Soul Walk

by Melissa Bowersock

  “Nah. There’re plenty of ghosts to go around. We’ve even kicked around the idea of going international at some point. Europe’s got more ghosts than you can shake a stick at.”

  “I’ll bet.” Lacey traded glances with Sam. Not something either of them had thought about, or wanted, she was sure.

  “Okay,” he said, holding the door for them. “A week from Tuesday, seven p.m. See you then. Call if you have any questions.”

  “Will do.” They shook again and headed for the car.

  Driving the freeway at Friday rush hour was a total pain in the rear. It was stop-and-go, more stop than go.

  “Holy crap,” Lacey said. “Remind me never to get another nine-to-five job again, would you? I’d forgotten how miserable commuting is.”

  “You can work construction with me,” he said. “Seven to four. Get in early, get the job done, and get out.”

  “Eh. I think I’ll stick to private investigating. Hard hats and steel-toed boots aren’t my style.”

  Sam chuckled.

  “So what did you and Esmeralda talk about?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Medium stuff. Mostly I think she wanted to regale me with their successes, what she found out to solve cases.”

  “Anything interesting?”

  Sam grinned at her. “Not as interesting as ours. What about you and Webb?”

  “Cop stuff,” she said. “I asked him about research. He doesn’t do it.” She shook her head. “I don’t ever want to give that up. I enjoy it too much, plus I like the way you and I put the pieces together.”

  He reached over and took her hand. “Me, too.”

  ~~~

  SEVEN

  When she pulled up in front of Sam’s apartment—their apartment—she was struck again by the oddity of calling this home. So far, it still felt temporary, a feeling she tried to banish.

  “What sounds good for dinner?” she asked as she set her pack on the kitchen counter. “I’m not real hungry.”

  “Me, either,” he said. “Let’s wait a bit. We could always order a pizza or something.” He took her hand and tugged her out of the kitchen. “Come here,” he said. “I wanna talk to you about something.”

  He sat on the couch and pulled her down with him. She settled against him under the crook of his arm. “What?” she asked, looking up at him.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “You know how we decided it’d be less disruptive for the kids if you moved in here?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, this really isn’t optimal, either. I’ve known for a while that I’d need to get a bigger place. Daniel and Kenzie both need their own space, and even him sleeping on the couch is just a work-around. So I was thinking, especially now with this new income, why don’t we look for a three bedroom place?” He stared down at her, locking eyes as he toyed with a strand of dark red hair. “Then it wouldn’t be your place or my place. It’d be our place.”

  Lacey met his look with a slow smile. “That would be… nice,” she said.

  “I think so. We could pull the best of the furniture from both our apartments, or even buy some new stuff. It would be ours together from the start. And giving up both our old places might even cover rent on the new one. What do you think?”

  Lacey swallowed. It had sounded good until she thought of giving up her old apartment. Immediately she was beset with fears. What if they didn’t make it? She’d have no place to fall back to. No place to run to.

  “Lace?”

  His soft voice startled her. She looked up and knew her misgivings were visible on her face.

  She forced a smile. “Sure,” she said as cheerfully as she could.

  He put a finger under her chin so she couldn’t look away. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’m going too fast again, aren’t I? So you want to leave it as is for a while yet?”

  She tried to shake her head, tried to dispel the disappointment in his eyes, but her body wasn’t responding. She sagged against him. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

  He sighed. “It’s okay. Baby steps, right?” He slipped out from under her and stood up, reaching for his phone. “What kind of pizza do you want?”

  Later, after pizza and a movie on TV and slow, silent lovemaking that left her soft and close to tears, she nestled against him, her bare breasts pressed against his chest, one leg hooked over his. With one finger, she traced an imaginary line down the middle of his chest.

  “Sam?”

  “Hmm?”

  She hesitated, but then drew a breath and pushed ahead. “Do you want to get married?”

  His silence told her nothing. She held her breath.

  “Is that a question or a proposal?” he asked finally.

  She smiled wryly. “I’m not sure. I think it’s a question.” She tipped her head up so she could see his face. “Yeah. It’s a question.”

  “Sure, I want to get married again. I’m not in a hurry and it’s not something I worry about, but yeah. Someday.”

  She laid her head down again, hearing his heart beat under her ear.

  “Okay,” she said. “Someday.”

