by Amy Ravenel
“What about Zack? Did the ghost ever touch him?” Aaron leaned forward as he launched into another line of questioning.
Kayla nodded. “He said she did on the first day we moved in, but that was it. After that he only ever saw her.”
Aaron rocked back in his chair and swiveled it from side to side. “I’m interested. I definitely want to know what the hell is going on.”
Tabitha held up a hand. “But we need to consider that we can’t get into the apartment right now.” Her chair swiveled back and forth as well. “The cases we take on are usually of the long-dead variety.”
“Have you ever dealt with a ghost that kills?” Drew asked.
Aaron and Tabitha exchanged a look.
“It was a while ago, before we started Restless Spirits.” Aaron studied the table, a black mood settling over him. Neither Aaron nor Tabitha liked to talk about working at The Greene Institute for Paranormal Research before they opened Restless Spirits, but that didn’t stop McKenna from wondering. She didn’t know much about the organization, only that their home base was Charlotte. “I’ll spare you the details, but it was the hardest damn thing I ever did.”
“We ever did,” Tabitha added. A wave of sadness passed between them.
Aaron shook off the past and faced Kayla. “Here’s what we can do. We can research, find out more about the building and if anyone else has seen the ghost.”
“According to one of the professors at my college, two other guys died the same year McKenna’s brother did,” Tristan said.
“The other two suicides.” McKenna nodded. “They may be connected.” She bit her bottom lip, her brain already working through the possibilities. “I’ll look into it.”
“Your brother was one of the suicides?” Kayla asked. “Mac, why didn’t you tell me?”
“It was ten years ago, Kay.”
Aaron continued. “Once the police are finished with your apartment, we’ll make plans to set up our own investigation.”
“Thank you. How much will it cost?”
“We’ll work that out later.” Aaron waved her concerns away. “Now, the police could find something. If that happens, we won’t have a leg to stand on. We’ll have to drop the case. Understand?”
Kayla nodded. “I do. But either way, I can find out what happened to Zack.” She looked around the table. “I have to know.”
McKenna agreed. “I understand.” It wouldn’t hurt to find out what happened to Jason, either.
Tristan reached for McKenna’s arm as everyone else filed out of the room. Her light blue sundress swished when she faced him, the color bringing out her eyes. For a moment, Tristan stared at her, not saying a word.
“You wanted something?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He shoved his fingers into his back pockets. “I want to help.”
“That’s not necessary. We’ve got it under control.”
“I know you do, but I need to do something. I’m pretty good at research. I can give you a hand.” He waited as a beat of silence passed between them. He felt helpless the past couple of days. Drew was working with the team. Kayla dealt with the practical things, like the apartment and the funeral. Tristan had the promise he’d made to Kayla, but he wasn’t sure if he could pull it off. The thought of it terrified him. But the research, the facts, the history were all familiar to him. He could do that.
McKenna chewed her bottom lip again. He noticed she did it when she was thinking. “I’d have to ask Aaron.”
“Please. I feel like I owe it to Zack, you know? He’s done so much for me; this is the least I can do for him.”
McKenna touched his arm. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He relaxed. It was a small thing but being able to help meant the world to him. “Thank you.”
She smiled, and his whole world tilted again. “Don’t thank me yet. Aaron can be a stickler for rules.”
8
A quiet and empty office was the best way to start the morning, at least McKenna thought so. Cars rumbled past her as she sauntered up busy Haywood Street. People opened their own shops and businesses and some waved as she passed them.
Emotions swirled around her, activity buzzing in the back of her brain. Anticipation, happiness, sadness, and others bumped against her mental shields, but none of them were strong enough to knock her off her stride.
She breathed in, feeling much better than she had in days. It was amazing what some alone time and sleep could do.
She reached Restless Spirit’s big glass window, the logo covering most of it. “Restless Spirits” was in large block, white letters. The R was larger than all the other letters. A line ran underneath “estless Spirits.” Written below the line in smaller letters were “Paranormal Investigators.”
“Clean and simple. Nothing fancy,” Aaron had declared.
McKenna opened the door, the bell tinkling above her. She locked it behind her, settling into her desk. A quick glance at the clock told her it was eight a.m. Her nerves kicked in, butterflies fighting in her stomach. Tristan would be there in thirty minutes.
She pushed the anxiety away, but it shoved back. Why did seeing the history teacher again make her feel like she was back in high school? At twenty-four years old, she was a grown woman. She wasn’t trying to catch the eye of the mysterious loner dude in the corner anymore.
It had taken a little work, but Aaron agreed to let Tristan help with the research end of things. It freed Tabitha to go with him to talk to Paul Martin, whose company had built and owned Hidden Forest.
Secretly, McKenna was excited to spend more time with Tristan. She thought about the lunch and the conversation they had shared. It was so easy, so open. She wanted more like it. She planned to pursue it once the current investigation was over. That would be a good time to tell him about her empathy. Lay it all out there in the open at the beginning. Things probably would have gone differently with her ex-boyfriend if she had told him ahead of time.
