Medium Chris Wilson is used to the dead, but the living Derek Brandt is her biggest challenge yet. As they hunt for his brother's killer, the wall between skeptic and believer begins to crumble. In a house full of restless spirits, their uneasy alliance might just become the one thing they can't live without.
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“We should have taken my car,” said Steve.
“I’m already twenty over the limit.” White-knuckling the steering wheel, Derek swerved into the next lane to get around a semi. “We won’t get there faster by getting pulled over.”
“Then we should have waited for the cops to pick us up. Cops with sirens and lights—”
“Detective Hanson is already on his way to meet us there. You really think swinging by to pick us up first would’ve sped things up? He might even be there already.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. What if they shoot my dad?”
What if your dad shoots the woman I love? Derek refrained from asking out loud. He understood Steve’s worry, but it wasn’t like Jim Lansing hadn’t put himself in this position. His safety was the least of Derek’s concerns.
“Guys, it’s okay,” said Jimmy. “Ron or Joe would come and tell us if anything bad happened.”
Steve stared down at the box in his lap. “I still don’t know how to wrap my head around all this,” he muttered. “Jimmy, I can’t believe it’s really you.”
“Believe it, bro,” said the box.
“I’m so sorry about what happened. About everything. My dad… I can’t believe he would…” He squeezed his eyes shut and swore. “Why would he do that?”
“Because he loved you.”
Steve stared down at the box. Then he glanced at Derek, who kept his eyes on the road. Their exit was coming up and he stepped on the gas to pass the slower cars before changing lanes.
“No,” said Steve. “No, he wouldn’t do that. Not even for me. There has to be some other explanation.”
“We’ll find out soon,” Derek said as he pulled off of the expressway. Following Ron’s directions, he still had to navigate a mile or so of back road before they reached the construction site. They drove the last stretch in silence, Steve apparently lost in thought and Derek not feeling particularly chatty, either.
If that old man did anything to harm Chris… he just hoped for his “Uncle” Jim’s sake that Hanson got there first.
It looked like he might have gotten his wish. As he turned onto the single-lane gravel road that Ron had described, he could see Jim’s truck parked up ahead. Next to it sat a black SUV. As they drew closer the hulking form of Detective Hanson stepped into the headlights.
Derek stopped the car. Neither he nor Steve wasted any time getting out. “Did you find them?” Derek called before he even shut his door.
“I just got here myself,” said Hanson. He pointed up the road behind him. “I’m guessing he took her up to the old construction site.”
“Then let’s go.” Steve still held the ghost box. He tossed it to Derek as he sprinted to the gate. Shoving it open as far as the chain on it would let him, he glanced back at Hanson. “We’re not fitting through here.”
“Hang on,” said the Detective. He retrieved a set of bolt cutters from his SUV. A couple of minutes later, the chain was history. Steve yanked the gate wide open and sprinted up the path. “Dad!” he called. “Stop!”
Holding the gate open, Hanson watched him go before motioning for Derek to follow. “After you.”
Derek hurried through the gate. He got several steps ahead of Hanson and glanced down at the box. “Still with me, Jimmy?”
“I’m right here.”
“Maybe you should scout ahead. Find the others, see what’s happening up there.”
“Sure,” Jimmy said. Then the box fell silent. Derek only traveled a few more yards up the road when it lit up again. “I found Chris. She’s hurt!”
Derek gripped the box almost as hard as the panic that gripped his chest. “Where?”
“To your left. Over in that ditch.”
Derek could barely make out a depression along the side of the road in the darkness. “Chris?” he called as he headed toward it. “Christine! Are you here?”
“Where are you going?” Hanson called, but Derek ignored him. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard a moan.
“Chris!”
“Derek?”
Her voice sounded weak, but it was definitely her. “I’m here! Where are you!”
“A little more to your left,” Jimmy told him. “Keep walking. You’re almost there.”
He almost stumbled over her in the dark. “Hanson! Steve! Over here!” He dropped to his knees beside her. “Thank God. Are you okay? What happened?”
“He shot my leg.” She sounded tired. He wished he could make out her face better. “I think I’ve lost a lot of blood. I might have passed out.”
Footsteps in the gravel announced Hanson’s approach. “She needs an ambulance,” Derek told him as he removed his belt. “And can you get me a flashlight?”
“I don’t think so,” said the detective. Derek looked up to ask why, but the question died on his lips. He didn’t need a light to see what was pointing at him. The moonlight reflected off the gun barrel just fine.
“What the—” Derek started to ask, but then it all made sense. He could practically feel the last piece of the puzzle clicking into place. Hanson’s size, his apathy toward the case, how he went out of his way to hinder Derek’s own investigation…
Derek remembered the big, black SUV he’d arrived in. He’d been too preoccupied to notice whether the front of it was damaged. He didn’t know why, or how, Hanson had gotten involved, but he knew he was right.
As if to confirm his suspicions, the box lit up where Derek had set it on the ground. “Derek, I know that voice. It’s him.”
“It was you,” Derek said. “You killed my brother.”
