Mystery Night: Spirit Caller, #4

By Krista D. Ball

Rachel finds herself investigating a ghost's murder and his accusations cause her to dig into the pasts of the dead and the living to uncover the truth. Only, all roads lead back to the same horrible place: her elderly neighbour's doorstep.

 

MYSTERY NIGHT is the 4th book in the Spirit Caller series. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Krista D. Ball
• Release date: Dec 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781507094068

Book preview

Chapter 1

Home is Where the Whiskey Is

I was on a treadmill and there wasn’t a gun in my face. You probably need a little context about why this is a shocking statement. I hate exercise. Squats? Why? There’s nothing on the floor to pick up. Crunches? Why on earth would I do that to my guts? Treadmills? So, basically, you want me to walk and go nowhere? How is any of this not the definition of insanity?

With all that said, it might come as a surprise that I was on a treadmill in my home gym. Oh yeah. I have a home gym now. Since I’m mostly healed from the psychic attack from a year ago, I can’t even blame Evil Doers of Evil (trademark pending).

My spare bedroom in my quaint, two-bedroom home now houses a medieval torture device called a Bow Flex. That came in a box featuring a very fine looking young man on it. Sadly, there was no such man inside the box. False advertising at its finest. In the middle of the room is a rowing machine, which I can use for a full five minutes if I pretend I’m Charlton Heston in the belly of a ship getting up to ramming speed.

And, finally, the dreaded treadmill.

So Jeremy was on the Bow Flex thingy painstakingly working through a booklet of exercises his physiotherapist had given him.

And I was on the treadmill.

Running.

More accurately, I was panting, gasping, and wheezing. My feet barely lifted half a centimetre off the rubber track. But they were moving, so this counted as running.

I’ll forgive you for thinking I’d been possessed by the spirit of a fitness instructor. It wasn’t that, nor was it to lose the weight I’d been gaining rather rapidly since moving to the tiny outport community of Wiseman’s Cove. I wasn’t doing it to help keep my joints limber after the physical attacks I suffered a year ago.

Nope. I was doing it because Jeremy needed the company.

Jeremy is my boyfriend. Nine months, and I still get a puppy dog smile whenever I so much as think about that. We didn’t get the honeymoon period that newly-in-love couples get. We’d only been granted a couple of hours with each other before he was shot multiple times in a showdown with Manny, our young, possessed friend.

It was a tough road, but I was up for the challenge. Jeremy endured several surgeries, and was finally on the mend. He’d taken a turn for the better around February, and had been improving daily.

He still limped, but it was becoming less noticeable. He was getting stronger, adding more weight to his exercises. When we started, he couldn’t even lift a soup can in a bag attached to his ankle. Now he was up to twenty pounds without his eyes welling with tears.

My fit, athletic, muscular Jeremy, a kind and gentle Mountie, was a shadow of what he’d been, but I didn’t care. He was still the most handsome man I’d ever laid my eyes on. I loved him with all of my heart.

Jeremy let out a relieved groan. That’s it for me. He slumped over, resting his head in his hands.

I hit STOP on the treadmill and my lungs cried out in relief. I’d been doing this for a few months now. Why wasn’t it getting any easier? Was I doing it wrong? Up for lunch?

He took a couple of deep breaths before sitting up. Sure. He closed the photocopied booklet that rested on a music sheet stand and moved the stand out of the way. I made it through the entire set without stopping. He grimaced. That was tough. He wobbled when he stood.

I moved quickly to hand him his cane. He took it in silence. He still needed it to get up and down the stairs, and for anytime he was feeling off-balanced.

I don’t feel up to helping, though, he said.

It’s cool. Soup and sandwich?

Sure. He eyed me. You should do a cool-down first and stretch out.

I glared at him. If I stay on that thing any longer, I’ll have a heart attack. Besides, who’ll make your soup and sandwich?

He snorted and we walked out together and down the stairs. Jeremy eased himself down onto the sofa and put his leg up, long sighs coming from him. I went to work in the kitchen, making ham sandwiches and serving up the vegetable barley soup leftover in the fridge.

And, no, Jeremy didn’t make that soup. I did, thank you very much. I’ve turned into quite the little domestic bee since Jeremy moved in with me. Okay, that’s not exactly true. My elderly neighbour, Mrs. Saunders, just celebrated her ninety-fourth birthday and isn’t as stable on her legs as she used to be. I’ve taken over doing most of the cooking for her these days, which means I’ve had to learn how to cook. She loves soup, so I’ve taken to making a huge pot twice a week. That way, Jeremy always has something to eat—do all men eat this much?—and Mrs. Saunders has something nutritious that doesn’t force her to stand over a hot stove.

