The Haunting of Rachel Harroway- Book 1

by J. S. Donovan

  On the exact middle page was a recipe of herbs, spices, and natural remedies. With gloved hands, Rachel carefully removed the medicines and poisons from the bag and dropped them into the blender, following every portion to a T. After adding milk and some protein for the day’s workout, Rachel pressed the blender’s button, watching the materials grind into a thick grey/green concoction. She poured the dense liquid into a tall glass, shuddering at the smell.

  A jiggle.

  “Detective Harroway.” Rachel held her cellphone between her ear and shoulder while she washed out the blender cup.

  “This is Dispatch. We have a 10-67.”

  Wiping her hands on a wash rag, Rachel headed for a nearby pen on the countertop. “Location?”

  She wrote down the coordinates on her wrist, thanked the dispatch officer, and hung up. She studied the smoothie for a moment, wondering if she needed her Gift this time. Making up her mind, she wrapped the top of the tall smoothie glass with Saran Wrap and tucked it in the refrigerator. Before closing the door, she gave the unappealing drink a look of longing. So much for three days of peace and quiet.

  The coordinates took her far into the Appalachian Mountains: towering green and hazy giants that made up the spine of North Carolina. Rachel eventually came to the end of the main road and turned onto a dirt path. She followed it to where the other officers parked. It was a gravel lot used by hikers striving to take a gander at the mammoth-like mountains and their splendorous vistas.

  Officer Jacob Jones, a young man with blonde hair and a thick golden mustache, escorted Rachel through the underbrush and down a small forgotten hiking trail. Spring life filled the surrounding verdant trees and bushes. They walked through swarms of gnats and by swaying wild flowers.

  “Glad to have you here, Harroway,” Jones said, his voice faintly touched by Southern twang.

  “What do we have?” Rachel asked, ducking under a branch.

  “Bones,” the officer replied. “We’ve been waiting for you and Peak to arrive before we touched anything. The forensics team is on route, too.”

  “Thanks, Jones.” Rachel heard the soft rumble of water quickly approaching. “Detective Peak here?”

  “Not yet.” Jones led Rachel off the squiggly path. “Charlotte is having the boys over for dinner Saturday, if you want to join,”

  “I’ll mull it over,” Rachel replied. “If this is a murder, my schedule could blow up.”

  For a moment, Jones looked disappointed. Then his friendly demeanor returned. “Well, I’ll tell you something. Caroline makes a mean green bean casserole. Every church potluck, hers is the first dish to go. Even Pastor says she’s blessed.”

  Rachel cracked a smile and swatted a mosquito, reminded of the insect repellant she had forgotten. They reached a slight clearing on the broad mountainside. A natural spring cascaded down a few foot-high mossy rock waterfall, ran perpendicular to Rachel, and vanished into the tree line. A few officers in green gathered around a Caucasian man in his thirties with a tattered beard, dreadlocks, and a hiker’s backpack topped with a bedroll. A “we’re one with nature, man” type. In short, not a local like the Appalachian-blooded cops that surrounded him.

  As Rachel’s eyes found the waterfall, she felt a tugging on the bottom corner of her shirt. There was no one there pulling at her clothes.

  “Where did he find the bones?” Rachel asked.

  “Skull is a better assessment,” Jones said and pointed ahead. “Under that waterfall is where the hiker spotted it.”

  She felt the tugging again. “Tell me about the hiker.”

  “His name is…” Jones pulled up the notepad on his smartphone. “Kegan Marsh. Connecticut boy. He says that he came out here to hike a few days and could not find the trail back. He found the stream, went to get a drink, and spotted the skull down under. After the Mountain Search and Rescue team arrived, he told them what happened. That was this morning. Funny thing is that he wasn’t but ten minutes from the road.”

  Rachel approached the water, feeling the tugging feeling grow stronger, more aggressive. Someone died here, she knew at once. Violently.

  “We aren’t quite sure if it was a suicide or what. We need to wait for Forensics,” Officer Jones said from behind.

