The Edge Creek Light Read online

  Her hands covered in raw chicken, she nodded with her chin toward the hall they’d just left. “In the shower. He always comes home covered in drywall dust. Listen, I’ve got two other kids I need to get supper ready for, so could you ask me what you need to know?”

  Sully exchanged glances with Dez, who took up the call. “You didn’t report your son missing yourself. Why not?”

  She didn’t look up from her chicken. “What for? He always does this, takes off with no notice. Always comes back.”

  “How often has he run away?”

  “At least once every year or two since he was seven or eight. When he was younger, I always reported it to the police. He’s seventeen now. Will says he’s old enough to look after himself, and he’s right. Gabe always comes back unscathed. And before you say it, I know it’s the dead of winter, and it’s freezing outside. But he’s run off in winter before, and same thing. Comes back, none the worse for wear. Wherever it is he goes to, it’s obviously warm and safe. What am I supposed to do? Chase him down every time he decides he needs a break from us? Like I said, I’ve got two other kids, and they’re both in their early teens. Believe me, they’re getting to be a handful all on their own.”

  Sully nodded. That answered that. “And you have no idea where he goes when he leaves?”

  “None. And before you ask, he’s wise to the possibility of GPS tracking through his phone. Police have tried that in the past, but Gabe’s told me he always shuts the phone off before he leaves, to make sure we can’t find him.”

  Sully leaned against the island countertop next to Dez and used his gentlest tone. “Why do you think he runs away?”

  Shelby spared him a glance before going back to her work. She elbowed on one of the taps at her nearby sink and used dish soap to wash the chicken from her hands. “If you’re thinking it must be something about his parenting, I can tell you Will and I have tried hard with him. But he’s always been a challenge. I don’t know why. He’s got a stable home, two parents who work hard to give him the things he needs and wants, siblings who look up to him. He always has food on the table and clothes on his back. He isn’t abused or mistreated or anything.”

  Sully tried again. “But no one runs away that often without a reason.”

  Shelby returned to the island where, next to the halved chicken breasts, rested a bowl filled with some sort of cheese and vegetable mixture. With a spoon, she scooped some of it up and smeared it over the chicken. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  Sully studied her. She’d barely looked at them since they’d arrived. Her expression was tight, pinched even. Immersed in her cooking, she seemed grateful for something to divide her attention from the questions they were asking.

  Shelby Pembroke wasn’t telling them something.

  And she wasn’t planning to.

  Dez shifted off the stool, drawing himself to full height. “No offence meant by this, ma’am, but I’m getting the impression you aren’t eager to have us here. We’re trying to help find your son. Maybe we can even figure out where he goes so you know where to look next time. Don’t you want that?”

  Shelby had just lifted another spoonful of mixture from the mixing bowl, and she dropped it back inside with a clatter. “You know what I want? I want my son to stop being so goddamned selfish. I want him to learn how to be honest and face up to the fact life isn’t perfect. It’s never going to be perfect. And I want him to be grateful for what he’s been given. Life is a gift, detectives. Sometimes we all need reminding of that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  Movement from behind had Sully turning. A man blocked their path to the back door, clothed in sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt, damp hair jutting up porcupine-style. His gritted and bared teeth suggested he’d heard at least part of his wife’s emotional rant. “Who the hell are you?”

  Sully ran through the introductions this time. “Sullivan Gray and Dez Braddock. We’re working as private investigators, and we’re—”

  “Leaving,” Shelby cut in. “See them out, Will.”

  Will stepped aside, presenting a path to the back door. “You heard the lady.”

  Sully started that way, but stopped in front of Will. Time to throw caution to the wind. “We’re here about Gabe. We’re trying to find him. We came here hoping to have a few questions answered.”

  Will jabbed his index finger toward their boots on the floor at the back entrance. “Out.”

  Sully stood his ground. “I don’t get it. We’re here to help. Why don’t you want help finding your son?”

  Will took a menacing step toward Sully but stopped as Dez shouldered in. The message was clear: Mess with one of them, mess with both. While Sully was well built at six feet and plenty capable of looking after himself, Dez was disincentive personified.

