The Blake Ghost Read online

  Eva was on the phone.

  “Thank you so much,” she said, then disconnected.

  Sully closed the passenger-side door behind himself and stared at her. “Please tell me that was Brenda.”

  She nodded as she tapped at her screen, bringing up the map function. “Brenda said her husband made a stop at a house in the city, but Jim came back to the vehicle after speaking to someone at the door. He was pretty upset afterward and asked to be taken to another location, this time outside the city. Keith said the road Jim wanted him to turn onto was all snowed in, so he couldn’t get through. Jim said he’d walk and got out. Keith left him there. Brenda said Keith was pretty spooked and was glad to be rid of him. Something felt off. He was thinking of calling the police so was relieved to find out we were searching for him.”

  “Do we have a location?”

  “City address was twelve-oh-four Sycamore. She gave me rough directions to the rural spot, based on what she was able to get from Keith.”

  Sully placed the pop bottles into the centre console cupholders and put on his seatbelt. When he was set, Eva handed her phone to him.

  “See if you can narrow it down,” Eva said as she reversed out of their spot. “He said it was roughly twenty kilometres southwest, just off Highway Twelve.”

  That came as a relief to some extent. Edge Creek was to the south of the city, meaning they’d have less distance to travel with a combative Blake than if they picked him up to the north or west of the city.

  Sully played with the map until he was able to get a rough idea as to distance. A small town was close to the twenty-kilometre mark on the highway in question.

  “Did Keith mention anything about passing through a small town?” Sully asked.

  Eva shook her head. “I asked about any towns or landmarks. Brenda said he hadn’t mentioned anything. She’ll get back to me if she hears otherwise.”

  “So I’m thinking he dropped Dez off is a little bit north of Phillip’s Point. Unfortunately, I’m not seeing a road there.”

  “If it’s snowed in, it hasn’t been ploughed, so it’s possible it’s not counted as a proper road,” Eva said. “I’m thinking farm access. See if you can find a map of the rural municipality. Might be we can figure it out based on who owns property around there.”

  Using his own phone, Sully went on an internet search, first needing to figure out the name of the RM in question, and then changing pages to search for a map. He found one on the RM association’s website and zoomed in once he’d downloaded it onto his phone.

  His heart thudded as he located the supposed drop-off area. “Hey, Eva?”

  She met his eye briefly before turning back to the road, brows lifted. “What?”

  “There is an old road there, and like you thought, it leads toward a farmyard. The farm and the land around it are owned by someone named Cecilia Blake.”

  Eva’s brows lifted further. “Obviously a relative, then. See if you can find an obit that will tell us who she is to Jim Blake.”

  “Already on it.” The most obvious place to look was the obituary for Jim himself, but too much time had passed. If the obit had ever been online, it was long gone.

  What he did find was an obituary naming Jim and his family as pre-deceased to another Blake, this one named Walter. Jim was listed as Walter’s son. Cecilia was a daughter.

  Sully passed along this latest info to Eva, then turned to the Kimotan Rapids address on Sycamore. Nothing immediately came up. Given more time, a property search would be an option, but time wasn’t something they had a whole lot of at the moment.

  Lachlan might have some contacts in that area who could speed up the process. He put in a call to his boss.

  “About time you called,” Lachlan grumbled. “I was going to try you again right away, anyway. You find him yet?”

  “No, but we’re following up a lead. We talked to the wife of someone who gave Dez a lift into KR and then to a rural location where he left him.”

  “In the middle of winter? This place heated?”

  “No idea, but I doubt it. Given the road was snowed in, I’m guessing it’s an abandoned farm.”

  Lachlan’s lips made a flapping noise as he exhaled noisily. “You boys don’t know how to do anything the easy way, do you? What do you need?”

  “Help filling in a blank. Twelve-oh-four Sycamore Street. It was the first city address Blake asked for. He came away from there in a bad mood. We’re guessing it used to belong to a family member, particularly given the rural location he’s at now is still owned by a Cecilia Blake. According to an obit, she’s Blake’s sister. Can you find out?”

  “On it,” Lachlan said. “Keep me posted, huh? More regularly, I mean.” He hung up, and Sully turned to Eva to fill her in.

  “Lachlan’s going to check into who owns the Sycamore Street place.”

  Eva shrugged. “Probably doesn’t matter a whole lot right now. I’d be willing to bet, like you said, it either does or did belong to a family member of Blake’s. Probably the latter, given he didn’t spend longer than a few seconds there and came away in a mood.”

  “A lot has changed since he died. It’s got to be one hell of a shock to find out how much.”

  “The bigger question, I guess, is what he expects to find at the old farm.”

  Sully nodded. “And what he’ll do when he finds out it’s not what he remembers.”

  Years as a police officer meant Eva knew the quicker routes through a city busy with end-of-day traffic. Even so, they got held up at a couple of spots nearer the city centre before they were able to access the freeway that would take them around the city.

  Lachlan phoned back as Eva navigated off the freeway and onto Highway Twelve.

