A Brady Paranormal Investigations Box Set

by Harper Crowley

  “I talked him into it,” Shelley says. “He said as long as you don’t touch anything, it’ll be fine.” Her eyes glaze over with tears. She needs this. My resistance wavers.

  If the house is a shrine to the mother, it’s interesting, but not exactly something unusual. In times of love and loss, people hold on to whatever they can. “Let me talk to the team and see what they think.”

  Shelley gasps. “Of course. Who came with you?” We have four team members besides myself, so that’s a fair question.

  “Russ and Jess.”

  Her eyes widen. She waits expectantly for me to let her in, but I still haven’t totally forgiven her.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  She nods, her expression defeated. I almost feel bad for her, but she brought this on herself. Even if she’d told us the truth, it would have been tempting to come. That was a damn good video.

  I shut the door then turn to Russ and Jess, trying to find the right words. “Shelley said she got permission for us to investigate.”

  Jess lounges on the bed, textbooks from her summer classes splayed out in front of her. “And you believe her? She’s lied about everything else. Why would she be telling the truth now?”

  “She’s right,” Russ says. “We need proof.”

  I throw up my hands in frustration. “Well, what do you want me to do now? We’re here, we’re almost broke, our only alternative is a cemetery, and Jess hates those. The MacIver house has great history and great evidence. If we get something good, we’ll attract even more subscribers, which will get us more money.”

  Russ glances at my sister. “I’m game if Jess’s good with it. I was looking forward to checking the house out, anyway. And it’s better than another cemetery, right?”

  Jess sighs dramatically. “Yeah, I guess. But double-check that we can actually investigate first. I don’t want to get in there and have her dad or whoever owns the house call the cops.”

  “Or throw a pink flamingo at you,” Russ says with a smirk.

  She lobs a highlighter at him.

  “Awesome,” I say. “I’ll go tell Shelley.”

  Chapter 4

  I slip out of the hotel room and shut the door behind me. “Okay, we’ll do it, but I need to know we have permission to investigate the house. Can you call your dad?”

  Shelley squeals and claps her hands. “You will? That’s great! Thank you so much!” She leans forward to hug me, but I back away.

  “I still need to talk to your dad,” I remind her.

  “Oh yeah.” She pulls out her phone and taps furiously on the screen for a few seconds before putting it up to her ear. “Dad?” she asks. “Yeah, I’m, uh, here with Meredith Baker right now, and she wants to make sure you’ve given permission for her and her team to investigate.” She listens for a second then hands the phone to me.

  “Mr. MacIver?”

  A pause, then someone clears their throat. “Yes, Ms. Baker. I’m Shelley’s father and the owner of the house which you’re interested in investigating.” It’s a man’s voice, at least.

  I pull the phone away from my ear and glance at Shelley. She’s looking at the ground. Maybe she’s afraid of getting into trouble with her dad. “Thanks for talking to me. I just wanted to make sure we have your permission to go in the house before proceeding with our investigation.”

  “Oh yes, of course. My daughter explained everything to me, and I decided to let you check it out.”

  “Um, okay, thanks.” That was easy. Maybe Graham is the only one with a problem with us investigating.

  “You’re welcome,” he says.

  Shelley holds her hand out for her phone. She ends the call and stuffs the phone into her pocket. “Better?”

  I nod. “I’m sorry, but I had to check for myself.” Something still doesn’t sit right with me, but then again, this whole investigation has been screwed up since we got here.

  “I understand,” she says sheepishly. “I shouldn’t have lied to you to get you here.”

  I brush off her apology. “It’s in the past. As long as you don’t lie to me again, we’re good.”

  She gulps. “I won’t.” I can’t see her hands to make sure her fingers aren’t crossed, so I’ll just have to trust her.

  Part of me wants to ask her if she has her fingers crossed, but I don’t. That’s too immature even for me. “Do you think your brother is going to cause us any trouble?”