  Leaves and twigs drifted down the water’s surface, slowly damming where the creek met the tree line. As the small waterfall hit the lower stream, spark-sized droplets drizzled the side of Rachel’s jeans, jacket, and hand. The hairs on her arms and neck rose as she peered into the water. Under the current, the visage of death stared back at her. The skull was burrowed halfway in the dirt below. Its features were smooth and rounded like a pebble from being under the rushing water for so long. Dirt filled the dips of its eye holes.

  “How come every time I see you, someone’s died?” Someone said behind her.

  Rachel turned back to a tall man, eyes like coal, a long face, sunken cheeks, square jaw, and pursed lips topped with a head of copper brown hair combed to the side and taken freely by the mountain wind. He wore a navy-blue windbreaker over an ash grey button-up with a skinny black tie.

  “You decided to show up today, Detective Peak,” Rachel teased.

  Peak faked a smile. “I was designing a birthday card for my six-year-old daughter. I thought your Orphans would’ve told you that.”

  “If they told me anything about you, you’d be in serious trouble.”

  Peak stuck his hands into his pockets and peered into the water. “What are we looking at?”

  “Detached skull. Decades old. Small. Possibly female. No other remains.”

  Peak squinted at the waterfall, thinking. “Either it tumbled down the waterfall, or it was thrown. That could be interesting.”

  “You’re a sick man, Jenson,” Rachel said.

  “Welcome to the human race. We’re all sick, twisted animals.” Peak replied. “Come on. Let’s see if we can find the rest of our Jane Doe.”

  The two detectives hiked up the steep incline, grabbing trees and exposed roots to keep their balance. Once they reached the top of the waterfall, Rachel washed her hands in the water. Peak ignored the dirt on his palms. A tugging feeling prompted Rachel to kneel and brush aside some dirt.

  Peak watched her work with curious silence.

  Rachel felt something hard beneath the earth. She looked up her partner and then at the dusty femur jutting from the dirt.

  A few minutes of light digging, and the skeleton revealed itself. A decomposing rose-colored shirt and jeans clung to the dirty bones. The skeleton’s spinal column ended in the shallow stream. By the proximity to the water and good condition of the utmost vertebrae, it seemed that decomposition, not decapitation, eventually detached the cervical spine. Rushing water and gravity had carried the head the rest of way down.

  The Sense went wild, continually pulling at Rachel’s skin.

  “Something bad happened here, Jenson,” she said with full seriousness.

  “Minor scratches and chipping on the bones, but none seem to be broken or display any laceration marks. All natural damage. We’ll have to wait until Forensics to confirm,” Jenson Peak said, squinting over the bones. He turned dark eyes to Rachel. “It might not be murder.”

  “She willfully fell face first into a stream?” Rachel asked sarcastically. “Poison. Strangulation. A through-and-through gunshot. Gut stab. Slit throat. Any of these could’ve killed her and left behind little to no evidence today.”

  Peak didn’t disagree. “She wasn’t decapitated. The frontal skull showed no sign of cracks, so from what we know, she didn’t hit her head. Perhaps she was dragged here.”

  “Or dropped and rolled.” The incline seemed to lessen farther up. “I’m going to interview the hiker. I don’t want to mess with anything else until these bones are properly extracted.”

  “Agreed.”

  Kegan Marsh raised his brows as the detectives arrived. Dark circles underlined his soft, welcoming eyes. His clothes were dirty and hung loosely to his skinny frame. His mus
k was palpable, but everyone did well to hide their disgust.

  “How are you doing, Mr. Marsh? I’m Detective Harroway. This is Detective Peak. Can we ask you a few questions?”

  Kegan smiled slyly. “You won’t be the first.”

  “How did you find the skull?” Rachel asked.

  “I drove down last week to explore the local trails. It didn’t turn out the way I had planned.” He chuckled embarrassedly. “After being turned-around for two days, I ran out of food. The universe provided a nice stream. As I was filling up my canteen, I saw the skull. It was about that time I heard the search and rescue chopper. I waved them down. Twenty or so minutes later, the officers arrived, hoping to take me home. I told them about what I found and asked if I could stay and help out.”

  “That’s noble of you.” Rachel replied.

