Ghost Hunter

by Paige Tyler

  Cassidy looked down and realized both the pizza and her drink were long gone. She glanced at her watch and was surprised to see it was almost midnight. They’d been talking for hours. She stifled a yawn as she stood up. Earlier, she hadn’t thought she’d be able to sleep, but now she realized she was kind of tired. “Thanks, but I think I’m going to go to bed.”

  “There are clean towels in the bathroom and if you’re cold, there’s an extra blanket in the closet.” He paused, then added, “I’m going to stay up and keep doing some research, so let me know if you need anything.”

  Cassidy thanked him and headed toward the bedroom. At the door, however, she stopped to look at him. “You know, Bella was wrong about you, Trace. You aren’t a jerk.”

  She didn’t wait for a reply, but simply gave him a smile before going into the bedroom. Maybe with Trace in the next room, she might actually be able to get some sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  It had been a long time since Trace had a woman around, but listening to Cassidy in the next room was nice. Reassuring even. Maybe because he knew that as long as she stayed with him, she would be safe. For some reason, he felt extremely protective of her. Which was kind of surprising since he hadn’t even wanted her around two days ago. Of course, she wasn’t being targeted by a homicidal ghost then. That changed things.

  He only thanked God he’d gotten to her apartment when he did. He still couldn’t believe she’d had the presence of mind to set a protective circle of salt around herself, especially when she’d been so terrified. At least she’d relaxed a little when he’d told her the warehouse was impervious to any and all ghosts. He hoped she got some rest. She’d looked exhausted. Then again, he had bored the hell out of her with his life story. That would be enough to put anyone to sleep.

  Trace was amazed he’d been so open with Cassidy. He hadn’t said that much about what had happened to his partner since…well, ever. He hadn’t told the shrinks in Bellevue, that was for damn sure. Hell, he hadn’t even told Wes that much about it. But Cassidy had a way about her that made it easy to talk to her. Maybe it was all the work she did as a guidance counselor. Or maybe it was because of what she’d gone through with Del Vecchio. Maybe in some weird way, it made them kindred spirits.

  He took a swig of beer, then grabbed the book he’d picked up on the way back from the kitchen and thumbed through it until he found the section on ghosts, hoping the research would get his mind off the beautiful, blonde damsel in distress and how easily she had gotten him to confide in her.

  He was halfway through the chapter when he remembered he was supposed to meet Wes up in Maine. Thinking he’d better bring his friend up to date, he took out his cell phone. The other man answered on the first ring.

  “Seaver.”

  “Hey, it’s me,” Trace said.

  “I was wondering where the hell you were. You on your way up here?”

  “That’s what I’m calling about. Cassidy was right about Del Vecchio. The bastard did come back and he’s after her.”

  “You sure?”

  Trace clenched his jaw. “I’m sure. And he’s as real as she said. His ghost paid her a visit earlier tonight at her apartment and terrorized the hell out of her.”

  “You there now?”

  “No. I brought her back to my place.”

  There was a pause. “Your place? I hate to break it to you, dude, but it’s not exactly female friendly.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you even have any food?”

  “Yeah, of course I have food. Leftover pizza. Cassidy seemed to like it.”

  “Of course she did.” Wes let out a breath. “Did you ever pick up any toilet paper? The last time I was there, all you had was a roll of paper towels.”

  Trace scowled into the phone. “Yeah, I have toilet paper. Besides, the important thing is that she’s safe here.”

  “The place is a fortress, I’ll give you that. You’re that worried about her safety, huh?”

  “Yeah. This thing isn’t like any ghost I’ve ever dealt with before. One minute, it can walk through walls. The next, it’s slicing and dicing women who look like Cassidy.”

  “Damn,” Wes breathed.

  “You ever heard of a ghost being able to do that?”

  “Never. You sure the thing’s a ghost and not something else?”

