by Jason Hawes
“I’m not sure about this.” Chief Hoffman looked them up and down, and from the expression on his face, it was clear he wasn’t impressed with what he saw.
At least the man had allowed them to enter the museum, Drew thought. That was something. And he had permitted Erin and her crew to set up their equipment so they could film their conversation with him.
They had gathered in Beyond the Veil’s lobby. From what the chief had already told them, he had done the initial questioning of the staff, and they, along with the museumgoers who had discovered the bodies and everyone else who had been inside the museum when the murders took place, had been taken to the staff offices, where they were being questioned further by the police. The medical examiner had finished his on-site inspection of the bodies, and they’d been bagged and were on their way to the county morgue.
“If the media get wind that I let you do a psychic investigation in here, I’ll probably lose my job.”
“In Exeter?” Jenn said. “If anything, it’ll end up getting you a raise. Peter, you know me. Just because I run a bookstore that specializes in the paranormal doesn’t mean I believe in it. But I know you do—at least a little.”
The chief looked embarrassed, but he didn’t explain.
“If I, a confirmed skeptic, believe that these people are the real thing, isn’t that reason enough to give them a chance? Besides, what can it hurt?”
“My reputation. My credibility. My self-respect . . .” The chief sighed. “All right. Leave no stone unturned, I suppose. I’d rather have you come back later, but if I say that, you’ll probably just tell me that the psychic impressions are strongest when they’re fresh.”
“As a matter of fact—” Trevor began, but Jenn shushed him with a look.
As the chief continued, his voice took on an official tone. “Here’s the deal. I can’t allow you to disturb the crime scene, so you won’t be able to enter the room where the murders occurred. And I can’t let you talk to any of the witnesses we’re still questioning. I’ve got a couple of officers searching the museum for evidence. Don’t get in their way. And if you find anything—anything at all—that you think might be evidence, don’t touch it. Call me, and I’ll have one of my people check it out. I’ll expect a full report once you’re finished. Clear?”
Drew, Amber, and Trevor nodded. He was surprised to see Connie nodding, too. Carrington stepped forward then.
“Don’t worry, Chief. I intend to personally oversee the entire investigation, and I assure you that the highest standards of professionalism will be observed at all times.”
“I wasn’t aware that this investigation had an overseer,” Trevor said.
Carrington gave him a smile. “My tools, my rules.”
Trevor made a face, but he gave no further protest.
The chief looked at Jenn. “Are you sure you’re up for this? You’ve been through a lot today. Maybe it would be better if you waited outside.”
“You’re sweet to worry about me, but I’ll be OK. If it gets to be too much for me, though, I promise I’ll leave.”
A look passed between the two of them, and Drew realized they had a closer relationship than he’d initially thought. He didn’t think it was romantic in any way, but it was more than friendship. A father-daughter thing, perhaps.
“You’d better.” The chief turned to Erin. “You can film in here, but I don’t want you sensationalizing the murders, out of respect for the victims’ families. If you do, I’ll bring you up on charges of interfering with a police investigation, and I’ll confiscate your film as evidence. And before you make any promises, Jenn will tell me if you go back on your word. Right?”
“Sure, Peter,” Jenn said.
Erin didn’t look offended by the chief’s words. “No worries. I’m trying to make a documentary about the paranormal, not a true-crime film.”
Drew didn’t believe Erin. Whatever her original intentions for her film were, she seemed too driven a person to let an opportunity pass her by, especially when it could lead to her film getting stronger advance buzz and perhaps wider distribution. A film about a town that celebrated the paranormal was one thing. But a film about a town that celebrated the paranormal and where a series of mysterious, sinister murders had taken place? That was quite another.
“And make sure your crew is careful,” the chief added. “I don’t want any more accidents happening.”
“Accidents?” Trevor said.
Erin looked suddenly uncomfortable, but she ignored the question. “Will do,” she said to the chief.
Drew, Amber, and Trevor shot quick glances at one another. There was a story there, one they would have to look into later.
“What can you tell us about the murders, Chief?” Trevor asked. He removed a pen and a small notebook from his jacket pocket, opened it, and prepared to take notes. “Any information you can give us will help.”
“None of this better get out to the media,” he said. “If it does—”
“Yes, yes,” Connie said, sounding impatient. “The full wrath of the law will come crashing down upon us like God’s sledgehammer. We get it.”
Drew looked at her, but she steadily avoided his gaze. Something strange was going on with her. He had known her to have a sharp tongue from time to time, but that normally manifested in a blunt directness that some people found offensive. But he had never known her to be such a . . . well, such a smartass.
The chief scowled at her, but he didn’t respond to her comment. “The deceased were Donner Cummings, forty-two, and Rachel Hartwell, twenty-eight. Both lived in Indianapolis. Based on how they were dressed, we assume they were tourists in town for Dead Days.”
Trevor opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Carrington jumped in.
“And precisely how were they dressed, Chief?” he asked. He gave Trevor a smug smile that said, See? I am in charge.
“Cummings was dressed as a Ghostbuster. You know, like in the movies. Hartwell dressed like a typical Goth kid.”
