Ghost in the Mirror

By Elizabeth Maxim

FX Expert turned psychic investigator Matt Winters has met the woman of his dreams, in Gold Rush era San Francisco. Though time travel is right up the paranormal alley, he needs to get back to his own time. And he's not going alone. With one hand in the past and another reaching for the future he's determined to have it all.

Consumed by guilt after her colleague falls through her time gate, paranormal investigator Kerry Murphy puts her life on hold to focus all her energy on getting him back to the present. But life, like time itself, waits for no one and if she doesn't find a way soon, his future and hers will slip from her grasp like sands through an hourglass.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elizabeth Maxim
• Release date: Jun 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310145148

Elizabeth Maxim

If Elizabeth were to map her life’s journey, it would resemble the chaos of a Pac-Man game but out of this chaos came the foundation for her stories. She draws from knowledge, personal experience, and imagination in creating strong independent characters who steer their own destiny... often with a little help from love.Elizabeth studied alternative medicine with an MD for several years before earning a doctorate of philosophy in that field. She also holds a bachelor's degree in holistic childcare. Currently living in the Pacific Northwest, she is the author of multiple books, fiction and nonfiction, as well as two blog sites.You can follow Elizabeth at elizabethmaxim.com.

Book preview

Chapter 1

San Francisco, 2011

Paranormal investigator Matt Winters squinted through a camera lens and made final adjustments. Across the room, fellow investigator Lucas Jacobs fiddled with sound equipment. If everything went smoothly, they should know within twenty-four hours whether they were dealing with a true haunting, or a hoax.

An FX expert, Matt had joined the Pacific Institute for Paranormal Research after realizing he didn’t want to work in entertainment, an industry he found too superficial and too cutthroat.

Setting the camera to his shoulder, he began climbing a ladder. At six foot two he didn’t have to go past the second rung before placing the video recorder in a harness he’d rigged up earlier. He jiggled the harness with a force to match that of a serious earthquake. Satisfied it was secure, he started to descend, stopping when a movement outside the window caught his eye.

His boss, Mark Reynolds, was laying wire beneath manicured hedges. A handful of bees had apparently decided he was more interesting than the wisteria entwining a nearby trellis. Matt shook his head and briefly watched the manager run in circles before stepping off the ladder and pulling it closed.

Lucas was plugging an audio cable into the back of an old PC. Matt shook his head again. Their equipment was due for some serious upgrading but convincing the materials sciences engineer of that would be tough. When it came to technology, his coworker redefined the word frugal. It didn’t matter if it ran slow so long as it ran.

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it was the man’s mantra.

He leaned against the wall and closed tired eyes. Normally on a Sunday morning he’d be sleeping in, not crawling around the innards of an exclusive bed and breakfast, but the group had been called in by the fourth Musketeer, Kerry Murphy. As lead investigator, she’d come the day before to assess whether or not a full investigation was warranted. Apparently, one night at the Nob Hill residence had been enough, for now the whole crew would be spending the night to see if they could catch a boogeyman.

On the bright side, it would keep him from thinking too much.

Save me from women who want to fix themselves, he muttered into the companionable silence.

This isn’t, by any chance, about Sandra, is it?

Because his coworker had been testing a microphone suspended from the ceiling, the question reverberated throughout the room.

Matt sighed and pushed away from the wall. The woman could name every title in the self-help section of every bookstore she sets foot in. He adjusted a thermometer and followed an electrical cord to the outlet, wriggling it to make sure it was securely plugged in. "Thanks to technology it’s worse than ever. The damned DVR made it so she never misses an episode of Dr. Phil, Oprah, or any other self-proclaimed self-help guru. With satellite radio her choice of shrink has expanded well beyond Dr. Laura."

"Does that mean she likes Fraser?" Lucas threw over his shoulder.

This isn’t funny, man, I’m going crazy.

So break up with her.

I did.

That got his colleague’s attention.

What? When?

