James had called it with the Cottage with a capital C. As they pulled off the main road and down a winding, neatly kept path, he could see the top of the building through the trees ahead of them. A sign along the side of the road read, in elegant, sloping print, “The Cottage at Delinsky Cove.”

“Delinsky Cove?” Gabriella said, squinting at the sign with a disgusted shake of her head. “Are you kidding me?”

James rolled his eyes. The forest was thick, but felt curated in a way that told him someone spent a lot of time designing it to look natural. Then the road curved, and they were coming up on a mansion. It was a beautiful building, but there was no way anyone in their right mind would call this a cottage. It had to have at least three stories, and there were pillars around the front door. From here, he could see a spacious porch wrapping around the side and into the backyard. The yard was a vast slope of impeccably cared for grass that led to a small beach against what was clearly a private lake. It looked a lot like the one the aunts used to bring them to as kids, but James knew no one was coming out of this one with leeches on their legs.

The water was frozen now, and he could see police tape fluttering on the ice. Further down the yard, he saw the barn where Jim Delinsky and his head had parted ways. There was tape along the entrance there, plus muddy tracks through the snow where the investigators had been. But even that couldn’t completely detract from the peacefulness of the so-called Delinsky Cove.

Gabriella let out a low whistle as they pulled into the massive driveway. “Damn.”

James shrugged and laughed. “Looks like a cottage to me,” he said.

They got out of their car and walked across the parking lot-sized driveway. Several cars were parked along the edge of the precisely trimmed grass, a couple of Mercedes-Benzes, and what looked like a lovingly restored Porsche from the seventies. James’s car looked even worse than usual parked against this backdrop, but whatever. They weren’t here to impress anyone.

James walked up the marble steps to the porch and rang the doorbell. It echoed somewhere deep in the house. Then he and Gabriella waited in silence until he heard footsteps approaching on the other side. A moment later, the door opened and an old woman peeked out, narrowing her eyes as she looked at them. “Yes?” she said. “Who are you?”

“Hi, I’m James McManus from the Foundation for Paranormal Studies,” he said.

No matter how long he did this job, and how smooth his delivery was, James always felt like an asshole introducing himself like that. Like he should have a cape and some Criss Angel moves or something, as he said it. He half expected the woman to close the door in his face, but instead, she opened it further.

“We’ve been expecting you,” she said. “I’m Maria, Mrs. Delinsky’s personal assistant.”

“We were just at the hospital talking with her,” James said.

“She told you what happened?” Maria asked.

“Yeah,” James said. “We’re here to talk to more family members and get the pieces to put together what’s going on.”

“You better do it soon,” Maria said, her voice low. “They’re panicking in there, no matter how many bodyguards your Foundation sends.”

“James!”

James looked over to see Father McEnerney, the priest consultant they worked with on a regular basis, walking through the front foyer of the house. He was a little older than James, with a boyish face and black hair in need of a cut. But in his Roman collar and black suit, he was all business.

“Father,” James said, reaching out to shake. “I take it you’re one of the bodyguards?”

Father McEnerney laughed. “I guess you could say that.”

He turned to Gabriella. “Gabriella,” he said. “Good to see you. Sadie and her son told me to thank you for everything.”

Gabriella shuffled a little awkwardly. “It was nothing,” she said.

No, it was something. Gabriella had risked her life going after the mischief entity a couple of months ago, and her quick thinking had led it right into their trap. He knew she thought it was no big deal, but James refused to see her actions as just part of the job.

“So, what are you doing here?” James asked.

“The Foundation’s pulling out all the stops on this one,” Father McEnerney said as Maria walked away. “I’ve been blessing every inch of this place. There are multiple agents here to guard the family and we’ve got protections up in all entrances. Whatever this thing is, it’s powerful enough to kill two men and compel a woman halfway across the state.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

“Curse,” Father McEnerney said immediately. “It has to be a curse. I don’t have any extrasensory abilities to speak of, but Boston sent a couple of mediums out here and they both agree.”

“That’s what we’re thinking too,” James said.

“Father!” someone, an older man with a gravelly voice, called from the crowded rooms nearby. “Father, you’re needed.”

“When aren’t I needed?” Father McEnerney muttered to James. Then he plastered on his calm priestly face, which James had seen often enough to know it was total shit, and walked out of the room.

He always enjoyed working with Father McEnerney.

“You’re here from the Foundation?”

This time, it was a much younger woman’s voice. James turned around to see a stunning red-haired woman standing in yet another doorway. “Yes,” he said. “We’re here from the North Worcester County branch to interview family members.”

The woman nodded, all cool professionalism despite the paranormal chaos around her. “Right this way,” she said.

