by H. P. Bayne
Sully held his breath. Then he jerked the door open.
Nothing. Nothing but the gloom of the shack’s interior.
He looked back up at Dez, who remained facing the line of willow trees.
“Anything?” Dez asked, voice tight.
“Not that I can see. He’s here though. I feel him.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Wait here,” Sully said. “I’m going to see if I can find out anything else.”
“I changed my mind,” Dez said.
“About what?”
“This. All of this. I should’ve volunteered for morning surveillance duty.”
Sully chuckled, giving Dez a pat on the back, and stepped inside the shack.
With caution, he released the door, which slapped shut behind him, closing him inside the semi-dark space. He wasn’t sure what Adam typically used for light in here, and now wasn’t the time to worry about it. Sully removed his cellphone and clicked the flashlight application, its light sufficient to pierce the shadows.
Still nothing.
Still very much the sense he wasn’t alone.
He closed his eyes, allowing him to focus. Sometimes visual stimulation hindered the use of his so-called third eye, and it was the non-physical kind of sight he needed now. The ghost was here somewhere. Maybe even if Sully couldn’t see him, he could draw in enough information to tell him who this man was. Homicide or not, he probably needed help.
Down.
The one word flashing into his mind had his eyes popping open, fixing first on the plywood floor and then, ultimately, on the fishing hole. The answer hit him, making him feel both stupid for having missed it earlier and anxious about seeing it through. Of course, it made sense. A man covered in ice was as likely to be found below as above.
Sully took two slow steps forward, far enough to peer down into the hole. Water sloshed inside the opening. Black water, painted by shadow.
He trained his phone’s flash downward, trying to see beneath the surface. Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he could make something out. If it was real, it was a little too far to see.
Needing to close the distance, he knelt next to the hole, leaning over it with one hand aiming the flash into the water.
Though difficult to make out, something white shimmered beneath the surface.
He leaned farther. And saw it.
A face.
Sully’s already frayed nerves crawled with unease as he studied the dark, shimmery form. Pale in death, eyes closed, teeth bared in a grimace between moustache and beard.
Stared for a long moment, he was at last interrupted when he sucked in a sharp breath. He took in the chill air and held it, watching. Watching. Waiting, as if expecting something else to happen.
The man was unmoving, death-still, floating just beneath the ice. It looked like a dead body, but Sully knew it couldn’t be anything more substantial than a spirit. It had been too long. Too many warm summers had passed. Too many things lived in this lake that would have fed on the corpse. Nothing would be left but bone.
Sully took in another quick, quiet breath, mentally challenging himself to ask out. The spirit needed something. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be here.
Equally obvious—given Sully’s ability to see him—was the fact he’d been murdered.
“I can see you,” Sully said, voice barely above a whisper. “Can I help you?”
Silence answered him. Stillness. Nothing but that pale, deathly face floating beneath him. Sully continued to stare. Watching. Waiting.
The eyes popped open.
Sully drew back, breath sucked inward in a gasp. His movement had been enough to break the visual connection. Now he leaned forward again, peering down into the water.
The ghost was still there, milky eyes wide and staring up at Sully.
“Oh, man,” Sully muttered. Then, to the spirit, he said, “Is there some way I can help you? You do need help, right?”
He wasn’t sure what he expected. A nod maybe. Nothing came except the continuance of the creepy stare-down.
The solution was obvious. Ghosts could communicate with him through touch since he wasn’t able to hear them. But the idea of reaching into that hole made him anxious.
One thing Sully had learned was water could help conduct spirit energy. As such, ghosts could be stronger and more powerful when in or around water.
He could stand up, walk away. It would be the cautious thing. It might also be the smart thing.
Sully had never been overly cautious, and the jury was out on how smart he was in the midst of these investigations. He had learned one other thing over the years: once ghosts saw him, they realized he could help. And once they knew he could help them, many thought nothing of turning his world upside down until they got what they needed. Anyway, he’d never found it easy to say no to desperate people needing help—living or dead.
“Bloody hell.” Sully stood and slipped out of his coat. He wore a hoodie underneath, and he pulled that off next, leaving him in just a T-shirt. “Bloody hell.”
He left his phone with his coat, not wanting to risk getting it wet while he went about this mad task.
He returned to the hole, where he knelt and stretched himself out, facedown, over the cold plywood. Another look inside the opening told him the man was still there, pale, wide eyes still fixed on him.
Only one option remained if he was going through with this. One option he hated with every fibre of his being.
He shifted an arm up. Then, with a final, deep, nerve-steeling breath, he plunged it into the water.
His arm muscles seized immediately, icy cold biting into flesh, taking all of his resolve to not draw it out.
He could no longer see the man in his current position, but he knew nonetheless he was there.
One more step. The one Sully really didn’t want to take.
“Touch my hand,” he said. “Show me what you need me to see.”
Eyes clenched shut by discomfort and anxiety, he waited. These visions weren’t pleasant at the best of times, often forcing Sully to experience another’s terror or pain at the moment of death. He’d never gotten used to it. He doubted he ever would.
