The Unearthed: Book One, The Eddie McCloskey Series (8 page)

Eddie asked, “Why would he lie?”

“He’s a kid.”

“He’s a good kid.”

Tim chewed on it. Eddie was intuitive and good at reading people. On the other hand, he was prone to take the easy out. If somebody said they saw something, he’d more often than not take them at their word.

Tim was the opposite. He wanted objective evidence and didn’t trust in people to tell the whole truth.

“You know, Ed,” he said. “You have to be careful about what you promise clients.”

Eddie took a drag on his cigarette. “What’re you talking about?”

Tim didn’t want to get into it right now, but it needed saying. “It’s just you told Billy we’d make sure nothing happened to his family.”

“We better,” Eddie said. “They’re the client.”

Tim pursed his lips. Told himself to be calm. “Look, Ed. We can’t promise them anything except that we’ll do our best.”

Eddie didn’t say anything but his eyes told the whole story.

Tim put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’m not trying to bust your balls. I’m just saying, we have to be careful what we tell the client.”

Eddie took another drag. “Yeah, okay.”

“Jackie’s ordering out. If you wanna stick around to eat, Stan said he’d give you a ride.”

“Ah, cool. You got any scratch I can borrow?”

Tim wondered how Eddie couldn’t have any money. Even though he’d been out of work for a couple months, he was living with Tim rent free, and he’d had odd jobs here and there.

Tim fished out a twenty. “Here ya go.”

“Thanks, bro. I’ll get you back.”

Tim wasn’t worried about getting the twenty back. He was more concerned with getting the other several thousand back.

“Ma
y
I?” Tim asked.

“You better,” Michelle said.

Tim poured her another glass of Vouvray.

It was a nice Italian restaurant. Soft lighting so everything looked fuzzy and prettier. Music played in the background, the sounds of violins, guitars, mandolins.

Tim dipped his bread in the olive oil and took a bite.

“This is nice,” Michelle said.

It was nice. He’d never eaten here before. Dinner had been Michelle’s idea, the place had been his. Their way of celebrating three months together.

“How was work today?” he asked.

“Boss was out, I didn’t have much to do, so I rolled before five.”

“Must be nice.”

“I want to hear about your day. And if you’re going to let me help you.”

Tim finished his bread, was tempted to go for another piece, thought better of it. He was already half full, and their salads hadn’t even arrived yet.

“Interesting. We uncovered a lot, but I think we’ve only scratched the surface,” he said.

“Could you be any vaguer?”

Tim laughed. “Sorry. I’m not used to talking about work with someone …”

“You don’t work with?”

“Right.”

“So put me on the team, and then you can tell me.”

“Michelle …”

“What?”

“This isn’t something you can just jump into.”

“Is there a ghost-hunting major at college now?”

He laughed. She had a sharp wit he loved. “Most of us have been studying this stuff for years. I was interested in the paranormal ever since I was ten and read my first Stephen King novel.”

She put honey in her voice. “I’m a quick learner.”

Tim held up his hands in defeat. “All right, I’ll see if there is a way.”

“Not much of a promise.” She grinned ear to ear. “I’d like to see what it is you do. I want to be part of your life.”

“You are part of my life.”

“It’s one of the most interesting things about you, and you don’t talk about it.”

“I’m not a talker.”

“You’re a man, alright.” She winked at him and he felt that looseness in his chest when she did something cute.

“It’s a job, like any other. Good days, bad days. I wish I could do it full-time but there’s not enough work.”

“You’re good at it.”

He was uncomfortable with compliments. “The only way to do it is to go on the facts. And not to let people bullshit you.”

“Kind of like your full-time job.”

“Exactly.” He was a property claims investigator for an insurance company. And he was pretty good at it.

Michelle finished her second glass of Vouvray. Tim poured her another.

“Aren’t you having any?” she asked.

“Just this one. I have to get an early start tomorrow.”

“So no drunk sex tonight?” she asked, coyly.

Tim arched his eyebrows. “I could be convinced otherwise. But I have to be sober to drive.”

“So get Eddie to pick us up. I’m sure he owes you a favor.”

She said it jokingly but he knew she was fishing. And he took the bait.

“He owes me a lot more than a favor.”

Michelle sipped her wine. He knew she was drawing him out. It made him think more about Eddie, something he did a lot of.

She said, “You’re a good brother. I’ve never heard you bitch about Eddie.”

“Why would I?”

“My brother still drives me nuts, and I only see him twice a year. You live with yours.”

He glanced at her, wondering why he was holding back. He was ready to get down on one knee but he wasn’t prepared to bad-mouth Eddie to her.

She took his hand. “Tim, you can tell me anything.”

He considered what she was saying. And a big part of him did want to open up.

“Tell me something about yourself that I don’t know,” she said.

“What you see is what you get.” He didn’t find himself interesting, but she was always asking questions. She seemed to have an endless supply.

Michelle laughed. “Tell me why you do this.”

“Ever since I was little, I was always interested in the paranormal. The idea that there could be something else out there, beyond what we know. And at the same time, there’s usually a reasonable explanation to things. I guess I’m trying to reconcile the two ideas because then if I see something extraordinary, I know it’s real.”

“Don’t you ever get scared?”

“Sure, it’s natural. After you do it a few times, it’s not bad. Especially because you learn that most hauntings are bogus. The ones that are genuine are probably going to be harmless.”

