The Traveler: Book 5, The Eddie McCloskey Paranormal Mystery Series (The Unearthed) (19 page)

They were
linked
.

He’d gone online and researched hauntings and the sites confirmed his worst fears: this was probably forever.

The only chance he had was to help her with her insane plan. Then maybe—
maybe—
she’d leave him alone.

Though deep down he doubted it. Evil didn’t just stop being evil.

“We can’t go back to O’Donnell’s house,” he said. “The hauntings won’t look random. They’ll start looking for a pattern and if they catch me, you won’t be able to finish.”

The ghost’s face twisted back into something resembling the person he once knew. She had been beautiful. Very beautiful. Most people would have agreed and also noted she was intelligent and personable.

But nobody knew her like he had.

Looking back now he realized what she’d been all along: a sociopath. Capable of deceiving anyone and everyone and manipulating them to get her ways. If he tried telling anybody the truth, nobody would believe him. Because she just
seemed
so nice and innocent.

Which made her the purest kind of evil imaginable.

The ghost considered what he’d said and then passed her skeletally-thin hand in front of the computer monitor.

Her words appeared a second later.

Margaret saw me.

“Are you sure?”

The ghost nodded.

“But she never met you.”

Again she waved her hand in front of the monitor.

She might recognize me. We must kill her.

“I can’t…not after Fellov…I can’t help you kill another innocent person.”

You have no choice. If Margaret recognizes me, the police will come after you.

“No, they wouldn’t. Why would they?”

The ghost didn’t answer. She just glared at him. Just like she’d done so many times in real life.

“No. You
wouldn’t
. I’ve done everything you’ve asked. You can’t do that to me.”

You better believe I will.

***

Alexis Schubert was in her fifties but looked great for her age. Eddie wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but he’d had a vague idea she would be a wreck of a woman, having lost her youngest in the worst possible way. Not by some disease or random accident, but by the hand of another person.

Pictures of her family covered the mantel above the fireplace. By Eddie’s count, she’d had four children: three boys and Tiffany. The boys looked alive and well, though the pictures were a few years old. All of them appeared with wives and two of them had kids of their own.

Alexis set the coffee tray down on the antique coffee table. It looked like it had been passed down through her or her husband’s family for generations. On the way over, Christie had prepped Eddie so he knew that Alexis’s husband had taken his life not long after his daughter Tonya had been murdered by Rory Tomlinson.

Alexis poured coffee for them but not herself. She was dressed as if she was going to work at a nice office after their conversation: tan slacks and a modest blouse. Eddie could tell she’d just gotten her hair done and her nail polish looked fresh too.

“I was wondering when you’d get here,” Alexis said.

Christie and Eddie shared a look. He had no idea what she meant and apparently Christie didn’t either.

Alexis picked up on this and smiled. She walked to the fireplace and rested one arm on the mantel and gazed at the pictures of her family. Her eyes finally came to rest on the portrait of her daughter, a cap and gown affair that looked like it’d been snapped in college. Tonya looked like a cheerleader: thin, big eyes, high cheekbones, gorgeous smile. Her eyes had been filled with that youthful hope, looking out and seeing nothing but a bright future. But then she’d met Rory Tomlinson. In his own sick, twisted way he had realized how special she was and decided nobody else could have her.

Alexis sighed. “As soon as I heard the news about the haunting, I knew you’d be here.”

Christie said, “We’re sorry to bring up painful memories.”

“My daughter wouldn’t hurt a fly,” she said. “Not a fly.”

Eddie was about to respond, but Christie jumped in. “We don’t think so either, but new evidence has come to light so unfortunately we have to ask you some questions.”

“What new evidence?”

“I’m afraid we can’t share that information.”

“She wouldn’t kill Louis. I just don’t see it.”

Christie did a double-take. Eddie had never even spoken the guy’s first name. Since he’d joined the investigation, he’d only thought of him by his last name.

Stahl.

“I’m sorry,” Christie said. “Did Tonya know Mr. Stahl?”

Alexis frowned. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

***

“How long did they date?” Christie said.

