The Awakening: A Sisterhood of Spirits Novel (6 page)

Vince kept his flashlight on the man. “Jack.”

The man grinned, showing black gaps and jagged teeth. “Hey, Officer Abbot.”

“Aren’t you on probation?”

The smile disappeared. “Aw, c’mon. I’m not hurting anyone here.”

Vince’s eyes narrowed. “You know the routine. Hands on the back of the car.”

“You’re not going to arrest me, are you?”

“Depends on what I find on your person and in your car, Jackie boy.”

Jordan pulled evidence bags out of the cruiser. She was certain they would find needles and drugs on this man. You didn’t get to look like a walking corpse tweaking through garbage in the middle of the night any other way.

Jack leered at her. “You’re new. Want to frisk me instead?”

Swallowing actual bile at the thought, Jordan snapped on her rubber gloves. “Not happening, Romeo.”

“What’s this?” Vince asked, pulling a full syringe out of Jack’s pocket along with a small plastic bag of crystal shards. “Jackie, Jackie,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm while he continued to empty his pockets of assorted change, buck knife, two large white pills, a little black book, and a melted mini candy bar.

Vince read Jack his rights and put him in the back of the police car while they waited for the tow truck to take the old car. It too had yielded more needles, empty baggies, old computer parts, and garbage bags of clothes.

Jordan radioed the jail advising them of incoming. She looked back at Jack and saw he was out cold and drooling. Vince got in the driver’s seat and glanced in the rearview mirror. “Probably been up for days.”

Having firsthand experience with junkies, Jordan simply nodded and was silent for the rest of the trip into Port Orchard, memorizing landmarks and the locations that Vince pointed out that were known drug dens and hangouts along the way.

They made two more trips to the jail that night to take in a domestic violence perp and an obnoxious drunk driver. After the paperwork was done near the end of their shift, they drove back to Bremerton.

“So,” said Vince. “Do you want to talk about the big pink elephant in the room?”

Surprised, Jordan turned. “What?”

He continued on in his pleasant voice. “Not that it matters to me. I think you’re going to prove to be a good partner and that you did the right thing by testifying with Internal Affairs. But you know how the rest of the force feels about IA, and there are rumors about what really went down in that alley.”

The treachery still burned in her chest. No, she didn’t want to discuss it. “Let ’em fucking talk.”

Vince grinned. “Okay, maybe later.”

Jordan appreciated him backing off so easily. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Good shift. See you on Tuesday.”

Jordan got into her own vehicle. The next two days loomed in front of her, and irritation sat on her tense shoulders before she made a conscious effort to relax them.
Rumors, just fucking awesome.
As if the reality of being shot by and betrayed by one of their own wasn’t enough dirt to play in.

Now wasn’t the time for introspection.
Yeah, right. Like there will ever be a good time.

Jordan stopped at the red light, looked out her passenger window, and saw a sporadic beam of light bouncing on the top floor of a house that was otherwise dark. She turned the corner, cut her headlights, and spotted a dark van parked in front. Was that a light shining from under the back door? Suspicious, she unclipped her phone from the visor, ready to call it in.

Suddenly, the van’s back door swung open, and a tall, dark figure raced to the front door, a trench coat swirling with the speed of travel. The house’s door hadn’t been locked, and no lights went on in the path of entry, even after the figured darted inside.

Jordan kept watch as the person came back out of the house and returned to the van, setting it rocking slightly in the wake of her entry. The situation looked hinky.

Once again, a flashlight beam cut through the dark windows. Jordan slipped out of her truck and approached the van. She heard someone talking inside and was reaching for the door handle when it opened, nearly catching her in the face. She immediately dropped into fighting stance.

“Who the fuck are you?” a female voice snarled at her.

“Freeze!” yelled Jordan and pointed her gun. The woman, whom she could see clearly now, yelped and dropped what she’d been holding in her right hand and Jordan kicked it away.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, there goes a few hundred dollars in equipment, asshole. What are you doing?”

“I’m going to ask you the same.” Jordan held her phone open ready to dial. “It’s the middle of the night and this looks pretty suspicious to me.” So did the woman. Jordan took in the black fatigues, trench, and black boots she was wearing and combined the sight with choppy hair styled into tufts and dark eyeliner that made her eyes look three times larger than normal.

