The October People (Gulf Coast Paranormal Extra Book 1) Read online

  Pete was many things, but he’d never been amazing. He was more like a cluster.

  Why was I thinking about him right now?

  “You going solo again?”

  I was sure Midas didn’t mean to sound like my nonexistent father, but he kinda did.

  “It won’t be the first time. I think I’ll do just fine.”

  I’d just spent a solid week with the entire Gulf Coast Paranormal team, and yes, there were some advantages to having a team on an investigation, but solo gigs had perks too. Less equipment, less drama. I needed some “me” time, and the page that I was holding in my hand was my ticket to that adventure. I read the email again as Midas continued his pitch. The team was short one man since he “fired” Pete. I worked well with the team, everyone liked me. They were heading to Gulfport soon to investigate some abandoned fairgrounds. As much as I liked Midas, he wasn’t changing my mind. I was ready to end the phone call so I could get packed and get on the road. Midas was my friend, but my adventure came with an expiration date.

  “I promise you that I will think about it. I have to do this other thing first.”

  He paused for a moment. I knew Midas well enough to know that he was “reading” me, a skill he used when he wanted to protect you from something or just be nosy. That was Midas. He was everyone’s Protector. On one hand, I appreciated that about him, but on the other…not so much. “Stop worrying,” I said, frowning at myself in the mirror next to me. I put the paper down on the desk and sat in the wonky desk chair. My temporary apartment was a craphole, but at least it wasn’t a hotel. Man, I looked a fright. My dreads needed twisting, my eyebrows needed plucking, and I was pale. I typically kept a year-round tan because of all the time I spent outdoors with my photography gig, but my color was fading fast. “I know how you feel about my investigating alone, but it is what it is. I’m not dead yet.”

  “That’s a great motto. Maybe that should be your next tattoo.”

  I smiled at his sarcasm. “Maybe. I actually like that. I’ve been meaning to add to my collection.”

  “Have you forgotten the Sapphire Caves?” he asked me in an attempt at adding some humor to our conversation.

  “No, and I haven’t forgotten Crenshaw Road either. Dangerous situations happen, Midas, whether there are seven of us or just one or two. It’s the nature of the beast.”

  “For Crenshaw Road, that’s a good description for it. Are you sure I can’t talk you into bringing someone along? If not me, then Cassidy or Aaron?”

  I smiled and shook my head. “Midas Demopolis, stop being an old lady. I’m going by myself. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It’s only a two-day investigation. I think I can handle it. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

  “At least tell me where you are going. Just to be on the safe side.”

  I thought about it but decided against it. Although I was certain he didn’t mean it this way, telling him would mean I was officially a member of Gulf Coast Paranormal…and I still wasn’t sure I wanted to stay in one spot. I mean, I liked this part of the Gulf Coast, I liked the team, but I also liked my freedom.

  “Nu-uh. But I will call you when I get done, and I swear I’ll have an answer for you.”

  “Fine, but be safe, Jocelyn. Don’t take unnecessary risks. Getting the shot isn’t worth breaking your leg. Or your head.”

  “Got it. No risks and no breakage. I have to go, Midas. Have a good one.”

  “Bye.” He hung up, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I read the email again, aloud this time just to be sure I was reading it correctly.

  My client, Mr. Holloway, grants you permission to photograph the property at 1100 Orange Pekoe Avenue for a period of no more than two days. When you’ve completed your photo shoot, please leave the key in the metal lockbox on the front porch. I will retrieve it later. Also, Mr. Holloway expects that you will send him copies of your photographs for his own study. Please contact us prior to submitting your work to any publications, including local newspapers, books, etc. Good luck.

  Sincerely,

  Adrian Shanahan

  I held the key in my hand. It wasn’t one of those cheap keys you could go have made at any big blue store. It was the old-fashioned kind with an interesting handle and was larger than any key I had.

  I removed my leather necklace, slid the key on it and tied it around my neck. I couldn’t lose it now. I sometimes had a habit of leaving things behind when I started investigating. Like my film case or an audio recorder. Man, this was exciting. The notorious Leaf Academy! Score!