  Will took the not-so-subtle hint, backing away before repeating his earlier order—albeit with less vehemence. “Out.”

  No sense arguing. The Pembrokes weren’t budging. Sully kept half an eye on Will as he tied his boots by the back door. Dez’s were zip-up, leaving him standing there, arms crossed like a pissed-off bodyguard while Sully finished his task.

  Back in the SUV, they took a minute to regroup.

  “That was a bust,” Dez said. “I don’t get it, man. We didn’t say or do anything stupid, did we?”

  Sully shook his head. “Nope. What we did was hit a nerve.” He met Dez’s eye. “I know a lie when I hear one, Dez. Shelby wasn’t exactly lying, but she didn’t tell us the full truth, either. There’s a reason Gabe runs away, and I think they know what it is.”

  “All these years, they must have told the police something. Maybe we can talk to someone in Missing Persons, see what they can tell us.” He peered back at the house. “From what I saw of Will, I’m open to the possibility he’s a hitter. Maybe he hits Gabe.”

  “If that were the case, wouldn’t police have figured it out somewhere along the way? The kids would have been seized by Social Services at some point.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. But don’t rule it out yet. Might turn out the Pembrokes have simply been good at snowing people.”

  Sully studied the front of the house as if something might reveal itself in the stonework and siding. “I don’t know, man. I’m getting the impression what you see with them is what you get. And what I’m seeing is a couple who’s guarding something.”

  “So maybe instead of wasting time driving out to Edge Creek, we should check in with Missing Persons, huh?”

  Sully glanced over at Dez. A hopeful expression met him, one Sully didn’t have the heart to erase. “Tell you what: You head over to police headquarters and see if you can find someone to talk to. Drop me off somewhere and I’ll find a way out to Edge Creek. I can go check it out myself.”

  Dez’s lips formed a straight line as his brow tightened. Sully read his older brother’s thoughts in the expression. Dez didn’t hover the way he used to, but it was firmly embedded in his nature to protect those he loved. He wouldn’t like a plan where Sully searched alone for a ghost that might have been the last significant thing experienced by a missing person.

  “We can swing by police headquarters tomorrow,” Dez said at last, proving Sully right. “Better we both go check out the light, just in case. Anyway, I want to know what we’re dealing with. With any luck, it’s nothing, and we can rule out paranormal involvement in all of this, right?”

  Sully gave Dez a placating nod but said nothing as Dez pulled away from the curb and onto the street.

  4

  Sully watched out the window from the passenger seat of the SUV as the evening-darkened countryside gradually opened up around them.

  A website about local ghost stories featured the Edge Creek Light, and the blogger had marked out on a map the place where it could be seen. It was located east of the city, where Edge Creek split off from the Kimotan River. The stretch of railway line in question was located near the spot where once a small community had stood, named f
or the creek running through it. According to the website, the town was completely destroyed in a horrific fire during the drought of the 1930s, killing two, injuring at least fifteen and leaving everyone homeless. Today, nothing remained of the community, everything lost to the fire or subsequent demolition. If the ghost had sprung from the tragedy, Sully—his abilities limited to homicide victims—would be of little use.

  They’d stopped at Dez’s en route to pick up Sully’s dog, Pax. The large, black hound stood on the backseat now, head out the window. Pax had latched onto Dez’s daughter, Kayleigh, and Kayleigh onto Pax. Sully would be spending less time with his dog once he moved into Dez’s old apartment. Pax had found a new home with the Braddocks, and he’d feel like a jerk taking the dog from Kayleigh, particularly since he frequently needed to go places Pax couldn’t. Between Eva and Dez’s rotating work schedules and frequent visits from Dez and Sully’s mom, someone was often at the Braddock house. Sully wouldn’t be able to say as much for his own situation, should the private investigation business continue as it was.

  For now, though, Pax was here with him. Sully reached back and scratched the dog’s hip before returning attention to the road.

  “Double check the GPS for me, will you?” Dez asked. “The pictures on the website were taken in the daytime. Everything looks different after sunset.”

