She closed her eyes. She’d never channeled in front of him before. But now she wanted him to see how far this ghost had pushed her. What lengths she was prepared to go to.

Alice folded in on herself. Tried to shut down and open up. Like closing doors but opening windows at the same time.

“Alice, what’re you doing?”

“Quiet.”

Anson huffed and she ignored him, reached out as far as she could …

There.

“It’s close,” Alice said.