by H. P. Bayne
Her face lit up. “Oh, perfect! We try to include as much history as we can on the show. I’ll come with you.”
Sully’s shoulders stiffened. Dez empathized.
The ERT guardroom was marked by a row of lockers, with bathrooms and showers through a door to one side and a wide, shallow, steel-mesh cage along the rear wall where Dez suspected the team’s firearms would once have been stored.
Near there, tucked into a back corner, stood an office likely once belonging to the commanding officer.
Dez cast a glance toward Sully as they moved through the room. Sully met his eye briefly and shook his head. No ghosts in here.
Dez had never been so relieved by a single gesture.
Ed led them into the office and showed them several standup cabinets.
“These were once in the administration area. Pip moved them into one of the interview rooms when he converted administration into a living space. When Kevin and I started to renovate, we moved them down here. We went through them a little bit while we were setting up the museum, but the couple of historians the government sent did the bulk of it. Unless you need my help, I’ll leave you to it.”
“Got it cased,” Dez said. “Thanks.”
Ed gave them a little salute and a smile, then left.
Dez immediately took one cabinet while Sully went to another. His own, he discovered, was empty except for the middle drawer. A quick flip through the folders inside revealed a variety of photos and newspaper clippings but nothing more.
“What are you guys looking for, exactly?” Leanna asked.
Dez considered how much to tell her before deciding they were stuck with her. Anyway, best she know exactly what she and her team were getting themselves into.
“The ghost in Hell’s Gate must have been an inmate there,” he said. “We’re hoping to find some information to tell us who he is.” He peered over at Sully. “I don’t see any records here. What you got?”
“This cabinet’s got a little more in it than yours. Take the top drawer. I’ll start at the bottom.”
Dez shut the drawer on his cabinet and joined Sully. While Sully sat cross-legged on the floor to dig through the lower drawer, Dez poked through the top.
A desk remained inside the room, and Leanna slid onto its surface, sitting there and watching them. Dez held back a sigh. When she’d said she was interested in the history of the place, Dez had thought she’d intended to help.
“You might want to check out the drawer I just shut on the other cabinet,” he suggested to her. “There are a bunch of photos and articles in there. Might help you out.”
“We’ve got a researcher for that. She’s arranged to come out the day before the shoot. I’m only here to scout the place out.”
And to annoy us, Dez thought to himself. Job done.
“Is this how you ordinarily work, then?” she asked.
Sully spared her a glance before returning his gaze to the contents of the lower drawer. “If I’m going to help a spirit to cross over, I need to figure out what’s keeping them here. Usually, I know who they are right away. Most of the time, they appear to me like any other person, only with the injuries that killed them. Sometimes, though, they don’t appear fully. When that happens, I need to first figure out who they are.”
“Sounds complicated.”
“It is. Ghosts are people, and people are complicated.”
“You’re not going to try to get rid of it before the show films, though, right?”
Sully’s head snapped up, face turning fully toward her. “This isn’t a joke. You know that, right?”
Leanna crossed her arms as she glared at him. “I never said it was.”
“Whatever’s haunting that cell is dangerous. I can’t predict how far it will go. Kevin interrupted what was happening to Ed. Dez stopped what was happening to me. What if someone from your crew goes in there alone and no one knows? How are you going to deal with that?”
Leanna uncrossed her arms to grip the edges of the desk and lean forward, toward Sully. “Everyone on my team knows exactly what they’re getting into. They know the risks.”
“Do they?”
Rarely did Dez find himself in the position of having to play mediator for Sully, but this was one of those moments. “Okay, you two. You’ve made your points. No one’s changing anyone’s mind.”
“That’s for sure,” Leanna said. “I’ve got a job to do, same as you. And I’m happy to work with you—if you stop acting so petulant.”