“What else don’t I know about you?”

He started to answer, but stopped. He didn’t want to worry her.

“Oh come on.” She pointed at him. “I know you want to say something.”

“Look, I didn’t want to worry you but I’ve been having these … episodes recently.”

“Episodes?”

“Yeah. I get this weird feeling, to the point where I have trouble moving. I feel like I’m paralyzed.”

Her eyes wide open. “Have you seen a doctor?”

“It’s only happened a few times.”

“How much is a few?”

“Three.”

“Hon, that’s two too many not to have seen a doctor.” She was acting like his wife.

And he liked it.

“Don’t get excite—” he said, but she cut him off.

“When was the last time?”

“Last week.”

“What brings them on?”

“I have no idea.”

“And you literally can’t move?”

“Not exactly. It feels that way, but it’s more like I’m moving slow. It’s tough to describe.”

“I’m calling the doctor’s office tomorrow.”

“If it happens again, I’ll call. Promise.”

* * * *

They returned to a dark apartment a little after eleven. Tim and Michelle kept quiet as they walked down the hallway to Tim’s room. He shut the door behind them.

“So tell me what Eddie owes you?” She was tipsy and tottered back and forth.

Tim steadied her as she bent over to slip out of her heels. She aimed for Tim’s wicker chair, where he kept his not-quite dirty clothes. One shoe thunked against the wall.

“Not now,” he said.

“Why won’t you let me in?” She slurred her words a bit. “I just want to be close to you.”

She struggled to get out of her top, like it was a strait jacket. Tim had to help.

“Sit down and I’ll tell you. You’re making me seasick.”

“You mean it?”

“Yeah.” He sat her down on the bed. She wobbled a bit.

“I’ve never told anyone this.” He couldn’t believe what he was doing. He realized it was probably a combination of the alcohol and testosterone making him talk. But suddenly he had to tell her.

“The car accident with my parents … It was Eddie’s fault, kind of.”

“What?”             

“He didn’t mean to … but he caused it.”

“How’d it happen?”

“Eddie and I were in the back seat. Dad was driving. It was late, dark out. I had one of those handheld game systems.” He took a deep breath. No turning back now.

“Eddie wanted a turn so he grabbed it from me. He wouldn’t give it back. Mom took off her seatbelt to intervene. Eddie wouldn’t let her have it either. Dad started yelling. He was distracted.”

She looked stone cold sober.

Tim said, “There was something in the road, Dad swerved to avoid it. Mom and Eddie lost their grip on the thing.

“It fell right under the pedals. Dad reached but couldn’t get at it. We were coming to an intersection. I remember Mom screaming ‘stop sign’ and Dad trying to jam the brakes. But the game had lodged itself under the pedal. It felt like we entered that intersection in slow-mo.

“And then the impact came on my side. Mom was thrown into the windshield because she didn’t have a chance to put her seatbelt on. She died pretty quickly at the hospital. Dad never wore his seatbelt. He hit his head on the window and blacked out. He died from internal injuries later.”

Michelle’s jaw had dropped. Until now, he’d spared her the details.

“I broke my arm. Eddie didn’t have a scratch on him,” Tim said. “And you know what? That’s how he’s always been. Impulsive, a little reckless … I don’t blame him for the car accident, he was only ten … but he’s just …”

Michelle waited.

“Forget it.” Tim had wanted to say that Eddie had never changed but that wasn’t fair. He’d only been a kid.

“What’s he done at the Rossellis?”

Tim exhaled sharply. “He’s sharp, and he’s great with people. He’s intuitive. If he just was more disciplined … he speaks before he thinks. He promised that kid today that we’d make sure they came to no harm.”

She leaned into him.

Tim said, “And he’s been feeding them, too.”

“What’s that mean?”

Tim looked at her and saw that she was having trouble keeping her head in one place.

“He’s told them that something was going on, before we verified it,” Tim said.

She put her head on his shoulder. He lowered her to the bed.

Looking up at him with glassy eyes, she said, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s just how he is.”

“No … your parents.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Have you ever talked to him about it?”

“I’ve never told anyone before, except the cops I guess. I don’t remember the aftermath.”

Michelle shook her head in disbelief. “So then you went to live with your uncle?”

“Yeah, he took good care of us.”

“Hon, it’s not good to keep things inside.”

He was having trouble following her leaps in the conversation. “I tell him the accident was his fault and he’s likely to go out and cause another accident. Maybe kill himself.”

“It’s not good to repress,” she said.

“I’m not repressing. I know exactly what happened—”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s hard talking about it.”

Michelle smiled sadly. “Can’t even imagine.”

“You don’t want to.”

“You poor baby.” She reached up and pulled him down to her. “I’ll make you feel better.”

* * * *

Tim dreamed of the car accident. In the dream, things happened differently. He saw Mom trying to snatch the game out of his hands while Eddie slept soundly. He saw Dad take a hand off the wheel and turn to grab the game. Then he heard the squeal of tires, the crash of metal. After the screech of collision, Mom was thrown away from him.

He dreamt of Mom in a hospital bed, barely conscious. She smiled weakly at him, as if she knew she was going to die.

Tim woke up in a sweat. He remembered seeing Mom in a hospital bed before, but not from the car accident. He couldn’t recall from when. He tried to latch onto that image, to remember it, before it disappeared to wherever dreams go.