a paranormal investigator … you know, maybe as a consultant.”
Tim was brilliant. Why hadn’t I thought of that one?
Although I couldn’t quite understand what an island full of witches and other odd folks would need a paranormal investigator for, I was up for it.
That’s when it dawned on me that I hadn’t had any connection to the crimes at all. Not even a pop in from the victim to ask about our progress, or to inquire as to which way they had to go to find the light.
This not only wasn’t good, it was just plain odd.
A paranormal investigator sounded good.
Chapter Eleven
“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of,” Ayden grumbled.
Our boss was making no secret of the fact that he wasn’t happy about bringing in a P.I for the supernatural.
In spite of the fact that he was with the Monster Squad of the FBI, I sometimes think he forgot what exactly it was we were dealing with. Ayden believed that the best way to solve a crime was with good old-fashioned police work. But as in this case, sometimes that wasn’t enough.
When the only trace evidence left behind didn’t make any sense, it was time to go for the weird and unusual.
Turns out that after receiving the results on the sample, Tim contacted the investigator while he was still on the mainland.
It was well after dark when the paranormal investigator arrived.
I was expecting a team of ghost busters to pull up in some shiny bus, with something like, West Coast Ghost Hunters painted on the side in huge red letters. Instead, it was one guy, and he was driving a beat up old Bronco.
Only one guy!
I couldn’t help but wonder how he was going to run all those gizmos that I’d seen ghost hunters using on those reality TV shows, without the help of at least one assistant.
The spook hunter met us with a smile, and held out his hand to Ayden first, who shook it reluctantly.
“Hi there. I’m Marty Morrison. You’re partner got in touch with me and said you might need some help out here.”
“So he did.” Ayden forced a smile.
The boss man was being really stiff tonight, even more than usual.
What was up with that?
As soon as I took Marty’s offered hand, I knew. He was as cold as a corpse, which could only mean he was either a zombie, not likely since he wasn’t rotting, or he was a vampire. That would explain why he couldn’t show up until late.
In a way, it was kind of exciting. I’d never met a vampire before.
Stepping back, I took a minute to study Marty Morrison. He didn’t look anything like what I’d imagined a vampire would look like. He wasn’t exactly sexy or charismatic. In fact, he looked like any middle-aged guy you’d see on the street. Hell, he could have been a city bus driver, or a janitor. He didn’t dress all that flashy either.
He wore his long sleeve blue plaid shirt tucked into his blue jeans, which had obviously seen better days. His thin brown hair was balding on top, and the glasses he was wearing had extra thick lenses.
Now from what I’d heard about vampires, he probably wouldn’t even need those glasses. It would seem that maybe he was a vampire who didn’t want to be a vampire, or else he was trying really hard to masquerade as a still breathing human.
I decided that meeting a vampire was extremely anticlimactic. You just couldn’t trust what you saw on TV. Not only was I misled by the entertainment industry about what to expect from a ghost hunter, but a vampire too.
Some of those movie and TV vampires were pretty hot, but not this guy. Even Jasper was hotter than this vampire, which was so totally yuk to think about.
I guess it was a good thing I had my Elias amnesia to obsess over, seeing as how I was now completely disillusioned with vampires.
“So where do we start?” Marty asked.
* * *
The most obvious place to start was the Sandbar. Not only was it the latest crime scene, but there was a good chance the victim was still alive.
Marty’s plan was to do a
Tim was brilliant. Why hadn’t I thought of that one?
Although I couldn’t quite understand what an island full of witches and other odd folks would need a paranormal investigator for, I was up for it.
That’s when it dawned on me that I hadn’t had any connection to the crimes at all. Not even a pop in from the victim to ask about our progress, or to inquire as to which way they had to go to find the light.
This not only wasn’t good, it was just plain odd.
A paranormal investigator sounded good.
Chapter Eleven
“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of,” Ayden grumbled.
Our boss was making no secret of the fact that he wasn’t happy about bringing in a P.I for the supernatural.
In spite of the fact that he was with the Monster Squad of the FBI, I sometimes think he forgot what exactly it was we were dealing with. Ayden believed that the best way to solve a crime was with good old-fashioned police work. But as in this case, sometimes that wasn’t enough.
When the only trace evidence left behind didn’t make any sense, it was time to go for the weird and unusual.
Turns out that after receiving the results on the sample, Tim contacted the investigator while he was still on the mainland.
It was well after dark when the paranormal investigator arrived.
I was expecting a team of ghost busters to pull up in some shiny bus, with something like, West Coast Ghost Hunters painted on the side in huge red letters. Instead, it was one guy, and he was driving a beat up old Bronco.
Only one guy!
I couldn’t help but wonder how he was going to run all those gizmos that I’d seen ghost hunters using on those reality TV shows, without the help of at least one assistant.
The spook hunter met us with a smile, and held out his hand to Ayden first, who shook it reluctantly.
“Hi there. I’m Marty Morrison. You’re partner got in touch with me and said you might need some help out here.”
“So he did.” Ayden forced a smile.
The boss man was being really stiff tonight, even more than usual.
What was up with that?
As soon as I took Marty’s offered hand, I knew. He was as cold as a corpse, which could only mean he was either a zombie, not likely since he wasn’t rotting, or he was a vampire. That would explain why he couldn’t show up until late.
In a way, it was kind of exciting. I’d never met a vampire before.
Stepping back, I took a minute to study Marty Morrison. He didn’t look anything like what I’d imagined a vampire would look like. He wasn’t exactly sexy or charismatic. In fact, he looked like any middle-aged guy you’d see on the street. Hell, he could have been a city bus driver, or a janitor. He didn’t dress all that flashy either.
He wore his long sleeve blue plaid shirt tucked into his blue jeans, which had obviously seen better days. His thin brown hair was balding on top, and the glasses he was wearing had extra thick lenses.
Now from what I’d heard about vampires, he probably wouldn’t even need those glasses. It would seem that maybe he was a vampire who didn’t want to be a vampire, or else he was trying really hard to masquerade as a still breathing human.
I decided that meeting a vampire was extremely anticlimactic. You just couldn’t trust what you saw on TV. Not only was I misled by the entertainment industry about what to expect from a ghost hunter, but a vampire too.
Some of those movie and TV vampires were pretty hot, but not this guy. Even Jasper was hotter than this vampire, which was so totally yuk to think about.
I guess it was a good thing I had my Elias amnesia to obsess over, seeing as how I was now completely disillusioned with vampires.
“So where do we start?” Marty asked.
* * *
The most obvious place to start was the Sandbar. Not only was it the latest crime scene, but there was a good chance the victim was still alive.
Marty’s plan was to do a
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