Edge of Darkness: The Complete First Season (Paranormal Investigations Unlimited)

by Paige Tyler

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  EDGE OF DARKNESS

  Edge of Darkness

  The Complete First Season

  Paige Tyler

  Copyright © 2020 by Paige Tyler

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the author.

  With special thanks to my extremely patient and understanding husband, without whose help and support I couldn’t have pursued my dream job of becoming a writer. You’re my sounding board, my idea man, my critique partner, and the absolute best research assistant any girl could ask for!

  Thank you.

  PROLOGUE

  Stamford, Connecticut

  “PIZZA, MEXICAN, OR THAI?”

  Presley Kincaid looked up from the pile of mail she was flipping through to see her roommate Darla Warren holding up a handful of takeout menus. Petite with shoulder-length curly red hair and freckles, they’d been friends since college.

  Presley tossed the mail on the table in the entryway and walked into the kitchen. “Why don’t we go out for dinner instead?”

  Darla frowned, but didn’t answer. Since dumping her asshole boyfriend two weeks ago, she hadn’t left the apartment for anything except to go to work and back. But that was going to change tonight. Presley was getting Darla out of the apartment if she had to drag her kicking and screaming.

  “Come on,” Presley said. “After the past couple of weeks, we could both use a night out. We can go to Jimmy’s Bar and Grill and flirt with the hot waiters. Maybe even check out a club afterward. How about it?”

  Darla still didn’t say anything, but Presley could tell from the thoughtful look in her friend’s hazel eyes that she was wavering. The hunky servers at Jimmy’s could do that to a girl. Presley was about to remind her of one particularly tall, blond Adonis who worked there when the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” Darla said, hurrying past Presley and over to the door.

  “Saved by the bell,” Presley muttered.

  Darla put her eye to the peephole, only to immediately jerk back, panic on her face. “Crap. It’s Carson.”

  Presley cursed silently. Carson Del Vecchio was Darla’s ex-boyfriend. He’d seemed nice enough when they first started going out, but after a few months he’d become possessive and abusive. Presley would have dumped him right away, but Darla made excuses for his behavior, saying he was stressed or having a hard time at work. After the a-hole had grabbed Darla’s wrist hard enough to give her a bruise, Presley finally convinced her to kick his ass to the curb. Unfortunately, Del Vecchio didn’t take the break-up well and had been stalking Darla ever since. Presley would have to talk to her about getting a restraining order against him.

  She and Darla stared at each other and Presley could tell her friend was thinking the same thing she was. Maybe he’d leave if he thought they weren’t home.

  “I know you’re in there, Darla.” Del Vecchio pounded on the door with his fist. “Open the damn door.”

  Presley put a finger to her lips, silently urging Darla to keep quiet. “I’ll get rid of him,” she whispered. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to the door, but didn’t open it. “Darla isn’t here.”

  “Bullshit! I saw her come home,” Del Vecchio said. “Let me in.”

  “Go away, Carson.”

  On the other side of the door, he muttered something Presley couldn’t make out. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer. “Look, I only want to talk to her.”

  “Well, she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  Silence met her words and for a moment Presley thought Del Vecchio left, but when she put her eye to the peephole to check, she saw him standing in the hallway, a determined look on his face.

  Crap.

  “Come on, Presley. Let me in so I can talk to Darla. It’ll only take a minute.”

  Presley clenched her jaw. What part of go away didn’t that jackass understand? Reaching for the knob with a curse, she yanked open the door.

  “I told you, Darla doesn’t want to talk—”

  Del Vecchio didn’t let her finish. Grabbing her arm, he shoved her back from the doorway. Presley barely had time to wonder what the hell he was doing, much less open her mouth to ask, when he lifted a butcher knife and plunged it into her chest. She heard a scream but didn’t know if it came from her or Darla. All she could focus on was the white-hot pain searing through her body.

  As suddenly as he’d attacked her, Del Vecchio yanked out the knife and threw her to the floor. Presley landed hard on her left shoulder, but the discomfort that came with it was nothing compared to the agony in her chest. She pressed her hand to the wound, hoping to stop the pain along with the flow of blood, but it didn’t do much good, at least not when it came to the pain part of the equation. It hurt so much she thought she might throw up.

  From somewhere, an anguished cry of terror pierced her suddenly fuzzy consciousness.

  Darla.

  Gritting her teeth against the pain, Presley pushed herself up on an elbow and looked around for her friend. Darla was on the floor, Del Vecchio crouching down beside her, the knife to her throat. He ripped open Darla’s blouse and drew the blade down her chest, leaving a trail of blood. Darla opened her mouth to scream, but Del Vecchio put his hand over her mouth, silencing her.

  Fear gripped Presley. She had to get help or that psychopath was going to kill both of them.

