A Spirit Seeks Asylum, page 3
A smile lifted one side of Thea’s mouth as she shook her head. “Well, then. Consider yourself warned.”
Cass nodded, and Thea lifted a torn wool coat from the back of her chair and walked out.
Though a few murmurs followed, most of the crowd just waited, fully focused on Cass, to see how she’d handle the confrontation. Which she did the best way she could think of: she ignored it and moved on.
Somehow, she managed to get through the remainder of the hour. She helped an elderly gentleman find an heirloom watch he’d misplaced, dismissed a woman who seemed intent on using Cass to steal her former lover’s inheritance from his wife and children with a discreet reprimand, and predicted a snowstorm would be coming by the weekend, despite what forecasters said, for a snowplow operator who was desperately in need of work—much like the rest of Bay Island’s businesses during the long winter. Unlike milder winters, this year’s cold snap, along with a steady stream of storms, made traveling back and forth over the wind-whipped bay more than just uncomfortable.
When the reading ended and her guests began to mill about socializing and gathering refreshments from a long table at the front of the room, Cass wanted nothing more than to bolt for her office.
Bee nudged her ribs with his elbow and smiled at a couple he recognized, then muttered, “Don’t even think about it.”
She laughed. “That obvious, huh?”
“Puh-lease, gurhl. I knew you’d want to run the instant Thea Newburgh stood up.”
She shrugged it off. Bee could often anticipate her reactions, sometimes before even she knew what to expect, not out of any psychic power but because he was an amazing friend.
“Excuse me, Ms. Donovan.”
“Yes?” She turned automatically at the sound of her name.
Bee excused himself and wandered away, but not too far, probably concerned she’d turn tail and run the minute she found herself alone, or maybe he just didn’t want to miss anything. Knowing Bee, it could go either way.
The middle-aged gentleman she’d noticed earlier stood with his hand extended, the woman he’d been sitting with at his side.
Cass took his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. . . . ?”
“Anderson, but please, call me Elijah, and I assure you, my dear, the pleasure is all mine.” He gestured to the dainty woman beside him. “This is my wife, Evelyn.”
Cass took one frail hand in her own, careful not to squeeze too hard. “It’s nice to meet you, Evelyn.”
Evelyn shook her hand with a tentative grip and nodded.
The shadow she’d hoped she’d been mistaken about earlier rushed back to the forefront of her mind. Was this fragile woman in danger? She’d meant to seek them out, try to talk to them without blurting the fact that death might be coming for one or both of them or someone close to them. No point frightening them over something they might have no control over, though she could try to warn them away if they suggested they were planning to do anything dangerous—though she couldn’t picture the pair bungee jumping or mountain climbing. “How can I help you this evening?”
“Actually, your reputation precedes you.” Elijah’s deep baritone resonated through the room. Hopefully, he didn’t want to share any private details. At least Bee wouldn’t have to work too hard to overhear. “I sought you out, came all the way to Bay Island on that dreadful ferry, hoping to hire you to do a job for me.”
Evelyn looked away from her husband’s stare and harrumphed. “And I sought you out hoping you’d talk some sense into the old fool.”
She reminded Cass a little of Bee in a snit. She bit back a smile. “Well, now, that certainly sounds interesting. What is it you want me to do?”
Elijah straightened his already perfectly aligned glasses and smoothed his impeccably pressed suit jacket. “I need you to go into the old abandoned Bay Island Psychiatric Center and prove it’s not haunted.”
Bee gasped then slapped a hand over his mouth. He shook his head frantically back and forth behind Elijah, his eyes so wide Cass was afraid they might pop right out of his head.
Evelyn didn’t miss the gesture. She pointed at Bee, and her ice blue eyes, magnified by the thick lenses in her glasses, grew even colder. “See, that’s what I’m talking about. The idea is crazy, to say the least.”
With her mind already set toward being a psychiatrist when she’d started college, Cass had studied the former Twin Forks Psychiatric Center, along with numerous others. It had opened in the late eighteen-hundreds, and the grounds, which once took up a large portion of the far end of Bay Island, consisted of several buildings that had originally housed some of New York’s most dangerous mentally ill patients, most of them criminals, who were never expected to return to society. The idea was to create a self-sufficient compound, known at the time as the Twin Forks Lunatic Asylum, where patients could live out their lives in lieu of serving prison terms while still keeping their communities safe.
Later on, when the budget became a problem, they changed the name to the more appealing Twin Forks Psychiatric Center and took on less violent cases with the hope of easing the burden on the overcrowded asylums on the mainland. It operated through one scandal or another for almost a hundred years before it was finally shut down. It was rumored that the patients were often used for experiments, thanks to its close proximity to the notorious Plum Island, though that was never proven.
That place was most definitely haunted.
Cass opened her mouth to say thanks but no thanks.
“Please.” Elijah held up a hand. “I need this done. I purchased the property several years ago with the hope of turning it into a boarding school, one of many I own, but the board of directors is shying away amid pressure from numerous other organizations trying to block development. They say the land shouldn’t be used, it’s haunted, it’s not safe. I’ve invested a tremendous amount of money in this venture, Ms. Donovan, and I can’t afford to have the project stalled for the next however many years it takes to fight it out in court because of this silly drivel. The plans need to move forward, and you’re my last desperate hope of convincing everyone involved this is a safe venture. At this point, I’m afraid it’s that or bankruptcy.”