  ~~~

  EIGHT

  The next week was torture for Lacey. She was dying to dig into the research of the Haunted B&B, and had to keep talking herself out of it. She filled up her days alone in the apartment with rearranging and optimizing space, doing background checks and even serving a couple subpoenas. Sam had it easier, she thought. He went to work every day and had his construction job to concentrate on. The no-frills apartment building didn’t even have a gym for her to work out her frustrations.

  And of course that left her plenty of time to think about what Sam had said. When she was relaxed and calm, it made sense. Why keep her old apartment when they found a bigger place to live? But the thought of not having a bolt hole scared her. She’d lived there since Derrick, her last boyfriend, had upended her life with his criminal activities. It had been her safe place, her haven. When the people around her could not be depended upon, she had been better off alone.

  But Sam was not Derrick.

  So why couldn’t she let go?

  By the time Tuesday rolled around, she was a basket case. Sam worked, as usual, so she spent the day figuring out what to wear—she changed her mind at least four times—and packing and repacking her day pack. She double- and triple-checked her gear: phone, digital recorder, notebook, pen, water bottle. She tried to think of anything else she might need, just in case, but she knew she had everything she’d ever taken on a case, and she knew the TV crew could cover any unforeseen emergencies. Finally she had nothing to do but wait for Sam to get home.

  When he did, he was in no hurry. “I need to shower,” he said.

  “Of course.” She smiled and did her best to sit still. “Do you want to grab a bite before we go?”

  “Not much,” he said. “Maybe a banana or something. I don’t want to eat heavy before I walk.” He stripped off his t-shirt as he headed for the bedroom.

  ”Right.” She went to the kitchen and browsed the fridge. Banana, yogurt, a sports drink. She took one of everything out and set it on the counter, heard the shower running and put it all back in the fridge. She rummaged through her pack and found her car keys, set them next to the pack and prowled the living room. Finally she just stood and stared out the front window.

  “So, you ready?” Sam’s voice behind her made her jump. She whirled to find him washed, dressed and eating a banana.

  His wardrobe choices were so easy: t-shirt, black jeans and his soft knee-high moccasins.

  She blew out a breath. “Yes, I’m ready. I’ve been ready for hours.”

  Sam chuckled. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  She fired up the car while he checked the map. “You gonna get this wound up before every episode?” he asked.

  She tightened her jaw, grinding her teeth. “I don’t know. I sure hope not. This waiting for over a week has been pure torture. I just wonder how much time there will be between episodes. The
re are so many more people involved, so many more steps before we get into it.” She glanced over at him. “I like it better when it’s just you and me. It’s quicker. Easier.”

  “Yeah, I hear that,” he said. He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “You gonna be able to relax before we get there? I need you with me.”

  She blew out a heavy breath. “Yes. I’ll be fine once we start. We need to go up Pacific Coast Highway, right?”

  With Sam’s directions, she got them to Malibu. The early evening traffic on the PCH wasn’t quite as heavy as the freeways usually were, a good thing. Driving alongside the coast, seeing the rolling waves breaking along the beach, eased some of the stress that tightened her body.

  “Turn right at the next light,” he said. “Then left at the first street. It’ll be right there.”

  Lacey did as directed and recognized the place from the image search she’d done online. A simple two-story building nested between an art gallery and a patio café. The siding looked like old barn wood, but she guessed it was probably much more expensive composite. The Haunted B&B sign hung from a filigree metal bracket, and quivered slightly in the breeze.

  There were several cars parked in front, including an Unexplained Channel panel van. Lacey pulled up behind it and parked. Diana must have seen them, for she came out of the building to meet them as they exited the car.

  “Hi,” she called. “Good to see you. You ready to make your debut?”