Friday night.

You were with me Friday night, at the martini bar.

I left at seven, remember?

I remember pouring you into a cab.

Next stop Tiburon.

Lucas pondered that. Must have been interesting, he muttered, given you weren’t exactly sober.

"Let’s just say Miss Everything Must Be Planned Perfectly didn’t appreciate the spontaneity of my visit."

Lucas smirked. He’d met Sandra on two occasions and, believing that silence was the better part of valor, had avoided telling his friend what he really thought of the self-centered, if beautiful, Ms. Walker.

Matt checked the video feed on the computer. Apparently, she had to leave early in the morning to go to some camp up near Mendocino. He sighed. One of those wilderness camps where you find yourself? She said I should have had the decency to call, if not to stop by at a decent hour.

Lucas frowned. Decent hour? How late could it have been?

It was eight oh five exactly when I knocked on Ms. Walker’s door.

She was in bed already?

Said she had to get up at four-thirty to make it for check-in.

Lucas shrugged. You’ve inconvenienced her before.

That was before she told me what this weekend retreat was all about.

I don’t know if I need to know this part, he replied uneasily, tugging on a piece of trip wire.

Finding the orgasm within.

I definitely don’t need to know this part.

That led to a rather short but caustic discussion about how it’s all my fault she is unable to reach orgasm, how I squelch her spirit.

Lucas shoved a fist in his mouth to stifle what he knew would be a rude comment. Shoulders shaking, he took a deep breath. Squelch her spirit?

A new word she picked up in one of her find-yourself-this-month magazines. At least, that’s what I assume since she was waving one of them in my face while listing all my faults. All the while, standing in a white cotton nightgown buttoned up to her neck as if she were some virginal young thing from the nineteenth century.

You know Matt, I think I’ve got everything under control here. Why don’t you go see if Kerry needs a hand?

Good idea. I need to compare interview notes with her.

The owners of the supposedly haunted bed and breakfast were two elderly sisters. The eccentric women had very different feelings about what was happening. One was ready to call in the National Guard while the other thought the whole thing romantic. He’d questioned the older sister over tea. Her inability to stay focused on the interview had sorely tried his patience.

Bats in the belfry.

Kerry mentioned there’s a lot of tension between the sisters over this.

Matt nodded. I had to chase Sylvia out of the room before starting the interview with Gloria. She’s fit to be tied by her sister’s concern that in our efforts to get to the bottom of this, we might actually hurt the resident ghost.

If she’s that angry, maybe the younger sister is manifesting the negative psi.

When an individual manifested negative emotional energy to an extreme, poltergeist activity was often the result. Objects could fly around, doors and windows could open and close, and glowing orbs of light could appear. The incidents were often mistakenly blamed on ghostly rather than human factors. While not unheard of in older or younger individuals of both sexes, poltergeist activity was more common in female adolescents.

Nah, it’s the quiet ones you gotta watch.

The door opened and Mark walked in. Everything’s set in the garden, need any help in here?

Matt turned to the boss. I was just going to find Kerry, see if she needs any help and compare interview notes.

She’s in the basement. She’s going to focus on the hoax angle while we see if we can’t identify a more supernatural cause. He wiggled his eyebrows.

Do you think that’s such a good idea? Lucas asked. Shouldn’t it be the reverse?

She’s a grown-up, she knows what she’s doing.

And you trust her to be impartial?

Matt stared at the engineer. Since when do you question Kerry’s judgment?

Of all of them, she was the most qualified to determine whether or not there was any credence to the various claims they investigated. A natural psychic, she had a PhD in parapsychology. If she felt the need to pursue the hoax angle, she must smell a rat.

Lucas shifted. I saw her face just before you guys arrived. I was standing right next to her and I never heard the ghost speak. If it’s a hoax, why couldn’t I hear it too?

