Ghost Hunter Page 6

  Cassidy blinked. “A witch or a demi-demon? You’re joking, right?”

  Trace turned gold eyes on her and for a moment she thought he was going to actually give her a straight answer without all the sarcasm that usually came with it. But then his jaw tightened and he looked away.

  “It’s been a long night and we’re all wiped out. Let’s head back,” he said quietly. “We’ll stop at a diner and grab dinner on the way. I’m buying.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply, but instead slammed the back door of the Hummer and walked around to the front, leaving Cassidy and the others to follow. She had the sinking feeling Trace hadn’t been joking about witches or demi-demons existing and after the ghost encounter she’d had, she wasn’t foolish enough to discount the possibility other equally nasty things existed, too. Unfortunately, neither Trace nor anyone else seemed to want to talk about it.

  Giving the old Victorian house one last look over her shoulder, Cassidy climbed in the backseat of the Hummer with Bella and Robert. As they drove toward town, she kept replaying what had happened down in that basement over and over in her head. She thought haunted houses and ghosts were stories made up to frighten children, but tonight she’d learned the hard way they were all too real. To think she’d thought they were making the whole thing up. She’d never felt more stupid and naïve in her life. She’d been completely wrong about everything. No wonder Trace didn’t have any patience for people like her.

  Even though it was well after dinnertime, the diner they went to was surprisingly crowded and they were lucky to find a booth in the back big enough for all of them. Cassidy hadn’t been hungry back at the house when Trace first suggested grabbing something to eat, but as soon as the smell of food hit her nose, she realized she was starving. Apparently, adrenaline surges could make a person hungry.

  While she waited for the waitress to bring their meals, Cassidy sipped her iced tea and wondered how to get Trace and Wes to talk about what had happened back at the house. To her surprise, Trace brought up the subject himself.

  “What kind of encounter did you have with the ghost before I got there?”

  It was Robert who answered. “We were checking out the laundry room when we got a reading on the EMF meter. Then we hit a cold spot and the next thing we know, there’s a ghost standing there ironing clothes.”

  Wes frowned. “That bastard was ironing clothes?”

  Bella gave him an exasperated look. “No. It was a female ghost. She was ironing clothes when he showed up.”

  “What happened then?” Trace asked as the waitress set their plates down on the table.

  Bella waited until the waitress left before answering. “He started yelling at the woman.”

  Trace looked up from pouring ketchup on his fries. “You could hear them?”

  “No, but it’s obvious that’s what he was doing.”

  Cassidy picked up her spoon and dipped it into the bowl of soup she’d ordered. “It was horrible to watch. The poor woman was so terrified of him. Then he picked up the iron and…” She shuddered at the memory. “I know Robert said they’re residual energy, but I couldn’t stand there and do nothing while he burned her or beat her or whatever it was he planned to with the thing, so I picked up a mop and hit him with it.”

  Trace paused with his burger halfway to his mouth and gave her an incredulous look. “You hit him?”

  She nodded. “It went right through him, but I thought it would interrupt the loop they were in.”

  “That would explain why he came after you guys,” Wes remarked. “You pissed him off.”

  “It wasn’t after Bella and me,” Robert said. “That thing wanted Cassidy. It passed through us fine, but every time it got close to her, it zapped her.”

  Trace frowned and looked at Cassidy. “What do you mean, it zapped you?”

  Cassidy shrugged. “It gave me a jolt, like I put my finger in an electrical socket.”

  At her words, Trace and Wes exchanged those enigmatic looks of theirs, but said nothing.

  “Have you ever heard of anything like that before?” Robert prompted.

  Both men shook their heads.

  “How was it even possible for him to make physical contact with Cassidy?” Bella asked. “That’s not normal, is it?”

  Trace shook his head. “No.” He regarded Cassidy for a moment. “Maybe you have a connection to the other side you don’t know about. Maybe you’re a medium.”

