Hard Proof Read online

  He set up his EMF detectors around the basement. If electromagnetic fields were involved, he wanted to know where they were strongest. Plus, not everyone had a problem with them. At least not the kind that would cause hallucinations of any sort.

  But Viv might be sensitive to them, and this was an old house. It might have hidden wiring problems.

  He positioned motion detectors as well, although they’d be little use while he was down here. But later he’d ask the parents to listen for their going off. Or maybe he could just get back here to pay attention himself. He still really needed some local lore and a way to fact-check it. If Candy was willing, she’d probably be an invaluable resource.

  He found a sawed-off two-by-four and used it to bang on a pipe. He couldn’t imagine that sounding like anything other than it was. Then he checked the heating ducts to see if any part was even a tiny bit loose.

  He called Candy on the radio. “Anything?”

  “Banging pipes,” she answered drily.

  He grinned into the radio although she couldn’t see it. “About what I expected. A bit longer, if you don’t mind.”

  “We aim to please.”

  Ouch, he thought. She really wasn’t happy about this. Not that he could blame her. A deputy turned into an unwilling ghost hunter? Ha. Yeah, she’d love that.

  He walked around checking the EMF meters. Only one place showed an elevated reading, right by the breaker box. Not unusual, and not high enough to cause concern for Viv.

  Damn, he needed to find a way to help that child. A good reason that would help her and calm her parents. He hadn’t the least doubt that no matter their outward calm around Viv, she could still sense their response to what she was experiencing.

  Kids were gifted that way, with innate sensitivity to stress around them. Hard to fool. He wished parents would be more truthful with their children when they were upset.

  Anyway, none of his business. He had a more immediate concern, a little girl he needed to help. And the potential for some outside threat against the family. That still concerned him, that the Castelles might have fled some threat at their previous home. Or that something unpleasant was going on in their marriage and a child was being used as a weapon.

  There was one thing he could say about his current occupation. As a detective, he too often arrived in the wake of a tragedy that had broken lives. In this job, he could arrive beforehand and try to help. Depending. Always depending on what was going on.

  His recorder had been running all the time, collecting any unheard or unnoticed sounds in this basement. Now it would collect him, too. Ugh.

  Then he cleared his throat and began talking to himself in an ordinary conversational voice. Man, he hated this. He always felt like a fool talking aloud with no one there. But he’d known people who did it all the time.

  Like his great-grandmother. He’d asked her when he was a child why she did that. Her answer was both excellent and a lesson he’d remembered his whole life:

  “Sonny, when I talk to myself I keep my secrets.”

  An interesting way to think about it, but it wasn’t feeling like that right then. Nope, it just felt silly.

  After about ten minutes, he quit, glad to be done with it. Then he radioed Candy. “Anything?”

  “Not a thing,” she answered. “What was I supposed to hear?”

  “Nothing. I’m going to keep on for a few more minutes.”

  “Roger that.”

  He cleared his throat. He wasn’t the world’s best singer by any means, but he chose a favorite hymn that didn’t require him to be a Pavarotti, or even a recording artist. It was also one that he knew the words to: “Amazing Grace.”

  Amazing grace! How sweet the sound,

  That saved a wretch like me!

  I once was lost, but now am found,

  Was blind, but now I see.

  * * *

  HE FELL SILENT, listening to the quiet of the basement, then keyed the radio. “Anything?” he asked.

  Candy replied. “I thought maybe I heard some very faint singing. Did I?”

  Well, a step forward. “Be glad you didn’t have to listen full volume. It’s probably the only song I could sing without sounding like a dying animal. I’m on my way up.”

  He retrieved his recorder, turning it off, and headed upstairs, where he found Candy waiting in the bedroom. “So singing was it? Believe me, the conversation I had with myself wasn’t a comedy routine. I just felt stupid. You ever do that?”

  She smiled widely. “Not too often. And I feel silly when I do. But no, I didn’t hear anyone talking. Just a very, very faint singing.”

  “Okay, then. More equipment in an empty basement tonight.”

  “Like what?”

  “Cameras. A couple of digital recorders. I think I’ll put them in Viv’s room, as well.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  He gave her credit for not acting as if he’d lost his mind. She’d made it clear enough what she thought of this shtick.

  They went out to talk to Annabelle and Todd. Viv was in another room with Buddy, whose tail thumped like a loud metronome.

  “I’m going to bring back some equipment tonight to set up in the basement and in Viv’s room. Just leave it all running and stay out of the basement.”

  Both Castelles sounded okay with that. In fact they sounded relieved that something was actually being done about their problem.

  * * *

  OUTSIDE, CANDY LOOKED at Steve. “You didn’t mention that I heard you singing.”

  “On purpose. That’s nothing to go on yet. All they’ll know is that I made some noise. That won’t help Viv’s problem.”

  Candy frowned. “You’re right.”

  “Besides, it was me down there. I’m sure they’ve gone down there when Viv heard the voices. I doubt they found anyone, or the problem would have been over before I got here.”

  He had a good point. That was when her stomach made an embarrassingly loud growl.

