by L. T. Ryan
She looked around to see if there was anything within reach that she could use to defend herself, but her fingers scratched against the cold and empty stone floor.
Elizabeth appeared next to Cassie looking more alive and vibrant than ever as she looked down on Cassie's struggles. The slash across her throat and the hole in her chest were still present and gruesome, but her eyes were focused, and her expression was one of determination.
As Cassie’s world began to darken, the spirit launched herself at Baker with a scream so loud he heard it. He let go of Cassie and stumbled backwards. Cassie felt the explosion that followed. It was as though the walls had collapsed in on her.
And then two shots rang out.
Cassie scrambled backward and noticed Harris on her feet, holding her pistol at chest level, aimed at Baker. The man turned to the detective, shocked at the outcome of events, and grasped at his chest as two plumes of red spread across the front of his shirt.
He sank to his knees and fell onto his side. His arms, hands, fingers all twitched. His right foot kicked out at nothing.
Keeping her weapon at the ready, Harris leaned down to check Baker’s pulse. Satisfied that he wouldn’t be moving any time soon, she rushed over to Cassie. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” Cassie propped herself up on her right elbow and scanned her body. “Are you sure he's dead?”
“Not yet. But will be soon. We’re safe.” Harris looked from Baker to Cassie with a confused expression on her face. “What happened?”
“What do you mean?”
Harris shook her head. “I don’t know. One minute he was on top of you, and the next, there was this god-awful scream and he let go. Hell, he opened himself up for a clear shot.”
Cassie sighed at the memory. “That was Elizabeth.”
Harris’s face twisted up. “I don’t know how I feel about that.”
“Is it the idea that a ghost saved our asses or that you now have first-hand experience with a ghost?”
“Both?” Harris shook her head again. “Yeah. Both.”
There was sudden shouting upstairs and footsteps on the floor above them. Dust sprinkled down on Cassie’s head.
“Down here.” Harris yelled up the stairs. “It’s clear.”
Thirty seconds later, the basement was full of police, and David was reaching out for Cassie and pulling her into a hug.
“Quinn, this is the last time I’m telling you this--” David fought for an ounce of breath “--But you’ve got to stop doing this to me.”
“Trust me, I’m trying.”
“Well, why don’t you let me know when you think you’ve got a handle on this whole ‘staying out of trouble’ thing. Okay?” He redirected his attention to Harris. “You kept her safe. Good job.”
“Honestly? I think Cassie kept me safe.”
David looked confused, but Cassie and Harris exchanged looks and smiled. He shrugged and guided Cassie up the stairs and out of the house, with Harris trailing close behind.
The outside air felt warm on Cassie's skin and she tipped her face up to the sky and closed her eyes to soak in what was left of the fading Georgia sun. The humidity had relented. The air felt less oppressive.
She inhaled, letting the sensation fill her from top to bottom. This was the purest form of freedom Cassie could imagine.
When Cassie opened her eyes, she noticed a line of figures off to the left. She saw all four victims standing at the foot of the mounds of dirt that covered their hearts.
Hannah Williams.
Jessica Tran.
Elizabeth Montgomery.
Sage Washington.
For the rest of her life, and perhaps even longer, Cassie would not forget those names.
Each woman looked at Cassie and smiled. Their bodies had a glow to them as they stepped forward and vanished into thin air. Elizabeth was the last to go. Cassie felt the woman’s presence on her skin. She knew what Elizabeth was trying to tell her.
“You’re welcome,” Cassie whispered.
This, she remembered, was the purest form of freedom.
She felt Harris step up next to her. “Do you see them?”
“Not anymore.” Cassie stared at the spot she last saw Elizabeth. “I think they’ve moved on.”
“Do you know where they go?” Harris sounded as though she was embarrassed for asking. “You know, afterwards?”
“No, I don’t,” Cassie said. “I just know they’re no longer stuck here.”
“That’s good,” Harris said. “Right?”
“Yeah.” Cassie smiled and warmth filled her entire body. “Yeah, it’s good.”
Forty-Three
A few days later and the world had moved on.
The news cycle was kind to the Savannah Police Department, calling Detective Harris’s actions brave and heroic as she took down William Baker. Harris was quick to thank the actions of her fellow police officers and everyone else who aided in stopping the people responsible for those horrific crimes.
Cassie had requested she remain unnamed, but it still felt good to hear Detective Harris say those words. Two of the victims’ families also went before the cameras to thank the police department for giving justice to their loved ones. They could rest easy now that all four women had been avenged.
Plenty of people were disappointed that William Baker had been killed. He deserved all that the legal system could throw at him for the rest of his tortured life. Some said he got off easy. So, they turned their attention to Dr. Richard Langford. His lawyer tried to get ahead of any bad press by painting his client as a victim. However, the facts spread unimpeded, and despite being coerced into murdering, very few people were sympathetic to Langford’s plight.
David was certain they had a strong case against Langford, saying that even if he was the puppet and not the puppeteer, he killed those women. Not many juries were going to take it easy on him, and given Langford’s obvious lack of remorse, he wouldn’t be helping his case when he got on the stand himself.