  More than ready, Lacey thought, but she smiled and nodded. Let’s get this show on the road.

  But her hopes that her frustration would be quelled by getting down to the actual work were dashed by more preparation and more waiting. Diana guided them into the van first, where a tech produced tiny mics and battery packs for them both.

  “Slip the wires up under your shirts,” Diana said. “The mics will be practically invisible. The battery packs can just clip on a belt loop or a pocket.”

  While Sam and Lacey put the gear on, Diana continued. “We need to film some approach shots first, you two walking up to the B&B. You don’t need to be filming Sam during that part,” she said to Lacey. “Or do you?” She turned to Sam. “You don’t start your actual walk until you get inside, right?”

  Sam nodded. “Right. I’m not getting anything yet.”

  “Oh. Right.” Diana’s blank look morphed into understanding. She smiled. “Okay. We need to get a sound check, then I’ll get with Kevin and make sure he’s ready to go.”

  The sound tech pulled a pair of headphones on and pointed to Lacey. “I need you to face Diana, then count from one to twenty in a normal voice.”

  Lacey nodded. “One, two, three…” She had no idea if she was using a normal voice or not. It sounded loud to her, but she was afraid to lower the volume.

  It must have been okay. The tech gave her a thumbs up, then asked Sam to do the same. Lacey thought he looked perfectly calm as he counted, while she felt like her stomach was churning.

  When the sound tech was satisfied, Diana herded them outside. More waiting. There was quite a discussion about camera angles, backdrops, and direction. Kevin, the big man with the red beard, noted Sam and Lacey waiting and winked. He kept his large camera on his shoulder as Diana weighed the possibilities.

  Finally they were called over. Diana explained the shot while Kevin added some detail.”We’re going to start you here,” she said, pointing to a spot on the sidewalk. “Then just walk up toward the door, but before you get to it, stop and look up at the upper story of the building.”

  “I’ll film you, then film your POV,” Kevin said.

  It sounded easier than it was. The first take, Lacey was hidden behind Sam as they walked; take two still had Sam blocking her. In the third take, they put a little more space between them so there was no overlap, but Kevin wanted Sam’s face more apparent. Another couple of takes and both Diana and Kevin were satisfied.

  Jeez, Lacey thought. They walked about fifteen steps, yet it took over a half hour to film. Was it all going to be like this?

  Kevin got several takes of his pan up the height of the building—what Lacey and Sam would see as they looked up—and finally they all moved inside.

  The place was deserted except for a couple techs walking around. Lacey scanned the lobby. A polished wooden counter just inside the door, a comfortable sitting area with fabric chairs that gave onto the larger dining room and the kitchen beyond. Open doors to the two lower rooms, stairs to the upper floor. The walls were all knotty pine with fishing nets strung up amid muted watercolors of boats and beaches. Hurricane lamps with flickering candles hung at intervals on the walls and a larger one was centered on the table. The color scheme was blues and browns, rustic yet elegant.

  “All right,” Diana said. “We’re going to turn the lights out and just have the hurricane lamps on. Let’s do that now so you can see.” She flipped several switches and the brighter overhead lights went out. The hurricane lamps provided a softer, wavering light that was still adequate.

  “You can see okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, fine,” Sam said. He was looking around, and Lacey recognized his tuning-in attitude.

  “We’ll start down here,” Diana said. “We’d like you to go from the lobby to the dining room to the kitchen, then into the two rooms down here. After that, we’ll go upstairs.”

  Lacey got her phone out and set it to video. Sam glanced at Kevin, who gave him a nod, and he started his walk.

  Finally, Lacey thought.

  Sam walked alongside the counter, not touching anything. Lacey filmed, acutely aware of Kevin behind her. When Sam reached the end of the counter, he turned toward the sitting area. Lacey moved out of the way, glancing back to make sure she didn’t step on Kevin.

  Sam made one pass at the sitting area, his arms held slightly away from his body, his hands loose. Then he was on to the dining room. He was moving fast, and Lacey forgot about everything except keeping up with him. One circuit around the dining room table and he headed for the stairs.

