The Haunting of Isola Forte di Lorenzo Page 2

  “Whatever moron,” the bully grumbled as he walked back around to the side of the house.

  Matt walked back towards his car and took a seat before he pulled the picture card from his digital camera and placed it in a small, plastic box. He then replaced the card with a new one and started up the car. It paid to be an ex-cop and cautious at every turn. “Who’s the moron now?” Matt questioned with a shake of his head then put the car in gear. He had yet to see the image itself, but if what he saw at the time the picture was snapped was any indication he knew he got the goods.

  At the same time he felt victory he also felt a pang of guilt. Though he wasn’t the man who was cheating, having to deliver the news to the man’s wife felt just as sleazy and it reminded him back to a time when he was married and found out that his wife was cheating on him, just before she left. Perhaps that’s what made him a good investigator when it came to the cheaters. He’d been there and while he had vowed never to be there again, every time he delivered the news to another spouse it was his sorry excuse of a marriage all over again.

  Suddenly, getting back to his office no longer seemed important and his speed slowed. He thought that today he would take the scenic route.

  “Thank you for calling Connelly Investigations, this is Isis, how may I help you?” Isis Herrera breathlessly answered. When she arrived that morning she had planned to start reorganizing the files chronologically, though at the time she hadn’t presumed that it would end in a complete overhaul of the entire office. She loved Matt like a brother, but she could just about kill him now. It had started last week when she was looking for a file to reference and it took three hours to find. Now she knew why.

  Her reorganization plan turned into a disaster zone and finding the phone was nothing short of search and rescue. She found it on the sixth ring and if she could have reached through the phone’s receiver and strangled the telemarketer on the other end at that moment she would have.

  Just as she hung the phone up, the door swung open and Matt entered. As always he looked tired. His dark hair was tousled and damp with sweat, while his clothes were rumpled and half tucked. If she had to guess, she would have said that he’d been in a fight.

  For a moment he said nothing and just surveyed the office with dark, weary eyes. “What in the hell is going on here?” he questioned, though his tone was more tired and drawn than angry.

  It was the first time Isis had seen him that day. He was already gone when she got to the office and she offered him a wry smile. “It’s nice to see your ugly mug too.”

  Matt smiled as well. He knew that she meant it only as her usually friendly greeting, and he also knew that she didn’t mean it. If he weren’t interested in someone else, whether he knew it or not, I would…

  Isis shook the thought from her mind. “So I take it by the long face and your less than professional appearance you didn’t have any luck,” Isis said as she started pushing through the files on her desk.

  Matt gave a laugh. “I thought that you were psychic,” he said as his smile grew wider.

  Isis glared at him momentarily. She wasn’t a mind reader and the majority of her abilities focused around the dead rather than the living, except for feeling strong emotions. But she did hear an echo in her head. “French?” she questioned out of the blue.

  Matt’s smile dropped and he glared at her. “You are a witch, aren’t you?”

  Isis shrugged. “You asked.”

  Matt gave her a final, semi-scrutinizing glance before he took a seat at his desk. “Actually, I think that I might have gotten something today.”

  Matt punched on his computer and waited for the vastly out of date CPU to boot up. While he waited, he pulled the picture card out of his shirt pocket and he pulled it out of the sleeve. The image reader sat just to the side of his CPU and once all the programs were running, he inserted the picture card and waited for yet another program to start running.

  After several minutes of waiting, Isis walked around to the back of Matt’s chair and looked at the screen.

  “That’s one happy son of a bitch,” she said as she looked at the smile on the face of the man in the Jacuzzi. “Is that her?”

  “That’s the back of her head,” Matt said with disappointment. “It’s not the best picture, but it’s good enough to see that the woman coming out of the water isn’t his wife.” He rested back and took a deep, cleansing breath. “His wife will probably want more, but it’s a start.”

  Isis looked from the screen to Matt’s long face. She didn’t need to use any psychic abilities she might have to know what was on his mind and she rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You want to talk about it?” she offered.

  Matt didn’t look up from the screen but shook his head. “It’s getting late. Why don’t you leave this mess for tomorrow and head on home?”

  It wasn’t really all that late and Isis had no one to go home to. It wasn’t that she minded a solitary life; to be honest it was easier than trying to keep any man in her life from freaking out at her being somewhat clairvoyant and empathic. It was also easier than being laughed at and not taken seriously.

  “Forget it,” she said as she headed back over to her desk. “I made this mess and I’m not leaving until it’s cleaned up,” she said then quickly added, “and I don’t expect you to pay me overtime.”

  Matt gave a small laugh. He knew that she couldn’t read his mind, she only knew him that well.

  “I think that I have the answer to our problem,” Jonas Harper, one of the new owners of Isola Forte di Lorenzo, stated to his two partners who used their combined fortunes to buy the old island from the Italian government just two months ago. It had been abandoned for eighty years, but before that it served as a hospital for plague and tuberculosis victims, a monastery, and an asylum. Since being abandoned the only people who inhabited the island were families of caretakers, none of whom ever stayed longer than a couple of months, and thrill seekers looking to catch a glimpse of a ghost. It was the latter that was the problem…at least for Jonas’s partners.

