Shadows in the Sand (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller Book 2)

by Scott Langrel

  McCoy shut the car door and adjusted his hat. “I’ve got to try to figure out what they are and where they’re hiding. Did your aunt recognize the body she discovered?”

  Pru shook her head. “I don’t think so. McCoy, how did this happen? I should have felt something.”

  “You were probably distracted. And certain entities can mask their presence from people like us, if they work at it.” He looked down at the girl. “There’s a lot you need to know about all this. Being able to sense and see the supernatural is only part of it. You have to know how to handle the things you see.”

  “Pru!” Becky called impatiently.

  “So how am I supposed to learn this stuff?” Pru asked, obviously frustrated.

  “Books, the internet. Books are more reliable, but some of the stuff online is good, too. You just have to dig a little deeper and check references. Does your aunt have internet access?”

  “Sure,” Pru said as she started back toward the house. “Doesn’t everyone?”

  McCoy chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so. Sometimes I forget which decade I’m living in.” He fell in behind Pru. “Okay, kid. Here’s your homework. See what you can dig up on these things. Concentrate on anything that would operate in or around a body of water. Kelpies, water spirits, sea demons—anything that might fit the bill. And read the descriptions closely. You’ve seen the thing, after all.”

  “All right. I’ll see what I can find out. But we need to hurry.” Pru slowed her pace and looked up at McCoy. “I’ve got a feeling these things know that I’m onto them. I don’t feel safe.”

  “Just put down the powder like I told you, and make sure your mother and aunt don’t wander off alone. You’ll be fine until I can get this figured out.”

  The women were all talking in hushed and subdued tones when Pru and McCoy rejoined them at the house. Becky looked at Pru questioningly, obviously noting the absence of the suspicious sweater.

  “Guess you were right,” Pru said, shrugging her shoulders. “I must not have been wearing it.”

  “Yeah, the one in the car is Amanda’s,” McCoy added sheepishly. “By the way, my name’s Finn McCoy. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

  “Becky Pridemore,” Pru’s mother responded. “And this is my sister, Karen.”

  McCoy tipped his hat. “Is there anything we can do? I realize you’ve been through quite an ordeal.”

  “Not unless you’re good at solving murders, Mr. McCoy,” Karen replied.

  Chapter Nine

  McCoy arched his eyebrows. “Murder? You don’t think it was just an accident?”

  “Three drownings in less than a month? In a community this size? I’m sorry, but I’m just not buying it.”

  “Maybe the police will find some evidence of foul play here,” McCoy offered.

  As if on cue, two more police cruisers wheeled onto the street and parked behind Deputy Foster’s car. A female deputy exited one of the patrol cars, glanced toward the house, and smiled as she recognized Nan. She gave a quick wave, then hurried over to join the others, who were already heading down to the beach. The morose Deputy Foster stayed behind, apparently to keep away undesirables such as McCoy and his group.

  “That Courtland?” McCoy asked Nan.

  “Yes, that’s her.” Nan turned to Karen. “I really don’t want to impose, but if we could hang around for a little while, I might be able to get some information about what’s happening. And there’s something else that we really need to discuss, too.”

  Karen looked questioningly at Nan, then turned just in time to catch McCoy and Pru both shaking their heads furiously. When they saw that they’d been caught, they each affected a winning, innocent smile. It was like looking at a father and daughter.

  “I don’t know what’s going on,” Karen said, turning back to Nan. “But if it has to do with the deaths, I’m all ears. Why don’t all of you come inside?”

  “What’re you doing, Nan?” McCoy hissed as they followed Karen into the house. “Please tell me you’re not going to tell them what I think you’re going to tell them.”

  “And just why not?” Nan whispered back sharply. “They’re in danger. We all are. They have the right to know.”

  “They’re going to think we’re nuts! We’ll be the ones leaving with those cops. They’ll take us straight to the Hotel Rubber Room. I’ve had some experience in this stuff.”

  “We’ll convince them,” Nan replied, though with a little less certainty. “There’s three of us, plus Pru. They can’t think all of us are crazy.”