This time, he didn’t feel anything. Whether because of numbness from cold or because the ghost wasn’t taking him up on his offer, he didn’t know. All he knew was he was freezing and unprepared to stay that way.
He began to withdraw his arm.
Something seized his wrist from below, hard enough to bruise. He tried to tug his arm free, but the grip was vice-like, unyielding.
And it was pulling him farther forward. As if it meant to tow him down into the frozen lake alongside the dead man.
“Dez!”
His scream had an instant effect. The door banged open, and almost within the same instant, Dez’s arms were around his middle, trying to pull him away.
The dead man wasn’t letting go.
Sully felt as if he were being torn in half, two solid grips on him, both refusing to yield. Dez’s strained grunts suggested he was pulling as hard as he could. Given his size and strength, what that said about the power of the ghost scared Sully even more.
One other thing about Dez: he didn’t roll over when it came to protecting family. One more long, hard tug and the force beneath the water released. Dez and Sully tumbled backward, falling into a heap on the wood floor. Sully rolled off of Dez and scrambled back farther, until he was pressed up against the wall. His eyes fastened to the hole, watching, half expecting to see an ice-covered corpse claw its way up.
Dez crawled up next to him and sat, breathing hard. “Holy Christ, Sull, what the hell was that?”
Sully took what he could of a deep breath, struggling to calm his nerves before answering.
“Whatever it is, I’m not looking forward to finding out.”
5
Dez knew he was driving too fast, but he didn’t care.
Closing in on the end of winter meant drifting and melting s
now froze overnight, turning sections of roadway into skating rinks. Dangerous, sure. Yet not nearly as dangerous as what they’d left behind.
“Slow down,” Sully said. “You’re going to get us killed.”
In Dez’s opinion, his brother’s tone was entirely too calm for what the situation called for.
“I’m just putting as much distance as I can between us and whatever the hell that was.”
“Okay, and you’ve done it. Slow down.”
Dez resisted the urge to argue and eased off the gas pedal a bit.
He’d taken off as soon as he, Sully and Pax were back inside the SUV, buckling up en route. His hand had been shaking so badly Sully had to help him click it in.
Sometimes, Sully’s built-in Zen attitude drove Dez nuts. “How the hell can you be so calm after what happened?”
“I’ve been attacked by ghosts before.”
“It was trying to drag you under. Bloody hell, Sully, the bastard was strong. I could barely hold you, let alone get you away from it. What the hell kind of ghost is that?”
“One living in water.”
Dez cast Sully a narrow-eyed glance. “What the hell difference does it make where it lives?”
Sully met his eye for a couple of seconds, until Dez needed to return his gaze to the road. “I don’t know why. There’s a school of thought out there saying certain substances—water and limestone, for example—can help conduct spirit energy. If that’s the case, ghosts connected with water stand to be more powerful than most earthbound spirits.”
“Great. That’s great. You know what? I’ve really changed my mind. Boring old worker’s comp investigations sound pretty good right about now.”
Sully chuckled, the sound a quiet rumble. Today, it grated on Dez’s nerves.
“It’s not funny.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at the situation. I’m—”
“Laughing at me. Yeah, I figured. I’m not funny either.”
“You kind of are.”
Dez shot Sully another glare, but a pinging noise from Sully’s pocket interrupted an intended retort.
Sully pulled the phone out and studied the screen. “It’s Marc. He said it took him a while to find the article. He’s emailing it now.”
A few more taps at the screen and a short wait followed. Another ding told Dez the email had arrived.
Dez gave Sully a few moments of silent reading before he grew impatient. “What’s it say?”
“Oh, sorry. I’m never sure how much you’re going to want to hear.”
“Do I have a choice really?”
“Something doesn’t add up,” Sully said. “The ghost Adam saw was wearing a red-and-black checked jacket, right? A lumberjack coat.”
“Right. Matching the cloth they pulled up.”
“Problem is, the account Marc sent contains the description of the man someone described seeing at the lake back in April of eighty-eight. Police said the witness described a guy covered in ice wearing dark clothes. Nothing here about a checked jacket.”
Dez lifted a brow. “Can ghosts change their clothes?”
“Not that I’ve ever seen,” Sully said. “All the ones I’ve dealt with have been wearing whatever they had on at the time they were killed.”
“So maybe the eighty-eight sighting wasn’t a ghost. Maybe he was a living person.”
“What about all the other sightings Marc mentioned? I’d be curious what he was seen wearing all of those times.”
“Sounds like a research job. I hate research jobs. So we’re doing this then? Looking into the Ice Man thing?”
“I don’t really have a choice. Fact is, I saw the guy, so it’s a homicide. I need to get to the bottom of what happened to him if I’m going to get him to cross over.”
“Why do you need to help him?” Dez asked. “He tried to kill you.”
“We don’t know that.”
Dez scoffed. “He tried to drag you in there with him, and he was determined about it too. Took everything I had to haul you back.” He shook his head. “We both know a thing or two about homicide victims, Sull. Lots of them are good people or messed-up people who I’m happy we can help. Not all of them though. Bad people get murdered too. And I’m not exactly chomping at the bit to lend them a hand. Far as I’m concerned, the bastard tried to kill you, and I’m happy letting him stay there and rot.”
