“Gray!” McCord’s voice rumbled with disapproval.
Grayson glanced at McCord over his shoulder. “Oh, come on, Josh. You know it’s true. Most of our so-called evidence could have easily been debunked. We’ve been playing at paranormal investigation, and you know it.” He shook his arms as if ants were crawling all over him. “But this...this is the first time I’ve ever believed it was real.” He slapped at his legs.
Chase couldn’t watch the man’s discomfort any longer. “What’s wrong with you?”
“You know that feeling you get when your foot has fallen asleep and then it starts coming back to life and it stings like crazy for a while.”
Chase knew the feeling. The tingling sting was creeping up from his toes. He refused to do the same dance as Grayson, doing his best to ignore the intense discomfort.
“That’s what this feels like...like my whole body was numb and the blood is just now flowing again. For a while, I thought every inch of my skin was on fire...like I had a really, really bad sunburn.” Grayson shook his head. No, more like jerked it back and forth, violently almost. “This is the freakiest thing I’ve ever felt in my life.” He pointed at the garage without turning his gaze that way. “Whatever is in there...you don’t want to mess with it. Give it some space. Respect it.”
Chase laughed, but his amusement at the cop’s expense was a pretense, and Chase knew it. A ball of anxiety had formed in the pit of his stomach, evidence of accelerating fear.
“You know what, Grayson? You’re full of crap. You’re making this stuff up.”
Even as the words dropped from his lips, Chase knew he was presenting the cop with an unconvincing front. Grayson could probably see right through his bluster.
The sensations pinging his body weren’t normal. Was Laurel suffering from the same distress? He peeked over his shoulder. She didn’t appear affected in the same way. How could she remain calm when the rest of them were highly agitated?
Grayson stood a little taller, if possible. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“No, I’m just saying...you might have a pretty good imagination.”
Laurel stepped around Chase and Grayson to reach out to McCord. “What happened to you?”
He seemed puzzled by her question. “What do you mean?” He glanced down at his clothing as if she’d just pointed out a spot on his shirt. “Gray’s the one who had the near death experience. I’m fine.” He didn’t sound fine. The man sounded as if he was about to pee his pants.
“Then, why are you bleeding?”
She touched his head, and then slowly pulled her hand back. Bright red covered the tips of her fingers.
McCord probed the back of his head. If possible, his face turned a paler shade of white.
“Didn’t know I was. Must have happened when all the stuff in the garage started flying around us.” His voice was suddenly ten times shakier.
“What do you mean?” Not even a hint of fear or hysteria in her voice.
Grayson nudged McCord aside and motioned her toward the garage. “Come see for yourself.”
McCord backed up a few paces, his hand pressed against the back of his head. “No way. I’m not going back in there. Whatever haunts the place doesn’t like us very much. It snatched a bunch of hair out of the back of my head, and it wouldn’t let Gray leave without a fight.”
Grayson smirked at his co-worker. “You probably got hit in the head when all that junk was flying around.” He smiled at Laurel, an ingratiating sort of smile. “I’ll go inside with you. He can stay out here where it’s safe.”
A condescending gesture since Grayson apparently had a rougher time in the garage than McCord did. Was the cop trying to prove what a tough guy he was? Who was he trying to impress?
Laurel glanced at Chase, a silent question. Did she really want to go into the garage? If she did, he wasn’t letting her go in there without him.
“Sure. Why not? There’s a brand new hole in the garage for us to escape through if something happens.” Did Chase sound as aggravated about McCord’s new entrance as he felt? He hadn’t let the irritation go yet.
Laurel spoke to Grayson. “You go first.”
She stepped back and let Grayson take the lead as she and Chase followed him into the garage. McCord remained outside, mumbling warnings and curses.
“Looks like a cyclone hit this place.” Chase stood just inside the entrance and surveyed the mess with his hands on his hips.
Grayson ventured farther into the interior. Laurel stayed right behind Chase. So close her breath warmed the back of his neck. Her labored breathing disturbed the stillness of the room. Chase’s pulse rate accelerated. He suddenly felt very tired. Like his energy was being zapped.
Grayson waved his arm in a circle. “Everything loose lifted up and swirled around us.”
Chase took another step forward. A weight seemed to press on his chest as he struggled for every breath.
“Could have been a tornado—”
“Really, Peterson? Is that the best theory you can come up with? A tornado? Inside a building on a cloudless night?”
Chase stepped back and wrapped an arm around Laurel. She’d followed them into the garage, but he wondered how much courage it had taken her to do so.
“Makes as much sense as anything else the two of you have claimed tonight.”
Grayson seemed to swell up twice his size. His chest expanded beneath his typical cop light blue broadcloth shirt.
“Fine. Believe what you want to believe, but we recorded EVPs. With such a major disturbance, I bet we recorded something.”
“What’s an EVP?”
Why did Laurel have to encourage the man?
“Electronic Voice Phenomena. Paranormal investigators use a special device for recording sounds outside the normal audible range.” Grayson pulled a gadget out of his pocket and showed it to her.
She took it from him, studied the small black box, and appeared to be taking the man seriously. Chase was about to intervene in the nonsense when Laurel started talking again.