Trevor was busy writing that down, so Drew asked the next question. “How did they die?”
“According to the medical examiner, Cummings was strangled. As for Hartwell . . .” Chief Hoffman hesitated. “The ME said that it looked like she’d drowned. But there was no water at the scene, except for a bit that appeared to have leaked out of her mouth. There’s nowhere in the museum where she could’ve come into contact with enough water to drown her, except a restroom, I suppose. But that doesn’t seem likely.”
Drew glanced at Jenn. She was trembling, and she held her hand to her stomach, as if she were feeling nauseated. Trevor was too busy writing to notice, but Amber walked over to her and took the woman’s hand. Jenn gave her a grateful look and held on to Amber as if she were a lifeline. Drew loved how sensitive Amber was to the emotional environment around her, and not for the first time, he thought what a terrific therapist she would make.
“Were there any witnesses?” he asked.
“None. No one saw or heard anything, even though there were a number of people visiting the museum at the time.”
“Interesting,” Carrington said. “A psychic cloak, perhaps?”
Trevor looked up from his notebook, surprise on his face. “Could be,” he said.
“Security cameras?” Drew asked.
“There are a few,” Chief Hoffman said. “But this place isn’t an art museum filled with valuable treasures, so there aren’t cameras in every room. There’s one here in the lobby”—he pointed to a shiny reflective dome on the ceiling that hid the camera in question—“and one in the gift shop.”
“Both places where money is kept,” Trevor said.
The chief nodded. “There are three more, installed in random locations in the museum. There is none in the room where the murders occurred.”
“But one of the cameras must’ve picked up something useful,” Amber said. “Images of the two victims entering the museum, if nothing else.”
“The security footage
is worthless. Nothing but electronic distortion,” Connie said. She looked around at everyone then, as if she had momentarily forgotten them. “At least, that’s the kind of thing I’ve heard happens in these sorts of situations.”
The chief looked at her, eyes narrowing in reappraisal.
Great, Drew thought. The last thing we need is for him to start suspecting Connie of something.
But all the chief said was, “That’s right.”
“If I could get a copy of the footage, I might be able to do something with it,” Trevor said. “I have several programs on my laptop designed to filter out electronic video distortion.” He looked at Carrington. “You’re not the only one with cool toys, you know.”
Carrington inclined his head in acknowledgment.
“I’m not comfortable with making a copy of possible evidence,” the chief said. “I’ll have to think about it.”
Trevor looked disappointed, but he didn’t protest. Instead, he said, “In what room did the murders take place?”
“On the first floor of this building, toward the rear. There’s an emergency exit back there. There’s an alarm on the door that’s set to go off if it’s opened, but it was never tripped. Whoever committed the murders didn’t escape that way. Not unless they disabled the alarm somehow. But we’ve found no evidence of that.”
“Thanks, but what I meant was what’s in the room?” Trevor said. “What sort of exhibit?”
The chief frowned. “I don’t see how that matters, but it’s an exhibit about the flood. The one that nearly wiped out the town in the 1920s. There are photos, objects that were recovered after the waters receded, that kind of thing.”
Trevor and Carrington exchanged a look.
“Interesting that the woman would have drowned in that particular room,” Carrington said.
“It sure is.” Trevor scribbled something in his notebook. He continued writing as he asked his next question. “Is there any history of ghostly manifestations in the museum? Or any violent incidents that took place here over the years?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” the chief said. He looked to Jenn. “Anything you know about?”
She thought for a moment and shook her head.
“All right, then,” the chief said. “Anything else? If not, I have work to do.”
Drew, Trevor, and Amber exchanged glances and shook their heads.
“I think that’s all for now, Chief,” Carrington said. “We appreciate your cooperation.”
“I’m so very glad.” The chief gave them a last look, as if he were silently warning them to be on their best behavior, like a dad who was about to turn over his house reluctantly to the kids so they could have a party. Then he turned and headed toward the museum offices.
“I’m surprised he let us in,” Amber said after the chief had departed. “He doesn’t seem too thrilled to have us here.”
Drew turned to Jenn. “During the conversation, you indicated that he was a believer in the paranormal.”
Jenn looked at Erin. “You’d better not put this in your movie.”
Erin crossed her heart and held up her hand in a Girl Scout salute. Drew doubted the sincerity of the gesture, but it must have been enough for Jenn, because she continued.
“His wife passed away a couple of years ago. He comes into the store and buys books on ghosts and the afterlife. We talk sometimes. He told me he’s not interested in trying to contact her spirit or anything. He misses her a great deal, and reading books like that makes him feel closer to her, as if she’s not really gone, you know? They give him hope that maybe they’ll be reunited one day.”
Drew better understood Jenn’s relationship with the chief now. Not father-daughter so much as confessor-confidante.
“If they can find each other,” Connie said. “The afterlife is a damn big place. You think it’s challenging to find the proverbial needle in a haystack? Try finding one in a galaxy of haystacks.” She paused. “Uh, I mean, that’s what I imagine it would be like.”
