The Accused and the Damned: Book Three, the Eddie McCloskey Series (The Unearthed 3) (26 page)

“Or she could have told Alice she didn’t feel comfortable sharing that information with her and that Alice needed to seek the services of an expert like you. Going to the Madam only made things worse.”

What she’d just said struck a dissonant chord with Eddie. He’d had the same thought the other day. 

“But things didn’t get worse after Alice went to the psychic…”

She gave him a funny look. “How didn’t they?”

The whole picture flashed in his mind briefly, then disappeared. He just needed to latch onto that thought again and maybe it would come back. Things didn’t just get worse after Alice went to the psychic—

“The visits didn’t change much after Alice went to the psychic, but they got worse and more frequent after Giles visited.”

She didn’t speak. She was letting him work it out.

The visits became more frequent after Giles showed up. Alice had tried channeling and this worked only temporarily. The spirit dissipated but would return and grow more agitated. This chain of events led to Alice possibly trying to reverse possess the spirit—

Then he had it.

“Shit.”

“What?”

“What’s Ross’s phone number?”             

* * * *

Ross pulled through the cemetery. He passed the plot for one of the old-timers on the force, whom they’d buried a few months ago, on his way to Giles’s place.

He parked outside the garage sideways in front of both bays. It was an old trick. In case Giles was their man and he tried to run, Ross’s car was now blocking the way.

The bays were open. Giles’s cars were parked inside. Billy parked his cruiser behind Ross. Ross jumped out of the car and met Billy in the driveway.

“Okay. Remember what I said. Good acting is just believing what you’re saying.”

Billy was about to answer but he’d looked over Ross’s shoulder and his eyes had caught something.

“What?” Ross said.

“I don’t have to act.”

“What do you mean?”

Billy bobbed his head toward the garage. “Because I think that’s the car that almost hit me head-on that night.”

Ross turned. “The hybrid?”

“It looks like a wagon and it’s familiar.”

Ross felt the thrill of the hunt coming back to him. They were onto something. He’d decided to take a flyer and bluff Giles. Maybe now it wasn’t so much a bluff.

“How sure are you?”

“I wouldn’t swear to it in court because it was dark and I haven’t thought about the vehicle much since. But damn it sure looks like it.”

Ross smiled. “Follow my lead. You’re a natural, kid.”

“You really think Giles had something to do with this?”

“All I know is the defense’s story has holes in it and Anson, if we can believe him, was passed out when Alice was murdered. So maybe.”

It took Giles a long time to answer the door. He gave them both a surprised look. “Gentlemen.”

“Hey, Giles,” Ross said like they were old buddies. “Mind if we come in for a minute? It’s hot out here.”

Giles didn’t hesitate. “Please do.”

Ross stepped inside and his first thought was the place would make a great haunted house attraction. It was old, big, filled with antiques and grandfather clocks and doors. And dark. Not too much natural light in the foyer or in the hallways.

Giles led them to a study.

“Can I get you both something to drink?”

Ross smiled. “Water for me.”

“Same. Thanks,” Billy said.

Giles disappeared. The furnishings reminded Ross of one of those old Hammer horror movies. He could picture Vincent Price or Christopher Lee or Peter Cushing sitting in the high-backed armchair, a pipe or a drink in hand, while outside the wind howled and the darkness gathered and death lurked.

Ross surveyed the bookshelves and indeed found many of the old Gothic stories. Giles had several volumes of Poe in one row and a very old edition of Frankenstein.

Books filled the shelves and covered the tables in the room. A few were open on the secretary. Ross nudged some papers out of the way to see what Giles was reading. He discovered an old volume, its bindings coming apart. It was open to a page about the Wheeler Courthouse. A passage about how many had been convicted and sentenced to hanging or some other form of death.

“Creepy place,” Billy said.

Ross nodded. “Creepy guy too.”

Seconds later, the door opened and Giles appeared with a tray. He set it down and poured three glasses of water from the pitcher.

Ross took a glass. “Thank you.”

Giles handed one to Billy and took a sip out of his. “Now to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Ross gestured around the room. “Got any more suggestions for an avid reader such as myself?”

Giles forced a smile. “I don’t think I gave you any the other night.”

