A Brady Paranormal Investigations Box Set Read online

  Russ nods. “Sure. Let me wipe it off first, and we’ll get set up.” Always prepared, he digs around in the duffel bag for some cleaning wipes, and I help him clean off the table. Electronics don’t work well if they’re full of dust. Jess follows behind us, snapping pictures on her phone—selfies for her Instagram account, I’m sure. Who knows, haunted selfies might be the next big thing.

  After we get the table cleaned up, we unload our equipment. Shelley’s eyes grow wide as we lay out the three GoPro cameras, voice recorders, tripods, EMF meters, extra battery packs, and cords.

  “Wow,” she says. “You guys really do come prepared.”

  “Always.” Jess pointedly turns away from her to me. “Do you want me to start outside?”

  I nod. “Sure. Go for it.”

  Shelley cocks her head to the side. “What do you need to do outside?”

  “Take pictures, mostly, and get baseline readings. We’ll do the inside, too,” Russ says, “but it’s easier to split up and get the initial information first.”

  Jess grabs a voice recorder, an EMF meter, and a GoPro. She checks the batteries on each then flicks the voice recorder on. “August twelfth, MacIver House. Pre-investigation recordings on C1, GP 1, and EMF 3. It’s 3:31 p.m.” Her voice trails off as she leaves the room. A few seconds later, I hear the front door open and then close.

  “I don’t know how much you’ve checked out our archives,” Russ says to Shelley, “but everything is labeled with investigation, evidence, time, and even device used. That’s why Jess did that.” He nods in my sister’s direction. “It’s taken a while to smooth all of the kinks out, but we average an investigation two or three times a month, so we’ve had a lot of practice.”

  “I bet.” Shelley’s fingers trail along the case of one of the cameras, her gaze thoughtful. I hope she’s not considering this as a career opportunity someday. I wouldn’t recommend it—no benefits and little future. We kind of fell into it ourselves.

  “I’ll, uh, start downstairs,” I say, but neither of them is listening. “Do you guys want to tackle the upstairs?”

  “Sure,” Russ says, and Shelley nods.

  “Great.”

  We split up the rest of the gear, and they disappear toward the stairs where Shelley saw the strange figure. She pauses at the base, but courage flashes in her eyes, and she dutifully follows Russ up the steps. She’s got guts.

  Starting with the sitting room, I set a voice recorder on the covered end table and scan the room with my EMF meter. A stable line tells me there likely aren’t any phenomena here, at least right now. Then I take pictures of the room from every angle I can reach before switching to video. That done, I ask any lingering spirit to speak while I have the voice recorder on then give it a couple minutes before turning it off. I hit the study next, then the entryway, the downstairs bathroom, and the stairs. I even do the pantry and its empty shelves lining three walls up to the ceiling. We’ve gotten activity in far stranger places than this. The only other room on the main floor is the kitchen where we set up, so I save that one for last.

  The EMF meter in my hand beeps. Huh. The battery looks good, so that’s not the problem. Sometimes, electronics and batteries die on investigations. I’m not saying there’s a connection, but they’re always on our shopping list. Above me, Shelley and Russ tromp through a room. Dust drifts down in their wake, irritating my nose. Stupid allergies are something they don’t warn you about in the movies. Investigations equal dust, which for me equals sneezing and a runny nose, every time.

  Standing by the kitchen sink, the EMF meter in my hands beeps again, the light flickering from green to orange to red. It’s probably the pipes or electricity. I write it in my notes anyway and move on. After I finish scanning the room, I take pictures then move to video. The routine soothes me. It’s calming in a way that only running tests and writing down data can be for me.

  I slowly move around the room, panning the cabinets with the video camera, when Bear growls. That in and of itself wouldn’t be especially odd, given his personality, but I always pay extra attention during an investigation.

  I turn to find him standing at attention and staring intently at the kitchen sink. Maybe that blip wasn’t a pipe or electrical issue after all.

