The Lost: Book Two, The Eddie McCloskey Series (The Unearthed 2) (15 page)

Eddi
e
woke before the alarm and decided to work while Ana slept. He found her backpack on the kitchen counter, took out the tape recorder, and went into the bathroom to listen to last night’s tape.

Before the last investigation, Eddie had never put much stock in EVP. It didn’t make any sense. Why would ghost noise be picked up by a recorder but not by a human ear? There was no science to back it up. Tim hadn’t cared much for it either. But it was EVP that had cracked the last case. For better. And for worse.

So Eddie listened.

On the tape, he heard only himself and Ana talking and the normal sounds of the house. He listened for twenty minutes and was interrupted by someone pounding heavily on the downstairs door.

He hit STOP and left the recorder in the bathroom and went downstairs. Through the window, he saw a cop standing with his back to the door.

Eddie opened the door. “Lieutenant Whitmore, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“We’ll talk about that down the station. Let’s go.” Whitmore looked past Eddie’s shoulders up the stairs. “Both of you.”

Ana looked frozen in place, like she’d been caught doing something. “What’s going on?”

“Let’s go, Ana. You can follow me to the station.”

“Cool. I’ll ride with her,” Eddie said.

“Like hell you will. You’ll ride with me.”

* * * *

“This big storm ever going to start?” Eddie asked.

Whitmore grunted.

That was the extent of their conversation.

Whitmore drove the rest of the way in silence for the twenty-minute ride to his tiny police station as the sky turned from grey to black. The police station was about the size of Victor’s grocery store.

So far, it wasn’t an arrest but it wasn’t a friendly invite either. The cop helped Eddie out of the car in the parking lot and kept his hand on the back of Eddie’s arm the whole way. As they walked up the front steps, Ana pulled into the municipal lot and parked.

Inside, there was a small waiting area. A soft-in-the-middle desk sergeant nodded at Whitmore and scowled at Eddie. She looked about forty and rolled her eyes when Ana came in behind them, the disapproval making her face more severe.

“Ana, you wait out here,” Whitmore said.

Whitmore led Eddie through the open space, past the central office that had Whitmore’s name stenciled on the glass door, and down a narrow hallway that Eddie figured led to the interrogation room and the holding cell.

Whitmore opened the door to the interrogation room and put Eddie inside.

“Am I under arrest?” Eddie asked.

“Should you be?” Whitmore asked.

“No.”

Whitmore didn’t say anything else. He just shut the door and locked it.

The interrogation room was typical. The standard two-way mirror on one wall. Eddie sat at the lone table in the room and faced away from the mirror. Whatever was going on, he planned to make it difficult for Whitmore.

Then he waited.

Eddie knew Whitmore would make him wait for awhile. Twenty or thirty minutes at least. That’s what cops did. Let the suspect sit in a room alone. Let the uncertainty gnaw at him.

But Eddie had been arrested before so he knew the game. So he retreated inside himself and replayed last night’s fun. Elsie had surprised him with her sexual prowess. She knew her way around the bedroom and had even taught him a thing or two. He kept picturing her atop him, her big, full breasts drooping toward him, as she danced her hips in a circle.

But his mind kept replacing her face with Ana’s.

Finally Whitmore returned. He closed the door and sat opposite Eddie and folded his arms. Whitmore looked at him like he’d been responsible for every major crime of the past century.

“Where were you last night?” Whitmore asked.

Eddie knew from experience that the truth came out faster than a lie, so cops could spot bad liars pretty easily. It was a good thing he didn’t have to fabricate anything.

“We got to Colin’s around nine. He left a few minutes later. We proceeded with our investigation. Approximately three hours late, Colin returned home. We spoke to him briefly, and then we left.”

Whitmore’s eyes rolled at the word investigation. “Where did you go from there?”

“Back to Ana’s for a little bit. Maybe fifteen minutes.”

“What time was that?”

“I wasn’t keeping track of the time. Around one, if I had to guess.”

“What time did you get home?”

“I didn’t.”

Whitmore’s arms unfolded and he sat forward. “You wanna explain that to me?”

“I spent the night with a woman.”

Whitmore spread his palms on the table. They left streaks on the wood. “What woman?”

“Elsie.”

“Elsie who?”

“You know who I’m talking about.”

