Ghost Walking (A Maggie York Paranormal Mystery Book 1) by Ally Shields Read Free Book Online Page B

pocket and stuck it in the boy’s backpack. “By the way, I’m Detective Brandt.” He stuck out his hand.
    “I’m Joey.” He shook hands solemnly. “I hope you find your bullet thing.”
    “Me too.” Brandt smiled as Joey half-skipped down the street. That’s why they did this job, to keep the streets safe for kids like him.
    After a last look around the courtyard, Brandt returned to his car, sliding onto a seat already warmed by the morning sun. Low nineties today. Humid, of course. That was New Orleans for you. Even fall was AC weather. He flipped on the cooling system and blew out a frustrated breath. Back to the paperwork. He hadn’t learned anything this morning to support York’s sniper theory…or disprove it.
     
    * * *
     
     
    Maggie bolted upright in bed, sweating, head pounding. Then she realized it had been a dream. Disgust washed over her. Why did she keep letting things get to her like this? She rubbed a hand over her forehead. She’d relived the shooting again, only this time a few details had changed—the shooter was a ghost crouched on the courtyard wall. After the first shot, he’d dropped the rifle and floated across the courtyard, growing larger and larger as he came straight at her. Then she’d woken.
    It had to stop. She got out of bed, padded to the bathroom, and splashed water on her face. All of it had to stop. The nightmares. The ghosts. And for sure, Hurst had to stop these unexpected appearances.
    She glanced at the clock. Seven. Not outrageously early. Picking up her phone, she punched in Dalia’s number. “I’d like to talk with you.”
    “Of course, Maggie.” Not a hint of surprise. “Coffee’s already on. Come whenever you can.”
    “I’ll be there in an hour.”
    After a shower and coffee to-go from the cafe on the corner, Maggie set out on foot for Dalia’s home. Her steps slowed the closer she got, and she stopped on the front porch. She could still leave. With some distance from the bad dream, she regretted her impulsive call. Getting further involved with this confessed witch was like…embracing all this spirit world stuff. It was the last thing she wanted. But nothing else had worked, and she wanted her life back. It couldn’t really hurt, could it?
    Brandt’s comment had stuck with her. He’d accused her of giving up, and he was right about one thing—it wasn’t like Maggie York. Whatever her new reality was, she had to find a way to deal with it. She squared her shoulders and knocked.
    Dalia answered, took a quick look at her face, and lightly touched her arm. “Come in, dear. It’ll get better. I promise.”
    “Let’s get on with it. I want to know everything.”
    “That’s a tall order for one day, but we’ll do what we can.”
    After Maggie told her about the latest encounters with Hurst’s ghost—she still cringed at the word—Dalia showed her a few simple techniques she should be using every day. In addition to explaining the properties of ordinary herbs and plants, the older woman gave her a bag of protection stones, and they spent the rest of morning on meditation techniques.
    “It’s really about controlling your mind and body more than the outside forces.”
    “But will this keep Hurst away?”
    “That’s what I’m telling you,” Dalia said patiently. “He’s coming to you whenever he chooses because you’re letting him.”
    “Is he really a ghost?” Maggie interrupted. “Or is my mind doing all of this?”
    “Oh, he’s real. He’s not going to leave you alone until you satisfy him. And yes, before you ask, I believe he wants you to catch his killer.”
    Maggie let out a deep sigh. “Why doesn’t he just tell me?”
    “He can’t. There are rules. The veil is thin in New Orleans, allowing spirits to wander through, but they can only speak through certain people and most don’t have the power to touch or move objects. There are rare exceptions, but I don’t think Hurst is one of them. But all spirits can go anywhere