Ghost Walk

Prologue

4 th of 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 said too seriously.

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’t save them.

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. Never breathed .

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 she didn’t save. 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 4 th of 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. The Planet of the Apes inspired 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 the blue 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 was very good 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 the moon? 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: Not by 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 was happening? 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 their endless search for “troll powder,” Grace dealt with everything that came her way with a healthy dose of logic. So why was she completely lost as 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 the hell was that noise?

It sounded like someone in the bar next door was shrieking into a microphone to a thrash rock beat. Except this song had no 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?

She looked closer. Well, scratch that idea. Her car wasn’t there anymore, so she wouldn’t be driving anyplace. She’d parked the beige four-door in front of the bar and now a black jeep was in the space. Had someone stolen it? If they did, they must have taken the ambulance and three police cruisers, too. None of the vehicles were in sight. It was as if no one but Grace had arrived at the crime scene.

Grace found she couldn’t breathe. It was like oxygen refused to fill her lungs. She bent over at the waist, her hands braced on her knees and tried to calm down. It was alright. She would figure this out. There had to be a reason for all of it. She just needed to focus on something calming and not panic.

Her mind settled on the lush fields of her parents’ farm. Before they died, they’d owned two hundred acres of rich Virginia soil. Growing up, she’d spent her days running through the tall stalks of corn. The smell of the earth, and the vivid green of the plants, and the absolute security of her parents’ love. Nothing since had ever made her feel so safe .

Think about those peaceful green cornfields.

The music from the bar reached unbearable levels and Grace’s frantic brain seized on a target for her terror. The “singer” was screeching about chimpanzees of all things. She couldn’t deal with a song about chimpanzees. She couldn’t think when he was screaming about chimpanzees. God, if their idea of music was chimpanzees and the same two notes on an electric guitar played over and over and over again, they all must be drinking more than just…

Wait a second.

Chimpanzees?

Grace looked down at the band flyer which was still clutched in her hand. The words couldn’t have been clearer, even in the dim light. “Cornelius and the Monkey-Men. Appearing one night only! July third.”

Yesterday.

A slimy, hot/cold ball began to form in her stomach.

Running a hand through her drenched hair, Grace marched over to the entrance of the bar. “Hey!” She stalked up to the bouncer, who happened to be a massive guy in a GNR shirt, reading Dickens. “Is that Cornelius and the Monkey-Men in there?” She gestured to the open door and the grimy interior beyond.

Oliver Twist pointed to the marquee without looking up from his book. “That’s what the sign says. Five dollar cover, lady.”

“They were supposed to be here yesterday , though.” She held up the flier, her hands shaking from the cold rain and her strained nerves. “See? One night only. It says so right here.”

The bouncer flicked her a bored look. “Yeah and tonight’s the one night. You wanna see the band or not?”

Grace shook her head. “No, I don’t want to see them! I can’t see them. July third was the one night they played!”

“What are you high or something? It is July third”

“Today’s the fourth .”

The guy was apparently used to dealing with lunatics. Rolling his eyes, he pulled his cellphone from his pocket and held up the illuminated screen. “See?” He gestured to the date in the corner. “The third. The holiday’s tomorrow, but I guess you started celebrating a little early, huh?” He arched a brow. “Now, are you gonna pay to come inside or are ya just going home to sleep it off? ‘Cause you can’t stand here and listen to the band for free.”

Grace stared at the glowing numbers on the screen, not even processing his words. It was impossible. He must have rigged the phone with the wrong date somehow. He was trying to trick her. Trying to make her think it was still the night before.

Why would he do that, though?

What could his motivation possibly be? She’d never met this man before. Why would he waste his time on such a useless prank? And where had the sun gone? And her car? And the rest of the crime scene guys, police, and reporters? And there had been a rainstorm last night…

The gunshots interrupted her spiraling thoughts.

Even over the terrible, pulsating music, she heard the unmistakable sound of a weapon firing twice in quick succession. Grace’s head snapped around just in time to see a male figure fleeing the alleyway. He was running too fast for her to get a good look at him, but she still knew exactly what had happened.

“Call 911!” Grace screamed to the bouncer and raced back the way she’d come. “ No! ” She saw the woman’s body on the ground, precisely the way it had looked when she arrived at the crime scene two hours before. “No, no, no.” She dropped to her knees beside the victim and quickly took stock of the situation. There was nowhere to apply pressure and no way to administer aid. Grace tried, but it was hopeless. The girl had been shot twice in the face. She was dead.

Again.

It was the same woman. Grace knew it. Only her body was still warm and the blood pouring out of her was fresh. Grace couldn’t explain it, but she knew it was true.

Somehow she’d been zapped back to the time of this woman’s murder.

Not that she’d done her much good. The woman had been killed all over again while Grace stood five yards away. If only she’d known what was about to happen she could’ve helped the girl. Could’ve stopped this. Could’ve…

Just as suddenly as the weirdness started, it was over.

Between one blink and the next, everything went back to normal. The sun was back in the sky, the rain was gone, and Grace was surrounded by her colleagues. It was as if the universe took back its do over and just plopped Grace right back where she’d started. …Or maybe it had never happened at all. Yeah, that was it. It had been some kind of hallucination, brought on by the July heat and fumes from some leaky gas line in the neighborhood.

Except, if it was all in her head, why was she still soaking wet from the storm?

Grace didn’t know. She didn’t know. She had no frigging idea what had just happened, except that her nice, normal life had just imploded. She looked down at the fresh blood covering her palms and did what any nice, normal girl would do in that situation.

She started screaming.