  Sully pulled Dez’s smartphone from the centre console and clicked to reveal the on-screen buttons for the numeric passcode. The code was easy to remember—Kayleigh’s birthdate—and Sully was in a few seconds later.

  The map still showed on the screen, revealing a spot next to drawn-in representations of a creek and a railroad track. Nothing else stood nearby: no communities, no key sites, not even any off-roads. The section of haunted track stood very much on its own, as if the entire world had run from it.

  “I hate to ask,” Dez said. “But remind me. What’s the story about this place?”

  Sully had read the blog post during the drive. He recited it without needing to reread the details. “The legend supposedly dates back to the early part of the twentieth century. Apparently, a fight broke out on a passenger train and one of the men got pushed off. I never know how much stock to put in this stuff without verifying through newspaper accounts, but it’s said he was decapitated. The guy who pushed him supposedly took off into the woods and was never found. So no one knows whether the ghost is the killer or the guy who was killed.”

  “Why would it be the killer?”

  “Because they say the ghost of the dead guy found him and got his revenge.”

  “Who’s ‘they’?”

  Sully smirked. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?”

  Dez’s coat made a sound suggesting a shudder. “You know, without your presence in my life, I’d have thought all this ghost stuff was a bunch of crap. Now I know better—and I hate it.” His head turned in the shadowed interior of the car, eyes just visible in the dashboard light until they turned back to the road. “I mean, we know it’s possible for ghosts to find ways to take revenge on someone. We’ve seen it. It’s possible that’s exactly what happened. And if the ghost was able to kill once, could be it’s still at it.”

  “Only there haven’t been any missing persons reports associated with this spot. Not like Hollow Road. If there had been, it would have been all over the website we looked at—and a bunch of others besides, including legit news sources.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Relief filled Dez’s voice.

  Sully kept half an eye on the phone’s screen, watching as the blue dot marking their location closed the distance to the spot corresponding with the site in question. When they were almost on top of it, Sully urged Dez to a crawl so they could better watch for the turnoff.

  He needn’t have worried. The location was clear enough, one of only a handful of approaches in the area, and a well-used one at that. The repeated passage of vehicles had flattened out the snow enough to eliminate worry about getting stuck. More tire tracks lay either side of the highway, suggesting many had kept to parking along the edge of the main road and walking in from there. A few weeks had passed since the last significant snowfall; once the next hit, the tire tracks would be gone. For now, they were here and helpful.

  Dez pulled off the highway, nosing onto the approach far enough to ensure his vehicle was completely off the road.

  Sully didn’t move, letting Dez take this in his own time. Sully wasn’t particularly eager for another ghost job, which had to mean Dez was dreading it. It took a minute, a couple of deep breaths and some babbling about the chilly outdoor temperature showing on the dash, but Dez finally opened his door and stepped from the vehicle. Sully followed, then waited another minute while Dez dug through the duffel bag he’d stowed in the backseat, letting Pax out in the process. While Dez went through the bag’s contents and built up his nerve, Sully took advantage by roughhousing with a playful Pax. If anything evil was out here, the highly perceptive dog hadn’t noticed.

  At last, Dez emerged with a Maglite, which he promptly clicked on to illuminate the area. Sully noticed he didn’t shine the light as far as the tracks, as if afraid of what might show in the beam.

  “Ready?” Sully asked.

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  Sully led the way, Pax prancing through the snow at his side while Dez brought up the rear. Dez’s light revealed a railroad crossing sign tagged with graffiti. X marks the spot, Sully thought.

  The tracks lay on the other side of a set of winter-bare bushes. Sully reached them first. As Dez’s light bobbed along behind him, Sully peered first one way, then the other down the track, looking for any sign of the light.

  “What are we supposed to be seeing exactly?” he asked.

  Dez gained his side and shrugged, the movement causing his parka to crackle in the cold. “No idea. We’re definitely at the right spot?”

  “If the tagged railway crossing sign and all the tire tracks are any indication.”

  Dez shrugged again. “Fair enough. Now what?”

  “I think the blog post said something about standing on the line and knocking if nothing was happening. Do you have your phone or did you leave it in the SUV?”