  Ignoring the blackness threatening to engulf her, Presley dug in the pocket of her jeans for her cell phone. Gritting her teeth against the pain in her chest, she pulled it out and dialed 9-1-1.

  “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

  Presley opened her mouth, but all that came out was a groan.

  “Hello?” the woman on the other end of the line said. “Is someone there?”

  Presley swallowed hard and tried again. “Help… We need help… He’s trying to kill…”

  That was all she could manage before a fit of coughing overtook her. Blood filled her mouth and she cringed at the metallic taste.

  “Ma’am? Are you okay? If you can hear me, say something.”

  But all Presley could do was lay there. As she stared up at the living room ceiling, it occurred to her that except for the voice coming from the phone, the apartment was eerily quiet. Presley turned her head to see Darla lying in a pool of blood, staring back at her with unseeing eyes.

  Tears welled in Presley’s eyes and she choked back a sob. Del Vecchio spun around to look at her, blood dripping from the knife in his hand. His lip curled into a sneer.

  “I’ll be damned. I thought for sure you were already dead. Can’t say I’m sorry you aren’t. Now, I can pay you back f
or talking Darla into dumping me.”

  Snickering, he wiped the knife on his pant leg and started toward her.

  Blood pounding in her ears, Presley dragged herself across the floor. She expected Del Vecchio to catch up with her within a few feet, but when she looked over her shoulder, she found him following at a ridiculously leisurely pace. He was toying with her, the sick bastard.

  Stifling another sob, Presley turned and crawled toward the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. There was nowhere to go out there except fifteen floors down, but it was too late to change direction now. Besides, she might be able to scream for help. Of course, by the time someone came to her rescue, she would probably be dead.

  Stop it. You’re going to get out of this alive.

  She repeated that over and over in her head as she inched the rest of the way to the sliding door. Using the handle for leverage, she slowly pulled herself to her feet. She closed her eyes, praying she wouldn’t pass out as everything went black around her. When she opened them again, she saw Del Vecchio’s reflection coming closer in the glass and she fumbled desperately with the latch. It unlocked easily, but she had to put all her weight into the door to push it open. Dammit, she was so weak.

  She staggered onto the balcony but didn’t get more than a few steps before Del Vecchio caught her arm and roughly spun her around, slamming her back against the stone wall.

  “Where the hell did you think you were going to go out here, bitch?”

  She stared into Del Vecchio’s soulless eyes, wondering if he would take pity on her and kill her quickly. But from the evil grin he gave her as he pressed the knife to her throat, she knew he was going to make her death as painful as he had undoubtedly made Darla’s.

  The image of her friend lying dead in a pool of blood fueled Presley’s determination and she raked her nails across his face before he could stop her. Del Vecchio cursed, lifting a hand to his eye even as blood ran down his face. Seizing the opportunity, Presley shoved him away from her as hard as she could. He stumbled back, arms windmilling as he tried to keep his balance, but he slipped anyway, and she watched in shock as he tumbled backward over the railing with a terrified yell.

  Presley wanted to check to make sure Del Vecchio had fallen to his death and wasn’t hanging from the railing waiting to pull himself up so he could come after her again, but she didn’t trust her trembling legs anywhere near the edge. Weaker now than she’d been before, she turned and stumbled back into the apartment.

  She barely made it inside the door before collapsing. She lay there, willing herself to move, but nothing on her body seemed to work. It was all she could do to breathe. Even that seemed to be more trouble than it was worth. She thought about simply closing her eyes and giving up, but then she caught sight of Darla’s body and knew she didn’t want to die. She forced herself to take one more breath, then another one after that.

  And another.

  And another.

  The next thing she knew, two paramedics were at her side.

  “She’s coming to,” one of them said. He leaned closer, his voice reassuring. “You’re going to be okay. Just hang on.”

  She opened her mouth to reply but couldn’t speak. Suddenly, she couldn’t seem to get enough air. The more she struggled, the harder it was to breathe.

  “Shit, we’re losing her,” the paramedic said. “Stay with me. Just stay with me.”

  Presley tried, but the darkness that threatened to engulf her earlier was too strong to fight anymore and she finally gave in and let it take her.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Five Weeks Later

  PRESLEY BOLTED UPRIGHT in bed, her screams echoing in the small room. She sat there trembling, her breath coming in huge gasps. She swallowed hard, wincing at how her throat felt. Damn nightmares. The psychiatrist at the hospital assured her they were normal after an event as traumatic as the one she’d gone through and that they’d go away with time. She wasn’t so sure. Not when she saw Carson Del Vecchio’s face every time she closed her eyes. A shiver ran down her back at the memory of that asshole and what he’d done to Darla—and to her.

  Blinking back tears, she glanced at the clock on the bedside table and saw that it was a little after five A.M. She considered trying to go back to sleep but decided not to bother. She’d only end up staring at the ceiling and thinking about Darla and what her deranged ex-boyfriend had done to her. Or start looking over her shoulder for things that couldn’t possibly be there. Things she shouldn’t possibly be able to see.