“Yeah, well.” Hanson’s silhouette shrugged its shoulders. “The way I remember, all I would have done was beat him up if some stupid brat hadn’t pulled a gun on me. All these years you’ve been bugging me about finding your brother’s killer, all you had to do was look in the mirror, kid.”
“You son of a—” Derek tried to lunge at him, but Chris gripped his arm.
“Derek, no. He’ll shoot you.” She sucked air in through her teeth, clearly in pain. “I’m pretty sure he’s the one who shot me.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m going to shoot all of you anyway,” said Hanson. “Now get up. Bring the girl.”
“Not till I stop her bleeding.” Fumbling in the dark, he wrapped his belt around her thigh. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out the big, dark, wet stain on her jeans.
“What’s the point?” asked Hanson. “Just bring her.”
“If you’re going to shoot me then you can shoot me here. But I’m going to stop her bleeding first.” He turned his back on Hanson and gave all his attention to Chris. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. This is why I sent you home. I didn’t want something like this to happen—”
“It’s not your fault.”
“What about Jim?”
“I left him at the building site. Joe and Ron both tackled him and made him drop his gun, so I ran.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Didn’t get too far, though.”
Derek had to unclench his jaw to speak as he got the belt in position. “Okay. This is going to hurt. Hold onto me and don’t be afraid to squeeze as hard as you need to.”
“Okay.” She gripped his arms. “You ready?”
She nodded, and Derek cinched the belt as tightly as he could around her thigh. Chris let out a scream as her fingers dug into his biceps. Then she relaxed. “Ow,” she said weakly.
“I feel a hole in the back of your jeans, too. Pretty sure the bullet went clean through.” He stripped off his button-down and folded it into a makeshift bandage, then tied it tightly around the wound. “I think this is as good a field dressing as I can do.”
“Beats bleeding out alone in a ditch.” At least she hadn’t lost her sense of humor.
“You two done yet?”
“Yeah,” said Derek. “We’re done.”
“All right, then. Get moving.”
Derek handed the ghost box to Chris. Cradling her in his arms as gently as he could, he stood up and carried her toward the building.
Toward both their deaths, if Hanson got his way.
“I can’t find her!”
Ron returned to the building site to find Jim Lansing on his hands and knees, breathing hard. Joe stood between him and his gun. He seemed to have things under control. Ron had gone to search for Chris after hearing a gunshot ring out below. She’d gone in the direction Chris had run, but there’d been no sign of her. She’d scoured the rest of the construction site with no luck.
“Joe, what if she—”
“She’s fine. She’s alive, at any rate. If she wasn’t, she’d definitely be able to hear you calling for her.”
“But what if she’s hurt?” She knew she sounded frantic but didn’t care. “What if she’s bleeding?”
Before Joe could answer, Jim lunged for the gun. But Joe was faster. He kicked it out of the old man’s reach. “Stop it!” Lansing wailed. “I need that!”
“I’ve got this,” said Joe. “Keep looking. The others ought to be here soon. They can help.”
Ron let out a frustrated laugh. “How do we tell them Chris needs help without Chris?”
The old man lunged and again, Joe kicked the gun, and Lansing cried out in frustration. “That’s a bridge we’ll cross when we come to it.”
“Dad?” a voice called from down the hill. A figure appeared on the path, moving closer. “Dad, is that you?”
Lansing sat back on his knees and stared in horror at the figure. “No,” he muttered, shaking his head and hiding his face in his hands. “No, no, no!” Again, he lunged for the gun. Distracted by the newcomer, Joe wasn’t quick enough that time. The old man grabbed the pistol and held it to his temple.
“Dad, no!” The figure moved fast and tackled the old man. He was a big guy. Somehow familiar. It took a moment for Ron to place him as a famous football player whose name she couldn’t remember. He wrestled his father to the ground and pried the gun out of his grip. He tucked it into the back of his jeans as he got to his feet. “Dad, what’re you doing? What is all this?”
He reached down to help the old man up, but Lansing just lay there and covered his face with his hands. “No! Don’t look at me.”
“Dad—” The son crouched down and pried the old man’s hands away from his face. “Where’s the girl? Did you…” He looked like finishing the question might make him sick.
“No!” Lansing shook his head. “She ran. She took off that way.” He waved his hand to indicate the direction his son had just come from.
“I didn’t see anybody. Dad, swear to me you didn’t hurt her.”
“I didn’t!” Lansing pushed himself to his elbows and muttered, “I didn’t get the chance.”
His son just stared at him a moment, his hand over his mouth, shaking his head. Then he took a deep breath and grabbed his father under his armpits and hauled him to his feet. He turned him around and lowered his head to meet his father’s gaze. The old man refused to look at him.
“I have to ask you something. Did…” He squeezed his eyes shut and blew out a breath, then tried again. “Did you have Jimmy killed?”
Lansing shook his head, and his son let out a relieved sigh. But then he said, “They were only supposed to hurt him.”
His son’s hands fell away from his shoulders and dropped to his sides. He backed away from his father, shaking his head slowly.
Just then, a scream came from below. Ron reached out and gripped Joe’s wrist. “Chris—”
“Go,” he told her. “I think we’re all good here.” Without a second glance at the father and son, Ron flew in the direction of the scream.
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