Intrigue Books 1-6

by Delores Fossen, Rachel Lee, Carol Ericson, Tyler Anne Snell, Rita Herron

  Candy grinned. “He’d have to. He’s just the new sheriff after all.”

  It was Nate’s turn to laugh. “Poor man. Well, hell, I get to be the old sheriff, so maybe I should complain.”

  Steve spoke. “You said the hermit’s name was Bride. I’ve heard the last name before, just recently.”

  “It did come back to me, didn’t it? Yeah. Samuel Bride. Wife was Ivy.”

  Candy jotted it down.

  Nate turned back to Steve. “Let me know if I can do anything else.”

  Steve was nothing if not bold. “There is one thing. If we get to taping this show, would you mind doing an interview about the lore surrounding the house?”

  “Why not? It’s time that man’s memory got laid to rest. And Candy?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “You find out anything about what happened to that woman, let me know, too?”

  She was happy to agree. “It would be nice to figure this one out.”

  * * *

  OUTSIDE AGAIN, CANDY paused to look up into the night sky. “So many stars here. Like Afghanistan.”

  “Less city lighting,” Steve answered, but he watched her closely. A beautiful woman who didn’t deserve the memories she carried, and he hoped like hell that staring up at the stars didn’t bring any of them rushing back.

  She’d probably hate to realize that he was feeling protective toward her. A ridiculous thing to feel when she was evidently a very strong woman, and when there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about her memories. He just hoped she made some new, good ones.

  But the murders had really shaken her. He wondered how hard she was hanging on to her thoughts.

  Then she lowered her face, smiled and started walking toward the car. “That was fascinating.”

  “I thought so. It sounds like most of the scary stuff was made up.”

  “That’s what I thought, but I’ll look into it.”

  “But, of course, none of this tells me why a little girl is hearing voices in her bedroom. And none of it tells me if this is threat to her or that family.”

  Candy paused with her hand on the car door. “You mean as in physical threat?”

  Steve’s insides tightened. He didn’t like to think of these possibilities. Unfortunately... “I came here expecting to find something relatively innocuous to help the Castelles out. But if a real person is doing all this, then I need to wonder why. Anything I think of doesn’t look good.”

  Candy looked poleaxed, but there was no point in pretending. He’d been ignoring the feeling that had been growing slowly in him since yesterday. A psychic, a spirit and two murders?

  He’d been a cop too long to be a great believer in coincidence.

  She looked at him over the top of the car. “But why? Who? My God, Steve, they just moved here.”

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean a thing.” He motioned her to get into the car, then slid in himself. With the doors closed, he felt more comfortable talking to her.

  “It’s like this,” he said. “Any time I go into one of these cases, I’m looking for causes other than the paranormal. While it doesn’t come out on TV, the fact is there are a lot of possibilities that are ugly. Lots. I’m a cop, I’ve seen too much to think that what looks like cotton candy on the outside doesn’t have a cyanide pill at the center.”

  She stiffened at the wheel, and even in the dim light he saw her hands tighten around the steering wheel. “Damn,” she breathed.

  “Yeah, it’s a terrible world. My thoughts run along ugly paths. But take the Castelles’ situation. They moved to the middle of nowhere. Why? For a backyard? Or to leave something in the past? What if their relationship is rotten at the core? Or if one of them is? What if one of them is using Viv in some way.”

  He turned his head a little and saw her staring straight at him in the dark.

  “That’s just...” She seemed unable to find the words.

  “I know. But you’ve been around, Candy. You know how horrible people can be. That child needs help. That means I look at every possibility, no matter how unthinkable it would be to most people. That’s the part of this job that I don’t talk about on screen or even in blurbs. It doesn’t have to be ghosts. It doesn’t have to be creaky plumbing or bad wiring. It can also be bad people. I don’t skip looking into that.”

  He and Candy parted ways at her house. “I have to get my equipment out to the Castelle place for the night investigation. See you in the morning? I’ll stop by with coffee.”

  “Sure.”

  He was aware of her eyes on him as he went to get into his rental.

  And after listening to Nate Tate, the tension in him was growing stronger.

  Maybe he’d been a cop too long. Or maybe he was right. If he was, he had to find out what was going on as quickly as possible.

  * * *

  BEN WITTES WISHED he could stuff cotton into his brain to shut the spirits up. They’d become excited about something and were yammering like a classroom full of kindergarteners.

  Damn it. Imagine that the one strong voice in his head had been right about coming murders. The thought chilled him to the bone.

  But the voice had been wrong about one thing. The murders weren’t coming, they had already happened.

  He clung to that, wanting no more even slightly accurate information about such things.

  He wanted to give voice to the spirits lingering around that house, but not this kind of voice.

  Although he didn’t have much choice, like today.

  Possession. The word floated into his head once more. What if Samuel Bride was trying to say something? What if this spirit had taken over someone else?

  And if it were Samuel Bride, how could he have had anything to do with yesterday’s murders?

  But that one voice seemed to be slowly taking over, driving him to make that awful introduction of himself to the Hawks guy.

  Closing his eyes, he began to pray for salvation.

