GHOSTS: 2014 Edition by Hynd Noel

Author:Hynd, Noel [Hynd, Noel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror, Mystery, Paranormal, Suspense, thriller, Fantasy
Amazon: B00HB96T5S
Goodreads: 55444770
Publisher: Red Cat Tales LLC, Publishing, Los Angeles, California
Published: 1993-04-01T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-three

When his shift ended late that afternoon, Tim Brooks drove to George Osaro’s church. The pastor was not in his office. Nor had any of the church’s daily volunteers seen the minister that day. And Reverend Osaro’s appointment book, the church secretary revealed when Brooks inquired, was blank for that date.

Unusual.

Normally, there was something each day.

Brooks continued to the minister’s house. There was a strange stillness there, too. No battered van in the driveway. No Reverend Osaro. Brooks stood for several minutes on the pastor’s front step, trying to pick up vibrations.

Brooks had an extra sense sometimes, a faculty that any good detective develops over the years. It was an ability to add all the odd parts of a mystery and still come out with a higher total than one should. Something told him—something hollered out at him—that there was something unnatural about his friend’s disappearance.

Brooks held this thought for several seconds. Then another unwelcome idea was upon him. Something told him that George was lying dead somewhere, his spirit gone from his body. Brooks suppressed a nasty tremor and rejected the notion.

No, he thought. Not so. George Osaro is alive. But where? And what is he doing? And why did he leave no word at the church as to where he could be reached? Osaro was the only person he knew who didn’t have a cell phone. Why did he have such an elusive nature some times?

Brooks played with the idea of breaking into Osaro’s house. Had Brooks been a private citizen, he might have. But as a policeman, there were proper procedures to be followed. Unofficial break-ins were not part of any regulations or orthodoxy. Brooks walked back to his car, pursued anew by aggressive questions from an unquiet place in his mind.

“There are perfectly logical answers for each of those questions,” he told himself. “Aren’t there?”

Reverend Osaro did not schedule a particular day off each week. Osaro worked as his parish needed him, Monday through Sunday, fifty-two weeks a year. He grabbed a day of leisure when his appointment book happened to come up empty. No weddings to plan… No funerals… No meetings with the trustees of the church… And so on.

Brooks started his car and pulled away from the parish house, still deep in thought. George had taken some time for himself, right? A long walk on one of the remote beaches, perhaps, followed by a day trip to Hyannis via ferry. Whatever it was, the man had a right to his own business. Maybe he had a dentist’s appointment off island. No, Brooks reminded himself next. Something like that would have appeared on the pastor’s calendar.

Brooks sighed, pulling onto Orange Street. This feeling was upon him that he was unable to dismiss. He needed to locate the pastor. He took a perfunctory drive past the basketball courts. A father played with a young boy, shirts off, one-on-one in the diminishing sunshine of late afternoon. Brooks next drove out past the beaches which he knew the minister to like, eyes sharpened for the white Voyager.

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