Cold Chills (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller Book 3)

by Scott Langrel

  There was a loud, shrill whistle, and everyone stopped talking to look at Amanda.

  “Calm down, everyone,” she said. “Tell us what happened here. One at a time, please.”

  “I found him,” the thirtyish man said quickly, as if he expected to win some sort of prize for the accomplishment. “I came over to check on him, ‘cause I knew he don’t have a heater or nothing. That’s when I saw him back here. I thought he was taking a leak or something, but he didn’t answer when I hollered at him. So I walked over and found him like this. Stiffer than a wedding pecker.”

  “What time was this?” McCoy asked.

  “About ten minutes ago. Right, Wanda?” Wanda, his companion, nodded sullenly.

  “Did you see anyone else? A woman, dressed in white, with long, black hair?”

  The man shook his head. “Didn’t see anybody else. And the only footprints are his. I checked.”

  “Okay,” McCoy said. “The sheriff will be here in a few minutes. I want you all to go back inside your homes. There’s nothing more you can do out here right now.” He looked at Amanda and made the motion of putting a phone to his ear, which meant that he wanted her to call John. She nodded her understanding and dug her phone out of her pocket.

  Reluctantly, the small crowd began to disperse. McCoy saw that the old geezer was having a hard time of it, but none of his neighbors moved to help him. Shaking his head in disgust, he went over and steadied the wobbly man.

  “Let me help you back to your place,” McCoy said gently.

  The old-timer gave him an appreciative look. “Thank you,” he said. “My old legs ain’t what they used to be.”

  “That could be said of a lot of us,” McCoy replied. “Which one is yours?”

  “Next one down,” the old guy said weakly. “I probably shouldn’t have come out in the first place, but I heard the commotion and my curiosity got the best of me.”

  “Well, we’ll have you back in the warm soon enough.” McCoy looked back at Amanda and motioned for her to follow. Still on the phone, she began to walk behind them.

  “Name’s Basil,” the old man offered as he leaned on McCoy for support. “Basil Denton.”

  “Finn McCoy.”

  “I thought I recognized you. You’re Clayton’s boy, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Shame what happened to him and your momma. I always thought the world of your dad.”

  “Thank you. Most folks did, from what I can gather.”

  By the time McCoy got Basil back to his trailer, the old man’s teeth were chattering audibly. McCoy opened the door and helped Basil up the rickety steps, letting go of the man only once he was safely inside.

  “Now, this is much better, isn’t it?” McCoy asked. “Do me a favor, Basil. Stay inside until this weather passes. No more trips outside, okay?”

  “Long as my kerosene holds out,” the old man promised.

  “If you run out, give me a call. I’ll give you my number.”

  “You don’t know how much I’d appreciate that, son. Let me get something to write with.” Basil shuffled off to the kitchen to find a pen and paper.

  McCoy looked around the cramped living room as Amanda came through the door behind him. Shelves which lined the walls were full of military memorabilia. Obviously, Basil had served at some point in his life.

  “What beautiful vases,” Amanda said, pointing to a pair of ornate ceramic pieces which sat by themselves on a shelf over the television. McCoy gave them a cursory glance. It was just like a woman to pick up on the only whatnots in the room. He was much more interested in the military pieces.

  “When did you serve?” he asked Basil as the old man reentered the room with a pen and pad.

  “Fifty-one to fifty-nine,” Basil replied.

  “Did you see action in Korea?”

  “I did. I was a young pup then, and full of piss and vinegar. Saw it through to the end, then stayed stationed overseas for the rest of my time.”

  “Well, thank you for your service, sir.”

  Basil beamed, obviously proud of his military service. McCoy also saw a sadness there, which he attributed to Basil having lost comrades in the war. He’d seen the same look before on the faces of other veterans.

  “Write your number down for me, if you don’t mind,” Basil said. “My hands are so shaky it would take me forever.”