  Steve laughed. “You need to eat.”

  “It sounds that way. I’m going to the market for a sub. They make decent ones.”

  “And here I thought I was becoming a fixture at Maude’s.”

  She shook her head. “If that’s what you want to do, go ahead. Maybe someone will talk to you seriously if I’m not there.”

  He paused. “What time do we go to Tate’s?”

  “He said eight.”

  “Okay. Where do we meet?”

  “My place, seven thirty.”

  “You’re on. And thank you.”

  Candy drove away wondering if he’d found anything useful or not. Apparently not, considering how much equipment he was planning to set up.

  But while it had been very faint, she’d heard him singing. Not half-bad.

  And an interesting choice of song.

  Chapter Ten

  “So Ben Wittes isn’t a suspect?” was the first question Steve asked when he entered Candy’s house.

  “We sure don’t think so. But nobody’s ruled out yet. If we can find someone else, of course.” Candy caught herself. He was familiar with how this worked. Sometimes she forgot his background. Well, he knew the procedure better than she did.

  He just nodded, seeming unoffended by the rookie explaining the obvious to the pro.

  “Tell me about the former sheriff,” he asked as they drove toward Nate’s house.

  “His name is Nathan Tate, known everywhere as Nate. Regardless, I understand he came from the wrong side of the tracks, as they say. Went to Vietnam at eighteen, served in the Green Berets.”

  “That’s impressive.”

  “It is,” she agreed. “Anyway, a few years after he came back from the war, after serving with the sheriff’s department, he was elected sheriff and remained in the job until he retired. After t
hat his forensics expert succeeded him. Gage Dalton.”

  She snorted, feeling a sudden amusement.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Gage doesn’t seem like a man people around here once called hell’s own archangel.”

  “Seriously?” He twisted on his seat. “I’ve been wondering about his story since I met him.”

  “A helluva story. He was DEA. Undercover. His cover was blown. He was targeted with a car bomb that killed his wife and kids and he was badly burned. Someone told me he screamed so much after learning they were gone that he permanently ruined his voice.”

  “My God!” Steve fell silent.

  “Yeah. The tragedy is damn near incomprehensible.” Except she’d seen variants of it before, in war. War was an atrocity-making situation, something that was hard to live with afterward.

  She shoved those thoughts back. Not now. She was as interested as Steve in what Nate Tate might know about the history of the Castelle house. God knew he’d been here long enough to have heard something.

  But then so had Miss Emma. Surprising, the silence surrounding the Castelle house. Candy had begun to think everyone around here knew nearly everything there was to know about this area.

  “Heard anything from the recorder’s?” she asked as they pulled up before the Tate house.

  “Not yet. Maybe another couple of days. I suspect someone is spending a whole lot of time sneezing from dust.”

  She laughed. He could be funny at times.

  Together they walked to the door and were soon greeted by the former sheriff himself. He wore his years exceptionally well, only a dusting of gray in his dark hair, with the lines of a face marked by years of wind and sun. His voice was deep, a bit gravelly, and even at his advanced age he still managed to be an imposing figure.

  He invited them in, saying, “Let’s go to the family room. Marge is out, but I like that room even if it’s big for one person. This house rambles every which way, which is why you’ll notice we’re walking past bedrooms, offices and so on. It’s practically a warren. We had six daughters and were constantly expanding. Anyway, I like it because of the memories. No kids hanging around with their friends anymore, and we rattle around in here like dried peas. We’re thinking about selling.”

  Interesting view of the man, Steve thought. Six daughters? It must have been overwhelming at times. But he also liked a guy who’d choose a room because of the memories it contained.

  The family room was large and warmly decorated. There were even some colorful beanbag chairs left over from an earlier time.

  “Sit wherever you like,” Nate said with a wave of his hand, then settled into a Boston rocker.

  There were two sofas and an assortment of upholstered chairs. Candy picked a blue one, and Steve a green one. When she was seated, she pulled out her small notebook and a pen to write information down if need be.

  Nate spoke. “I hear you’re wanting to pick my memory. It’s a long one, all right.”

  Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands. “I want to do exactly that. Are you aware of the house the Castelle family moved into?”

  Nate rocked slowly. “I know the house. Saw a young family moved in. It’ll do that place and this town some good. Need more young folks like Candy here.”

  Steve smiled and Candy felt her cheeks color a little. That was a sideways compliment, she thought. It touched her.

  “Anyway,” Steve continued, “it’s like a cone of silence has dropped over that house. I’m having a devil of a time trying to learn its history. Who owned it before, are there any stories about it?”

  “Now that’s a place.” Nate nodded as he continued to rock. “Became quite something when I was in high school, just before I shipped out. Old man lived there. His name will come back in a moment, but it’s been decades since I really thought about it.”

  Candy’s interest quickened. It was amazing how she was getting drawn into this story, her curiosity growing more with each day. That was a good description from Steve: a cone of silence. This in a town where it seemed that if you wanted to know what you were doing, you just had to ask a neighbor.