Before either of them could say anything, the woman spun around and started down the hallway, her high heels clacking on the cold floor. James and Gabriella hurried to catch up with her.

“I’m glad you’re here,” the woman said without looking at them. “This has been horrific. What happened to the Delinsky brothers was terrifying, but to have whatever this is drag Mrs. Delinsky out here as well… it’s too much.”

“You seem calm though,” James said.

The slightest smile appeared on the woman’s face as she punched a code into a pad mounted beside a dark wooden door. “It’s my job,” she said.

“You work for the family?”

“I’m Mr. Delinsky’s assistant.”

The one whose head was ripped off or the victim of the phantom train? James wasn’t quite sure what to say. But apparently, his silence said it all.

“Yes, Robert Delinsky was my immediate supervisor,” the woman said. “I’m Yasmin, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Yasmin,” James said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Me too,” Gabriella added.

Yasmin sighed as the door clicked open. She pulled it aside, revealing another hallway that she ushered them into. “Thank you,” she said. “Mr. Delinsky was… a hard man. But he was a person, and no one deserves that.”

Interesting. James filed that note away for later. “Is everyone so accepting that this was paranormal?” Gabriella asked.

Yasmin nodded. “As much as they can be,” she said. “There are some holdouts, but we’ve all seen what’s happening with our own eyes. And the sooner we accept it, the sooner we can resolve it. Which is what you’re here to do.”

“We are,” James said.

“What is causing this?”

The first sign of any fear was the slight catch in her voice. James shook his head. “I can’t say,” he replied. “We have some theories, but I need to talk to family members and get more information before we can determine the best way to resolve it.”

They walked silently through the lushly carpeted hallway until they reached another door off to the side. “The family wanted to stay on lockdown until things are resolved,” Yasmin said. “I don’t blame them. But you’ll find their representatives here. Good luck.”

She unlocked the door and opened it, revealing a wide, brightly lit conference room. The fact that this was in the middle of the so-called Cottage was so jarring that James almost laughed out loud at the sight. But instead, he just smiled at the gathered people inside.

There were five family members in the room. Two elderly men, a woman in her sixties, and two men that were probably in their twenties. They were all looking at James with wary expressions as he and Gabriella stepped inside.

“These are the representatives from the Foundation,” Yasmin said, her voice clipped and cool. “They’ve cleared the checks and want to get as much information from you as possible.”

The two young men made eye contact with James and he realized that one of them was a Foundation agent. Wow, they really had pulled out all the stops here. Were there any security agents at any other cases right now?

James nodded hello, waiting for anyone to offer him and Gabriella a seat. But all three of the older people just glared while the youngest man worried at a hangnail beside the agent.

“May I…” he started, gesturing toward the table.

Still looking sour, the two old men nodded toward a couple of empty chairs. Gabriella hesitantly sat down in one while James took the other.

“I’m going to record our conversation if that’s alright with you,” James said, pulling out his recorder.

“Absolutely not,” the woman snapped.

James glanced at her, hand still on the power button. “Excuse me?”

The woman glared at him, her dark red lips thin on her pale face. “There are no recording devices allowed in this room. We hold very secure meetings here and recordings could have a devastating impact on our business.”

As could two dead board members, with a third that just got away. “Um, okay,” James said. “Gab, do you have a notepad or something?”

Gabriella looked at him. “Right,” James said. “Of course. Maybe just use your phone?”

“No phones,” the older of the two elderly men said, his voice loud and wavering.

“She’s just going to take notes,” James said. “We’re not recording anything.”

“I told you already, no phones, no recording equipment,” the woman said. “The Foundation won’t let us require NDAs for their people here, which is frankly ridiculous. We can’t know for sure that you won’t record, and we can’t take that risk.”

James blinked slowly, looking over at Gabriella, who seemed equally skeptical. This was a clothing store, not INTERPOL. But they weren’t going to get any information this way, so he just shook his head. “Fine,” he said. “Does anyone have any paper?”

The agent looked at him with a hint of amusement in his eyes. Clearly, this guy had been here the entire time, and this shit wasn’t new. The other young man wordlessly slid a legal pad over to James.

“Do you mind taking notes?” he asked Gabriella.

“Nope,” she said, pulling a pen out of her pocket. “Got it.”

“Right.”

He turned to the three Delinskys. “Could I get your names?” he asked.

The woman rolled her eyes. “Ms. Delinsky,” she said.

“First name?”

“You don’t need that.”

