Spooked on the Gulf Coast (Gulf Coast Paranormal Trilogy Book 3)

by M. L. Bullock

  Jason opened his hands. “Of course I’ll help the private. I guess we need to bring in a cadaver dog?”

  “Though that would be a great place to start, I was thinking more along the lines of recognizing him with some sort of ceremony.”

  Jason and Bruce leaned forward and said, “Just tell us how.” By the time I left the Tiny Diny Restaurant, we had a plan.

  Hopefully, our idea would put to rest the ghosts of Harrington Farm. This was beyond our scope, as Sierra would have pointed out if she’d tagged along for this meeting, but she wasn’t here—I was. And I was perfectly happy offering Jason Goddard a bit more than a debunking service. I found myself humming as I pulled out of the parking lot.

  Yep. This was a good day.

  Any time we could bring peace to an unhappy ghost would always be a good day.

  Chapter Seventeen—Cassidy

  It was hard to believe that the investigation at Harrington Farm had ended almost three weeks ago. A lot had happened during that time; some good things, and some not so good. Sierra had a baby scare with Braxton Hicks contractions, but everything was okay now. She was ordered to bed rest for the next few weeks, and she hated every minute of it.

  Midas had a somewhat mysterious meeting with Nina, Aaron’s grandmother, and I had the feeling that an investigation was in the works, but he was pretty close-lipped about it. Unfortunately for Nina, any investigation would have to wait until Sierra was back because we were determined to move forward as a team. I had no hard feelings toward Sierra for reminding me that I was part of a team and to focus on black-and-white investigation and not merely visions and paintings. It was good to remember those things because as fascinating as the spirit world was, it was nothing compared to the reality of my paranormal-loving family.

  At least it was my reality for now. It was okay to visit those places in my paintings, to go back in time and see those places and meet those people and witness the things they cared about, but it was important to be in the moment too.

  To be alive.

  That’s what I really took from our conversation that day in the conference room. Things had been smoother since then because I was more aware of my place on the team. I felt as if a weight had been lifted off me, that I didn’t have to do it all. Nor did they want me to do it all. Not that I ever really did, but I was the kind of person that likes to fix things. For so long, I had wanted to prove to the team that I was worthy of my spot…and in doing so almost lost my way. I was glad Sierra caught me and called me on it.

  Another good thing was Helen’s response to her treatment. The experimental drug made her sick as a dog—her words, not mine—but she wouldn’t lose her hair, and the medication was powerful enough to make her feel like she had hope. I was glad for that. The idea of losing Helen was just too much. I delivered her painting this morning, and she cried when she saw it. That was a rare thing, and I knew that I had done a good job for her. Her serene face was the focal point of that painting, but she was surrounded by so many interesting things, and of course, all of us.

  So, the past few weeks had been really busy for me. I thought of Private Plum Darcy almost every day and promised him I hadn’t forgotten him. It would finally turn out right too. Between running to the store for Sierra and checking on Helen and learning to cook with Midas and his grandfather, Papa Angelos, my life had been full. And in the evenings, when things got quiet, I sat with Domino and let him bounce up and down on me.

  And now here we were back at Patch Town. The farm loomed in the distance as we drove up the driveway. Jason had already begun moving out of the house. In fact, there was a moving truck in the yard now. But there were other vehicles too. People from the local historical society, some of the reenactors dressed in battle dress and even members of Plum Darcy’s family had come to remember the fallen Union soldier.

  Aaron and Pete came through with some interesting documents that supported the notion that the lieutenant had murdered him. An old journal surfaced with Bart Humphries’ confession, and after that, no one could argue with us. After all these years, after all this time, Private Plum Darcy would be remembered as a hero. No one was allowed to go into the palmetto field today. The bodies had been found and disinterred and were going to their appropriate resting places. I didn’t really know the details about Tolliver and the others, but I knew that Plum would be going home to Kentucky.

  No. I won’t call him that anymore. His name was William. William Darcy. Private William Darcy.