  Sully put Lachlan onto speaker in time to catch what he was saying. “I got the results back on the property search you asked about. Twelve-oh-four Sycamore belongs to a Christine Pierce, no relation whatsoever to the Blakes. She bought it six years ago and has lived there since. I found what you were really after in the sale records. Seller was none other than Cecilia Blake.”

  “Awesome, Lachlan, thanks,” Sully said. “We’ll dig up some info on her, just in case.”

  “No need. Already did it.”

  Sully grinned. “Of course, you did.”

  “Right after she sold the house, she moved to a supported living setting. She’s only middle-aged, but she’s lost her eyesight. Kitson Place is the facility. Unit fourteen is hers. Independent living, with someone coming by each day to check on the residents to make sure they’re okay and get their meds. Got a pen? A phone number was listed for her on the documents I found. Looks like a cellphone to me.”

  Sully opened his notes app instead. “Go ahead.”

  Lachlan rattled off a series of numbers, and Sully repeated them back at him to be certain he’d thumbed them in right.

  Certain he had the correct number, Sully smiled warmly into his phone. “Thanks, Lachlan. We appreciate the help.”

  “Listen, kid, I may be a grumpy old bastard, but I care about that numbskull brother of yours too, all right? Get him back. And call me as soon as you do.”

  He disconnected without waiting on a response.

  “What should we do about Cecilia?” Sully asked. “I mean, is it worth talking to her before we go after Blake?”

  “I want to get to Dez ASAP. But the more info we have about Blake, the better. See if you can reach her while we’re en route.”

  Sully tapped the number into his keypad and listened to the ringing. Three sounded before a voice came on the line.

  “Hello?”

  The voice sounded friendly enough, the one word questioning and warm rather than snappish. With any luck, if this was indeed Cecilia Blake, the apple had fallen very far from the family tree.

  “Is this Cecilia Blake?” Sully asked.

  “It is.”

  “My name is Sullivan Gray. You don’t know me but—”

  “A Sullivan Gray once stayed with my brot
her and his family. Might that be you, by chance?”

  This was unexpected. Sully didn’t remember any extended family stopping by the Blakes’ while he’d lived there. Then again, it was a long time ago. Some memories could have been lost to time.

  Unfortunately, the bad ones remained exactly where they’d always been.

  “Yes, that’s right,” he said. “Do you remember me?”

  “I never met you. I do know about you though. You were living there at the time of the fire. The police spoke to me right after and asked about you and another boy who lived there, Brennan Wakeman. I wrote the names down, thinking maybe one of you started the fire. Of course, this was before we learned the truth about the girl who actually did it.”

  “I’m sorry about what happened to your family,” Sully said.

  Cecilia chuckled. “No, you’re not.”

  It seemed a strange thing to hear from a voice as kind as hers. “I’m sorry?”

  “The investigation revealed more than details of the arson, you know. You boys were badly beaten. And the girl—Margaret—she suffered even worse. I attended the hearings in court. I wanted to know why it happened. At first, I didn’t want to believe the things Jim and his son did, but finally I could no longer deny it. So I don’t want to hear your apologies. I should be apologizing to you.”

  It took a moment for a reply to form in Sully’s brain, another second or two to voice it. “It’s okay. None of it was your fault.”

  “I should have been checking in on Jim and his family. If I had, I would have seen something was amiss. But I hid my head in the sand. I didn’t want anything to do with my family, and you paid the price. You know, sometimes I think my physical blindness is God’s way of punishing me for turning a blind eye to my family’s sins.”

  Sully suddenly wished he was able to have this conversation in person. “It’s not your fault, Cecilia. It really isn’t. Anyway, as bad as things were, something good came out of it for me. The man who took me in after was a police officer I met while I was being questioned about the fire. He and his family became my family, and they’re the best people I’ve ever known.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that.” And she was. Her tone made the statement true.

  Before calling, Sully had thought of the reason he’d give as to why he was reaching out now. Though it wouldn’t exactly be factual, but this was one of those times a white lie might be a blessing. He couldn’t picture anyone being pleased to hear their deceased family member was still floating around and had learned the art of possession.

  Before he had a chance to broach the topic, she spoke again. “Are Jim and his family still hanging around?”

  “Uh—” Not a question he expected.

  “I listened to most of the news coverage of your uncle’s trial, you know. I thought you must be the same Sullivan Gray who had lived with my brother’s family. Once I heard the name, I listened to stories about the case every day afterward. You can see ghosts. That’s what they said in the news.”

  “Uh, yeah, I can.”

  “And are they? Still around, I mean?”

  Truth it was, then. “I haven’t seen the others, but Jim was stuck at the old property in McCoy Falls.”

  “Was? He isn’t now?”

  God, how to explain this. Sully pinched at the bridge of his nose and gave himself a couple of seconds to get his head screwed on before answering. “Spirits can attach themselves to things—usually houses, sometimes objects too—things that held meaning for them.” A pause. “And sometimes, they can attach to people.”

  “Is he attached to you now?”

  “Not me. My brother. And the problem is, Jim’s really strong. It’s pretty common for ghosts to influence the living. They can make people feel sick or stressed or emotional or drained. Really strong ones can do even more. They can make people do things. Sometimes they can even take over someone’s body.”

  “Like possession?”