Sully’s brows shot up his forehead. Dez saw the response forming before it came so cut in quickly. “You need to understand something, ma’am. Doing what he does takes a lot out of him. Both of us have put our lives on the line countless times. We’re not ghost hunters, we’re PIs. And our work combined with Sully’s skills have led to numerous homicide cases being solved. We don’t do this for entertainment purposes. We don’t even do it for the money. Hell, we’ve worked a bunch of jobs for free. We do it because it helps people—living and dead. Now, it looks like the two of us and your team are stuck with each other, so I think we should all try and get along.”
Leanna said nothing. Sully heaved a breath and scrubbed a hand down his face.
“He’s right,” he said to Leanna. “I’m sorry I snapped. What I do, it’s personal for me. I get protective of them. I want to make sure they’re treated with respect.”
Leanna continued to glare at Sully another few seconds. Finally, her rigid posture eased. “Apology accepted.”
Dez waited for more, but nothing came. When it became clear Leanna wasn’t about to offer an apology of her own, Dez tapped Sully’s knee with the toe of his boot and gave him a smile.
Sully shook his head and bent back toward the drawer.
They worked in silence until, at last, Sully announced he’d found something.
“Not the actual prisoner files,” he warned as Dez and Leanna leaned in. “Records of execution.”
“How many?” Dez asked.
Sully flipped through, mouth working as he silently counted. Once he got to the final sheet of paper, he closed the file and met Dez’s eye. “Thirty-two.”
Dez’s stomach dropped. “Thirty-two?”
Sully nodded, slowly enough to denote shock.
Dez dropped his elbows onto the top of the cabinet and leaned onto them, rubbing at his eyes. Thirty-two executions meant at least thirty-two people had stayed in that cell. Most of those could likely be ruled out as the spirit Sully had seen—unless the hanging was unjust. Until they did more digging, it meant thirty-two—or more—potential identities for the ghost. Then there was the possibility others could have stayed in the cell, over and above those actually executed, who could have met with foul play.
It was enough to give Dez a migraine.
Leanna hopped off the desk with all the energy of a small child in a playground.
“Thirty-two,” she said. “Doesn’t seem like so many.”
7
Leanna trailed behind them as they headed back upstairs, execution files in hand.
Sully had a headache just thinking about it. They now had multiple potential identities for the ghost—more than three dozen all said. Even if this wasn’t a wrongful conviction situation where a prisoner had died unjustly on the gallows, could be he’d been killed some other way elsewhere in the prison and had simply gravitated back to the cell.
Back on the main floor, Leanna excused herself to use the bathroom. Dez promptly leaned in to speak to Sully.
“We’ve got our hands full here in every possible way.”
“You’ve got a remarkable way of stating the obvious, Dez.” Sully massaged the bridge of his nose. Pressure was building the longer he stayed in this place, the concentration of spiritual activity like the press of ocean currents.
“You okay?”
Sully nodded. “I think I need some air.”
Dez put an arm around him and led the way until they reached the outside front steps. Sully collapsed ont
o the topmost step, relieved as pressure gradually eased.
Dez dropped down next to him. “Better?”
Sully gave another nod. “Better.”
Dez gave his back a pat, then placed elbows on knees and knitted his long fingers together. “You know what I can’t figure? Why is it you can see the ghost in the cell? I mean, obviously the law and society in general’s decided execution isn’t okay—much as there have been people I would have loved to strangle myself. But is that enough to create a ghost you can see? Is execution like a murder?”
“I don’t think so. If it were, I’d see all of them,” Sully said. “I wish this thing I can do came with an instruction manual, but it doesn’t.” He gave it some thought before answering further. “Remember when Eva had to kill the guy who was trying to shoot us? I didn’t see him after. Just because a person is killed before their time doesn’t mean they died wrongly.”
“She was defending us,” Dez reminded him. “Execution isn’t about that. It’s about retribution. I mean, if it was about protecting society, locking someone up for life would be enough. Like they do with people too dangerous to be out in public.”