I talked to her about that, Mark stated, but she is adamant it’s a hoax. I’m willing to follow her lead on this because I trust her instincts. Besides, you guys are my best debunkers. If there’s the slightest hint of fraud, you’ll sniff it out.

So, you put us to the task of proving the place is haunted? Lucas snapped.

Matt made for the exit. I’ll go see if Kerry needs any help. If an argument was brewing between those two, he didn’t want to be anywhere nearby. Both of them could be hotheaded when it came to the lead investigator. He was fairly certain they were both half in love with her.

He reached for the door to the basement and shook his head. He wasn’t entirely certain that couldn’t be said of all three of them. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful and intelligent. She was kind, generous, and very spirited. Matt guessed the real reason the three men with whom she worked had such lousy luck with women was because they were all waiting for their own Kerry Murphy to show up. He opened the door.

Kerry, you down here? I came to see if you need any help. He descended the stairs slowly. While not completely dark, the basement was dimly lit by a single, if large light on the ceiling. Hellooo?

Crates of supplies were stacked to the ceiling. He snaked his way through them, looking around for anything out of place.

Kerry? Maybe she went to the bathroom?

He was about to turn around and go back upstairs when he spied a wooden door in the center of a cement wall.

That’s odd.

A wine cellar perhaps? He grabbed the handle. It was warm. He pulled open the door and stuck his head into a darkened space.

Kerry? Are you in here?

What the hell?!

Something or someone slammed into his back, sending him tumbling into the darkness. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something whiz by, just out of reach, moving too fast for him to make out what it was.

The wind was knocked from him as he hit bottom. Gasping for breath, he pushed himself up.

That ought to teach you, ya slimey bugger, someone growled before introducing Matt to a whole new kind of pain. When the darkness descended, he welcomed it.

Chapter 2

San Francisco, September 2014

Time is a lens that is curved.

Kerry Murphy, lead investigator for the Pacific Institute for Paranormal Research stared at the words printed in elegant script on cream-colored paper. The flier had come in an envelope along with a hand written note.

I thought this lecture would be of interest to you. Space is limited and by invitation only. If you wish to attend, please call my assistant so she can secure a place for you.

She read through the details becoming more intrigued by the paragraph. The weeklong seminar covered a variety of topics that, thanks to advances in quantum physics, not to mention fewer scientists burned at the stake, straddled the line between science and the paranormal. Five days in length, it looked promising. Especially the final lecture.

Time.

Dr. Meghan McKinley, she murmured. Never heard of you.

Kerry launched Firefox web browser. She was halfway through the Google search results when the desktop clock caught her eye.

Shit!

Jumping up she shut the laptop lid, snatched the seminar flier and a pile of folders she’d been sorting, and ran for the door.

Oh, Ms. Murphy, what a nice coincidence.

Kerry closed her eyes and bowed her head.

I was just coming over to see if you’d left for work yet. I was wondering if you could spare a minute to help me?

Hoping the smile she pasted on her face wasn’t as strained as she felt, Kerry turned to greet her neighbor from across the hall.

Forty-five minutes later, she barely avoided slamming into several tourists while sprinting through the Embarcadero Center complex. Panting, she balanced the pile of paperwork in her arms and hit the elevator button with an elbow.

God, she hated being late and today of all days. As a senior member of the staff she should be setting an example by at least being on time to staff meetings. Sighing as the elevator doors opened, she stepped forward, shifting the pile in her arms so she could press the proper button.

Here, let me.

Startled, she looked over her shoulder to see who was connected to the arm that had reached around to do the honors. A handsome man in his thirties, looking very pulled together in a grey summer weight suit, leaned against the back wall.

She gave a weak smile. Thanks.

A dimple appeared. No problem.

Feeling grubby by comparison in her jeans and a sweater that was too heavy for the warm fall day, she wondered briefly what it would be like to feel as polished as he looked. Was he a CEO? He certainly didn’t seem like a bean counter. Not serious enough.

He has kind eyes.