  The words sent a chill down Cassidy’s back. The doctors at the hospital had told her she’d died twice on the night of Del Vecchio’s attack, once in her apartment with the EMTs and once in the operating room. She didn’t know if that was the kind of connection Trace was talking about, but she thought it might make for a good one. She didn’t say anything, though. If Trace could be secretive about his personal life, then so could she.

  Keenly aware of everyone at the table looking at her, she picked up a cracker and dipped it into her soup.

  “Maybe it has nothing to do with a connection to the other side,” Wes said. “Maybe the ghost thought Cassidy was pretty and was trying to be charming. Maybe he has a thing for women with long, blonde hair. Maybe he got his social skills from the same place Trace did.”

  Trace gave him a sour look, but said nothing.

  Cassidy suspected that was Wes’ way of trying to keep her from freaking out and would have laughed if she hadn’t been so unnerved by what he said. “That thing won’t follow me home, will it?”

  Trace shook his head. “No. Almost all ghosts tend to stay in the place that held greatest meaning for them.”

  “Except for that one out in Ohio,” Wes said. He dunked a few fries in the pile of ketchup to one side of his plate. “You remember him, the one that showed up everywhere that stupid antique mirror went?”

  Trace thought a moment, then nodded. “Oh yeah. And how about that one in Minneapolis that followed the thief who stole that jeweled pendant?”

  Wes made a face. “Yeah, that one was messy.”

  Cassidy’s brow furrowed. “You two aren’t making me feel any better, you know.”

  Wes gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry. But unlike those ghosts, the one back there clearly seems attached to the house. If we thought the ghost would follow you, we’d give you twenty-four-hour protection until we got rid of it for good.”

  Cassidy was surprised at that. She didn’t know ghost hunters provided that service. But then she got the feeling Trace and Wes weren’t the average run-of-the-mill ghost hunters.

  She dipped another cracker in her soup and nibbled on it. “How do you go about getting rid of the ghost for good since the herbs and salt didn’t work?”

  Trace wiped his mouth with a napkin. “We’re not completely sure our methods didn’t work, though you’re probably right. The next step is to get a priest in there to do an exorcism.”

  “They actually do that?”

  “Some of the older ones,” he said. “Wes and I have a few we’ve worked with before.”

  Yet another tidbit of Ghost Hunting 101 she needed to remember to include in her book. Remembering her story made her think of another question she wanted to ask. “What was up with the shotgun? I didn’t know you could shoot ghosts.”

  “You can’t, at least not with regular shotgun shells,” Trace said. “Ours are filled with a mixture of rock salt and hematite. Ghosts hate salt of any kind and the iron in the hematite screws up the electromagnetic field the ghost is made up of.”

  She nodded. “Huh. How’d you figure that out?”

  He shrugged. “Just something we picked up along the way.”

  Cassidy was surprised Trace was being so forthcoming. Since he was in such a sharing mood, she figured she’d ask him some more general stuff about ghost hunting. While he didn’t reveal anything about his personal life, he at least answered her questions without being his usual sarcastic self.

  By the time they left the diner, it was after nine and they still had a two-hour ride back to Sleepy
Hollow. Even though it was late when they finally pulled the Hummer into the garage, Cassidy stayed to help them unload everything.

  “You’re still coming by tomorrow, right?” Bella asked after they’d finished.

  Cassidy nodded as she dug in her purse for her keys. “I was. If that’s okay, I mean.” She glanced over at Trace to see what his reaction was, but he was busy over by the storage lockers and didn’t even look as if he’d heard her.

  “Sure it is.” Bella grinned. “Besides, you paid for a whole weekend of ghost hunting.”

  Cassidy hoped the rest of it wasn’t as eventful as tonight had been. Giving Bella a wave, she told the men to have a good night and headed for the door.

  “Cassidy,” Trace called.

  She stopped and turned to give him a questioning look. She hoped he didn’t make an issue about her coming tomorrow because she was too tired to argue with him.