  Trace snorted. “Other than the fact that it doesn’t like salt, I’m not sure of anything right now. Suffice to say, I’m not going to be able to get up to Maine right away. You hook up with Brice yet?”

  “Not yet. He wasn’t at the motel where we were supposed to meet and I can’t get him on his cell. I’m going to head out to look around some more tomorrow, see if I can find out what he was up to. You need me to come back there instead?”

  “Nah, I have this. Stay there and see what’s going on with Brice. If I can’t deal with this on my own, I’ll give you a call or ask some of the other local hunters for help. Hopefully, I can get rid of this ghost or whatever the hell it is quickly and get up there to back you up. It’s not like Brice to ask for help, then not be there to meet you.”

  “No, it’s not,” Wes agreed. “Okay, I’ll talk to you later. Watch your back with this ghost, huh?”

  Trace assured the other man he would, then hung up. Tossing the cell phone on the coffee table, he hit the books again. After an hour of reading, he still wasn’t any closer to figuring out what kind of ghost he was going up against. Hoping some of the other hunters he knew might be online, he grabbed his laptop and connected to the internet, then pulled up Yahoo Messenger. To his relief, a few of his friends were online and he set up a conference chat so they could all talk to each other as a group.

  Most of them were of the opinion Del Vecchio might not have been human to begin with. Since that would certainly explain why the sonofabitch was acting completely unlike any ghost he’d ever dealt with, Trace didn’t discount the possibility. Unfortunately, it still didn’t tell him what the thing was now or how to destroy it.

  The best suggestion any of the other men could come up with was the tried-and-true method for dealing with ghosts Trace had planned on using all along anyway. Find Del Vecchio’s mortal remains, sow them with blessed salt, then burn them. If this thing was a ghost, even some bizarre new kind of ghost, that technique should work. If it didn’t, he’d be able to say with some kind of reasonable certainty that he was dealing with something other than a ghost. Of course, then he’d have to come up with another way to get rid of it. But he’d deal with that when he got there.

  Trace was logging off Messenger when he heard a terrified scream come from the bedroom. Tossing his laptop on the couch, he jumped to his feet and pulled the shotgun loaded with rock salt out of his duffel bag. There was no way Del Vecchio’s ghost could have gotten into the house, much less circumvented the protection charms Trace had put around the place, but that was the only thing he could imagine making Cassidy scream. His blood ran cold at the thought of what that sicko was doing to her.

  When Trace ran into the bedroom, though, Cassidy was alone. She was sitting up in bed, her eyes wide and unfocused. She was clutching her chest and screaming so loudly it sounded as if her throat might tear. For a minute, he thought Del Vecchio had already been there, stabbed her and disappeared, but then he realized there wasn’t any blood. That was when it hit him. Cassidy was having a nightmare.

  Although her eyes were open, it was obvious she wasn’t looking at anything, at least not anything Trace could see. He’d seen enough traumatized people to know that look, though. She was reliving the night Del Vecchio had attacked her.

  Swearing under his breath, he tossed the shotgun on the dresser and hurried over to the bed. When he put his hands on her shoulders to calm her down, though, she gave a start and slapped his hands away.

  “Cassidy, it’s me. It’s Trace.”

  She didn’t seem to hear him, or if she did, the words didn’t register, because she shook her head wildly and tried to push
him away again. He didn’t let her. Instead, he sat next to her and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest.

  “Shh,” he hushed, rocking her trembling form back and forth. “It was a bad dream. You’re safe. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

  He kept repeating the words over and over until she finally quieted. When she did, her screams became little more than a whimper and she melted into his arms, pressing her face against his chest. He expected tears to come on the heels of a nightmare like the one she’d had, but there weren’t any. Just long, shuddering breaths and ragged coughs.

  “I-I’m sorry,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper against his chest. “It just seemed so real.”

  “Shh. There’s nothing to apologize for.” Trace pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “How long have you had the nightmares?”