  “Oh no,” Pru said, shaking her head. “Count me out of this one. My mom doesn’t know about the things I see. None of them do. I’m not about to spill the beans now.”

  “You don’t have to tell them everything,” Nan argued softly. “Just let them know what you saw. Back up my version of what happened.”

  “Well, okay. But I’m still not sure it’s such a good idea.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” McCoy said. “You’re young. They won’t commit you. You’ll get a few years of therapy, max.”

  “Shhhh!” Nan hissed.

  McCoy and Pru looked at each other in resignation and followed the others into a spacious but cozy living room. At the far side of the room, a man stood looking out of the sliding glass doors which looked out to the ocean. Presumably, he was watching the action on the beach below. He turned as the group entered the room, a look of mild surprise crossing his features as he studied the newcomers.

  “Paul,” Karen said, walking over to her husband, “you remember Nan Roberts?”

  “Of course,” Paul said. He was tall and fit, with a shock of blonde hair that was only now showing signs of receding. “How are you, Nan?”

  “I’m good. Paul, this is my old friend Finn McCoy. We grew up together back in the sticks.”

  “Good to meet you, Mr. McCoy.” Paul walked over and shook McCoy’s hand. McCoy imagined that an adult male gorilla might have a weaker grip.

  “Pleasure’s mine. And this is Amanda Porter.”

  Paul shook Amanda’s hand as well, though McCoy assumed the man toned down his death grip as Amanda didn’t scream and jerk her mangled hand away.

  “I assume,” Paul said, turning back to the view of the ocean, “that Karen has told you about the … ugliness that happened.”

  “Yes,” Nan said. “It’s tragic. Are you sure you didn’t recognize the body?”

  Paul shook his head. “No. It could be someone from the island, or it’s possible she fell overboard at sea and washed ashore here. It’s hard to say. We don’t socialize much, so we don’t know a lot of people on the island.”

  “Nan is acquainted with one of the deputies,” said Karen. “We’re hoping she might be able to get some information when they’re finished down there.”

  “Pru,” said Becky. “Why don’t you go to your bedroom while we talk about this?”

  “Mom. I know what a dead body is.”

  “I realize that, Prucilla. But I don’t think—“

  “Actually,” Nan interrupted, “if she could stay for a moment, there’s something we really need to discuss.”

  Becky paused and looked uncertainly from Nan to Pru. She looked doubtful for a moment, then relented and nodded.

  “Okay,” Nan began. “Some of what I’m going to tell you will seem … well, a little out there. But bear with me. I’m not drunk, and I’m not high on anything.”

  “This is getting interesting already,” Paul commented, the activity on the beach all but forgotten.

  “Interesting may be an understatement,” McCoy mumbled under his breath.

  Nan looked at Karen. “A few minutes ago, you said that you couldn’t see these drownings as being a coincidence. I believe the term ‘murder’ actually came up.”

  Paul looked from his wife to Nan. “Murder? I was under the impression that the previous drownings had been labeled accidental.”

  “That’s true,” McCoy said. “And under normal circumstances, they co
uld be just that.”

  Paul stared at McCoy as if sizing him up. “I take it, Mr. McCoy, that you don’t feel the circumstances are normal.”

  “Call me Finn. Please. And no, I don’t think that they are.”

  “There’s a reason I invited Finn and Amanda to visit,” Nan said. “As I said before, he’s an old friend. But I didn’t ask him here just to catch up or reminisce. I wanted him here because of what he does for a living.”

  “And just what do you do for a living, Finn?” Paul asked, eyeing McCoy with keen interest.

  “For a living? Basically, I sit around and live off the interest from investments.”

  “Ah, I see,” Paul said, his expression indicating that he really didn’t see at all.

  “Finn is a paranormal investigator,” Nan said.

  “Really?” Becky asked, suddenly interested. “A ghost hunter? Pru loves those shows.”

  “I wouldn’t go there, Mom,” Pru said. “Seriously.”

  “I don’t really do the infrared cameras and EMF meters,” McCoy said uncomfortably.

  “More into the atomic-powered backpacks?” Paul asked, smiling. McCoy saw that the prick was enjoying this turn in the conversation. “Or perhaps Ouija boards and crystal balls?”