Leaning against the side of the elevator, she closed her eyes and let out another breath. She so hated being late. It threw off her rhythm and generally set a frantic tone for the day, the last thing she needed.

The elevator doors slid open and the guy stepped around her to get off. He paused, his hand ensuring the doors remained open. Can I make a suggestion?

She smiled. Sure.

Take three good deep breaths before going to work. It’ll reset your perspective.

Her smile widened. Thanks.

Works every time.

The doors closed and the elevator took her up to the office.

The reception area was empty, the receptionist no doubt in the conference room taking notes. Cal Goodrich was one of two guys recently hired to help manage the workload in their small yet growing company. From the beginning he’d proved himself a tremendous asset, and not just because he kept them organized. He’d brought much needed positive energy to the weary group of paranormal investigators.

Shortly after being hired, he’d transformed the space with a new coat of paint, plants, and furniture that was far more comfortable than the handful of hard plastic chairs that had lined the walls of the small space. He’d also gone on a handful of customer calls where his organizational skills had been a critical addition to the investigation. Not being afraid of things that went bump in the night had certainly helped, though she doubted he planned to make a habit of ghost hunting.

She frowned at the closed conference room door. The group’s small size meant her late entrance would be disruptive. The thought left her irritated, not embarrassed. Her elevator companion’s words came back to her and she shrugged.

What the hell, she murmured, closing her eyes. Three deep breaths later she put her hand to the conference room door.

Sliding into the nearest chair, she smiled apologetically and tried to tune into the discussion. Something hit her foot. Her eyes snapped across to where the other recent hire, Sean Tanner, was drumming two fingers against the table. He winked.

You didn’t miss much, he said sotto voce.

She nodded her thanks and listened to their manager while trying to organize the teetering pile in front of her. She shook her head. She really needed to do something about the outdated system she used. In the day of cloud storage technology there was just no excuse. Her gaze wandered over to where Cal was messing with an iPad. Sean had one too. As if reading her mind, he smirked at the disorganized pile in front of her. Definitely time to get a new system going.

Kerry, what’s the status on the Ogilvey case?

She looked over to where the managing director Mark Reynolds was sitting next to Lucas Jacobs, the material sciences engineer that rounded out their little group. Even the boss had an iPad.

Hellooo? Lucas prodded.

She shook herself. Sorry. The Ogilvey case, she repeated slowly, buying herself time to process the question. I’ve contacted Dr. Stubins.

Lucas’ eyebrows shot up. I thought he was retired?

He is. I tapped him for a reference.

What’s your conclusion? Mark asked.

I don’t think her troubles come from a former lifetime. I think something happened in this one, something she’s blocking out. She has deep-seated guilt and incredibly low self-esteem. I don’t believe she needs reincarnation therapy, though she would benefit from counseling. Dr. Stubins has extensive experience in this area. I thought maybe he could recommend someone who would be sympathetic.

The retired psychiatrist had authored several papers on the use of hypnosis in regression therapy. He had argued both for and against reincarnation therapy. He’d been delighted to take her call and promised to get back with a name by the end of the week.

You don’t want to be the primary? Mark asked.

I don’t think I’m the right resource. I honestly think she needs a psychiatrist.

Okay. Sean, I looked at that sound equipment list. There’s money in the budget so go ahead and get it.

Hey, Sean? Cal spoke up, his gaze on the mobile device in front of him. Let me do it. I guarantee I can get them to lower the price.

Have at it but don’t leave ‘em mad at me. I go there for all my stuff including any repairs on the instruments.

Don’t worry.

It took effort not to laugh at the look on Sean’s face. No doubt he’d be at Cal’s desk when he placed the order. When Sean wasn’t helping investigate psychic phenomena, he was playing drums, either in his band or in the studio with pickup work. His relationship to those in the industry was paramount. Especially those responsible for keeping his instruments in top condition.

Here.

She frowned at him in confusion.

Take it.

