Everything seemed darker, almost sinister, as we hurried our way down Bay Street. Okay, fine. I hurried. Reed’s long legs had no problem keeping up with our pace, and he didn’t seem bothered by anything. We’d just spent three hours talking to ghosts while locked in a haunted bar, and he acted unbothered.
The investigation crew had a bunch of different instruments they handed out—little boxes with flashing lights or long thin metal sticks that swiveled—to participants to search for ghosts. Like we wanted to invite these spirits to a friendly chat. They were all crazy people, but since we were there with them, I guess that made us crazy, too.
We spent the first of our evening on an upper floor waving around the blinking boxes and using rods to speak with spirits. I’ve never been happier to be ignored in all my life.
That was until we made it to the basement. The memories of that place caused a shiver to skidder up my arm. They’d place us in a small brick-walled room in metal chairs creating a human circle and then used a spirit box to channel the dead.
It was fine at first, but then the spirits started talking. Another shiver ran through me as I remembered, hoping I’d be able to forget one day.
“Are you too cold? We’re almost there,” Reed said as we turned off Bay Street.
I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. Really. That was just wild. Right?”
He exhaled out a quick laugh. “It was something.”
It was definitely something. The spirit box said a bunch of random names, like Milly and Carmen, none of which I recognized. Until the box spat out my mother’s name!
Vivian and then, a few minutes later, Brentwood.
How did the ghosts know my mother’s name? And it’s not like that was a common name. The entire situation had me completely weirded out. Should I call and check on her?
Our rental came into view, and I kicked up my pace another step. A dark-colored four-door car pulled up to the curb in front of our place and a man stumbled out.
“What in the world?” I asked and moved a little closer to Reed as the man tripped on the curb, fell to his knees, and stayed on the sidewalk for a moment. The driver of the car shook his head and then pulled away from the curb, leaving him alone. He stood up as we moved in closer to him. “Are you okay?”
Reed gave me a look, and I shrugged back in answer. He was the big tough SEAL. He’d keep us safe, but I didn’t think the guy had the ability to put up much of a fight if he attacked.
The stench of booze wafted off him as I stopped at his side. “I’mma getting,” his words rambled in quick starts and stops, “home.”
“Do you live nearby?” I asked as he approached a similar gate to the one that led us into our side garden and entrance to the rental. “We can help get you home.”
Reed lifted his brow, but I pretended it was too dark to notice.
The man fumbled with the latch on the gate before cursing. “Here.”
“You live here?” I asked, and then froze. He had to be the long-term resident who occupied the other unit. He was on Delaney’s “must interview” list.
Reed unlatched the gate, allowing the man to push the door open and scuff his feet into the garden on this side of the large home.
“Is your name Bud?” I asked, following behind him.
He raised his hand in the air as if in agreement and then swayed to the side and ran into a large tree to his left.
“Oh, let me help you. Reed,” I called and pointed to his other side. “We’ll get you inside safe and sound.”
He mumbled something but didn’t argue with us as we each took one of his arms and led him away from the tree toward the first door on the left side of the home. “Do you have a key, buddy?”
“Seven, two, twelve,” he slurred back to him.
I stepped past the three quick steps that led to his door and punched in the code. Bud fell into the door, opening it for all three of us to walk in. Reed led him in first, and I followed behind. Not surprisingly, the place had the same layout as ours with just a few minor tweaks. I couldn’t see into the kitchen, but the collection of empty liquor bottles on his small dining room table gave me enough visuals to guess his decorating style.
“Do you want us to put you in the bedroom?” I asked, leaning my head into his hallway.
He pointed toward the couch. “Just leave me here.”
Reed lifted his hands, and Bud practically rolled onto the lumpy, dark brown couch. He had a blanket puddled on the floor at the end and a pillow under where his head hit, leading me to believe he slept here often. I grabbed the blanket and covered him up with it.
“We’ll check on you tomorrow, okay?” I said as Reed had already started backing out of the apartment.
