The Ghost Hunter's Daughter by Caroline Flarity

Author:Caroline Flarity [Flarity, Caroline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Caroline Flarity
Published: 2019-10-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

The Energy-Sucking Vampire

Geneva drove Anna to the Fagan house, making the seven blocks in about as many seconds. Anna saw Saul’s blue SUV parked in the driveway next to Jack’s sedan. What was he doing there? The guy was friggin’ everywhere.

Anna and Geneva entered the Fagan house and maneuvered through the pathway into the kitchen. Saul sat at the kitchen table, talking on his phone and jotting notes onto a notepad. His powder-blue polo shirt featured the green crocodile logo that might as well have spelled out d-o-u-c-h-e. He bared his teeth at Anna in a blinding smile and ended his call.

“Anna, perfect. I was just trying to track down your number. I have an appointment with your dad and rang the bell a few times, but he didn't answer. His car’s in the driveway, and the door was open, so—”

“So, you just let yourself in?”

Saul leaned back in the chair and regarded her coolly.

“If Jack has a problem with that, I’ll address it with him.” He gestured to the basement door. “What exactly happened here?”

The shattered door had been crudely patched up with plywood and adorned with a shiny new doorknob. Anna jiggled the doorknob. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. She pounded on the door, the cheap plywood grating against her fist.

“Dad!”

Anna pressed her ear against the door and heard a faint scuttling in the basement. The rats, no doubt, but she’d bet anything that they weren’t alone. Jack was supposed to be resting in bed, but it looked like he’d found something else to do. She turned to Saul.

“I can hear him,” she lied. Bleary-eyed and exhausted, Anna doubted that she could break the basement door again. “You’ll have to kick the door in.”

Saul smirked. “That's a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“He's sick, okay? And hurt. He might need help.”

“I’m Jack’s colleague,” Geneva said, extending her arm to shake Saul’s hand. “Dr. Geneva Sanders, and I can assure you that this is somewhat of an emergency. So, please.”

Saul grumbled but got to his feet. He kicked the door with his shiny leather shoes, once, twice, and the third time it broke open. Anna descended the stairs with Geneva and Saul at her heels, barely registering the soft crunch of dead flies under her feet. She turned left at the bottom of the steps and there was Jack, sitting on top of a hoard pile under one of the new hanging lightbulbs, his hands deep inside a black garbage bag. His eyes, shifting and nervous, narrowed at the sight of them. Scattered atop the debris in the basement were the tattered remains of the same garbage bags that Anna hauled to the curb the night before.

“What have you done?” It was Saul, turning in a circle and taking in the colossal mess before him. He stumbled as his foot kicked into a busted bottle of drain cleaner.

Jack didn’t seem to hear him. He peered sheepishly at Anna. “You know,” Jack said, “I realized that Uncle Pete's stamp collection might have been in one of those bags.

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