Ghost Town (29 page)

Amber looked at her friends, and they in turn looked at her.

“We can damn well try,” she said.

When Hoffman had
finished with them, he moved off, took out his cell phone, and placed a call—to the mayor, Amber assumed. Erin finally went over to check on Sarah and Pattie. Carrington sat at the table next to them as the paramedic finished dressing Sarah's wound. The paramedic was talking to Sarah, but whatever he was saying, Sarah wasn't happy about it. Amber couldn't hear her words, but it was clear from the animated way she was speaking that she was upset. Pattie tried to soothe her, but Sarah wasn't having any of it.

Drew noticed, too. “Maybe I should go over and see if I can help,” he said.

“Not right now,” Trevor said. “We have a bigger problem to deal with. We've just learned that our friend has returned from the dead and possessed the body of your boss.”

The three of them turned to look at Greg.

“Would it help if I told you that Connie gave me permission to borrow her body?” he said.

“Only if it's the truth,” Drew said. “And even then, I'd be concerned about the potential psychic damage to Connie's mind.”

Greg sighed. “I can see that this whole redemption thing is going to be awfully inconvenient sometimes. Very well. Connie did not give me permission, but I assure you, no harm will come to her as a result of serving as my meat suit. At least, not for a day or two. After that . . . well, let's just say that if I overstay my welcome, the effects on Connie won't be pleasant.”

“Why did you do this?” Amber said. “You've stolen her body, forced yourself on her in a way even worse than rape. A rapist violates the body. You've violated her spirit.”

“I could tell you that right and wrong aren't viewed the same way on the Other Side, and that would be true enough. But the simple fact is that my friends were in danger, and I had to do something to help. It's my responsibility. This”—he gestured at Connie's body—“was the only thing I
could
do.”

“It was wrong,” Amber said.

“Maybe,” Greg allowed. “All right, yes, I suppose it was. But cut me some slack. I'm new to the whole good-guy thing.”

“I hate to admit it,” Trevor said, “but we can use his help. With his powers—”

“Before you head too far down that road, I no longer have any special abilities. I was able to possess Connie's body, and I'm more sensitive to the presence of paranormal energy than most humans, but that's all. The abilities I commanded while alive were the result of all of the dark power that I'd absorbed over the years. When I died, I carried that power with me to the Other Side, and I managed
to shed most of it. I'm still ‘tainted' by Darkness, for lack of a better way to explain it, but I no longer have the mojo I once did.”

“So you're not going to be able to wave your hand and send the Dark Lady running home in tears,” Trevor said. “Too bad. It would've saved us some work.”

“While I appreciate your motives, Greg,” Drew said, “I can't condone your stealing Connie's body and using it for your own purposes. By helping us with this investigation, you're placing Connie in danger. There's no risk to you; you're already dead. But if the Dark Lady attacks you, Connie's body could be seriously injured, and she could die. You're risking a life that doesn't belong to you.”

“I might not be able to make the Dark Lady go poof just by wishing it, but I'm better psychically equipped to resist her than the rest of you.” He smiled at Amber. “Not counting you, of course, my dear.” He faced Drew once more. “But if you think there's no risk to me in going up against the Dark Lady, you're mistaken. The Other Side is far more complex than you can possibly imagine, and death—to coin a cliché—is only the beginning. Consider how vast this planet is, how diverse the forms of life that inhabit it. The Other Side is so much larger, and the beings that dwell there are equally as varied: everything that's ever died in the entire universe, things that never lived or only nearly lived, things that did live but shouldn't have, things that only partially lived . . . and that's not to mention the creatures that are native to the Other Side, some of which come to
this
world when they die. Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I'm immune from harm, Drew. Not by a long shot.”

“Don't expect any sympathy from us,” Amber said. “You made your choice. But Connie didn't have one.”

“She's fine. I promise.” Greg hesitated and then added, “For the moment.”

“What does that mean?” Drew asked.

