The Accused and the Damned: Book Three, the Eddie McCloskey Series (The Unearthed 3) (24 page)

“I see. And then what happened?”

Eddie shot Green a quick look, but the lawyer didn’t object. Eddie realized there was nothing he could do. He had to answer the questions.

“The boy had a psychotic episode and tried to kill his adoptive family.”

A murmur rippled through the courtroom. Spencer left his briefcase open but moved away from his table.

“Did you follow protocol during that investigation?”

“I did.”

Spencer frowned. “You did?”

“Yes.”

A paper slid off Spencer’s table and fell to the floor. The DA ignored it and approached Eddie.

“Didn’t you become aggressive toward the ghost?”

Eddie saw Green begin to scribble notes. “The current homeowners of the haunted residence were in apparent danger. Their son had become increasingly erratic and was threatening violence. It was no longer an investigation. It had devolved into a life-or-death situation. We acted quickly.”

“But against your brother’s advice, correct?”

“There was no time for a meeting. Someone was going to die so I had to act.”

“Was that a yes?”

Eddie gritted his teeth. “Yes.”

“How did you provoke the spirit?”

“I talked to it.”

“What did you say?”

“I don’t remember exactly. But I was angry. We were all on edge.”

Spencer marched to his desk and reached into the briefcase. Eddie finally saw what he’d brought with him. It was a copy of
The Unearthed
, a non-fiction account of that fateful investigation where his brother died. A local author, Evan Ronan, had penned it.

“Your Honor, I’d like to have the witness read a passage from this book.”

The judge asked the usual questions first. Green objected but the judge told him to sit down again.

“Can you explain to the jury what that book is?”

Eddie did.

Spencer held the book out to Eddie. “Would you turn to page three hundred and sixteen and read the highlighted passage?”

Eddie opened the book. He’d read it himself dozens of times so he knew it by heart. And he knew what was on page three hundred and sixteen.

“Mr. McCloskey, would you read the highlighted passages to the jury?” The DA was trying hard not to smile.

“This thing talking to you—he’s a loser…This thing is psycho…Do something, asshole…Wow, that’s really scary…I know who you are. You’re just a sick, pathetic asshole. That’s all you are and all you’ll ever be.”

“Those passages you just read, who was saying those words?”

“I was.”

The jury watched him with suspicious eyes. The hasty words spoken during a crisis all those years ago painted a nasty picture of him.

“Is talking to a spirit in that manner part of protocol?”

“It isn’t.”

“And yet you did?”

“It was an emergency. The kid had a knife and was ready to stab his father.”

“And then, less than two hours later, Eamon Moriarty had a psychotic break, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“So your words sent him over the edge?”

How many times had Eddie asked himself that question? Too many to count. Had he pushed Eamon to the psychological breaking point? If he had, wasn’t he indirectly responsible for his own brother’s murder?

Eddie said, “That’s impossible to know.”

“Well, what else happened between the time you spoke those words and Eamon Moriarty tried to kill his family?”

“Your Honor!” Green shot up. “Mr. McCloskey is not on trial here.”

“Overruled. Answer the question.”

“Any number of things could have happened. Eamon Moriarty was not well. He was psychologically troubled. His aunt or uncle could have looked at him funny and he might have snapped. We don’t know. We’ll never know.”

“You and your brother argued about how to proceed during the entire investigation, isn’t that right?”

“Not the whole time.”

“And despite his seniority and his admittedly better understanding of the paranormal, you disregarded his orders and failed to follow standard protocol?”

“Yes.”

“And the prevailing theory is that ultimately, following your break from protocol, the spirit departed the residence and returned to its host, correct?”

Eddie fought the tears. “That is the theory.”

The DA shook his head. “So you failed to follow orders, you broke with well-established protocol, and then Eamon Moriarty went on a killing spree, didn’t he?”

“That’s all true.”

“And your brother died as a result of this, right?”

“Was murdered is a better way to describe it.”

“All of this could have been avoided if you’d followed your brother’s orders, couldn’t it have?”

“Objection!”

“The witness will answer.”

Now Eddie was seeing red. “No one will ever know that.”

Spencer hardly paused. “You and Mr. Ketcher have a mutual friend, isn’t that right?”