  “Glad to,” McCoy said, and jotted his number on the pad. He handed it back to Basil. “Call me if you need anything. And remember, stay inside.”

  “Will do. And if you find out what happened to poor Jimmy, would you let me know? I feel awful about it.”

  “You’ll be the first to know,” McCoy promised. He followed Amanda outside and shut the door behind him.

  “Sweet old fella,” Amanda commented.

  “Yeah. Did you get a hold of John?”

  “He should be here any minute. He was none too happy about losing another citizen.”

  “I guess not. John’s a man of action. He’s a little short on patience.”

  “Finn, you know he’s looking to you to come up with some kind of plan.”

  McCoy sighed. “I know. But short of herding everyone into the school gymnasium, it’s going to be impossible to protect every single person. I’m not sure if there’s even a way to stop the Yuki-Onna, and if there is, it’s going to take some time to figure out.”

  They walked back to where Jimmy Radcliffe stood frozen like a remarkably lifelike ice sculpture. Amanda shivered as she looked at the poor man, but McCoy was intrigued.

  “Is it just me, or does it look like he was in the process of kissing someone when he was frozen?”

  “Now that you mention it, it does,” Amanda agreed. “Apparently, your Yuki-Onna is a looker.”

  “It would fit with the traditional folklore description,” McCoy said. “Though I’d assumed that the spirit would resemble the living person it had once been, the same as most other spirits do.”

  “So maybe she was hot when she was alive.”

  “Maybe so. It might help us to identify her later on. I wonder how Frank’s doing at the library.”

  “I didn’t want to say anything before, but I’m kind of worried about him,” Amanda said. “I mean, we dumped a lot on him at one time. Maybe it’s more than he can handle.”

  McCoy waved his hand dismissively. “He’ll be fine. He’s already seen the proof he needs. He just doesn’t realize it yet.”

  A pair of headlights signaled John’s arrival. The sheriff pulled up and got out of his vehicle. As Amanda had surmised, he was not in a jovial mood.

  “Damnit,” he said as he walked up. “The worst storm in decades and no one will stay inside. Who is it this time?”

  “Neighbors said his name is Jimmy Radcliffe,” McCoy said. “They found him about twenty minutes ago.”

  John walked around and took a good look at the body. “Something’s different,” he mumbled.

  “What?” McCoy asked.

  “The other bodies weren’t blue like this. They were really pale and covered with ice.”

  “Maybe this one’s just fresher.”

  “Maybe.”

  “There could be another explanation,” Amanda said. “Maybe they weren’t frozen in the same way.”

  “What do you mean?” asked John.

  “Wait a minute,” McCoy said, snapping his fingers. “You’re right. The others were frozen when the Yuki-Onna breathed on them. I think she breathed into Jimmy.”

  “Into him? Like, into his mouth?” John asked.

  “Exactly. Look at his lips. He was kissing her, and she breathed into him. Jimmy was frozen from the inside out.” McCoy turned to Amanda. “Good catch.”

  John wrinkled his face as he imagined what Jimmy Radcliffe’s death must have been like. Though the pain would have likely been short-lived, it had probably been intense.

  “So what do we do now?” Amanda asked.

  “I need to call someone to come get the body,” J
ohn replied. “Then I guess will go back on patrol.”

  “I doubt there’s any need for that,” McCoy said, shaking his head. “If the pattern holds, then the Yuki-Onna is done for the night. We need to concentrate on finding a way to stop her before the sun sets tomorrow.”

  “So we go back to the station?”

  “You can leave your other deputies out, if it’ll make you feel better. But bring Deidre in. And we need to see if Frank’s found anything yet.”

  “Isn’t there some kind of hoodoo magic you can use to stop this thing?” John asked, clearly exasperated.

  “A Yuki-Onna is a powerful spirit,” McCoy replied. “It isn’t like your run-of-the-mill ghost. Hoodoo is pretty effective against lesser spirits—even against some demons—but it has its limitations. The Yuki-Onna is a foreign spirit. There might be some forms of onmyōdō, or Japanese sorcery, that might be helpful, but I’m no expert on it. I’ll look it up when we get back.”