“I want you to tell me about it. What’s her last name?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You spent the night with her but you don’t remember?”

“You never had sex with a woman just for the hell of it, Whitmore?”

Whitmore hmphed. “Where does she live?”

Eddie told him the address.

“What time did you get there?”

“I told you, I wasn’t paying attention to the time.”

“Ballpark it for me, asshole.”

Eddie thought about it. “Assuming I left Ana’s around one or one-fifteen, between one-thirty and two o’clock.”

“Hmm.”

Eddie knew that trick. It was a cop’s way of fooling a suspect into asking a leading question that would give some vital information away. He said nothing.

“What time did you leave Elsie’s?”

“Not till this morning.”

“Can she confirm that?”

Eddie leaned forward. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“I plan to. What did you and Elsie do?”

Eddie fought a laugh. The better question was, What didn’t they do?

“What’s so funny?” Whitmore asked.

“Nothing. We were up for awhile then both fell asleep. Did you want the details?”

Whitmore ignored his attitude. “What time did you fall asleep?”

“We were up for awhile.”

“What time?”

“Christ, Whitmore, I don’t check the fucking time before I fall asleep in the event a prick cop is going to grill me the next day.”

Whitmore’s eyebrows knitted together.

“Probably around four o’clock.”

“Were you two drinking?”

“Yes. That is still legal around here, right?”

“How much did you drink?”

“We shared a bottle or two of wine.”

“So you were pretty drunk.”

“Not really. My tolerance is pretty good.”

“I’ll bet it is. Was she?”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“I’m asking you.”

“Maybe.”

Whitmore ignored the evasive answer. “Did you leave her house between four and when she woke up the next morning?”

“No. She woke me up.”

“What time was that?”

“Around nine.”

“Then what?”

Eddie folded his arms. “We had breakfast, then we took a shower, then I went straight to work. My shift started at ten.”

Whitmore sat back and folded his hands. Twiddled his thumbs. Never once took his cop’s eyes off Eddie.

Then Whitmore said, “I ask her the same questions, am I gonna get the same answers?”

Whitmore was expecting him to say yes, so of course Eddie said, “No.”

Whitmore nearly fell out of his chair. “What?”

Eddie smirked. He was having too much fun and pushing Whitmore too far. “You’re a cop. You should know from experience that two people will never describe something the same way.”

Whitmore shot out of his chair and put his knuckles on the table and leaned forward. “Okay, smartass. Sit right there like a good citizen till I come get you.”

Whitmore stalked to the door. Before opening it, he said, “You know what’s funny, drifter? Not once have you asked me what this is about.”

Eddie winked at him. “I figured you’d get to that in good time.”

“Keep it up. I’m just itching to charge you with murder.”

Eddi
e
chewed on that last exchange for the better part of thirty minutes in the interrogation room by himself. He occupied himself by comparing the last three women he’d slept with. They were all so different, all so talented in different ways. A few times, to stave off the boredom, he turned and waved playfully at the two-way mirror.

Eventually it got to him. He got out of his seat and paced the claustrophobic confines of the room. There was no window to the outside.

He sat back down and forced himself to doze. He took deep breaths and let his mind wander. He could just feel himself slipping away when there was a noise at the door.

Whitmore came in.

“If I’m not under arrest—”

“Save it.” Whitmore motioned for him to follow.

Eddie got up and followed Whitmore to his office. Ana and Jimbo were sitting in front of Whitmore’s desk and Tony could be seen sitting alone just outside the office. He gave Eddie a razor sharp stare.

Whitmore waited for Eddie to step into the office then turned to Ana’s boyfriend. “Jim, thanks for your help. We won’t be needing any more of your time.”

Jimbo went to the door, then remembered he should kiss his girlfriend or at least say goodbye. “Me and Tony are headed out, hon. You know, since you’re busy tonight.”

Eddie heard the accusation in Jimbo’s voice, and it pleased him. Jealousy was alive and well in old Jimbo.

Ana gave him a quick hug and kiss before Jimbo shuffled out of the office. Whitmore shut the door behind him. Through the glass, Eddie watched Jimbo and Tony leave the police station. The desk sergeant went back to typing.

Whitmore said, “Both of you should sit down for this.”