  “Are you going to be okay driving back to Stamford?” he asked. “You’re not too tired?”

  She blinked in surprise, taken aback by his show of his concern. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

  He nodded. “Okay. Be careful, though. It’s late.”

  “I will.”

  The thirty-minute drive back to her friend’s apartment seemed a lot longer in the dark and Cassidy was beat by the time she got there. Yawning, she tossed her keys on the table in the entryway, then went around the apartment turning on all the lights before going into the kitchen to heat some water for tea. Although she would like to go straight to bed, she wanted to write down some of the stuff they had talked about at the diner while it was still fresh in her mind.

  She changed out of her jeans and T-shirt, then put on a pair of shorts and a tank top. Ten minutes later, she was curled up on the couch with a cup of hot tea and her laptop, typing away furiously.

  She was about halfway through her notes about the ghost encounter in Delhi when she felt a shiver run down her back. Stiffening, she looked around, half expecting to see the apparition from the haunted house standing there in the living room. To her relief, it was empty. Shaking her head at her foolishness, she went back to typing, but couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched. It occurred to her then that the middle of the night probably wasn’t the best time to be writing scary ghost stuff. Quickly finishing up, she shut off her laptop and rinsed out her mug, then went to get ready for bed.

  She was brushing her teeth when her cell phone rang. She jumped at the sound, almost swallowing her toothpaste. Sheesh, she was on edge tonight. Then again, she was always on edge lately.

  Spitting out what was left of the toothpaste, she quickly rinsed her mouth, then ran in the bedroom to grab her phone. Thinking it was probably her friend Jennifer calling to check on her, she didn’t bother looking at the call display before putting it to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Cassidy? It’s Trace. I wanted to check and make sure you got home okay.”

  Too speechless to say anything, she stood there, toothbrush in one hand and cell phone in the other. Back at his office, the ghost hunter asked if she was okay to drive home, now he called to make sure she did. Who was this guy and what had he done with the real Trace McCord?

  “Cassidy, you there?” he prompted when she didn’t answer.

  “I…I’m here,” she stammered. “I got home fine. Thanks.”

  “Good.” There was a pause on the other end of the line, as if Trace wasn’t sure what he wanted to say next. “Listen, you handled yourself well tonight. For a romance book writer, I mean.”

  Considering it was a left-handed compliment, she should probably be insulted, but instead she found herself smiling. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “Have a good night.”

  “You, too.”

  Cassidy shook her head as she set the phone down on the bedside table. Trace was certainly full of surprises, that was for sure. It had been thoughtful of him to call, though. It made him see a little less of a jerk.

  Going into the bathroom, she finished up her nightly routine, then went back into the bedroom. As she pulled back the blanket and got into bed, the lights flickered. She held her breath, hoping the power didn’t go off. She didn’t even know where Jennifer kept her flashlight.

  But luckily, the lights didn’t go off, or even flicker again. Though she could have sworn she felt something cool brush her cheek as she pulled up the covers.

  Damn. Between the encounter with that stupid ghost earlier and her already overactive imagination, there was no way she was going to be able to sleep now. Grabbing the remote for the television, she switched it on. She frowned when she saw it was turned to a news network. There was a reporter standing outside an apartment building talking about another female student who’d been murdered in off-campus housing a few hours earlier. Cassidy shuddered and quickly changed the channel.

  Finding one of the shopping networks, she turned the sound down until it was almost off, then lay back on the pillow. But even the jewelry the host was selling couldn’t get her mind off the college girl who’d been killed, and she let out a shiver. Stamford used to be known for its extremely low homicide rate. Not anymore apparently.

  Chapter Five

  Cassidy stopped by the café in Sleepy Hollow again the next day. The waitress Lila greeted her with a smile and a glass of iced tea, which she set on the table as soon as Cassidy sat down.