  “I guess we’re back to square one,” John said despondently.

  “At least we’re still in the game,” McCoy said, and started back toward the waiting SUV.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Who needs a refill?” Deidre asked as she entered John’s office with a carafe of steaming coffee. Everyone raised an empty cup, so she started with John and made her way around the room. McCoy, seated behind John’s computer, mumbled something that might have been interpreted as a thank you as she filled his cup.

  “You’re welcome,” Deidre said as she moved on to Amanda.

  “According to this, we need an ofuda,” McCoy said. “It’s an amulet which can be used to ward off evil spirits.”

  “That’s good news, right?” Amanda asked.

  “It would be, if there were a Shinto shrine in Shallow Springs. Because that’s the only place you can get one.”

  “Great,” John said. “I’m beginning to wish we were dealing with the Fey. At least we know how to handle them.”

  “There are a few other spells, but they’re complicated,” McCoy went on. “And most Japanese sorcery demands that the magician fast for several days before attempting any of them.”

  “After watching your performance at Mary Lou’s, I’m sure we’re out of luck on that front,” John groaned.

  “It would definitely be a measure of last resort,” McCoy agreed.

  “Which leaves us with zilch,” Deidre said, setting the coffee pot down. “Unless Frank is having better luck than we are.”

  “I’ll get him on the phone,” John said. “Keep your fingers crossed.” He dialed the number to Frank’s cell and put the phone on speaker.

  “Deputy Frank,” came the answer on the third ring.

  “Frank,” John said. “Just checking in to see if you’ve found anything.”

  “Not much, I’m afraid. I’ve made it back to 1913, and nothing matches the scenario you gave me. I’ve found several deaths during snowstorms, but the majority were car crashes or other accidents related to the weather.”

  “How about children lost in blizzards?” McCoy asked.

  “I did find something there, but I don’t know how it would fit in. In 1956, two teenage boys were hiking on Drover Mountain and got caught in a storm. They never found the bodies, so the boys were presumed dead. There’s no mention of either mother dying shortly thereafter.”

  “You’re right. It doesn’t fit,” McCoy said. “Though I’d suspect the Fey were involved in the boys’ disappearance.”

  “There are several more instances of children going missing, but none in snowstorms. In fact, the winter months have seen the lowest number of disappearances by far,” Frank said.

  “What about Japanese families who have lived in or around the Springs?” John asked. “Have you had a chance to check on that yet?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been going by year, first looking for snow-related deaths and then checking the census. There have been several Asian families who have lived in Shallow Springs over the years, but most have been Korean or Vietnamese. I did find a record of a Japanese-American family moving here after World War Two, but they only stayed a couple of years, and I haven’t found any deaths in the family while they were here.”

  “So, basically, you have nothing,” John said.

  “I’m afraid not, sir. Except for cold fingers. The generator doesn’t run the heat in the building, and it’s freezing in here.”

  “What about cemetery records?” McCoy asked suddenly. “Where would you find those?”

  “You can find quite a few online nowadays,” Amanda said. “The big genealogy sites have links to millions of records.”

  McCoy looked at John. “Go ahead and bring Frank back. There’s no use in him freezing over there. We may be going about this the wrong way.”

  “Did you hear that, Frank? Head on back to the station. And be careful.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  John hung up the phone. “What do you mean, the wrong way?” he asked McCoy.

  “Normally, a spirit is closely tied to the remains of its body,” McCoy explained. “The person we’re looking for may not have even died in Shallow Springs. But it’s a good bet that her remains are here.”

  “Do you have any idea how many people are buried in Shallow Springs?” John asked.

  “Quite a few. Since Frank struck out, though, it’s all we have to go on.”

  John sighed. “Okay. Deidre can start on the cemetery records. Amanda, would you care to help?”