Ross took a sip and let an uncomfortable silence grow. He didn’t know where this was going but he was going to play the flyer because they had nothing to lose. Anson had been acquitted and they had nothing else to go on concerning Alice’s death.

Billy positioned himself by the door so they had triangulated with Giles.

Ross said, “Why were you out by the Ketcher place the night Alice died?”

Giles hesitated, just a little too long. Strike one.

“I’m sorry?”

Ross nodded at Billy. “He took the call from 911 dispatch. He was closest to the house at the time. He was sitting in that speed trap on Farrelly.”

Giles looked over his shoulder at Billy.

Billy nodded. “I shot out of that trap and almost got plowed by another car that had crossed the centerline.”

Ross watched as Giles went deadly still. Nobody stood that rigid naturally. Only the people putting on an act.

Billy continued. “Because of what Anson was claiming we didn’t follow up on the car. Didn’t seem to be connected. But then I saw your car today. At the courthouse.”

Ross smiled inwardly. Billy had played it to perfection.

Giles turned back to Ross. “Honestly, detective, that was almost two months ago. I couldn’t tell you where I was that night.”

Strike two. Alice’s death was a big deal. It would stick out in any local’s mind, especially Giles, who was good friends with Anson. Giles would have remembered where he was and what he was doing when he found out Alice Ketcher had been killed, which was only a couple hours after the fact when Anson called him from jail. Life-changing memory came with context. Ross still remembered where he was when 9/11 happened or when his father had called from the hospital with bad news about his mother eight years ago.

Giles sipped his water and moved toward the bookcase like he was deep in thought. Ross hadn’t seen any weapons around but all the same he put his shooting hand in the pocket of his blazer, where he’d stashed his gun for this visit. Just in case.

“Let me think…I was home that evening when Anson called me. So I can’t remember specifically but I don’t remember being anywhere near his house. And I think I would have remembered almost being in a car accident the same night.”

Ross stretched the silence. Billy stayed by the door, his thumbs fed through his belt loops.

Ross said, “Any reason why you might be out that way?”

“I can’t think of any other than to see Anson.”

Ross’s cell buzzed. It was Becky Thieler. She was off-duty so he didn’t know why she’d be calling. And it was a good time to let up on the questions for a moment so Giles could think about things.

He smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Giles, I have to take this.”

“Go right ahead.”

“Excuse me.” Ross felt Giles’s eyes track him the whole way out of the study. He gave Billy a knowing look that Giles couldn’t see before he closed the door behind him. In the hallway he got the creepy feeling he wasn’t alone. He went about twenty feet so he was out of earshot.

“What’s up, Becky?”

“Ross, it’s Eddie McCloskey. We need to talk.”

Ross would have hung up but the urgency in Eddie’s voice made him listen. “This better be good.”

“I think Giles killed Alice.”

Strike three. You’re out, Mr. Tyson.

Giles had probably lied twice to Ross and now Eddie McCloskey had the same suspicions about the disgraced paranormal investigator. Ross didn’t believe in coincidence. No cop did.

Ross told him to hold on and went back to listen at the door to the study. Giles and Billy weren’t talking. He couldn’t hear anything. He switched hands with his phone and drew his piece and flicked the safety off. Better safe than sorry.

“Ross, you there?”

Ross lowered his voice. “Why do you think that?”

“It’s too long to explain. Can you meet us there? We’ll bring the troops.”

“I’m already here with Billy.”

“Shit. If he knows you suspect him, he’ll kill you. Get the hell out of there right now.”

Ross put his ear to the door and heard nothing. Then he peered up and down the hallway. “Give me the executive summary.”

On the phone, Ross heard a car start.

Eddie said, “Giles figured out reverse possession. He was doing it to Mrs. Oliver’s spirit. That’s why the ghost’s behavior changed and became erratic. When a ghost possesses you, they know you in a complete way. I assume the same happens for reverse possession. Alice tried that on Mrs. Oliver the same time Giles was. When channeling or possessing a spirit you know everything about them. Giles must have feared Alice would know what he was doing, that he was reverse-possessing the ghost to create activity that he would later investigate and validate. He had to kill her to shut her up. This was his last chance to resurrect his career. If Alice exposed him doing this, he was totally finished. He didn’t plan to kill her, but when it was possible he’d been discovered he had to call an audible. He killed her using Mrs. Oliver’s spirit so the truth wouldn’t get out.”