  Shelley shakes her head. “No. I’ll talk to him. He’s a lot like my dad in that way. He doesn’t believe in the paranormal or anything like that. If he hasn’t seen it with his own two eyes, he doesn’t believe it exists.”

  The sun’s in her eyes, so I walk with her to a picnic table off of the end of the motel. Now is as good a time as any to finish questioning her. I briefly debate whether or not I should go in and grab my voice recorder but decide that my phone should work for what I need. We sit down, and I turn it on. “Have you or he or anyone else, for that matter, experienced paranormal activity at the house, other than what was in the video you showed me?”

  I steel myself for her to say little dots of light or shining spots on film, also called orbs. People try to claim they’re ghosts or spirits all the time, but they’re not. They’re dust, bugs, or faulty cameras. There are a million things those specks of light could be, and I’ve almost always been able to disprove the orb idea.

  “We haven’t lived there in years, you know, but Graham and I would still sneak in sometimes.” Her breath hitches in her throat, and she stares at her hands. “I think part of me was hoping that one day I’d go back, and she’d be there waiting for me. Is that stupid?” Her glassy eyes meet mine.

  I reach over and settle my hand on hers, the big sister in me wanting to comfort her like I did Jess. “It’s not stupid at all.”

  She sniffs. “Anyway, I’ve heard weird noises, seen shadows and flickering lights, and heard doors open and close, but the video I sent you was the first time I tried to catch evidence of something.” The corners of her lips twitch. “Dad would kill me if he caught me sneaking around in there.”

  We’re heading back into family territory again, so I change the subject. “You’re aware of how we operate, right?”

  Shelley nods.

  “Great. There’s actually a lot that goes on that never gets broadcast. I live stream the actual investigation, but if I did that with the setup, it’d bore people to death.”

  Shelley nods vigorously again. “I know, but can I help?”

  I arch an eyebrow at her. “How many investigations have you been on?”

  “None,” she says. “But I’m a fast learner. I swear, I won’t get in the way or anything.”

  We don’t need her help, but I’m having a hard time saying no to her for some reason. “I’ll talk to Jess and Russ. If they’re okay with it, you can help.”

  She squeals and claps her hands together. “Thank you so much!”

  Russ and Jess are going to kill me, for real this time. I can already tell Shelley’s going to be more trouble than she is help. Time to get back on track before she invites the whole cheerleading squad. “Do you have any pictures of your mom?” I need anything I can compare to the apparition. Not that I think there would be a resemblance, based on how ephemeral the spirit in the video was, but the subscribers will want to see photographs.

  “Yeah, here.” She pulls a piece of paper out of her pocket and unfolds it. It’s a copy of a copy of a copy, so I can barely make out the face, but the woman smiling on it has Shelley’s blond hair and a wide smile, and she’s bouncing a child on her hip while another plays at her feet. Shelley and Graham. “I... I figured you’d ask.” She traces her mother’s outline then slides the picture over to me. “You can keep it if you want. I have another copy.”

  I fold the picture and slip it into my pocket. “I’ll get it back to you anyway. These things are important.” All I have left of my parents are a handful of pictures, so I know how much this means to her.

&nbs
p; She gulps. “Thanks. This is harder than I thought.”

  Digging into the past always is. “When do you want us to investigate?”

  “How about now?” Her gaze darts up to meet mine.

  Sometimes I feel old when I see teenagers switch moods and emotions on the flip of a dime, even though I’m a few years older than her. “Let me check with my team.” They’ll be as surprised as I am, though I’m sure Jess will be relieved to get started. “We can get all of the baseline readings done today so we have something to compare them to during the investigation. We’ll also take pictures and video of the house, so if anything’s moved or changed during the course of the investigation, it’ll be easier to catch.”

  Her eyes widen. “Will you be broadcasting this part, too?”

  What is she hoping for, her fifteen minutes of fame? “No, this is all part of the setup. We’ll upload the recordings, but it’s not interesting enough to live stream. If you want to help during the investigation, you’ll have to get your dad to sign a waiver.”

