Sheryl Lynn - Midnight Investigation

Desi lifted her head. Her sideways gaze, her blue eyes shadowed by luxurious lashes, turned him to mush. If she suggested chaining him at her front door like a watchdog, he’d do it.

“Are you hitting on me?” Her voice held a smoky note.

“Do you want me to?”

She dropped her gaze. “No.”

No surprise, but it was disappointing. Bench-pressing a hundred and fifty pounds took less effort than it took to pull his hand away. “Too bad. The offer stands anyway. Call me night or day. I live to protect and serve.”

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A very special thank you to Becky Agronow, Marina Bridges, Diane Gratzmiller, Sandi Kraley and Colleen Palmer, who poked and prodded me to write this book. You goils are the best. My eternal gratitude goes to Marylin Warner, the best writing buddy ever, who undangles my modifiers and keeps me laughing.

Thank you, too, to my wonderful Tom and Abby, who only gripe a little bit about me writing instead of cooking. And thank you, Tristan, for bringing the lovely Heidi into the fold.

A special shout-out goes to the gang at steve-o-meter. com for all their support and goofiness. Props to you all. Last, but not least, thank you Jason Hawes and Grant Wilson of the Atlantic Paranormal Society. You guys don’t know me, but you sure inspire me.

Sheryl Lynn lives in Colorado with her husband of almost thirty years, two oversized dogs and three crazy cats. When not writing Intrigue novels, she’s writing articles for steve-o-meter. com or making bead art and jewelry. If you want to say hi, contact her at sheryl.lynn_intrigue@yahoo.com.

Desi Hollyhock —A paranormal investigator with a skeptical eye and a knack for debunking ghosts.

Buck Walker —A cop with a secret—he can talk to the dead.

Gwen Hollyhock —Desi’s sister wants nothing more than to see a ghost.

Dallas Stone —Founder of the Rocky Mountain Paranormal Research Team, he’s on a quest to find the truth.

Mary Hollyhock —She loves her granddaughters and wants to help them in times of need.

Charles and Veronica Skillihorn —Their tragedy continues even after death.

The Dark Presence —A murderous ghost whose jealousy makes him deadly.

ChapterOne

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

“I’m not a forgiving person.” Desi Hollyhock focused her sternest look on the newest member of the Rocky Mountain Paranormal Research Team, or Rampart, as they were known. “Rampart is all about scientific method. None of that woo-woo stuff. One strike and you’re out. Got it?”

Buck Walker nodded.

Desi kept her voice barely above a whisper, but she figured the recorders had picked up her words anyway. Big deal. Everyone knew she did not want a psychic on the team. Just because she’d been outvoted did not mean she had to put up with nonsense.

So far Buck had behaved himself. He’d helped the team set up cameras and recorders in this supposedly haunted house near downtown Colorado Springs. Quietly attentive, he listened to explanations about why recorders were placed in certain locations. His job was to learn, and he took it seriously. Neither the house’s creepy atmosphere nor working in darkness fazed him.

He focused now on a handheld digital video recorder. It was a night-vision camera that magnified even the faintest light source. The glow from the viewing screen illuminated his face. He had a penlight hooked beneath his pinkie finger, and its thin beam pointed at her shoes.

“Safety first,” she said. “Watch where you put your feet. Watch your head. Stick with me. We work in pairs so we can corroborate personal experiences. We keep each other calm, too. If you get freaked out, let me know.”

“I won’t get freaked out,” he said.

“Everybody gets spooked. Eventually.” She pointed her flashlight in the direction of the infrared camera taped atop a stepladder. “Stay away from the power cords. Keep your voice down, especially when you’re near a digital recorder. They are very sensitive.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. The corners of his mouth twitched.

Did he laugh at her? It was bad enough that his height emphasized her lack of it, and bad enough the other female members of the team had indulged in raunchy comments about his dark good looks and buff body, but mostly she resented getting stuck training a guy who claimed psychic ability.

“I am a police officer,” he said. “I’m used to working in the dark.” He smiled, his calm, controlled air saying, Do your best. You can’t rattle me. “Why are we working in the dark, anyway? Spirits are just as active in daylight.”

Spirits, she thought with disgust. “It’s practical. There are fewer people around, less electrical use and outside noise to interfere with the equipment. Not so many nosy neighbors trying to see what we’re up to. Most of our clients do not want others to know they’re having paranormal experiences. It’s a pain sometimes.” She held up a small digital camera. “I’ll warn you when I’m going to take a picture. I’ll say ‘flash.’ Close your eyes so you aren’t blinded. Any questions?”

“What’s the best way to use this camera?”

“Hold it close, right under your breastbone.”

He raised the camera a few inches.

“Let it move with your body so it sees what you see. Keep your movements smooth and stay aware. You don’t want to forget you’re holding it and end up with a movie starring the floor.”

He turned slowly, taking in the big room, his gaze intent on the black-and-white image on the viewing screen.

She turned slowly, too, examining the room that took up the entire third floor. Six Rampart members were investigating tonight. Tony and Tara were outside in the step-side van that served as the command center, watching the IR camera monitors and making sure the equipment didn’t glitch. Desi and Buck investigated the second and third floors, while Dallas and Ringo took the first floor and basement. In about two hours the teams would rotate.

This house had a sad history. Built in the 1880s, it had been a monument to a silver miner’s hard work and perseverance in the harsh Rocky Mountains. Since the 1950s it had sat empty—except for brief occupancies by tenants—slowly strangled by overgrown ivy and worn by the elements. The city had been on the verge of condemning it and having it torn down when the current owners, the Moores, bought it with high hopes of restoring it to its former glory.

The Moores had begged the Rocky Mountain Paranormal Research Team for help. They insisted the house was haunted. The activity was so frightening the Moores were ready to walk away and to hell with the money and work they’d invested.