“The longer my stay, the more risk there is to Connie's mind, both physically and psychologically,” Greg said. “For the first
twenty-four hours or so, any damage done to her will be minimal. After that . . . well, for Connie's sake, let's hope we can exorcise the Dark Lady sooner rather than later.”

“If we let you stay and help us, you have to promise that you'll leave Connie's body if it becomes too dangerous for her,” Amber said.

“If
you
let me?” Greg smiled. “What makes you think any of you can stop me?”

Amber gave him a hard stare. “You saw what I did to the Dark Lady when we were in the maze. I don't know if I can push an invading ghost out of a person's body, but I can give it a good try.”

Greg looked at her for a moment, and something dark and dangerous moved in his gaze. But then he gave her a genuinely affectionate smile. “It looks like our little girl is all grown up. Very well. If Connie's brains show signs of becoming scrambled, I promise I'll bail out. Good enough?”

Amber looked at the others. Drew and Trevor nodded. “All right,” she said. “But from this point on, no lies and no tricks.”

“Cross my heart and . . . you know.”

“So what's our next move?” Amber asked. “Even if the chief manages to cancel the parade, there are still thousands of tourists in town, not to mention all the people who live here. And every one of them is in danger as long as the Dark Lady is active.”

“We need to learn more about Erin's film,” Drew said. “If her documentary was the catalyst for the Dark Lady becoming violent, maybe we can find something in the footage that will give us a clue to stopping her.”

“We need to look at her background research, too,” Trevor added. “And I've written several articles about Exeter over the years. I still have that research on my laptop. I'll go through it and see what I can turn up.”

“Carrington may appear to be little more than a showman,” Greg said, “but he's been around the paranormal block a few times. I
wouldn't be surprised if he has more insight into this haunting than even he's aware of. We need to sit down with him for a nice, long chat.”

“Maybe I can somehow make psychic contact with the Dark Lady,” Amber said. “If so, perhaps she'll tell us what she wants.”

“You want to perform a séance?” Trevor said. “That is so cool!”

“It sounds dangerous,” Drew said. “We know the Dark Lady can attack on the psychic plane. If you open your mind to her, you could be taking a terrible risk.”

“Drew's vastly understating the matter,” Greg said. “The Dark Lady isn't some simple earthbound spirit you can ask a few questions of with a Ouija board. Trying to touch her mind directly would be the psychic equivalent of taking a high-voltage power line and touching the exposed end to your tongue. The result would be Very Bad.”

Trevor frowned. “You sound as if you know more about the Dark Lady than you're letting on. If you're holding out on us . . .”

“It doesn't take a genius to see how powerful the Dark Lady is,” Greg said. “She's clearly not your run-of-the-mill ghost, but other than that, I have no more idea of her true nature than you do.” Greg appeared suddenly uncomfortable. “However . . .”

Amber didn't like the sound of this. “What?”

“I'm afraid I might know what stirred her up in the first place.”

“Sure,” Trevor said. “Erin's film.”

“That may well be what's drawing her ire at the moment,” Greg said, “but it's not what awakened her in the first place.”

“What was it, then?” Drew said.

Greg smiled sheepishly. “Actually, it was me.”

“I wish you'd
let me take you to the hospital in Exeter.”

The speed limit on the highway was seventy, but Pattie was doing close to eighty-five. Her Citation's engine sounded as if it were grinding itself to pieces, and the car shimmied as it hurtled
down the road.
Shouldn't have put off getting the old gal's wheels aligned,
she thought.

Sarah sat next to her on the passenger seat. Her face was pale, and she winced every time the car hit a bump or a pothole. The paramedic had bandaged her shoulder wound, but she hadn't given Sarah any painkillers. All they had in the car was some ibuprofen, and although Sarah had dry-swallowed a handful in the college parking lot, Pattie doubted the pills had done much to relieve her pain.

“I'm more than happy to go to a hospital. In fact, right now, it's my most fervent desire in all the world. But I won't stay in that goddamned town another minute, and if that means I bleed to death, then so be it.”

