Southern Haunts (6 page)

Drummond nodded toward the back of the building. “After a while, she kind of stumbled that way toward the alley. That’s where she should be now, not in the restaurant but in the alley.”

Max nodded. That’s where it had all happened — a year ago, the ghost of Patricia Welling, a witch who once loved Drummond, had possessed Sandra and attempted to seduce Max. When he saw through the ruse, she cried out for help and a bunch of young college boys, thinking they were saving the lady, beat Max to a pulp.

Drummond pulled up his coat collar as if it were a cold, rainy night instead of a warm dusk. “I don’t like to admit this, but sometimes the fairer sex is a bit of a mystery to me. I suspect that’s true of all men. I mean, do you really understand all things your wife does?”

Max stopped under a red awning with HAM’S written across the top. “No. I don’t think I do.”

“That’s my point.”

“But I keep trying.” A sly grin lifted on his lips. “That’s one of those things that separate the men from the boys.”

Max turned the corner to find Sandra standing in the alley near the dumpsters. She stared at the brick wall where her possessed-self had moved on him not so long ago. She rubbed her arms as if fighting off a chill while her focus never wavered.

Perhaps she relived the incident. Max didn’t know all the symptoms of PTSD, but it made sense that she might be suffering. Except she never seemed to have a problem with all the things they had been through before, and they had endured a few more traumatic cases since Patricia Welling and the witch coven. Could PTSD delay in a person until something triggered it off? She certainly had been behaving strangely in the last few weeks.

“I couldn’t do anything,” she said, her voice breaking the quiet like shattering glass. “I was inside my head and I saw what was happening out here, but I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

Max approached her and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. “You didn’t have to. I saw through her disguise. I knew she wasn’t you.”

“Not at first. Not until the last moment, really. In fact, if you hadn’t caught on when you did, you would have had sex with her thinking it was me.”

“But that didn’t happen.”

Sandra stepped away from Max’s hand. “Ever since that case, I’ve thought about this moment, about what could have happened. It wouldn’t have bothered me — the sex, I mean. If it had happened, you would have been thinking you were with me. It’s not like you would have been knowingly cheating on me or anything.”

“It still would have felt like cheating. Heck, I feel bad about kissing her or you or however you want to think about it. I can see why it spins your head a bit. But why dwell on it? I did figure it out before anything bad happened. It all turned out okay.”

Her fingers traced the bricks where her possessed body had braced herself that night, ready for Max to take her. “What would have happened if you had done it here that night? What if I had become pregnant?”

“Sheesh, honey, why would you want to think such a dark thing?”

She whirled back on him, her eyes blazing. “Because it almost happened. Even if it didn’t this time, that doesn’t mean it can’t or won’t ever happen. And if we could come so close to that kind of a twisted tragedy, then what about those who aren’t in touch with the truth of the supernatural? What of people like Shawnee Darian? What might those forces be doing to her unborn child?”

“Ah,” Max said, all the dots lining up. “I think I see. This case isn’t about Libby or the house or any of that. It’s really about Shawnee Darian and her baby.”

“I thought I’ve been quite clear on that point.”

“You probably have. I don’t think I could see quite beyond Libby. I’m sorry.”

Sandra wrapped her arms around Max’s waist and rested her head on his chest. “I’m not the one you really need to apologize to.”

Max winced. “Do I really have to?”

“Do you really need to ask?”

“Okay, okay. I’ll make nice with Libby.”

“Good, because I called her earlier and set up a meeting tonight in the Darians' house. She said we’d have a better chance of spotting activity at night.”

“I swear this has been the longest day ever. Coffee and bagels feels like it was a year ago.”

Sandra leaned back and looked down the alley. “Drummond? You can come out now.”

Drummond sauntered around the corner and approached as if nothing unusual had occurred. “Y’all having a good time back here?”

“The best. I should get possessed more often.”

Max forced a smile though none of them liked the joke. “We’re going back to the Darians' house for the night. See what happens.”

Drummond hesitated. “Did you get hit in the head? You forget what happened to Sandra and me? That hurt.”

“Don’t worry,” Sandra said. “You’re not coming along. I think your time would be better spent searching the Other for any ghosts that were associated with the house. Surely somebody out there knows what happened here.”

“You got it. I’ll find something.” To Max, he added, “You watch out for her. That house ain’t right. It’s another lesson you both need to keep learning — just because we’ve survived some pretty tough spots, doesn’t make us invincible. You’ve got to be careful.”

As Drummond left, Max and Sandra walked back to the car. Max agreed with the warning — especially for Sandra. She had become so focused on Shawnee and the baby that she didn’t appear to take seriously the dangers of what she had experienced. Or maybe that was his own fears talking. Either way, he figured it would be better to stand by her side and back her up than be outside the house, unable to help her should the need arise.

Still, one thing bothered him. “Why did you hide all this stuff from me? You could have opened up to me about it.”

“I wasn’t hiding anything. I was waiting. I was dealing with it until I could tell you. When it all started, I couldn’t really explain what I was feeling, and I knew if I had said anything, you’d bombard me with questions that I couldn’t answer. So, I waited.”

“I see,” Max said, and though her explanation made sense, a shiver in her voice suggested that she still hid the full story.

“Being here, I thought, would help me articulate it all, get it clear in my head. And it did. Had you not shown up when you did, I would’ve gone back to the office and told you everything. How did you find me here, anyway?”

Max got on the car. “I was just coming to grab a bite when Drummond noticed you.”

“At Ham’s?”

“Thought I’d give it a try. Not really hungry anymore, though.” Max thought about glass houses and stones. “Besides, I’ve got some apologizing to do.”