  Chapter Eleven

  Steve set up his equipment that night, climbing into the attic to add more. The attic was huge, big enough to finish for a couple of bedrooms, but the only wiring visible led to lights at the head of the stairs and in the middle.

  It was possible, however, that sounds might be transmitting from the attic down the wall to Vivian’s bedroom. If he didn’t pick up anything tonight, he’d bring the rest of his equipment up here for tomorrow night.

  A good thing he had an unexpected tendency toward the technical, because one of the cameras wasn’t working right, and he knew how to fix it.

  In Viv’s bedroom, he set up a wide-angle camera and a couple of voice recorders that would activate only if there was a sound. Best he could do unless he wanted to stay all night.

  Not tonight. A scan of his earlier recordings had detected nothing but the heat turning on and the rattling of a duct that needed tightening. Not very useful since voices were the problem.

  Downstairs again, he found the Castelles sitting in the kitchen over small snifters of brandy. A pleasant way to end the day. Vivian had apparently already gone to bed in her parents’ room.

  “How’d it go?” Todd asked.

  “Pretty much blanketed. Hey, I needed to ask you a question.”

  “Sure, have a seat. Brandy?”

  Steve smiled. “Don’t get me started. I have to drive.”

  Annabelle laughed quietly. “Thus speaks the former cop.”

  But Todd took a different direction. “About your question?”

  “Yeah. Brandy diverted me. So, about the basement.”

  Both Castelles leaned forward eagerly.

  “I didn’t catch anything today. That doesn’t mean it isn’t there, so after I do this part, I may need to get more intensive. More equipment maybe or spending the night in Viv’s room. We’ll see. But the basement.”<
br />
  “Yes?” Todd prompted.

  “It’s not big enough. As near as I can tell, it doesn’t run under Vivian’s room.”

  Annabelle spoke. “It doesn’t. We noticed that, too, but the real estate agent explained it.”

  “Yeah,” said Todd, jumping in. “He said that Viv’s room was an add-on, and no basement was ever dug as far as he knew.”

  “Sitting on blocks.” Annabelle nodded. “A good, firm base, the building inspector said, one that completely surrounds the room. No crawl space. We didn’t worry about it after that.”

  A room with no basement. Steve wondered if he needed to deal with that somehow. If he could, short of tearing it all down. Hell. But if there was no basement, then how much could be down there? Some field mice? A rat or two? None of them would make voices.

  He rose. “I’ll leave you to your evening, then.” On the way to the door, he paused. “Still hearing from old friends?” he asked casually.

  “All the time,” Todd answered. “Good friends are never left behind.”

  “Good.” He smiled as he exited the house, thinking that problems never got left behind either. He hoped Dena, his researcher, would get back to him very soon. She was a wizard at getting public records that painted a background of his clients.

  He drove past Candy’s house on his way to the motel. Lights glowed from the windows, and he had the strongest urge to stop in. He wanted to learn more about her, beyond her Army career. Did she have family? If so, where? Were they close? What was the rest of her background?

  This time it wasn’t a cop’s curiosity, it was a man’s. Oh, trouble there, he warned himself. He didn’t want to get attached to this place, especially a woman in this town. He traveled too much. His home was in Southern California and mostly he liked it. He doubted Candy would consider moving down there.

  Hell.

  He pulled up in front of her house and decided to knock even though it was nearing midnight. She could always tell him to drop dead. Besides, after last night, he was a little worried about her. What if her memories were still plaguing her?

  Freaking excuse, that’s what it was. Too bad. He got out of the car anyway, walked up to her door and knocked.

  After a minute, she answered, looking surprised. “Steve!”

  “Hey,” he said with a pleasant smile. “I was thinking of going to Maude’s before she closes to get a piece of pie. If you’re interested, I’ll bring you one.”

  Because he knew a cop never really felt off duty in a public place.

  A slow smile grew on her face. “Apple, please, with a latte if you don’t mind.”

  “I just hope she has some peach pie or cobbler left.”

  Well, that had gone well, he thought as he drove to Maude’s. Now he only had to hope that the dragon would share some of the gold with him. Not that he really doubted it, but it was a fun thought about such a grumpy woman. He was beginning to wonder how she’d ever managed to have a kid.

  Instead, Maude proved to be in a closing-shop mood.

  “I got a piece of apple, and a couple of pieces of peach cobbler. You can have them just to clear out my display. No charge.”

  He beamed at her. “Very generous of you.”

  “Just don’t like to throw away good food. I’ll be baking fresh at four in the morning.”

  He watched her box the goodies. “How do you keep up this pace?”

  She frowned. “It’s the way of being in this business. Anything else?”

  “Two of your biggest lattes, if it’s not too late.”

  “For some folks, it’s never too late to have coffee.”

  That was true. As a cop, he’d learned to depend on it for fuel.

  Then he took a plunge, expecting to be rebuffed. “You hear anything about the incident on the mountain, I guess it was?”

  Maude handed him the first latte, already capped. “Two murders, I’m hearing. Folks are getting uneasy. Maybe even a little afraid. They’re also wondering why this happened right after you came to town.”

