Deep IsThe Night: Haunted Souls Read online

  How could they celebrate Halloween as if nothing drastic had happened? Halloween was in less than a week. Much could happen in that time, including the capture of the serial killer.

  Or, as she knew only too well from the information she had, everyone in this community center could be dead by Halloween night.

  She found a chair near the back. No one seemed to notice her, which seemed funny considering she recognized many faces in the room. Then again, she’d been gone for so long and had changed enough they wouldn’t know her. Instead individuals appeared tense, alert but not quite with it. Maybe the entire town had been strung out on anxiety.

  Although she still trembled from the experience she’d encountered with Ronan Kieran and the pistol-packing pirate, she didn’t ignore the thoughts entering her mind now.

  She liked this place. As a kid she’d been here many times. Brownies, Girl Scouts, even a high school dance. The place smelled the same with a hint of rose and lavender mixed with old wood. She recalled old Mrs. Bassett and her cologne had a rose and lavender scent, and since the lady worked in the community center for almost fifty years there was a good chance her ghost lingered here. At least that would be Clarissa’s theory.

  She doubted anyone in this room would be interested in hearing her conjecture. Yes, people believed Pine Forest had ghosts up the ying-yang. But twelve years ago she’d left this town with people’s disbelief in her ringing in her ears. They hadn’t believed her story, no matter how often she told it.

  For twelve years she’d resented their treatment and hadn’t been back.

  Until now.

  When the murders started she knew she had to return. Not just to photograph Pine Forest for her new book, but to exorcise the demons running around in her head and perhaps to find the killer in the process. To save this entire town from imminent ruin.

  Her mind kept dragging her back to the graveyard. She couldn’t stop thinking about what happened to her earlier in the evening, or the odd way Ronan Kieran made her feel. The visions she’d seen could have been past lives for him, and perhaps he didn’t know about them. Reincarnation didn’t explain the strange glow she’d seen in his eyes, or the bizarre and immediate attraction that held her in his thrall for several minutes.

  She’d almost been mugged and then a strange man had saved her life and turned her on so much she could barely walk a straight line. Her entire center of being, the things she believed about herself were rattled in that graveyard. Her mind shrieked at the danger and wanted nothing to do with it; practicality said it would be hazardous to probe into the thick aura of mystery surrounding Ronan Kieran. The other side, the one searching graveyards for intriguing pictures and even more interesting ghosts, said she couldn’t resist the challenge.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats!” A tall, thin man banged a gavel on the podium at the front of the room as he called above the din.

  He brushed a hank of gray hair away from his forehead. With his longish hair and tweed suit he looked more like a studious middle-aged professor than Harry Bold, mayor of Pine Forest.

  No one paid much attention to him, caught up in the typical summit mentality of no one in charge but everyone wanting to speak. The mayor was flanked by a tall, buxom young blonde and a short little man with thinning black hair and a Hitler mustache.

  “People, please!” Harry rapped the podium and the talking and general noise decreased. “We have a lot of business to get through tonight.” As soon as the coughing and shuffling died down, the mayor started. “We’re discussing, in light of current events, the feasibility of the annual Halloween party.”

  Several voices went up, but the mayor used his gavel. His brows pinched into a severe frown. “We’re doing this rationally. There will be no heavy debate, only sound decisions.” When voices cried out again, he put one hand up. “Now, listen here. This is the plan. Despite the fear and chaos this murderer has caused, we are not giving into the fear. This town has been here over one hundred years, and Pine Forest isn’t giving up.”

  “What about the killings?” One shrill female voice rose above the crowd. “It’s the worst thing this town has ever seen. I say we cancel the party.”

  The mayor held up his placating hand once again. “I can understand your concern. But what I really want to know is if you plan on letting this murderer run us out of our homes, our town, our activities?”

  “Yeah,” another female voice said. “Maybe that’s what this bastard wants.”