Bee rolled his eyes, knowing Cass was a sucker for a good sob story, and shook his head more adamantly.
She ignored his bulging eyes and considered her options. Even if the place was haunted, which it most certainly would be, would it be unsafe to open and use the grounds for something good? More importantly, did this have anything to do with the shadow she’d seen creeping toward the couple? If not for that, she might have given it at least a moment’s consideration. As it was . . .
Elijah lifted his chin defiantly and raked a hand through disheveled graying blond hair, the only outward sign the man was under any kind of pressure. “I’m willing to pay you twenty thousand dollars.”
Bee’s head froze mid-shake, and his mouth dropped open.
Cass sucked in a breath. That, in addition to the income she generated from Mystical Musings, would easily get her through the winter and give her time to get her video blog up and running before next winter. “I don’t know . . . I—”
“Let me be perfectly honest with you. I’m going to pay someone to go out there and check this out for me. From what I’ve heard, you have a stellar reputation and are honest to a fault. If you don’t take my money, someone else will, and whomever it is may not share your level of integrity.”
Thea’s antics at the reading skittered through her mind. A true warning, or a play for attention? “What exactly is it you want me to do?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Whatever it is you do to prove there are no ghosts lurking around anywhere.”
And that would be fine if there were no ghosts, and if her senses were functioning on all cylinders. “But what if there are ghosts?”
He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed again. Apparently, an actual haunting was something he hadn’t considered.
“Then you’re out the money you invested plus another twenty grand,” Evelyn blurted.
“So be it, then.” He ignored his wife and kept his gaze firmly on Cass. “I’m not asking you to lie or anything; if you go in and think it’s haunted, so be it, say so. But be honest about the risk the ghosts pose. Let’s face it, there are lots of haunted establishments, housing everything from bars to hotels to private homes, and their occupants are in no danger. Sometimes the ghosts even add to the appeal. But if you think housing people there would be dangerous, by all means, let me know. I’m not trying to get anyone hurt, but who knows? Even if there are a few ghosts, who’s to say they wouldn’t welcome guests?”
True enough, she supposed. Though most, if not all, of the places he’d used as examples had never been used to house the criminally insane, torture anyone, or possibly use the occupants for clandestine scientific experiments. She kept her gaze firmly on Elijah, not wanting to see Bee’s reaction. “Do you mind if I record the session and use it for a new series of vlogs I’m trying?”
“Not at all, my dear.” He shook Cass’s hand and clasped his free hand over their joined hands. “Not at all. Just prove my investment is sound and you can use the footage for whatever you’d like.”
Evelyn huffed and stormed from the room.
Bee finally caught Cass’s gaze, his expression completely neutral, and for once she couldn’t tell what was on his mind.
It would be fine. She’d go in during the daylight, take a look around, determine if it was safe or not, give Elijah a detailed report on her findings, and maybe get a decent first vlog out of the whole experience. Plus, she’d gain twenty thousand dollars.
Elijah pulled a checkbook out of his pocket, leaned on the closest table, and wrote a check for the full amount. He held it out to her. “Thank you, my dear, I trust this will be a most lucrative endeavor for both of us.”
A strong gust of wind howled, rattling the windows, and Cass shivered as a chill raced up her spine. She ignored it. They’d be in and out in a few hours.
What could go wrong?
Chapter Four
Cass studied the imposing Twin Forks Psychiatric Center’s main building, the shell of which now housed remnants of the past perhaps better left alone. Was this what Thea Newburgh’s warning had been about? Were these the dead better left dead? Had some of them who’d not been able to find peace during their lives finally found peace in death? Was she about to disturb that serenity?
Bee unloaded equipment Cass had no idea what to do with from her trunk and stacked it onto a dolly beside her car, then paused to look up at the imposing main building that had once housed the dormitories.
“Do you really think we need all of that, Bee?” She picked up some kind of thermal imaging camera from the top of the heap. She had no idea what it was for, but she did know lugging all of it out would make a quick exit, even if necessary, impossible. “I don’t even have a clue how any of it works.”
“Don’t you worry about a thing.” He hefted a long black bag over his shoulder. “You just work your mojo, and I’ll take care of the rest. The man’s paying a good amount of money; the least we can do is give it our best shot. Besides, I’ve already told you, people will be more interested if you use gadgets like these, give them some kind of visual they can understand instead of asking them to believe you spoke to a spirit no one else could see or hear just because you said so. What are we going to do? Show an hour-long reel of you standing still with your eyes closed and then try to pass it off as a close encounter?”
She wasn’t sure she was buying it. She had a sneaking suspicion Bee might be hiding his fear behind the pile of gadgets that would allow him a certain amount of disconnect from what they were actually doing, focusing on the technical aspect of creating the show rather than the fact she’d be trying to contact the dead. Though, she did have to concede, watching her stand there in silence, or even worse, only hearing her side of a conversation, even if she did agree to speak out loud, could get a little boring for a viewer. Ugh . . . now she was going to have to admit Bee was right. “I guess you have a point.”