Eddie put an edge in his voice. “I’ve been sitting for over an hour.”

Whitmore ignored his tone. “Colin Winspear died last night. Sometime after you two left.”

“Died?” Ana said.

“Between one and two.”

“
Died
?” Ana repeated.

“Why are you sharing with us?” Eddie asked.

Whitmore turned and faced Eddie. “Because now I know you didn’t do it.”

“I could have told you that myself.”

Whitmore smirked. “Ana confirmed your story, up to a certain point. Then I confirmed the rest for myself.”

Eddie felt Ana’s eyes on him. He didn’t meet her stare.

Whitmore continued. “Jimbo and Tony confirm her story. So you’re both clear. And you’re both the last people to see Colin alive.”

“The last person to see him alive killed him,” Eddie said.

“So who did it, wiseass?” Whitmore said.

Eddie said, “Signs of a robbery?”

“No.”

Ana had a hand over her mouth. “My God … how did it happen?”

Whitmore gave her a fatherly look. “You sure you want to know?”

Ana looked to Eddie for guidance. He kept his face neutral. He wanted her to decide for herself.

Finally Ana said, “I guess I’ll find out eventually. Might as well hear it now.”

“He drowned in the creek in his backyard.”

Ana gripped her armrest and disbelief flashed in her eyes.

Eddie said, “You sure it’s murder?”

Whitmore shook his head. “Unclear. Trauma to the top of his head. And there was alcohol in his system. Which is strange because Colin’s a recovering alcoholic who hadn’t touched a drop in years apparently.”

Ana frowned. “I didn’t know that.”

“One of the few things he kept pretty quiet.”

Eddie thought about it. “So let’s say he was bombed. He wanders out in the middle of the night, unsteady on his feet, loses his footing, hits his head on the creek bed, loses consciousness, drowns. Sounds great. You could wrap it up right now. The only problem is, what the hell is he doing out there in the first place? It would have been after we left, so around one, maybe one-thirty. The temperature was in the teens last night. So what’s he doing out there?”

Whitmore nodded reluctantly, as if he didn’t want to give Eddie any credit. “You need to tell me what you found in his house last night.”

Eddie looked over at Ana. Her hand finally loosened on the armrest, and she sat back her chair.

Whitmore leveled his eyes on Eddie, and his lip curled into a sneer. “Ana kept her lips sealed about your investigation when I asked her.”

Eddie put a hand on Ana’s shoulder. “That was good of you, kiddo, but you didn’t have to do that. This is way more serious.”

“That’s right,” Whitmore said. “So start talking.”

Eddie walked Whitmore through the three hours they’d spent at Colin’s. He left nothing out. There was no reason to hide anything. Whitmore seemed unimpressed by the paranormal activity Eddie related to him, but he did jot a few notes down on his coffee-stained legal pad.

When Eddie was done, Whitmore grunted. “So why’d you lie to Colin and tell him you didn’t hear anything?”

Ana regarded Eddie with a wary look. She must have been wondering the same thing.

“I don’t know,” Eddie said. “I just wanted to see how he’d react.”

“You think he was making it up?” Whitmore said.

Eddie shook his head. “Not now. Not after what we heard. I don’t see the point of him making it up either. If anything, he seemed more hassled by us than anything. Most people want you to take your time, find something to validate what they’re saying. He couldn’t wait for us to get out of there.”

A pained look appeared on Whitmore’s face. “Much as I don’t want to, I have to ask. Do you think a ghost could have done this?”

Eddie finally sat next to Ana. “Ghosts don’t kill people. At least, not directly. That only happens in movies.”

“That’s good, because I don’t believe in any of your bullshit. I don’t believe this town is haunted either. I think you’re wasting your time. I think this is all the product of a lot of overactive imaginations. I think a lot of people are out of work and this town is slowly dying and people want some excitement so they make their own.”

Eddie said nothing.

Whitmore let out a big sigh and went on. “That being said, I have to explore all possibilities. So when you say ghosts don’t kill people, are you being literal? Does it never happen? Have you even heard about it happening to someone else?”

Eddie shook his head no. “The worst spirits out there do their damage emotionally. It’s more like psychological warfare. Weaken the enemy’s mind until they break. People get scared, they’re on edge, they start acting out of character, doing things they normally wouldn’t do. I’ve seen ghosts ruin families, sure, but when you come down to it, it’s not the ghosts doing the actual killing. It’s always the people. And even then, killings are very rare. You’re talking less than one-one-hundredth a percent of validated claims.”