  Not surprised by the vitriol in the crowd, Clarissa took in the argument with interest.

  A distinct female voice reached above the crowd. “We have to reconsider the party. It leaves too many people out after dark and vulnerable.”

  Clarissa turned to see a young woman with short black hair and a strikingly handsome man with long brown hair standing not too far away. She knew about the couple from her lifelong dreams and because she’d pumped waitress and long-time friend, Chestnut Buttercup Creed—Chessie for short—for information when she’d arrived in town today. The man was Lachlan Tavish and the woman was Erin Greenway, a local librarian.

  Chessie had filled in Clarissa at lunch, explaining the amazing tale of Erin’s ordeal with the serial killer and her miraculous escape from the so-called vampire-like creature. Although the town teemed with believers in the supernatural, few agreed a bloodsucker committed the serial murders over the last month.

  Chessie also told Clarissa about strange goings on at the Gunn Inn, a secluded place on the outskirts of town. A series of murders occurred recently at the inn.

  “That’s hogwash,” an older woman said, and Clarissa knew she’d lost part of the conversation. “There are no such things as ghosts in this town and there sure as heck ain’t any vampires running around either.”

  “You’ve got to keep the curfew going to save lives,” Lachlan Tavish said. “This isn’t an ordinary killer we’re talking about.”

  “He’s right,” said a handsome man with short-cropped brown hair. He stood next to an almost elfin-like woman with windswept short blonde hair.

  Clarissa also knew their identity from what she’d learned in the last day and her dreams. The man was Denver police detective Jared Thornton, and the woman Micky Gunn, the owner of the Gunn Inn.

  The crowd babbled and the mayor rapped on the podium. A headache started to blossom and Clarissa rubbed her temples. She’d missed dinner and that might be part of the problem.

  “Come on, people, let’s be calm-headed about this,” another man said from the front row. “Whether you believe in the supernatural or not, the fact is someone is killing people in this town and the cops can’t stop it. We’re going to have to take care of this menace ourselves.”

  “Wait, now, we are not advocating vigilante groups,” the mayor said.

  “Neither am I,” the man said. “What I’m saying is we need some sort of neighborhood watch. A group of people who wander the area in numbers each night as a part of a patrol.”

  Several voices went up in favor of the idea. The concept jumped from one incarnation to the next until the mayor nixed the idea. Some of the crowd grumbled and others cheered.

  The mayor straightened his red power tie. “The question is whether to keep the center open for Halloween. It would certainly be safer for all of you to bring your children here rather than trick-or-treating.”

  After listening to another reason why the party shouldn’t continue, Clarissa tried to imagine how disappointed the children would be with no festivities. Maybe their homes were decorated, but it wouldn’t be the same as roving the streets in costume or enjoying the thrill of a good scare near a decrepit old house. She realized how lucky she’d been as a child to enjoy a more carefree town. Then she remembered that there was no such thing as the good old days. As a child she’d discovered, through nightmare and vision, that something possessed this town in a deep, evil way. To be frightened meant a temporary rush. Now…well, she couldn’t say what it meant.

 
Then again, the purse-snatching pirate had scared the crap out of her, and so had Ronan. She’d experienced enough fear in this night to fill up her Halloween quota for the year.

  Weary of the merry-go-round assembly, she looked for Lachlan and Erin and saw they’d moved to the back of the room. Okay, time to regroup and maybe try again tomorrow. She didn’t have the energy tonight.

  “What are we going to do, mayor?” a man nearby her asked. “Just let this fiend take over the entire town?”

  That’s what he wants to do, all right. If her dreams and visions came true, she knew deep in her heart the town would be devastated.

  The mayor’s face wrinkled with uncertainty. “The counsel will take everyone’s concerns into consideration and vote in thirty minutes on the fate of the party.”

  A female voice chimed in. “But mayor, this is wrecking our quiet, safe little town. Why when I was a kid stuff like this never happened. We’ve always known this town is different, but nothing horrifying happened. We’ve got to do something to make this town like it once was. A totally safe place to be.”