After the events at the Victorian, everyone had returned to the precinct together. Harris had delivered the news to Bradley Baker. The man took it well, all things considered. Cassie thought Bradley would have a lot of emotions to process over the next several years, but any pain that his father’s death might’ve caused would be offset by the fact that he had orchestrated much more pain on many other people.
Cassie wasn’t sure how these events would impact Bradley on a personal or professional level, but given his kind heart and compassion, she knew he would make it through. There was no part of his father in him.
Cassie was shaken up after the confrontation with Baker, but she felt calm now that she had done her part to help the four women move on to the next life. After Novak, she had forgotten what it felt like to be the hero instead of the victim, and she had let her fear consume her.
Nevermore, she swore.
The trick was to embrace the terror. To work through it. To be willing to confront it again and again. Cassie had decided that she wouldn’t run away from her fear. She wanted to accept that it would always be a part of her life. It would propel her forward in whatever way necessary.
Most people hadn’t experienced horror like she had. Over the last ten years, she had come to experience that deepest kind of fear a person could have—the fear of death. Confronting serial killers and seeing ghosts didn’t rid her of that anxiety. After all, she had proof that there was something after this life. But that didn’t allow her to ignore the feeling.
And she decided to embrace that.
It wasn’t a decision she came to in a single moment. She had been contemplating it since the moment Elizabeth showed up next to Cassie’s bed, silently begging her for her help. For the duration of this case, Cassie worked through what it would mean to give her time and energy to the spirits that came to her for help.
She didn’t choose this life. It came to her and demanded her attention. She did it because she could and, on some lev
el, she needed to.
But now?
Now, Cassie wanted to. Elizabeth reminded Cassie of how it could feel to offer another person your hand. She had reminded Cassie what it felt like to help another person, despite her trepidation.
Cassie woke up one morning in the middle of the week with her decision made. She would do whatever she could to help whoever came to her, even if it meant facing her fears. Unlike most people, she had the resources and tools and abilities to do it.
Returning to work after everything happened was a strange affair. No one knew that she was so involved in the case, except perhaps George. He gave Cassie a gentle pat on the arm and wished her well. There was something about the sparkle in his eye that led Cassie to believe he was aware she had done her part to get to the bottom of the mystery.
Magdalena, on the other hand, was oblivious. She rushed into work the next day and asked if Cassie had seen the news. When she said she had, Magdalena went on and on about how horrific the world was and asked how some people could be so hateful.
Cassie let her talk, not wanting to give away that she knew all this had happened because one man had been afraid. Sure, he hadn’t been a good person or a doting father, but it didn’t happen because he was hateful. It happened because he didn’t want to die.
The irony that his life had been cut short because of his own actions was not lost on Cassie.
Jason was privy to these conversations since they happened over lunch. He was quiet during them and Cassie wondered what went through his mind. He had seen his own fair share of death and dealt with his own anxieties daily, something Cassie took comfort in.
Cassie was brought back to the present by the chiming of her phone. She was in her bedroom, half dressed, and trying to decide what she was going to wear on her date in an hour with Jason. She had taken the initiative and told him she was able to help her friend and was free for dinner whenever he wanted to grab a bite to eat. A knowing look on his face, Cassie half wondered if he had speculated her friend was involved in the case. But Jason didn’t say anything, so Cassie didn’t clarify.
They agreed to get seafood and wine that evening at The Pirate’s House. A bit touristy, but good seafood, nonetheless. And every once in a while, a random ghost would join her for dinner there.
Despite a long day of work trying to restructure the 19th and 20th Century Photography exhibit, Cassie pulsed with energy. She was excited to go on her date with Jason. Despite being terrified of what it might mean for their interactions at the museum, she couldn’t let her dread get the best of her.
Never again.
She skipped over to her phone and saw she had a text from her sister. It was a picture of her sitting on her couch by herself, eating popcorn straight out of the bag and drinking a glass of red wine.
I love date nights, don’t you?
Cassie laughed. Laura had been complaining for days about how long it had been since someone had taken her out, so she was finally pampering herself.
At least you don’t have to spend the entire night being anxious over whether your date is going to kiss you by the end of it.
Laura sent another picture. This time it was one of her dogs, Chewie, licking the side of her face. My date didn’t even wait till the end.
He’s a lucky man. Cassie then tossed her phone back on the bed.
For the fifth time that night, she walked over to her closet and touched every piece of clothing she had. She didn’t want to wear anything too out of the ordinary because she didn’t want to make a big deal. But she also didn’t want to wear an outfit she’d worn to work a hundred times.
She groaned and turned back to her bed where she had already laid out three different contenders for the evening. She was ready to close her eyes and pick one, but she found herself stifling a startled scream instead.
The ghost of the little boy was standing at his post in the corner of the room like he had done for months. Cassie hadn’t seen him since she’d spotted him outside Langford’s house, after which she half-wondered if he’d show again.