  Shuddering, Presley pushed back the blanket and got out of bed, then padded barefoot into the adjoining bathroom. She stared at her reflection in the mirror above the vanity with a frown. Her long, blond hair was a wild tangle and there were dark circles under her blue eyes. In a word, she looked like crap.

  She debated whether to do some yoga or not, but then decided to skip her usual morning workout and, head straight for the shower instead. While she loved yoga, there was something about water that never failed to relax her. Besides, liked to do yoga to music and she didn’t want to wake her sister up.

  Taking off her tank top and shorts, she twisted her hair up and secured it with a clip, then stepped into the tub and turned on the shower. The warm water immediately relaxed her and she stood under the spray, letting it wash over her shoulders and down her back for a long time, refusing to let her mind go where it always wanted to lately, instead focusing on all the things she needed to when she finally went back to work. If she should ever get her crap together. She was a school counselor. How could she help her high school students when she couldn’t even help herself?

  Sighing, she turned off the water and grabbed a towel off the rack. As she dried off on the bathmat in front of the tub, she deliberately avoided looking at the scar on her chest in the mirror. She was glad to see the dark circles under her eyes had almost completely disappeared. With the help of some beauty products, a little makeup, and a straight iron, no one would ever know she’d spent the night tossing and turning.

  Throwing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, she walked into the kitchen a little while later to find a note waiting for her on the table.

  Presley,

  One of the flight attendants on the London route called in sick, so I’m going to fill in. I’ll be gone for a few days, maybe more. I would have woken you before I left, but you looked like you were finally getting some sleep. I’ll call you later. If you don’t like being in the apartment alone, go stay with Mom and Dad, okay?

  Jennifer

  Presley cringed. While she loved her parents, if she stayed with them, her mom would give new meaning to the word hover. She could handle staying by herself until her sister got back.

  Dropping the note back on the table, she dumped oatmeal in a bowl, then added sweetener and cinnamon and stuck it in the microwave. While she waited for it to heat, she opened her laptop and checked her email. Even though she’d talked to her parents on the phone last night, there was one from her mom, saying she knew Jennifer was working and asking if Presley wanted to come stay with them. Presley smiled despite herself. If her parents had their way, she’d have moved back home after Del Vecchio nearly killed her. She sent a reply, letting her mom and dad, thanking them for the offer and saying she was fine. She loved them for their concern, but she’d moved out when she left for college twelve years ago and was too set in her ways to ever consider moving back in. She might be a little traumatized after what Del Vecchio did to her, but that a-hole hadn’t succeeded in taking her life from her that night and she wasn’t going to let him take it from her now.

  That all sounded well and good, but while Del Vecchio might not have succeeded in murdering her, he’d definitely screwed her up so much she wasn't sure she'd ever be the same. Regardless of what the psychiatrist at the hospital thought, she was pretty sure her brush with death had driven her insane.

  She started to think there was something wrong with her when she’d woken up in the hospital to find Darla sitting in
a chair by the window. Presley had tried to jump out of bed and run over to her best friend, but she had so many wires and tubes coming out of her that she could barely push herself into a sitting position. Then there had been the pain in her chest so severe she thought she might pass out again. By the time she’d looked over at her friend, Darla was gone.

  Presley had been wondering if Darla left to get the nurse as her family rushed in. When she asked where Darla was, they told her she was dead.

  “Dead?” Presley stared at them. “What are you talking about? She was here a few minutes ago.”

  Her mother and father had exchanged looks with each other, then Jennifer before her parents each took one of her hands and told her it would be okay.

  “It was just a dream,” her mom said. “Everything is okay. You’re safe now.”

  But everything hadn’t been okay, and it still wasn’t. Hardly a night passed in the hospital when she didn’t see something weird, something she refused to believe she actually saw. When she told her psychiatrist she sometimes saw things that…disturbed her, the woman frowned and asked for detail even as she wrote out prescriptions for one powerful psychotropic drug after another. That was the last time she’d ever said anything to anyone about the people she saw that no one else did. While she refused to accept what she might be seeing because she was sure it wasn’t possible, she’d left the hospital as soon as they would release her. There’d simply been too many…things to see there.

  On the upside, she hadn’t seen anything since leaving the hospital three days ago, but that didn’t mean much. She hadn’t left Jennifer's apartment since coming there.

  Grabbing a bottle of Vitamin Water from the fridge, she set it down on the table along with the oatmeal so she could have breakfast while she wrote in her journal she’d started at the urging of her shrink. Writing down her thoughts wasn’t her thing, but if it helped keep her from completely losing her marbles, she was all for it. Of course, if anyone ever looked on her laptop and saw her journal, they’d probably commit her for psychiatric evaluation. For her own protection, of course.