“And that’s why it took longer to close,” Harper mused. “I get it.”
“I decided to do some renovations before moving in — I figured it would save me on my mental health — so I rented a place out by the river, down by Beaver Creek Road.”
Harper perked up. “I live about five minutes from there, right on the river.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” Debbie’s smile was legitimate this time. “Maybe I’ll see you out there one day.”
“I’m always in a hammock by the river on nice weekend days. Come on down.”
“I expect to be in the rental for several months,” she explained. “I have people coming in to tear out the old plaster and put up drywall. The electric is being updated, too. Since it’s not minimal construction, I figured the rental was a good idea so I can work.”
“It makes sense,” Harper agreed.
“The thing is ... um ... I keep hearing noises when I come in to measure things with the construction team,” she said. “At first I thought it was just the normal noises you might hear in an old building that’s so close to the water. Then, yesterday, I heard something else.”
Harper feigned patience as she waited.
“You’re going to think I’m crazy.” Debbie fervently shook her head. “Like ... so, so crazy.”
“It’s okay,” Harper prodded. “I’ve heard every crazy thing you can possibly think of. That goes along with this job. Most people think I’m crazy when I talk about it. You’re in good company.”
“I heard a voice,” Debbie whispered.
Harper waited. When Debbie didn’t continue, she gave the woman a little nudge. “What did it say?”
“Get out.”
“No, I really want to know what the ghost said.”
“It said get out.”
“Oh.” Harper’s forehead creased as she glanced at Zander. “Isn’t that what the ghost in The Amityville Horror said in the movie?”
Zander nodded. “Pretty much.”
“Are you sure that Old Man Butters hasn’t been hanging around to mess with you?” Harper asked.
“That was my initial thought. I’ve been through the building, though. The locks were changed after I purchased it. There’s no way it’s a recording or anything. It’s definitely a ghost.”
“Okay, well ... let’s check it out.” Harper inclined her head toward the lighthouse. “We need to figure out what we’re dealing with before we can form a plan of action.”
“Do you deal with this sort of thing often?” Debbie asked, her hands clutched in front of her. “I mean ... do ghosts always tell people to get out?”
“Ghosts are like people.” Harper laughed at her own statement. “Which is a ridiculous thing to say because ghosts used to be people, so that makes sense. Sometimes you get good ghosts and bad ghosts.”
“What’s an example of a good ghost?”
“A mother ... or a spouse ... or a grandmother … or someone who didn’t pass over but only wants to stick around to watch his or her family grow and thrive. There’s no malevolence there, only love. Most of the time I convince the ghost that, as much as they love their family, it’s smarter to move on and wait for them on the other side. It will be better for everybody that way.”
Debbie relaxed, although only marginally. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“It’s not,” Harper agreed. “The majority of the ghosts we see are of that variety. Some don’t even realize that they’ve died, which is really sad.”
“And how do you get rid of them?”
“I’ve created a device, it looks like a dreamcatcher, and I basically trap the ghosts in it. Then they’re transported over.” That was a lame way of describing it, but it was the best Harper had to offer considering she couldn’t really use the M-word.
“It’s magic,” Zander volunteered, earning a death glare from Harper.
“I love magic,” Debbie said. “I can tell there’s something you’re not telling me, though. Not all ghosts are fluffy bunnies, right? There are some bad ones.”
Harper hesitated and then nodded. “There are some bad ones. If a soul was corrupted in life, it often remains that way after death. Also, some souls are so traumatized by their deaths they lose all semblance of their former selves.”
“Well, I think that’s what we’re dealing with here.” Debbie’s hand shook as she reached for the door handle. “I don’t want to go inside again ... at least not until I have my nerves under control.”
“It’s okay.” Harper nudged her hand away and reached for the handle herself. “This is just a fact-finding mission at first. We have to figure out what we’re dealing with.”
It was with great confidence that she pushed open the door. She very much doubted whatever was inside would pose a threat. She was wrong.
A great wind rushed through the space when she pushed open the door. There was enough force that the door was slammed shut almost immediately. A voice from inside rumbled with hate.
“Get out!”
“What was that?” Zander asked, breathless. When Harper turned to look at him, she found his hair standing on end and his eyes wide.
“I ... don’t ... know.” Harper reached for the door handle a second time. This time when she pushed, she only managed to open it several inches before it slammed shut again.
“Get out!”
“That’s a poltergeist,” Eric said from somewhere behind his boss. “There’s no way that’s a normal ghost.”
“Definitely not,” Harper agreed, her gaze pensive as she cracked her neck. “That doesn’t mean we’re necessarily dealing with a poltergeist. Is there more than one entrance to this place?”
“No, and that needs to be fixed to bring it up to code, too,” Debbie said ruefully. “I plan on putting another door at the back of the property. Right now, though, this is the only one.”
“Huh.” Harper had no idea what to make of it. When she grabbed the handle a third time, she found the door locked. “How many times have you been in this building?”