She pulled the black backpack across the table. Thule?

I got it at the Apple Store. For you. I noticed you don’t carry a briefcase and -. He indicated the teetering pile in front of her.

Heat flooded her face. Thanks. You didn’t have to but I appreciate it.

Kerry.

She looked over at the boss.

Let’s talk about training.

She smiled and yanked the flier from the middle of the pile.

Sean snickered. Wow, you did that without even looking or losing the other stuff. I’m impressed.

Without commenting she slid the paper toward the opposite end of the table. Lucas put it in front of Mark.

This is nice but I was actually thinking of a management seminar.

Mark -.

Lucas slid his chair back, stood. I need to catch a plane. He patted her shoulder on the way out.

Kerry, I’m leaving you in charge when Ceelin -.

Mark, you’re going on paternity leave, not dying and leaving me the company.

There’s a lot of useful information packed into that seminar.

And if I planned on being a manager I’d be all over it but I’m a psychic investigator. She pointed at the flyer. That seminar has more relevance, don’t you think?

He scanned the flyer, frowned. It’s down in Monterey.

I know, at the military base.

It says here it’s by invitation only.

Right. That’s my invitation.

He looked at her. How -?

Cairlean. He thought it was a great opportunity for me. I agree.

Cairlean O’Sullivan was the owner and CEO of several small diverse businesses, one of which was the Pacific Institute for Paranormal Research. A charismatic man with an air of mystery about him, he was very easy to work for, though that might have been due to the fact he spent most of his time in Los Angeles and allowed Mark to run the company as he saw fit. Which, most of the time, was as a laid back supervisor. Not the micromanager he’d turned into after discovering he was going to be a father.

Kerry, I rely on you to run things -.

Which I have, time and again. Including, I might add, during your fun adventure in Las Vegas? I think I proved that I could be active in a case and manage the business at the same time.

Besides, Cal added, she’ll have help this time. I run the day to day stuff now and Sean can help shoulder the burden of your absence.

I’m in, Sean agreed.

It was obvious Mark wasn’t happy but he also didn’t look like he was going to press the issue.

Anything else?

Ignoring the tension rolling across the room, she shifted. He isn’t complaining and he didn’t ask me to say anything. I’m just making an observation. Lucas is really racking up the frequent flier miles.

In point of fact, he’d barely been home in the last month. The institute had been retained to investigate locations under consideration for various construction projects by a development firm. The initial sites had been local but recent projects had been outside of California altogether.

The client has been thrilled with our work. Lucas’ knowledge of the construction industry combined with his expertise makes him perfect for vetting the projects. His presence alone has soothed more than one work crew.

That was true enough. Due to the large number of retirements in the construction industry, more and more American companies were importing work crews from other countries. Talented and hard-working, the men were often superstitious due to cultural upbringing. Lucas had been invaluable in reassuring teams, sometimes through an interpreter, that their sites were not haunted, nor were they cursed.

What do you think is going to be the case going forward? she asked.

What do you mean?

She nodded toward the man sitting across from her. We hired Sean to make up for the loss of Matt. With Lucas flying around, we’re back to where we were.

‘No, you’re not."

She looked over at Cal. You volunteering to come on site?

He considered. On a case by case basis, yes.

Mark smiled. See?

Fine.

Anything else?

No.

The group dispersed. Kerry was about to sit down at her desk when Cal poked his head in. You have a visitor.

The man from the elevator stood in their little lobby. Not sure what to expect, she held out a hand and smiled.

You’re Kerry Murphy, right?

That’s right -?

Brian Donnelly. I’m an attorney.

Cal’s eyebrows shot up. Kerry kept smiling but her stomach tightened as she mentally sifted through recent cases.

I’m not here for professional reasons.

Cal’s mouth dropped open. Kerry sent him a warning look then turned her attention back to the lawyer.

Or, maybe a professional courtesy. I came to thank you. Could I have a moment of your time?

"Sure, we