Oh, for Christ’s sake. James was about to just move on when he heard a small voice behind him. “Mom…”

He turned and saw the young man looking at the woman. “Mom, this isn’t a job interview. This is a murder investigation,” the man said. “Can you please just work with him? It killed Dad. What if that thing comes back for us?”

His voice trembled, and James felt a pang of sympathy. This kid couldn’t have been any older than twenty. Gabriella clearly felt the same way as she turned and gave him a comforting smile.

The woman sighed. “Fine,” she said. “I’m Sarah Delinsky.”

Gabriella scribbled her name down as James turned to the other two. “And you?”

Both glared at him, but finally, the older one shook his head. “Theodore Delinsky.”

“James Harrington.”

He turned to the young man. “And you?”

“Also James. James Delinsky.”

“Lots of Jameses,” Gabriella murmured as she took notes.

“I’m James as well,” James said. “And this is Gabriella. I’m the captain of the North Worcester County branch of the Foundation, and Gabriella is here as my assistant.”

Those words never would fit comfortably in his mouth, would they? The young man was back to fidgeting with a hangnail while the others continued to glare at James.

“Okay, now that we’re all introduced, can you tell me what you know?” he asked.

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Then the woman took a breath. “My husband disappeared overnight,” she said. “We were at home and when I woke up, he was gone. I got a call from the police out here.”

“Where’s home?” James asked.

“Back Bay.”

A ritzy Boston neighborhood. This fit the pattern with Rita Delinsky, who was spirited away from her home in a wealthy Boston suburb. “Did he show any indication that something might happen?”

“You think my husband committed suicide by going on defunct train tracks and waiting for a ghost train to run him over?” Sarah Delinsky asked, her voice tight.

“No,” James said. “But I need to follow every angle, if only to eliminate it as a possibility. What about any plans in this area that he might have kept secret?”

“No, of course not,” Sarah said.

“This is the family summer home,” James Harrington said, his droning voice immediately grating on James’s last nerve. “We keep it active in the winter as well, but nobody spends much time here when it’s cold.”

This summer home was bigger than three of James’s triple-decker apartment building put together. But that wasn’t what he was here to judge, so he just nodded as Gabriella marked the information down. “And did he have any enemies?”

“The police already asked this,” Sarah said.

“Mom,” younger James hissed.

“I know,” James said. “But we need all the information we can get. If you can think of someone that would want to hurt your husband and his brother, it could be an enormous help.”

“There are always people that want to hurt our family,” Sarah said. “We own one of the most successful clothing brands in the United States. And we’re very selective about who we work with. Of course there are resentments and enemies. But no one who could do this.”

She was remarkably calm, but James could see from the strain around her eyes that she was holding it together for appearances. He tried to pull up some sympathy for her and was almost surprised to find a little to give.

“You will figure this out,” Theodore said. “My nephews were the backbone of this family’s business. If this gets out, it could ruin us.”

“What do you mean?” Gabriella asked.

Sarah glared at her. “Would you want to work for a cursed business?” she asked, voice dripping with condescension.

James held his breath, waiting to see if Gabriella was going to crumple and he’d have to step in. But she just looked evenly at Sarah. “Not particularly.”

“There you go. We can’t have the public finding out that there is anything otherworldly about this. If I hadn’t seen everything I’ve seen, I wouldn’t believe it either. But I want it to be quiet and solved quickly. And God help you both if I see a single thing in the press.”

James raised his eyebrows. “Noted,” he said.

He stood up and Gabriella followed suit. “Thank you for your time,” he said. “I’ll be in touch. Our team is going to work alongside the Boston branch to figure out what’s going on. In the meantime, keep following the instructions of the security team. They’ll keep you safe.”

“You’re sure?” the young man – James – asked.

James nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “They’re some of the best in the business. You’ll be fine.”

He nodded at the others gathered around the table and as he turned toward the door, it opened and Yasmin walked in. “I’ll lead you out,” she said.

Nobody said goodbye as James and Gabriella followed Yasmin out of the room. She walked them back down the long hallway toward the locked wooden door. “I forgot to give back their legal pad,” Gabriella said.

“Keep it,” Yasmin said. “Listen, they might not show it, but we appreciate what you’re all doing. If the family’s not going to acknowledge you, know that the staff will.”

She smiled, and James felt that sense of underpaid camaraderie between them. “Thanks,” he said.

They were quiet until they got to the front door, then Yasmin opened it and held it for them. “What happens next?” she asked.

“We’ll see,” James said. “We need to discuss it as a branch and see what other leads we can get from this. But it’s top priority, don’t worry.”

She nodded and gave both of them a small smile as they walked out. Then she closed the door, leaving them standing on the cold entryway.

---

CONTINUE TO CHAPTER 7