She remembered Logan’s reaction when she laid all her secrets bare. He had accused her of messing with his emotions, of making him love her. She flinched at his words and tried to explain. Empathy was a part of her, like her brown hair and blue eyes, but she had never messed with his feelings. The thought had never crossed her mind. But he wouldn’t hear of it. He broke up with her then and there, calling her a freak.
She hoped Tristan would never call her a freak. The hateful way Logan had spit out that word drove into her like a sharpened spear.
Pushing the aching memories aside, she dove into the public library’s online research databases. Logging into the Citizen-Times archive, she searched for any articles mentioning the Hidden Forest deaths ten years earlier. It didn’t take her long to see a picture of Jason beaming at her.
An old wound broke open, filling her heart with pain.
Black and white eyes stared at her from the past, but she remembered how they were reflections of her own. He smiled in the picture, the wind tossing his hair. Tears threatened at the edge of her eyes as she recalled him. His loud laugh. His way of always teasing her. How he taught her to shut out all of the emotions around her. McKenna didn’t realize how much she missed him.
Even though she had started out as a reporter, she never searched for the articles about his death. She wasn’t ready to face it. Ten years on, she still wasn’t sure she was strong enough.
A series of sharp knocks on the glass door caught her attention. Tristan grinned and waved at her, and she found herself returning it. Taking a deep breath, she rose and let him inside.
He nodded to the computer. “Starting without me?”
“I couldn’t wait.” She wiped the corner of her left eye.
A line appeared between Tristan’s brows. “Hey, are you crying?”
McKenna shook her head. “It’s stupid.” She sat back down at the desk. “Found the article about my brother.”
Tristan pulled up a chair. “You don’t have to look at that, you know. I can do it.”
“
And what else am I going to do?”
He pulled three folders out of his satchel, set it on the desk beside the computer. “Look at the reports on the other two victims.” He pulled the bottom folder out. “I’ll research your brother.”
“Where did you get these?” McKenna tapped the folders.
Tristan leaned back in the chair, a confident expression on his face. “Told you I was good.”
“No, seriously.”
He chuckled. “My dad. He was the chief of police up in Boone, but he still has friends in other departments. I called in a favor and picked these up on the way over. Don’t worry, these aren’t the originals, only copies.”
“They’ll be a huge help.” Her earlier melancholy melted away. “We may have to keep you around.”
“I don’t know about that.” Tristan shook his head. “Now, let me look over your brother’s stuff.”
“No.” She turned back to the screen. “I need to face it. Like you said, you owe it to Zack to find out the truth. Well, I owe it to Jason.” She let out a humorless laugh. “Besides, it’s been ten years. You’d think I’d be over it by now.”
Tristan ducked his head. “He was family. I don’t expect you to be over it.”
McKenna stared at the screen, determination set. She scrolled past the picture. “No, I’ve got this.”
“What was he like? Your brother?”
“An annoyance.” Another laugh escaped. “Okay, not all the time. He looked out for me, even though I was the baby sister who followed him around.”
“The milk incident. I remember you telling me.”
“Yeah.” She sat back, a tight coil unrolling inside of her. “He was protective,” she said after a quiet moment. “I followed him around, but he stood up for me, especially against our parents.”
“Your parents?”
McKenna slid her eyes to Tristan. Tell him, she thought to herself. Tell him everything. She ignored the instinct and returned to the computer. “There were some things our parents didn’t understand about us.”
Tristan nodded, but didn’t press her to explain herself. Instead, he rolled away from the computer and set up shop at another desk in the back. “I’ll be over here if you need me.”
“Same here.” A weight lifted. She would tell him, but not now.
McKenna went back to the article, concentrating on the research at hand. She took notes on all the details she could find, but there wasn’t much she didn’t already know. Over the course of a week, three young men had lost their lives when they fell from their windows. At the time the article was written, the deaths were still unexplained. She jotted down the notes.
After a couple of minutes, Tristan broke the silence. “You know, this report is so similar to Zack’s death, I could’ve given it.”
McKenna blinked, pulling herself out of research mode. “What do you mean?”
“Jason’s window was closed, and to some of the bystanders, it looks like he was pushed.” Tristan’s mouth made a thin line. “How could any officer worth his salt declare that a suicide?”
“I don’t know.” The revelation that Jason went through a closed window was new. No one had ever revealed that detail to McKenna. Did her parents know? Curious, she picked up the folder on top of the small pile. “Cory Monroe also crashed through a closed window.” She flipped open the last file. “Keith Craft, too.”
Tristan dragged his chair closer to her. “The police knew something weird was going on, but they couldn’t find any evidence to convict anyone. No fingerprints or DNA.”
McKenna went cold. “A ghost wouldn’t leave that behind. But they ruled them suicides anyway.”
She tapped the monitor. “Obviously, they didn’t release the window detail to the press.”
Tristan shoved his curls out of his eyes. “Why would they? The whole city would probably panic about a serial killer that doesn’t leave fingerprints.”
“But that still doesn’t explain a cover-up or why they would stop searching for a killer.” McKenna looked at him. “It’s like someone wanted this case closed and quietly.”
