Hide And Spook

Chapter One

"There has to be another explanation. Buildings don't talk, and I don't believe in ghosts." Michael Denton adjusted his lab coat and opened a manila folder on his desk.

"I don't know, Mike, but when I go into a federal bunker that is supposed to be empty, and I'm told to get out by no one in particular, I take it seriously."

"So you want me to believe we have spooks?" Michael raised an eyebrow. "That's ludicrous."

"Well, at this point it doesn't matter what I believe," his assistant said. "It matters that the owners want us to find out what's going on."

"I'm a man of science, Kent. I believe in what I can see." Michael adjusted his glasses. "And I can't see ghosts."

"Yes, well, Mrs. Shepard believes in them." Kent crossed his arms and peered at the scientist. "And you know what that means."

"Yeah, yeah. What the missus wants, the missus gets."

Kent clapped a hand on Michael's shoulder. "And you know who the best paranormal investigator in town is, right?"

"Ah, Christ. That's right. And you've probably already called her, haven't you?"

"She's in the conference room."

"Christ."

***

Carlie paced the room and glared at the wall. She'd seen enough two-way mirrors to know that someone was probably on the other side, watching her every move. And since she was at the Shepard Institute, the only person who could be on the other side of the glass was Michael Bloody Denton, Senior Scientist and Chief Something-Or-Other. Fan-freaking-tastic.

She sighed. Michael wasn't all bad if you didn't mind uptight, unbending, narrow-minded personalities. He'd lived in the condo above hers for a little over a year and the few times they actually had to talk left her a little on the chilly side. That look of cool disdain that crossed his face when he looked at her probably had something to do with her initial dislike, too. The rest of the time was him pounding on his floor if he thought her stereo was up too loud or God forbid, if she was having sex too loudly for his liking.

Hell, a whisper was too loud for his liking. He probably did it in complete silence, with a minimal amount of sweat and energy expenditure. She tilted her head. Then again, she'd never seen him bring home a woman. Gay? Nah, she hadn't seen him with a man, either. So what was he?

Despite being the most annoying man to walk the face of the earth, he was rather decent looking, if someone cared to look closely. And if he'd only lose those coke-bottle glasses, those baby blues could actually be somewhat sexy.

But he thought what she did was silly and frivolous. He thought her chosen career was merely a hobby and that she preyed on the insecurities of frightened people. He thought she was a crook. No, it didn't matter how cute he may or may not be, they differed on the very fundamentals of who they were.

A derisive snort interrupted her musings. "So, the famous Carlie Barnes, here to solve our little ghostie problem."

She turned around as Michael Bloody Denton pulled out a chair from the table and dropped his official looking folder on the table. He motioned for her to sit down. "Did anyone tell you why you're here?"

"Nope, but let me guess." She took the opposite seat and reached for the folder. "A little ghostie problem? Which is interesting since you told me...what was it you said again? Oh yeah, ghosts don't exist and anyone who believes in them has shit for brains."

She leaned back in her chair and flipped through the pages, pausing on a grainy black and white photo. "So either you have suddenly developed a case of poop-on-the-brain or something has happened. Which is it?"