How To Be A Badass Detective: Book 3 by Michael Anderle

Author:Michael Anderle [Anderle, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2021-06-29T16:00:00+00:00

Niah and Calvin sat together on the porch, watching the mixed light of dawn transform gradually into the full blaze of day. The thick mists of the bayou began to dissipate under the sun’s increased intensity.

Sipping her coffee, Niah stated, “It’s gonna be a hot one again. Summer’s lasting a long time this year.”

Her husband nodded. “I do believe you’re right. Folks in other countries always say that when it’s a bad year, it’s like winter never ended.” He chuckled at the thought.

Slowly, stretching his limbs and hearing his joints creak and crack, he got to his feet. “Think I’ll head into town and pick up...”

Niah heard his voice trail off. She looked up and saw Calvin’s gaze wander across the boggy fields toward the haze of humid heat that obscured the horizon. Toward the highway, which wasn’t far away.

He said, “Something’s wrong. Can you feel it?”

Niah stood and moved to his side. “I believe I can. What is it? Just a feeling of...wrongness, ain’t it? Like a storm coming, but worse.”

It was often said that women were stronger in the gift than men, but the two of them were among the rare exceptions. Though Niah had abilities of her own, her man was a step or two ahead of her when it came to perceiving things. Obscure things most folks would have called magic.

Calvin’s face was grave. “Yeah, like a storm. One that’s headed toward the Old House. Or maybe not.”

Niah took his hand. “Want me to come with you? Into town.” It was less that she feared for herself than that she knew he would worry if he left her alone.

“I believe that would be best,” he agreed. “Don’t take too long getting ready.”

She scoffed as she gathered their empty cups to take to the kitchen. “Don’t go getting me confused with my younger self. I ain’t need much makeup these days.”

Three minutes later, the old couple stood beside their truck, about to climb in, but they paused at the sound of approaching footsteps. They looked at the dirt road which led to their home.

A youngish white couple appeared at the bend in the path and strode casually down it, holding hands and moving in near-perfect unison. Nothing seemed to be amiss, but there was a faint uncanniness to it, as though the two did not belong there.

And not only because they were trespassing.

Calvin glanced into the bed of the truck, where his loaded shotgun lay under a tarp within arm’s reach. Then he looked at their unexpected visitors. “Excuse me. Can I help you? Me and my wife own this land.”

The two newcomers stopped. The woman raised a hand, waving slowly. “Oh, hello. We were taking a walk and got a bit lost. We didn’t realize this was private property. We were just looking for something.”

She spoke in a dreamy way, as though not cognizant of what was happening around her. The accent was Southern but not Louisianan. Maybe somewhere in Appalachia.

Her partner added, “We heard about an old plantation.

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