  The three men bought the island with the hopes of turning it into a high end resort and spa, but until the rumors of a vicious haunting were quashed there was little they could do. They needed to find a reputable firm, as far as that went in the field of paranormal research, to state with certainty that the resort was not haunted, and that the only thing inhabiting the island were overgrown rice fields and the feral spawn from formerly domesticated animals.

  “Well don’t keep us in suspense Jonas,” Seth Crandall said from his chair in front of the fireplace in the drawing room of his home in Santa Monica that overlooked the Pacific Ocean.

  Seth Crandall and Stanley Cushman weren’t necessarily Jonas’s business partners, this island notwithstanding, but rather were once associates of his father’s. And a high end resort was the last thing Jonas wanted to be a part of, but the contacts and the ruse served a purpose. There was no way he could have purchased the island on his own, even with the inheritance from his father, and he would do whatever necessary to get the answers he wanted.

  “I found a paranormal investigation firm right here in southern California who is very stingy when it comes to naming a place as ‘haunted’. They’ve kept to local investigations, but I think that we can lure them to Italy,” he said after a breath.

  Seth’s eyes narrowed with suspicion mixed with arrogance. “Are you sure some mom and pop firm is going to do the job to our satisfaction?” the old man questioned.

  “Seth’s right,” Stanly Cushman agreed. “Our targeted clientele aren’t likely to take the words of a group of…” there was a pause while he looked for the right word, though there really wasn’t one, “…insignificant investigators who have neither the experience nor the means to investigate anything more than local shacks.”

  Jonas fought the urge to roll his eyes at the old man and his condescending tone. “What makes you think that they don’t have the means or experience?” he questioned.r />
  “I figure that if they had the means they would have branched out beyond the region already. Do you not agree?”

  To say that Jonas didn’t care for Stanley Cushman would have been an understatement of the grandest proportions and the frustration he felt at the man’s ignorance and pomposity was getting harder and harder to push down, but he managed. “We need the opinion of a firm that has nothing to lose by finding nothing, and from what I can tell, this one fits the bill. From the research I’ve done, and it was extensive, this firm will be nothing but honest, and they will neither confirm nor deny any paranormal activity to make themselves look good,” he calmly explained.

  There was a moment of pause as the three men looked from one to the other, though eventually all eyes rested on Seth.

  “Stanley and I will take your proposal under advisement Jonas,” Seth said finally.

  Jonas knew what that meant, just as he knew what his parents meant when they told him “we’ll see”. It meant no, and Jonas had to find a way to convince the crotchety old pair otherwise.

  “And now gentlemen,” Seth said as he stood away from his mahogany framed, crushed velvet upholstered chair. “I believe that I smell dinner.”

  When Stanley passed through doors of delicately etched glass set inside a thick, mahogany frame, Jonas cut Seth off and stood between him and his dinner.

  “Mister Crandall–”

  “You’ve been our business partner for six months Jonas, call me Seth,” the old man offered in a deceptively kind voice.

  Seth may have had a grandfatherly smile with rosy cheeks and blue eyes that rivaled Santa Claus with a wavy mane of silvery-white hair and thick beard to finish the look but beneath that kid-friendly exterior was a black void where his heart should have beat.

  Jonas bowed his head in both understanding and respect. “Seth,” Jonas addressed respectfully, “I’m not one to beg, but I truly hope that you will consider this firm closely. I understand that Stanley has a high priced agency of his own in mind that has limitless resources and a lot of clout amongst television studios, but I feel that what we need is someone who isn’t going out there to make either a name for themselves or a splash to maintain a reputation. Of all the firms I looked at, this one was the fairest and most honest. Whatever they find, it will be the truth.”

  “Taking your…ferocity…in this matter aside, I will make a decision that best suits our needs,” Seth said with the firmness of a strict father, then donned another generous smile. “Now let’s eat. I’ve been waiting all day to feast on the roasted pheasant from our hunt.”

  Jonas fell into step behind the Santa Claus clone and as he followed all he could do was shake his head. The only reason he had partnered up with Seth Crandall and Stanley Cushman was to get onto that island and find out if the rumors were true. It was a decision that seemed good at the time, though now seemed more like a mistake, and mistakes were something that Jonas did not make.

  No matter what it took, Jonas would get who he wanted on that island. Nothing would stop him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  When Jorden watched the last of her students walk across the stage to get their diplomas, she wasn’t left with her usual feeling of emptiness. In past years she would already be looking forward to fall, but this year all she looked forward to was a long summer vacation, preferably in another country. It was the reason she agreed to have dinner with Matt that night. Over the last few weeks she’d virtually explored several allegedly haunted locations in Europe via the internet. Most of the locations were castles and were located in the UK and Ireland, however she remained focused on a forgotten island just off the coast of Italy. Something about it drew her…appealed to her.