“About five or six total. I’ve always wanted to live in a lighthouse and I’m writing my third novel. I liked the idea of the romance of it.”
“Poltergeists can be romantic, too,” Zander offered helpfully.
Debbie didn’t look convinced. “Yeah, I would rather be romantic alone than have a friend.”
“Of course,” Zander nodded in understanding. “That’s a viable life path, too. Sometimes invention is our friend.”
It took Debbie a moment to realize what he was referring to. “Oh, I ... um ... no. I meant I didn’t want to write about romance with a ghost in the lighthouse.”
“Ignore him,” Harper ordered as she stared at the lighthouse. It was rare that she found herself at a loss. “When are your construction people coming to do the work?”
“Three weeks. They were here before to take measurements and nothing happened. This is a new thing.”
“I’m willing to bet the poltergeist has been here from the start,” Harper countered. “We need to do some research before we can tackle this thing, though. That’s going to include tackling research on the building.”
“I have books,” she offered helpfully.
“That’s good. We might need them.” Harper tentatively rested her hands against the side of the building. She could feel a malevolent energy pulsing under her fingertips. “I’m not comfortable trying to evict this thing until we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”
“Do you think it’s possible, though?”
Harper nodded. “I sure hope so. We need research first. I don’t want to risk my team.”
“As long as we can get rid of it, I’m all for the research,” Debbie said. “I just want to be able to keep the renovations on a timetable.”
“We’ll do our best,” Harper promised. “I’ll start the research tonight.”
“Thank you.”
9
Nine
Jared found Harper curled up on the couch with
a huge book when he got home. He was confused — as he expected her to be later than him given the amount of unpacking they had to do — so he was quiet as he crossed to the couch to read over her shoulder.
“Why are you researching the Beckham Lighthouse?” he queried, causing her to jolt. “Sorry.” He put his hand on her shoulder to soothe her. “I thought you heard me come in.”
“No.” Harper was rueful as she closed the book and regarded him. “I was lost in my own head.”
“Well, since I happen to like your head, that doesn’t sound so bad to me.” He rounded the couch and settled next to her. “What’s going on?”
“We got a job today ... and it’s a biggie.”
“I thought you weren’t taking jobs.”
“This was an emergency.”
“At the lighthouse? I thought Old Man Butters wouldn’t let you in and you were bitter about it.”
“I still haven’t been inside. Butters doesn’t own it any longer so that’s not a concern.”
“I hadn’t realized somebody bought it.”
“It’s an author. Debbie. She’s really nice ... and freaked out.” Harper launched into the tale. When she was finished, Jared realized his stomach had clenched and he forced himself to relax.
“So, you didn’t make it inside?”
“No. Whatever is inside is keeping us out. Debbie has construction guys coming in three weeks. We need to clear the building before then.”
“Is it dangerous?”
Harper offered him a soft smile. “I don’t think so. We just have to figure out exactly what we’re dealing with. Then we can come up with a plan to trap it and send it on its way.”
“But if it can slam doors, doesn’t that mean it can slam you?” Jared didn’t pretend to be an expert on Harper’s abilities. He’d learned a lot since they’d fallen in love, but he was still a novice most of the time. “I don’t want you slammed.”
That made her laugh. “I promise we’ll have a solid plan in place before we try it again.”
“I might want to be there that day.”
“And what do you think you can do that I can’t?”
“Probably nothing. If I can serve as a cushion between you and the wall when this thing tries to hurt you, though, I’ll consider it a win.”
“That’s both sweet and unnecessary.”
“Yes, well ... just keep me up to date.” He broke into a grin and poked her side. “I’m kind of attached to you. I can’t help it that I worry.”
“I know.” Harper leaned into him, her eyes flicking to the antique clock on the wall. “We’re supposed to be at Zander’s place for dinner in thirty minutes.”
“That means we still have thirty minutes to do this.” He pulled her tight against him and kissed her forehead. “You still haven’t told me what’s up with the book.”
“Oh, it’s a history of local lighthouses. The Beckham Lighthouse is in there. I’m trying to figure out if something tragic happened there that would explain the possible poltergeist.”
“Any luck?”
“No.”
“Well, you’ll figure it out. If I know anything about my wife, it’s that she’s the most determined individual in the world. She’s pretty smart, too.”
“Oh, yeah?” Harper tipped up her chin so she could study the angular planes of his face. “What makes you say that?”
“She picked me as a husband.”
“Well, that’s true.”
“Totally.”
THIRTY MINUTES LATER THEY LET THEMSELVES INTO the house Zander and Shawn shared. Raised voices told them they needed to go to the kitchen to break up a potential fight.
“I’m not saying the marinade is bad,” Shawn snapped when they appeared in the archway between the kitchen and living room. “I’m just saying you don’t always have to use rosemary.”
Zander, who stood behind the kitchen island with a pair of tongs in his hand, made an incredulous face. “It’s beef.”
“Oh, no,” Shawn drawled. “Are you saying steak is made of beef? I’m shocked.”