“It wasn’t really dating. She was still with Rory when she met Stahl.”

Christie knew it then. They’d hit the jackpot. Tonya was the link to everything. She’d known Stahl intimately, at around the time she was involved with Tomlinson. Her tryst with Stahl might even have been the catalyst that sent Tomlinson into his jealous, murderous rage. Maybe Stahl had broken it off with her? Or maybe Stahl had confronted Tomlinson.

She could see the puzzle coming together. Tonya had been a saint in life, but Tomlinson had killed her, possibly in retaliation for her affair with Stahl. Maybe she blamed Stahl for that. Maybe she blamed him for not protecting her from Tomlinson. That would be reason enough to kill him.

But why the others? Stahl knew Dr. O’Donnell, but he didn’t know Fellov, Felicity, or Alicia. Or Engel, if Engel was even connected. She was beginning to think he wasn’t.

“Ms. Schubert,” Christie said, “why didn’t Tonya’s relationship with Stahl come out during the investigation?”

“Tonya had already suffered the worst indignity. My husband didn’t see any benefit to her brief affair with Stahl becoming public knowledge. Everyone knew that Rory had killed her, and we wanted her to be remembered for who she really was: a beautiful young woman, with nothing but a great future ahead of her. This one mistake didn’t change that.”

Christie did her best to control her anger. People often kept things secret for good reasons, but inevitably problems arose. If Eddie McCloskey hadn’t suggested Tonya Schubert, she wouldn’t have thought of the dead woman. And so their investigation would have proceeded down a different path and they would have missed their opportunity to connect these particular dots.

“Ms. Schubert, I can understand your reasoning before but now we need to know everything about their relationship.”

She pictured a calm lake, not a ripple across the surface. It helped her keep the frustration out of her voice.

Alexis sighed and sat back in the chair. “She met Stahl at the hospital.”

“Rariville Medical Center?”

“That’s right.”

“Why was she there?”

“Because Rory hit her. She never admitted as much, but we knew. If she’d told my husband the truth, he would have driven to Rory’s house and killed him. I wish now she had. At least both my husband and my daughter would still be alive.”

Your husband would have been in prison for ten to fifteen years
, Christie thought.

“Do you remember who treated her when she was in the hospital?”

“You already know, don’t you?”

Christie didn’t know actually, but suddenly another piece of the puzzle fell into place. “Dr. O’Donnell treated her.”

“I’d completely forgotten his name until I saw it, along with his picture, in the news this morning.” Alexis nodded solemnly. “I don’t care what they say about that man. He was a good doctor.”

“And what do they say?” Christie asked.

“I hate it when you cops do that. Pretend not to know things. Your people did that with us the whole time they asked all those horrible questions about my daughter.”

“Ms. Schubert, I really don’t know much about Dr. O’Donnell.”

“Fine, if you’re going to continue with the deception.” She looked away, disgusted. “He was sued for malpractice ten years ago. Failure to diagnose. Don’t you remember?”

“I wasn’t here ten years ago. Could you fill me in?”

“It was the biggest local news story until Rory Tomlinson killed my daughter. I don’t remember the details of the trial, but the jury awarded the woman a lot of money.”

Which might have explained why, as a man who’d reached retirement age, he was still working the graveyard shift at Rariville Medical Center.

“Why do you say he was a good man?” Christie asked.

“He tried to get the truth out of her, and out of us. He really pushed her while she was in the hospital with that concussion and detached retina. He knew her Rory had hit her. He tried to get her to admit it so the police could do something about it. But Tonya wouldn’t.”

“Any possibility it wasn’t Rory?”

“No. She was only with Rory at the time. Then she met Stahl in the hospital. I never knew how.”

“How long were they together?”

“They weren’t, at first. Tonya preferred to make a clean break with Rory to be with Louis. But she couldn’t. She was too scared. So she started seeing Louis on the side. Naturally we weren’t thrilled about it but I was happy she was thinking about a life
after
Rory.”

“Did Rory find out about them?” Christie said. “Is that what drove him to murder?”

