Black Towers Read online

  Black Towers

  Paranormal Investigations Book 1

  By Cherie Mitchell

  All Rights Reserved © 2019 Cherie Mitchell

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter One

  Another of the dreams had come last night, swooping in on rustling obsidian wings to cover him with a darkness so intense he feared he was lost forever within its crushing, soulless walls. He’d jolted himself awake, hopelessly trapped and tangled in sheets soaked through in his own sweat. For several seconds he’d stared with sightless eyes at his bedroom wall, sure he was adrift inside the dream for eternity until the early morning garbage truck rumbled past outside on the street and thankfully brought him crashing back to reality.

  Remnants of the dream still lingered now, late into the afternoon, although he still had no idea what it was about. He remembered the darkness, the pure terror, and his frantic need to escape but nothing more. He kicked open the door to his truck and jumped to the ground, the tail of his hi-vis safety vest flapping up behind him as his steel cap boots landed heavily in the grimy dust of the transport yard. The dream had trailed him all through his shift, teasing at his mind with its absence of detail and gnawing at some fragile part of him with sharp and pitiless teeth.

  “Carter! Max! Hey, Max!”

  He shoved the door shut behind him as Leroy Pointer, or Lucky Leroy as the other truckers called him whenever they joked about his uncanny ability to lose most of his wages on the row of poker machines down at the Tipsy Angel every other Thursday night. The saddest part was, the only reason it was every other Thursday night was because Leroy’s long-suffering wife marched into the transport yard office every second Thursday and snatched the wage packet out of her husband’s hand as soon as he received it.

  “Max.” Leroy’s thin, pinched face looked even more shrunken today and he was sporting one of his regular black eyes. He’d never admitted to anyone how he got the injuries but word around the yard was that his shiners were courtesy of his dear wife. Max didn’t know how true this rumor was and he wasn’t inclined to look any further into it, although a vague sense that the rumor was one hundred percent correct nudged at his sub-consciousness. He often felt these vague, elusive nudges but whatever Leroy, or any of the other truckers for that matter, did in their private time was up to them. He’d been one to poke his nose too far up into anyone else’s business. Live and let live was a motto more people should live by, as far as Max Carter was concerned.

  “How’s it going, Leroy?” Max shrugged his vest off and balled it up in his fist, hoping Leroy would get the hint that he wasn’t in the mood to stand around and chitchat. He was meeting Joey down at the Tipsy Angel as soon as he clocked off here and that chilled beer was already calling his name like a siren song.

  “I’ve seen better days, Max, I’ve seen better days.” Leroy cleared his throat and scuffed his boots through the dust before thrusting an envelope at Max. “Gotta lay you off,” he said gruffly.

  “What?” Max dumbly took what he now knew was his final paycheck from Leroy’s filthy paw. “Why? Someone unhappy with my work?”

  “Nothing like that.” Leroy was already turning away. “Cost cutting. There’s five of you moving on today. Get your next employer to call me for a reference if you need it and make sure you take everything you need out of the truck before you leave the yard.”

  Max cussed and kicked uselessly at the front tire. He would’ve liked to say he’d seen this coming but the truth was the news had blindsided him. He climbed back into the truck to grab his logbook and lunch pail. He wouldn’t be sorry to see the back of this rig with its sticky clutch and dodgy brakes but he would be sorry to see the back of a regular paycheck. Shit.

  He left the yard without stopping to speak to anyone else. He had an idea of who the other four guys might be, that’s if Leroy was culling staff via the guidelines of the last on, first off rule book. He’d catch up with them somewhere around the traps – they’d all probably soon be lining up at the same companies and applying for the same jobs.

  He considered begging off meeting Joey and going home to drown his sorrows alone but his geriatric old SUV appeared to want to steer itself toward the dubious attractions of the Tipsy Angel. He parked the vehicle outside and trod across the beer-soaked floorboards to the bar to order a beer for himself and one for Joey. Someone had dropped some coins into the jukebox, and Elvis was crooning about wooden hearts and being treated right in what were surely simpler times. Max took the cans of beer and wandered over to the sticky, scratched table where he and Joey generally sat to solve the world’s problems and create some new ones.

  “Hey.” It was well over an hour later before Joey draped his garish plaid jacket over the back of the chair opposite Max and dropped down onto the seat. He grinned as he popped the top of the beer can that Max pushed toward him. “How’s tricks?”

  “Could be better. Leroy laid me off this afternoon.”

  Joey set his can back down on the tabletop with a satisfied sigh. “Bad luck, but it could be good timing for someone. I might have a job for you. It just came up on my radar a few hours ago.”

  Max snorted as he tipped his head back and allowed the remainder of his beer to trickle down his throat. He dropped the empty can onto the table and glanced over at the bar, wondering whether to quit now or go for championship gold in the blotto stakes. “What’s it this time, Joey? Another gig sweeping the streets outside the Municipal Buildings after Parade Day? Helping old ladies to fill in their race tickets in return for taking a cut of their winnings? Funny how you always seem to have another wondrous career move tucked up your sleeve, poised and ready to dump on the head of the next poor sucker who comes along.” Joey had always reminded Max of an old time court jester, dressed in a colorful outfit and juggling multiple balls in plain sight while hiding a completely different life away from the confines of the court. No one knew for sure what Joey did for a living and Joey was determined to keep it that way.