  “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

  “Not for me. I’ve always been very interested in the paranormal. As for Jim, I long ago accepted what kind of person he was. I very much believe him capable of bullying his way into anything, even with him dead. What can I help you with?”

  Sully exchanged a glance with Eva. She wouldn’t be able to hear the other end of the conversation, but he wanted to let her know things were going better than he expected.

  “My sister-in-law and I are trying to find my brother. His name’s Dez. I think Jim is trying to get someplace meaningful to him. We have information a Good Samaritan dropped him off at some property you own. I think he was trying to find you.”

  “Which property is this?”

  “Initially, he asked to be taken to a house in KR on Sycamore Street.”

  “I haven’t lived there for six years.”

  “We know. Any idea why he’d go there?”

  “Not to look for me, I don’t think. We had little to do with each other. If he came by my old house in the city, it was to beg a ride, nothing more.”

  “That might make sense. When he saw you weren’t there, he asked the guy driving him to take him southwest of the city to some land that shows you as the owner. The driver left him, and we’re heading there now to try to find him. You know what land I mean?”

  “Oh, yes. It’s a farm you’re talking about—you’re right, it means something to him. It’s where we grew up.”

  Sully shifted in his seat, the seatbelt stopping him from leaning forward as much as he would have otherwise. “Does anyone live around there?”

  “No. The old farmhouse is still there, but it’s been abandoned for years. My father willed me the land after he passed away a few years ago. I sold two of the quarters and I’m renting the others until I can get a good price for them. The sooner I can sell the place, the better.”

  Sully raised a brow. “Why?”

  “Put it this way—Jim came by his behaviour honestly. Our father was a hard man. Mom died young—and I’m not entirely convinced my father didn’t have a hand in it. After that, our father went completely off the rails. He’d always been an awful person, but he started drinking heavily, and all the anger he carried, he took out on us. We suffered routine beatings, both of us. It’s really no wonder Jim turned out as he did. Doesn’t make it right, how he treated you and the other kids, but it gives an explanation.

  “Jim hated our father as much as I did. If he’s going back there now, it isn’t to catch up with a loved one. It’s for revenge.”

  “Why now?” Sully asked. “Why not while they were both still alive?”

  “Dad was a large man, very strong after years of farm work. Jim was built more like Mom—short and on the pudgy side. He was never overly strong, which became a source of tension between him and Dad. Dad wanted a big, strapping son who would take over the farm. Jim had no interest, and realistically couldn’t have managed it even if he’d wanted to.”

  All the time Sully had spent with the Blakes, he’d never once thought of Jim as short, pudgy or weak. To Sully as a seven-year-old, Jim had been monstrous in proportions, a huge man with the strength of an army.

  Only he hadn’t. He’d been something beyond what Sully’s perceptions suggested. Like Sully, Jim had suffered at the hands of an adult he should have been able to trust. The difference was, Sully had found a way out. Jim hadn’t.

  And now Jim had found himself a new body, one that was everything his father had wanted him to be. Jim hoped, Sully believed, to turn the tables on his father, once and for all. What he’d do once he learned he couldn’t was anyone’s guess.

  “I’m sorry about what you went through,” Sully said. “No kid should have to experience those things.”

  “You’re right about that. But this is why I should have figured out what kind of foster father Jim would be. I turned a blind eye, Sullivan, and I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can do to help you now, just name it.”

  Sully let his smile show through his reply. “You’ve alre
ady done it.”

  10

  The farmyard was some distance off the highway, far enough to cause Sully a new worry.

  As Eva pulled onto the approach to what must have once been the road to the farm, Sully turned to her.

  “It’ll be a long way to lug Dez if Blake won’t come willingly.”

  Eva’s eyes didn’t leave the scene out the windshield—snow-covered fields, a grove of evergreens and oak in the distance and a set of footprints leading away from the highway.

  “I know,” she said. “We’ll just have to do the best we can. It’s for Dez.”

  Good enough for Sully.

  They exited the vehicle and followed Dez’s trail through the knee-deep snow. Sully belatedly realized he should contact Lisa and gave her a call.

  “What’s going on?” she asked immediately upon answering.

  “We’ve got a handle on him,” Sully said. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him near you again, no matter what. You’re safe to go back to the house.”

  “Good, because I’m actually already there. Ciaran called saying he was on his way home. I needed to make sure everything looked the same as it did when he left. I don’t want him to know anyone was here. It would be too hard to explain.”

  “I understand. I’m sorry if anything was messed up. We kind of left in a hurry.”

  “I get it. Thanks for what you’ve done already. Will you let me know when it’s officially over and that you guys are okay?”

  “Of course,” Sully said. “I’ll be in touch sometime this evening.”

  He disconnected and refocused on their current task.

  A five-minute walk became ten, their path often impeded by deep snowdrifts.

  The sun was setting as the two-storey brick house came into view, peeking from around the trees. Its style suggested it had been built in the nineteen twenties or thirties, and the look of the place told Sully someone had been taking care of it until sometime within the past decade. Not anymore, though. Staggered two-by-fours barricaded the lower floor windows, and the shingles were peeling away, leaving the roof sinking with rot in one spot this side.