  Another rush of voices went up, arguing, joking, and making mincemeat out of rational possibilities. She shook her head. Sometimes people drove her insane with their insistence on knowing what came around the corner the next few minutes. Didn’t they understand security was an illusion? Obviously this woman had the mistaken impression that the good old days were golden.

  Like a whisper, a strange sensation replaced Clarissa’s aggravation with a far more potent feeling. All the hairs on her neck prickled and she knew the cause.

  Someone watched her.

  She glanced to the right. Ronan Kieran stood near the entrance to the foyer in all his arrogance, his gaze pinpointed on her as if he possessed all the time and resources in the world. Immediate impressions flew at her, rising from the depths of her well-honed intuition. Something dark and unusual commanded him, a man with nothing to lose, hardened by history and his decisions. Battle-scarred, his ego remained a powerful force. As her gaze stayed locked with his, she felt his interest in her rise and his heated attention. She felt an increase in suspense, as if she watched a spooky movie and now perched on the edge of her recliner biting her nails. An odd breathlessness made her heart pick up speed.

  Ire rose along with a wave of female pleasure. In the full light, no longer obscured, his masculinity screamed out for all women to see. In fact, his blatant gaze, dark and potent as sin, seemed to have attracted significant female attention. Two women in their late twenties stared at him from the back of the room. While she couldn’t see their expressions, she imagined the hunger she would see there. This man inspired instant arousal, immediate compliance to his sexual will. Her nipples grew tight and hard as she watched him.

  He looked away and broke the trance.

  Thank God.

  She shivered, a delicious tickle warming between her legs. She would have to ask Chessie if she knew who Ronan Kieran really was. Yes, he was Irish, and yes, he looked better than any romance cover model or movie star she’d watched on the silver screen. That still didn’t explain his identity or whether he could be trusted.

  You can trust me.

  His voice, husky and filled with his distinctive accent, filled her thoughts.

  He can’t be speaking to me like this. A deep shiver quivered through her and she glanced at him. He stood in the doorway watching the mayor.

  Okay, so maybe his voice in my head was all imagination. Had to be.

  Another voice spoke up, this real and familiar. A voice somewhat changed over the years by maturity, but the same masculine sound.

  The voice came attached to a man with a notebook and micro recorder. His tone of voice, hurried and aggressive, made the guy sound like a reporter eager to find a story.

  “Mayor Bold, do you have any comment on whom or what could be committing these murders? Several papers around the country say there’s conjecture the killer may be El Chupacabra. You can’t honestly say you believe in that sort of thing.”

  Mayor Bold rolled his gaze to the ceiling for a second, then pinpointed the man with a contemptuous stare. “We’ve answered these types of ridiculous questions over and over for the last few weeks. No, we do not believe El Chupacabra is responsible because there is no such thing as El Chupacabra. You could have gotten the information from the Pine Forest Sentinel. Talk with their office if you want to hear chicanery on the subject.”

  The man continued. “Mayor Bold, is it true several local individuals have approached you with an idea about how to trap the creature?”

  Leave it up to him to keep slamming home the creature angle.

  “Sir, I don’t know how many times I have to say it. There is no creature. We are dealing with a very sick individual here,” the mayor said, his face tight with anger.

  Keep it up. The mayor will probably have his cronies throw you out on the street.

  About six feet tall, with short-trimmed, wavy golden blond hair and a distinct resemblance to a young Robert Redford, this man couldn’t be mistaken for anyone other than up-and-coming paranormal researcher Jim Leggett.

  The man she would have married.

  The man she’d left behind when she quit Pine Forest twelve years ago.

  She blinked the memory away of Jim’s face as she’d left him standing on a street corner, his bewildered expression stamped in her mind with indelible ink. Over the years Chessie had filled her in on Jim’s adventures, but she tried not to think about him or what might have been. A little pain still resided in her heart.

