Secrets of the Dead

By Shiela Stewart

Jessica Coltrane is a diehard sceptic who believes ghosts and paranormal activity are nothing more than a figment of an overactive imagination. That is until she finds herself locked inside a haunted house with the enigmatic paranormal investigator C.J. Dowling.

Born with the ability to see and speak to the dead, C.J. Dowling thought investigating a haunted house would be a job like many others. He’s prepared for anything—except smart and sexy Jessica.

Working together in close quarters, C.J. and Jessica discover it isn’t only negative tension between them but sexual as well. Giving in to their desires seems like a good idea until they wake and find the spirits thought otherwise. They are trapped with the ghost of a child long forgotten, an amorous entity threatening Jessica, and a powder keg of a spine-tingling mystery that might just be better left buried.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Decadent Publishing
• Release date: Feb 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781683614876

Book preview

Prologue

Andrea stood in the silence of the house, a tiny figure in white. The air around her still, now. It hadn’t been so, moments ago. The turbulence had rocked the walls, shook the foundation, but she’d won in the end. A small victory, and she knew it would not last long. Another would come, another would bring their family here, but she feared it would not be the right one.

For so long, she’d waited for someone to come free her and her family from the endless torment they’d endured. Yet still, they remained, locked in this place, with the secrets which had destroyed them all.

She knew not to tangle with him when his temper flared, yet she had for so long. She would not allow his sick obsession to destroy another female’s life when he’d ruined so many. The time had come to put a stop to it all.

She stood in the silence of the house, a tiny figure in white. Death had claimed her many years ago, but she still remained, longing for someone to come release the secrets of the dead.

Chapter One

The sun beat down on the black sedan, creating a sauna-like atmosphere inside the car. Jessie wiped the sweat from her neck and cursed the mechanic who’d sworn he fixed her air-conditioning. The heat wave currently suffocating them hadn’t given any indication of letting up anytime soon. Sitting in a muggy vehicle, with no air conditioner, stuck in a traffic jam due to someone’s car overheating, only added to her already tense nerves. She had an appointment, and she was close to running late.

She hated this assignment and shouldn’t have answered the phone when her boss called.

If only she’d had more guts when her boss demanded she take on this assignment. If only she’d argued more when he explained it would only take three days out of her vacation. If only never got you anywhere. She’d taken the assignment, end of story.

A haunted house. Those words always made her laugh. Why people believe in something as absurd as spirits returning after death to torment the living baffled her. When you died, you died. The owners of the house she’d been sent to investigate claimed spirits possessed their property, forcing them to flee. How absurd, but she intended to prove them wrong.

She’d been employed with Hoax Busters Investigations for four years and had been on more crappy assignments than she could count. And she was damn tired of it all.

They mostly investigated claims of fraud and misrepresentation, as well as compensation claims which weren’t on the up-and-up. Occasionally, they looked into houses suspected of paranormal activity.

There were rumors her boss, Dylan McCray, wasn’t exactly on the up-and-up. She had no facts to prove them right, even though she despised the man and hated the crap he always handed her. She needed a better job. If everything went well, this would be the last time she’d have to deal with her boss and the garbage assignments he always sent her on.

Hired by Danbury Realtors to investigate claims of hauntings, she figured the job wouldn’t be too hard. Oh, sure, some people vehemently argued there were such things as ghosts, but she didn’t believe it.

One person sprang to mind. C.J. Dowling.

What a piece of work. The man actually made a living investigating supposed ghosts. They’d run into each other on occasion, working the same investigation, and every time she met up with him, she had the same reaction.

Irritation.

Had he been called to this house, too? Seemed like the sort of thing he’d investigate. She could guarantee he’d heard about it. If Hoax Busters heard it, he knew about it, too.

Six months ago, the owners had contacted one of the local TV stations with claims of their house being haunted. Right there is reason enough to call it bullshit. All they want is money. Three months later, they put their house up for sale. Two days ago, they fled their home with only the clothes on their backs and vowed never to return. Now, no one wanted to buy the house for fear it might be haunted. Go figure.

She’d been instructed to meet the agent at the house to get the keys. That was, if she ever made it out of this damn traffic jam.

Swiping the damp strands of hair from her face, she waited impatiently for the traffic to start moving.

God, please let it rain.

Impatience got the best of her, and she wailed on the horn, but, all that did was piss off the other drivers and get some rude obscenities shouted at her. Ignoring them, she turned her music up and tried to be patient. Hell, she’d never been patient, why start now? So, she slipped the cell phone from her purse and checked for messages.

This was going to be a long day.

***

Enjoying the cold air blowing over his face, C.J. sat in his truck, smoking while he flipped through his notes. With the laptop open on his lap, he made sure he had everything he’d need for the job. He always double-checked before he left home, but it never hurt to go over it again.

The outside temperature read 30 degrees Celsius, 45 with the humidex. They’d been experiencing a heat wave, which again, made him happy he had air-conditioning. Unfortunately, the house he planned to investigate didn’t have central air.