  She deflates a little bit, her shoulders sagging. “That makes sense. Does everyone who’s on camera have to sign one?”

  I nod. “It’s a rule. Most investigations are pretty boring. They’re just us walking around, talking to dead air. We don’t usually see anything while we’re investigating. It’s afterward, while we’re reviewing the footage, that we hear voices and see things.”

  “What about Waverly?”

  “Waverly was an exception, not the rule. I’m hoping your house will be an exception, too, based on the video you took.” But hopefully not as bad as Waverly. I still have nightmares about that place. Jess, too. I never should have taken her.

  She sits back, a pensive look on her face. “I hope so, too. Do you know where the house is?” Shelley asks. “I can draw you a map if you want.”

  I shake my head. “I’ll have Russ pull it up on the GPS before we leave. I’m sure it can’t be that hard to find. Oak Cliff isn’t very big. I’ll text you if we get lost.”

  “Awesome,” Shelley says. “I’ll see you there.”

  “Perfect. I’ll let you know if there are any problems.”

  She trots back to her car, and I steel myself to face Jess and Russ.

  “She wants to do this now?” Jess asks, after I break the news. “Is she serious? First, she lies to us, and second, she expects us to drop everything to set up the investigation right now. No, absolutely not. I’m almost done with this assignment. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

  Russ leaves bathroom, wearing dark-blue running shorts and a tank top. “What’s going on?”

  I briefly explain the situation with my sister interjecting snarky comments in the background. When I’ve finished, Russ throws his head back and laughs. “Sure, why the hell not? It’d be nice to get our preliminary stuff done early, for a change.”

  “Fine,” my sister grumbles, snapping her textbook shut. She sighs and stands, upending Bear from her lap. “I’ll be right back.” She disappears into the bathroom.

  “Do you think Shelley’s telling the truth this time?” Russ asks.

  I think back to Shelley’s visit. “I hope so. The phone call was weird, but maybe her dad was busy at work or in the middle of a conversation when she called. Who knows.” I grab Bear’s leash and clip it to his collar. “The voice was male, and it sure wasn’t her brother, so...”

  “You don’t think it was him.” Russ’s voice is flat.

  “Who else could it have been?” I scratch behind Bear’s ears as I replay the conversation in my head. “Maybe I’m being paranoid. This whole case has thrown me off, and we haven’t even started investigating yet.”

  Jess pops out of the bathroom. “I still think we shouldn’t give in to her.”

  “You can stay here and finish your homework, if you want,” Russ says.

  “Not a chance,” my sister replies. “That house better be chockfull of ghosts at this point.”

  “I’m sure it’s bursting at the seams.” Russ smirks. He looks up directions to the MacIver house and types them into the GPS. It’s his turn to drive, so Bear perches on my lap, and I twist his leash around my fingers so tightly they turn red before releasing them. Get a grip. This isn’t Waverly. You’ll be fine.

  “You know, if it’s a hoax, it’s a good one,” Russ say. “Maybe I can get Shelley to show me her secrets so I can spot the next one easier.”

  “At least it got us out of Michigan.” Jess pulls out a pair of sunglasses and slips them on. “It’s not even fall yet, and the leaves are changing colors over there.”

  Bear scrambles onto Jess’s lap and props his front feet on the bottom of the window, staring out at the greater world beyond with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Jess ruffles the hair behind his ears.

  It doesn’t take very long to reach the MacIver house. The circular driveway, half hidden by overgrown trees, surrounds an old fountain that’s green with moss and ivy. A little black car is parked by the neo-Gothic style white house. Four columns, chipped and weathered with age, stand as sentinels along the edge of the front porch that stretches from one side of the house to the other. The white siding is overgrown with ivy in both dark, vibrant green and withered brown. The brick foundation crumbles in parts, and a shed off to the side looks as if its roof is caving in. But even in its run-down shape, the house is magnificent. Through the trees, I can barely make out a wooden cottage. That must be where Shelley and Graham live.