“And when no one else died that year, they had their opportunity.” Tristan’s knee bounced up and down while his eyes remained thoughtful.
McKenna rubbed her eyes, the new information rolling around in her head. Three dead young men, all pushed through windows. How strong did a man have to be to have the power to do that? How could a ghost, leftover energy, have the strength to do that?
“This isn’t going to be enough.” She waved a hand at the papers strewn across her desk. “We need some first-hand accounts and to start at the beginning.”
“You want to determine if the ghost actually did this,” Tristan said, seemingly following her train of thought.
“Exactly. I want as much information as possible before we set up anything in your building.”
McKenna skimmed the high points. “According to this, Cory was the first victim. His roommate didn’t see anything, but he heard the crash.”
“Or maybe he did and didn’t want to tell the police.” Tristan peered over her shoulder.
“Good point. He might not have been as confident as Kayla was. The police didn’t get suspicious until Keith died the same way a week later.” McKenna drummed out a rhythm on her desk with the end of a pen. “Jason died a week after that. Same way.”
“And that was it?”
McKenna went back to the main archives. No other articles about Hidden Forest existed. Her drumming got faster. The erratic pattern matched her frustration.
“Yeah. Nothing until Zack last weekend.”
Tristan folded his arms. “So, ten years.” He nodded to the computer. “Go ten years back.”
McKenna knew what he was searching for – a pattern. Her fingers flew over her keyboard. Articles from ten years earlier appeared. “There’s nothing about Hidden Forest here, nor strange murders that match.”
“Not even the death of a woman who matches The White Lady legend?” Tristan asked.
“Nothing.”
She jumped away from the computer and paced the length of the room. “Four men dead, three were killed ten years ago, but no one died before them.” She stopped. “When did they build Hidden Forest?”
Tristan dropped into McKenna’s vacated seat. He entered his realty company’s website and clicked on Hidden Forest. “1999. Twenty years ago.”
McKenna switched directions and ambled back to the desk, lifting her hair off her shoulders. “What were the dates?”
“The building was built? I don’t know.”
“No, I mean the deaths.” She shuffled through the papers. “I know Jason died on September twelfth” She pulled out the reports on the other two.”
Tristan studied them. “August twenty-ninth and September fourth.” He straightened, his face losing all color. “Friday was the twenty-ninth.”
McKenna turned on her heel, moving towards the back wall. “A timetable. If Zack’s death is connected to these three, then someone else could be in danger this Friday.” Her head snapped up, dread pooling in her gut. She raced back to her desk. “We have to get out there. We can’t let anyone else die like that, and we have less than a week.” She walked away from her desk again, her pace still brisk. Why hadn’t she looked at all of this sooner? Why hadn’t she researched Jason’s death before now?
“Whoa. Whoa.” Tristan stepped into her path and rubbed her upper arms. “One step at a time. The police were clearing out of the apartment this morning when I left. You’ve got three days. You’ll get in there.”
She shook her head. “You’re right.” She glanced at the reports again. “In the meantime, we’ve got to share this with my team, and I have some people to talk to.”
McKenna started with Keith’s family and friends. All of his family members hung up on her before she could explain why she wanted to talk to them. She couldn’t even find recent information on his former roommate. But then, she found Selah Harris, Keith’s girlfriend at the tim
e.
Mrs. Harris lived on the outskirts of Asheville, along the parkway. Her two-story log house had a picture window in the living room with an amazing bird’s eye view of the city. McKenna sank into one of the cushy chairs in front of that window as she studied Mrs. Harris.
The woman was in her early thirties with bright hazel eyes and short dark hair. Her face darkened when McKenna asked about Keith.
Keith had been a chemistry major in his senior year. He wanted to start grad school at Duke in the fall. Science was his passion. He loved learning how things worked, why they worked, what their base components were. According to Mrs. Harris, he was happy, excited about the future. Not like a man who wanted to kill himself.
“You have to understand, Ms. Ellison, I loved that man. Loved him with all of my heart and soul. We had plans.” She set her glass of sweet tea on the coffee table. “My family means the world to me, but he should’ve been the father of my two boys.”
“Did he leave a note behind?” McKenna kept her voice as gentle as possible.
“No, because it wasn’t suicide.”
“How do you know?”
“Like I said, we had plans. Why would you make plans if you were going to end it all? He had asked me to marry him the night before.” Tears formed at the corners of Mrs. Harris’s eyes. “I still have the ring. My friends, my family all told me to get rid of it or pawn it. I just couldn’t, you know?” She was telling the truth. Her sadness seeped in, pressing against McKenna’s heart.
“This is going to be a crazy question, ma’am, but did he ever mention seeing a ghost?” McKenna compartmentalized the emotion so it wouldn’t affect her. She glanced down at her own untouched glass of sweet tea resting on the coffee table.
Mrs. Harris’s confidence wavered, letting a little anger in. “He told me about seeing her, how he started seeing her after the other boy died.” She rubbed her hands on the arms of her chair. “I didn’t believe him, but he insisted it was true.” Her breath hitched. “Hearing about the man who died last weekend brought it all back for me. God, what his family is going through.”