Lost Chances: A Paranormal P.I. Mystery Thriller (The Redstone Chronicles Book 3) Read online

  Lost Chances

  The Redstone Chronicles Book Three

  J. T. Bishop

  Eudoran Press LLC

  Want access to content from J.T. Bishop, including her first book, Red-Line: The Shift, plus a novella, additional books, excerpts, short stories, and missing scenes for free? Look for the link at the end of the book to learn more.

  Chapter One

  Mason Redstone clutched at his bedsheets. His body trembled and he wiped the sweat from his eyes. He did his best to focus on how far he’d come, but a chill lanced through him, and he cursed. A week into his stay at the drug rehabilitation center, his withdrawal symptoms were less intense, and the nausea and vomiting had abated, but his body still craved the drugs and he’d often wake in the night, sweaty and desperate for a pill.

  He wondered how he’d suffered through this on his own when he’d gone cold turkey the first time he’d kicked the pills. It was a pain he’d forgotten or had chosen to wipe from his mind. He didn’t recall it being this difficult but realized this time he’d been addicted for longer and his body was fighting back.

  Forcing himself up, he pushed back the covers. With shaky fingers, he reached for the glass of water beside his bed. He picked it up and took a sip, studying his quiet space, grateful he had it all to himself. After being admitted, he’d learned that all the residents had their own personal room. Apparently, Mallory, the woman who’d arranged his stay, had admitted him into a posh and exclusive rehabilitation center typically reserved for the rich and famous. When he’d questioned how he’d qualified, the woman who’d greeted him when he’d arrived had explained that many residents gained entrance on scholarships. If they met certain criteria, they wouldn’t have to pay a cent. Apparently, he’d met the requirements and had received the benefits of a free ride.

  At the time, he’d been too anxious and terrified to ask questions. He’d just done what he was told, followed the instructions and started his detox. They’d allocated two weeks to allow for the withdrawal from the drugs. He figured it would take a week at most, but now, after a week in, he’d changed his mind. Based on how he was feeling, he was going to need the full two weeks.

  Blinking and still shaking, he set the water down, grabbed the blanket at the edge of the bed and wrapped it around him. He’d kept the lights off because he hoped after a few minutes, the shaking and sweating would abate, and he could go back to sleep. He thought of Mikey and Trick and wondered how they were coping with his absence. He couldn’t help but worry. Would they be able to keep SCOPE afloat without a paranormal investigator at the helm?

  Mikey had assured him that they would handle it. He could still recall her face when he’d told her of his addiction. She hadn’t believed him at first, but then the shock and denial had set in. It had quickly transformed to worry and uncertainty and then resolve and determination. She’d taken his hand and had told him that he’d been there for when she’d needed him, and she would do the same for him. All she wanted was for him to get better. Assuring him that she and SCOPE would be fine, and, like him, fighting back tears, she’d hugged and held him.

  His brother, Max, and girlfriend, Valerie, had done the same. They’d showered him with support, told him they would help Mikey while he was gone, and were proud that he was getting the help he’d needed.

  After suffering serious injuries from their previous case, Trick had still been recuperating in the hospital, but he’d reminded Mason that SCOPE needed a healthy P.I. at the helm and Mason’s well-being mattered more than any client, and as soon as he was back on his feet, he would be there for Mikey and not to worry about anything.

  Sitting in his dark room, Mason wished he could talk to them, but family visits weren’t allowed in the first thirty days. He hadn’t seen or spoken to them since arriving, and while he understood the reasons behind it, he would have welcomed hearing their voices more than once this past week.

  The blanket wrapped around him, his shaking eased, and his chills slowed. He did his best to quiet his mind as the counselor had recommended. Sometimes it helped, but often it didn’t. This time, though, he had more success. Sitting back against the headboard, he relaxed, telling himself in soothing words to take it easy. This battle would take time and there were no overnight fixes. He was in a better place and while it would be difficult, he’d get through it. His muscles relaxed and his thoughts slowed. The chills stopped and although he was still sweating, he felt calmer.