Pattie slammed her hand down on the steering wheel. “Don't talk like that! You are
not
going to die!”

Pattie had used her iPhone to connect to the Internet, find the closest town with another hospital, and look up directions. Richmond was forty-eight miles from Exeter, and at their current speed, Pattie estimated they would get there in about thirty-five minutes. The paramedic had done what she could for Sarah, but she wasn't a doctor. Pattie prayed that Sarah would make it.

Although she was furious with Sarah for refusing to go to the hospital in Exeter, she had to admit that if their roles were reversed, she would have done the same thing. When Erin had first hired them to work on her documentary, it sounded like a fun project. Neither she nor Sarah was a believer in the paranormal, but they weren't really skeptics, either. She supposed the best way to describe their attitude toward strange phenomena was open-minded but not gullible. The shoot had started off enjoyably enough, until Alex's accident. They hadn't known him before taking the gig, but he had been a good guy, and his death had hit them hard. But they hadn't considered quitting. They were both professionals, and Sarah especially was determined to build up her résumé. She hoped to use
this project as a springboard to bigger and better things. Pattie was older and didn't have quite so much fire in the belly anymore. She was content to work on small films for even smaller paychecks, but she loved Sarah and was determined to support her dreams.

And Erin, master manipulator that she was, had given them the “We need to finish this film for Alex” speech, and they had bought it. Even Ray, who was the most cynical of the crew, had wanted to continue shooting as a way to honor Alex's memory.

God, poor Ray!
When she thought about what happened to him . . . She hadn't seen him die, had been too busy trying to keep Sarah from bleeding out, but she had heard the terrible sound of him hitting the floor, and she had seen his body afterward—head burst like an overripe melon, neck snapped, arms and legs bent at sickening angles. Even Erin hadn't tried to persuade them to stay after that. When Pattie had told her they were leaving, she had only nodded. She hadn't said anything, not even good-bye.

“Fucking bitch,” Sarah muttered.

Pattie didn't have to ask whom she was referring to.

Sarah went on. “I can understand her not wanting to quit after Alex died. His death seemed like an accident to all of us. But she should have called the project off as soon as that girl died in the bookstore. But no, all Erin could think about was the publicity her film would get. Like the girl's death was the best free marketing tool she could ever have hoped for. Then those two people died in the museum, and those freaky words appeared . . .” Sarah shuddered. “As soon as you know there's a killer ghost on the loose—and for some reason, she's pissed off because you're making a movie in her town—you call off the goddamned project!”

Pattie knew she was just venting. She was in pain and in shock, both physically and emotionally, and she was looking for someone, anyone, to blame for what had happened. Preferably someone living. It was a lot easier, and safer, to blame another human being than a malign otherworldly force that you couldn't understand.

Pattie knew she should keep her mouth shut. But when she was upset, she became hyperverbal, and despite her better judgment, she found herself saying, “We chose to stay. It's not like Erin held a gun to our heads.”

Sarah glared at her. “Since when did you become such a big fan of Erin's? Do you have the hots for her or something?”

Shut up, shut up, shut up!
Pattie warned herself. “Of course not! At this point, I hate the woman as much as you do! But I'm not going to blame her for a choice I made, and you shouldn't, either.”

“She's closer to your age than I am. That's it, isn't it? I don't have enough life experience for you or some bullshit like that.”

This was rapidly veering off into an old argument between them. Sarah was sometimes insecure in their relationship, especially when it came to their age difference. She was afraid she wasn't smart enough or hadn't experienced enough in life to hold Pattie's interest long-term, and no matter how often Pattie tried to reassure her, those doubts flared up from time to time.

Pattie wanted to tell her that she was being foolish, that it was hardly the best time to get into that issue again, and besides that, they had been together for four years. In that time, had she shown the slightest hint of being bored in their relationship? Had she ever so much as looked at another woman? Well, maybe
looked,
but had she ever actually done anything?