The Ghost Chronicles by Maureen Wood & Ron Kolek

Author:Maureen Wood & Ron Kolek [Maureen Wood & Ron Kolek]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Religon
ISBN: 9781402225116
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc.
Published: 2009-09-15T07:00:00+00:00

episode nine

DANGEROUS PURSUIT

CASE FILE: 6252463

DANGEROUS PURSUIT

Location: Reading, Massachusetts.

History: 1950s white ranch.

Reported Paranormal Activity: Disappearing and moving objects and unexplained property destruction.

Clients: Rusty (owner), Moose (Rusty’s friend).

Investigators: Ron (lead investigator), Maureen (trance medium).

Running to the phone, I tripped over the hunting pack Stephen had left on the floor. “Damn,” I said, reaching for the receiver before the last ring.

Barely audible, a voice echoed through the receiver. “Hello, Maureen.”

“Hey, what’s up?” I said to Ron.

“Are you doing anything right now?”

“Why?”

“I, uh—I got a call from this guy in Reading who needs our help.”

“Now? Ron, it’s the middle of the day, it’s my day off, and I’ve got stuff to do.” I couldn’t explain it, but I was suddenly feeling a little apprehensive.

“I know, but he sounds pretty desperate. It won’t take us too long, I promise.” He continued, “I can pick you up in a half hour and we can be home before supper.”

Not thrilled with the idea, but hearing the concern in Ron’s voice, I said, “I’ll be ready.”

Within a matter of minutes Ron pulled up in front of my house. I opened the passenger door of his car and peered in to see his nervous grin. Hmmm, what was he up to? After our conversation on the phone, I couldn’t help but feel there was something Ron wasn’t telling me. He’d mentioned that the client’s girlfriend had referred us, after attending one of our ghost-hunting 101 lectures, so that wasn’t it. But I couldn’t put my finger on it. Just because I’m sensitive, people make assumptions that I know it all. Unfortunately, that’s not how it works. However, I wished this was one of the times it did work that way.

I slid into the passenger seat, closed the door, then said, “Ron, what’s this all about? You seem a little secretive.”

“I’d rather not say.”

Moments later we pulled up in front of a ’50s white ranch and parked behind a dual-wheel Ford with a gun rack hanging in the rear window. Standing next to the truck was a short stocky man, his black leather vest and white T-shirt highlighting the massive tattoos running the length of his muscular arms. Beside him stood a taller man smoking a cigarette, with his worn leather boot resting on the bumper. Feeling like we just pulled up in front of a biker bar and hesitant to step out of the car, I asked Ron, “Are you sure this is the right address?”

Ron pulled out a piece of white lined paper, took one look at the scribbling, then said, “Yup. This is it.”

Stepping out of the car, leery at the sight of the two looming figures in front of us, I let Ron take the lead as we cautiously made our way up the driveway. Ron reached out his hand to greet them. “Hi, I’m Ron from the New England Ghost Project. You must be Rusty, we spoke on the phone.”

He ignored Ron’s greeting, looking past him, and gave me an icy stare. “Is that Maureen?”

Ron answered slowly.

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