Dying to Know (A Gumshoe Ghost Mystery) by Tj O'Connor

Author:Tj O'Connor
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: mystery, novel, police, soft-boiled, humorous, paranormal, mystery novel, mystery fiction
Publisher: Midnight Ink, an imprint of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.
Published: 2013-11-18T22:00:00+00:00

THIRTY-ONE

IT WAS DARK AND a steady wind blew, rustling trees and tall grass all around me. I didn’t recognize the stand of trees either. There were no landmarks to give me the slightest hint. Night sounds surrounded me and the thick canopy of trees blocked much of the moonlight. Then there were voices—two curt, harsh tones ahead in the darkness. They were getting louder and angrier, though the words escaped me. I moved toward them, conscious of the sudden heaviness of the air around me. As I moved closer, my steps became harder and harder, like trudging through ever-deepening water.

I emerged between several tall, bushy apple trees. Ahead of me were two animated figures—silhouettes of flailing arms and harsh voices. The moonlight broke through the trees and bathed them. The smaller figure was a girl in a long dress that billowed in the breeze. The moonlight suggested she was young and blonde; her movements told me she was frantic. She held her shoes in one hand and the other chopped the air—vigorous and angry. The other person was a tall, broad-shouldered man. His fists were clenching and threatening with every angry word. His appearance didn’t match hers—he wore dungarees and a dark shirt, but the darkness hid their details. I was straining to move closer when he lunged forward and grabbed the girl’s arm. He shook her with mounting violence. Angry words. Rage. He shook her again and again—her body flailed like a marionette.

She screamed.

Dread seized me, but my body couldn’t move to intercede. Just as I had been impotent to stop Carmen’s abduction, so was I to stop this violence. “No … oh, no.”

Something startled the man and he spun around. Another girl, young and brunette, erupted out of the darkness. She lunged and clawed at him. He swung wildly, striking her in the face, stopping her advance and knocking her down. The blonde kicked him and fought back, trying without success to break free. He swung her around and downed her with a vicious punch. Her attack ended in a sickening, dull crack of bone on rock.

He froze and looked down. He yelled out, but the words never formed in my head.

The brunette crawled to her companion and grasped her. She shook her but her body bobbled lifeless and doll-like. She shook her again and began screaming, thrashing at the ground as life escaped her.

“Leave them alone,” I shouted, but they would not hear me—I wasn’t there, I wasn’t with them. “Damn you, leave them alone.”

The end came.

Sorrowful wails lifted the brunette to her feet. She whirled on the man and unleashed a flurry of punches and screams. Arms and feet thrashed in a ravenous foray. The man deflected the assault with mere bats of his hands. Then, in a sudden, silent assault, he grabbed her, first by the hair, and then the throat. His strength overwhelmed her, twisting and bending her backward until she writhed on the ground. He followed.

A cry. Arms flailed. Broken words; gasps—silence.

He stood, looking down at the result of his rage.

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