And now here he was, like he had not left in the first place.
Cassie threw a t-shirt over her head and approached the spirit. He kept his eyes on her the entire time, unblinking like always. She inspected him, like she had so many times in the past, but she couldn’t see any injuries or marks on his pale, translucent skin.
When she knelt in front of him, it was with a much more open heart than she’d ever had in the past.
“Hey.” Her voice was quiet. Gentle. “I’m sorry about ignoring you for so long. For being angry. But I’m here. I’m ready to listen. Take your time. I’m not going anymore.”
The boy blinked twice, slowly, like he was contemplating her every word. He opened his mouth and, for the first time since Cassie had seen him, spoke. His voice was quiet but clear.
“Sarah Lennox.”
Cassie stumbled backwards. She couldn’t tell what surprised her more.
That he had spoken to her.
Or that she had recognized the name.
THE END
Cassie Quinn will return in February, 2021! Pre-order your copy now, or read on for a sneak peek.
https://www.amazon.com/Untitled-Cassie-Quinn-Mysteries-Book-ebook/dp/B08MVJ7KZL/
UNTITLED
Cassie Quinn Book Two
by L.T. Ryan & K.M. Rought
Copyright © 2020 by L.T. Ryan, Liquid Mind Media, LLC, & K.M. Rought. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.
Book 2: Chapter 1
Detective David Klein took a moment before exiting his sedan and walking to the crime scene. He wanted a few more minutes to enjoy the AC before he stepped in the warm Savannah sun. It was early November, but temperatures were still in the 70s and 80s, and he wasn’t looking forward to spending more time in the heat than necessary.
Not for the first time, David wondered what it would be like to move somewhere cooler, somewhere quieter. He could hear his wife, Lisa, laughing him off. “You love this city too much,” she’d say. “You’ll be here until the day you die.”
She was right. Lisa knew him better than anyone on this planet, even better than himself. If she said he’d never leave, then he had no choice but to believe her.
But damn if he didn’t want to get away once in a while.
The last few months had been rough. Savannah had just gotten over a brutal serial killer, one that had killed by ripping the hearts out of young women and draining them of their blood. Of course, the killer hadn’t been working alone. William Baker had been the true mastermind of that operation, and now he was six feet under.
Good riddance.
As usual, life slowed down after that. Savannah had gotten a little quieter. Decades on the force taught the detective that crimes like these came in waves. It’d get bad, then good, then bad again. There was no telling what was normal anymore. Was life normal when it was calm and peaceful? Or when it was insane?
David didn’t care to think about those questions anymore. For the past few years, he’d focused on getting from one case to the next. One day to the next. It was easier if he didn’t think too far in the future. He could handle today. Tomorrow might be another story.
David switched off the vehicle and stepped outside. The air felt heavy with heat and moisture in contrast to the air conditioning he’d left behind. The heat of his coffee burned at the inside of his hand, but when he took a long sip, that same heat refreshed him as it glided down his throat. It was worth the discomfort to have another few drops of energy in his bank.
He took stock of his body. His knees and hips were stiff. His shoulder had a pinched nerve. There was a slight headache forming over his left eye. His feet hurt, but he noticed nothing out of th
e ordinary. He’d be more worried if he woke up pain-free.
With a deep sigh and a resignation that comes from years of working as a homicide detective, David walked to the underside of the Harry S. Truman Parkway. He’d been told a body had been discovered. Other than that, he’d been left in the dark.
A few officers stood at the edge of the underpass, keeping a group of homeless people away from the crime scene. The Chatham-Savannah Homeless Authority did its best to make sure the camps never got too out of hand, but the Truman Parkway was a hotbed for individuals trying to stay cool and dry.
A female detective stood closer to the body, waiting for David to nod his way past the officers, one of which lifted the crime scene tape for him. David ducked underneath, trying not to groan as his shoulder twinged in defiance of the movement.
When he straightened up, the other detective lifted a hand in acknowledgement and David returned the favor. He’d seen Detective Adelaide Harris around the precinct every day, but they never had time to say anything more than a simple hello.
He’d always liked Harris’ work ethic and dedication to the job, but he was more grateful to her for keeping Cassie Quinn safe a few months ago when the two came face to face with William Baker. Cassie tended to throw herself in situations without considering an exit plan. Harris had made sure to get her out alive.
Harris offered up a small smile. “Good morning.”
“Is it?”
She shrugged. “Could be worse.” She looked over her shoulder at the body. “Could be better.”
“What’ve we got?”
Harris’ sigh was deep as she walked David over to the body. “Male. Mid-60s. Strangled, legs crushed. Been here for about a day or so. We can’t tell yet whether he was killed here or dumped. There’s been too much traffic in and out from the homeless. We’ve got one guy who says they didn’t know he was dead right away. Just figured he was sleeping. Not sure how true that is given the state of the body, but when they figured out the man was dead, most of them took off for another area.” She jutted her chin to a man smoking a cigarette while talking with a uniformed officer. “That guy reached out to the Homeless Authority and they called us in.”