  I pulled my wide-brimmed hat down over my eyes as protection against the blazing sun and watched the soldiers begin to line up along the field. They pointed their rifles to the sky and fired them in unison. A singer began to croon an old yet heartfelt song for the fallen. When the singer had completed his song, Jason Goddard stood behind the podium and shared his thoughts with the gathering. Soon, the names of the fallen were read and a new history was told. An accurate history.

  “Today we remember Union soldier and hero Private William Darcy…”

  Midas nudged me gently, and I smiled up at him. His demure, peaceful smile thrilled my soul. Yes, I was at the right place and with the right person. Everything was right.

  As Jason continued his eulogy, I felt a breeze pick up. It lifted the edge of my skirt and buffeted my bare legs and sandaled feet. No one else seemed to notice, but I couldn’t help but feel my spiritual tensions rise. I looked around me hoping to see the private or perhaps Tolliver witnessing long-awaited justice. And then I heard Jason mention the name Young Springfield, and it drew my attention back to the ceremony. Yes, they were doing this right. This mattered. A few minutes later, the service ended. The Darcy family kindly thanked us all, but I felt uneasy.

  Unsettled.

  And that’s when I saw him. The dog was there, just beyond that oak tree. He was waiting at the edge of the forest, near the path that would lead to the palmetto field. There was yellow crime scene tape up, so it wouldn’t be wise for me to venture back there. But I stepped closer to him.

  I knew what he wanted. I knew what I had to do.

  I stepped even closer. Glancing over my shoulder to ensure that no one else followed me, I walked to the edge of the woods. The dog remained still. His black ears looked shiny in the sunlight, and his expressive eyes watched every move I made.

  “It’s okay, boy. Everything is all right now.” His pink tongue hung out of his mouth, and his tail wagged. Now was the moment. I had to do this now.

  “Go home, Blue. You’re a good boy. Go be with Private Darcy. He’s waiting for you, Blue.”

  He lingered another second and whined once before turning down the path towards the palmetto field. I wanted with all my heart to follow him to see what would happen next, but I couldn’t. They were gone now. And just as I turned away, I heard someone whistle. I spun back around and hurried to the edge of the path. To my surprise, about a hundred feet away were Private William Darcy and his dog, Blue. My hand flew to my mouth, and I smothered a sob to see the two of them together at last. The wind blew again, and this time a chill crept into my bones.

  It was always that way when the dead were near. Even the good dead.

  And then they were gone, and they would never return. The wrong had been made right. As I walked back to the field, I had a renewed sense of hope.

  Helen was going to make it, and Sierra and her family were going to be fine. Who knew what the future held for Midas and me?

  Whatever it was, I knew that it would be a good one.

  The Creature on Crenshaw Road

  Book Nine

  Gulf Coast Paranormal Series

  By M.L. Bullock

  Text copyright © 2018 Monica L. Bullock

  All rights reserved

  Dedication

  For Baby Page.

  Prologue—Tobias Arthur

  Lucedale, Mississippi

  1908

  Tobias slung the oily rag over his shoulder and stared out the dirty window hoping to see the carriage crest the hill.
He’d been a fool to let Eliza and Charles leave on their own. But the boy was fourteen and knew how to handle the rig. Eliza did too, as far as that went, but they still weren’t home. Even when she suggested this trip, Tobias believed it was a bad idea and couldn’t figure why. All day long he expected to see them, and as the day progressed and the sun threatened to go down without his wife and son safe at home with him, the intensity of his worry ratcheted up.

  But Eliza was one to tend to the sick and needy. She had a way about her that brought healing to your soul. There were women with fairer faces but none as kind as his Eliza. That was one of the things he appreciated about her, and he had known soon after he met her at the hospital that he wanted to marry her. She’d been visiting a sick friend and had been kind enough to speak to him when he addressed her. And then she visited him, not once but many times as he fought the infection that threatened to kill him.