  Giving himself time to sit and be still, he felt a slight tingle run up his arm. The tingles grew until the hair raised on his skin. Recognizing the presence of more than just himself in the room, he opened his eyes, and saw the faint outline of a woman standing in the corner.

  Seeing her, his whole body prickled. It was his first spirit encounter since entering the facility. It was possible he’d had other visits, but Mason doubted he would have recognized them as such due to the effects of the withdrawal. This time though, he was well enough to realize that this was a spirit who wanted to communicate.

  Waiting to see if she’d speak, he stared at her. She stood quietly, her straight brown hair running down her back and her eyes wide. She wore a knee-length black dress with long sleeves and a trickle of blood ran from her nose.

  Mason didn’t move. His heart thumped, and he wondered why she’d chosen to appear to him. He wasn’t in much condition to help anybody.

  When she made no attempt to communicate, he decided to break the ice. “How can I help you?” he asked.

  She didn’t react but continued to stare.

  “You should know,” he said. “I’m in rehab right now. Kicking pain pills. It sucks.” He considered if perhaps she’d been a patient. “Were you here once?”

  No answer.

  “Do you know someone who is here?”

  She jerked at the question, and her mouth opened.

  Mason shivered, but not from withdrawal. “What do you want?”

  The woman began to whisper.

  Mason leaned in. “I can’t hear you.”

  She spoke louder. “You should have listened,” he heard her say.

  “Listened?” he asked.

  “You should have listened to me. You should have listened to me,” she repeated.

  “Listened to what?” He leaned back as her voice raised.

  “You should have listened. You should have listened.” She started to shout. “You should have listened.”

  Mason shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  Restless, she moved closer. The blood began to stream from her nose and blood droplets dripped and streaked down her dress. “You should have listened.”

  She approached, and Mason pushed back against the headboard. “To what?”

  At the edge of the bed, she pointed at Mason, her bony finger sporting a red-polished nail. “You should have LISTENED.” Her voice bounced off the walls, and Mason held his ears. She reached forward and touched Mason on the arm.

  An electric pulse sizzled through him, and Mason jumped. She continued her mantra, her eyes turned milky white, and she aimed an ugly glare at him.

  Scared, Mason tried to get away. He scooted back toward the edge of the bed and slid off onto the floor. He wriggled away to a corner of the room.

  The woman followed, still yelling that he should have listened.

  Unable to go anywhere and powerless to stop her, Mason opened his mouth and screamed.

  Chapter Two

  Mikey Redstone studied her laptop. Her head pounding, she eyed the clock and wondered for the
thousandth time how Mason was doing. Checking the calendar, she saw he’d been in rehab for two weeks. It was the longest they’d ever gone without talking. Mikey had called more than once to check on her brother and the facility had told her each time that he was fine, and as soon as family visits were allowed, they would contact her.

  Closing the laptop, she stood from Mason’s desk, grabbed her phone and went to sit on the couch. Laying her head back, she reflected on the last fourteen days. Mason’s paranormal P.I. agency, SCOPE, which stood for The Study of Cryptids or Paranormal Events, was hanging on, although without Mason at the helm, business had suffered. With his absence, and Trick still recovering, Mason’s girlfriend, Valerie, who was also a private investigator, had stepped in to help with the non-paranormal clients. Not that there had been many, but she’d helped to locate a lost family dog and had tracked down a missing woman after her family had contacted SCOPE, believing she’d been the victim of foul play. Luckily, Valerie had located the woman on a beach in Mexico after learning she’d taken off with her boyfriend.

  Mikey had managed to push back the paranormal inquiries, telling clients that Mason was on an extended leave of absence and when he returned, would follow up on their cases. She hoped they’d stick around long enough for Mason’s return, but Mikey knew they’d lose a few. There wasn’t much to be done, though, since nobody else could handle Mason’s caseload and Mikey couldn’t fake his abilities. She’d considered it but knew it wouldn’t be ethical.