  “Nah.” Joey waved away his friend’s cynical comments with a casual flap of his hand. “This time it’s a real job. Pays well, too.”

  Max had made up his mind. He’d have two more cans before he called it quits, which would put him on the wrong side of being able to drive home but on the right side of being able to walk a straight line. His apartment was only a few blocks from here and he could leave the SUV in the parking lot until tomorrow. Winners all around. He pushed himself away from the table. “Are you having another one?”

  Joey checked the time on the battered phone that lay on the table beside him. “Can’t. I’m only here for one beer. There’s people to do and things to see. Do you want me to tell you about this job or not?”

  “Let me get another beer first.” He could see Leroy down at the end of the bar, waving his arms around as he explained something complicated and elaborate to Dwayne the barman. Max leaned up against the bar, waiting until he caught Dwayne’s eye before he held up two fingers to tell him of his order.

  Dwayne said something more to Leroy before sauntering down to where Max waited. “Sorry to hear about your job.”

  Max glanced over at Leroy again, who was now standing in front of a poker machine with his back turned to the bar. “Leroy been blabbing already?”

  “You know what he’s like.” Dwayne placed two beer cans on the bar top and took his money from him. “Can’t keep his mouth shut.”

  “Yeah.” Max took the cans and returned to the table. Maybe he would get himself blind drunk after all instead of wobbling unsteadily around the edge of inebriation.

  “Are you interested or not?” Joey had put his jacket on now. He looked like an old time carnie rogue, about to draw the unsuspecting public in. Roll up, roll up and see the painted lady.

  “I can’t say I’m interested until I know what it is.”

  “It’s a job that takes guts and you’re the bravest man I know.” Joey shook his head, chuckling now. “Remember that time you confronted that gang of bikers down the coast?”

  “It’s nothing more than anyone else would’ve done.” Those bikers were a bunch of pussies, a gang of douche bags on Ducatis. All it had taken was for one man to stand up to them and they’d crumbled like sandcastles on a beach.

  Joey gazed at him solemnly, all traces of mirth now gone from his face. “I believe in you, Max. I know you can do this.”

  Max took another gulp of his beer. In his experience
, any job that needed this much building up was seldom worth it. “I’m still waiting for the details.”

  Joey picked up his phone and tapped the screen a couple of times. He thrust the phone under Max’s nose and Max looked down to see a photo of a serious-faced girl gazing back at him. She wore her curly blonde hair pulled back from her unmade-up face and she had a sprinkle of freckles splattered across her nose. He immediately got a warm, affectionate feeling in his gut. He’d learned long ago to trust his gut. A man’s gut feeling seldom let him down. “Crystal Johnson. Paranormal Investigator extraordinaire. She’s currently working on a haunted house project. She injured her knee and it’s made more of a dent in her daily activities than she expected. She needs someone to lug her equipment along to her assignment for her.”

  “Paranormal Investigator? Are you telling me she thinks she’s an exorcist?” For some bizarre reason, the dark wings from Max’s dream flapped furiously across his mind.

  Joey tucked his phone into his jacket pocket. “No, she’s never pretended to be an exorcist but then again, I don’t know her all that well. However, I think the ghosts that you’re bound to encounter will be tougher to deal with than Crystal. She didn’t strike me as a hard nut to crack. I gotta fly. Let me know tomorrow if you’re interested. See ya round like a bowling ball, Max.”

  “Yeah. Bye, Joey.” Max watched Joey push through the jostling crowd of truckers and construction workers and disappear out the door. He gazed thoughtfully down at his beer. Hell, he’d accepted stranger offers than this one before now. Why not say yes and see where it led? It wasn’t as if he had anything else on his schedule.

  Chapter Two

  The dark dream was back, terrifyingly real but too elusive and slippery to pin down. He fought to the surface, gasping for breath as his heart pounded in his ears. He’d had these dreams before, at other low times in his life, but what had brought it on now? He rolled over and stared at the wall. Was this a low time of his life? He’d just lost his job but something else would turn up. Something else always did. Hell, he’d been offered another job within an hour of losing the truck driving gig. He’d call Joey later and tell him he’d take the offer. Keeping himself busy was always preferable to sitting around and feeling sorry for himself.

  His phone pinged with a message on his bedside cabinet but he didn’t reach for it straight away. Who would be messaging him at this time of the morning anyway? Not Leroy, that’s for sure. He turned over again and looked at the window, surprised to see a glimmer of sunshine peeking through the gap in the curtains. What time was it? He never slept in. He sat up and grabbed his phone. 9.30. He hadn’t slept this late since he was a teenager and back then 9.30 would’ve felt like the crack of dawn to his permanently drowsy brain. Feeling irrationally pleased with himself for mastering the power of sleep for at least one night, he clicked into his messages to see a text from Joey. With Crystal now. Wanna meet us at the park?