Ross thought he heard something behind him. He whirled, gun out in front of him. Nobody was there.

“You’re not making any sense.”

“Giles is highly trained in mixed martial arts. He’s more likely to know how to break someone’s neck than Mrs. Oliver was. And he’s left-handed.”

Ross got that feeling on the back of his neck. Some primitive part of him intuited that he was in immediate danger. Time to act. As a cop, your number one prerogative in a bad situation was to take control of it.

“Tell Becky to call it in now,” Ross said.

He killed the call and put his phone away so both hands were free and pushed open the door to the study with his gun out.

“Hands up, Giles!”

But Giles wasn’t there. Billy was passed out on his back on the floor. Ross hurried over, checked the kid’s vitals. Breathing okay. Good pulse. An angry red mark near one temple.

Ross smacked Billy’s cheek. “Wake up, kid.”

Billy came to, slowly at first then almost at once. “Son of a bitch…”

Ross helped Billy to his feet. Billy was a little wobbly. Put a hand to his head where he’d been hit.

“He didn’t take your gun,” Ross said. “He didn’t kill you, either.”

Billy drew his piece. “His mistake.”

Becky was driving when she called it in. Dispatch confirmed they’d send all available units.

Eddie said, “Got an extra gun on you?”

“Civilians and guns are like oil and water.” Becky cut the wheel and they zoomed around a corner.

“That’s the liberal media confusing you.”

She shook her head. “We’ll get there and set up a perimeter.”

“No. I have to get inside. Nobody else can go in without me.”

Becky floored it. “Why?”

“Two reasons. First, if Giles is capable of reverse-possession you need a ghost hunter in there or you’re dead. Second, because Giles used me. That’s what this was about the whole time. He needed me on the stand so he could pull the strings behind the scenes and do his thing. He planned to put on that show for the jury, but he knew he couldn’t do it if he was in the box like me. I have a feeling he can’t multitask too well when he’s going Beelzebub on some spirit.”

“Your first reason makes sense. Your second is just personal.”

Eddie couldn’t argue with that. “I don’t like being somebody else’s pawn, wittingly or unwittingly.”

“This still doesn’t make sense.”

“We’re pretty sure ghosts are geographically limited,” Eddie said. “So if that’s true, why would some ghost
other
than Mrs. Oliver attack Gracie Barbitok in the courthouse? And why was it prepared to kill her?”

“You tell me.”

“Because it was Giles. He’d been doing research on the Wheeler Courthouse, fuck, right in front of everybody. He had all those books out on the courthouse and the county, he didn’t bat an eye when I looked at them. He reverse possessed some ghost in the courthouse and put on that show for the jury so Anson would be acquitted, and Gracie was the icing on the cake. He would have killed her if I hadn’t stepped in.”

Becky hit the steering wheel with the heel of her palm. “Giles burned the Ketcher house down!”

“Yeah. Once I elicited that response from Mary Oliver, Giles feared the ghost would be able to tell everybody about him. He had to burn the place to the ground to protect himself.”

“But why take the chance and let you contact Mrs. Oliver at all?”

Eddie took out his phone. “Guilt. He didn’t want to see his best friend convicted. And he was probably there, trying to control Mrs. Oliver’s spirit anyway. When that didn’t work out, he had to burn the place down. My theory is that the ghost’s erratic behavior was a result of Giles possessing and Alice trying to channel it at the same time.”

“Who are you calling?”

Eddie fished the business card out of his wallet. “We need some expert advice.”

“Not her of all people.”

Eddie dialed the number. “How far are we?”

“Three minutes.”

“It’s going to be a photo finish then.”

On the phone, the young receptionist answered. “Ms. Magloin’s office.”

“Stacy, this is Eddie McCloskey. I need to speak with the Madam right now. I don’t care what she’s doing, you interrupt her and tell her it’s life or death.”

Ten seconds later, the Madam was on the line.

“I need your help.”

“Why should I help you?”