The owners had called three days ago, asking him to investigate claims of spiritual activity in their home. Reports of voices and screams were heard by every member of the Conner family. It especially bothered the wife, who also claimed she’d been touched and caressed by something or someone. C.J. didn’t doubt their claims.

Working for the Spiritual Realm, as a paranormal investigator, he’d been told by his boss to do everything he could to rid the home of the spirits. And, being a medium, he had an inside track on spirits. If there were ghosts about, he had the ability to sense them by entering the property. It’d been that way for him for as long as he could remember. The dead spoke to him, and he listened.

After shutting the vehicle off—and the nice cool air as well—he opened the door and instantly regretted it. Doing his best to ignore the heat, he grabbed his laptop, slung his overnight bag over his shoulder, and walked to the house.

C.J. paused on the front walkway, admiring the beauty of the home. Not many like it still stood today. Built in the early 1900s, the two-story colonial house had survived a fire and countless storms that had battered away at the paint. But this one had endured.

Unlocking the front door, he knew the instant he entered, the claims were accurate. There definitely were spirits here.

***

Pulling into the driveway, Jessie saw the white truck and knew exactly who it belonged to. Irritated by the heat and waiting in clogged traffic for nearly an hour had put her in a less than jovial mood. Receiving a message from the realtor stating he wouldn’t be able to make it after all and would leave the keys in the mailbox had pissed her off. Slipping out of the muggy car, the warmth of the afternoon sun snapping out at her, its hot laser rays hitting her skin, she fumed.

She grabbed her overnight bag and trudged to the front porch, where the door swung open on her arrival.

Dowling, she snarled.

Jessica. What brings you out on this gloriously hot day?

I’m here on assignment.

Assigned by whom?

Danbury Realtors. The agent asked me to meet him here, but something came up and he had to cancel. He left a set of keys in the mailbox.

Hmmm, interesting. Oh, well.

"Oh, well? What do you mean by oh well?"

He brushed past her, his long stride taking him down the walk toward his truck.

Dowling? When he didn’t stop, she hurried after him. Dowling!

He pulled the box with his equipment out of the truck. Yes, Jessica?

Oh, how his calm nature annoyed her. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never witnessed him raise his voice or a hand in anger. How could one person manage to be so damn calm all the time? What do you mean, ‘oh, well?’

Just that. He waltzed up the walk, pausing on the porch. Can you get the door for me? My hands are occupied.

Growling, she pushed the door open for him then stood in the way. What are you doing?

Taking my equipment into the house.

Why?

He shifted the box. I need it to do my job. Excuse me.

Snarling, she moved aside. Today?

Yes, today. Setting his bag on the floor, he paused to glance at her. Did you cut your hair? No, wait, you highlighted it. It’s interesting, he said as he left the house.

Frowning, she touched her hair. What do you mean by interesting? She followed after him.

So, how long are you planning on staying?

It frustrated her when he ignored her question. Staying where? What was wrong with her hair? She liked it. Everyone she knew liked it.

Here. He smiled at her over his shoulder as he walked to the house.

He’d managed to fluster her, and it annoyed her. A couple of days.

Well, then, I guess we’ll be roomies. Door, please.

I’m not your fucking doorman, Dowling. Get it yourself.

You look hot. Didn’t you have the air on in your car? He gave the door a push with his hip.

It’s busted. What do you mean, ‘we’ll be roomies?’ She trailed him into the house, the door swinging shut behind her.

Setting the box beside the other, he straightened. I’ll be staying here for a few days. You should have it checked out. He ran his fingers through his hair, wiping the damp locks out of his face.

Have what checked out? And there is no way in hell you’re staying here while I’m here, Dowling. If she had to say one thing she liked about him, it would be his hair. He had a headful of sandy-blond curly hair that always shined.

The air in your car, and I will be staying here whether you like it or not. He held his hand up to silence her protest. I’m here on request of the owners; therefore, I have priority. If you don’t like it, come here another time. He lifted the box of what appeared to be video equipment and carried it from the foyer to the living room.

Aghast, she threw her arms in the air and marched after him. You have some nerve, Dowling. I’m staying, you leave.

He set the box down and faced her. Looks like you have a problem, then, because I don’t intend to leave. Now, we can stand here and argue all day, or we can come to some sort of a truce and both do our jobs.

She had no intention of leaving. Biting her lip, she nodded. Fine, but stay out of my way.

Same goes, Jessica.

It’s Jessie.

He simply grinned then focused on his equipment. So, you’re here to prove there are no ghosts, I presume?

You got it, ace, but I wouldn’t overwork your brain. You might need it later.

He took out cameras and set them up. Good luck.

With what?

Proving the lack of entities in this house.

She snorted. Not a problem, slick.

Getting to his feet, held his hand out to her. What do you say to a friendly wager, then?

Depends. What kind of wager?

I bet you can’t stay here and leave in two days still a nonbeliever.

She rolled her eyes. That’s an easy one because I’ll win. What’s the wager?

If you leave here in two days, still believing there is no such thing as ghosts, I’ll buy you dinner.

My appetite’s a little more refined than burgers, Dowling.

His brown eyes narrowed mockingly. Tacos it is.

"You’re a riot. And if