the team.
After hearing Buck’s story, Dallas had set up a reading, with himself as the subject. Buck didn’t talk to people about his ability, and he only initiated contact with spirits when he sensed a compelling need. He didn’t know how to conduct a reading. Buck had been nervous and embarrassed, which worsened as Dallas sat in stony silence, his arms crossed and his body language controlled.
Finally, feeling like a fool, Buck had said, “If there’s anybody here who’d like to talk to Dallas, I can hear you.” He’d half hoped no spirits would show. Then they could have a good laugh, and Buck could apologize for wasting their time and leave, never to return. A male entity had shown up and shared one of Dallas’s secrets. When Buck revealed it, Dallas—a no-nonsense type, macho through and through—had broken down in tears.
Dallas had then surprised Buck by inviting him to join the team.
“They did a nice job in here,” Desi whispered. “Can you imagine how much it costs to renovate one of these old houses?”
The first time he’d met Desi Hollyhock, she’d swaggered into the room like a pirate and talked as tough as any veteran cop. Her attitude was what cops liked to call Taser bait. It might have unnerved him if she weren’t so tiny. He bet she had to stretch to claim more than three inches over five feet tall. He put her weight at one-ten, tops. Right now, in a bulky sweatshirt and cargo pants with multiple pockets bulging with ghost-hunting accessories, she looked like a little kid wearing her big brother’s clothing.
He kept the camera focused on her as she opened and closed every cabinet and drawer. The hinges and slides were silent.
The camera picked up every reflection so the sheen off her smooth, dark hair made it look blond on the screen. Her eyes had a silvery glow. Those crystal-blue eyes, so striking with her dark hair and pale skin, were burned into his memory. Eyes alive with energy and intelligence. Eyes that made him want to see how deep the toughness went.
Sexy.
Not so sexy was her dislike for psychics and mediums. A dislike so deep and contemptuous it sounded like a phobia. He’d been subjected to skepticism, scoffing, fear and, worst of all, painful hopefulness that his gift—curse—could solve problems. But Desi acted as if his very existence offended her.
He heard voices.
Desi froze, her head cocked. “Did you hear something?”
“Sounded like people talking.”
They heard faint laughter.
“I know that laugh. It’s Ringo.” Desi crouched next to the vanity, where a large floor vent was covered by a fancy-work grill. She held her hand over the vent. “No wonder it’s so cold up here. There’s barely any hot air coming through.” She pulled the walkie-talkie off her belt. “Dallas? Desi here. Where are you?”
Buck leaned in to better see the vent. He caught the scent of Desi’s hair, a mixture of sweetness and tang. He backed away.
“Basement. Furnace room. Where are you?”
“Still on the third floor, and we can hear you through the vent. Are there any doors?”
“One wall is covered with cabinets.”
“Check the doors, would you?”
In a few seconds came the eerie creak of old hinges.
“That’s it!” Desi exclaimed.
“It’s loose,” Dallas said. “It won’t stay closed.”
“Did the furnace come on within the last few minutes?”
“As a matter of fact, it did. Ah ha! The sudden rush of air moved the door?”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking. This vent must come straight from the furnace room. It makes it sound like there’s a door opening in here.” She flashed a big smile at Buck. “Mystery solved.”
Her smile struck him right in the heart. It made her beautiful.
“All right,” she said. “We’re going to do some EVP work.”
“Wait,” Dallas said. “Do you have a K2 meter?”
Desi said, “I do, but it only works for you and Ringo.”
“Exactly,” Dallas said. “It’s making me paranoid that Ringo is working some kind of hoodoo on it.”
Ringo’s “Hey!” drifted through the vent.
“I’ll give it a shot.” Desi rose to her feet. In the main room she headed for the bed. She set the digital recorder on the quilted coverlet. Velcro ripped and she reached into a deep pocket on her pants.
Buck peered at the unit she held. It was about ten inches long in a plastic case and had a bank of glass bulbs.
“Electricians use them,” she said. “Dallas gets some interesting results with it. Me?” She shrugged. She turned it on and the glass bulbs lit up one by one, flashing from yellow to green to red. It darkened. She set the unit near the digital recorder.
The paranormal researchers had more gadgets than a patrol car. “What does it do?” Buck asked.
“Measures magnetic fields. Dallas and Ringo keep getting what looks like intelligent responses through it.”
An image of a wooden rocking horse flashed through Buck’s mind. Eyes half-closed, he listened with his inner ear. The entity felt friendly and very young, and it was aware of Buck and Desi. Another image danced in and out of his consciousness. A striped rubber ball, the paint rubbed away by use.
Buck and Dallas had talked at length about how they might use Buck’s ability in investigations. The discussion regarding the Moore house focused solely on Buck needing to learn about the research equipment and how to conduct an investigation. Dallas hadn’t told Buck what to do if he saw or felt something in this house. Buck took seriously Desi’s warning against woo-woo stuff.
The spirit felt playful and curious. Buck moved closer to the door, attempting to pinpoint the spirit’s energy with the camera. He said, barely a whisper, “I know you’re here. I see your toys.”
Coldness blanketed Buck’s skin as the ghost’s delight sparked through Buck like static electricity. A pang of pity tightened his chest. Ghosts needed to move on, release or be released from this plane of existence. They had families and loved ones on the Other Side, or so he hoped. Children’s ghosts saddened him. They were lost and too far from home.
“Bring the camera over here,” Desi said. “Let’s do some EVP work.”
“If you don’t believe in ghosts,” he said to Desi, “why do you do this?”
Desi sat on the edge of the bed. “Belief is for church.” She lifted her chin. “Either I know or I don’t know, and whatever I claim to know better be backed up by hard evidence. I’m looking for facts. Anecdotes and sightings are interesting, but they don’t mean squat as proof. You’re filming the floor.”
He jerked the camera up to level.
She