  Tobias never wanted to tell her the truth about his injury, that he’d handled the ax like an amateur. That it had come back and sliced him, and it was pure dumb luck that the wound wasn’t much worse. He’d been lost in his daydreams the day of his accident and not thinking about the present moment. That had always been his problem. To this day, even fifteen years after that exchange of vows at the little white church in Laurel Hill, Eliza had never known the truth about that foolish accident.

  He blamed it on faulty equipment, and she didn’t ask for much more detail. At least not in the beginning. He eventually ended the lie with another lie, that it was a horrible memory he did not care to recount, and being the lady she was, she left him alone about it. Tobias couldn’t understand why he didn’t just tell her the truth right from the beginning. But he never wanted to seem less of a man in her eyes, not in any kind of way.

  Why am I remembering this today? Why am I recalling the only lie I have ever told my wife?

  He didn’t like that at all. He tossed the rag on the piece of leather he’d been working on and went to fetch his boots. I should’ve started this walk earlier, much earlier. It would make more sense to wait until morning now, but he couldn’t face the idea of spending another night without the two people he loved most in the world near him.

  Truth be known, chances were Eliza had found Mrs. Jennings to be far sicker than the woman’s daughter had conveyed and decided to linger on the Jennings’ farm to attend her, but it seemed unlikely that she would not send word back to keep him abreast of the situation. It was a half-day’s ride, but Eliza had taken their only horse with the carriage and he wouldn’t arrive until somewhere around midnight if he left now. Nevertheless, he had to go. Images of an upturned carriage filled his mind. He could almost hear Eliza calling for him, and his desperation knew no bounds. Yes, his only regret was not leaving sooner.

  But he’d done as Eliza wanted. Her list of chores for him hadn’t been long, but they were necessary. That fence was fixed, and the rats in the corn crib were dead. He believed he’d gotten them all. Eliza had asked him to do so, and he’d done it and then some.

  As he slid on one of his worn black boots, he heard a disturbing sound, a noise so loud and so powerful that it shook his home. The Arthur farmhouse was a mere three rooms, but it was larger than most in George County and he was proud of it. Who would come out here now and try to vandalize his home?

  Whack!

  Was that a board hitting the house? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure race past the window, the same window he’d stood in front of just moments ago. Without worrying about his other boot, he shuffled toward the door and reached for the gun that hung in the rack over it. It was loaded. It was always loaded. He twisted the doorknob furiously and slung it open, stepping outside on the porch with the gun raised and ready. If it wasn’t an animal, some old black bear or a bobcat, it was surely a human. Someone bent on mischief.

  “Who’s there?”

  No one answered, but he heard another sound; his unwanted visitor knocked over his stack of firewood that he had carefully arranged yesterday. He swore under his breath as he ran across the wooden porch and leaped off the side to face whoever or whatever awaited him. He saw no one, but the thick branches of a clump of cedar trees that grew about twenty feet from his house moved like a tall person had walked through them. Tobias heard heavy footfalls, two-legged footfalls, as if whoever was responsible raced away from him. He wasn’t one to tolerate such foolishness. He was a hard-working man and didn’t have time to stack firewood twice. Tobias lifted the gun up to the sky and shot it once.

  “There’s more where that came from!”

  He waited, but it was as quiet as an empty church out here. His heart was pumping and his blood surging, but it appeared as if he would get no satisfaction. Yes, the woods were quiet. Too quiet. He waited another few minutes and eventually began to pace the tree line. If he’d had the time and the inclination, he would’ve pursued his unwanted visitor to the edge of his property, but he had other matters to attend to.

  Tobias stalked back to the house, glancing over his shoulders every few seconds. He was unable to shake the feeling that someone was watching him, watching his every move. He paused on the porch, imagining that he heard the brush moving on the opposite side of the house. As quietly as possible, he walked to the end of the porch but saw nothing and no one. Tobias had made plenty of enemies over the years as the manager at the local sawmill, but none of them would stoop so low as to terrorize him in this fashion.