  “Was last night’s ghost hunting any more exciting?” the redheaded waitress asked.

  Cassidy gave the other woman a rueful smile. When she’d stopped in the other day, she had mentioned to Lila she was tagging along with the town’s resident ghost hunters as research for her book. “More exciting than I was looking for, actually.”

  Lila’s eyes went wide. “What happened?”

  Cassidy gave the woman a synopsis of the encounter at the house in Delhi, adding that if she’d ever had doubts about the existence of ghosts before, she certainly didn’t now.

  Lila shook her head. “I told you those guys went up against some pretty scary stuff. At least you got some good research for you book, though, even if it was more than you bargained for.”

  “True,” Cassidy agreed. “Though I think I’ll stick to looking things up on the internet next time.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Lila laughed. She glanced at the door as an elderly couple came in. “I better get back to work. Do you want turkey on whole wheat again?”

  Cassidy nodded. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

  While she waited for Lila to bring her sandwich, Cassidy grabbed a newspaper from the shelf and leafed through it, careful to stay away from the front page and any stories that mentioned the string of recent murders. She was checking out the latest movie reviews when Lila came over with her lunch.

  “Isn’t it terrible about those poor college girls?” she said as she set the plate down on the table. “They’re saying it’s a copycat of that serial killer, the one who got knocked off that apartment balcony a couple of months back, but I heard on the news this morning that the cops think maybe that guy was the copycat and this guy is the real one.” She shook her head. “People are such psychos, aren’t they?”

  Cassidy murmured something in agreement, though she wasn’t sure what it was. It must have satisfied Lila because the waitress told her to enjoy the sandwich and moved to the next table.

  Cassidy stared down at the paper unseeingly, Lila’s words playing over and over in her head. It wasn’t until two weeks after Del Vecchio’s attack that she’d learned he had been the serial killer known as the Stamford Stabber. The police had linked him to the murders of more than a dozen women in the area over the past two years. Darcy had been his last victim. Or so everyone had thought.

  Against her better judgment, Cassidy flipped to the front page of the newspaper. Underneath the headline reading Stamford Stabber Strikes Again? was a photo of the scene she had seen on television last night outside the victim’s apartment building with t
he lights, reporters and curious bystanders. Cassidy tore her gaze away from the picture to read the article.

  It didn’t say much, though, other than to offer a lot of speculation. This latest victim was the third woman murdered in the past two weeks in the Stamford area. According the paper, the police weren’t releasing any details, except to say the murders had been very brutal and the killer had used a knife.

  Cassidy closed her eyes, remembering how the lighting in her old apartment had reflected off the blade of Del Vecchio’s knife before he’d plunged it into her chest. Oddly enough, she hadn’t noticed it at the time, but now she could see it as clearly as if he were standing in front of her. The thought of those poor women getting stabbed to death was enough to make her feel sick.

  She was about to put the paper back on the shelf when her gaze slid to the photo again and someone in it caught her attention. Her stomach clenched so hard she thought this time she might actually throw up.

  Unable to stop herself, she picked up the paper to get a better look. Oh God, she hadn’t imagined it. There, in the very back of the crowd of onlookers the wide angle shot had taken in, was a face she recognized, a face she would never forget for the rest of her life, a face she had never expected to see again. Carson Del Vecchio.

  * * * * *

  “Did Cassidy get home okay last night?” Wes asked.

  Trace looked up from the email he was reading on his iPhone and gave the other man a frown. “What?”

  Wes jerked his head at Robert, who was sitting on the far side of the table. “Robert said you asked for her number so you could check on her.” He pulled out the chair next to Bella, then turned it around and straddled it. “You called her, right?”

  Trace clenched his jaw and glowered at Robert. The other man nervously pushed his glasses up on his nose and went back to whatever it was he was doing on his laptop.

  “Someone has a big mouth,” Trace muttered, turning his attention back to Wes. “Yeah, I called her.”

  “And?”