Alexis sat quietly and looked out the bay window of the living room. Christie didn’t think she was going to answer. Her eyes had a faraway look, like they were seeing into the past.

“Ms. Schubert?”

“I don’t know.”

Christie nodded at Eddie.

“Alexis,” he said. “I see you have a nice family.”

She said nothing.

“Was your daughter the youngest?” he asked.

She stared at him for a long time, trying to figure out why he was asking. “Yes.”

“Was she close to her brothers?”

“She’s not a killer.”

Christie watched Eddie’s reaction. She wondered how he would do with someone who was turning into an uncooperative witness. He had a good mind, was driven to do to the right thing, but sometimes he went off the reservation.

“Maybe she isn’t,” Eddie said. “Maybe she was trying to warn these people.”

“Of what?”

Eddie looked at Christie. She didn’t want Eddie sharing any more details, though. It wasn’t public knowledge yet that an unidentified man had been seen outside of Stahl’s house on the night of his death.

Christie shook her head no. Heart in her throat, she hoped Eddie followed her orders.

Eddie turned back to Alexis. “There are details we cannot share with the public yet. But there is a lot of evidence suggesting your daughter is the ghost haunting these people.”

“I won’t help you.”

“I want to help
her
,” Eddie said. “If I can understand her motivation, I can.”

“How?”

“I want to help her find peace,” Eddie said. “And I don’t want anybody else to get hurt.”

Alexis stood and picked up the coffee tray. “I’d like you to leave.”

The chief wanted police only in the meeting.

But the mayor overruled him.

“Mr. McCloskey,” the mayor said. “My name is Oscar Rabine.”

Eddie shook his hand.

The mayor was short and younger than Eddie would have expected, no more than forty. He wore an expensive suit and there were two men with him. One looked like he taught high school history. The other was tall and broad-shouldered and could have passed for a basketball player. The former had to be Rabine’s chief-of-staff. The latter, his protection.

The chief was seated behind his desk. Harney and Christie were to his left, while the mayor and his people were to Knotts’s right.

The mayor sat back down. There were no empty chairs for Eddie. Briefly he wondered how he must have looked. He’d gotten less than eight hours of restless sleep combined over the last two nights and he hadn’t brought dress clothes. He had on an old pair of jeans and a button-down that was threadbare at the elbows.

Not that he cared. Eddie was used to being underestimated and in fact preferred it that way.

The mayor turned in his chair to look at him. “Mr. McCloskey, I understand you’re an expert in the supernatural.”

Eddie nodded. “As much as anybody can be.”

“What does that mean?”

Eddie folded his arms. “Anybody that claims to be an expert is full of shit.”

The mayor laughed.

“Pardon my French,” Eddie said. “Beware of anybody that tells you they’re a paranormal expert. It usually means they’re con artists. The people who actually know something about the subject recognize how limited our knowledge is. So that’s what I mean when I say, as much as anybody can be.”

“Plainly-spoken. An honest man is what I need right now. Is there a ghost killing my people?”

Eddie felt all eyes in the room on him. “Yes.”

“Are you certain?”

“As I can be.”

“More equivocation.”

“You asked for honesty.”

“Why do you think that?”

“For the most part the hauntings are consistent. The second victim reported a haunting not knowing the first victim had. Yesterday we received two credible eyewitness accounts of ghosts. The witnesses had no reason to lie.”

“People always have a reason to lie,” Harney interjected.

Eddie didn’t challenge the other detective. It was the same thing Christie had told him last night and he tended to agree.

Eddie said, “In addition the physical evidence supports a haunting. There was no forced entry in any of the homes. Both Stahl’s and Fellov’s houses were locked.”

The mayor said, “How is the ghost killing people?”

Eddie was inclined to look at Christie for her approval. They had discussed his theory of the case last night and again this morning, but it was so far out there he didn’t even trust it himself yet. Not completely. But he forced himself not to look at Christie and kept his eyes on the mayor so the idea looked like it was his and his alone right now.

Eddie said, “Psychic attacks.”

Harney made a noise that was half-laugh and half-groan. The chief moved around in his chair. Only Christie stayed still. Eddie felt the disbelieving eyes of the mayor’s two staffers on him.