  Russ parks the van behind Shelley’s car, and I hop out with Bear on my heels. I pull out my phone, snap a quick picture of the house and post it to our forum with the caption You guys are going to love this. Stay tuned for our investigation tonight. I tuck my phone into my pocket as shares and likes pop up on the screen.

  Jess dubiously eyes the derelict mansion. “Are you sure this thing isn’t going to collapse on us?”

  “That’d be the way to go, right?” Russ says, chuckling. “They’d make a movie about us for sure.”

  Jess rolls her eyes. “But we’d be dead, so it wouldn’t really matter.”

  “It’ll be fine,” I say. “Shelley was in there recently to film the video. Don’t be such a baby.”

  Speak of the devil. The black car’s driver’s side door pops open, and Shelley hops out. Clad in a bright-pink tank top and jean shorts only covering the necessities, she trots over to us, a wide, relieved smile on her face. Her hair is up in a high ponytail, and she looks as though she’s put fresh makeup on. She must have thought to freshen up before we got here, just in case we ended up filming.

  Russ’s jaw drops. I elbow him in the side so he doesn’t embarrass us too much. Sure, I admired her brother at the coffee kiosk, but that was from behind and no one noticed me checking him out.

  “You made it,” she says. Her gaze lingers appreciatively on Russ.

  Huh. Maybe the feeling’s mutual. This isn’t the first time this has happened, and it probably won’t be the last. Russ’s kind of cute, albeit annoying.

  “Yup,” he says. “We’re happy to be here, Miss MacIver.”

  She holds out her hand until he shakes it. “Please, call me Shelley. I can’t believe I’m standing here with you at our house!” she squeaks, some of the color returning to her cheeks. She’s got the celebrity crush down bad.

  “All right, all right.” Jess shoulders between them, hefting a camera bag and a tripod. “Let’s get started.” As she passes me, she mumbles something about not having enough caffeine to deal with this, and I smirk. It’s not lack of caffeine—it’s her normal behavior. Shelley gives Russ one more glance before hurrying to catch up with my sister.

  We follow Jess up the rickety front porch steps. The old wood creaks under our feet, and I instinctively stay to one side since the middle sags the most. Russ, shouldering a duffel bag full of equipment, does the same. We haven’t fallen through a floor yet, and we don’t intend to start.

  Antique double oak doors are in the front of the house, with leaded glass inserted
in the top that looks like the rays of the sun, but the glass is clouded and warped. From this angle, I can’t see inside.

  Shelley rummages around in her pocket and pulls out an old metal key. It’s not attached to her key ring, so she got it somewhere else. My spider sense screams at me that we should stop investigating until Shelley tells us the truth about what’s going on here, before this investigation becomes something we can’t control, but another part of me remembers the apparition and really, really wants to see inside this place. As Shelley unlocks the front door and pushes it open, I decide to listen to the second part, just this once.

  The cavernous entry to the house overwhelms me. Hardwood floors, liberally carpeted in a thick layer of dust, stretch throughout the rooms. Light filters through thick curtains, illuminating a sitting room to our left, its furniture covered with white blankets, and a study on the right with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stuffed with books.

  Before us, a curved staircase stretches left to the second floor. It’s the infamous staircase from the video.

  Russ whistles softly. “This place is perfect.”

  If he means perfect for a ghost, then yes, I can see it. If it hadn’t been for the video, though, it would have looked just like some of the other houses we’ve investigated.

  “Do you have someplace we can set up?” I ask Shelley. My skin crawls. Must be the spiders. That’s it.

  She glances around the room then nods. “Um, yeah. The kitchen, maybe? I’ll show you.” She casts one last glance at the staircase, as if the apparition itself is about to appear again, then leads us straight under the balcony over the first floor and into another room: the kitchen.

  A sea of faded yellow-and-green flowered wallpaper stretches across the far wall. Speckled gray linoleum countertops separate an old white gas stove from a fridge and a door. The floor is pale-gray linoleum fuzzy with dust. Shelley points at an oval gold-flecked table tucked against the wall. “Will that work?”