“This is becoming too philosophical for me,” Sully said.
Dez shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. But figuring out why you can see this ghost might help us to narrow down who it is. Beats having to research the backgrounds of thirty-two different inmates.”
A good point. “If we can absolutely rule out that I’d see all executed criminals, we could more easily home in on who this is,” Sully summed up.
“Yeah. Problem is, maybe we’re no further ahead. We don’t know anything about the people who stayed in the cell. Whether or not we decide on the parameters we’re looking at here, we still might have to research all of them.”
Sully met Dez’s eye. “How the hell are we supposed to do that by the end of the week?”
“You can’t,” said a voice from behind them. Sully turned to see Ed standing outside the main door.
Ed gave them a smile. “But maybe I can help to speed up the process.”
Leanna’s voice echoed from the office down the hall as Ed led them back through the main building.
“Kev will keep her busy for a while,” Ed said quietly. “As for you, I don’t have any full inmate records to share, but I have the next best thing.”
“What’s that?” Dez asked.
Ed spared them a glance and a smile before leading them back into the main floor of the prison proper. “Pip Devereaux.”
They had yet to be introduced to the caretaker and former inmate. Sully had thought he must have been holing up in his rooms, but Ed led them completely the wrong way.
“He’s hiding out in the old workshop,” Ed said. “At least, that’s where I think he’s gone. If he’s not in his apartment, you can usually find him there.”
Sully forced his gaze to remain fixed on Ed’s back as they walked through the main-floor range. The ghosts had started to gather again, and he was eager to leave them behind for now. He hadn’t yet been able to get his head around how he was going to handle the situation later this week, but one problem at a time. As far as he was concerned, if he could find a way to sneak in here prior to filming night and get the ghost to cross over, he’d do exactly that.
Hopefully, Pip could help.
A hallway Sully hadn’t seen before was tucked in toward the back left corner of this floor. A double set of barred gates—which had no doubt once remained closed but for limited purposes—now stood open, allowing them to pass into a short hallway. At the opposite end, a solid steel door with a small window cut into the top half at eye level allowed in a small amount of light from outside.
Ed led them through. Pressure that had once again been building in Sully’s brain eased as they headed back outdoors.
They had stepped into the prison grounds. To their right, a series of basketball courts were situated, each surrounded by heavy mesh fencing and topped with razor wire. No doubt Ed and Kevin had left the wire up to maintain the prison atmosphere.
Beyond those and all around them, the wall stood tall and insurmountable. Several structures—each significantly smaller than the main institution—were constructed inside the walls.
Ed extended an arm and pointed at each structure in turn. “Medical unit. Maintenance, power and water. Prisoner visitation trailers.” He pointed next at a mid-sized building nearer the courts. “Hobby area and shop. Hopefully, that’s where we’ll find Pip.”
Something—a thought—worked across Ed’s face. Sully waited him out.
“Listen,” Ed said a moment later. “Pip probably won’t thank me for bringing visitors to him. He’s not what I’d call the most sociable of creatures. I know it sounds strange, given he agreed to run our tours, but there you go. At any rate, if you want information about this place, he’s the best you can do without going the official route.”
Sully offered Ed a placating smile. “Don’t worry. In our line of work, we’re used to not being wanted.”
Ed led them to the building’s door and held it open for them. The sound of an electric saw reached them, leaving Sully to hope this was indeed Pip and not something paranormal. The idea of ghosts inside a prison learning how to use power tools wasn’t a comfortable one.
Ed led the way through a small lobby area, past a security station, an office, and doors marking a bathroom and cleaning supply cupboard. At the end of a short hall to the right, a door stood partially closed. Ed headed to it and eased the door open a little, popping his head through the space. A few seconds passed before the sawing stopped.
“Pip?” Ed said. “Forgive the interruption. I have a couple of gentlemen I hoped I might prevail upon you to speak with.”