“No, I’m saying that rosemary brings out the flavor in beef better than anything else.”
“I happen to like thyme.”
“Oh, thyme is for chicken.”
Rather than respond, Shawn grabbed the tongs from Zander’s hand and squeezed them several times so they made a clattering sound.
“Is that supposed to be me?” Zander demanded.
“Yes.” Shawn flicked a smile to their incoming guests. “We haven’t even started barbecuing yet. You’re just in time.”
“For what?” Jared queried as he headed for the pitcher of iced tea on the counter. “Are you guys going to strip down and perform in a cage for us?”
“Oh, you’re just so witty,” Zander drawled. “You should have your own comedy show.”
“I keep hoping.” Jared grabbed a grape tomato from the platter in the center of the counter. “Are you guys really fighting about rosemary?”
“Yes,” Zander answered automatically.
“No,” Shawn countered. “We’re still arguing over tangerine tuxes. I’m not wearing a tangerine tux. It’s just not going to happen.”
“What if you compromise?” Harper suggested as she hopped up on one of the stools. “What if you each wear the color of tux you want to wear?”
Shawn stilled. “I ... don’t ... know.”
“There’s no rule that says you have to wear identical tuxes.”
“No, but ... it would be better if we’re both wearing the same color for the photos.” Even as he said it, Harper noted that Shawn didn’t look convinced.
“I think tangerine and black look good together,” Harper noted. “We can do tangerine, black, tangerine, black for the photos. I think it will look cool.”
“Does that mean you’re wearing tangerine, too?” Jared asked his wife.
Harper shrugged. “Zander is in charge. He gets to pick my dress. Since I’m his matron of honor, that’s how it works. I know he won’t do me wrong.”
“Definitely not,” Zander agreed. “I’ve already picked the style of your dress. It has spaghetti straps and an unadorned top. I mean ... I don’t want you getting all the attention just because you have fantastic boobs.”
Jared had to bite the inside of his cheek and look away to keep from laughing.
“I guess we could do that,” Shawn mused, lost in thought. “You’re right about there not being a rule. Jared and I could wear basic black and you guys could wear tangerine.”
“I think we would all look good in tangerine,” Zander argued. “Well, not Jared. The color would wash out his complexion. I don’t care how he looks in the photos, though.”
“Thank you,” Jared drawled.
“I think you guys should take the night and sleep on it,” Harper said. “That means no more fighting tonight about it.”
“Fair enough.” Shawn flashed a smile. “You guys must be sick of the argument.”
“Totally,” Jared agreed as he grabbed another tomato.
“Not at all,” Harper countered, pinning her husband with a quelling look. “You listened to our wedding stuff. We want to hear about your plans.”
“Our wedding stuff was like two weeks of decisions,” Jared argued. “This has already been going on for months.”
“Shh.” Harper grabbed a carrot and shoved it in his mouth. “Don’t make things worse.”
“Definitely not,” Zander agreed. He straightened his shoulders. “So, did you do research all afternoon? I figured that was why you took off and left me with all the unpacking.”
“I told you I was going to hit the books.” Guilt flushed Harper’s neck red. “I’m sorry, though. I should’ve helped you at the office and researched tonight. I just couldn’t get what happened out of my mind.”
“What happened?” Shawn asked, glancing from face to face. “Did I miss something?”
“A lighthouse yelled at us to get out today,” Zander replied. “It was freaky.
”
“A lighthouse yelled at you?” Shawn’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
Harper recounted their afternoon excursion — again — and when she was finished Shawn looked as alarmed as Jared had less than an hour before.
“This doesn’t sound safe to me,” he immediately responded. “Maybe you should leave it alone.”
“That was my initial thought,” Jared agreed. “There’s no way they’re going to leave it alone, though. That’s not who they are.”
“Hey, don’t speak for me.” Zander shook his head. “I would be totally happy leaving it alone. Harper, however, won’t play that game.”
“Harper won’t,” Harper agreed. “That poor woman is nice. She just wants to write her books and be left alone. We’re going to help her.”
“Not without backup you’re not,” Jared warned.
“I already told you we can’t go back until we’ve conducted some research. We’re nowhere near the point where we’re going to try and take that thing out. Calm yourself.”
“I take it the research led nowhere,” Zander said.
Harper shook her head. “No, and it’s frustrating. I have to think something terrible happened there. I’ve only made it through one book, though.”
“I’m telling you that Old Man Butters is the one to ask,” Jared said. “He lived there, by himself, for years. Are you telling me he didn’t notice there was a poltergeist hanging around? I’m willing to bet that he did and that’s why he wouldn’t let you inside.”
“He wouldn’t let her inside because he’s a crotchety old goat,” Zander countered. “That doesn’t mean he didn’t know there was a poltergeist there. Does anybody know where he moved? Maybe we can track him down for information.”
“I’m sure I can find out.” Jared reached for another vegetable. “Does anybody want to hear how my day went?”
Ghostly Endeavor (A Harper Harlow Mystery Book 19) Page 9