Page 1 of Ghost Walk
Prologue
4thof July- One Year Ago
The alleyway was a gory mess.
At this point in her career, Grace Rivera had learned to block out the full horror of it, but she still felt a surge of sadness for the poor woman lying on the pavement. The girl was young, with stringy blonde hair and three piercings in each ear. Given her revealing clothes and the location of her body, it seemed likely she worked as a prostitute and had met up with the wrong man. Still Grace took her death as seriously as she would’ve the mayor’s.
As a crime scene technician it was Grace’s job to collect whatever evidence the murderer had left behind. Fibers, fingerprints, blood, and a thousand other small things that even the smartest perpetrators missed. All of it was cataloged and analyzed in hopes of it leading back to those who stole the lives of others. Very often it did. Grace was good at her job and she took it seriously.
Some people saidtooseriously.
They were probably right. But the poor woman on the ground, with the two bullet holes in her head, was counting on her. Just like all the other victims whose cases Grace investigated. She didn’t want to let them down… Except, she always felt as if she already had. They were gone and she couldn’t help them.
Couldn’tsavethem.
To make up for it, Grace did everything she could, every single day, whether she was investigating a dead hooker in an alleyway or a wealthy businessman from Richmond. She studied and worked and did her best to ensure that they received at least some form of justice. She never stopped. Never took a moment to relax. Neverbreathed.
Touching the darkness, with no light to balance it out,was too much for her. At least, that’s what they said later. Grace had always been a glass-is-half-empty sort of girl. All that pessimism overwhelmed her. If you stared too long into the abyss, the damn thing would start to stare back.
Being a savior to the whole world was impossible. It got harder and harder for Grace to recall that her job was really about helping people. About stopping killers from striking again, and bringing comfort to the families left behind. All she saw were the victims shedidn’tsave. The futile, hopeless, failure of it all. Somewhere along the way, her positivity and optimism disappeared.
Until one day --inevitably-- the darkness swallowed her.
She’d pushed herself too hard. Everyone would tsk about it after her breakdown. It was no wonder she burned out, really. But who could’ve predicted that even a Rivera would snap so completely?
On that 4thof July morning, Grace lost her mind in front of half the police force.
It started with a torn glove. Just a tiny rip in the latex that exposed Grace’s fingertip. She was so focused on her job that she didn’t notice. Not at first, anyway. She went about her business, gathering up the shattered bits of evidence. A few stray hairs… Glass from a broken beer bottle… A cigarette butt… Maybe it belonged to the killer. More likely it belonged to any of a dozen people who had frequented the alley in the last month or two. Still, it all had to be checked. No detail was too small in forensic work. The key to solving the entire puzzle could literally be a grain of sand.
Grace meticulously sorted through the dirt and debris littering the asphalt, finally coming to a flyer for a local band called “Cornelius and the Monkey-Men.” They had apparently played at the bar next door on July third. ThePlanet of the Apesinspired font promised an incredible one night only concert.
Grace wasn’t sorry that she missed it.
All she cared about was the single drop of blood on theblue paper. The speck was so small most people wouldn’t even have noticed it. The page must have gotten wet in the storm the night before, because the ink was running. It was crumpled and at least twelve feet from the body. A less experienced technician might have overlooked it entirely. But Grace wasverygood at her job.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t make a mistake, though.
She snapped some photos and picked up the flyer to put into an evidence bag. When she did, the pad of her thumb inadvertently brushed against the dried blood drop. For the first time in her career, Grace’s bare skin touched the blood evidence she was examining.
As soon as she did, it started raining.
It happened so suddenly that she didn’t process what was happening for several precious seconds. Water poured down, not like the beginning of a shower, but like it had been storming for hours.
Grace frowned in confusion and looked up at the sky. What the hell…? How did the rain blow in so quickly? It was even blocking out the sun! The alley was abruptly dark, making it seem as if night had fallen in the middle of the day. In fact, was that themoon?Why was the moon out at two in the afternoon?
She got to her feet, her mind racing. “Guys, are you seeing this…?” Her voice trailed off in surprise as she realized that the rest of the investigative team was gone.Gone. Grace’s head whipped around, her heart pounding. She was standing there all by herself.
No.Correction:Notby herself.
Despite the rain and rancid smell, two people were using the dark alleyway for a convenient place to have sex. Grace goggled at them for a beat, her hand coming up to slap over her mouth in shock. Jesus, what washappening? She quickly turned her back on the grunting duo, trying to think.
She’d always been a cotton-underwear-buying, never-skipping-work, two-coats-of-clear-nail-polish kinda girl. Practical.Normal. Saving for retirement and watching the news at six every night. Despite her eccentric family and theirendless search for “troll powder,” Grace dealt with everything that came her way with a healthy dose of logic. So why was shecompletely lostas to what was going on? Why couldn’t she think of one rational explanation for why her colleagues disappeared, or why the moon had risen, or why two strangers were copulating behind her?
And what thehellwas that noise?
It sounded like someone in the bar next door was shrieking into a microphone to a thrash rock beat. Except this songhadno beat, so it was just discordant wailing. Even her cousin Halcyon had better taste in music and he mainly listened to the “hidden messages” in TV static. How was she supposed to think of a logical explanation for this craziness when she couldn’t hear herself think?
Grace staggered to the entrance of the alleyway, peering up and down the street. Cars whizzed past, but very few would stop in this part of town. Should she try to flag someone down? Should she just drive to the police station and ask where everyone went?