“I’d like to listen to the recording.”
Grayson nodded. “Everything started happening when I asked a particular question.”
“What question?”
“I asked if whoever was in here was angry that you were at Laurel Heights.”
Even in the semi-darkness, Chase could see her eyes widen. Not with fear but with surprise.
“I need to hear the audio.”
The oppressive vibe the place was throwing off overwhelmed Chase. The urgent desire to run rushed him. He grabbed her elbow.
“I think it’s time we stopped the crazy talk and went to the house.”
The moonlight filtering through the doorway dimmed. Shadows merged and solidified in the garage. Laurel loosened Chase’s grip on her arm. Her head turned slowly as if something pulled her attention to the far corner of the garage. He followed the direction of her gaze.
The armoire seemed to beckon her. She moved as if chains were dragging her toward it. Before he could stop her, she’d yanked the bottom drawer open. She pulled out a picture and stared at it, shock spreading across her features. Chase was by her side in an instant.
The faces had been scratched until the people could not have been identified even if Laurel knew who they were. She hadn’t mentioned the mutilation when she found the pictures the first time. Were the scratches something new?
Chase expected her to freak out, but she didn’t.
“Lieutenant Grayson?” Her voice was amazingly steady.
Grayson moved to stand behind them, peering over her shoulder at the photograph in her hand.
“The faces on these pictures have been scratched off. They weren’t like this when I saw them before. This is new and the marks weren’t done by anything paranormal. A human did this. I could tell you the whole story, but please, for right now just believe me... Someone is trying to mess with my mind.”
Laurel spoke with a calm assurance that startled Chase and seemed to surprise Gr
ayson.
“By damaging an old photograph?”
She turned and blinked at Grayson.
“I’m really tired and I need some sleep. When I wake up, I’m hoping this will be just another horrible nightmare.”
She handed him the photograph as if it were a piece of trash that had nothing to do with her.
“But it won’t be, will it?”
She pushed past him, through the garage door and into the heavy night air.
Grayson and Chase followed her. When she turned to the cop, she had an unidentifiable expression on her face, one Chase had never seen before. His heart pounded faster for some reason. Had something taken control of her mind or her emotions? He shook the stray thought from his head. That was impossible. A plot device for a scary movie. Not real.
“I’m going to be straight with you, Grayson. I didn’t kill my cousin. Until you told me he was my cousin, I didn’t even know he existed. The strange things that are going on here at Laurel Heights might have something to do with his death, but I don’t know how, and right now, I don’t care. Maybe whoever killed him is trying to get me to leave for whatever reason. If that’s what’s going on, then he’s won. Tomorrow morning, I’m leaving. I can’t take it anymore.” Her voice rose with her final sentences as if she wanted whoever might be listening to hear her declaration of intent.
Grayson glanced at McCord. Despite the obvious tension between them, the two men seemed to have some sort of non-verbal vibe going on.
“That might be kind of impulsive. Maybe you should reconsider—”
“Why should I? If I’m not wanted here, why should I stay?”
“Because I have some new information that might help me close this case, but I need your help...and your honesty.”
Laurel laughed. How could someone insert so much sarcasm into a sound without words?
“I’ll try to be honest, Grayson, but you know how hard that is for me.”
Irritation covered Grayson’s face as he motioned toward her back door. “Let’s go inside the house to talk about this.”
Chase couldn’t blame her for her sarcasm, yet he was well aware they had both told the cop only what they wanted him to know. Grayson was right to question their honesty.
Laurel headed for the house without turning back to see if they followed. Chase was right behind her. So much tension in her shoulders. He longed to massage the stress away. To bring her pleasure instead of anxiety. To take her somewhere far away from Laurel Heights.
****
Once they were all inside the house and seated around the kitchen table, Grayson set the digital recorder in the center of the table.
“What do you want first? Do you want to know what I’ve discovered about your family tree, or do you want to listen to the audio from the EVP session in the garage?”
The cop’s bright blue eyes exuded a high level of excitement. Whatever he had found out about her family must have been important, crucial to breaking the unsolved murder of her cousin James. As much as Laurel wanted to hear the audio recording, she wanted to know something about her heritage even more.
“Tell me about my family.”
Grayson leaned his forearms on the table and folded his hands, stared straight at her.
“Celeste Standridge has a first cousin named Pauline, who married a man named Clyde Richards.” He waited a moment, perhaps allowing the new information to settle into her mind. “Pauline and Clyde have two sons. Samuel and Ezekiel.”
“So?” Then the significance smacked her in the face. “Sam Richards is my second cousin, isn’t he?”
“Twice removed.” Grayson’s eyes held hers.
The stance. The tone. Was he enjoying a bit of gossip? Did a smirk form on his otherwise handsome face.
Anger swelled inside her, so sharp and strong her body reacted before her mind could stop her. She jumped from her chair, prepared to fly across the table at him. Grayson skidded his chair backward and appeared to be confused. He raised his hand in an apparent attempt to ward off her attack.
Chase grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into her seat. “Take it easy, Laurel. He’s just the messenger.”