  I heard Sherman’s toenails clicking on the floor beside me. Dang it. I forgot all about my dog. But was he really my dog? The poor guy had turned up on my porch not long after I moved into the apartment complex. I knocked on all the neighbors’ doors and inquired with the management, but nobody recognized or claimed the animal. Nobody wanted the hairy, white furball with the soft black eyes and equally black nose. Seemed a shame. He had no collar and no tag, but he had obviously been someone’s dog. He was house-trained and sweet, and he didn’t bark much. I never planned to keep him, especially since my future was always so uncertain, but he was growing on me and there weren’t any other options. I posted his picture on social media but hadn’t gotten any responses yet. The local animal shelter informed me that they weren’t a no-kill facility. If I left the dog there and he couldn’t find a home in a week, he would be put down. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t stomach it. So he got a name, a collar and a place on the couch until I could figure it all out.

  “Well, Sherm. I hate to do this, but I have to go away for a few days.” I petted his head and rubbed his ears. He rewarded me with lots of licks. “I can’t believe nobody has claimed you yet, Sherman. You are an awesome dog. You deserve a happy home. Sorry about the name, but I have never named a dog before.”

  He whined once and laid his chin on my thigh. Shoot. It’s like he knows I’m leaving.

  I snuggled with him for a few minutes and then went back to packing my equipment. I wasn’t taking everything, just a few cameras and a bunch of audio recorders. I couldn’t believe I was being given access to the Leaf Academy. The place had been closed since 1978. They couldn’t keep it open after the location had been linked to multiple murders. Total creep-fest, or so I heard.

  But what about Sherman?

  After a few phone calls, I found a well-recommended kennel that had an opening. “It’s only for a few days,” I said to him as we pulled into the Happy Paws Boarding Kennel later that afternoon. “And there will be lots of other dogs to play with. You be a good boy, and I’ll be back in just a few days. Okay?”

  Another whine. With a sigh, I leashed him up and walked him into the kennel. I tried not to look him in the eye. I surveyed the place and mentally gave it a thumbs-up. The people appeared knowledgeable and attentive. I got the impression that they really cared about their guests. Sherman would be in good hands.

  Despite all this, I drove away feeling as if I would never see him again. And I was going to miss him.

  Don’t be so dramatic, Jocelyn. How can you miss a dog you barely know? It’s not like he is your childhood pet. You’re letting Midas put the chilly bumps on you. You’ll be back, and the dog will be fine.

  I chose to believe the voice of grown-up Jocelyn and drove away without looking once in the rearview mirror. But for the first time in a long time, I regretted leaving someone behind.

  And the tears were real.

  Chapter Two—Jocelyn

  I could see the place on my phone app, but the directions were leading me in circles. Take Orange Pekoe to Newt Circle. But where was Newt Circle? I couldn’t keep driving around. It would be dark in a few hours, and I had cameras and other equipment to set up if I actually found the place. Thankfully, I had a paper map in the glove box for backup. I pulled over to the side of the road and spread the map on the hood. There was no one out here, which seemed kind of strange. Just a few streets over was a residential area with small houses practicall
y built on top of one another. Yes, I could see Kennedy Street and recognized those buildings.

  Oh wow. Now I see it.

  The Leaf Academy, or the ruins that were once the prominent boys’ school, was hidden behind dozens of old trees, mostly oaks with a few pines growing tall and wild. How had I missed this driveway and that building? It’s almost like the place wants to stay hidden, huh? I hurried back to my car and grabbed my camera from the front seat. I scanned the area to make sure no one was around, since I sure didn’t want to get robbed out here in the middle of nowhere, but there wasn’t a soul. I locked the car and headed up the narrow driveway. My Nissan could probably manage to navigate it, but I wanted to walk the rest of the way, at least for a first viewing.