“I repeat,” said the walking Goth billboard, “who are you?”

“Officer Lawson. Mind telling me what you’re doing?”

Static sounded from a radio on the woman’s hip and Jordan’s eyebrows went up.

“Shade? What’s taking you so long?”

“Can I get that, Officer?” she asked. “We’re not criminals, and please, put that thing away.” She motioned to the revolver.

Jordan noted the sarcastic tone but nodded. She kept her gun pointed at her.

The woman shrugged and talked into the radio. “Tiff?”

“Go for Tiffany.”

“Officer Friendly here just broke my new EMF meter.”

“What? Come again?”

“Just get out here, will you?”

Another woman came out the front door and reached the van just as a sleek, black Lexus pulled in behind it.

The Lexus driver saw her gun and screamed. “I’m calling the police right now!”

“I am the police, lady!”
Jesus, what a farce
.

The woman drew closer. “Where’s your identification?”

“It’s in my jacket, in the truck,” Jordan answered. How had she lost control of this situation so quickly?

The woman stood firm, phone in hand still ready to dial. “Get it, please.”

“Don’t move, any of you.” Jordan lowered her revolver and backed to her truck to get her badge. The last thing she needed was another fiasco that would bring attention to her. She grabbed her leather coat and holstered her gun before flipping her wallet and badge out to show the trio, who stood looking back at her like a small fighting force in their matching black clothes. A black-and-white patrol car pulled around the corner. Great, thought Jordan as it slowed and the officer rolled down his window.

“Problem here? Someone called in an altercation.” He directed his light to see the women. “Oh, hey, Sunny.”

Jordan watched the woman smile, almost illuminating the rest of the block. “Lars. No, no problem. Sorry about the noise. Just a misunderstanding. This officer was just getting her badge.”

He swiveled his attention to Jordan. “Lawson, right?”

Jordan nodded. She recognized him from the squad room.

“These ladies are all right.” He laughed. “I can understand why you would be suspicious. Hey, Shade?” he called. “You got all your paperwork in there?”

“Of course.”

Lars motioned Jordan over to his window. “They’re okay. Local ghost hunters. They’ll have permission from the owners to work late at night. They always do.” Did she just hear him right? Ghost hunters? Could this situation be any more bizarre?

“They’re harmless.” He chuckled again. “Have a nice night, ladies.” He pulled away, leaving Jordan standing in the middle of the street with the nuts.

Sunny put away her phone and introduced Shade and Tiffany before holding out her hand. “Sunny Skye.”

Jordan carefully kept her expression blank and thought it couldn’t be the name on the woman’s birth certificate.

“Yes, it is,” said Tiffany. “Her mother’s name is Aura. Her grandmother was—”

Shade popped in. “—Star.”

Sunny shushed them. “I’m sure that Officer Lawson here doesn’t need my pedigree.” Her hand still hung in the air.

That was creepy. Did the one called Tiffany just read her mind? Jordan finally shook Sunny’s hand, and startled at the contact. Tiny shocks traveled up her arm, catching her pulse. She felt her heart skip a beat right before a fire began burning in her belly. She immediately let go of Sunny’s hand and felt drunk, like she’d been in a bar for hours instead of on duty. She couldn’t stop staring at her. Creamy white skin glowed under the yellow light, almost blurring the freckles sprinkled across her nose. She looked into Caribbean blue eyes. No, wait—not blue, green. Sunny’s eyes were two different colors, and the otherworldly sight caught her and pulled her under, nearly taking her breath away.

She had to leave. “Okay, sorry about the misunderstanding. Um, be careful.” She felt lame before she even finished the sentence. Careful of what? Ghosts that didn’t exist?

“See you around, Officer.” Shade stood with her arms crossed, her look challenging.

Jordan snapped on her seat belt and pulled away. What the hell was that? Was the granola girl some kind of witch who’d put a spell on her? Not that she believed in witches either, of course. What was it with the people in this town? First her dorky neighbor, then the landlady, now ghost hunters?

An image of Sunny’s face fixed in the reflection of her windshield, and Jordan felt a lustful burn between her thighs an instant before the truck cab filled with the scent of summer flowers. She slammed on her brakes. What the hell was going on? She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, the vision was gone.

