Ruby Hill (Entangled Ever After) by Sarah Ballance

Chapter One
    Death had a flavor. Equal parts bitter and bland, the damnable taste was more sickening than the stickiness in Corbin Malone’s throat. It soured his gut, leaving him with an unease he couldn’t quite swallow, and the deeper they drove into the countryside—the closer the car brought him to Ruby Hill Lunatic Asylum—the more potent the flavor. Five years a cop, he’d neatly sidestepped the ugly aftertaste until things got personal.
    Until the body belonged to his brother, Cash.
    Nearly six months had passed since Cash Malone fought for his last breath inside the dismal, abandoned halls of Ruby Hill. Though his body now rested six feet under a distant patch of cemetery grass, Ruby Hill remained his tomb—a giant, crouching headstone marring acres of otherwise beautiful, rolling hills. And for Corbin, a visage of murder.
    Death had a flavor: metallic and bitter.
    A quick glance at his superior, Joe Ellison, made clear Corbin didn’t have a choice. “You’re a sonofabitch, you know that?”
    Joe’s attention shifted momentarily from the windshield, his expression tainted with bemusement. “Play nice, Malone. You’ll scare the civilians.”
    Not just civilians, but ghost hunters. Crazies, as far as Corbin was concerned. People who boasted of hearing voices from thin air and seeing apparitions in the dark definitely belonged in an insane asylum, but he sure as hell didn’t want to babysit them.
    And why were the ghostbusters there to begin with? Granted, blaming a ghost made for a good headline— Ruby Hill Deaths Attributed to Phantom Killer —but since when did the department fuel media hysteria?
    “We’ve got bodies stacking up,” Corbin said. “Why the hell would you bring in ghost hunters to contaminate the crime scene?”
    “People are dying, and there’s no clear reason why. The public wants answers, and there’s not enough money in the budget for the stuff we actually need, let alone to waste training our guys to hunt ghosts. Since there’s a line of paranormal investigators willing to get in there for free, we’ll let ‘em. Problem solved. Besides—” Joe shot another look Corbin’s way, longer this time. “—you need this.”
    A brush with acknowledgment. It was likely all Corbin would get. Emotions weren’t allowed in this game. Feelings of guilt got people killed.
    You did not kill your brother.
    The well-practiced and seldom-heeded mantra didn’t have time to infiltrate Corbin’s shell. One last bend in the road, and Ruby Hill Asylum loomed. It had a way of doing that—looming—even washed in the fading sunlight. With a thick overgrowth of vines on the walls and an army of saplings standing at attention on the neglected lawn, nature had long marched to reclaim the facility. But despite the greenery, a sense of evil seethed. The waning sunlight seemed wary of bathing the storied institution. The few windows still glinting with intact glass reflected the sky’s deepening orange, giving the impression of eyes peering through the brush, yet the grounds were notably absent of wildlife. Even the wind seemed to steer clear, leaving damp, stale air clinging heavily to the latent heat. With the deepening shadows the only sign of life, Corbin realized he didn’t have to believe in ghosts for at least one portion of the asylum’s reputation to ring true: Ruby Hill was vile.
    Joe steered the unmarked patrol car onto the drive and stopped at the gate. He flashed his badge for the benefit of the rented security guard, then followed the broken asphalt to Ruby Hill’s main entrance. A steady tap-tap-tap rattled the floorboard. Joe cut the engine, then stared pointedly at the source of the noise.
    Corbin’s right boot.
    Damn . Corbin threw open the car door and took a deep, trying breath of the stifling air. The effort didn’t work. Feeling no less anxious, he twisted in the seat and grounded the offending foot. The twitch moved to his calf. He set his jaw. “Where are the real