  “I’d be glad to.”

  “Great. You can use the computers in the dispatch area. And let me know as soon as you find anything.”

  “Will do,” Deidre said. She and Amanda went to dispatch to begin searching. As soon as they were out of the room, John looked at McCoy.

  “I want to contact the Fey,” he said, his voice lowered.

  McCoy shook his head. “I’ve been waiting for you to suggest that. I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”

  “So you’ve thought about it, too?”

  “Sure. I’ve also thought about raising a demon. But it’s all too risky. Any information we get will be suspect, at best. And if we inadvertently bring more players into the game, it could be bad for all of us.”

  “And it’s not bad for us now? We’ve got nothing to go on. I need some answers, Finn. I can’t just sit here and wait for the snow to melt.”

  “I’m not asking you to do that. I’m trying to point us in the right direction.”

  “I realize that,” John sighed. “But it’s taking too long. Surely the Fey are aware of the Yuki-Onna. Maybe they know of a way to deal with her.”

  “It’s possible,” McCoy agreed. “The Fey are an ancient race. But they don’t have any reason to help us.”

  “There’s the truce,” John offered.

  “A truce is not an alliance. The Fey’s motivations haven’t changed. They still want to see humans suffer. Why would they help us? There’s nothing in it for them.”

  “Maybe we could bargain—″

  “You don’t bargain with the Fey,” McCoy snapped. “Never, ever think that it’s an option.”

  John threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. It was just an idea.”

  “Look,” McCoy said, softening somewhat. “If you want to summon them, fine. I’ll help you. But only because I’m afraid you’ll do it behind my back, anyway. And you have to promise to let me do most of the talking.”

  “You’re the boss,” John said.

  McCoy sighed. “It’d be best to do this outside. I don’t want Amanda finding out about this. She’d blow a fuse.”

  “Sure. What do we need?”

  “Some kind of wood. A tree usually works best.”

  “There are a few trees out back. We’ll tell the women we have to get something out of one of the vehicles.”

  “All right. Against my better judgment, let’s do this. I need to get a few things from my knapsack.”

  McCoy grabbed his knapsack and removed a couple of items, then he and Joh
n walked out into the main area. Amanda, noticing that they were wearing their coats, arched her eyebrows.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “Just out to John’s vehicle,” McCoy said innocently. “We need to grab a few things. Be right back.”

  Amanda’s gaze lingered on McCoy longer than he would have preferred, but finally she nodded and smiled.

  “Hurry back.”

  McCoy grabbed John by the arm and walked him out the door.

  “I swear. That woman sees too much for her own good,” he muttered once they were safely outside. “Come on. Let’s get this over with before she comes looking for me.”

  They walked to the back of the building where several trees lined one side of the rear parking lot. Choosing a medium-sized dogwood which appeared to be suitable, McCoy brushed the snow from a section of the tree’s trunk. He then removed the items he’d brought with him from his pocket.

  “Rose petals and lavender oil,” he explained, noticing John’s curious stare. “This usually works, but there’s a chance the tree spirit might be stubborn. If it is, this will take longer and I’ll need a few more supplies.”

  “It’ll come,” John said confidently. “Maybe not for you, but it will for me.”

  “Wow. You know how to make a guy feel loved.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  McCoy scattered the rose petals and sprinkled the lavender oil on them. Staring at the space he’d cleared on the tree, he said, “Cosúil go dom, Tiarna na coillte.” Appear to me, Lord of the woods. Within seconds, the tree’s bark began to ripple and transform as it rearranged itself into a crude face. The wooden eyes glared at McCoy, but softened as they lit upon John.

  “John Talbot,” the dryad said. “How good to see you, lad. I see you brought your pet monkey with you.”

  “Between the two of you, I’m beginning to get a complex,” McCoy said dryly.

  “We wouldn’t want that,” the dryad retorted. “I assume there’s some reason for this social call?”