“Because that’s what you supposedly do. Help people. And if you don’t, now’s the fucking time to start. We know who killed Alice and we need your help to catch the killer.”

No hesitation. “What can I do?”

Eddie explained where they were going and why. “Giles’s house is a fucking maze. We’ll need your Eye to find him.”

* * * *

Ross and Billy backtracked to the garage. Giles’s first instinct would be to get to his car.

They burst through the door and found Giles poking his head out of the bays, looking at their vehicles blocking him in. Ross smiled.

“Don’t move. Hands up.”

Ross had his piece leveled on Giles. Billy too. Billy went right and Ross went left. They came at Giles from his forty-fives.

“Please don’t shoot.” Giles slowly put his hands up. His arms were trembling. His voice fragile. “I don’t want to hurt either of you.”

Ross frowned at the non-sequitur. They had the guns, they had the power. Giles was unarmed. He recalled what Eddie had just told him, especially the bit about Giles having martial arts training. Why had Eddie been so scared for Ross?

“On your knees. Hands on the back of your head.”

Giles held his palms out. “Please, don’t. Please.”

“On your knees now!”

Giles dropped to his knees and closed his eyes. “Please don’t.”

“Shut up!” Ross kept his gun on Giles. Billy had his sidearm still out and approached Giles cautiously, rounding behind him.

“Please…”

“Shut up!” Ross closed the distance between him and Giles but didn’t get too close. He angled himself so his line of sight didn’t threaten Billy as the other cop approached Giles from the rear.

“Face-down, on the ground. Now!” Billy said.

Giles’s mouth moved but no words came out. Tears streaked his face. He’d taken on a ghostly pallor.

“ON. THE. GROUND.” Billy was five feet behind Giles and shot Ross a look. Ross nodded, letting him know it was his play.

Billy took a step forward and kicked Giles in the middle of the back. Not hard, just enough to topple the disgraced paranormal investigator. Giles face-planted on the concrete. But he didn’t give any indication of pain.

Billy moved quickly while Ross kept his gun on Giles. The younger cop safetied and holstered his gun and dug his knee into Giles’s back, pinning him to the floor of the garage. In the distance, Ross heard the first siren. He estimated the car was a mile out. Maybe closer.

Billy grabbed one of Giles’s wrists and was about to put the handcuff on when Ross was hit in the chest.

The blow wasn’t forceful but he wasn’t prepared for it so it sent him spiraling into the hybrid. He had no idea who’d hit him but he searched the garage for somebody else.

“Ross?” Billy said.

Another shove. Not hard, but Ross hit the back of the head on the hybrid and slumped to the ground.

* * * *

Billy had his knee in Giles’s back. Giles’s wrist had gone unnaturally cold in his hand. Then Ross was knocked into the hybrid and a moment later went down hard.

Billy didn’t see anybody else in the garage and knew immediately they were dealing with something supernatural, though he didn’t understand what was happening. But Ross being flung into the car proved too much a distraction.

Giles suddenly tensed under Billy, like he’d gotten all his strength back and then some. He rolled and Billy felt his own knee go one way while his body went another. There was a tiny pop behind his knee cap that went nuclear a second later.

He went down, clutched his knee. Giles disarmed him. Through the excruciating pain, Billy looked up. Giles towered over him, the gun hanging at his side, barrel pointed at the ground. Giles caught somewhere in the quicksand of indecision.

His knee hurt so much. “Put the…gun down.”

Giles didn’t respond. Just looked through him, a million miles away.

“Put it down, asshole. Don’t make it worse for yourself.”

Giles still didn’t respond. He examined the gun like it was a foreign object.

Billy saw an opportunity there. He gritted his teeth against the pain and swung his good leg around. Giles easily avoided the sweep and now the gun was aimed ambiguously, on the floor near Billy’s head.

Giles seemed to come back to the moment. “Please, Billy. Just don’t move.”

Then there was a gunshot.

* * * *

Ross was dazed but not down for the count. His head hurt and he probably had a concussion, but he was still vertical. And that was all that mattered. That and the fact that Giles Tyson was aiming a weapon at a fellow officer.