  “What do we have here, boy?” I pan from my dog to the sink, zooming in then back out. There’s a window over the sink that shows an overgrown rose garden surrounding a gazebo choked with ivy and a steep bluff with a dead oak tree leaning precariously over the side when I zoom the camera in. What a view. From this side of the lens, I can almost feel the wind whistling through my hair and the adrenaline rush through my body as I peer over the edge. I wonder what Graham’s mother and her mother before her thought, looking out every day as they puttered about the kitchen. In my mind, the gardens are tended, their flowers blooming and vibrant. The gazebo, freshly painted white, offers a shady place to rest on hot summer days.

  Stiff-legged, Bear approaches the sink with his lips curled. His hair, always in disarray, stands straight in a line on his back.

  “What do you see, buddy?” Not that I expect an answer, but everyone talks to their dog. “Is there something there?” I wave my hand around in front of me for a cold spot, and goosebumps pop up all over my arms. I might be imagining it, though. It could be a self-fulfilling prophecy—I want there to be something so badly that maybe I’m subconsciously making it up. That’s why we have the equipment, for proof.

  I walk slowly behind Bear, keeping the camera steady in my hand. After making note of the time and location, as well as referencing the blip on the EMF meter, I reach my dog’s side. Bear focuses his attention on a cabinet—he doesn’t move or acknowledge me. I reach for the cabinet door to check inside. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried to defend me from a rat. It makes for humorous footage, but the thrill of adrenaline rushing through me makes me hope that it isn’t the case.

  It’s not. The rotted wood on the inside of the empty cabinet shows no trace of rodents. An excited squeak bursts from my lips. This might be something interesting. I won’t know what until I review the footage, but—

  The front door slams. Jess must be done. That was fast. Bear barks and races off in a black-and-white blur toward the sound before I can grab him.

  “What the hell?” someone shouts.

  Bear snarls, and then there’s a shout and a yelp of pain from a human, and I fly out of the kitchen after my dog. Crappity crap. This is going to be bad.

  Graham MacIver hops on one foot, my dog attached to the other. He shakes his leg, but Bear’s little pearly white teeth are fastened securely to his ankle.

  “Son of a bitch. Demon dog,” he swears, leaning against the rail. Bear snarls and shakes his head. The sight of the scruffy little dog attached to his ankle almost makes me chuckle. For such a big, tough guy, Graham’s not so strong now.

  “Don’t just stand there!” Graham shouts. “Come get your dog!”

  I shake myself. “Oh God. Right. I am so sorry.” I grab Bear and carefully pry his jaws from Graham’s ankle. Clutching Bear to my chest, I follow Graham as he limps into the kitchen and props his foot up on a chair to survey the damage.

  Russ and Shelley burst into the room. When she sees her brother, her face blanches. “What happened?” she asks, dropping down to his side.

  Graham points at Bear. “Demon dog attacked me,” he says. “Ripped into my ankle.” He turns to me. “Don’t you keep that thing on a leash?”

  “I didn’t know you were coming. Shelley didn’t say anything.” He’s right. I should have kept Bear on a leash. To my credit, he was fine with the rest of us, so I didn’t think it would be a big deal.

  His sister throws her hands up in the air. “I didn’t know either. What are you doing here?” She tugs at his pant leg, but he brushes her hand away.

  “I’m fine. Just a scratch.”

  I peer closer to see until I feel Bear’s chest vibrate in a low growl, but all I can see are two dots soaking thro
ugh his jean leg. “I’m sorry. He’s never done that before.”

  Graham barks out a laugh. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

  Shelley picks at the cuff of his jeans until he lets her inspect the wound. She huffs, obviously relieved. “It’s just a small puncture wound. You’ll be fine.” Her lips tremble into a smile. “With how much you were yelling, I thought you were dying.”

  “It surprised me.” Graham brusquely jerks down the cuff of his pants. “Next time I get attacked by a dog—in my own home, mind you—I’ll be sure to be a little quieter.”

  Shelley plants her hands on her hips. “Or you could not sneak up on us. That might help, too.” She smirks.

  Graham scratches his head with his middle finger.