  She curled her fingers around the material of his T-shirt. “From the moment I woke up in the hospital. Seeing Del Vecchio’s ghost has made them worse than ever. He keeps coming after me over and over with that knife…”

  A shudder went through her body and his arms tightened around her. “I won’t let him hurt you, Cassidy. I promise.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Will you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep? Please.”

  At the pleading look she gave him, he couldn’t say no. “Of course.”

  She relaxed against his chest again. Trace leaned back against the headboard and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a woman in his arms, especially one who was so beautiful or needed his help so badly. It felt good, even if she was only there because she’d had a nightmare.

  Cassidy fell asleep a little while later. Even though he’d fulfilled his promise to stay with her until she did, she looked so peaceful lying on his chest that Trace couldn’t find it in himself to disturb her. From the sound of it, she hadn’t gotten much sleep lately and he didn’t want to wake her by getting out of bed. Besides, he wasn’t going to get any more research done tonight anyway. With that in mind, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, his arms still wrapped protectively around her.

  Chapter Nine

  It had been so long since Cassidy had woken up like a normal person that she’d almost forgotten what it felt like not to bolt upright terrified and screaming at the top of her lungs from some awful nightmare. But then her brow furrowed as the events of last night came rushing back and she remembered she hadn’t gotten off as easy as she’d thought. She’d had the nightmare, only this time Trace had been there to comfort her.

  Embarrassed he’d seen her like that, Cassidy tugged the blanket up higher and snuggled into the pillow, wondering how long she could stay in bed before he came in to check on her and she would have to face him again. That was when she realized she wasn’t lying on a pillow. She was lying on something a lot firmer and a lot warmer than a pillow. She was lying on Trace’s chest. Oh man, she had fallen asleep on him last night and he had let her stay there. Talk about awkward.

  She lifted her head ever so slightly, hoping Trace was still asleep and she could slide off his chest without him noticing. No such luck. Not only was he awake, but he was smiling at her as if it were the most comfortable position he’d ever slept in. Considering he’d obviously spent the whole night leaning back against the headboard, she doubted it. The poor guy probably had a kink in his neck.

  She reached up to push her hair back from her face and felt a wet spot on her cheek. Oh great, she’d drooled on him, too. Not that Trace wasn’t droolworthy, but this was not what they meant.

  Blushing, Cassidy pushed herself upright with as much dignity as she could muster and gave him a shy look. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

  His mouth twitched. “Don’t worry about it. Being an emergency pillow is just one of the many services we at Paranormal Investigations Unlimited provide. It’s covered under the unlimited part of the company title.”

  Despite how embarrassed she was, Cassidy couldn’t help but laugh. “I should go freshen up.”

  She didn’t wait for him to reply, but got out of bed without getting all tangled up in the sheets and ducked into the bathroom. Of course, freshening up was a little difficult to do without any makeup, so she couldn’t do much more than wash her face and run his brush through her hair. She was going to have to go back to Jennifer’s apartment and pick up some toiletries. Clothes, too.

  The thought of going back there made her shiver. What if Del Vecchio’s ghost was waiting for her? Maybe she should stop at the mall instead and pick up what she needed.

  Giving herself one last look in the mirror, Cassidy pulled open the door and walked back into the bedroom. Trace was changing into a fresh shirt and she had to stifle a groan as she caught a glimpse of his well-muscled chest and six-pack abs. She remembered the assumption she’d had that first day about him being a model and wondered if she should mention it to him, but then decided maybe she’d better not. He might think she was trying to come on to him. Not that she wouldn’t have done just that if they had met in a club. Flirting with the paranormal investigator who’d saved her from the psychotic ghost trying to kill her probably wouldn’t be a good idea, though.

  “I was going to grab some breakfast,” he said as he buttoned his shirt. “Do you want some?”

  Cassidy let her gaze linger on his magnificent pecs before the shirt covered them completely. “Sure.”