  As Jorden sat at the small table in a dim corner of Olinger’s Pub, she lightly sipped on a beer, not wanting to fog up her thoughts with alcohol, though of course the fact that she couldn’t hold her liquor well insured that she remain cautious. She thought of what she would say, what she should have told him a couple of weeks ago, but was too afraid to bring up in spite of the fact that they were friends and she knew that she could tell him anything.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Matt said as he approached the table.

  Jorden looked up at him and caught her breath; she couldn’t remember the last time she saw him in a suit, but if she had to guess, it was back when he was still a detective with the Santa Barbara PD. He was also clean shaven and freshly showered, something she wouldn’t expect at the end of a long workday, though he was rarely offensive outside of the days he put himself on a long stakeout. Most unusual, however, was the fact that he appeared nervous.

  “Is this dinner keeping you from something?” Jorden asked curiously, though a part of her wished that she hadn’t. She really didn’t want to know, not to mention the fact that it was none of her business in the first place.

  Matt shook his head as he sat across from her and placed the folder he brought with him on the tabletop. “I just came from a meeting actually.”

  “Well I didn’t think that you were dressing up just for me,” she said with a mischievous, crooked smile.

  “I could ask you why you’re looking so stylish and lovely this evening,” he countered with a wide smile that quickly made Jorden uncomfortable.

  Jorden took a quick gulp from her glass to calm her nerves. “Graduation followed by a luncheon for the staff at the school.”

  “I guess that it’s been a decent day all the way around then,” he said then picked up the menu. “Have you ordered yet?”

  “No,” she said, feeling offended. “We were supposed to be having dinner together.”

  “You could have ordered without me,” he said, never once looking over the menu at her.

  “I can do a lot of things without you,” she grumbled, though hadn’t meant to do so out loud.

  His deep brown eyes looked over the menu and he donned a mischievous grin of his own. “Like what?” he asked slyly.

  Her cheeks flushed with both embarrassment and frustration, though she forced herself to keep her cool. “None of your damned business.”

  His smile grew wider. “Did I strike a nerve?”

  “Always,” she muttered.

  “What’s that?” he asked as he continued to look over the top of his menu. “I didn’t quite make that out.”

  Her irritation was starting to boil over, though it was nothing new when the two of them were alone, even in a public place, outside of an investigation.

  Both Jorden and Matt ordered their food, and then as they waited, Matt opened up the file he’d brought with him.

  “Before we get started, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about – it’s actually why I asked you to dinner tonight,” Jorden said, not completely keeping her nerves out of her throat.

  Matt looked up from the file with dark eyes and concern on his face. “You’re not thinking about leaving me are you?” he questioned then quickly added, “I mean the team. You’re not planning to leave SCP are you?”

  She shook her head while she wondered where he would get an idea like that. “No,” she said plainly. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about expanding our SCP investigations.”

  His thick brows creased while he sat back. “How so?”

  “By doing more than just local investigations,” she said candidly. “And I don’t mean by taking a drive up to San Francisco once a month, though Alcatraz might be interesting.” When Matt only stared at her and said nothing she continued, “I think that we should use some of the money we have from Syd’s books to finance a trip outside of the United States.”

  Syd, Sydney Carpentier, was the eldest member of the SCP family and he’d written several books on their investigations that brought much needed funds to SCP, and while the money generally went towards equipment and basic expenses there was a small surplus that could be used for exactly what Jorden was proposing. The trick was convincing Matt to see that.

  “I also think that interest in a book from an inter
national investigation would be high and would bring in even more funds-”

  “How about Italy,” he said out of the blue.

  “You know I hate it when you interrupt. You never let me…” her words trailed off when she realized what he’d said, and given the fact that, more times than not, Matt could be the most unreasonable person on the planet it simply wasn’t possible, “…huh?”

  “I said how about Italy,” he repeated with more amusement than irritation.

  It took Jorden a moment to process what he’d said, and in doing so she barely noticed that the waitress had set her salad on the table in front of her.

  “I know that you usually do the research and set up the investigations, but this one actually came to us, and it’s the primary reason I agreed to dinner tonight,” Matt said then started to fish through the file. “I actually talked with someone about a week ago about Isola Forte di Lorenzo. It’s an island in between the mainland and Sicily that’s been abandoned for about eighty years that once held a monastery, among other things,” he explained then pulled a short stack of photos out of the file. “The man I met with today, Jonas Harper, gave me some background information and I want you to take a look at these.”

  Jorden was still reeling from Matt’s suggestion to hunt in Italy, but she didn’t allow her confusion or shock interfere with their meeting. She took a short stack of photos from him and carefully looked through each of them. Most contained blotches they called orbs, something that Jorden and many others on the team didn’t believe in, but there was one interesting picture that she settled on.

  “I thought that one would grab you,” Matt said with a smug grin.

  She ignored his smugness and continued to stare at the picture. There really wasn’t much to see, mostly just a wall of gray and a filthy, dusty, hard wood floor. But what pulled in her attention, and evidently Matt’s as well, was the fuzzy distortion in the lower, left corner. “It could be a glitch with the camera…was it digital or thirty-five millimeter?”