Sometime in the last year, I’d become a grown up. It sort of snuck up on me.

I waited for the microwave to beep and found it impossible to hide my smile. I was loving the domestic life. I wished it could’ve happened under better circumstances, but it felt good to be useful. Jeremy was practically living with me these days. He still needed help, and I had enough room for the exercise equipment. Plus, he owned a manual transmission car and couldn’t drive the stick anymore, so I drove him around. He was often on too much pain medication to drive anyway.

He still had his place, where Javier was staying. Javier showed up out of nowhere last year, magical invisible spirit sword in hand, to protect me from the Boogiemen. He was still around working as a social worker at Manny’s correction housing. I guess his work wasn’t done yet, which was fine by me. Jeremy needed a guy friend, so I was happy to have him around.

And Jeremy had ended up here. It wasn’t ever talked about, really. I brought him back here and he’s never left.

In my house.

Living with me.

Sleeping in my bed.

Who cares that a supernatural gang of crazy people were after me and my friends, while I was sharing a bed with the man of my dreams?

I might be a grown up now, but I was still working on my priorities.

What are you smiling about? Jeremy shouted out.

Nothing.

What? he asked, an edge of annoyance in his voice.

I shot him an irritated look and said, I was just thinking about how nice it was having you here. Then you spoke.

Jeremy snorted and gave me the middle finger.

You wish.

He flashed me a wicked grin, a glimmer of the old Jeremy. Oh, I do wish.

You can barely stand right now.

There is more than one position, love.

I swatted the top of his head and put his plate on the coffee table, then pulled the table closer to him. I put his pill bottle next to the plate. That was always the hardest part for me; a constant daily reminder of how much pain Jeremy was in. The meds made him angry and sullen a lot of time, but the pain made him even worse. He was often stoned or sleeping. He knew he was getting too used to taking them, and was trying hard to cut back.

It broke my heart knowing this was the third reduced prescription in two months, and it was always hard for him to adjust. The doctor told him it was normal and it was one of the challenges of chronic pain.

Chronic pain. Jeremy might always be in pain. Because of me. Because I’d failed at being a Spirit Caller.

Jeremy gazed at the painkillers for a moment. There’s something I need to tell you.

Hmm? I focused on eating my soup while it was still hot.

I’ve been offered a desk job in Halifax.

I stared at him. Halifax, Nova Scotia was a province and a lot of ocean away. It was a long milk run flight from St. Anthony, the nearest regional airport, across the Gulf of St. Lawrence. It was just a couple of hours to fly from Deer Lake, but I’d still need to make a six hour drive. This wasn’t a quick weekend jaunt.

I also knew the offer of a desk job in Halifax was a promotion. My dad was a retired Mountie and I knew how relieved Mom was when Dad finally came off patrols and out of harm’s way. I was angry when he took the job, because it meant we had to move—again. Now I understood, because I was feeling all of the things I saw in Mom’s eyes but was too young to understand.

What are you going to do? I finally asked, pushing through all of my fears and worries. I wasn’t his wife and we weren’t even really living together. It was Jeremy’s decision. I’d assumed he would move back into his apartment once he was strong enough.

I said I’d have to think about it.

When do you have to give them an answer?

A couple of weeks. His gaze dropped back to the bottle of pills. The doctor isn’t sure if I’ll completely recover. I’ll get close, he hopes. I’ll never be able to work for the coast guard rescue now.

I’d seen him cry enough in the last few months from pain and frustration to know the look. I put my lunch down and moved to sit next to him. I rested my hand on his knee and smiled at him. I love you.

Jeremy smiled back, even if his eyes were wet with unfallen tears. I love you, too. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t do what I wanted. I can’t even get off the pills long enough to drive. He sucked in a breath. Maybe I should take a desk job, get a beer gut, and be done with it.

I didn’t know what to say, so I intertwined my fingers with his to let him know he wasn’t alone. It was hard seeing my Jeremy hurt and hurting.

What do you think? He finally asked.

I’m happy they offered you a promotion. You deserve it. But… I said cautiously, Halifax is a long way away.

You could come with me.

Leave Wiseman’s Cove? That was quite a request. Mrs. Saunders needed me. She lived alone and it wasn’t fair