She shuddered and settled back into her seat. Would the cop tell her that for the fun of it? Maybe. Maybe not.
“That’s just...gross.”
Grayson kept a steady gaze on her. “I don’t understand why that’s so repulsive to you.”
The heat of her embarrassment warmed her neck, and she turned to Chase to get his reaction. To get his help. Would he speak for her?
He slid his palm down her arm and grabbed her hand. Sympathy spread across his features. He twined his fingers with hers and faced Grayson.
“Sam Richards...” He paused and squeezed her hand as if to get her permission to reveal her humiliation.
She nodded her consent.
“He asked her out.”
“Sam Richards? Asked you out? On a date?” Grayson snorted with apparent derision. “What’s so disgusting about that?”
Her stomach revolted at the idea of going out with Sam Richards.
“He’s my cousin.”
Didn’t the cop get why that was wrong?
“He suggested we do the... I think he called it the vertical tango.”
McCord stifled a snort that sounded a lot like amusement. “That ass—”
“Josh.” Grayson’s warning rang around the room.
McCord snapped his mouth shut, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms over his chest. He waved his hand for the discussion to continue.
Laurel swallowed hard. “Does he know we’re cousins?”
The thought that he had proposed a night of hot, wild sex with her made nausea roll up from her gut.
“I don’t know. Does he?”
Grayson seemed to be testing her. What did he expect her to say?
“When he asked me out... Oh no, let’s get real here. He suggested we indulge in a night of kinky sex. The idea of having sex with him grossed me out. I decided I didn’t want to know him. Ever. If I had known he was my cousin, I would have... That’s just gross.”
McCord cleared his throat. “It’s not illegal to date your second cousin.”
Well, technically it wasn’t illegal to marry one’s second cousin...in most states.
“No, it’s not,” Chase agreed. “Just kind of weird.”
Didn’t these morons get it? Were they making fun of her?
“Are you kidding me? Even if he wasn’t related to me, I wouldn’t have sex with him. I don’t sleep with just any dog that comes around wanting a piece of ass. I’m not like that. How can you sit there and not understand why coming on to me like he did offended me? I might have been accused of being a murderer and a thief and God knows what else by men like you, but I am not a whore.” She made the label men like you sound like the worst kind of sewer sludge. “No matter what Rand said—” She bit back the rest of her sentence, hard and fast, horrified that once again she’d been on the verge of revealing too much.
Rand had humiliated her. Ridiculed her. Used her and cheated on her. But during all that miserable, horrible time, she’d been nothing but faithful to him. Even when he treated her like dog crap. Even when he told her having sex with her was like having sex with a cold, limp washrag.
She straightened her shoulders.
“So...you have reason to suspect dear, old cousin Sam of killing dear, old cousin James? Is that why you mentioned him? Just because he happens to be related to me you think I was in on it with him? Didn’t you just say he has a brother? Maybe his brother killed James for some crazy, stupid reason. Maybe they did it together.”
Grayson closed his eyes a moment.
“We saw Sam about thirty miles down the highway at a roadhouse. He met with your next door neighbor.”
“You mean Cooley. Why is that important?”
“Cooley is a known meth cooker.”
Laurel twisted her head one way and then the other, hoping to relieve the kink tha
t was forming in her neck. The cop was being so vague that she wasn’t connecting the dots very well. There was a point in his story somewhere. She just needed to recognize it when she heard it.
“If you know he’s a meth cooker, why don’t you lock him up?”
“He operates outside our jurisdiction.”
“So because you saw Sam with this guy Cooley you suspect... What?”
Grayson glanced over his shoulder at McCord. Were the two men silently trying to determine how much to tell her?
McCord spoke for both of them. “We think it’s strange that Sam Richards would meet up with Cooley out of town like that. Causes us to ask a lot of questions.” He paused, a pregnant pause, ripe and ready to deliver. “James was found on the highway between your property and Cooley’s.” He leaned forward. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that a member of your family has a potential connection to Cooley and another of your cousins ends up dead on the road between the two houses. What’s going on here at Laurel Heights that we don’t know about?”
“You think I know? I need answers just as much as you do. Maybe even more.” She made a noise of disgust. “If Sam Richards is my cousin, why didn’t he tell me that?”
Chase squeezed her hand. “Maybe he doesn’t want you to know for some reason.”
“Of course, he doesn’t want me to know.”
She pulled her hand away and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. When had her hair gotten so messed up?
“Suppose we listen to the recorder now?” Grayson suggested.
Laurel got the distinct impression the cop was trying to move away from the topic as quickly as possible. She suspected he knew more about her family history and wasn’t telling her everything.
“Sure. Let’s listen to it.”
Grayson picked up the device and pressed a green button. His voice blasted at them and reverberated around the room.
“Is there anyone here?”
Nothing but static followed.
McCord slapped his hands over his ears, and Chase flinched as if he’d been punched. Grayson rushed to adjust the volume.
“What’s your name?”
The pitch and rhythm of the static changed, a cadence that sounded like a two-syllable word repeated over and over.
Laurel Heights (Haunted Hearts Series Book 1) Page 20