The mayor frowned. “I don’t know what that means.”

Eddie steeled himself. “It’s just what it sounds like. The ghost is mentally attacking these people.”

“And that’s killing them?”

Eddie nodded. “The mind and body are linked. If you can terrify someone enough, their fight-or-flight response kicks on. Under normal circumstances, your adrenaline shuts off but the ghost keeps the psychic attacks going until the victim is paralyzed from fear and can’t move. The heart can’t take that much adrenaline. It’s the same thing as an overdose causing cardiac arrest.”

The whole room fell silent. In fact, it felt like the whole world had gone quiet to Eddie.

“Psychic attacks?” the mayor repeated.

“Based on what Mrs. O’Donnell told me, that’s my hunch.”

“Hunch?” Harney said.

Eddie looked at him. “We don’t have anything else to go on right now.”

The mayor shook his head. “Okay, regardless of how it’s happening, how do we stop the ghost?”

“First we have to figure out who it is.”

“Sounds like it’s Tonya Schubert to me.”

Eddie hadn’t been part of the initial briefing so he didn’t know how much Christie had shared or what she had suggested. He didn’t want to undermine her in front of the chief or the mayor.

He said, “I think she’s our best candidate.”

“So how do we stop her from killing more people?”

“There are things we can try.”

“Such as?”

“I won’t know till we understand the ghost. That will dictate what we do.”

The mayor said, “What can you do? An exorcism?”

Eddie shook his head no. “We’re still working on how to handle the ghost.”

The mayor pursed his lips. “So far I haven’t heard anybody say the ghost is going to stop. Is that the general consensus?”

Christie spoke up. “We have to assume this continues until we understand what’s driving the ghost.”

Harney shook his head in disgust. He still didn’t buy the paranormal theory behind the case.

The mayor turned to Eddie again. “How does someone survive a psychic attack?”

“By not being afraid.”

The mayor laughed mirthlessly. “That’s a little vague.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. The mayor turned from Eddie back to the chief.

But before he could say anything, Eddie interjected. “I believe the ghost kills through fear alone. So long as people aren’t afraid, they’ll be okay.”

The mayor said, “Thank you, Mr. McCloskey.”

Eddie added one more thing. “That’s why we should go public.”

The mayor’s chief-of-staff finally spoke. “Nobody has come out and said with one hundred percent certainty a ghost is out there killing people. If we go public with that information we’ll likely start a community-wide panic that will end up getting more people hurt. I hope you’re not serious.”

Eddie shook his head. “Well-prepared is well-armed. Right now everyone is wondering. Nobody likes to live with uncertainty. It’s better for them to know what they might be up against. So let’s take the uncertainty away and call it what it is. In terms of messaging, you could say that a ghost has
been involved
in the deaths of three people. That way you’re covered in case someone else is actually doing the killing.”

Nobody said anything.

When no one answered, Eddie said, “Tell them you’ve consulted me and this is what I think. I have street cred in paranormal communities and people will trust me.”

The room fell silent. Eddie got the distinct impression he’d overstepped. That was okay. It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last. Besides, he was convinced a ghost was responsible. He felt the community should be officially warned and put on notice.

The mayor turned back to Eddie. “Pretty confident, aren’t you?”

Eddie laughed. “Not really. I’d say it’s fifty-fifty.”

The mayor’s eyes went wide. “I need better odds than that.”

Eddie eyed the man. “Mr. Mayor, I won’t ever bullshit you or the police. I call them like I see them. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. But I won’t ever lie or hide behind words. You can trust me.”

The mayor turned back to the chief. “Do we have to cancel St. Patrick’s Day?”

Eddie didn’t wait for the chief to answer. Christie had told him the town held a huge celebration that lasted the entire day. If the ghost was set loose, it could hurt a lot of people.

“I would.”

The mayor laughed. “Not afraid to speak up are you?”

“Like you said, Mr. Mayor, that’s why I’m here.”