  The EMF meter holstered on Russ’s waist beeps. He unclips the device and fiddles with the dial before showing all of us the blinking light. “Did you get anything in here?” he asks me.

  I nod. “By the sink.”

  But Russ isn’t by the sink. He’s next to the table, and there’s a good ten feet between the two. My panic over Graham’s attack gives way to excitement. This could be something real. I grab a voice recorder, turn it on, and set it on the table. The little green light flashes. None of us says a word.

  Russ scans the room slowly and methodically. Halfway to the sink, the light on the EMF meter flickers off. My breath catches in my throat, but I don’t want to influence his investigation, so I stay silent. He reaches the sink, and the light flashes green again. Oh my God. Does that mean I caught actual activity there, too? My fingers itch to replay the video footage, but now isn’t the time. “We got something in the mother’s room,” Russ says without looking up. “But it was just a blip, compared to this.”

  “What do you think it means?” Shelley stands up on her tiptoes to look at the device over his shoulder.

  “It means we might have a visitor.” Russ grins. “And I’m not surprised, given all the noise your brother made over a little love bite.” He points at the light. “It starts green. The more electromagnetic activity, the colors change.”

  “The next thing you’re going to say is that the house is haunted,” Graham says, his voice dry. He leans against the table with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

  I arch an eyebrow at him. “Have you seen your sister’s video?”

  He shrugs. Some of the defiance leaves his eyes, replaced with bullish arrogance. “No, and I don’t want to. None of it’s real. It’s all made up for TV.”

  Russ opens his mouth to argue, but Shelley takes over, planting her hands on her hips. “How can you say that? You’ve snuck in here just as much as I have, and you’ve seen things too. You know it’s real,” she says.

  A muscle tics in his jaw, but Graham doesn’t budge. “We were kids. Stupid kids who saw stuff that wasn’t there.”

  As they continue arguing, I gesture silently to Russ. He joins me, and I pull him from the room. “Do you have enough for now?” I ask of the footage. The rising voices from the kitchen tell me that they’re not going to make up anytime soon.

  Russ nods. “Yeah, I’m good. Let’s go get Jess and get out of here. We can call Shelley later.”

  As quietly as possible, we pack up our gear and do just that.

  Chapter 5

  Once we get to the hotel, we start reviewing the footage. As practice, we like to get it done before the actual filmed investigation, so we get base readings to compare our footage to later. With three of us working, it doesn’t take long to scan through the footage.

  “You get anything?” I ask, arching my back. Hunching over a computer for this long sucks.

  Jess’s sprawled out on the bed with her laptop in front of her and Bear curled up on the backs of her legs. She shakes her head. “Nothing here except for poison oak. You?”

  Russ rubs his neck, which is probably cramping given the way he’s hunched over the other computer. “Nothing here, either. What about you?” He gives me a hopeful glance.

  “Nothing so far. I’m just finishing up the last bit of video right before Graham got attacked.”

  Russ snickers. “I wish you’d gotten that on camera.”

  “Sorry, I was more concerned with him hurting my dog.”

  Jess bites her lip to stifle a laugh. “From what I heard, it was the other way around.” She twists around and scratches Bear behind his ears. “You wouldn’t hurt anyone, would you?” He kicks out his legs and plops over on his side, loving the attention.

  From the periphery of my vision, something catches my attention. I stop the video and rewind it before replaying it again. A foggy, amorphous shape materializes in front of the sink, right where Bear indicated.

  “Stop, stop, stop,” Russ says. He pulls up a chair next to me. “Let’s see that again.”

  Jess joins us, and Russ pulls up the original MacIver video and runs it side by side with the footage I took.

  “It’s not the same,” Jess says, disappointed.

  “But it’s close,” I say. She’s right, though. The image Shelley caught was clearer and had more defined edges. Mine isn’t even human shaped.

  “Are you sure it’s not the camera?” my sister asks.

  I shake my head. “It can’t be. We’ve only had that one for a few months. And there wasn’t anything on the footage you took after you came back to the kitchen?”