“Look, realistically, getting me down there was impossible. The hole was too small.”
“Unless he managed to crack through the ice. Strong as he was, I’m not ruling anything out.”
No point arguing. In Sully’s experience, ghosts managed all kinds of unexpected and unlikely things. “Okay, I hear you. But let’s not jump to the assumption he’s homicidal. Maybe he was reacting for another reason. People who are drowning can pull others down with them, right? Not because they want to hurt or kill someone but because people react in certain ways when they believe they’re about to die. It’s a panic response.”
“Did he seem panicked to you?” Dez eyed Sully until he saw the head shake.
Sully sighed. “No, I didn’t really get that impression, I guess.”
“So stop trying to explain away what he did. I know I told Adam I’d check into this, but I think I’m going to give it a pass.” He had a second thought as he considered the torn cloth he’d pocketed before leaving the shack, now resting in the glove compartment. “We can take the cloth to Forbes and see if he can shed any light on it. Maybe it will provide a clue to a homicide case they’ve got open or a missing persons file. Come spring, they could maybe dredge the lake, see what they find. We don’t have to pursue this ourselves, all right?”
Sully nodded, though Dez sensed the discussion wasn’t over. “It might not be as easy as that. I think ghosts can physically interact with me more easily because of what I can do, but that doesn’t mean they can’t or won’t interact with others. What if it had been your neighbour or his son? Maybe some other fisherman out there? We can’t risk other people’s lives because we’d rather not pursue an investigation, and you know it.”
Dez did know it. He knew it well.
Didn’t mean he had to like it.
Dez took them back to his house, getting lunch ready while Sully stepped into a hot shower.
Their mom had given them each a healthy supply of her homemade turkey soup, and Eva had left out a jar to thaw before she’d gone to work this morning. It was thawing well, and Dez spooned out two bowls and let the microwave finish the job.
The second bowl was turning in the microwave, and Dez was placing a final fried egg sandwich onto a plate when Sully appeared in the kitchen.
“Feeling better?” Dez asked.
Sully smiled. “Yeah. Smells good.”
Pax seemed to think the same, settled next to Dez at the stove as if waiting for something to drop his way. Dez finished halving one of the sandwiches and tossed a piece to the dog.
“It’ll hold us, at least for a while,” Dez said. “You want the one o’clock surveillance shift or the six o’clock?”
“Can I say neither?”
Dez gave a dry laugh as he placed the plate of stacked sandwich halves on the island, returning to the microwave for the soup. “Nope. I am not taking all those hours of crap on my own.”
Sully helped carry the food to the table, then the two of them ate. Pax had polished off his dried kibble seconds after Dez poured it into his dish, meaning he spent the remainder of lunchtime moving between Dez and Sully, begging for handouts. They humoured him a few times as they chewed and spoke.
“You said you want to talk to Forbes?” Sully asked.
Dez gave a nod. “Yeah. If nothing else, it would be good to find out if this fits any open cases.”
“Okay, but I should probably be the one to go,” Sully said. “I’ve seen the ghost’s face. If there are any photos to go through, it’s better I’m there to put a name to the guy.”
It was a good point. Unfortunately, it left Dez fa
cing the next surveillance shift on the worker’s compensation job. “Fair enough. I’ll give you the cloth to take with you.”
“Put it in a baggie or something, okay? I didn’t get any visions off it earlier, but that doesn’t mean I won’t later. It won’t be good if I get one while I’m driving.”
“I’ll bag it and put it in your glove compartment when I drop you off at your place. You won’t have to touch it or even look at it until you get to the police station.”
They finished lunch and loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher before leaving for Sully’s. There, Dez placed the cloth—now in a Ziplock sandwich bag—inside the glove compartment of Sully’s SUV, opening out where Sully could grab it without touching the area around the cloth. Likely the ghost wasn’t as powerful from a distance, but Dez expected neither he nor Sully were eager to chance it.
“Call if anything turns up,” Dez said. “And for God’s sake, don’t go near the lake unless I’m with you.”
Sully quirked up one side of his mouth. “There’s one promise I have absolutely no problem making.”
6
Sergeant Forbes Raynor worked in the Major Crimes Unit of the Kimotan Rapids Police Department. As such, he’d be well-placed to glean any info police had gathered about the sightings at Dead Man’s Lake.
And Sully was well-placed to get the needed info from Forbes since the two of them were half-brothers.
A few years back, Forbes had hated his guts. Nowadays, a grin broke out on his face when Sully showed up. It was there today when Forbes came down to meet him at the front entrance.
Sully plastered on his own smile. Only a matter of seconds before he’d give Forbes reason to turn his smile upside down.
“Good to see you,” Forbes said. “What brings you here?”
The corners of Sully’s mouth dropped a little as he schooled his expression into something more apologetic. “A job came up, and I could use some help if you’re able.”