  “Wait,” Diana called. Sam turned back, squinting into the light on Kevin’s camera.

  “What?”

  “You didn’t go into the two rooms down here. Or the kitchen. And you’re not talking.”

  Sam shrugged. “There’s nothing here. It’s all upstairs.”

  “But… but…” Diana floundered. “Isn’t there anything you can say? Any feelings at all?”

  He regarded her silently for a moment. Lacey thought she saw a tightening of his jaw, but it was so slight, she wasn’t sure.

  “Do you want me to lie?” he asked in a low tone.

  Diana gaped at him. “Um, no, of course not. But there’s nothing down here at all? Nothing you can say?”

  “No.” He didn’t move, didn’t change his stance at all, but Lacey could imagine him crossing his arms and glaring at the woman from under his dark brows.

  “Uh, well, okay, then,” Diana said finally. “Then we’ll just, uh, go upstairs.” She nodded to Kevin and stepped back.

  The cameraman moved in closer. “If you can,” he said, “go a little slower up the stairs. Skip is already up there, but he’ll try to stay out of your way.”

  Sam nodded. He glanced to Lacey. She held up her phone again, ready to go.

  He took the stairs slowly, his moccasins making no sound except when they elicited a creak from the wooden steps. Lacey followed him, one hand on the railing to keep herself steady as she filmed.

  Halfway up, on the landing, Sam stopped. He lifted his face toward the upper story, his eyes half closed. “Sadness,” he said. “No. Grief. Incredible grief. Too much to bear. Too heavy.” He paused, questing. “The weight of souls. Many souls.”

  He stood very still, the only movement the slight flaring of his nostrils. Finally he angled his head to one side, as if listening. “There’s more.”

  He started up the second flight of stairs. Lacey concentrated only on keeping him in the frame and not tripping.

  At the
top of the stairs, Sam stepped onto the landing and stopped. Through the screen of her phone, Lacey could see two open doors ahead, and two more beside them, one on either side. Sam stared down at the floor, but turned his head slightly one way, then another. Finally he moved off to the right.

  “In here,” he said. He walked through the open doorway and paused inside. Out of the corner of her eye, Lacey caught a movement to her right; Skip, the second cameraman, scuttled back out of the way as quietly as possible.

  Sam surveyed the room, not with his eyes, but with his senses. Through her screen, Lacey saw the queen bed, the dresser, the hurricane lamps on either side of the bed.

  “It’s there,” Sam said. He pointed to the closet door. “Open the door, please.” Lacey stepped forward and twisted the knob. For just a moment she flashed back on the last closet they explored, the one that led to a demon. But Sam was showing no hesitancy at all. She pulled the door open and stepped back.

  The closet was small, a single rod for clothes. In one corner a folded suitcase stand leaned against the wall. The shelf above the rod held an extra pillow.

  Sam moved into the doorway and put a hand out near the rod. He didn’t touch it.

  “Heaviness,” he said. “The heaviness of guilt. Of a body. Of lives lost.” His gaze fell to the floor. “A man hanged himself here. The guilt was too heavy. He couldn’t carry it anymore.”

  He stood still for a moment, his hand out, open, then he drew in a breath and let his arm fall to his side. “That’s all.”

  Lacey edged back, giving Sam room to exit but aware of Kevin beside her. Both she and Kevin backed away and Sam circled the room, giving it one last look.

  “That way,” he said, pointing out toward the central hall.

  They trained out of the room, into the hall, and Sam strode directly to the back left room. He approached the open door more slowly, then stopped in the doorway. As he scanned the room, he heaved a sigh.

  “A little girl,” he said softly, sadly. “Jesus. Five years old. He raped her, then strangled her. A gag in her mouth, taped shut. She’s crying, choking. Can’t breathe. He’s so heavy, his body on top of her.” He closed his eyes, his jaw tight. He shook his head. “Five years old,” he barely whispered. “Five years old.”