  Max kicked the covers off and hauled himself out of bed. Yeah, he’d go meet Joey and the exorcist at the park. He turned on the shower in the cold bathroom before sending a quick text back to say he’d be there in 30 minutes. Just enough time to get dressed and stop to grab a coffee on the way over.

  Max wondered through the park 40 minutes later, bypassing the playground where toddlers shrieked and ran while their moms stared dully down at their phones. Joey had told him they’d meet him by the duck pond, a shallow, sludgy mud puddle that attracted overfed ducks and a smattering of seagulls. The seagulls always amused Max, given that the nearest ocean was over 50 miles away. Perhaps they’d reincarnated themselves as pond gulls.

  He saw Joey sitting on one of the bench seats with a petite blonde girl. Max took stock of her as he approached the bench seat from the rear, noting her bandaged leg stuck out in front of her and the single crutch leaning against the end of the seat. He idly wondered how she’d suffered the injury – maybe a ghoul had sneaked up behind her and pushed her down the stairs.

  “Hey.” He stepped around in front of where they sat and grinned down at the couple. “Sorry I’m late. Big queue at the cafe this morning.”

  “Must be nice to be a lady of leisure,” Joey remarked drily. “Max, this is Crystal Johnson. Crystal, meet Max Carter. Take no notice of his scruffy appearance. He likes walking around looking like a homeless person.”

  “Ha.” Max held out his hand and Crystal shook it politely. He felt like a clumsy bear, towering over her like this and holding her tiny hand engulfed in his. “Good to meet you, Crystal.” She had one of those elfin, ageless faces that meant she could be anything from fifteen to thirty. Cute in a freckled, earnest way.

  “Hi, Max.” She ran her eyes over him, assessing him without a hint of embarrassment. “You’re a big guy. Did Joey tell you what’s required if you decide to accept the job?”

  He glanced at Joey, whose attention was now fixated on his phone. “No, he didn’t tell me much other than that you’re looking for someone to carry your stuff around.” He nodded at her leg, the limb bandaged from thigh to mid-calf beneath her short skirt. “How’d it happen?”

  She shrugged and tapped her fingers impatiently on the bandage. “It was my own stupid fault. Put my foot where I shouldn’t have. It’s slowed me up a lot, which is why I’m looking for an assistant.”

  “Gotta go.” Joey bounced up off the seat and shoved his phone into his jeans pocket. He’d ditched the gaudy jacket today but his choice of bright green sweater wasn’t much of an improvement. “Have fun, kiddies.”

  “Bye, Joey.” Max turned back to Crystal as Joey strode off toward the playground. “How did you meet him?”

  A small smile hinted at the corners of her mouth as she too gazed off after the retreating Joey. “He’s one of those guys who makes it his business to make himself known.”

  “I know what you mean.” He lowered himself carefully onto the bench beside her, worried he might send her flying into the air if he sat down too heavily. “Tell me about the job.”

  “What do you know about paranormal activity?”

  Her eyes were very blue. He had a sudden vivid image of the little china doll that used to sit on his grandmother’s bookshelf. He hadn’t thought of her house for years. “Not a lot. Not gonna lie, I don’t know if I believe it.”

  That hint of a smile again. “Beliefs are made to be broken. I guess that means you’re not scared of ghosts?”

  He snorted and took another sip of his coffee. “Ghosts don’t exist, sweetheart.”

  She irritably jiggled her good leg but he couldn’t tell if it was because she was annoyed by his statement or by the fact he’d called her sweetheart. “I’m a qualified Paranormal Investigator, Mr. Carter.”

  “Max. Everyone calls me Max.” He leaned across to heft the empty coffee cup into a buckled metal trashcan that stood a few feet away from the seat. The pond gulls shrieked and swooped. “When do you want me to start?”

  “I thought you wanted to know about the job.”

  “What else is there to know? You want me to drag your gear around while you hunt down your ghosties.” He nodded at her leg. “I guess you’ll need me to drive you too?”

  “Yeah.” She heaved a sigh. “I’m very independent and I’m used to working on my own. It’s hard for me to admit that I need help.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t get in your way.”

  “Monday suit you?”

  “Monday is as good as any.”

  “Don’t you want to know how much the job is paying?”

  He shook his head. “Joey told me the pay was good and I’ve known Joey long enough to know when I can trust what he says.”

  “Hmmm.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “I have the feeling that nothing much fazes you.”

  “That’d be right.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the seat to watch the birds on the pond. “Darn seagulls. No idea why they’d choose a dirty pond rather than the freedom of the ocean waves.”

  “I guess the same sentiment could be applied to many different things. Why are you looking for work?”

  “My last job ended unexpectedly. Doesn’t matter to me what I do next. I don’t like to tie myself down to anyone or anything.”

  “Fair enough.”