Chasing the Ghost: An Abby Craig Paranormal Mystery, #2

By Jools Sinclair

When the case of a murdered young mother goes cold, police detective Michael Cooper is willing to try anything to breathe new life into the investigation, even if that means bringing in a ghost whisperer.

 

Enter Abby Craig. 

 

Abby quickly stumbles across a dark entity at the murder scene and worries that not only is it responsible for the woman's death, but that it is just beginning its reign of terror.

 

Meanwhile, Abby spends many sleepless nights chasing a shadowy figure through a maze of ancient, narrow streets in a faraway land. She is hoping that it's simply a series of unsettling dreams, but she will soon find out that there is much more to the story.

 

Abby Craig senses something terrible is coming.

 

And she's not wrong.

• Language: English
• Publisher: You Come Too Publishing
• Release date: Jan 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393262497

Jools Sinclair

Jools Sinclair is the author of the bestselling thirteen-part FORTY-FOUR saga as well as the Rose City Thriller series. She has a house in Bend, Oregon, but is currently on an extended stay in Colorado.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

I DROVE THROUGH NORTHWEST Crossing, easing up on the accelerator as I turned off Mount Washington and onto Lemhi Pass. I made a left on John Fremont and saw the car out in front of a house that had a For Sale sign staked in the lawn. I pulled in behind and cut the engine.

Detective Michael Cooper had a phone to his ear, his silhouette large and looming in the driver’s seat. I stepped out into the fading sun, walked up to the curb, and stared at the house.

The Craftsman had a charm to it, even though it was small and on a postage stamp-sized lot with other houses crowding in from all sides. The paint was a dark merlot with cream trim, a thin layer of frost covering the dead grass. A porch extended outward, complete with chairs that matched the paint on the trim around the windows.

But even though it appeared cozy enough on the surface, it didn’t feel right. I sensed the darkness all the way from the sidewalk.

Good to see you again, Ms. Craig, the tall man said as he slammed his car door.

Cooper looked the same as the last time I had seen him, a little disheveled with shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a thin tie loosened at the neck, black-and-white peppered hair blowing around in the cold breeze. But as he closed in and lifted his Ray-Bans, I saw that his eyes looked significantly smaller than before and bloodshot, like he hadn’t caught a good night’s sleep in a long while.

We shook hands, a quick smile on his lips.

Nice to see you again too, detective. But call me Abby.

He nodded as he glanced at my car.

Nice wheels.

It isn’t mine. Just borrowing it from a friend.

Sixty-seven was a very good year, he said, his eyes lingering on the Impala. That’s a hell of a friend.

True, I said, thinking of David Norton.

Cooper turned toward the house and let out a sigh, collapsing the sunglasses and sliding them into his shirt pocket.

They slashed the price twenty-five grand last week, but I don’t think it’ll help.

We both stared up at the house for a moment.

What do you know about the Angela Gray murder? he said.

Just what’s been on the news, I said, zipping up my fleece jacket.

Gray was a twenty-eight-year-old realtor who was murdered in a vacant house back in September. There were no signs of sexual assault. She had been pushed out a second story window.

Almost five months later the police still had no real suspects, although Gray’s ex-husband had been a person of interest. The community was frustrated and a petition calling for the police chief’s resignation had at last count received more than 10,000 signatures.

I’m assuming it happened here, I said.

He nodded slowly.

Gray’s body had been found shortly after her daughter had reported her missing. I gulped hard at the thought of that little girl on the phone. The TV news had played the recording for days, the audio of the six-year-old talking to a 911 operator asking if it was okay to make breakfast because school was starting soon and mommy’s not home.

I’m hoping you can find something here, Cooper said.

I had first worked with Cooper early last year, after he called me asking for help with a teenager who had gone missing. It only took a day to contact the ghost of her dead uncle, who told me that the girl had run away and was hiding at a friend’s house south of town.

Cooper’s mind seemed sharp and quick and he possessed an endless supply of patience. He let the silences build in a conversation and was never in a hurry. He had told me once that silence made most people uncomfortable, that they would start talking to avoid it, sometimes spilling out secrets in the process.

You ready? he said.

I nodded, fighting off a shiver. It had been a cold day even for February and it wasn’t getting any warmer as the sun dropped behind the trees.

I waited on the porch steps while he punched a combination into a lockbox. A small green light went on and he pushed open the door. I followed him inside, stepping into stagnant air, dust, and silence. A single dull light shone over the fireplace, but otherwise the house was dark, taking on the purple hues of the twilight seeping through the cracks in the blinds.

Stay here a moment. I wanna make sure we’re alone.

After checking the first floor, Cooper headed upstairs, the floorboards calling out his location.

I scanned my surroundings as I waited. The house felt bleak and grim. There was no furniture. A hammer and screwdriver sat on the floor in the corner, a few boxes of blinds leaning up against a far wall by some windows.