The mayor pursed his lips. “Thank you, Mr. McCloskey. Lady and gentlemen, I’d like a word with Chief Knotts.”

***

Christie found Eddie in the conference room. He had his feet up on the table and was reading some police files. Probably from the Schubert file.

He was always surprising her. She kind of liked that and she kind of didn’t like that. In some ways he reminded her of her ex-husband.

She didn’t always understand herself but ever since she’d decided to leave her husband, she lived by an important rule: know what you’re feeling.

Right now, she was feeling a lot of things. Just because they didn’t make sense didn’t mean she wasn’t feeling them.

She was attracted to Eddie. But getting into a relationship with him was the worst thing she could do. For both personal and professional reasons.

Personal: she was still recently divorced and specifically
not
looking for anyone. Especially not someone who shared a substantial number of traits with her ex. Especially not someone who’d been—and probably still was—a player. Especially not an ex-convict. Especially not someone like…Eddie McCloskey.

Professional: her career would be over if the chief even suspected she and Eddie were involved. She couldn’t date the consultant she’d brought on. It would be career suicide and undermine everything about the investigation.

But she loved the way he looked at her.

She could tell she was a mystery to him. It empowered her.

And at the same time, she knew everything about him. Eddie was the ultimate mixed bag.

His parents had died in a car accident when he and his brother were young, and they had gone to live with an uncle. He’d been a mediocre student in high school and had faced two separate suspensions. He hadn’t attended college. In his twenties he bounced around between low-paying, menial jobs, never staying on any for more than a year. In his spare time he played second fiddle to his brother on their ghost hunting team. His brother had done all the heavy lifting: managed the team, recruited new members, and developed their business. While Eddie more or less tagged along.

Then his brother had been murdered by a deranged boy.

Eddie’s life had spiraled out of control. Alcohol, drugs and finally, almost inevitably, the arrest and incarceration. She’d been a police officer for ten years and had seen it before. Misguided, rebellious youth, with no father and now no brother to help him along. A stretch in the joint.

He was released on early parole for good behavior, but that didn’t tell her anything. In an overcrowded prison system, many cons were shipped out early, especially when it was their first stint, especially when they were inside on a relatively minor drug bust. After his release, he followed the stereotypical trajectory of the ex-convict. He moved away, going from town-to-town, doing his best to outrun his past and find someone that would give him the second chance he was unlikely to get, and even unlikelier to capitalize on.

He’d wound up in a little town in Pennsylvania, about an hour from Rariville. Right place at the right time. The locals had hired him to be a ghost hunter.

Once he resumed the work he knew so well, he had pretty miraculously turned his life around. He’d been doomed to become another statistic, but instead he’d rallied.

She would have expected him to balk in front of the mayor this morning. Most people would have. But he hadn’t. He’d spoken his mind and actually advised the mayor on what to do. She’d almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Not because she disagreed with his recommendation. But because Eddie McCloskey had beaten long odds to reach this point in life and had risen to the occasion when everyone else would have written him off long ago.

For the first thirty years of his life, he’d been a complete mess, destined for a meaningless ending. But in the last few years, he’d turned it around.

And he had these eyes…mischievous, playful. He was tall, dark-haired, a bit on the thin side but that was better than the alternative. He had a great smile and wit. But he also had to be in control and was a loose cannon, the ultimate irony.

She had no idea where he’d be in five years. The cynic in her thought he’d be back in rehab. The optimist in her thought he could—

“Is the mayor going to address the public?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t know. But you gave him something to think about.”

“Let me guess, it’s an election year.”

She smiled. “It’s always an election year. Politicians are either running or getting ready to run. Same difference.”

He nodded. “I was reading up on Schubert.”

“Getting anywhere?” She came around the table and sat next to him. She had to be more careful. So far she’d been Ms. Professional. It was important to keep that up, so Eddie didn’t get any ideas.

Not that he needed any. She’d lost count of how many times he’d checked her out.

“No.” He tossed the file back onto the desk. “Was she close to any men, other than Tomlinson and Stahl?”

None that Christie could remember. “I liked your angle earlier. A brother would help her. Especially an older brother.”