Rocks & Gravel (Peri Jean Mace Ghost Thrillers Book 3) by Catie Rhodes Page A

next to him, and Ugly ran over and jumped on it. The smell hit me again. It was all I could do to stay still. Eddie patted the dog’s head, either used to the smell or not caring. “Thing is, the little box sounds so familiar to me. For the life of me, I can’t remember where I heard about it. The mind is like a rubber band, munchkin.” He tapped his temple. “It loses its snap as you age. Give me some time to think about it. I got another plan we can try first.”
    I hated to ask what.
    “I want you to contact the ghost we seen on Miss Hannah’s surveillance video.”
    I actually groaned. For all the wiggling and dancing I’d done on this awful, long day, I was right back where I started. Forgetting where I was, I sat back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. What I saw there gave me an idea what to get Eddie for his birthday—a house cleaning.
    I tried to picture the ghost I’d seen on the video and sorted through everything I knew, which wasn’t much at all, about contacting the dead. The black opal sent a little tingle of magic into my skin, as though telling me it would help. I drew in a deep breath of the foul air and called up the ghost’s voice begging for help.
    “ My friends. Can’t do this. Please make it stop. ”
    I recalled the desperation and sadness I’d felt when I heard the voice, trying to pull those emotions to me, in hopes they’d make the ghost come.
    The humid air in the trailer cooled, chilling my sweat-dampened skin. I shivered and pulled my arms tight around myself for warmth. The black opal warmed on my chest and waves of its power radiated through me.
    Don’t let her come. Don’t let her get hurt.
    The ghost’s voice. Was it talking about me? I might not like visiting with ghosts, but they rarely did me any lasting harm. I pushed harder and reached out my mind to latch on to the spirit connected with the voice. It was like chasing myself through a maze. Down one row and up against a dead end. Around another corner, but the shadow stayed ahead by a fraction of a second. This ghost asked for help. Why wouldn’t it let me help?
    The black opal, which had become my only source of heat as the room grew frigid, suddenly stilled, growing cold as a block of ice against my chest. I gasped, my eyes flying open, and pulled the awful thing out of my shirt. I looked around for Eddie but found myself back in the dark place where I’d gone before I had the vision. Priscilla Herrera stood watching me, hands on her hips.
    This time the dark wasn’t as dark, and I looked around. I was in a room with a wood floor and no windows, bare of furniture except for a rough table and chair. A few toys lay scattered on the floor. I could see two doors, one on each side of the room. Where am I?
    I recognized some of the toys as ones I’d played with as a kid but hadn’t seen in years. The table was cluttered with a tangle of junk. I made out a pack of cigarettes, the extremely strong ones I’d smoked during a dark time in my life. My wedding ring, the one I’d thrown in the Trinity River after my divorce was final, sat beside the cigarettes. My heart thudded dully. What is this place? How can I leave?
    I walked toward the door closest to me, but a cold hand grabbed my arm. Priscilla Herrera shook her head no and gave me a light push toward the other door. I hesitated, wondering if she meant me harm since I knew her secrets. She smiled as though I’d asked the question out loud, shook her head again, and shooed me toward the door.
    I took halting steps to the closed door, hand reaching for the worn brass knob. It felt warm under my hand as though heated by a hot summer day. Maybe it would take me back to Eddie. I turned the knob and opened the door and took a step into the blackness. I fell fast and came down on something soft, sucking in air and half screaming.
    “Peri Jean, you all right?” Eddie’s hands gripped my arms. His face was so close I saw the veins threading their way under the skin