  Kegan smiled proudly to himself. “I can go two days without food, what’s a few more hours?”

  Rachel asked him a few more palmary questions and got honest results.

  Filling her sketch pad with notes, she looked at Kegan. “That’s all we need from you right now, Kegan. Buy yourself a nice meal and get some rest. We’ll be in touch if we need anything.”

  “You got it.”

  Rachel nodded to the nearby officers, who approached Kegan and offered him a ride.

  “See,” Rachel said quietly to Peak. “Not everyone’s a twisted animal.”

  “Society conditioned him well,” her partner replied.

  Without warning, an unexpected cold chill rattled Rachel’s body like she’d been plunged into a subzero icebox. Her blood pressure spiked. It felt like someone was watching her from seemly all directions. She twisted about, looking through the trees, over the stream, and atop the waterfall until her olive eyes finally fell on the girl.

  Wearing a dirty and tattered rose colored tee-shirt with slightly rolled up sleeves and denim jeans fashionable in the ‘70s, the girl stood out from the rest of the vibrant green environment. The flesh on her arms, belly, and above her cleavage was pale and bloodless while her face was purple and black: the color of death. A thick band of red, raw flesh circled her neck and divided the two shades of flesh. Dirt-clumped blonde hair swished over her face in the breeze. Her blue eyes--so bloodshot that they appeared entirely crimson--pierced Rachel’s soul.

  The girl’s chapped lips parted slowly. A hollow rattle escaped from her swollen gullet, filling the woods with a crackling cry of dread and despair.

  No one heard it but Rachel Harroway, and now she was Marked.

  3

  The Mound

  The standing corpse of the girl watched Rachel with red eyes full of anguish. She couldn’t have been over eighteen years old. In life, she was probably very beautiful. In death, she was a horror. Rachel stared her down, assessing her.

  “You okay?” Peak asked.

  Rachel didn’t reply. She walked past Officer Jones, Kegan, and other officers. In her peripherals, the forensic unit marched their way into the clearing. Spiky seeds and broken thorns clung to their clothes. Rachel ignored them and walked into the tree line. The girl slipped away, much farther now. By the time Rachel reached her, they were alone.

  Rachel gave the strange girl space like one would when faced with a violent yet scared animal. Every motion Rachel made, every word she said was deliberate. The girl watched her, assessing her the same way Rachel had done moments ago. Friend or enemy? Hunter or prey? It was all communicated through ruby eyes that sent Rachel’s spine tingling.

  “I had hope you’d show yourself,” Rachel said.

  The girl didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Stood still, judging every action. Every word.

  “Someone hurt you,” Rachel said, looking at the raw neck scar. “I want to help you. Help you find rest. Help you go home.”

  The girl remained motionless, apart from her eyes that never left Rachel’s. The detective was forced to return her gaze, to prove she wasn’t scared.

  “I can’t do any for you unless you tell me what happened,” Rachel explained softly. “Who did this to you?”

  The girl opened her mouth. Another broken rattle escaped her lips.

  Rachel realized the girl couldn’t speak. Depending on their cause of death and rot, some Orphans lost the ability to talk, even if they wanted to. Rachel had noticed that those who were strangled or who had decomposed for too long fit into that category. This girl suffered the double whammy, but even if she could converse, it didn’t mean she’d tell the truth or even want to talk at all.

  Rachel needed to rethink her tactics. “I’m Rachel. I’m a homicide detective. I want to catch whoever did this to you. Would you like that?”

  The girl nodded slowly.

  “Did someone do this to you?” Rachel pointed at her own neck.

  The girl nodded.

  “Do you know who?”

  The girl shook her head.

  Leaves crunched behind Rachel, but she fought the temptation to turn back. The girl turned her gaze to the intruder. A sudden wave of fear flooded over her blackened face.

  “Everything okay?” Peak asked Rachel.

  “Yes,” Rachel said firmly, not removing her eyes from the girl.

  The girl trembled, looked to Rachel, and stepped back.

  “You seeing something?” Peak stepped past her, surveying the woods with his eyes. Rachel looked at him for a split second, and that was all it took for the girl to vanish.