They drove off to the Darians' house, both remaining quiet and uncomfortable the entire ride.

Chapter 8

Upon entering the Darians' home,
Sandra hugged Libby like they were old friends. Max fidgeted in the doorway, keenly aware of the unwelcoming eyes upon him. Carl glared from the back corner as he wired a new camera while Jack plunked down the stairs and bumped Max’s shoulder on his way to the kitchen.

“Ms. Broward,” Max said, clearing his throat, “do you have a minute?”

Libby walked straight towards him. “We have a lot of important work to do tonight, and I really don’t want to fight. Thank you for bringing your wife by. I promise we’ll take good care of her.”

“There’s been some confusion. I’m not leaving her here.”

“But I thought she was going to help us.”

“She is, and I will, too. Look, I know I can get loud and vocal and all that when I feel passionate about something. It doesn’t mean I’m angry.”

Libby stepped out of Carl’s way as he strung cables into the kitchen. “You shouted at me and called me a fraud. Let’s not pretend you weren’t angry.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say. I simply mean that I can overreact at times.”

Libby waited, but when Max said no more, she shook her head like a disappointed teacher. “That’s it? You came out here to tell me that you overreact? I already knew that. I saw it firsthand.”

“I’m trying to apologize.”

“Maybe you should have started with actually apologizing.”

Max held a breath before letting it out slow. “I’m sorry. I truly am. Something about this case has really set me off-balance, and I took it out on you. But we’re supposed to be here to help the Darians, and that’s what Sandra and I want to do.”

“Okay. I suppose that’s the best I can expect to get from you. Let’s get to work.” Libby turned to the kitchen and raised one finger, ticking off her point. “I want to be clear — I don’t have the time or the patience to have all my decisions called into question. You are here to help our investigation. We are not here to serve you. Understand?”

“You got it.”

“Then welcome to GWC — Ghost Watching Central.”

The kitchen had been transformed into an electronic ghost surveillance room. Four monitors spied on all the rooms and halls in the house. Each monitor held a view for several seconds before switching to another camera. A fifth monitor displayed in infrared. Three laptops ran numerous programs — some audio, some visual, some Max couldn’t be sure about. Thick cables snaked from the setup into the rest of the house.

Jack crossed his feet on the table in the only clear spot available. On his lap rested a wireless keyboard that appeared to control everything. He sipped a mug of coffee and nodded at Max.

“Help yourself,” Jack said, indicating the three coffee makers on the kitchen counter.

Max grabbed a mug from a hanging rack under the cabinets. “You guys really like coffee.”

“Only way I’m going to make it through the night, man. Whatever is happening in this house usually likes making itself known after about one in the morning.”

Libby slid out a chair and sat next to Jack. Behind her, on the floor, Max noticed a pile of pillows and blankets. “Might as well settle in,” she said. “We’ll try to make contact throughout the night, but so far, there’s been no response until after one. That’s when Jack recorded the music you heard.”

Sandra said, “You don’t call what happened to me this afternoon a response?”

“I don’t know what that was. But that’s one reason we’ll try throughout the night. It seems you may be able to draw it out earlier. Whatever
it
is.”

Max offered a mug to Sandra but she waved it off. She looked uncomfortable — not that Max thought anything at the moment should feel comfortable. “You okay?”

Sandra trembled out a smile. “Just anxious, I guess.” To Libby, she said, “I want to see the baby’s room, again.”

Max gestured toward the monitors. “You’ll be able to watch everything that happens to us up there, right?”

“That’s the idea,” Jack said.

Sandra placed a hand on Max’s arm, and he knew what she would say. He closed his eyes, hoping he’d be wrong.

“Hon,” she said, and her tone confirmed his fears. “I don’t want you up there. Libby will come with me.” Before he could utter a protest, she went on, “You can watch me from in here, but I need to focus while I’m in that room. I need to be on my guard in case that attack happens again, and it’ll be harder for me with you there. Part of me will be concerned about you, about your safety. I can’t have my mind split on two different concerns while I’m in that space.”

With his lips locked tight, Max backed against the counter to allow Libby enough room to pass. Sandra pecked his cheek and the two women left the room. Max plopped in Libby’s chair and set his coffee mug on the table with a loud thunk.

When the women started on the stairs, Jack said, “Dude, that was cold.”

“She didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“Oh, I know, but still.”

Max held back his comments. What this man thought of Sandra and their relationship meant nothing. He finally settled on, “I understand her. It’s fine.”

Jack leaned over the arm of his chair, peeking around the doorway. He zipped back to Max and reached into his coat pocket. Offering a pitiful grin as he pulled out a hip flask, he said in a conspiratorial whisper, “If we’ve got to be stuck down here all night, might as well have a little fun. Am I right?” He tipped the flasks contents into his coffee before holding it above Max’s mug.

Max placed a hand over the steaming coffee. “No, thanks.”

“Sure?”

“I need the coffee to keep awake all night. Booze is only going to make that harder. By the smell of that, it would probably knock me out.”

Jack chuckled. “It is strong.”

On the grainy monitors, Max watched as Sandra and Libby approached the baby’s room. They paused at the door before entering. Once inside, they spoke softly for a moment before sitting in the center of the floor.

Clacking on the keyboard, Jack turned up the volume on the monitors. He then adjusted the mix on the microphones recording in the baby’s room.

Libby shrugged and in full voice said, “Will the spirit inside this house please make itself known?”

All remained silent.

“Spirit of this house, we want to speak with you. We are here to help.”

Nothing.