  She thought of Kyle, the man she’d met while banishing Mason’s evil spirit, Mr. Dark, just before Mason had gone into the treatment center. She and Kyle had met for coffee and dinner since that first meeting, and he’d offered to assist with SCOPE’s paranormal work. He shared similar skills to Mason, and he’d told her he’d be happy to jump in during Mason’s absence. Mikey had thanked him, told him she’d consider it, but had yet to take him up on his offer. She couldn’t deny, though, that they needed the help and if SCOPE was going to stay afloat for the next two and a half months, they’d need someone to pick up the slack. Kyle met all the requirements, but she still resisted.

  Sighing, she thought of Aaron Remalla, the detective she’d grown close to over the last several months. Their traumatic experiences with Victor D’Mato and his cult had brought them together and they’d become close. The problem was, Mikey didn’t know how or if that would translate into romance. Some part of her wanted it to, but another part wanted to run from it. It scared her to think of Remalla as more than a friend. She’d never been good at relationships and if she screwed it up, she’d get hurt and so would he. While Mikey appreciated vulnerability in others, she wasn’t good at it herself.

  Despite those issues, which were difficult enough, the one that loomed over everything had her even more concerned. Because of it, the last two weeks had been hellish, and it had affected not just her, but also Remalla, and Mikey had no idea what to do about it.

  The day Mason had left for rehab, she’d talked to Rem about her coffee date with Kyle, and it had been an awkward conversation. When Rem had called back, Mikey had figured he wanted to talk about it and she’d steeled herself for the conversation, but what he’d said instead had stunned her. Margaret, her psychopathic sister, whose unique abilities and taste for evil had guided her toward Victor and had lured Mikey down the same path, had escaped from the psychiatric hospital where she’d been held since Remalla’s assault and near death. And it wasn’t just that her sister was ill and dangerous, although that was bad enough – she had almost killed Mikey, too.

  She’d gone mute with disbelief. Remalla had offered her police protection and a stay at a safe house. Mikey had taken him up on both at first. With Mason gone, Mikey expected that Margaret would contact her and the thought of being home alone scared her. Mason could not be reached but the facility had been notified and had assured Mikey that they would keep him safe. Trick had offered to let her stay at his place, but there was barely enough room at Trick’s for Trick.

  Mikey had chosen the safe house, but after five days, realized that it was silly to remain there. If Margaret wanted to come after her, then no safe house would prevent it. Rem had argued, but Mikey didn’t relent and had chosen to go home, although the police protection continued. A patrol car remained outside SCOPE while Mikey was at the office, and it followed her home at night.

  Despite his objections, Rem had come to the same conclusions as Mikey. Since he was also a target, he’d tried a safe house for a few days, then had stayed with Daniels, his partner, for a short time, but then had ultimately returned home. Neither of them could hide forever. Their only hope was to find Margaret and return her to the psychiatric facility. But until then, they’d have to live their lives and pray they’d remain safe.

  Since hearing the news, Mikey had seen Rem only once. She suspected he was keeping his distance in case Margaret was watching. He didn’t want to rile Mikey’s sister up, which Mikey understood, but she also had to wonder if he was just as hesitant to discuss Kyle as she was. Was Remalla the reason why she hadn’t contacted Kyle for help?

  Trying to relax and not overthink, she debated lying down and taking a nap. She hadn’t slept well since Mason’s departure and Margaret’s escape, and she wondered if she would ever sleep again.

  Starting to doze, she heard the click of a lock and the squeak of the outer office door. Opening her eyes, her heart thudded, and she thought of her sister. “Hello?” She sat up. “Who’s there?” She heard footsteps and waited, half-expecting to see Margaret walk into SCOPE, her blue eyes blazing, and cackling loudly. Mikey wasn’t close enough to the desk computer to see the cameras. Gripping the edge of the coffee table, she called out again. “Hello?”