  Dez dug into one of his hand warmer pockets and passed the phone to Sully. Re-entering Kayleigh’s birthdate, Sully clicked away from the map and relocated the blog post.

  “Yep,” he said. “Three knocks.”

  “Ugh,” Dez said. “It’s like the Bloody Mary legend.”

  “Careful,” Sully chided. “Say the name twice more, and you’ll summon her.”

  “Shut up,” Dez said. “You’d need a mirror, anyway.”

  Sully winked into the cast-off light from the flashlight beam. “At least, that’s what they say.”

  He chuckled and caught himself as Dez punched him none-too-lightly on the shoulder.

  Having regained his balance, Sully reached a hand toward Dez, a leftover smile on his lips. “Give me your flashlight.”

  “For what?”

  “To knock against the tracks, dummy. It’s solid enough to make a decent vibration.”

  Dez handed it over with apparent reluctance. “Don’t damage it.”

  Lit end of the Maglite in hand, Sully knelt between the tracks and brought the heavy metal handle down against one of the rails. The beam danced eerily against the bushes with the movement, as if to the beat of a drum.

  One clang.

  Two.

  Three.

  He stood, finding Dez had closed the distance between them so he was all but pressed up against Sully’s side on the other side of the rail.

  They waited a few seconds.

  A light appeared.

  “You’re kidding me,” Dez muttered. Then he sniffed. “Could be that’s a real train.”

  “No glow before it snapped on,” Sully said. “Anyway, I can tell you right now it’s nothing physical.”

  “Got a feeling, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “Crap
.”

  The light hovered before settling in the distance as if to prove itself something other than a physical train. Either that, or whatever this was, it was sizing them up as if they were a curiosity.

  Or an enemy.

  “What do you think it is?” Dez asked, voice hushed.

  “It looks like a real train headlight, doesn’t it? An old one, I mean. New locomotives have more than one light.”

  “Hard to tell at this distance.”

  True enough. Nothing to do now but wait.

  Then again, waiting wasn’t getting them anywhere. The light had yet to do anything other than sit there, watching them as they watched it.

  “We want to talk to you!” Sully called out.

  Dez jumped, one solid arm banging against Sully in the process. He waved a hand in front of Sully’s mouth as if prepared to smother any additional attempts at communication with the thing. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “We came here for answers, didn’t we? We’re not going to get them standing here looking stupid.”

  “You’re stupid,” Dez said. “I’m just standing here.”

  Sully drew in breath in preparation to call out again, ready to push Dez’s hand away if he tried to stop him. But before he could do anything more, the light shot forward, growing in size not gradually as it might if this were something physical, but instantly.

  Dez took what was probably an instinctive step back while Pax’s barking drowned out every other nighttime noise around them.

  Sully didn’t move. He couldn’t. Whatever this was had him pinned to the spot.

  One blink and the light had grown larger, brighter, until it was all he could see. The impact was unavoidable, and he mentally braced for it.

  But there was no pain, no sense of broken bones or torn flesh. Only more light, until he was no longer facing it.

  He was inside it.

  The world around him disappeared. He had no sense of Dez or Pax, no feeling of cold, no glimpse of night. Here, all was bright and still, calm even.

  Like the light beyond death.

  As the first feelings of panic began, an image formed around Sully. He was no longer outside, but inside a train car—an old one. He stood in the aisle, flanked on either side by wooden passenger benches. Three people were visible to him, but he had the sense of many more. He knew without needing to see that most of the benches were in use, occupied by the ghosts of riders, whether willingly present or not. The three visible to him showed signs they’d met violent ends, blood spilling from open wounds. Two, Sully ventured to say, had been the victims of horrific falls or impacts of another sort; while he couldn’t see their bodies where they were hidden behind seat backs, he could tell by the obvious bone breaks twisting their faces. One of them, a man, was dressed in turn-of-the-century clothing. The other had the sort of hair style popular in the 1970s. The third, a woman in mid-century dress, bore no horrifically marring physical injuries, although a gunshot wound to her left temple told the tale of how she’d died.