I walked around the living room and whispered a blessing. Then I told any spirits who might be lurking in the house who I was and that I was able to communicate with the dead. I had started this routine last year after walking through an apartment looking for a client’s wife. The wife never showed, but another ghost gave me a good tongue lashing, saying how rude it was of me to come into her house and ignore her.

When only silence answered back, I got more specific.

I’m here, Angela. I’m here to help find out what happened to you. I want to help find the person who took you away from your family.

I closed my eyes and conjured up a mental picture of Angela Gray, an image I had seen countless times in news stories where she had her hands up high as she crossed the finish line at the annual Pole Pedal Paddle multi-sport race held in Bend.

Suddenly a strong wave of dense energy pushed into me.

There was nothing there, at least nothing I could see. No wonder the house hadn’t sold. It wouldn’t take a psychic to pick up on the vibes this place was putting out.

All clear, Abby, Cooper said as he came down the stairs. You want me to wait in the car?

You can stay or go. Totally up to you.

Then I’ll be in the kitchen catching up on emails. Take as long as you need. He held out a flashlight. Some of the bulbs have burned out.

I’ll just use my phone, I said, pulling it out.

I started on the first floor. I walked into the large family room in the back of the house and then into a small room that had probably been used as an office.

Let me help you find justice, Angela. Talk to me.

But there was nothing.

Next, I checked out the small bathroom, a laundry room, and the garage. I cut through the living room once more and stopped, letting my fingers glide across the mantel. The fireplace was built into the middle of two short bookshelves, most likely a classic craftsman feature. It was something that Kate, my sister, would have pointed out and appreciated.

I passed through the kitchen, where Cooper sat staring at his phone, and looked out through the sliding glass door at the backyard. The neighbor’s lights were on, illuminating the small brown lawn.

I’m going to step out there for a moment, I said, opening the door to the backyard.

There was a small, paved patio area with an old tree stump to one side. I walked over to it. As I stood there, a sudden cold sadness swept through me. I looked up at the second story window directly above. Then I called the dead woman’s name a few times before going back inside.

That’s where you found her, I said, stating it as a fact, not a question. By the stump.

Cooper let the moment sit between us.

We didn’t release that part to the media. She might have survived the drop and the cuts from the broken glass if it hadn’t been for that tree stump. It broke her fall and her neck. He paused. What did you see, Abby?

No, nothing. Just a feeling. A strong feeling.

I moved on, reaching the foot of the stairs. I closed my eyes and called out again to the ghost of the dead woman.

I had learned a lot over the years about communicating with the dead, one being that they seldom materialized in front of you when you ask them to. Contacting a ghost wasn’t like punching a series of numbers into a phone. It didn’t happen that fast, the way the television shows liked to portray it. It took longer, some ghosts seeking me out later when they were ready to talk. Some never reaching out, never ready.

I climbed the stairs, stopping about halfway up, and listened. I heard something behind me. Breathing? Footsteps? I wasn’t sure. I turned around, squinting in the darkness, seeing nothing. I called Angela Gray’s name, the hairs on the back of my neck beginning to stand. Something was definitely there, even if I couldn’t see it.

I took each stair slowly, carefully, my hand firm on the railing, my breath even and quiet. Finally reaching the top, I made my way down the hallway, passing two dark bedrooms. I pulled out my phone and switched on the flashlight, pointing it ahead of me. The beam caught movement in the room at the end of the hall. I froze.

Angela?

I headed toward the bedroom and stepped inside. Suddenly an icy breath blew into my face.

I’m only here to help, I said.

A rushing sound, like a river, echoed in my ears. I swept the flashlight beam across the darkness, pushing my back up against a wall. But what I had thought was a wall suddenly gave way and I lost my balance, stumbling as the door behind me swung open.

I found myself in another room. 

I jerked my phone around, lighting up a bathtub, a shower door, a towel rack, a sink.

The sink.

The faucet was on, full blast.

I moved toward the running water, reaching out to turn it off. 

And that’s when I saw her in the mirror.

The ghost was standing right behind me, mostly in shadows except for her pale face. Her eyes were black and raw, her dark lips turned downward.

Get out, she growled.

I dropped my phone and heard it hit the floor, but my eyes were glued to the mirror, watching as the ghost moved in closer and closer, until she was just a breath from me, her horrible face shining like the moon.

The floor fell away.

And that’s when I screamed.

CHAPTER 2

HEY, YOU OKAY? ABBY, you okay?

When I opened my eyes I was almost blinded by the light, barely able to make out Cooper’s silhouette hovering above me. I squinted and turned away until he moved his flashlight down.

How many fingers? he said.

Two.

Good. Let’s get you up.

I started to move but then thought better of it, letting out a low groan.

What hurts?

Just where I landed.

You hit your head?

No, I’m fine. I just need a minute.

I sat up again, and this time I was more successful. Cooper grabbed my arm in a tight mountaineer grip and pulled me to my feet.