  The footsteps approached and Trick stuck his head into the inner office. “Mikey?” He raised his hands. “Don’t scream. It’s me.”

  Mikey blew out a relieved breath and considered again whether to keep a weapon at SCOPE. Rem had recommended it, but she wasn’t a fan of guns. She knew Mason would agree with Rem and would be furious when he learned she’d been unarmed with Margaret running around.

  “Trick,” she said, holding her stomach. “You scared me.”

  Trick walked in. His face was thinner than usual, but Mikey could tell he’d gained some weight since leaving the hospital and starting physical therapy. “Sorry,” he said. “I should have called first.”

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. “You’re not supposed to be back at work for another week.”

  He walked carefully to his desk and sat in his chair with a sigh. “Mikey, if I sit another day at my place, I’m going to end up joining Mason in therapy. I’m capable of coming into the office and helping. You shouldn’t be alone anyway.”

  “I’m okay. There’s a patrol outside.”

  Trick scoffed. “That’s bullshit protection. Your sister could get past those guys faster than it takes them to eat a donut.”

  Mikey didn’t doubt it. “Well, Batman has yet to respond to my bat signal, so they’ll have to do for now.”

  “Mason would be pissed as hell if he knew about Margaret. Thank God he didn’t hear about it before he went into rehab, or he never would have gone.”

  Mikey nodded. “I just hope he’s safe. I worry about him.”

  “That place has more security than the bake shop where those officers frequent. He’s the safest of all of us. It’s you I’m worried about. I don’t like you staying at your place by yourself.”

  “What choice do I have? The safe house Remalla put me in wasn’t any better.” She paused. “If Margaret wants to get to me, she will.”

  “What about Rem? Where’s he staying?”

  “He’s doing what I’m doing. He’s back at home. We can’t live like hermits. We’ve both got jobs to do and lives to live.”

  Trick put his hand on his desk. “Then that decides it. I’m officially back at SCOPE.”

  “Trick,” she said, rubbing her temples. “You’re not ready.”

&n
bsp; “Ready for what? Sitting in an office, talking, and doing nothing?” He waved a hand. “I’m getting the feeling we don’t have a lot of clients.”

  Mikey moaned. “You’re not wrong. Valerie’s helping where she can, but we need the paranormal assistance. That’s our bread and butter.”

  “Did you talk to Kyle? Didn’t he offer his services?”

  Mikey pursed her lips. “He did, but I haven’t spoken to him yet.”

  Trick studied her. “Because you think he won’t be a good fit or because of the whole romantic triangle thing?”

  Mikey narrowed her eyes. “Don’t start, Trick.”

  Trick stood with a groan, came over to the couch and sat beside her. “Listen,” he said. “I get it. You like Remalla and you like Kyle. You can’t pull the trigger on either one because Remalla scares the hell out of you and Kyle is just safe enough to like but if you get to know him better, maybe do more than just like. It’s a fascinating conundrum, but it’s time to get over it.”

  “Trick—”

  “Bottom line, Mikey. I can’t do the paranormal stuff, and neither can you. I can try and fake my way through it, but I think most people will see through my psychic Trick charade. Not that it wouldn’t be amusing.” He shifted to face her. “If you want SCOPE to make it these next two months, then we need Kyle.” He paused. “You know it and I know it.”

  Mikey hung her head.

  “You can tell Remalla exactly what it is. Kyle’s helping us out of a jam. And you can tell Kyle that for now, it’s better to be friends while you’re working together. That will allow you to keep them both at a distance until you figure out what to do. Hopefully, Rem and Daniels will find Margaret before Mason gets out of rehab. Because if they don’t…” He stared off and sighed. “Well, I don’t want to think about that right now.”

  Mikey ran her hands through her long hair and rested her forehead in her palm. “I don’t want to think, period,” she said. She studied the floor. “It’s been a hard two weeks.”