Sully thought he could make out a low grumble. Whether Pip had formed an actual verbal reply or not, he couldn’t tell.
“I’m sorry,” Ed said. “I hate to bother you, but—”
“Not the damned TV crew, right?”
That Sully heard. He exchanged a smirk with Dez.
“No, not the damned TV crew.” Ed’s reply carried a smile.
When Pip said nothing more, Sully decided it must count as permission to enter. Sure enough, Ed turned to them with an apologetic smile and waved an arm toward them as an indication to follow.
Ed pushed the door open the rest of the way, passing through fully into the room. Following, Sully took in the clearly well-used shop. A few different pieces of equipment stood in the room, each—as near as Sully could tell with his limited knowledge on the subject—intended for woodwork.
A sizeable number of rustic chairs lined the right wall and the one in which the door was situated. The chairs were the sort Sully had seen in house and garden stores, found in people’s highly priced lake cabins or on front porches with a colorful cushion or two tossed on. Pip had probably made them. Sully wondered if he sold them too. His and Dez’s mom would love one for her house.
Sawdust littered the floor around each of the tools and along a counter to the left, although a pair of brooms and a large bucket rested against the back wall. Likely when in use as a prison shop, staff insisted on this place being kept tidy. Perhaps leaving it in a mess was Pip’s quiet way of sticking it to the former establishment.
Pip himself stood next to a circular saw, one hand lightly tapping a piece of wood atop the saw’s table. He was short and lean with a full grey beard and a paunch around his shirtless middle. Something about him reminded Sully of a gnome. Given the fact he’d been an inmate here, it was probably a dangerous assumption to make.
Sully wondered how this man was planning to hold down a job as a tour guide. Though he wasn’t built large, he was nonetheless intimidating. Intense, dark eyes focused on his unwanted visitors as if searching for an excuse to tell them to beat it.
Guessing his precise age was difficult. The lines on his face suggested he might be in his seventies, but the tone of his muscles might put him somewhere in his late fifties or sixties. Sully could o
nly imagine how prison life aged people.
When Pip’s gaze fixed on Dez, Sully peered closer at the man. Even from here, he could make out a pair of large scars cut across his chest and abdomen. Sully wondered whether the wounds had been obtained here.
At last, having sized up his company, Pip turned to Ed.
Ed took this as his cue to make the introductions. “Pip, this is Sullivan Gray and Dez Braddock. They’re the private investigators I’ve retained to look into the situation inside the prison. Sully and Dez, Pip Devereaux.”
He’d leaned on the word “situation,” making it clear Ed had previously confided in Pip about what had happened.
Pip gave a nod, whether in greeting or in acknowledgement of Ed’s statement.
“Good to meet you,” Dez said, taking a couple of long strides forward and extending a hand. Pip definitely resembled a gnome next to Dez.
Pip met Dez’s handshake, then took Sully’s hand when he offered it. Pip’s grasp was firm though not crushing, the sort of grip Sully guessed they taught you in business school. Sully found himself even more curious about this man’s past.
Ed closed the remaining distance to them. “Pip, I was hoping you might be able to answer some questions for these fellows about the place and some of its former residents.”
“Current residents, you mean,” Pip said. Sully caught no hint of sarcasm or humour in the tone.
Ed bowed his head toward Pip. “Indeed. Might I leave you to it? I should get back, lest Leanna Rogers decide to come looking for us.”
Pip’s mouth formed a tight line. “Then please go.”
Ed laughed and Sully thought he saw the whiskers around Pip’s mouth twitch. Could be the man had a sense of humour after all.
Dez waited until Ed had left and closed the door behind himself. “Can we call you Pip?”
A single nod. “You a cop?”
“Private investigator.”
“But you were a cop.”
Dez gave a weak smile. “That obvious, huh?”
“You carry yourself like one. Cops think they’re fooling the world, but I can pick one out in a crowded room inside of ten seconds. Why you quit?”