  “Paul!” Karen said stiffly. Paul shut up, but he was still grinning like a possum.

  “Mr. Stallings,” Nan said curtly, “Finn McCoy has quite a reputation back home. He’s assisted the police on numerous occasions, and the only reason he’s here is that I asked him to come.” She looked around the room at each of them. “Now I’m going to tell you what happened to me earlier today, and I’d appreciate it if you’d hear me out. It’s going to sound crazy, but I swear to you that it’s the truth.”

  Each of them nodded, even Paul, though he retained his amused expression.

  “Before I actually get into the events that happened today, I’d like to talk about the past several weeks. Specifically, I want to go back to just before Steph Albright’s death. I thought it was my imagination at first, or at least I told myself that.”

  “You thought what was your imagination?” Karen asked.

  “The things I saw. On the beach. In the water.”

  “And what were these things?” Paul asked, still a little too smugly for McCoy’s taste.

  Nan shook her head. “Glimpses. Shadows. They were hard to define, hard to focus on. Once, I thought someone was in trouble, out in the rip currents. I was actually going to call for help, but then it was gone.”

  “Are we talking ghosts?” Paul asked incredulously.

  “Not exactly,” McCoy said. “I mean, I believe that there’s one ghost here on the island, but I don’t believe that it’s responsible for the deaths.”

  “Are you serious?” asked Becky. “A real-live ghost? Here?”

  “More real than live, but yes. I’m sure some of you folks have heard of the Gray Man.”

  “Sure,” said Paul. You can’t live in this area for long without hearing about the Gray Man. But it’s all myth and legend. It’s not real, Mr. McCoy.”

  “That’s where you’d be wrong, Paul,” McCoy said, taking some satisfaction in seeing the man’s face redden visibly. “But don’t worry. Most people are pretty ignorant when it comes to things like this.”

  Paul started to respond, but a warning glance from Karen caused him to bite his tongue. He turned abruptly and walked back over to the sliding glass doors, apparently preferring to watch the cops inspect a corpse than to continue his discussion with McCoy.

  “Finn,” Karen said. “I’m sure Paul doesn’t mean to appear rude. But you have to admit that what you and Nan have told us is, well … kind of hard to digest.”

  “I understand,” McCoy said. “For the record, it wasn’t my idea to bring all of this out in the open right now.” He shot Nan an annoyed look. “Just listen to what Nan has to say, then we can decide whether or not you should call the guys in the white coats.”

  Karen’s expression softened. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary. Go on, Nan.”

  “After Steph’s death, I continued to see these … things. Never up close, and never with any kind of definition, but they were always there, lurking just outside my peripheral vision. Until earlier today, that is.” She turned and faced Becky. “Mrs. Pridemore, if it hadn’t been for your daughter, that body down on the beach would most likely be me.”

  Becky stared at Nan, wide-eyed, then spun to face her daughter, who was desperately trying to find a rock to crawl under.

  “Prucilla! You told me that you met Nan on the beach, and that the two of you ran to her house when the storm hit.” Becky turned back to Nan, her cheeks flushed. “That’s what you told me, too.”

  “I know, I know. Please don’t blame Pru. She was just repeating what I told her to say.” Nan looked to McCoy and Amanda, seeking support. “We thought it best to keep this quiet until Finn had a chance to figure out what’s going on. But now that there’s been another … murder, I felt that you needed to know.”

  “Was my daughter in danger?” Becky asked. Her eyes were wide and accusing.

  “What, her?” McCoy asked. “Hell, she took me out with one kick.”

  “She what?”

  “We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Nan said. “Just let me tell you what happened. I was in the house, getting the place ready for Finn and Amanda’s arrival. I caught myself humming this unfamiliar tune, and that’s when I became aware of the singing.”

  “Singing?” Karen asked.

  “Yes. I didn’t know the song, and the words were in a foreign language. I’m thinking German, but I could be wrong. Anyway, I started listening closely, trying to figure out where it was coming from. The next thing I knew, I was on the beach and Pru was kicking me in the shin.”