Drew puzzled over Connie’s latest odd comment. Maybe she was simply trying to participate in her own way, but she was coming across as more than a little strange. He had never known her to give any thought whatsoever to spiritual topics. Then again, maybe that was a side of herself that she usually kept hidden. It wouldn’t be surprising. Many people viewed their spirituality as private. Still, it didn’t seem right to Drew. Something else was going on with her, but he didn’t know what, and it bugged him.
Carrington clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. “Well, then. Shall we get started?”
“Dibs on the EMF detector!” Trevor said. He tucked his pen and notebook into his jacket pocket and hurried over to Carrington’s equipment cases. Carrington followed him, and the two began arguing over who was going to get to use what.
While Erin got her crew ready to go mobile, Drew went over to Amber and Jenn. Connie stood alone, sweeping her gaze slowly around the lobby as if she were looking for something, but Drew had no idea what it might be.
Amber was still holding on to Jenn’s hand, but the woman seemed better now.
“Thank you for talking to the chief,” Drew said. “He wouldn’t have allowed us to enter if not for you. You’ve done more than your share to help us, and you’ve been through a great deal today. If you want to wait here in the lobby until we’re finished . . .”
“I’d rather come with you, if you don’t mind. I’ve lived in Exeter for a long time, and you might need a native guide.” Her smile, while a bit shaky, seemed genuine.
She was a strong person, and Drew thought that strength would serve her well as she worked to come to terms with her employee’s murder in the days ahead. He hoped that she wasn’t risking worse trauma by staying with them, but given the way things had gone so far, he feared that hope would be in vain.
Amber looked at Jenn. “Excuse me. I need to talk to Trevor for a minute.”
“Sure.” Jenn let go of her hand, and Amber walked over to the equipment cases, where Trevor and Carrington were still arguing. Drew suspected what Amber was up to, and after speaking to Trevor for a few seconds, she returned. A moment later, Trevor walked over, carrying an EMF detector. He looked a little embarrassed.
“Sorry I got carried away,” he said, holding up the detector for emphasis. “A boy and his toys. Jenn, do you think you can help me work this thing? I’ve never used one before, and Carrington’s going to be busy doing his thing for the camera.” He smiled. “You were always more mechanically inclined than me. Remember that time I tried to fix your disposal?”
She laughed. “It took me forever to scrub the food stains off the ceiling!”
Trevor led Jenn off to the side to show her the EMF detector, and Drew turned to Amber.
“Playing matchmaker?” he asked in a quiet voice so the others wouldn’t overhear.
“She needs him,” Amber said just as quietly. “Almost as much as he needs her.”
Yep, Drew thought. She’d definitely make a great therapist.
“All right,” Erin said in a take-charge voice. Now that the chief was gone, Drew figured she no longer felt the need to feign deference to his authority. “My crew’s ready to roll.”
“Time to go to work,” Amber said.
Connie walked over to join them. She smiled, a strange gleam in her eye. “Lights, camera, action,” she said.
EIGHT
“Getting anything?” Jenn asked.
“Not really,” Trevor said. EMF detectors were designed to measure variances in electromagnetic fields, and they were standard equipment for ghost hunters. The devices were calibrated to ignore the mild EMF emissions given off by human bodies and detect the energy fluctuations commonly associated with hauntings. While some of the readings they had gotten so far were suggestive of ghostly activity, they were hardly definitive.
“You sound disappointed.”
“I guess I am, a bit. After our experience at the Lowry House, I suppose I expected . . . I don’t
know. More.”
“Like bizarre manifestations of long-dead serial killers and Revolutionary War–era werewolves?”
He smiled. “Something like that. So you really did read the book.”
She nodded. “Like I said before, it’s hard to believe that you guys experienced all that stuff.” She held up a hand before he could protest. “But let’s say you did. What I don’t understand is why you’re here now. I mean, if I had experienced anything as terrifying as what you wrote about, I wouldn’t want to come within a hundred miles of any place that was even rumored to be haunted. I never really understood why you were so into the paranormal. I thought maybe it was kind of like a hobby, like it is with most of my customers, you know? I mean, I knew you believed in it, but to keep investigating after what you went through . . . I’d think you’d almost have to be obsessed.” She turned to look at him, a concerned expression on her face. “Sorry. Obsess is probably too strong a word. I’m not trying to criticize you. I’m just trying to understand.”
“It’s OK,” Trevor said.
It had been forty minutes since they had started investigating, and so far, they didn’t have much to show for their time. Drew read information about the exhibits as they moved through the museum, while Amber examined the actual displays, touching anything that wasn’t kept behind glass. It seemed to Trevor that she did so unconsciously, as if she were instinctively trying to get a read on the psychic atmosphere in the museum.
For a while, Carrington had carried an infrared thermal scanner, searching for cold spots, but he hadn’t had any more luck getting hits on his device than Trevor had, so he gave up on it. He handed the scanner over to Sarah to carry, and now he held an audio recorder. Every few minutes, he would ask a question aloud. “Are you here?” “What do you want?” “Do you wish to send us a message?” He would pause to give any spirits that might be listening a chance to respond, and then he would ask another question. He was trying to capture EVP, electronic voice phenomena. The idea was that ghosts could psychically imprint their voices directly onto electronic devices, and their words could be heard during playback.