  I flipped the camera on and removed the lens cap. There wasn’t much to see from this distance, but I snapped a few photos anyway. My heart was racing, and I couldn’t help but smile at the promise of a new adventure. The road wasn’t in total disrepair. Someone had been using it, and recently. Hopefully not criminals. I could see tire tracks and fresh piles of red dirt that had been halfheartedly moved around with a rake. I wasn’t quite so alone now. Birds were chirping, and squirrels dashed across the canopy of trees above me. Their playful skittering sent down showers of leaves. I snapped a picture of them but wasn’t sure I got anything.

  I was feeling anxious about my car. Maybe I shouldn’t have walked up here. I can’t afford to lose my equipment—or my vehicle. Yeah, I should go back. If I can’t see the school clearly here at this turn of the path, I’ll do just that.

  But when I turned the corner and walked into the small clearing, looming in front of me was the abandoned Leaf Academy. A wave of sadness struck me. For sure, this was a sad place. That was my first impression. The front porch was supported by four columns; there were traces of faded paint on the bottom of the columns, but the tops were brown, like the rest of the building. There was an ornate doorway with tall windows beside it and three smaller ones above it. There appeared to be two wings to the academy, and all the windows looked quite firmly boarded up. I wondered what secrets that dark, dirty space held…whether it was haunted or not, it sure as heck looked like it could be.

  Snap, snap.

  I took a flurry of pictures. First impressions were important when investigating. This was my favorite part. For sure, I couldn’t believe my luck. Jocelyn Graves, amateur photographer, freelance writer and part-time paranormal investigator, was about to spend two whole days here at the Leaf Academy. The only price I had to pay was sending copies of my photos to the owner and doing a small write-up about any experiences I had here. Yep, I was one lucky gal. I shifted the camera and held it to my face as I snapped a dozen more photographs. Not too high a price for access to such a time capsule. With any luck, there would be some great artifacts inside. Maybe some classroom equipment or personal items. Those made the best subjects for photos.

  I stood in silence for a few minutes as I paced and then walked the front yard as best I could. There was much more to see, but it would have to wait. I had to bring the car up, but I hesitated. I waited for something. My watch beeped, reminding me that I didn’t have all day to stand here gawking at this potential paranormal playground. There was work to be done before the actual work could be done, and I was burning daylight. I snapped a few more pictures of the upstairs windows, especially the one on the end there. I didn’t see anything at all since they were all boarded up, but I could not shake the feeling that there was someone inside. Waiting for me.

  But there wasn’t. Man, I had one heck of an imagination.

  It was a fine brick building. Great details too. I hoped tomorrow would be sunnier. I needed all the light I could get for better shots. It was dark back here with so many trees surrounding the place. With a sigh of satisfaction, I began my walk back to the car, looking behind me a few times. Nope. Still nothing in that window. I made the turn that led to the drive and quickly returned with my car. I drove up to the house without incident. It wasn’t the smoothest ride, but I’d been down roads that were a lot worse. Recently too.

  “Okay, Leaf Academy. It’s you and me now,” I said as I closed the trunk and walked toward the front door with the two largest cases in my hands. Best to get the heavy lifting done early. I glanced up at the amazing front door again.

  The front door that now stood wide open.

  And not just a crack. It was all the way open as if someone expected me and wanted me to make myself at home. As I set the camera cases down on the ground, my knees felt a tad bit wobbly. This isn’t right. No way is this right.

  Removing the camera from around my neck, I scanned back through the photos. There! The door was closed. Completely closed! I looked at all the pictures, and it was clearly shut in every one of them.

  Okay, Jocelyn. Let’s think logically.

  If the door wasn’t closed good, if the lock was rusty or broken…any of those could explain why the door stood open now. Granted, there should have been some wind or a breeze or something to move that door, but I didn’t feel a thing. In fact, it was unseasonably muggy. Let’s take this step by step.

  I walked up the steps and remembered Midas’ warning. No broken legs, not this time around. There were a few spongy spots in the flooring, but nothing gave way. With my camera ready, I took shots of the porch, the doorframe, the open door. A fluttering darkness shot past the door but didn’t make a sound. Was that some kind of bird in there? No, I would have heard wings, right?