He drew his gun. It had been three years since he’d last drawn his weapon. It had been closer to six since he’d had to fire it and almost eight since he’d actually shot anyone. He was a good shot, kept up with practice, but his vision was playing tricks on him.

He brought the gun to bear. Aimed. Giles didn’t have Billy in his sights. Shoot first, ask questions later when it came to protecting a fellow officer.

He couldn’t keep his hands steady. The world was half a blur. He couldn’t tell if Giles was standing still or not. He fired when he thought he had Giles dead to rights.

He missed.

Giles whirled. Pulled the trigger.

Ross saw it happening. Felt it a second later. Something punched him in the midsection. Then the punch turned into a sharp pain that spread through his chest.

Giles fired again.

Ross went down. The gun beat him to the concrete. He flopped on the ground. There was blood everywhere.

In the distance, Ross heard the first siren. He knew it was too far away to be of any use to him.

* * * *

They were close now. Becky had activated the siren. 

Eddie said, “Nobody else can go near that house without me. Tell them to set up a perimeter.”

Becky shot him a look. “How do I explain this?”

“You don’t. No time. Just tell them they’ll die if they don’t.”

“That won’t work.”

Eddie dropped it. “It’s also time for the bad news.”

Becky took her eyes off the road for a moment. “There’s more?”

Eddie waited for her to make the last turn. They were a minute out.

“You going to tell me?” she said.

The wrought-iron fence began as they sped along the street. The grave markers stood crooked two hundreds yard ahead. In the distance, Eddie could just make out Giles’s house.

“You’re looking at the bad news.”

“What?” She took her foot off the gas pedal.

“No. Don’t slow down. Drive into his fucking house.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re about to go through a cemetery.” Eddie shook his head. “This is where Giles got his start before he went to work on Mrs. Oliver. Plenty of spirits around here to practice reverse possession on.”

She looked over at him. “You’re kidding.”

“Time to be a hero, officer.”

Becky hit the gas and the fence posts whipped by as Giles’s house grew in the twilight. It would be full dark in an hour.

“Hang on, D’Artagnan,” she said.

“I think you’re enjoying this too much.”

“I finally get to be a cop.”

She cut the wheel and nudged the brake and did a video game slide through the cemetery gates. With some quick maneuvering, she righted the car and zipped down the narrow lane.

In the distance, Eddie heard more sirens. The cavalry on its way.

Becky drove dangerously fast through the cemetery. The path forked ahead in front of a private mausoleum. Eddie felt that fuzzy sensation again, like low-current electricity was running across his skin.

Becky’s hands tightened on the steering wheel and her arms went stiff. “I can’t turn the wheel!”

Eddie latched onto the steering wheel and peered through the windshield. If they didn’t turn they’d crash head-on into the mausoleum.

“Left or right?”

“Right!”

Eddie pulled. With their combined strength, the wheel started to turn, slowly at first, then abruptly as if the antagonistic force had let go.

The car jerked and they made the turn with no room to spare. A tree limb took off the driver’s side mirror. The belt snapped against Eddie’s ribs as he was thrown toward Becky.

“It’s got the wheel again!”

Becky’s arms were locked as she fought to steer the car. It was too late to avoid a collision with a row of markers along the passenger side of the road.

‘“Hit the brakes and bail!” Eddie shouted.

She did. Eddie was thrown against the seat belt. He unhooked the belt, threw open the door, and fell out of the car moments before collision. He went into a bone-crunching roll as the car plowed into a marker and careened into a tree.

The sirens in the distance brought him out of his daze. He realized he was on his side in the street, his hip on fire.

“Becky!”

He slowly picked himself up. His hip burned and his hands were raw.

“Becky!”

“I’m okay.”

His vision focused and she came into view. She was lying on the other side of the road, one knee in the air.

“We need to keep moving.”

He helped her up and they started running. Every step sent a jarring sliver of pain from his hip into his leg. One hundred yards to the house. Eddie didn’t know what else to do other than zigzag.

“Don’t run in a straight line.”

They separated and ran crooked and took unpredictable turns through the cemetery. Eddie whipped around the columns of tombstones. The chorus of sirens screamed as the other cops closed in. Eddie looked over his shoulder and saw one car was in the cemetery now.