Thanks, I said.

Better?

Yeah.

Jesus. He pointed the light at the floor. Look at all this water.

I looked down and saw that we were standing in a large puddle. I glanced at the overflowing sink. Cooper turned off the faucet.

Strange, he said. This wasn’t on when I came up here.

He picked up my phone and stared at it.

Looks to be in one piece, he said, handing it to me.

That makes one of us.

You sure you’re all right?

Yeah, I’m good.

He was breathing hard as he looked slowly around the bathroom. I half expected to see the ghost again, but we were alone.

You must have slipped, Cooper said.

Yeah, I said.

But I wasn’t so sure. Maybe I had a little help. Maybe I was pushed.

Cooper looked over at me.

We done up here?

I nodded.

He took my arm and led me through the bedroom and back out into the hall. I was sore and shaken. It had been a while since I had come across a ghost like that: dark, angry, and maybe even with the ability to affect the physical world.

And knock me on my butt.

I went down the stairs slowly, looking at nothing but the bright beam ahead until we were outside. On the porch the cold air hit me like a freight train. But at least it was fresh. I took in a deep breath and then another and by the time I made it to the sidewalk I felt better.

It was dark now.

You’re okay, really? Cooper said after he locked up.

Yeah. I’ve done a lot worse out on the trails. Not a big deal.

He rubbed at his chin, looking back at the house. I didn’t follow his gaze.

How about we run you by the ER just to make sure. I’m worried you might have bumped your head.

My head’s good. Two fingers, remember?

If you say so. Let me get you some water at least.

He was already in his car fishing around before I could say anything. He brought over a small water bottle, untwisted the lid, and handed it to me. I gulped it down in one swig, only then realizing that my mouth had gone bone dry.

What happened up there, Abby?

I began to speak and then stopped. I shook my head.

I saw something, I said slowly. But I don’t know what.

Angela?

No, this... this thing was pretty scary.

But it must be connected to the murder, right?

I’m not sure. Not necessarily. I’ll have to give it some thought.

Sure, sure, he said, exhaling. I really appreciate you coming out here and doing this. I’m sorry you slipped.

All in a day’s work, I said.

But that was an exaggeration.

I had done dozens and dozens of walk-throughs in houses, apartments, offices, and abandoned buildings since opening my ghost business three years ago. Nothing like this had happened. And in all the years prior, before turning pro, it was rare. Seeing this ghost was almost the stuff of bad movies, it was so over the top.

Sometimes spirits don’t like to be disturbed, I said.

Cooper seemed to consider that for a moment.

So you’re saying that there’s some sort of dark ghost in the house?

That’s my initial impression.

He sighed.

I don’t know anything about this kind of thing, but the house isn’t that old. Seems like enough time hasn’t gone by for it to get haunted. You know, by somebody else.

Ghosts aren’t always connected to an actual structure, I said. Sometimes energies inhabit houses for different reasons. A person living in it could have brought a ghost with them, or a spirit might be attached to the land itself. The dead can be as confused as the living. Their passing can sometimes be very traumatic.

That was probably not what he wanted to hear, but it was the truth.

I looked back at the house and saw a shadow moving in the upstairs window. I thought of those eyes and started shivering, wondering if I would ever be warm again.

Let’s get out of here, Cooper said. Let me drive you home. I’ll come get your car—

No. I’m good. I’m ten minutes away.

Okay, he said. But I’m gonna follow you, just to make sure.

I waved him off and walked toward the Impala before stopping.

Thanks anyway, I said. I’ll text you when I get home. And I’ll give you a call tomorrow if I have any new thoughts.

He nodded. I started up the engine, got the heater going while Cooper stood for a long while, not moving. I waited for another question, but nothing came.

Instead, he glanced up at the house one last time before heading to his car.

CHAPTER 3

I SAT AT A TABLE BY the window at Back Street savoring a hot chocolate drizzled with Hatch chile caramel sauce. I answered emails, posted something on Instagram, and finished up a final edit of my newsletter before sending it out to my list. I still had an hour or so before I had to leave to meet a client, so I pulled out the Angela Gray file that Cooper had given me a couple of nights earlier.

I opened it and looked through a collection of newspaper stories, police reports, and crime scene photos. Nothing jumped out at me except for the feeling of sadness over a life ended too soon.

While soft jazz played in the background, I stared at a photo of the dead woman lying in the green grass, her head twisted horribly. I suddenly flashed back on the ghost and its deathly eyes glaring at me in the mirror. I had had time to process the experience and talk myself down from the emotions but, like a soccer ball to the gut, the thought of it still knocked the wind out of me. Who was that spirit and why was it there? And did it have anything to do with Angela Gray’s death?

Outside, the night came down hard, leaving a black and blurry mess. Car headlights streaked across the windows of the café. But it was still just rain. Barely any snow had fallen in the city all winter.

Lyle walked over with a towel in his hand.

"How’s your renovation