  With shaking fingers, I touched the rusty doorknob. It felt cooler than the air around it. Much cooler. But that’s not evidence. Take a look at the lock, Jocelyn. I examined the doorknob and turned it. It moved, but it hadn’t been greased for a while; it was one of those crafty old mechanisms that needed a good oiling every now and then. Each turn came with a subtle squeak. I closed the door and untangled the leather string around my neck. I shoved the key in the door lock and turned the knob, confirming that the lock was working. The door wouldn’t swing open by just bumping it. In fact, I had a difficult time reopening the thing with the key. But eventually, it worked. The door opened easily now. I closed it again, stepped back and took a few more pictures. Nice craftsmanship. I didn’t know how I missed it before, but above the door were some words carved into a piece of fitted stone. Latin, from the looks of it.

  Non timebo mala.

  Why did that sound so familiar? I whispered the phrase a few times to help me commit it to memory. Then I walked back to pick up my cases, navigated the steps carefully and approached the door with the key in my hand.

  And it was open again.

  Okay, Jocelyn Graves. You can write this down. Day one, hour one, paranormal evidence. But at least they want you here. Then that phrase came back to me. I’d seen it before, in a tattoo shop in Fort Lauderdale. I’d almost gotten that one but opted for the wildflower on my ankle. I much preferred icons over phrases as far as tattoos went.

  But I knew what this meant. Non timebo mala. I will fear no evil.

  Chapter Three—Jocelyn

  The downstairs was a complete dust bowl despite the fact that every window on the bottom floor was boarded up. Leaving my cases in the front room, I removed the LED flashlight from my pocket and flicked it on. It cast a light blue light around the spacious foyer. There wasn’t much to see in here, a built-in bench with hooks for rain gear. But what was that? I could see a door that led to a small office. I poked my head inside but didn’t see anything interesting in here either. Basic office furniture, a desk, a broken metal chair and some sagging built-in bookcases. No personal effects at all except a calendar from 1957 and a faded picture in a dirty frame. But I would definitely ransack that desk later.

  I walked out of the room and closed the door behind me. Standard procedure when investigating old houses, asylums, hospitals—always close the door behind you. So, now what? I had a few choices, go left, go right or go upstairs. Common sense said clear the bottom floor, make sure there were no vagrants or vandals
on the premises, but I wasn’t listening to my common sense right this moment. My proverbial sixth sense was tingling. Immediately I began photographing the foyer and then climbed the steps carefully. If I had any hope of sneaking up on anyone, all that was shot. With every step I took in my hiking boots, a floorboard creaked beneath me.

  Strange. The window over the landing wasn’t boarded up. I was glad for the light, but the glass was so dirty it didn’t illuminate much. It cast the stairs in a dingy pale sepia color. No, I think it cast more shadows on the second floor. And that’s where I was now.

  Non timebo mala. What a strange phrase for a school. I mean, as if going to boarding school wasn’t terrifying enough, seeing that would put the fear of God in you. Or the fear of something.

  There was no office on the second level, not like the lower level. Clearly this floor was strictly for housing. Right at the top of the stairs, there was an open area with a few worn chairs and some other junk. I had the choice to go left or right and went to the right. There were rooms on either side of the corridor; all the rooms facing the front yard were boarded up. The rooms at the back, however, the ones facing the woods, were not. That was weird. Why board up the front and not the back? More than one window on the back side was broken.

  Snap, snap.

  But this level felt like it had been abandoned more recently. Odd personal items littered the floor. I could see an old tennis shoe, a rusty toy truck, an old-fashioned chalk slate and a broken wooden toy. I photographed them all as I made my way down the corridor. Yeah, it’s like the folks on this level just left and forgot to take their stuff with them. That is odd.

  I came to my senses after a few minutes of photographing various finds and dug my digital recorder out of my pocket. I clicked the button and began to ask the standard questions. “I’m on the second floor of the Leaf Academy. I felt compelled to check these rooms out first. My name is Jocelyn; what is your name?”