  “Was it an Orphan?” Peak asked seriously.

  “Yeah,” Rachel sighed and pulled out a small notepad from her back pocket. She flipped through a dozen pages of penciled artwork: a handsome man with caved-in temporal lobe, an elderly woman with a gunshot wound in her nightgown, a child in a raincoat, more and more until she reached a clean page. “I didn’t have time to sketch it.”

  Any other time, she would’ve expected a comment from her atheist work partner regarding the indifference of the universe, the lack of the supernatural, and the foolishness of the afterlife. But when it came to Rachel’s Gift, Detective Peak had few words. He’d seen her sketch out the likeness of a drowned man before he’d been fished out of the lake. He’d seen her go directly to a murderer’s house and bring the woman to confess in tears without a shred of evidence. Six years ago, Rachel went from Jenson Peak’s pupil to his lead. Peak could argue every philosophical viewpoint and every doctrine, but never results, something of which Rachel had many.

  Rachel drew up a quick sketch of the girl’s face from memory. “Blonde hair, blue eyes, slender build, pretty, young between the ages of 16-23. Cause of death: strangulation by rope. Hemp, judging by the pattern.”

  Hands in his back pockets, Peak looked up from the dirt. “Did she tell you her name?”

  “No,” Rachel replied as she continued her rough sketch. “She can’t speak.”

  Peak turned his eyes to the sky. “How long do you think it’ll take Forensics to figure that out?”

  “Who knows?” Rachel replied.

  “We should tell them,” Peak declared. “It’s the pragmatic thing to do. There could be rope discarded nearby, and we’ll need help looking it..”

  Rachel stopped drawing. “We don’t tell them anything.”

  Peak didn’t push the issue.

  Rachel finished her sketch, thinking of the irony: one of the only people in the world that knew of her Gift was a devout atheist. Devout for how much longer? Rachel asked herself, but in truth, she only knew only a little more than her partner. Was the Gift a blessing or curse? Was it hereditary? Could it be acquired by anyone? was it curable or permanent? Her mother would’ve known its origin, its full potential and dangers of its use, but she completely lost her mind and was locked away in a mental hospital, wearing a suicide prevention vest and smacking her head against a padded wall. She wondered if that was the fate that awaited her.

  Rachel finished the sketch. With only a few moments to study the subject, it was not the finest drawing, but it would work as a base point. The woods around her wer
e quiet aside from the ambiance of nature.

  “I’ll need to get drunk tonight,” Rachel thought out loud. “She’ll come back then.” She has me Marked, after all.

  “That’s your excuse?” Peak replied with his normal dry humor.

  “Intoxicants expedite the process,” Rachel explained for the umpteenth time.

  “Which is why you rarely drink, I know.” Peak yawned. “I’m backed up on cases anyway. There are some DNA results from six weeks ago I need to look into, and McConnell is riding me for that report on that Veele kid.”

  Rachel began to follow behind him when the girl appeared only a few feet away, nearly causing Rachel to jump.

  “She’s back,” Rachel whispered. Peak froze, looking around, but didn’t see the dead girl standing less than a foot away from him.

  “So soon?” Peak asked. “I thought you said it takes them hours or days before making their presence known again.”

  “This is different,” Rachel replied in normal decibels, speaking over the girl’s rattle that evolved into a blood-curdling scream.

  “I don’t know what she’s doing,” Rachel said, barely able to hear herself talk.

  Peak replied with a perplexed look on his face, but his words were drowned out by the noise.

  Suddenly, the girl took off into a sprint. Rachel, confused, dashed after her. She didn’t know why, but her gut was shouting for her to follow. Rachel hurdled over a felled tree and hiked an incline, losing herself in the chase. She went higher up the mountain, catching her jacket on thorny bushes and nearly losing one of her shoes in a groundhog hole. The screaming stopped instantly. The girl vanished. Rachel landed her forearm on a tree to catch her breath. Around her, the woods were unfamiliar. She’d taken a few turns to follow the girl and could not recall where or which way she had come. A moment later, Peak arrived. He caught his breath, copper hair disheveled.