She opened the windows and let the night air blow out the strange floral scent. Her head cleared and she felt a bit better, though she was still unsettled.

*

Sunny watched the truck pull away and turn the corner.

“Uh-oh,” Tiffany said.

“What?” asked Sunny.

“I saw that little exchange right there. You both lit up like little Christmas trees.”

“If you like tight-assed authority figures. Can we get back to work now?” Shade walked to the house without waiting for an answer.

After following Tiffany inside, Sunny locked the door behind them. “Wow. Mrs. Barbieri wasn’t kidding, was she? I didn’t feel this when I walked through with her earlier.”

Her shoulder tingled. It was a telltale sign she was being watched. “I know you’re here.” She waited for
other
to communicate with her, but the only image in her mind was the police officer who just left. She gave herself a mental shake and focused on the job at hand. “Ready?” They picked up their equipment, turned out the overhead lights, and headed to the area where Mrs. Barbieri had stated the most paranormal activity occurred.

“Barbieri investigation, master bedroom. Shade, Tiffany, and myself, twelve oh one a.m.” Sunny paused while they each took a different position. “Readings?”

“Temp seventy-two degrees. Electromagnetic holding at a point one.” Tiffany’s voice came from near the bed.

“Good. Anyone getting any indications other than something that would show on the electronics?”

“Wild monkey sex, but it’s the clients.”

Shade laughed, “God, Tiff. They’re in their sixties.”

Sunny reined back her amusement. “Working here, guys.”

“I’m sorry,” Tiffany said. “It’s very strong energy. Here. Switch places with me.”

“I can cut it out of the recording,” Shade said.

“Okay. The client stated that the closet door opens and shuts on its own.”

“Great,” Tiffany said. “Can I have the bed back?”

A floorboard creaked in the hall.

“Did you hear that?”

“Shh.” Sunny listened at the door, but her senses insisted that
other
was behind her.

“Sunny?”

“Yes?”

“Orb to your right,” Shade said.

“What do your spidey senses say?”

Shade studied the viewfinder. “It just disappeared into the closet.”

As soon as she finished her sentence, there was a thump behind the door followed by a noise in the bathroom across the hall.

“What is that?”

“The faucet turned on.”

“Crap,” Tiffany said. “I hate the really active ones. EMF spiking and bouncing between a point four and five.”

“What is your name?” Sunny asked. “Can you tell us why you’re still here?”

“Bathroom is clear,” Shade called.

Sunny stood in front of the closed closet. “Hello?” Icy cold air seeped around the frame. “Temp?”

“Sixty-four.”

Sunny felt energy crackle against her skin, and an image fluttered in her mind then grew stronger. It was an older woman in a blue shirtwaist dress. Her hair was up in a severe bun and her face appeared thin and drawn. When Sunny reached for the knob, the spirit shook her head.

“I’ve got something,” Sunny said. “But she’s either shy or afraid.” She sat on the floor and remained still in an effort to receive more. “It’s okay. Who are you?” The woman showed her an E and R consecutively. “Erma? No?” L and another E. “Erleen? Yes? Okay, Erleen. Why are you here?” The ghost spread her arms then pointed to her chest.

“But it’s not your house anymore, dear.” Sunny gently smiled telepathically at her.

“What’s she doing?” Tiffany asked.

“She’s crying.”

A loud crash in the kitchen startled Sunny, and the image wavered. “Did you do that, Erleen?” The image of the woman in her mind looked frightened, shook her head, and abruptly disappeared.

“Shade, what do you feel?”

“Aggressive male energy. Let’s go.”

“I’m not getting anything,” Tiffany said. “It’s all that, um…” She paused. “Um, recent stuff that I feel.”

“It’s okay, Tiff,” Shade said. “I got it.”

The air in the kitchen was heavy and stifling. They waited, but there were no more noises in the area. Tiffany crossed to the counter and laid her hand on it. “Residual,” she said. “I can see an older man, and he’s wearing one of those old-time tank tops. He’s balding and has a pot belly. He just threw a chair. Wait, it’s looping again and I can see a woman cowering on the floor. He’s telling her if she ever leaves, he’ll find her and kill her.”

Sunny heard an audible scream and knew the recorder caught it.