“Yes. Giles Tyson.”

A few members of the jury shared a look. Eddie could feel the case slipping through their fingers like sand.

“How do you know Mr. Tyson?”

“He worked on my brother’s team off and on for a few years.”

“I see. So how long have you known Mr. Tyson?”

“About ten years.”

“Would you say you’re good friends with Mr. Tyson?”

He and Green had anticipated this line of questioning. Eddie knew not to hesitate in answering. “Yes.”

“Why did Mr. Tyson cease to work with your brother’s team?”

“There were a number of factors. But mostly he and my brother differed philosophically when it came to paranormal investigation.”

“Did your brother ever remove you from his team?”

Tim had never actually fired Eddie. But his considering it was a fact that ran throughout the book Spencer had in his possession. Eddie couldn’t twist the truth.

“He considered it but he never did.”

“What changed his mind?”

“I don’t know.”

“Didn’t the fact that Mr. Tyson spoke out for you have something to do with it?”

“I’m sure it did. Though the decision was ultimately my brother’s.”

“Didn’t Mr. Tyson bail you out of jail once too, when your brother wouldn’t?”

“Yes, that’s true.”

The DA spread his arms. “And now you’re here, speaking on behalf of Mr. Ketcher, whose last remaining good friend in this world just happens to be Mr. Tyson?”

This was going about as well as the charge of the light brigade.

Eddie shrugged, downplaying the fact as much as he could. “It’s no secret I’m friends with Mr. Tyson or that he’s friends with Mr. Ketcher.”

The lights flickered again, like they had during Gracie’s testimony.

“And you’re here now, solely out of the kindness of your heart, in pursuit of the truth, is that right?”

“In pursuit of the truth, yes.”

“The fact that Mr. Tyson once bailed you out of jail and later fought to keep you part of your brother’s team has nothing to do with it?”

“That’s what brought me here,” Eddie said. “But the truth is what keeps me here.”

“So you admit an initial bias?”

“I admit a loyalty. Last I checked that was an admirable quality.”

One of the jurors smiled. Maybe there was still hope.

“Loyalty?” The DA’s eyes went wide with skepticism. “And hasn’t your loyalty to Mr. Tyson influenced your findings?”

Eddie shook his head. “No. Before I took this case on, I told Mr. Green and Mr. Tyson my terms.”

“And those were?”

“That whatever I found, good, bad, indifferent, would get turned over to you. Far as I’m concerned, my debt to Mr. Tyson is repaid by investigating these claims, not by getting Mr. Ketcher acquitted.”

The DA continued. “Mr. McCloskey. Let’s go back to this case then. To summarize, this chain of so-called logic you offered to the Court is supposition built on supposition built on supposition, is it not?”

Eddie choked back his anger and saw an opening. “Similar to your expert’s presentation, yes. And I didn’t present my findings as anything but, counselor. I believe the question of who killed Mrs. Ketcher can only be determined by the jury. But you’re the lawyer, not me.”

The DA looked ready to implode. He opened his mouth to speak but suddenly the lights in the courtroom went out. Someone in the jury gasped. Heads turned, people stood up, the judge rapped his gavel.

“Order, order. Bailiff, would you—”

The lights began flickering. Eddie felt the familiar tingling along his skin. That fuzzy feeling on the back of his neck.

Something was there.

One moment, Eddie had that mildly unpleasant feeling of a weak electrical current across his skin. The next—

All hell broke loose.

The windows above the jury box shattered. Glass rained on the jury as the members scrambled to get out of the box.

“Get everybody out of here!” Eddie yelled. He wasn’t following some long-learned protocol. He was just doing the first thing that came to mind.

Eddie met the DA in front of the jury box and together they helped a middle-aged woman over the banister and onto her feet. Anson fought with Green to help the jury, but the old lawyer held him back and shouted at him about being a target.

“What the fuck is this, McCloskey?” the DA shouted. “If I find out this was you—”

“It’s not me, asshole. Now get these people out of here.”

Past the bar, Gracie Barbitok spoke into a microphone in front of her cameraman. The audience and members of the jury hurried to the back of the room, where Detective Ross leaned against the double doors and had his gun out. Ross threw himself against the wood but the doors didn’t budge.