  “No.” Russ snaps his fingers. “Have you checked the audio?”

  I grab the voice recorder and fast-forward it to the end. Nothing but static. I turn it up. Jess and Russ lean in closer, but there’s only more white noise.

  “Well, maybe it was an anomaly,” Jess says. “Water getting behind the lens or something.”

  “Son,” a grainy, scratchy voice calls out on the recorder. “Help.”

  “Oh my God,” Russ says. He leans back as I play it again with the volume turned up to the max.

  The same voice fills the air, louder this time. “Oh my God” is right.

  I play the recording one more time. After the voice says “son” again, I pause it.

  “We’ve got to call Graham.”

  “Wonderful,” Jess says. “He’ll be so happy to hear from us.”

  Oh yeah. He’ll be thrilled.

  “I don’t have Graham’s phone number.” Okay, so maybe it’s petty of me, but I’m kind of relieved that I don’t have to call him.

  “So call Shelley,” Russ says, dryly.

  I roll my eyes. “Fine.” I almost suggest that he call her so I don’t have to risk talking to her brother, but I’m slightly more mature than that. Slightly.

  “Did you find something?” she asks in a breathless voice. I can’t tell if she’s excited or still yelling at her brother. Maybe both.

  “Maybe. Are you with your brother?”

  She pauses. “Um, yeah. Why?”

  I glance at Russ and Jess, but they’re poring over the video again and aren’t paying attention to my conversation. “We have something we’d like to show you.”

  She sucks in a deep breath so loudly I can hear it over the phone. “Like what? Did you see the ghost?”

  Feeling awkward about making bold statements like that since we don’t know for sure what it is, I pause. What do I tell her? We saw something, that I can prove. It could be a ghost, but it could also be a trick of the light or a faulty camera. The voice on the audio is a little more difficult to explain away, but not impossible. Sometimes people hear things that aren’t really there, especially when they’re expecting, wishing, or hoping to find something. In other words, it could all be in our heads.

  “I don’t know. We’d just like you both to come over to the motel if you’re not busy.”

  She talks to her brother, but I can’t make out his response until the last part because it sounds as though Shelley has her hand over the phone. He laughs in a sarcastic burst of sound that sets my teeth on edge.

  “Here, give me that.” He must have grabbed the phone from her because suddenly it’s his voice I hear. “If you
seriously think we’re going to fall for your mysterious evidence right after your dog attacked me and you left our house, you’re wrong. We’re not idiots, and I’ll have my dad’s lawyer—”

  “Just shut up.” I groan inwardly, pinching the bridge of my nose. “For God’s sake, forget about it. We saw something unusual on the video, and we’d like to show it to you. We’re not fakes. We’re not trying to fleece you out of whatever money you supposedly have. We’re just a team of people searching for the truth.”

  “And broadcasting it all over the Internet,” he says, his voice flat.

  “You know what? Never mind. Forget I even called.” I pull the phone away from my ear to turn it off, but I hear Shelley’s voice in the background.

  “Give me that.” From the scuffling sounds, she’s wrestled the phone back from her brother. “Jerk,” she mutters. “Meredith, are you still there?”

  “Yeah, but look, I don’t have time for this. If you don’t want to see what we found or have us investigate, let me know. We have other places we could go and other things we could do that won’t waste our time.” At least the cemetery would be less stressful.

  “Wait. Please, don’t hang up.”

  I sigh. “Fine.”

  “I want to see it, I promise.”

  I glance at Jess and Russ, but they’re still not paying attention.

  “Okay. But don’t bring your idiot brother.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise,” she says, and I imagine her crossing her heart. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  I hang up the phone, and the sinking feeling in my stomach tells me that this whole thing was a bad idea.

  My stomach was right. Five minutes later, someone raps on the door. Bear barks, and I peek through the peephole. Shelley stands in front of the door, and behind her, with his arms crossed, is her idiot brother. Crap. Maybe I shouldn’t let them in. I could pretend we’re out or sleeping or that we can’t hear them over the TV.