  “Pru!” Becky hissed, turning back on her daughter. “Why in the world would you kick Mrs. Roberts?”

  “I had to get her to wake up,” Pru argued. “Kicking her was the first thing I could think of.”

  “No, Becky,” Nan said. “Kicking me was a good thing. It’s what probably saved my life. It brought me out of whatever spell I was under. If Pru hadn’t kicked me, I’m sure he would have taken me.”

  “Who would have taken you?” Becky asked. She eyed McCoy suspiciously. “Him?”

  McCoy held up his hands. “Hey, I’m not even there yet.”

  “As soon as I came out of my trance, Pru started dragging me toward the house. I was confused, naturally, and when I turned to see what we were running from, I saw a man standing on the shore. At least I thought it was a man at the time.”

  “And what makes you think it wasn’t simply a man?” Paul asked from across the room. He was still staring out at the scene on the beach.

  “No man was ever that perfect,” Nan said softly. “Or so … empty. It wasn’t a man. I picked Pru up and ran inside, thinking we’d be safe. But it came after us. I remember locking the door, and then I rushed Pru back to the bedroom.”

  “Wait,” McCoy said. “Are you sure you locked the door?”

  “She did,” said Pru. “I watched her do it.”

  “Why?” asked Nan, and then she froze as understanding flooded her.

  “Right,” McCoy said, reading her expression. ”When Amanda and I arrived, we waltzed right in. The door wasn’t locked.”

  “We didn’t exactly waltz in,” Amanda added. “I told him we shouldn’t.”

  “She probably did, but I can be hard of hearing sometimes. Anyway, that’s when we got there, I guess. We must have scared it off, because it was gone by the time we reached the back of the house. We went inside to search for Nan, and when I opened the bedroom door, Pru rushed out and took me down. No lie.” McCoy looked at Becky. “You should be proud of your daughter, Mrs. Pridemore. She risked her life to help a complete stranger. Not many people nowadays would do that.”

  Becky regarded her daughter with no small amount of love and admiration. “I’m very proud of her Mr. McCoy. I’m also
very protective, because she’s all that I have left, aside from Karen.”

  McCoy started to reply, thought about it, and kept his mouth shut. Sooner or later, Becky Pridemore would need to know about Pru’s gifts, but this was probably neither the time nor the place. Besides, it would undoubtedly be better coming from Pru herself.

  “They’re bringing the body up,” Paul said from his perch by the glass doors. He turned and smiled broadly at the group.

  “As much as I’ve enjoyed story time, I think maybe it’s time you folks get going.”

  Chapter Ten

  “That went relatively well,” Amanda said as they walked back to the car. Karen and Becky had walked them to the door, though Becky had seemed a bit reluctant.

  “Relative to what?” McCoy asked sourly. “The Hindenburg? We should have come dressed as the Three Stooges.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” Nan said. “Karen believes us. I think Becky does, too. She’s just upset that Pru was involved.”

  “Yeah, well Paul thinks we’re ripe for the mental ward,” McCoy grumbled. “Not that I particularly care what that prick thinks, but he could cause trouble if he starts talking.”

  The ambulance pulled out as they reached the car, its emergency lights dark and siren silent since the occupant in the back wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere. The cops were huddled together, talking in subdued tones. As McCoy had hoped, Deputy Courtland noticed them and began to walk toward Nan.

  “Mrs. Roberts,” the deputy called. “I thought that was you. How have you been?”

  “I’m well, Deputy Courtland. I’d like to introduce some friends of mine. Finn McCoy and Amanda Porter. They’re visiting from Tennessee.”

  “Mr. McCoy. Ms. Porter. Hope you two are enjoying your stay in South Carolina.”

  “We actually arrived only a few hours ago,” McCoy said. “So far, it’s not dull.” He moved his eyes in the direction of the beach as he spoke.

  Courtland’s smile faltered. “Yes. Another tragic accident, I’m afraid.” She shook her head. “The surf’s pretty rough. Could’ve been a rip current, I guess. What I can’t understand is why anyone would even want to be in the water today, unless they were surfing, maybe. The water temp’s only fifty-eight degrees.”