  When Trace suggested breakfast, she’d thought he meant a piece of toast, so she was surprised when he took out another box of leftover pizza from the fridge and set it on the counter. He must have seen the look on her face as she perched on one of the bar stools because he mumbled something about having a box of cereal somewhere.

  While the cereal was a little stale, it was still edible and certainly better than pizza in the morning for sure, even if she had to eat it without milk. Trace didn’t come around the counter to sit with her, but instead ate his cold sausage pizza standing up. At least he didn’t have beer with it. Cassidy shook her head. Cold pizza for breakfast and a motorcycle in the living room. God, this guy needed a woman around to straighten him out.

  “Did you learn anything helpful in those books you were reading last night?” Cassidy asked as she dumped more cereal into her bowl.

  He shook his head. “Not a whole hell of a lot. And unfortunately, none of the other ghost hunters I talked to after you went to bed have ever encountered a ghost like Del Vecchio’s, either. Since the salt stopped him, though, everyone agreed the thing still follows some of the basic rules other spirits do, which means I should be able to send him back to hell where he belongs using the traditional method.”

  “Which is?”

  He glanced at her as he reached for a second slice of pizza. “Find out where Del Vecchio is buried, dig up the body, douse it with salt that’s been blessed, then burn it.”

  Cassidy looked at him incredulously. “You’re joking, right?”

  “No. That’s the only way to get rid of a ghost.”

  She frowned. “Isn’t digging up a grave illegal or something?”

  “Pretty much,” he agreed. “Which is why I do it at night when no one is around. Don’t worry, I haven’t gotten arrested yet.”

  That was reassuring. “Okay, so how do we find out where Del Vecchio was buried?”

  “I’ve got a friend who works at the ME’s office in Stamford. He should be able to tell me which funeral home picked up the body from the morgue. I’ll give him a call after breakfast and see if he’s in. If we’re lucky, we can have this situation wrapped up by midnight.”

  Cassidy nodded. She still wasn’t sure she was comfortable with the idea of digging up Del Vecchio’s body, but if it was the only way to get rid of his ghost, then she supposed she could put aside her squeamishness.

  Luckily, Trace’s friend at the ME’s office was in when he called. As Cassidy listened to Trace’s end of the conversation, she wond
ered if the guy was one of the many people Trace had helped. Probably. It seemed like the only reason the guy would be so forthcoming with information.

  “Okay, the funeral home that picked up Del Vecchio’s body from the morgue is in Fairfield,” Trace said after he hung up. “Do you want to come with me or would you rather wait here?”

  Even though Trace had assured her the warehouse was ghost-proof, Cassidy didn’t feel comfortable staying there by herself. As nervous as she was, nothing on television would hold her interest for long and reading any of the books he had on the shelves would freak her out even more.

  “I’d rather come with you if that’s okay.”

  “Fine by me. I didn’t want you to have to stay here by yourself anyway.”

  She slid off the stool, frowning as her bare feet touched the floor. Damn, she’d forgotten about not having any other clothes with her. She couldn’t very well go out dressed in Trace’s old NYPD sweatshirt and nothing else.

  Cassidy gave him a rueful look. “On second thought, maybe I’d better stay here since I’m not exactly dressed.”

  “No problem. We’ll go to your apartment first.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? What if Del Vecchio’s waiting for me to come back?”

  Trace’s mouth tightened. “Then I’ll fill him full of rock salt and whatever else it takes to keep him away from you.”

  Cassidy had never been with a man who made her feel so safe by saying a few simple words, but she instinctively knew Trace would do whatever he had to protect her.

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “Good. I need to load some stuff in the Hummer, then we’ll be ready to take off.”

  Cassidy thought he was talking about his bag with the shotgun and was surprised when he loaded a couple of shovels, a container of lighter fluid and a bag of salt in the back of the SUV along with the duffel.

  “We’re going to dig up Del Vecchio tonight?” she asked incredulously.