  Steve’s stomach lurched. “They think I’m a killer?”

  “Right now, new faces don’t help the uneasy. They’re wanting it to be a stranger, not a neighbor.”

  “Ugh,” he answered even though he could understand. “And Ben Wittes?”

  Maude snorted, giving him the second coffee. “Crazy man. Most people just try to stay clear. Talking about spirits? I’m a religious woman, but I don’t believe god loses souls, so what would they be doing hanging around to bother people?”

  Good question, Steve thought. On the other hand, what if free will extended past death? It was a conundrum, if you thought about it. Occasionally he wondered.

  But talk about garrulous. He wondered how he’d gotten so far into Maude’s good graces. And he suspected he’d never know.

  * * *

  CANDY WAS KIND of glad Steve had stopped by. Her own ghosts were rattling the bars of their cage and threatening to escape. God, she needed to bury them for good, but she doubted she ever would.

  Steve returned with two foam containers, and two coffees in one of those cardboard trays. “Grab a coffee before I drop it. These damn things barely support them.”

  She obliged, grabbing both of them. “Kitchen?”

  “Best place to eat pie unless you want crumbs all over your living room.”

  He followed her.

  “I want to vacuum as little as possible.”

  He laughed. “Every time I get back home, I hire a crew. I am definitely not the mopping or dusting type.”

  “I have to be. My mom always had a spotless house, aided by her kids. Then the Army took hold and taught me how to clean boot scuffs off a floor with a toothbrush.”

  “Seriously?”

  She cocked an eye his way as she put the coffees on the table. “They had to keep us busy somehow when we didn’t have other duties. But actually I think that was just another layer in teaching us who was boss, and to follow orders.”

  He could see that. But what a miserable job.

  “White-glove inspections aren’t just a myth. Try to survive one in bathroom facilities.” She looked at him. “Plates and forks?”

  “Please. Once in a while I need to pretend to be civilized.”

  That caused her to smile crookedly. She retrieved the plates and utensils, then sat facing him. He opened the containers and told her to help herself.

  “That’s a lot of pie and cobbler!”

  “It is. Maude was cleaning out for the night and said she hated to throw away good food. No charge.”

  Candy lifted her eyebrows. “How’d you get on her good side?”

  “Damned if I know.” He watched Candy reach for the apple pie, then took a large square of peach cobbler for himself.

  She indicated the pie. “That’s two slices, I swear.”

  “So enjoy it.” He ate a mouthful of cobbler, then said, “Maude told me something interesting.”

  “Yeah?”

  “The town is uneasy about the murders. And they seem to be zeroing in on me. Stranger in town, arriving just before they happened.”

  “Oh, man.” She paused with a piece of pie on her fork. “Another problem. I didn’t expect that.”

  “Well, it makes sense under the circumstances. As Maude said, nobody wants to feel a neighbor could have done this. She also told me that Ben Wittes is crazy and people avoid him like the plague.”

  “I can believe that.” She resumed eating. “It’s not going to make your job easier if people are suspicious of you.”

  “I doubt it’ll make it any harder. Trying to get information I can use in any way is like pulling teeth around here. Even public records. But you’re going to look into the disappearance of Ivy Bride?”

  “Absolutely. Nate piqued my curiosity.”

  They
ate in quiet companionship, then Steve risked blowing the whole thing up. “Got any family?”

  “Back in LA? Tons. A huge family.”

  “How are they doing?”

  “Well, it seems.”

  But he’d noticed a tension coming over her and the remaining pie seemed to lose her interest. Maybe he should drop this right now. But he couldn’t.

  “You see them often?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Family squabble?”

  “Nothing like that.” She dropped her fork onto her plate. “You want the truth? The war changed me in ways I don’t like. I don’t want to go back and face a hundred family members who’ll all be wondering what happened to me. Who might start asking well-meaning questions. I don’t want them to see the new me. Then there’s my brother.”

  He waited, but nothing more seemed forthcoming. Her eyes were beginning to take on that absent look again. Oh, God, what had he precipitated with his endless curiosity? It was one thing to push a witness or a perp, another to press a friend.

  But then she found voice again. “My brother followed me into the Army. I think it was because of me. Back then I was all excited about the possibilities. Then he got killed in the ’Stan. I wouldn’t be surprised if they blame me for that. And maybe they should.”

  His heart had squeezed so tight that he doubted he’d ever draw breath again. God, the weight this woman bore on her shoulders. It had to be crushing her a piece at a time.

  He wished he could hug her, but he wasn’t sure it would be welcomed. He didn’t even dare offer the trite advice maybe you should call them. That was something she needed to decide on her own.

  He felt useless except to say, “Maybe he was following in your father’s footsteps. The way you did.”

  “Sorry,” she said presently. “I shouldn’t dump on you.”

  “I don’t mind. Really.”

  She picked up her fork again and began to eat pie with determination. “Thanks for the pie and coffee. It’s delicious.”

  Locking away the entire conversation. He understood that, too. But this woman was a box of sealed secrets, and short of a pry bar he didn’t know how to get her to open up. It would probably require the kind of trust they didn’t have yet.