“What do you mean, you guess?” He smirked, knowing full well he was right and she knew it. “Who’s the expert showman here?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Since she couldn’t argue that, she left him to his task and looked around, keeping her shield firmly in place. Wouldn’t want to drop it too soon or too quickly and get blindsided by a barrage of spirits desperate to make a connection with someone in the real world.
Fat white flurries started to fall from the gray sky, clinging to the flaking wrought iron gate that hung open from one rusted hinge. The air smelled like snow. She hadn’t watched the weather forecast, and that was one tidbit the dead never seemed to share with her, but the gathering black clouds rolling across Bay Island from the south were warning enough a nor’easter would soon hold the island in its thrall. “Come on, let’s get this done before it starts snowing heavily.”
“It should be all right. I heard we’re supposed to get a few inches but not until tonight. This—he gestured toward the sky—“is just a sprinkling.”
She eased the gate open carefully and stepped back, allowing Bee enough room to cart all of his equipment through the opening.
“Do me a favor and grab that bag, please.” Bee pointed to a gray bag still sitting on the backseat.
Cass grabbed it and slung it over her shoulder, then slammed the door shut and followed Bee up what was once a brick walkway, though many of the bricks had cracked and been displaced by the elements over the years. “We probably should have checked to make sure the front door is open before we carted all of this in. Elijah was supposed to stop out here to open it, but I don’t see his car.”
“Let’s hope he came and went already. I want to get this stuff inside without it getting too wet from the snow flurries.” The dolly bumped and swayed over scattered bricks and rutted ground. A box balanced on top of the pile slid, and Bee reached out to catch it with lightning-fast reflexes. Despite his size, and his signature platform shoes, the man could move when he wanted too. She just hoped he didn’t get spooked and hightail it out of there before she could find out what she needed to know. The last thing she wanted was to have to come back again, next time with Stephanie instead.
The path led straight to thick, weathered double metal doors. No porch or patio to soften the entrance, make it more welcoming. She figured maybe the Twin Forks Lunatic Asylum hadn’t often entertained guests.
Graffiti covered the outside of the brick building, though she had no idea how someone had managed to paint as high as they had without scaffolding. Who knew? Maybe they’d built it. They certainly could have gone undetected in such a deserted, remote location long enough to do so. She shivered. Their complete seclusion was a reminder she didn’t need.
Cracks ran throughout many sections of the brick façade, worn by time, battered by windswept sand and salt from sitting so close to the bay. Many of the windows on all six levels were broken or completely missing. Some were boarded over, spray-painted slogans and logos layered over one another covering every square inch.
Wind tore across the open field, lashing at her coat and whipping her hair into a frenzy, obscuring her vision. She shoved her hair behind her ears.
Bee parked the dolly beside the front door. He shivered and pulled his wool coat tighter around him, then rubbed his hands together and blew into them while he waited for Cass to open the door.
“You’re sure you’re okay with this, right, Bee?” Though his penchant for drama bordered on diva status, she’d never want to push him to do something he was actually uncomfortable with. At least not too uncomfortable.
He looked around and pinned her with a gaze, his expression caught somewhere between carefully neutral and horrified. “As sure as I’m going to get, so let’s get it done before I change my mind.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice.
She pressed the latch on the door and held her breath as she pushed. The door stuttered inward with a loud screech, a bit foreboding considering the circumstances. She winced and stared straight ahead, careful not to meet Bee’s gaze.
She took a few steps into the large open room, just enough to allow Bee room to move the equipment inside, then she stopped and stood perfectly still. The building itself groaned then heaved a sigh at the intrusion. Enough light spilled through the uncovered windows for her to make out her surroundings.
Though the exterior had been battered by time and the elements, the inside of the building had fared much worse. Litter covered most of what had once been an institutional-green room—if the flaking paint on what was left of the cinder-block walls was any indication. Broken furniture lay scattered everywhere, a bed frame broken and discarded against the far wall. It wasn’t likely this room had been home to the bed in the first place, so Cass figured someone must have lugged it downstairs sometime over the years since the last of the residents had been relocated.
A carpet of broken ceiling tiles, pipes, paint flakes, and piles of some kind of powder—crumbled cement, maybe—strewn among newer garbage, fast-food bags, beer and soda cans, torn and stained bedding, sent a niggle of fear up Cass’s spine. The dead were one thing; coming across violent drug addicts or a group of homeless people afraid she was going to interfere with what might be the only protection they’d have against the winter cold was something else entirely. She should have asked Elijah if he’d had the place cleared out, maybe even asked for security.
Time to get done and get out of there. Trusting that Bee would get his equipment set up and get whatever shots he needed, Cass closed her eyes and lowered her shields. “There’s evil here. And pain. And fear.”
“Heck, you don’t even need to be psychic to sense that.” Bee shivered and rubbed his free hand up and down his arm, keeping the small handheld video camera trained steadily on her.