Whitmore and Ana said nothing, though it was obvious what they were thinking. Eddie’s last investigation had ended in several killings.

Eddie said, “Anything else strange about the body?”

“Trauma to the ankles consistent with severe rope burns.” Whitmore looked at Ana like he was embarrassed to bring up Colin’s sexual habits. “His ankles were pretty raw, but we know he had a ... date last night.”

Ana’s face turned red.

Whitmore said, “How was Colin acting?”

Eddie shrugged. “I don’t know the guy, so I can’t say if he was being himself. But if you’re asking whether he seemed depressed or suicidal, I’d say no.”

Ana sat up. “He was himself.”

“Did he say anything that struck either of you as odd?

“No,” Eddie said, then remembered about the clocks.

Whitmore must have read his face. “What?”

“He asked us to reset his clocks for him.”

“So what?”

“Nobody’s ever asked me to do that before.”

“Maybe he just thought ahead.”

“Maybe. No one else ever has.”

“So what?”

“So maybe nothing. How much booze did he have in him?”

“Three or four drinks.”

“What does the M.E. think?”

Whitmore hesitated. “The M.E. doesn’t think. He just gives us the facts.”

“I hope the bump on the head knocked him out. Drowning’s a bad way to go.” Eddie shuddered at his own memory of nearly drowning.

“Who found him?” Ana asked.

Whitmore shook his head. “Marty Kindler.”

“Why was Kindler there?” Eddie asked.

The skin around Whitmore’s eyes tightened. “Marty’s not a suspect in this, Eddie.”

“You think there’s a connection between the paranormal events and this death?” Eddie said.

“I doubt it, but the truth is there are no other connections,” Whitmore said. “Colin’s ex has an alibi. He’s got no enemies we know of. It’s not a robbery. And the timing is bizarre. Either it’s a coincidence that you were there last night, poking around, or it’s not. I have to treat it like it’s not.”

Eddie nodded. It was interesting how much Whitmore reminded him of his brother Tim. That was exactly how he would have done things.

“Is anybody gonna talk about the elephant in the room?” Ana asked.

Neither man said anything.

She continued. “Colin drowned.”

Whitmore looked from her to Eddie, as if he blamed Eddie for putting such a thought in her head. The cop picked up what looked like an old cup of coffee and drank.

Ana said, “He drowned just like Tessa.”

The three of them sat in silence for a moment. The only sound came from the common area: the clack of the desk sergeant typing a report.

“Assuming worst case, assuming this is all connected,” Eddie said, “then you’ve gotta be worried about Bernard and Marty too.”

Whitmore put his coffee down. “I’ve got my people with them already.”

“And if it’s all connected, then it all goes back to Tessa,” Ana said.

Whitmore ran a hand through his buzzed hair. “That’s a big if, but it’s all we have right now.”

Eddie didn’t buy it for a minute. Ghosts didn’t kill people. “It was Mike Hollis. So what it’s been fourteen years? He’s still pissed off that everybody blames him for Tessa’s death when it wasn’t even his fault. His whole life took a turn for the worse after that. He had to leave town. And who else can he blame except Colin, Bernard, and Kindler?”

Whitmore said, “Mike’s got an airtight alibi for last night.”

Eddie couldn’t help but be impressed by how quickly Whitmore had gotten all this information together. “Where was he?”

“He was home with his wife. He lives several hours away. The timing makes it impossible.”

Eddie laughed. “So it was his crazy old man.”

Whitmore laughed too. “I’m going up there tonight to have a chat. But I seriously doubt it. Mitchell Hollis can barely walk with his hip and his back and his foot. When I’m done with him, I’ll meet you at Bernard’s place.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to watch you do your work. And if I see anything I don’t like, I’m going to arrest you. One arrest counts as a parole violation. Remember that.”

“I don’t murder people,” Eddie said. “And ghosts don’t either.”

“Then how do you explain the drowning?” Whitmore said.

“You’re a cop. You know there’s usually a rational explanation for everything.”

“Until there is, don’t think you and I are on terms. Got it?”