  No, he wasn’t terrorized. More like inconvenienced.

  That was technically a lie but one he could live with. He walked inside but left the door open. If the stranger returned, he wanted to get a clean line of sight on him. He slid his other boot on and now reached for his jacket. It would be cool tonight, not cold enough to see his breath but chilly enough to make the trip to the Jennings’ farm a brisk walk.

  As a man born and raised in the woods of south Mississippi, he knew the importance of being prepared. Although he had every intention of arriving at the Jennings’ home in just a few hours, Tobias would bring water and food and a blanket and matches. As he began stuffing his pack, he heard two pops, like young saplings breaking. For reasons unknown to him, he felt a little sick, like he did whenever he drank hard liquor. He’d never been a drinking man and largely stayed away from it because of this, but he partook when the occasion called for it. He never really enjoyed it, but right now, he wouldn’t pass up a shot of whiskey.

  The door remained open but only halfway, a move Tobias now regretted because he could hear the groaning of the wood at the end of the porch as if someone large and heavy had stepped on it. Reaching for his gun again, he quickly hid behind the half-open door. The sun was going down now, and the approaching darkness cast blue shadows along the edges of his house and the tree line beyond. He still didn’t hear a thing. Not a squirrel chirping, not a whippoorwill, not even a frog, and the area had had more than its share of rain recently.

  Not good. Not good at all. His initial thoughts were to charge at the intruder and give him a stomach full of buckshot, but there was something strange about it all. He heard no boots, no creaking of shoes. Just thick, heavy footfalls. And they stopped right beyond the door—as if the visitor knew he was there! Tobias didn’t know why, but he closed his eyes. He felt like his breathing was so loud that it could be heard in the next county. He reminded himself to breathe regularly, normally. He pretended he heard Eliza’s calm voice in his ear. She always knew how to calm him, even when he was facing an amputation. He’d credited his unexpected healing to God’s mercy and Eliza’s calm voice.

  I have to look. I can’t hide from whatever this is. I have to look.

  He heard the wood shift again, as if whoever was standing on the other side of the door moved a few inches. It was waiting for him to look! This was no bear, no wolf. He could sense its intelligence. Yes, this was not a person.

  He opened his eyes and screamed.

  Chapter One—Cassidy Wright

  Mobile, Alabama

&n
bsp; Present

  Helen and I hovered outside the nursery window while Midas and Pete were in with Joshua visiting Sierra. I tapped on the window, not that Emily McBride could hear me over her crying nursery mates or understand who I was. What an amazing experience to see a brand-new person, and she was absolutely perfect. Like her mom, little Emily had quite a set of lungs on her and was as beautiful as any doll I’d ever seen.

  I didn’t have much experience with babies, except for my late sister Kylie, but that had been so long ago that I was nervous about the idea of ever holding Sierra and Joshua’s daughter. Helen put her arm around my shoulders and hugged me. “I love moments like these. They are rare, Cassidy. When you’re making your own moments, remember to do all the stupid things…and take pictures, lots and lots of pictures. Memories are good, but they can slip away from you. Especially when you get to be my age.”

  I hugged her back and said, “I promise. But I’ll let you operate the camera. You’re better at it.” The past few weeks, Helen had been more than a little sentimental. She was having some success with her new medical treatment, but the disease had definitely affected her physically and emotionally. Still, she was doing better than she was yesterday and the day before that, and as I reminded her earlier as we sipped coffee together in the cafeteria, she was a miracle.

  “Ready to see Sierra?”

  “Yes,” I agreed as I wiped a tear from my eye. Yes, Emily McBride was perfect.

  Sierra’s hospital room was only a few feet away from the nursery. Visiting hours would end soon, but Helen was right, I wanted to at least visit my friend and fellow paranormal investigator before going home. It’d been a long day that started early this morning, and I couldn’t imagine being in labor for six hours. I’d heard that labor could last for much longer, even days. From the sounds of it, I didn’t want to be involved in any of it.