“We need to get everybody out of here!” Eddie yelled again.

There was an awful, cavernous groan.

Eddie whirled and saw nothing except Gracie, still speaking into the camera, as the judge and bailiff tried to coax her down the aisle.

“Gracie! Get out of here!” he yelled.

She looked past her cameraman at him. The cameraman began to turn so he could film everybody else. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she was thinking about her show and the potential special.

Then Gracie’s eyes went wide and she screamed.

She fell backward into the aisle. Before anyone could react, she was dragged away, back toward the bench and witness stand. She flailed her arms to gain purchase on something but couldn’t stop herself from sliding across the floor.

Eddie started running toward her, not sure what he could do.

Gracie reached behind her like she was trying to break the hold of an invisible man. The maneuver was useless. Eddie was too far away to help.

The back of her head collided with the wooden panel fronting the judge’s bench. He heard the sickening thud of bone on wood as he raced forward.

Gracie slumped down, unconscious.

He was still ten feet away.

With her eyes closed, Gracie’s chin lifted off her chest. The icy-hot feeling of nausea hit Eddie’s stomach as he realized the ghost was going to snap her neck.

He knew it was suicide but when he was close enough, he threw himself on top of Gracie. He didn’t know what else to do except grab her head and try to keep it in place. He felt some unseen force strain against his hold.

“NO! Please!” he yelled. “Please don’t!”

He was at the mercy of the ghost. There was nothing preventing it from turning its violence on him. He was as much a target as she was.

“Don’t. Please don’t!”

Slowly, the tension went out of Gracie’s neck until only Eddie was holding her head up. He held that pose, afraid the ghost would return to finish the deed. Finally, the lights in the courtroom came back on.

“Gracie, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

Her eyes fluttered open. She couldn’t focus on him and her pupils were different sizes.

“Somebody call an ambulance! She might have a concussion!”

Ross was already on his cell phone, calling it in.

The remaining members of the courtroom—including the jury—watched him in stunned silence.

And when the initial shock of the encounter had passed he realized Anson Ketcher would probably go free.

* * * *

The paramedics took a confused Gracie Barbitok away fifteen minutes later. Green and Anson had retreated into a client conference room while the court remained adjourned. Eddie followed Gracie’s stretcher out into the hot August afternoon and watched the ambulance pull away.

Giles was standing outside. “What the hell happened? I saw the ambulance and…”

“Poltergeist,” Eddie said. He didn’t know how else to explain it. “It grabbed Gracie and was getting ready to snap her neck.”

“Dear lord.” Giles looked away. “Is she okay?”

“She hit her head pretty hard.”

Giles said nothing.

Eddie shook his head.

“What?”

The attack was bothering him for some reason but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “Limited geography.”

“I don’t follow,” Giles said.

“Forget it.”

Giles put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Come over tonight, pal. Let’s sit down to a quiet meal and share old war stories. You’ve done all you can here.”

Eddie looked behind him. “The DA isn’t finished crossing me, I have to meet with Green…” He really needed a few minutes to sort this out. Why the hell had the ghost of Mary Oliver attacked Gracie Barbitok? For suggesting she wasn’t responsible for Alice’s death? That made zero sense in a case that made zero sense.

And if it wasn’t Mary Oliver’s ghost, why had some other spirit attacked Gracie?

“Eddie, you’re in shock. You need to go for a walk, clear your head. I’ll be home tonight. I do hope you’ll visit.”

Giles patted his shoulder and headed for his car. Ross appeared at Eddie’s side. His tie was loose and he gave Eddie a bemused look.

“You ever see anything like that?” the detective asked.

“No.”

“How about him?” Ross nodded in Giles’s direction as Eddie’s friend walked through the parking lot across the street.

“I don’t think anybody’s seen anything like that, except maybe Anson.”

Ross rolled his eyes.

“Detective, what the hell do you think just happened in there? That we used invisible wires and pulled Gracie down that aisle?”

Ross had a strange look on his face and didn’t seem to hear Eddie. He was still looking across the street, watching the parking lot.

“Something wrong, detective?”

It took Ross a moment to answer. “I don’t know what the hell happened in there, Mr. McCloskey.”

Without saying another word, Ross walked away.