  Nate spoke. “Let me go back to the beginning, as much of it as I know. During my misspent teen years, it was occupied by a man who lived alone. A hermit, in the truest sense. People hardly saw him. He chased away kids who turned up to have a good time. Antisocial, but some of that was understandable, mainly because he’d lost his wife and no one knew where she went.”

  Nate shook his head a bit. “Sad how people can seize on something like that. The guy just wanted to be left alone. Instead, some folks created stories that he’d killed his wife and she was haunting the property. I heard it became a thing for youngsters to go out there at night on ghost hunts. The old guy chased them off, sometimes with a shotgun.”

  Nate suddenly leaned forward, his gaze becoming intense. “I was young and foolish. Everyone that age is. But I wasn’t foolish enough to buy that crap or think those thrill-seekers had any right to bother a grieving man.”

  Steve spoke. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  Nate’s gaze went from intent to piercing. “Isn’t that what you’re doing over there? Thrill-seeking for millions who want to get scared in the security of their own homes?”

  Man, Candy thought. Full-frontal attack. And clearly Tate was still as plugged into this county as he’d always been. She’d heard there wasn’t a person or a secret that Nate didn’t know. He was certainly up to date.

  “What I’m here for,” Steve said firmly, “is to help a seven-year-old girl who’s scared to be in her own bedroom. She thinks a man is talking to her, one she can’t see. And in case you’re curious, her parents have even taken her to a child psychologist. Anyway, helping that child is my priority, and if I can get it done before we start filming and unless that family still wants to do the show, we won’t. Plain and simple.”

  Tate’s eyes narrowed, as he digested what Steve said.

  “I also have a reputation to preserve,” Steve continued. “I’m hunting for reasonable, logical explanations. I am not hunting for a ghost, and frankly I haven’t met one yet.”

  For the first time since their arrival, Nate smiled faintly. He nodded, then rocked for a few minutes.

  “All right, then,” he said presently. “Let’s talk about the house. The stories kept growing while I was overseas. It wasn’t enough that the wife had disappeared. Nope. Then it was claimed the old man had killed some teens who had trespassed. For some reason, by the time I got back, the tales had stopped in their tracks. I heard some talk about it all becoming campfire stories after that. Maybe the talk of murders shut it down.”

  “That’s interesting,” Steve remarked. “Were there murders?”

  “I don’t know. Seems like that might have turned this entire county upside down, and the old man would have died of something other than natural causes. I never looked into it. Wasn’t part of my job, not an open case, and I wasn’t especially tuned in to what teens were telling themselves sitting around a fire. I’d been away for eight years, didn’t come back but once for a lot of reasons. Dead history by then.”

  Steve looked at Candy. “Would you be willing to look into this? Murders? Did the wife just run away?”

  Candy nodded. She felt a strong need to know if this county had swallowed murders quietly and if so why. As for the wife? If there was an explanation, she’d find it, not that it would change much of anything. What people said to each other couldn’t be silenced by an official explanation. But then, people liked a good conspiracy theory. If anyone years ago had claimed to have found the wife in Denver or New York, some would have insisted it was a cover-up. “I’ll check it all out.”

  “Good,” said Nate, leaning back again. “If this is going on, then it’s not dead history after all. At best it could help a kid. At worst it could fir
e up all the legends again. As if folks don’t already have enough to talk about.” He cocked his head a bit to one side. “Well, around here I guess there’s never enough for people to talk about.”

  Steve flashed a smile. “I’ve already begun to notice that.”

  “As for since then, there’ve been a couple of absentee owners. Probably thinking the land would be a good investment, which it might be if ever this town got back on its feet economically. There’s hardly a building boom. At least they kept the place from going to ruin. Put some people to work with their money fixing things up, then eventually it went back on the market. This new family is the first to actually move in.”

  “Now that’s definitely interesting,” Steve said.

  “I always thought so when I thought about it at all. Empty houses don’t create a lot of police work unless they’re vandalized.”

  Steve nodded. “No kids breaking in?”

  Nate snorted. “Probably too afraid of a ghost with a shotgun. Yeah, I imagine old man Bride became part of the lore, too. Just too good to pass up.”

  Nate drummed his fingers briefly on the arm of his chair, then said, “I hear you were a cop once, Steve.”

  “Yes, sir. Detective after six years on the street.”

  “Good job. Anything else?”

  “If I think of questions, can I call you?”

  Nate smiled. “Hell yeah. I got plenty of time to reminisce these days. Candy has my number, obviously.”

  Candy laughed. “I’ve plagued you enough.”

  “Didn’t mind at all. I hear there were two kids killed up near the old mining camp. Anything yet?”

  Candy shook her head. “Early days.”

  “It would be. Sometimes I miss the harness. I generally behave myself and just bug Gage. He takes it well.”

  Candy grinned. “He’d have to. He’s just the new sheriff after all.”

  It was Nate’s turn to laugh. “Poor man. Well, hell, I get to be the old sheriff, so maybe I should complain.”

  Steve spoke. “You said the hermit’s name was Bride. I’ve heard the last name before, just recently.”