  “Mayor,” Jim said, “what about the assertion by some that this killer is possessed by evil?”

  The mayor’s eyes narrowed, his lips drawing into a tight line. He smoothed his labels, his displeasure evident as he shifted on his feet and surveyed the room as if someone might rescue him. “Well, Dr. Leggett, I’m afraid there’s nothing paranormal for you to investigate in this town.”

  A grumble went up from the crowd. Before Jim could launch into another line of questioning, the mayor took more suggestions and questions from the crowd. While the conversation went on all around her, Clarissa pushed back memories of what used to be in Pine Forest. Her life, her family, her love. Much of it came in a painful wave filled with remorse and bitterness.

  Girl, you’ve got to rid yourself of this sourness before it eats a hole in your stomach lining.

  The gavel came down on the podium, and she started out of her thoughts. Tiredness crept in around her enthusiasm and nervous energy. Part of her wanted to talk with Jim, the other with Lachlan, Erin and Jared and Micky. From what they’d said this evening their belief systems seemed similar to hers. They might know how to stop the menace that would engulf the town by Halloween. Maybe if she shared what she knew with them, she would feel better and have a chance of saving this town. It sounded like a project for tomorrow after she’d obtained some sleep.

  “That’s settled,” the mayor said. “We’re having the party.”

  Drained by loud voices and the constant hum of negativity around her, she stood. Others left their seats, some grumbling, others smiling. When she looked toward the foyer, she saw Ronan had left. Good. She didn’t savor the idea of meeting up with him again.

  A voice called out as she entered the foyer, and when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw Jim heading her way, a big smile parting his lips. Sparkling blue eyes cajoled her, pleading for instant friendship.

  “Clarissa? Is that you?” Jim asked, his grin saying he did really know her.

  She stopped and held out her hand. “Jim. Good to see you again.”

  “Man, it’s been a long time.” He cracked a wider smile, almost as if he were campaigned for office. “I couldn’t believe when I saw you here.”

  His big hand held hers gently. His frame appeared thinner than when she’d known him in high school, but it was a deceptive leanness. His strong, callused hand proved that.

  She tried a grin but it felt plastic. “I’m a little surp
rised you recognized me. I’ve changed a lot since I left here.”

  “The long, spirally curls gave you away. I don’t know anyone who has red hair that curly, thick, and long.”

  A reluctant chuckle came from her throat. “I never could talk myself into cutting it. Trims now and again, yes, but nothing more than an inch at a time.” As she took in his appearance, she realized his face had taken on a flattering maturity, growing better with age. “You look good.”

  He lowered his voice. With an admiring glance starting at her face and working downwards, he said, “So do you.”

  She waited for pleasure to creep in from his compliment. Nope. Not a twinkle of satisfaction from his admiration. Good. One less link to the past that needs to be broken.

  “Thanks, Jim. Are you sure you don’t have ambitions to become a reporter? Those questions you asked were pretty hard-hitting.”

  He shrugged. “You remember I was on the school paper in high school? Guess it never quite left me. I’m a paranormal investigator in the psychology department at DU.”

  “Actually, I heard that a couple of years back.”

  “Who told you?”

  She yanked down her stocking cap until it almost covered her ears. “I honestly don’t remember. It might have been Chessie Creed. She keeps tabs on everyone.”

  “Say, have you had dinner yet?”

  She hadn’t, but she didn’t quite feel like replaying old times with Jim. She pulled her leather gloves from her pocket and slipped into them. “I got into town this afternoon and had a late lunch.” She put her hand to her stomach. “I’m still stuffed.”

  He frowned. “Why did you come to Pine Forest? It isn’t safe.”

  “You’re the second person to tell me that tonight. I’m here to write a story about this place and capture ghosts on film.”

  “Maybe we can explore together. I plan on going into the graveyards around here and some of the houses to see if I get electromagnetic readings or EVP.”